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HAPGOOD & ADAMS, curiae slock. VOL. 39, NO 46. 3 Wni family Journal, Druofrb WARREN, lo rrritom, Sgrirulturr, literature, (Bfturation, lornl TRUMBULL COUNTY, OHIO, WEDNESDAY Sntrlligtnrr, anh ijje Jkms JULY 4, 1 355. of tl;t Dai. TERMS ONE DOLLAR AND riFTT CENTS FU AIlVXi I ADVABCB. WHOLE NO. 2022 Poetry. JULY. JULY. BY [...] HARDY, JR. It If te gionoatf Summer time, Th winds ar soft and low. And o'r the hills, sunlight and shade Alternate come and go ; The voice of summer sweet is heard, -Among the leaves and corn, for winds are full of whisperings At eve and early morn. Yes, glorious Summer now Is here. With ail hr lengthened train. She sways her golden sceptre o'er The fields of rip'ning grain ; The flowers along the river's side Are bending down, as though They wished to clasp their shadow In The crystal depths below. A gladsome voice is stealing from The distant bourne and brake. The cloud, that float upon the air. Are sairror'4 in the lake ; And softly trips the purling brook, On silver feet along. While from the bashes on its hack, ' The birds poor forth their song. The world seems very fair and bright. The sunlight sweeps our brow. But it will be as beautiful A few short years from now ! With lightsome step July will come. With cool, refreshing show'rs. With laughing brook with singing birds, With sunshine and with flow'rs. The streams will glide as gently on, With music sweet and low. Upon whose banks at eventide We roamed so long ago. The same bright sun will still persoe His trackless coarse on nigh. And stars as bright and beautiful Will still gleam in the sky ; Although the earth will be as fair. The birds sing on each bongh. They will not sing their song for us A few short years from now ! Por ev'ry living tiling on earth. Must shortly droop and die. And we shall soon have passed away Like ehmd-tinis from the sky. JULY. BY [...] HARDY, JR. Choice Miscellany. [From Lover's Legends and Stories of Ireland.] O'Toole and St. Kevin; A LEGEND OF GLENDALOUGH. " This, sir," said my guide, putting himself in an attitude, "Is the chapel of King O'Toole av coorse y'ive heerd o' King O'Toole, your honor ?" " Never," eaid I. "Musha, thin, do you tell me so?" said he ; " by gor, I thought all the world, far and near, heerd o' King O' Toole well, well, the darkness of man- kind is ontellible. Well. sir. you must know, as you didn't hear afore, that there was wanst a king called King O' Toole, who was a fine ould king in the ould ancient times, long ago; and it was him that owned the churches in the airly days." "Surely," said I, "tie churches were not in King O'Toole's time?" "Oh, by .no means, yer honor troth, its yourself that's right enough there but you knew the place is called 'The Churches,' bekese they wor built afther by St. Kavin, and, and wintby the name o' the Churches iver more; and therefore av coorse, the place bein' so called, I say the king owned the churches and why not sir, seein' Iwas his birthright, time out o' mind, beyant the flood? Well, the king, you see, was the right sort he was the rale boy, and lovedport as he loved life, and huntin' partie'lar ; and from the rising o' the sun, up he got, and away he wint over the mountains beyant afther the deer, and the fine times them wor ; for the deer was as plinty thin, aye troth, far plintyer than the sheep is now ; and that's the way it was with the king, from the crow of the cock to the 6ong o' the redbreast. "In t-'iis counthry, sir," added he, speaking parenthetically in an under lone, "we minn u unlucky to kill the redbreast, for the robin is God's own bird." Then, elevating his voice to its former pitch, he proceeded : 'Well, it was all mighty good as long as the king had his health ; but, you see, in coorse o time, the king grew owld, hv rftisnn hp V9 stiff in his limbs and J when he got sthricken in years, his heart failed him, and he was lost entirely for want of divarshin, bekase he couldn't go a huntin' no longer, and by dad, the poor king was obleeged at last for to get a goose to divart him." Here an involuntary smile was pro duced, by this regal mode of recreation, " the royal game of goose." " Oh, you may laugh, if you like," said he, half affronted, " but it's tliruth I'm tellin' you ; and the way the goose divarted him was this-a-way : you see, the goose used for to swim acrass the lake and go down divin' for throut, (and not finer throut in e.V. Ireland than the sume throut,) and cotch fish on a Friday for the king, and flew every oth er day round about the lake, divart in' the poor kiDg, that you'd think he'd break his sides Iaughin' at the frolicsome tricks av his goose ; so in coorse o' time the goose was the greatest pet in the counthry, and the biggest rogue, and divarted the king lo no end, and the oor king was as happy r.s the day was long. -So that's the wav it was ; and all went on mighty well, antil, by dad, the goose got sthricken in years, as well as the king, and grew stiff in the limbs, like her masther, and couldn't divart him no longer ; and then it was that the poor king was lost ccniplate, and didn't know what in the wide world to do, see- in' he was done out of all divarshin, by raison that the goose was no more in the flower of her blame. "Well, the king was nigh broken hearted, and melancholy intirely, and was walkin' one mornin by the edge of the lake, lamcntin his cruel fate, an' thinkin' o' drown'n' himself, that could get no divarshin in life, when all of a suddint, turnin' round the corner be yant, who should he meet, but a mighty dacent lookin young man comin up to him. 'God save you,' said the king, (for the king was a civil spoken gintleman, by all accounts) 'God save you, says he to the young man. . 'God save you, kindly, says the young man back to him again ; 'God save you, King O'Toole,' says he. 'True for you,' says the king, 'I am King O'Toole,' says he, 'Prince and plenny-penny-tinchey o these parts. But how kem you to know that ?' 'Oh, niver you mind,' says Saint Ka vin. For you see,' said old Joe, in his un der tone again, and looking very know ingly, 'it was Saint Kavin, sure enough the saint himself in disguise, and no body eke. 'Oh, niver mind,' says he, 'I know more than that,' says he, 'nor twice that.' 'And who are you that makes so bowld,' says he ; 'who are you at all at all?' Oh, niver you mind,' says Saint Kavin, 'who I am ; you'll know more o' me, before we part, King O'Toole,' says he. 'I'll be proud o' the knowledge o' your acquaintance, sir,' says the king, mighty p'lite. ' Troth, you may say that,' Bays St Kavin. 'And now, may I make bowld to ax how is your goose, King O'Toole?' says he. 'Blur-an-agers, how kem you to know about my goose ?' says the king. 'Oh, no matther, I was given to un derstand it,' says St. Kavin. Oh, that's a folly to talk," says the king ; 'because myself and my goose is private friends, and no one could tell you," says he, 'barrin the fairies.' 'Oh, thin, it wasn't the fairies,' says Saint Kavin, f7 I'd have you to know,' says he, 'tliat I don't keep the likes o' sitch company.' You rnigM do worse, then, my gay fellow,' says the king, 'for it's they could show you a crock o' money as aisy as kiss hand ; and that's not to be sneezed at,' says the king, 'by a poor man,' says he. 'May be, I've a betther way of makin money myself, says the saint ' By gor,' says the king, ' barrin' your'e a coiner," Bays he ; 'that's impos sible!' ' I'd scorn to be the like, my lord !' says St Kavin, mighty high, 'I'd scorn to be the like,' aays he. 'Then, what are you ?' says the king, 'that makes money so aisy, by your own account ?' 'I'm an honest man,' 6ays Saint Ka vin. 'Well, honest man, (says the king,) how is it that you make your money so aisy ?' 'By makin' ould things as good as new,' says Saint Kavin. 'Blur-an-ouns, is it a tinker ycu arc ?' says the king. No, (says the saint,) I'm no tinker by thradc, King O'Toole ; I've a bet ther thrade than a tinker, (says he,) what would you say, (says he,) if I made your old goose as good as new ?' My dear, at the words o' makin' his goose as good as new, you'd think the poor ould king's eyes was ready to jump out iv his head. 'And, (says he,) troth, then, I'd give you more money nor you could count, (says he,) if you did the like ; and I'd be behoulden to you into the bargain.' 'I scorn your dirty money,' says Saint Kavin. 'Faith, then I'm thinkin' a trifle o change would do you no harm,' says the king, lookin' up sly at the old cau Leen that Saint Kavin had on him. I have a vow agin it, (says the saint,) and am book sworn, (says he,) never to have gold, silver, or brass in my compa ny.' Barrin the trifle you can t help,' says the king, mighty cute, and looking him straight in the face. You just hit it, (says Saint Kavin,) but though I. can't take money, (says he,) I could take a ftrf acres o' land, if you'd give them to me.' 'Willi all the veins o' my heart, (says the king,) if you can do what you say.' 'Thry me ! (says Saint Kavin.) Call down your goose here, (says he,) and I'll see what I can do for her.' With that, the king whistled, and down kem the poor goose, all a one as a hound, wadlin' up to the poor ould cripple, her masther, and as like him as two pays. The minute the saint clapped his eyea on the goose "I'll do the job for you, (says he,) King O'Toole I' 'By Jaminee, (says King O'Toole,) if you do, I'll say you are the cleverest fellow in the Bivin parishes.' 'Och, by dad, (says St Kavin,) you must say mcie nor that my lion's not so soft all out (says he,) as to repair your ould goose for nothin. What'll you gi' me, if I do the job for you ? that's the chat,' sajs Saint Kavin. 'I'll give you whatever you ax, (says the king,) isn't that fair ?' Divil a fairer, (says the saint) that's the way to do business. Now, (says he,) this is a bargain I'll make with you, King O'Toole : will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies over, the first offer afther I make her as good as new ?' I will,' says the king. You won't go back o' your word ?' says Saint Kavin. Honor bright !' says King O'Toole, howldin' out his fist Honor bright, (says Saint Kavin back again,) it's a bargain, (says he.) Come here ! (says he to the poor old goose,) come hare, you unfort'nate ould cripple, (says he,) and it's I that'll.make you the sportin' bird.' With that, my dear, he took up the goose by the two wings, Criss o' my crass on you, (says he, markin' her to grace with the blessed sign at the same minute and throwin' her up in the air,) whew !' says he, jist givin her a blast to help her r and with that, my jewel, she tuk to her heels, fly in' like one of the aigles themselves, and cuttin' as many capers as a swallow before a shower of rain. Away she wint, down there, right forninst you, along the side of the clift, and flew over Saint Kavins' bed, (that is, where Saint Kavin's bed is now, but what not thin, by raison it wasn't made, but was conthrived afther, by Saint Ka vin himself, that the women might lave him alone,) and on with her undher Lu duff, and round the ind av the lake there, far beyant where you see the watherfall, (though, indeed, it's no wa therfall at all now, but only a poor dhrib ble av a thing ; but if you seen it in the winther, it id do your heart good, and it roarin' like mad, and as white as the dhriven snow, and rowlin' down the big rocks before, all as one as childher play in' marbles, and on with her thin risrhl over the lead mines o' Luganure, (that is, where the lead mines is now, but was not tlun, by raison they worn't discover ed, but was all goold in St. Kavins time- Well, over the, ind o Luganure she flew, stout and sturdy, and round the other ind av the Utile lake, by the Church es, (that is, av coorse, where the Church- is now, but was not thin, by raison they wor not built, but aftherwards by Saint Kavin,) and over the big hill here over your head, where you see the big clift (and that clift in the moutain was mado by Fan Ma Cool, where he cut it acrass with a big swoord, that he got made a purpose, by ailacksmith out o' Rath drum, a cousin av his own, for to fiht a joyant giant that darr'd him an the Cu- ragh O'Kildare ; and he thried the swoord first at the mountain, and cut it down in to a gap, as is plain to this day; and faith, sure enough, it's the same sauce he sar v'd the joyant, soon and suddent, and chopped him in two, like a partie, for the glory of his sowl and owld Ireland,) well, down she flew over the clift, and fluterin' over the wood there at Poulan ass, (where I showed you the purty wa terfall and by the same token last Thursday, was a twelvemonth sence, a young lady, Miss Rafferty by name, fell into the same watherfall, and was ni"li hand drounded and indeed would be to this day, but for a young man that jump ed in after her ; indeed, a smart slip iv a young man he was, he was out o Fran cis street, I hear, and coorted hersence, and they wor married, I'm given to un derstand and indeed a purty couple they wor.) Well as I said afther fluttcrin' over the wood a little bit, to plaze herself, the goose flew down, and at the fut o the king, as fresh as a daisy, afiher flyin roun' his dominions, jus, as if she hadn't flew three perch. Well, my dear, it is a beautiful sight, to see the king standin' with his mouth open, lookin' at his poor ould goose fly- in' as light as' a lark, and betther nor ever she was : and when she lit at his fut, he patted an the head, and 'ma vour neen, (says he,) you are the darlint o the world.' 'And what do you say tome, (says St Kavin,) for makin' her the like ?' 'By gor, (says the king.) I say noth in' bates the art o' man 'barrin' except the bees.' And do you say no more nor that ?' says Saint Kavin. 'And that I'm behoulden to you,' says the king. ' But will you gi'e me all the ground the goose flewn over ?' say the Saint Kavin. I will, (says King O'Toole,) and you're welkim to it, (says he,) though it's the last acre I have to give.' But you'll keep your word thrue ?' says the saint. As thrue as the sun, says the king. It's well for you, (says Saint Kavin, mighty sharp,) it's well for you, King O'Toole, that you said that word, (eaid he,) for if you didn't say that word, the divil receave the bit o' you goose id ever fy agin,' says Saint Kavin. ' Oh, you needn't laugh, (said old Joe, half offended at detecting the trace of a suppressed smile ;) you needn't laugh, for it's thnUh I'm tellin' you.' Well, when the king was as good as his word, Saint Kavin was plazed with him, and then it was that he made him self known to the king. 'And, (says he,) King O'Toole, you're a decent man, (says he,) for I only kem here to thry you. You don't know me, (says he,) because I'm disguised.' Throth, then, you're right enough, (says the king,) I didn't perceive it (says he,) for indeed, I never 6c:en the sign o' spcr'ts an you.' Oh ! that's not what I mane, (says St Kavin, ) I mane I'm deceavin' you all out, and that I'm not myself at all.' 'Blur-an-agers ! thin, (says the king,) if you're not yourself, who are you ?' 'I'm Saint Kavin,' said the saint, blessin himself. 'Oh, Queen iv Heaven!' says the king, makin' the sign o' the crass betune his eyes, and fallin' down on his knees before the saint' Is it the great Saint Kavin, (says he,) that I've been dis coorsiu' all this time, without knewin' it, (says he,) all &3 one as if he was a lump iv a gossoon? and so you're saint?' says the king. ' I am,' says Saint Kavin. ' By gor, I thought I was on'y talk ing to a dacent boy,' man, says the king. Well, you know the differ now, (says the saint ;) I'm Saint Kavin, (says he,) the greatest of all the saints.' ' For Saint Kavin, you must know sir, (added Joe, treating me to another par enthesis,) Saint Kavin is counted the greatest of all the saints because he went to school with the prophet Jeremi ah. Well, my dear, that's the way thai the place kem, all at wanst, into hands av Saint Kavin ; for the goose flewn round everey individyial acre O'King O'Toole's property you see bein' let into saycret by Saint Kavin, who was mighty 'cute, cunning, and so, when he done the ould king out of his property, for the glory of God, he was plazed with him, and he and the king was the best o' frind iver more afther, (for the poor ould king was doatin', you see,) and the king and his goose as good as new, to divart him as long as he lived : and the saint supported him afther he kem into his property, as I tould you antil the day iv his death and that was soon afther ; for the poor goose thought he was ketch in' a throut, one Friday ; but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made and instead of a throut, it was a thieven' horse-eel ; by dad, the eel killed the king's goose, and small blame to him ; but he didn't ale her, bekase he darn't ate what Saint Kavin laid his ble ssed hands on. Howsumdever, the king never re covered the loss iv his goose, though he had her stuffed, (I don't mane stuffed with pratecs and inyans, but as a curios ito,)aud preserved in aglasscase, for his own divarshin ; and the poor king died on the next Michaelmas day, which was remarkable. Troth it's thruih I'm tellin' you; and when he was gone, Saint Ka vin gev him an illigant wake and a beautiful berryin'; and more betoken, he said mass for his sowl, and tuk care av his goose. To Sportsmen. A correspondent of the Scientific American communicates the following which may be of value to sportsmen : " Wash your gun barrels in spirits of turpentine by dipping a rag or sponge fastened on your gun rod into the liquid, and swabbing them out three or four times, when they will be cleared from all impurities, and can be used almost instantly, as the turpentine will evapo rate and leave the barrels dry ; even if they are a little moist it will not prevent their going off, like water. After being washed thus, there is no danger of rust as when water is used. I am an old, experienced gunner and have prac ticed this for years, and found it u-c-ful." A LEGEND OF GLENDALOUGH. [From the N. Y. Cor-of the Albany Express.] A PERSONAL SKETCH FO MADAME JUMEL, WIFE OF AARON BURR. InLossing's Field Book of the Revo lution there is a pictures of a house on this Island that was erected one hundred and fifteen years ago, and which was at one time the head-quarters of General Washington. It is situated near the High Bridge, over the Harlem river, and though really T.ithin (he city limits, is surrounded by forest and dells, giving it a rural and wild aspect The grounds are beautifully improved, the gardens laid out in taste, and everything around the establishment bears the marks of re finement and wealth. On this historical spot lives a venera ble woman, whose history has been var ied as the changes in her country's pro gress have been rapid. Madame Jumel is a native of Providence, Rhode Island. Her maiden name was Miss Bowen. She came to this city about the year 1798, and in 1805 was married to Monsieur Ju mel, a native of France, but then a refu gee from the bloody massacre of St Do mingo. They did not live long together from incompatibility of temper, or some other cause. He soon afterwards died, leaving her three millions of francs in France. She frequently visited Paris, always living in a style commensurate with her husband's pretentions and wealth. She moved in the highest circles, both in France and in this country, of thi t day, and received the court and homage of the most distinguished men of the time. She subsequently married Aaron Burr, somewheie about the year 1816, but they, too, soon separated. After his death, she continued to live in seclusion at her stalely residence on this island, with the exception of occasional visits to Paris. She was there soon after Louis Napole on became Emperor, and was at the Tuilleries on the occasion of a grand ball, where the Emperor recognized her as the widow of his old friend (which one tra dition does not state.) A friend of mine visited Madame Jumel a few days ago, and this has brought freshly to my recol lection (he romantic incidents of her che quered career. Her residence is described as an earthly paradise, minus the an gels. Everything that art can achieve, or taste desire, or money procure, may be found there. Costly paintings, (and among them a genuine Ruben's,) arti cles of vertu, presents from ncble and dis tinguished persons, autographs and eve rything that is considered rare and cost ly, and curious, may be seen there in lavish profusion. Madame Jumel lives the life of a re cluse. She knows nothing of, and will have nothing to do with her neirrhbore around Foil Washington, with a verv few exceptions. Even the boys have a judi cious fear of her, and trouble neither her orchards nor her flower-jrardens, nor anything that is hers. Every evening a gun is fired off on her premises to warn intruders. Very few persons ever solicit permission to view her grounds, and only a favored minori ty of these ever have their petition gran ted. This old lady, now seventy-eight years of age, has one penchant, and that is for gathering around her refugees from Eu rope. She is always taking care of a flock of them, and to make them useful, whenever a good musician comes along she gets him the instrument with which he L most familiar, and in this way she keeps up a very pleasant band of music, which entertains her by their repeated performances. Madame Jumel, from having mingled so much in the best society, has all the courtly graces and blandness of manner which distinguished les dames d' Uonntur of the last centuiy. To society and the world generally 6he bears herself very haughtily, forbidding anything like ap proaches to familiarity. She is as much of a despot in her own dominions as any monarch who sways the sceptre. She likes her mode of living, has wealth enough, has seen the world, outlived the desires of life, and will conseqenlly prob ably never again emerge from the quiet enclosure of her elegant residence. She has a beautiful niece living in Bordeaux, who is married, and to whom her prop erly will most likely descend. Tub six degrees of crime are thus de fined. " He who steals a million is only a financier. Who steals a half million is only a defaul:er. Who steals a hundred thousand a rogue. Who steals fifty thousand a knave. But he who steals a pair of boots or a loaf of bread is a scoundrel of the deepest dye, and de serves to be lynched." To enjoy to-day, stop worrying about to-morrow. Next week will be ju it as ca pable of taking care of it-self as this one is. And why shouldn't it ? It will have seven day?- more exjierience. I j [For the AGITATION—NO. II. We believe that oppression and every other form of wickedness in the earth shall cease, that "every plant which our Heavenly Father hath not planted shall be rooted up : " but we believe that this can only be accomplished by de throning that principle of Selfishness, which reigns in the human heart, acd establishing in its stead that principle of Benevolence which pervades the Gospel, which fills the bosom of its divine Au thor. It is not owin;r to the want of a clear perception of the atrocious nature and lamentable effects of Slavery, that so many are found who are willing, un der various pretences, to sustain it ; it is owing to the want of strong moral prin ciple. The strange proceedings of our American Congress for the last few years furnish abundant evidence of this. The "Fugitive Slave Act," with all its atro cities, was supported by men who had formerly advocated, with eloquence and apparent sincerity, the cause of Human Freedom ; who, in their speeches, had presented such accurate pictures of Slave ry as to prove that they possessed a clear and thorough understanding of its nu merous and appalling enormities. From a speech, of essay, of one of them, an extract, full of truth and pathos, found its way into one of our school books. Southern men could not endure that se vere exposure of their deep depravity ; and they threatened to exclude the book from their schools. And yet its author, with many others equally patri otic, assisted to pass the Fugitive Slave Bill. Modern Patriotism is not Christi anity -it can never supply its place. Had these men been governed by the pure principles of the Gospel, no imagi nary, or real danger of a dissolution of the Union, no hope of personal elevation, no dread of the loss of wealth, or fame, or southern favor, could ever have indu ced them to do what they knew to be morally wrong, what they knew must greatly augment the horrors of that sys tern which they had so eloquently de nounced. The passage of the "Kansas Nebraska Bill" must be ascribed to the same want of moral power in men of strong intellect and extensive Knowledge, men fully aware of the numberless crimes and mis eries that flow from the institution of Slavery, aware of the fearfid conse quences of its extension to those territo ries. Had there been none to support that measure but infatuated southern men, who refuse to acknowledge, or even to see that the existence of slavery in their states is a dire calamity to them selves, it could not have succeeded. It must be supported by northern men, who had long been accustomed to regard slavery as a great moral and political evil, as the direst curse that Jiad ever fallen upon their country. And they did support it ; and we are beginning to see soroo of its results in the brutal out rages that are constantly occurring in the territory of Kansas. It was not be cause they lacked intelligence, not be cause they did not clearly perceive the nature and design and probable conse quences of this measure, that they sup ported it ; it was because they lacked that strength of moral principle, posses sed only by those who have imbibed the spirit of the Gospel. It was mean, con temptable, hard-hearted Selfishness, the governing principle of irreligious men, that perpetrated this great wickedness. S. B. ANECDOTE OF NICHOLAS. During an interview which Martineff, the Russian comedian and mimic, suc ceeded in obtaining with Prince Volk honsky, High Steward, the late Emper ror Nicholas walked into the room unex pectedly, yet with a design, as was soon made evident Telling the actor that he had heard of his talents, and should like to see a specimen of them, he bade him mimic the old minister. This feat was performed with so much gusto that the the Emperor laughed immoderately ; and then to the great horror of the poor actor, desired to have himself " taken off," "Tis physically impossible," pleaded Martinetf. " Nonsense," said Nicholas, "I insist on it be-ins' done." Finding himself in the horns of a dilemma, the mimic took heart of grace, and with promptitude and presence of mind, but toned his coat over his breast expanded his chest, threw up his head, and assum ing the Imperial port to the best of his power, strode across the room and back, then, stopping opposite the minister, lie cried in the exact tone and manner of the Czar, " Volkhonsky ! pay Mr. Martineff 1,000 silver roubles." The Emperor for a moment was disconcerned, but re covering himself with a faint smile he or dered the money to be pai 1. It is witii old li icli' lots us wish old it .d ; it i.s Ii trd to p-1 litem sUirtid, but w hen tin y do take i.uue tlit.-y b'iru pro . divriouslv. FORWARD ALL. In this westward tide of humanity that ever ebbs this breathless crowding of the American people towards the set ting sun there seems to be a kind of mamia, an active cause of which we are entirely unconscious. Why is it that year after year we hear again and again the cry of " to the West, to the West !" No one can tell the why, no man really knows. We oalv know that such is the nature of this people, that there is a something in the very word West that leads thousands to leave their Eastern homes and " go West." It is as though this Universal Yankee Nation were engaged in one grand cotil lon, and the only call in that national dance was " Forward AH 1" All alon? the New England coast, the cry goes up morning and night, the live long year, of. Forward All ! New York answers it and every State in the Union falls into the line, and away go the old and young, the rich and the poor all bound for the beautiful and limitless country termed " away out west." And so to-day reader, we find our selves on the Western bank of the great Missouri here where eighteen months ago no while man lived where the Otoe and the Omaba held sole possession where the rich lands of the Nebraska, cultivated only by the band of nature, brought forth its yearly yield of flowers, that wasted their sweet perfume upon the desert air, and nothing more. We are here, but there is no change. The Otoe and the Omaha are going, going West, the rustle of their step has not yet died away, the clatter of their arrow-quivers, and the war song of the young men yet lingers in the air of the settler. The foremost wave, the head sea in westward tide has struck the western shore of the Missouri river, and now, though thirty-five miles back of us, no white man lives. The cry is raised here, forward all, the ring of the ham mer and the axe, the clink of the anvil, the roll of the Printing Press, and the panting of the steam-mills, give token that the call is obeyed. Forward all ! and away over the prai ries the rumble of the emigrant's wag on and the lowing of his cattle answer. [From Punch.] PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. BY THE SOLOMON IN ORDINARY TO THE BRITISH NATION. I. An umbrella upon thine arm may make it ache, but should rain come, the umbrella will preserve thy clothes.- Choose betwixt a trifling pain and a tail or's bill. II. Other persons were born about the same time as thyself, and have been errowin? up ever since, as well as thou. Therefore be not proud. III. Preserve few secrets from thy wife ; for if she discover them, she will grieve, not that thou hast kept from her thy secrets, but thy confidence. IV. Yet confidence may be mispla ced, as when thou goest out in thin pat ent leathern boots, simply because the pavement before thiuc own door has dried. V. The girl who is destined to be thy wife, although now unknown to thee, is sure to be living somewhere or other. Hope, therefore, that she is quite well, and otherwise think politely about ber. VI. Educate thy children, lest one of these fine days they educate thee in a school with no vacations. VII. 0 how good was Nature, tnai placed great rivers near great towns ! VIII. A traveller, journeying wise ly, may learn much. Yet much may also be learned by him who stays at home. IX. An insane person may lie to thee, and yet be innocent, and thou mayest lie to him, and be praiseworthy. Now all perse ns are somewhat insane, but do thou beware of lying, as a general rule. X. Heat expands things, and there fore in hot weather the days are length ened. Moral heats sometimes expand thy mind, but they tend not to the lengthening of thy days. XI. I do not say to thoe, " Marry, for it wiil exalt thee," yet was there sub tle meaning in those whose usage it was to say, "Marry, cjme up." XII. Cool thintrs are used to cure fever, yet the orei-coolness of a friend's act will throw thee into heat. XIII. We know nothing, and yet it is knowing something to know that thou knowest nothing. Njutaow Escapk. A lady entered a dry goods store in street, and ex pressed a desire to see some wool delaius. The polite clerk, with elegant addrees, showed her a variety of pieces of fine texture and choice coloring. After toss ing and examining to her heart's content, she observed: "The goods ajre part cotton, sir." "My dear Madam," re turned the shopman, " these goods are as frve from cotton as your breast is" (the lady stares) " fr,ce from guile" BROILED MACKEREL. Thj following good storr is told of Member of Congress from Ohio : " The venerable Gen. B was for several consecutive years returned to Congress ; and as the hotels and board- ig houses in Washington city in those days, were all on a par, or rather below par, the members were in the habit of occupying, year after year, the same rooms, ine table of Gen. H.'s board- ig -house (which was kent br a widow la.dy and her two daughters) was regu larly furnished with stereotyped dinners, and at 'one end of the table always ap peared a broiled mackerel. Gen. H., nose seat was near the fish, had iraaed so frequently upon it, (for it never was touched except by the cook, ) that he knew it all 'by heart Now if the distinguish ed Representative had any one peculiar vhtue, it was an affectionate desire to make every person and everr creature around him happy. In the course of time, Congress adjourned, and Gen. H. paid his bill to the widow," and got ready to start lor home. The stage stood at the door ; and the old erentleman. show ing the goodness of his heart, took the widow by the hand and Dressing it bada - a O her farewell ; then kissing the daughters, saia ne wouJd like to see them in Ohio, and furnish them with good husbands, kc.; but even this wag not all. The black boys, who stood along the walls, were not forgotten, and grinned as he handed each a silver dollar. As he pas sed around the' breakfast table, which, was not yet " cleared off," he saw his old friend, the mackerel. The tears came into his eyes, and raising it by the tail, with his thumb and finger, parted with it, saying : " well, good bye, good bye, my old boy ; you and I have served a long campaign together; but (wiping his eyes) I suppose we shall meet again next winter. Good bye. The old gen tleman rapidly left the house, and jump ing into the stage, rattled off, and fortu nately for his ears, the widow never saw him again." Yankee Blade, ROMANCE OF INDIAN LIFE. A private soldier, writing from Fort Laramie, March 12th, mentions the fol lowing incidents of the massacre of Lieut. Grattan : I. will give you two facts connected with the massacre, which I have never seen in tte newspapers. A musician, one of the party, owned or married a squaw, and on the unfortunate day, when she saw danger threatening the troops, she rallied her father and her brother to preserve her lover. When he fell wounded, she rushed to him to pro tect him from the arrows or perish witH him. Her father shot several arrows at the other Indians, and was wounded himself in the zealous defense of the sol dier. Then he sat down and wept, as he could do no more. The hostile Indiana then rushed on the wounded soldier, tore him from the embrace of his faithful squaw, and scalped him before her eyes. After this she could not be prevailed up on to eat or drink, and starved to death, dying in nine days, and glad to go to re gain the presence of the spirit of one she loved so dearly. The only soldier that reached here alive was found by an In dian, who, instead of scalping him, min istered to his wants, carried water to hi a hiding place, and endeavored to bring him into the fort during the night, but being unable or afraid to accomplish his purpose, he turned back to Mr. Bor deau's house, bearing the soldier, and four Indians overtook him and wished to kill the wounded man, or as they said, "that dog." The reply of the noble, friendly savage was, " this white man must live, or I must die," and he bore him off in safety. " Such generous deeds should be remembered. Maxims tor Yooao Mxir. Never be die. If your hands cannot be usefully employed ; attend to cultivating your mind. Drink no intoxicating liquors. Keep good company. Make few promises. Keep your own secrets. When you speak to a person look him in the face. If any one speaks evil of you, let your life be so virtuous and upright that none will believe him. You had better be poisoned in your blood than your principles. When you retire, think what you have done during the day. Your character cannot be injured ex cept by your own acts. Ths editor of the Eliuira, N. Y.,i& publican has found oat whero the Know Nothings assemble. It is in a cave clos by the town, the entrance to which, a hole just large enough to admit oue man at a time. The last one takes the hoist with. him. and thus they defy detection. Ba. timely wise, rather than wise- in time.