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I .. ■ ■ * ..®M"Mli*" Wl“l||IBI 1,1l''l"l>—,llfc^^— . ^ <H?/ - . ’ * • v-^. «*■ ^ ;.. •■■-■■■i. j. _.- )• , •'££■■■ ■•:. ' <; *^fg &|£fp 51 /amilg jffrmspnpfr: Brootrii to 3ilnrnLitii, <£iloratioit, frirurr, 51 rb, vimnsriiinits, jilcrjiauiro, 5igrirultnr?, Crnipfnnuf, Bunirstit rniii /amgn $tm, &r.---, 3ufoprn&nit of $ortg or Jrrt. ■ ' —— ...------- - -~~—-----.: . ' ^ S l.oo IN ADVANCE! BRIDGETON, N. J, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1852. VOL. V—NO. 246 .. ....... ■ ... .. Franklin Fergnscn. Publisher. TERMS. tF The West Jersey Pioneer is pub lished every Saturday Morning, at $1.00 per year, in advance, or gl.50 at the end of the year. ADVERTISEMENTS Will be inserted for 40 cents a folio of 100 words, for the first insertion; 20 cents for feach subsequent insertion. A liberal deduc tion will be made upon all advertisements ex ceeding five folios in length, and which -are inserted for a longer period than three months. No advertisement of a folio or less will be in serted a single week, for less tkau 50 cents. S rr All letters and communications must D2 post-paid, and accompanied by the au thor’s name, to insure attention. Office—Brick Building, Corner of Com merce and Pearl Streets. (Cljniri pnrtnj. Far the West Jersey Pioneer. ABBA FATHER. , < BY II).V IRVINE. Abba, Father! through nights sileuce Rose the cry from lips divine, While the weak disciples slumbered, Aud the pale stars ceased to shine: Thrilled through heaven that anguished cry That no guilty son should die: Abba, Father, Not my will but thine be done! Sword-like, hath that voice of sorrow Pierced through earth’s inmost heart, And, as forced by flames asunder, The thick darkness fell apart, Through the piled clouds of sin Letting Truths full glories in: Abba, Father, Not mv will hut thine lie done! Onward through the gloom of ages, While the awakening world is mute,— And the Muses learn and listen: Hushed the Siren’s Circcan lute; |" Fallen before that mighty cry, Gods, long worshipped, dying lie, Abba, Father, Not ray will but thine be done. „ / Gods of Greece and Rome discrowned, Odin, Freya mocked and scorned, Still new forms of superstition Rise up by tlicir fate unwarned; Yet, as on that prayer is borne, Each must fall of splendor shorn: Abba, Father, Not my will but thine be done! ^ Throned kings in Tyrian purple, Priests at heathen idol fanes, Shrank and shuddered as the silence Echoed those low pleading strains, Earths last tyrants on death’s verge Hear repeated as their dirge Abba, Father, Not my will but lliinc be done! O, Eternal! through the glory Centered in thy living throne Hear us: humbly we implore thee To look down upon thine own,— Thou, who died thy lost creation To redeem from desolation Abba, Father, Nofcour will but thine be done. November, 1852. --• Why that Look of Sadness. Why that look of saJucss? Why that downcast eye? - Can no thought of gladness, Lift thy soul on high? O thou heir of Heaven, Think of Jesus’ love, While to thee is given All his grace to prove. t„ _]_4_: — -■-1— Agonized with sin? Think of Jesus’ merit, He can make it clean; Think of Calvary’s mountain, Where his blood was^pilt— In that precious fountain Wash away thy guilt. Is thy spirit drooping? Is the tempter near? Sill in Jesus hoping, What hast thou to fear? Set the prize before thee, Gird thy armor on; Heir of grace and glory, Struggle for thy crown. m. .4.A THE BIBLE. This book, a multifarious collection of or acles, written in various ages and countries, and at intervals of 2000 years, having in it every form of composition, familiar and pro found; songs and history, ethics and biogra phy, scones from the hearth and episodes from rational annals; numbering among its authors liim who wore a crown and him who threw a net, the Persian prime minister and Caesar’s fettered captive; written, too—sections of it —under the shadow of the pyramids, and oth ers on the banks of the Euphrates, some in the Isle of Patmos, and others in the Mamanine dungeons. This book—so lofty in its tone and harmonious in its counsels, has become the more venerable from its age, and the more .wonderful as its history and results arc examined and understood. Whence springs its originality if its claims are disallowed? It tells of expeditions prior to Jason and the Argonatus. It describes material adven tures long before Achilles and Troy. Its ethi cal system preceded Thales and Pythagoras. |tg- muse was vocal before Orplicus and Hes * v "* f ' - J, sold. Its judges flourished before consuls aud archon8. Its feasts and gatherings rejoiced the tribes when tbo Nemean games had no existence; and it reckoned by Sabbaths and jubilees when neither Olympiad nor lustrum marked and divided the calender. It embod ies the prophetic wish of the Athenian sage; for it scatters that darkness which covers our souls, and tell us how to distinguish good from evil.’ The valley of the Nile has now un covered its hieroglyphics to confirm and il lustrate its claim; and Nineveh, out of the wreck and rubbish of 3000 years, has at length yielded up its ruins to prove and glo rify the Hebrew oracles. From the New York Organ. KEEP OUT OF DEBT. Wo know of no more important, duty for moral teachers to urge, aud our young men to learn, than that of avoiding debt. Neglect of this duty involves so many inconvenient and mischievous consequences, aud the diffi culty of getting out of the meshes of accumu lated pecuniary obligation is so great, that every one who values his peace or respectabil ity should pause and consider before commit ting himself to expenditures beyond bis means n band. To every young man, especially, would wc iddrcss our earnest warning to shun debt as ine of the worst of evils. It is comparatively asy to keep out of debt, but very difficult to scape from it after we are ouee involved. It is important to consider that in a large noportion of cases the Indebtedness of young nen is for things they might just as well or >ettcr have done without. S. If-indulgcnco n superfluous dress, luxurious food, trifling unusements, while they are among the most :ostly things, are also injurious to body and nind, so that mouey spent for them is worse ban wasted. The avoidance of debt is enforced by • the 'act thaf almost universally non cash paying ouyers are charged more than the cash payer, ind this difference in process of time becomes of itself a serious loss. And it is only fair flint, tlio spllr'r mi prpflit slinnlfl ttitilr/i on tra charge, when the risk and the laying out of his money is taken into account. The mere interest, on the debts of such buyers', is aot a small item. The habit of contracting debt and delaying payment, has an unhappy effect upon the business prospects of young men. Let it once be understood that their habits are loose in this respect, and they forfeit the confidence of their best friends. Young clerks, young mechanics, are esteemed by their employers' pretty much from this trait iu their character. When they sec a young mau careful to keep bis money affairs snug, and resolute in avoid ing debt, they feel confident that he u ill make i safe business man, and they feel no hesifau :y in trusting him and commending him to ;he confidence of others. And the character which a young man acquires in the establish ment. where he was brought up is of incalcu lable value to him in after life. The habit, of contracting debt is destruc tive to one’s self-respect and happiness, unless indeed he has no conscience and no sense of right and wrong. How can he esteem him self, wheu he reflects that iu witholding the just dues of those who Have supplied his wans lie is virtually robbing them. And when he reflects upon the pitiful shifts and excuses and falsehood he has been driven to, he must despise himself. He must sometimes think with shame of the wretched slavery into which he ha? sold himself, and from wbie!%be sees no way of deliverance. There can hardly be a more miserable state of mind than that of the debtor, crowded with duns, and unable to meet the demands against him. How any one who has once experienced this misery 3 in continue to go on accumulating debt, is a nysfery to us,-unless we suppose him to be aot iu his right mind. Fl-om the State Gazette. i SHORT SERMON FOR LONG FACES. The question is frequently asked — What shall 1 do for a livelihood/ What business shall I go at? If a man has a trade lie can probably do better at that than anything else. If he is to unfortunate as to have had parents who n(*gleeted that imlispensible part of his education, then he has difficulties to contend with which will require great industry and persevereucc to overcome. But nevertheless he can overcome them, as thousand have done before. An energetic man will always find something to do. He will not remain idle because no favorable opportunity presents it self for making money. He will dive into something and be sure to come up with a “ pocket full of rocks.” But the idle man, even with a first rate trade, is always looking out for something to do, and never finds it.— lie complains of hard times, and croaks over the disparity of human condition, but you never find him making a single effort to niake things better,—bo is much more apt to make them worse. There is no such word as fail to men of health, industry and perscvarance. Go ahead—the Reporter “ leads the column.” AGRICULTURE TO EXTIRPATE SORREL. An exchange gives the following directions: The presence of sorrel indicates an acid soil. It it a sour plant, and thrives only on such lands as are destitute of calcareous mat ters; consequently the application of the latter in sufficient quantities to correct the acidity suggests itself as the most effectual method of getting rid of it, and rendering the soil fit for profitable cultivation in other and more desi rable crops. Yet the quantity of soil of which this plant is naturally produced precludes the hope that it will ever be entirely eradicated, and it henee becomes a part of farming to know in what manner it can be most success fully economized, and rendered valuable as an article of animal sustenance or food. There are, indeed, but few vegetables, however mean and valueless they may be con sidered, which do not possess some quality capable of redeeming them from the hasty yel , common charge of utter worthlessness, and o! s this order we regrrd sorrel. As food fbi X ' ‘ ; _• . . .. , . ■; l ' " s' 1a | horses and sheep, it not only possesses con siderable value, but if chaffed and mixed with meal it will fatten them as readily, per haps, as English hay, prepared in the same manner. Fed to these animals in its natural state, and without any accompaniment, it is found to retain them in health and heart, nnd the seed ground and made into ‘mush’ is said by those who have had experience in feeding it to be equal to Indian corn. Yet no farmer will ever cultivate sorrel as a farm product. It is exhausting in the extreme, and it is only when it obtrudes itself on him spontaneously that he should endeavor to render it of any account. The only effectual method of extirpating it is to sweeten the soil by liming, or to in crease the staple to a degree that will pro mote the development of a more valuable herbage, and cleanse the soil thoroughly by a succession of manured crops, such as enru, potatoes, or some other vegetable which is cultivated exclusively with the hoe. The seed of the sorrel is not abundant, but it is invested in an integument, or horny involucre, which possesses the power of preserving the vital power unimpaired for years, when placed by circumstances so deep in the soil as to bo beyond the inflqence of those vitalizing prin ciples upon which germination is found main ly to depend. This peculiarity of the seed explains why sorrel so often appears after long pasturage, and the disappearance of the plant from the surface of the soil where it has previously g.ovvu. TO CURE IIAMS. As I have seen numerous recipes for curing hams, and as I have tried the annexed for e..1 u _1 __ other in my estimation, I take the liberty to send it to you, that you may publish it for the benefit, of any who may be disposed to try it. By letting my ham remain in the piekie it is less trouble to keep it than by any other method which I have found, and it keeps sweet and tender all summer. * Take a barrel and turn it over an old pan or kettle, and burn cobs (I think the best) or hard wood for seven or eight days, keeping Water on the head to.prevent drying. Make a piekie with eight pounds of salt, six ounces saltpetre, two qusftts of molasses, and three gallons ot water, to one hundred pounds of ham. Boil and skim the piekie thus prepa red. Then pack your hams in the barrels, and when the pickle is cold pour it on the meat,-and in four weeks' you have excellent ham, very tender, aud well smoked.—„1lbam/ Cultivator. MISCELLANEOUS HUMAN NATURE; —on— THE BANKRUPT MERCHANT. Raymond Wtllford was considered, al though a very young man, one of our most flourishing merchants, lie was a welcomed guest in our so called highest circle of fashion, while many a calculating mamma regarded him as a very desirable son-in-law in perspec tive: Suddenly be was overwhelmed by pecu niary losses and embarrassments, while the news spread as fast as gossip tongues could report it.—Strange to say, although liis ele gant mansion bad to be sacrificed, there was not a debt which remained unpaid—while some money remained. Wise men while in the rcvicwal of his conduct was heard to say that he was exceedingly honest, or an immoderate fool “What think you of human nature, liiv friend?’’ “It is a philosophical enigBn,” I replied. “ So it was with me, until I solved it,’’ said he, ‘1 found it a strange compound, the larg est portion of which was selfishness—when the guilding of wealth covered my name, I was sought after by the very men who now turn their backs upon me, I was flattered by the women who, if my name was now men tioned in their presense, would affect a forget fulrtnaa nf having LnnivI it. After dinner TPe’li make some, calls, during which you will per ceive ample illustrations of what I have said.’ Accordingly after dinner we set out. We first entered the counting room of a merchant, j to wnom ne introduced me as a tnend. 1 j soon learned that my friend was aot. linin' the highest estimation, frou^tbe cold formali ty with which ho was received; we did not even have the courtesy of chairs offered uB. With a meaning smile, Raymond bade the merchant a good afternoon, and we soou found ourtelves in the street. * “ This is illustration number one,” Ray mond said laughing. “Is it possible that you could ever have been intimately acquainted with this man?” I asked. “ That man has been reduced to the extre mity of being obliged to beg his dinner. Time after time h(iyc I thus accommodated him. I even loaned him money to commence busi ness, and you see how graciously ho has en tertained us.” Wo next paused at the door of an elegant mansion wherein Raymond had been a fre quent and honored guest. It was the resi dence of a p-ofessional gentleman of large for tune, who still did Raymond the justice to rcgari-hiin on all occasions as his friend and to treat him as such. His lady had professed even greater friendship for him than her hus band, if not for ber own, at least for her daughter's sake—so Raymond’s misfortune had been whispered to the world, she no lon ger spoke to him as a dear friend, but endeav ored to persuade her husband “to rid the house of him,” which provoked the calm re ply. “ He is a gentleman, and as such it is my will that you should entertain him whenever he may honor your house with his presence. On this account I suppose we were tolerat ed in the present instance, for the gentleman was not at home. Tho lady received us ra ther coolly, which I was prepared to expect. After we were seated Raymond inquired for Miss Richards, the daughter, to which the la dy replied with an apparent shrug of«the shoulders, that she was well but at present engaged. “ No, mamma, I am not,” said the beauti ful girl, as she slightly entered the room, “I atn happy to meet an old friend, who I am sura, is not the less welcome by being unfor tunate.” The lovers—for really they were—had not met since Raymond’s misfortune, and their meeting was now so heartfelt that I could not for a moment doubt the affection of ei ther. I saw also the cloud which rested upon the brow of Airs. Richards, nor was I surprised to hear her say: .“ My daughter is so pleasantly engaged, gentlemen that I trust my presence is no lon ger required,” and without ceremony left the room. “ Clara,” said Raymond, taking her white hand are all my fondest hopes to be realized? Can the daughter of a wealthy gentleman condescend to acknowledge her affection for a poor bankrupt merchant?” The fair girl blushed and looked doubtfully at me. “ I do "not fear to speak in his presence,” said Raymond, “for I'ennville,-next to your self, is perhaps mv best friend.” “ Then listen,” the.said, smiling sweetly, “ a few weeks since by the” consent of my parents, I solemnly plighted my love to one who has, long possessed my heart’s best affec tions. I did not ask the weight of his money bags, or the depth of his coffers—for those were matters which did not form a considera tion with me. I found him a gentleman, and as such I gave him my hand. Until I am convinced I am mistaken, why should I desire to retract my words?” “Clara, you are an angel,” said Raymond, covering her hand with kisses, “and this T TT a\ 1 f I ..I,, i X* in adversity as well as prosperity, it is still true to me.” “Miss Richards,” said I, “-you have per plexed mo. When I entered this house I thought I had solved the problem of Human Nature, and was about to write the sum total —selfishness; but I recant—human nature is not so bad after all.” After a happy conversation on the part of the lovers, who in their earnestnesss almost forgot my presence, we at length left the house. “ Now,” said Raymond, “ one more visit, one more illustration, and then we will return home.” “ No, my friend,” I said, “ we will make no mere visits this afternoon. The last ter minated too pleasantly to be marred by a fresh picture of selfishness.’ Raymoud did not urge the matter, and wo therefore returned to his house. When Mr. Richard* came home that even ing to tea, his wife and daughter found him in most excellent humor; something had oc curred which pleased him. Occasionally he indulged in a silent fit of laughter, which for him, was very unusual and once an uncon scious exclamation of “capitalescaped his lips. “ I am glad, Mr. Richards, to find you so happy,” said his lady, “for I ucverwas in a worse humor. That Wellford has again called upon us, and ClaVa has humored him with a long private conference.” “ 1 have received a note from him,” said Mr. Richards, “ wherein he desires me to sanction his marriage with our daughter.” “ How presuming! I do declare, 1 quite de test him.” “ And I admire him,” coolly replied her husband. Several day's sinee I offered him the means to re-commence business, which he declined—to day, I have learned the reason. In this he also informs me that his fortune has never been impaired. Hismansiou house has not been sold, but ho had allowed a friend to retain the same as the apparent owner. The fact was that he was envious of his wealth, and playing the bankrupt simply to attest the friendship of his acquaintance, who have generally acted according to the fashion of the world. Those who have slighted him will suffer a just mortification, of which my lady, you must bear your part.” “ I have never disliked him as a man,” said Mrs. Richards coloring with shame. ‘ My daughter’s welfare has ouly governed my conduct. She who has experienced only af fluence, would make an ill companion to pov erty. I have acted as a nriolyy —■ Reader, all comedies etiqvvith Tharriagc: so does the majority of tales. And in this t „u..u ..u* ~.,4. i» i • t ’ Dudless years of hap Li >n.—Raymond is tidn-’-bf 'his friends, although their number are legions, while he and mysclfstill retain the same opinion, that, “ human nature is not so bad after all." From the Flag of our Union. CHASING THE RAINBOW. by Mits. e. Weli.mon’T. There was a dark cloud in the western hori zon. The low muttcrings of distant thunder wore beard, and a few drops of rain gave warn ing of a timely character to the loiterer, unpro tected in his way. And as that heavy cloud united with others, and assumed a still more terrific aspect, the lightuing began to play up on the ufngnetie wires, the wind, with re doubled fury swept the foliage against the window panes, and suddenly, the rain fell in torrents. Now, the lately parched street was filled with foaming, rushing water; the pedes trians sought shelter in every nook that of fered, aud all the byplaces were secured as a shelter against the untimely blast. The strife of the elements seemed maddened and fearful; man,'in his lofty strength felt his insecurity and inability to control the man dates of his Creator’s will, and shrank like a child, to adore in silence that speechless voice which attested such almighty power. Bui look yonder, the clouds have parted; a nar row strip of el.ear blue sky is discernible, and a splendid rainbow is overarching the heav ens. Yonder little urchin would fain take hold of its foot; for the rainbow seems to have settled down just back of no distant bill. Hi runs to find its termination; for he would ex amine the prismatic colors which are so blend ed together. He would find how they art commingled, would fain hold in his tiny hani the blue, the violet, and the delicate shadei pink; but arrived at yonder hill, it seems stil farther onward, and its foot now rests as fai beyond his present location, as wlien he firs stasied-. Chase the rainbow as far as he frill X it is always terminated in a distance farther on. The child cries over the delusion; he wonders of what and for what rainbows were made; they are emblematic of no promise to him; he wants a grasping reality. But is it the child only, that chases the rainbow? How many who have started in life with the heavy cloud above them, have, as it parted and un folded some magic colors, been allured by the dazzling brightness, and have entered upon a vain pursuit to catch the illusion, and yet have always found it still farther from their grasp? I would not that so many misguided travellers should rise before me; fur that thunder cloud ought to have left a salutary influence; those heavy rain drops were design ed to moisten the parched soil of the human affections, and that rainbow that followed, was a sure pledge that the promises thus awaken ed should be fulfilled—only wo are too curi ous to examine the blended colors, which are the precursors of our future welfare. Yet look out ouce more upon Nature when the transient shower Ins subsided. That fu rious blast that so curled and bent, and even prostrated, the delicate buds, that rain which so washed the roots and made numberless little scams of earth as if lacerated to the very foundation, has unsealed the hud, and as wo look, the flower is imperceptibly but beauti fully opening to our gaze—the drooping ten drils again rise with renewed strength—the bright sun kisses.off the pearly drops that stood upon leaf and tender limb, and the beau tiful reflection of the rainbow tinges this once fearful shower with a beauty worth the skill of a heavenly’ architect. Just so with yours and my experience, my friend—the discipline of dark clouds arc only auguries of bright manifestations in the dis tance; our tears are but the fertilizing of dry ana ausry spots wnien neeueu tueir genial influences, and the rainbow is but the light of' our Father’s countenance, to illumine the eye of faith with the tokens of bis love. From the Brother Jonathan. THE SCRAMBLE FOE OFFICE. The remarkable success of The Democratic party, in the late politic J contest, will result in an itching for office on the part of those who contributed to that result in ever so tri fling a degree, far greater than on any former occasion, aud the candidates, from the Presi dent elect down to the constable of some un pretending village, may look to be worried, watched, seized upon, talked at and bored, until every post, important or unimportant, throughout this country, is filled. Folks may laugh at the. newspaper joke that Bennett, editor of the Herald, cleared out to Europe to escape being “ bored” for his influence in aiding the office hunters, hut he is a “canny Scot,” and it would ho well for Pierce’s health and comfort, if he could follow his example. But, as it is, ho must remain, aud if he pas ses es sufficient nerve and powers of endur ance, he may escape poor Harrison’s fate. In the ineaiftime, men of influence and those supposed to possess influence with the “new powers,” are besieged to sign petitions and furnish letters, and of the thousands who now flatter themselves that for the ensuing four years they will “lie in clover,’’-and feed upon the “ fat of tho land,” how many will be dis appointed! The promises of your thorough politician are not to be relied on, and of all who now feel sanguine of success, the majority, ere six months have elapsed, will discover that, Lice the witches of Shakspeare, - “They keep the word of promise to tho car, And break it to tho hope." Mechanics will leave their workshops, tho tradesman his store, the lawyer his desk, and the merchant his counting room, seduced from their regular employments by tho hope that, has deluded thousands, turning them from de cent men into shiftless, drunken, worthless vagabonds. If you are resolved upon playing this game, study well the chances and do not allow tho allurements of office to bewilder your judg mefft, but think wisely and act prudently. From the Banner of the Uuion. ‘I STILL LIVE.’ The dying words of the eminent statesman, who has just passed from time t,o eternity, is worthy of more than a passing tiiought. Daniel Webster, after a long life of activity and usefulness, spent in the service of his country, was at last prostrated upon a bed of sickness and of death. Being fully conscious that his exit from this world wassoon to take place, he prepared for the event, and evident ly was momentarily expecting the summons. In this state of mind lie fell asleep, and on awakening lie appeared to be .surprised that lie was yet alive, and feebly exclaimed: * I stilj live!’ This thought is the foundation for deep re flection. On every side we have evidences of the uncertainty of life and of the surety of death. It would be folly, nay, more than that, madness, for us to point to those of ad vanced age and withered frame, and say, our time is not yet up, we are young and rigor ous, death will pass us for many years to come for we cannot close our eyes against the evi dences that every whore testify against man’s title to life. The infant upon its mother’s breast, the cherub youth amid joyous sports, vigorous manhood in the active pursuit of wealth and fame, are all liable, at a moments warning, or without notice, to pass the portals of Death’s dark chamber. How important then that while we 'still live,’ we should ask ourselves for what pur pose we are spared, and endeavor, if possible, to so improve our time, that when the ‘ Grim Messenger’ shall approach, we may give him a cordial welcome, and be able to exclaim: my work is finished, and ‘ I still live!’ To those whose lives have been well spent, the reflection that they ' still live,’ is calcu lated tb give unalloyed pleasure; while,- on the other hand, those who have neglected their duty, and are burdened with sins, how fear ful the thought, and what madening sensa tions must pierce the soul, as the dark cata logue of their transgressions pass before their ■ mental vision. ; The Despot trampling upon the rights of man; and with relentless hate, goaded by un worthy ambition, spreading death and deso lation around, must shrink with horror at the thought that he ‘ still lives.’ The groans of the dying, the shrieks of the widow, and the moans of the orphan, embitter his life; aud appalled at the enormity of his conduct, aud surprised at the forbearance of bis God, with horror he exclaims, ‘ I still live.' The avaricious and the miserly Iran, may exult in contemplating their fertile fields, and in pouring ove.r the’r treasures; aud yet, when they look about upon the misery and wretch edness that surnuids them: the hungry cry ing for bread, the naked shivering in the cold, and the helpless children growing up in igno rance and vice, they should hide their faces with shame, as they think that while they have been burdened with wealth, they have permitted such evils to exist, and with their hearts aud Cruicii dispositions, they 'still live.’ The idle looks out upon a world of activity, and beholds all nature busy eairying out the designs of the Creator. The planets rolling on in their endless paths. The seasons regu larly returning, each to fulfill its mission; and he asks himself in vain, why do 11 still live?’ The Libertine wild carries shame and mise ry in his path, degradation and sorrow are the fruits of his life. He corrupts aud with ers the fairest of the Creator’s works. He is the cruelist of murderers; his victims, with the verdict of disgrace continually ringing in their ears and sinking into their consciences, die daily, and relatives and friends mourn their sad fate. He is the bitterest curse that ever afflicted tho family of man; and when lie beholds the thief imprisoned, and the murderer ascending the scaffold, he says, where is the justice of men, or the anger of an offended God, that these are puuished, and ‘ I sti’.l live.’ The benevolent and the humane, liow blessed are they, and how pleasant the thought ‘I still live, to them. 1 he cheerfulness their piesenee inspires wherever they go.— The blessings that are invoked upon them .by those who have felt their kindness, and the assurance of an approving con science elevates the mind and increases the felicity of an earthly sojourn. He who strives to fulfil his duties to his neighbors and his God, lives to bless and comfort those around him. He lives to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit the sick, and those in prison, protect the weak, instruct the ignorant, and encourage all, in every good work. As he sees the fruits of his labors—peace and hap piness—he thanks God that he ‘still lives.’ Be his life humble, or that of eminence and station; bis dwelling a palaco or lowly cot; be lives for all mankind; his brethren- lie may |fil iu the field, in the workshop; upon the billowy ocean; preach glad tidings from the sacred desk; or enchain an admiring multi tude, by his eloquence from the forum or the Senate chamber, so long as lie is guided by the pure principles uf Charity and Benevo lence, he will live in the affections of the peo ple, and in the smiles of Heaven. From the Saturday Gazette. The Winter at Hand. The last few days have made great changes in the appearance of the landscape, stripping it of nearly every characteristic of Autumn, and decked it in the sombre hues of Winter. A week ago the woods were in all the glory of the fall of the leaf. The colors of the kal eidoscope scarcely surpassed the varied beauty of the nativo trees. Wbereever the eye roved it beheld the dark red foliage of the gum, the bright yellow of the link uy, the.diversified hues of the maple, and tl e lull brown of the oak, relieved here and there by the still ver dant evergreens. But the rain that has fallen so plentifully since Saturday has changed the aspect of the forests. The trees are now mostly stripped of their leaves, and with their black and sod len trunks, look like funeral mutes keeping watch at the threshold of dead autumn. The landscape has lost entirely its October beauty. But for the green of the late grain; and the purple of the distant hills, . there-WiUilAJia-ixniUia^ Ln win ter was not already upon us. The wind at night pipes shrilly around the hen^s. Invol untarily wc repeat the lines of Dryanfa— it mt___i_.a„ __ _ n. . • j r the yeiir, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadowy brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of tho grove, the autumn leaves He dead; They rustic to the eddying gust, and to the rab bit’s tread. The robin and tho wren aro flown, and from the shrubs the jay. And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.” A little while, and winter will be here, with its pelting sleet and icy blasts. We shall go to bed at nights with a chill dampness iu the air, yet a perceptible relaxation of the tempe rature, aud awake iu the morning to find the snow blocking up the pavement, yet still fall ing, falling, falling. We shall sit by our blazing fires, or in our warm rooms, and listen with a feeling of luxury indescribable, to the storm beating against the closed casements. The sudden transition fills us with sad feel ings. It seems but yesterday that it was sum mer, and to-morrow apparently it will be winter. Nature, as it were, lies dead. Ah! at a time like this, how thoughts of the short ness of our space rise to the mind, amd how memories of the loved and lost come to fill the eyes with unbidden tears. Wo seem to join hai^ds, indeed, with Death, and to lose some thing of our interest in life itself. The wail ing wind, tbo bleak sky, the bare woods re mind us that another year of existence hat departed never to return; that our friends are falling, like the leaves, around us; that age approaches; that our children will soon 211 oui places; and that in a little while, we shall be forgotten. Yes, the world will roll on, and millions live, love, and suffer, yet we shal! have no part in it. A broken tomb stone, our name signed to some old deed, will be al! that will remain and perhaps not even that. Verily, verily, “man that is born of woman if of few days aud full of trouble.” Seven persons, including throe printers, have left Cincinnati for Australia. From the American Banner. The Treasures of the Earth. The popular mind has scarcely yet recov ered from its first impressions of the new El Doradocs, California and Australia, and the visions of fabulous wealth with which, at the first thought, it associated them. It barely now realises their boundless treasure; and yet almost eacli succeeding confirmation of tbe truth brings new tidings of the precious ore from other and opposite quarters of the globe. Recent intelligence from Canada an nounces that nuggets of gold, worth from $800 to $900, hare been found at the Chaudiere mines, thirty miles from Quebec; while ac counts from the Central American route to the Pacific state that companies of “Strolling Yankees” in that ragion aro marking out new locations for both the precious and the baser _» mi. _ _?.. _i* _ r__ _ •» •quent occurrence. Wo well recollect that the first accounts from California, four years ago; were distrusted by those who claimed and professed to be well informed of tbe geologi cal formation of that part of tbe earth. But American enterprise was stimulated by the news, and the sequel dissolved the doubts.— Should the existence of an abundance of gold in Canada prove true, a wider range of geolo gical research, and more searching rules of survey, await the labors of learned excava tors. But whatever credit may justly attach to science in these particulars, none can fail to discover, or to bear witness to the effect exer ted by free institutions, in behalf of national and individual enterprise in our highly favor ed land. However much the strong arm of monarcmcai power may nave added to tne wealth of nations in fhe Old World, free in stitutions have proved the hand-maid of indi vidual enterprise with us in the New, Tho achievements of science, for war, have erected Gibraltars and conquered San Juoallas; but the well-directed, determined, plodding labor of free-men, wherever they tread, brings to, light the buried treasures of ages, adds laurel upon lauril to the triumphs of peace, and turns them to the joy and comfort of mankind. Gold, like every instrument of power, ix potent for good of evilj but its possession is coveted by all. Like every exchange of val ue, it is indispensible between man and his fellow. Abuses it Las; none object to it, nev ertheless. Thrice h'a'ppy will it be for tho land wo love, if tho legislative and commer cial wisdom of our country values rightly the Yankee genius, prowess uud enterprise that wafts it to our shores. SCARCITY OF SILVER COIN. The same scarcity of silver Coin that has sp' long prevailed in the United States, extends throughout the European Continent, as will be seen by the following paragraph from the London Times: There never was known for many years so great a scarcity of silver currency as at pre sent in consequence of the very large expor tation of silver ihat have recently taken place to Port Philip, Melbourn, Geelong, Sydney, and other ports of Australian colonies for tho convenience of tho adventurers at the gold dig gings. Not a vessel leaves the ports of Lon dou, Plymouth, Bristol, Liverpool, &c., but takes out a considerable amount of both gold and silver specie, cither by speculators who' are proceeding to the above Colonies for the purpose of making large purchases of gold from the emigrants uow working at the dig gings, or consigned by capitalists and bullion dealers to their agents at Port Philip, &c , for the same specific purpose. It is with tuuoh difficulty that the buiikersiu the in city atfd West End can obtain silver currency to any amount either at the Bank of England or at the Royal Mint, to accommodate their corres pondents in different parts of the United King loin with silver change. At Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool, and other large commercial towns, the demand at the various banks for silver is so creat that Uvay_aro unahleto supply parties with more than £IvO to £200, as not only is a^-vast quantity being shipped off to Australia and India,, but the demands for silver bullion and specie for France, Belgium, Holland, Ham burg and the Continent, arc also very exten sive. Iu consequence cf this immense flail for sil ver, it appears that the authorities at tho mini, intend Laving a considerable sum coined into specie; and likewise gold currency of half sov ereigns for the convenience of the emigrants who are placed in' great difficulties from tho want of a small circulating medium in ex-* change for their gold. DIDN’T KNOW BEANS. On a late trip of one of the New Orleans steamers, she was crowded with German emi grants. As might be expected, their appetite for fruit and vegetables, after a long sea voy age, was most voracious. At Salem, a short d stance below St. Louis, the boat received some fifteen or twenty sacks of castor fceahsy consigned to Mr. Blow. The app&tfhnce of the bean, “ good to the eye/’ excited the cra vings of the emigrants. Finally curiosity and appetite triumphed; a bag was surreptiously opened, a large pau-fuli extracted, and a huge luncheon of soup prepared. In a short time, the passengers in the cabin, and the officers of the boat, were startled by the report that the cholera, in its worst form, had broken out on deck. On going below,1 they found that the castor oil was doing its work. The bag 1 ty exposed, and a large pot-full of this rare d dicacy steamed hot on tb’e table. The thing was soon solved; and the Captain had to go into quarantine, because, as he said, the Dutob “didn’t know beans.” “ Wagons cannot run without wheels— boats without steam—bull frogs jump without legs, or newspapers be carried on an everlast ing time without money, no more than a dog can wag bis tail when he has none. Our subscribers arc all good, but what good does a man’s goodness do when it don’t do you any good. We have no doubt every one thinks thatall have paid except him, and as we are a clever fellow and his is a little matter i it will make no differcuoe.”