Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

LITERARY r Spji mmt Crusader. PENFIELD, GEORGIA. 37%tttut/<zy &sot/itrUjr, © 5, <f 85 A. I .UI NOOLN VEAZEY EDITOR. A correspondent of the Savannah Bepublican learns that a planter in Houston county has two bales of cotton picked out, and would gin it in a few days. Mr. James 11. Spencer, of Georgia, has been promoted to a second class (one thousand four hundred dollars per annum) clerkship in the office of the Sixth Auditor of the Treasury. Thomas Lerov Napier, a son of Leroy Napier, Esq., of Macon, having graduated with distinction at West Point in June last, has been appointed! Brevet 2nd Lieutenant in the Dragoon Service, IT.l T . ! - S. Army. frjfThe August number of the Southern Gutli- ! valor is at hand promptly. It is one of the cheap- j est and most valuable publications which a far mer can take. Published by W. S. Jones, Au- j gusta, Ga. at *1 a-year. The July number Blackwood’s Magazine is on our i table. This work continues to sustain the well- j earned reputation it has gained, and the present j number contains much interesting and profitable j * reading. It is re-published in New York by Leon-- ard, Scott & Cos. Price $3 per annum. <ii> The young ladies of College Temple, Newnan, Ha. have again issued their neat little quarterly, “2 he Fly-Leaf.” Its mechanical execution gives it a very inviting appearance, which an examina tion of its matter will not belie. The price has been laised to §1 a-year, in advance. Harper'* Magazine for August contains four ar- | tides illustrated with numerous elegant engrav ings, besides a variety of other papers. The in teresting article, “ Winter in the South,” is con tinued in this number, and we hope in another month the author will come to the scenery and | people of our own State. The Drawer is, as usual, j a rich magazine of good things. The Aurora, the August number of which lies before us, is eminently deserving of, and should the patronage of Southern ladies. Its edi tress, Mrs. Eaton, is a vigorous thinker, and chaste and elegant writer. She lias secured the services of a corps of contributors, among whom are num bered some of the ablest pens of the South. Pub lished by T. M. Hughes, Murfreesboro’, Tenn. at *1 a-year. A Picturesque Market.— -A correspondent thus describes a market scene in the city of Anglo, Africa: As you approach it, there comes upon the ear a sound as of many waters, gradually melting into the rapid articulations of language, a language like jargon, a tongue that hath no cessation, ac compained with violent and yet often graceful ges ticulation, as buying and selling progresses. Around their baskets ot fruit, vegetables, &c., the women are seated smoking large pipes, when their tongues give rest, weaving thread on spools from the rough cottons, nursing the little blacks, who are carried on their back, or scolding older urchins for their mischief. The negroes from the country with produce, some in from distances of even for ty or fifty days’ travel, hundreds of miles in the interior, perhaps fifty or sixty in a train, always * inarching in single file, one directly after the other, carrying on their heads a long and narrow basket like a cradle, fastened on long poles, by which when tired they rest their load, standing it on end. They bring in ivory, wax, gum, and the general ! {(reduce of the country, all of which is in this way ! trought to market. The wave of excitement that rolled up around us has subsided. Peace, solitude and quiet reigns •over the scene so Intel/ noisy with bustle and confusion. The memory of that little span of j joy comes over us, and a sigh escapes the heart i with the thought that it will come again no more. ] Other days of rejoicing may open with bright j promise, and buoy up the now sad soul into eetasv, but that is gone forever, and a memory is all that is left. There are gains for all our losses, There are balms for all our pain : But when youth, the dream, departs, It takes something from our hearts, And it never comes again. We are stronger, we are better, Under manhood’s sterner reign ; t Still we feel that something sweet, Followed you with Hying feet, And will never come again. Something beautiful is vanished, And we sigh for it in vain ; We behold it every where. On the earth and in the ait, But it never comes again. OF such as nine-tenths of our colleges are. ive have a plethora now, and the superficial rad pinchback gilding of knowledge they impart is converting large numbers of the young men and ; women of the country into useless popinjays ami | playthings. They are depleting the pockets of i our people, stimulating a reckless and fatal ex- • travagance, creating unnatural distinctions in so- ; ciety. “We are not opposing a reasonable nura- i her of good colleges—they are essential to the : acquirement of a thorough education. But the j expense involved in a collegiate course js beyond ‘ the means of all save a favored few, while it is of j little practical advantage as a means of success or : happiness, to the many. Common schools afford i ithe masses all the necessary rudiments of an ed ucation required in the ordinary avocations of life. They are the base-work of a perfect educa tional system; while Academies and Colleges and Universities complete the structure. Infinitely better would it be for Georgia, if three-fourths of the money invested in her “ one-horse colleges” j were devoted to a common school system, by which the tens of thousands of her sons and daughters now growing up in ignorance, might ; receive the rudiments of an education. We quote the above sensible remarks from the Augusta Evening Dispatch, to give them our hearty endorsement. The mania for colleges which has raged in our country for eight or ten years past, has been a great curse, and we are glad to see that men of sense are beginning to acknowledge their pernicious influence, and cry out against the educational abuses which they have engen dered. The effects have been bad in every way. The flimsy affairs of trickery and humbug which have sprung up with mushroom rapidity, under the name of colleges, have had a direct tendency to impair the usefulness of those of acknowledged worth, and thus render a high standard of schol arship unattainable. They are continually crowd ing into the “ learned professions” an immense throng of idle, useless, vicious loafers, and there by rendering vacant occupations that are essen tial to the prosperity of the country and the well being of society. Under their influence, and that of the policy which has produced them, educa * lion is becoming every year a more meaningless term. Give us no more colleges, for Heaven’s sake. We have plenty already, and to spare. ■<>We want now—and the want is an urgent one— good, practical, elementary schools; -'old-fidd” schools, if you please, where boys and girls (not young gentlemen and ladies) are taught English Grammar, Geography and Arithmetic. These will do far more to promote the intellectual, moral gad material advancement of the country than the mental hot-houses where young minds are forced into an unnatural growth. | compare books which wo read, a3 naturally it as we do persons with whom wo associate'. This leads us, most, directly, to a proper unde*’- i standing of their character, and a full apprecia ; tion of their merits. The recognition of a quality . in one, will lead us to tho contemplation of its ! opposite in another; and thus, wo become ac quainted with the respective defects and exoel | P'Noies of each. In this manner, we may deter | mine, for ourselves, whether or not an author de i sei '’ es tlw position which tho voice of public j opinion has assigned him. j Having just laid down “ Pilgrim’s progress,” our eye fell on a copy of “Basselas,” and the mind was led inadvertently into a comparison of ’ their respective merits. Both are, undoubtedly, j works of genius—both arc exhibitions of human nature, and both were intended to inculcate great moral truths; but farther than this, the ; comparison is rather one of contrast than res cm-; blance. In nothing is this contrast more strik-! ing than in the circumstances under which the ! two works were given to the world. The “ Pro- j gross ‘ was composed in prison by an untutored Preacher, who possessed neither learning or rop utation to give it celebrity. He was a member ; 1 of an humble and obscure sect, and had been i | for years the victim of an unrelenting persecu- j tion. Basselas was ushered into existence under : ! far different auspices. Its author was*lho ac- * knowledged leader of a literary circle of uncom mon brilliance, who laid all tho vast resources of ; his giant intellect under contribution for the per i section of his crowning productions; yet, the j humble dissenter has been able successfully to j dispute the palm with this literary magnate, and attain a degree of eminence which tho greatest-, j of earth may well envy. Ifwejudgo of them by their power of giving; pleasure, we are compelled to assign Bunyan the higher place. True, this is not a correct test; but it is the only one which a great majority of i mankind ever apply. Few, we opine, would over give Basselas more than a second perusal, merely j for the sake, of the pleasure which it affords. It ‘ is filled with bright diamonds of thought; but ■ they are too much obscured by thick incrusta- * tions of language to charm the fancy or please ! the imagination. Despite its gracefully rounded ! periods and the truthfulness of its sentiments, the continual succession of anglicised latin will j ! cloy the car. The constant recurrence of strik* j I ing antitheses will become fatiguing, and the i ’ careful measure of each sentence, though smooth j : at first, soon grows monotonous. How refreshing j to turn from this to tho unassumed simplicity of \ Bunyan. A child may read and understand; j yet, the gravest Doctor of Divinity may there j lind matter for his contemplation. There is no ; appearance of effort to produce effect; but : throughout is seen that delightful greenness of ; soul upon which the eye loves to dwell. He was j what men have rarely seen—a sage without big otry—a philosopher without ogotism. j Another standard by which we may judge, is ; i the amount of information, which they impart, j j Both these works, as we said before, were designed ! ; as exhibitive of human nature, and in them we ; naturally look for some discriminations of char- j acter. But in Basselas, we look for this in vain. Johnson’s personages are speakers and actors— not characters. There are no distinctive features of individuality shown forth. He merely em ploys their tongues to speak his words and to give expression to his own opinions. The Prin cess and her waiting maid, the sage Imlac and the Bobber Chief, all speak the same language of philosophic wisdom. These sentiments alone give the work interest or entitle it to merit; for the plot of the story succeeds in awakening little curiosity. We lay it aside with about the same feelings that we would a beautiful sermon or j finely written religious homily. In this particu- j lar, Bunyan has surpassed tho most successful ! | novelists, and has even risen above the sublime S ; genius of Shakspoare. They were only able to ■ j produce temporal and local expositions of char acter, but lie entered the inner temple of the heart, and painted its every outline with such accuracy that the colovs will continue in their | ! original freshness and beauty as long as men : shall be human beings and be actuated by hu ! man motives. We feel, while reading the pages | of tho “ Progress,” that we are moving amid -a world of realities. Worldly-wise-Man, By-Ends and Talkative are characters who will always be found in all communities, and are something i more than creations of the imagination. The j Slough of Despond, Vanity Fair, and the De- j lectable Mountains rise up before the mind in ! vivid dirtinctness, while the enchanted garden ! of Abysinia, with all its varied charms, float away i ‘in dim obscurity. They are land-marks as well | known in the moral world as Niagara or Gibraltar j j in the physical. * Another test of tho merit in a work, and ono { : higher and surer than these, is its efficacy to ae- j I complisli good. Upon this, we assign the Pil- j i grim’s Progress a precedence not only of Basselas, j ! but of every other production that has ever been j j written by uninspired men. Save the Bible, no j j other book has ever become so generally known ; j and so universally appreciated. It has been j ; clothed in hundreds of tongues, and in them all | has carried its moral power and energy. To what-! j ever heathen shore tho Bible has been carried, • this, too, lias gone as its able auxiliary iu regen- | ! crating and evangelizing mankind. It has soothed j the anguished spirit of the Christian in moments \ j of deepest sorrow, and armed him with sword ! -and buckler in his hours of peril. Tom Paine \ i may number his blinded victims by myriads, and | every founder of an ism may reckon a host of fol- j lowers; but every true Christian, whatever be his j sect or creed, holds Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress j as the second book in his heart’s affections. But we have already extended this dissertation to sufficient length. YVo have not indulged in it from any idle spirit of pedantry, nor lavished en comia on one l>y an undue depreciation of the other. Both have and will, through all time, do j good, and botli display that noble genius which ! the world delights to honor. If what we have | said should induce any one to take up these good 1 old books, brush the dust from them and give them a careful perusal, we shall consider our la , bor abundantly recompensed. ‘l [ Mahomet. —The following is a pen portrait of ! ; the famous founder of Mohamedanism: | Slightly above the middle size, his figure, though 1 square, was handsome and commanding, the chest broad and open, the bones and framework large, the joints well knit together. His neck was long and finely moulded. The head, unusually largo, thick, jet black, and slightly curling, fell down over his ears; the eye brows were arched and joined. The countenance thin but ruddy. Ilis large eyes, intensely black and piercing, received additional lustre from their long dark eyelashes. The nose was high and slightly aquiline, but fine, and at the* end attenuated. The teeth wore far apart. A long, black, bushy beard, reaching to the breast, added manliness and presence. His expression was pensive and contemplative. ll*e face beamed with intelligence, though something of the sensuous also might be there discerned, The skin of his body was - clear and soft; the only hair that met the eye was a fine line which ran down from the neck toward the navel. His broad back leaned slightly forward as he walked; and his step was hasty, yet sharp and decided, like that of one rapidly descending a declivity. There was something unsettled in his blood-shot eye, which refused to rest upon its object. When he turned toward you, it was never partially but with the wholo body. Mr. Pea was lately fined ten dollars for whip ping his wife and children. Can't i man thrash nis own peas without interference from outsiders. English novels, a hundred years ago, were J neither so numerous or so flimsy as at the present day. That class of literature which was designed simply to please or entertain, had but few readers, and was consequently meagrely re munerative. The land of Romance which has since yielded so many rich and p.-ccious treas ures, was then comparatively a virgin soil. A few of its rarest gems had been culled, and pre sented to the world in the garb of Poetry; but the number of Prose writers who had entered this *'e • was very small. Indeed, the regularly con structed novels which had any hold on popular favor, that were in existence a century ago,might be counted on'one’s lingers. It may be laid down as a general rule, that in ! all works that have their origin in the mind’s powers of invention, the earliest nro always most noble in conception, and most bold and vigorous ; in execution. The refinements of culture may 1 impart polish to tho details, but this detracts 1 from the strength of the general outlines. Thus : the Iliad of Homer, composed in the very infancy of let ters, surpassed all that succeeding ages have ; been able to produce. One reason why this is so, is obvious. It is onlv those beauties which moot the eyo everywhere, and those salient points of character which are most prominent, 1 that men generally observe, or can appreciate when pointed out by others. A writer must touch upon these, if he would claim the notice or admiration of the masses. Ho who first described these could do so with a vividness and a boldness j of conception which could not afterward be ex celled. Those who followed had either to imitate, or, if they aspired to originality, had to search I out those recondite beauties and traits which es cape the common eye. These may have inter- : preted the oracles of nature with equal truthful- j ness and in words of greater beauty; but they ‘ could not speak with the authority of her first high priest, and their impressions on the mind ■ were less deep and lasting. So was it with fictitious prose writing. Those works of this class which genius first produced, gave such exhibitions of the workings of tho hu-1 inan heart, and of men as they are in all ages and • countries, as could never be equalled or surpassed. Tho host of scribblers who rushed into this newly opened field could do nothing more than to fol- j low tho track which these pioneers had made, j The same characters were re-produced, the same \ incidents and scenes described, and the only al- i terations were of the positions in which they j wore placed, and of the order in which they were j presented. A hundred years ago, it had just ; been proven that fictitious prose gave scope for i the exercise of as high an order of talent as any other department of literature. No novel, up to ; that time, had become classical. They had been j published, and perhaps for a time eagerly read, but after a brief existence of a few years, were forgotten. The advent of Richardson, Fielding and Smollet introduced anew era in literary his- j tory. Their works became more popular than t any that had ever been issued from tho press, j and were eagerly read by every class. We can-! not, now, duly estimate the degree of popularity ‘ which they won. The plan of buying a favorable ; notice from every newspaper for a book, while it was yet in type, had not then been originated. A work was then thrown to the public with scarce any preenrser of praise, and had to stand or fall according to its merit. Under these circumstan ces, we may well be surprised that Pamela, Tom Jones and Roderick Random went through sev eral editions as soon as they could be struck oft‘, and proved pecuniarily remunerative to their au thors. For near half a century, they were as fa miliar as “household words” to all who professed to be educated, and remained unrivalled in pub lic estimation until the days of Fanny Burney and Walter Scott. Almost all the writings of that age are charac terized by a style which would be considered in decent at the present day. This is owing to the state of society at that time, rather than to a want of true refinement in the authors. When the puritan rule had passed away, and the unnatural restraints which it imposed on morals and man ners had been removed, men fell into the oppo site extreme, and coarseness and vulgarity be came their most marked characteristics. They had just began to recover from this great revul sion, when these great novellists entered upon their career. Hence, though their works are j marred by great faults, when judged by the rules j of the present, day, we should not, on that ac ! count, bestow upon them unqualified condemna | tion. A hundred years ago Pamela was recom- I mended from the pulpit, tho History of a Found i ling was read admired in the most refined 1 circles, and the pages of Roderick Random con ; tained nothing unpleasing to the most fastidious t taste. Ho who reads them now, will find much j that is vulgar, but nothing that is pernicious. 1 Vico is never presented in a guise that gives it | an attractive form, whilo virtue is always held jp | for admiration and commended to practice. Far I less injury is to bo apprehended from the plain, j truthful, though loose novels, of the last century, ! than from the seemingly fair, though really lieen -1 tious love-sick romances of the present ago. J. H. SEALS’ SPEECH AT LaGKANGE. In an issue or two since, our worthy colleague : of the other page gave an account of his visit to i LaGrange, and offhe Commencement Exercises jof the Female College in that place. A com mendable modesty—all the more so from its cx. i tremc rarity in these days—prevented any allusion ■to the part which he performed. AY e are pleased I to learn, however, that he discharged tho part j which had been assigned him to the satisfaction j of all present, and we extract below a few of the I comments which we have found in our exchan ’ ges; After the conclusion of the reading of the com positions, Mr. Seals, the editor of the Temperance Crusader, was introduced as the orator ot the oc casion. From the knowledge we had of Mr. S. as an editor, we expected much on this occasion: but as a literary effort, his address exceeded any thing we had contemplated; and, in the language of one of our oldest citizens, we never had any thing to wake us up so in our life. Mr. S. evinced the fact that he has read much and stored his mind well with historical lore. Not only did Mr. N. give evidence of a refined and cultivated mind, but he possesses the happy faculty of interspersing his productions with sparkling wit. An address was never better received than Mr. H’s was on this occasion.— La Orange Reporter. Tlhs gentleman was chosen to deliver the reg ular Literary Address, before the two Literary .Societies at the recent Examination Exercises ot the LaGrange Female College. The selection was indeed, a eood one, and a well deserved trib ute to a young man whose host energies arc de voted to the promotion of the best interests of society. His life is valuable to community—not merely to himself. Ho is useful —one of those noble men who continually exort good and happy influence upon society. The effort was worthy, it was able, well con ceived and full of vivid lancy, tart thoughts and withering sarcasm, and eloquence. For more than one hour the audience hung dolightod on his words. It was admitted to be tho most elo ?uent speech ever delivered in the Institution. iong may Mr. jSeals live tg gather boquets from tho garden of literature for the ladies, and sound for his countrymen the tocsin of alarm. — Augusta Dispatch. John If. Seals, Esq. at Penfield, delivered the address before the two Literary Societies, and it was really a literary speech —a great and masterly effort, that “ won golden opinions Irom all sorts of men.” Mr. Seals made a deep impression, as a gentleman of fine intellect and noblo heart. The address elicited profound attention. The speaker is a young man—a scholar and a dose student, and ardently devoted to literary pur suits.—JUlanta American. The Scientific American says, that the simplest and cheapest way to cool a room is to wet a cloth of any size, the larger the better, and suspend it | iii the place you want cooled : let the room be • well ventilated, and tho temperature will sink | from ten to twenty degrees in less than an hour, j During such a torrid term as we have had. this would be worthy of trying. j Strong Women t —Never shrink from a woman of j strong sense. If she becomes attached to you, it ; will be from seeing and valuing such qualities in you. You may trust her. for she knows the value of confidence,-you may consult her, for she is ablo to advise; and does so at once, with the firm ness of reason and the consideration of affection. Her love will be lasting, for it will not have been : lightly won: it will be strong and ardent, for ! weak minds are not capable of the loftier grades of passion. The Baltimore Sun makes the following perti nent remarks respecting the immorality among the young men of the rising generation: YVo hesitate not to say that one of the main causes of the decline of morality is the decay of pa rental discipline. The family circle, the domestic hearth, is the true fountain of purity or corrup tion to public morals. Most people become what they are at home. They go forth into tho world to act out tho character they have formed. In the first fourteen years of their lives, it is alleged in excuse, that children have become more un manageable than they used to be? YYe reply, that human nature and human relations are un changed. Children are as amenable to authority ‘■ as they ever were. This is the main purpose for which Providence has made them helpless and . independent, that they may be trained to obedi- i ence, to order, to industry, to virtue. It is not true that parents have not es absolute control ! over their children as they ever had. When I there is dependence, obedienco may be enforced, j Tho real fact is, that the parents are too inclo- 1 lent, too negligent, too indifferent to take the pains to train up their children in tho way they should go. It requires perpetual vigilance, and they get tired. It requires self-control to exer- i cise a proper authority over others. Self-conquest is the greatest victory of all; There can bo no just parental discipline when there is no charac ter to back it. Ilow can a man effectually warn j his son against bad company, who spends his time and money in the sinks of intemperance/ In short, how can there be any force in precept when tho example is bad? hisses More Precious than -feu-els. —A night or two ago, a fair, sweet girl, residing on Race, near j Fourth street, was partially awakened from her ‘ slumbers by a man in her chamber, but not fully ‘ aroused she Jay with closed lips fora minute, when ‘ the sound being repeated, -she started up and saw j by the light of the gas-burner, a man’s form disap- J pearing through tiro window. She screamed in- 1 voluntarily, and her father, armed with a revolver. \ was in her room ilia few moments, greatly agitated i and alarmed. The parent was disposed to think Iris daughter had been dreaming; when in looking around the room, he observed upon his daughter's dressing bureau, where a beautiful enameled watch, a pair ! of heavy bracelets, a diamond-ring and necklace ‘ were lying, a slip of paper, on which was Written : i Fairest, Dearest Girl: —1 came here to rob. j but your beauty made me honest for the time. 1 ■aw these jewels, but believing them yours, I could not take them. I have stolen wliat I value more j —three delicious kisses from your unconscious lips. Do not bo offended, they were gentle and innocent. An Unknown Lover. This story sounds romantic, but we are assured upon the best authority that- it is strictly vera cious, and we publish it as an evidence that the age of gallantry and sentiment is not at an end; that the race of Rinahlo Rinaldino is not dead. How to be Buried.—There seems to be a choice in the matter. Some recommend burning; but how are you going to inurn those who through life have not managed to earn an urn ? Ifowever, there are precedents for other modes. The Bactrians gave their dead to dogs kept for the purpose. In Thibet the same custom is still in highly-honored observance ; and it is prefera ble to that of the Galatians, who piously devoured their own dead themselves. Again, the presence of a horse at the funeral of his once martial mas ter is a remnant of the old ceremony, when the steed was slain at the brink of the grave, into which he was then tumbled on the body of his old rider. This ceremony was performed as lately as the last century at the funeral of a Ger man Ritter, with a love for old times and their manners. Every nation considered its own fash ion the most religious, and nothing seemed more disgusting to a Calatain who ate, or to the Balea ric islanders who first chopped their dead into sausage-meat and then potted them for “preser vation,” than the Roman custom of incremation. Our Christian forefathers, too, had their vagaries. No one, for inst nice, killed when engaged in worldly sports could be buried within the walls of a church, unless he was slain at a tournament . Such an end showed him to be a “Christian gen tleman,” and tho exception was made in favor of his gentility! A similar vagary, indeed, contin ued as recently as the last century at the parish church of Clifton, near Bristol, where the “Qual i ity Vault” was especially set apart for the porce ; lain and not the common clay of humanity! ! This respect for the dead “cream of the cream” | of society was carried to an absurd extent in France; as, for example, at the lying in state of the Dauphin, the first of the sons* of Louis XY 7 1. who bore that title. As the courtiers repaired to this ceremony, the groom of the chamber in waiting announced to the corpse the name and title of each person as he approached. YVhat a j contrast was presented by the maimed rites which j followed the death of the second little Dauphin ! | —the undraped body on the wooden bedstead, ! the cotlin of rough fir-planks, and the walk to | tho grave in tho cemetery of St. Margaret! CRINOLINE DANGERS. YY uereas, the ladies will be admired the world over, however fantastically or ridiculously tliev may dress. And Y\ uereas, they will dress to suit themselves, being the actual sovereigns of creation—man be ing the second fiddle. And YY uereas, the loss of one of them is a public | and private calamity : Be it therefore j Resolved, unanfmously, that our wives and i daughters be seriously and frequently cautioned | to guard against a terrible death by fire; and that if the dress becomes ignited, the most cer tain method of saving life is to lie down on the i floor and roll over and over; or better still, draw the carpet over the body, head and ears, this will j instantly extinguish the flames, and prevent hor : rible and ghastly scars for lifo, about the face. It is natural, in an accident of this kind, for | one woman to run to the rescue of another, with | self-sacrificing devotion; and the chances are, ’ that both the rescued and the rescuer will suffer | terribly. Have a little presence of mind, and | enjoin the person on fire to lie down, but whether lying down or standing up, envelop the sufferer in a woollen shawl, or coat, or overcoat, or blanket from the bed, or tho carpet or rug —anything j woollen. Y\ hen the lire is extinguished, remove j Gye clothing as speedily as possible, and cover : every burned place with dry flour, the most uni- I versa!ly accessible, the most instantaneous pain | arrester, and tho most specially curative agent j that can bo employed. A moisturo comes from the .surface of the injured parts, which, mixing with the flour, makes a paste or glue impervious to the atmosphere. It is tho oxygen of the at mosphere which keeps up the burning, after the flame is extinguished; so any means which ex cludes air arrests the burning and destruction. Thus it is that when a part is burned, the pain is instantly removed by plunging it in cold water, where it may be kept until the flour can be pro cured. Au estimable young lady of this city had hoi dress recently fired while passing a stove, the door of which was open; she died in great agony. few days later, the daughter of a Boston gen tleman was standing near the chimney-pioce, when her dress took fire, and she died within a few hours. A London paper states, that wit Inn six woeks from January Ist, no less than nineteen deaths were recorded from fired garments. Ihe greatest danger Is from wood fires, and candies or lamps placed on the floor. . It is grtatiy to be regretted, that our wives and daughters will stultify themselvos by a dress so useless, so unbecoming, so inconvenient, 60 ex travagant, and so dangerous. One woman dresses in a manner to conceal the fact that she is soon to become a mother: and straightway every young girl in Christendom adopts the same style. It is a libel on our intelligence and our independence. This truckling aping of the frivolities of foreign fashion is a disgrace to the nation.~*Jot<rwo( of Health. . i Mr. F. C. Arms has resigned his position, 1 General Superintendent-oft-lie Memphis & Charles-’ i ton Bail road. Within the last month, the tugitivo wives es • caping into Canada over the New York railroads, | have been much more numerous than the fugitive j slaves. Ilenry A. Wise, Jr., son of Governor Wise, was i ordained a Minister at the Protestant Episcopal * Theological Seminary, near Alexandria, on tho 2d i instant. Horace Walpole once said: “In my-youth I ! thought of writing a satire on mankind—but now I in my age, I think 1 should write an apology for ; them.'’ Half a teaspoonfull of pure carbonate of soda, j dissolved in water, mixed with four quarts of ; milk, will keep it sweet four or live days, without giving it any unpleasant ilavor. One of the local editors of the Cincinnatti En i q*m rr tints announces the birth of an heir: “S'/” Struck. —Senior local of this paper—yes* i tprday morning at 8 o'clock. The revenue of tho General Government for imports for the year ending the Ist of July | amounted to 844,000,000, which, considering the I business prostration, is not so bad. ‘ It is extremely disagreeable to me, madam,” said an ill-natured fellow, “to tell you unpleasant truths.” “I have nodoubt, sir, that it is extreme!v disagreeable for you to tell truths of any sort.” It said that only a single copy of the London Times is now allowed to enter France, and that is sent to Paris in a sealed envelope from Bug logjie, specially addressed to Napoleon himself. In Kansas two weeks ago. Miss Irene Baker, a girl of seventeen, married a man of seventy-five from admiration of one of his political speeches. Thus is a common saying verified—“politics makes strange bed fellows.” The recent insurrection in Crete has elicited from a retired French consul statistics of the pop ulation. That island counts 50,000 Turks, lf>o,ooo Greeks, 10.000 Jews. 4000 Americans, and 1000 Europeans ; total, 220,000 inhabitants. Th scientific expedition under Col. Styles, which started for New Mexico and Arizona some month.Sviigo, has been heard from, having reached Elpaso early in June. It was to proceed immedi ately to the silver districts of Arizona. The Bishop of.Cape Town, who is at present in England, has received from Miss .Buidett Coutts of London, the munificent sum of two thousand five hundred dollars for establishing a college in his distant diocese, for the sons of native African chiefs. A Clergyman, alive to the importance of adver tising, lias lately had printed some live hundred cards for general distribution, informing his friends of the fact that his church has “free seats,” and expresses his willingness to officiate at baptisms, marriages, and funerals. Fifty fat men of Mansfield, Ohio, hud a parade on tho sth. The lightest in company weighed two hundred pounds. The captain was estimated at two hundred and fifty-eight pounds: the heav iest man in the crowd weighed three hundred and thirty-five, and the next two hundred and ninety pounds. The production of gold in Australia for the i past year is set down by the best English author- ; ilics at one hundred millions of dollars. The pro- i duction in other countries is estimated as follows : I California, 865.000,000: Russia and Sibera, 820,- 1 000,000; other parts of the world, 815,000 000:’ total 8100,000',000. Silk and Wine. in France. —These two crops, which ! are about as important in France as the cotton and corn are in the United States, are said by the latest advices to promise remarkably well. The vines everywhere are described as looking magnificent. Wines are generally looking down in the provinces, and brandies were dull. It is calculated that a fluent speaker utters lie tween seven thousand and seven thousand five hundred words in the course of an hour’s tin interrupted speaking. Many orators, of more titan usually rapid utterance, will reach eight thousand and even nine thousand. But one hun dred and twenty-five words a minute, or seven thousand five hundred an hour, is a fair average. It is difficult to say which is the greater defect in a parent, strictness or firmness in his family without feeling and affection, or feeling and af fection without strictness and firmfess. Under the onebadsystem, the children are apt to become slaves or hypocrites: under the oilier, tyrants or rebels. But true love is always firm, and true firmness is always love. “Now sposen you were to be turned into an animal,” said Jem, “what would vou like to he, Bill?” “Oh, I’d like to be a lion,” replied Bill, “ be cause lie’s so .” “Oh, no, don’t be a lion Bill,” interrupted lit tle Tom who lias had some recent painful experi ence at. school, “boa wasp and (lien you can sting the schoolmaster.” Chivalry. —Sir Walter Raleigh is outdone in Stamford Conn. Miss H, a belle of that village i wears paper-soled shoes, and was caught out by a heavy rain 1 To go home in the mud was impos sible. The gallant Henry M. saw her in trouble, stepped up, pulled off his hoots, insisted on the fair one’s wearing them, and prevailed. She put on the boots and went homeward; Ilenry, light of heart and foot, pursued his bootless way to the astonishment of the bystanders. A. lady entered a dry goods store in town the other day, and expressed a desire to see wool delains. The polite clerk with elegant address, showed Iter a variety .>f pieces of fine texture and choice col oring. Al ter tossing and examining to her heart’s content, she remarked, “ The goods are part cot ton, sir.” My doarinadaine,” replied the clerk, “ these pirots arc asfree from cotton a* your breast is—.” The lady started. “ Free from guile, ma dam,’ he immediately added. 1 Poiifc liny.— The other day we were riding in a crowded car. At one of the stations an old gen tleman entered and was looking about him lor a seat when a lad tenor twelve years of age, rose up and said, “take my seat, sir.” The offer was accepted, and the infirm old man sat down. “ Why did you give me your scat?” he inquired of the boy. “ Because you are old, sir, and lam a boy,” was the quick reply, ’flic passengers were very much pleased and gratified. For my part, I wanted to seize hold of the little fellow, and press him to my bosom. UkEMENOr.—Alphonus, King of Naples and Sicily, so celebrated in history for his clemency, was once asked why lie was so favorable to all men, even to those most notoriously’ wicked? “ Because,” answered ho, “good men are won by justice, the bad by clemency.” When some of his ministers complained to him on another oc casion of Ins lenity, which they were pleased to say was more than become a Prince. “What,’ then,” exclaimed he, “would you have lions and tigers reign over you? Know you not that cru elty is the abbreviate of wild beasts—clemency that of man ?” Cherish vwur Wife.— What animal out man did you ever see maltreat a female of his species? The claims to pity and uncommon consideration every woman builds up during a few years of mar riage! Her inestimable value in the house ! How true she is, unless her husband corrupts her, or drives her to despair? Often she is good in spite of her example! How rarely she is evilly dis posed but ly his example! God made her weaker, that man might have tho honest satisfaction and superior joy of, protecting and supporting her. To torture her with tho strength so intrusted him for her good, is to rebel against Heaven’s design —it is to boa monster, a coward, a fool. Desiring and Choosing.— There is a great dis tinction between desiring a thing and choosing a thing—a man may desire without choosing. Do you suppose there is man ill the Tombs who does not desire to be an honest man ? But he does not choose to bo; thevo are other things [which he desires moro than that: lie desires the means of debauchery and revelry more than he does hon esty. There is not probably a man given to his cups in the city of Now York, who, if you would ask him, Dou you not desire to become a re formed and temperate man ? I suppose there is scarcely a man who would not say Yea. He de sires it, but does not choose it; there are other things he desires more than that, and he chooses the tilings he desires most and which stand near est to him.—Beecher. My Father. I BY HON. HENRY R. JACKSON. As die the embers on the hearth, As o’er the floors the shadows fall, And creeps the chirping cricket forth, And ticks the death watch in the wall; I see a form in yonder chair, That grows beneath the waning light; There are the wan, sad features, there The pallid brow and locks of white. My Father! when they laidthec down, And heaped the clay upon thy breast, And left thee sleeping all alone Upon thy narrow couch of rest, I know not why 1 could not weep; The soothing drops refused to roll; And oh! the grief is wild and deep Which settles tearless on the soul. But when I saw the vacant chair, Thine idle hat upon the wall, Thv book—the penciled passages where Thine eyes had rested last of all; The tree beneath whose friendly shade Thy trembling feet had wandered lorth; The very prints those feet had made When last they trod the earth, And thought, while countless ages tied, Thy vacant seat would vacant stand — Unworn thy hat, thy book unread, Effaced thy footsteps from the sand; And widowed, in this cheerless world, The heart that gave its love to thee Torn, like a vine, whose tendrils curled More closely round the falling tree. 0 ! Father, then, for her and thee, Gushed manly forth the scorching tears, And oft, and long and bitterly Those tears have gushed in later years; I o. as the world grows cold around, And things take on their real hue, ’Tis sad to learn that love is found Alone above the stars with you, [Savannah, Ga., 1852.]- A Gentleman conversing with a lady friend a short time since, claimed that he could parodize on the hoop question any verse she might choose to repeat. She accordingly rehearsed the follow ing verse from “The Old Sexton : “Nigh to a grave that was newly made Leaned a Sexton old on his hearth-worn spade— His work was done, and he paused to wait The funeral train through the open gate ; , A relic of by-gone days was he, And his locks were white as the foamy sea ; ; And these words came from his lips so thin — 1 gather them in ! I gather them in!” 5\ hereupon, tho genius took his pencil, and Hius wrote on a scrap of newspaper lying by: l Nigh to a church tint! was newly made Stood a lady fair ; and thus she said : * Gntl, too had—l here must wait W hile they measure the breadth of this open gate: All! it’s only nine by six 1 see; Too narrow, too narrow, alas, for me!” And she sighed irom the quivering lips so thin, i “I can’t get in ! Ican’t get in!” ! ’ Dad,’ said a young hopeful the other day, 1 ‘ how many fowls are there on this table ?’ ‘Why,’ said the old gentleman, as he looked complacent ly on a pair of nicely roasted chickens that were i smoking on the table, ‘there are two.’ ‘Two!’ replied tho smart boy; there are three, sir, and I'll prove it.’ ‘Three!’ replied theold gentleman, who was a plain matter-of-fact man; ‘l’d like to i see you prove It.’ Easily done sir, easily done. ‘ Ain’t that one?’ said the smart boy laying his knife on the first, ‘and ain’t that two!’ pointing to the second ‘and don't one and two make three?’ ‘Really,’ said the father turning to the old lady, who was stupefied at the immense learning of the son ; ‘really wife, this boy is a genius, and de serves to be encouraged. Here, old lady, do you take one fowl.and I'll take the second, and John, may have the third for his learning. A Flea under a Microscope.—When a flea is made to appear as large as an elephant, we can j see all the wonderful parts of its formation, and | are astonished to find that it has a coat of armor much more complete than ever a wrrrior wore, and ! composed of strong polished plates, fitted over I eacliother, each plate covered like a tortoise shell, and where they meet, hundreds of strong quills ; project like those on the back of the porcupine or hedgehog. There are the arched neck, the bright i eyes, the transparent cases, piercers to puncture ’ the skin, a sucker to draw away the blood: six long-jo nted legs, four of which are folded on tho i breast ready at any moment to be thrown out ! with tremendous force for that jump which both ers one when they wish to catch him ; and atthe end of each leg hooked claws to enable him to , cling to whatever he lights upon. A Ilea can leap a hundred times his own length, which is the same as if a man jumped to the height of 000 feet; and he can draw a load 200 times his own weight. | Neatness in Speech. —The nose and the roof : ol the mouth may be regarded as the sound-board i°l the voice. The teeth form a bridge or barrier, upon which the lips and tongue are constantly playing; and their beauty and regularity con tribute much to the neatness of speech. This ac tion of the tongue is susceptible of high cultivation and upon its activity depends much of that silve ry tone of voice which delights us. With many it lies a sluggish lump in the mouth, as when pro nouncing the letter L, it so blocks up the passage that the voice escapes with difficulty. The lips are employed in the softer tones and are charga i bio with the same lassitude ol expression. The I chin lias an important office to perform, which is j to operate upon tho hinge which opens and shuts I the mouth, for upon its activity we either disclose ; a polite or vulgar pronunciation. Every one : must have noticed in lazy speakers, how the words are drawled out of the mouth, as neao for j no. Others begin to talk, before their mouths ! are open, affixing the mouth-closing M to most j of their words as M yes for yes.— Gardner’s Mu-sic j of Nature. ! How We Did I. —A gentleman feeling a gx>eat j partiality for a young lady whoso name was Noyes, was desirous without the ceremony of a formal courtship, to ascertain her sentiments. For this purpose he said to her one day, with that kind of air and manner which means either jest or earnest, as you choose to take it : “J f I were to ask you whether you were under matrimonial engagements to any one, what part of your name (No-ycs) might I take for an an i swerj” | “The first,” said she, in the same tone, “for ail ! answer?” ! “And were Ito ask you if you were inclined to I form such an engagement, should such person j offer who loved you, and was not indifferent to yourself, wlmt part of your name might then be i taken as an answer?” } “ Tlic last. ’ ! “And if 1 tell you that I love you, and ask you . to form such an engagement with me, then what ; part of your name may 1 take?” “Oh, then,” replied* the blushing girl, “take the ! whole name, as iu either case I would cheerfully resign it for yours.” It is needless to add that they were soon after wards married. Pleasures of the Wealthy. In the latter part of the century, there flourished in Paris a very wealthy banker named Nicholas Boaujon. By his liberallity, churches and hos pitals were endowed and established, some of which even at this day bear his name. He was also at one time, tho owner of the celebrated Elysee-Bourbon long tho residence of princes and persons of note, which ho enlarged and embellished and which subsequently became a royal palace. The fame of his magnificence was such, that an Englishman, jealous of his reputation, was deter mined to satisfy himself of the fact. He called at the banker’s residence, and was shown into the dining-room. The tabic was covered with tempt ing dishes. “ Your master lives well at all events,” said the sceptical son of Albion. “ Alas, sir,” the attendant replied, “my master never sits down to table; he only partakes of one dish of vegetables.” “ Well, he has wherewithal to gratify his eyes,” confirmed the visitor, as he looked up to the pic tures. “Alas,sir, my master is nearly blind.” “ I suppose,” muttered the astonished English man, as he passed into another room, “he com forts himself by listening to beautiful music.” “Alas, sir, my master has never heard that which is played here; he goes to bed • early in hopes of getting a few minutes repose.” “Well, but your master, at all events, enjoy* the pleasure of a walk,” “Alas, sir, ho can no longer walk.” So from question to question, and alas to alas, the Englishman found that the millionare Beaty on was most miserable of men. “ How would you divide a draobm ?” asked oag printer of another. “ Why,” replied the other I would drink one-huff.”