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Western Reserve chronicle. (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, May 02, 1855, Image 1

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VOL. 39, NO. 3 7.
WARREN, TRUMBULL COUNTY, OHIO, WEDNESDAY MAY 2, 1855.
WHOLE NO. 2013-
PUBLISHED Br
HAP GOOD & ADAMS,
curiae a lock.
Poetry.
From the Louisville Times.
RETURN OF SPRING.
I knew by the song that the blue-birds sing J
I know by the streamlet's roiee.
That the rose-wreathed forms of the relret Spring,
O'er the aplaods now rejoice ;
I know by the scent of the primrose pale
By the riolet's azure eye,
- Chat the sprite of Spring has been in the rale.
That the Winter has said Good-bye."
. I know by the hum of the be that lies
To he sweet-leafed maple there.
That the bads hare opened their dewy eyes
At the kiss of the warm south air ;
I know by the trout, as he all day plays
On the rocks beneath the mill.
That the gentle foot of Spring now strays.
Warm and soft o'er stream and hill.
And I know by the boblink's early song.
As it echoes clear and wild ;
By the wind as they sport in glee along.
That the Queen of Spring has smiled :
1 know by the dogwood's gorgeous bloom ;
. By the crabtree's gorgeous dress ;
By the hawthorn's delightful rich perfume,
That they're felt Spring's caress.
I know by the coo of the timid dore.
At the morning's sunny glow,
That Spring has come with a wreath of love.
Where long lay the hidden snow.
I know by the breath of a thousand Bowers ;
, "By the glad song of the brooks.
That Spring ha come with her sun and showers, .
- O'er the wild wood's quiet nooks.
And I know by the J oung lamb's careless play
On the mountain's grassy side.
That Spring new has spread her mantle gay
O'er the wild wood far and wide.
I know the sky as it bends there
Its soft ether reil of light.
That Spring has spread a bright robe of lova
O'er the mountain's far bine height.
I know by the song that the field lark sings,
- As he mounts up from his nest.
And flutters aloft on his airy wings.
With dew on hi golden breast.
Thai Spring ha come with her thousand dyes,
' On the wild landscape to dwell,
. And scatter warm sunbeams down from the skies,
Orer field, and wood, and deU.
I know by the breeze that comes from the south
At hush of the pleasant day ; .
I know by the notes that are trembling forth
From the pe-wit on the spray,
That the Goddess of Spring has come again
In her dress of blue and gold ;
In Bowers and birds on the meadow and plain
Their orgies of thankfulness hold. -
FLOWERS.
BY MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.
Bach leaflet is a tiny scroll
Inscribed with holy truth,
A lesson that around the heart
- Rhniild keen the dew of youth. ;
Bright missals from angelic throngs
In erery by-way left,
' How were the earth of glory shorn
. Were it of flowers bereft! .
' They tremble on the Alpine heights.
The fissured rock they press.
The desert wild with heat and sand,
Shares, too, their blessedness ;
And wherese'er the weary heart
Turns in its dim despair,
. The meek-eyed blossom upward looks,
Inriting it to prayer.
BY MRS. E. OAKES SMITH. Choice Miscellany.
From Wolfert's Roost.
THE ORDEAL.
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.
The world is growing older and wiser.
Its institutions vary with its years and
mark its growing wisdom ; and none
more so than its modes of investigating
truth, and ascertaining guilt or inno
cence. In its nonage, when man was
yet a fallible being and doubted the ac
curacy of his own intellect, appeals were
made to heaven in dark and doubtful
cases of atrocious accusation.
The accused was required to plunge
his hand in boiling oil, or to walk across
red-hot plough-shares, or to maintain his
innocence in armed fight and listed field,
in person or by champion. If he passed
these ordeals unscathed, he stood ac
quitted, and the result was regarded as
a verdict from on high.
It is somewhat remarkable that, in
the gallant age of chivalry, the gentler
sex should have been most frequently
the subjects of these rude trials and per
ilous ordeals ; and that, too, when as
sailed in their most delicate and vulner
able part their hoc or.
In the present very old and enlight
ened age of the viorld, when the human
intellect is perfectly competent to the
management of its own concerns, and
seeds no special interposition of heaven
in its affairs, the trial by jury has su
perseded these superhuman ordeals ; and
the unanimity of twelve discordant minds
is necessary to constitute a verdict.
Such a unanimity would, at first sight,
appear also to require a miracle from
heaven; but it is produced by a simple
device of human ingenuity. The twelve
jurors are locked up in their box, there
to fast uutil abstinence shall have so
clarified their intellects that the whole
jarring panel can discern the truth, and
concur in a unanimous decision. One
point is certain, that truth is one, and is
immutable until the jurors all agree,
they cannot all be right.
It is not our intention, however, to
discuss this great judicial point, or to
question the avowed superiority of the
mode of investigating truth, adopted in
this antiquated and very sagacious era.
It is our object merely to exhibit to the
curious reader, one of the most memora
ble cases of judicial combat we find in
the annals of Spain. It occurred at
the bright commencement of the reign.
a
of
so
A
to
a
to
in
go
in
take
and in the youthful, and, as yet, glori-
ous days of Roderick the Goth ; who
subsequently tarnished his fame at home
by his misdeeds, and finally, lost his
kingdom and his life on the banks of the
Guadalete, in that disastrous battle which
gave up Spain a conquest to the Moors
The following is the story :
There was, once upon a time, a cer
tain duke of Lorraine, who was acknow
ledged throughout his domains to be one
of the wisest princes that ever lived. In
fact, there was no one measure adopted
by him that did not astonish his privy
counselors and gentlemen in attendance;
and he said such witty' things, and made
such sensible speeches, that the jaws of
his high chamberlain were wellnigh dis
located from laughing with delight at
one, and gaping with wonder at the other.
This very witty and exceedingly wise
potentate lived for half a century in sin
gle blessedness ; at length his courtiers
began to think it a great pity so wise
and wealthy a prince should not have a
child after his own likeness, to inherit
his talents and domains ; so they urged
him most respectfully to marry, for the
good of his estate, and the welfare of his
subjects.
He turned their advice over in his
mind some four or five years, and then
sent forth emissaries to summon to his
court all the beautiful maidens in the
land, who were ambitious of sharing a
ducal crown. The court was soon crowd
ed with beauties of all styles and com
plexions, from among whom he chose
one in the earliest budding of her charms,
and acknowledged by all the gentlemen
to be unparalleled for grace and lovel
ness. The courtiers extolled' the duke
to tho skies for making such a choice,
and considered it another proof of his
great wisdom. "The duke, said they,
"is .waxing a little too old ; the damsel,
on the other hand, is a little too young ;
one is lacking in years, the other has
a superabundance ; thus a want on one
side, is balanced by an excess on the
other, and the result is a well-assorted
marriage."
Th rlnl-o, ng is. -often the case ewith
wise men who marry rather late, and
take damsels rather youthful to their
bosoms, became dotingly fond of his wife,
and very properly indulged her in all
things. He was, consequently, cried up
by his subjects .in general, and by the
ladies in particular, as a pattern for hus
bands ; and, in the end, from the won
derful docility with which he submitted
be reined and checked, acquired the
amiable and enviable appellation of
Duke Philbert the wife-ridden.
There was only one thing that disturb
the conjugal felicity of this paragon
husbands though a considerable time
elapsed after his marriage, there was
still no prospect of an ht ir. The good
duke left no means untried to propitiate
Heaven. He made vows and pilgrim
ages, he fasted and he prayed, but all to
no purpose, ihe courtiers were all as
tonished at the circumstance. They
could not account for it. While the
meanest peasant in the country had
sturdy brats by dozens, without putting
up a prayer, the duke wore himself to
skin and b one with penances and fastings,
yet seemed farther off from his object
than ever.
At length the worthy prince fell dan
gerously ill, and felt his end approach
ing. He looked sorrowfully and dubi
ously upon his young and tender spouse,
who hung over him with tears and sob-
uings. --.ias j rata ne, tears are
6oon dried from youthful eyes, and sor
row lies lightly on a youthful heart. In
little while thou wilt forget in the arms
another husband him who loved thee
tenderly."
"Never! never!" cried the duchess.
"Never will I cleave to another ! Alas,
that my lord should think me capable ol
such inconstancy 1"
The worthy and wife-ridden duke was
soothed by her assurances ; for he could
not brook the thought of giving her up,
even after he should be dead. Still he
wished to have some pi . ige of her endu
ring constancy.
"Far be it from me, my dearest wife,"
said he, " to control thee through life.
year and a day of strict fidelity will
appease my troubled spirit. Promise
remain faithful to my memory for a
year and a day, and I will die in peace."
The duchess made a solemn vow to
that effect, but the uxorious feelings of
the duke were not yet satisfied. "Safe
bind, safe find," thought he ; so he made
will, bequeathing to her all his do
mains, on condition o( her rcniainingtrue
him for a year and a day after his de
cease ; but, should it appear that, with
that time, she had in anywise lapsed
from her fidelity, the inherilance should
to his nephew, the lord of a neighbor
ing territory.
Having made his will, the good duke
died and was buried. Scarcely was he
his tomb, when his nephew came to
possession, thinking, as his uncle
as
a
had died without issue, the domains would
be devised to him of course. He was in
a furious passion, when the will was pro
duced, and the young widow declared
inheritor of the dukedom. As he was a
violent, high-Landed man, and one of the
sturdiest knights in the land, fears were
entertained that he might attempt to
seize on the territories by force. He had,
however, two bachelor uncles for bosom
counselors swaggering, rakehelly old
cavaliers, who, having led loose and riot
ous lives, prided themselves upon know
ing the world, and deeply experienced in
human nature. "Prithee, man, be of
good cheer," said they, " the duchess is
a young and buxom widow. She has
just buried our brother, who, God rest
his soul ! was somewhat too much given
to praying and fasting, and kept his
pretty wife always tied to his girdle. She
is now like a bird from a cage. Think
you she will keep her vow? Pooh,
pooh impossible ! Take our words for
it we know mankind, and above all,
womankind. She cannot hold out for
that length of time, it is not in woman
hood it is not in widowhood we know
it, and that's enough. Keep a sharp
look-out upon the widow, therefore, and
within the twelvemonth you will catch
her tripping and then the dukedom is
your own."
The nephew was pleased with this
counsel, and immediately placed spies
round the duchess, and bribed several of
her servants to keep watch upon her, so
that she could not take a single step, even
from one apartment of her palace to an
other, without being observed. Never
was a young and beautiful widow exposed
to so terrible an ordeal.
The duchess was aware of the watch
thus kept upon her. Though confident
of her own rectitude, she knew that it is
not enough for a woman to be virtuous
she must be above the reach of slander.
For the whole term of her probation,
therefore, she proclaimed a strict non-intercourse
wiih the other sex. She had
females for cabinet ministers and cham
berlains, through whom she transacted
all her public and private concerns ; and
it is said that never were the affairs of
tHe dukedom so adroitly administered.
All males were rigorously excluded
from the palace ; she never went out of
its precincts, and whenever she mqyed
about its courts and gardens, she sur
rounded herself with a body-guard of
young maids of honor, commanded by
dames renowned for discretion. She
slept in a bed without curtains, placed in
the centre of a room, illuminated by in
numerable wax tapers. Four ancient
spinsters, virtuous as Virginia, perfect
dragons of watchfulness, who only slept
during the daytime, kept vigils through
out the night, seated in the four corners
of the room on stools, without backs or
arms, and with seats cut in checkers of
the hardest wood, to keep them from
dozing.
Thus wisely and warily did the young
duchess conduct herself for twelve long
months, and slander almost bit her tongue
off in despair, at finding no room even for
asuimise. Never was ordeal more bur
densome, or more enduringly sustained.
The year passed away. The last, odd
day arrived, and a long, long day it was.
It was the twenty-first of June, the long
est day in the year. It seemed as if it
would never come to an end. A thou
sand times did the duchess and hsr ladies
wAtch the san from the windows of the
palace, as he slowly climbed the vault of
heaven, and seemed still more slowly to
roll down. They could not help express
ing their wonder, now and then, why
the duke should have tagged this super
numerary day to the end of the year, as
if thiee hundred and sixty-five days
were not sufficient to. try and task the
fidelity of any woman. It is the last
grain that turns the scale the last drop
that overflows the goblet and the last
moment of delay that exhausts the pa
tience. By the time the sun sank below
the horizon, the duchess was in a fidget
that passed all bounds, and, though sev
eral hours were yet to pass before the
day regularly expired, she could not
have remained those hours in durance to
gain a royal crown, much less a ducal
coronet. So she gave orders, and her
palfrey, magnificently caparisoned, was
brought into the court-yard of the castle,
with palfreys for all her ladies in attend
ance. In this way she sallied forth, just
the sun "had gone down. It was a
mission of piety a pilgrim cavalcade to
convent at the foot of a neighboring
mountain to return thanks to the blessed
Virgin, for having sustained her through
this fearful ordeal.
The orisons performed, the duchess
and her ladies returned, ambling gently
along the border of a forest. It was
about that mellow hour of twilight when
night and day are mingled, and all ob
jects are indistinct. Suddenly, some
monstrous animal sprung from out a
thiokat, with fearful bowlings. The fe
a
up
a
If
to
for
pie
and
ries
sage
The
to
bat,
go
was
male body guard was thrown into confu
sion ana nea ainerect ways. It was
some time before they recovered from
their panic, and gathered once more to
gether ; but the duchess was not to be
found. The greatest anxiety was felt
for her safety. The hazy mist of twilight
had prevented their distinguishing per
fectly the animal which had affrighted
them. Some thought it a wolf, others a
bear, others a wild man of the woods.
For upwards of an hour did they be
leaguer the forest, without daring to ven
ture in, and were on the point of giving
up the duchess as torn to pieces and de
voured, when, to their great joy, they be
held her advancing in the gloom, sup
ported by a stately cavalier.
He was a stranger knight, whom no
body knew. It was impossible to dis
tinguish his countenance in the dark ;
but all the ladies agreed that he was of
noble presence and captivating address.
He had rescued the duchess from the
very fangs of the monster, which, he as
sured the ladies, was neither a wolf, nor
bear, nor yet a wild man of the woods,
but a veritable fiery dragon, a species of
monster peculiarly hostile to beautiful
females in the days of chivalry, and
which all the efforts of the knight-errantry
had not been able to extirpate.
The ladies crossed themselves when
they heard of the danger from which
they had escaped, and could not enough
admire the gallantry of the cavalier.
The duchess would fain have prevailed
on her deliverer to accompany her to
her courr, but he had no time to spare,
being a knight-errant, who had many
adventures on hand, and many distressed
damsels and afflicted widows to rescue
and relieve in various parts of the coun
try. Taking a respectful leave, there
fore, he pursued his wayfaring, and the
duchess and her train returned to the
palace. Throughout the whole way, the
ladies were unwearied in chanting the
praises of the stranger knight ; nay,
many of them would willingly have in
curred the danger of the dragon to have
enjoyed the happy deliveiance of the
duchess. As to the latter, she rode pen
sively along, but said nothing.
No sooner was the adventure of the
wood made public, than a whirlwind
was raised about the ears of the beauti
ful duchess. The blustering nephew of
the duke went about, armed to the teeth,
with a swaggering uncle at each shoul
der, ready to back him, and swore the
duchess had forfeited her domain. It
was in vain that she called all the saints,
and angels, and her ladies in attendance
into the bargain, to witness that she had
passed a year and a day of immaculate
fidelity. One fatal hour remained to be
accounted for ; and into the space of one
little hour sins enough may be conjured
by evil tongues, to blast the fame of
whole life of virtue.
The two graceless uncles, who had
seen the world, were ever ready to bol
ster the matter through, and as they
were brawny, broad-shouldered warriors
and veterans in brawl as well as debauch,
they had great sway with the multitude.
any one pretended to assert the inno
cence of the duchess, they interrupted
him with a loud ha ! ha ! of derision.
'A pretty story, truly," would they cry,
"about a wolf and a dragon, and
young widow rescued in the dark by a
sturdy varlet, who dares not show his
face in the daylight. You may tell that
those who do not know human nature ;
our parts, we know the sex, and that's
enough."
If, however, the other repeated his as
sertion, they would suddenly knit their
brows, swell, look hist, and put their
hands upon their swords. As few peo
like to fight in a cause that does not
touch their own interests, the nephew
the uncles were suffered to have
their own way, and
dieted.
swagger uncontra-
The matter was at length referred to
tribunal composed of all the dignita
of the dukedom, and many and re
peated consultations were held. The
character of the duchess, throughout the
ear was as bright and spotless as the
moon in a cloudless night ; one fatal
our of darkness alone intervened to
eclipse its brightness. Finding human
sagacity incapable of dispelling the mys
tery, it was determined to leave the ques
tion to Heaven ; or, in other words, to
decide it by the ordeal of the sword a
tribunul in the age of chivalry.
nephew and two bully uncles were
maintain their accusation in listed com
and six months were allowed to the
duchess to provide herself with three
champions, to meet them in the field.
Should she fail in this, or should her
champions be vanquished, her honor
would be considered as attainted, her
fidelity asforfeit, and her dukedom would
to the nephew as a matter of right.
With this determination the duchess
fain to comply. Proclamations were
accordingly. made, and heralds sent to
various parts ; but day after day, week
after week, and month after month,
elapsed, without any champion appearing
to assert her loyalty throughout that
darksome hour. The fair widow was te
duced to despair, when tidings reached
her of grand tournaments to be held at
Toledo, in celebration of the nuptials of
Don Roderick, the last of the Gothic
kings, with the Morisco princess Exilona.
As a last resort, the duchess repaired to
the Spanish court, to implore the gal
lantry of the assembled chivalry.
The ancient city of Toledo was a scene
of gorgeous revelry on the event of the
royal nuptials. The youthful king, brave,
ardent, nnd magnificent, and his lovely
bride, beaming with all the radiant beau
ty of the east, were hailed with shouts
and acclamations wherever Ihey appear
ed. Their nobles vied with each other
in the luxury of their attire, their pranc
ing steeds, and splendid retinues ; and
the haughty dames of the court appeared
in a blaze of jewels.
In the midst of all this pageantry, the
beautiful, but afflicted Dutchess of Lor
raine made her approach to the throne.
She was dressed in black, and closely
veiled ; four duennas, of the most staid
and severe aspect, and six beautiful
demoiselles, formed her1 female attend
ants. She was guarded by several very
ancient, withered, and gray-headed cav
aliers ; and her train was borne by one
of the most deformed and diminutive
dwarfs in existence.
. Advancing to the foot of the throne,
she knelt down, and throwing up her
veil, revealed a countenance so beautiful
that half the courtiers present were ready
to renounce wives and mistresses, and
devote themselves to her service ; but
when she made known that she came in
quest of champions to defend her fame,
every cavalier pressed forward to offer
his arm and sword, without inquiring
into the merits of the case ; for it seemed
clear that so beauteous a lady could have
done nothing but what was right ; and
that, at any rate, she ought to be cham
pioned in following the bent of her bu
rners, whether right or wrong.
Encouraged by such gallant zeal, the
duchess suffered herself to be raised from
the ground, and related the whole story
of her distress. When she concluded,
the king remained for some time silent,
charmed by the music of het voice. Al
length : "As I hope for salvation, most
beautiful duchess," said he, " were I not
a sovereign king, and bound in duty to
my kingdom, I myself would put a lance
in rest to vindicate your cause ; as it is,
I here give full permission to my knights,
and promise lists and a fair field, and
that the contest shall take place before
the walls of Toledo, in presence of my
assembled couit."
As soon as the pleasure of the king
was known, there was a strife among the
cavaliers present, for the honor of the
contest. It was decided by lot, and the
successful candidates were objects of
great envy, for every one was ambitious
of finding favor in the eyes of the beau
tiful widow.
Missives were sent, summoning the
nephew and his two uncles to Toledo, to
maintain their accusation, and a day was
appointed for the combat. When the
day arrived, all Toledo was in commo
tion at an early hour. The lists had
been prepared in the usual place, just
without the walls, at the foot of the rug
ged rocks on which the city is built, and
on that beautiful meadow along the Ta-,
gus, known by the name of the king's .
garden. ' The populace had already as
sembled, each one eager to secure a fa
vorable place : the balconies were filled
with the ladies of the court, clad in their
richest attire, and bands of youthful
knights, splendidly armed and decorated
with their ladies' devices, were managing
their superbly caparisoned steeds about
the field. The king at length came
forth in state, accompanied by the queen
Exilona. They took their seats in a
raised balcony, under a canopy of rich
dama&k ; and at the sight of them, the
people rent the air with acclamations.
The nephew and his uncles now rode
into the field, armed cap-a-pie, and fol
lowed by a train of cavaliers of their own
roystering cast, great swearers and cn
rousers, arrant swashbucklers, wit i clank
ing armor and jingling spurs. When the
people of Toledo beheld the daunting and
disco urtPous appearance of these knights,
they were more anxious than ever for the
success of the gentle duchess ; but, at the
same time, the sturdy and stalwart frames
of theso warriors, showed that whoever
won the victory from them, must do it at
the cost of many a bitter blow.
As the nephew and his riotous crew
rode in at one side of the field, the fair
widow appeared at the other, with ber
suite of grave grayheaded couriers, her
ancient duennas and dainty demoiselles,
ind the little dwarf toiling along under
he weight of her train. Every one made
way for her as she passed, and blessed
her beautiful face, and prayed for success
to her cause. She took ber seat in a
lower balcony, not far from the sovereigns;
and her pale face, set off by her mourning
wesds, was as the moon shining forth from
among the couds of night.
The trumpet sounded for the combat.
The warriors were just entering the lists,
when a stranger knight, armed in panoply,
and followed by two pages and an esquire,
came galloping into the field, and, riding
up to the loyal balcony, claimed the com
bat as a matter of right.
"In me," cried he, "behold the cavalier
who had the happiness to rescue the beau
tiful duchess from the peril of the forest,
and the misfortune to bring on her this
grievous, calumny. It was bat recently,
in the course of my errantry, that tidings
of her wrongs have reached my ears, and
I have urged hither at all speed, to stand
forth in her vindication."
No sooner did the duchess hear the ac
cents of the knight, than she recognised
his voice, and joined her prayers with his
that he might enter the lists. The diffi
culty was, to determine which of the three
champions already appointed should yield
his place, each insisting on the honor of
the combat. The stranger knight would
have settled the point, by taking the whole
contest upon himself ; but this the other
knights would not permit. It was at
length drtermined, as before, by lot, and
the cavalier who lost the chance retired
murmuring and disconsolate.
The trumpets again sounded the lists
were opened. The arrogant nephew and
his two drawcansir uncles appeared so
completely cased in steel, that they and
their steeds were like moving masses of
iron. When they understood the stranger
knight to be the same that had rescued
the duchess from her peril, they greeted
him with the most boisterous derision
--u no: sir nnigni 01 me uragoo, sa
id
they, "you who pretend to champion fair
widows in the dark, come on and vindi
cate your deeds of darkness in the open
day."
The only reply of the cavalier was to
put lance in rest, and brace himself for
the encounter. Needless is it to relate
the particulars of a battle, which was like
so many hundred combats that have been
said and sung in prose and verse. Who
is there but must have foreseen the event
of a contest, where Heaven had to decide
on the guilt or innocence of the most
beautiful and immaculate of widows ?
The sagacious reader, deeply read in
this kind of judicial combats, can imagine
the encounter of the graceless nephew
and the stranger knight. He sees their
concussion, man to man, and horse to
horse, in mad career, and sir Graceless
hurled to the ground, and slain. He will
not wonder that the assaults of the braw
ny uncles were less successful in their
rude encounter; but he will picture to
himselt the stout stranger spurring to
their rescue, in the very critical moment ;
he will see him transfixing one with his
lance, and cleaving the other to the chin
with a back stroke of his sword, thus
leaving the trio of accusers dead upo.i
the field, and establishing the immaculate
fidelity of the duchess, and her title to the
dukedom, beyond the shadow of a doubt.
The air rang with acclamations; no
thing was heard but praises of the beauty
and virtue of the duchess, and of the prow.
ess of the stranger knight ; but the public
loy was still more increased when the
champion raised his visor, and revealed
the countenance of one of the bravest
cavaliers of Spain, renowned for his gal.
lanlry in the service of her sex, and who
had been round the world in quest of sim
ilar adventures.
That worthy knight, however, was se
verely wounded, and remained for a long
time ill of his wounds. The lovely duch
ess. grateful for having twice owed her
protection to his arm, attended him daily
during his illness ; and finally rewarded
his gallantry with her hand.
The king would fain have had the knight
establish his title to such high advance
ment by farther deeds of arms ; but his
courtiers declared that he already merited
the lady, by thus vindicating ber fame
and fortune in a deadly combat to outrance;
and the lady herself hinted that she was
perfectly satisfied of his prowess in arms,
from the proofs she had received in his
Achievement in the forest.
Their nuptials were celebrated with
great magnificence. The present hus
band of the duchess did not pray and fast
like his predecessor, Puilibert, the wife
ridden ; yet he found greater favor in the
eyes of Heaven, for their union was bles
sed with a numerous progeny the daugh
ters chaste and beauteous as I heir mother;
the sons stout and valiant as their sire,
and renowned like him, for relieving dis
consolate damsels and desolate widows.
It has been humanely given to Mem
bers of Congress to admiie their own
speeches, or else they never could speech-
fy so much as they do !
THE DIGNITY OF MECHANICS.
In one of his letters, the Rev. Dr. Ad
dams said "SL Paul was a mechanic
a maker of tenta from goat's hair; and
in the lecturer's opinion he was a model
mechanic. He was.not only a thorough
workman at his trade, bat was a scholar
a perfect master, not only of his native
Hebrew, but of three foreign tongues, a
knowledge of which he obtained by a
close application to study La his leisure
hours while serving his apprenticeship.
It was the custom, not confined to the
poor classes, but was also practiced by
the wealthy; and it was a comman prov
erb among them, that if a father did not
teach his son a mechanical occupation,
he taught him to steal. This custom
was a wise one ; and if the fathers of the
present day would imitate the example,
their wrinkled cheeks would not so often
blush for the helplessness, and not un
frequently criminal conduct of their off
spring. Even if a father intended his
son for one of the professions it would be
an incalculable benefit to that son to in
struct him in some branch of mechanic
ism. His education would not only be
more complete and healthy,, but he
might at some future time, in case of
failure in his profession, find his trade
very convenient as a means of earning
his bread ; and he must necessarily be
the more competent in mechanical skill
from a professional education. An ed
ucated mechanic waa a model mechanic,
while an uneducated mechanic waa mere
ly a mechanic working under another's
brain. Let the rich and the proud ho
longer look upon mechanicism as degra
ding to him who adopts a branch of it
as his calling. It is a noble calling as
noble as the indolence and inactivity of
wealth is ignoble."
NOVEL Rsa80B TOR DxCUXtSO A
Challenge. The New York Times
states that on Tuesday a flare-up oc
curred in Brooklyn, which resulted in
Col. Jack, a lawyer, challenging a pro
fessional brother, named Schoonmaker.
and that the latter declined accepting
the invitation, "unless the Colonel would
fatten himself up sufficiently to be a
mark to shoot at." Col. J. has not yet
indicated his intention to accede to the
request
A Goner. The Van Buren, ( Arkan
sas,) Intelligencer of the 30th nit., says :
It has been mathematically proven
and practically demonstrated, that the
Arkansas river will no more be fit for :
navigation. The banks have fallen in
to such an extent as to widen the head
of the river immeasurably, requiring a
larger volume of water than usually
comes down on ordinary rises, to furnish
its thirsty bars and fill up the bed. The
only dependence now is the railroad.
RrinnNG to RrBBOi. The New-York
Lift Illustrated says : The latest folly
enjoined by the goddess of fashion upon
her abject devotees, the ladies of this
enlightened metropolis, is the wearing of
bonnet-ribboru four feet long. The bon-
nets, meanwhile, continue to recede from
public observation. They have long
been invisible to the naked eye of the
wearer ; and they now threaten to run
entirely to ribbon.
Bra law recently passed in Michigan,
married woman may receive, bay.
sell, devise, mortgage, fec, her real and
personal property, without the consent
of her husband, and also sue and be
sued, without joining her husband in
the suit in either case. So, the identity
of the woman, as an individual, is begin
ing to be fairly recognised.
To seize opportunity by the forelock is
a familiar piece of advice : We lately
saw in an old book of wisdom, the fact
upon which it is founded, vis : that "Op
portunity has long hair in front and short
behind." Too many, then, fancy that he
wears a cue, but find out their mistake
when they try to catch it.
Ose pound of gold may be drawn in
to a wire that would extend round the
globe. So one good deed may be felt
through all time and even extend its con-
sequences into eternity. Though done
in the first flush of youth, it may gild the
last hours of a long life, and form the
only bright spot in it.
'Nature is ever busy, by the silent
operation of her own forces, endeavoring
to cure disease. Her medicines are, air.
warmth, food, water, exercise, and sleep.
Their use is directed by instinct, and
(hat man is most worthy the name of a
physician, who most reveres its unerring
law."
Love, the toothache, smoke, a cough.
and a tight boot, are things which can
not possibly be kept secret very long.
The Cleveland Leader says there is
not less than 1,500.000 barrels of surplus
flour, now in the West. Hope there U
no mistake about it.
THE DIGNITY OF MECHANICS. For the Farmer.
STARCH AND SUGAR.
The two great articles of nourishment
in food, are starch and sugar. - In the
selection of seed, then, get the varieties
that possess moat of these substances. Ia
selecting com to drill in for fodder, the
sweet corn is the best, as it contains far
more saccharine matter.. Cattle like k
far better, and it affords more nourishment.
A larger crop may be raised by dri fog
in the large Southern corn, or gourd seed,
but it. will not supply an equal amount of
saccharine, or nourishing matter, ;
. Different fields may be sowed at differ
ent periods, from the middle of May to
the first of June ; and thus, if a drouth,
or other cause, injures one field, or piece
of land, there is a chance for the ethers.
An experienced gambler never would risk
all on one throw of the dice. Let us leant
wisdom even from him, and not risk all
on a single crop, or on the time of plant
ing or sowing the same crop. Some sea
sons, early sowed . wheat, early planted
potatoes, and early planted corn do the
bestin other seasons, the later planted
and sowed plants do the best. It is wis
dom to provide for these uncertainties, by
owing and planting at intervals, so as to
meet every , variety of season. Ohio
Farmer. : . .
PLANT EARLY.
If the spring is cold, and backward, we
often hear the farmers say, "corn is bette
out of the ground, than in iu" ' ,
Well, now, friends, you were never
more mistaken in your li'es. If the frost
is out of the ground, and the weather
warm enough to sprout it, corn bad better
be in the ground. It may be kept back,
likaa talentrl step-son, but its energise
are accumulating, and as soon as a favor
able opportunity offers, its' latent powers
will show themselves , i;
While the top is kept down by the chill
air, its roots, protected by the earth, are
spreading, and striking deep, which wil
enable it to stand the heat and drought of
mid-summer. ; I
Corn tope will not grow much while the
thermometer is below seventy degrees,
but' the root will, so that they become
disproportioned to the top. . Corn planted
later, will often overtake it in growth, bat
the early planted will ripen at least two
weeks earlier than the late planted, and
having so much root, ia not so much in
jured by the drought.
For a good, full crop, corn should be
planted so as to glaze before the middle
of September. You may as well under
take to ripen water-melons by moonshine,
as corn by the bleak winds of October.
Ohio' Former. 1 u '
STARVATION PRICES.
It is scarcely to be expected that ano
ther year can witness such abundant crops
in Great Britain, as the past; and when
we consider the vast number of men taken
from the ranks of the producers in Eu
rope to those of consumers merely, as well
as the vast fields from which England
formerly exported so much of her bread.
stuffs, and to which the war now gives
her no access, it is evident that present
high prices must continue. Indeed, un
less the state of things is much changed
in our own land, they are but the precur
sors of still higher prices, if sot of aa
absolute famine. And unless we raise
far more than- we did last year, we shall
not be able to live ourselves on the pro
ducts of our own wide lands ; aside from
the fact that there must be an immense
drain upon us for the foreign market.
Our present reserves of breadstuffs are
very light indeed, it would seem scarce
ly large enough to carry us through till
next harvest. This matter is worthy the
attention of agriculturists. '..
No man need fear to grow juet at muck
at &e possibly can. Every acre ahould
be employed, and in the best way. You
cannot fill your granaries too full ; you
cannot reduce prices, with all you can
put into the market next year, mcch, if
at all, below what they are at present ; it
will indeed require every grain you can
produce to prevent their raising to a de
gree that will be equivalent to famine.
Country Gentleman.
" Whatever a man sows that shall he
also reap," is no less true in a moral than
in an agricultural sense. The things that
are grown spring from a germ. The char,
acter of the germ determines the charac
ter of the product to be reapt from its
sowing. -
To Clean Paut. Smear a piece of
flannel in common whiting, mixed to the
consistency of common paste, in warm
water. Rub the surface to be cleaned
quite briskly, and wash off with pure cold
water. Grease spots will in this wsy ke
almost instantly removed, as well as other
filth, and the paint will retaia its brilliaa
ey and beauty unimpaired.

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