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STAUHXT f;F THE tOMHTlOS GrTli.SjiJ2)S' GEORGE WASHINGTON. v . ... a- '"v, vr NEW SERIES VOL. 2 Cbcaucastcr incite CITY OP LANCAST3SH: ' PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MOKSISG. ! ro:4 S. SLAUGHTER. EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR, '.uVpICK Old Public Building floutheart corner ol . , ttao Public Hqur. ' TERMS One ye.rln dvnco,5,0(n l the cxiilra U...1 oftlia yenr, J-.'.jl); Clubtoflcn, $15,00; Club, of lruty-Ure, jm.oo. TERMS OP AUVBRT1815G. On,, s, ni.ru. iniinei(orltf4ji)inroolnortlon ' 1,00 25 3 Month! 6 Montil Ono Square 3.0 tjW Two " 4,08 6,00 .L Throe " 5,00 S.OO Oiia-fannhcoluinn . 7,o- ' l0." Oim-thinl . 9.00.. -M One-half ". 10,00 ,0 ii li.oo no.oo u.l. 11(1.. ....I Itiaurttnil VtMontkt $11.0(1 0.1)0 ' 13.()it 14.00 . )U,00 ' 55,00 . 40,00 "Yearly edTcrllson Iirto lh pritllogo of rnowlng : their nvortU:nniiit. " .-.in "TB'iino Cimlfi, not excceillnu one qiirn win bo InwrtJil, for nhwrlli-r, st $3,00 per year, non (Ubscrlbort will bo charged 0,00. Thursday. Morning Mny 3, 155 ; A PICTVKE--XOT XJNCOMMOX. U to the orchunl, . . Down In the hme Hunted all over, Hunted In vain. .. For thoao which wondered Thn n.-nil I m O n 11 ; (Ws thinking of Fnul, ' And the men of Bulh-Shenn;) , Vlh they'd "got mlrod," Or they hd broko ' Their uecks, when they Iwlnted Them out of the yoke. Th.,r ilwivi loVeil clover. l' '' ' ' . Par mure than their yokes; Vlrst lime they broko over, SUould've put on tlionokcu. All comes of improving " ' The lo.son we'd tunglit thciu, - . Lute to think of It now, In viiluhuvlngougut thc!ii; Hopples and foltera " Portlio onruly "critters," That will uot slay pull Hut Saul ho found olio thing And we huvo found something Becllos, wedges, and glut, Just whoro llicy left them, When they anatchod up their guns, And pat aftor quail. Hogs In tho garden . ', Cows In the corn Humble-bees building Their nests in the burn: ' Hung tho "low fences," Teaching cattle to Ju mpl Gates off their hinges Leuky old pump ' Candles too slender To soo by the bats That couio through tho window, For lack of more hati "Tatcrs" few in a hill, And dwarfish at that; . And liulf of theui wusled . - . 'Twoen the "girl" and Hie rat; Owing to planting . Wrong lime of tho "moon," 'f Too lato with them last oar, This year too soou. ,1 Children In tatters, 4 Don't know how to spoil Wife In tears always, There's nothing goes well Swine wllh their jokes ou Kino withthelr pokosou ' Clultea sight, d'yo soe? Raw-boned und long-necked But what could yon expoct From such farmorsas weT Or, what would you give, The secret to know? 'TIs writ on tho face Of the RUM CASK BELOWI ' Jeimal of Ctmrnertt. P. The -Yt-nr 'wo Live In. This question does not appear to bo set tled yet.' This year, according to tho Ma hometan theory of time, is 1270; according to the Jewish, 5C15, and according to thu Christian, fiC50. Thib is dated from the creation of tho world,' in the Jewish and Christian computation, and from the He gira or flight of Mahoraot, in tho firsL Tho Alphonsino tablos, however, make this year the 7088th from tho creation; whilo tho Greek Church dates this year as '7362, and somo of tho Eastern Churches date it sixteen years later than the Greek church. ' Tho Chinese adopt tho Sexagen ary Cyclo of CO years, giving a name to each year. Seventy-live cycles have now elapsed, their era commencing in 27U0 B, C, so that they uow deem themselves in the year 4554. By the Hindoo era of the Caliguy this year is 4955. Tho Moxioan era dates this year as 2944, only com mencing 1090 years B. C. Tho Mexican year is correctly astronomical. Tho Tal mud makes this, year 7199; the Septua gint, 7726; and the Samaritan Pentateuch, .6554. : Dr. Hales, the eminent chronologist, fixes this year 7265, but the Catholic Church adopt the bost settled authorities, and designate this year as 5858. Anno Mundi, or creation of the world, and 1854, Anno Domini If the Roman Empire had existed as it was under the emperors, this year would be 2507, dating form the foun dation of Rome. There is as much uncertainty regarding the dato of tho flood, as of the creation. The Soptnagint makes it 3426 A. M., Jo sephus, 3146, the Samaritan Pentateuch, 2997, and the modern Jews, 2104. Some of tho profane writes make it 2358 A. M. ' ' Amid all the abstruse and painful calcu lations which have been made relative to , these epochs, tho Chritian era is undoubt edly the most correct and authentic Ac cording to that, the world was created 6858 years ago, ' the deluge swept the earth 3510 years ago, and 2348 years be fore Christ, and that we are now living in the year 1855. dating from, the birth of Christ. NO. 52 KIRWAN'S LETTERS. ' TO. THE RIGHT ItEV. JOHN HUGHES, BlffHOP , . OP NEW YORK., . ... : LETTER IV. ' Mr Dear Sir, In mv two last letters I have stated to you some of the causes of my early misgivings as to yours beyg a true church, and as to its holding the true faith. These causes I might multiply in definitely; for you well know it lobe a law of the human mind chat when its confi dence is once shaken, it sees causes of sus picion even in things truo and honest. In my first letter I stated to you that when I deliberately rejected the authority and teachings of your church, I became an in fidel. And my object in the preset letter is to reveal to you the process through which my mind passed, in its transition from popery to infidelity. I believe that your Reverence will pronounce it a very natural one. . On reaching the years of maturity my mind was a perfect blank as to all religious instruction. And if suuh instruction is ever given by your church or priests, my advantages were peculiarly good for re ceiving it. Indeed I was even talked of as a candidate for Mavnooth. Whilst mv mind was filled with superstitious uotions concerning meats and penances, and exter nal observances, and legends, it was ut terly ignorant of the liible. With my Missal 1 was somewhat familiar; I said the Catechism when I was confirmed at the age of nine or ton; and that was the amount of my religious education.' At the age of eighteen years the Catechism was forgot ten, and the Missa) was neglected; and as my conscience was uneducated, and my mind unfurnished with religious principles, the only test of truth left me was roy com mon sense. I then became the associate of companions of Protestant education, who would sometimes ask me my reason for this and that observance; and not being a blo to give any, as none were ever give mo, I was frequently put to the blush. I can didly state to you that it was in this way I was first led to bring to the test of my common sense, then my only standard, some of the doctrines and rites of your church. And this reveals tho reason why your priesthood is so intensely concerned that Catholic children should bo guarded fiom nil contaet with those of Protestant education. The snii it, of inquiry is con tagious; and pop, 141.018,1 nd pi iists fear it worse than the plague. Its indulgfiice, you know, either is, or leads to, mortal sin. Let ine briefly state to you somo of the ef fects of this spirit of inquiry upon me. From my youth up I was taught to ab stain from all meals on Fridays und Satur days. Why on those days mora than any other, I was never told. And if by mis take I was involved in the violation of this law, I felt a burden upon my conscience, of which confession could only relievo me. Circumstances lod me to inquire into this matter.' I saw good papists eating eggs, and fish, and getting drunk on these days; but this was no violation of the law of tho Church! Yet if these persons bhculd eat meat of any kind; or uso gravy in any way, their conscience were ti on bled and they must perform penance! This led mo to ask. Is tins reasonable: If 1 may eat meat on Thursday, why not on Friday? Lan uod, in things ot tins kind, make tlint to be a sin at one time which is not on another? I saw also persons, for whoso moral worth I had the highest regard, eating meats on those days, and without any injury t And I camo to thq conclu sion that your regulations upon this mat ter were unreasonable, and rejected them. And, as far as I now remomber, this was my first step towards light nnd freedom. Whother our course is upwards, to wards tho region of light, or downwards, towards that of darkness, one step always prepars foranother. Devoted to reading at this period of my life, I perused, with o'ut discrimination, every thing that came in my way. Some book or tract, now for gotten, gave rise to some inquiries ns to the Mass. I asked, what does it meas? I could not tell, though for years a regular attendant upon it. Why does the - priest dress so: What book does he read from, when carried now to his right, and now to his left? What mean those candles burn ing at noonday? Why do I say prayers in Latin, which I understand not.' ohould I not know what I am saying when ad dressing my Maker? Why bow dowu.and strike my breast, whon the little bell rings? What does it all mean? The darkness of Egypt rested upon theso ques tions. I thus reasoned with myself; God is a spiritual and intelligent being, and he requires an intelligent worship. What worship I render him in the Mass, I know not. My intelligent worship only is acceptable to him, and is beneficial to me. I am a rational being, and I degrade my nature, and insult my Maker, by offering to Him a worship in which neither my rea son, nor IDs intelligence is consulted. Having come to this conclusion, I gave up the Mass as a form of worship well enough fitted for an idol, but unfitted to be ren dered by a rational being to the infinitely intelligent Jehovah. I have nevor been to Mass since, savo. out of curiosity to see how an ignorant people can bo edified by what seems to mo the most unmeaning and far cical of all the rites that ever mail : has de vised.' And you know, sir, that with all devotion and honesty a Catholio may wait on you Masses until his locks are as white as your surplice, and then pass into eter nity without one single spiritual idea upon the subject of religion; rosolving it all into external observances.. . :. LANCASTER, OHIO,1 THURSDAY MORNING, MAY 3, 1855 When I came to the aboto conclusion on tho subject of the Mass, I experienced no great difficulty as to tho other matters which passed rapidly in review before me. Must I go to Confession? My prejudices said, Yes. My reason ssiid, No. And my logic was simply ns follows: If I truly repent of my sins God will forgive me; if I ao not, me priest cannot absolve mo. And I spumed as unreasonable, nnd as an insult to my common sense, your terrible doctrine that "Every Christian 1s bound, underlain of damnation, to confess to a priest all his mortal sins, whioh after dilli gent examination ho can possibly remom ber; yea even his most secret sins; his very thoughts; yea and all tho circumstances of them which are of any moment." I ask you, sir, if this dogma of tho Council of Trent is not a horrible dogma? It sus pends upon confessing to a priest, what the Bible suspends on believing in Chris:.! Do vou, sir, believe it? Can you believe it? ' With yet greater abhorrence, I gave np the doetrino of Transubstantiation. As explained by Dr. Clialloner, in his "Cath olic Christian Instructed," Chap. 5, it means "that the bread and wine are chang ed by tho consecration into the body and blood of Christ; and are so chatisred that Christ himself, true God, nnd truo man, is truly, really, and substantially present, in the sacrament." With this doctrine in view, I went to witness the administration of the Eucharist, as you call it. I went to Saint Peter's in Barclay-street. The com municants drew around the altar upon their knees. With a little box in his hand the priest passed from one to the other, taking a wafer, smaller than that used in sealing a letter, from the box, and placing it upon the extended tonguo of the' communicant. I was always taught that the teeth must not touch the wafer; that it must melt upon the tongue. This I find to he the law of your church. I witnessed the cer emony, as I had ot:en done before. 1 re tired from tho scene, asking these ques tions: Is that liule wafer tho real body and blood of Christ? Does the priest, in that liule box. not as largo as a snuff-box, car ry two or throe hundred leal bodies of Christ? Do theso communicants, each in their turn, eat the real body and blood of Lhrist; My dear sir, 1 cannot express to you tho violence with which my mind re jested the absurdity. Look at it in what li",ht you may, it is abhorrent to our com mon reason it gives the lie to everv sense with which God lias endowed us. It is a wicked imposition Having gono through this process, not with a light and trilling, but with a serious mind, my prejudices rising in stormy re bellions against my convictions, 1 raised up mv eves, ana ocnoiu, my reiiirion was gone! The priest was a juggler, nnd his religion a fable! Every thing that I hnd every leaniGd from parent and priest to esteem as religion, was now rejected as false; and not knowing but that this was all of religion that was in tho world, I had no alternative but infidelity. 1 had no test of truth but my reason, and when I bro't your system to that, I was compelled to reject it, not only as false, but as a mon strous absurdity, and with it, all religion. Nor havo I, dear sir, any hesitation in saying that tho process of my own mind from popery to infidelity, is that through which multitudes of minds have passed, and are now passing. To nn inquiring mind, which knows nothing of tho Bible, infidelity is the fruit of popery. Hence in papal countries, whilst the masses are su perstitious, the intelligent nnd educated are infidel. If they sustain the vulgar re ligion, it is for reasons of state. Hence, the infidelity of France, of Spain, of Italy. At the present hour tho mind of these countries is more infidel than papal. And this is true of every country on the globe whero your religion prevails. It makes the masses superstitious, and the intelli gent, infidels. And permit mo to say, my dear sir, in reference to yourself, that I have' far too hiirh resrnrd for your intelligence to admit for a moment that you believe in the ab-1 raised it again; spread its wings; and soar surd doctrines which you church tenches. ; ed away singing; its thirst was appeased. Like the ancient priests of Egypt, you must, I walked up to tho trough, and there, in have ono class of opinions for the people, 1 tho stone-work, I saw a little hole about and another for yourself. Will you say ' the size of a wren's egg. The water held that this is harsh and uncharitable? None there had been a source of revival and ro knows better than yourself that history nf-1 freshment; it had found enough for the firms it of popes, cardinals, and bishops that have lived before you. On no other ground can I possibly account for your remaining an hour in tho Roman Catholic Church. - ; ' ' " 1 With great respect, yours, - - KIRWAX. What Is Dirt! The train, meat, fruit you eat, are all ,i:f Ti,o .i;fnl ,. o,.n nnrnJ,, n r,lto upon "which you place your food, was dug' nd it rolled its legs against themun out ofa clav bank last week.' That bright 1 Joked le yellow hose as the steel blade with which you are now lifting! bee-keepers say; and then,:j. heavily laden, the salt out of that crystal cup, if left in , flewnway home. 1 hen ,. said I "Thou contact with that salt a littlo space, a vejy earnest seeking honey, and finding none, short fraction of eternitv--would turn to dirt Tory dirty dirt. Even the crystal cup, reduced to powuer anu mixed wmi water, would change into the potato you! are eating; And if crystal is dirt noth-i ing but dirt, what are you yourself? Dust thou art. ' You need not be ashamed to talk about yourself or your fellow what you are or he will be, in the course of na ture' eternal changes for by her inimi table laws, we are but dirt purified from its most bflonsive particles for a little season, and shall return again to our original con-: dUion'.Z Illustrate,' ' - j It that the way tied Eaiut1 It was the evening of tlm Sabb.ab. Tho sun had just descended bcluw the horizon, and his niullow rayJrero thrown back upon the ' fleecy cloud, which hung in reefs and folds along fftc western sky, and tinged it with golden hues, so varie gated that a p':ou mind might innocently eontemjilate ii as imaging forth to earthly expectants, the drapery of those mansions in the heavenly temple, which oar ascend ed Lord has prepared for his redeemed ones. ...... :.-..- The hour for the last services of the Sab bath was approaching, and a vouny ladv was standing at tho window admiring the gorgeou sunset, hcodless of a tinny broth er by her sidu, until he exclaimed, "O how beaulilul it is! Sister, is that the way God paint!,?" , . fho idea was not new, that all the col ors aro contained in every beam of light, but it was newly dres-ed. It was divested of its philosophic robes, nnd beautifully vested in innocent and elr.id like drayery. God paints with rays of light. Evctv.col- lor simple and compound, wkh all their modifications, variously combined and ar ranged, winch adorn and beautify visible creation, are pcnciliugs f an infinitely skillful hand, drawn in rays of light, pour ed forth from the sun, llio centre of our system. Ours is a beautiful world still, though sin has sadly blurred it skillfully arrang ed us it . was, and richly adorned by the hand of the Great Architect. They only who have gone to that bright and sinless world, of which 'God himself is the light,' tho sun in tho centre, shedding forth his boams of empyrean light upon all tho holy things in heaven, are able fully to appre ciate or satisfactorily to respond to the question of our little friend, "Is that the way God paiuts?" fenn. Baptist. "Nothing is it." Last year's bird's nests and squirrel-quarried filberts me not tho only things in the world, of which it may truly bo said, "nothing in it." A coquelto's ' heart and a bacLclor's home, and a candidate's cordiality, nnd a Shy lock's smile of all these, may it safely be picdicten, there's lothing in it. "Nothing in it," eiiesihe Hunker, as lie glances over column after column of the daily, and sees nothing to stock or ex change no hint whereby l.o can make cent per cent no competitor bankrupt. "Nothing in it," exchuuis the politician, when lie vainly seeks a leader on tho 'state of the country," or the latest card, or the newest candidate. "Nothing in it," murmurs the maiden, when the poet's corner is filled np with the rhetoric of poik, and the "niariiage head" is crowded out by "fancy goods at cost." "Nothing in it," sighs the mourner, as she looks over the page so full of life nnd human interests no tribute to "Nelly" who died yesterday no plaint for Jemmy who languishes to-day. . , "Nothing in it," laughs tho bride, ns her eyes dance over the columns: the cap itals look like bridesmaids, the italics are waltzers, the paragraph's are pauses in the tune, and she is too happy to read. So amidst them all, the poor Editor has a thankless time- of it. "Mate Tel-el" is pronounced ngainsthim by those whomhe respects and those whom ho loves. . 'Tis nn arrow at random---a leap in the dark, and when tho last "proof" is read, and tho sheets are fluttering, like autumnal leaves from the press, and he reviews his labor, he too,- is constrained to say with the ret of tho world, "there's nothing in it!" Lessons of Contentment. It happened once, in a hot summer's day, I was stand ing near a well; when a little bird flew down, seeking water. There was, indeed, n largo trough near the well, but it was empty, and I grieved for a moment to think that the little creature must go away thirs ty; but it settled upon the edire of tho troun-h, bent its little head forward, then present, nnd desired no more; ibis is con tentment. . .... -j.: ' j Again, I stood by a lovely, sweet-smelling flower, and there came a bee, humming and sucking; and it chose the . flower for its field of sweets. But the flower had no honey, This I know, for it had no nec tary. ..'What, then, thought I, will the bee do?,, Itcamo buzzing out of. the cap to take a further flight; but itspiod the slam , ina lull ol f'oicicn lamia, roou ior maKin Mia m i t 1 been saiisneawun wax anunastsiorea 't for house, tliBt thy labor may not bo - - lesson of contentment. - The night is far spent the daik night of trouble that sometimes threatened to close around us, but the day is at hand.and even in the . night there are stars, aud I have looked out on them, and been com forted; for as one set, I could nlwuys see another rise, and each was a lamp show ing me somewhat of the depth of the riches of the wisdom and Knowledgo of God. Psralle from the German. .Tub Corai, ok, what Little , Hinds can oo. Can a child do as much as an inst-ct? vWhy yes". ecUims eery young reader, "and more tooV' Let us Im agine that you aiitf I are sailing in avenli on the boutb sea.,? How l,eauiifu"y we glide along! The vessel f kirns the ocean hkeaewan. But what is that yonder, rising above tho billows, like a "painted highland? . Now it sparkles in the iays of the sua like a foek ol silver, and now it as sumes different colors. .variegated in. the most charming manner. Rod, golden, silvery hues, all blend together in delight ful richness. Nearer and nearer we come to tlie attractive object,' ali the while ap pearing more beauiiful and brilliant; when io, we discover it i.s the splendid work of insects so small that wo cannot ee them with the naked eye. Yes, the little coral instet threw up those many colored reefo, a littlo at a lime, until wc have this mag nificent sight. And just over there, beyond that line of reefs, you see that little, inland cotercd wiih tall palm trees ko green nnd slender. The foundation of that Uhmd, ijw a tit habitation for men, was laid by the tame li'tle coral insect. Myriads of them worked away, year af ter year, until a huge bed of coral became tho foundation of the island; then the soil accumulated, seeds were dropped, and the trees grew as they nie row seen. This is what some insects do towards making this world a habita ion for man kind. They make Islands. God did not ct rate them to bo useWs in this world, where there is so much to be done. Their work amounts to something. Would you not be as useful as the little coral insect? You cannot build i.-.laud, but you can help tho people who live upon them, and those who live in other parts of the earth, A cent is a small gift, bui one hundred of them make a dollar. A grain of sand is very minute, buteuoiigh of them will make a mountain. So the littlo which one child can do may seem too small to be counted, but perhaps twenty of these littles are equal to the work of a full grown man or woman. Try then to be useful. Everybody can do something. If the coral insect works so hard for others, ought you to be idle? riysttiilcs on Every Side. The world is full of mysteries. The chamber in which tho infant opens its eves is a universe of mysteries. The father's voice, ihe mother's smile, reveal to it slow ly the mysterious world of the affections. The child solves many if the mysteries; but as the circle of knowledge is enlarged, its vision is bounded by a veil of mystery. The sun that awakens it at morning, and again at night looks in at its window to bid it farewell, the tree that shades its home, and in whose branches the biids come and sing before the dews nrediy, the clcuds with shining, edges that move across the sky, calm and stately like the chariot of an angel, nil are mysteries. Nay, to grown up man there is not a thing which the hand touches or on which the eye rests, which is not enveloped iu mysteiy. The flower that springs at your feet who has revealed the wonderful secret of its organ ization? 1 Its roots shoot down, and leaf and flower rise upnnd expand into tho in finite abyss of mystery. Wo are like em igrants traveling through an unknown wil derness; they stop at night by a flowing stream; they feed their horses, sot up their tnt, nnd build a tire; and ns the flames rise up, all within the circlo of n few rods is distinct nnd clear in its light. But beyond and bounding this, are rocks dimly seen, and trees with vague outline stoop for ward to the hhize; and beyond the branch es creak, and the waters murmur over their beds; and wild unknown animal howl in the dark realms of night nnd silence. Such is the light of man's knowledge, and so it is bounded by the infinite realms of mystery. Singular Flicuouicuou. We havo never seen in print a notice o the following 6trange fact, although every steamboat man acquainted with Green riv er navigation, can verify its truth Just above the locks, when tile river is in a cer tain stage, very low,' for several miles steamboats shut down their furnace doors and allow no torch to be lighted, for fear of what the deck hands call "setting the river on fire!" Frequently boats using torches or keeping their furnace doors open at this particular place, have found them selves engulphed in blue flames, greatly to the alarm of the passengers, and in sev eral instances setting the steamers on fire. In somo instances the passengers have on ly been prevented by the strenuous exer tions of the officers from leaping overboard in their alarm. The cause ofibe singular phenomenon is simply this: The bottom of the river becomes cover ed with forest leaves arid rubbish to the' depth ofsomo inches, probably several feet. Boats in low water run through this bed of vegetable mittcr, thoir wheels stirring it up thoroughly. An inflammable gas is thus permitted to escape, which, on com munication with a flame, at once takes fire and burns with a blue blaze. At such 'time j 4,10 boat s topped and the flame ceases. When out, the boat goes on again, taking the precaution mentioned above. Unless allowed to continue some little time, this burning gas is not apt to communicate its flame to the ' wood but, it is quite suffi cient to seriously alarm those not acquaint ed with.ifa cause. EvansviZe jf.ru. . . Love iu Small Thing. , As I walked, on a bright ipring day, a long onfl cf the avenue of the Green Park, in London, aJmiring t! v bright gruvel Walk; the verdant 'foliage, the silver barked stems and elegant branches of the birch-trees, and observed the company, I saw two very JittlirgirU one', indeed, iris bnt bribe- neatly and genteelly dressed in li:jht blue p!aid frocks, rr.oving'on be fore me, jumping and laughing in the very joy of their hoarts. By accident the Ie?."er of the two fell, when the other, a mite ofa creature, assuming all the protective kind nessofa mamma, lifted up her fallen sister, wiped away tenderly the bits of Kravpl which stnek to her tinny linnds, and kissed her and comforted her . till her face was lit tip with a smile. ' ' . ' I do like to fc instances of love in small things; for they are the germs and the bud of what shnl! blossom and bring forth the fruit of kindly deds in after years. . Go on my little madens, not only along the gravel-walks of tho Green Park, but thro' the thorny p iths of Tit, r!.-o, with your hinds' and your hearts united. An 1 may He who said,' "SuOfer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for such is the kingdom of heavrti," be ever more your guide, your guard.aud comfort er. Trwt .Ifnyazine. . JcMk upon Scripiiiro. .! his very common with some perrons, to rai.re a laugh by means of some ludicrous s:or'y connected with a text of Scripture. Sometimes it is a play upon the words, or a pun; at other limej a blunder; and not sel dom a down-right impiety. .Whatever be its form, even when lightest, it is no light offence, leading as it does to profane con tempt ol God's word. Those who prac tice this have never been celebrated for genuine wit. The laughter which they call forth is provoked solely by the unex pected contract between the solemn words of Scripture and some droll idea. There is no teal wit in the case; and the dullest persons in society are most remarkable for those attempts. Tho evils arising from this practice are greater man appear at nrst. it leads; in general, to irreverence for Scripture. No man would jest with the dying words of Ins lather or Ins mother; Vet the words of God are quite as solemn, i When we have heard a comic or vulgnr tnleconnected with a text of Scripture, such is the power of association, that we never beard the text afterwards without thinking of tho jest. Ihe effect of this is obvious. He who is much engaged with this kind of false wit will come at length to hare a large portion o, Holy Scripture spotted over Ly his un lucky fancy. Pehpcval IEcor.Anox. In a short time of universal famine, how many, jewels would you givo for a single loaf of bread? in a raging fever,- how many' diamonds would yousacri!iceor a moment's ease? in a parched desert, how many embroider ed robes would you exchange for a cool draught? That these gaudy trifles should be valued at so high a rate, is certainly a disperngement to the understanding of mankind, and is a cad demonstration of the mcannoys into which we have sunk by the fall. Compare thorn with the sublime and stupendous, and the lovely objects that every where meet your eye in the creation aiound you. Can your richest purple ex cel the violet, or your purest white eclipse the lily of the'Tafley? Can your bright est gems outshine tho glory" of the "sun? Why then should enormous sums be ex pended on baubles and sparkling dust? Compare them will? your books, your Bi ble, your souls all neglected for their sake! -Arise at once to correct you senti ments nnd noble aims; make the Bible your looking-glass, the grace of the Spirit your jewels if yu must shine, shine hero; here you may shine with advantage in .the estimation of the wise arid good in view of tho approbation of the holy angels and tho eternal God; shine in death when the lustre of the line gold has become dim, and the ray of the diamond extinguished; shine in the celestial hemisphere with saints and seraphs, amid the splendor of the Eternnl. " Newspapers. Jude Longstreet, whose views on all subjects are. sensible, practi cal, and worth treasuring up, thns sets forth the value ofa paper: .. ; t "Small is the sum that is required to patronize a newspaper, and most amply remunerated is the patron.. I care not how humble and unpretending the - Ga zette which he lakes, it is next to impos sible to fill a sheet fifty-two times ia a year, without putting into it something that is worth the subscription price. rEvery pa rent whose son is 'off from biru at school should bo supplied with a paper. I well remember what a difference there was be tween those of my school-mates who had no aiicess to newspapers..-. Other things being equal, the first were always decided ly superior to the last in debate and com position at last; The reason is plain; they had command of more facts. Youth will peruse-a 'newspaper with delight when they will read nothing else." , 13.The warm hearted and , benevolent man finds nil nature smiling around him, or, if he chances to meet .misery and suf fering, the sympathy ho extends to it re acts with pleasant influence on his own mind and proves a sufficient reward; but the. morose and 8urely, or ', supercilious mind, wonders in the fairest Bcenes n in a desert sees only to be dissatisfied, hears to be displeased. ' ESTABLISHED IN; 1S2G,: Beautiful Extract. 1 The following beautiful tribute to Wo man;, was written several years go.. by a contributor, I believe, o"tktf Saturday uji. ii urrun iii it tine oi loucninir in- terest, enikled "Thtf Biokeri Heart.'.. .Its author, Dr. F. J. Straiten. . now. of at leaat several Thi3 since." a resident cf Preble county, id this State, contributed in years past, 'many beaotifnl things to American Literature.over the hondcDlumt of Ras.ilas. 'Ohl'the priceless value of the lore of truo woman! Gold cannot purchase a gem so precious! Titles and honors con fer npon th heart no such serene , happi ness. Iu our darkest moments, wben dis appointment aud ingratitude with corrod ing care, gather thick around and even the gaunt poverty menaces with his skeleton tnger.it sfieam around the soul with an angel's smile." Time cannot mar its bril liancy, distance hut strengthens its inflrt- ence, bolts and bars cannot limit ii prog ress it loiiows the prisoner into bis dark cell and sweetens the home mortal that ap peases his hunger, and in tho silence of midnight, it plnvs around his heart, and in his dreams he fold to his bosom the form of her who loves on still, though the world has turned Coldly from him. The couch made by the hand ofa loved one, is soft to the weary limbs of the sick sufferer, and the potion a Jministered by the same hand, losc3 half its bitterness. The pillow care fully adjusted by her, brings repose to lha fevered brain, and her words of, kind en couragement, revives the sinking Fpirit. It would almost seem that God, compas iouing woman's first great frailty, had planted this jewel in her breast, whose litavon like influence shonld cast into for getfiilneas man's rom-'mbranne of the Fall, by buil Jing up in his heart another Eden, where perennial flowers forever bloom, and crystal waters gush from exhausfless foun tains. " ' . . , : Ts Paatkrss op Horsks. The past em joiui should be largo, and the distance from them to the foot short; the elastio pastern is not at all adapted to the violent shocks it sustains in. leaping. I once knew a steeple chase horse particularly long in this respect;. I saw hitn on train ing, and in taking a gidlop across the country, and examined some of his foot marks at the jumps he had taken, and wa rather surprised to see the impression of the four pastern joints deeply imbedded in the ground. .1 was unable to watch the effect produced on this horse, as he almost at the commencement i.f his career per manently injured himself in jumping wall; but what.convinced me on the su periority of the short pastern wa. that the; horse that trained with him, nhhongh go ing over the same jumps, and on the same day, left, no pastern mark. I need not say he was particnlarly short in the past erns; they s'ood an iinmojisity of work, and Were sound to ihe last. I never knew a single instance of long elastic pasterns standing much work. Cor. BtU't Lift in London. . ; An IsiKinTAXT Historical DiscovrRr.- Some two or throo weeks since wo an nonnecd through our colutnns, the prepar ation ofa history of Massachusetts by Rev, Mr. uarry, ot uanover, which is now in the hands of the printer. We were inform ed confidentially Bt that time, that ' Mr. Barry bod made the discovery of some .val uable manuscripts relating to the early his tory of the state, and are now happy 'o bo .ibla to add that yesterday afternoon, at ther annual meeting of the Massachusetts His torical Society, an official announcement was made of Mr. Barry's discovery. This discovery is no less than the long lost .man uscript history of the Plymouth Colony, written by flurcrnor Bradford, which was in 'the hands-of Prince, when he prepared his New England Chronology, and of Hutchinson, when he wrote hi History of Massachusetts. This document is in Eng land, and a copy of the same is soon CX' pected in this country' for publication. Boston Jourmd, April 3ih. , T . Home-Badi! Chloride of LIm. Professor Nash say 3, take one barrel of lime, and one bushel . of salt; dissolve the salt in as littlo water as will dissolve the whole; slack tho lime with the water, put-' ling'on more water .than will dry-slack it, so much that it w ill . form a very thick paste;' this will not take nil the water; put on, therefore, a little of the remainder ai ly, until the lime has , taken the whole. The result will be asort of impure chloride of lime; but a very powerful deodorizer, equally good for all out-door purposes, with the article bought under that name at the apothecary's, and costing sot one' twentieth part ns much. .This should be kept under a shed, or some out building. It should be kept moist, ami h may be ap plied wherever offensive odors are gener sted, with the nssurance that it will be ef fective to purify the air, and will add to the vtluo of the manure,', much more tfian it costs; It would be well for every farmer to prepare a quantity of tbrrand : have it always on hand,'. ;, : 1 . ';: !.Vi Baked HAB.--Most persons boil hami They are much belter baked, if baked right., Soakit for an hour in clean water, and wipe it dry; next spread it all over with thin batter; and then put it in a . deep dish, with stick under it to keep it out of the gravy. When hVis fully done, take off the skin and matter crusted npon the flesh ctrla nnrt dot it ffl Artfl- ' . Tftlt . WlH find it verv deliciousbut too rich fordya- peptieff.. . .' .