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American Lancaster gazette. [volume] (Lancaster, Ohio) 1855-1860, November 01, 1855, Image 1

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85026105/1855-11-01/ed-1/seq-1/

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' OFFICE Old Publls Building Sootneast corner ol
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TE 8 MS One year In advance, (9,00; at the exnlra
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'And now,' said Lord Bernard, softlf ! tlio liand that rested on li is arm. and hold.
stroking the golden curls of liis lovely ing it towards her father. He speaks
daughter, 'let me plead with my spoiled ! wisely. I have no right to ask Your love.'
Ilea of lit. fear, tM Cluos often,
tveaif-areaxu. ;r ....--,. .
:''.",. ";. tkhms or advkrtibuig.
- One Sahara, M lines (nrlesa) three lusertlnns
. ataeaadaiUenalMiaertlon
t - a. A'""'' -1Mtkt
One Snrrare : . t3,M , , 4,00
' 4,00 fl.OU ,
Tliteo " . . 5.00 ' 8.00
"' Ona-Toorth eolama ".00 , 10,00 ,
One-third " 9,00 1S.00
One-haU ' " . WJ)0 13..I0
One " . .14.00 30,00
, :'' Yearly adTertlsert haro the prUiluga ot rcnowing
thtilr adrerlUeinenU. -
)TBuiiDe Cnrda, not exceeding nne tqnare will
aelaartod, for lubiicriberi, at tS00 pur year; non
.ibneriban wlll.be charged 1 5, 00. ,
. 95
. 14010
. ss.no
Thursday Morning Nov. 1,1833
The tlntiortli lammar aro fading fa.t:
And the iere learoi are falling with overjr bloat;
And I tliiuk at the close of each ihortenlng day,
That another bright ummer haa paiied away!
It haa paaaod, like the reat,wllh ita hnpoaand Ita fears,
- Kow brightened by amlles, now bedimined by tears:
Haas pafied, Ilka the real with ita nleasuros and pain
. And lik thorn, it mmt never tetarn again.
' The fast falling loavoa, and these withering flowers,
Are an emblem of man and bis fleeting hours;
Prhe basked fora whlleln thosun's bright rayt
And the summer of life baa passed away.
And Die. autumn nf life Is chill and drear,
When like leaves df the forest our hones abnoar.
' As they droop one by one from the withering spray
Aud the autumn of life baa passed away!
And the w' nter of life Is sad and cold,
- When the feelings are dull and the heart grown old,
; Abd wo long for the rest which the weary shall hare
, Iu the alienee and gloom of the passionless grave.
. But tho grass of the grave can now fiow'retssend forth'
And the soul of the Just has a refuge of worth,
And the spring of eternity blossoms for aye,
Ant its loavoi nersr fade or its blosa Jim decay.
Though the aim hover shines In those foglonssobripht,
Yv't the lamb that was slain Is thatr shadowless light,
And the parjmont nf sapphires can never be dim
For 'tis bright with the radiance rsflectod from him.
Unfading, tue'glorlea, uusatiid the heart,
The one never Sash, northe other depart.
And the eye never tires though unbounded the vlowi
And the Joys though unuhangliig, forever uru new,
. The aause on the oiublonis of earthly riecuy
' Can trace, 'mid the darkness, a promise of dny;
Aud boar, 'laid the rustling of sore leaves and dowers
The harps of the angola In amaranth bowors.
From the Clermont Courier.
(An Abreviated Romance.)
. ' Lady Annabel Bernnrd sits alone in her
boudoir her rose tinted choek resting np
on a hand of snowy whiteness a polished
arm gleaming through its nrtfully arrang
ed folds of lace, her dark eyes fastened
dreamily oil the tip of a fairy slipper tlmt
peeps from beneath the rich folds of her
1 dress, while her wan.lering thoughts drift
ijly out upon the unknow future. A soft
ened shadow in upon her brow, not like
the sa lnoss of settled grief; but the sweet
mel tneholy, the gentle pentiveness called
up by tho. bewildering presenco of love's
dear dream. Books aro scattered care-
1'issly about,' but neither these, nor her
lute also besido her, present any tempta
: lion to draw their owner from ' the pretty
Abstraction that has stolen upon her.
While she thus sits, unconscious as it
seems, of the rare beauty of this summer
evening, and its wanton zephyrs, sporting
with the twining curls upon her blne-vein-ed
temples, a burst of music floats in upon
the fragrant breeze a rich voice, freight
ing the sighing gale with the burthen of
its tender song,, and tho lady's color deep
ens to a brighter crimson, as her head
beni$ forward to tmtoli thoeo words;
"I know not why I lore (hoc .'
T.W dos't never think of mul
And yet sy thoughts will wander,-
Forovor back to tiim.''
The first verse of the Minstrels' low
breathed strain has scarcely died away,
when the door of Lady Annabel's apart
ment opened, and Lord Bernard enters,
with hasty steps, and a frowning brow.
'How now?' exolairaed he, with impa
tient voice, and searching look; 'do I rind
a low born minstrel, breathing his love
sick strains, under my daughter's balcony?
For shame Annabel! not to have taken
measures to punish this presumption.'
'- Lady Annabel raised her head proudly,
answered, her father's look with one as
haughty, and replied:
'1 am fond of music. Can my father de
ny me the pleasure of listening to an ac
complished vocalist?'
'I had hoped my daughter would not
take pleasure in encouraging the arrogance
tjf (hat presuming vassaF. ' Dan the lady
Annabal stoop to lend an ear to such as
'The Lady Annabel stoops not to any
thin?.' answered she rising and confront
ing Lord Bernard; 'has she been guilty of
any misdemeanor unworthy ot a nigh Dorn
maiden7Spealc, sir, ot wnai do you ac
" caserne?",''. ', ,', .
, Nothinr," nothing,' my own love, re
plied he father, very gently,: pardom me
for my doubting your discretion.- I had
heard of this minstrel, and feared his mu-
nio-tones mizht win mv birdlino's heart.'
A wsyering blush trembled in the lady's
eheek, but she hid ' it against her father's
shoulder as she whispered, . '
V Do not doubt of fear your daughter is
rrutwjr uj uci oiia,. ...
lulu, for my vounz friend, the Duke of
O- Vou have not seen him, but he
is bbming in a ft-w weeks, a suitor for your
smiles and favor. Will you not promise
to be kind to him?
Ask anything but that.' retorted Ladv
Annabel, archly. You should be better
acquainted with my sex, than to besDoak
admiration, for a gallant,-; as yet unknown
ana unseen' we ladies. like our lovers lo
do their own wooing.' ,
'Tift Ko n,iM li, k. ' I .1 T 1 Ti
and so the Duke will.' -
'I am not so sure.' answered the 1ml v.
Perhaps your peerless daughter msv not
chance to please the fastidious wife hunter.
'No fear of Mat, returned the proud fath
er with a look of trracious fondness.
'And if your daughter should not like
him what then, papa? inquired Lady An-
nauei, looking into ins eyes for Ins an-svrer.
'If she likes bravery, loyalty, devotion.
nobility and all goodnoss, she' will adore
tho Duke,' replied Lord Bernnrd. enthusi
'We shall see, said his fair daughter.
with nn incredulous smile and there the
interview ended.
Wandering in the dangerous moonlinht.
beneath the shadow of those orange trees
is Lady Annabel, with fluttering hoart.and
straining ear, drinking in the sweet music
of tho minstrel-poet's burninc soncr.
Weeks have pnssed since tho sceno in the
boudoir, and every day has added one more
link to the chain tlmt is binding two lov
ing hearts together. Unthinking of dan
ger the high born beauty had listened to
the passionate songs that stule upon her
ear. and not withheld the love msmrin?
smiles that seemed to be the vouni? min
strel's only reward. Meeting him often in
the garden, she had spoken to ' him freely
and kindly, and he had answered with a
timid modesty that was at once the most
safe and effective weapon ho could have
used in conquering her heart. Believing
herseir eatv Ironi the snnres of love, she had
yielded wholly to the charms of her new
friend's society until it now seemed agony
to be away from him.
Yet he had not dared to speak the emo
tions that lit up his expressive eyes, and
gave more sweetness lo Ii'im exquisitu coun
tenance, for he was hut a wandering bard,
nnd L i(!y Annabel, tlui benu'r and the
heiress, with gentle blood, nnd high line
age, would she notppurn him from her?
Alas, off notes not Rich distinction the
lowly nnd the high born, the rich and poor,
the out cast nnd the millionaire are pierced
by the same dart, and overcome by acci
dent, blind contact and the strong neces
sity of loving.
'Sing me that song ngain, sir, minstrel,'
said Lady Annabel 1 lovo its sweet notes.
Aro tho words thine?
Yes, Lady.
And was you passion, then, as hope
less, as you have pniuted there? Come,
gentle sir, tell me, was vour love, your La
dy faithless?'
No lady, truo ns Heaven itself.
'Thou art a brave dufender of her truth.
Thoiidid'st not love them vainly?'
Yes, Lady vainly, wildly, madly, yet
Heaven help me! 'twas no tall of hers
I question you no more. Sing me the
If you bid tnc yet, Lady, spnre me.'
Not wish to?' Be it ns you will.'
'You are not displeased? Ohl Lady An
nabel, m)' friend my guardian-spirit, for
give my wayward humors. This heart is
well tutored, but it will sometimes rebel.
There was a pause and tho lndy'seyos
were fixed upon tho flowcrsat her feet a
look halt melancholy hnlf rapturous on
her laoc, m though she guessed the truth
It was but n few moments they thus stood
the minstiVI drew neaicr his plumed
cap in his hand, nnd with a timid, entreat
ing glance, his low words fell upon her
ear. '
Lady, I leavo you this hour, fore vet, but
I cannot, will not go, without telling you
my secret. I am human I have seen you:
adore! I nm poor I am despised nn
outcast, yet I lovel Start not, fair lady
Annabel the blessing which would make
me supremely linppy I dare not ask I am
a low-born minstrel and you Lord Bern
ard's daughter!' ,,. i i '
'stay, Lino, stay!' cried the blushing
lady, laying her hand lightly on his arm,
as he turned to leave her "My father's
gold; tny title cannot buy me a husbnnd half
so noblo as yourself. I am thine; all thino,
forevermore!' , , . .
''My Annabel! Now indeed my own, my
bride.' And the enraptured lover, forgot
ting his shiness, pressed her fondly to his
heart. "
What a scene for Lord Bernard, who,
at this moment approached! -
Your bride, base, low-born wretch,' he
cried, seemingly, in a towering rage; 'leave
my grounds this instant, . ere I sully my
sword with your vile blood!
-'My plighted husband cannot go with
out his lady,1 said Annabel, placing her
hand within the minstrel s arm. it is my
duty to follow wheresoever he leads.'
Annabel, Annable,' cried the father,
hurriedly, 'come with me.' ' Tho tioble
Duke has come to prosecute his suit.-
Leave this silly youth who has been blind
ingyour better judgment by his soft speech
es and tender ditties. Leave him, and let
'ion have it without the asking.' she
murmured; 'No, father, no. Give to the
Duke of G the treasures you intend
ed for your disobedient child. They will
console him for the bride he loses.'
'And you will wed this low born ballad
singer. Ohl Annabel, did you. not prom
ise never to loop to. ibis?.-. "
. 'In giving myself to tho rrcntleman be
side me, said L tdy Annabel, while a Ctful
color burned in her cheek, and gavo a flash
ing radiant to her brilliant eyes I do not
dream of condescension. He is my equal,
nay, my superior, inevory respect if his
coffers ba notso well filled 83 yours, he haa
dearer treasures to heap upon his bride,
and the lesson you used to teach me, comes
not here amiss, the reverence of brave
deeds and noble actions. And n loving,
in admiring, in honoring her chosen hus
band, whose heart is'lhe shrine of all gen
tle and holy emotions, tho Lsdy Annabel
feels prouder than if a monarch were kneel
ing at her feet!'
Tho lady ceasod,a tear glistened in Lord
Bernard's eye; the minstrel came forward
nnd whispered a word, then bent his head.
and Lady Annabel's father laid his hand
upon the raven curls, .is if in blessing.
'You have conquered, Annabel, hence
forih whom you love, so also, will I, God
bless you my children.'
'Thanks, thanks, my good, kind pspn,'
cried Lady Annabel, throwing her snowy
arms about his neck, 'I knew you could
not but love Lirio. And now, we must go
and dismiss that odious Duke
'Must we indeed, fair Lady,' said (he
tmiling Lord, first let me whisper in your
ear a piece of wicked information, the min
strel and the Duke are one!
A Relic of tmk PAST.-workingmen re
now engaged in takingdown the old "town
house" of General Washington, on Cam
eron street, between Pit nnd St. Asaph
streets, and it will very shortly bo mini
bereu with Hie thingo that were, in the
erection of this building tradition savs
Washington was his own architect,' nnd
that much of the work was performed by
hi iiimily servants. 1 lie same is mens
uiably true of Mount Vernon; indeed, it in
pnry to preccive in this dwelling many
poiu's of r. Bim! lance to the Mount Vernon
hoicp. They nre both frame building
nnd in this one the pnnneled wainscot, the
wooden cornice. 'nnd the antique sash, all
hespenkingakindred date, lead our thoughts
back to the o'den time. I he extreme sun
plicity of design, and almost total absence
of ornament in this primitive dwelling, are
among its most impressive features.
Christ Church, whore the rather ol hi
country worshipped, and which is still in
posession of his family Bible, stands in the
middle of the street, a short distance above
and in full view from, the dore of this house
where, it is said, the venerable chief might
so often be seen sitting on the frequent oc
caseons that business or pleasure called him
to . Alaxandna. I lie house for nearly
twenty years, and until within a few
months past, has been occupied by a wor
thy family, the Mioses Jordon, whose grand
parents were neighbors of Wasington, an
who still show, with just pride, an ancient
family candlestick and other relics, that
wero presented to their ancestors in token
of friendly regard by Washington himself.
Numbers of persons were yesterday
through the kindness of Mr. Benjamin
Waters, to whom the property belongs,
permitted to secure portions of the frame
work, for preservation, or to ho mnnutuo
lured into canes and other artiulos of ornn
ment and use.
me lead yofl to my friend, and I - forgire
..a, fnm , I . i n A,.l Jnnnntl.n '
A Remarkdle Man. A correspondent of
tho Kentucky balesman gives the follow
ing sketch of an old citizen living in Pit
Inski county, named Eljuh Denny, who is
perhaps the oldest man in Kenucky:
''lie will be one hundred nnd eiglec
yenrs of nge on the 10th of September,
nnd is active as many men at forty.
works daily upon a farm, and throughout
his whole life has been an early riser, lie
informed the writer that he had never
drank but one cup of coffee, and that was
in the year 1 848. lie served seven years
in the war of tho revolution, and was woun
ded at the siege of Charlestown; ho was
also at the eeige of Savannah, nnd in the
battle ot Eutnw bprings. lie was also pre
sont at the battles of Camden, King's Moun
tain, and Monk's Corner. . " He served un
der Colonel Horray and Colonel Marion,
and was an eye-witness of the suffreings
and death of Colonel Isaac Hayne of South
Carolina, an early victim of the revolution.
He is very sprightly and active, and would
be taken at any time to bea man of middle
age. He is a strict member of the Baptist
church, and rides six miles to every regular
meeting of his church. Ha has four sons
and five daughters all living the eldest
being now in his sc-enty-eighth and the
youngest in his fifty-first year. Such is a
brief sketch of this aged soldier and repub
lican, who is, perhaps, the only surviving
soldier of prancis Marion, Sumpterand
Horray." ' .
The height of the place is not al
ways in proportion to the merit that bus
it. Xou frequently see a weak person, in
a high place, and wonder to yourself how
he got there. But do not be discontented
at a dinner-table is not the. highest seat
rnvenably ooupieu by the most obildishT
Whbn once infidelity ' can persuade men
that they shall die like beasts.they Will soon
A correspondent of the Missoari Demo
crat, writing from Wolf River, Kansas, re-
ently, gives the following account of the
noble character and horoic death of Logan,
the chief of tho Omaha Indians: ', .
Logan FonUnelle, chief of the Otnahas.
as just been slaia and scalped at Loup
Fork, by a band of . Sioux. Logan was a
noble fellow, and in this last mortal con-
ict he despatched several of the enemy to
the spirit land before, to herald the coni
ng of .bis own brave i soul. He fought
long, desperately, and with great, effect.
ut numbers finally overcame him, and his
fe departed through a hundred wounds.
He died a martyr for his people, and bis
namo should be carved upon fame's bright
est tablet.
Ho was on his annual hunt with his nr-
tion. A number of his lodges were Ditch-
d upon tho plains near ' Loup Fork. As
young warrior one day rode rouml the
adjacent hills he espied a powerful band
of Sioui encampod along a stream in a se
questered vale. 11a hastened to inform
Logan of the propinquity and power of their
natural foe, Logan ordered his people to
back immediately, and proceed in a straight
mo and with nil speed for home, while he
would remain behind, and divert the Sioux
by false camp-fires and other devices from
direct pursuit of them. . This was about
twilight. The people got under way as
quickly ns possible, but not too soon; for
scarcely had they turned a high-land when
several bionx warriors came in sight and
discovered the place of their recent en
campment. They examined it nnd found
that Omahas had been there, and : then
they returned to notify their chief, and
bring nn adequate force to pursue and
slaughter them. Logan, from a hiding
place, saw all, nnd knew that no time was
to be lost in drawing their attention from
the trail which they would soon discover
and follow, nnd mounting his horse he
dashed away at full speed across the prai
rie, at right angles with the route his tribe
had taken, it struck a lire about eight miles
distant, on an eminence where tho Sioux
could distinctly see it. -He had scarcely
done sobefors a powerful bind wero upon
the spot that he and lus people had so
lately left, nnd who, without stopping to
distinguish the trail, started for tho lire,
which they saw rising against the clear
blue sky, nnd where they expected in a-
nnther moment lo imbue their hands in the
gore of their ungard4 victims. But Lo
gan had not been unwary, as soon as the
tire was lighted, he again mounted and
rodo on eight or ten miles further, and
kindled another nrc just as they reached
the first. This rather bewildered them.
Tiieydismounted aiidextmiiied the ground.
Logan, anticipating this, had trotted nnd
walked his horse nrdund It, so ns to make
the appearance upon the grass of the trend
ing ot a dozrm horses; and this drew them
nto the belief that n. small body had ling
ered behind and kindled this fire, nnd then
gone on to where they could see the new
fire burning; nnd eo they, followed with
renewed avidity. Tho same thing hap
pened as before. - Logan had gone on, nnd
another fire met their astonished gaze,
while the snmo sort of footprints were a
bout the one around which they wero now
gathered: Their suspicions were now a
wakened. They examined tho ground,
both far nnd near, and discovered that a
solitary horseman had doceived them, nnd
they knew it was for the solo purpose of
leading them off from the pursuit of the par
ty whoso encampment they had first dis
covered. Logan saw them going round with glar
ing torches nnd understood their obiset.
and knew that his only chance of safety
was in immediate flight towards his home;
nnd he further knew that by the time they
could retrace their way to their plaoe of
starting, nnd find the trail that his own
people had taken, they would be boyoud
the reach of danger.
Tho Sioux, in the meantime, had divid
ed into smaller bands, the largest of which
was to return and pursue the Omahas, and
the others to endeavor to capture the one
who had misled them. I hey knew that
ho must be an Omaha, and that he would
either go further nnd kmdl another watch
fire, or start tor his nation in a straight
lino; and therefore one party went on i
little further, nd others spread out to
ward the Omaha's country for tte purpose
of intercepting him. Logan pressed for-
as his laded steed could
touch its sides, and leare fjotprinis iri thrltl
direction, and then tamed np the bod of
the stream and rode above the nlace at
which she entered it, without leafing a
trace, and back to where Logan was con
cealed. ' She told him to mount and speed
away While his p nrsdors Were going in a
contrary direction dowrl the ravine. He
did so and got a long disttrlce out of ight,
and again thought hirawlf dut of the reach
of danger, when in a valley jnat in front of
him he haw fifty, braves coming ud the
WOyOBM dr THE atxo&piiere.
The atmospliere forms i sp'herical shell
sMrroanding the earth to a depth which is
Unknown to ns by reason of its growing
tenuity as it is released from tticressure,
of it own sdperincdrfibent masa.Tis upper
surface cannot be nearer to ns than ftfiy
and can scarcely be more than five hund
red miles, - It surrounds its on all sides,
yet we tee it no(; it presses on us with a
load of fifteen pounds on every square inch
of surface of onY bodies, or from seventy to
hill and meeting him. ' Thev were some one hundred tons on us vet wa not o much
of those who were returning from tho pur as fuel its weight. Softer than the finest
suit of his people. lie changed hisdirec j down, more impalpable than ilie finest gi-
lion and tried td escape, but his poor horie
was too much exhausted to bear him with
sufficient speed. With savage yells they
plunged their rowels into their horse's
sides and gained upon him. As the fore
most ono approached within good shooting
listance, Logan suddenly turned and sent
a bullet through his brain.
Then, loading as he galloped on. he
soon made another bite the dust; and then
another and another, until four wera strew
ed along the plain. Just then, hewever,
as he was again reloading, his horse stum
bled and fell, and the band ruhed upon
him before he had well recovered from his
shock. He was shot with bullets and ar
rows, and gashed with tomahawks and
pierced with lances; notwithstanding all
which he rose amidst his foe, and with
his clubbed rifle and hunting knife he pil
ed arourid him five prostrate bodies, and
full with lils back upon their aorpes and
expired, still fighting,
He was scalped, and hundreds of war
riors held a great war-dance over him.
Thus Liogar. FdriUnelle departed, and
his noble spirit was followed tt) the spirit'
mm uv me signs anu lamentations ot ins
nation and the sympathies and aspirations
of the brave of every land.
Tub Black Swamp cf Onto. A cor
respondent of the Milwaukie Sentinel gives
the following description of thegreat Black
Swamp of Ohio:
" Imagine all tho Swamps of Wisconsin
conglomerated intoonc, wiih allihe forests,
great and small, throughout the length nnd
brendth or Hint Mate, mingled into one
vast swamp, and I doubt whether it would
eompaie for a moment with tho Black
bwamp. It reaches from Lake Erie to
the head waters of the Wabash,' the Mau
mee nnd the St. Mary, a distance of 150
miles, nnd its average width is 80 miles,
embracing over I ,UOO,000 acres of the
richest land the sun ever shone upon.
Portions of this vast swamp have been sub
dued by the hardy pionscr, who has von
lured to penetrate its unbroken forests:
and Iho land cultivated by the persevering
husbandman, if health is spared, returns a
ricu reward lor ins roues, in overflowing
grancriesand bountiful harvests. The soil
is a deep black Joam, and is well adapted
to coin, wits nnd grasses, and the timber is
the finest 1 ever saw. Hickory, elm, white
nsh, and black walnut, all seem to vie with
each other in their vain efforts to reach the
nk'ies; still nil of them cxibit n commend
able enterprise in roaring their lofty trunks
heaevnward. - Strait ns an arrow, and
standing impenetrably thick, oovered with
water to tho depth of from two to eigl
inches, whose innermost recesses liave
never been trod by tho foot of man, thi
forest is a sublime spetacle to look upon.
Go, lndy, said thfl minstrel, unclaspipgi b brought to live like beasts also
I.N'TEns3TiK3 Facts. History informs
u that many of the countries in Europe
which now possess very mild winters at
bno time experienced severe cold during
this season of -the year. The Tiber, at
Rome, was often frozen over, and snow at
ono time lay for forty days in that eity.
The Euxino Sea was frozen every winter
during tho time of OviJ, and the rivers
Rhine nnd Rhone now flow freely every
winter; ice is unknown in Rome, nnd the
waves of the Euxino dash their wintry
foamunerystallizaJ upon the rocks. Some
have ascribed these climate changes to ag
riculture tho cutting down of forests, the
exposure of tho upturned soil to the sum
mer's sun, and the draining of great mar
shes. We do not believe that such great
changos could be proJuoed on the climate
of any country by agricultute, and we are
certain that no suolt theory can necount
for the contrary change of climate fiom
warm to oold winters which history tells
ns has taken placo in other eountrivs than
those named. Greenland received its name
from the emerald herbage which once
clothed its valleys and mountains; and its
east coast which is now inaccessible on ac
waruas rapmiy asms jau steea cou a f h tun, ice , a on ita
bear him, until he thought he had entirely . W.R V. ,eVflntU rcanlurV
eluded them; but as the day dawned, to
his horror and dismay, - he' saw his pur
suers close upon his track. ' He turned his
oourse for a ravine, which he distinguish
ed at a distance covered with trees and undergrowth.-'
He sucoeeded in reaching it,
and just within its verge ha met an Indian
girl dipping water from a spring. "She was
tamer, it leaves the cobweb undiaturbed.
nnd scarcely stirs the lightest flower that
feed on the dew it snpplies: it bears the
fleets of nations on its wings arennd the
world and crushes the roost refractory
sabatances with its weight. When in mo
tion its furce is sufficient to level the most
stately forest and stable buildings with die
earth, to raise the wa'ers of the ocean into
ridges like mountains and dash the strong
est ships to pieces like toys. It warms
and cools by turns the earth and the living
crittures that inhabit it. It draws up va
por from the sea nnd land, retains them
dissolved in itself or suspended in cisterns
of clouds, and throws them down ngain as
rain or dew when they nre required. It
bends the rays of the sun from their path
to give us the twilight of evening and of
dawn; it disperses and retracts their vari
ous tints to beautify the approach and the
retreat of the orb of day! But for the at
mnaphere, sunshine would burst npon ns
and t as at once: at once remove ns
from midnight darkness to the blaze of
noon. We shoulJ have no twilight to sof
ten and beautify the landscape, no clouJs
to shade ns from the scorching heat; but
the bald earth as it revolved on its axis,
would tarn its tanned and weathered front
to the full and unmitigated rays of the
lord of day. ' It affords the gas wbish viv-
fiesand warms onr frames and receives in
to iUolf that which had been polluted by
use and is thrown off as noxious. It feeds
the fitme of life ex tetly as it d,x?s that of
(ire; it is in both cases consumed and af
fords the food of consumption, in both eas
es it becomes combined with charcoal.
which requires it for combustion and is re
moved by it when it is over.
! is only the girding, encircling air.
says a writer in the North British Review,
that floats above art J around u,thit mokes
the whole world kin. Tho carbonic-acid
with which to-day our breathing Gils the
air, to-morrow seeks its vrsy around the
orld. The date trees that grow around
the fulls of the Nile will drink i'. in by their
leaves; the cedars of Lebanon will take it
to add to their stature: tho coaoanuls of
Tahiti will grow rapidly upon it and the
palms and baonnns of Japan will change it
into flowers. The oxygen we are breath
ing Tits distilled for us some short timo a-
go by the magnolias of the Susquehanna
and the great trees that skirt the Oronoco
arid the Amazon, the giant rhododendrons
of the Himalaya cenlribated to it, and the
roses and myrtles of Cashmere, the einna
mon trees of Ceylon and the forest older
than the flood, buried deep in tho heart of
Africa, far behind the mountains el the
Moon. The rain we sse descending wa
thawed for u out of the icebergs which
have watched th4 polar star for ages; and
live lotus Tillies have soaked tip from the
Nile and exhaled as vapor, snows thst rest
ed on the summit! of the Alps."
"Thh atmosphere," says Mann, "which
form's the outer surface of the liahitaele
world is a vast reservoir, into which the
supply of feod designated for living crea
tures is thrown: in one word, it is itself the
loou in u simple form, of all living crea
tures. ' The animal grinds down the fibre
and the tissue of the plant, or the nutri
tious store that has been laid up within its
cells, and converts these into the substance
of which its owa organs are composed.
The plant acquires the organs and nutriti
ons store thus yielded upas food lo the an
imals, which are furnished with the means
of locomotion and seisure they can ap
proach their food and lay hold and swallow
it plants mnst wait 'till their food eomes
to them. No solid particles find access to
their frames; the' restloss, ambient air,
which rashes past them loaded with the
enrbon, the hydrogen, die oxygen, the wa
ter, every thing they need in the shape of
supplies is constantly at hand to minister
to their wnnts.net only to afford them food
n due season, bit in the shape or fashion
n which it alone can nvail them." " '
. JVatarca I.eoosia f Re. If to.
The following, by J. 0. Whltter, is in
stinct with lessons of religion apparent to
every eye in natures scenery, and audible
to evefy reader: .
There U a religion in everything around
us; calm and holy religion in the unbirea'lh
ing thing of nitare, which man would do
well to imitaio. 'It is a meek and blessed
influence eteallrfg, as it were. una,re
npon the heart. It comes it has no ter
ror, or gloom in its approaches. It haa
nothing lo rouse up the passions; it is nn
trammeled by the creed and tinshadiwed
by tbe superstitions of men. It is fresh
from the hands of the Author, and glow
ing from the immediate presence of the
great spirit whieh prevados and quickens
it. It is written on the arched sky. It
looks out from every star; it is among thef
hill and valleys of the earth, where tho
shrulJess mountain top pirrees the thin at
mosphere of eternal winter, or wbert tM
mighty forest fluctuates before the strong?
winds with its dark wave of green foliage.
It is spread out like legible language upon
the bruad bosom of the unsleeping ocean .'
It is this that uplifts the spirit within us'
until it is tall enough to overlook tbe shad
ows of our plaeeof probation; which break
link after link the cha;n thai binds ns to
mortality, and which opens lo the imagi
nation a world of spiritual beauty and holiness.
startled and about to cry for help, when he
hastily assured her that he heeded protec
tion and assistance. ' With the true' in.
stinots of nobld woman,, she appreciated
his situation in an instant, and all her sym
pathies were with him. - She directed him
to dismount and go to a small natural bow
er to which the pointed him in the verge
of the woods, while she would mount his
horse and lead his pursuers away. He o
beyqd her, and she mounted his horse, and
dashed on in a serpentine way through the
woods. leaving marks along tho bushes by
which she pould be traced. Tbe pursuers
soon - followed. - When she had got soma
distance down the brandh (be rode . into
the water nod . followed 'its -descending
eourse for a few steps, making hor hotso
shore, was, in the eleventh century, the
seat of flourishing Scandinavian colonies,
all trace of which is now lost. : Cold Lab
rador was named Vinland by tho Northern
men, who visited it A. D. 1000, and were
charmed with ita'then miid climate. The
cnuse of these changes is an importnnt in
quiry.- A pamplet, by John Murray, civil
engineer, haa recently been published in
Londou'in which he endeavors to attribute
those changes of clime to tbe changeable
position of the magnetio poles.
;rjsr"Let no man bo ashamed to work
Wear yoch beards. ..The folio wsng
paragaaph is a strong argument In favor of
men weareing their beards at least upon
their glands and throats:
Tho New York Observer says the offi
cars and crew of the North Star, Arctic
ship now in Shaerness, have suffered the
privation of two winters, of six months
each total darkness, with the thermometer
66 dog. bolow freezing point. They have
been without a single human being to as
sociate with, except their own little eom
III. 111,111 iw naimuioi, w ,.v.ni . , f , , ,
let no man be nshnmed or a hard fist or pany lortne periou oi two years ana u.i.
a sunburnt countenance Let him only be During the whole period the officers and
rance and slonth. Let no crew ceasea to use a mzor, rneany
ashamed of ignorance i
man bo ashamed of poverty let him only
bo ashamed of idleness nnd dihonesly." '
Ashamed of poverty! Oh no; we would
rather advise to be" indignant at the enuse
of poverty. Noman ran possibly consume
all he labors for.! Who, then, got tho
overplus or rather, who lakes it? To be
plain, who steals it? - That paoblem is now
bninff solvad. shut their eyes o it who
n .
cutting Itnd trimming their faces and
heads and there has not Doen one solitary
onse of ulcerated or sore throat among
them. Until within a weak, the rawr was
only known by name in (he ship, and strange
to esy, immediately after their; faces lost
their warn! clothing - sevfal found that the
cold took effect on their' throats. "Not a
single man or offljeer- bris been lost , from
; sickness, - ' ; . -
Octodml October is the month for foV
est splendor. The trees are now putting
on their last grandeur, donning their rioh
est and warmest colors, and easting, for the
whila. hallowed beauty on the landscapst;
An x.ngnsn wrurr us won jjrwuomuuou
our forests unrivalled, lo witness me
bursting forth of animated nature in the
spnng is indeed rxautiiul; but to Tnaer
n our American forests in autumn aaa tee
the trees clad in richest verdare the many
tinted leaves falling in their silent majesty;
lo trot J on their ruuling masses ia the
nut-paved glades; to hear the rustling ot
the wrnd through the trees, now like me
gentlest, sweetest toues of the Eolian, an
9 .... .1 Vail.
now like the organ's solemn psat, ana feel, .
as it were, the lanaruaa of the season of
all thirt is solemn and pure, yet buoyant m
. . ' .... i te
hoar:, are tignu and auoa mat win aweu
undtierablo in tho heart, or elto flow in
wild sweet waves of music" on the atr. .
And now farewell OcWber and farewerf
autumn! November vfitl come rugged in
ls garb and comparatively WrrSA-bu Oo
teber will go out aud leavo behind a pa-'
(reant and a feat. The woods will be
hung with nature's nohest tapestry the
glossy acorn will be seatloretf in prolusion,
on the ground, the dark and rishlf tinted"
i . i . . -.u ..i :K t. M:n V.-'.-Vj'-
uisrre aiiesmui win gi"e 111 V J ,
and hosts of squirrels will enjoy a feast in
the tops of the beach treos. Farewell,'
then, October, in the midst of this grear
banquet of bountiful nature; Albany Ar-
AvoyriER Vtma d list Etfsta firt-"
1. ,1 .li.,! :n ,1 r.t flM.nt. Yt PA.
II. WWW VBV, j- ... - j
cently at the advanced age ef one hundred?
years, nine months and thii Icon days.' Het-
servnd thirteen months to the continental
army, undo hu bro.har Capt. SamuelBsrt
lett marc' ed with his company fer Boa
ton, and arrived just after the battle CfT .Bun
ker Hill was in the division that fortified
Dorshsster Ilights was present at the
evacuation of Bjston was in the battle of.
Brocklin Hights of While Plains, and of
the captnre of Burgoine, A few days pre
vious to his tleath he alhmeri, and it it ce
llared' that he had malked unaided, eaery
day for oAe hundred yearf.
Tna Philiadelphia Leaner grows elo
quent over the pleutifnl promise of balr
wheat eakes. nnd give a receraanaaiion aa
follows: Buck wheat cake! One Buck
wheat cake "differeth from another rf
"glory" tet not one in a thousand is made
rich'. Yt of all thing" it it the easretllo
eook, W the meal is madi?rightly. Toever-f
three bushels ef buckwheat, add one or
good heavy oats; grind them together a"sr
if there was only buekwheat: then wlff
you have oakes always light and always
brown; losay nothing of the greater digesy
tibilitv. and the lightening of spirits, which'
are equally certain. He who. weds ow
buckwheat may be grum ana leinargic.
bile he of oatmeal will have exhileratioif
of brain and contentment of spirits.
HtAnT Homes. Geniut hatb its trr-'
nmphs; fame its glories;wcalthitt splendor?
success its bright rewards but the heart
only hath its home. .'
Home onlyl What more noedolh Ihf :
Viea,rt? What more crm it gain? A lnr
home is moro than tho world more thai
honor and pride and fortuno more thasf
all of earth can give the light the noon
day sun may not yield, nnd yet the tiny
flame of ono" pure deam of love cnkindleth,
and simpathy makes to burn forever.
llomel Hor more man Deaouiui won ,
art! how liko an untaught religionl a
Idan link between tbe soul and heaven!
when ' the presence of a "prtre .lesr
makes the radiant, and the music of their
affectlen floats like the chor-ais of nnaetrx
cherub'im around their tranquil hearth I -
If we did but know how little some sn-
joy of the great things that they poseees.
there would, not oe raucu eovj , iu
-vTorld. . . .-'-- - ' ' r
; A ' single' transgression of the Laws of
God break a link - in cnain ma con
nects ns with him, and set nf drjtt,cjrr tijw
stream ef destruction. :

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