EDWARD D. HOWARD,
3 itffrkh amilij Sournal, Dfaoffh io rrrbom, iru!tiirf, lifmiturr, (BiYuratian, loral Siifdligrnrr, anHtit Jlrais of tl;t Dai. "
ORB DOLLAR AND FITTT CEXTS
. VOL. 39, NO. 30.
MARCH 21, 1855.
WHOLE NO. 8 008
THE PRESS. ANODE.
The warrior ruled his crimson age
With hrazen helm, and iar, and shield.
And mad Ambition's lust and raj.
Made Earth a reekmR battle-field ;
And thronei were Iwilt and iroled with swords,
Dli man was scoursel wih chain and rod.
And kings, and pricau, and fradal lord
Slata prostrate millionstrod.
But new snore ahall steel-clad hand
Alone to rule the world have power ;
A mightier spirit walks the lard
In eoort add camp, in ball and bower
The Sort of Man 1 unchained at tenets.
In Reason's name and freedom a might.
To ore the despot's iron strength.
And end Oppression's awful night !
The Soul of Van ! that as';s nor sword.
Nor trump, nor plume, nor banner s train,
To amite the tyrant, king, and lord.
And give the nations life again
But shall, in freedom's name unbind
The world, and smite its woe and wrongs,
With TnoroHT the jewel of the mind !
And Srxav the glory of the tougue !
.nd, wide as earth, the Piw shall hear
That thought and speech on wings of name.
Till facrr and FnanaLts's names shall share
A more than king or warrior's fame
And Man rejoicing freed at length
8hall bless the l'niirrai's Ast, that gare
Bis thought and speech immortil strength.
To free Earth's serf, and Error's slare!
[Written for the Chronicle and Transcript.]
THE LONE OLD MAN.
BY TAM GLEN.
Poor auld man, I see him there,
In his usua'l place an chair.
By the fire.
An' his eye an' troubled brow.
Bear the mark o. sorrow now.
Deep an' dire.
'Mong his locks that erst were Mack,
May be seen Times Hirer track,
Plain an' clear.
An' the luster of is eye.
That was bright in years gone by
Is not there.
An' his step so light an' firm,
When his heart with youth was warm,
. Long ago ;
' Is like the funeral tread.
As we march behind the dead.
Sad an' slow.
An' the tears that freely chase.
One another down his face.
There's a fount o' hidden grief,
Seeking thus, some sma' reiisf,
Yes! with unrelentinghand.
Death has to the spirit land.
Call'd his wife ;
Who was well content' to share.
Ilka sorrow, joy an care.
O' his life.
And his mind oft wanders back.
O'er Ufes rugged thorny track.
To the time ;
When the started side by side,
An lifes cares an ills defied,
In their prime.
'Thus each happiness an grief,
" Are enjoyed wiwau fari.t,
O'er again ;
But such reveries are short.
And they seem to merely sport
With his pain.
But there's one sustaining hope.
Seems to baoy his spirits up;
Mid the gloom :
Tis, the time is short at most,
Ere he'U meet the lov'd an' lost,
'Vont the tomb. .
BY TAM GLEN. Choice Miscellany.
THE VACANT CHAIR.
You have all heard of the Chevoit
Mountains. If you have not, they are
a rough, rugged, majestic chain of hills,
which the oet might term the Roman
wall of nature; crowned with snow, bel
ted with storms, surrounded by pastures
and fruitful fields, and still dividing the
northern portion of Great Brittan, from
the southern. With their proud sum
mits piercing the clouds, and their dark
rocky declivities frowning upon the glens
below, they apjiear symbolical of the
wild and untameable spirits of the Bor
derers who once inhabited their sides.
We say you have all heard of the Che
voits and know ihem to be very high
hills, like a huge clasp riveting Englaud
and Scotland together, but we are not
aware that you have heard of Marchlaw,
mold grey looking farm house, substan
tial as a modern fortress, recently and
for aucrht we know to the contrary, is
s ill inhabited by Peter Elliott, lhe pro
prietor of some five hundred surrounding
acres. The boundaries of Peter's farm,,
indeed, were defined neither by fields,
hedges, nor storre walls. A wooden
stake here, and a stone there, at a con
siderable distance from each other, were
the general landmarks; but neither Peter
nor his neighbors considered a few acres
of land worth quarrelling about; and
their sheep frequently visited each otters
pastures in a friendly way, harmoniously
sharing a family dinner, in the same
spirit as their masters made themselves
free at each others tables.
Peter was placed in very unpleasant
circumstonces, owing to the situation of
Marchlaw House, which, unfortunately
was built immediately across the "ideal
line," dividing the two kingdoms; and
his misfortune was, that being born up
on it, he knew not whether he was an
Englishman, or a Scotchman. He could
trace his ancestral line no farther back
than his great grandfaiher, wlo, it ap
peared from the family Bible, had, to
gether with his grandfather and father,
claimed M irehlaw as his birth-place.
They, however, were not involved in the
aame perplexities as -their descendant.
The parlor was distinctly acknowledged
lo be in Scotland, and two- thirds of the
kitchen were as certainly allowed to be
in England; his three ancestors were born
in the room over the parlor, and there
fore were Scotchmen beyond question;
but Peter, unluckily being brought into
the world before the death of his grand-
father, his psreats oi.jpied a room im -
mediately over the debateable boundary
line which cross?d the kitchen. The
room, though scarcely eight feet square,
was evidently situated between the two
countries; but no one being able to asccr
tain what portion belonged to each, Pe
ter, after many arguments and alterca
tions of the subject, was driven to the
disagreeable altei native of confessing he
knew; not wht countryman he was.
What rendered the confession more pain
ful was, that it was Peter's highest am
bition to be thought a Scotchman. All
his arable land lay on the Scotch side ;
his mother was collaterally related to the
Stuarts, and few lamilies were more an
cient, or respectable than the Elliotts.
Peter's speech, indeed, betrayed him to
be a walking partition between the two
kingdoms, and a living representation of
the Union; for in oneword he pronounced
the letter r, with-the broad, masculine
sound of the North Briton, and in the
next, the liquid burr of the Northumbri
ans, Peter or, if you prefer it Mr. Peter
Elliott, Esq., of Marchlaw, in the coun
ties of Northumberland and Roxburgh,
was for many years, the best leaper, run
ner, and wrestler between Wooler and
Judburgh. Whirled from his hand, the
ponderous bullet whizzed through the
air like a pigeon on the wing; and the
best putter on the Borders, quailed from
competition. As a feather in his grasp,
he seized the unwieldly hammer, swept
it round and round his head, accompany-
in with asile limb its evolutions, swiftly
as swallows play around a circle and
hurled it from his hands like shot from a
rifle, till his antagonists shrank back, and
the spectators shouted. "Well done,
Squire ! the Squire foiever!" once ex
claimed a servile observer of tit'es.
Squire! who are ye squiring at?" re
turned Pe'er. " Confound ye ! where
was ye when I was christened Squire?
My name is Peter Elliott; youi man, or
anybody's man, or whatever they like."
Peter.'s soul was free, bounding, and
buoyant as the wind that carolled in a
zephyr, or shouted in a hurricane upm
his native hills; and his body was thir
teen stone of healthy, substantial flesh,
steeped in the spirits of life. He had
long been married, but marriage had
wrought no change upon him. They
who suppose that wedlock transforms
the lark into an owl, offer an insult to
the lovely beings who brighten our dark
est houis with the smiles of affection, and
teach us that that only is unbecoming in
the husband, which is disgraceful in thej
Nearly twenty years had passed
over them; but Janet was s:ill as kind,
and in his
his eyes, as beautiful, as when
3r on him her hand at the sltar ;
and he was still as happy, as generous,
and as free. Nine fair children sat
around their domestic hearths, and one
the youngling of the flock, smiled upon
its mother's knee. Peter had never
known sorrow; he was blest in his wife,
in his children, and in his flocks. He
had become richer than his fathers. He
was beloved by his neighbors, by the til
lers of the ground, and his herdsmen;
yea, no man envied his prosperity. But
a blight passed over the harvest of his
joys, and gall was rained into the cup of
It was on Christmaa-day, and a more
melancholly looking sun never rose on
the 25th of December. One vast, sable
cloud, like a universal pal!, overspread
the heavens. For wc eks had the ground
been covered with clear dazzling snow ;
and as throughout the day, the rain con
tinued its unwearied and monotonous
drizzle, the earth assumed a character
and appearanee melancholy and troubled
as the heavens. LtkeamastiU Mat nan
lost its master, the wind howled mourn-
fully down the glens, and was re-echoed
from lhe caves of the mountains, m the
lamentations of a legion of invisible spir
its. The frowning snow-clad precipices
were instinct wi ll m-tion, as avalanche
upon avalanche, the larger burying the
less, crowded down in their tremendnous
journey to the plain. The simple moun
tain rills had assumed the majesty of riv-
ers ; the broader streams were swollen
into will to rents, and gushing forth as
cataracts, in fury and in foam, enveloped
the valleys in an angry floo 1. But at
Marchlaw, the fire blazed blithely; the
kitchen groaned beneath the loid of prep
arations for a joyful feast ; and glad
faces glided from room to room.
Peter Elliot kept Christmas, not so
much because it was Christmas, as in;
I onor of its being the birthday of Thorn-j
as, his firstborn, who on that day entered
his nineteenth year. With a father's
love, his heart yearned for all his chil-
dren, but Thomas was the pride of his
eves. Uarus Oi anoiopy nau not men
rounfi tnejr way among the Border hills
an,i a, au knew that, although Peter ad-
mitted m spirits within bis threshold, nor
L drunkard at his table, lie was, never-
jtheless, no niggard in his hospitality, his
1 jnvilatio is were accepted without cere
mony. The guests were assembled, uud
the kitchen being the only place .in the
building large enough to contain them,
the cloth was spread from England into
Scotland. On the English end of the
table were placed a ponderous plum pud
ding, studded with tempt it ion, and a smok
ing sirloin ; on Scotland, a savory and
well seasoned haggis, with a sheep's head
and Irotters; w hile the intermediate space
was filled with lhe good things of this
life, common to both kingdoms and to the
The puests from the north, and from
the south were arranged promiscuously.
Every seat w-as filled save one. The
chair by Peter's right hand, lemained un
occupied, lie had raised his hands be
fore his eyes, and besought a blessing on
what wos Liced Ix-fore them, and was
preparing to carve for his visitors, when
his eyes fell upon the vr.cant chair. The
knife dropped upon the table. Anxiety
flashed across his countenance, like an ar
row frcm an unseen hand.
'Janet, where is Thoinns?" he inquired
"hae nane o' ye seen him?" an I without
waiting for an answer, he continued
"How i$ it possible he can be absent at a
time like this ? And on such a day, too!
Excuse me a minute, friends, till I just
step out and see if I can find him. Since
ever I kept this day, as tnony o' ye ken,
he lias always bsen at my right hand, in
that very chair ; and 1 canna think o' be
ginning our dinner, while I see it empty."
"If the filling of the chair be all,"
said a peit young sheep-farmer named
Johnson, I will step into it till Master
"You're not a father, young man,"
said Peter, and walked out of the room-
Minute succeeded minute, but Peter re
turned not. The guests became hungry,
peevish, and gloainy, while an excellent
dinner continued spoiling before them.
Mrs. Elliot, whose good nature was the
most prominent feature in her character,
strove by every possible effort, lo beguile
the unpleasant impressions she perceived
gathering upon their countenaces.
"Peter is just as bad as him," she re
marked, "to hae gon; sa lang when he
kenned the dinner would na keep. And
I am sure Thomas kenned it would be
ready at one o'clock to a minute." And
endeavoring to smile upon a beautiful
black-haired girl of seventeen, who sat
by her elbow, she continued, in an anx
ious whisper, "Did you sec nothing o'
him, Elizabeth, hinny?"
The maiden blushed deeply ; the nues-
tion evidently gave freedom to a tear,
which had, for some time, been an Jun-
willing prisoner in the brighest eyes in
the room; and the monosyllable "No,"
that trembled from her lips, was audible
only to the ear of the enquirer. In vain
Mrs. Elliot despatched one of her chil-
dren ufier another, in quest of their fa
ther Jand brother, they came and went,
rbut brought no tidings more chrering
than the moaning of the hollow wind.
Minutes rolled into hours yet neither
came. She perceived the prouder of her
guests preparing to withdraw, and, ob
serving that Thomas's absence was so
singular and unaccountable, and sa un
like either him or his father, she dinna
ken what apology to make to her friends
for such a treatment , butjt was need
less waiting, and begged they would use
no ceremony, but just begin.
No second invitation was necessary.
Good humor appeared to be restored, and
sirloins, pies, and pastries, and moor,
fowl, began to disappear like the lost son.
For a moment, Mrs. Elliot apparently
parloak in the restoration of cheerfulness,
but a low sigh at her e laow, again drove
the color from her rosy cheeks. Her eye
wandered to the farther end of the table,
and rested on the unoccupied seat of her
husband, and the vacant chair of her
firstborn. Her heart felt heavily within
her ; all the mother rushed into her bo
som, and rising from the table, "what in
the world can be the meaning o' this?"
said she, as she hurried with a troubled
countenance towards the door. Her hus
band met her on the threshold.
" Where hae ye been, Peter?" said
she eagerly, "hae ye teen naething o'
"Naething ! naething !" replied he : "is
he na cast up yet?" and with a melan
choly glance, his eyessought an answer
iu the deserted chair. His lips quivered,
his tongue faltered.
"Gude forgive me!" said he ; "and
such a day for ev en an enemy to be out
in! ' I've been up and down every way
thai lean think on, but not a livrng
creature has seen, or heard tell o' him.
Ye'll excuse me, neebors," he added,
leaving the house : I must awa again,
fcr I canna rest.'
"i. Ken Dy mysen, mu au.ui v...,
' a deceut looking Northumbrian, "that a
j father's heart is a sensitive as the apple
j o his e'e ; and I think we would show
j n want o natural sympathy and respect
j ibr our worthy neighbor, if we didua
' every one get his foot into the stiirup
without loss of time, and assist him in
his search. For, in my rough country
way o' thinking, it must be something
particularly outo' the common that could
tempt Thomas to be o' the missing.
Indeed, I needna say tiinpt, for there
could be no inclination in any way.
And our hills," he concluded, in a low
er tone, "are not ower chuncv in other
respects, besides lhe breaking up o' the
Oh," said Mrs. Elliot, wringing her
hands, "I have had the coming o this
about me for days and days. My head
was growing dizzy with happiness, but
thoughts came stealing upon me like
ghosts, and I felt a lime soughing about
my heart, without being able toatel! the
cause: but the cause is come at last!
and my dear 'Thomas the very staff
and pride o my life, is lost ! lost to me
"I ken, Mrs. Elliot," replied the Nor
thumbrian, "it is an easy matter to say
compose yourself, for them thai dinna
ken what is to feel. But, at the same
time, in our plain, country way o' think
ing, we are aie always ready to believe
lhe worst. I have often heard my father
say, and I've as often remarked it my
self, that, before anything happens to a
a body, there is a something comes over
them, like a cloud before the face o' the
sun : a sort o dumb whisper'ng ab ut
the breast from the other world. And,
though I trust there is naething o' the
k nd in your case, yet, as you observe,
when I find myself growing dizzy as it
wee, with happ'ness, it makes gool the
saying o mother's, pcorbo ly ! Bairns,
bairiiS,' she used to say, 'there is over
much sinking in your hea s to-night ;
we will have a shower before bed-t:me.'
And I never in my born days, saw it
At any other period, Mr. Be Ts dis
sertation on pr sentiments would have
f und a fit:ing text on which to h ing all
the dreams, wraiths, warnings, and mar
vellous circumstances that had been
handed down to the company from the
days of their grandfathers ; but in the
present instance, they were too much oc
cupied iu consultation regarding the dif
ferent routes to be taken in the search.
Twelve horsemen and some half doz
en pedestrians, were seen hurrying in
divers directions from Marchlaw, as the
last faint lights of a melancholy day,
were yielding to the heavy darkness
which appeared pressing in solid masses
down the sides of the mountains. The
wives and daughters of the party were
alone lelt with the disconsolate mother,
, . , , ,
.... , . ' r t ,..."
children to her heart, and told them to
. , .. . , , , , I
weep not, for their brother would soon .
r .... ... !
return; while the tears stoic down her,
, . . ,i - r . i
ClieehS, ttllu tile llllctub ill liei amis mjji.
because its mother wept.
Her friends strove with each other
to inspire hope, and poured upon her
ear wi;h mingled and loquacious con
solation. But one remained silent.
The daughter of Adam Bell, who
sat at Mrs. Elliot's elbow at the table,
had sunk in:o an obscure corner of the
ro-m. Before her face she held a hand
kerchief wet with tears. Her bosom
throbbed convulsively ; find, as occa
sionally her broken sighs burst from
their prison-house, a significant whisper
passed among the younger part of the
Mrs. Elliot approached her, and tak
ing her hand tenderly between both of
hers "Oh, hinny, hinny!" said she,
I "yer sighs gae through my heart like a
knife! An' what can I do to comfort ye?
Come, Elizabeth, my bonny love, let us
hope for the best. Ye see Lefore ye a
sorrowin' mother ! a mother that fondly
hoped to see you an' I c nna say it
an' am ill qualified to give comfort when
my own heart is like furn ice ! but oh!
let us try and r.memLer the blessed por
tion "Whom the Lord loveth, He chas
teneth," an' inward y pray for strength
to say, "His will be done. !"
[Concluded next Week.]
New York letter writer makes the follow
ing comment upan the fallen fortunes of
the celebrated Robert Schuyler:
I passed the other day" the splendid
mansion of Mr. Schuyler, w hose sjupen
duous frauds are so well known. It
was closed and apparently solitary, though
his family still reside there. What a con
trast a few montlii has apparently made
in that family! Its glory is dim. Crowds
no longer assemble in the spacious par
lor; the coaches of the spli ndid and gay
do not line the side-walk; the briliant
lights acd the dashing company no longer
allure the crowd to herd around the curb
stone all is sollitude- Bat w hat a les
son docs this event teach. Mr. Schuyler
had iwo chachtcrs. In business, on
change, at his rocms in the Astor, he was
known as the high-minded, honorable,
successful, pure-minded man, one of
whom N?w York was proud, of whom
bhe delighted to honor. Now como with
me into one of the least prttendin j streeis
iu New York. This hou?e is as un-n.
tending as the street. Mr. Spicer lives
here. Let us enter Mrs. Spicer and a!
family of chidren from 19 years and un
der, compose the household. It is said
to l a a singular family. Mr. Spicer is a
singular man. No one ever sees him.
The butcher, the milkman, the landlord,
din't know him. Mrs- Spicer does all
the business. Mr. Spicer comes in late;
he goes away eary in the morning. He
i a business man; he has so much busi
ness that he is never seen in his family.
Remain there day aud night, and you will
never see Mr. Spicer. The daughters
become young laies. They are all edu
cated. They go out into society, but no
one Knows meir lamer. Jir. oaiccr s
name is not in the business director.C.
So have this family lived for tweuty years
in lhe heart ef New-York! At length the
elder Miss Spier is engaged to a most
worthy man. It is needful to gain the
consent of Mr. Spicer, that the marriage
may take place. A time is appointed
and the expectant son-in-law is place-d
face to face with Nr. Spicer. He is told
by the father himself that his name is not I
Spicer, but is Mr. Sichuyler; that the
mother of his daughter is not a w ife; but
if thf daughter is taken in marriage the
mother shall be weded. The double act
is consumate 1; the veil is removed; New
Yoik is aiiat d for a moment by the dis-cloi-uri
s; un elegani house is taken on
Tvventy-seconD street, and the family is
launch) d on the wave of fashionable life.
All the world knws the sequel With
so rotten a foimd.itiou, how could the su
[Concluded next Week.] THE PACIFIC AND THE ATLANTIC
[Concluded next Week.] THE PACIFIC AND THE ATLANTIC OR THE DOOR WAYS OF THE SEAS
Jorlnday morning, says the iNew lork
A canal across the Isthmus is an old
sto y. In January, 1835, the right of
way was granted for this snd, and in
1836, Col, Biddle obta;nad a charier,
with the privilege of building a r.ilway
instead. But he died, and this and oth
er efl -rts failed.
In June 1840, the Panama Railroad
Co. was organized under a charter from
New Y'oik. Next year a contract was
made between New Gienida, and J ihn
L. Stephens, for this company. In June,
1850, the first ground was broken on the
road; in March, '51 trains were run over
to Gatun, seven m les in July to Barba
cona, twenty three miles; in February,
'54, the rail wai laid to Obispi, thirty
one miles thence to Panama whole
distance 48 miles.
The formal op ming of the Road took
place Feb. 26th.
On the 15th ult., the New York Party
.... ., c f
reached Aspinwall, amid the faring or
r ... ,T . j
rann-,nnd irenerftl rei JlCinir. .MeXtdaV.
day morning, says the IN ew York
Times correspondent, a little before nine,
our party, with invited guests, left for
The car we occupied was a new one
and well adapted to the climate, the
bottom and back of the seats being of
cane, and consequently very cool. In
half an hour we passed the Chagres at
UralUn, HI wuicil oiauuu a Lituuiuai mwu
had been erected, made of the trees and
bright flowers of the .ountry. We kept
in sight of the R ver, against whose rap
id current so many have toiled on their
way to the land of gold. At Barbacoa
we crossed the bridge, 500 feet long the
river is now small and insignificant, but
the adjoining land shows what it is when
swollen by lhe rains of the rainy season.
We soon arrived at Matachun about
thirty arilvs from Aspinwall and here
the train was stopped, and we all procee
ded to the summit of a steep hill, where
was laid the corner s:one of a monument
in honor of Stephens, Aspinwall, and
L'hauncey, the original grantees of the
Right of Way, and to wTiom -o much is
due. A more suitable spot could not be
sel xte l. On every side i he most superb
seen' ry; lofty hills around you, from o e
of which, at a distance from the railroad,
can be reen both oceans, while at your
feet are two rivers, one rapidly hasten
ing on the Atlantic and the other to the
Pacific, each to announce, as it were, the
completion of lhat tie which is to bind to
gether these vast sea. An address was
delivered by Judge Bowliu, the newly
appointed Minister to New Grenada.
Alter this ceremony, the party pro
ceeded to Panama, where banquets and
revelry, speeches and toasts followed, all
assisting in celebrating the day. A wri
ter speaking of the difficulties of making
the road, says :
At about a dozen miles from Aspinwall
we pass d the last swamp, the filling in
of which had cost an incalculable amount
of labor and disheart ning exertion, but
which now presents a solid and sufficient,
ly secure appearance. In this swamp
Col. Tottcn, when the forest growth first
cleared away, preparatory to laying th
track, proceeded a short distance, travel
ing in a manner contrasting strongly with
the mode now afforded by the railroad.
Finding his mule coul 1 not get on, he
abandoned the animal, and stripping off
his clothes tied them around his neck.
Leaping from fallen tree to falh n tree,
swinging himself from branch to branch
scrambl'nr in mud and water oftentimes
up to his shoulders, he, after severa1
hours succeeded in making his way
Col. Totten, the Engineer, received
"all honors"' as lhe man, with Center and
the engineers, who accomplished the
great woik, amid difficulties almost in
surmountable. A writer says :
We were much amused on our arrival
at the station at Panama, in witnessing
the embarkation of the passengers for
California. The s'eamer is oblige! to
anchor about two miles from high w ater
mark, and the passengers and their bag
'a"e are carried to the ship in small
boats. They are generally cairied on
the backs of negroes from the beach to
the boats, and yu can well imagine what
an amusing scene it is to a spectator, es
pecially when a larger wave than usual
comes rolling in and dashes on some
por unfortunates. The n?ros arc
hurrying hither and thither, jabbering
every language under the sun all anx
ious to secure a dime. But, with all
their eagerness, they are unwilling to
overwork themselves, as on-? poor fellow
of our party found to his dismay and
a i usement. He csorted to the beach,
with all gallantry, a f male friend, whose
weight was not far from 200 ; and on ar
rivio"' n r-tir the boat, he overheard a ne-
trnexo'aim, in bid Sp nish, that no one
man could carry sue i a lo id as that
and then to he obliged lo explain to his
Ir end that she would be obli-ed to em-
ral'iv th shoulders of two negroes, in or-
d.r to t saVy on the bwt !
The party returned to AspLiwall n
the 17.h, an I .-ailed the next day for
New Y.irk, where they arrived on the
From the Mahoning Free Democrat.
It was my privilege a few nights since
to watch by the bedside of a friend one
whav-hours on earth are almost num
bered. Pulmonary consumption, lhat be
guiling yet hopeless disease, had rapidly
reduced him from an ambitious and prom
ising youth to an emaciated and death
waitiii" invalid. The grim monster had
already marked the countenance of his
victim with thai peculiar expression which
belongs to the dead, and which makes the
journey to the "long home" a mere grad
uil transition. Tne sunken cheek and
temple, the open mouth and fallen chin,
the quick and labored breathing, the pal
lid brow and features, occasionally flushed
by excitement, all told of dissolution.
The eye alone was undimmed, and un
change! except by its seeming enlarge
ment, as if to give the soul, through its
windows, a clear view of approaching
death. Calmly was this approach await
ed ; it was neither desired nor dreaded.
A hovering angel was by his bedsidi
l)vinr mother, that natural nurse, was
there to ease the pains ot a last uiness
by gentle words and tender deeds. Oh .
the look of affection with which she viewed
her dying son, and how readily the waters
of grief found vent as she remembered
that she reformed the same labors ol
kindness in the same room, and upon the
sams couch, for a husband and father,
who years ago had died of the same dis
ease. As I saw this exhibition of ma
ternal love and grief, a prayer did go up
that such a hand and such a love might
give me support upon a dying bei. me
prayer was fairly uttered ere 1 remem-
bered that no maternal voice could ever
again say to mo "farewell," that at the
eaily age of ten I followed a mother to
her grave. i
But to return to my sick friend It
evening-Sabbath even.ng-and th.;
pi-ms mother prepared tne retiring iamny
fA ilx.ir roi hr evening worship. S:ie
opened the Bible, an I read the 14:h chap
ter of John's Gospel one of the very
b -st in all th good book, coinm-ncii'g
"Let not your hearts be troubled. " Rea
der, weie you ever re nindel by some
casual incident like this, of some tender
-II--.: 1 ,nA.-t r.-n-i-rnltiiri ?" r Ci-iH iA
recouecuo,. - -
spot of sunshine on your path m the far
a:. ...... ,h lihni nw nnn HManrA
had almost hidden from the view ! Thus
was I reminded, ami it came npm me
like a flash of light into a long darkened
. I .. .., !,.,
TOO II. iUl DeCaUStr I H.J ivh Ulirn .can
- f. , . .1 .
this same portion ot &jnpture, oui mai
its present reading was so similar to one
, , "
of lon,T ao.
When I was a mere boy it was madejed,
my duty to wateh, day after day, by the
bedside e f a tlear brother, who has long
since gone to his rest, and who was a hop-
less i.ivalid for verv many weary years,
He was a pious, good brother, and every
day it was my privilegs to read to him
from the Bible in a Io-wUiper, ( for he
could not endure loud reading
sat ion.) And oh! how often I have whis
pered to him lhe 25 h chapter of JoJin
Itwas a favorite chsp'cr, I ecause of it-
nreeionq nrnmisps. and lender assurances!
of Christ's love to his followers. And I
often by his direction I marked with pen-1
cil the most consoling of these passages
lor frequent reading ; and the old Bible to
this day bears the evidences of a child's
handling and marking, not only at this
chapter, but throughout lhe book. And
what a look of pleasure would illumine
his countenance as I rend those dear
words of Christ, such as, "In my Father's
house are many mansions," I am about
lo leave you, but "I will come again and
receive yon unto myself, that where I
am there ye may be also." "And what
soever ye ask in my name, that I will
do." "I will pray the Father that He
will give you another Comforter." "1
will . not leave yon comfortless, I will
come to you. 1 hese, and such as these,
were dear words to that brother, and he
rested upon them as confidingly as a babe
rests in the arms of a mother, and prayed
that Christ would soon "receive him to
Himself." The reading of these Scrip
tures, and the confidence thus bestowed
upon them, made a deep, a very deep im
pression on my young heart, and now,
after years of orphanage, and wandering
and sin, the reading of them by this
mother to her dying sou affected me ex
ceedingly. It seemed to drive away the
shadow that intervened between the pres
ent and thep tst, letting the sunshine once
more upon my beclouded heart, and again
in imagination, I sat by the side of my
dear brother, reading to him from the
Bible, and weeping in sympathetic joy
al the pleasure which the words gave
him. I w)ull nit have the mem ry of
that scene obliterated for a world, for
when my young friend is gone to the
"city of the dead," with this memory
bright in my pathway of the past, and his
spirit like another star, beckoning from
abovf!, how can I miss the way ? These
lights will ever guide me. ' J.
[For the Chronicle.]
qiiesion now and sny never unt;i
ifijf fiifu, feyer Qye , enter ;l0
q) etern.,i Here are some
j M Qfu prtpers what may the9e ba ?
Wnispering f 9Urely, and peeping
up through the pencil marks are faintly
JibIe a ,ew name8 and disconneclpd n
was uamf.s j had a,mos
Ah, well I love to gaze on them when
all alone ; for they take me far back into
the dreamy past and wake all the music
of memory there. When shadows deep'
en around my pathway, when affections
nurtured in the heart and fondly cherished
prove traitors, when I am weary of life
and the world I turn to them and they
bring to remembrance many things that
were, but have passed away with the ar
dent anticipations of earlier youth. They
take me back in dreams to innocent
laughing childhood, when not a cloud of
sorrow or distrust had thrown a shadow
on life's sunny way. They bring to my
languid heart those I remember to have
loved when the morning of life wasyoung,
Let me see I have a pale faded flower.
Iu name is Forret-me-not. Its recalls
the time when a fearless child I roved
with Lillian along the wild-wood walks,
seeking its beautiful blossoms and twining
them in her hair. Lily has gone now
where they never say " forget me not "
so I'll not talk of her now not now.
A(jJ j haye r Jark cufj of ha;rj very
afj(J beau,iflJi which is dearer to
me than all the rest. Once it shaded a
fair brow, and clustered around the snowy
neck of a happy gladsome child : but an
gels loved her, and you will not chide
me for cherishing it, if I tell you it was
worn by a sister !
Far down in an humble corner of my
depository is a plain w hite card on which
is traced in delicate lines the words "when
mept ; j might ansWer
forgotten not quite Estella, Harry,
yes, I remember them.
" Well I love to read even a whispering
paper, for it takes me back to earlier
school days, aud awakens in the heart
many pleasant recollections.
Oh ! yes these " cherished memen
toes" ever cause a sunbeam to light the
BRACEVILLE, March 2.
j u.iicug.wiiu unownnsmuui ""'"
I next. By lhe 15th of the same month the
! Galena Branch will be finished and open-
and a small section of lhe Chicago
Branch is all that will then remain for
! completion of gigantic undertaking. Sj
j states the Chicago Press, and adds "Less
j than f jur years ago the charter for build-
Illinois Ce.vtbal Railroad This
great work is finished, and regular daily
trains will commence lunning between
! r:t l rv.: .1 .. c.u T. ..........
ing this road was obtained now over six
hunt red milesof.it are in running order!
I V uat rmire need be said ot tire energy
and skill of those who have achieved the
The palm irte begins very .late to bear
fritit but then the fruit is dies.
For the Farmer.
WHAT IS THE BEST GARDEN PEA?
HOW DEEP SHOULD THEY
The questions here asked, are of consider
able importance at this time. The writer
made experiments, some two years since,
towardi$the solution of the first question,
but unfortunately has mislaid his notes of
the result. His memory- - however, is
this, that "Early Kent, " "Prince Albert,"
and "Hill's Early, " came to bearing at
the same time, "Prince Albert" and
"Early Kent" had the largest' pods, and
are therefore most desirable for market
purposes. The "Hill's Early" is most
productive. "Early Washington"
proved a few days earlier, productive, but
pods small. "Cedo-Mulli," if true, is
very early and very productive. I have
never had them true but once. '.Fair
beard's Surprise" and "Essex Champion"
are now quite new; and so of many others
-catalogues now enumerating some six
ty different sorts. "Blue imperial" comes
later than those named above, and is very
productive, and a very sweet PeaJ 'The
"Tall Marrowfats," for richness, contin
ued to hold their good reputation, although
Champion of England" proved a bold
competitor, and a most productive Pea,
with large, full pods, and when cooked,
not excelled iu richness. !
About the depth which Peas should be
planted: upon this point, . experiments
have shown that one footdeep,isthebest the
time of coming up varies, from those sown
three inches deep, only forty-eight hours,
while the producing sea?on is continued
two weeks longer, owing to the facV that
the roots are kept cool a necessary, con -'
sequence to successful Pea growing..
Planted at one foot deep, they dd not
require earthing up, as is the case .with
those planted in the ordinary manner.
Thus a considerable amount of labor is
saved. In very heavy soils, and those cat
uarlly inclined to be wet, eight inches
deep may, perhaps, be most advisable, as
the soil where the experiments were
made, was a clay loam, but well drained.
QuERCtJS- Ohio Fajemer.
CORN AND COB-MEAL FOR FATTENING
Messrs. Batiham Harris;
Dole, livins near the II inois Central R..
R., has fattened a large s ock of hogs, the
past season, and fed them with com and
cob crushed, and quite coarsely,(his
mill being of an inferior kind.) His
method was t grind and fill a n'ht wag
on bed, and let it soak for some 10 hours;
then, having his troughs in a line, and
so arranged that he could drive his
horses or oxen astride of them, and
while the driver passed on, he went be
hind and drew a slide from the bottom
of the wagon bed, and thus filled his
troughs, and in that manner could feed a
larore stock in five minutes. His ho zs ate
all the corn and cob m?al, and fattened
upon a less quantity of corn than he had
ever before used to the same amount of
pork, and his pork was pronounced of
superior quality in the market.
Many farmers have told me, during
the past season, that where they had a
small stock, it would do to make complete
arrangements for them; but where they
had several hundred, they could" not af
ford it. Singular philosophy, indeed! In
all manufacturing operations, the more
extensive the business the more complete
. the arrangement, and consequently
more profitable the result. Yours very
tiuly, J. A, Hedges.
Cincinnati, Feb., 1855.
HICKORY NUT OIL.
It is a fact not generally known, that
oil manufactured from Hickory Jsuts, is
equal if not superior to the best lard or
sperm oil for burning and for machinery.
Mr. Eastabrook has manufactured oil
from hickory nuts in small quantities for
several years past. The nuts are crushed
under the tempering stones like flaxseed,
and the oil pressed out in the same way.
The 'cake of nut shells is used for fuel,
and a cord of it is said to go further than
a cord of the best hickory wood. The
nut oil remains in a fluid state ut a very
low temperature, and it does not gum
like the ordinary qualities of oil. It is
used in very delicate machinery, and
when properly refined coulJ be used by
watchmakers. The pignut is preferred
iu the manufacture, on account of its
thin shell, and greater abundance of the
Mr. Eastabrook believes that oil man
ufactured from the ordinary shell bark and
large sweet hickory nut, would co ne into
general use for the table. We have
heard of some individuals who prefer the
oil manufactured from the pignut to the
best "dive" for their salad. Mr. E.
pays fifty cents a bushel for' the th'n
shelled nuts, snd we supp we would buy
tiethick'shell at a bwV?r price Dayton
xml | txt