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bodies as lie left them, took the crown from their heads, dispensing with th eformula of dissection, and, with a glad heart, pursued his journey. On arriving in the neighbor hood of the Mohawk liver, lie played the same game as at Aqtrago, killing, in all, sev en Indians. He there narrowly escaped losing his life. As he was lying in ambush lie discovered an Indian, who, from his man lier, lie believed to be alone, and whom he | ■hot. At the next moment, two tall vvarri- : nrs rushed upon hint with their tomahawks. | One of them received the contents of his j other barrel, the second advanced with the j fury of a demon. He made a desperate pass at the head of Murphy, which he ward ed of!’ with his rifle, at (lie same instant plunging his knife into the heart of the aav ftge. Fearing there might lie more, he le treated and left the three Weltering in blood. Finding lie was not pursued, he returned just at evening, took their scalps, and start ed for tUe fort in Sell oh a i ie, where he ar rived in safety. After staying there three days, lie returned to his own neighborhood, where the Indians had just been, and suc ceeded in taking three men prisoners, who were in the field hoeing corn. The num ber of the savages was not known, they bad been gone about two hours, and would that night probably commit their victims to the torturing fire. No time was to be lost.— There were but five men at the block house, who volunteered to join the brave Irishman in immediate pursuit. They followed the trail ns rapidly ns a necessary caution would permit. Early in the evening, they discov ered the fire of the encampment. There were eight warrior*, who were arranging to perform a war dance, and reek their ven geance upon the prisoners. As their prepar- . alory bustle increased. Murphy and his men ! drew nearer. The Indians had their cap tives bound to a tree in the centre of a ring, around which the faggots were placed fur the fire that was to cap the climax of their festivity. Dreadful must have been the feelings of the victims about to he sacrificed on the barbarian altar. The firing of the combustible pile was the signal fixed on for action. At last the blazing torch was rais ed, the heroic party rushed upon the sava ges, placed the muzzles of their guns to their bea Is, and scattered ‘.heir brains to the four winds. Six of them were killed in a second, and the other two had not retreat five steps, before their spirits joined the rest in their journey through the air. The un expected deliverance from impending death filled the hearts of the captives with feelings J of gratitude and joy beyond the powers of language to express. The next evening they were restored to the bosoms of their agonizing families r.nd friends, whose anx iety for theit safety, and the result of the ex |>edition in pursuit, was intense. The fame of our lii it hero had become rotmimis. He obtained tlu? name of Indian KiUer. His exploits had reached the ears of the led men. To him they could trace the solution of the mysterious disappearance of their friends ut Aquavgo. Learning that be spent the most of his time in tho woods and alone, they determined to cut him oil'. yl oad ul tft watch his movements, with.instruct'n is from Brandt to take him alive if possible, that they might hold u jubilee of vengeance over their destroying enemy. This accounts for the circumstance that lie was seldom tired upon, wlieu lie come in contact with them. After remaining at the block house a day, Murphy again commenced recotmoitering. He hail proceeded but a few miles before be was attacked by a patty of savages who lay in ambush. Five hideous monsters rush ed from their covert with terrific yells, and advanced upon him. In the twinkling of an eye he threw off his knapsack, knowing that in flight alone there was safety. A ball from hi* rifle checked the career of the fore most, which, tor a moment, paralyzed the others. He then darted from them with the agility of a deer. The woods rang with the war whoop, every muscle was nerved to overtake the object of tlieir revenge.— Swift was the retreat and swift the pursuit. After running about half a mile lie stopped, and found he had gained considerable on his enemy. He quickly charged his empty barrel, and the next moment saw one of the Indians in advance of the rest. A messen ger, more grim than himself, awaited the foe ; in a second, his fate was sealed in death. Utged on by the fury of their natures, the survivors renewed tlieir exertions in the chace, As they approached, another of their number fell, and Murphy fled us on wings of wind. Finding their exertions vain, the two returned to their fellow com panions, who had gone to “ that country from whose bourne no traveler returns.”— Relieved from his pursuers, our daring hero now prepared to turn the tables upon them. He feared not to come in contact with two of bis enemy, if his rifle was charged. He cautiously retraced his steps and approach ed so near, ts to hear the lamentations of the survivors over the dead bodies of their companions. Not apprehending his return, they were entirely off their guard. He crawled up within twetity rods of them un observed. Satisfied no others were near, he raised his deadly weapon, and the next moment the two survivors followed tlieir brothers to the world of spirits. He took the scalps of the five, recovered his knapsack, secured the arms and ammu nition, and the same night returned to the block house, only six miles from the scene of action, a wonder and astonishment to his friend*, a terror and scourge to hie enemies. In the same manner Murphy annoyed the ■avages until they were driven from their ancient haunts by die intrepidity and perse verance of tho inhabitants. He had numer ous hair breadth escapes, but was never ta ken prisoner after his first esco|>e, or seri ously wounded. He was so much dreaded by the Indians that a party of three or four often fled before him, frequently finding tlieir number less by two before they could get out of hia reach. He had a grcattlesire to obtain the scalp and wash his hands in the heart’s blood of Brandt. That accomplish ed, ho said, bo could die happy. But that cruel tory always went with the main body of the warriors, atid was careful to keep out of danger. In the ait of tinture, Murphy exceeded the savage*. When be chanced to disable an Indian and lake him alive, he would bind him, and proceed to Oismcmb ! him, with the same sangfroid as a butcher prepares bis meat For the stall. He seemed I to tax the powers of his prolific and cccen -1 trie genius in contriving new modes of in flicting pain. For the Indian warrior, not a spark of humanity was left in Ins bosom. Tlieir squaws and papooses he never mo lested. His deeds of blood sunk deep into ! the minds of the red men. Some time af | ter the close of the war, when the Indians ! had removed far from that neighborhood, j one, whose brother Murphy had killed,came : a long distance to seek that deep looted re ! venge which marks the character of these rude children of the forest. Learning that he was in a swamp about a mile off, waiting an opportunity to execute his design, the enraged Irishman seized his 1 rifle, tomahawk, and scalping knife, deter mined to give him battle. He proceeded cautiously into the thicket a few rods, then stopped to reconnoitre. He then advanced into a small opening, and, within ten rods of him he discovered his hated enemy raising his gun to his face. Murphy cried out to him, “ good aimthe Indian’s nerves trem bled, the ball from the Irishman’s rifle pier ced his heart, he gave a horrible shriek, jumped into the air, and fell lifeless to the ground. His was tlie last scalp the hardy veteran ever look. To the day of his death he indulged in feelings of the most direful revenge towards that unfortunate race of beings. At the restoration of peace lie set tled about twelve miles fiom Utstayantho, which place he continued to visit annually until prevented by age. It was there I lis tened to his stories; it was there lie com- i menced bis savage warfare. That ground had been enriched by the blood and mois tened by the serum of hundreds. During the revolution three pitched battles were fought there, at the last of which the foe was driven away for the last time by a force under the command ol Colonel Hagar, aid ed by Captain Harper. In that beautiful valley now covered with peaceful dwellings, Murphy always appealed animated. The scenes of past life, with all tlieir thrilling minulia, would rush upon Iris memory, and nerve his trembling frame to “ fight his bat tles o’er again.” He lived until be was about seventy years of age, wlien lie closed bin eventful career, and sunk in the arms of death. His bones moulder in the valley of Schoharie near where the old foit stood, and not a stone tells where they lie. wLwium, otut ■ tm emsm i r ni Tlnl I^lE^\[o)D THE SWAN AND MAN. “ Tho swan floated out from the reeds; Rich was he in music anil silver.”—FoTT.’urX. 1 was looking, one spring morning, upon the swan at his morning hath. In light, bold and graceful movements, lie threw the waves about hint, which, fresh and clear, playing and foaming, danced on, making his white feathers still more resplendent, yield ing, and forming themselves mound his graceful figure, and reflecting in every drop their beautiful ruler, who sometimes struck tticui niiti ton oingn, somcuiuca lovingly caressing dipped his neck in their bosom.— Sometimes lie plunged entirely into the wa ter, and let it play over his head; then he appeared again, shook the silvery spray from his wings, and swain away proudly with the air of a conqueror, whilst the waves obedi ently separated, and, in their clear depths, gave back the proud and glorious image. I was looking at this beautiful picture one spring morning, while the birds were sing ing, and the young leaves of the finest were whispering. 1 looked at it with deep-felt pleasure, and yet was oppressed at the same time with a peculiarly rad and tender emo tion. “ The bird,” said I, “ moves like a ruler in his element, which surrounds him, only to hold him up on its breast, and to re flect back again his beauty. In the relation between this living being and the world in which he moves, vvliat harmony, what free dom, what beauty! This creature—and man. Man, in perpetual struggle with the world around him, all his motions constrain ed, oppressed by the very air which he breathes—Man, the Lord of nature—and her slave.” I thought, and mourned. I felt myself bound—knew myself a slave. All ! I un derstood not then the doctrine of reconcilia tion ; that man may acquire again the do minion over nature, which be lost in the Fall; that he may again move like the swan, in freedom and beauty, in his own el ment. Sunday in Scotland ’.— Ihe ushering of a Scotish Sunday morning is iur different from what every one must have had occasion to observe—especially in and neat the large towns in England. There are no shops half opened till the vCry hour that summons tile population to its worship—no servants’ work to be done at the doors and windows, though ever so early—nothing that can re mind one of the toil of the week, and the anxiety of the heart after worldly affairs.— No artizans idling, unwashed, and in their wot king dress, about the streets, nor any of those degraded characters who may often he seen with half a dozen dogs racking their way to the outskirts of the town for the pur- I pose of having a morning's sport in rat-hunt | ing along the ditches. They labor six davs, i and Saturday night effectually closes the scene. From sunrise to bread day, the holy time steals on as quiet as though toil and the common anxieties of life were never known. Every care, save the all-important one, seems laid aside. The calmness of the atmosphere, tlie repose of the senses from every sound, and the slow chiming ofthd ! distant hells, seem to speak it to he truly a j day of rest, when the parent and the child, the rich and the needy, alike in the presence of the Creator, observe his appointed time, and remember the sabbath day to keep it holy. The colleges on the mountain sides, which during the week present the very picture of peaceful industry, are usually on a Sunday morning shut up and silent, as though, with i the cessation of all human labor, the inliabi j tanls had in spirit retired to that peaceful ! world of which a quiet sabbath is so heami ! ful in emblem. But about the hour when | the village bell begins to toll for the devout ! assembly, then may be seen issuing from the ! bumble cottages which hitherto appeared SCDUMPiniBIBXI from tlieir quietness almost uninhabited, each little family from first to last, all clad in them best, clean, plain, and homely; but to the devout and meek, a far more accept able sight than that gorgeous and costly at tire which, alti acting all attention to the pomp of this life, seems to convert the tem ple of the Most High into a house of earthly vanity. The elderly clad in sober colors, becoming tlieir season of life; the young in simple white, one following another in a long train along the mountain side, form, to gether with the place to which their steps are bending, a subject on which the mind long dwells with internal satisfaction. In the evening, while perhaps the nged —they who ate nigh upon the brink of that daik ocean of eternity upon which they j must so soon embark—ate engaged in the ) perusal of that volume which points out their way to the distant land ; the young, to whom it is given to rejoice while yet their day is before them, often walk out on the hills together or alone, though always w ith that peaceful demeanor, that total absence of all tendency to unhallowed mirth, which bespeaks a heart humble in its strength and conscious of the service it owes to Hint in whom rdl is glory and honor. Thus, peacefully and silently, the night { again steals down—closing upon a day on j which ten thousand hearts have been better i taught their duty to all living. —English pa per. The Arrogance es Wealth. —*• The ves stilage of fashion, w hich is a part of rank, j prevents continenlally the free expansion of man’s poweis. Let us have the greatest diversity of occupations. But this does not imply that there is need of splitting socie ty into castes, or ranks, or that a certain number should atrogato superiority, and stand opart from the test of men as a sepa rate race. Men may work in different de partments of life, and yet recognize their brotherly relation and honor one another.— Undoubtedly men may prefer as ft lends their common associates, those with whom they sympathise most. But this is not to fotm u rank or caste. For example, the in tellectual seek out the intelligence ; I lie pi ous those who reverence God. But sup pose the intellectual and religious to nit themselves off by some bread, visible dis tinction, from the rest of society, to forma plan of tlieir own, to refuse admission into their houses people of inferior knowledge and virtue, and to diminish as far as possi ble the occasions of intercourse between them; would not society tise up, as one man against this arrogant exclusiveness 1 And if intelligence and piety may not be the formation of a caste, on what ground shall they wiioliavenodistinclion hut wealth, superior costume, tidier equipages, fine houses, draw lines around themselves as a higher class 1 That some should he richer than others is natural, and is necessary, and could only he prevented by gross violations of right. Leave men to the Iree use of tlieir powers, and some will accumulate mote than their neighbors. But to be pros perous is not to be superior, end should form no barrier between men. Wealth. ought not to secure the prosperous the slightest consideration. The only distinc tions which should be recognized at e those of soul, of strong principle, of incorruptible integrity, of usefulness, of cultivated intel lect, of fidelity, of seeking for trill!). A man in proportion as he has these claims, should be honored arid welcomed every where. I see not why such a man, howev er coarsely, if neatly dressed, should not be a respected guest at the most splendid mansion, and at the most brilliant meetings. A man is worth, infinitely more than saloons, and costumes of the universe. lie was made to tread all these beneath his feet.— What nn insult to humanity in the present deference to dress and upholstery, as if silk worms and looms, scissors and needles, could produce something nobler than man. Every good man should protest against a caste founded on outward prosperity,” be cause it exalts the outward alrove the in ward; the material above the spiritual; be cause it springs from and cherishes a con temptible pride in superior ar.d transitory distinctions, because it alienates man from his brother, breaks the tie of common hti mair'ty and breeds jealousy, scorn and mu tual ill will.” Kindncrs. —Kindness is a key which will unlock the most obdurate heart, which will penetrate its most secret recesses, unravel its intricacies, open its inmost depths, and reveal its hidden mysteries. Threats may intimidate, harshness nniy grieve, the ap plication of fear may prompt to action, and coldness produce energy, but kindness alone can subdue the heart, purify its affections, and elicit perfect confidence. Men may scoff’at power, hid defiance to threats, scorn control, and laugh at con tempt, but they cannot withstand the power of kindness. It lias healed divisions, over come difficulties, soothed anguish, destroy ed evil intentions, and effected reconcilia tions which all other means had failed to ac complish. The most stubborn heart must eventually yield to its spirit and be controll ed by its influence. Kindness is the en chanting spell which irresistibly draws, and charms, and conquers all that comes within its sphere. The efficacy of the principle has been sufficiently proved—and u hocan doubt that it is destined to redeem the world.— Gospel Alesscnger. Love and Reconciliation. —lt is n glorious thing—and those who truly love, know well how glorious it is—after moments of misun derstanding, even of reciprocal transgress ion, to rest again, heait to heart, and to feel, deeply feel that there is a certainty in the world, in spite of all the powers of hell, a certainty, which is heaven upon earth—that they love each other, they belong to each other, that nothing, nothing in the world shall separate them, who have found each other again, in true, in perfect love. O! this is a certainty, the most beatified that there is on earth—a certainty, which is the foundation and security for every other. He felt it truly, the man, who, when about to leave the stage of life, laid his hands upon his heart and said : “ I love, therefore 1 am immortal!” TU E IF AKPIE IS •’ From ihe Southern Cultivator. SMUT IN WHEAT. Starfordsville, Putnam Cos., ) July 28, 1543. ) Messrs. Editors : —Your paper of the 19tli inst. has just come to hand, in which I find a communication from your correspon dent “ H.” of Athens, giving some account of tlte benefits resulting from solving seed wheal in a solution of Milestone or strong utine, and rolled in slack lime, to which 1 wish to add mv experience. And I will here state that the benefits I have enjoyed by soaking my seed wheat in a solution of ; Milestone, hove been derived front agricul ■ tural papers—my advantage from this one piece of information has been worth more to nte than all the money 1 have ever paid for agricultural papers. \ ear before lust I soaked 15 bushels of my seed wheat ill a solution of Milestone, anil sowed it in a field as far as it would go; there being C or S acres of the field left, which were sown with the same kind of wheat, the land in about the same order, l and the wheat equally as well cleaned, hut | had not been soaked. The result was, the i wheat that had been soaked was of good : quality, and clear from blast or smut ; that | part of the field sowed with the unsnaked wheat had a considerable quantity of smut in it. 1 soaked my seed wheat again last i year in the same kind of solution, anti have i a nice crop of wheat with not a grain of t smut in it that I have seen. I did not ioil j my wheat, after soaking, in lime or any thing else, and several of my neighbors tri ed the experiment of soaking the seed wheat last year with entire success. The quantity of Milestone used in this settlement is one pound to every five bush els of wheat, and the plan has been to put , the wheat in soak in the evening for the next day’s sowing ; reserving the water to put the next wheat in, and then enough | more with its proportion of Milestone to cn i ver the wheat. The best plan is to dis solve the Milestone in a small quantity of hot water, as it is hard to dissolve in cold water. If the w eather should become wet and any of the soaked wheat not sowed, it may be spread in an out house without any injury till the ground gets in the right order for sowing again. I soaked some of my seed wheat last year 6 or 8 days before it was sowed. I have no doubt hut rolling the wheat in lime after if, is nn’advantage, espe cially when the seed wheat is not as thor oughly i ipe as it should he, or the ground the least out of order, and this when it is too wet to be peifectly ftiable. I would advise all wheat growers who are troubled with smut, to try this experi ment or a similar one. The cost of a trial is bit trifling, os Milestone costs only 20 to 25 cents per pound. In concluding this communication, I do most sincerely advise all wheat growers to have their seed wheat thoroughly ripe, and then effectually cleansed with a good seivc. (aftei being fanned.) letting all the small grains pass through the seivc, and take all •he light grains that raise on the top off with the hand. Should there he any cockel in the wheat, by using a seive of the right de scription, it will in a few years he entirely eradicated. I am, sirs, vours respectfully, JOHN FARRAR. To destroy T 1 oi ms in Callages. —l am not aware that the following easy and sim ple method of destroying worms on cab bage has ever appeared in print. I believe it was discovered by an unlearned person, and I hope will not he less efficacious on that account. As the worms are already commencing their depredations, it will he well to publish it scon. At night, (about sun down,) strip off one of the lower leaves and lay it on the top of the cabbage, hack side down. In the morn ing very early take it ofF, and the whole, or a large portion of the worms of that cab bage will he on it. and can be disposed of as any sees fit. Two or three trials will effectually free the cabbage from all worms. I believe it never fails except when tl.e nights are quite cool. Respectfully, W. CHANDLER. r—wgb x\ m m nm wnm—mb—ipbw———m— MD®©IE[LLAINIY. The Mocking-Bird of Louisiana. —lt was at New Orleans, in the month of February, (the May of Louisiana) my bed-room was on llie ground floor, the back windows open ed on a garden where grew a thick grove of orange trees. On the loftiest of them, some of whose branches touched the windows, mocking birds had made their nest, or rather repaired it, for they had full possession of t* at garden, in which every year they rear ed undisturbed their tuneful progeny. The night was so hot, that unable to sleep, I left my bed and threw wide open all the win dows, as to invite the breeze to waft in, to gether with its own refreshing breath, and the balmy odors of the orange blossoms which, like a vernal snow, whitened the grounds under the trees ; but the breeze obeyed not my call. There was not motion enough in the nir even to bend the flexible stems of the wild oats that grew profusely in the shady grove. The moon shone hiiglitly, sending its rays like streams of li quid topaz through tVie deep verdure of the trees. The light was equal to winter days in northern regions ; every object, however miuiitc, was visible, and even colors in their lighter lints might he easily distinguished ; no sound came to ear. The last Lint nois es of the city now wrapped in sleep, hud died away some hours before; no sound ex cept those vague and low vibrations which, because they are incessant and unvaried, we, in the poverty of all languages, have termed silence, and which, however, are pro duced by the buzzings.hummings, chirpings of myriads of invisible living things, eacli one of them taken npatt, and alone unseen, unheard, hut, together, sending forth indes cribable harmonies—the deep communing* of nature with night and solitude. This concert, if I may so term the silence I have described, was suddenly interrupted by a low melody, soft, and at first, Ifair.t, like the rippling of very distant rivulets. It swel led gradgdlly, the notes no iorger mingled> , because distinct and pure as vibrating gold. It was the male bird, cheering with his song the vigils of his mate, who sat on her nest, by patient, assiduous, uninterrupted brood ing infilteiing her own life into her still latent offsprings. As if desirous to amuse only, and fearing to excite deep emotions, he playfully rehearsed the various notes of the less gifted songstress of the grove ; now he echoed and re-echoed the sweet but brief and ever-repeated warblings of ihennnpn:'- eille with a sameness of intonation, which, however true to the nature, would have been monotonous, hut that arch mimic threw in his accents, tones, and inflexions that matked the critic, not the tame reciter.— ‘J hen rnme alternate (for with inimitable art he kept each part distinct, never once mingling any two separate songs,) the fa miliar notes of domestic birds, nay, the hark ing of dogs, and even the discordant screams of children. Tired at last with imitating the burlesque, and ns if intent on doing full justice to the rivals he was about to van quish in that feigned contest of melody with them all, he gave, improved by master accords of his own, the sweetest notes of the lark, and the simpler and more touching warblings of the prairie blackbird; a pause followed that great effort. It was hut short, however, and seemed ns if intended to warn the listners by placing an interval be tween recitation and improvisation,that now would flow the full tide of unpremeditated modulations. But ere lie began, I saw him in mirthful glee clap his wings of pure white underneath, save a dark cross on each of them, visible only when they expan ded. and which stamp him the true bird of Paradise, spurn with his light feet the elas tic hough on which he perched before; aid, soaring gracefully in arching and alternate flights from tree to tree, never lighting long er than a few seconds on any of them, lie poured out those straints of unrivalled melo dy, which, alone of all the feathered tribe, lie can modulate in profuse and endless va riety. I now forget all the songs that had pre ceded ill is song of sortgs ; hymned in accents so sweet, it had effaced from memory all sounds hut the lingering, melodious notes vyliich still filled the air lung after the noble bird had ceased losing. A Scene at Dunbarton, (Scotland J. —At Dunbarton there was a scene as rich as that from which Sir waiter Scott drew his first chapter of the Antiquary. Passengers for Loch Lomond take coach here overtheLoke, v liich is five miles distant. The quiet town of Dunbarton was invaded this morning with an unusual number of visiters, to say noth ing of dogs, luggage, &c. Extra convey ances had to be provided. This created delay. ‘J he “Dunbarton Arms, as well as the “ Coach for Locli Lomond,” rejoiced in “Mis. Cutrie” as proprietress. There was a gentleman with us who, with less perhaps of natural hostility to “womankind” than Monkharns, manifested the same testy im patience that characterized the Antiquary’s colloquy with ‘ Mrs. Moc.leuchat,” whose placard assured the public that her coach for “ Queen’s Ferry” loft Edenborongh j pioraptly at 9 o’clock This gentleman first mildly urged “ Mrs. Currie” to hasten the departure of the coach, which she said would he “round tothe stand in notime.” Af ter waiting a few minutes he rang the hell furiously, jund when the lady made lir ap pearance the gentleman pointed to the clock, with the remark that she had kept him twenty minutes too long, and that if lie lost the steamer by her means he would not pay her a baubee for the coach. She re iterated tl-.e assurance that the coach would he round to the door by the time the gen tleman could get down stairs, and then re treated to her own dominions. The gen tleman hastened to the door and waited for a few minutes, when, there being no sign of tiie coach, he returned to the sitting room, and again rang the bell. When “Mrs. Cur rie” appeared, lie assailed her with a volley of imprecations, and, while threatening her wilh pains and penalties for interrupting Iris visit to the Trcssachs, the coachman’s horn announced that all was “right,” and the landlady marshalled her excited patron to the door. But here an unexpected delay occurred. The testy gentleman’s son was missing! It was now “Mrs. Currie’s” mo ment of triumph and revenge ! •* The coach canna wait, sir. It is o’re late noo.” “ Bui I cannot leave my son !” “Its nn my fault that your son is na here.” “ Wait but a moment. If tin after my son, bov; you shall get a penny for it.” “ Will you get intil the coach, sir, or shall I despatch it without you ? The “Emperor” will he half v/ay up the Loch before it gets there, and the gentlemen will miss their vigit tothe Trossachs.” “1 entreat you to wait but a minute, Mrs Currie.” “Awa* wi’ your Mrs. Currie’s; it was but a moment since ye were misca’ing me an ugly old woman ; but it is no use clavering hcie. The coach must be awa. You can wait anithcr day for your near-do wdl son.” At this critical moment the young gentleman was seen run ning towards us with the boy at his heels.— During this scene the other passengers were convulsed with laughter, and Mrs. Currie, while taking her revenge, in great apparent earnestness, had much difficulty to preserve the rigidity of her own muscles. It turned out that the youth had indulged a very nat ural desire to get a sketch of Dumbarton Castle, and while engaged in his drawing had forgotten the coach. Madder. —Madder is cultivated from setts or seed roots. It has been cultivated in Eas tern and Central New Yoik, hut with not much success. It is usually dug the first year. In Ohio and the South-western States it has been found a very profitable crop. It is used for dying ; and as heretofore im mense sums have been paid to foreigners for this article. It is a fit subject for con gratulation, that the fact is now well estab lished, that madder is soon to be classed among the valuable agricult uialstnplesof the country. About one hundred days are re quired to the acre, and the crop is various ly estimated at from three to four hundred dollars. The Levant or Smyrna madder is cultivated both in France and England, and is used for dying cotton Turkey-red— Far mers’ Advocate. The Ghost Chile}.- —There are fhose yel living in this very neighborhood who ie J member, and relate with an awe which a century lias not abated, the story of RutFi Blaye, and the Clbost Child! Ruth was a young woman, of lively temperament anrf great personal beauty. While engaged as a teacher of a school in the little town of Southampton N. H. (whose hills roughen the horizon with their showy outline within view of my window at this very moment) she was invited to spend the evening at the dwelling of one of her young associates. Several persons were present of both sexes. The sun just sitting, poured its soft rich light into the apartment. Suddenly, in the midst of unwonted gaiety, the youg school mis tress uttered a frightful shriek, and was gazing with a countenance of intensest hor ror at the open window ; and pointing with her rigid, outstretched arm at an object which drew at once the attention of her companions. In all the strong light of sun set lay upon the sill of the open casement, a dead infant—visible to all for a single moment, and •vanishing before the gazers could command words to express their amazement. The wretched Ruth was the first to break the silence. “It is mine, my ciiii.b 1 she shrieked; he has come for mej” She gradually became more tranquil, but no effort availed to draw from her the terri ble secret which was evidently connected with the apparition. She was soon after arrested, and brought to trial for the crime of child murder, found guilty and executed at Portsmouth, N. H. Ido not, of course, vouch for the truth of this story in all res pects. “ 1 tell the.story as ‘i was told to me.” — J. G. Whittier, Dorn. Rev. Female Masons. —Half a century am> there were two Masonic Lodges' con - posed of females, in Faris, which are thus described by an English traveler.- They were called by the pretty, and we presume, appropriate appellations of Candour and Fidelity. Says our author, “w e attended one of these—of which the Dutchess de Bourbon is grand mistress—some years ago, at the reception of a sister; and were highly pleased to find (lie utmost diguity and docornm prevail ; n most splendid cs-. semhlnge of Brothers arid Sisters, of rank and fasTiion, attended the ceremony, which was awful, solemn and impressive; the de corations of the apartments, which are sit uated in a large building, appropriated sole ly to this purpose, were extii-mely biilliant. Eloquent and suitable orations were deliv ered on the occasion ; ami when the serious business of the lodge was over, a play, a supper and a ball, terminated the amuse ments of the night,” O Singular. Electrical Phenomenon —An English traveller through the Alps of Sa voy, whose work is recently published, thus describes certain remarkable sounds caused by elcctr icily : The atmosphere was very turbid, the ground was covered with half melted snow, arid some hail began to fall. We were perhaps 1,500 feet below the Col, still about 9,000 above the sen, when 1 noticed a curi ous sound, which seemed to proceed from the Alpine pole with which I was walking. 1 asked the guide next me whether ho heard it, and what he thought it was. The mem bers of that fraternity are very Laid push ed, indeed, when they hove not b;i answer ready for any emergency. He therefore replied, with great coolness,that the rustling oft he stick no don hr proceeded from a worm eating the wood in the interior ! This an swer did not appear to be satidurtoiy, and I therefore r.pplied the experimentum ern cis, of reversing the stick, so that the point was now upermost. The worm was alrea dy at the other end ; 1 next held my hand above my head, and my fingers yielded a fizzing sound. There could he hut one ex planation ; we were so near a thunder cloud as to be highly electrified by induc tion. I soon perceived that all the angular stones were hissing round us, like points near a powerful electrical machine. I told my companions of our situation, and beg ged Damatter to lower his umbrella, which lie had now resumed, ami hoisted against the hail shower, and whose gay brass point was likely to become the parntonnerre of the party. The words were scarcely out of my mouth when a clap of thunder, accom panied by lightning justified my precaution. Eloquent -pleafor Education. —Let those whose wealth is lost or jeopardized by fraud or mismanagement ; let those who quake with apprehension for the foie of all they hold dear—let those who behold and lament the desecration of all that is holy—let rulers whose counsels are perplexed, whose plaus are baffled, whose laws arc defiled or eva ded—let them all know, that whatever ills they feel or fear, are but the just retribution of a righteous heaven for a neglected child hood. Remember, then, the child whose voice first lisps to-day. before that voice shall whisper sedition in secret, or thunder trea son at the bead of nn armed band. Re member the child whose hand to-dav first lifts its tiny bauble, before that hsud shall rentier firebrands, ai rows and death. Re member those sportive gmur, s rj youth in whose halcyon bosoms there sfceps an ocean, as vet scarcely ruffled by ‘,he passions, which soon shall heave it. ti 9 w j t |, the'tempest’s strength. Remerymer that whatsoever sta tion in life yog till, these immortals are your core. Devote, expend, concentrate your selves to the holy work of their improve ment. Tour out light and ttuth, as God pours out sunshine and rain. No longer seek knowledge as the luxury of a few, but dispense it among all us the bread of lifo.— Learn only how the ignorant may be pre served—the vicious reclaimed. True Hearted Women. —After the unfor tunate accident on the Susquehanna Rail road, a demand having been made for splints to hind up the wounds of the sufferers, to the honor of the ladies be it said a supply came prompt as the demand, from the car they occupied, in the shape of the usu&l bone and wood supporters of their corsets. Thus furnished, the medical gentlemen were en abled to render such effectual aid to the wounded, as justified their removal to the car which had been prepared for them.