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A Journal of Political and General News—An Advocate of Equal Rights. V0I<- vn-BATH, MAINE, THURSDAY MORNING, JANUARY 6, 1853. NO. 29. SJtRur 13 PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY GEO. E. NEWMAN. O.lioe la North ead of Pierce’s Block, third story, cor aer of Broad and Front Sts. TE3M3—One dollar and lifty cents per annum,if paid strictly in advance; oue.dollsr Beventy-flve cents wilhin six months ; two dollars, if payment is delayed to the end of the vear. IT Any person who will send us five good subscriber*, shall be entitled to a copy of the paper for one year. IT Wo paper will be discontinucduntil all arrearage' are paid, unless at theoptlou of the publisher. TT Single copies, four cents—for sale at the office, and nt Stearns’ Periodical Depot, Centre St. Advertisements inserted at the usual rates. XT All letters and communications to be addressed rosT paid, to the Publisher, Bath, Me. S. M. Pettenoill & Co., Newspaper Aavertisimi Agents, No. 10 State Street, and V. B. Palmer, Scollay’s Building* Court Street, Boston, are Agents for this paper, and are authorized to receive Advertisements and Subscriptions for us at the same rates as required at this office. Their receipts are regarded as payments. THE STORY TELLER. From the South Bost^ Gazette. Love and Lunacy. In travelling through the rural portions of New England, our approach to the busy and thrifty little villages, which everywhere dot its hill and valleys, is always betokened by a change in the aspect of the country, present ing an appearance similar to that agreeable blending of city and country which is observa ble in the viciuity of a great metropolis. As We advance toward a cluster of buildings com prising a small manufacturing town, resting perhaps in the bosom of some sloping hill, or by the side of a noisy stream, the farm-houses which at intervals have been .scattered all along the road looking so ancient with their mossy roofs and brown walls, with the old fashioned well-sweep near by, projecting far tip in the blue sky, as if vieing with the branches of the old elms that stand by its side, are exchanged for pretty little cottages with green blinds and nowand then a trellised por tico, and enclosed by neatly white-washed fences. I he useful and substantial give place to the ornamental, or rather they are all hap pily united in a manner consistent both with economy and beauty. It is here in the suburbs of a small country village, if we may so term it, in the central part of Maine, the reader is introduced to one of these neat little cottages just mentioned, surrounded with marks of industry and frugali ty. The row of young poplars in front, the well-planned garden, the commodious disposi tion of the out-buildings, and the excellent de sign of the cottage itself, all evince the supe rior taste of the proprietor of the estate. The stage-road passes a few rods from the door, and beyond this, a fine clover field extends downward to the banks of a small pond, which has its outlet at the village about half a mile below. ** jig £ucb a lovely spot for our imagination to rest upon, we may rightly conclude that its occupant is at least somewhat above the com c»an standing in society. At the time our story opens, Mr. Larkin, its proprietor had reachecHvhat is termed the meridian of life, and was highly esteemed in the community in which he dwelt, on account of his skilful man agement of business, as well as his honest and upright manner of dealing. He had been ed ucated at one of our first seminaries with the intention of following the profession of the law, but on account of the failure of his health, had concluded to settle down upon a farm, in the hopes of enjoying health and tranquility away from the bustle of the world, and sur rounded by rural scenes aud rural pleasures.— With much skill and foresight he had planned his buildings and laid out his grounds, and for a number of years had been uncommonly suc cessful, probably owing in a great measure to his superior judgment, united with a knowledge of the scientific method of farming, obtained from an attentive perusal of books. His libra ry was well stocked with useful arid instruc tive works, but no room was found on bis shelves for such books as have a bad or even a doubtful effect upon the young mind; for with all his oilier cares Mr. Larkin was particular ly attentive la the proper training of his chil dren. The family consisted of two daughters and a son, the latter an infant. The eldest, Elvira, bad just attained her eighteenth year, and though iu the opinion of the fashionable city beau, she might not have been considered beau tiful, she was blest with a strong constitution and a ruddy countenance which indicated health and activity. From infancy she had breathed the pure air of her native hills, and freely roamed over the fields and beside the lovely pond. It is no wonder then if she grew up, as it were, a child of nature, and filled with quite extensive notions of freedom; for inheriting her father's accurate judgment, aud indulged by her parents in almost every wish, she had come to consider herself able in almost every case to think and act for herself. She was by no means wilful or selfish, yet she seemed in a measure to have drawn from the wild and ro mantic scenery which she encountered in her long rambles, a spirit of independence and nelf-reliance, which joined with a natural reso luteness, prompted her to take a seemingly un wise course. She felt that she had attained an age when she might with some confidence rely upon her own judgment, and that it was but right that she should attempt to support herself by her own labor. With this view, 6he sought and finally obtained the reluctant consent of her parents to leave home and try her fortune in the wide world. Some of her friends were engaged in the mills at Lowell, and thither she determined to go and try her hand at the loom. It may seem improbable that a female in Elvira's situation should wish to leave a com fortable home, kind parents, and agreeable as sociations, to become voluntarily an humble, hard-working factory girl. Yet it is not an uncommon occurrence; and this is why we find among the female operatives of our large manufacturing towns those best fitted to per form the duties of domestic life, having been trained in the school of industry, and that too, from choice rather than be dependent upon others. Elvira had enjoyed high advantages of a literary character, and well had she improved them. From an early age she had attended constantly at the village academy, and being naturally endowed with a clear and compre hensive mind, had in most she had undertaken, surpassed those of her own age. If then a well disciplined mind may be considered as auy safeguard against temptation, she was well prepared to resist the fascioalions and wicked ness of city life. After the first consent had been wrung from the fond parents, it was useless to waste words in expostulation, and with silent sorrow they began the preparation for her departure. We will pass over the various arrangements for the journey, the parting with companions, the farewell kiss of the different members of the household and view her on board the steamer which is floating majestically down the Kenne bec. It was a fine autumnal afternoon; and as our young adventurer stood gazing at the steep banks on either side, here and there crowned with the variegated foliage of the dying year, and flying backward, bearing farther and far ther that home where she had spent so many happy days, she could not help dropping a tear in spite of herself. She seated herself on one of the lounges, and drew from her carpet-bag a package which her mother had deposited there at parting. She tore the paper which envel oped it, and discovered that it was a small handsomely bound Bible; and as she turned the leaves, marked here and there at different passages, she toought of the early instructions of a mother, and leaning back, for a few mo ments became lost in revery. Nor was she conscious that nearly opposite her sat a gen tleman closely observing all her motions, till suddenly starling upas from a dream, she en countered his steady gaze fixed upon her._ Blushing with confusion she hastily rose and retired to the after part of the boat, and at the same time, the book unperceived dropped from her lap. The gentleman referred to appeared quite young, of an exceedingly fair complexion, and with a dull melancholy expression of counte nance ; but his intensely black eyes seemed to glow with a sort of wildness which could not (ail to attract attention. lie sat earnestly watching the retreating form of the girl till she had disappeared, then lifting the book from the floor where it had fallen, turned to the ti tle page and read the words, ‘Elvira Larkin_ from an affectionate mother.’ With a nervous motion, he started from his seat;—then as the owner of the lost book re appeared, he politely handed it to her without | a saying a word. But the expression of sad- ! ness depicted on his countenance, without a ! single utterance of the tongue would have ! awakened sympathy in a heart less susceptible i of emotion than Elvira’s, and the glance of : those piercing eyes seemed to sink into the | very depth of her soul, and touch there a chord | which had never before vibrated. She started ; to descend to the cabin ; but turned once as she heard or thought she heard her name pro- j nounced. I here stood the young man, still fixed to the spot, with the same melancholy expression on his features. She retired to her berth and wept—whether from grief or sym pathy is uncertain. »» e nave sam inai Elvira was well edu cated; but by this we mean only that 6lie had advantageously employed those means which had been offered in her limited sphere. She was well versed in book knowledge; for besides her coureo of study at school, she had ever had access to her j lather’s library, which contained by no means : a meagre supply of instructive reading mat- j ter. But of the customs of fashionable life she was entirely ignorant. To her, the di versified landscape of her own native bids, together with the blue sky overhead consti- | titled the universe. It is not to be wondered at then, that with her limited knowledge of the world, 6he should view in the handsome though sad countenance of the young stran ger, something to awaken n heartfelt sympa thy. Whether or not there was a deeper emotion, the reader will judge hereafter. Elvira was at length established in her la borious though honest employment. Site had become a factory girl — independent ol friends for support, and with a field for ef fort fairly spread before her. A mouth had elapsed, and by agreeable manners and strict attention to business, she bad succeed- ' ed in winning the affection of her compnu- | ions, and the confidence of her overseer, when an unexpected event dissipated her i hopes. The excitement of travelling and of the entrance upon her new duties, together with the change of pure country air for the ! confinement and disagreeable smell ol a woolen factory, brought on a slow fever to which she was finally obliged toyield though reluctantly, and for several weeks was con* fined to her room. Yet from the first, she refused to have her parents informed of her ! sickness, not wishing to occasion them tin* ! necessary alarm, and hoping that a few days of rest would enable her to resume her ern- ' ploy mem. Foriunntely an old acquaintance of tier father, hearing of her situation, visited her, and kindly invited her to spend-a few weeks at her house. Mrs. May resided in Somer ville, and thither Elvira wus conveyed, where by means of good nursing she was soon in a measure restored. The roses had faded from her cheeks, but their absence served only to reveal the snow-white purity of her skin. She was now, if never before, truly beautiful; and in the refined society to which she was introduced by her kind host ess, she soon acquired that ease and grace which are the essential qualifications of a true beauty. Mrs, May whs a widow in comfortable circumstances, her husband having died nbout six months previous, leaving but one little boy to her parental care and guidance. TI1U6 almost alone, although .surrounded with the gay and fashionable, she had suf fered grief to prey upon her, and in Elvira ! she found just such a companion as she needed. The attachment which had sprung up between them was daily strengthened, and while kind attention restored health to the one, she in return imparted tcnjhe other, by her lively and agreeable conversation, the balm of consolation for the afflicted heart.— They were accustomed to walk out frequent ly together, for Elvira had not yet lost her propensity for rambling, and in her present state of health it proved of advantage. In one of these excursions about sunset, they were returning over the hill upon which stands the McLean Asylum, when they per ceived a gentleman slowly approaching on horseback. Tire cap of the rider concealed bis face, and his head was bent downward as if in meditation, but just as became oppo site, be suddenly staited from his reverie and turned towards them. A glance was suffi | cient to satisfy Elvira that it was the stran ger whom she had met on board the steam boat, and that he had immediately recog nized her. With a smile he politely raised his hat and called her name, ihen as if ashamed of his presumption touched the whip to his horse and passed on. Mrs. May appeared surprised and looked to her companion for an explanation. Con cealing her agitation, Elvira related briefly, and in a laughing manner, the circumstanc es of their meeting. ‘ A romantic affair truly,’ said Mrs. May.— ‘ You should have ascertained the name of your unknown friend.’ 1 But does he not reside iu the vicinity?’ en quired Elvira. 4 Doubtless he is one of the patients in the assylum,’ replied Mrs. M., 4 for I have often seen him pass the house on horseback of late, and from his melancholy appearance we call him 4 the disconsolate man.’ I never saw him smile till to-day. I believe yonr cheerful countenance has a wonderful effect upon the heart, even if I were to judge from my own case.’ Could it be that he was insane? this then accounted for his strange conduct; Elvira was astonished. The thought had never entered her head, nor indeed till now had she ever dreamed that she could not but feel the young stranger had gained possession of her heart.— She was in love, and that too with one depriv ed of reason and shut out from society. She tried to think of him as such, but still her imagination would picture his sad and mourn ful look as he first appeared to her, and the re membrance of the pity then awakened served only to add new strength to her passion. But it is lime to give 6ome relation of the previous history of the individual who has been twice introduced in such an abrupt man ner to the reader. Charles Ingersoll was the only son of wealthy parents, who had spared neither pains nor expense in endeavoring to furnish him with a good education. At six teen he had entered college, and though appa rently not superior by nature to others of his age, he had by dilligence and close applica tion attained the first rank in his class ; and notwithstanding this superiority which he con stantly maintained, and which often begets jealousy in the minds of Jess successful rivals, he was universally beloved. During the third year of his course, his mental powers, which had been overwrought, gradually began to give way. At first the change was slight aud scarcely observable even to his most most inti mate friends, but as the close of the last term drew near, symptoms were presented which could not be mistaken. His studies were as faithfully attended to as ever, and his recita tions correct, but he was constantly depressed in spirits, imagining some great etui about to come. He would sit for hours in a fit of ab straction, with scarcely any indication of life, save the occasional utterance of a low sigh.— Physicians were consulted, and the immediate relinquishment of his studies presented the on ly chance of recovery. It was deemed advisa ble also to place him under the care of those experienced iu such cases, and for this purpose he was at the time he first met Elvira, on his way to the Insane Asylum, accompanied by his father. His case was not a difficult one; for fre quent exercise and entire cessation of mental exertion was all that was needed, and at the end of three months he was pronounced well ; but in leaving the institution was recommend ed not to enter upon his studies again for at least one year. On making his appearance once more in the rational world, his first thought was to seek out the fair being who had seemed to be constantly hovering around him in his seclusion, and who appeared to be the only object, uniting him to that land of vis ions and shadows from which in his confused memory, he seemed to have just emerged.— All seemed as a dream, yet he hoped in some way to prove it a reality. Elvira’s love was the offspring of sympathy, but his was the mys tic tie uniting the present to a past and strange existence. His desire to behold her again would have prompted him to have encountered any difficulties however great, but he was per plexed in the onset. He knew' only her name, and had he, as it was at first suggested to him, made inquiries iu the vicinity of the hospital, he might not have succeeded ; for a few days after their unexpected meeting in the street, Elvira had received a letter from home inform ing her of the death of her little brother, and requesting her to return. This she had done, and with her love of novelty and romance somewhat lessened by absence, she had con cluded to remain awhile longer under the pa ternal roof. Charles,’ parents fearing that his devotion to his books might cause him to disobey the in junctions of the physician, persuaded him to take a journey to Europe. By an absence of six months amid the varied and ever exciting scenes of a visit to the old world, his health was well established, and on his return he pre pared to enter with increased zeal upon a course of study which had before been so unhappily interrupted. A short time after his return, in passing through one of the streets of Boston, his eye was attracted by a daguerreotype which was the exact counterpart of the image which had so long haunted his imagination. He was not deceived; it was Elvira’s miniature. She had sat for her daguerreotype just before her depar ture for home, and the artist had reserved a copy for himself. Of course it was impossible to obtain any information respecting her from him, yet in the possession of this likeness, Charles felt that he had a clue which might lead to her discovery. At any rate it was val uable for the delight which it afforded him in gazing upon her lovely features. About a year afier Charles was silting late one evening in his room in college, when a classmate by the name of Frank Eastman ab ruptly entered. ‘ Ah ! what have we here V exclaimed the latter, glancing at the miniature which Charles had carelessly left open on the table. ‘ Elvira Larkin if I am not mistaken. How came you in posession of this?’ A mutual explanation followed, and Mr. Eastman, who by the way was an intimate friend of Charles, proved to he also an old schoolmate and rejected suitor of Elvira. He stated that she still remained at home, and had of late grown quite retired in her habits, and as resolute in her determination to live an old maid as she had been formerly to leave home. 4 But,’ added he 4 you have the gift of fascina ting the fair, yon know, Charles, and you may meet with better success than I. At any rate pass the coming vacation with me anti you shall have an introduction to her.’ Commencement day passed and the next week found our two friends rusticating at the house of Mr. Eastman. * We will not describe the meeting of Charles and Elvira. Suffice it to say that at the expiration of two years, spent by the former in the study of the law, they were united in marriage, and at the same time, Frank led to the altar a lovely companion in the person of Julia Larkin, who possessed but little of her sister’s resolute and adventurous spirit, and as her husband affirms, was not so decidedly averse to matrimony. MISCELLANY. Heroic Women. FROM MRS. KI.LEt’s 44 PIONEER WOMEN.” Mrs. Dunham and her Family. An instance of female heroism which occurred at a station some six miles west of Nashville, may be here related. Mrs. Dunham, the wife of one of the pioneers, while sitting in her house at work— her little children playing in the yard—heard them scream out suddenly, and rushing to the door, saw them running from several Indians. One of the savages was in the act of clutching her daughter, six or seven years of age, and succeeded in laying hold of the child, a few | yards from the door. There were no men on the premises; but the mother seized a hoe standing against the house near the door, and rushed at the Indian with the uplifted weapon. Before she came near enough to strike him with it, however, he let go the child, who ran into the house, the mother following. The In dian pursued them closely, and pushed his gun into the door before it could be closed, to shoot Mrs. Dunham. She kept her hold of the door and slammed it to violently, catching the gun between it and the door-post, and holding it with all her force while the savage tried in vain to get the weapon released. She then, with singular presence of mind, called aloud, as if to some person within, * Bring me that gun !’ I he Indian understood enough of English to know her meaning, and believing ihoro woro other persons in the house, he left his gun and made off. The other children had found shel ter in the house, and were thus preserved from massacre by their mother's energy and self possession. “ Mad Ann” Bailey's Journey. Marauding parties of Indians were often seen in the valley of Kanawha, and the Virginians doubted not their intention of making a desperate effort to dislodge them from this favorite hunting-ground. A runner was sent from Capt. Aibuckle, at Pt. Pleasant, to Capt. Clendenin, the commander of the garrison, with information that a hun dred or more Indian warriors had been seen the day previous, crossing the Ohio at Racoon Is land, some ten miles below. It was supposed their design was to attack the fort at Charleston, or at Big Levels, in Greeubrier county. All the inhabitants around were immediately gath ered into the fort. At this crisis the terrible fact was announced that their ammuilion was nearly exhausted.— It was determined to send immediately to camp Union, now Lewisburg, for supply; but few men could be spared from the fort, and none was willing to encounter, with a small parly, the perils of a hundred miles’ journey through a trackless forest. Mrs. Bailey heard of the difficulty, and instantly offered her services, saying she would go alone. Her acquaintance with the country, her excellent horsemanship, her perseverance and fearless spirit were well known, and the commander of the garrison at length yielded to her solicitation. A good horse was furnished her ; with a slock of jerked venison and johnny-cake. She set her face towards Greenbrier, armed with rifle, &c.,and resolutely overcoming every obstacle in the ruggedness of the way through the woods, the mountains she had to cross, and the rivers to swim, undaunted by the perils threatening from wild beasts and struggling parties of Indians, she reached camp Union in safety, delivered her orders, and being provided with a led horse fully laden, as well as her own set forward on her return. She used to relate how her trail was fol lowed for hours together by wolves, watching for an opportunity to attack her horses. When night set in she was compelled to make large fires to keep the wild beasts at bay. To pro tect herself in slumber from the danger of the rattlesnakes and copperheads, which infected the wilderness, she had to construct a pioneer bedstead every night, by driving into the ground four forked sticks about three feet high, adjust upon them other sticks to serve as bed raiU and slats, and overlay them with a quan tity of green boughs, her blanket serving as a musquito bar. Thus she would sleep amidst the howling of wolves, the screaming of pan thers, and the buzzing of troublesome insects ; at break of day replacing the loads on her hor ses, and resuming her journey, her simple breakfast being eaten on horseback. She ar rived in safety with her supplies at the fort. ##•*•*#• After the troubles with the Indians were over, Mrs. Bailey still retained -her singular habits. She spent much of her time in fish ing and hunting, and would shoot deers and bears with the expertness of a backwoodsman. In person she was short and stout, and of coarse and masculine appearance, and she seldom wore a full woman’s dress, having on usually a skirt with a man’s coat over it, and buckskin leggins. Men, like books, have at each end a l blank leaf—childhood and,old age. The Skeleton of the Wreck. Those who follow the occupation of a mar iner,—saya the Boston Journal—are exposed to many perils, among which are shipwreck and starvation. It is a terrible thing to he destitute of food, and to pass day after day mao open boat, or on a shattered wreck or a raft, far from human assistance, gradually losing strength, and suffering all the cravings of hunger and thirst, till death comes at lust, and puts nn end to agonies, which cannot even be conceived. It is said that a mao possessed of a good constitution, mny live for seven days without any sustenance what ever; his frarqe will waste and wither, as the gnawings of hunger increase ; and a morsel ot bread or a drop of water will ihen he more valuable to him than all the precious gems in the world. If he falls asleep, he forthwith dreams of rills of clear sparkling water, of gushing springs, of delicious fruits and tempting viands—and suddenly awak ens in n few moments to a full sense of the horrors and helplessness of his condition. One of the most touching descriptions of shipwreck, connected with Btnrvation, was published a number of years ngo in an American periodical, and gives n vivid pic ture of the horrors which surround a poor wretch in that sad condition : “Many years ago, when the brave Com modore Truxton, in the United States Frig ate Constellation, was returning from his fa mous cruise in the West Indies, the look-out at the mast-head, one morning ere the sun arose above the horizon, descried at the dis tance of three or four miles, an object, which looked like the wreck of a vessel. The course of the frigate was altered, and in half an hour the Commodore had ascertaioed that the object was indeed the wreck of a merchant vessel. Her masts were broken off about fifteen feet from deck, and the bull was lull of water. They saw no living thing on board—but there was a enmhoose house on deck, which had apparently been recent ly patched with old canvas or tanpaulin, ns if to aflord shelter to some remnant of her crew. And although it blew a strong gale it the time, the humane Commodore deter mined to send off a boat with instructions to board the wreck, and ascertain whether there were indeed any human being still sur viving, whom the help of his fellow men might save from the grasp of death. The boat proceeded towards the drifting wreck, and while the men were rowing, and struggling with the difficulty of getting along side, while a heavy sea was running, and shouting nil the time as loud as they could, an object which resembled in appearance a bundle of old clothes, was seen to toll out of the camboose-house, apparently against the lee side of the vessel. With a boat-hook, they contrived to seize it, and haul it into the boat—when it proved to be the body of n human being, bent bend and knees togeth er. and so wasted ns scarcely to be seen in ihenmp'e garments, which fitted him when be enjoyed health and strength. He seemed a pigmy in the clothes of a giant. He looked pale atid ghostly indeed—but although lie was unable to speak, he still breathed. The boat's crew hastened back to the Constellation witli this miserable remnant of humanity —this poor starving wretch was reduced to such a diminutive size, that a lad fifteen years old was able to lift him from the boat. When placed on deck he showed, to the astonishment of all, signs of lettirning life and consciousness. He tried to move— then opened his parched and blackened lips, and strove to speak. After two or three at tempts, he succeeded in uttering in a faint, hollow and sepulchral tone, *Theie is another man /’ Commodore Truxton immediately ordered the boat to shove off again for the wreck, nnd after several abortive attempts, the crew suc ceeded in boarding the wreck. In the cam boose-house they round two other human bodies, wasted like the one they had taken on hoard the frigate, to the very bones, but without a spark of life remaining. Unfor tunate men, they had suffered everything which it is possible fur men to suffer, and had died the dreadful death of starvation. The boat’s crew, after completing tbeir melancholy survey, returned on board, where they found the attentions of the ship’s com pany engrossed by efforts to preserve (he life of the poor fellow, who, on being brought on board, seemed to have just life enough re maining to remind his preservers that there was still ’another man,’ a companion, to be saved. It is needless tosny that no pussible efforts were spared to restore to health this gener ous sufferer, who seemed n living skeleton. Food wns administered to him with caution, ami under the direction of the surgeon, who exerted all his skill to save his life. The undertaking seemed a hopeless one ; hut, strange as it may seem, was finally crowned with success. In a few days, the skeleton began to resemble a human being. The poor fellow wus able to stand, and even to walk—afterwards rapidly gained strength — and his hones soon became covered with flesh. Before the frigate arrived in port, the crew were nstonished to find in the fee ble, wasted, corpselike being, whom they hud rescued from a dreadful situation, a stout man nearly six feet in height. He was no longer ‘the skeleton of the wreck.fc It appeared that the vessel from which this man was thus providentially saved, was a Dutch brig, bound from Curacoa for Am sterdam. I: had been capsized in a furious hurricane ; the masts broke off, and it right ed full of water. The officers nml crew, with the exception of three seamen, were drowned. The survivors, for the first few days managed to obtain a little provision as it floated out of the hatchways. Bui these resources soon failed them, and the only water they could get to quench their fever ish thirst, was the rain as it descended in slight showers from the clouds. Thirty-two days had these poor wretches’ dragged out a miserable existence on the wreck, growing weaker and weaker every day ; and it was only a day or two before the Constellation fell in with the wreck, that two of these mis erable men, overcome by their Buffeting, died a drealtul death.” Fruits of Kindness • Some people are curious in ascertaining the product of a seed, and I am very fopd of tracing the effect of a kind action. “ An English merchant resided many years at Canton and Macao, where a sudden reverse of fortune reduced him from a state of afflu ence to the greatest necessity. A Chinese merchant, named Chinqua, to whom he had formerly rendered service, gratefully offered him an immediate loan of ten thousand dollars, which the gentleman accepted, and gave his bond for the amount; this the Chinese threw into the fire, saying, ‘When you, my friend, came to China, I was a poor man; you took me by the hand, and assisting ray honest en deavors, made me rich. Our destiny is now reversed ; I see you poor, while I am blessed with affluence.’ The by-standers haJ snatched the bond from the flame*; the gentleman, sen sibly affected by such generosity, pressed his Chinese friend to take the security, which he did and then effectually destroyed it. The disciple of Confucius, beholding the increased distress it occasioned, said, ‘he would accept his watch, or any little valuable, as a memori al of their friendship.’ The gentleman im mediately presented his watch, and Chinqua, in return, gave him an old iron seal, saying, ‘Take this seal—it is one I have long used-, and possesses no intrinsic value, but as you are going to India to look after your outstand ing concerns, should forum* further persecute you, draw upon me for any further sum of money you may stand in need of, sign it with your own hand, and seal it wiih this signet, and I will pay the money.’ How little did the English merchant imag ine that the seed of kindness, sown in the heart of his Chinese friend, would spring up and yield such an abundant increase. 1 relate this anecdote to my younger friends, that they may see how a kind action done to-day may be gratefully acknowledged and liberally recom pensed on some distant morrow. Say what we will, one to-day is worth more than a doz en to-morrows. Land Office Report. The report of the Commissioner of the General Lipid Office is a document of a good deal of interest, nnd likely to give the reader a large idea of scope of the duties and labors that pertain to that office. By it, it uppears that within the past year there were surveyed 9,522,953 acres, and 8,032,403 advertised for sale. The total of lands sold, located with County land war rants, and with other certificates, 4,870,007. Adding to these some five millions reported under the swamp land grant, and over three millions for internal improvements. Rail roads, &c., we have the aggregate 13,115, J75, being an increase on the sales, &c., of the preceding year, of 559,220 acres. The operations under the direction of this office, it seems, are about to furnish some considerable contributions to the scientific literature of the country. The report of Dr. D. D. Owen on the geology of Wisconsin, Iowa, Minnesota, and the ‘Rad Lands of Nebraska,’ is now being printed. It will constitute a quarto of about 650 pages, with a separate volume of maps. The final Re port, too, of Messrs. Foster and Whitaey, on the Geology of the Lake Superior land dis trict, will he communicated during the ses sion of Congress. The Commissioner calls attention to the necessity ol further provision for the adjust ment ol all suspended Land Claims in the several States and Territories. Ildsuggests several plans, which seem feasible enough, lor the speetly reduction of the expense or. Public Lands, lie urges the necessity ol regulating the survey of lands in California, where conflicting interests are rapidly aris ing, that bid fair to email infinite perplexity and confusion. The wisdom of granting public lands to schools and institutions of learning, is sustained. The Act passed at the last session of Con gress, granting the right of way and the priv ilege ol taking the necessary materials for the construction ol Railroads, from the pub lic lands, he esteems a wise one; nnd rec ommends that grants of this character he made to the several Suites, for every work of the kind they may undertake, tint! especially to the Stales west of the Mississippi, for the construction of railroads from that river west ward to the Rocky Mountains, and to Cali fornia, Oregon, Utah, and New Mexico, lor routes leading eastward from the Pacific to the western side of those mountains. Peace. How beautiful is peace—at the home hearth, in society, in the nation, and over all the earth. Ohliterator of feuds—washer out of blood-stains, and uniter of earth’s races in loving brotherhood. Six thousand yenrs since, Cain smote his brother at the altar, the earth has travailed wiih war, and in blood.— The only landmarks spaied by the ages have been tiophies of ferocious conquest. Ruin and (error iiave swept over hills and valleys, anil seas; and humanity horn with such a noble and glorious visage, lias walked a per turbed and terrible spirit, in this earth gar den and paradise of God. Peace which should have been the companion of man, and the iuspirer of joy, lias only flashed ai brief and wide intervals through the cloud and stolen) of earth’s life. But it will not be ever so. The war of humanity with itself— iis suicidal strife—estrangement from its original nature, and from God, cannot always last. Eighteen hundred years ago, one came upon the earth heralded by angels, who sang ‘Peace on earth, nnd good will unto men.’— And the prophecy of that song will come to pass. The unnatural war among men, soci eties, and nations, must cease. Slowly, ami certainly, the cloud and tempest will roll hack, unveiling the clear and serene sky, and humanity, self-hound, like Prometheus to the rock, Will shake offthe vulture which tortures it to agony. Peace will come to all the earth, for God has sent n token and given promise of it. Then shall the dove fly gut irom the human urk, over the wide sea of earth’s ruin, plucking the olive leuf, and the bow of promise shall he hung in the heavens, that the water of war’s desolation shall no more cover the earth. flow the Continentals stood in Arms. ‘To a man, iliey wore small-clothes, com ing down and fastening just below the knee, nnd long stockings with cowhide shoes orna mented with large buckles, while not n pair of hoots graced the company. The coats and waistcoats were loose and of huge di mensions, with colors as various as the barks of oak, sumach and other trees of our hills and swamps, could make them, and their shirts were all made of flax, and like every other part of the dress, were home spun. On their heads was worn a large round-top and broord-brimmed hat. Their arms were us various as their costume; here an old soldier carried a Queen’s arm, which had done service at the conquest of Canada twenty years previous, while by his side walked a stripling boy, with a Spanish fuzes not half its weight or calibre, Which his grandfather may have tnken at the Havana, while not a few bail old French pieces, that dated hick to the reduction of Louisburg.— Instead of the cartridge box, a large powder horn was slung undet the arm, and occa sionally a bayonet might be seen bristling in the ranks, borne of the swords of the officers had been made by our Province blacksmiths, perhaps Irom some farming utensil: they looked serviceable, hut heavy and uncouth. Sucli was the appearance of the Continentals, 10 whom a well appointed army was soon to lay down their anus. After a little exer cising on the old Common, and performing the then popular exploit of ‘ whipping die snake,’ they briskly filed off up the road, by the foot of the Kidder Mountain, and through tht Spnfford Gap, towards Psterbor®*, to tha tune of‘over tbs hills aad far away/—Hu tory of New Ipswich. An Incident. A few mornings since, just as the ears had started from the depot, a gentleman, his wife and daughter, were observed a distance up the street running with great speed toward# the depot. One of the agents of the railroad or some person, also observing the effort of tba party, started after the train and succeeded ia giving the engineer a sign to stop for passen gers. As it was the accommodation line, the train was stopped some distance on the road, and awaited the approach of the man, bis wife and daughter. They were all pretty much ex hausted by the Jung and hard run they had, but they reached the location of the train, and by a new effort climbed a small pile of plank close at hand ; and stood looking at the cars and commenced remarking upon the appearance of the vehicles. 1 he man gave something like a combination of a blow and a grunt, and said, addressing bis wile .■ 1 Well, 1 dont think they look so very dangerous, do you?’ ‘ Why, I don’t think they do,’ responded the lady, wiping her face ; ‘ they look rather safe and comfortable.’ - ’ * La, mother,’ said the daaghler, * ain’t they pretty coaches—so many seats and windows, and so prettily painted,’ taking a very short breath and fanning herself with her handker chief. * Jump in, jump in,’ said the conductor. * Oh,’ said the old gentleman, ‘wedon’t want to get in !' we only wanted to see them.' Results of Accidents* Some of the most useful inventions own their existence entirely to accident; such, for instance, ns the nccidentnl discovery that Pluster of Paris was a non-conductor of hear —a peculiarity to which onr ‘fire proof safes' are entirely indebted for their usefulness and popularity. This discovery was firat made in this city in 18130, by a mechanic, who carried on various branches of smith-work in El dridge Street. Huving occasion to heat some water lie took a cast-iron vessel in which plaster of Paris had been used, and to which some had adhered, forming a crust or routing on the inside of the kettle from one-half to thres-fourths of an inch in thickness; he poured in water, and put it over a fire, with a view of heating the water sufficiently for his purpose; to his great sur prise after remaining in some time, he found that no change had been made in thetemper [ ature of the water; he blew the bellows, ren | dered the fire still hotter, and was still more j surprised after a long laspe of time, that the ! water not did become warm ; he left the wa ter on the fire, and went to work. Returning after some hours, lie found the water had only become a little tepid; on this he laid various combustible substances on the fire, but still no effect wns produced. 13eing somewhat puzzled to account for so strange a state of things, lie next day instituted a se ries of inquiries the result of which was the invention of the celebrated Salamander Safe/ for the privilege of manufacturing which, Mr. Wilder, of tliis city, pays the discoverer, S. C. Herring, 025,000 per yenr. So much for having tin accident in the family ami properly taking advantage of it.—N. Y. Dutchman. Women and Newspapers. The Tuske gee Republican comes out strongly in favor of his female patrons, whom he regards as model subscribers. We copy his eulogy upon the sex: “Women nre the best subscribers in the world to newspapers, magazines, See. We have been editor now going on eight years, and we have never yet lost a single dollar by a female subscrilier. They seem to make it a point of conscientious duty to pay the preacher and the printer—two classes of the community that suffer more by had pay (and no pay at all) than all the rest put together. Whenever we have a woman’s name on our books, we know it is just ns good for two dollars and a half as a picayune is for a gin* ger cake, besides, whatever they subscribe for they read, whether it l>e good, bad, or in different; if they once subset ihe lor n paper, they are sure to read it, upon the principle, we suppose, that if they did not their money would he thrown away—as un old lady, whom we once knew, for whose sick servant girl the doctor prescribed a dose of oil, but ns the girl would not take the oil, she took it herself, rather than let it be wasted.— Hence, we say, they nre the best readers. For these reasons, we would, any time in the world, rather have a dozen women on our bonks tlion one rnun.” ' It isn’t anything else.’—Sundry re searches hove been made for the purpose of discovering the origin of the phrases as ‘ I won’t do anything else ’ and *lt isn’t any thing else,’ fee., which used to be so fash ionable among the b’hoys, and it is said to have been found in the following story: A French field marshal, who had attained that rank by court favor- not by valor—go ing one evening to the opera, forcibly took possession of the box ot a respectable Abbe, who for this outrage brought a suit io the court of honor established for such cases un der the old government. The Abbe thus addressed the court : ‘I came not here to complain of Admiral Suffrein, who took so many ships in the East Indies; I came not to complain of Count de Grasse, who fought so nobly in die west; I came not to complain of the Duke of Crebillion, who took Minorca ; but I came here 10 complain of the Marshal B-, who look my box at the opera, and never took anything else.’ The court paid him the high compliment of refusing his suit, declaring thnt he him self inflicted sufficient punishment. A Lady’s Orthography.—The following 1 character' was supplied to a housemaid in an English city by her mistress: ‘The barer, Mrs.-, is of grate rtspektabilety and is a most exlent dumystick in a cenfiilent kapacity. She has lived ate years in her last place, and has a hunimpichahle carreter. She is pirfelly sobar, and never drinks nothink but what does her good. Will be fund a grate acvsition to a single jintelman, ur would shute a weddower. The lady where she livs givs her this carreter, and never would pear ted with her, but she goes to osstrailye.’ A Minnesota Night. One is not filled with a perfect sense of the charms of our climate tituill he witnesses one of our moonlight nights. In winter they are nearly as bright as the day. The bills round about our meridian throw a strong reflection of the moon’s light in upon our town, showing its every feature, rendered more charming in the softness of the light. The trees of the Forrest bespangled with frost set off the scene like a fairy land. The air is silent as death. The only sound that breaks the silence is that of an occasional hooting owl, |>erelied in the woods of the Sioux side.—St. Paul Pio neer, 2d. The Cayuga Chief says that a man who will take a paper for a length of time and then send it back, ‘refused,’ and ‘unpaid for,’ would swallow a blind dog’s dinner, and Mien stone the dog for being blind. We’ve no doubt they wonld. ‘Tilly,’ Baid a mother to her daughter who had seen but three summers, ‘what should you do without your mother?’ ‘1 should put on, every day, just such a dress as 1 wanted to,’ was the prompt reply. A man got up the other night, and took a* lie supposed, a card of matches and began to break off one by on^-trying to light a lamp, until the whole card was used up without accomplishing his object, when he discovered he bad used up his wife’s comb ! SUPERIORITY op machinery. A mechanic his labor will often discard, If the rate of his pay he dislike; But a clock—and its ease is uncommonly hard- 4 Will continue to work, though in trikes.