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♦ 0 [3 I iT|7imiaI 0f fUIiiital an& Central feto7-Jn Jfckate of (^qnaT|aig^ts ^ VOL- ix-_BATH, THURSDAY MORNING, AUGUST 17 1854? mlT <£|k (Eiifltmt <£imt0 IS PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, BY GEO. E. NEWMAN, Editor and Pr»priei»r* 0 Jice ia north end of Purge’s Block, third story, cornu of Front and Broad Streets. Term* If paid atrictly in advance—per annum, If payment is delayed 6 mo*-, “ A’.'J, If not paid till the close of the year, , ITT Vn rmrv..r will be discontinued until all arrearages JiS eiv *«* — *-» Single conies, four cents—for sale at the office, and at Steams’ Periodical Depot, Centre Street. # tt All letters and communications to be addressed post nw, to the Publisher, Bath, Me. S. M. Pkttengill A Co., Newspaper Advertising Agents, Ko. 1° State Street, and V. B. Palmer, Scollay’s Building, Court Street, Boston, are Agents for this paper, and are authorised to receive Advertisements and Subscriptions for us at the same rates as required at this office. Their re ceipts are regarded as payments. Cje Jltorg CtIUr. Fr m the American Union. CORALYLE. ' BY CLARENCE MAY. “ And then her face, So lovely, yet so arch—so full of mirth. The overflowing sf an innocent heart ; It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody.” “Joy had waved o’er thee his sun-woven wing, And dimpled thy cheek with the roses of spring." Mas. Osgood. Our village ! sweet Beechdale—nestled so lovingly among the hills, with its simple frame cottages almost buried beneath the fo liage of blossoming locusts, and dark green linden trees, and the neat little porches wreathed with clustering lilacs and honey suckle! Can you not imagine the picture? Ah, what a gleam of sunshine comes back through the weary waste of years gone by, as we once more gaze upon it—what an oasis it seems amidst the desert-places of our life-path ! But you should once see it in reality—you should pass some of life's happiest hours in its sweet seclusion, apart from the bustling world, and then you would learn to love it as we do, and not wor.der at our enthusiastic admira tion. What sloping hills, what beautiful scenery, and what a luvely stream of limpid water flashed along among the palisade-like rocks, and wooded knolls, or rolled peacefully through verdant meadows. Ah, there was everything there to give variety, and to add to its interest; and better still, we were nev er wanting in warm and living hearts to com plete th3 enjoyment of our little Kden. But the brightest, and best, and the happi est spirit there, was Cora Lyle. Our^ Cora ! —was there ever a village pet beloved as she was. Her presence was like a ray of joyous sunshine wherever she went—for no one, who liad once gazed into her laughing eyes—so large and blue, would think of passing her without a nod, and a pleasant smile. How could they help it ? Darling Cora. c dii went iu village M'liimi, ill lliose days, and though we were ever loving friends, there was considerable rivalry among the boys, as to who should be the escort of our little pet, when we proceeded up the road that led to the white school ho use—who should be the favored chaperon to lilt her safely across the ruts and mire, and carry her books; or, when at school, sharpen her slate pencils, and help her do tedious sums. But she bc siowed her sunny smiles, alike on all, and one glance from her roguish eyes was suffi cient compensation for the most disappointed gallant. And so passed away our childhood —ah, how quickly! What would we not give to live over again those sunny years. How many wild frolics we had in that pleas ant village, and Cora the life of all. Did we go on an excursion to gather nut* or flowers, sweet Cora must necessarily be one of the happy party : and while roaming through the woods and fields, the great, broad brimmed, straw hat of one of the boys was often set jauntily upon the pretty head of Cora ; and then, with those fair curls of sunny brown floating around her saucy face, she would laughingly pelt us with nuts, as our merry laughter rang out among the hills. Happy hours 1 Even now their joyous knell j comes back, and wafts an exquisite feeling to the heart, though long, long years have fled. Cora Lyle's parents were not wealthy, but there was not a dwelling in Beechdale where she was not a welcome visitor; and especially was she the favorite companion of Ella Ben son, the daughter of our wealthy village mer chant, whose handsome residence was situa ted just at the end of Beechdale. Here Cora passed a great part of her time, and as Miss Benson had been educated at a distant semi- ‘ nary, she was, of course, very accomplished, and undertook to instruct her pet, whom she found a very ready pupil, and delighted in music and drawing especially. Thus passed away the girlhood of our Cora —beloved by all, and shedding a radiance on the life-paths of all around her. She was now seventeen, and the fairest, sweetest creature in the world. But in her heart she was still a child, and wild as ever, although verging from girlhood into womanhood ; and we who were so intimate with her, hardly no ticed the change. Darling Cora Lyle! Ah ! what a glorious summer morning.— The sun had just risen above the hills, and the air was so soft and balmy. A summer morn ing in the conntry—you can imagine it. No wonder then, that Frank Lin wood, as he stood upon the portico of the home of Ella Benson, gared with admiration upon the scene before him, for he was an ardent admirer of Nature, and one that could appreciate its varied charms. Frank's parents lived in the city, and at the earnest solicitation of his good uncle, seconded by his fair cousin Ella, he had arrived the day before, to spend a few weeks with his rela tives in the country. He was soon joined upon the portico by his cousin Ella, who wa3 pleased to see him stirring so early. ‘ Ah, Frank,’ said she, artlessly, placing her hand within his own, ‘1 am indeed glad to find you up already. The morning is the most delicious time to be abroad in the coun try ; everything seems so fresh and charming. I love to be up early, and I really think it a sin to lie abed so late, idly dreaming, when Nature is wooing us to come forth, and enjoy the rich banquet she has prepared for our es pecial benefit. How do you like our quiet home, buried among these hills V she contin ued, glancing archly at Frank. ‘ Oh, it is a most lovely plftse, and I must admit, cor, that I am agreeably disappointed, for it exceeds all my anticipations. But still, much as I admire Nature. I think you must weary of the dull monotony of a country life, | without the many resources of amusement 1 that we have in the city.’ ‘ Oh, no, Frank ; not at all—nor would you say so, after being here awhile. I think we have far more resources of amusement in the country in summer, than you have in the city, j Never mind, Frank, wait till you get intro duced to some of our country girls, and min gle in our pleasant excursions and picnics, and you may alter your opinion.’ ‘ Well, coz, 1 must confess I have a slight curiosity to see some of your ‘country girls,’ tor I suppose they are perfect specimens—un polished and uneducated, and ready at any time to give you a dissertation on their favor ite cook book. Oh, 1 shall have some amuse ment at all events.’ * Really, Frank, I am quite surprised to hear you speak thus. However, I will not undeceive you at present, but will whisper you a word of caution, that if you still have a free heart, and wish to keep it so, you had belter not be too certain that our country girls are as unattractive as you imagine.’ ‘ What, fall in love, coz? Oh, that would be capital. I would like to try it once, just for the romance of the thing, and among these hills and country rustics, it would be roman tic.’ ‘ Well, you might have an opportunity ; and mind, I give you due notice, it may turn out to be a more serious affair than you now think for; and the breakfast bell at that moment ringing, F.llen gaily took his arm, and they entered the mansion. A few hours later, and Frank Linwood was roaming along the fair banks of the Yellow Jjeaches, with rod and line in hand, but more engaged in admiring the beautiful scenery, than in captivating the finny tribe. It was such a delightful change from the noise and bustle ot the city—the air was so bland and soft, and nought disturbed the stillness, save the song of birds, the murmur of the stream, or the drowsy bum of bees, revelling among the flowers on either hand. It was delicious, and yielding to its dreamy influence, Frank was soon absorbed in a pleasant reverie, as he reclined upon the mossy bank, beneath the shadow of the tall oaks. llut this was not destined to last long, lor a light footstep reached his ear, and springing to his feet, Frank suddenly became aware that he was gazing upon a vision of 6uch love liness, tnat at nrs< grauce lie thought' it might be a freak of his imagination—but no ! for a deep blush mantled the cheek of the young girl who stood before him, and murmuring something about ‘not being aware,’ turned hastily round to retrace her steps, with a roguish smile on her lips at his evident amazement. 4 Stay,’ cried Frank, recovering himself, and gracefully raising his hat—‘it is a most pleasant surprise, and why need it end so quickly 1’ The young girl turned, and glanced at him from beneath her long lashes. Her straw hat hung carelessly on her arm, leaving her bright curls entirely unconfmed ; while in her hand she held a bouquet of wild flowers. No won der Frank gazed upon her with such admira tion. ‘ You have been gathering flowers, and of course, love them!’ said he, for the sake of hearing her speak, and almost fearing that would destroy the charm. * Yres,’ replied the girl, artlessly. ‘I have a penchant for roving after flowers, and I Jo love them. I never hunt for violets, but what I think of Willis's pretty lines ; and truly, ‘there’s a daintiness about these flowers that touches ond like poetry,’ Blooming unseen, and no doubt often ‘wasting their sweetness on the desert air,’ makes them only more dear to me, and the rarest exotic could not afford the same pleasure.’ Frank was delighted—he did not expect such an answer. ‘ Y"ou do not reside in the village near by,’ said he. 4 Yes ; and it is there I am now going.— Good-bye,’ and with a light laugh at his evi dent wish to detain her longer, she quickly disappeared. ‘ As beautiful, but wilder than* the flowers she has gathered,’ murmured Frank, sinking back upon his former seat, to dream of the lovely apparition that had just vanished. ‘Why, Frank, what is the matter!’ ex claimed Ella Benson, next morning, to her cousin, as he sat at the breakfast table play ing with his spoon. ‘You have hardly spok en three words all the morning; and though you do not look exactly miserable, I hope you have no serious intentions of leaving us al ready.’ ‘ O, no, far from it, dear coz; I am very much pleased with your home, I assure you ; and besides I have not yet seen much of the village—the inhabitants, I mean. Have you many lady acquaintances!’ 4 Yes, a good many,’ replied Ella; ‘but one in particular, with whom I wish you to be acquainted. By the by, she is coming here this morning to take a lesson on the pi ano, for you must know she is a pupil of mine, and if you do not go out before that time, I will introduce you,’ 4 Might I know her name !’ he asked, care lessly as he could. 4 Yes, it is Cora Lyle.’ ‘Cora Lyle ! what a sweet name.’ And the owner of it far sweeter than the name,’ replied Ella. 4 But I will not antici pate, knowing how you are prejudiced against our country girla; only mind, and do not go out before ahe comes.’ He did not go out—there was not much danger of that! Could this be the fairy he met by the stream ! He felt almost certain i; must be her. Ah, the usually gay and indiff erent Frank Linwood was wonderfully changed within a short time, and strangely interested. There was a sound of merry laughter in th« hall, and the next moment Ella entered the parlor, accompanied by the very identical vis ion that had burst upon him so suddenly the day before ; only that she appeared more beautiful than ever. Ella formally introduced them, but ‘noticing Frank's smile of recognition, and Cora’s blush, she suspected something had taken place, and entreated to be let into the secret. Frank laughingly explained the whole af fair, and a merry morning they made of it— varying their playful conversation with the sweetest nf sweet music; and then he would walk with Cora through the village to her more humble home. After that, Frank bore his cousin's teasings about his ideas of ‘ perfect specimens ’ of ‘ country girls,’ with very good grace, and re taliated by showing every attention to our darling Cora. But even he could not monopo lize her entirely, and he soon found out that ; the little charmer was not to be won so easily as he imagined. Olten when he was speaking to her earnestly and became more grave than usual, she would suddenly dart from his side, ; with her peculiar laugh, declaring lie was too serious for her, and would join her more light hearted companions. Poor Frank ! lie was beginning to suffer , immensely ; but did lie suppose that our ; bright and light little Cora, nurtured in onr simple village, would suddenly become senti i mental, and devoted to hi m alone ? O, it was not to be thought of even for a moment! VV hat times we had those few short weeks ! Every one was disposed to be as tnerry as ; possible, and pic-nics and parties and excur sions were planned every day. The old woods around Beechdale rang with our merry voioes, and none were more joyous than Cora Lyle’s. We doubt whether the fastidious Frank Lin wood ever enjoyed himself half as much at the fashionable soiries in the city ; and certainly, | when our naughty Cora fell disposed to treat him a little more graciously, no one could have looked more interesting and happy. It was the evening previous to Linwood’s departure for the city. Somehow it had been arranged that Cora was to spend the night with her friend Ella, and they all sat in the pleasant parlor gaily chatljng, and Cora at the j piano, occasionally singing for Frank, when lie called for a favorite song ; and it was du >4 ring her faultless and piaintive execution of that sweet air— * When other friends around j thee." that Ella Benson :• — j,— :»ot in , leave the room. We believe it was never known precisely what passed between them when they were alone together, and even Ella could scarcely surmise, for when Frank Lin wood hade liis j cousin farewell the next morning, he looked somewhat grave, and did not promise when he would visit her again, while Cora appeared nearly as joyous as ever. Of course we all had our own conjectures about the affair, and sometimes made a playful hint to onr pet, but she would pout her rosy lip, and stoutly deny it ; still we were not convinced. The cool autumn days stole on, the lonely winds moaned and sighed their requiem over the last pale flowers, and then the most observ ant among ns noticed that there was a change in Cora. Though she was now more beauti ful than ever, and though the features of that bright happy fcce still remained the same, there was a greater depth of thought in their expression, and the childish mirth softened and became more spiriluelfc. Then she loved to be alone oftener than before, and the soft beams of light stoic through the silken curtains of those blue eyes more timidly than of old. Ah, Cora Lyle ! Ii was nearly Christmas, and Ella Benson joyously entered the room where Cora was seated, busily engaged in drawing, exclaim 1 ing— * O, Cora, w hat a pleasant surprise ! Only think, I have just*received a letter from cousin Frank, who writes he w ill be here soon to spend the holidays with us. Well, really, I r.ever dreamed that he would leave the gay city to come here at this season of the year, when we had such hard work to get him here in the summer. He must have found it pecu liarly attractive,’ and glancing at Cora who was now blushing deeply, a new light broke in upon her mind. * O, I understand,’ she continued, laughing ly ; ‘I need not flatter myself that it is any peculiar cousinly affection for me that brings him here ; and I give you joy for he is a dear, good fellow, and will make you happy.’ Cora was on the point of denying it again, but the evidence was too strongly against her, and throwing herselt into Ella's arms, she eon' fessed all, and asked pardon for concealing it from her so long. Alt, let no one suppose a woman can’t keep a secret—sometimes/ And Frank Lin wood did come, looking more manly and handsome than ever—and suclt a Christmas as we had ! All our sum mer festivities were more than renewed, only that we now carried them on within doors, ex cept when it was to he a sleighing-party, and then Frank and Cora were always sure to lead off. Ah, metliinks I can see the little fairy now, as she sat by his side in the sleigh with her little bonnet vainly endeavoring io contain the wealth of bright curls that danced in the fresh bretze, and a famously large muff half concealing her sweet face, while her joyous laugh rung out above the music of the bells ! It was now a matter generally understood that they were engaged, and on one wondered at her einntinn, when he again bade her adieu to return to the city, while her deeper and more womanly nature broke forth from the deep blue eyes so tearfully raised to his. But the separation was not to be very long : for when the gladsome spring again came with its radiant sunshine and flowers, and the soft winds made plasant music among the whispering leaves, a youthful bridal party l stood in the dear old village church, and our darling Cora confidingly placed her little hand in that of Frank Lin wood’s, and vowed to be a loving wife through life’s sunshine as well as its darker hours. ffliscdlaitg. From DIcken’s Household Words. A Turkish Auctioneer. It was the sale of a bankroll’s effects, and they were huddled together in disorderly con fusion under a little craggy shed just ouside the town. 1 was attracted thither by the shouts of a Turk, with a stentorian voice, who was running about in a state of great ex citement, stopping persons in the street to in ; sist on their examining the articles which he | carried in his hand. Me was the auctioneer of the place ; and I followed him into the | crazy shed as a student of manners. There was a considerable crowd of those greasy, dingy persons, who seem to have an abstract love of second-hand goods, and who have al ways appeared to me to be evoked by the auc tioneers of all countries like familiar spirits. This resemblance, however, borne by this crow*! to similar people in England, is mere ly personal. It is confined to the length and sharpness of nose among the buyers ; to an air of unpleasant sleekiness about them, with a strong smell of bad tobacco ; and to a pre vailing odor of the damp and fusliness of small streets. There the likeness ends. In Britain a sale by auction is a plain business-like, twice-two-are-fuur sort of affair , in Turkey it is a source of pleasurable excitement for a whole city. It furnishes the inhabitants of the place with a conversation topic of more than usual liveliness and interest. It also gives them a delightful excuse for laying or lounging about in the sun doing nothing, which is a never-ending entertainment to an oriental. It is proper to mention that the Turkish auctioneer is by no means so august and dig nified a person as with us. He is not the sovereign lord and autocrat of the sale-room ; he is the servant of a popular and rumbustical assembly. Before I have well had time to '■ settle myself upon a stone, and light a cigar,^ I observe that he has returned three times from a sally to sell the same cracked pipkin, and three times he has been thrust Hack by the ___rr .1_». « ... a reasonable offer for it. Somebody in the shed bids for it at last, and the delighted auc tioneer, with a most villainous wink at me, is preparing to hand over the unsaleable pipkin to the somebody in question, when the same remorseless knuckles, as usual, are thrust between the collar of his shirt and the nape of his neck. Our friend, thus goaded, makes another excited bolt out of the shed, and, next moment, is heard shouting about the cracked pipkin again, in the same furious manner as that which first attracted my attention. The somebody who was disposed to become a pur chaser looks rather disconcerted ; I suspect he is not thoroughly broken in at auction ; but nobody else pays any further attention to the proceedings for the present. In fact, all seem to be rather glad to have got rid of the auc tioneer than otherwise, probably in the hope that the festive occasion may be prolonged un til a late hour. So they sit down and light a great number of paper cigars as a necessary preliminary to the discussion of the news of the day. Their conversation is composed merely of cofTee-house politics and their neigh bor’s business. Woe to the Costaki, or Ni kolaki who does not happen to be present; the character of that Costaki or Nikolaki is handled with a ferocity which makes one’s ears tingle ; and I listen attentively for one pleasant thought or kindly expression ; for one plain, sensible idea, or healthy view of anything talked about, in vain. Presently the auctioneer returns. While the majority of his customers are wrangling, he has slily disposed of the pipkin to the customer who first bid for it; and I think an other roguish wink at the purchaser signified that he should expect a con-sid-er-a-tion for himself at a convenient season. After this sale of the pipkin—the only thing disposed of yet—the auctioneer desires a little repose, and squatting cross-legged on the bankrupt's coun ter, sends for a nargilly, and join* in the gen eral discourse. The whole company then pre sent a picture of oriental manners sufficiently ; striking and characteristic. They have en tirely forgotten why they assembled together ; and are idling away their time in that sloth fulness which is the root of all evil, and from which spring, certainly, nine-tenths of their national disasters. Lazy louts of boys begin to sneak in and out mysteriously, and to pull about the things of the ruined man. 1 feel very much disposed to trip up one young gen j tleman, whose pockets are fuller than they ! should be, with the crook of my walking j stick. But I am by no means sure that he is ; not the son or brother of somebody present; j or in league with the auctioneer, or the bank : rupt, or the principal creditor, or one of the primates of the place. For the rest I begin to understand also that the auctioneer is not likely to resume his la bors for the present. The talk will go on till dinner-time; then the talkers will disperse. To-morrow is the Greek feast of the Forty ! Martyrs; next day is the Turkish Sabbath ; (our Friday ;) the day following is the festi val of St. Somebody; the next is Saturday, the’Jewish Sabbath, then comes Sunday; no | body likes to do anything Sunday; nobody j likes to do anything particularly on Monday, | while Tuesday and Wednesday are both saints' I day. On Thursday everybody will stay at home sobering, and then again follow the three Sundays! By which time I know very well that everybody will have forgotten all about the sale, just as much as if it had been an affair of the last century. Should they re member it, I am not quite clear that the matter will be mended. The bankrupt’s goods are in a ruined shed. They will not be locked up. To-morrow morning or the morning af terwards, the shed will be found open.— Something will be said about a robbery ; this will supply a great deal of energetic talk ; and afford an excellent opportunity for abusing the Turkish authorities. Those who know a great deal more about the robbery than they would care to own, will be the loudest in this abuse—and there the matter will end. So let it be ! Everything is settled in this way in the East. Why should the sale of a bank rupt’s effects be an exception to the general rule ? Delay hangs like a mist over every thing and everybody. Nothing ever termi nates, and if I were asked to describe the gen eral state of affairs in the East in one word, the word I should use would be Muddle. 1 asked a person I met in my afternoon ride, what might have been the circumstances of the bankrupt whose property I had seen so wantonly damaged and pilfered. The sub stance of what 1 heard, is worth recording, as illustrative of another phase of manners in Turkey. The bankrupt had been a prosperous man until he married a widow of considerable lan ded property. This had been his ruin ; and a very snug and comfortable ruin it was—but still a ruin. Hu fancied the property of his would be improved by laying out a little mon ey upon it. The idea was natural : it was also correct. For this purpose, therefore, the trader borrowed a small amount, and had little difficulty finding it, for he offered the security of his next year's growth of olives. ‘ Stay,’ said the money-lender, ‘ as you have olives I will not lend you money. I will buy your olives. It will make the transaction simpler.’ It did not make the transaction simpler, however. When the time came for the olives to be delivered to the buyer, they did not happen to be grown. A winter of se vere cold had destroyed the olive trees by hun dreds, and the trees of the debtor had not put forth a leaf. He offered, however, to repay the borrowed money. ‘ Pray, don’t trouble yourself about me,’ said the obliging money lender ; • it is not money you owe me ; it is olives. To be sure I bought your fruit rather cheap ; but, if I had it, I would make an im mense sum in the present scarcity. I want the olives inereiore, not the money • impos sible.’ ‘ Well, then ; suppose we fancy that i them, they will cost so many piastres at the current price. To be sure it is nearly five times what I lent you, but you need not hurry yourself about payment—we shall merely have to add the interest, and you can give me a bond for the whole. So the affair is settled, and the discomfited debtor finds himself in the position of hundreds ot others. He has been borrowing at an interest of about six hundred per cent.; and his ruin is sealed. He knows this; but he is a Greek, and has all the trick ery and cunning of that people born with him. He will be ruined, indeed, but he will contrive even to turn his ruin to account. He will im prove and beautify his wife’s property until it becomes the wonder of the neighborhood. He will buy everything that is to be sold, and j dispose of it again at any price, to obtain ; the money he requires. He will carry j on a wholesale system of swindling for the next year; and the Frank merchants will suffer most. One fine morning he will declare : himsi lf a bankrupt, rub his hands, chuckle a little, and leave his creditors to fight out their differences. He will have no books or ac counts. He will answer no questions, and there is no law to make him. He will ac knowledge, indeed that it is a bad business for somebody ; but as far as he is concerned, he knows nothing at all about it, and washes his hands of the whole transaction. His prop erty belongs to his wife, and though he has j improved it with other people’s money, nobody can touch it. By and by, in some round about way, the Greek money-lender will of course contrive to be paid, hut nobody else will. In a few years, or perhaps sooner, my friend will set up in business again, and live In the odor of sanctity until he gets into a scrape again ; and then he will contrive to get out ot it, in some equally felicitous and honest manner. The fact is, there is no law in Turkey which may not be evaded by an ingenious man — Some trumpery present will always secure the suffrage of anybody where suffrage is worth securing. For, the Aga and Cadi, with all their coadjutors and train, live entirely by lit tle jobs of this kind ; without them they would not be able to live at all. There is no gazette, no list of bankrupts, no report of law proceed ings, no way of any kind, so far as 1 know, for keeping backsliders in the ranks. 1 won der whether things would be altered to the benefit of the Frank merchants, if we qould persuade some sensible commercial man like Baron Bruck, the Austrian Internuncio, to go, some of these days, as our ambassador to Tur key, There is a talk that the Austrian mer chant-diplomatist is already busy with a new commercial treaty. I wonder if a British merchant could afford him a few hints, Comparative Cost of Soldiers in Europe. The following statement, which is founded on data afforded by Marshall Marmont, will show the relative expense to their respective coun tries of English, French, Prussian, Austrian, and Russian soldiers, viz :—120 English sol diers cost as much as 538 Russian; 120 Frenob cost as much as 350 Russian; 120 Prussian cost as much as 240 Russian; 120 Austrian coat as much as 212 Russian. To start a man’s temper just abuse his horse. If there is one place more ‘tender’ than another in our friend Curduroy’s nature, it is in hia horse affection. He can ‘stand’ hia wife to be maltreated, his children to be subdued, but when you come to hia nag, it is quite an ^ other aflhir. Well it is. The Resources of Japan. Foremost among the resources of Japan are its fisheries. The sea ard its productions, we believe contribute fully aa much to the suste nance of the natives, as do the fruits of the earth—rice, perhaps, excepted. One of their production* has a value which is not confined to the spot, but extends to ua—to our enter prize, and our trade,—we mean the whale or as they call it kudsuri. There is nothing of which such extensive use is rade by the Jap anese, both for rich and poor. It is found all around Japan, but particularly in the sea Keumano, which washes the southern coasts of the island Niphoh, the most important territory of the Empire; and it also prevails in the islands Tsussima and Goto, and upon the coasts of Oniura and Nomo. 1 hese whales not only afford oil in great abundance, but their flesh, which is considered very wholesome and nutrious, is largely con sumed. No part of them, indeed, is thrown away—all ia made available to some useful purpose or another, excepting only the large shoulder bone. The skin, which is generally black, the flesh, which is red, and looks like beef, the intestines, and all the inward paits ; —besides the fat or blubber, which is boiled into oil, and the bone, which is converted to numerous uses,—rail is made available to pur poses o| profit. We have gone into these few particulars respecting the whale, because it is that which has brought our countrymen into contact with Japan. Many of our ships have, for some considerable time past, frequented those seaa, for the purpose of capturing the whale, an occupation which, it is found, might be pursued with great advantage, under a com mercial treaty with the government of Japan, whose inhuman laws at present, not only pre vent any assistance being rendered to ship wrecked mariners, but expose them to posilive maltreatment, and even to violent death. To j obtain redress in this respect, was the primary ' object of Commodore Perry's expedition. Japan abounds in natural and artificial pro ductions of great value. Its mineral riches are enormous, and include metals of various kinds, especially gold, silver, and copper. Sulpher and nitre are also found in large quantities ; there is no want of coal, and there are precious stones ot almost every variety ; agates, sap jaopcio , anq even uia mnnds ; wliile pearl* are found in great plenty fertility of the soil is very great. The mul berry-tree grows extensively, and a (Tunis food for countless myriads of silk worms. The Kadai, or paper-tree, serves innumerable pur poses, including the manufacture of cloth, stuffs, and cordage. The ceruai, or varnish tree, is another valuable production of the country, yielding large quantities of a milky juice, which the natives employ to varnish, or japan, as we call it, various articles. Then there are the hay-tree, the camphor-tree, the fig-tree, the cypress-iree, with very many more, all more or less valuable, and from which a great variety of useful things are made; and last, though not least, there is the tea-shrub, from the leaves of which the common drink of the people is brewed, and which is capable of yielding a valuable article of commerce. Trees growing nuts of various kinds are abundant : the maple is very extensive and excellent; bam hues are very plentiful, and of great use, as they are every where in the Indies, they cultivate as much hemp and cot’on as they can find room for in their field, and as to rice, which is the main food of the natives, that grown in Japan is considered the best in Asia, and it can he produced in almost any quantity. Their corns are of several sorts ; besides the korni, or rice, there are the oomuggi, a kind of ■ barley : the koomuggi, their native wheat ; : and the daidson, a peeies of bean,—all of which abound w ith superior farina. The manufacturers of Japan have, hitherto, been confined almost exclusively to their own domestic wants ; but many of them are, never theless, valuable as articles of export* Our adoption here and throughout Europe of the term japan as applied tu certain kinds of varn ished ware, indicates how well known has been their peculiar excellence in, if not their invention of, that useful art. They make vari ous articles from the paper-tree resembling our papier-mache, which they painj, and varnish, on paper, very highly—and these might form objects of considerable trade. Their silks, muslin and cotton goods are must of them very superior, and some of them are calculated to become highly reherchc ; and their carvings in wood, ivory, pearl, and fish-bone, are most in genious and elegant. These are but a few of the products of their handicraft; hut they are enough to show, taken in connection with their natural productions, how varied and how valuable are the resources of the Japanese. To establish then, a commercial intercourse with such a country were surely a most im portant object; and our heartiest ‘ God-speed ’ will go along with every expedition for that purpose; nor do we consider the difficulties that will of necessity have to be overcome as by any means insurmountable.—Jour, of Com. -* Gas for Country use. By a recent invention, people living in towns where no coal gas company is, or can be pro perly formed, may still obtain the luxury of a brilliant home-made gas light, at a oust cheaper than that of the ordinary oil or fluid. This im portant improvement was in complete operation, ! a few evenings ainoe, at the residence of a well | known literary and scientific gentleman ol Spring Hill, Somerville, Mass., being the first house into which it has been introduced in this ' section of the counry. The light produced is superior to that of coal gas, being clearer and more powerful, as the flame is of fuller volume ! and burns with greater steadiness, while the expense is about the same as coal gas at $9,50 per thousand feet. It ia the combustion of benzole, a resinous liquid aold at $1,50 per gal lon, mixed with atmospheric air—the gas being _ *ook anb lob printing. Haring recently naaJe extensive adOiUuun* to our tLmae variety of PUIB ANN FANNY JOB TVPm The proprietor of the Eastern Time* U now rrmemt to am •cute with KCATXS4S sod MSFAtCt. CterodaZeZotZm* Job Work, such u ' n *««*«<» *? Clrcwlnm, BUI-hcftete, Cards, Cateleyaei, Blank*, Pr*|miumei, Bbey Bill*, Labels, A wet low uU Hu* ' Bill*, Ac., See. jjr Particular attention pakl to tpauiHiPitsj*,, All work entrustod to ns will be perfume* i* tbe beat manner, and aa low aa can be afforded. (Arden erflfitro* and promptly answered OEO. E. NEWMAN. generated by means of an ingestions and not in* elegant apparatus, which nay stand in the house entry, or even be placed on a closet shelf, and from which common gas fixtures may e*-. tend in all directions and give the light in gny or every room at pleasure. The apparatus g*H, eratesno more ga* than is immediately eon sumed, and requires for the purpose only thg iieat of one of the burners used as a light_#<, that the w hole c«n'. of tjie gaa is tint of the ap paratus and the benzole. < An apparatus of sufficient capacity ft»r % good sized dwelling-house is afforded for $190, It is so constructed that, by means of a rotating air pump, which is revolved by a cord and a weight wound up by a cranlc, a stream of air * is forced into the generator, which is partially filled with benzole. The generator contains a vaporator exposing a large surface of benzole to the action of the air as the latter is forced through both apartments by the pump arid weight—and the thus evaporated benzole coni^ billing with the air, produces a gas of the high? est quality for illumination. The apparatus is so perfectly simple, safe a id durable, that it may be managed by the dullest domestic, only requiring the weight to be wound up before use and the generator to be filled twice s month, or nol as often if ihe lights are not employed, This beautiful invention was patented last August, by Mr. O. P. Drake, a practical elec-, trician of Huston, and must be regarded as one of the most utilitarian improvements of the time. It is applicable to houses,shops, hotels, factories, or other places in the country, tnd even on shipboard. Hereafter the dwellers on the remotest hill-lops, on in the deepest ahsdea of the ‘back-woods,’ may enjoy as much as those of the cities, in way of artificial • en lightenment’ in their domestic arrangements.—* Scienti fic American. Trifles and Consepuenccs. If in the world of spirits the consequence of j ev**ry trifling act of an individal shall be plainly i visible to him, how great will be the remorse ; of those whose evil works and words are as | numerous as the sands of the sea shore. Who j is there that cannot trace back to the moat tri fling incident the cause of an entire change , in bis whole litel Some have been made immensely rich by the turning of a feather, their children educated, given influences, and perhaps charged with the destiny of a nation, ... r . - of some slight and almost imperceptible inai dent. Poverty has brought disease or dissipa tion, and a vagaband’e life or a drunkard.s grave become his portion. Some of our richest and most influential merchants, sons of farmers —can trace their coming to New York to the meeting of a playfellow in the street, or the running away of a colt, or perhaps, as in an in stance we have heard of, the breaking of a bowl. Had these boys remained at home and been farmers, how different would have been the situation of their families. Their daugh tt rs instead of flaunting in silks in Broadway, and enjoying a scat at the opera, might have been engaged in the more worthy occupation of making butter and cheese. Steamships that now form regular lines to different quarters of the globe, and afFect the destiny of nations, would not have been built; wars might have been made or avoided, as subsequent circum stances have been made or avoided, as subse quent circumstances have dictated. Thirty years ago, two boys in New Hamp shire quarreled about a box of blacking. To get rid of one of them, lie was sent to New York, and is now one of our first shipping mer chants, a director in a bank, and owner of a line of steamers. A dispute about a tin dip per with the steward of a steamboat, resulted in a law-suit that oust a thousand dollars, and laid a found uf the fortune of one of our mil lionairrs, who now owns more tin dippers and steamboats than any other man in the world—, once a deck hand of a boat, now the captain of ■ the * upper ten.’ A Beautiful Picture. A man who stands upon his own soil, who feels that by the laws of the land in which he 1 lives—by the laws of civilized nations—he is ! the rightful and exclusive owner of the land which lie tills, is by the constitution of our na ture under a wholesome influence not easily . imbibed from any other source. He feels— other things being equal—more strongly than another, the character of a man as Lord of an j inanimate world. Of this great and wonderful ; sphere, w hich, fashioned by the hand of God, ; and upheld by his power, is rolling through j the heavens, a part of his——his from the centre sky. It is the space on which the generation before moved in its round of duties, and he ; feels himself connected by a visible link with those who follow him, and to whom he is lu transmit a home. Perhaps his farm has come down to him from his fathers. They have gone to their last home ! but he can trace their footsteps over the scenes of his daily labors. The roof w hich shelters him was reared by ! those to whom he owes his being. Some in ! terestiug domestic tradition is connected with every enclosure. The favorite fruit tree was i planted by his father's hand. He sported in ’ boyhood beside the brook which still winds through the meadow. Through the field lies the path to the village school of earlier days. He still hears from the window the voice of j the Sahbaih bell which called his father to the house of God ; and near at hanJ is ftp spot w here his parents laid down to rest, and where* when his timo has come, he shall be laid by his children. These are the feplftgs of the owners of the soil. Words cawqo.1 paint them —gold cannot buy them ; ftey flow uut °^ deepest fountains of the heart, they ere the life-springs of % fresh, healthy and genpfpua national character.—Edward Everett. There is no occasion to traB|^t Upon ft* meanest reptile nor to sueak to the gnat if t prince. Ineolaoce and^ baseness are equally unmanly.