Newspaper Page Text
THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
t W. Weaver, Proprietor.] VOLUME 8. THE STAR OF THE NORTH Is PUBLISHED EVERT WEDNESDAY MORNINO BV R. W. WEAVER, Up atairi, in the new brick build ing, on the eouth side oj Main Street, third square below Market. TERMS: —Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six months from the time of sub scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not pajd within the year. No subscription re ceived for a less period than six months; no discontinuance permitted until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square will be inserted three limes for One Dollar and twenty-five cents for each additional in sertion. A liberal discount will be made to those who advertise by the year. A CHILD'S rRAYF.It. Sweeter than the songs of thrushes. When the winds are low: Brighter than the spring-time blushes, Reddening out of snow, Were the voice and oheeh so fair Of the.little child at prayer. Like a white lamb of the meadow, Climbing through the light: Like a priestess in the shadow Of the temple bright, Seem'd she, saying "Holy One, Thine, and not my will be done." [ALICE CARET. CROMWELL AND MILTON. During bis morning drills and evening ca rousals, Gibbons mind was still occupied with tbe design of writing some history. This cherished projeot has been familiar to him through all the changes of his life. His early readings from the period when he first be gan to think at all, were directed with this intention. When he was sn idle student at Oxford, when he was considered an apostate from the faith of his ancestors, when he became a Protestant again, when he became • sceptic, in youth and manhood—as Protest ant, Roman Catholic, sn unbeliever, ah a man of letters, and as a man of fashion, as a soldier, and as a politician, the faint voice within still whispered that he WB to be a historian. This is directly contrary to the opinion of Mr. Carlyle and Dr. Johnson, that tbe mind of a man of genius is of a peculi arly plastic nature, and that it is in his power to be either a great orator, statesman, poet, bietoi.ian, or what he will. Look at Cromwell and Milton. Here are two men having so striking a family likeness that (hey may be considered brothers; they were both men of genius; men of stern and earnest temperaments; men whose days were spent in strange and unknown ways, with precipices and deep waters orf every side ; but who were always upheld by a solemn enthusiasm and calm determination, that made them set as nought all the powers of tbe world. For them the ordinary attractions of life had no charms. They were sent into the world for no other purpose than to eat, drink and be glad. What to them were seventy years of luxury and pleasure, if they were to be purchased by an eternity of misery!— Wae the Bible true or false ? Were heaven and hell true or lies? They looked into their hearts, and a fluttering spirit told them that tbe Bible was true, that heaven and hell were troe, that life, death and eternity were true. Each theu labored under hiegreßt Task-mas ter's eye. But how different were their lives, and yet how much the same ! How unlike are their portraits, and yet how like ! Yet could Cromwell have been anything more than the statesman and soldier? Could Mil ton have been anything but the philosopher and poet! Was not Cromwell essentially a man of action, and Millon not less essential ly a man of speculation ? Could Millon have won the battle of Worcester? Could Crom well have written Paradise Lost ? It was not assuredly for want of opportunity that Crom well was not a great poet, for his yonth and early manhood were spent in retirement and obscurity, such as were very likely to nurse habits of thought and miditation, and indnoe the mind to apply itself to the quiet study of literature and philosophy. We know well that Millon devoted his life to study of liter ature and philosophy. We know well that Milton devoted his life to study, and was conscious even in bis early days of his voca tion. The design of some great work, which posterity would not let die, was formed in youth, health, and happiness, and carried out iitold -age, defeat, blindness, poverty, and ruin.— Prater's Magazine. Da. Winam's WILL.—The late Dr. John C. Warren, of Boston—a man who stood at the head of tho old School Medical profes sion of Massachusetts,and who was a strong advocate for general post-mortem examina tions and a more thorough and continued study of anatomy—willed his body for dis section, and his skeleton for preservation in the Medical Museum. From an exchange we learn that— Tho will required that the body should re main twenty-four hours, at the close of which time arsenic should be infused into the veins; at the end of the next twenty one hours the funeral ceremonies should lake place and the body be deposited be neath St. Paul's Church, and twenty-four hours thereafter was to be given for exami nation to the officers of the Medical College and the Physicians of the Massachusetts General Hospital. After this the flesh was to be taken from t)ie bones, the bones mac erated, wired and deposited in the College Museum. He did this to break what he considered a superstitious reverence for a dead body, which .interfered he believed with the ac quisition of knowledge very essential to the living. He endeavored to make the best possible use of all his faculties while he lived, and provided for rendering his body, after death, the most useful to survivors. Medical Reformer. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY; PA.. WEDNESDAY, JULY 30, 1856. GAMING. Voltaire asserts, that, "Every gambler is, has beeD, or will be a robber." Gaming is an evil in the first place, because it is a practice which produces nothing. If the whole human family were all skilful ;game sters, and should play constantly for a whole year, there would not be a dollar more in the world at the end of the year than at its commencement. On the contrary, there would be much less, besides an immense loss of time. But, secondly, gaming favors corruption of mind. It is difficult to trace the progress of the gamester's mind from the lime when he commences his course, but we know too well the goal at which he is bound to arrive. There may be exceptions, but not many; generally speaking, every gamester, sooner or later, goes to perdition, and often adds to his own woe, by dragging others along with him. It d isconrages industry. He, who is ac customed to secure large sums at once, which bears no proportion to the labor by which they are obtained, will gradually come to re gard the moderate, but constant and certain rewards of industrious exertion as insipid.— The famous philosopher, Locke, in bis "Thoughts on Education," thus remarks, "It is certain that gambling leaves no satisfac tion behind it, to those who reflect when it is over, and it in no way profits either body or mind. As to their estates, if it strike so deep as to concern them, it is a trade then, and not a recreation, wherein few thrive; and st best a thriving gamester has but a poor trade of it, who fills his pockets at the price of his reputatron." J. T. Headley, in letters from "Italy, and the Alps, and the Rhine," says that "A gambler carries his re pulsive sonl in his eyes, in his face, nay, al most in his very gait. His very presence causes a chilling atmosphere around him, that upsets all that approach him. Gangling more completely metamorphoses a man than any other crime except murder." Gaming is always criminal, either in itself, or in its tendency. The basis of its covetousness , a desire to take from others something for which yon have neither given nor intend to give an equivalent. I have often wondered how sober and intelligent peoplo, who have consciences, and believe the doctrine of ac accountability to God—how professing Chris tians, as is sometimes the case in this coun try, can sit whole evenings at cards. What notions have they of the vaiue of time ? Can they conceive of Him whose example we are bound to follow, as engaged in this way? What a herculean task has Christianity yet to accomplish! The excess of this evil has caused even the overthrow of empires. It. leads to con spiracies and furnishes conspirators. Per haps this vice has nowhere been carried to greater excess than in France. There it has its administration, its chief, its stockholders, its officers, its priests. It has its domestics, its informers, its spies, its pimps, its assas sins, its bullies, its aiders, its abettors, in fact, Us scoundrels of every description; par- : ticularly, its hireling swindlers, who are paid to entice the unwary into the "hells upon earth," so odious to morality, and so destruc- ! live to virtue and Christianity. In England, this vice has been long looked upon as one of pernicious consequence to the common wealth, and has bqen for a long time pro hibited by law. Every species of gambling is strictly prohibited, and is frequently pun ished with great severity. Men of immense wealth have been known to enter gambling bouses, and in a few short hours, to be re duced to beggary. . The young shoulJ be warned never to en ter this dreadful road. Shun it as you would the road to eternal destruction. Fly the temptation as you would the bite of an asp or a scorpion. Take not the first step; if you do, all may be lost. Say not that you can command yourself when you approach the confines of danger. So thousands have already thought as sincerely as yourselves, and yet they fell. The probabilities that we shall fall where so many have fallen, are as millions to one ; and the contrary opinion is only the dream of lunacy. When you are inclined to think yourselves sale, consider those who once thought themselves equally so, have been corrupted, distressed, ruined by gaming, for this world, and that to ootae. Think how many families have been plunged by it into beggary, and overwhelmed by it in vice. How many men have become hare at the gaming table, how many perjured, how many drunkards, how many blasphe mers. "If Europe," says Montesquieu, "is to be ruined, it will be by gaming." Burghi in his dignity of "Human Nature," sums up the evils of gaming, as follows : "It U the cause of infinite loss of time, of enormous destruction of money, of irritating the pas sions, and stirring up avarice ; of innumera ble sneaking tricks and Irauda: of encour agement of idleness ; of disgusting people against their proper employments, and of debasing all that is truly noble and valuable in the human soul.— N. Y. Observer. STATISTICS OF HvDROPHOBiA.-By Dr. Blatch ford.—Out of 72 caßes, 54 were bitten by dogß, 6by cats, 1 by a raccoon, and 1 by a cow. Out of 62 cases, 4 died the first day, 9 the second, 6 the third, 18 the fourth, 4 the fifth, 2 on each the sixth, seventh and tenth days, and lon the twenty-first. That 22 bites occurred in March, April and May; 18 the next quarter; 18 the next, and 22 the last. The average time of sickness was 66 days, but this lengthy average was enhanc ed by two strongly marked cases, lasting 365 and 360 respectively. The usual ave rage is 41 days.— N. Y. ITmw. Extravagance In the t'ursnlt and Repnb" llcan Enjoyment or Wealth. The rapidity with which large fortunes are acquired in this oounlry, without the neces sity of much education or refined intelli gence, is the source of a great deal of the tasteless extravagance and gaudy show that characterize the style of living of our so called "fashionable society." The family who by a sudden turn of fortune's wheel, rise at once from the obscurity of a mediocre position in the world of gentility, to a station in the front rank of "Upper-ten-dom," are naturally desirous to signalize their calumni ation by a stunning display of resources, and their previous education (or rather their want of one) renders their effort to shine more conspicuous by their gorgeous vulgarity and bad taste, than by any attribute of increased refinement and elegance. Their dress, their manners and their mansions are, consquently, absurdly exaggerated copies of the richness, the self-possessed breeding, and the luxury of European high life, and the ceremonies of their fashionable intercourse, in many in stances are carriralures of the pomp and eti quette of the "baut ton" of foreign astsloc racy. Parade with them becomes fuss; courtesy, affectation, confidence, impudence; privilege, license; elegance, and costliness, profusion and extravagance; and exclusive ness, presumption. In a country founded on principles of so cial and political liberty and equality, this attempt to imitate the fashionable vices of the monarchial system leads inevitably to abuse and exaggeration, and produces dis content and envionsl'ill-feeling among that very large class of respectable people, who, with equal rights, have not the ability or the fortune to indulge in equal luxury, and must be "snubbed" by those whom chance alotie has placed socially above them, while they are fully conscious of their own moral and intellectual right io stand at least in the same rank of worldly consideration. And besides these evils, there is also an other, even greater, which this national folly encourages; this is the morbid hankering af ter riches, and the consequent sacrifice of comfort, intellectual culture, and often the nicer shades of honesty and honor, to the eager pursuit of tbe coveted wealth which is to enable the possessor to assume a position among the gorgeous circles of the money ex olusives, who form the upper stratum, par excellence, of our large metropolitan commu nities. As our contemporary, the Sandusky Register tersely remarks, in this connection : "Here, in a nut-shell lies what we regard • iho great evil of republican institutions; not that the evil approaches ever so remotely the good : no ! we are hopeful indeed of lib erty and tree institutions—but when there is a danger is it not well to be on the look-out to avoid it. So many men acquire immense riches in America, and the lists are so equally open to all, that ambition and competition are feverishly, unnaturally excited. There is one universal struggle for wealth going on, in which health and happiness are often overthrown, and in which vir'ue, honesty, peace, mental repose and spiritual growth will be overwhelmed, and every private and national virtue deterioated, and to which even public prosperity will fall a victim, if the combatants do not pause to consider what risks ore tun—what periled by this mad "fever of living" to grow rich." MR. BROWN S MISHAPS. Mr. Eliphalet Brown was a bachelor of thirty-five, or thereabout; one of those men who seem born to pass through the world alone. Save this peculiarity, there was noth ing to distinguish Mr. Brown from the mul titude of olher Browns who were boin, grow up, and die in this world of ours. It chanced that Mr. Brown had occasion to visit a town some fifty miles distant on matters of business. It was his first visit to the place, and he proposed stopping for a day, in order to give himself an opportunity to look about. Walking leisurely along the street, he was all at once accosted by a child of live, who ran up to him, exclaiming: ' Father I want you to buy me some can dy.' ' Father!' Was it poasiblo that he, a batch elor, wag addressed by that title? He could not believe it? ' Who were you speaking to, my dear?' he enquired of the little girl. ' I spoke to you, father,' said the little one surprised. 'Really,' thought Mr. Eliphalet Brown, 'this is embsrrassing.' ' 1 am not your father, my dear,' he said. 'What is your name?' The child laughed heartily, evidently thinking it a joke. 'What a fanny father you are,' she said; 'but you are going to buy rue some candy ?' 'Yes, yes, I'll buy you a pound if you won't oall me father any more,' said Mr. 8., nervously. The little girl clapped her hands with de light. Tbe promise was all she remember ed. Mr. Brown proceeded to a confectionary store, and actually bought a pound of candy, which he placed in the hands of the little girl. In coming out of tbe store they encounter ed the child's mother. 'O, mother,' said the little girl, 'just see how much candy father has bought me.' 'You should'nt have bought her so much at a time, Mr. Jones,' said the lady, 'I am afraid she will make herself aiek. How did you get home ao quick 7 I did not expect you till night.' ' Jones—l—madam,' said the embarrassed Trith and Right Clod aid oar Comtry. Mr. Brown, 'it's all a mistake; I ain't Jones at all. It isn't my name. I am Eliphalet Brown, of W , and this is the first time I ever came to this city.' 'Good heavens! Mr. Jones, what has pot this silly tale into your head ? You have concluded to change your name, have you? Perhaps it is your intention to change your wife?' Mrs. Jones' lone was defiant, and this ten ded to increase Mr. Brown's embarrassment. ' Ibave'nt any wife, madam ; I never had any. On my word as a gentleman, I never was married.' ' And do you intend to palm this tale off upon me ?' said Mrs. Jones, with excitement. ' If you're not married, I'd like to ktjow who I am ? ' 1 have no doubt you are a most Respect able lady,' said Mr. Brown, 'and I conjec ture, from what you hare said, that-fumr. name is Jones ; but mine igfirown, madam, and always was.' - , . ' Melinda,' said her mother, suddenly tak ing the child by the arm, an| leading her up to Mr. Brown, 'Melinda, win is that gentle man I ' Why, that's father!' was the immediate reply, as she confidingly plated her hand in bis. ' You hear that, Mi. Jones; do you ? You bear what that innocent clild says, and yet you have the unblushing inpudence to deny that you are my husbandl The voice of nature, speaking through he child, should overwhelm you. I'd like to know if you are not her lather, why you are buying candy for her? I would like to have you answer that. But I presume you never saw her be fore in your life. 'I never did. On my honor; I never did. I told her I would give her~tlie candy if she would not call me father any more.' 'You did, did you? Bribed your own child not to call yon father 1 0, Mr. Jones, this is infamous! Do you intend to desert me, sir, and leave me to the ooltj charities o( the world? and is this your first step?' Mrs. Jones was so overcome that, without any warning, she fell baok upon the aide walk in a tainting fit. Instantly a number of persons ran to her assistance. ' Is your wile subject to fainting in this way?' asked the first comer, of Brown. 'I don't know. She isn't my wife. I don't know anything about her.' ' Why, it's Mrs. Jones, ain't it?' ' Yes, but I'm not Mr. Jones.' 'Sir,'said the first speaker, stern Iy,'this is no lime to jest. I trust that you are not Iba oaueo of iha excitement which must have occasioned your wife's fainting lit. You had better call a ooach and carry ber home direotly.' Poor Brown was dumbfounded. 'I wonder,' thought he, 'whether its pos sible that I'm Mr. Jones without knowing it. Perhaps I'm really Jor.es, and having gone crazy, in consequence of which I fancy that my name is Brown. And yet I don't think I'm Jones. In spite of all, I will insist that my name is Brown. 'Well, sir, what are you waitiug for? It is necessary thai your wife should be re moved at once. Will you order a carriage?' Brown saw that it was no use to protract the discussion by a denial. He, therefore, without discussing the point, ordered a hack ney coach to the spot. Mr. Brown accordingly len) an arm to Mrs. Jones, who had somewhat recovered, and was about to close the door upon her. 'What, are you not going yourself?' 'Why, no; why should I 1' 'Your wife should not go alone; she has hardly recovered.' Brown gave a despairing glance at the crowd around him, and deeming it useless to make opposition where so many seemed thoroughly convinced that he was Mr. Jones, followed the lady in. 'Where shall I drive ?' said the whip. 'I—I—I don't know,' said Mr. Brown. 'Where would you wish to be carried V 'Home, of course,' muttered Mrs. Jones. 'Where is that ?' asked the driver. 'I don't know,' said Mr. Brown. 'No. 19, H s'reet,' said the gentleman already introduced, glanoing contemptuously at Brown.' 'Will you help me out, Mr. Jones? said the lady, 'I am not fully reoovered from the fainting fit into which your cruelty drove me.' 'Are you quite sure that I am Mr. Jones?' asked Mr. Brown with anxiety. , 'Of course,' said Mrs. Jones. 'Ther.,' said ha resignedly* 'I suppose 1 am. But if you will believe me, I was firm ly convinced this morning that my name was Brown, and to tell the truth, I have'm any recollection of this house.' Brown helped Mrs. Jones into the parlor; but good heavens! conceive the astonish ment of all, when a man was discovered sealed in an arm chair, who was the very fac simile of Mr. Brown, in form, features, and every other respect! 'Gracious!' ejaculated the lady, 'which— whioh is my husband?' An explanation was given, the mystery cleared up, and Mr. Brown's pardon sought lor the embarrassing mistake. It was freely 1 accorded by Mr. Brown, who was quite de lighted to think that after all be was not Mr. Jones, with a wife and child to boot. Mr. Brown has not since visited the place where|this "Comedy of Errors" happened. He is afraid of losing his identity. fjr The difference between an honest and a dishonest banker is, that one fails in making money, the other makes money in failing. How Brother Penrce Converted Fennter raaeber. * The following amusing anecdote of the distinguished (?) representative in Congress, we clip from that excellent paper, the Phila delphia Sunday Mercury. The joke was per petrated by the inimitable New York Cor respondent of that paper, who gets off some-I thing 'rioh, racy and rare,' every week; and who seems to be well acquainted with the subject upon which he writes. The joke is quite characteristic of the man. Head it:— 'I see that the Rev. and Hon. J. J. Pearce, of the northern part of four Slste, a K. N. member of Congress, has become a subject of serious animadversion. Your correspon dent knows him well, and would like simply to say that the only fault in John Pearoe is, that theology doesn't agree with his moral the materials which would have made a glo rious landlord, an efficient stage proprietor, or an acute and successful auctioneer, were sadly perverted. Pearce is a Methodist min ister, and his wife is possessed of certain real estate that will support him independently of bis church. He bad, some years ago, near Lockhaven, a fine field of tobacco. He was one day sitting a-slraddle the fence sur rounding this field, whittling a pine shingle, and humming 'The Old Ship Zton,' when an old local preacher, whom I will call Brown, who had always regarded Pearce with a jaundiced eye, thus accosted bim: 'Brother Pearce, don't you think you'r a helpin' along the devil a-raisio' that' air to bacco? Don't you think it makes a sting in the noeetrills of the Lord ?' Pearoe ceased whittling. 'Why ?' he asked. 'Why? Why? Why, hain't you a helpin' the devil? Hadn't a man—specially a man what's got grace—ought to do every thing for the glory of God. And does raisin' that air cursed stuff glorify the Lord, eh?' 'Do you do everything with a special eye to God's glory ?' 'Wa-a-11, yes ; I alters pray to do that air thine.' 'What's that white stufT slicking out of that bundle you have under your arm?' 'That air's cotton muslin stuff for shirts.' 'Do you believe that slavery glorifies God?' 'No, no ! Hell's a leetle too good for the slave-holders. The devils sure to get 'em when the Lord parts the sheep and the goats ?' 'And yet,' said Pearce, 'you'll wear cot ton shirts and eat sugar, the two very arti cles upon which all the negro's labor is ex pended.' And then jumping down from the fence and lucking In a white rag which pro truded from a rent in the rear of his unmen tionables, he added, staring his would-be ac cuser in the eye : 'You glorily God, do you, in all your actions? You wear cotton shirts, and d—n the slaveholders, and you sweeten West India rum with eugar, the very objects for which all the negro's sweat is expended, and then curse me for raising my own to bacco! You're a pretty Christian, you are.' The old local preacher sneaked away, leaving Pierce to take another chew from his sheet-iron tobacco box, and expectorate to his heart's content. Pearce is 'some' at a campmeeling, and when he gets himself worked up into a rap turous phtensy, his red head and dilating eyeballs really assume a remarkable aspect. At a campmeeling in Nippenose Valley, some four years since, there was one lough old customer named Fenstermacher, that never could be induced to come to the anxious seat. Pearce had striven hard to gain him over to the Lord's side but as he owned a good dis tillery, and the church wouldn't receive bim unless he quit the business, old Fenslerma cher would not budge an inch. It was the last day and hour of the said meeting, and Pearoe was speaking from the top of a dry goods box with his watch in his hand. "Only fifty-five minutes more," he shouted, 'and more than a thousand sinners still un converted.' Old Fenstermacher was in front of him and visibly quailed. Then a prayer and hymn followed, and again Pearce cried, looking at his watch: 'Only thirty minutes to damnation!' The same process was repeated until but five minutes of the time remained, when Pearce, with hair disheveled, and standing out from his head in all directions,said, with terrible solemnity, in a voice intended for the Dutchman's special case : 'Only five minutes to Hans Fenstermacher's damnation I' The old lellow turned pale as ashes for a moment, and then blubbered out as he sank to his knees on some straw: 'Oh mine Cheesus, 1 right away up, and sells my dishtillery to Sam Yerkes for sixteen tousand tollars to morrow.' Six months after that day the old man was a pillar of the Methodist Church in Nippen ose, and probably ia there yet. Such is the character of the Honorable Mr. Pearce, a man who, I doubt not, is much be lied, but who, nevertheless, is not just so well fitted for sacerdotal duties as some others of softer heads and harder hearts. IMPORTANT CHANCES IN Mexico.—The de cree that the clergy are not permitted to hold property was published in Mexico on the 28th nltimo. The people in general con gratulated President Commonfort on that im portant step. The Jesuits are to leave the country. The Spanish difficulties are settled. The ports are open for emigrants, and liberty of conscience has been guarantied by the Congress. Such liberality gives some hope that Mexioo will yet rise from ber debase ment, and assume rank among the nations of the earth as a fixed and permanent power. HUMOROUS. W "Never saw euch stirring timet," ae the spoon aaid to the eaoeepan. £7Those two gentleman who stood upon the point of honor, the other day, for ten min utes, performed • very delicate feat. 17* "Come in, children, out of the wet," as the shark ssid when he suokedin the little fishes. IV "What is the cause of that bell ring ing?" inquiried Pete. "It's my deliberate conviction that some one has pulied the rope," answered Jo seph. I*" A partisan paper says it is a mistake that the (opposite) party plays upon a thou sand strings. The organ of that party is a lyre. HP* It is said (hat a Yankee baby Will crawl out of the cradle, take a surrey of it, invent an improvement, and apply for a pat ent before he is six months old. £7* Jenkins is a mao who takes matters humorously. When his best friend was blown into the air by a 'bustin biler,' Jenk ins cried after him, "there goes my es-sfsom ed friend. £7" A young man was conversing in a public house of his abilities and accomplish menls, and boasting a great deal of his mighty performances. When he had fin ished, a Quaker quietly observed, 'there is one thing thou canst not do; thou canst not tell the truth.' £7" A STRINO OF PUNS.—"Josh, I say. I's j going down street t'other day, an' I seed a| tree bark." "Golly!. Sam, I seed it hollow." "I seed the same tree leave." "Did he take his trunk wid 'im?" "No, he left that for board." IF "Mr. Julius, is you belter die morn tn?" "No Mr. Snow, I was better yesterday but I'se got ober dat." "Am dere no hopes, den, ob your discov ery?" "Discovery of what ?" "Your discovery from der convalescence which folched jou on yer back." "Dal 'pends, Mr. Snow, altogedder on the prognostications which amplify de disease; for should they terminate fatally, he hopes the colored indervidual wont die till his breff lefs him some other time. As I said before, it all depends on de prognostics, and till de disease come to a head it am hard to tell wedder de nigger will discontinue his come or not." NOOKS VS. SNOOKS.—Nooks met Snooks in a tight place, and neither could turn out with out some danger of overturning their respect ive carts. "If you don't turn out," said Nooks, "IH serve you just as I did a° man I met half a mile back here in just such a place at this." Snooks was impressed by the decision which Nooks displayed, and promptly com plied with the request; but just as he was getting by, be inquired : "How about that man you met—how did you serve him ?" "Oh, well—bem—you see when I found as bow he wouldn't turn ont for me, why— hem—l just turned out for him—that was all 1" Nooks is a wag of the first water! 17* The captain of a canal boat was bring ing a large number of passengers down the Pennsylvania Canal, and had been consid erably irritated by the publications in the pa pers, showing tjiat (be traveling public were all for Adams. Watching a favorable oppor' tunity, while neapng a bridge and while his passengers were on deck discussing politics, he called out, 'all in favor of Jackson will stoop their heads.' Every man ducked his head of course to avoid coming in collision with the bridge, and the captain triumphantly raised his head crying 'unanimous for Jack son,' and so it was reported in the democratic papers of the next village. This was con sidered the best political dodge of the cam paign. POKTRY—A "brilliant" young miss, dis coursing on poetry, bursts out in the hifatulin strain: "Poetry, sir, in my opinion, is har mony. It is the voice of the angels, the ma sio of the spheres, the royal harp of love, the parent of purity, the benign instrument of charily. Poetry breathes sweetly in the pas sing zephyrs, and sings lullababies in the majestic symphonies of Boreas; the seas echo its music, and the waves as they roll onward without cessation, in chromatic soales express its very soul. Poetry to me is (he- Jane, my dear, where did you purchase that love of a bat? 17* Nebraska appears to be filling up with large bodies of emigrants, mostly young men. They go with the plough and the axe in hand, and not Sharpe's rifles. This may account for the peaceable and secure settle' ment of the territory, in such striking con trast in Kansas,.wbioh was commenced with swagger and violence, and has continued with trouble and outrage ever since. 17 A wealthy family in New Orleans so tainted with blood on the mother's side that could not be admitted into the best so ciety, sold out last year and went to Paris.— One of the daughters, it is now reported, has married a foreign ambassador at the court of Louis Napoleon. I.ovx AND SILENCE.— Words are little aid To love, whose deepest vowa are ever made By the beart'a beat alone. O, silence is Love's own peculiar eloquence of bliss. [Two Dollars per ABBM*^ NUMBER 28. JTWbitol Beading. From the Middle Stotee Med. Reformer. Is A SOUTHERN CLIMATE BENEFICIAL TO CON SUMPTIONS?—Aaron W——, of Tamaqua, Pa., asks whether it be a fact that a South ern clime is best calculated to promote the recovery of persons laboring under Con sumptive disease? We know that this is the opinion very generally entertained—that "the refreshing breezes, the orange groves and flowers, and eternal spring" of the South are preeminent ly calculated to benefit the consumptive, and that all thus diseased or having a ten dency to it should go to the middle climate of the South. Now to our mind—and our opinion has been strengthened by observa tion and considerable investigation—this is all a fatal error—an error fearfully demon* titrated by innumerable marble rocords in the West Indies, Madcria, tho South of Fllicn, an —ell no Ptu.Un 1 | t : our own country. Reflect a moment. The peculiarities of the Southern climate are foggy, damp, wet; at one time suffocatingly sultry, at another cool, damp and chilly. These changes too are sudden and great, often over thirty de grees in less than six hours. Well the sys tem of the consumptive is iu a relaxed con dition. The tendency of such a climato, instead of proving bracing and tonic, in creases this difficulty. He needs the life giving influences of the clear, dry air of tbe North, and he must have it to successfully escape the fatal results of consumption, be cause having a less amount of lungs ho necessarily consumes a less amount of air, in bulk, than the imperative wants of the system demand. Well it has been demon strated that the warmer air is, the less nour ishment it contains—that a* cubic inch of cold air contains a greater proportion of ox ygen—the blood purifying and life giving element, than the same amount of warm air. The consumptive then, who is already liv ing on a short allowance in this important particular, if he leaves hence at all, instead of going to a latitude where this allowance will be diminished, should by all means go where every inch of air he consumes will afford him the largest amount of nutriment. Instead then of going South let him go North. We may recur to this subject again. EPILEPTIC FITS AND EPILEPSY NOT THE SAME DISEASE.— By H. S. Barrows, M. D.—The disease known among us as epilepsy is in volved in no inconsiderable obscurity, and I verily believe that there is a difference be tween it and epileptic fits. I not only be lieve that epilepsy is incurable, but that no well attested case of cure can bo produced. That epileptic fits have been, and maydtf cured I have no doubt, if the case is in seasoa. We cannot case to be one of epilepsy it presents some of the toms, any more thau we are a"thorizNß| pronounce certain hepatic troubles of a chronic character, consumption, merely be cause they present some symptoms in com mon with that fatal disease. The pathog nomic symptoms of epilepsy are convul sions with sleep. The attendant symytoms usually are foam issuing from the mouth, laborious respiration as in the act of strang ling, pulse at the commencement quick and small, in the progress of the paroxysm lan guid and full, eyes swollen and protuber ant, constantly in motion and turned up so as to conceal the pupils, teeth grinding often with great violence, the jugulars turgid, the tongue swollen and protuberant, the head convulsed, and sometimes seized with te tanus, and either drawn forwards 'to the chest, or backward towerds the spine where it continues fixed and quite immoveable.— The thumbs are strongly rivited within the palms; all the muscles are either convulsed to such a degree that several men can scarce ly restrain their motion, or the whole body becomes rigid like a marble statue. Some times it comes on suddenly and without the least warning of its approach; but frequent ly it is preceded by some degree of lassi tude, singing in the ears, &c. Epilepsy is that organic affection of the cerebrum which predisposes the individual to certain fits or convulsions, marked by a certain characteristic of periodicity, and may occur monthly, weekly or daily. This 1 define true epilepsy, without fear of con tradiction pronounce it incurable by human skill. Epileptic fits are certain convulsions of the epileptic character, being or not being mark ed by periodicity, depending upon any of the various causes of irritation, and in which the cerebrum is functionally affected. These fits are curable, and are the fits which have been cured by those who make epilepsy a speciality in their practice, and who have received the credit ot curing a disease which in fact never existed.— Worcester Jour, <f Mod, BLEEDING IN PUEBFEEALFEVER.— At amoet ing of the College of Physicians of Phila delphia, March 6th, 18S6, in discussing this subject Dr. Beosley said:—ln tbe early year* of my practice, I adopted the plan recom mended by Dr. Dewees, and bled and pur ged freely in such cases, and I regret to say, with not that success I desired. But for the last eight years 1 treat them differently, sel dom taking any blood from them. Dr. Condie said:—During a practice of 19 years, I have seen enough of puerperal fe ver to strengthen my adherence to the belief, confirmed now by the conclusions of ob stetricians in every part of Europe, and by the majority of those in our own country, that bleeding in this disease is altogether mischievous.— Transactions of College of Pky, i sicians.