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e« i/ ^•3 0* r K k A k VOL. I. MIDDLETOWN, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 11, 1868. ' NO. 28. body, sir? Besides, bis time will not ^clcrf Id 1 did not lose one of their ^clcrf $octrç. LOVE'S RETROSPECT. I played with you 'mid cowslips blowing Wlicn I was six and you wero four ; When garlands weaving, flower-ball throwing, Where pleasures soon to please no more. Thro' g*ovcs and meads, o'er grass and .heather, With little playmates, to and fro, We wander'd hand iu hand together; But that was sixty years ago. You grew a lovely roseate maiden, early love was strong; days were laden, And still Still with no caro They glided joyously along ; And I did love you very dearly— How dearly, words want power to show ; I thought your heart was touched as nearly ; But that was fifty years ago. Then other lovers rame around yon, Your beauty grew from year to year; And many a splendid circle found you The centre of its glittering sphere. I saw you then, first vows forsaking, On rank and wealth your baud bestow ; O, then. I thought my heart was breaking,— But that was forty years ago. And I lived on to wed another : No cause she gave mû to repino ; And when I heard you were a mother, I did not wish the children mine. young flocks, in fair progression, Make up a pleasant Christmas My joy in them was past expression But that was thirty years ago. My You grew a matron plump and comely, You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze; My earthly lot was far more homely ; But I too had my festal days. No merrier eyes have ever glisten'd Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow, Thun when inv youngest child wus christen'd :— But that was twenty years ago. Time An< One pet of four years old I've carried Among the wihl-flowcr'd meads to play. In our old fieldsof childish pleasure, Where now, as then, the cowslips blow, She fills her basket's ample measure,— And that is not ten years ago. But tho' first love's impassion'd blindness Has passed away in colder light, I still have thought of you with kindness, And shall do, till our last good-uight. The ever rolling silent hours Will bring a time wc shall not know, When our young days of gathering flowers Will be a hundred years ago. Thomas L. Peacock past. My eldest girl was married, 1 I am now a grandsiro grey ; fopular ©ale». THE TWO APPARITIONS. In my youth I was passionately fond of the Btago, and had a particular rage for the horrible. Being mush disposed to trav el, and tolerably fluent in the German lan guage, I onefiue morning, accompanied by my carpet-bag, set off on a trip to Ger many, determined to gratify my favorite propensity by seeing all the wild and im aginative traditions of that country got up in a manner of which we have no idea hero. I was amply rewarded for my pains, and spent several months wandering about from town to the other in search of novelty. In one of these rambles I stopped at a small village called Kirscheim, in Alsace, as I had seen a flaming red bill stuck up against tho first ootlago I came to, announcing that the company belonging to Henry Speil mann would perform that night, at tlie ho tel called tho Golden Fleece, "The Rob bers," a drama by Schiller, jmd "Tlie Tower of Ncslo," translated into German for the benefit of the country peoplo. Delighted at tlie idea of such a treat, I hastened to seek an inn, but having gone twiee around tho village in about ten min utes, I found there was but tbo one, where the performance was to take place. I was vexed at this : I would rather riot havo seen tho actors before they appeared in their respective characters on the stage. Of course I should have to dine with them, which would destroy all*tho illusion ; be sides tho country people had assembled in crowds at tho door, and stared with one open mouths at tho actors who bad just arrived. However, I contrived to elbow my way through them, and entered the principal room of tho Golden Fleece. There, a strango sight met my eyes.— All the inns or hotels in Alsace are nearly the same. They havo very long rooms fur nished on each side with wooden tables and bonches. I In tho middle of tlio apart anent stands an enormous cast-iron stove. But, at that moment, the room was in the greatest disorder. It was completely filled with peoplo, who pressed round a ta ble, on which lay extended the body of a man, who had hardly boon dead an hour, as tbo blood yet streamed from a deep wound in tho heart and inundated the floor. Everybody talked, screamed and gestic ulated, and the host, Maitro Kehl, tho loudest of all. I at last understood that •the deceased had killed himself, which had much shocked the order and regularity of •tho inhabitants of Kirsclicim, where ,as the principal brewer informed mo such a thing as suicide had not happened for three hundred years at least. The magistrate at length arrived, took cognizance of tho event, dispersed the mob, and ordered tho deceased to be removed to the apartment which ho had occupied previous to the event. Then I took an opportunity of asking the host if he could accommodate me with a room. "I have not one left," said he; "the whole place is taken up by Maître Bpeil mann and his company, and that is no tri fle ; notwithstanding, they are vory accom odating peoplo. and five in the same room. They have taken all, oven the barn, where the splendid performanoo you havo advertised is to take place. ¥ "Yes," said I ; but tho dead porson_ can you not give mo tho room ho pied?" And where would you have me put the seen ocou body, sir? Besides, bis time will not up till to-morrow ; you cun take bis room thou, if you will do me that honor. By the-by," said bo, turning to bis wife, ''you mnst sock for some one to sit up with the body." And the host, politely saluting me, pla ced a chair for me at the fire, saying din would ho served immediately. I was still undecided as to whether I should remain, as I knew not where to pro cure a bed after the performance was over, when the hostess returned, to let her hus band know that no one could bo persuaded to sit up with tlie dead on aceount of his not having died like a Christian. "What nonsense !" said the host ; "with all their religion they don't do what true religion commands them. I tell you what, wife, I've a great mind to sit up myself." "Yes, truly," said the wife, "it would well suit you, after being harassed all day and all tho evening, to spend the night in prayer ; besides, do you even know one by heart l for, as to reading them, you know you can't." "Dei Colt /" saiil tho host, irritated at this sarcasm, "you'd better do it yourself then, wife ; for there isn't in all the village a tongue equal to yours for putting up a small prayer for your neighbors, whether for or against them - " The quarM began to bo rather hot. " Well! I will sit up," saidl, " if you will have a good fire lighted, and give me a better chair than this one." The host and his wife looked at the greatest astonishment. " Will you really, sir ?" said tho host ; well, that is very kind of you ; you may reckon on a good fire, a comfortable arm chair, a largo Biblo, and," added he, in a whisper, "acapital pipe, and some real l'orto-Rico, accompanied by a bottle of my very best brandy !" What had chiefly determined rendering this service to the dead was, it must be confessed, the following night was coming on, tho Id ner me in mc in reason ; rain poured in torrents, and I considered that to pass tho night in a comfortable private apartment and an easy chair would be far preferable to tho public room of a country inn and a wooden bench. After supper I withdrew to the room where I was to remain till the .next mor ning, thinking no more about the theatri cal treat I had promised myself. I was tired, and was glad to avail myself of a little quiet. The servant, who held in her hands two candles, conducted me to tho first floor, where, at the end of a long corridor, she pointed to a door, and giving of tlie lights, " Gut nacht, heer. and resolutely entered tho mo one away with a laconic I smiled at her fears room. The apartment was very simple.—How ever, the host had kept his word ; a good fire burnt in tho stove ; ou a table stood all that he had promised me ; and between the tabic and tho stove I found a comfor table arm-ehair. They had even carried their attention so far as to have placed a ;ood mattress in a corner of tho room. I immediately installed myself in the arm-ehair, my feet on tho stove, my el bow on the table, my head upon my hand. Tho rain still fell in torrents ; the wind bowled as it rushed through the high trees which surrounded tho honse.' Tho fire roared continuously in tho stovo, nnd y__ all was so calm and still in that room that I could almost distinguish tho beating of uiy heart. Tlie curtains of tho bed" which tbo body bad boon placed, drawn, and I could distinguish nothing but ono hand, which appeared between an opening in them. I quickly turned away my looks and thoughts from the sad spectacle, lighted a pipe, and tried the brandy provided for mo by the-host; it was indeed excellent ; and whether it was tho cold, the fatigue, or tho loneliness I felt on the occasion I have certainly never lasted anything like it since ; and found myself, much to my surprise, helping my self a second and a third time to a beaker of the enticing spirit, I soon became lost in thought. The sad event whicli had happened present to my imagination. I asked self, who oan this on wore was ever my man ho, and why had lie destroyed himself. Then I considered the strangeness of my position, alono in that chamber of death. In seeking to solve these thoughts, my eyes had gradu ally become closed, and 'I still reflected irofoundly, when I heard a slight rust ing in the apartment. - I 'opened my eyes with caution, and looking towards the bed, behold a most strange sight. The cur tains had been withdrawn, and I could now seo tho entire of tho body, head of the bod, on each side pended numerous vestments' of all forms and colors and two singular beings, strangely dressed, stood on either side of .the departed. Tho ono to the right was light, fair, and of pleasant countenance and manners ; while tnc othor was dark and ill-favored, his dress and hair were black, and the skin of his. face a dark bronze oolor, forming a complete contrast to the other porsouago. . I could not doubt it. I was in tbo iresenco of the good and bad angels who îad presided over the actions of this man during his lifetime. I must allow that I trembled a little, wlion I saw them both direct their looks towards me, and each dace a fingef on their lips to impede si onoe. I was Borry for this, for I should have dono my utmost to retain a reminis ccnoo of the celestial language for the ben efit of my friends. However, tho angel and tho devil did not need words to as sist them in their avocation, and seemed quite, to understand each other without tho aid of speech. As maybe supposed, in At the were sus io 1 did not lose one of their gestures, and this is what passed between them : Both of them looked at the departed, and strange, I thought I observed a tear fall from tho good angel's eyes ; he then took down from the wall a shepherd's hat and crook, ornamented with a long rib bon, which appeared to havo once deco rated the neck of somo favorite lamb.— All these were submitted to the inspection of tho dark angel, who gavo them up without any difficulty : but, in his turn, seized a mask, dagger, and a dark cloak, which betrayed much of tho bravo. " Can it be-possible,''- thought I to my self, " that from an honest shepherd this man can have become an assassin ?" Thon I continued to observe the good angel, who took a robber's hat ornamen ted with some handsome feathers ; but the dark one also stretched forth his hand to snatch it. Then a series of gestures followed, which 1 could nut .understand. At last all was settled by tho good an gel's keeping the feathers, and the other the hat. Finally, all tho objects which had belonged to this man, and which seemed to attach themselves to every ac tion of his lifo, were submitted to a se vere examination by these strango visi tants. Tho bad angel seemed to triumph. But I was overjoyed on at last beholding tho heap of spoils which represented the good actions of the departed accumulate to a considerable extent ; and, when the strange division was concluded, both the strange beings looked at mo once more. I quickly closed my eyes, pretending still to sleep. Hearing no suspicious noise, I opened them a few moments after. The curtains of the bed wore again closed as before. I was once more alone with the dead. When I awoke the next morning, the glorious sun inundated the room with its joyous flood of light. More than ever the events of the night appeared to me like a dream; and yeti had seen all so distinctly ; I remembered even to the most trifling gesturo of the two appari tions. My host now entered and asked if I would take breakfast. After this repast, which I made in si lence, I again set out on my journey.—— About a mile from Kirkscheim I met the troop of strolling players who had per formed tho night before in tho village._I I soon passed them, and turned round to observe at my ease tlioir curious assem blage. I could not restrain a violent fit of laughter on beholding at their head, mounted on two old broken-down horses the good and bad angel of tho night be fore, who chatted amicably, and at that moment were taking a pinch of snuff to gether. Tho noise I made iu laughing caused them to look at me. No doubt they recognized me, for the fair one held his box to mo, saying : " Will you take some?" " Thank you," said T ; " but you gave me a fine fright last night and in two words I related to them what I had seen and what I had conjectured. They both laughed with all their heart, and the dark one observed : " Sir, you were nearly right; for poor Jacob played all sorts of characters, and played them all well. We last night par ted his wardrobe between us. I play the robbers; and Jolivet, here, the lovers; but for all that," said lie addressing his comrado, V you might as well havo let me have the feathers." Yes, it is quite true ; all the illusion of the stage vanishes on a too close inspec tion of actors. The Human Figure. Tho proportions of the human figure are striety mathemat ical. The whole-figure is six times the length of the foot. Whether tho form be slender or plump, tbo rule holds good; any deviation from it is a departure from the highest beauty in proportion. The Greeks mode all their statues according to this rule. The face, from the highest point of the forehead, where the hair begins, to the chin, is one-tentli of the whole statue. Tbo band, from tho wrist to tlio middle fingor, is tho samo. From tho top of tho chest to the highest poiut in tho forehead a seventh. If the length of tho face, from tho roots of tho hair to tho chin, be divided into threo equal parts, the first di division determines the place where tlie eyebrows meet, and tho second tlio place of tbo nostrils, tho height from tho feet to the top of the head, is the samo as the distance from tho extremity of tho fing when the arms aro extended. ua ers excuses for Smoking. In the reign of James the I, of tobacco hating notoriety, tbo boys of school acquired the hqbit of smoking, jind indulged in it nightand day, using tho most ingenious ex pedients to oonceal tho vioo from their mas ter, till one luckless evening,- when tbo imps were huddled together round the fire of tlioir dormatory, involving oach other in vapors of their own creating, loi in burst the master and stood in awful dignity be fore them. ■How now' quotlrthe dominie to the first lad ; ' how dare you to be smokingjtobacco ?" 'Sir,' said the boy, I am subject to head aches, and a pipe takes off the pain.' 'And you, and you, and you?' inquired the pedagogue, questioning every boy in bis turn. One had a "raging tooth ; " another col ; the third a cough ; in short they all had something. 'Now sirrah,' bellowed the doctor, to the last boy,' what do you smoko for ?' Alas ! all exeuscs were exhausted ; but tho interrogated urchin putting up bis pipe, after a foarful whiff, and looking up in his master's face, said in a whining, hy pocritical tone, "Sir I smoke for corns r is io tear hat up I as AMESTY PKOCL.AMATIOJV. By the President of the United States A PROCLAMATION. a it of Whereas in tho month of July, Anno Domini 1861, in accepting the condition of civil war which was brought about by insurrection and rebellion in several of tho States which constitute the United States, the two bouses of Congress did solmnly declare that war was not waged on the part of the government in any spirit of oppression nor for any purpose of conquest or subjugation, nor for any purpose, of overthrowing or interfering with tho rights or established institution of tho States, but only to defend and maintain the prcmacy of the constitution of tho Uuited States, and to preserve the Union with all tho dignity, equality and rights of the several States unimpaired, and that soon as tho3C objects should bo accomp lished the war. on tho part of tho govern ment should cease ; and Whereas tho President of tho United States has heretofore, in tho spirit of that declaration ami with tho view of securing for it ultimate and completo effect, forth several proclamations offering, ncsty and pardon to persons who had been or were concerned in tho aforenamed hellion, which proclamations, however, wore attended with prudential reservations and exceptions then deemed necessary and proper, and which proclamations spoctively issued on tho 8th day of De cember, 1863; on the 26th day of March, 1864; on tlie 29th day of May, 1865; and on tho 7th September, 1867 ; and Whereas tho said lumcntablo civil has long since altogether ceased, with acknowledgement by the States of tho prcmacy of the federal constitution and of tho government thereunder, and there longer exists any reasonable ground to prehend a renewal of the said civil su S' ! am I' were re an 8U no ap war, or any foreign interference, or any unlaw ful resistance, by any portion of tho peo ple of any of the States, to the constitution and laws of the United States ; anL Whereas it is desirable to reduce standing army and to bring to a speedy termination military occupation, martial law, military tribunals, abridgment of the freedom of speech and of the press, and suspension of the privilege of tho habeas rvus and of tlie right of trial by jury, such encroachments upon our free institu tions in time of poaoo being dangerous to public liberty, incompatible with the in dividual rights of the citizen, contrary to the genius and spirit of our republican form of government, nnd exhaustive of tho national resources ; and AVhereas it is believed that amesty and pardon will tend to secure a completo and universal establishment and prevalence of municipal law and order, iu conformity with the constitution of the United States, and to remove all appearances or resump tions of a retaliatory or vindictive policy on tlie part of the government, attended by unnecessary disqualifications, pains, penalties, confiscations and disfranchise ments; and on the contrary, to promote and procure complete fraternal reconcilia tion among tho whole peoplo, with duo submission to the constitution and laws : Now, therefore, bo it known, that I, Andrew Johnson, President of the United States, do, by virtuo of tho constitution and in tho name of tho people of the United States, hereby proclaim and de clare unconditionally ami without tion to all and every person who directly or indirectly participated in the late insur rection or rebellion, excepting such per son or persons as may bo under present ment or indictment in any court of the United States having competent jurisdic tion upon a charge of treason or other fel ony, a full pardon and amesty for the offence of treason against the United States, or of adhering to their during the late civil war, with restoration of all rights of property except slaves, and except also, as to any property of which any person may havo been le gally diveBted by the laws of tho Unitod States. In testimony whereof I have signed theso presents with iuy hand, and have caused tho seal of the Uuited States to be hereunto affixed. Done at the city of Washington, the 4th day of July, iu the year of our Lord thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, and of the independence of the United States of America the 93d. the c<> reserva enemies as to nil. Andrew Johnson. By the President : Wm. H. Seward, Sect, of State. A gentleman once wrote to a lady whom he had offended by bis dilatoriuess, and who bad for a long time refused to speak to him. His letter was earnest in suppli cation for forgiveness. It concluded with "Ono word from your lips will make me happy. When and where will you speak it?" Her answer was; "NextWednes day, at the altar.' "I will bo there. Aunt Susan, about seve is unanimously on man Iu answer ho replied, nty years of ago, i. She says :— "Suppose all the men wore in one country and all the the women in another, with a big river between them ! Good gracious ! what lots of poor women would bedrowned. in of Where was Bishop Latimer burned ? asked a Sunday school teacher. 'Joshua knows,' said a little girl, at the foot of the class. "Well" said tho teacher, "if Joshua knows ho may tell." "Iu the fire," said Joshua, looking very grave. An exchange declares that "girls who an't handsome hate those who are—while those who are handsome hate one another." Temple of Diana at Ephesus. The temple of Diana at Ephesus was counted as one of the seven wonders of the world, on account of its extent and mag nificence, at tho period of the birth of Christ. The same rank was held by an earlier temple than that which existed at this time. Xerxes, tho Persian king, who destroyed tho idol temples wherever he came, spared that one on aceount of its ex treme magnificence and grandeur, but it was set on fire, on tho night Alexander the Great w'as born, and burned to the ground. This was done by a man named Érostratus, who confessed done tho deed to immortalize his name by the destruction of this wonderful building. To baulk him, it was decreed that his name should never be mentioned ; but such a decree served only to make his name more memorable. Alexander offered to re build the temple, on condition that the Ephesians would allow his name to be placed in front ; but this offer was respectfully declined. The materials saved from the fire were sold, and the women parted with tlioir jewels ; and the money thus raised served to carry on the work till other con tributions came in. These wero sent most liberally from all parts, and in a short time amounted to an immense treasure. The new temple stood between tho city and the port, and was built at the base of a mountain, at the head of a marsh, which situation is said by Pliny to have been chosen as less liable to earthquakes. It however had the effect of doubling the ex penses ; for vast.charges were incurred in making drains to convey the water that came down the hill into tho morass and the Cayster. It is said that in this work so much stone was used as exhausted all the quarries of the country. To secure tho foundations of the conduits and sowers, which were to support the weight of so prodigious a struc ture, Pliny says that there wero laid beds of charcoal, well rammed, and over them others of wool and that two huudred and twenty (or as some copies read, one hun dred and twenty) years elapsed before this grand temple was completed by the contri butions of all the cities of Asia (Proper ?) It was four hundred and twenty-five feet in length and two hundred and twenty in breadth, supported by one hundred artd twenty-seven pillars sixty feet high, of which thirty-six were ouriously sculptured and the rest polished. The pillars wero said to have been tho gifts of as many kings, and the bas-reliefs on one of them were wrought by Scopas, one of the most famons of ancient sculptors : and the altar was almost entirely the work of Praxiteles. The first architect and he who appears to havo planned tho work, was Dinocrates, who built the city of Alexandria, and who offered to carve Mount Athos into a statue of Alexander. There are many ooins ex tant which bear the different Roman em perors, and exhibit on the reverse tho tem ple, with a frontispiece of two, four; six, and even eight columns. It was despoiled and burnt by the Goth', in the reign of the emperor Gallienus. The glory of Ephesus nnd its temple must, how ever, havo been dimmed before this by tho progress of Christianity. The City dep ded for its wealth upon its temple, wh attracted from all parts multitudes of wor shippers. Tho people knew this ; and hence their clamor on tho preaching of the gospel by St. Paul, ami the effect of tho re presentation made by Demetrius. The city and teniplo rose and flourished and fell to gether. Tho former is now an inconsider able village ; and of the latter nothing mains but some fragments of ruin and some broken columns. The heathen Goddess Diana was prima rily the moon, but was worshipped under a variety of names, characters and forms. The same people sometimes worshipped the different qualities attributed to her, by dif ferent names and different impersonations. She was the Goddess of hunting, of travel ling, of chastity, of childbirth, of enchant ments, &c. nnd in her different characters she was Diana, Luna, Lucina, ïlccato, Proserpine, besides many other names de rived from the places iu which she worshipped. Her most usual figure was that of a hun tress, with a orc6ccnton her head, and at tended by dogs. But tho Ephesian Diana was differently represented from any other, being figureil with tiers—intimating that sho was at Ephesus regarded as Nature, the mother of mankind. The image wore a sort of a high-crowned cap or mitre; nnd its feet were involved in the garments.— Notwithstanding what the " town clerk" says, in Acts, chapter xix, verso 35, about "the imago which fell down from Jupiter," it seems that Musianus, who had been three times consul, learnt at Ephesus that this fapions image was tho work of a very an cient sculptor named Canetias. It seems to havo been an ugly little statuo, made of several pieces of wood— generally said to be ebony, but Musianus thought vine-wood—which precludes the otherwise possible idea that the material might have fallen from the sky in the form of an aerolite, and showB that the priests availed themselves of the remote antiquity and the uncouth form of this image to per suade the people of its divine origin. of of that ho had ! on of Of at ton of sell IV was the gal, and The bor a San on at Too Civil by Halt. —A learned Irish judge, among other peculiarities, had a habit of beggiug pardon on overy occasion. Once his favorite expression was employed in a rather singular manner. At the close of tlio assize, as he was about to loavo the bcncli, the officer of tbo oourt reminded him that he had not passed sentenoe of death on one of the criminals, as ho had intended. "DpjH! «)«,*' said his lordqhip, "J reaWy heg his pardon —bring him in " was the of an at he ex it the by his re of It in of (Jjacfs and «^figure». The Vainc of Gold nud Silver* Public attention lias been called of late to the probabilities of the depreciation of gold as a medium of exchange, owing to the idcrcased production during tho past fifteen years. After taking into considera tion the increase in population, the differ ent uses to which the precious metals are applied, and the annual wear of coin, which averages only one-tenth of ono per cent, is estimated that the supply of gold from California and Australia and other gold-producing regions is far in excess of tho amount requisite to keep its value the same as .it was ton years ago. Apply to gold the rules which govern the price of every other commodity, that the increase in the supply diminishes the value, and it must depreciate iu its purchasing power. It is a fact worthy of notice that in Hol land and Belgium tho standard of value is silver and that in California, the greatest gold-producing couutry of tho world, long ieascs of real estate are made not for gold, but for the current price, at time of pay ment, of so many bushels of wheat. The estimated amount of gold in exist ence at the commencement of the Christian era was $427,000,000. af America, in 1492, this amount had di minished to Ii57,000,000. In 1000 the amount had risen $105,000,000 ; in 1700, to $351,000,000 ; in 1800, to $1,251, 000,000 ; in 1843, to $2,000,000,000 ; in 1853, to $3,000,000,000; in 1800, to $4,000,000,000. mont of the Christian era to the discovery of America it is estimated that gold had been mined to tho amount of $3,800,000, 000; from that date to the close of 1842, $2,800,000,0"0 ; to 1800, ltussia adds $740,000,000. and California and Austra lia, $2,000,000,000. The average nual production from 1843 to 1805 lias been $185,038,888. Of this the Pacific States havo yielded one-third, and Austra lia and New Zealand one-fourth. During tlie same period of eighteen years the silver production amounted to $1,020, 400,000, that of gold being $3,341,500, 000. Tho average yearly yield of silver was $90,022,222 to $185,638,888 of gold. The relative value of gold and silver in the time of Abraham one to eight. Be fore Christ 500, it was 1 to 13 ; A. D. 500, 1 to 18; A. D. 1700, 1 to 15J. This latter ratio continued without much variation till the year 1800. The Califor nia discoveries destroyed the premium gold over silver, and this, together with the heavy drain in Franco for silver in India for silks and other products, put sil ver at a slight premium. Tho statistics in regard to gold coinage are as follows : From 1792 to the close of 1860 the total coinage of the United States amounted to $610,000,000 ; of this total the large proportion of $525,000,000 was coined iu 1859 and I860. France coined in the period extending from 1726 to I860, 7,700,000 francs, of which 4,200,000,000 francs were coined after 1850. Russia coined, from 1850 to I860, 220,000,000 roubles, out of a total coinage since 1664 of 486,000.000 roubles, shows a coinage in ten years from 1850 of £54,000,000 out of £259,000,000 coined since 1603. At the discovery From the cominence a un on Great Britain it on A. of of and ches like A Rare Collection or American Coins. —The Min ing Call, of San Fran cisco, announces that Messrs, lteipton & Bumpus, of 026 Montgomery street, iu that city, have perhaps tho only complete set of American coins iu the hands of pri vate individuals iu the United States. They have the American silver dollar for every year, from 1794 to 1866, half dol lars from 1764 to 1866, quarter dollars from 1796 to 1807, dimes from 1796 to 1861, half dimes from 1790 to 1867, conts from 1723 to 1807, three-eent pieces from 1863 to 1867, and half-cents from 1793 to 1857. This collection has occupied than fifteen years of Mr. llcipton's time, and cost about $20,000. of the rarity of some of the coins we will state that the silver dollar of 1804 cost $950, and Mr. lleipton had, before he succeeded in finding one he could pur chase made an unsuccessful tender of $1, 500 for one in the possession of a gentle man residiug iu Salem, Massachusetts. Of the silver dollars of 1838, only 18 were minted and consequently they are very rare. The silver dollar of 1852 is also very rare and is rated by numismatologists at from $300 to $500. Besides this col lection « American coins, Messrs. Reip ton & Rumpus havo specimens of the coins of nearly all nations, and somo coins over 2,000 years old. Tbo coins are a great curiosity, and their owners could readily sell them for $50,000. As an instance There are about 60,000 Chinamen the Pacifie coast, scattered along from- the Golden Gate to Salt lako, everywhere fru gal, temperate, and industrious, but every where adhering to tlioir oriental peculiari ties. They secure employment in families and in every branch of manufacturing. The more independent engage in trade and mining. In the mining regions they bor 20,000. John usually manages after a few years, to secure a competence, say $600, with which it is oustonmry to return home and be for the rest of lifo an inde pendent gentleman. The better class in San Francisco arc merchants. Some of their stores are magnificent, and sevoral on Saoramcnto street abound with rare works of oriental art. Tho proprietors sit at their desks like prinoes, and display a dignity such as is rare *inong Caucasian tradesmen. on the off chet The aud tho will ken most a tho num National Credit* England owes $4,000,000,000. owe 3*2,500,000,000. We England pays §120,000,000 a year interest. We pay 3150,000,000. England pays three per cent. We pay six. IIow about the cred it of the two countries ? England borrows all she wants at less than half the percent age of tho interest the government of tho United States pays, and tho reason why she docs it is, that she holds the correct idea on the subject of taxation. The screws have been turned as severely a9 England's wealthy creditors will bear, and the total is 3370,000,000 per year. Wo have had to stand $000,000,000. Eng land has 332,000,000,000 of wealth to tax. Wo have not half that back bone of this country was broken in lS()6 r when we raised that big load of $500,000,000; and we show signs of in creasing weakness since that period. At this moment, "our resources" do not per mit us to raise much over half the sum, above mentioned. With all our boasting, the English capitalists know exactly our national calibre. They know exactly our They have a clearer concep tion of tho limit of our credit, a more per fect comprehension of our property-creat ing power, than we ourselves have, for it is their business to study these things, and we have been given a decree in the great national mercantile agency books of tho European capitalists, below that of half a dozen itynnsfciep, which we are pleased to denominate "rotten." It is quite likely that we could not borrow a dollar at six per cent, when Austria could obtain it at Our six per cent, bonds are on the market to-day in Frankfort, with no sales, while those of Austria, pay ing only four per cent, arc sclliug. late of to past are per of the to of it is di in to Thu resources. half that rate. American Manufacture«* It is generally supposed that Great Bri tain surpasses other nations in the amount of her manufactures, and it is undoubtedly true that iu tissues and pig iron she excels all other nations, but we make many things which are not produced in Euglaud, and a close analysis shows that our aggregate of $1,900,0000,000 in 1860, exceeds that of Great Britain. While we consume most of our fabrics at homo, Great Britain sends two-thirds of her tissues and most of her Manufactures make a larger figure in her exports than in ours, but still a larger one in our iuland commerce, which is three-fold the foreign trade of Great Britain. We may concede that she excel* us in tissues of wool, silk, flax and cotton, but we have improved our mechanism and spin two-fifths as much cotton as she does, while in wool we liavo gained on her rapid ly anil must soon surpass her. While she manufactures annually two hundred and sixty millions pounds of wool, we have carried our woolen machinery up to a capacity for two hundred and forty millions, and have but recently introduced the manufactures of muslins, delaines, worsted and buntings. Although Great Britain melts more iron ore than we do, our finished iron is already more than hers, and our boots, shoes, flour, furniture and manufactures of wood exceed her goods of tho same description. America will hence forth be the largest mart both for Agricul ture and Manufactures. iron abroad. Clerical Salaries* Old Peter Cartright, tho pioneer of Methodism in the far West, whose annual salary was fixed at forty dollars, and that not half paid up, will be glad to see that the business of preaching in these lattec days is much more respectable, and lienee it commands better pay. In New York especially, it has reached the acme of re» spoctability und profit. It is stated by the papers of that city that Rev. J. II. D„ Wingfield, of Petersburg, Va. has beea called to the Church of the Holy Saviour, on Twenty-Fifth street, at a salary of $15,000. The call is loud enough, and the reverend gentleman must be unusually deaf if he doesn't hear it at that figure j Dr. Potter, a nephew of the Bishop of N^ A. ork, lately accepted tho care of the souls of those who attend Grace Church, for tho consideration of $8,000 a year and a small white marble palace on Broadway. Dr.. Hall of the Presbyterian Church, comer of Nineteenth street and Fifth avenue, has come all the wav from Dublin to feed tbo flock that worships there, which ho con sents to do for the modest pittance of tea thousand a year, in gold, and a handsome parsonage. Dr. Morgan Dix, of Trinity, receives $12,000 and a house : while tho more popular preachers go up to a higher figura. Dr. Chapin receiving not less than from fifteen to twenty thousand in salary, and the results of outside literary work ; while Henry Ward Becehor's incotno roa ches from twenty to thirty thousand fron», like sources. How to Fix the Clock.— The Country Gentleman contains the following :—When the clock stops, don't tako it to the repair shop till you have tried as follows : Take off the pointers and the faco : take off the pendulum and its wire. Remove the rat chet from the tick wheel and the clock will run-down with great velocity. Let it go. The increased speed wears away the gum aud dust from tho pinions—the clook cleans itself. If you havo any pure sperm oil, put tho least bit on the axlep. Put the ma ohino together, aud nine times in ten it will run just as well as if it had been ta ken to the shop. In fact this is the way most shopmen clean clocks. If instead of a pendulum tho clock has a watch escape meut, this latter can betaken out in an in stant without taking the jrerks apart, anti tho result is the same. ~ '