Newspaper Page Text
BSWAED D. HOWARD,
VOL. 39, NO. 23.
-arailq Sonrnal, Stuofeh
fa fmhm, irnltnit,
literature, (Btaration, loral
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
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.
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,
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
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
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
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. .".
" 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
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
STORMING OF A CITY.
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
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.
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
" 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-
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,
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
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.
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
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.
THE SOLAR SYSTEM. For the Farmer.
BENEFICIAL EFFECT OF
OF DEEP PLOWING AND
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.