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From Graham's Magazine. Rain in Summer. BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. How beautiful is llie rain ! ' After (he (lust and heat, In the broad and fiory street, lc the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain! How it clatters upon tlie rouff Like the tramp of hoofs ! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of tlie overflowing sp'obt' Across the window-pane, It pours and pours, And swift and w idc, With a muddy tide, Like river down the gutter rears The rain, the welcome rain ! The sick man from his chamber looks At the twisted brooks; He can feel the cool Breath of each little pool ; His fevered brain Grows calm again, And he breathes a blessing on the rain. From the neighboring school Come the'boys, With more than their wonted noise And commotion ; And down the wet streets Sail thir mimic fleets, Till the treacherous pool Engulfs them in its whirling And turbulent ocean. In the country on every side .Where, far and wide. Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, Mretcnes I tic plain, To the dry grass and drier grain How welcome is the rain ! In the furrowed land The toilsome and patient oxen stand, Lifting their yoke-encumbered head, With their dilated nostrils spread, They silently inhale The clover-scented gale, And the vapors that arise From the well watered and Smoking soil. For this rest in the furrow after tjil, Their large and lustrous eyes Seem to thank the Lord, More than man's speken word. Near at hand, From under the sheltering trees, The farmer sees His pastures and his fields of grain, As they bend their tops To the numberless beating drops Of the incessant rain. He counts it as no sin That he sees therein Only his own thrift and gain. These, and far more than these, The Poet sees ! He can behold Aquarius old Walking the fenceless fields of air; And, from each ample fold Of the clouds about him rolled, Scattering every where 1 he showery rain. As the farmer scatters his grain. He can behold Things manifold That have not yet been wholly told Have not been wholly sung nor said ; For his thought, which never stops, Follows the water drops Down to the graves of the dead, Down through chasms and gulfs pro found, To the dreary fountain-head - Of lakes and rivers under ground : And sees them, when the rain is done, On the bridge of colors seven, Climbing up once more to Heaven, Opposite the setting sun. Thus the seer, With vision clear, Sees forms appear and disappear, In the perpetual round of strange Mysterious change From birth to death, from death to birth; From earth to Heaven, from Heaven to earth, . Till glimpses more sublime Of things uuseen before Unto bis wondering eyes reveal The universe, as an immeasurable wbeel Turning for evermore In the rapid and rushing river of Time. The melancholy story which gave rise the following lines, was published sometime airo in a letter from Monterey, and must well known to most of our readers. It gives us pride and pleasure in being the instrument . of presenting so beautiful a poem to the pub lic I'hil. Sat. Courier. The Heroine Martyr of Monterey. BY REV. J. G. LYONS, L. D.. The strife was stern at Monterey, When those high towers were lost and won, And pealing through that mortal fray, Flash'd the strong battery's vengeful gun .Yet; heedless of its deadly rain, She stood in toil and danger first, To bind the bleeding soldier's vein, And quench the dying soldier's thirst. She fonnd a pale and stricken foe Sinking in nature's last eclipse, And on the red earth bending low, She wet his parch'd and fever'd lips, When, thick as winter's driving sleet, The booming shot, and flaming shell. Swept with wild rage that gory street. And she the good and gentle fell. They laid her in a narrow bed, The foemen of her land and race : And sighs were brealh'd , and tears were shed Above her lowly resting place: ' Ay I glory's crimson worshipper Wept over her untimely fall, For deeds of Mercy, such as her'a, Subdue the hearts and eyes of all. To sound her worth were guilt and shame In ns, who love but gold and ease; They heed alike our praise and blame, Who live and die in works like these. Far greater than the wise or brave. Far happier than the lair and gay, Wa aha who fonnd a martyr's grave On that red uld of Monterey. MISCELLANEOUS. For the Bugle. A SKETCH. Willows fringed the margin of a limpid river w inds played strange musio on their slender chords and moonbeam and starbeam met on the rippling waves, and danced wild ly. Dark rocks frowned upon them, but thry leaped np, and, nestling upon their mossy bosoms, woke smiles and revealed thousands of flowers blooming there which might other wise never have been seen. 'Twas like the human heart, when the soft tones of kindness are melting away the ice of misanthropy ac cumulated during winters of neglect, and flowers, too, are seen which were Bickly in the shadows, but grow and flourish in the sunlight. Then they lit upon lie topmost boughs of tall trees, and begemmed them all over with silvery sparkles, flung their long shadows deep down into the crystal waters, and they seemed to connect wave and sky, like love flowin? out from the heart of Deity, upon the heart human, and connect ing it with the tlarry things of Heaven. They stole softly into the cup of the vine flower rocked by the wind, and whispered such glorious things of their home, up in the "azure deep," that the little flower oped its drooping eyelid, and stretched forth ' liny tendrils for very joy. Bui Zephyrus ' realh ed a rough censure upon such midnight vi gils, and the beautiful vine was cast down to a level with the blue violet, which wept a dewdrop tear over its fate. But moonbeam and starbeam passed on; and traversed the streets of a city. They looked in where vice held its court, but drew back affrighted, for they heard rough voices little like the willows' music, and the air was laden with odors which contrasted strangely with the breath of the water-lily, which grew where they danced on the river. They fell silently on the marble floors where the rich man dwelt, slumbertd 'mid the maiden's curls, and kissed her slender fingers folded on her guileless heart. But thpy could not remain here, for oppression had stalked thro' marble doors and entered the rich man's heart; and the winds played no music, for they were burdened with sighs breathed from crushed spirits; and moonbeam and starbeam have their homes where spirits are not crush ed, but learn their own mysteries, and hold converse with the Deity. There was one dark frowning house, which seemed never to have heard the voice of child hood in its happiness, and thither they went, as go the followers of Christ to dispense light and love where there is darkness and hatred. They quivered slightly on the boughs of a stinted maple which grew among the bricks of the dusty pavement ; for they saw I to be ; , iron bars and massy doors which seemed another home of oppression. But they crept on timidly, and entered the prisoner's cell. The glance of a murderer met them. He was waiting here his doom ; ho was praying in Bgony of spirit. 'Twaa sweet to witness his penitence ; and they cheered him awhile with their mild radiance. Then went on through dungeonand down staircase, and smiled as they went, for this was not so wicked a place as the rich man's home ; and innocence and re pentance were here mingled with guilt. They tarry longer now. They are resting on young brows where the seal of innocence is set, and they love these. There are two here One is a little boy, may be a mother's pride W hy are they here I 1 hey cannot roam in the green fields now ! nor hear the birds sing, nor chase the butterfly o'er the wild flowers, and frighten the honey bee from its bed in the rose's heart. They can only see a few bright stars through these prison bars ; and tho glorious sun rises and sets, but it cheers them not. They pray now ; 'tis a child's prayer and simple, but spirits wait to carry it up to the throne. The elder says " Father have pity upon us, we are little chil dren, and our mother loves us dearly; and oh ! she will be so lonely when we are down 'neath the southern sun away from her. Let us go back away from this dreary place that we may cheer her, for her lot is very hard." And the younger says "Amen." Is the prayer answered ? A voice is heard like that of their father's, and he himself has come to take them home. Ho drew forth the little one and placed him upon the green grass. The stars twinkled upon him just they used to do when his mother sang to him in the cabin door, after returning from her hard tuil. The breezes kissed his brow, and he almost fancied 'twas her lips which press ed it. He bounded lightly over the sod, and returned with his young blood mounting, and gushing through bis veins in his joy of freo dom. The father tried vainly to release elder, but those iron bars were too strong be pressed aside, and he could not pass them as the other had done. He turn ed tearfully, and motioned the freed one follow ; but he still lingered he would go and leave his brother to be sold to alone with no one to cheer him. The father urged, but in vain. The young, joyous, freed bird returned again into the gloomy cage that he might Suffer with his brother. () ! bow moonbeam and starbeam rejoiced then. A flood of light filled the room ; e'en the tear-drops, those lucid drops shed innocence, glistened like pearls on the damp floor. Those two wept long ere they slept, for deep is the spirit's first anguish ; and silent watcher iool:ed on the while. Morn kr-ed jato the Ihiwk flccia of lljt dungeon. crushed, and this wail its first of agony. Moonbeam and starbeam fled, but they took awny the tear-drops, fur they were fit joweU in the crrwn of light. Tfle sun was setting in a southern sea ; and his last beams sparkled on the waves which laved the shores of a fairy isle. Light winds came over the waters as if to taste the orange flower which gleamed in the silent groves; and strains of wild, warlike music floated from its plains. Tail shadows rested upon the level ground ; but where It swelled up gently into a hill looking upon a placid bay, here were pitched the tents of armies. It seemed the eve of battle, for long bright lances flashed in the sunbeams, and proud horses wheeled to and fro as if they too full the excitement of military purado. The fl.ig of France floated proudly over one army, and the other bore upon its ensign tha figure of a slave just bursting his fellors. Yet no can non roared, no blood was seen flowing, nor signs appeared. Aye, 'twas a harder con flict which one leader at least was called to endure. A white banner was borne from the ranks of the French, and their commander steppr d forth accompanied by two boys whose youthful countenances and looks of innocence contrasted strangely with the tall forms of veteran tronps, gilded over with the insignia of war. And the African General also came forward and met hiin. "Here," said the white man. "are thy sons " ihry are our prisoners now, but we will return them to yon we will give you and them freedom, and gold, and honors, and you shall be great among the princes of France. B'lt you must cease this rebellion, you must surrender your army to us, and use your influence to calm the minds of your soldiers." His tall form drew up to its manliest height ; his dark eye (lushed its wildest fire, and the lieavinz of his proud breast betrayed the struggle wixt fither and patriot. O ! 'twas grand to see him, as he stood there, partly relieved against the deep blue sky, with his while plume nod ding o'er his brow in the gentle breeze, and his glittering sword reflecting back the first star of even. It was long and deep, that con flict. He looked where his sons stood in their youth and beauty. Images of blood stained hair, death-distorted features, and teeth clenched in the last struggle, rose tip before him. His wife broken-hearted, him self branchless and withered, and both sink ing to premature decay. Oh ! that avelanclie of fatherly affection, it was bearing all before it. He was almost resolved to be a traitor. But just then the tun sank in (;lory in hi ocean bed. First one, and then another blight star quivered awhile on the wave's crest, and sprung into the fiimamcut. The winds moan ed fitfully through the acacia bowers, and bore with them a long, loud, piercing shriek, wrung from some proud, noble suul at last as the to be tween to not toil and by lie turned tits eve opon Uo long w -of dusky, anxious faces fixed so eagerly upon hi in who could be either their savior or de stroyer. The thick veil of futurity was lift ed to him, and he saw all these, either bow ed down in oppression or elevated by free dom ; and he was therewith their blessing or their curse upon him. Could he, ought he to sacrifice these to save the lives of his chil dren! Let this answer. "Take back my sons, I trusted them to your honor, and base ly have you betrayed me. I love them, oh! how dearly ; but I love my race, their free dom and elevation better. I can give up these two, my children ; but I cannot rivet again the chains of my brothers." Ho dis missed his soldiers with the same calm tones with which he was wont, and they were deep and musical as when lie urged them to attest their liberties. But when he reached his tent, alone and childless, his father's feelings rose up in their might, how strangely who can tell! And he suffered, oh! how bitter ly ! It was softening to see tears wrung from manhood's strong heart, anil the same moonbeam and starbeam were there to wit ness his Bgony. And why have not historians recorded these as noble examples for fathers and sons to fol low! Why have they not been extolled yea, trumpeted forth in the notes of fame as greatest among men and children! Had he, who was none other than Toussaint L" Overture, been king, or prince, or president he would have been immortalized for this single act. He was more than all these ; but God had seen fit to stain his complexion with a darker dye than ours, and though his heart beat with all noble and generous emotions, and his intellect was a greater spark of Dei- ty than is common among mortals, yet only a few God-like hearts have beat quicker only a few tears have fallen at this recital and when far less noblo acts have been told us of our pale cheeked neighbor, our hearts have overflown with sympathy. And these children of a Virginian slave mother. Why do not fathers point to their bright example of fraternal affection, and ex hort their own so to love one another, that when trials come they may stand up together, and the burden will be less hard to bear. Oh ! my country, ve know not what hearts rest within your bosom ! what heroes unknown clanking their chains in slavery what noble deeds are done which ye read of! And ye isles of ocean. Your burning skies overarch brows on which is impress ed the seal of Deity. Hut they are cast down to earth. Their weared limbs still toil, bleed, and err.srt, that your lords may count thi.ii sordid gold. Let us follow on in I 'uouf.Ujin' and uUileam's trace, tlwl earll may know all its noblemen that these wing ed messengers of light may report to angols that after long ages have rolled over our planet, we have at last recognized irlue in whatever clime, in whatever heart, and learn ed that true greatness dwells alike in the pa lace of the king, and the cabin of the slave. it L. H. F. From the Yankee Blade. The Death-Penalty. I ; livo ! not and the The newspapers of the day teem with argu ments, pro and con, on the propriety of Cap ital Punishment, as the phrase is (rnpitul pun ishment being simply the greatest punishment inflicted, to ubolinh the penalty of death will only make the next highest capital, and not r.ul an end to capital punishment entirely). Hut among thrin all we have seen no view of the question more striking than the following passage taken fr"tn "The Lessen of Lite," a strange, wild, grotesque, yet thrilling tale, from ' Cakes and Ale," by Douglass Jerrold, the celebrated dramatist. A dialogue lakes place in the jail of Paris, between the com mon hangman and a monk who had visited the prison on an errand of mercy : Jacques Trnchra:, the hangman of Paris, quailed his wine and water, and drew his chair ne.ir the chair of Father George, the most rigid and conscientious monk of the order tuch, at least, was his reputation and, in a tone of familiar confidence for the friar was Antonelle's confessor said, "Father George, I want you, to instruct me : never mind that poor lad poor innocent !" cried Jacques, observing thai the innnk glanced at the vacant Nareisse; " es, 1 want your counsel in an affair ol conscience ; tried the hamjman. " Thou shall have it," was the benevolent promise of the monk. "Thou hast called death a punishment, most holy father, let us debate that simple point ; and Jacques sidltd still closer to his reverend guest. The declining son shone through the case ment, and, falling upon the heads of the exe cutioner and the monk, bent, as they were, towards each other, presented a strange and striking contrast of character us developed in their features. The monk's face was long and sallow, marked wilh deep lines about the mouth, which seemed restless with ill-concealed passion; his eye was black, full and heavy ; a joyless, mire posing eye. The coun tenance of Pierre Tenehrie was round and somewhat jovial ; a love ol mirth appeared to twinkle in his look, and his lips seemed made for laughter; his black hair and beard were sprinkled with w bile, and his complexion was a clear, deep brown, flushed in the check with wholesome red. The sun, shining up 0.1 those heads, brought out their sepsrnle op posite characters in tho strongest relief to each other. A stranger looking at them from a distance, would have thought the hangman some humble, jet wealthy, good-tempered citizen nf Paris, consulting wilh his house hold adviser, on a daughter's portion, a son's patrimony, or some other domestic arrange ment. Wry diffuientwas the subject which nt that hour supplied the discourse of Jacques Tenebra-, the hangman of Paris, and Father Georue, the austere Capuchin. "Thou dosl call death a punishment!" re peated the executioner, "llive by it, and BhonUl therefore, wilh the wisdom of this world "The w isdom of this world is arrant folly," interrupted the Capuchin. 1 am of thy ghostly opinion, observed Jacques Tencbrai, "as to a good deal of it. Yet, death being made a punishment, makes my profession I speak to thee in private, and as a friend my profession is littlo less than arrant lolly; a mistake, a miserable blun der!" "The saints protect me! what meanest thou by such wild discourse!" inquired Fa ther George. "Hear me out, listen to the hangman. cried Jacques Tfiipbra!. "There is another world, eh ! good rather leorge. 1 ho Capuchin moved suddenly Irom the side of the querist, and surveyed him with a look ol horror. "Nay, nay, answer tne," said Jacques; " but for the form nf argument. 'Twas for that I put ihe question !" "Tis scarcely lawful even so to put it," said the Monk. " However, let it be grant ed there is another world." "And all men must die!" asked Jacques Tenebrrc. " Kill is it not so 1" " We are come into the worlJ doomed to the penalty," replied the Capuchin. " Death is Ihe common lot of all." "Of the good, and the wise, and the un wise! eh, father!" cried Jacques. " 'Tis very certain," answered the Monk. 41 If such, then, be Iho case," said Tene bra?, ' if no virtue, no goodness, no w isdom, no strength, can escape death if death be made, as you say, the penalty of the good, why should it he thought the punishment of the wicked! Why should it be thought the only doom for the blackest guilt, w hich, it may be, the very same hour, the brightest vir tue is condemned to suffer! Answer me that !" cried the hangman. " 'Tis a point above thy apprehension, Jac ques Tenebrie," replied Father George, ap parently desirous of changing the discourse. " Let it rest, Jacques, for abler wits than thine." "You would not kill a culprit's soul. Fa ther George! asked Jacques, heedless of the wishes of the Capuchin. " What horror dost thou talk!" exclaimed the Monk. " But for tbv nrnument," said the unmov ed Jacques. "Nay, I'm sure thou wouldst not. I have heard thee talk such consolation to a culprit, that, at the time, I have thought it a blessed thing to die. Well, he died and the laws, as the cant phrase runs, were avrnrred. Tho reoentant thief, the penitent hlood-shedder. was dismissed from further rulo of man; perhaps, the very day he was punished, a hundred pious, worthy souls were called from tho world; he was discharged from the earth, and but thou knowest what thou hast twenty times promised such rnis docra, w hen I had done iny office on them." " Thou art ignorant, Jacques Tenebrie basely ignorant; thou art so familiarized with death iThas lust its terrors to thee," said the Capuchin, who again strove to shift the dis course. "Of that anon, Father George; as for death on the scaffold, 'lis nothing but I have seen the death of a good man, in bis Chris tian bed," said Jacques, " a. id that was aw ful." " Thou dost own as much !" observub Fa ther George, " thou dust confeoS it." "Awful, yet cheering; and 'twas while I beheld it that the thought came to me of my own worthlessneRs " "As a sinner," interrupted tho Capuchin. "And hangman," cried Jacques. " I tho't look from the holiness, the beauty, if I m iy say it, of the good man's fate the common fato, ns you rightly call it, father to give death to the villain, to make it the last pun ishment, by casting him at one fling from the same world with Ihe pious creature who died yesterday. Now the law would not, could not, if it would, kill the soul, and but thou knowest what passes between thy brother hood nnd tho condemned, thou knowest what thou dost promise to the penitentculprit,and, therefore, to kill a man for his crimes would be a fitting, a reasonable custom, if this world were all, if there were nought beyond. Then see you. Father George, thou wouldst hasten the evil doer inlo nothingness now dost thou speed him into felicity. Eh! Am I nut right, is it not so, holy Father!" "And is such thy tho't thy true tho't!" inquired the Capuchin. "1 thank my stars it is, else I had not held my trade so long. Punishment! Hah! I call myself the rogues' chamberlain, taking them from a w icked world, and putting them quietly tu rest. When he who signs a war-: rant for their exit and, thinking closely what we all are, 'lis bold writing, i' fai'.h must, at some time, lie down with the hempen string: it is, nietliiuks, a humorous way of punishment, this same hanging," " I tell thee, Jacques Tenebrai," cried the priest, " thy coarse faculties, made familiar w ith such scenes, cannot comprehend their aw lul ness their public use. The example that "IIo! hold you there, father example! 'Tis a brave example to throlile a man in the public streets; why, 1 know the faces of my audience as well as Dominique did. I can show you a hundred who never fail at llie gallow s' foot to come and gather good exam pic. Do you think, most holy father, that the mob of Paris come to a hanging as to a sermon to amend their lives al the gibbet ! No: many come as they would from an ex tra dram; it gives their blood a fillip stirs the in fur an hour or two : many to see a fellow-man act a scene which they themselves must one day undergo, many, as to the pup pets and buliud singers al PeliilNeuf, but, fur example, why father, as I am an honest exe cutioner, 1 nave in iny uay uone my umce upon twenty, all of w hom were constant visi- ters of years standing al my morning le vees." " Is it possible !" asked the Monk. " Believe the hangman," answered Jacques Tenebiu;. "And thou wouldst ptinisii no evil doer wilh death!" inquired Father George. "As I am an honest minister of the law, unJ live by rope, not 1, lor this sufficient reason; nature having made this the punish ment ot an men, it is loo good a portion lor rogues; the more especially when softened uy uio discourses or toy brotherhood. "And thou wouldst hang no man! again asked the Friar, with rising wrath. "Though I speak it to my loss," cried Jacques, not I !" Two Neighbors and the Hens. BY H. C. WRIGHT. A man in New Jersey told me the follow incr circumstances respecting himself and one of his neighbors : I once owned a large flock of hens. I generally kept them shut up ; but, one spring, 1 concluded to let them run in my yard, afier I had clipped their wings, so that they could not fly. One day, when I came home to din ner, 1 learned that one of my neighbors had been there, full of wrath, lo let me know iny hens had been in his garden, and that he had killed several of thoin.and thrown them over inlo my yard. I was greatly enraged that he had killed my beautiful hens, that I val ued so much. 1 determined, at once, to be revenged to sue him, or in some way get I .... ,Lun mil dl. , ,i;.,.,.,r U,.,. ever, as calmly as I could. By ttie lime had finished iny meal, 1 became more cool, and thought that perhaps it was not best to fight wilh my neighbor about hens, and there by make him my biller, lasting enemy. concluded to try another way, being sure that it would be belter. "After dinner I went over lo my neigh bor's. IIo was in the garden. I went out, and found him in pursuit of one of iny hens with a club, trying to kill it. I accosted him. lie turned upon me, liis lace irillamed with wrath, and broke out in a great fury " ' ou have abused me. 1 will kill all your hens, if I can get at them. I never was so abused. My garden is ruined." "'Iain very sorry for it, said I. 'I did not wish to injure you, and I now see that have made a great mistake in letting out my hens. I ask your forgiveness, and am will ing to pay you six limes the damage." "The man seemed confounded. He did not know what to make of it. He looked at tho sky then down at the earth then his neighbor then at his club and then the poor hen he had been pursuing, and said nothing. "'Tell me now,' said I, what is damage, and I will pay you six-fold ; and hens shall trouble you no more. I will leave il entirely with vou to sav what I shall I cannot afford to lose tho love ami good-will of my neighbors, and quarrel with them hens, or anything else. " ' aai a grcut fool,' said the neighbor. 'The damage is not worth talking tbout and 1 have more need to compensate you you me, and to ask your forgiveness than mine.'" Miss Caroline Herschell, sister, and a long time assistant, of the illustrious celebrated the ninety-seventh anni versary ot her hinhdayon the loth of .March, at Hanover. The King sent to compliment her; the Prince and Princess Royal paid a visit; the latter presented her wilh a mag naficcut arm-chair, the back of which been embroidered by her Royal Highness: and the Minister of Prussia, in the name his Sovereign, remitted to her the gold medal awarded for the extension of the sciences. Miss Herschell is herself distinguished astronomical researches, and particularly the construction of a selenographical globe relief of the surface of the moon. Notwith standing her advanced age and infirmities, she still passe several hour every day astronomical labors, and not unfrequently spends the whole night in her observatory. PORTABLE VAPOK BATH. Jkokduh Darrow, of Y'oungstown, Ma honing eo., Ohio, having purchased of Pro fessor llronson, the right of Hicks & Minors patent Variable Vapor Jiath, both for Colum biana and Mahoning counties, (except the towns of Poland and Boardman) is prepared to fill nil orders with dispatch. Persons wishing to purchase will please direct to Jed' etlinh Darrow, Youngstown, Mahoning Co., Ohio. Q$- The Chairs are constructed in a su perior and improved style, for giving the or dinary warm bath in private families, nnd by individuals; also for administering medicine in the form of vapor for the cure of ctttnne ous and other morbid erruplions of the body. THE SALEM BOOK-STOKE j I i Has recently received considerable addition to its Stock of Books and Stationary from New York and Philadelphia, and now offers to its " friends, and the public generally," a cheap and well-selected a lot as can be found any where in ihe county, to say the least. The subscribers have taken especial pains to ascertain w here the best Publications of the day were to be had, as well as the standard j IJTElUIlYfr SCIEXTIFIC WO UK'S, and now have the pleasure of saying that they have secured an excellent variety of the best and most popular. Also, a full assortment of I ' KCLKCTIC SCHOOL BOOKS, ( I lately from Cincinnati. All orders for Books, singly or by the lot, cheerfully and promptly a'lended to. GALBREATH & HOLMES. Salem, June 4, 1817. LOOKING GLASSES. In connection with Hardware and Drups, the subscribers have a large supply of new ; nanosome sryics ui large ana small look J Glasses and Looking Glass plates. Old frames refilled and glass cutting dune to order. CHESSMAN & WRIGHT. Salem, 11th mo 1, 1810. REMOVAL. i Gkouoe Our has removed from Ihe house of Ely, Kent & Brock, to the large and ex tensive Dry Goods house of LUDWIG, KNEEDLER & CO. No. 110, North 3d st., where he would be glad to have his Anti-Slavery friends call be fore making their Spring purchases elsew here Philadelphia, Jan. 7th, 1817. 16. WATER CURE. DR. J. D. COPE ; HaB :llst co,npelej an addition to his Water i Cure l.;8lab,siment in Salem. He is now prepared lo secure to an increased nnmbtr I of patients the full advantages of the Hydro ( pathic practice. Salem, Dec. 181G. C. DONALDSON & CO. WHOLESALE & RETAIL HARDWARE MERCHANTS Keep constantly on hand a general assortment of HARDWARE and CUTLERY. No. 13 MAIN ST. ClNCIUNATl. July 17, '4G- I ! 1 I I up at at the my do for ; than you JUST RECEIVED A Largo nnd Complete Assortment of PHONOGRAPHIC BOOKS, And also a full set of FOWLER'S WORKS by Galbrenth & Holmes, and for sale at the SALEM BOOKSTORE. March 22, 1817. DRY GOODS AND GROCERIES, BOOTS and SHOES, (Eastern and Wes tern,) Drugs and Medicines, Paints, Oil and Dye Slull's, cheap as the cheapest, and good as the best, constantly lor sale at Salem, O. 1st mo. 30th. TRESCOTTS for as tronomer, her had of for for in in Agents for the " Bugle." OHIO. New Garden ; David L. Galbreath, and T E. Yickers. Columbiana ; Lot Holmes. Cool Springs; Mahlon Irvin. Berlin; Jacob II. Barnes. Marlboro; Dr. K. G. Thomas. Canfield ; John Wetmore. Lowellville ; John Bisscll. Youngstown ; J. S. Johnson, and Wm. I. Bright. New Lyme; Marsena Miller. East Fairfield; John Marsh. Selma ; Thomas Swayne. Springhoro; In Thomas. Harveysburg; V. Nicholson. Oakland ; Elizabeth Brooke. Chagrin Fulls ; S. Dickensun. Petersburg; Uulh Tumlinson. Columbus; W. W. Pollard. Georgetown; RulhCope. Ilundysburg; Alex. Glenn. Farmingtou; Willard Curtis. Elyria; L. J. Burrell. Oberlin ; Lucy Stone. Ohio City ; R. B. Dennis. Newton Falls; Dr. Homer Earle. Ravenna; E. P. Basset, and Joseph Car oil. Hannah T. Thomas; Wilkesville. Southingtqn ; Caleb Greene. Ml. Union; Owen Thomas. Hillsboro; Win. Lyle Keys. Malta ; Wm. Cope. Ilinkley; C. D. Brown. Richfield ; Jerome Hurlburt, Elijah Poor. Lodi; Dr. Sill. Chester X Roads; H. W. Curtis. Paiuesville ; F. McGrew. Franklin Mills; C. W. LelTingwell. Granger; L. Hill. Bath; G. McCloud. Hartford; G. W. Biishncll. Garreltsville ; A. Joiner. Andover; A. G. Garlick and J. F. Whit more. INDIANA. Marion; John T. Morris. Economy ; Ira C. Maulsby. Liberty ; Edwin Gardner. Winchester; Clarkson Pueket. Knightsown; Dr. H. L. Terrill. Richmond; Joseph Addleman. PENNSYLVANIA. Fallston; Milo A. Townsend. Pittsburgh, II Yashon.