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UAPGOOD &. ADAEIS. Kflti: SLOCK. VOL. 40, NO 18 51 'BMhj .urailq Sounwl, Dnnrtrb WA1UIEX, ta mto, ' igritulture. literature, iB&uratian, Xorul THUMB ULL COUNTY, OHIO, WEDNESDAY Iiitrlligrnrr. anil tjr $hw5 DECEMBER 1 9, 1 3 55. of tjjt Daq. TERMS : ONE DOX.LAB AND PUTT CENT re ABITUM. U ADTABCX. WHOLE NO. 2 046 Poetry. From the Rochester Democrat. BE GENTLE TO THY HUSBAND. BY MRS. B. F. ENOS. Be gentle to thy hatband, Bemember, all day long, Amid the lin and tumult. He bostle with the throng. So wonder that the noble brow Grows clouded with the care That presses on his heart and hands While he is straggling there. And when the night has gathered home The lored one to his rest; Be gentle if no smile appear. There's sorrow in his breast. TU true, you miss the welcome roice. Whose tones aie always kind. And long to raise the cloud that easts A shadow on his mind. Yet. neTer fear, that through it all Thy presence is not blest. Tor like the sunshine, through the storm. It brings sweet thoughts of rest. And many times, when laborossed. Thy gentle tones bare come. And made glad music in his heart, "Thanks be for thee and home." Be sure, although he speaks it not. Thou art the star, whose ray Hakes life, and gildeth all In life's dark, rugged way. And so be erer gentle. Kind woris and deeds from thee Do more towarls making labor light. Than erer thou could'st see. DECEMBER. BY E. CURTIS HINE, U. S. N. Again thou co-meat, wild December, Bearing in thy arms m bier; Coldlf bidding as remeitber, Soon will die the poor old year; Then the streams vill cease their singing. And the fields he roSed in white: And the sleigh bells, merry ringing, Sound npon the frosty night. Starlike eyes are brighter growing. And in Sweden s distant land. Where the red Yule fires are glowing. Dance with glee a mirthful band. Decked is now cash church with holly. And along that north n shore. In the midnight, melancholy Sounds the wintry ocean's roar. Thov art cheerless, cold December, Yet thou hringest joy to me; For thy sire I well remember. Found me on the lone, wide sea; Distant far from one who lored me. One whose faith all change defied; Blessings on the saints above me, Now she's seated by my side. Choice Miscellany. From the Litchfield (Conn.) Enquirer. THE CAPTIVES. A NARRATIVE OF REAL LIFE. Almost incredible is the recital of the hardships and sufferings from savage cruelly, to which the early emigrants to our Western settlements were exposed. With very few of the comforts of life, and none of its luxuries, they penetrated deep into the dark and unbroken forest, erected their rude habitation, and placed within its unembellished walls their wives and little ones. All they possessed on earth thus insecurely reposed in the bosom of solitude and danger. The sound of the hoarse winds as they rushed heavilv through the branches of the tall trees around their dwelling, was often mingled with the tread and growl of the wild beast' and the wily ap iroach of the more ferocious and deadly savage. And often too was the mid day stillness of the forest broken by the expiring shrieks of these lonely emigrants, as they were struck down on their own thresholds by the hands of barbarians, whose woik of death no weakness or supplication could in the least avert. Difficult ii is to real ize that amidst these peaceful hills and vales, where cities and clustering villa ges and a thousand hamblets to joyfully repose, scarce a century ago such horrid scenes existed. And while thus securely dwelling, we listen to the recital of such deeds of darkness, we can scarce believe them other than the wild legends of ro mance. But instances ' there are of those with whom we have associated, and from whose lips we have heard such recitals, who saw and participat d in those scenes of suffering. Soon after the -'French and Indian war,' Mr. Nathaniel Carter removed from Killing worth to Cornwall in lliis county, where he purchased and settled npon the farm now owned and improved by Caleb Jones, Esq., where he resided for some years. But, as the tide of em igration was al tli at time settling from New England totrnrds the pleasant and fertile valleys of the Delaware and Sus quehanna, in Pennsylvania, early in 1763, Mr. Carter, with some of his har dy neighbor, began to make prepara tions for removing thither. The ac counts which ihey had received of that country, had filled them of glowing an ticipations, though they were by no means unmindful of the fact that the life of a pioneer was one of hardships and peril. Mr. C.'s family a this time con sited of a wife aad six children Jemi ma, the eldest daughter, having a short time before been married to Mr. Jo'n Bates, of Warren. The o her children were Nathan, Sarah, aged eleven years, Elizabeth eight, Nathaniel six, and an infant. On a beautiful morning in the spring of the year above mentioned, this family, (except the married daughter,) together with two other families freni the same neighborhood, took up the line of their journey for the Hand of prom ise." After a tedious tour, marked with the usual vicisitudes and adventures of such a journey, they arrived in safety at the forks of the Delaware, where they remained a short time, and ultimately settled on the Lackawaxen creek, in Wayne county, about twelve miles below the si'e of the present town of Bethany. They advanced about fifteen miles be yond any other while settlement, clear ed a small spot near the bank of the stream, and erected a building of logs, in which the three families resided. Ilere they passed a few months in appar ent security, engaged in various employ ments to improve the safety and com fort ol their new residence. The tall trees immediately before their dwelling they had in part cleared away, some grain and garden vegetables were grow ing hard by, while around the doorway a few flowers, transpl inted from their de.ir native New England, were budding blossoming adding variety a"d beauty to the scenes of their wilderness home. While some were laboring, others car ried the muskets and ammunition, tid ing like sentinels, that they might sea sonably be sutprised of any approaching darger. Every day seemed more prom ising of future happiness and security, and added something to their little ttock of comforts. The wild scenery had be come familliar to their view, an I an agreeable interest had associated itself with most of the objects which "weie em braced by the little horizon, formed by the tall aad unbroken forest which stretched away to an almost intermina able breadth around them. One day in the latter part of Septem ber, when the inmates of this little settle ment were occupied in their usual pur suits, Mr. Carter, with his eldest son, and one or two others, being engaged in buildinsr a house a short distance in the woods, and the man whose business it was to act as sentinel having gone a few rod out of sight of the house to exam ine some traps, the Indians, who had been secretly watching for their prey, uttered their savage warwhoop, and rush ed upon these defenseless women and children. At this moment, Mrs. Carter and her daughter Elizabeth were a few yards from the door, engaged in picking green corn for dinner. Elizabeth, see ing them before the warwhoop was giv en, and knowing from their pecu liar appearance that they were banded for war, turned to her mother and gave the alarm, but her words were scarcely uttered, before she saw that beloved par ent turn deadly pale, and the next mo ment she beheld the tomahawk buried deep in her skul!. The Indians, twelve in number, then rushed into the house, where were she elder females, one of whom was confined to the bed with ill ness ; a daughter of the same woman aged sixteen, who was also ill ; the in fant daughter of Mr. Carter, and five other children. One of the Indians seized the infant and dashed its brains out against the logs of the house ; and the two sick females were instan'Iy putj to death with the tomahawk. The man who had gone to examine the traps, hearing the shrieks of the sufferers, has tened to their defence, but had only time to discharge his gun once before he re ceived a death blow from the hands of the assailants. The Indians having selected such of their captives as they supposed could best endure the hardships of savage life, and taken the scalps from those they had killed, and also having t-ken the clothin ; and utensils which they thought would best serve their convenience, they .-et fire to the house, and then hurried off to their encampment, a short distance from thence, on the opposite side of the cretk. The capt.ivi s were three child ren of Mr. Carter, (Sarah, Elizabeth and Nathaniel,) Mrs. Duncan, and three children belonging to the other family. At the encampment they found about I wo hundred Indians, principally war riors. Several large fires weie burning around which the Indians began to re gale themselves with roasting corn and other refreshments, which they had Lrought Irom the white settlement. Af ter having freely indulged themselves in exultations at their recent success, and night approaching, they secured their captives with cords, and stretched them selves on the ground around the fires. Sarah, the eldest of the three children of Mr. Carter, appeared perfectly detracted by the circumstances of her situation. She continued crying and calling for her father to come aud rescue her. The In dians several times appeared determined tosilenceher screams v.ith the tomahawk. At length when they had become buried in sleep, Sarah obtained a small brand from the fire, with which she barely suc ceeded in burning the cords which bound her to the savage, but leaving her hands slill tied together. In this situation, and surrounded by the midnight darkness, she succeeded in finding a canoe and hosing it from its fastenings, in which she reached the opposite bank, and final ly found her way back to the smoking ruins of her recent home, where she gave way to the most violent lamentations. Though her cries were distinctly heard at the encampment, she was not pursued until morning, when she was retaken. The Indians then commenced their jour ney through the woods, carrying their captives on horseback. After pursuing their rou'.e three days, in a westernly di rection, they haulled and sent back a war party of about one hundred. Af ter five or six days, the party returned with several scalps ; f.nd the horror of the captives can scarcely be imagined, when they discovered among the num ber those of Mr. Carter and Mr. Duncan. These men, on returning from their la bors and seeing the desolation which the Indians had made, repaired to the near est white settlement, and procured the aid of forty men, with whom they re turned for the cattle, and with the taint hope of recovering the captives. Just as they gained the vicinity of their recent home, they were suddenly surprised by the yell of these savages, and by the flight of their farrows. About half of Carters men, (most of whom were Dutch) instaully deserted, and left their companions to fight out the battle as the' best could. Yet, though struglinjr against such fearlul odds, these brave men stood their ground, till Carter found himself alone all beside having been killed or disabled. He stationed himself behind a rock, and still kept up the fire until struck down by the tomahawks of the enemy. Some four or five of those wounded in the early part of the engagement, succeeded in crawling so far in the forest as to elude the subsequent search of their wily foes, and at length reached their homes. On the return of the Indian warriors to the encampment, (as was aftcrwaids stated by the captives,) theic was great lamentation and mourning among the savages over those of their number who had falen in the battle more than half of the one hundred being among the slain. The Indians then re-commenced their march through the woods to the residence of their nation. As nearly as the cap tives could recollect they traveled sever al days diligently in a northwesterly di rection, at length arrived at their p'ace of destination. Here in dark and filthy huts, ornamented with the scalps of their parents and friends, separated from each other, did these lonely captives spend the long and tedious month of winter, in a state of almost perfect starvation. The Indians would never go abroad to obtain new supplies of food as long as one morsel remained ; and then some times returned with little success. Na thaniel, (the youngest of the captives,) having from the first been a general fa vorite with the Indians, was treated by them with great comparative kindness and attention ; aud with so much sue cess, that the little white stranger soon ceased to mourn his bereavements, and joined heartily in the amusements and pastimes which they devised for the pur pose of diverting him and making sport tor themselves. Early in the Spring, they deserted their winter quarters, and journeyed to wards the lakes ; and after a tour of sev eral weeks tney arrived in the vicinity of Fort Niagara, where Elizabeth and Sar ah were ransomed through the negotia tions of Sir William Johnson. But all efforts to obtain Nathaniel were unavail ing. No consideration would tempt the Indians to part with him ; and strange as it may appear, he had become so much attached to them that he would not consent to leave them. His sisters, after bidiug him an affectionate and fi nal farewell, were conveyed to Albany, where their Connecticut frieuds, being apprised of their ransom, met them; and they soon had the unspeakable grat ification of once more visiting the homes of their naivity, and of finding them selves surrounded by sympathizing friends and relatives. Yet it was long before they ceased to mourn over the dreadful scenes through which thev had passed, aud their sad bereavements. Ti e reader who has followed thm f ir our narrative, may feci an interest to know something of t::e subsequent histo ry of the captives. Sarah Carter, fr.n her ill treatment and mental sufferings never fully recovered. Though she lived to old age, her intelcct wa3 perma nently impaired ; she died a fe v years since in Goshen. Elizabeth was Mar ried to Mr. Benjamin Oviatl, of Gosl.cn, and died in that town in the autumn of 1835. Anions' her children were the Mr. Lyman Oviatt, of Goshen ; Ilemau Oviatt, Esq., a wealthy and enterprising citizen of Hudson, Ohio.and distinguished, as a liberal patrons of the College at that place ; an:! Mr Nathaniel Oviatt, of Richfield, Ohio. The children of Mr. Carter's eldest daughter, Jemima, were the late Mr. John I'ates, of Kent ; the late Isaac Bates, of Warren ; Dea. Na thaniel Carter Bates, recently of this town. Nathaniel grew np among the Indians, imbibed their habits, and married one of their daughters. It is a remarkable cir cumsta ice that among the articles which the Indians carried away with their cap lives, was a Bible which they after wads gave to their young favorite. He had previously learned to read : and by means of this book, which he kept till manhood, he ever retained that knowl edge. He died in the Cherokee nation, at the age of about seventy. Some years since, while the Foreign Mission School wris in operation at Corn wall, Mr. Isaac Bates, weil known as a warm friend of the School, received a letter from a missionary among the In dians, stated that he had sent on to be educated a young halt breed Indian, of line tahn'.s anj eXi-P'pl.iiy piety, named Carter ; expressing a wish that he would become a-.quainted with him. An early acquaintance with the young man, was accordingly sought by Mr. i'.au-s, and greatly to his surpri-e and gra'ifieation, i he discovered in him a son of the long lost captive! The you'll reunified at the sceool for a considerable time, fre quently visiting his relatives in this vi cinity : and at length, after completing studies, he returned to h s native coun try with a view of preaching the gospel. A NARRATIVE OF REAL LIFE. DO IT YOURSELF, BOYS. Do not ask the teacher, or some class male to solve that hard problem. Do it yourself. You might as will let them cat your dinner, as "do your sums" for you. It is studying, as in eating ; he that does it gets the benefit, and not he that sees it done. In almost any school, I would give more for what the teacher learns, than for what the best scholar learns, because the teacher is compelled to solve all the hard problems, and an swer the questions of the lazy heys. Do not ask him to parse the difficult words or assist you in the performance of any of your studies. Do it yourself. Nevt r mind, though they look as dark as Egypt. Don't ask even a hint from any body. Try aga;n. Every trial increases your ability, and you will finally succeed by dint of the very wisdom and strength gained in the effort, even though at first the problem was beyond your skill. It is the study and not the answer, that really rewards, y :ur pains. Look at that boy who has just suc ceeded, after six hours of hard study, perhaps ; how his large eye is lit up with proad joy. as he marches to his class He treads like a conqueror. And well he may. Last night his lamp burned late, and this morning he walked at dawn. Once or twice he nearly gave up. He tried his last thought ; but a new thought strikes him as he ponders the last process. He tries once more and succeeds; and now mark the air of conscious strength with which he pro nounces his demonstration. His poor, weak sahoolmate who rave uo that same problem on his first faint trial, now looks up to him with something of wonder, as a superior being. And he is his supe rior. That problem lies there, a great gulf between those boys who stood side by side. They will never stand togeth er equal again. The boy that did it for himself has taken a s'ride upwards, and what is better still, has gained strength to take other and greater one. The boy who wailed to see others do i , h ti lost both strength and courage, and is already looking for some excuse to give up school and study forever. Connecti cut ScioolJvurnut. A Ccp of Coffee. Henry Ward Beecucr has a ''realizing sense" of what '(ml coffee is. He writes thus: "Bteakfast is ready. A most useful and salutary custom is that of breakfast. One may work with the hands without breakfast, but not with the head. 1 he machine must be wound up. The blue must be taken out of your spirits and the gray out of your eyes a cup of coffee, j home browned, home ground, hfmej made, that comes to you dark as a hazel i eye, but changes to a golden bronze as you temper it w'th cream, from its birth. J thick, tenderly yellow, perfectly yellow. ! neither lumpy nor frothing on the Java; ! such a cup of coffee is a match for twen- j ty blue devils, and will exorcise them all. Involuntarily one dravs in his breath j by the nostrils; the fragrant savor fills ; his senses with pleasure for no coflee : can be trooi in the mouth that does not sen 1 a sweet offering of odor to the nos- . trils." ; A NEW HAMPSHIRE FARMER. A correspondent of the New York Tri bune, over the signature of the "Old Man of the Mountain," gives the following account of a farmer of the olden time : " Old Colonel Holmes was one of the likeliest of men, I don't know but I may say the very likeliest I have ever seen a mong men, though he was all his days a farmer here among the rocks, and scarce ever went off his farm for fifty years, He began down here in Campton, when there had hardly heen a stroke struck in the woods. There was a little spot of clearing, I believe, on the lot lie had gone on to and a loir barn had b en put up on it. He and his wife lived in the bam all summer, the first summer after they came up here from Connecti cut. Tluy came all the way he on foot, with his axe on his shoulder, and she on horseback, with the bed bound on behind her, and the copper kettle hanging by the old mare's side. It was all they had, and the roads wan't near so good then as they are now. Col. Holmes was a young man then just 'out of his time,' He lived on that land fifty years and died on it. He was hard ly ever out of town or off his farm. They teased him to go to the General Court one yea-, I believe, but they couldn't make him go again. 'It was small busi ness,' he said 'for anybody that had any other to mind." And he said 'it was a ba l thing to have so many Uws, and to be tinkering them over so often. He cared nothing about office, or politics or parties. He didn't read any books. He did'nt need to. He said but little, but what he said was always right. He was as sensible a man friend Tribune, as ever Bt-n Franklin was, and a much better man, to my min', and greater, take fill the circumstances. He lived th-ie all alone, as it were, and cleared up his farm, and d d an amount of good there, all unpraised and unseen, nd for the s' eer good and beauty of it, as I hardly believe Ben Franklin was man enough to have done. He had a g aud old-fashioned farn, and grew forehanded, and final rich, without ever trying to, or caring anything about money. He nev er was a hard working man. He hardly ecr worked ti'l he got tired. Never hur ried. He would not hurry for a thou sand thunder showers in hay time. ' Let it rain, he would say 'it will do somebody some good. What signifies killing ourselves for a load of hay ?"' He never diove his men, and never hur ried them, except at the table, and then not to have tl em get done. 'Come,' he would say, 'all hands, take hold there's enoug.h' And it was royal to see him sitliti" at the head of his old, long kitch en table, with his twenty men, and us much the eq'alofthehumblestcf them all, as he could possibly be, with his great generous heart and princely he id. He had a head friend Tribune worth going a journey to see an old Connec ticut, Roger Sliernian sort of a head, by the tell though I have seen Col. Holmes when he was at work, barehead ed, in his field among his men. It was'nt a head like Danitl Webster s or Zekiel's not one of these high, preci pice sort of heads. It was a raid ling forehead for height, but a wide and beautifully pitched a sort of honest man's forehead and head, covered over with hair as hue as silk, and lying in tufts, like feathers on. the neck of an eajjle and along after he was sixty, as white as Moose hillock of a November moruing. It was princely to see the old man working about among his men. He had a small, gray eye all sense and hc:i esty aud looking as if he couldn't bear anything ungenerous or small. And that was his nature. His leading trait of character was a great generosity. And theie never was Ms equal, to my knowledge, among poor people. I nev er saw anything equal t the way he'd help Hie poor. 'Uive tutu goo;i meas ure, David," tils old man would say to a queer sort of a man that always livid with him, and who used to ::y the Colo nel lived with him ' give Kirn good .nua.-ure don't ;.!rike it he's come a "ood wav:", and there's enough ot it.' He always had plenty of corn the scarcest of years. The ewlh. as if aware of his great nature, ne ver put l.im off with a stingy harvest. He never, those years, would fell a kernel of corn to anybo !y that could bring the money for it. He said, 'there was the poor around him that could'nt pay, that must be seen lo.' And then, he tamed out the yellow corn and the hay. With his barns full, in the scarcest seasons, he never would sell a lock of hay to anybody but the poor and to them al ways as the prices of limes of plenty, and to "pay in work when they could. He used to take their little old dua bills for it payable 'in help,' and never call on them t! oagh they gene rally remembered to t.i'ii out snd help l:iai when i. came hav time. But num i J ' bers of the old due bills ware found among the old man's few paper's, after his death, written with his own plain honest hand not after any business form and always spelt so as to be un derstood, and many of them yellow with age. He was not what you call a ten. der hearted man, but he was considerate of the poor and thought it beneath a man 'that any should suffer when there as enough, many of them, to bring the year about, especially in cold seasons," and he said 'they must be seen to." And he did see to them, the glorious old man. It wasn't for the name of it fer he did not me-tn to know anything about the name of doinir things. And it wasn't for salvation 'giving to the poor,' be cause it was 'lending to the Lord.' He wasn't a religious man that is, he nev er mae a profession. Religious people about him did not like it that he didn't, though their chief uneasines was that he always did so well that it made them ap pcrr to disadvantage. He always was right in all he did and said. I don't be lieve he did or said a single wronir thin", or a thing that was out of the way, or that was unhandsome, all the time he lived in Campton. All that time for Gfieen years, no man said a loud word against him. And it grew to be a prov erb ; that a man's .'word was as good as Colonel Holmes." j j FEMALE HEALTH AND EDUCATION. The following paragraphs are extract ed from Miss Dtecher's new work : The work that Providence has ap pointed for woman in the VBrious details of domestic life, is just that whicht if properly apportioned, is fitted to her pub lic organization. If nil the female mem bers of a family divided all the labors of the cook, the nurse, the laundress, anil the seamstress, so that each should have four or five hours a dav of alternating light and heavy work, it would exercise every muscle in the body, and at the same time interest and exercise the mind. Then the remaining time could be saf-Iy giren to intellectual, social and benevo lent pursuits and enjoyments. But no such division is made. One portion of the women have all the exer cise of the nerves of motion and another have all the brain wort, while they thus grow up d ficient and deformed, either intellectually or physicall", or bo h. And so American women every year be come more and more nervous, sickly and miserable, while they are bringing into existence a feeble, delicate and deformed offspring. We are convinced that this statement, terrific as it is, is no exaggeration, and may be confirmed by thousands of cases very near us, and not among those who are called ignorant, or thouirh'less, or unkind. It seems to me that the educa tion oi our daughters is more badly man aged than any tiling in American society, and in some respects the position that is regarded as Ihe most favored is jxautly the opposite. If any enemy of the human race, who wished lo destroy the hope of the nation could devise any more effec tual method of breaking down the health of gills than the method pursued by our current fashions, he must be gifted with superior human integrity. WINTER EVENINGS. How do you spend your winter eve nings f "Tell me how you spend your winter evenings," said a gentlemen addressing a congregation of vouni; men, "and I will tell you what position you will oc cupy in the world ten yeais Jience." This portion of the day is yours for self improvenient, for recreation, or for pleas ure ; an 1 its use or abuse will effect in Incalculably your future character. Do you spend it at the drinking saloon, tue card-table, or as an idle lounger at low places of amusements? Do you waste your health, exli tust your energies, and debase your min is by vulgar pleasures ? Do you pass your winter cenirsgs aim lessly, listlessly, doing nothing, or doi;:g something, just as it happens ? Or have you .-et liiein apart for some definite and: worthy uuruits '? Have you resolved to' devote some to a course of lectures; some , to the enjoyment of virtueous society ;! some to the house of piayer ? Have! you resolved to pass your evenings in! that which shall tend to make you strong- J ir aal better foreich to-moriow. "I never had any time to study butj the win'tr evenin's," said-a hid who1 passed au examination for college withj mailed ability : j "Oh, my God, I was ruined in the winter evenings," exclaimed a young; cleik. who camo home to be laid in a' druukaid's grave. j ioys, take care how you spend jour1 v-:..... v ri;u'. n...... ! Love knows no petry; nor can it bej lasting ext-ept when founded on esteem. . A WITTY PREACHER. The Rev. Dr. Sprague, in his visits t. "European celebrities," gives anecdotes of the Rev. Mathew Wilkes, a celebra ted London preacher. There was nothing for which he had a more cordial abhorrence than an exhi bition of dandyism in a young minister, and nothing of this kind ever came in contact with him without meeting a re buke. On one occasion, a young minis ister of a good deal of pretensions and parade went from the country to London and carried Mr. Wilkes a letter designed to procure for him an invitation to preach. "Well, young man," said Mathew, with a nasal twang that is perfectly in describable, but which nobody who has once heard, can ever forget, "well, young man, you want to preach in Lon don, don't you?" "I am going to pass a few days here, sir, and if it should suit Mr. Wilkes' con venience, I should be very happy, in deed, lo give his people a sermon while I am here." "Well," replied Mathew, "you can preach you can preach ; come along next Wednesday morning to the Taber nacle, and I'll meet you there, and you can take my lecture for that morning." - The young man agreed to do so, and was on the ground at the appointed hour. Mathew met him at the door, disgusted as he had been' with his dandy airs, and addressed him thus: "Go along into the pulpit, joung man. and I will be below and look at you, and shall hear every word you say." The y mng preacher darted through the aisle into the pulpit in a manner that seemed better to Lefit a ball room than a place of worship. He performed the introductory services with an air of in sufferable self-cornplacen::y, and in due time opened the bible and read his text, which was the last verse of the first chap ter of John "Hereafter ye shall see Heaven open, and the angels of God as cending and descending on the Son ol Man." He had written his sermon and committed it all to memory, as he sup posed, to a word; but unfortunately he had left his manuscript behind. When he had read his text he found it impossi ble to remember his first sentence. He hesitated and hemmed, and began thus: "You perceive, my brethren you perceive that the angels of God are here represented as ascending and descen ding." He then set up a good stoul cough, in the hopes that his memory might get to work iu the meantime, but the cough was as unproductive as it was artificial, and he could do nothing but go over again the absurd sentence which he had started. He coughed again and again, but his memory was in too pro found a slumber to be awakened by it. After three or four minutes, durinj which he was a spectacle to the congregation, and especially to Mathew, who was all this time watching and listening, accord ing to his promise, he shut his bible in perfect consternation, and abruptly clos ed the sermon. Of course he came out of the pulpit with a very different air from that which he had entered it. But the worst was to come he had lo meet Mathew and hear his scathing comments. "Well, well." said he, '.'young man, you've preached you've preached in London, haint you? I're heard yon; I have heard every word that you've said, and I have only one comment to make; if you had ascended as you descended, then you might have descended as you ascended." t It is needless to say that the young man was completely cured of his ambi tion to preach iu the Tabernacle. Another young minister of similar cha racter paid him a visit, and Mathew per ceived lhat he sported what he consider ed a very indecent number of watch seals. He eyed them for some time as if he was scruiinizing the material of which they were made, and then said with a terribly sarcastic air: "I; seems to me you have got a good many seals to your ministry, considering how young you are." He was once preaching on some public occasion, when there were not less than fifty persons in the congregation taking notes of his sermon. At length he stop ped suddenly for a moment, and the ste nographers, having nothing to do, all looked up and were gazing at him with astonishment. "Behold," said he, "I have confound ed the scribes." On one occasion, a3 he was on his way to a meeting of miuisters, he got caught iu a shower in the place Billingsgate, where there was a large number of wo men dealing in fish, who were using most profane and vulgar language. As he stopped under a shed in the midst of them, he felt called upon to give at least a testimonial against their wickedness. "Don't vou think," said he, speaking with the greatest degree of deliberation and solemnity, "don't you think that I shall appear as a swift witness against you in the day of judgment?" "I presume so," says one, "for th biggest rogue always turns state's evi dence." Mathew, when he got to the meeting, related the incident. "And what did yon say in reply, Mr. Wilkes?" asked one of the ministers pre sent. "What could I?" was the character istic reply. THE HEATHEN. A Sunday school teacher was in the practice of taking up a collection in bis juvenile class for missionary objects eve ry Sunday, and his box received scores of pennies, which otherwise would have found their way to the drawers of ths . confectioner and toy man. He was not a little surprised, however, on Sunday, to find a bank bill crushed : in among the weight of copper- He was nn Innnr in findtnrr it tr h A fhrrtlrftn a a - - bank, and on asking the class who put it there, the doner was pointed out by his schoolmates, who had seen him de posit it, and thought it a very benevo lent gift. "Didn't you know this bill was good for nothing ?" asked the teacher. "Yes," answered the boy. Then what did you put it in tie box for?" "I diJn'l s'pose the little heathens would know the difference, so I thought it wouia do just as wen tor them.' A potatoe merchant, at Baltimore, who had lately married, after a breach of promise to another lady, was follow ed to market on Saturday by the injured fair one and severely cowhided. The lady cut him severely about the face, ' and greatly disfigured his physiognomy. The occurrence caused a great deal of talk in ttu market, and in order to sret a sight at a man who was whipped by a ' woman, many person-i called upon him for their potatoes, and iu a short time he had disposed of his stock, and returned to his newly wedded wife, by whom he was doubtless consoled. It is stated in the Fri-maVs Intelligen cer, that from statistics recently publish ed in England, while the average dura tion of hurrn life is estimated at 33 years that among the Friends is an average of 51 years. Eighteen years thus added to the average of human life is a fact too remarkable not to challenge medical attention, and lead us te a close investigation of the laws of life. What a meaning and unique expres sion was that of a young Irish girl, who was rendering testimony against an individual in a court of law a short time since. "Arrah, sir," said she, "I'm shore he never made his mother smile !" There is a biography of un- kindness in that simple sentence. Dancing is hilarious sport stilting the spirits mightily, and sending the blood tingling through one's veins as if each drop was on an individual "bust;" and it is an accomplishment with which, all persons may become well acquainted; but the toe, though unquestionably one, is not the "chief end of man. Wk are so made, that each of us re gards himself as the mirror of the com munity; what passes in our minds infal libly seems to us a history of the uni verse. Eveiy man is like the drunkard who reports an earthquake, because he feels himself staggering. God's people are like stars, that shine brightest in the night; they are like gold, that is brighter for the furnace; like in cense, that becomes fragrant from burn ing; like the camomile plant, lhat grows the fastest when tiampled upon. - Two things to be kept your word and your temper. The former when dealing with a printer, and the latter when dis puting with a woman. This may be dif ficult, bit it can be done by getting couple of chapters of Job by heart. All reasoning must take something for granted, but disputants often lake differ ent things for granted, and don't try or don't know how to explain their premi ses; so that men are continually arguing without convincing. Ir a girl thinks more of her heels than of her head, depend upon it she will nev er amount to much. Brains which set tle in the shoes, never get above them. Young gentlemen will please put this down. Ir you are determined to commit sui cide in consequence of poverty, do it early in the morning, instead of late at night, and you will save the expense of three meals. Ir seventy-two words' are required ia common law to make a sheet, how is it that one word will sometimes make a wet blanket?