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% $mtr«al flf ||olitital an& General ftttos--^n Jpbntate uf €qual §Ug|ts. Y°L x-BATH, THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 5, 1855. no. 3. 45|jt eastern Ctmes If muni HVXRY THURSDAY MORNING, V GEO. E. NEWMAN, Hirer mm* Fr.„m.r; UnUwA end of Pi net's Blocx, third story, oorno of Front and Bruad Streets. Term*. If paid Btrictlf in mdvance—per annum, If payment ia delayed 0 mas., “ " It mot paid till the close of the year, tr No paper will be discontinued until all aruasac* •re paid, unless at the optiow of the pnbtisher. in .u. anroents—ftw sale at the odfcie, and a rr AU letmrs and oommnaioetiooi to ha addressed row ran, to the Hniisher, Bath, Me. 8 If Pti ■son-L h Co., Newspaper IdnriMng Agents Sla.'la mate Street, aad Y. B. Fauna, Scotlay’s Bonding •Coart Street, Boston, are Agents tor this paper, and an authorised to receive Advertisements and Subscriptions toi ms st the same rates aa required at Ihta oIBce. their re net pis an regarded aa payments. C|e ^torg Ctlltr. A Strange Story. TUB ADYaRTaGB OF LEGAL roams. Ia a aaaall towa in Saxouy, lived three young lata, whom sea will sail George, Ernest, and Lewis, and whofroaa their infancy were strong ly attached te each other. Georg* and Emeat were merchants, Lewia studied law, and prac (ie*d in hia natira plae*. One Kaont't day, F.rueat and Georg* eel «Ma* horseback for • town about thirty mtilas off, where they had boeiueas te transact. Ern est was weak enough to h* food of dissuasion With hia friend on religion* sehjecta, of which they were of different opinions, and had warn disputes, though Georg* was aa irritable aod paaeieeat* aa h*kina*lf was obstinate ia main taining his notions. During the joum«y, Ern est led the eon vernation to his unlucky topic. They fell, aa oeual, into a dispute, which was kept np till they reached the inn where they agreed to dine. The dispute was continued over a bottle of wine, bet with temper on both aid**; and the travelers pursued their journey. Ernest renewed the subject of their farmer con versation, and both rather elevated with the win* they had taken, the dispute became more and more violent as they proceeded, au that hy the tiara they had entered a weed through which lhair road ltd, it had degenerated into personality and abuse. uni|u * pseeion anew do oouuaa; uncon scidus of wbat he did, ho palled out a pistol •nd presented it at hia companion. Tha pistol want off and Ernest fall from hit horse, * hich frightened by the report fad relieved of his ri der, aeampered away into the wood. George, pale as death, immediately alighted to amici hia friend, who was weltering in his blood, the paroxysm of passion waa over, and given place to bitter repentance. He stooped te Emeet, who just then breathed his last sigh. Overwhelmed with despair and anguish, he tore hie hair,and aflerwarda galloped back to tlus viftage, te eemoder himself into the hand of justice es the murderer of his friend, that he might put a speedy end to bit fife which waa now the moat oppressive burden to him. The rtfficer to whem he delivered himself op, sent (rim under guard to the town where the friends resided. The body ef Ernest, whose pockets were found rifled, waa also conveyed thither snd interred. The legal proceedings against George com menced. Ha repeated his confession before the Judges, and implored a speedy death. Hia examination was closed, and he waa informed that he was at liberty to choose sn advocate to defend him, as the law requires; hut he de clined to avail himself of the privilege, and with tears besought the Court to hasten his execution. Being, however, again urged to appoint an advocate to conduct hia defence, he named hia friend Lewis. 'At the same lima,’ said he still, ‘there needs no defence; I wish only for death—but I submit te the required formality. My frisnd may ondsrtake ths bootlssa task, and thus show hia attachmant to me, for the last time.’ With profound emotion, Lewis entered up on the moat painful duty that had ever fallen to his lot in hia whole professional career.— Though he despaired of befog able to save hia unhappy friend, ha determined, of course, to make every possible effort to accomplish this and. With this view, be objected that Ernest's body had been committed to tbs earth without any previous judicial examination and diasae tioa. The judges replied that this ceremony seemed unnecessary and superfluous, as the murdefer had volantarily confessed the deed; if he (the advooale) insisted on the examina tion of the body, it should be taken up. By the desire of Lewis, this was accordingly done. The town surgeon attended, and declared ibet ae the ball bad passed right through the heart, death must naturally ensue. Lewis wished to know if the ball was still iathe body; the surgeon sought for and found it; upon which the advocate sent for tha pistol with which tbo deed had beea perpetrated, and tried to drop the ball into tha barrel. It seemed too large, be accordingly tried it in all possible ways, still it would not go in. That this ball could not be fired by that pis tol, was evident to every - observer; the judgei 'looked at one another and shook thair beads.— There was not a person but had completely •made up hia mind respecting the guilt of the tprUonar; but this circumstance quits eonfoun tied them all. There waa not a person but had completely made up hia mind respecting the qpiilt of the prisoner; but this eireumatanei tjtliteeonfounded them all. The confession o the prisoner, made without the employment o the slightest fear or force, wae corroborated bt every circumstance that had previously const to light; tha ball alone seemed to proclaim hi ’innocence. Lewis begin to conceive the strongest hopes ■and wa* nearly overpowered with the exceea c ■hie extreme joy. He propoeed tbe proceed in*». together with the ball and piatol, ehoul dm aant to the supreme tribunal, aod that i ■tight decide in this extraordinary affair. Thi proposal was tbe more readily accepted, aa th local coart was poxxled how to act, and ah nolately unable to praseaaee any judgmon whatever. While the papers were in the heads of th aapreme tribunal ir. the metropolis a highwaj mas, who had shot and robbed a traveler o the road not far from the birth-place of th friends, waa brought to that town. Convicte by sufficient evidence, he acknowledged hi crime; bat this was not all; be confessed, o farther examination, that two month* befor he had murdered another man on the sam road. Thtsehrcnmatanoe had excited auepicrot tad being Mill further questioned, bo relate the foHowiag particulars ; ' About that time I happeaad to be in a vi (age public house. Two ncn on horseback cane in after me; I remarked that one of them had a heavy girdle filled with money fastened around his body, underneath hia waistcoat. I began to consider whether it was not poesible to possess myaelf of this rich booty; but then how waa this to be done, aa he had a companion? However, thought I to myaelf, I have a brace of good pistols. If I shoot one, tho ether will probably run away in a fright, and before he ean give alarm and fetch witness to the spot, my fleet bone will have carried me far enough out of their reach; if, contrary to my expecta tions, the survivor should stand by hit compan ion, what binders bm from'giving him tho oth er ball? Sach waa my determination, whirb I resolved immedistely to execute. I bad heard them talking of the way they ahould take. I rode off before, having tied my horve to a tree, concealed myeelf in a thicket by the road side. No sooner had taken my station, than the travelers approached. They were dispu ting violently. I had already taken aim at the men with the girdle, when the other took out a pistol and discharge it at hm companion. 1 fired at tbe same instant. My man fell juat aa the other's ball whixxsd past my ear; he then sprung from hia horse, warn engaged for a short time with hia dying fellow-traveler, and at the instant when 1 waa going to fire he mounted again and galloped away. I had now time to rifle the pockets of the deceased, and having done thia, I rode of aa fast as I could.* He described the time, tbe place, and the twe travelers so minutely, that then remained not the alighteat doubt of hit having aetaally committed the nfurderof which George accused himself. The latter,trembling with rage, fired at random, and waa innocent of the death of hia friend. The local tribunal transmitted all these par ticulars to the Supreme Court; the proceedings, with accompaniment, were returned, and the ball exactly fitted the piatol which wae found upon the murderer at the time of hia appre hension. Let the sympathizing reader nnw endeavor to form eome conception of the transport of Lewis on having saved his friend. Let him figure to himself the joy of George, when the painful consciousness uf an atrocious crime was thus removed from hia bosom. Hu wae unan imonsly declared innocent of the murder; his passion cost him two months’ imprisonment; and it was long before his tears ceased to flow for his departed friend. Lewis begged the ball, the instrument of the extraordinary event. The forme of legal proceedings may often seem troublesome snd useless, but let them not be arraigned on that account. Now and then, indeed, a criminal may through their means escape the punishment due to his guilt; but if, in the course of a century, they save tho l'f« ol only one innocent person, the wisdom of tbe legislator ought to Command our gratitude. A Coon Hunt in a Fency Country. Really 'lii istonishin’ what a monstrous sight of mischief there is in a pint of rum ! If one of them aria submitted to analyxatien, as the great directors eall it, it would be found to contain all manner of defilement that never en tered the head of man, from eoasin* and stealin', up to murder and whippin' hia own mother, and nonaenae enuff to turn all the men in the world out of their tenses. If a man's got a badness in him, it will bring it out, just aa sassafras* tea does the measles, and if he‘a a good-for-nnthin’ sort of a fellow, without no had traits in pertikler, it'll bring out all his greatness. It affects different people in differ ent ways—-some it makelh rich and happy, and some poor and miserable; and it has a differ ent effect on different people’s eyes—tome it makes see double, and some it makes to blind that they ean’t tell themselves from the tide of bacon. One of the worst eases of rum foolery that I’ve heard of for a long lime, took place in Pineville last fall. Bill Sweeny and Tom Colpeper ia the two g ret lest old coveys in our settlement for coon hunting. The fact ia, they don’t da much ol anything else, end when they can’t catch nothin’, you may depend coons is scarce.— Well, one night they bad everything reaify foi a regular hunt, but owin’ to some extra good fortin’ Tom had got a pocket pistol, aa he called it, of regular old Jammakey, to keep ofl the rumatie. A fler tailin' a good startin’ horn, they went on their hunt, with their I its wood torch a blaxin’ and the dogs a barkin’ and yelp in' like forty thousand. Ev’ty now and tlier stoppin' to wait for the dogi, they would drink one another's health, till they began to feel very comfortable, and chatted away 'bout one thing and another, without mindin’ much which way they waa gwine. Bimeby they earn toe fence, i ‘ Well, over they got without much diffi : cully. f ' Whose fence is this!’ said Bill. ‘ ’Taint no matter,’ sex Tom, * let’s lakt somethin’ to drink. i After likin’ a drink they went on, wonderin whet on yearth had com of the doge. Nex , thing they cum to wae a terrible muddy branch f After pullin’ through the briars and gettin’ ot . t’ober side, they took another drink, and aftei I gwine a little ways, they cum to another fence t a monstrous high one tbia time. . • i * Where upon yearth ia we got to, Culpep > perl’ eez Bill; * I never seed such a heap o . branches and fences in these carts.’ t ' Why,’ sex Tom, 1 its all Sturlid's doina— yoa know he's always bildin’ fences and inak e in’ infernal improvements, aa be calls ’em.— . But never mind ; we’e through ’em now.’ 8 ‘ Guess we isn’t,’ sex Bill, ‘ here’s the all ( firedest fence yet.’ d Sore enoff, thar they were right agin anoth ■ er fence. By this time they begun to be con a siderable fired end limber in the jiots, end i b wee such e terrible high fence. Tom dtoppei a the last piece of the torch, and there they wen , in the dark. it ‘ Now yon is done it,’ sex Bin. Tern knewe’d he had, but be thought it wa - ne use to grieve over spilled milk, so says he 1 never mind, old horn, cum ahead, and I’ll take you out,’ and the next minil, kerslash he went into the water. Bill hung on the fence with both hands like he thought he was slewin’ round to through him off • Hello, Tom,’ sez he, ‘ whar in the world ia you got to I’ * Here I is,’ aes Tom, spontin’ the water out of hie mouth, and coilin’ like he'd swallowed somethin’; • look out, there’s another branch here.’ ‘ Name o’ nenae, whar ia we !’ sex Bill. If this isn’t a fency country, dad fetch my but tons.’ ■ Yea, and a branchy one, too,' sex Tom, and the highest and thickest that 1 ever seed in all my born days. 4 Which way is yon,’ sex Bill. 4 Here, right over the branch:’ The next minit in Bill went, up to his mid dle, in tbs branch. 4 Cum ahead,’ sex Tom,4 let’s go home.’ 4 Cum thunder, 1 in such a place as this, whar a man hain’t got hia coat tail unhitched from a fence, ’fore he’s over head and ear* in water! ’ After genin’ out and feelin’ about in the dark, they got together again. And takin’ another drink, they sot out for home, denounc ing the fence* and branches, and helpin’ one another up now and then ; but they hadu’tgene more’n twenty yards ’fore they brung to a halt by another fierce. 4 Dad blame my picter,’ sex Bill,4 if I don’t think ws is bewitched. Who upon yearth would build fences all over creation this way !’ It was about an hour’s job to gel over this one ; but after they got on the top they found the ground on t’other side without much trouble. This time the bottle was broke, and they came monstrous near having a fight about the catastrophe. But it was a very good thing, it was ; fur after ernssin’ two or three branches, and climbin’ as many fences, it got to be daylight, and they found that they had been climbin’ the $amefence all night, not mor’n a hundred yard* from whar they first cum to it. Bill Sweeny says he can’t account for it in no other way but that the ticker sort o’ turned their heads : and he says he doe* really be lieve if it hadn’t gin out, they’d been climbin’ the same fence and wadin’ the same branch till yet. Bill promised hi* wife to jine the Tera ance Society, if she wouldn’t never aay no more about that coon hunt. Selling a Landlord. Mr. Roscius Puggs was a histrionic gen tleman who performed the heavy business at half-price theaters. His stock in trade con sisted of a thundering voice, square shoulders, | and a pair ot prodigious calves. He was a I great villain—theatrically speaking ; as a man, 1 though not without his faults, he has never I committed the slightest burglary, arson, or ! murder. Still an unlortunate tendency is ' moisten his diaphragm too freely with fer mented liquors, led him into serious embar rassments. He was frequently ‘indisposed,’ and severely tried the patience both of man agers'and the public. Yet he made some no ble professional discoveries. None of the representatives of Richard, Duke of Gloater,' from Garrick to Charles Kean, had ever elic ited from Shakspeare’s text at the stage di rection the astonishing fact that the humpback assassin nf King Henry and the prince, was a drunkard as well as a murderer and a tyrant. Yet Puggs conceived and rendered the charac ter in the spirit more than once, staggering through the love scene with Lady Anne, and exhibiting more Dutch courage than valor and ‘cunning of fence,’ in the closing encounter with Richmond. A difference as to the pro priety of this rendition between Puggs and the managers led to the loss of engagements, and Puggs at one time, had run up a bill at a cer tain tavern in a certain town, where he was unknown and out of business, without the slightest prospect of liquidating the account. His personal property consisted of a trunk containing two or three shirts and an old uni form. The landlord was forbearing, but forbear ance has an end. This individual had only one peculiarity—a resemblance to the Stuart portrait of Geu. Washington, on which he prided himself immensely. It was his weak point, and Puggs determined to take advantage of it. One day he ordered a bottle of port, and Puggs requested the landlord should come up with it. Mr. George Washington Bliffin ac cordingly made his appearance with the port in more than his ordinary stateliness. ‘ Mr. Puggs,’ said he, ‘1 have filled your orders for the very last time, sir; I have a family.’ ‘Cherubs! cherubs! General,’ said theac • I must live.’ • Naturally.’ • Very well, air.; your bill already amounts to $40—$15 lor board and $25 for brandy and cigars.’ ■ It was on this aery subject I wanted to see you. General. What a surprising likeness!’ added the actor, throwing himself back in his r chair, and shading his eyes with his hands, *a perfect Stuart.’ ‘ 1 have been told so,’ replied tho landlord, ' in a more pleasant manner, and taking a seat. ‘ That’s right, Bliflin ; make yourself at home. Now then—bumpers and to business! ' Forty dollars you say. Well, I bare a bet, a cool fifty spot, in the winning of which you’re - deeply interested. 1 hare a bet that you can ■ stand for ten minutes in the attitude of the l Farewell Address without moting a muscle. I Dodgem, of the Museum, is the psrty—you i can do it as easy, as winking. I haae a con tinental uniform which you shsH put on while 1 arrange the light. Then I’ll go for Dodgem. I My eignal at the door shall be a warning for , your getting in aa attitude. It wiH soon be over, and I’ll then settle your bill. Do you consent !’ The landlord assented. He was soon at tired in the continental uniform, and assumed the attitude Puggs pointed out. The actor inspected him, and asseverated he felt sure of winning. Puggs went to the Museum. ‘ Dodgem,’ said he to the proprietor, ‘I come to propose a bargain to you—a full length wtx status of Gen. Washington, large as life—in nniform—the very best thing you ever saw ; cost cords of money. Do you want the article ! 1 That depends on the quality and price,’ said Dodgem, cautiously. * Quality first-rate; you shsll judge for yourself; price, nothing at all—fifty dollars.’ ‘ Then,’ eaid the showman, ‘if the figure's all right, I’ll take it.’ ‘ Come along, then—hurry—I must taka the newt train,’ said the actor. In ten minutes they reached the door of the actor's room. Puggs made some noise as he fambled with the key, and addressed Dodgem in a loud tone so as to prepare the landlord. This done, they entered. The light artisti cally arranged, fell on the motionless figure of the unfortunate Bliffin. ‘ There you have him, air,’ said the actor, extending his hand. ‘The father of hiscoun try, as large as life, and twice as natural.—! Please notice the characteristic costume and ! expression.’ ‘ What capital coloring!’ said the showman. ■Isn’t it! Don’t he seem to be sayings “Friends, Countrymen and Lovers!” What a card for the fourth of July.’ * I should lika a little more light,’ said the ahowman. ‘ Don’t,’ whitpered Puggs, aa the other of fered to open the shutter, ‘you know the sun injures wax-work. There, air, solid !’ and he punched the landlord in the riba with his cane. ‘Are you satisfied!’ ‘ Perfectly—it’s all you represented.’ ‘ Come along, then,’ said the actor ; and hur rying Dodgem down in the bar-room, he has tily scrawled a receipt in full for fifty dollars. ‘ Send fur him this afternoon,’ said Puggs, as he pocketed the cash, ‘and I’ll have him packed in straw for you.’ The ahowman departed, and Puggs, hasten ing to the railroad station, made good his es cape from town, exulting in his stratagem. How the Museum was covered with flying posters announcing the exhibition of the mar vellous statue, how the public were egregious ly disappointed, how Mr. Dodgem was infu riated, and Bliffin rabid when the ‘sell’ was discovered, it were useless to tell. The Eruption of Mount Veiuyiua. The following graphic account of the erup tion of Mount Vesuvius, is extracted from a letter in the London Daily Newt, dated Ns ■ pies, May 10th : The lava has now advanced ten miles from its source, and is doing terrible damage. ( have before me the report of Cozzolino as to the latest changes which have taken place about the cone. Just at the base ef it a lake of lire has bees formed, which looks like 'a red sea in an undulatory stats/ In the vary centre of this has opened another crater, which is throwing out red-hot stones. On the morning of the 7th, tbs crater, at Uis very summit, fired as it were, two heavy cannonades : and after sending forth lightning, fiamds and stones, broke up altogether. In the middle of the cone ten craters have been formed, and from these the lava pours forth like a river, and runs on the side of the Cavel lo as far as the Minatore. Here four other craters have been formed, which throw up bitumen in the manner of pyramids, and re semble gigantic exhibitions of fire-works.— The whole of the summit of the crater is there fore like a sponge, and must inevitably fall in. The thin crust trembles under your feet. You may see the stones dance with the tremulous movement; the part immediately round the crater looks like the sides of sweated copper boiler. Such is a true statement of what is going on on the summit. There are reports of an opening towards Pompeii, whieh is not unlikely, and of anoth er towards Resida, but 1 have not been up for some days, as the danger is now very great. Before I write again, I shall make the attempt. Last night I went to the scene of most stirring interest, after an interval of two days. The whole length of this usually quiet road was like a fair, and. such was the throng of car riages which were moving on in three lines, that-it was with difficulty we ever arrived at our destination. As we approached the men aced neighborhood, the inhabitants were mov ing their geods, and on a bridge in the little township of Cercolo through which in the winter time thunders down from the summit of 'Vesuvius one of those mountain rivers so well known in Italy, stood a company of sappers. Creeping under this solid, handsome bridge into the bed of the riter, we went up in face of the lava, wnich was now coming rapidly down. Here again were sappers, raising mounds on either side, to divert the ruin from some private grounds, and keep the lava in one straight course. The smoke which rose over the heads of the multitude told us we were close on the spot, and climbing up the bank and walking along the top, we looked down on this mighty mass of fire. How i changed the neighborhood in two daya!— : Where I walked on Sunday night was now a sea of fire. The side road by which I had come down into the main stream from Pollens and Maasi di Somme was now full of black ened coke. The houses on the borders of the village had fallen—in one thirty poor people lived s a small chapel was swallowed up, a gentleman’* villa, and a sad extent of vineyard and garden ground. On the other aide of the great lava tied ; another stream waa branching off the San Se bastiano. W e had hoped to have crossed it, SDd ascended to the cascade again, but it was no longer possible ; for, as one says, speaking of a marshy country in the winter, the lava was out. Thu fire here had begun to enter the burial ground of the little town, but was diverted from its course by a wall. On the opposite side of the stream were the king and all the royal family. The banks on either side were thronged with carious and anxious multitudes, whose facet were lighted up with the blaze of hundreds of torches, and with the more resplendant flame of the rapidly descend ing lava. Since the morning it had moved a mile. It waa like a vast river of flowing eoke. As it moved on, the tens of thousands of lumps rolled and tumbled one over the other, crackling, and grating ; and when, from the very face of it, a large lump fell off, the ap pearance was that of an iron furnace when the iron is being drawn. To make the resemblance more complete, at such times men darted for wards with long poles, taken from the neigh boring vineyards, and pulled out great masses of lava, in which they embedded money for j aale. What struck me at first, and still strikes j me as the most majestic feature in the whole scene, is the slow, silent, irresistible motion of that fisry flood. Active, almighty power without an effort! Sweeping everything be fore it, overcoming every obstacle, growing up against intervening walls or houses, and de vouring them bodily, and then marching on in the same silent, unrelenting, irresistable man ner as before. There was a apot beneath my feet where a wall of mason work had been built to brrak the violence of the winter floods; to this spot all eyes were directed. The fiery river would tall over it in an hour ; as yet it was distant from it seventy yards perhapa. Gradually it rose in height, and swelled out its vast propor tions, and then vast masses tell off and rolled forward ; then it swelled again as fresh matter came pressing down behind, and so it broke, and on it rolled again and again till it had arrived at the very edge. There was a gen eral bun and murmur of voices. The royal family stood opposite to me, intermingled with the crowd, looking on with intense anxiety. At last it broke, not hurriedly, still with a certain show of majesty. At first a few small lumps fell down ; then poured over a pure liquid like thick treacle, clinging sometimes mass to mass from i<s glutinous character, and last of all tumbled over gigantic lumps of scorite.— Then on it moved once more in its silent, reg ular course, swelling up and spreading over the vineyards on either side, and there was a JWsli for the road which traverses this lava bed. Houses and the bridge bordered the road, the carriages had all been ordered off, and the bridge was being broken duwn—we were cut off completely. The sentinels would not let us pass, and stryck us, and drove us back ; but we forced our way, and then found too surely that it was impossible to get on. The bridge was half demolished, and by the light of the torches we could see the soldiers above working away with the pick and the axe. We had, therefore, to retrace our steps, and making a long circuit through the open country and over walls, came round to the lop of the bridge. 1 Run,’ said the sentinels, • or you will be too late.’ We crossed the narrow parapet which'was still remaining, and soon afterwards down went the whole fabric. In this way it is hoped the lava will be diverted from the townships of St. Sabastiano, Massi di Somme and Pollena, which stand on either side, and have as yet only suffered partially. Cercolo, through which, however, the stream is rolling, will be sacrificed. The expectation is that the lava, should the eruption continue, will flow down to the Ponte Maddaloni, and into the sea. So grand and so destructive an eruption has not been known for many years, and even now we cannot tell how or when it will terminate. The moun tain is literally seamed with lava, and many fear a violent explosion as the final scene of the tragedy. Cariosities of the Blood. From sn article in Harper’a Magazine, we take the following interesting paragraphs con cerning the human blood : Whence it comes, and where it is fashioned science knows not, and nature tellanot. God has not vouchsafed us to know first beginnings. The sprouting grain is hid under the dark cleds of the valley, and a cell, unseen by man, is untolded alike, in silent night, into the worm that creeps on the ground, and the proud man that is born for eternity. So it is with the blood that holds our life. Its simple, color less and transparent fluid comes we know not whence, and goes we know not whither. In it swim countless little bodies—some red, and others ent color ; each one is but faintly tinged with 1 delicate pink, but their vast numbers, and the eager haste with which they follow each oth er, closely packed, cause a greater depth and intensity ot scarlet. Not all blood, howeTer, is red. The fluid at least that we call so, is white in all the lower animals ; the leech and the earth-worm alone have it reddish. The silk-worm prefers yellow, and beetles have a fancy for dark brown. Caterpillars, decked in gorgeous hues without, are brilliant orange within, and snails indulge in blood of dark amethyst or sky-blue! Out even in man the color varies ; in the veins it is a smooth and glossy purple, in the arteries of a rich bright scarlet. So we speak of red blood, half for getful that it owes its tinge to the same cause that makes the soil of classic Greece burn ia deep red tints, and gives a chocolate hue to the richest lands on our globe. There is iron in our blood,enough to suggest to French men—who else on earth could have conceived the idea I—the striking of a medal out ot ore sontaincd in the veins of an admired country nan ! This iron suffers the common fate w hen ron and air come into hostile contact. No ■ooner does tha blood expose its pearly drops in the lungs to the atmosphere, than the in ■idious foe grasps it, and strikes ils'fings Jeep into the minute particles of metal. The iron cannot resist: it moat open ita liny pores to the enemy, whom we call oxygen : it rusts and blushes at its own disgrace. Thus we find in all nature the gay contrast between green and red ; the world of plants loves car bon, and hoists its bright color of green in herb and tree; the higher realm of animals needs oxygen, and it stamps their world with s thousand shades of red. As the tide of life *°d v*g°r declines, carbon again tri umphs ; and even the bloid of man, when in ita last stage of dissolution—in the bile_as sumes already a greenish-yellow color. It changes even with age and temper. The young and the delicate have lighter blood ; in the hearty and powerful it is darker. Dis ease will, ofcourse, play wicked tricka with our boat treasures ; it changes our life's cur rent, now into deepest black, and then again almost into pure white. The ‘sangre azul,’ claimed by the Spanish grandee, is but a su perb sample of human pride in all its folly ; and poets only can speak of the crystal-clear fluid in the veins of their gods on (Olympus, or dream in German fancies of blue blood on one, and red blood on the other side of the Rhine. Nor is there much more truth in the famil iar phrases of the cold blood of the north and the warm blood of tint south. Porta hare here also found a happy excuse for erring man iu uiHjunirouaoie passion? snd ‘hot blood’ given by nature. It is ‘the blood boil ing over’ that poura forth a torrent of fierce curses ; it is ‘the heart stung to the quick,’ that inflicts the fatal stab. And yet, though our life's current may quicken when our paE sione are excited, in reality all our crimes are committed in ‘cold blood ;’ and the raving der vish, who tears with beastly brutishness what ever comes in his way, and the mad Malay, running a-muck and slaying in blind fury even his own beloved, have blood not one degree warmer than the patient Hottentot and the stolid Indian. Even the long-cherished fancy of cold blooded animals is not founded in truth. Reptiles and fishes have colder blood, it is true, than the higher classes of creation ; still it is always warmer than tha element in which they live, and in some fishes even as warm as in man. A curious aspect of the blood's temperature is seen in apparent death. W ith man and all warm-blooded animals— among whom birds stand highest—the warm fluid favors life while there is life, but it also aids death when once the heart's action -ceas es. Then its very heat hastens fermentation ; the blood, loaded with organic matter, ia by its aid quickly decomposed, becomes putrid, and death is instantaneous and certain. Not so in cold-blooded animals; here apparent death ia frequent and of long duration. The lower they stand in the scale of nature, the longer they can remain without any sign and enjoyment of lifo. Here a toad falls asleep in a cozy crag of a sun-warmed stone ; it forgets to awake. The rock grows and raisca impen etrable walla all around, until the hand of man cornea to break the dismal prison and to re store the hermit once more to light and life. There learned men dry up infusoria and hurv them in miniature catacombs ; a drop of water poured upon their minute bodies restores them in a moment to renewed and vigorous action. A German professor even took some tiny creatures of the family of spiders (tardigrada) and kept them for seven long years in the shape of dry dust. Hera also a little moisture was the magic wand, at whose touch the mys tic slumber was broken, and this novel ‘Sleep ing Beauty’ awakened to new life. What a wondrous contrast between the cold and stol id blood ef lower animals and the hot, hissing stream that courses with winged speed through the heart of man ! There, want of warmth and vigor is safety ; here, fullness of life and abundance of heat ia the very cause of danger. Hence the vast importance of salt for the in ner household of animal and man. The wild beasts of the desert cannot live without it, nor the cattle grazing on our maedows. Pliny tails ua how the n.ost important part of the Roman soldier s stipulated pay was his allow ance of salt—hence solarium, our salary—and the Sona of the Desert of our Day still hold it sacred. Long caravans of camels, endless strings of slaves, laden with the precious gifts of Nature, pasa to and fro in the desolate re gions of North Africa ; and ‘lest his blood putrify,’ as he says, the Arab daintily dis solves his few grains of salt in a cup and drinks it daily. The Poisonous Plants of our Woods. There are only two plants in our woods, from the handling of which any serious results are likely to ensue. One of these is very rare, and the other, though common, may be easily avoided after it has once been recognized.— Other plants that grow in the woods, in some very rare instances, have been known to pro duce effects similar to those of the dogwood. 1 know n lady who is sure to be poisoned, when exposed to the influence of common wild cherry, either by handling its leaves, by eat ing its fruit, or by inhaling the perfume of Us burning branches. Its effects are a swelling and redness of the face and eyes, resembling erysipelas, not perceptibly different from the poison effects of the sumach. Still as there is not one person in a million who is liable to be thus affected by the cherry, it is not re garded as one of oor poisonous plants. The sap of tbe leaves and bark of the cherry and the peach tree it known to contain poison acid, but not in sufficient quantities to render either of them dangerous. It is my present object to treat only of those plants which communicate their baneful effects by handling or oootagion. There sre a great number of plants that sre poisonou/ to the ho -' '.! ■J■ ggagBaeaiaL *• $ook tmb Sob printing, H*Ti*X rtttnUy made rrtenxfv* additZtfoni to Mr former variety of MJUB &!33 FAH&TT T °B TYPE, rhe proprietor of the ecuie with xeatsmb Z2rn* T,wr» to now prepared to ex Job Work, tueh as ^ 0iap*rcw, crtry titmrtptten 4 r:.r;r„B:,N Bill.. C7* Particular attention paid to isifiOT&ia Masnpaa®tf miiu^r, md m to* «i°ton wlpn».KIr,nmml IIEP, s M;WJ1i5 ^—MM» man system it taken into the stomach ; sack are the night-shade, the henbane, the low laurel, or lamb-kill, and porhap* a hundred other*. But all these may be handled and even chew ed with safety, if not swallowed, as their evil effect! are only communicated to the system through the alimentary organa. At present, therefore, I shall confine mytelf to * stating a few general roles by which one may learn readily to identify ,be two poj**, 8(r. machs, which are our only infectious plants, the only ones that resemble the upas. I will commence with the poison Dogwood or Sumach (Rhus Tenenata.) This is a vary beautiful shrub or tree, found mostly in wet places, and seldom or never on dry plain*. It is a smaller tree than the common Staghorn Sumach, having leaves and branches resem bling those of the latter, except that they are smaller, smoother, and more delicate. There is an air of remarkable primnesa about this tree, and it would probably be singled out from a whole thicket of miscellaneous trees and shrubbery, on account ol "its singular deli cacy and beauty. The branches of the present year a growth are of a fine purple or crimson, and as glossy as if they had been polished. It has the appearance of a tropical plant, and ie the more dangerous, as the beamy of its slen der branches and pinnate leave* would tempt | one to select it to add to a boqiicl of flower*. I fortunately it bears no conspicuous flowers or I fruit, and the same may be said of the poison ( ivy. ilencc the young rambler may always j feel aure, if she encounters a strange plant with beautiful flowers, that it is harmless, and may be handled with impunity. The Florida Cornel being likewise called Dogwood, is of ten dreaded by the novice on account of its name : but it is perfectly innocent. Nature, like a benevuleut parent, never guides the in sect to a poisonous flower, either by the beau j ly of its form or colors, or by the sweetness of i it* perfume. % 1 lie other infectious plant is also a sumach, called the poison vine, poison ivy aud some times poison ojk. It is the Rhus radicans of Bigelow's Plants of Boston. It is a vine, and 1 derives its name of ivy from its habit of grow : ing parasitically upon walls and fences, rocks and the trunks of old trees. It resembles the ivy in no other respect, having deciduous leaves, and of a different shape from those of the celebrated ivy ol romance. It bears a very j strong resemblance, however, to the common American creeper (Ampclopsis) and at thesa two plants are continually mistaken lor one another, it is important to learn how to dis tinguish them. These marks of distinction, when once made apparent, are easily recog nized aud remembered. Let every young rambler, then, take notice that the poison ivy bears a compound leaf divided constantly into three leaflets, one central and terminal and the others arranged, one on each side of it, at | right angles, resembling the leaf of a bean vine. The creeper on the contrary, a perfect ly innocent plant, has a compound leaf, whieh is palmate, snd divided into fire leaflets, radi ating from a common centre, like the leaf of the horse chestnut. Rv these differences, the j two plants may always be distinguished.— j The young botanist may be sure that if the j vine in question has fire leaflets, it is the ersep j er ; it it has three leaflets, only, it is the poi : son vine. I am the more particular in impressing these facts upon the minds of the young student, be cause a feeling of security is necessary to ena ble them to obtain a full enjoyment of a botan ical excursion. These facts, therefore, ought always to be taught as one of the preliminaries I to the study of botany. It is likewise a welt established fact that alter any person has once been poisoned by either of these plants he be comes thereafter more susceptible ef their in fectious influence, and this susceptibility in creases with every attack. Indeed tome par sons have been thereby rendered so highly susceptible, that the whole atmosphere of any wooda that contains either of these plants, seems to be infectious to them, and will pro duce an attack of swollen face and ayes, whea ever they visit the woods. Every young person, therefore, should make ; it a rule to avoid handling these plants, even | if they have good reason for believing that they | are exempt from their baneful influence. On | the contrary no one should be afraid lo handle any plant that bears beautiful and conspicuous flowers. No such plants in -our woods am dangerous lo haudle, though they may not all oe safely eaten. But when the dow ers of any plant are fragrant as well as beautiful, it is an evidence that the plaRt is harmless in every respect. The fragrance of the blossom is one of the surest tests of the wholesomeness of tho fruit, and of the general harmleasness ef thn plant. The poison ivy grows io almost all places. There is hardly an old stone wall that is not festooned with it. It is more common in this vicinity than the creeper; bm it may he easily avoided, and if not handled will sel dom affect -one injuriously—OuoiTry Journal. Braiki.—Goternor TrumbutL, «f Cnaeeeti cnl. on an occasion of a grand riot, ascended a block, and attempted, by a speech, t« quiet the people ; when a random missile hitting him in the head, felled him tn the ground. He was badly hurt, ami as his friends wrere carrying him into his bouse, his wife met him al th* door and exclaimed : . • Why, my husband, they base knocked i your brains out !’ 1 No, they hasest,’ said the Goseroor ;— * If I'd had any brains, 1 should*X have gone there.’ Res. E. IT. Chapin aaye ‘ the imperial gam bler of France wen his throne with dice made from the bone* of the great Napoleon.’ A gentleman, the other erening, objected to playing esrria wiih a lady, because, he said, • she had sach a * winning way’ about her.