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PUBLISHED BT BSWAED D. HOWARD, arias block. VOL. 39, NO. 23. SJtrklq -arailq Sonrnal, Stuofeh WARREN, fa fmhm, irnltnit, TRUMBULL COUNTY, literature, (Btaration, loral OHIO, WEDNESDAY, SnWligrnrr, anb tfje Jlems.of fjjt Dai. ; JANUARY 31, 1 8 55. '-'' TERMS; '" 1 -wt OltB DOLLAR AND FIFTY CZKT " ArOm, ADVSBCS. " - - WHOLE NO. 2 0 Olr POETRY. BEDOUIN SONG. BEDOUIN SONG. BY BAYARD TAYLOR. From the Desert I come to theo On a stallion shod vitb fire; And the triad are left behind " In the speed of mj desire. Under thy window I stand And the ftndnight bears mj cry; . I lore taoc, I love bst thee, With a love that shall not die Till the md grows cold. And the star., are old. And the Leares of the Judgment Book auXoltl 1 Look from thy window and see My passion and soy pain; I lie on the sands below And I faint in thy disdain. Let the night-winds toweh thy brow With the heat of my burning sigh. And toe It the to hear the tow Of a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold. And the stars are old. And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold I My steps are nightly driven, By the ferer in my breast. To hear Vowj thy lattice breathed The word that shall rive me rest. Open the door of thy heart. And open thy chamber door. And my kisses shall teach thy Hps The lore that shall fade no more Till the sun grows cold. And the stars are old. And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold 1 THE BATTLE-FIELD IN WAR THE THE BATTLE-FIELD IN WAR THE CORN-FIELD IN PEACE. When wc contemplate the many fair fields made des olate, within a few months, by the tramp of soldiers and the crushing progress of artillery and cavalry, the fol lowing beautiful contrast of the battle-field in war, and the corn-field in peace, recurs to our minds. It is from Macaulay's Lf mf JtncietU Mmwu: Now on the place of slaughter t ; Arc eota and sheep fclds seen. And rows of vines and fields of wheat - And apple orchards green - The swine crush the big acorns That fail from Corne's oaks; Upon the turf by the fair fount W - The reaper's pottage smokes. The fisher bail his angle. The hunter twangs bis bow; Little think they sn those strong limbs That moulder deep below. Little think they how sternly That day the trumpet pealed; Bow in the slippery swamp of blood Warrior and war horse reeled; . Bow wolres came with fierce gallop. And crews on eager wings. To tear the flesh of captains And peck th eyes of kings; How thick the dead lay scattered Under the Portian b:ght: Bow through the gates of Toscuhim Baved the wild stream of flight; And how the Lake Begillus Bubbled with crimson foam. What time the Thirty Cities Came forth to war with Bowie. [For the Chronicle & Transcript.] LINES TO D. W. G. BY LOCUS HAZEL. Companion of my youthful days 1 my friend 1 ' Upon thy grave the snow lies like a rail. Aad throagn the chilly air come milky flakea Tailing like angel tears aroand. The wind ' Stfcta tfcrMgn the leaflets trees in fitful putt, Bustling the withered leares that lie betide Thy tomb, and UU the air with mournful soands. The little snow birds trim the thistle by . Thy aide, and warble forth their simple notes Of praise; wb.il the timid rabbit plucks . The withered herbage by thy monument Unmolested, save when some hunter with Sis cautious tread steals bj, . We mourn thy loss. And miss thee from the social throng ws miss ,-Thy nappy look, thy joyous laugh, thy kindly words W, miss themall; and when we gather round - The festire board sad thoughts of thee upon Our minds will came. But happier now thou art. An angel in the God like throng aboTC Tnau when thou walked this changeful earth below. Upon my mind ts-night crowd thoughts of thee As I stand here within my silent room Sear thoughts of pleasant days together passed, When we hare wandered through the shady woods , Those woods that lie beyond yon hill-side house - And often to their nests the squirrels chased With merry shouts; or from the hazle copse Tasphnainnt roused. Oft aawed the names of loToi Ones on the towering beech and sycamore; ' Or climed the giant hickory for its wealth . Of ripened nuts, shaking them down like rain ' Upon the beans of orange leares below. Oft In MahoningV eryrtal waters rwam; And paddled In the old canoe across . Its flittering surface, gathering purple grapes That hung in clusters overhead; or on Its mossy banks plucked the wild flowers. Ah those were happy days ! yet neTermore With thee 111 tread those paths again; And when by those familiar haunts Tgo t'A thoughts and fond remembrances come o'er , My mind, and I would fain be with thee now! - J. 1855. I BY LOCUS HAZEL. Choice Miscellany. EVERETTS OF GREEN GROVE; AN ENGLISH STORY. BY CHARLES DICKENS. She felt strange too in England. Ev ' erjthing was cold and formal. The lan guage sounded harsh, spoken all round , her with gruff, rough voices, and un graceful accents ; the houses looked small and mean after the glorious mar ble palaces of Italy ; and the people were strangely dressed in shabby array dirty bonnets in place of the white veils of Genoa, the simple flower of the Meditterranean peasant, and the pic turesque head-dresses of Italy ; trailing gowns, with flounces dragging in the mud, worn by women who in her own country, would have been dressed in peasant's costume, graceful and distinct, ire all was so strange that Estella felt lost and miserable, and wished herself . back among the orange trees, again far away from a land with which she had not learnt to be fam'liar in its familiar features, and whose industrial grandeur seemed to diminish as she approached it. For real imagination does not go lery faj in daily life. At last, Estella took heart and cour age, and one day boldly went to Mala- hide's house. She knocked at the door, which a prim, neat-looking servant girl opened. To her inquiry if " Mrs. Mal ahide was in ber own house," for Es ' tella did not speak English with a per fect knowledge of its idioms, the ser vant, with a broad stare, said " yes, " a vague belief tKat she was somebody rery improper crossing her brain. Estella was ushered into a prim room, with chairs, and the sofa, and curtain done up in brown holland ; no fire in the grate.and the girls work all about Ber lin worsted mats, netted, knitted, and crocheted, and embroidered blotting books of faded colored flowers, and oth er things of the same kind, all very stiff and formal, and with no evidence of life or aitistic taste among them. Estella's heart sank when she looked around this cold, lifeless room, so dif ferent to the Italian homes of pictures and birds, and living gems of art ; but she resolved to bear up against the chil ling influences pressing on her, and to be brave and constant to herself ; no lit tle merit in a girl brought up in Italy, where but little of the moral steadiness of life is braided with its poetry. In a short while a lady entered, dressed in deep mourning, her face fixed into mask of severe grief, but still with a certainly womanly tenderness lurking behind like the l'ght through a darkened window. She bowed ; looking suspi cious and a little stern, standing erect by the door. " You do not know me, Madam ? " said Estella, her soft voice, with its pretty foreign accent, trembling. " I do not, " answered Mrs. Maiahide, coldly. The girl's eyes filled with tears. " And I am afraid I shall not be wel come when you do know me, " she said timidly. " I am Estella Everett. " Mrs. Maiahide started. "Imprudent! Jbrward! presumptuous ! here in my very house !" she thought this, strongly agitated ; and moved to the fireplace to ring the bell. Estella went nearer to her, and laid her hand on her arm. " Do not send me away without hear ing me, " she said plaintively ; for in deed, I have only come in kindness and love." . Her pure young voice touched the woman's heart in spite of herself. She dropped the hand outstretched, and, pointing to a chair, said " What is it you have to say ? " in a voice still cold, yet with a shade less of sharpness in it. " I have come to you, madam, " be gan Estella, " that I might see some one who knew my father, and some cne that he loved and belonged to. I am very lonely, now that he has gone, with all of you 'disowning me ; but I thought you, who had seen more sorrow . than the others, would have more sympathy with me than they; for sorrow brings hearts very near 1 And so, Aunt Grace, came to Brighton from Venice, on purpose to see you and the children, that I might make you love and adopt me among you. And now, " she added, her full heart swelling with the old hope of love, "you will not turn me away from your heart? you will not forbid my cousins to love me? If I have injured you by my birth and, dear Aunt, it was not my own fault I will make up for it in the best way I can, and prove to you my love for my fath er by loving you. I want some one to be kind to me, and some one, Aunt, that I can be kind to and love. I am rich, and I want ' some one to share my riches, and not strangers ; I want one of my own blood, one of my own kindred. I want you and your chil dren. Aunt Grace, and you will give them to me ! " This simple unworldly outpouring, softened Mrs. Maiahide into almost a 6inile a smile which Estella caught like a ray of light. Young and impulsive, she ran to her aunt, and flung herself on her knees by her side, putting her arms around her said, "You are going to love me, Aunt Grace ? And you will let me love you and the children ?" holding up her face to ke kissed. She looked so lovely, with her beau tiful grey eyes which had their mother's depth and softness, and lustre with her bright brown hair braided off her low white brow with her small red lips, like little rose-buds parted her caressing ways, which had all the grace and the warmth of Italy her voice so musical that the frozen Everett soul was thawed in Mrs Maiahide,' and the iron bond of reserve which had so long unnaturally held it prisoner gave way. She laid her hand on the girl's shoulder, she looked very frankly in the eyes. Tears came in her own. one remembered the time when she was young and impulsive when love formed her life too, and when loneliness and want of love were death She stooped down, halt murmuring "My poor desolate child!" Estella felt as if a volume had been said between them as if a life had been written in that one motherly caress. She cried for joy she sobbed she kissed her aunt's cold hand, called her carisslma and carine, and poured out a flood of gratitude and love,"-half in Italian, half in bnd English,' sweeping away all pow- er of resistance in the living force of her own tenderness. All was over. Little impulsive as was any true born Everett, there was that in Estella which no one could withstand such 'depth, such gen tleness, such fervor, such childish faith ! and albeit she had been brought up abroad, and was therefore only half an English woman, the truth and trust of her nature were stronger than even Mrs. ftlalanide s prejudices; so tar giving way for once to her own instinct, she folded the girl to her heart, and kissed her again and blessed her. Jessie Hibbert was delicate. She was ordered to the seaside ; and Brighton be ing convenient on many accounts, Mrs. Hibbert took her there, notwithstanding the presence of Maiahide, who was rath er " out, " than sought after by the fam ily. So she packed up a carpet bag full of tracts ; and, it being Paul's vacation lime, they all went down together poor Jessie growing paler and paler every day. Mrs. Hibbert had heard nothing of Es tella. The correspondence between her and her sister was too slight and formal to suffer them to enter into details ; and when she arrived at Brighton with her daughter, and saw a tall, graceful, for eign-looking girl among the Maiahide girls, teaching one Italian and another singing, and showing the rules of per spective to a third, and explaining the meaning of architecture to a fourth, she neither asked her name nor dreamed of her condition ; but treated her as the Hibbert world in England does treat gov. ernesses with silence and contempt, passing her by as something too low to demand the rights of courtesy. Estella, frightened at Mrs. Hibberl's iron severity, prayed that her real name might not be told a prayer Mrs. Maiahide was only too glad to comply with. Once, indeed, Mrs. Hibbert condescended to say : " You seem to have a rather superior kind of governess there, Mrs. Maiahide," in an acid tone that seemed to end the matter and ask no confirmation. So Mrs. Maiahide made no reply, and the matter was dropped. Estella sat among the children like a young Madonna with such a prodigality of generous giving both of love and mental wealth, both of worldly gifts and intellectual advantages she was so fond, so devoted, so happy in the joys of others, so penetrated with love that even Mrs. Hibbert watched her with a strange kind of interest, as if a new experience was laid out before her. Jessie clun"toEs. tella like a sister, happy only in her so ciety, and seemed to feel for the first time in her life what was the reality of affection ; and Paul treated her now as a princess and now as a chiid, now with a tender reverence that was most beau, tiful and touching, and now with a cer tain manly prtulence and tyranny. They both loved her with all their hearts, and were never happy away from her. Jessie grew paler and paler every day: she was thin and had a transparency in her flesh painfully eloquent ; her slight hand showed the day light almost purely, through, and her eyes were large and hollow the white of them pearl-colored and clear. She complained little ; and dying away, one scarcely knew why. There was a general look of fading and a show of lassitude and weakness, as if the essence of her life were slowly evap orating; as if she were resolving back to the etherial elements which had mej together for a brief season in her. She was dying, she often said, from the de sire to die ; fnr the want of motive of life; she had nothing to live for. Mrs. Hibbert nursed her daughter as any such woman nursed a fading girl with conscientiousness, but with hardi ness ; doing her duty, but doing it with out a shadow of tenderness. She had the best advice Brighton could afford, and she took care that the medicines were given at the exact hour prescribed. Fruit and good books were there in abundance; but all wanted the living spirit. On Estella fell the weight of conso lation and no one could have fulfilled its duties better. It was the spring time now, and she would go out into the fields and lanes, and bring home large bunches of forget-me-nots, and primroses, and daisies, with sprays of the wild rose and of the honeysuckles and she sang so the dying girl, and sometimes brought her sketching-book and sketched the cus toms of Italy, the palaces of Genoa, and the famous waler-streets of Venice ; and she would sit and talk to her of Italy, and tell her all that would most interest her, being the most unlike the life of home. And she would tell her anecdotes i of Italian history and wild stories of I Italian romance; and when they would talk of graver things of the poetry of the old Church, of its power in the pat, of its marvellous union of -wickedness and virtue ; and they would speak of the ; angel, and of Goo; and both felt that one of them would soon be face to face with the greet mysteries of the future, and soon know of what nature were the secrets 'of the world to come. And all of poetry, of warmth, of glorious vision, and high-souled thought all of the golden atmosphere of religion, in which art and spiritual purity and poetry and love were twined as silver chords set round with pearls, all that lightened Jessie's death-bed, and seemed to give a voice to her own dumb thoughts, a form to her unshaped feelings, Estella shed there. It was impossible that even Mrs. Hib bert could continue indifferent to the young woman who gave peace to her dy ing child ; and though the fact of Miss Este, as she was called, being her dis owned niece Estella, never struck her, something that was not at all like con fessed admiration, but which afterwards she believed to be natural instinct, drew her nearer and nearer to the girl, and made her at last love her with sincerity if not with warmth. And when Jessie grew paler and weaker hour by hour when every one saw that only a few days stood like dusky spirits between her and the quiet future when Estella's prayers were for peace ; no longer for the restora tion which had become a mockery when sleepless eyes and haggard looks spoke of the shadow of death that was striding on then Jessie taking Estella's hand and laying it in her mother's said " Mother you have another daughter to fill my place! Estella, your niece and my sister in consolation, will comfort you when I am gone, and take the place in your heart where I lived." It was too solemn a moment, then, for Mrs. Hibbert to fall back into her old fortress of pride and .hardness. By the side of her. dying child she became wo manly and Christian ; 3 although even then the struggle was a hard one, and the effort cost her dear. She bent over Estella, kiueling there and weeping, and saying slowly and with a still gravity not wholly ungentle " I accept the trust, now, Estella, and forgive your father for the sin he com mitted and for the shame that he wrought. Your place shall be as my dear child has said, in my heart ; and we will mutually forgive, and pray to be forgiven. .". Jessie smiled. " That is all I have hoped and prayed for, " she said faintly ; " bs a mother to her as you have been to me, and let the future make up for the short coming of the past. And she turned her face towards the last rays of the sunlight streaming through the open window. A bird sang on a tree just opposite ; the waves murmured pleasantly among the shells and the seaweed on the shore; the sun sinking down in his golden sleep flung o:ie last stream of glory on the marble brow and long locks of the dying cirl. It was a word of blessing for the past, and of baptism for the future. Jessie held her mother's hand in one of hers ; the other 'clasped Paul's an! Eitella' held together. " Blessed by love, " she murmured, " redeemed by love O Goo, save those who trust in Thee and for Thy sake pardon others Thou whose name and essence are Love and Mercy ! " She was gone ! but Estella was there the angel of that household. Consuming Smoke. The bituminous coal smoke of nearly all the coal in the Wetsern States is a nuisance. To obvi ate this, E. A. Hill, of Joliet, 111., has in vented a stove, which appears capable of doing the work, when it is necessary to renew the fire. At the first start it must give off the smoko like any other stove, for aught that we can see. The smoke-consuming plan is to divide the stove into two parts, and when the coal is bright in one grate, a fire is kindled in another, the smoke of which is carried through the burning fire on the other side by closing a valve at the top, and opening the one at the bottom, and thus the draft can be reversed from one fire place to another. On paper the plan looks feasible and ingenious. If success ful, it will be useful to such towns as Pitlsburgh. .V. Y. Tribune. What is a Snob ? "A snob is that man or woman who is always pretending before .be world to be something better especially richer or more fashionable than they are. It is one who thinks his position in life contemptible, and is always yearning or striving to force him sel. into one above, without the educa tion or characteristics which belong to it ; one who looks down upon, despises, and overrides his inferiors, or even equals of his own standing, and is ever ready to worship, fawn upon and flatter a rich or a titled man, not because he is a good roan, a wise man, or a Christian man ; but because he has the luck to be rich or consequential." Tharkeray. STORMING OF A CITY. I j i When a city is taken by storm, in mil itary phrase, and in accordance with the usages of war, it is " given up to the sol diery. " What this means will be appar ent from the frightful picture of Badajos, as it appeared on the night after it had been carried by the Allies, under Well ington, April 6th, 1812. Says an Eng lish officer, who participated in the as sault : It was nearly dusk, and the few hours which I slept had made a fearful change in the condition and temper of the soldie ry. In the morning they were obedient to their officers, and preserved the sem blance of subordination ; now they were in a state of intoxication ; discipline was forgotten, and the splendid troops of yes terday had become a fierce and sanguin ary rabble, dead to every touch of hu man feeling, and filled with every demo iac passion that can brutalize the man. The city was in terrible confusion, and on every side horrible tokens of military license met the eye. One street, as I approached the castle was almost choked up with broken fur niture ; for the houses had been gutted from the cellar to the garret, the parti tions torn down, and even the beds ripped up and scattered to the winds, in the hope that gold might be found concealed. A convent at the end of the strada of St. John was in flames, and I saw more than one wretched nun in the arms of a drunken soldier. Further on, the confusion seemed greater. Brandy and wine casks were rolled out before the stores ; some were full, some half drank out, but more stove in, in mere wantonness, and the liquors running through the kennal. Many a harrowing scream saluted the ear of the pisser by ; many a female supplication was heard asking in vain for mercy. How could it be otherwise when it is remembered that twenty thou sand furious and licentious madman were loosed upon an immense population, among which many of the loveliest wo men upon earth might be found ? All within that devoted city, was at the disposal of an infuriated army, over whom, for the time, control was lost, aided by an infamous collection of camp followers, who were, if possible, more sanguinary and pitiless even than those who had survived the storm ! It is useless to dwell upon a 6cene from which the heart revolts. Few fe males in the beautiful town were saved that night from insult. The noble and the beggar the nun, and the wife and daughter of the artizau youth and age, all were involved iu general ruin. None were respected, and consequently few escaped. The madness of those des perate brigands was variously exhibited; some fired through doors and winJows; others at church bells; many at the wretched inhabitants as they fled into the streets, to escape the bayonets of the savages, who were demolishing their property ' within doors ; while some wretches as if blood had not flowed in sufficient torrents already, shot from the windows their own companions as they staggered on below. What chances had the miserable inhabitants of escap ing death, when more than one officer perished by the bayonets and bullets of the very men whom a few hours before he had led to the assault. LONDON. Oh, it was such a dream by daylight such a dream, and yet so true 1 All was so little, and I was still the same ! All the streets were millions of doll houses, and along the streets little specks movinn moving, sometimes in twos and threes, and then altogether, in one long, black, gliding thread. And then the cat tle and the horse ! I felt that I could take up the biggest of them, like shrew mice in my fingers look at 'cm and set 'em down again. And then the smoke ! the beautiful smoke ! Oh, in millions of silver feathers it came from the chimneys up and up ; and then somehow joined in one large shining sheet, and went float ins, floatinsr, over houses and church steeples, with hundreds of golden weath ercocks glittering, glittering through ! And then the river and the ships ! The twis'ing water, shining like glass ! And the poles of the ships, as close and straight, and sharp as rushes in a pond ! And then, far off, the hills, the dear green hills ; with such a stir below, and they so beautiful and still, as though they never heard, and never cared for the noise of London a noise that when we listened, hummed from below; hummed for all the world like a hundred bumble bees, all making honey, and all upon one bush. Douglatt Jerold't Heart of Gold. A Life of Kobsspierre, published in a ate Irish paper, concludes with the fol owing remarkable sentence: "This extraordinary man left no children be hind him exc pt his brother, who was killed at the same time. " A YANKEE COLLECTOR. A gentleman from New York, who had been in Boston for the purpose of col lecting some moneys due him in that city, was about returning when he found that one bill of one hundred dollars had been overlooked. His landlord, who knew the debtor, thought it a doubtful case ; but added, that if it war collected at all, a tall, raw-boned Yankee, then dunning a lodger in another part of the hall, wo'd " worry it out " of the man. Calling him up, therefore, he intro duced him to the creditor, who showed him the account. " Wal, Squire, " said he, " 'taint much uss 'o-tryin', I guess. I know that critter. You might as well try to squeeze ile out of Bunker Hill monument as to elect a debt out of him. But any how, what'll you give, s'posin' I do try ? "Well, sir, the bill is one hundred dollars. I'll give you yes, I'll give you one half, if you'll collect it. " "'Greed," replied the collector; "there is no harm in frytV, any way." Some weeks after, the creditor chanced to be in Boston, and in walking up Tre mont street, encountered his enterprising friend : " Look o'here," said he, "Squire. I had considerable luck with that bill o'your'n. You see I stuck to him like a dog to a root, but for the first week or so, 'twant no use not a bit. If he was home he was " short ; " If he wasn't I couldn't get no satisfaction. By-and-by, says I after goin' sixteen times, 111 fix you ! says I. So I sat on the door step, and sat all day and part of the evening, and I bgan early the next ; but about ten o'clock he 'gin in." He paid me my half, and I gin him the note." Who is Victoria ? Victoria is the daughter of the Duke of Kent, who was son of TJeorge the" Third ; who was the grandson of George the Second ;. who was the son of the Princess Sophia ; who was cousin of Anne ; who was the sister of William and Mary; who were daugh ter and son-in-law of James the Second ; who was the son of James the First ; who was the son of Mary ; who was the grandanghter of Margaret ; who was the daughter of Henry Eight ; who was the son of Henry Seventh ; who was the son of the Earl of Richmond ; who was the son of Catherine, widow of Henry the Fifth ; who was the son of Henry the Fourth ; who was cousin of Richard the Second ; who was grandson of Edward the Third ; who was the son of Edward the Second ; who was th son of Henry Third ; who was the son of John ; who was the son of Henry the Second ; who was the son of Matilda ; who was the daughter of Henry the First ; who was the son of William Rufus ; who was the son of William the Conqueror ; who was the bastard son of the Duke of Norman dy, by a tanner's daughter, of Falaise. Married. In Denning, October 27th, by Jacob Ousterhoudt, Esq., Mr. Nathan Hinkley, to Miss Mary E. Dcnaldson, of Neversink, Sullivan county. There were some peculiar circumstan ces attending the above marriage which not usually accompany ceremonies of this kind. The father of Miss Donaldson was opposed to this match. The parlies were to have been married on the 26th. Mr. Hinckncy started to the residence of his betrothed, some nine miles, but before ar riving there, was met by a young man with a gun, who told him he could not go to the house. There was a notice on the gateway, or bars leading to the house, reading " So Admittance." The yonng man with the gun asked Hinkley if he had read it. Hinckley replied that he had. Whereupon he was informed that he had better give heed to it, and some demonstrations were made intimating thai there might be some shooting going on if he did not. Deeming prudence the better part of valor, young Hinckley beat a re treat, and forthwith took counsel how he might accomplish by stratagem what he did not like to bring about by force. He finally hit upon the following expedient : He remembered that Miss Donaldson had in her possession a ring that belonged to him, so what does he do but get a warrant for her, sen the constable and bring her forthwith before Esq. Ousterhoudt, under a charge of getting goods under false pre tenses. That was exactly what ho did. When the constable went after Miss Don aldson, her lather was at work some dis tance from the house, and of course knew nothing of what was ging on, till the constable with his fair prisoner, was well on his way. After the officer and prisoner arrived at Squire Ousterhoudt's, it did not take long for Hinkley to withdraw the complaint and pay the costs, after which the arrangements of th notice given above, took place instantcr. Ulsttr Dem ocrat. Steam is a servant that often blows up its master. A YANKEE COLLECTOR. Educational. HAVE PARENTS A RIGHT TO DO IT? A right to do what 1 the reader may ask. To send their children to school k- . -i regularly. Let us examine a moment. When a number of - men unite for the transaction of any business, no member of the firm has a right to do anything which will work to the injury of his co partners. The truth of this proposition is so evident, that it requires no argument to sustain it. The public school is species of copart nership entered into by all the household ers of a community, the object sought, being the education of their children. All will at once admit, that bo member of the community has a right to do the least thing which shall serve to defeat the object for which the school was estab lished, but rather, it is the duty of each to do all that he comistantly can to pro mote its usefulness. How is it with the parent who sends his children to school irregularly? Let us illustrate by pre senting a sample of every day occurrence. I have a boy and two girls, whom I send to school regularly except in cases of sickness.- They are desirous of learn ing, are pleased to attend school, yet be come frequently vexed and discouraged. Why vexed and discouraged T They are arranged in clashes, more or less mem bers of which, are absent from recitation almost everyday. Although th$y may be prepared to proceed onward to-day, the whole class is detained while the de linquents of yesteiday are brought up, so that all may move ' forward together. This annoys and depresses them, as they see it extends the time of their promotion, indefinitely. I clothe and feed my children, and do. prive their motherof theirneeded services at home, for the purpose of educating them as well as I am able : and I submit whether my neighbor has Aright to detain his children from school, and thereby prevent me from receiving that return for my expenlitures and sacrifices, to which I am justly entitled. To me it appears evident, he has no such right. With me he has entered into to general copartner ship for the education of our children and he may not, either by act of commis sion or omission, do aught which shall defeat or retard the accomplishment of our object. S long as our interests are united, he cannot as an honest man and a Christian, detaiu his children from school to the injury of mine, without incurring blame. My children inform me that scarcely a day passes in school in which their tech' er does not urge upon the pupils, the ne cessity or justice of prompt and regular attendance. It is to be hoped our citizens will take the subject into rerious consid eration ; if they do so, we may rest as sured that our school will become more efficient and useful than it ever has been. Correspondent of Perrytburg Journal. , THE SOLAR SYSTEM. i A better idea of the relative distance and magnatude of the bodies in the solar sys tem than can bs obtained from orreries of plumispheres, is presented by an as tronomical writer, in somewhat like the following manner. In the centre of a large Wei plain three miles in diameter, place a globe, two feet in diameter, to represent the Sun. At the distance of a eighty-two feet from the globe, put a cram of mustard seed, to rebresent Mercury, the planet nearest the Sun, which gives an orbit four hundred and nenety-two feet in circumference. For Venus, take a pea, and place it one hun dred and forty-two feet distant, from the globe, which will give her orbit eight hundred and fifiy-two feet. For the Earth, take also a pea, and place it two hundred and fifteen feet distant, which will make her orbit one thousand two hundred and ninety feet. For Mars, take a grain of pearl barley, place it three hundred and twenty-seven feet distant, and its orbit will be one thou sand nine hundred and sixty-two feet. For the inferior planets, Juno, Ceres, Vesta and Pallas, take grains of sand and allow them orbits varying from one thousand to one thousand two hundred feet. For Jupiter, take a middle sized orange, and place it a quarter of a mile distant, so hat its orbit may be nearly three miles. Then for the planet Her schf 1, a full size cherry or boy's marble, and carry it nearly a mile distant, so that its orbit may be nearly six miles and having got these relative magnitudes and distances pretty wjll fixed in the mind, allow a million of miles in space for eve ry foot of these distances in the field, and you may form some faint conception of this one of the innumerable solar sya iems with whioh the Creator has adorned the immensity of the Universe 1 If a man ties any genius, it win won . i, i j its way out, and the world will know it. t THE SOLAR SYSTEM. For the Farmer. BENEFICIAL EFFECT OF OF DEEP PLOWING AND UNDERDRAINING. In our last number, we alluded to the generally' admitted fact, that, severe drowth has a beneficial effect on the soil; and we proposed to explain Kow we be lieve this result is accomplished. First, however, we would ictates that it is only v with reference to clayey and loamy soils that we conceived it to be true-that drought produce thereby on sandy or porous soils. . . " u "r' When clayey or loamy soils becomes dry, they contract, so that innumera.ble cracks or crevices axe formed, of greater or less depth and size, according to the adhesiveness of the soil, and the severity of the drought. If the soil is quite clay ey, and the surface not stirred, the cracks will be quite large and deep, though per haps less numerous than elsewhere. In all cases the openings are sufficient to allow the air to enter and. permeate the soQ, sa as to occupy the space left vacant by the depot' ted moisture. It is to this admission of the air to a greater depth than usual, ' that we attribute the principal beneficial effects of drought upon the soil.' That atmospheric air increases the fer tility of the soil, is well known by every - observant farmer ; and upon this fact are founded the principal benefits of summer following, under draining and deep plow- ing. Every ' body has - observed : the change of color that speedily takes place in clayey land, when au inch or two of the subsoil is first turned up to the light and air. - In fact, the difference between deep and thin soils - is mainly dependent on the depth to which the atmospheric air has bad access, ' The celebrated Jethro Tull, of England,beeame so fully convinced of the importance of air' ar an agency in ameliorating soils;' that-he wrote numerous essays in favor of deep and thorough pulverization of the soil, as of more importance than manuring. ' In what manner the effects beneficial changes in the soil, it belongs to chemis try to explain, and it is notessential that we should fully understand.-' We know that all ordinary soils contain particles of sand and gravel, particles of primi tive rocks, composed more or lesa of si lex, potash, lime, sulphur, and -other elements which either serve directly: aa the inorganic food of plants, or actchem ically as solvents in reparing such food ; but the presence of atmospheric air and corbonic acid, are necessary, in order that such decomposition or, chemical changes may take place as will render these elements available to vegetation. .: We also know that all fertile soils con tain more or less of : vegetable ' mat ter, in the shape of roots of plants, man ure, 8trw, esc, or in a more decompos ed state, as vegetable mold, carbon or humus ; but this cannot be taken up as food by plants, until it is converted into carbonic acid, and this can never take place without the free access of the oxy gen of the atmosphere. Carbonic acid is composed of two parts of oxygen and one of carbon, and is the principal ingre- ' dient of which plants are composed , Asrain the admission of air into the soil opperates beneficially, by imparting the carbonic acid ammonia of the atmos phere, especially in hot and dry weath er, and the nitrogen of the atmosphere - may combined with sulphur, lime, pot- ash, magnesia or other ingredients in the in the soil, thereby forming a soluble compound, (nitrates,) which are availa ble as food for plants. -' 1 And finally, when the drought is ever and the rains descends, the crevices in the soil allow the water to earry the am monia which it contains to greater depti than usual, before it is absorbed by the s )il, where it is held in store for the suc ceeding erop." This, too, is one of the ways in which deep plowing and under draining operate so beneficially upon clayey soils. " A Hint to Tbaobsmxs. Every w Tradesman who has daughters growing up should let them acquire a knowledge of Book-keeping, since, in the changes of fortunethey may have to get their own bread. Many a young lady who is pro fiicent on the piano -can scarcely earn ber board, such are the multitudes of music teachers, but to an accountant, situations are always open. . . Otra dragoman at Constantinople has sent to the Patent Office for the public good one hundred bushels of superior flint wheat from the vicinity of Mount Olympus, whioh will be distributed this winter and spring for experiments in dif ferent parts of the coun:ry. There are also expected seedlings cf the famous wheat from the farm of Abraham at th foot of Mount Carmel, and the celehrated Cassabar melon seed.