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nn M GRAND MYffi TIM1ES VOLUME 1. GRAND HAVEN, MICHIGAN, WEDNESDAY, JULY 2.1851. NUMBER 1. ,-4 TIIK GIIAM llIVHlt TIMES I PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY EVENING, BY HAKXS & AXOEL. Office over J! Gaijjin's Store, Washington Street. . Taken at thf office, or forwarod by Mail 1,00. Delivered Vv the Carrier in the Village 1,50. One fililfing in addition to the above will be charged, lot every three months that payment is delayed. No pnpcrdiscontinucd until all arrearages are paid cxceptat the discretion of the publishers. TlftMS OF ADVERTISING : One Squarl, (12 lines or less,) first insertion, fifty cents, and tienty-flve cents for each subsequent insertion. Llsal advertisements at the rates pre scribed by la. Yearly or monthly advertisements 1 as follows : 1 square 1 year, $3,00. 1 column 1 - 20,00. 1 ... 1 month, 5,00. 1 square I rrimth, $1,00, 1 .. 3 L 2,00, f .. 6 .. 3,00 ITT" Adverisements unaccompanied with writ ten or verbal iirections, will be published until or dered out, andj-hnrged for. When a postponement is added to ai advertisement, the whole will be charged the ssine as for the first insertion. lating to business, to receive at addressed to the publishers post VCT Letters tcntion, must uaid. VTP" Fartieul ing. Most kin constantly on land r attention given to liianic mm- of Blanks in use, will be kept BUSINEI DIRECTOKY-1831. HENRY GRIfFIN, Dealer in Staple and fan cy Dry (loo' lsiieady made Clothing, Hoots and Shoes, GroceriU, Hardware, Crockery and Glass, Drugs, Chemifkls, Medicines, Paints and Oils, and Provisions! Also. Lutnber.bhingles, kc.&c. Opposite the Washington House, Grand Haven, Michigan. j WILLIAM M. E11RY, Dealer in Dry Goods, Hardware, Grociies, Provisions, Crockery, Med icines, Hoots aid Shoes. Water street, Grand Haven, Michigai HO PKINS j- BR OTHERS, Storage.Forwardmg & Commission michants; general dealers in all kinds of Drv Goo4. Groceries, grain and provis ions; mnnufcturs and dealers wholesale ana retail in all kinds a lumber, at Mill l'oint, Mien. L. M. SMITH, Dent in Drugs, Medicines, &c. at Mill l'oint, Mien . STEPHEN S. MOAROE, Physician and Sur geon. Office on Ihington street, over J. l. Davis Tailor Shop. T.TZYT SIIACKLETXX. Wholesale and Retail dealer in Groceries. Provisions and Liquors. First door above iiu'cnnoycr s. asnington Street. Grand Ilavenliichigan SIMON SIMENOE,l)eaior in Groceries and Provisions. Washinjon Street, second door East of the Ottawa Ilisc. OTTAWA HOUSE, Henrv Pfxxover. This House is well fittl and furnished, and the proprietor is confidentliat visitors will find ac commodations agreeali, and terms satisfactory. WASHINGTON IIO$ E, By Edgerly & Os good. The propriciis lmrc tho vt spring newly fitted and part re-furnished this House, and feel confident vltors will find the House to compare favorablfvith the best in the State. WILLIAM TELL, ton- rieasantiy si wolf furnished, andjic table abundantly sup- niifd with the luxul-s and substantial? of life. WILLIAM ORIE Boots and Shoes nf promtly attended to Haven, Michigan OTEL. Uv Harry Ea uted with excellent rooms Boot and Shoemaker. y repaired, and all orders aslnngton street, Grand . H. VHEVENBVG, Boot Shop over Win, M. rry's sto CHARLES W. HA 2 I WA Y, and Shoemaker. store, Water street. kinds of work in m dispatch at my shoj Blacksmith. All ine done with neatness and Mill l'oint, Michigan. JOHN T. DAVIS, Washington Street fin s Store. HOYT G. POST, lice over II. Griffin ington House. WILLIAM N. .4 A Ottawa County. opposite the Wasl HENRY PENNCt Countv. Office at Washington and X ASA A. SCOTT, Office over II. Grl ington House. TUSTrcc'd at Grits fj Y. II., II. S., Bh juice wine, and unt; reliant Tailor. Shop on rst door west of II. Grif- k of Ottawa Countv. Of- tore, opposite the ash- JL, Register of Deeds, for c over II. iinflins store, ton House. Ill, Treasurer of Ottawa Ottawa House, corner of r streets. rift of Ottawa County. f s store, opposite the ash- ?, Old Java and Rio coffee. and Gun powder teas, pure Iterated brandy for medical use only ; Cuba sugi and molasses, loaf, powder ed and crushed sutf; Eben. Goodwins Sarsapa rilla; mixed and prf I tobacco, Oronokc, Caven dish and common t tobaro, bulk, and paper smoking tobacco; if, nails; 7 9, 8 10 and 10 l lgluss; putty, ch;ffviming,wnucieau,reuieau, nm oil Mnffatt Casr oil. OuinincW. raisins, nuts, spices, &c. &c. if A or ready pay at tiic lowest f irand Haven June 20, 18ol. gluss; putty, chifpvninng,wnucieau,reuieau, d other paints, sjjs turpentine, alcohol, sallad , Lemon syrup ft- Osgood's chologoguc, Dr. offatt's Life Pill 4I bitters, opium, camphor, and win be sold f( possible prvos. A LL WOOL, i h Carpets for sale cheap at Griffin's. q 14 & 15 inch tr. Mill saw files, at 1 ( Griffin's. -v-r-nr nn..,lnnil'Jm r.. nt ...... ...i.u W". . Rowland's1 filed for use D R. S. Sawyer's t the lever & A w ISTAR'S Bal of the lungs M AYNARD&Nc writing ink fo EADY Made at A N assortment o T.TOUSE AND L JLX bcr Intending at a banrain his ho on the high ground commanding a tine Michigan. The pro adjoining, is well ca boarding establishmc fviot mill saws, with teeth Ferrs Pattern" for sale by WM. M. l'ERRY. Extract of bark, a cure for at W m. M. Ferry 8. f Wild Cherry for diseases Wm.M. Ferry's. & Davis & Blacks, superior at M.M. TERRY'S. ;, Summer styles, for sale WM. M. TERRY S. ks for sale at Levi Siiackleton's. OR SALE. The subscri be Grand Haven, offers d lot, fronting the river, h of Eatou'8 Hotel, and of the river and lake including the Ball Alley cd for a public house, or nu with little expense can be made to accomiltc. as manv travelers or uimrucrs as any in ti i Mainour, Grand II lu-ca clear title civen. For terms which vavcrv low. anr,lv tn the subscriber, or at this l aven. l W. W. Kanouse. INDIAN MAIDEN'S GRAVE. BY C. C. TORREY. Beside a brook whose pensive tone Broke the deep stillness of the dell, As over rock and smooth-worn stone, Its limpid waters gently fell, Majestic oaks their branches waved, And quivering aspens softlv 6ighed, The hawthorne bloomed, and willows laved . Their branches in the chrystal tide. The moonlight through the trembling leaves, Spangled the earth with silvery light, The evening mist, in airy wreaths, Hung o'r the brook a mantle bright. Half hid mong the silken grass. Beneath an aged willow's 6hadc, Beside a milk-white marble Cross, On which the moon beams sweetly played, A little mossy mound arose, Alone amid that quiet spot, To mark where, in her last repose, Lay one by all but one forgot. She was a beauteous Indian maid. Who here, long years ago, had died, And here, by him she loved, was laid, To sleep the murmuring brook beside. But now it was the noon of night, When from a cavern's gloomy span, Stole forth into the moon's pale light A haggard, lean, infirm old man. His white hair floating in the breeze. With tottering steps and downcast look, Emerging from beneath the trees, His way toward the grave he took. And there before the Cross he knelt, And meekly, on the midnight air, To Him who all our sorrows felt, Poured out a humble fervent prayer, That she who won his earliest love, Though unbaptized and unconfessed, Might find with him a home above, And spend with him an endless rest. And thus, 'tis said, for many a year, Mid summers dews and winter's snow Each midnight hour has found him there, To pray for her who 6leeps below. In THE WATCHER, a dark room, in a ruined and wretched house, in one of the most filthy districts of a great citv, a mother sat wutching her sleeping babe. "The infant was lying on a hard pullet on the floor, and the mother was sitting beside it on a broken chair, plvinir her needle with eager haste, and occasionally pausing to look down at her babe or to kiss it as it lay asleep. The child was pale and sickly, and in tho close, offensive air of the room it eemed to breathe painfully and to inhale, with every pulse of its tender heart, the insidious principles of death and dis solution. But not less pale and wan was the mother, who sat there watching; her features wore that blauehed.unearthly hue,while a strange upward light was phiy'ng in her eyes, which spoke but too plainly that death was breathing on her. The room was lonely very lonely for tliuroifure.no picture to adorn its Walls, Hcarcely any articles of common domestic use within it; it was bare, almost unfurnished, dis mal, and cold. Tho mother was engaged in ma king shifts, and the price which she received for them averaged two-pence-half-penny each ; and it is said that by extraordinary exertions for 20 hours out of twenty-four, the sum of three shil lings may be earned weekly at such labor. Well, the pale care-worn suffering mother continued to sikeh, stitch, anxiously from hour to hour, leaving off now and then to take her dying baby in her arms and to press it fondly to her breast, until the tide of her heart's affection came steal ing forth in tears; and recollecting that the next meal for herself and child must be earned by the continued labor of her jaded hands, she placed the infant on its bed,' and again resumed her work. Thus many hours had passed in a silence bro ken only bv the low moanining of the child, as it turned to and fro in the feeble expression of long-continued anguish, and tho deep sighs of the mother as she gazed anxiously upon its fe vered face, and saw the stamp of want and mis ery there in an expression akin to the imbecili ty of years. At length the babe awoke, and the mother took it tenderly into her arms; she press ed it to her breast and kissed the cold dew from from its foreVad. And now she began to pre pare her humble meal, she placed a few sticks of wood in the stove and lighted them, and plac ed an old broken kettle half filled with water up on them; and then arranged two cups and sau cers on a small tray, and took a portion of a loaf from a shelf above. While waiting for the wa ter to boil she gave her child some food; and she had scarcely begun to do this when a heavy and unsteady step was heard upon tho threshold; her heart leaped with fear, and she trembled like a moonlight shadow, A creature somewhat in the semblance of a man staggered into the room, and threw himself down upon the pallet where the child had just been sleeping. " Charles, Charles, do not, for God's sake treat me thus," said the mother of the child, and she sobbed loudly, and was steeped in tears. The man scowled upon her from beneath the broken brim of a slouched hat, and in a low fiend ish growl, cursed her. Ilis clothes had been re spectable in their time, but now were tattered and slovenly, and his face wore the savage wild nesa and vacancy of long-continued dissipation. "I came home to ask vou for money, so give me what you've got, and let me go, for I havn't done drinking yet," said he, while tho devil-like glare of his eyes seemed to pierce the poor moth er to the soul. " I tpent my last penny to buy my child some food, I know not where to get another; you have never wanted a meal while I could work, and my poor fingers are wasted to the bone, by mid night labor and the want of bread, and my poor child is wnstingaway before my face, while you; forgetting all the ties that bind a father to his offspring, or a husband to his wife, take the very bread from me and my babe, to waste it in drunkenness; oh, Charles, you loved me once, but you are killinff mo now. and my poor dear child." . " You howling, canting hypocrite, give me some money and let me go," bawled the intoxi cated brute, and with a sweep of his hand, as he sat upon the child's bed, he overturned the ta ble and scattered tho miserable meal upon the floor. The heart-broken wife rushed with her babe to tho opposite end of the room, and cow ered down in fear. "Do you hear, or do you want me to murder you?" and he rose from where he sat and reeled toward her; shrinking and shivering as she bent over her babe, she pressed its almost lifeless body to her heart, and when he stood above her, she looked up in his face in the agony of despair, and x implored in the mute utterance of her tear-worn eyes for mercy. But he did not strike her, although she was indeed well used to that, but he put out his hand and taking from her bosom a locket, which had been a dear sister'a gift, and tho last thing left her but her babe and death, staggered to the door, and, after looking back with a menancing and brutal expression of his savage features, left her. Although he was gone she moved not, but sat wailing like a dove whose nest has been be reft of that which made life dear, and sobbing loudly in her grief she looked upon her child, and saw the tokens of pain and want upon its meagre face, and could feel the throbbing of its little heart becoming more and and more feeble, from hour to hour, as the shadow of its life wa9 waning. And night came, and he laid her child down to rest, and again sat working and watching. She kissed it when its low cry startled her in the midnight silence, and hushed it again to sleep, for it wanted food and that she had not. The morning came but it was still night to her, and the darkness of her woe sat hovering over her frail soul like the shadow of a great but si lent misery. She hurried on in the delirium of extremo weakness that she might complete the wretched work she had, and get food for her fam ished child. Intense suffering, long watching, hunger, cold, and cruelty had blanched a cheek which had been more fair than snow, and had carved wrinkles, like those of age, upon a youth ful brow; death hovered over her like a ghastly shadow, not to her as to those in comfort ter rible, but welcome. And thus from hour to hour and from day to day, that mother labored for her lonely child, while he, whose heart should have beat with the devotion of love for her whom he had sworn to cherish, and whose hand should have been ever ready to defend her, deeming nothing too severe, nothing too difficult, which could bring food and comfort to a woman's constant heart, came only to rob her of her last morsel, and to add fresh agonies to her al most withered soul by imprecations and curses. One morning, after she had been toiling long in cold and hunger, she became too weak to la bor more, and nature faltered. She stooped to kiss her babe and to ask a blessing on its head from Him whose benedictions come even to the sorrowful and needy, and as she bent down above its little shadowy form, her sorrows over whelmed her, and she fell down beside her child and fainted. With none to aid and soothe her with none to nourish her in her distress of heart, and no land hand to minister tu the poor watcher in that hour of affliction, she lay in that sweet peace which comes to the aching heart when it can for a time forget its sorrows ; and better too, perhaps, for her, for her babe was dy ing, and in the unconsciousness of temporary death, she knew it not. She awoke at last, for even the forgetfulness so dear to the wounded spirit will have an end, and tho grim bitter realities become palpable once more; and as consciousness returned she was startled from her partial dream by the icy chill which fell upon her when she touched her child. She shrieked wildly, nnd fell upon her tace in tfie maddening agony of despair, 44 my child, my child, oh, my child !" she cried, and tore her hair in frenzy. Now she became more calm, and turned round to look upon the babe whose soul had passed into that better sleep from which there is no waking. She kissed its cold wasted form, and bathed its little marble face witli her scalding tears. 44 Oh, my child," she sobbed, 44 my poor child, murdered by its father's hand, the victim of his cruelty ; oh, Father of all, Father of the wicked and good, take my poor babe to thy fostering bo som, and let me die too, for my last hope is gone the last link of my heart's affection is broken; Father of mercies, listen to the supplications of a childless mother! That step ! and the blood goes back to her heart liko an icy flood, and every pulse is with ered, as with a bleak and desolating frost; she holds her breath, and with her dead child in her arms, crouches down in tho corner on the floor, and in the silence of despair and terror asks her God to bless and protect her and to soften his heart in such an awful moment as this. lie came to the threshold of the room, and fell prostrate on the floor, he attempted to approach her; he was too much intoxicated to rise, and there he lay muttering, in broken and inarticulate words the most horrible oaths and imprecations. The mother spake not, for although, even then she could have prayed for him in her heart, and blessed him with her tongue ; ay, and still labor for him with her hands, if by such she could win back the old love which had made her youth ful hours glad, nnd which had spread the rosy atmosphere of hope before her; but which was now a thing of silent memory, of sadness, and of tears. Thus passed away the morning, and at noon the drunkard arose from where he lay, and again demanded what money she had ; she gave him a few half-pence from her pocket, and he snatch ed them from her and departed. To know that he had gone to procure the poi aon on which he fed, with this last remnant of the midnight toil, and when his child lay deid within its mother's arms ; to know that for the veriest morsel she must toil again sleepless and famished, and with the withered blossom of her heart's broken hope beside her; to know that the last oflice of affection, the burial of the child, must be performed by those who cared for nei ther her nor it, and who would desecrate, by the vile touch of parochial charity, that which had been more dear to her than her own life ; to know that all her joys were wasted now.and that she still lived to hear him curso her in the very place where death had so lately been; and that although she sat before him with the sleeping infant in her arms, while he was too brutalized by drink to know that that sleep was one from which it would never more awake, and that her own terror made her speechless when she would have told him ; all this was a torrent of sorrow, before whose overbearing force her win tered heart gave way, and she sunk down upon the floor, with the dead babe in her arms, sense less. t Sleep came upon her like a poppy spell, and wafted her silent soul to sweeter worlds, Far away from her cold and solitary room, far away from hunger, wretchedness, and tears; faraway from the keen tortures of maternal sorrow and the despair of withered love, her spirit wander ed in that peaceful dream. From earth, as from a wilderness of ashes, her willing spirit went up on its upward flight, ascending and ascending. It neared the blue and shining arch above, and clapped its wings for joy, and felt within it tho renovated bliss of innocent and unchanging beauty. It felt the calming influence of soft mu sic swelling around it like sunbright waves up on a summer sea; it saw sweet spots and green peaceful valleys lying in the rosy light of heav en, as clouds at evening lie folded up in sleep. On and on her spirit went in calm and holy maj esty, amid the shadowy beauty of that pleasant land. It seemed to bathe in biiss amid bright galaxies of living and rejoicing worlds, and to embrace happiness as its long-sought boon. Through flowery pastures, and falling waters, perfumed gardens, and star-lighted solitudes where the soul of music dwelt and lived amid the sweet echoes of her seraph songs, that moth er's new-born soul wandered in its freedom, for getting all the pangs and tears it had so lately known. Now it passed floating islands of glit tering beauty where troops of cherubim were worshiping their God ; and from the midst of a soft bed of twilight flowers arose an angel host of babes, soaring in their wantonness of joy to higher regions of the azure air, and singing their simple 6ongs in harmony together. From all the gleaming lights afar came dulcet iiarpings of angelic wings, and all things in that sweet dream-land of beauty told of the joy which falls upon the virtuous soul. The spirit of the mo ther, dazzled and amazed till now, awoke from its trance of wonder, and cried aloud 44 my child, my child, and my husband, where, where arc they ?" and she sank upon a gleaming bed of pur pled blooms, and from the odorous sighing of the lute-toned air the voice of her child came gladly in reply. And now a joyous troop of star light seraphs sailed toward her, like a snowy cloud and inthe midst she sees her darling babe clapping its little hands in laughing glee, and overjoyed once more to meet her. Oh, what bliss is like the feeling of a mother, when her trusting heart is gladdened by the returnof a child whom she deemed was lost; and if such joy awake within the soul amid all the harsh re alities of ourth, how much more so in the spir it's home, where nothing but the peaceful tho't can live, and all earth's grief is banished? It was her own babe, the bud of hope she had nurs ed and tended in the dark winter of her earthly sorrow, now wenring tho same smile which glad dened her amid the gloom, but holier, fairer, and freed from all the traces of want and suffering. The spirits of the mother and the babe embrac ed each other in the wild joy of this happy meet ing, Imd the mother's spirit knelt before the heaven-built temple of light which arched above, and offered the incense of its prayers for him whose wickedness . of heart had steeped her earthly days in bitterness ; but who was yet to her the token of a youthful hope, and the living memory of a trusting love. Her earnest spirit, in the gush of its awakened affection for tho child of her bosom, called upon its God to have mercy upon him, and to snatch his soul from the blackness of its guilt and the impending terrors of destruction. And the prayer went upward, and the angels sung. The drunkard staggered to the wretched home, and reeling into the silent room gazed upon the wife and child. They spoke not, moved not ; he stooped to touch, but recoiled in horror, for both of them were dead. Tho mother in her sweet dream, had glided into the blissful even ing land, and he, the destroyer of a wife and child, now felt in all the piercing agony of sin and shame, the scorpion Rtings of conscience. He fell upon his knees and prayed for mercy ! His withering soul seemed struggling within him, and ho gasped for breath. He had wan dered into wicked paths, he had blighted a gen tle heart by cruelty and neglect, he had wasted his own child's meal in drunkenness and vil lainy, while it lay on its mother's breast per ishing for want of food. He felt all tho ter rors of remorse, and hell seemed gaping beneath him I He arose and wept, and the first tear he shed was carried by invisible hands upward to that world of peace, as a sacrifice of penitence to tho kneeling spirit of a mother. He wander ed away in silence, and where he went were the falling tears which spoke, in accents eloquent and true, the silent utterance of his repentant heart. Be Good NATURED.-People are naturally good natured, when they are brought up well, and have no. more right to be surly and sour than they have to swear, lie, or steal. We do love a pleasant, happy face; and whenever we meet one, it gladdens us like a gleam of bright sun shine in April. A cross, crabbed face i3 a dread ful sight. We suppose Hades is filled with such countenances. It mars our happiness to meet a man looking as if he thought the devil had a lien on hira,and was about to foreclose the mort gage. We know business, cares, anxieties, per plexities, broken promises, debts and duns, are rather unpleasant comforters sometimes, but cheer up and bear a brave heart and a joyous conntenance; men of sound heads and stout hearts push ahead, and never be discouraged at obstacles, and you will work out your own sal vation from all these difficulties, and rejoice with us in your own success. Lord Rochester in his last illness would fre quently lay his hand on the Bible and say: "There Is true philosophy, there is wisdom mat speaketh to the heart. A bad life is the only grand objection to the book." The best court of equity, is a good conscience. An Accommodating Judge. In those days (from 1818 to 1833,) justice was administered in the courts without much show, parade or cer emony. The judges were men of sense and some learning, who held their courts mostly in log houses, or in bar rooms of taverns, fitted up for the purpose with a temporary "bench for Xho judge, and chairs or benches for the lawyers and jurors. At the first circuit court in Washington county, held by judge John Reynolds, on the opening of the court, the sheriff went out into the yard and said to the people : 44 Boys come'iu, our John is going to hold court" This was the proclamation for opening the court. In general the judges were averse to de ciding questions of law. They did not like the responsibility of offending one or the other of the parties. They preferred to submit every thing they could, to be decided by the jury. I knew one who, when asked for instruction to the jury, on points of law, would rub his head and the sides of his face with his hand, and say to the lawyers: 44 Why, gentleman, the jury understanding it; they need no instruction no doubt they will do justice in the case." This same judge presided at a court in which a man named Green was convicted for murder, and it became his unpleasant duty to pronounce sentence upon the culprit. He called the prisoner tip and said to him: 44 Mr. Green, the jury say you are guilty of mur der, and the law says you are to be hung. 1 want you and all your friends down on Indian creek to know that it is not I that condemns you. It is the jury and the law. Mr. Green what time would you liko to bo hung? The law allows time for your preparation." Mr. Green said: 44 Slay it please your honor I am ready at any time ; those who kill the body have no power to kill the soul. My preparation is made, and I am readv at any time the court pleases. Tho judge replied: "Mr. Green, it is a very serious matter to be hung; it can't happen to a man but once in his life, and you had better take all tho lime you can get. Mr. Clerk, look at the almanac, and sec whether this day four weeks comes on Sunday." Tho clerk looked as directed, and reported that day four weeks came on Thursday. "Then," said the judge, "Mr. Green, the court will give you until this day four weeks. The case was prosecuted by James Turney, the Attorney General, who interposed and said, 44 May it please, the Court, on occasions of this sort, it is usual for courts to pronounce a formal sentence; to remind the prisoner of his perilous condition ; to reprove him for his guilt, and to warn him against the judgment in the world to come." To which the judge replied : "Oh, Mr, Turney, Mr. Green understands the whole matter, he knows he has golto be hung; you understand it, Mr. Green, don't you ?" 44 Yes," said the prisoner. 44 Then, Mr. Sheriff, let the prisoner be remanded, and adjourn the court." St. Louis Republican. Great Young Men. Don John of Austria won at the age of twenty-five, the greatest bat tle of modern times : had it not been for tho jealousy of Philip, the next year he would have been L'mperor of Mauritana. Gaston de Foix was only twenty-two un ho stood a victor on the plains of Ravenna. Every one remembers Conde and Rocroy at the same age. Gustavus Adolphus died at thirtv-eight. Look at his cap tains; that wonderful Duke of Weimar, only thirty-six, when he died. Banicr himself, after all his miracles, died at forty-five. Cortes was a little more than thirty when he gazed upon tho golden cupola of Mexico. When Maurice of Saxony died at thirty-two, all Europe acknowl edged tho loss of one of the greatest captains and profoundest statesmen of the age. Then there is Nelson and Clive but these are warri ors, and perhaps you may think there are great er things than war. I do. I worship the Lord of Hosts. But take the mostillustriousachieve ments of civil prudence. Innocent III., tho great est of Popes, was the despot of Christendom at thirty-seven. John de Medici was a cardinal at fifteen and Giucciardina tells us, baflcd with his state craft Frederick of Arragon himself. He was Pope, as Leo X, at thirty-seven ; take Ignatus Loyola and John Wesley; they worked with young brains. Ignatius was only thirty when he made his pilgrimage, and wrote the 44 Spiritual Exer cises." Paspal wrote a great work at sixteen, the greatest of Frenchmen, and died at thirty seven, which reminds me of Byron, greater even as a man, than a writer. Was it experience that guided the pencil of Raphael, when he painted the palaces of Rome? He died, too, at thirty-seven. Richelieu was sec retary of State at the age of thirty-one. Well, then, there is Bolingbrooke and Pitt, both min isters before other men leave off thetricket. Grotius was in great practice at seventeen, an attorney general at twenty-four. And Acquiviva was general of the Jesuits ruled every cabinet in Europe, and colonized America before he was thirty-seven. But it is needless to multiply in stances. The history of heroes is the history of youth. Exchange. Cholic in Horses. Cholic in horses is read ily cured by tying a small piece of tobacco on the bit of his bridle. The cure is effected when the tobacco is dissolved in the saliva. We have 6cen several horses cured in this way when swelled up badly and in great agony. Ex. John Adams was a practical business man, and a careful husbandcr of time. The follow ing entry appears in his diary, recently publish ed: "Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday., All spent in absolute idleness, or, which is worse, gallanting the girls !" Why are potatoes and whejvt like the idols of old 1 Because they have eyes and see not, ears have they and hear not. - Thirty-five years ago, a crack steamer ran from New. York to Albany in twenty-three hours, and complimentary resolutions were pas sed to the captain. The same distance is now run in seven hours and fifty minutes. Use lav and physic only in cases of uecesai ty ; good remedies, but bad recreations. ' 1 i