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BELLOWS FALLS TIMES.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
A. IV SWAIX, Editor.
TERMS. 8ubMribm who Ukt U at Um o In,
1tuo, , 1 26
At tit end at tU jrr 1 76
elubftoribvr. who tm1v thir paper- by
wrWr, In vvnc 1 76
At the uJ of ttM ywt 2 00
In elub, In Wiudhtun and IViudwr eountW in
Adrnuo , 1 26
If paymtMal be ttolnyttd mouth. ,,1 60
Mxll MitMoribwn nut of Wind twin mid WlmUor
eouutiea, luvuiably In kdvano 1 50
THE FCNCRAIi OK C AMPBKLU
T CHARLES WAIN.
When England ahortM ly wild and dark,
8a y th far beacon' tuUty ipark,
Uk Dtournen round the funeral bark,
The waf earn rolling eoWmnly.
And all the wind were breatutes bowed
With wo too lasting to be loud,
And lay the Bard within bU ihroud,
- When wave were rolling eoleninly.
While alow the furneral Teseel swept.
Hone knelt, where cold ktr minstrel alept,
And o'er that brow of gvnlua wept
The team of Immortality. '
The flag that England1 valor bore
'Mid ocean blaxt and battle' roar.
When left the hearee that walling shore,
Drooped 'mid the death gloom drearily.
Moura, bapleM Hohenllnden. moom!
Thy bard to dut and durkneu borne,
Whoee voice ean never more return
r To breath the hymn of liberty.
Mourn, mourn for him, BrlUuuia'a Ule,
Whose harp it reft, and mute the while,
That thuig The Baltic and The Nil
With Nelson finite axultingly !
Tears, years shall roll, and stars may throng
Around the el&Mic heaven of song. ,
But never Kame lienr one prolong
. Thy Jt trtn of minetn&ty. " !JK ?
'TU morn ; the sunlit cloud have thrown
A solemn grandeur half tlieir own
O'er abbey -aisle and sculptured stone,
Whore Kugtand'n dead rest gloriously.
There hnid the Blight tat bardu of earth,
The tew that centuries gave to birth,
All crowned arouud with dawk' worth,
' Our Campbell sleeps eternally.
Though darkness wrapt the poet's mould
Till time hath heaven's decrees unrolled,
Still future ages shall behold
The bard of Hope's ascendency.
Slight withal may be the things which brine;
Back on (he heart tlie weight which It would fling .
Aside forever ; It may be a sound
A tone of music summer 's eve or spring
A flower the win! the ocean which will wound,
Strikin the electric chain wherewith ww are darkly
I heard toe sounds of sorrow and delight,
The manifold, soft chines,
That filled the haunted chambers of the Night,
1 Ike some old poet s rhymes Losufkllgw.
"I have promised your Aunty Won
derful to let you go and visit her," said
father Honorable to his children, Her
man and Augusta, "and this morning
' the weather is so pleasaut and inviting,
you may go. I will accompany you
as far as the foot of the mountain on
which her house stands."
"0, I'm so glad, papa! " cried Her
man j 'l have so long wished to go
there ! You have told us so much
about Aunty Wonderful, and the stories
she can tell, that I have always wished
to see her."
"Arid I too." said Augusts!, "I could
listen all day long to pretty stories. O,
I am right glad we can go."
The good mother now entered the
room, bringing their best Sunday clothes
and prepared to dress them nice and
clean. She had much less trouble than
usual, this morning, with the washing
and dressing ; Herman stood quite still
while his curly brown hair was combed,
and Augusta did not cry when her face
was washed. "Ah, what good children
vou are to-dav !" said their mother. "If
you were always so I should love you
twice as much. 1
When the children were dressed, and
quite ready, their father entered the
room, smiling at their happy taces. tie
looked about in search of something,
which Herman perceiving, he ran quick
ly, and brought his father's cane. "Aha."
said his father, "you are so thoughtful
to-day that you know my wants even
before I express them."
"Yes," responded iheir mother, " we
have two dijar good children, wh n they
are contented and happy."
At last "good by." was said to their
dear mother, and the children set out for
their visit to Aunty V onderfm.
They hail not gone far when Augusta
asked her (nther if the mountain on
which Aunty Wonderful lived was very
" Yes, very hijih," replied her father.
" As high as heaven, papa ?"
" No, my child ; though not as high as
heaven, still so high that you will be
very weary before yon reach the top,
where Aunty lives. P0 mountain reach
es, as you imagine, to heaven ; were it
eo, many would go to heaven, who had
no other merit than their good leg.
" But we go to heaven when we die
don't we, papa?" said Herman.
" Yes, if we have been good, and lived
as God has commanded, my son : this is
of the greatest importance ; otherwise
the gate of heaven will not be opened to
Thus conversing, they arrived at the
foot of the mountain. Father Honora
ble pointed out a nar row footpath to the
children, and telling them to follow it
carefully, bade them "good by."
And now the children commenced to
climb up the steep mountain : when they
were half wjy to the top, they seated
themselves, to rest and take breath. As
they turned around, they cried out with
wonder and delight at the view they saw
beneath them. The villages and houses,
with fields of grain and orchards of fruit
trees, all which had seemed to them so
large and grand, now, in the distance,
looked smaller than themselve. And
at they looked they thoupht they saw
people going to and fro, and that they
recognized their father ; but every thing
looked so small they were quite bewil
dered, and tt a loss to understand why
all was so changed. After renting a
while they proceeded on their way, turn
ing often to look t the enchanting view
beneath them. They Mxm came to n
little house at the top oi the mountain.
The children apprrached it, and looked
bout on every side, hoping Aunty Won
derful would see ther , and come out to
welcome them ; but r.o- ioe wa to be
I een. I be windows and hrs were
shut ; every thing wa so still that the
. ciiilttrt-n were (lightened, and did not
know if it were best to go on or turn
) tlair step, homeward. At length Her -
mnn bravely opened the front door,
which he (bund unfastened j there was
hii inner, door, id which the children
paused and listened j they heard only a
slight humming, and stood still, looking
at each other, not knowing what to do.
Their little hearts bent so loudly that
Aunty Wonderful must have heard the
noise, and thought some one knocked on
the door, f r she called out, " Come in."
and the children bashfully entered the
room of Aunty Wonderful. '
Our little friends shall hear of the
arrival at Auniy W.'s next week.
SIX SCENES FROM A LIFE DRAMA.
BY PKSMARAIS. ,
' ' I. y - -
" When I get married, I mean to
teaze my husband almost to death : I do
like tti teaze ilwwp 1 lot.. Thn, wbh
a gay laugh and a toss of her h'ad,
spake the pretty and piqiiante Kate
Edgelv, at the, age of seventeen, as he
sat, one evening, under the shade of
Spanish ouks, on her uncle's lawn, at
She said this to a young man of some
three or four-and-lwenty, with whom
she had been gayly chatting for half an
hour or more in all the abandon of Ions
friendship ; for Carrol Avory had been
her companion from childhood ; their
fathers were connected in ties oi kindred
sympathy through long years long be
fore their children lived. Carrol Avory
was also somewhat of a philosopher, or
believed that he was which is pretty
much the same thing, especially if he
whs able to make others believe it. He
belonged partly to the 8toic and partly
to the cynics or thought he did ; and
many said Carrol bail been crossed in
love; pel haps he had. Noihin2 besets
younger philosophy, or sterner, than dis
appointed affection except crushed am
bition. When Kate had sjioken thus, and
laughed, he smiled cynically and re
plied : " Giving you .credit for all ihat
talent in the teazing line, there are at
least two classes of men whom you could
not succeed with."
' Do tell me which they are."
"Certainly. First, there is a class
whose love is too enduring to depend on
their patience, and whose faith is too
strong to doubt their ability to bear and
their certainty of being rewarded ; iheir
only passions are love and grief. Then
there is another class bir more numer
ous w hose w ill is so firm, whose moral
force is so great, whose character is so I
steeled by self-control, that thr y con-1
quer the will of a weaker by nn iron
word, or a look of comman I, or, if ihis
fail, by a system of tyranny far mora
terrible. With the first class you would
cease, from shame ; with the latter troin
" Gracious ! what a Ions speech !"
exclaimed the laughing girl. " You
didn't think I was in earnest, surely ?"
" I hoped you were not," replied tlie
stoic youth, gravely.
And rising, they entered the house.
Three years !
And what are three
years ? An atom, an infinitesimal por
tion of the great desert of time, whose
countless sands are dropping, one by
one, into the fathomless oceat of Eter
nity. And yet each one bears the bur
den of a life and the mystery ofa death.
And how much, how very much are
three years to humanit, ! how much of
joy and sorrow ! how much of happiness
and misery I bow much of crime and
retribution ! how much of' hunger and
thirst, and blood, and tears, of cloud and
sunshine, of sleep and watching, of
night and day 1 how much of being 1
how much of dust and ashes ! Oh. how
great, and constant, and terrible, are the
changes of three years !
Three years since Kate Edgelv and
Carrol Avory talked together in the sort
starlight und-T the whispering foliage of
the old Spanish oaks at Edely Grove.
Three years ; and Carrol is a wan
derer in distant lands, across stormy
seas seeking two mysteries, which,
like the banquet of Tantalus, ever seem
within the gr asp, yet ever elude the ex
tended arm ; two phantoms, winch, like
the mirage of the desert, spread their
airv glories upon the weary traveller's
vision, but me't into space at bis eager
approach ; two will-o -the-wisps health
and forgetfulness. Alas, it was a fiend
who fabled Lethe, for thpre is no Lethe
but the rave!
Three veirs ; and Kate is a widow I
Edmund Staunton was the only son
of a clergyman near Edgely Grove.
His father wa wealthy, but he labored
not the less with a pure heart and firm
faith in leading " in the strait ana nar
row path" those committed to his charge.
Edmund was twenty-five when he
first saw Kate hdgety. f lis lite hail
been passed, of late, in the studies ofa
distant university, preparing himself to
follow in the footsteps of his father; and
it was upon his final return to the Koot-
tree at Wilton parsonage that he met
the sparklif g niece of old Squire Edge
ly. Although of a meek, timid nature.
Edmund was poetical and romantic ;
and the wit, the beauty, and the anima
tion of the ea Kate fascinated him.
1 he unreserved intercourse of the coun-
trv, the walks, the rides, the fishing, the
sailing, the picnic parties, brought them
constantly together ; and three months
sufficed to kindle mutual affection or
at least its semblance. Outwardly,
Staunton was handsome, though some-
what pale; gentlemanly, and dignified ;
inwardly, a harvest, a fearful harvest,
was slowly but surelv falling before the
pitiless reaper. Death. But of that,
none but him knew perchance, not
even he. They were married in the
spring-time, wiih the love songs of woo-
j ing birds for their epithalamium. The
I honey-iroon w as passed in travel, and
' they returned to seltle down to domes-
i tic happiness in a charming spot upon
: bis fit lier's parish, where he hoped to
' aid him in Uia u good work." For
BELLOWS FALLS, YEIi
awhile, all was sunshine ; but, alas. Kate's
fatal resolve began ere long to work,
perhaps unconsciously to herself, for, by
habit, it had become a second nature to
her to Uaze, and she had as yet paid no
penalty for its indulgence. Many times
indeed during his wooing she had ex
ercised these powers upon Edmund j
but they were scarce ripples in the broad,
steady current of his love, and it flashed
over them and rolled on.
But now it was different ; she was
ever there, and the ripples became lar
ger, more constant, deeper, till they
merged into one strong, hissing eddy
that bubbled, and foamed, and seethed
up in his love stream, and troubled and
made turbid all us waters.
Yet he never spoke of the inward
wrestlings ; he was kind, and gentle,
and caressing ; and she felt that the
barrenness of her triumph was a defeat.
So rolled a year and a half; and all this
time of alternating shewerand synshihe.
smiles and tears, the reaper was level
Edmund Staunton's existence. She saw
not the 'ay of in-gathering approaching ;
she would not see it ; he felt it, but he'
would not tell her. Yet it came, un
hastened by earth-panas. Oh. hope and
believe it was not thus hastened ! Kate
Staunton, for your soul's peace, hope
and believe it !
It came, slowly, silently, with nothing
of strife, nothing of fear nothing of long
ing. It came peacefully, solemnly ; and
the softened chimes of distant bells qua
vered through the still air of the Sab
bath morn, faint nd broken, as if with
sobs, yet fragrant and with a holy har
mony, until they gently, and as with a
timid awe. yet lovingly, trembled through
the half closed lattice, and minirled their
lust strain with the faint sigh of Edmund
Staunton's freed spirit.
And Kate Staunton was a widow T''
In the sad, solitary, storm-racked
night that cat its first cloud.' and poured
its first quickening rain upon the fresh
sod of her busband's grave ; in that night
of moaning w ind, and cursing thunder,
and shrieking forest, and the measured
tapping of the rain-drops on the case
ments, with a sound as of funeral ham-m-rs;
in that night of vigil and woe, as
she lay crouching upon Jhe bed so late
ly, and alas so lightly, pressed by her
husband's wasted form, did there not
creep across her heart the cold, ghastly
shadow of a self-reproach, like the clam
my trail of a serpent over the warm
breast of a sleeping savage, causing her
to shrink and shudder, and leaving in
its track the poisonous slime of remorse!
Hut morning came, and the sun burst
impetuously through the gloomy cloud-
host, and the birds hymned their song
of gratitude, and the breeze whispered
its tuneful love-tale to the trembling
leunVre i nature awoke. anf mnk ' in re- j
newed life, and health, and joy from the
glorious day fount. Morning came, and
peeped in. laughing, at the window.
where still lay the crouched form and
the aching heart ; and, with rosy smile,
and glad bird voices, and gentle breeze
murmurs, the heart was cheered, and
sung and lulled into a soft dream of
What a glorious expression of ele
mental power is the ocean in its wild
. war with the storm-king 1 With "what
a gusty malice the wind blades strike
eir keen edges through the spray
shields, and bury their points in the
veiv ho-om of ocean. With what a
stubborn strength the michty waters
rush np to close the chasm, and hurl
their shunting foe ,farofT upon the foam
ing crests of their wrath-billows!
And amid all this wrestlini and roar
ing, right on through the battle din
speeds a gallant vessel, shaking the fu
rious sprav from her gleaming bows,
bending with a careless grace before the
artillery of the blast, vet fearless and
unscathed, "she rides the plunginer char
gers .f the deep," bearinz her freight o"
soul life to its destined haven.
Un that vessel s necK. nis eye naslniis
back the spirit of the storm, his whnl
frnmp bnotant with the fiercest sympa
thy for the awful scene beHnre him.
stands Carrol Avory. nfrer six vears of
wandering in almost everv clime of
earth.' now straining his sprav-clouded
vision to catch a shadowy glimpse of bis
native shorps, srretchlns dim and dark
like the hither side of fabled Hades, far
along the bnri7on.
Has he found the twin nivsteries of
Ivs search ? Perhaps not ; but he has
found two stars ins'ead, whne constant
bistre will lighten his pathwav, even
through the " valley of shadows.'
Faith and Hope.
Three years since Edmund k"tnnnton
died, and time, the soother, has mellow
ed the rememhrnnce of sorrow in the
breast of the w idowed Kate.
On this balmy evening of spring, she
sits, a of obi. beneath the Spnn'sh oaks
on her uncle s lawn : and. as the shad
ows grow longer and the stars come ou
one kv one. flickering like fire-flips
through the waving foliage, she thinks
of such evenings a few short vears ago
when beneath this olden shade, with a
light heart and a happv preage, she
listened to an impassioned voice whim
pering bright hopes and love-illumined
plans of future happiness. The silent
tears drop all unseen upon the darken-
ing turt at her feet : tint they are no
I longer te-trs wrung from an agnnv of
1 fresh sorrow, hot a'id bitter with the
; gall of a sharp remorse. They are rool-
j ing. grateful, pearly tears, that spring
j from the gentle fount of a cbastenpd
! spirit, a mellowed grief, and thev fall
; assoo'hingly as falls the freshness of the
j evening flew npon the Ihirstv leaflet.
Wiih these tear yet lingering on her
cheek, tier thoughts are borne a litt'e
J further back upon time's current to
more shadowy p.t. and she hears light
j laughter and spnikling converse ringing
under these oM arches ; she hears the
gav jest and the happy repartee, the nn-
thinking, foo!i-h resolve of coqnetish
, seventeen, and the grave then absurd
; Iv grave re;mf.f of philosophic, serions
' twenty-four. She is again Kate Edge-
lv, and Carrol Avory sits beside her.
Poor Carrol ! where is he now ? Oh,
that he were here ! oh. that he had nev
er departed ! and so suddenly, loo! It
has always seemed mot strange. Why
has he never written to her ? He knew
she loved him so. Loved him? Why,
was he not her best friend, the friend of
her childhood, her maidenhood? Did
be not love her, ton? .Tint hold J He
was so changed after ;,F.dmnnd came !
He never liked pom' Edmund. Yet
why? And why go sway unkindly
almost sullenly just whn she was to
ah ! could it I e that5 V felt towards her
other than as a brother, a dear friend ?
He never spoke other j he never seemed
to. Oh. she could rot be so cursed !
And yetand yel 'i she not love him
with another love tkri sisterly ? She
had never asked heKidf tj),. question t
but now now what was that ? a foot
step? Some one coms swiftly down
the shaded pathway, bis man. Heav-
TtnrTlhey are cLk-v-u ,1. U,t. fervent
" And you say she is1 really married
ngiin ?" i ,
She reallv is. and to her first love,
too ; for I feel sure sltg loj-ed Carrol be
fore, long before, sty eer saw poor
" Oh. do tell me all nboufit !" exclaim
ed' the first speaker. Miss Emily Reed,
a bright cousin of Ka'e's. You know
I've just got off the hnrrid stymer. and
am not at all posted up In our family af
fairs." , " !
" Ii Is soon told." replied her elder sis
ter. " About three years after Ed
mund' dpath. Carrol came Vome, sud
denly and unexpected. It was just
about the time of your arrival in Vien
na" , " Yes," interrupted Emily ; T saw him
'in Paris. He told me he was eoi'ig
home j but, poor fellow, he looked as if
he would never reach there alive."
"Well, nevertheless, he did arrive,
and much improved in health. None
of ns knew of his coming, nrartly, so he
took ns all by surprise Kate most of
all How they met I don't know. I be
lieve it was at the " Grove ;" but, at
any rate, he was there almost all the
lime, and Kate seemed very happy, as
well as he ; and so, about a month ago.
I suddenly received a letter from Kate
(I was in Boston) asking me to be her
bridesmaid, and I agreed, of course,
though T never was more surprised ; and
Captain Brinton. Carrol's cousin, stood
up with me. and they were married ;
and Carrol has taken Oakley Cottage
for the summer; and they seem as hap
pv as two turtles ; and that's the whole
storv, Em ; so let's go and dress for our
visit to the ' happy pair. ,
And Carrol hud found his goal
though not where he sought it : but he
was happy, so happy that his heart seem
ed to have put forth fresh fibres of life.
his form expanded, his cheek bloomed,
his eye kindled, and the promise of many
yean was renewed in him.
And Katt; was she not true to her
repentance ? Did she not " love, hon
or, and obey" with all her soul ? and. if
she ever telt a shadow of the old weak
ness stealing across her spirit, did she
not seek a quiet corner of the old church
yard, nnd there, over a broken pillar.
inscribed with a simple name (fit em
blem of,a life rudely fdmttered in its
hasty snatching.) and wreathed with dark
green ivy ihat clung around it as if it
would lovingly hide the rugsed wounds
of'lhe cold iron -thee Upon die flower
ing win, ai i me not reisier a fresh and
sacred vow, ami seal it with her tears ?
THE YANKEE'S TTTfcKEY SHOW.
" Walk in. gentlemen, walk j t Come
(it, and see the turkeys dance. It's cur'
ous real cur'ous. Vou won't wish you
hadn't if you dn see it once, but you will
wish you had, i thousand times, if you
don't see it,"
Turkey's dancing 1 Fart, and no mis
Nartnim Come in Bnd srt. if yon
don't believe it. If 'tai,t o. you have
back your two shillV. Perhapthem
other gentlemen that' viih you wou!d
like tu come in, tew. Jli'g only tew shil
lin.' any heow !"
This was. a dialogue hich I heard
before the dor ol a shty at a " Gen
eral Training," an Oct41r"g:it!iering in
one of the interior tdw ig of our own
Empire State, in one' the midland
w as one of 'them JtviVmen refer
red to, i.nd disbursed the-.twn shi lin' and
entered, as did many oibi-rs, who, simi
larly attracted, followed if into the shan-
' Wal, gentlemen," said the exhibitor,
who was an out-und-out Yankee, 'ex
pect we might as well liegin. Vou 8eH
V that 'ere long coup of turkey. Wal, I
shall teed eni fust, and prvity soon nr
ter. when they begjn to feel their oa's,
(but that's a joke, cause-we give 'cm
corn,) you'll see 'em as son ua the mu
sic strikes up, begin to d.-itiie."
. Tlu coop w hich ran altng the end of
the Shanty tannest from .the dour, w as
about fifteen feet long, and must have
contained some twenty or thirty turkeys.
heavy fellows they were, loo, most of
them pertect treasures tor a Christinas i
t a ew V car s table. Jhto this coup j
our exhibitor threw perhaps a peck of
This was so in gathered np. not with
out much squabbling and fighting on the
part of the feathered recipients. wno
wanted to see fair play which woul I give
to t'le complainants the la'gest half of
the 'provant. j
Presently it was all devoured : nnd
the audience called lor the performance,
" Yes, yes." said the eihibitor, 'don't
be in tew big a stew. Give us time, if
you p'ease. Strike up.musie give 'em
At Ibis, a cracked flut and an ol 1
blin k greasy fiddle 'manned' by thick
lipped nejro. mid an ear-pien-ing fife.
nntj oil' with "laukce iWile" iii
EVENING; OCT. 1,
very quick time and sure enough, ev
ery turkey in the coop began to dance,
hopping from o e'leg to another, cross
ing over, balancing, ehnsseing doing
every thing in short, known to the sala-
tory art, except 'joining hauds and turn
ing pi rtners," . ,- ..... . ... ,
"Well, that t curious r exclaimed
the auditors simultaneously ; never saw
anything like it before !"
"No. says the exhibitor, "expect
you aid nt. Jt s all education, as tne po
et says. I edicated them turkeys; and
there am t one on em that uasn t a good
ear for music." . 4
Hereupon he turned to the audience,
and added ' , - ,
" Wal, you've seen it, and se.en how
natural th"y do it f now we want
you to vacate the room, and give them
a chance that's on the outside.. There'
new customers out there a-waitin', and
if you only tell 'em outside what you've
seen w ith your own eyes, you'd be doin
service to me, and give to them an
eqtittfpfeasuie with what you-dmvs en-4
1 Ihb was soon done ; tne audience re
tired, and another took their place in
cluding one, however, who bail been an
auditor at the last exhibition. The same
scene was gone through with : the same
feeding, music and dancing, only it w as
observed that the motion of the turkeys
was even more lively than before.
It struck the twice observer that just
before the music began, a man was seen
to leave the room on both occasions, and,
unnoticed, he slept out himself the last
time, and saw the man busying himself
with pulling some light kindling wood
under an opening bem-aib. the shanty.
The mysiery was now out. The turkey-cage
rested over a slow fire, with a
thin tin floor, and when the music struck
up the fire hud become so hot that the
turkeys hopped about first on one leg
and then on the other and changed
posiiions, 'seeking rest and finding none,'
till the fire had gone down, and they
were ready for another feed.
It is proper to add that the author of
this invention was a Yankee of the first
water the Orpheus of Tuikeydom.
THE FISa EXPERIMENT.
PROPAGATION AND OOHKSTIC ATIOS OF
FIg( VISIT TO DBS. OARLICK AND
ACKLEV'S F19H KCKSERY SEAR CLE-
The artificial reproduction and culti
vation of fisti, has for some time been
practiced iu parts of Europe, In
France it is now carried on to consider
able extent, und the produce of some of
the treHin and ponds, yield large protJU,
The subject is now attracting some at
tention iu the United Mates. Ihe iNew
York State Agricultural Society, in
tlieir last premium list, had offered a
prize of $100 for the best essay on the
"Production and Preservation of Domes
tic Fish for ponds,"
Garlick and Ackley, known as distin
guished surgeons of Cleveland, Ohio,
wre the first, we believe, to introduce
the artificial spawning and domestica
tion of fish in tho United States. Dr.
Uarlick being an enthusiastic amateur
in this line, commenced the business in
connection with his associate, Dr. Ack
ley, upon, the farm of the latter, two or
three years ago. They made several
trips to Lake Superior and Fort Stanley,
in Canada, to procure trout tor stocking
their streams, and in every instance were
succsful except the first, when they lost
a large number of fish in transportation.
After this, with personal attention,
they found that by reducing the temper
ature of the water in the vessels contain
ing the fish to 32 degrees, by aplication
of ice. the respiration and circulation in
fish was so reduced that they experi
enced no difficulty in transporting them
any distance with perfect success. In
this way they have procured at different
times, 150 full grown trout.
Feeling an inle est in the success of
this enterprise, and while visiting Cleve
land a shcrt time since, we called on Dr.
Garlick and Ackley, who very kindly
conveyed us to the farm and fish nurse
ry, situated about three miles from the
city. The farm contains about 100 acres;
through the timbered portion of it runs
a ravine nbun lantly supplied with never-failing
streams of water. Across
this ravine, dams have been built so as to
form three ponds, connected by sluice
ways between. In ihe upper pond the
voung trout are confined by netting
across the sluice. The second ponds
are destined for the fish after they have
become so large as to lie able to protect
themselves train the voracious appetite
of the elder fish of their race.
At the head of a large spring, and
near the upper pond, is situated the
batching house. In this house is a lank
four feet wide by eight feet long and
two feet deep. The water is received
from the spring into this tank and is dis
charged from a pipe near the top into
the hatching boxes, ten in number, and
so arranged that the first is higher in the
series than the last, so that there is a
constant stream of water pas-ing from
(I,,, tank iilim-p. ihmieih the two hatch
jnr boxes. In this tank 'we saw the old
fi,h, Xaiad Queen," the prolific
mother of thousands. Iter mate - J ry
ton. like his sex sometimes in other de
partment of animated nature, had be
come somewhat unruly, and naa oeen
assigned his abode for the time be ng,
in one of the ponds with the family at
lanre. Our friends have so ed icated
and trained the old queen that she has
become as a pet chicken, and ate min
nows from our finger readily. This
fish was taken from the tank and placed
In r.aii fur our inspection. She meas
ures about seventeen inches in leng'h,
Her weight we now forget, but with
I careful feeding can be increased wi;h
astonishing raniditv. U e were present-
erl hv the Den rlemanlv proprietors with
j e -
a mo-t ht-autilul engraving of n T.
It is the mleuiiou of these gcuikmen
to have some of the old and a number
of (he young fi-h on exhibition at Ihe
Ohio State rair the coming tail. Jhe
display of domesticated Salmon and
Trout, it is said, comaituled a most in
teresting feature at the great National
Exhibition recently closed in i ranee.
Dr. Garlick is now engaged in writ
ing a series of articles on the Artific
ial Reproduction of Fish." which appear
ed in the Ohio Farmer. They will finally
be published in book form, and will,
no doubt, prove of immensu value to far
mers and others who now own streams
and ponds in this country.
In every Mate in the union, ana in
almost every country, there are numer
ous springs and streams that, with com
parative little labor, may be turned to
profitable account for the production of
fish. .-i .. .
Where brisk, cool springs are not to
be found suited for trout, ponds exist
adapkd to various other kinds of fish
that delight in such water. In a day's
ride through some sections of the coun
try, we have frequently met with a doz
en springs and streams "that might be
employed in this way. In France, and
other countries of Europe, not only trout
and many otner kinds ot still-water fish
are propagated to a great extent, but
salmon by thousands are reared to full
size in a very short time. In the north
ern and eastern sections of our country,
but more particularly near the Northern
Pacific coasts, numerous places abound
most admirably adapted to salmon. It
is said that a thousand pound ol fish, in
proper places can be produced at a tithe
of the cost of raising an equal quantity
of meat. Louisville (Ky.) Courier.
BELLOWS FALLS TIMES.
BLLOWS FALLS, VT.
SEPTEMBER, 29, 1856.
For tl fellow. ValU TIm.
GAYSVILLE, AND THE SCENERY
BT LA. FORRE3T C. DARLING.
Ma. Editor Perhaps a description
of this romantic village will be interest
ing to those who are lovers of the 'Bejiu
ties of Nature.' Gaysville .is situated
in the town of Stockbridge, Windsor Co.
Vl., and is one of the northern towns.
It is on White River, about 30 miles
from its mouth, and 5 miles from Bethel
Station on the Vt, Central R. R.. and is
connect d with it by a daily Stage, the
Cars from Boston reaching Beihel at 'A,
P. M. the mail arrives here about 5.
Also a daily mail from Woodstock, and
Rutland, which places are about 22
miles distant each. This place derives
its name from its first settlers, who were
Gays; yet there are a few Gay people
here to this day. On leaving the Cars
for this place, the traveller finds a pleas
ant road along the valley ; small, but well
cultivated farms present themselves ;
on either side of the narrow valley,
rise high bills covered with timber
of all kinds ; in some places the road is
very narrow, the Mountain on one side
and the River on the other ; there is
scarcely room for teams to pass each
other, but it is delightful in summer
time, riding along the banks of the sil
very stream until the Church spire is
in view, then here we are among the
mountains as it were. The village is built
up on either side of the River, a range
of hills rising, to a great highth on
the North and South, among which is
one peak upwards of 2000 feet in high',
called Vulture Mountain. This com
mands a most delightful view of the
village below. The river here forms a
perfect letter S, and when viewed from
Vulture mountain is pleasant to behold.
On the whole the. scenery is beautiful alt
around. What sublimity there is in
This place is also known as the "Nar
rows" and well it might be so called for
the valley is narrow and the road is nar
row, yet it is a patte-n of a Green
Mountain Vill. A few "six cent Ar s
tocracy , some Fashionables Arc. but
most of the people of G., are ranked
with the laboring class, an 1 Free Soil
ers and Freinon ers ! 1 I have travell
ed o'er broad Prairies in the far West,
but for picturesque Scenery, give me
the Green H is of old Vermont , for
surpassing beauty and lnvliness. the pure
mountain air, invigorating to mind and
body. O that the sons of New Eng
land who have sought homes in bleed
ing Kansas might enjoy the freedom
which they left behind. Unhappy Kan
sas ! must she si.bmit to that tyranical
Tor the TtnMC.
Mr. Editor : In this article I purpese
to examine very briefly that portion of the
democratic !atfiirm that relates 10 lie sla
very question. And as this is the real issue,
it w 11 be supposed, as is proved to be the
fact, that this is the leading feature in this
. Let me here invite th reader to keep in
view t e propo-i.ion I am striving lo prove :
1 hat Slavery aad democracy are synonymous,
and that ihe li.y pursued by this adminis
tration is sought tu be perpetuated in the
election of Buchanan ; be will then be able
more clearly to understand the pertinency
of (he proof and form conclusions ol bis own.
Pas-inj over a sweeping clause (hat' vi
dendy is intended to refer to tbe roieclioa
of the " per.n and property" of slavb.Jders Xerrirories and States io which it is not ex
" from ilociwstic vioiVwe," when the erinetM-e ! cluded.
to prove the' vioWace" all upua ib other j K rOCSTB MOI-
: Tor tu tquur out luartkm Tftsts
Twin atiil bar muU U1 b. cUrtf tot smb 1-
U(il ulT.rtU.mwU huwtad at th. uiutl iM u4
I Ubuml dboouDt to Uuw who dmtu jmtlj.
Our offlr. Ii foralstwd Kith U mat tiiprond dmW
rbls uvd in th. art, r "" Job prtntint l til lu n
rUttM, .t hort nolle. u4 on rvuonabls tvrma.
ids it overwhelming, w corns to Ittits re
markable language : M That CoRgreta has no
power under the Constitution to inter ere
wiih, or control the doineatio inaiiiutioat of
(he several States, and that inch States are
the sole and proper judges of everything ip
pertaiuing In their own affairs not prohibited
by the Constitution ; that all efforts of the
Aboli ionistsor others, made lo induce Con-..
greas to interfere whh questions of ilavery.or
to take incipient steps in relation thereto are ,
calculated to lead to (he most alarming aud
dangerous consequences, &c." i
Kuw it is not uncommon for pettifogger
who discover that his ca cannot aafaly rest
upon a fair argument, to create a false issue,
foreign to (he case, about which the parties
have no dispute ; and if he is able to con
vine (h jury thai it is the real issue, his
case appears inoi e just. Who says that Con
gress has power to interfere with slavery in
the Stalest The Republicans claim for it
no such power, but that it has power only to
prohibit it in Territories ; therefore this gun
entirely overshoots the mark bitr do-" ''
body. : - -
But the Usue is finally met. After en
dorsing the fugitive slave law and declaring
that it cannot with fideliry be repealed, or
so changed as to impair its efficiency, the re- s
peal of ihe Compromise of 1820, throwing
open tha( vast territory North of it to sla- '
very is included and we hear of another fi
nality in the following language: "That the
democratic party will resist all attempts at i
renewing, in Congress or out of it, tbe agi- ;
tation of tbe slavery question under what
ever shape or color the-attempt may be
ade Now that the JNorth have been
robbed of this Territory for which they paid
ihe stipulated price the admission of Mis- '
souri as a S!ave Stale -the robbers step up "
ilh a sanctimonious air, their eyes auflWd
with erockodile (ears for ihe safety if . the
dear Union, and say that slavery ' agitation"
must cease. But wherefore? Are they
really afraid, as they say, that the Union
will split? The partialities of (he Aduiiois- ;
Iraiinn, calculated lo provoke to rebellion '
preclude the brobaluliiy. If any such fears
exisr, it is very unphilocophical lo suppose
them (o appear in (aunts, neglects and ag
gressive a' for opinion's sake
But who Hre the " agitators' ? Did not
this vry conservative demo rniic party "agi
Uie" the country from one end to theoihtr,
by repealing Ihe Missouri Compact against
Ihe will of the people, when the Compromise
of 1850 was said lo be a finality ? And has
not everv act of ihe Adniinisiratinn involv
ing the qU'-stioii, been subservient lo (he
eUe power, thus provoking discussion and
agitation" ! Vnd dues not the party en
dorse tbe Administration 1 Now they tell
us agitation" must cease. When did this
rajieiitarice come over them, and where ia
single proof that ii tian come over them at
all? We must not judge men by the appa
rent sincerely of their professions when iheir
conduct rebukes iliem. Winds are cheap
and oflen deceptive. When the practice of
men comports wiih the profession, and only
then are we under the remotest obligation to
believe them. The truth is clear to every
well informed person, if the past is any in- '
dex lo ihe future, that these agitators" will
not cease while the union between slaveoc
racy and democracy subsists, and territory
can be found to conquer.
But before leaving this point I wish to
show more clearly that the democratic party
cannot be believed that their professions are
false and also that this immaculate platform .
palpably contradicts itself. After declaring
that " the Ameiican democracy recognize :
aad adopt tbe principles contained in the or- :
panic laws establishing the Territories of
Kansas and Nebraska, ss embodying the on
ly sound and safe solution of die slavery '
question," (he resolution closes with (he fol
lowing maxim as their rule of action : "Son
interfeience by Congress with slavery in tbe -Territories
or in the District of Columbia."
This maxim of non-interference the plat
form states to have been tbe basis of tbe
Compru nise of 1850, and to have been con
firmed by both the whig and democratic par
ties. And yet in 1854 the whole force of
the Administration is employed to " inter
fere" with the "nlavery question" in Terri
tory where i( had been setded for 34 years.
Now (hey come forward and tell us that the
doctrine of non-interference was " rightly .
applied to the organization of Territories in '
But the party may deny that removing
(his restriction is " interference" tha( i( was
only removing an " inlerference." If this
ground is (aken it admits the whole argu
ment ; that the slaveocracy, alias democracy
will not cease to agitate" while Territory
or States prohibit (he introduction of slavery ;
and this is in realily the issue to which the
North will be finally dii.en. This conclu
sion is justified by the concurrent force of
past events, unequivocally showing (he de-
sign (o make slavery naiional regardless of
law or (he popular will.
. The 2d clause of sec. 3 of ihe 4th Article
of the U- S. Con. confers upon Congress
power to dispose of ihe question of Slavery
in ihat manner it may judge " needful" in
the following language : " The Congress
shall have power to dispose of and make all
needful rules and regulations respecting the
Territory oi oiher projieny belonging lo tie
United Stales, &c." In relation io the Dis
trict of Columbia the language is still stiong- i
er: (see last part of sec. 7 of Article l.i)
"The Congress shall have power to exer
cise exclusive legislation in all cases whatso
ever, over such District, (not exceeding ten
milea square) as may, by cession of particu-
,M 8mte9 lnJ lha ,cCeptaiice of Cr
become Ihe seat of governn'iil ot tlie Uni
ted Sutra, &c" Now in spile of this pow
er coufetred by ihe Con, modern democracy
incorporate into ibeir platform the maxim
non-interference by Congress with slavery
in the 1 emtones or in trie umnci oi vamuiu
bia," which uruoants to exactly this : non-interference
iy Congress with slavery ia all