Newspaper Page Text
E&PG003 & ADAMS.
VOL. 39, NO. 45.
famlh Saiirnul, Druotrb
ta rrtbom, Agriculture, literature, duration, Torn!
S iitrllignirr, : nnb Wjt Him
JUNE 27, 1 855.
of i!;e Dai.
ONU DOLLAR AND FIFTY CETJT8
rc ARVOI, U ADTABCE.
WHOLE NO. 2021-
[For the Chronicle.]
THE HERO OF THE ARCTIC.
BY FLORUS B. PLIMPTON.
(StirrI on ranlhis the h-uc in T'tV ttmrot or th
Arctic ct.miir. h--.. uc ll.-ji-rs. i. accrll-t'd u wing tli
if aai-S.. IMaeut lac U . milking J
On the quarter-deck of the Artie stood
The hero-boy undaunted.
Like Ilope with her calm heart unsubdued.
And her angel face enchanted.
While stout hearts quailed, and wildly rose
The tempest of commotion.
The brave boy gave the signal-guns
To the misty waste of Ocean.
Despair and the phantom Terrors round
The masts and the spars were flying,
While wildly swept o'er the surging waves
The wail of the lost and dying.
Bat hark ! though the death-pall hangs above.
And the grave is yawning under.
The signal gun through the misty gloom
Still speaks in tones of thunder.
Then the craven fled and the timid wept.
And prayers to heaven were given.
As the fuming waters round them closed.
And the iron ribs were riven.
And lo ! the dun clouds glow and glare.
And the masts are wildly reeling :
The signal-blase the calm, pale form
Of the hero-boy revealing.
Elow sank the gallant ship, the sea
Her green waves o'er her meeting ;
And the hearts that thrilled to love and fear,
Forgot the woe of beating.
But hark I the signal-gun once more,
And the clouds repeat the story
Brave boy 1 that halo-light to death
Was thy halo-robe of glory !
Elmira, N. T., June, IKS.
Tell me, ye winged winds.
That round my pathway roar.
Do ye not know some spot
Where mortals weep no more T
8ome lone and pleasant dell,
Some valley In the west.
Where free from toil and pain
The weary soul may rest ?
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low.
And sighed for pity, as it answered " no !
Tell me, thou mighty deep.
Where billows round me play, m
Xuow'st thou not some favor'd spot,
Some island far away.
Where weary man may find
The bliss for which he sighs,
Where sorrow never lives
And friendship never dies ?
The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow.
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer " not"
And thou, serenes! moon.
That with such lovely face
Dost look upon the earth,
Asleep in night's embrace
Tell me, in all thy rounds.
Hast thou not seen some spot
Where miserable man
Might find a happier lot 1
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe.
And with voice sweet, but sad, responded "no!"
Tell me, my secret soul,
Oh ! ten me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting place
From sorrow, sin and death t
Is there no happy spot
Where mortals may be blessed.
Where grief may find a balm.
And weariness a rest ?
Faith, Hope and Lore ; best boons t mortals given.
Waved their bright wings and whispered, "yes. In Heaven."
THE INQUIRY. Choice Miscellany.
[From the Home Magazine.]
[From the Home Magazine.] THE TWO HOMES.
BY T. S. ARTHUR.
Two men, on their way home, met at
a street crossing, and then walked on
together. They were neighbors and
" This has been a very hard day,
said Mr. Freeman, in a gloomy voice.
"A very hard day," echoed, almost
seoulchrallv. Mr. Walcott. "Little or
no cash coming in payments heavy
money scarce, and at ruinous rates.
What is to become of us ?"
" Heaven only knows," enswered Mr.
Freeman. For my part, I see no light
ahead. Every day t:omes new reports of
failures, every day confidence diminish
es ; every day some prop that we leaned
upon is taken away."
" Many think we are at the worst,"
said Mr. Walcott.
"And others, that we have scarcely
seen the beginning of the end" return
ed the neighbor.
And so, as they walked homeward,
they discouraged each other, and made
darker clouds that obscured their whole
"Good evening," was atlast said, hur
riedly ; and the two men dashed into
Mr. Walcott entered the room, where
hjs wife and children were gathered,
and without speaking to any one, seated
himself in a chair, and leaning his head
back, closed his eyes. His countenance
wore a 6ad, weary, exhausted look. He
had been seated thus for only a few min
utes, when his wifew6aid, in a fretful
" Mere trouble again."
"What's the matter now?" asked
Mr. Walcott, almost starting.
"John has been 6ent home from
"What !"" Mr. Walcott partly arose
from his chair.
"He's been suspended for bad con
duct" " O dear ! " groaned Mr. Walcott
"Where is he?"
" Up in his room. I sent him there as
soon as he came home. You'll have to
do something with him. He'll be ruined
if he goes on in ibis way. I'm out of
heart with him.".
Mr. Walcott, excited as much by the
manner in which his wife conveyed un
pleasant information, as by the informa
tion itself, started np, under the blind
impulse of the moment, and going to the
room where John had been sent on com
ing home from school, punished the boy
severe!', and this, without listening to
the explanations which the poor child
tried to makaAim hear.
"Father," d the boy, with forced
calmness, after the cruel stripes had
ceased ' I wgtH,,4-blame ; and if
you will co with me m tlie teacher, l
can prove mvself innocent."
Mr. Walcott had nevfeInown his son
to tell an untruth : and the words smote
with rebuke on his heart.
" Very wellre will see about that"
he answereoy with forced sternness,
and leaving the room he went down
stairs, feeling much worse than when
he went up. Again he seated himself
in his large chair, and again leaned back
his weary head, and closed his heavy
eyelids. Sadder was his face than be
fore. As he sat thus, his oldest daugh
ter, iu her sixteenth year, came and
stood by him. She held a paper in her
" Father" he opened his eyes.
"Here's my quarter bill. It's twenty
dollars. Can't I have the money to take
to school with me in the morning ?"
"I'm afraid not" answered Mr. Wal
cott, half sadly.
"Nearly all the girls will bring in
their money to-morrow' ; and it mortifies
me to be behind the others." The
daughter Epoke fretfully. Mr. Walcott
waved her aside with his hand, and she
went off muttering and pouting.
"It is mortifying," spoke up Mrs
Walcott, a little sharply " and I don't
wonder that Helen fuels unpleasantly
about it. The bill has to be paid, and
I don't see why it may not be done as
well first as last."
To this Mr. Walcott made no answer,
The wcrds but added another pressure
to the burden under which he was al
ready staggering. After a silence of
some moments, Mrs. Walcott said
" The coal is all gone."
" Impossible ! " Mr. Walcott raised
his head, and looked incredulous,
laid in sixteen tons."
" I can't help it, if there were sixty
tons, instead of sixteen ; it's all gone-
girls had a time of it to-day, to scrape
up enough to keep the fire going."
" I here s been a shameful waste
somewhere," said Mr. Walcott, with
strong emphasis, starting up, and mov
ing about the room, with a very disturb
" So you always say, when anything
is out," answered Mrs. Walcott, rather
tartly. " The barrel of flour is gone,
also ; but I suppose you have done your
part, with the rest, in using it up."
Mr. Walcott returned to his chair, and
again seating himself, leaned back his
head and closed his eyes, as at first.-
How sad, and weary, and hopeless he
felt. The burdens of the day had seem
ed almost too heavy for him; but he
had borne up bravely. To gather
strength for a renewed struggle with ad
verse circumstances, he had come home
Alas ! that the process of exhaustion
should still go on. That where only
strength could be looked for, no strength
When the tea bell rung, Mr. Walcott
made no movement lo obey the sum
" Come lo supper," said his wife
But he did not stir.
" Ain't you coming to supppcr ?" she
called to him. as she was leaving the
" I don't wish anything this evening.
My head aches badly," he answered.
"In the dumps again," muttered Mrs.
Walcott to henself. " It's as much as
one's life is worth to ask for money, or
to say that anything is wauled." And
she kept on her way to the dining
room. When she returned, her hus
band was still sitting where she had left
" SiisU I bring you a cup of tea ?" she
" No; I don't wish any thin -r."
" What is the matter. Mr.Walcott ?
What do you look so troubled about, as
if you hadn't a friend in the world?
What have I done to you ?"
There was no answer, for there was
not a shade of real sympathy in the voice
that made the queries but rather a
querulous dissatisfaction. A few mo
ments Mrs. Walcott stood near her hus
band ; but as he did not seem inclined
to answer her questions, she turned off
from him, and resumed the employment
which had been interrupted by the ring
ing of the tea-bell.
The whole evening passed wilhout the
occurrence of a single incident that gave
a healthful pulsation to the 6ick heart of
Mr. Walcott. No thoughtful kindness
was manifested by any member of lue
family ; but, on the contrary, narrow
regard for self, and looking to him only
to supply the means of self-gratification.
No wonder, from the pressure which
was on him, that Mr. Walcott felt utter
ly discouraged. He retired early, and
sought to find that relief from mental
disquietude, in sleep, which he had vain
ly hoped for, in the bosom of his family.
But the whole night passed in broken
slumber, and disturbing dreams. From
the cheerless morning meal, at which he
was reminded of the quarter-bill that
must be paid, of the coal and flour that
were out, and of the necessity of supply
ing Mrs. Walcott's empty purse, he went
forth to meet the difficulties of another
day, faint at heart, and almost hopeless
of success. A confident spirit, sustained
by home affections, would have carried
him through ; bat unsupported as he
was, the burden was too heavy for him,
and he sank under iU The day that open
ed so unpropitiously, closed upon him a
ruined man !
Let us look, for a few moments, upon
Mr. Freeman, the friend and neighbor of
Mr. Walcott. He, also, had come home
weary, dispirited, and almost sick. The
trials of the day had been unusually
severe ; and when he looked anxiously
forward to scan the future, not even a
gleam of light was seen along the black
As he stepped across the threshold of
his dwelling, a -pang shot through his
heart ; for the thought came, " How
slight the present hold upon all these
comforts ! " Not for himself, but for
his wife and children, was the pain.
" Father's come !" cried a glad little
voice on the stairs, the moment his foot
fall sounded in the passage ; then quick,
pattering feet were heard and then a
tiny form was springing into his arms.
Before reaching the sitting-room, Alice,
the oldest daughter, was by his side,
her arm drawn fondly within his, and
her loving eyes lifted to his face.
"Are you not late, dear I" It was the
gentle voice of Mrs. Freeman.
Mr. Freeman could not trust himself
to answer. He was too deeply troubled
in spirit to assume, at the moment, a
cheerful tone, and he had no wish to
sadden the hearts that loved him, by let
ting the depression, from which he was
suffering, become too clearly apparent.
But the eyes of Mrs. Freeman saw quick
ly below the surface,
"Are you not well, Robert?" she
enquired, tenderly, as she drew her
large arm-chair toward the center of the
" A little head-ache," he answered,
with slight evasion.
Scarcely was Mr. Freeman seated, ere
a pair of little hands were busy with each
foot, removing gaiter and shoe, and sup
plying their place with a soft slipper.
There was no ono in the household who
did not feel happier on his return, nor one
who did not seek to render him some
It was impossible, under a burst of
such heart-sunshine, for the spirit of Mr.
Freeman long lo remain shrouded. Al
most imperceptibly to himself gloomy
thoughts gave place to more cheerful
ones, and by the time tea was ready, he
had half forgotten the fears which had
so haunted him through the day. But
they could not be held back altogether,
and their existence was marked, during
the evening, by an unusual silence and
abstraction of mind. This was observed
by Mrs. Freeman, who more than half
suspecting the cause, kept back from her
husband the knowledge of certain mat
ters about which she intended to speak
with him for she feared they would
add to his mental disquietude. During
the evening, she gleaned from something
he said, the real cause of his changed
aspect. At once her thoughts commen
ced running in a new channel. By a
few leading remarks, she drew her hus
band into conversation on the subject of
home expenses, and the propriety of re
striction al various points. Many things
were mutually pronounced superfluous,
and easily to be dispensed with ; and be
fore sleep fell soothingly on the eyelids
of Mr. Freeman, that night an entire
change in their style of living had been
determined upon a change that would
reduce their expenses at least one half.
" I see light ahead," were the hope
ful words of Mr. Freeman, as he resign
cd himself to slumber.
With renewed strength of mind and
body, and a confident spirit, he went
forth on the next day a day that he
had looked forward to with fear and
trembling. And it was only through
this renewed strength and confident spir
it, that he was able to overcome the dif-.
Acuities that loomed up, mountain high,
before him. Weak despondency would
have ruined all. Home had proved his
tower of stiength his walled city. It
had been to him as the shadow of a
great rock in a weary land. S'.rength
entd for the conflict, he had gone forth
again into the world, and conquered in
"I see light ahead," gave place to
" The morning breaketh."
NOVEL MODE OF PAYING THE
I onse had the pleasure of listening to
a colloquy between an editor and a farm
er, which struck me as being decidedly
novel and unique. For the benefit of
those who "can't afford to pay the Prin
ter," I conceive its r. Iation not to be in
appropriate, and it is for those it is writ
ten." Early in the spring of 13 , I casual
ly hnppened up in the office of my friend
C, whom I found earnestly engaged in
a spirited conversation with farmer B.
Just as I entered the office, with ve
hement gesticulations, flinging his arms
midair, then lowering them as if to pump
out hiswords, he said, in the conclusionof
a sentence, and in answer to an inter
rogation of the editor, " can't afford it
sir should like to have your paper sir,
but can't afford it, country is new, ex
penses high, must provide for my family
first, 'charity commences at home first,'
as I once read in a newspaper."
" I can," resumed the editor, "show
you a novel mode of paying the printer.
I will cite it to you, not because I wish
to get your subscription money, but
merely to convince you that you are per
fectly able to take a paper, and can af
ford it, and after taking it will be thor
oughly persuaded that it would be show
ing charity at home. You have hens at
home of course. Well, I will send you
my paper for one year for the proceeds
of a single hen, merely the proceeds.
It seem trifling, preposterous to imagine
the products of a single hen will pay the
subscription ; perhap3 it won't, but I
make the offer.
" Done," said farmer B., " I agree
to it," and appealing to me as a witness
in the affair.
The farmer went away apparently
much elated with his conquest, and the
editor went on his way rejoicing.
Time rolled on, and the world revolved
on its axis, and the sun moved on its or
bit just as it formerly did, the farmer re
ceived his paper regularly, and regaled
himself with the information obtained
from it. He not only knew the affairs
of his own country, but became conver
sant upon the leading topics of the day,
and the political and financial convul
sions of the times. His children delight
ed too, in perusing the contents of their
weekly visitor. In short he said he was
"surprised at the progress of himself,
and family in general information."
Sometime in the month of September,
I happened again up in the office, when
who should step in but our friend the
" How do you do, Mr. B.," said the
editor, extending his hand, and his coun
tenance lit up with a bland smile, " Take
a chair, sir, be seated, fine weather we
" Yes, sir, quite fine, indeed," an
swered the farmer, shaking the proffer
ed, 'paw' of the editor, and then a short
silence ensued, during which our friend
B. hitched his chair back and forward,
and twirled his thumbs abstractly, and
spit profusely. Starling up quickly, he
addressed the editor, " Mr. C. I have
brought you the proceeds of that hen."
It was amusing to see the peculiar ex
pression of the editor as he followed the
farmer down to the wagon. I could
scarcely keep my risibles down. When
at the wagon, the farmer commenced
handing over to the editor the products
of the hen, which, on being counted,
amounted to eighteen pullets, worth a
shilling each, and a number of dozen of
eggs, making in the aggregate at the
least calculation 2,50, one dollar more
than the price of the paper.
" No need," said he " of men not ta
king a family newspaper, and paying for
it too. I don't miss Ihis from my roost,
yet I have paid a year's subscription and
a dollar over. All folly, there is no man
but can take a paper, it's charity, sir,
charity you know commences at home."
" But," resumed the editor, " I will
pay you what is over the subscription.
I did not institute this as a means of prof
it, but rather to convince you. I will
pay you for "
" Not a bit of it, sir, a bargain is a
bargain, and I am already repaid, sir
doubly paid, sir. And whenever a neigh
bor makes the complaint I did, I will cite
him to the hen story. Good day, gen
tlemen." After his departure, the editor and
myself took a hearty laugh at the novel
ty of the idea, and the complete success
of the enterprise. Many a subscriber
did the farmer send in, and in course of
a number of years, during which he con
tinued lo lake the paper, it was his wont
to relate his "novel mode of paying the
printer,' to his guests, who were not a
few, as his general information, for wliich
he always thanked Mr. C, the editor.
j made him a desirable companion, both
i tu eld and young, and of invaluable ser-
; vice to community in which he lived.
He became noted asbeinsr a man of much
reading, and extensive information. As
he was courted by the wise so did ho
court the company of the illiterate, and
many the individual whose soul was light
ted by the lamp of his knowledge. His
motto was ever, "my light is none the
lees for lighteningthat of my neighbor's."
Emulate it, kind reader. Lagrange (Iu.)
THE BEAUTIFUL AND TASTEFUL
" Why should not the interior of our
school houses aim at somewhat of the
taste and elegance of the parlor ? Might
not the vase of flowers enrich the table,
the walls display not only well executed
maps, but historical pictures or engrav
ings ; and moralist or sage, orator or fath
er of his country ? Is it alleged that the
expenses thus incurred, would be thrown
awsy, and the beautiful objects defaced.
This is not a necessary result.
I have been informed by teachers who
had made the greatest advances towards
appropriate and elegant accommodations
for their pupils, that it was not so. They
hive said it was easier to enforce habits
of neatness and order among objects
whose taste and value made them wor
thy of care, than amid the parsimony of
of apparatus, whose pitiful meanness op
erates as .a temptatiou to waste and des
troy. Let the communities, now so anxious
to raise the standard of education, ven
ture the experiment of a more ' liberal
adornment of their dwellings. Let them
putmore faith in that respect for the beau
tiful which really exists in the young
heart, and requires only to be called forth
and nurtured to become an ally of virtue,
and a handmaid to religion. Knowledge
has a more imposing effect upon the
young mind, when it stands like the
Apostle at the beautiful gate of the tern
pie. Memory looks back to it more joy
ously, from the distant or desolated
tracks of life, for the bright scenery of
its early path.
I hope the time is coming when every
isolated village school house shall be an
Attic temple, in whose interior the occu
pant may study the principles of symme
try and grace. Why need the struc
tures where the young are initiated into
those virtues which make life beautiful,
be divorced from taste and comfort 1 Do
any reply that the "perception of the
beautiful" is but a luxurious sensation,
and may be dispensed with in systems of
education wbich this age of vtilltg estab
lishes ? Is not the culture the more de
manded to throw a heathful leaven into
the mass of society, and to serve as some
counterpoise for that love or accumula
tion, which pervades every rank and
spreads even in consecrated daces the
tables of money-changers ?
In ancient times, the appreciation of
whatever was beautiful in the frame of
nature, was accounted salutary by sages
and philosophers. Galen says " he who
has two loaves of bread, let him sell one
and buy flowers, fcr bread is food for the
body, but flowers are food for the soul." If
"perception of the beautiful" may be
made conducive to present and future
happiness, if it have a tendency to refine
and sublimate the character, ought it not
to receive culture throughout the whole
process of education ? It takes root,
most naturally and deeply, in the simple
and loving heart ; and is, therefore, pe
culiarly fitted to the early years of life,
when, to borrow the words of a German
writer, " every sweet sound takes a sweet
odor by the hand, and walks in through
the open door of the child's heart."
Mrs. SiGOURNEr, t Common SchoolJour-
THE SUN INHABITABLE.
Sir David Brewster makes the follow
ing remaiks relative to the structure of
the sun : So strong has been the belief
that the sun cannot be a habitable world,
that a scientific gentleman was pronoun
ced by his medical attendant lo be insane,
because he had sent a paper to the Roy
al Society, in which he maintained that
the light of the sun proceeds from a
dense and universal aurora, which may
afford ample light to the inhabitants of
the surface beneath, and yet be at such
a distance aloft as not to be among them;
and there may be water and dry land
there, hills and dales, rain and fair weath
er, and that as the light and seasons
must be eternal, the sun may easily be
conceived to be by fai the most blissful
habitation of the whole system. In less
than ten years after this apparently ex
travagant notion was considered a proof
of insanity, it was maintained by Sir
William Ilerschcl as rational and prob
able opinion, which might be uoducible
from his own obstn ations on the struc
ture of the sun.
A pleasure excursion is talked of from (
New York to Sevastopol.
[From the Cin. Home Journal.]
AN UNKIND WORD.
Who can tell the misery an unkind
ord or expression may cause a sensi
tive heart. A meaningless word, utter
ed without a moment's thought, and
without the least expectation of the grief
it may produce, has embittered many a
heart, and been the means of separating
those who have been heretofore dear
and loved friends. How frequently does
it happen that a word i;i spoken, before
duo reflection is had, which the utterer
would give worlds to be able to recall,
but circumstances intervene the word
remains unrecalled, and two hearts go
down to the grave, it may bo ia sorrow,
all from the effects of an unconsidered
expression, or a thoughtless word.
We knew ayoung girl, whose fair hopes
were blasted in life, and who sank to rest
in the spring time and glory of her child
hood, solely from the effects of hasty,
idle words spoken to one she truly loved,
but who had unintentionally angered
her. They parted in sorrow and tears,
by the shore of one of our northern
lakes, where the lady resided ; they had
been wandering on its bank, weaving a
bright web for the future, but a few mo
ments before those unkind word3 were
spoken. The lady's pride would.not suf
fer her to make concessions then, and so
He was to have come to her home that
night, and she could then beg forgiv
ness, and be forgiven. At an early
hour, she was seated in the ivy-shaded
porch, before the door, waiting for his
coming. She waited long, and watched
anxiously, but still he came not ; she
did not think it could be possible, that
ho would never come, that she had of
fended him to the heart. She waited
until the lights in the neighboring cotta
ges had disappeared, their inmates retir
ing to rest, and then, with her cheeks
wet withttears, and sobbing convulsively,
she sought in her pillow that relief which
she was never more to know.
He never came. He left her side
with grief and disappointment at his
heart. He had not thought the idol of
his soul could ever use such words to
him. He sought his boat in which he
had often sailed with her upon the lake
in the clear moonlight of a quiet sky. He
lost himself in reflection, and heeded not
whither the boat was tending. That
night a storm arose one of those sud
den, fearful tornadoes which are not un
common to our lakes. Next morning,
the lady's heart was broken, for the
news had come that the waves had wash
ed on shore the lifeless form of her affi
She raved in wild delirium, and ac
cused herself of his murder: but her
grief did not last long; it was assuaged
in death, and the grave closed over her
in a short month after the nijrht she had
spoken those unkind words.
Numberless instances of an equally
melancholy character might be enume
rated to prove the importance of weigh
ing one's expressions before they are
uttered ; but we trust enough has been
said, to at least cause every one to think
of what we have said, and pause and
ponder before they give utterance to an
unkind word remembering ever that it
is easier to let it remain unspoken than
to recall it after once being breathed.
An unkind word may often cause
The burning tears to flow.
And after years embitter with
Bemorse, regret and woe.
Be careful then how from your lips
A syllable is given.
Which may embitter future years,
And tarnish youth'&driht heaven.
THE ESTATE OF MADAME DU LUX.
An argument has been had for the
last two days before the Surrogate of the
city of New-York in this important and
interesting case. The parties appearing
before the Court are the public Admin
istrator of the city of New-York on be
half of the rights of the city New-York ;
the Hon. Salmon P. Chase of Ohio on the
part of the son, John P. Ferrie, of Cin
cinnati, claiming to be heir to the estate ;
and Messrs. John Jay and Charles E
Whitehead on the part of the French
Consul and unknown French heirs. A
motion was made on the part of the
French Consul for a roving commission
to be issued to St. Girons and Massat,
the places of nativity of Madame Du Lux
and her alleged son, in order to obtain
further testimony in regard to the suc
cession. This motion was oppose 1 by
the claimant, and it was urged that let
ters of admiuiotraiion be forthwith gi an
ted to John P. Ferrie, the alleged son.
The curious features of this romantic case
were fully reported when the case was
originally argued. Since that time anoth
er feature has been brought before the
Court. The Legislature passed a law
rjiving the right to illegitimate children
to inherit from their mother in default of
lawful issue, Thus stands the case at
present. The prize is 1 irge and the ex
ertions of the attorneys equally strenu
ous. A". Y. Tribure.
BEHAVIOR IN SOCIETY.
The person who goes into society with.
the simple wish to please and to be
pleased, generally succeeds in both ob
The individual who wishes to be wel
come in society must extinguish in him
self the weak desire of " showins off."
To dress in a more costly manner than
the majority of the company can afford,
is the extreme of vulgarity.
But to be indifferent to dress ia usual
ly a mark of excessive vanity ; as though
one would say, "I am charming enough
without the aid of outward adornment.
The forms of etiquette are the safeguards
against impertinence, and it is best, in a
miscellaneous company, to observe
To be perfectly polite, it is only ne
cessary to be perfectly just to con
form to the golden rule to render to all
their due respect, consideration, and ser
vice. To acquire elegance of manner, ob
serve those who possess it, and divine
their secret Self possession is half the
battle ; a good heart and a litttle prac
tice will do the rest.
The most graceful thing a person can
do in company is to pay attention to
those who are least likely to have at
tention that is, those whoso friendship
does not confer honor, nor their conver
Affectation is the bane of social inter
course at present. - All who would real
ly please must avoid it utterly.
In fine, those who wish to please in so
ciety must have a kind heart, a well-informed
mind, a graceful manner, and be
coming attire. These are welcome everywhere.
HUDSON AND THE RHINE.
In a recent work, a " Diary in Turk
ish and Greek Waters," by the Earl of
Carlisle, formerly Lord Morphth, under
which latter name he visited the United
States in 1841-42, we find the following
comparison between the Rhine and the
Hudson, which, coming from a compe
tent head is worthy of note :
"June 6th. Started .to ascend the
Rhine. I will not invade the province of
poets, tourists, and hand-books, by any
detail of its well-known scenery. I had
felt some curiosity to compare it with the
Hudson. Even apart from all associa
tion with history, legend and song, every
building on the Rhine, from castle to
granary, is picturesque, while every buil
ding in the United States, whatever its
other more important characteristics may
be, is essentially the reverse. Then, the
viney ardson the Rhine, though not strict
ly a beautiful feature, give an air, at least
an idea, of genial animation to the steep
slopes and narrow clefts in which they
are imbedded. So much on the side of
the Rhine. I am inclined to to think that
the natural sites and outline of the Hud
son are finer ; but the great point of su
periority is the look of movement on the
river itself ; every one of its varied reach
es is sure of being at all times spangled
with white sails; whereas I felt quite as
tonished at the small appearance of traf
fic on the Rhine. I had always looked
upon it as the great highway of all the
German nations, for the tolls of which
free cities and powerful leagues had com
peted, and states and empires protocolled
and fought ; but one of the large timber
rafts, and a few steamers of very narrow
girth, were all I saw to-day, to compete
with all the life and business that swarm
on the Hudson, the Thames, or the
OUR SILVER COINAGE.
The Washington correspondent of the
New York Courier says :
The Treasury is now burthened with
the custody of over five millions of dol
lars in three cent pieces. Two or three
year3 ago there was a universal complaint
of the scarcity of small coins, either
American or foreign. Mr. Hunter's coin
age bill was passed slightly reducing tho
actual value of our silver coin and provi
ding for its more rapid manufacture.
The expected results have followed.
The wants of circulation have been fully
supplied ; but another less desirable con
sequence has ensued, to wit: this small
change has become a drug. People will
not take it, and the law makes it a legal
tender ia sums of not over five dollars.
Though the inconvenience of an inade
quate supply of small change was a se
rious one, prudent financiers expressed
doubts of the soundness of the remedy
adopted at tho time it was proposed.
Orders have been issued to suspend the
coinage of quarters and halves, and the
operations of the mint are much reduced.
Pleasure and pain, though directly
opposite, are yet contrived by nature as
to be constant companions ; and it is a
fact, that the same motion and muscles
of the face are employed, both in laugh
ing and crying.
LAID WHEAT—A REMEDY.
The late heavy rains, acting upon a
csp. unusually prolific, a large portion
uaa oeen Deafen down, and many farm
ers fear that the lodged portion." may
never arise -and ripen, especially as the
muicauons are tor wet weather. . -
; It ought to be known that a "very sim
ple mechanical process, may "save a large "
proportion of the grain now in danger.
I have tried it myself, and seen it tried
repeatedly, and never without entire suc
cess. It must be remembered or noted, that
the lodging or falling down of wheat or
rye, is never general, or covering a
whole field, but in patches of larger or
Now let two men with a light but
strong pole, say sixteen' feet long, com
mence at the side of the field where the
blades have fallen to the storm, usually
the west side, and passing the pole un
der sections, of from two to four feet in
width, raise them, one after another,
with a quick action, to the standing
blades, from which it has fallen or sepa
rated, and the blades thus restored, are
most likely to perfect their grain.
When the stalk or head is much weiah
ed down with recent rain, as is likely to
be the case al the present writing, it is
very important that the operators should
use a quick and violent action, and re
peat it, if necessary, in order to detach
the water from the heads and the should
ers of the blades.
Nor must it be objected to this propo
sition, that the tramping through the
standing grain would - injure it to any
considerable extent. A careful man or
boy may walk for a mile through ripen
ing wheat, without breaking one hundred
straws, by simply opening bis path be
fore him with his hands.
It is not quite so expeditious, but one
man, with an eight foot pole, can oper
ate and accomplish the same results.
I have done this thing, and seen it
done repeatedly, and I know that if it ia
faithfully attended to it will not fail, and
may save thousands of bushels of grain,
where now the prospect appears disas
trous. . .
Two men can raise from seven to ten
acres of the heaviest wheat in one day.
Pills. Gazette. - A.W.M. .
We learn from some of our neighboring
cotemporaries, that the good people
from Brantford, have recently been fa
vored with a subject of gossip, and to
many of them, a subject of amusement.
Mr. Comeford, a merchant of that town,
being about to erect a monument to the
memory of his deceased wife, was forbid
den doing so by his priest, the Rev.
Father Ryan. However, during the tem
porary absence of the clergyman, Mr.
Comeford effected his purpose, which so
greatly offended the Rev. gentleman,
that on his return he denounced Mr.
Comeford in unmeasured terms, going
so far as to say that " Comeford would
not erect a monument to the Glory of
God, but had raised one to the glory of
the devil I" This remark, casting a stig
ma on the memory of one, whose char
acter was without a stain, so excited Mr.
Comeford, that he demanded an expla
nation. This being flatly refused, it ap
pears that he inflicted personal chas
tisement on Father Ryan. Toronto
Glad to sex TheibHusbasds. When
the Golden Age came in yesterday, con
siderable excitement was created by a
nice looking little lady, who, when the
boat arrived, was dancing, clapping her
hands and jumping as if she would jump
out of her stockings, exclaiming,"there's
my husband, there's my husband," and
kissing her hand to a gentleman on the
wharf. When the steamer was near
enough, . the happy-fellow jumped on
board, to the great delight and amuse
ment of the crowd, who by the shouts ap
peared to sympathize most heartily with,
the married lovers. Another lady equally
joyful, was doomed to disappointment.
as the gentleman she had been kissing
her hand to was not the man after alL
Besevolexce Rewarded When Mr.
Albert Morgan kept the Pavillion, at
Gloucester, several years ago, one of his
guests was an Englishman, named Ers
kine. Hewas attacked with the smallpox,
and while all other attendants deserted
him, Mr. Morgan ministered faithfully to
his wants till he recovered. A day or
two ago, we learn, the British consul com
municated to Mr. Morgan the intelligence
that Mr. Erskine had deceased, and left
him by will the sum of $ 1 25 ,000. This
is a munificent instance of English grat-
tude, and the recipient of the good for
tune is quite worthy of it. We trust the
figure is not set too high. Xtw-York
CosscijSck is a great ledger-book ia
which all our actions are written and