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' 1M itei - $Ms'-SV4t T J. W. ROBERTS, SeboieS to figiciliii-e, ?$ecffti)ie& fttfs, etos, 9 Seijeht. Ittefctftifo Editor aiff Proprietor. n i ,(- VOLUME IV, NUMBER iS. OSKALOOSA, KANSAS JULY 30, 1864. WHOLE NUMBER. 204. Til ' -'- T - 1 "1 1 J " r a r - . I H f: I Tl rl ATkATl i-1 .TYl. II 1 I I 1 1 1 1 I It - I 1 1 I - III, - ?p M- VmL. Vx B- - -M L vBL X M M- I S i' ex iii S SftUsfai mix. Dance, liule zephyrs, blithely dance, Prance in the green grass, skip and prance, In el&nring; Breathe your lays on the msadow-lea, Laugh and leap in your spomre glee, " Dance and aln 1 Sing, ye soothing southern gales, Softly breathe jour erenlng tales, And roliere ; Kiss cie with your breathing lips. Touch me with your flnger-tipt Softly breathe ! Wall, wild winds of the maanUln clime, Toll a dire for this olden Urns In sorrowing tone; Hanntthe lonely, wandering streams, Where the moonshine coldly pi earns Wall and moan! O, melodious autamn winds. Murmuring through tbe midnight pines, Mild and grand Peal your anthems great and strong, Tojh is Goo's triumphant sons. Through the land : Crael, ciillin;, wintry blsst, How thy struts go s'aiv'rins past, Shrill and shear; IVlc and cold the timid sky, Like the shadow of i lch Cold and clear ! Blessed spring wind ! dawnln Ctithl Waking vigor oat of death Sweetly sing I Warble In the budding bnwers, Perfum'd with the early Cowers All hail 1 wbtn all tbe birds are ours. Winds of spring! Aural Xtxi-Ytrltr. 1SIE Fi!-i 33. VS. V CIROLUI A. COWAKD, HI BCRil 5XW TOZKIR. In the sweet Sumner of the year, Beneath life's noon-day glare, J wait for one who draw tth near, 'y spirit home to bear. Between me and 'the silent Und,' - A Strang, deep streamlet rolls, Which 1 must cross, led by Death's hand Tbo Ferryman of Souls. Sometimes, in tho dim, solemn night, I hear bis dipping oar, And feel thai ere the morning light, JiU bark will touch the shore. But soon the midnight shadows Ceo Away, like ghosts, they glide, And leare me waiting patiently Beside the soundless tide. Faith llope and Lore, 'the holy three,1 My all of life, remain ; They to th brink bars corns with me, 3Jy spirit to sustain. Faith lesTes me not, on ber true breast I lean, and thus grow strong, Becalmed to mors than mortal rest flj her celestial song. On wings of light, Hope flits before To realms of bliss afar. And glcinieth from thu 'shining shore,' .My soul' bright guiding star. O, weeping Lore ! bid me net stay. Since thou and I shall meet So soon upon you heavenly way That leads to Jesus' feet. Thou hasten, boatman, why delay ? Behold the morning dawn 1 And by its earliest crimson ray, I'm Matting U be gone. Jfctafeft JHtefch. From Mood's Rural New-York. FOEDOfiA. Translated from the Frene'i.by Cask Mraicx. It was in the year 1812, Napoleon, at the Lead of his victorious army in the plains of Moscow, hud entered the ancient Capital of the Jbmpire of the Cztrs, and threatened the new city fouuded by Peter the Great. Influenced by a fanat ical patriotism.t he Governor of Moscow, Rostopchin.uiade the resolution which has can itd to terrible a blow to the sue cess of our arm of burning the city, which the Emperor Alexander had con .lided loliis care We will not alicinpt to relate all the circumstances ot litis. .frightful dram. Driven fiom their homes by fire, Mnking under the ititen fcity of thu fl-tnies, ii was a dreadful eight to ste ail the inhabitants, mingled with oar soldiers, forced to flee, carry nog away whatever lliey could, from the violence of the -flames. A little daughter of a merchant, scarcely six years old, became lost amid ibe confusion. Forsaken, benumbed by cold, she wandered hither and thith er is the streets which the lire had spared. Her father and mother had disappeared, and no one seemed willing to receive ber. The enlire night passei' thu; and when the day began to dawn, Foedora, exhausted by fatigue and hun ger, threw herself down at the entrance of a church and tell asleep.. Without doubt she would not have awakened, and death would bave come to surprise her.if a virandiere. who by chance came to establish ber little sutad of provis ions sear this church, .had not been touched with compassion for tho unfor tunate child. She, also, had children; SBd this was the reason why she was ld u provide for the little orphan. Foe ora knew not bow to express her thank wuess, ghe toon because to her second br a most intelligent' assiiant. L't " y little, she learned to understand her benefactress.and lo express all that she felt of thankfulness and love. Mean time the army of Napoleon commenced its retreat, and the vivanJicre was com pelled to leave Moscow. W-re the pa rents of Foedora atill living? Of litis nothing was yet revealed. Foedora left with the Fiench aimj , One m iv j 'i;e what a child of her ago had to endure during such a retreat. At the crossing of "Berezina, Foedora had the misfortune to find herself sepa rated frum her benefactress, who belihv ed that the child had either perished in the wave-, or that she had lost her way. Whichever it niilit be, the oriihun was found no moie, and she found herself deserted anew. In the meantime. Foe dura came as far h- Fulugne with a de tachment ot the army. Several of her companions had perished exhausted by cold or hunger and the others were scattered, so that the little Muscovite found herself alone, abandoned in the midst of a forest. Dying of cold, the snow reaching almost lo the knees, she saw suddenlj' a bear coming towards l.er. Then she coll-cted all her stiength, and tried to fle But, alas! how co'd fo feeble a child, whose limbs were al most benumbed, escape this danger ? Already the bear was upon the point ol attacking her. Foedora mieied a cry. calling lor help. By an unexpected (avor of Providence, a shot wa liied, and the bear fell ! Soon, a ctrntger arrived at the place where Fo-dora had stopped, scarely recovered from hr frigiit. He regarded with kindnesand an eye of compassion this r.hild whom Heaven seemed to have confided to him. He was n Polish gentleman named Polowski. He took fiom his Jarac pouch some cold provisions, of bread and wine. and gave them to Foedora, which soon routed her. Then he took the child by the hand and led her to his castle, distant about two leagues. There, Foe dora was welcomed with kindness by the wife of the noble Polowski, who de layed not to supply all her wants. She was then able to narrate to them all that she knew of her history. Moved to tears by tiie child's reeiUl, Polowski and hi wife orern helmed her with the most tender caresses and soon, Foedora had only the remembrance of her misfor tunes. Several years passed, in which they learned nothing of the parents of Foe dora. In the meantime, she had grown in wisdom and in beauty. Nothing had been neglected lo form aiight her heart and mind. She was then fifteen years old. Eicu year the anniversary of her rescue had been a festive day. Duiing one of these re-unions, while Foedora rehearsed anew the incidents of her childhood, and the benefits which her parents of adoption had bestowed upon her, passed in review, they heard the report of a gun a shoit distance fiom the castle. The wind blew with vio lence, the snow fell in great fjikes, nnd obscured the sky so that one could not see three steps before him. "It is some lost traveler who asks help, and who is attacked by ferocious bt-asts, for it is impossible that one should abindon himself to the pleasures of the ch-ise, at such a time, ctied roknv-kt, and lie commanded his men to go in search, He placed himself at the ttead of his attendants, uhom he led to the forest Some lime after, 'hey leturued to the castle. The servant bore upon a litter the budy of a wounded Russian, Foe dora tlnew herself betore her country man. She dressed his wounds herself He whs soon able to expre I113 thanks to the host and ho-tes of the castle, and to relate his histoiy to them. "I am," sid he, "a merchant ot Moscow. I have been on a visit to Varsowa. Leaving the neighborhood, I started to visit a Irtend who lives at some distance. Armed with a gun, I proceeded on foot lo his castle, where 1 was belated. The snow fell in great flakes; I became bewildered, and was seeking in vain for the roid, when I saw two men approach, of whom I liaMenoil .to ask direction. 1 had no distrust, and quietly awaited lh"ir reply, when siiJ denly these two villains rushed upo.i me, stunning me and ro' bing me ol what little money 1 possessed. 1 u.tei ed a en; it was then that one of tlxm fired upon Jie with his pistols, for the wished to kill me, During the stranger's recital, Foedora had kept her gaze liveted upon him. She seemed U find upon his counten ance 'familiar features, without being able to tell where she had seeu them. Her heart beat with violence, and an irresistable impulse drew her towards him. Polowski besought his guest to relate some of tho incidents of the burn ing of Moscow. The stranger appear ed somewhat reluctant to comply with this request. However, reflecting upon the services which he had received, he dare not refuse. Depicting (be spec tacle of this vast conflagration, bis voice trembled with lively emotion. But, when be beuan lo recount his own mis fortunes be shed abundant tears; and, uttering a profound sigh, he said : "Alas! this terrible fire not only des troyed n large nhare of my fortune, but also took away all our happiness our much loved daughter. While in the midst of the dreadful disorder, excited by tbe frightful catastrophe, wc sought, my wife aud I, to save from the vorac.'ty of the flames, out most aluable treas ure", wc lost oar child, tbefFin her sixth year. Her nurse had taken ber lo con duct, ber to the house of a friend who lived in a distant street, to which the fire had not yet extended. But neither the nurse nor the child returned; and since the event, nil our inquiries have been fruitless. Probably, some build ing in falling, buried ihcni in its ruin." At these words, Foedora, who had lUtened eagerlj' lo all the particulars of the recii-d, could no longer conceal the emotions which it excited within her. She tlnew herself upon the neck of the stranger, crjing, "0, my father, my father I" This was a touching night. You will pardon us if we do not at tempt to describe the joy nnd happiucs wiih which their heirts oveiflowefl. Pen is pof erless in the face of such a scene. After the first tit i ill of surprise, Fordofti i elated lo her father all those miracles to which she owed her safety. The good vivandieie was not forgotten in this recital; but with what stns biliu, whit touching expressions of h-nUlul-ness, did she acknowledge all lint she owed to the betietolence of the Polish lord who. hid received and treated her as his child. In a few days tho Russian recovered It was necessary for him to lenv; the CHste of Polor.-ski.and Foedora follow ed iisni, not without assuring her bene Uiciors that her gratitude would cease only wiih her life. They returned to Mohow, where their arrival caused a joyous aurpiise. The history of Foe dora became Lniwn. A young Russian lord, who ocenpied a high position in the ranks of the anny, demanded the young girl in maniago, aud espoused her. Ten years had passed. Poland had proclaimed her independence, and the Emperor of the Rushns, Nicholas, placed an at my in the field to crush the efforts of this heroic nation. Every one knows the issue of this unequal contest. The husband of Foedora had taken a part in this campaign. Foedora had followed Mm, Without stopping to retiew the heart-rending scenes of this war, we will onlv sav that Varovii was takeo by siege. In thi terrible day thousands of Poles and Russians per shed. Towards evening all the su perior officers of the victorious army went to isit the biltlo field, where the coipses of the conquerors and the con queied la) in contusion. An infinite number of wounded groined umong the dead. Moved with pity for lhoc to whom Fortune had been contrary, the husbind of Foedora had lboe car ried to the hot-pilals in whom there yet remained a breath of life. Aft-r these pious cares, he went still farther in this place of death, where, among several corpses which they were going to hurt , he perc-ited a Polish officer of High rank, all covered with crosses and orna ments. He thought he saw in him some signs of life, and had him carried to the house wiiere Foedora reiiviined. There, every necessary altenion was bestowed up -n him, and slowiy recov ering fio:n his lethargy, the I'oiMi offi cer opened his e es. Foedora was seat ed at the head of the bed. Suddenly she uttered a cry; she bad recognized Polowski ! Polowski recovered from his wounds only to be plunged into a still mow ter rible danger. His name was placed upon the list of exiles. When Foedora was apprised of it, she immediately re paired to the Empeior. She embraced Ins knees and demanded a favor; aud Nicholas, hearing, pionouuced thr par don of Polowski. Surprised, bat Heady. The clock had just stiuck the mid uighl hour, when u.e clu.pUin was .sum moned to 'the cot ol a wounded s.ildici. lie had left him oniy an hour heiore with confident hopes of hi peedy le covery hopes which were siiaied by the surgeon aud the tvjuuded man him self. . But a sudden cluui 'o had taken place, and the surgeon liad come to say that the m to could live but an hour or two at most, aud to beg the chaplain to iiiak? the feaiiul announcement lo him. He was soon by his tide, but over powered by his emotions, was unable lo deliver his message. The dying man, however, quickly read the solemn truth in the alt-red looks of the chaplain, his faltering voice.and his ambiguous words He had not before bad a doubt of his tecovery. He was tip ciiug soon to see bis mother, and with her kind nurs ing, speedily to recover. He was.there fore, entirely unprepared for the an nouncement, and at first it ivas over whelming. 'I am to die, then ; and how soon?' .As he had beforo expressed hope in Christ, the chaplain replied : 'You have made your peace with God; let death come as sonn as it may. He will carry you over the river. 'Yes, but this is so awfully sudden !' His lips quivered ; he looked up giicv ingly 'and I shall not see my mother.'' Christ is belter than a mother.' said the chaplain.' Yes.' The word came in a whisper. His eyes were closed ; the lips still wore that trcxblinj grief, as if the chastisement ittUftttM3t& was too sore, too !i4rd to b Tinrn- hut , . w WV.HV, ..... as the minutes passed, and the souljlift ed itself up stronger and more steadily, upon tue wings oi prayer, tiie counte nance grew calmer, Uie lips steadier ; and when the eyes opened again, there whs a light in their depths that could have come only torn heaven. I thank you for your .courage,' he said more feebly, taking (lie hand of the chaplain ; 'the bitterness is over now, and 1 feel willing todic.2Tell my moth er he paused, gave one sob, dry and full of the last of earth 'tell her how I longed to see her , but if God permit me, 1 will be near her. Tell her to com fort all who loved me, to say that I thought of them all. Tell my father that 1 am glad he gave his cou&ent.and that other fathers will mourn for other sons. Tell inv minister, by word or let ter, that 1 thought of him, and that I thank him for his counsels and that 1 find Christ will not desert the passing soul, and that 1 wish him to ghe mv testimony to the living, ilmt nothing i's of teal woiih but the religion of Jesus. And now will you pray with me?' W lib emotion, the chaplain besoudi't God's grace and presence ; then, re straining his tobs, I.e bowed down nnd pies&ed upon his beautiful brow, alrea dy chilled with the breath of the com- lir !l,kll.l f Ulna tltvtr.il n fa..., t.'. I'"o ""6, """i 1.0I11.V, a itncub fcies. They might have been as tokens from ins lamer ana motiier, as well is for himself. So thought, perliaps, tho dy ing soldier, for a heavenly smile touch ed his face with new beauty as he said : 'Thank you ; I won't trouble you a ny longer. You are wearied out, go to jour rest.' The Lord be with you !' was the firm response. -Aman I" trembled from bis fast whitenipg lips. Another hour passed. The chaplain still moved uneasily around bis room. There were, hurried sounds overhead, and footsteps on the stairs. He opened his door, and encountered the surgeon, who whispered one Utile word, 'gone !' Christ's soldier had found the Captain of his salvation, Christian Memorials if the M ar. i H I Purity. This is an indispensable requisite lo a good charncter. Purity of thought, of speech, of conduct, should be scru pulously adhered to by every mm who desires a tair rep.itation. An I how (many there are who call themselves gentlemen, honorable men, men of char lactcr and standing, who arc guilty of I offences ng-unst purity, which ought to I exclude them fiom the society of the respectable and virtuous. How many young men, who think themselves fit company for the amiable, nnd pure, and ! lovely of tho other sex, who ought not to be allowed to breatln the same air with our daughters and sisters, and who would not be, if they were thoroughly known by the community generally, as they arc by h few. How many who, in the presence of women in our social circles, will flitter and compliment, will the most obsequious manifestations of lepect, aud in the most insinuating manner, who, among their male associ ates, will speak of women in the roost disrespectful aud instilling manner.with gross familiarly and unbluslring coarse ness. When 1 hear a young man in dulging in coarse and depreciating ex pressions toward tho female sex, or making them the subject of some vulgar allusion, or indecent double entendre, 1 put a mark upon him as not to be trusted. The highest respect and con sideration for woman, is a mark of a noble character. Botiiood of Cam ain Cook There is not the slightest doubt as to the au thenticity ol the following incident, which shows the effects of little cause producing great consequences. The di-covciies of the English circumnavi gator cie owug to a ptrucuiarly mark led shilling. Young Cook was a native Jul" Yorkshire, and served as apprentice to a merchant and shopkeeper in a large , li.-lnng- own in that county. Some iuion.;y had been rm-scti from tho till, and to detect the delinquent, a very cu riously marked shilling was mixed with the sitter, which was accurately count ed. On extmiuing the till shortly af ter, this peculiar shilling was missing, and Cook was taxed wjlh having taken it out; this be instantly acknowledged, staling that its peculiarity had cjught his eye, but affirmed, at the same time, that he had put another of bis own in its place. The money was accordingly couuted over again, and found to agree exactly with his statement. Although the family was highly respectable, and therefore capable of advancing him in his future prospects, and alio much at tached to him, and very kind, yet tbe high spirit of tbe boy could not brook remaining in a situation where be had been stispeoted; he therefore ran away, and, having no other resource, entered as a cabinboy in a collier. Cubes rou Poison Ivr. Immerse the poisoned part in soft soap for half an hour, or uniil relief is obtained. This is said to be very effectual. Another excellent remedy is said to be to bathe the nllecicd part in a strong tea made of sweet fern leaves, applied as hot as possibla. Drink the ten if the poison affects tbe stoaiach. own?. Discoveries in Pompeii. M. Mare Mouuier, in an article in a French journal, -ives the following giaphic xccoiint of the discovery of hu min bxlies in Pompeii, by M. Fiorelli; One day in a little street, under a heap of stones and rubbish, a vacant space was discovered, at the bottom of which appeared something like bones. M. Fiorelli.was summoned in haste.and he consnma'ed a luminous idea. He poured in some liquid plaster, and the ime operation was performed at other points wh-re bones had been likewise discovered; aud as soon as the plaster hardened, the mould was lifted with the greatest precaution, and on the harden ed ashes and lava being removed, four corpses appeared. They ate now at the museum.nnd no more striking sight it is possible lo behold. They are not statutes, but human bodies moulded by Vesuvius, nnd preserved from decay hy that envelops ot lava which reprodu ces th clothes, the flesh, nay. almost the appe trance of life. The bones pro trude tiete an there where the moulted liquid did not completely cover tho limbs. Nowhere docs anything' l'ke this exist. The Egyptian mummies are naked, black, hidious. They are dressed out by the Egyptian undertaker for eternal repoe the ex human Pom- peina are huraun beings in the act of dying. One of the boJies is that of a woman near whom were found tiinety one silver coins, two silver vases, some keys, and a few jewels. She was fly ing, carrying her most valuable com modilies with her, when she tell into the narrow street. Her head-dress, the tissue of her clothes, and two silver rings on her finger, can be easily de tected. One of her hands is broken, and the cellular structure of the bones exposed to view; the left arm is raised and writhing, tbe delicate baud convul sively shut; the nails appear to have entered ihe flesh. The whole body ap pears swollen and contracted, the legs alone the round and delidjte outline of which has not suffered ate stretch ed out. You can feel tnat she had strug gled long in fearful pain. Her attitude is that of agony, not death. Behind hei a woman aud young citl had fallen; the f'rmer. the mother po-sihlv,wasof hum hie ex.iaciun. to judgd from the sizn( her eais. On iier finrjeris a single iron rin '. Her left le". iai-ed and bent, de notes that sheaKo struguled and suffer ed. Near her rtclines the young yirl almost n child. The. nsue of her dre is seen wi h wonderful distinctness, her !eeves coming down to the wiisis, and the embroidery on her shoes. She hid. through fear prohibit, lifted her dres otcr. She Jell wi'h her face to the ground. One of her hands is half opeu. as though she had used it to keep Iier il over her fice. The bor.es of her linger protrude tliiogb the lava. She appears to hate died easily. Nothing et discovered at Pompeii offers tis anj ihiug to h- compared with thi palpita ting drama. It is violent death with its snprtme tortures, its convulsions and agonies brought clearly before us, and, as it were, taken in the act, after the lacse of eighteen centuries. An Eaole is tiie Air. Great ns are tiie distances which these birds ome times fly. it becomes comprehensible when tve know that an eagle, as he sweeps freely through the air traverses a spnee of sixty feet in aeecond of time. To be aide to thus rapidly move along, is undoubtedly, an attribute of power; but theie is something far more majes tic, iu that calm, onward motion, when with wings outspread, and quite siill, the mighty bird floats buoyantly in the atmosphere, upheld and borne along by the act of meie volition. Tiie length of time he can thus remtin sus pended without a single beat of his bioad, shadowy pinions, is to me. still an inexplicible fact. He will sail for wnid in a perfectly horizontal direction for the distance of more than a mile, uiihout the slightest quiver of a feath er giving rign that his wings are mov ed. Not less extraordinary i the pow er the bird possesses of arresting him self instantaneously at a certain 6 pot in dropping through the air with folded wings from a height of three thousand feet. When circling so high up that he shows but as a dot, he will sudden ly close both wings, aud falling like an aerolite pass through the intervening space in a few seconds of time. With a burst his broad pinions are ag.iiu un folded, his downward progress is arrest ed, and he sweeps away horizontally, smoothly, and without effort. He has been seen to do this, when carrying a sheep of twenty pounds weight in his talons; and front so giddy a beighth that both the eagle and his booty were not larger than a sparrow. It was di rectly over a wall of rock in which the eyrie was built; and while the speck in the clouds was being examined, and doubts entertained as to the possibility of iu being the eagle, down be came headlong, every instant increasing in size; when, in passing the precipice, out flw his migthy wings; the sheep was flung into the nest, and on the magnificent creature moved, calmly and unflurried, as a bark sails down the stream of a ritvr. Aspiration without attaiument is bel ter than coBlealnint without desire. ahsKainbow. TheolifBculty seems to be how to ac count for the color, which is never pro duced in white light, such as that of the sun, by mere reflection. Maurclycus advanced a considerable step, when he supposed that the light enters the drop, and acquires color by- refraction; but in tracing the course of the ray be was quito bewildered. Others supposed tiie refraction and tbe color to be the effect of one drop, and the refraction of another; so that two retractions and one reflection were employed, but in such a manner as to be still very remote from the truth. Antonio de Dominis, arch bishop of Spalatro, bad the good fortune to fall upon the true explanation. Hav ing placed a bottle of water opposite the sun, and"a little above bis eye, he saw a beam of light issue from the underside of the bottle, which acquired different colors, in the same order and with the same brilliancy as in the rniubow, when the bottle was a little raised or depress ed. From comparing nil these circum stances, he perceived that the rays had entered the bottle, and that, after two refractions from the convex part, and a reflection from the concave, they were returned to the eye tinged with different colors, according to' the angle at which the ray had entered. The rays that gave the same color made the same an gle with the surface, and hence ail the drops that gave the same color must be arranged in n circle, the centre of which was the point in the cloud opposite the sun. Master and Scholar. "When I was a bo," said an old man, "we bad a schoolmaster who had an odd way of catching idle boys. One day he called out to us 'Boys, I must have closer attention to your books. Tho first one of you that sees another boy idle, I want you to inform roe, and I will at tend to the case.' 'Ah,' thought I to myself, 'there is Joe Simpson that I don't like. I'll watch him. and if Isee him look off his book, I'll tell.' It was not long before I saw Joe Simpson look off his bojk and immediately informed the ma-ter. 'Indeed, said the master, how do you know he was idle?' I saw him, said I. You did, and were your eyes on your look wh'n you saw him ?" I was caught, mid uevcr watched foi idle boys g tin. If wa are sufficiently watchful over our own conduct, we shall have no time to find fault with the conduct of others," mi m i m Maxim for Paeesij and Teachers. Never give reproof, if it can be avoid ed, while the feelings of either part' are excited. If the parent or teacher be nl calm, his influence is diminished, and a bad eXtmple is set. If the child is excited or provoked, he will not feel the force of argument or rebuke. On the other hand, do not defer long. Seize the firm favorable opportunity while the circumstances are fresh iu the memory. Reprove eacii fault as it occurs, and do not suffer them to accumulate, lest the offender be discouraged by the amount. Let a man be a plain, quiet worker, not proclaiming himself melodiously in any wise, but familiar with us, unpre tending, letting all his littleness and feebleness be seen unhindered, and wearing an illcul coat withal, nnd tho' he be such a man as is only sent on earth once in five hundred years, for some special humin teaching, we shall not be likely to call him inspired. Depenoenct. The race of mankind would perish.did they cease to aid each oilier. From the time the mother binds the child's head, till the moment that some kind assistant wipes the death damp from the biow of thj dying, we cannot exist without mutual help All. therefore, that need aid, have a right to ask it of their fellow mortals. No one who has the power of grauting it can refuse it without guilt. 'IIS Women as Thinkers. 'Trust the first thought of woman, not the second,' is an old proverb; and Montaigne says that "any truth which miy be attained at one bound, woman will reach, but that which needs patient climbing is the prize of man." Female Socistt. -Without female society,' it has been justly said, 'the be ginning of men's liven would be help lessthe middle without joy or pleas ure the end without comfort.' Parting and forgetting, what faithful heart can do these? Our great tho'ts, our great affections, the truths of our life, never leave us. Surely they can not separate from our conciousness, shall follow it whithersoever it shall go, and are of their nature divine and im rnoital. Mao, anatomists say, changes entirely every seven years. "Theiefore," ssys the inimitable Jones, "my tailor should not remind me of lite bill I contracted in 1854. 1 ain't the mtn.V Don't be in too great a hurry, girls, lo fall in love with the young men. It often happens that your hearts arc no sooner theirs than theirs arc so longer your. gtxm M gmitfMl Te make a Field Xolkr. .1 constructed a roller in the follow ing way: Four feet and four inches ia . diameter: diew a circle of four feet on a smooth floor, drew a line through the center one way and crossed it by anoth er directly perpendicular to it; laid ar piece of half-inch board a foot wide on tho circle, make the roller, which was' cut from two inch plank, made double at each end. and firmly pinned together; arms were framed to those heads for the gudgeons of the center. I covered it with spruce-flags three inches wide, two inches thick, and five and one-half feet loug, spiked to the heads; it was then hooped with stout old tierce hoops, made to its size. The gudgeons were iron pins passing through the center of the arms with a head outside, and fas tened with keys through the inside. The side pieces were three by four inch joist, about five feet long. Immediately in front of the roller a deep piece was framed into these sides and on the under side four inches in front of that was pinned another cross piece, and on the top of them another cross piece a foot or more from the first mentioned, this forming-a place into which any old sled spear and roll could be inserted and taken out with a moment's labor, mak ing the roller occupy much less room when stowed away. A roller made of hard .wood would be harder and better, than if made of soft wood. Correspon dence y. H. Jburrtal of Ag. Bleaching Flaaael ChiMreni Clothes. I find the idea of bleaching flannels to be new to so many housekeepers, thsr 1 would fain send you a recipe. The bleaching matter is sulphurous acid, obtained from burning sulphur. To make this apply in an economical way. take a good tight flour cask, (close ia the staves I mean.) with both ends out, and fasten many white cords across its inside near the top, to hang your flan nels upon. Then wash and rinse tba flinnels in bet suds, and hang; them on your cords and cover the cask closely with an old quilt or blanket. Have some hot coals ready in a dish, throw powdered sulphur upon them, and set your cask over them immediately. Re new the coals and sulphur several limes, that the flannels may be well saturated with gas. It is needful for them to be wet, else the gas is not absorbed. Let them bang in over night, and you may perceive by the odor bow well they are charged with the bleaching matter. No danger of their being- fulled by remain ing so long wet, for the acid prevents this. Indeed one great benefit of the process is. that flannels so treated eeu every fourth or fifth washing are rarely injured by being fulled at all. In this way infants' clothing may be kept as nice as newi'BaA until it is worn out. It distresses me-to see mothers dressing their little tender babies in flannels as stiff almost as a pine shingle, from bad washing, nnd as yellow as if dyed. Al ways wash nnd rinse woollen goods of all kinds in hot suds. If you would pacs for tidy, don't put your baby flan nels in the great wash for the busy hires! folks to do. They cannot take time to do it rightly. We hnve onr own opin ion as to the humanity of placing wool at nil in contact with the moist, tender skin of a young infant. Also of the prudence of trying l harden it to cotton nnd flax in our cold.changeable winters. Our b-iby- has its little flannel shirts and the socks it wore, under two months old loo, all lined with stout Pongee silk, Whatever merits are possessed by the wool, the silk has iu an equal degree, both in reference to caloric and electric ity. Together they form a covering exceedingly soft, warm, and capable of warding off sudden changes of temper ature. S. C. Harris, Ohio Cultivator. To R:lii vk Muscular Pain in Hors es. The datura stramonium, or thorn apple plant, is a very excellent remedy, as an external application, for the treat ment of muscular pain, Jigaineutary lameness, sprain of the-fellock, fee. It is a remedy ofsgreat efficacy in chronic pains and inflamitory tumors. Four ounces of the plaat to one pint of boil ing water, are ho proportions. When cool, the parts are to be bathed often; when practicable, a flannel is to be sat urated with the fluid and bound on the affected p.trts; the whole to bs covered with oiled silk. 'Going to leave. Mary? 'Yes, mum; I find I am very discontented.' If there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable, let me know.' 'No, mum. it's impossible. You can't alter your figger, no mor'n I can. Your di esses won't fit me, aad I can't appear oa Sun days as I used at my last place, where missus' clothes fitted 'xactly.' Few persons are worth loving who have not something ia them worth laughing at. As a body without a soul, much wood without fire, er a bullet m a gas without powder, so are words ia prayer without the spirit or prayer. Jobs Jacob Astor was forty years eld before he made hie first thousand det- lars. i-i II feSfe..-.