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VOL. IX._bath, THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBEIl 28, 1851. no Cjjr (Eastern Cttnrs IS PUBLI8IIED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, BY GEO. E. NEWMAN, Editor and Proprietor* O.Hce in north end of Pierce’s Block, third story, corner of Front and Broad Streets. Term* If paid strictly in advance—per annum, If payment is delayed 6 inos., “ “ If not paid till the close of the year, $1,50 1,75 :l,O0 i not pain uii me close oi j — > ’ O’ No paper will be discontinued until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the publisher. i>aiu, unless »«/ TT Sinele copies, four cents—for sale at the office, and at Siemens’ Periodical Depot, Centre Street. TT All letters and communications to be addressed post paid, to the Publisher, Bath, Me. S. M. Pbttkmgii.l A Co., Newspaper Advertising Agents, No. 10 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. Cfrt JSturg Cellar. BURnttpiSr T. S. Arthur tells a good story about a loving couple in New Jersey, who belong to the Methodist church. A new presiding elder, a Mr. N., was expected in that district, and as the ministers all stopped with brother W. and his wife, every preparation was made to jgive him a cordial reception. The honest couple thought that religion in part consisted In making some parade, and therefore the par lor was put in order, a nice fire was made, and the kitchen replenished with cake, chick ens and every delicacy, preparatory to cook ing. While Mr. W. was out at his wood pile, a plain-looking, coarsely-dressed, but quiet-like pedestrian came along and inquired the dis tance to the next town. lie was told that it was three miles. Being very cold, he asked permission to enter and warm himself. As sent was given very grudgingly, and both went into the kitchen. The wife looked daggers at this untimely intrusion, for the stranger had on cow-hide boots, an old hat, and a thread bare but neatly patched coat. At length she gave him a chair beside the Dutch oven which was baking nice cakes for the presiding elder, who was momentarily expected, as he was to preach the next day at the church a mile or two beyond. The stranger, after warming himself, pre pared to leave, hut the weather became in clement, and as his appetite was roused by the viands about the fire, he asked for some little refreshment ere he set out for a cold walk to the town beyond. Mrs. VV. was displeased, but on consultation with her husband, some cold bacon and bread were set out on an old table, and he was then somewhat gruffly told to eat. It was growing dark and hints were thrown out that the stranger had better depart, as it was three long miles to town. The wife grew petulant as the new preacher did not arrive, and her husband sat whistling the air of ‘Auld Bang Syne, wh 1* he thought of the words of the hyn When 1 can read rny title clear, and l«lt a- if lie could order the stranger off without any further ado. The homely meal was at last concluded— the man thanked him kindly for the hospitali ty he had received, and opened the door to go. But it was quite dark, and the clouds denot ing a storm filled the heavens. 4 You say it is full three miles to D-V : * I do,’ said Mr. W., coldly ; ‘I said so when you first stopped, and you ought to have pushed on like a prudent man. You could have reached there before it was quite dark.’ ! 4 But 1 was cold and hungry, and might have fainted by the way. m The manner of saying this touched the farm er's feelings a little. 4 \ ou have warmed and fed me, for which I am thankful. Will you not bestow another act of kindness upon one in a strange place, w’ho, if he goes out in the darkness, may lose himself and perish in the cold !’ The particular form in which this requeil wa^made, and the tone in w hich it was ut tered, put it out of the power of the farmer to say no. 4 Go in there and sit down,’ he answered, pointing to the kitchen, ‘and I will see my wife and hear what she says.’ And Mr. W . went into the parlor where the supper table stood, covered with a snow white cloth, and displaying his wife’s set of blue sprigged China, that was only brought out on special occasions. The tall mould candles were burning there on, and on the hearth blazed a cheerful fire. 4 Hasn’t that old fellow gone yet?’ asked Mrs. W. She heard his voice as he returned from the door. 4 No, and what do you suppose ? He wants us to let him stay all night.’ « Indeed, we’ll do no such thing. We can’t have the likes of him in the house now.— | Where could he sleep?’ 4 Not in the best room, even if Mr. N. .should not come.’ ■‘ No indeed ! ‘But really, I don’t see. Jane, how we can turn him out of doors, He doesn’t look like a very strong man, and it’s dark and cold, and full three miles to D-.’ ‘ It's too much ; he ought to have gone on while he had daylight, and not lingered here, as he did, till it got dark.’ 1 We can’t turn him out of doors, Jane, and Bt's no use to think ol it. lie'll have to stay somehow.’ . ‘ But what can we do with him ?’ ‘ He seems like a decent man at least, and 1 doesn’t look as if he had anything bad about him. We might make him a bed on the floor somewhere. * I wish he had been at Guinea before he came here!’ said Mrs. W., fretfully. The disappointment which the conviction that Mr. N. would not arrive, occasioned her to feel, j and the instrusion of so unwelcome a vistor as the stranger, completely unhinged her mind. ! ‘ Oh, well, replied her husband, in a sooth- ' ing voice, ‘never mind. We must make the best of it. He came to us tired and hungry, j and we warmed and fed him. lie now asks shelter for the night, and we must not refuse him, nor grant his request in a complaining or reluctant style. You know what the Bible says about entertaining angels unawares.’ ‘ Angels 1 did you ever see an angel look like him?’ ‘ Having never seen an angel,’ said the farmer, smiling, ‘1 am unable to speak as to their appearance.’ » This had the effect to call an answering smile from Mrs. W., and a better feeling at her heart. It was finally agreed between them that the man, as he seemed likeadecent kind of person, should be permitted to occupy tlie- ■minister’s room, if that individual did not rextic arrive, an event to which they both looked with but little expectancy. If he did come, why the man would have to put up with poor accommadations. When Mr. W. returned to the kitchen, where the stranger had seated himself before the fire, he informed him that they had decid ed to let him stay all night. The man ex pressed in a few words his grateful sense of their kindness, and then became silent and thoughtful. Soon after, the farmer’s wife, giving up all hope of Mr. N.*s arrival, had supper taken up, which consisted of coffee, warm short cake and broiled chickens. After all was on the table, a short conference was held as to whether it would do not to invite the stranger to take supper. It was true, they had given him as much bread and bacon as he could eat, but then, as long as he was going to stay all night, it looked too inhospitable to sit down to the table and not ask him to join them. So, making a virtue of necessity, I13 was kindly asked to come to supper—an invi tation which he did not decline. Grace was said over the meal by Mr. W., and the coffee poured out, the bread helped and the meat carved. There was a fine little boy, six years old, at the table, who had been brightened up, and dressed in his best, in order to grace the min ister's reception. Charles was full of talk, and the parents felt a mutual pride in show ing him off, even before their humble guest, who noticed him particularly, though he had not much to say. ‘Come, Charley,’ said Mr. W., after the meal was over, and he sat lean ing in his chair, ‘can't you repeat the pretty hymn mamma learned you last Sunday?’ Charley started off without further invita tion, and repeated very accurately two or three verses of a camp-meeting hymn, that was just then very popular. ' Now let us hear you say the command ments, Charley,’ spoke up the mother, well pleased at her child's performance. And Charley repeated them with the aid of a little prompting. * How many commandments arc there ?’ asked the lather. The child hesitated, and then, looking up at the stranger, near whom he sat, said inno cently— * How many are there ?’ 1 he man thought for some moments, and said, as if in doubt, ‘ Eleven, are there not?’ Eleven !’ ejaculated Mrs. W., in unfeigned surprise. 4 Eleven ?’ said her husband, with more re buke than astonishment in his voice. ‘Is it possible, sir, you do not know how many com mandments there are? How many are there, Charley ? Come, tell me—you know, of course.’ 4 Ten,’ replied the child. 4 Right, my son,’ returned Mr. W., look ing with a smile of approval on the child. ‘Right. There isn’t a child of hisageinten miles who can’t tell you there are ten com mandments. Did you ever read the Bible, sir?’ addressing the stranger. 4 When I was a little boy I used to read it sometimes. But I am sure 1 thought there were eleven commandments. Are you not mistaken about there being only ten ?’ Sister W. lifted her hands in unfeigned as tonishment, and exclaimed, 4 Could any one believe it ? such ignorance of the Bible ?’ Mr. W. did not reply, but rose, and going to one corner of the room where the good book lay upon the small stand, he put it on the table before him, and opened that portion in which the commandments are recorded. ‘ lhere!' he said, placing his finger upon the proof of the stranger’s error. ‘There? look for yourself.’ The man came round from his side of the table, and looked over the stranger’s shoulder. ‘There! ten, d’ye see?’ 4 Yes, it does say,’ replied the man ; ‘and yet it seems to me there are 11. I’m sure 1 have always thought so.’ ^ 4 Doesn’t it say ten here?’ inquired Mr. W., with marked impatience in his voice. 4 It does, certainly.’ 4 Well, what more do you want? Can’t you believe the Bible?’ ‘ Oh, yes, I believe the Bible ; and yet it strikes me somehow that there must be elev en commandments. Hasn’t one been added somewhere else V ‘ Now this was too much for brother and sister W. to bear. Such ignorance ol sacred matters they felt to be unpardonable. A long lecture followed, in which the man was scold ed, admonished, and threatened with divine indignation. At its close he modestly asked if he might not have the Bible to read for an hour or two before retiring for the night.— This request was granted with more pleasure than any of the preceding ones. Shortly after supper the man was conduct ed to the little square room, accompanied by the Bible. Before leaving him alone, Mr. W. felt it to be his duty to exhort him to spir itual things, and he did so most earnestly for ten or fifteen minutes. But he could not see that his words made much impression, and he left his guest, lamenting his obduracy and ig norance. In the morning he came down, and meeting Mr. W., asked him if he would be so kind as to lend him a razor, that he might remove his beard, which did not give his face a very at tractive appearance. His request was com plied with. We will have prayers in about ten min utes, said Mr. \V., as he handed him the ra zor and the shaving box. The man appeared and behaved with due propriety at family worship. After breakfast he thanked the farmer and his wife for their hospitality, and parting, went on his journey. Ten o'clock came, but Mr. N. had not ar rived. So Mr. and Mrs. W. started for the I meeting-house, not doubting that they would find him there. But they were disappointed. A goodly number o! people were inside the meeting-house, and a goodly number outside, but the minister had not arrived. ' Where is Mr. N-V inquired a dozen voices, as a crowd gathered around the farmer. ‘ He hasn’t come yet. Something has de tained him. But I still look for him—indeed, I fully expected to find him here.’ The day was cold, and Mr. W., after be j coming thoroughly chilled, concluded to keep a good look out for the minister from the win dow where he usually sat. Others, from the same cause, followed his example, and the little meeting house was soon filled, and one after another came dropping in. The larmer, who turned towards the door each time it was opened, was a little surprised to see his guest of the previous night enter, and come slowly dowm the aisle, looking on either side as if searching for a vacant seat, very few of which were now left. Still advancing, he finally got within the little enclosed altar, and as cending to the pulpit’j took off his old gray overcoat and sat down. By this time Mr. W. was by his side, and ! had his hand upon his arm. * You musn’t sit here. Come down and I will show you a seat,’ he said, in an excited tone. ‘Thank you,’ replied the man, in a com posed voice. ‘It is very comfortable here,’ ( and he remained immovable. Mr. \V., feeling embarrassed, went down, intending to get a brother ‘official’ to assist him in making a forcible ejection of the man from the place he was desecrating. Imme diately upon hi* doing so, however, the man mse, and i j. ;«t the desk, opened the hymn > k II « e thrilled to the finger " i a distinct and im pressive m inner lie gave out the hymn be ginning—• *• lit Ip us to help each ether, Lor J, Kach other’s cross to he^r; Let each hi* friendly aid aif od. And feel a brother’s care.” The congregation rose after the stranger had read the entire hymn, and had repeated the first two lines for them to sing. Brother W. usually started the tunes, lie tried this time, but went olfion a long metre tune. Dis covering his mistake at the second word, he balked and tried it again, but now he stumbled on short metre. A musical brother came to ins aid and led olf with a tuue that suited the measure in which the hymn was written. A iter singing, the congregation kneeled, and the minister—for no one doubted his real character—addressed the Tliroue of Grace 'with much fervor and eloquence. The read ing of a chapter in ihe Bible succeeded.— Then there was a deep pause throughout the room in anticipation of the text, which lie preacher prepared to announce. Brother \\ . looked pale, and his hands and knees trembled. Sister VWs face looked like crimson, and her heart was beating so loud that she wondered whether the sound was not heard by the sister who sat beside her. There was a breathless silence. The dropping of a pin might have been heard. Then the fine, emphatic tones of the preacher filled the crowdedjoom : ‘And a new commandment give I unto you, that you Jove one another.’ Brother W. had bent forward to listen, but now he had sunk back in his seat. This w?as the eleventh Commandment. The sermon was deep, searching, yet af fectionate and impressive. The preacher ut tered nothing that could in the least wound the brother and sister, of whose hospitality he had partaken, but he said much that smote upon their hearts, and made them painfully conscious that they had not shown as much kindness to the stranger as he had been enti-' tied to receive on the broad principles of hu manity. But they suffered most from mortifi cation of feeling. To think that they had treated the presiding elder of the district after such a fashion was deeply humiliating, and the idea of the whole affair getting abroad, in terfered sadly with her devotional feelings throughout the whole period of service. At last the sermon was over, the ordinance administered, and benediction pronounced. Brother VV. did not know what it was best for him to do. He never was more at a loss in his life. Then Mr. N. descended from the pulpit, but he did not step forward to meet him. How could he do that ! Others gath ered around and shook hands with him, but still he lingered and held back. 4 ‘ Where is brother W. V he at length heard asked. It was the voice of the minister. * Here he is,’ said one or two, opening the way 10 wnere me iarmer stoou. The preacher advancing, and catching his hand, said— ‘ ilow do you do, brother W. ; I am glad to see you. And where is sister W. V Sister W. was brought forward, and the preacher shook hands with them heartily, while his face was lit up with smiles. ‘ 1 believe 1 am to find a home with you,’ he said, as if it was settled. Before the still embarrassed brother and sis ter could make reply, some one asked— ‘ How came you to be so late ? You were expected last night. And where is brother R V ‘Brother R. is sick,’ replied Mr. N., ‘and I had to come alone. Five miles from this mv horse gave out and I had to come the rest of the way on foot. But I became so cold and weary that I found it necessary to ask a farmer not far from here to give me a night’s lodg ing, which he was kind enough to do. 1 thought I was still three miles off, but it hap pened that 1 was very much nearer my jour ney’s end than 1 supposed.’ This explanation was satisfactory to all parlies, and in due time the congregation dis persed, and the presiding elder went home with brother and sister W. One thing is cer tain, however, the story never got out for some years after the worthy brother and sister had passed from their labors, and it was then related by Mr. N. himself, who was rather eccentric in his character, and, like numbers of his ministerial brethren, fond of giving a joke, and relating good stories. Ultstfllang. A Story of the Woods of Maine. One of the oldest inhabitants of Northern Maine thus relates a race he had with a cata mount :— ‘ Young man,’ said he, * when I first visited this town, there were only three families liv ing in it. You who now live at ease can never know the hardships and perilous scenes through which the early settlers passed.— ‘ Come with me,’ he continued, ‘ and 1 will show you the spot on which the first hut ever erected in this town was located.’ I followed silently, until the old man reached the west side of Paris Ilill. * There,’ said he, ‘ on this spot was erected the hut. I shall never forget the first time I visited it, and the story I was told.’ * What was it?’ I asked. ‘ I will tell you. When the first settler moved here, his nearest neighbor lived tweniy miles distant, in the present town of Rumford, and the only road between the two neighbors was a path he had cut through the woods him self, so that in case of want or sickness he migh get assistance. One spring, I think it was the third season afte r he had settled here, he was obliged to go to Rumford for provis ions. He arose early one morning and started for his nearest neighbor. People of the pres ent day would think it hard to make a journey of twenty miles for a bag of potatoes, and on f"<*t too, but such was the errand of the first *» ‘ ' r. He arrived before noon, and was I '-di.l in getting his potatoes, got some r? !?*«!,tut t, d started for home. But it w <•- nut e.i-v to travel w ith a load of potatoes : fin illy at sundown, he threw off his load, and resolved to make a shelter and spend the night. 1 have been taken with him to the ex act locality of it; it was situated just on the other side of the stream, on which are mills, in the village of Pinhook, Woodstock. He built a shelter, struck a fire, and took out ot his sack a piece ot meat to roast. Ah ! young man,* continued the narrator, ‘ you lit tle know with what relish a man eats his food in the woods ; but, as I was saying, he com menced roasting his n.e vhen he was star tled by a cry so shrill that he knew at once it could come from nothing else but a catamount. I will now relate it to you as near as I can in the language ot the old settler himself. “ 1 listened a moment, and it was reoeated even louder, and it seemed nearer than before. My first thought was for my own safety. 13ut w hat was I to do ; I was at least ten miles from home, and there was not a single human being nearer than that to me 1 next thought of self-defence, but I had nothing to defend myself with. In a moment 1 concluded to start for home, for I knew the nature of the catamount too well to think 1 should stand the least chance of escape if I remained in the cainp. 1 knew, too, that he would ransack my camp, and I hoped the meat which I had left behind might satisfy his appetite so that he might not follow me after eating it. I had not proceeded more than half a mile, before I knew, by the shrieks of the animal, that he was within sight of the camp. 1 doubled my speed, content that the beast should have my supper; although I declare 1 would not have run if 1 had had my trusty rifle with me. But there could be no cowardice in run ning from an infuriated catamount, doubly fu rious, probably, being hungry, and with noth ing that could be called a weapon save a pock et knife. I had proceeded, probably, about two-thirds the distance home, and hearing nothing more of the fearly enemy, began to slacken my pace, and thought 1 had nothing to fear. I had left behind about two pounds of meat, beef and pork, which I hoped had satisfied the monster. Just as I had eome to the conclusion that 1 would run no more, and was looking back, as tonished almost at the distance I had travelled in so short a space of time, I was electrified witn norror 10 near me animal shriek again. I knew then that my fears were realized. The beast had undoubtedly entered the camp, and ate and then followed after me. It was about three miles to my log cabin, and it had already become dark. I redoubled my speed, but thought I must die—and such a death ! The recollection of that feeling comes to my mind as vividly as though I knew the animal was pursuing me. But 1 am no coward, though to be torn in pieces and almost eaten alive by a wild beast, was horrible. I calmly unbuttoned my frock with the determination to throw it off before the beast should approach me, hoping thereby to gain advantage of him by the time he would loose in tearing it to pieces. Another shriek, and I tossed the garment behind me in the path. Not more than five minutes elapsed before I heard a shrill cry as he came to it. How that shriek electrified me. 1 bounded like a deer. But in a moment the animal made another cry, which told me plainly that my garment had only exasperated him to a fiercer chase. Oh, God ! said I, and must I die thus. I cannot, 1 must live for my wife and children ; and I run even faster than before, and unbut toning my waistcoat, I dropped it in the path as I proceeded. The thought of my wife and children urged me to the most desperate speed, for I thought more of their unprotected state than the death I was threatened with; for should I die, what would become of them. In a moment the whole events of my life crowded through my brain. The catamount shrieked louder, and fast as I was running, he rapidly approached me. Nearer and nearer he came, until I fancied I could hear his bounds. At last I came to the brook which you see yonder, which was double its present size, being swollen by the recent freshets, and I longed to cool my fevered brain in it ; but I knew that would be as certain death as to die by the claws of the beast. With three bounds I gained the opposite bank, and then I could clearly see a light in my log cabin, which was not more than a hundred yards distant. 1 had proceeded but a short distance when I heard the plunge of the catamount behind me. 1 leaped with more than linman energy, for it was life or death. In a moment the catamount gave another wild shriek as though he was afraid he was going to loose his prey. At that instant I yelled at the top of my lungs to my wife, and in a moment I saw her approach the door with a light. With what vividness that moment comes to my mind ! The catamount was not so far from me as I was from the house. I dropped my hat, the only thing I could leave to stay the progress of the beast. The next moment I fell prostrate in my own cabin.” Here the old settler paused, and wiped the big drops from his brow ere he continued. “ IIow long 1 laid after 1 fell, 1 know not; but when I was raised to consciousness, I was lying on my rude couch, and my wife was bathing my head with cold water, and my children were gazing anxiously at me. My wife told me that as soon as I fell she immediately shut the door and barred it, lor she knew that 1 was pursued, but by whom or what she knew not; and that as soon as I had fallen and the door closed, a fearful spring was made upon it, but the door was strong and well barred, and withstood the spring of the beast. « As soon as I recovered 1 knelt down and of fered up the most fervent prayer to the Al mighty that ever crossed my lips, or ever will again. My family and myself shortly retired, but no sleep visited me that night. In the morning, when my little son, six years old, told me that he saw the eyes of the colt in the window in the night, I knew the catamount had been watching to gain admittance ; but our windows, you will perceive, are not large enough to permit a catamount to enter. W hen I looked in the glass the next morn- ! ing, I was horror struck at my altered appear ance. My hair, which was the day before as dark as midnight, was changed to snowy whiteness—you now see—and although I have enjoyed very good health since, I shall never i recover from the effects of the fright 1 experi- i enced on being chased by a catamount.” ’ War. The following extracts from a letter pub lished in one of the Knglish papers, give the experience of a soldier in battle. Truly, the battle field is a school for the development of the worst passions of human nature :— A Charge. Oh, such a charge! Never think of the gallop and trot which you have often witnessed in the Phenix Park, when you I desire to form a notion of a genuine blood-hot, ' all-mad charge, such as that I have come out of—with a few lance prods, minus some gold lace, a helmet chain, and Brown Bill’s (the j charger,) right ear. From the moment we dashed at the enemy, whose position, and so forth, you doubtless know as much about as 1 can tell you, I knew nothing, but that 1 was impelied by some irresistable force onward, and by some invisible and imperceptible influ ence to crush every obstacle which stumbled before my good swoid and brave old charger. I never in my life experienced such a sublime sensation as in the moment of the charge.— Some fellows talk about being ‘ demoniac.’ I know this, that it was such as made me a match for any two ordinary men, and gave me such an amount of glorious indifference as to life, as I thought it impossible to be master of. It would do your Celtic heart good to hear the most magnificent cheer with w hich we dashed into what P- YV- calls ‘ the gully scrimage.’ Forward — dash — bang — clank, and there we were in the midst of such smoke, cheer and clatter, as never before stunned a mortal’s ear. It was glorious! Down, one by one, aye, two by two, fell the thick skulled and over-numerous Cossacks, and other lads of the tribe of old Nick. Down, too, alas, fell many a hero with a warm Celtic heart, and more than one fell screaming loud for vic tory. I could not pause. It was all push,, wheel, phrensy. strike, and down, dowrn, down, they went. Twice I was unhorsed, and more than once I had to grip my sword tighter, the blood of foes streaming down over the hilt, and running up my very sleeve. Weaned with Slaughter, I cannot depict my feelings when we returned. I sat down completely exhausted and unable to eat, though deadly hungry. All my uniform, my hands, were bespattered with blood. It was that of the enemy ! Grand idea ! But my feelings,— they were full of that exultation which it is impossible to describe. At least twelve of the Russians were sent wholly out of the ‘ way of the war,’ by my good steel aloHe, and at least as many more put on the passage to that peaceful exit by the same excellent weap- I on. So also can others say. What a thing to reflect on ! I have almost grown a soldier philosopher, and most probably will one of these days, if the bullets which are flying about so abundantly give me time to brush up. . Getting Horses. No novel ever had a sham hero who comes up to the realities I have wit nessed. One of my troop, for instance, had his horse shot under him in the melee.— 4 Bloody wars,’ he roared, ‘this won’t do.” right at a Russian he ran, pulled him from his horse by the sword hand in the most extra ordinary manner—then deliberately cutting off his head as he came down, vaulted into the saddle, and turning the Russian charger against its late friends, fought his way. This took less time to do than I to tell it. I saw another of our fellows unhorsed, and wounded, creep under a Russian charger and run the sword up his belly. The animal plunged and fell on his slayer, crushing him to pieces. Charge to a newly installed Editor. The editor of the N. O. Christian Advo cate, who is something of a wit in his way, in welcoming to the tripod one of his brethren, who has lately becn appointed editor of a reli gious paper, thus solemnly charges him as to the proper method of discharging his duties : Having been pleasantly associated with the debutant journalist in times past, and in view of his sphere, we feel like ‘taking’ on over him after the impressive manner of our Pres byterian brethren at installations. The right hand of fellowship having beeu given, we pro ceed to ‘deliver the charge.’ Firstly—If any man be in this office by pur pose, he is not in by rights. No bov was ever brought up for an editor. No father ever thought, ‘I will educate my son for an editor.’ No aspiring young man ever said, ‘I will be an editor.’ It is an accidental succession.— Now, if you desired to be an editor, lived for it, saw it coming, calculatad it a week before you found yourself one, you are not in the reg ular line. (This to test our calling.’) Secondly—If you have any very particular friend, go and embrace him for the last time, for when you refuse his advice, ‘IIow to make your paper more interesting,’ or exer cise the editorial discretion in declining an article that he said in an N. 13., ‘You might do as you like with without the least offence,’ he is offi and after that offish. (Encourage ment.) Thirdly—Make to yourself friends of the Postinaster-General and all the Postmasters in particular. (Reasons obvious.) Fourthly—Uo all the good you can and as little harm, for these will be your main chances. Filthly—Put away the delusive notion that all honest people pay their debts. (Excep tions.) Sixthly—Blessed are they that expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed; as you will be if you expect an easy life or rich living. (Instance.) Seventhly—Acquaint yourself early with those agents who do nothing, and strike them off, and those patrons who consider they do a favor by reading the paper, and have nothing to do with them. Neither ever yet supported a paper, and the more such friends it had, the worse for it. E’ghtuly—Reject many of your own manu scripts as well as other people's. Ninthly—Never think you are done or through when you are through. Re gm again. Finally anil to conclude—Look out for all things. Re prepared to go through thick and thin—especially through thin. New Style of Vocal Music. Some time since we mentioned the perform ances of the Organophonic Band, how in Eng land. The following amusing account ol one of their concerts we copy from the Bristol (Eng.) Mercury:— Hoffman’s Organophonic Band.—On Mon day evening, a company of musicians undei this title gave a very unique, and, we will add, very agreeable concert at the Victoria rooms. The artists, nine in number, form what is termed in the bills a ‘ human voice orchestrain other words, they, by means of the vocal organ, imitate a variety of instru ments. VVe are told that the perfection tc which they have reached has cost their con ductor a large expenditure, both in time and money, and the closeness with which they im itate is interesting, not only as displaying the capabilities of the human voice, but also show ing what seemingly insurmountable obstacles skill and perseverence may overcome. The organophonic musicians da not confine theii imitations to any particular class of instru ments; brass and.reed, wind, string and per cussion fall equally within their scope. One man screws his mouth up to a sort of whistling form, and straightway he emits the sweel mellow tones of the clarionet, a second pro duces those of the cornet, a third becomes a sort of biped opheiclido or trombone, a fourth imitates the crisp rattle of the tambour miUtair, while a fifth so truthfully imitates the jingle of the cymbals that it is difficult for the listenei to persuade himself that he has not before him some Ethiop clattering the brazen rounds after approved oriental fashion. When playing in combination, the singers produce much of the effect of a small military band, at intervals ol the concert a couple of the most skilled of them venture to appear as soloists, and, more mar vellous still, one them actually plays by himself a “ concentrate duett” on the clarion et and cornet-a-piston. Among the most noticeable points of Mon day’s concert was the huntsman's choni3 from “ Der Freischutz,” in which one of the artists. Mr. Thurton, astonished the company even beyond his imitation of the cymbals, producing by the power of his voice alone, a striking re semblance to that small and delicate instru ment, the musical-box. A solo by another ol the artists on the B clarionet, with obligate (also self-played,) on the tenor sax-horn, was exceedingly clever and very pleasing, while a dramatically-illustrated rendering of the fa mous hunting song of Old Towler excited the audience to a pitch of enthusiasm. The ar rangement of this ballad reflects great credit on the conductor, Mr. Hoffman. I he words are sung by one of the vocalists, while the others play during part of the song an accom paniment on their imitative instruments. At the proper point the characterestic notes of the hunter’s horn are heard, and then the whole body bursts forth with the exciting cry, ‘ Hark forward ! hark, forward ! tauitivy V Follow ing this is heard, closely imitative, the music of the hounds in full cry, so that the song realizes, as far as may be, the chase which it dsscribes. Between the acta of the concert, Mr. Thur ton, who is a prince of ventriloquists, intro Having recently rnaJe extensive additttlons to oar «_f variety of PILAU Mli> FARCY CFOB TTPE, T!ie proprietor of the Eagteru Time* is uotv prepared to ax : ecute with Nkatxkxs ami dhpaTcu, every description at Job Work, such as Circulars, Bill-heads, Cards, Cninlogues, Blank*. I'roiirnnimcs, Shop Bill*, Labels, Auction and Hand Bill*, Ate., Ate. T~r Particular attention paid to' s>iE2»5PEsr<&« All work entrusted to us will he performed hi the best manner, and as tow as can be afforded. Orders solicitod and promptly answered GEO. E. NEWMAN. duced a polyphonic entertainment, which was very amusing. He kept up a ceaseless conver sation between a number of imaginative per sons, some of whom, and we may particularly instance little Miss Gobble, he hit off with re markable truthfulness and effect. The per petual snappings of a pet parlor dog, the deep er sounds of a yard mastiff, the distant deal ings of a flock of sheep, and even the hum of ‘ the ,itt,e b»»y bee,’ were Imitated with as tonishing fidelity, and helped to realize a ‘ do mestic scene ’ of amusing interest. Interesting Facts npon Eyes and Ear*, The organ of vision is considered the most delicate organization in the hitman frame; yet, many who have been born blind, have been enabled to see by surgical operations, and the following is an interesting fact concerning one of that class. This youth had become 13 years of age, when his eyes w ere couched by the surgeon. Jle thought scarlet the most beautiful color, black was painful. He fan cied every object touched him ; and he could not distinguish by sight what he perfectly well knew by feeling, fur instance, the cat and dog. \\ hen his second eye was couched, he remarked that the objects were not so large in appearance to this, as to the one opened at first. Pictures he considered only parti-col ored surfaces, and a miniature absolutely as tonished him, seeming to him like putting a bushel into a pint. btanley, the organist, and many blind mu sicians, have been the best performers of their time; and a schoolmistress in England could j discover that two boys were playing in a dis tant corner of the room, instead of studying—< although a person using his eves could not de tect the slightest sound. Professor Sander son, who was blind, could, in a few moments, tell how many persons were in a mixed com pany, and of each sex. A blind French lady could dance in figure dances, sew and thread her own needle. A blind man in Derbyshire, 1 England, has actually been a surveyor and planner of roads, his ear guiding him as ta distance as accurately as the eye to others; and the lute Justice Fielding, who was blind, on walking into a room for the first time, after speaking a few words, said, ‘This room is about twenty-two feet long, eighteen wide, and twelve high,’ ail of which was revealed to him with accuracy through the medium of his ear. Verily: “We are mysteriously and ! wonderfully made.’ Tire Distinction of E&ces. Some fourteen years ago, a girl supposed to t*e a negro, was purchased bv a gentleman in South Carolina, ami lias since been held as a slave. The Courts have just set her free, it being proved that she was an Indian, who had been stolen from a toting band of Cliero 1 kee«. It was proved by the Indians that the i girl had been stolen from them, but the. mo»t important testimony was that of Dr. K. D. ; (iibbes, a celebrated anatomist. From a re ! port of his testimony, we copy the following paragraphs, embodying interesting information: ‘ He explained the prominent differences be tween the anatou ical siruiture of different i parts of the body, and gave an exceedingly interesting account of the distinction in the : He stateJ a very curious fact, as resulting from microscopical observation, that in the mu latto cross the hair of one or the other parent was present, and sometimes hairs of both, but never a mongrel hair ; that no amalgamated hair ever existed ; that as often the mulatto had straight hair as kinky. He stated that the microscope revealed that the hair of tha white race was, when transversely divided, oval, that of the Indian circular, and that of tha Negro eccentrically elliptical, with flattened edges ; that of the Negro was not hair, but wool, and capable of being felled ; that tha coloring matter of true hair was in an internal tube, while in the Negro it was the epidermis 1 or scales covering the shaft hair. In curio!)oration of the statement that both white and negro hair were sometimes found in same head, a singular case was mentioned to my hearing l>v Dr. W. He stated that be ! once attended a half-breed Indian and Negro, i who had straight Indian hair. He Was ill and ! had his head shaved and blistered. On his recovery, when Ilia hair grew out, it was ne gro hair—crisped and wiry. These are very curious lacts, and of much importance in the distinction of races,' Doll Physiology, Two little girls, one rejoicing in blue rib bons, and the other in pink, were bewailing their domestic misfortunes in mock maternal language. * Where is your dolly V asked pink ribbon* | of her little neighbor. 4 Dear me ! didn't I tell you ? answered : blue; 4 why she has got the measles dreadful.— Her face is spotted all over.’ 4 Well, I don’t think she’s as sick as my 1 dolly,’ said pink: ‘only think, I've had aeon • i stitution of thirty doctors fur her, and they all i didn't do her any good. ’I’ve had to buy * new gown, she's so miserable*’ (nut the first misery a new gown has brightened up,) 4she's got the consumption.’ 4 O ! that's dre adful bad; dues she cough much ?’ asked the other, with au air of great solicitude. ‘All the time—and keeps me awake so much of Rights.’ 4 But why don’t you take her out? the sir will he good for her lungs.’ * O! dear,’ exclaimed pink ribbon!, with ad mirably assumed intensity of feeling, 4my dol ly hasn't got a hit of lungs, she only breathes through her nose.’ This was the climax; who could help laugh* I ing ? Sf Martin Koszta, the Austrain refuge* who now resides m Chicago, was married, to Mrs. Lucinda McFall, of that city, 09 the j 12th. inst.