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VEiS i ji&iVY* •’ :X ; - •- >. *- • V ,•• *s*^S-.- +*l. , • -.■ ■rT > - s:?.7r>’ %■ *- . *< V .-•■■ .: W-::••*'i'-’ .’ - ■■■■m 5 ■ ■ “• .* /*>..'• -, *:;."V - *•*V‘‘ * - ■ 7 i i GREGORY THE HITLER. “Fr. the year 1831, the Papal conclave, after a confinement of fifty-six days, (lu ring which time they lutil balloted and counter-balloted tor a worthy successor of Peter, at last, by the voice of the Car dinal Dean, announced an election in the following manner: ‘ Magnum vobitannun (in Tact Hum. llabemus Pcpam, Dominum Cardmu'cm Cepellqri qvi tibi nomen as sumpsit Grcgorium XVI.!’ Never was a more unfortunate choice, through the result of such a long succession of balloting.*, and the presence, as claimed by the conclave, of an infallible spirit! Cardinal Capellari, a native of Beliuno, born a Venetian, and an Austrian subject, had led the life of a recluse. In consequence of some distinc tion a.; a theo’ogian, and his succei- in a negotiation on behalf of the Papal couit, he had been raised to the dignity of cardi nal : but lie pos essed no force of charac ter. no haowledrrecf affair*. A mere monk, advanced in life, feeble and timid, he was utterly incapable of discharging thedutic* of the pontificate, at a time, especially, of great political excitement and financial de pression. Narrow anil bigoted also, in hi* reli ;ious views, he dreaded liberty and de tested science as the greatest of all evils. Tn his encyclical letter of the year 1832, he describes liberty of conscience as 1 that most pestilent error,’ and denounces the liberty of f'c press , as 1 that worst and never enough to be execrated and detestable evil.’ Ills whole pontificate consisted of a series of mistake*. The evils under which the Papal States groaned at his accession were aggravated; justice was badly administer ed; the people were oppressed; science and freedom were proscribed. The dun geons were filled with state prisoners, and thousands of the noblest citizens were driv en into foreign exile. Averse to business and timid to excess, witn low and carnal appetites, and habits of indolence, be was preserved from deposition only by the strong arm of the Swiss guards and Aus trian bayonets. In a word, he was thor oughly detested by bis people, and con temned by foreign nations. On this ac count bis death was bailed with secret re joicings. When lie was crowned, he dis tributed copper coins to the populace, say ing ; ‘Silver and gold have I none, but sucli as I have give I unto thee.’ At his death he left money and personal property to the amount of two millions of dollars to his nephews and nieces; fur of course none of the Popes have any direct heirs. He was in the habit of receiving from the French, and other governments, large presents of champagne and other wines, when they wanted any favors from him: and his cel lar. after his death, contained, it is said, twelve thousand bottles of choice wines, since sold by the order of his more abstem ious successor. This circumstance was made the subject of the following pasqui nade in Dome at the time of Gregoiy’s death. It represents the deceased knock ing for admittance a* the gate of Para- i dise. “ Who wishes to enter ?’ asks St. l’e- 11 0 1-ego ry, your successor at Home.’ “But,’replies S>. IVtcr, ‘Gregory the : Great died and came here a long time ago. Who are you, that have taken his named’ “Why, they called me at Rome Gregory Bevone (Gregory the Tippler !’). “Oh. 1 have heard of you ; come in.’ | This -hows the spirit of the Roman j populace, an 1 their estimate of Gregory; Sixteenth. But the following, which ap pi t;vl at the same time, is still more ex pressive, and withal of keener wit. “ St. Peter and Gregory are represented as going to l'ar.tdise. The journey being hard and tedious for an aged man. he com plains to St. Peter thus : “How is it, St. Peter, that onr journey is : o long ! I did not know that Paradise was so far from the 1 atican.’ “ St. Peter replies, ‘lf you had allowed the construction of railways and steamers in your states, we should hnvearrived long ago; but now you must stop for a while purgatory.’ “ After remaining some months in pur gatory, where (as the story goes) he met his friend, Daniel O’Connell! Gregory set out with St. Peter again on lus eternal jour ney. Coming in view of Paradise, the Pope a e ks St. Peter, ‘ why the angels and his last predecessors in the papal chair did not come out to meet him?’ “ Dear Gregory,’ replies St. Peter, ‘ as for the Popes there are few of them in heaven. and the news of your death has not reach ed there; as it would have done had you established telegraphs, and granted the free dom of the press f “When the saint and the Pope airived at the gates of Paradise, St. Peter a<ks,’ Gregory for his key, which after some time the Pope finds and hands to him, but it proves to be the kej of his wine-cellar. “Presently St. Peter is admitted within the gates, but Gregory somehow is lost in the fog.”— Genius of Italy. A DAY IN THE SULKS. The article is written in the form of a dialogue between North, Bullcr and Sew ard—North says: ■ I hereby authorize the boys of this Empire to have what temper they choose —with one sole exception— The sulkcy. Jitdler. —The edict is proinulged. North. —Once, and once only, during one of the longest and best spent lives on record, was 1 in the mood proscribed—ami it endured most part of a whole day. The Anniversary of that day I observe in the severest solitude with a salutary-horror, And it is my Birthday. Ask me not, my friends to reveal the Cause. Aloof from confession before man, we must keep to ourselves —as John Foster says —a corner of our own souls. A black coiner it is— and enter it with or without a light—you see. here and there, something dismal, hid- eous, shapeless, nameless, each lying in its own place on the floor. There lies the Cause. It was morning of my Ninth Year. As 1 kept sitting high up stairs by myself, one familiar face after another \ kept ever and anon looking in upon me— ’ all with one expression! And one familiar i voice after another, all with one tone, kept ; muttering at me, -He's still in the sulks. r ’ How I hated them with an intense hatred, and chief them f before loved best, at each shutting of that door ! How I hated my j self, as my blubbered face felt hotter and ‘ hotter, and I knew how ugly 1 must be, - with my fixed fiery eyes. It was so pain ful to sit on such a chair for hours in one ( posture, and to have so chained a child would have been great cruelty, but I was ’ resolved to die, rather than change it; and had I been told by any one under an angel jto get up and go to play, 1 would have spat in his face. It was a lonesome attic, ‘and I had the fear of ghosts. But not then, my superstitious fancy was quelled by my troubled heart. Had I not deserved to ho allowed to go ! Did they not know that all my happiness in this life depended on my being allowed to go ? Could any i one of them give a reason for not allowing ! ine to go ? What right had they to say i that if 1 did go, I should never he able to i find my way by myself, back ? What I right had they to say that Doundy was a , blackguard, and that he would lead me to j the gallows ? Never before, in all the ; world, had a good boy been used so on his | birthday. They pretend to be sorry when | ( am sick, and when I say my prayers, j they say theirs too ; but I am sicker now, I and they are not sorry, but angry, and 1 j won't read one verse in the Bible this ! night, should my aunt go down on her ! knees. And in the midst of such unvvord jed soliloquies did the young blasphemer J fall, asleep. Puller. —Young Christopher North ! In credible. North. —l know not how long I slept; but on waking. I saw an angel with a most beautiful face and most beautiful hair, a little young angel, about the same size as myself, silting t on a stool by my feet. “Are you quite well now, Christopher! Let us go to the meadows and gather flow ers.” Shame, sorrow, remorse, contrition, came to me with those innocent words, we wept together, and I was comforted. “ 1 have been sinful, “but you are for given.” Down all the stairs hand in hand we glided ; and there was no longer anger m my eyes, the whole house was happy.! All voices were kinder, if that were possi ble, than they had been when I rose in the morning, a Boy in his Ninth Year. Pa rental hands smoothed my hair, parental lip* kissed it, and parental greetings, only a little more cheerful than prayers, restor ed me to the Love 1 had never lost, and which I felt now had animated that brief and just displeasure. 1 had never heard of Elysian fields : but 1 had often heard, ami often have dreamt happy, happy dreams of fields of light in heaven. And such looked the fields to be, where fairest Mary Gordon and 1 gathered flowers and spoke to the birds, and to one another, all day long, and again, when the day was gone, and the evening going, or. till moontime, below and among the soft-burning stars. Bailer. —And never lias Christopher been j in the sulks since that day. North. —Under heaven I owe it all to j that child’s eyes. Sternly keep the Auni versary, for, beyond doubt, 1 was that day i possessed with a devil, and an angel it was, j though human, that drove him out.— Dies | Jioreales. THE ELECTRIC LIGHT. We alluded some time since to the ap paratus recently invented by Henry M. Paine, Esq., of Worcester, for the purpose of producing a most intense and brilliant light by means of combustion of the gases evolved from the decomposition of water. The last number of the Christian Citizen gives ihc following account of some exper iments made by Mr. Paine : Most of our readers are aware that wa ter is composed of two gases, oxygen and hydrogen; the first is the supporter of combustion. They have no doubt witness ed the effect of water thrown on a very hot coal lire ; the flash seen is the result of the decomposition of the water, and the libera tion of its gases which take fire. About the time of Sir Humphrey Davy, or a little before, some Dutch chemists succeeded in decomposing water by electricity, and col lecting its component gases. Sir Humphrey made some brilliant experiments with the galvanic battery, and after him Dr. Wal laston with the electrical machine; and from their times till the present, the exper iment has been familiar in the philosoph ical lecture room. But although water has been thus decomposed for many years, and its gases burnt, the process has never been applied to any practical use till Mr. Paine’s discovery. The expense and labor of pro ducing a cubic foot of gas with the most approved of powerful apparatus, was far beyond the value of any purpose to which it could be applied, and Ihe experiments j served no other purpose than to demon strate the elements of which water was composed. But the invention of Mr. Paine takes the simple and comparative QO0ID&S08 9 waaK&'tr ©aaafl'ffiia ly valueless water, and, at an expense of time, labor and consumption of material so insignificant as to require the working of months to number doliars. and converts it into a powerful agent of light and beat: nay more, for purposes of motive power we see no reason why it should not super cede steam. The cumbrous boiler, the mountains of coal, and the hissing water, must yield to the magical power of a doz en magnets and a few yards of copper wire. None of our citizens that have witness ed the brilliant light at Mr. Paine’s bouse, and the “lightning beacon” which streams from the tower upon Goat hill, can recon cile themselves to the idea that water, re freshing water —the liquid that for a few days past, has been so gratefully quaffed —could be so made to change its nature and office : and yet this change is not more wonderous than the agents that cause it are simple, the whole apparatus consisting of a dozer, magnets, six helices, and weight of !I5 lbs. to keep the helices in motion, which requires to be wound up four times per day; and this simple machinery, that a man of ordinary strength can lift, will, Mr. Paine declares, keep our city, year in and year out, well lighted. That it will do this there can be no doubt, for orifices equal to the amount of gas required have been made in the receivers from which the jet* are to be taken, and for weeks past these have been supplied. Mr. Paine is now engaged in experi ments for lighthouses, and for this purpose has erected, west of the Literary Institu tion on Goat’s hill, a hexagon building two stories in height, the lower story being used as a laboratory, and the upper for a lanthorn. In the lanthorn are placed one four feet concave reflector and one IS inch | parabola. The lightning of these reflect l ors produces a most beautiful effect, the light from the parabola streaming like a meteor for miles. The concave reflector, we believe, was intended to light the south ern part of the city, hut some alteration is found necessary in its focal length before its action will he complete. For light houses on our coast, the invention is al ready so perfect as to be invaluable; its intense light and peculiar whiteglitter will be seen through the fogs and darkness that now so easily obstructs the present lights. CHANGE OF COLOR IN FISII. John, on Sporting, says that the change of color in fish is very remarkable, and takes place with great rapidity. Put a liv ing hlackburn trout into a white basin of water, and it becomes white in half an hour, of a light color. Keep the fish living in a white jar some days, and it becomes absolutely white; hut put it in a dark-col ored or black vessel, and although, on first being placed there, the white colored fish shows most conspicuously on the dark ground, m a quarter of an hour it becomes as dark-colored as the bottom of the jar, and consequently difficult to be seen. No doubt this facility of adapting its color to the bottom of the water ir. which it lives is of the greatest service to the fish in pro tecting it from its numerous enemies. All anglers must have observed that in every stream the trout are much of the same col or of the gravel or sand on which they live; whether this change of color is a vol untary or involuntary act on the part of the fish, 1 leave it for the scientific to de termine. SILEX. The Farmer and Mechanic contains, in its report of the proceediugsof the Farmers’ Club, a sticking account of the part play ed by silex or the earth of flints, in the veg etable world. The beautiful glossy coal ing of straw is flint. The rattan of the East Indies is admirably coated with it.— Examine with a microscope the surface of the wheat straw, or of rattan, and you see this glossy coat broken in circular stripes around the stem, showing that it is caused by the necessary bending of the stems un der the pressure of winds and other forces. This apparently refractory substance is proved to be soluble in water. By experi ment, silex (silicia) has been dissolved by hot steam, carried tip as vapor, and then falling, condensed like like a hoar frost.— It has long been supposed that plants have power to gain a coat of glass and their flowers to use the metals for their colors. The flowers of violets have been made to exhibit the fact that gold was in the violet color. ASSAYING METALS. The assaying is the most curious and scientific of all the business in the mint.— The melters take the gold dust, melt it, and cast it into a bar, when it is weighed accu i ratelv, and a piece is cut off for the assay ; er. He takes it, melts it with twice its weight of silver, and several times its weight of lead. It is melted in smail cups ! made of bone ashes which absorb all the j lead; a large part of the silver is extracted | by another process, and the sample is then ! rolled out to a thin shaving, coiled up, and put in a sort of glass vial called a inat trass, with some nitric acid. The mattrass are put in a furnace, and the acid is holed some time, poured off, anew supply put in and boiled again. This is done several times, till the acid has extracted all the silver and other mineral substances leaving the sample pure gold. The sample is then weighed, and by the difference between the weight before assaying and after, the value is found. All the silver over and above five pennyweights for each lot, is paid for by the mint as its true value. The gold, after it has been assayed, is melted, refined, and being mixed with its due pro portion of alloy, is drawn into long strips (not unlike an iron hoop for a cask) the round pieces cut out with a sort of punch, each piece weighed and brought to right j size and put into a stamping press, whence ; it comes forth a perfect coin.— Scientific American. ■+ A LOST-ART. The most markable Chinese porcclean is the Kissing, or azure pressed : the secret of its manufacture has been lost, but the specimens which are preserved are of in estimable value. Tie art was that of tra cing figures on the china which arc invis ible until the vessel is filled with liquid. The porcelain is of the very lhi nest des cription, almost as as an egg-shell. It is said that the application in tracing these figures i> eternal, ind not hv external painting, as in ordinary manufacture, and j that after such tracing was made, and when lit was perfectly dry, a very thin covering or coating was laid over it of the same paste of which the vessel had been formed, and thus the painting lay between two (coatings of china ware. When the inter nal coating became sufficiently dry they ; oiled it over, and shortly after, placed it in ’ a mould and scraped the exterior of the vessel as thin as possible without penetra | ting to the painting and then baked it in the oven. It is evident that if such be the i mode adopted, it would require the nicest ; dexterity and patient care for which the Chinese are remarkable ; but although they constantly endeavor to recover the exact | method, the materials have been hitherto unavailing.— Scientific American. ‘ffllJA ?A liiilx !B , : WIRE FENCE. A corrcpsondent of the American Agri culturist, writing fram Darien, N. Y,, says: —I am glad to see the attention of farmers turned to this subjects, as I believe at no distant day wire fence must become the leading kind generally over the Union. It is true there is a difficulty in fencing against hogs, but even that can be over come without much trouble, as is hereafter suggested. I have never yet had any made, hut in tend to make a sample next spring. I have given the subject, however, a good deal of thought, and made inquires and figures thereupon. From some small experiments I have made, there can he uo doubt hut my figures are mainly correct. I shall use No. 11 wire, cedar posts, as they are the most durable, and shall set them six rods apart, making the fence five strands high. The posts being set, I should began by bor ing an inch hole through each, at eighteen inches from the ground ; then another hole eight inches from that, the next ten inch es; then twelve inches; then fourteen inches, making the fence five feet two inch es high. After the wires have been drawn through and strained tight, drive plugs into | the holes at each side to hold them in their places. Between each post, one rod apart, drive down a stake, saw into it opposite each wire, perhaps an inch, lay in the wire, and drive in a single nail to keep it in its place. It would be less trouble to drive a small spike into the post and wind the wire round it by one turn, rather than to bore the holes; though the expense would even be more. The wire ought to he prepared in the same maner that it is for bridges, boiled in j linseed oil fora quarter of an hour, and 1 then dried, and the same process repeated three times. This anneals and at the same time coat* the wire, and saves painting it. ’ If, however, there be but a small quantity 1 to put up. it would be better to heat the ! wire, and afterwards paint it. Coal tar would also be an excellent subtance for that purpose. Now for the expense. A strand of No. 11 wire, 80 rods long, weighs 25 pounds. 1 80 rods of fence would weigh 125 pounds, at 7 cents, $lO 25 14 red cedar posts, 25 cents each, 3 50 85 stakes, 1 cent each, 0 85 Preparing wire and painting, 1 00 Setting post.-- and stakes, 0 50 Putting up fence, including spikes, or boring posts, 1 00 Contingencies, 1 00 Outside cost for 80 rods of wire fence, sl7 00 This would be twenty-two cents per rod; but the actual cost to the farmer would not be twenty cents. | On most farms, where there is plenty of timber for posts, it would not cost but about sixteen cents per rod. But allowing for I all contingencies, and that it costs twenty | five cents per rod, it is then by far the j cheapest fence that can be built. In order to fence against hogs, I would I drive down short posts and put on boards | about two feet, and put the wires above, j but nearer together. I think that no hog that ought to go at large would ever get through. For all other kinds of stock it would be impenetrable. A neighbor of ‘mine, who is compelled to fence against a ! whole village of street cows, put but two strands across a stream, where his fence washed away, and it has proved a perfect protection. I have seen the cows walk up to it but have never yet known one to attempet to get through, although j the temptation between a fresh pasture and the dry streets was very great, I have no doubt. ©&?= Agriculture is the art of arts; with out it man would be a savage, and the world a wilderness. SUGAR CANE ON WORN-OUT COT TON LAND. Wk have recently been gratified by the notice from a southern corespondent, of the luxuriant growth of the cane upon worn out cotton uplands. This seems to have been looked upon with much wonde l- and admiration, by such as are not properly) versed in the first principles of agricultural science. The land which had become ex hausted by the constant cropping of cotton, is found to produce largely of a plant nev er before grown upon it. This is simply a ‘ good illustration of the beneficial effects of rotation, one of the great and important discoveries of modern times. The availa ble matters of nutrition for certain plants have become exhausted in the proportion required, leaving others, however, in suffi cient quantities to provide a full supply to a different class of plants. On occupying the field with these, a luxuriant growth is the result, which the scientific farmerwould have confidently expected, hut which the novice and unreflecting, more especially the non-reading portion of the community, look upon with unmitigated surprise.— This is one aspect of the case, and the same non-reading class are destined to another disappointment, but in opposite direction. Like the simpleton who acci dentaly found a knife, they will be look ing constantly at the same place foranother, which they may never be destined to find. If sugar cane be continually replanted on the same field, without the addition of ma nures, this crop, too, will be found to ex haust its proper pabulum or fertilizing in gredients, and soon it will yield no more sugar than it now does of cotton or corn.— Rotation , with the aditioii of specific ma nures, (such as contain the silicate of pot ash, the carbonates of lime and potash, the phosphates of lime, soda, and magnesia, phosphoric acid, the oxides of iron, &c., &c., the ingredients most essential to the j successful growth of the caue, or those 1 which are most largely taken up by it,) 1 will be found the only means of securing ; the continuance of good and satisfactoiy ! crops. THE GARDEN. No one can be truly said to live who has not a garden. None but those who have enjoyed it can appreciate the satisfaction— the luxury—of sitting down to a table spread with the fruits of one's own plant ing and culture. A bunch of radishes—a few heads of lettuce—taken from the gar den of a summer’s morning for breakfast: or a mess of green peas or sweet corn, is quite a different affair from market in a dy ing condition, to be put away in the cellar for use. And a [date of strawberries or raspberries lose none of their peculiar fla vor by passing directly from the border to the cream without being jolted about in baskets until they have lost all form and comeliness. And yet, how many farmers in the cities and villages of our country, possessing every facility for a good garden, either through indolence or ignorance are deprived of this source of comfort 1 And how many farmers, with enough land lay ing waste to furnish them with most of the luxuries of life, are content to plod on in the even tenor of their way, never raising their tastes above the “ pork and beans.” of their fathers. j3_ ja jf a EVIL CONSEQUENCES OF SMO KING. The wide-spread habit of smoking has not yet had due medical attention paid to :it and its consequences. It is only by two or three years’ observation that Dr. Lay cock lias become fully aware of the great ; change? induced in the system by the abuse |of tobacco, and of the varied and obscure ! forms of disease to which especially ex ! cessive smoking gave origin. lie proceeded to state some of them as j they were met with in the pharygeal mu i cons membrane, the stomach, the lungs, the j heart, the brain, and the nervous system. | The tobacco consumed by habitual smo kers varies from half an ounce to twelve ounces per week : the usual quantity from two to three ounces. Inveterate cigar smo kers will consume from four to five dozen per week. The first morbid result is an ; inflammatory condition of the mucous mem ! brane, of the lips and tongue, then the ton | sils and pharynx suffer, the mucous mem | brane becoming dry and congested. If the thorax be examined well, it will be found I slightly swollen, with congested veins meandering over the surface, and here and there a streak of mucus. The action of tobacco smoking on the heart is depressing, and some individuals, who feel it in this organ more than others, complain of an un easy sensation about the left nipple, a dis tressed feeling, not amounting to faintness, but allied to it. The action of the heart is observed to be feeble and irregular. An uneasy feeling is also experienced in or beneath the pectoral muscles, and often er on the right side than the left. On the brain, the use of tobacco appears to dimin ish the rapidity of cerebral action, and check the flow of ideas through the mind. It differs from opium and henbane, and rather excites to watchfulness, like green tea, than composes to sleep: induces a dreaminess which leaves no impression on the memory, leaving a great susceptibility, indicated by a trembling of the hands and irritability of temper. Such are secondary results of smoking. So are blackness of teeth and gumboils. There is also a sal low paleness of the complexion, an irreso- j lateness of disposition, a want of life and energy, and in constant smokers, who do not drink, a tendency to pulmonary phthis ic. Dr. Wright, of Birmingham, in acommu nication to the author, fully corroborates his opinions; and both agree that smoking produces gastric disorders, coughs, and in tlairmiatory affections of the larynx and pharynx, diseases of the heart, and low ness of the spirits, and in short, is very in jurious to the respiratory, alimentary, and nervous systems. —English Literary Ga zette THE CAUSE OF BAD TEETH. Dr. Redfield says that the principal cause of bad teeth is the use of hot food and drinks, lie referred to the dislike which little children showed to taking food of a higher temperature than milk warm, and of the attempt of nurses to satisfy them, and said by- habitually taking food of too high a temperature the mouth be comes insensible of what would scald an infant. If the membrane of the mouth which is a comparatively poor conductor of coloric, suffered from this cause, the teeth suffered much more, for they were excellent conductors, and the heat being conveyed to the nerves of the teeth, caused debility and loss of vitality, and, of course ; rottenness of the teeth. Food that was so hot as to burn the tongue, was thrust be tween the teeth and held there tilt it had parted with its excessive coloric, and this rendered the destruction of the teeth inevi table ; and as the grinders were not sub ject to this influence they were the great ; est sufferers. bbmsiiqids, SUNDAY READINGS, FOR AUG. 12. TEMPERANCE. “ The fruit of the Spirit is temperance. ” —G al. v. 23. “Let us who are of the day be sober.” Sobriety here is of extensive latitude. It includes not only freedom from excess of drinking, but moderation in all things. In this sense the word temperance is used in our text. It is opposed to all excess of self-indulgence, to all excess of abstinence and self-denial, and to all excess of mental excitement. The object to which it refers. It must in fluence us In all our temporial enjoyments. There are many pleasures and recreations, lawful and innocent in themselves, but which be come sinful by our intemperate use of them. Christians, “let your moderation be known unto all men.” In all our worldly expectations. Ambi tion is divine things is laudible, arid cov etousness for the bestgifts isenjoined ; but, with regard to this world, our desires and expectations are to be limited. There are some whose souls seem too large for their bodies, and too lofty for their circumstan ces; they will not learn the lesson of con tentment. In all our earthly attachments. There are many idol temples erected in the heart before conversion ; but grace overthrows them, and then the heart itself becomes a temple dedicated to Jehovah’s praise and glory. Love to the creature is not forbid den. but it must always be in subserviency to the love of God. The arguments by which it maybe cn ! forced. Oar personal comfort. How often are we called to witness the painful effects of intemperance! But there is an inward pleasure and satisfaction to the mind, ari sing from the cultivation of this Christian grace ; it is a pleasant fruit. Our religious profession. Consistency to j the principles we have embraced demands I it. If Christians go the same excess asthe j worldling in unlawful indulgences, it may j well be said to them, “What do ye more than others ? ” Onr eternal destination. Shall those who are destined to soar in the regions of bliss, grovel in the dust of worldly enjoyments 1 You are looking for a never-fading crown; how unreasonable that you should be ; pleased with a gaudy to) ! Importance of early Religious In ! strcction. — When a lady once told Arch- I bishop Sharpe that she would not commu nicate any religious instruction to her chil dren until they had attained years of discre tion, the shrewd prelate replied, “ Madam, if you do not teach them, the devil will!” He saw, as every one who reflects on the subject must see, that the choice rests not between something and nothing, but be | tween positive good and positive evil—be i tween blessing and cursing: and he also saw that there is only a short space left for the decision, “to choose life that souls may live.” S’ -LI CLEON AND I. BY CIIARI.ES AtACKAY. I.L. D. Cleon lmth ft million acres— Ne’er a one have I; Cleon dwelleth iu a palace— In a cottage 1; Cleon hath a dozen fmtuncs— Not a penny I; But the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and uot I. Cleon, true, possesses acres, lint the landscape I; Half the charms to me it yieldcth Money cannot buy; Cleon harbors sloth and dullues— Freshening vigor I; lie in velvet, 1 in fustian— Richer man ain 1. Cleon is a slave to grandeur— Free us thought niu 1; Cleon fees a score of doctors— Need of none have I; Wealth-surrounded, care environed, Cleon fears to die; Death may come he'll find me ready— Happier man am 1. Cleon sees no charm iu nature — In a daisy I; Cleon hears :io anlhems ringing In the sea and sky; Nature sings to me forever— Earnest listener I; State for state, with all attendants, Who would change I—Not T ib la A a am a A in a a. Pi ain TuuJhs pi. a inly Tol6 Falsely so called, by “ A Publisher PLAINLY ANSWERED. Mr. Editor: A sense of duty compels me to notice the Article signed “ A Publisher in your paper of July 28. It is just that 1 should be permitted to defend myself in the court where I un charged, and yet Ido it reluctantly because of my previous intention not to notice any thing my enemies might say, and shall not do so while they do not assail my “mo lives” ; but when this is done I must and will be beared. My character is my re ligion, my only patrimony;— Ruin it and you destroy me, —take that away and I am deprived of all that can bless my exist ence. His attempt can be regarded in no otlici light than as being intended to depreciate me in the estimation of the public. It was done at a time when hundreds were here who knew nothing of me, and they would naturally conclude that I had been attempt ing to put down another's in order to give effect to my own publications, and thus impose on the people. Nor could they have any interest in it as they wore not at all concerned, and the injury done to me can never be retrieved as many of them will not see my reply ; and I think the people will agree with me that this attempt is sufficient to place him before the commu nity in the light of a dishonest irresponsible character who is totally unworthy of the regard of any one who is respetable. The fact that he defrauded the public of his name evidences the fact that he is extreme ly treacherous, heartless and uncalled for in an attemp to injure one who has offered no cause for it; as a few statements will show. In my note to the •‘■journal fy Messen ger” no charge was made against Mr. Wright. My only aim was to correct some misapprehensions existing in the minds of many who subscribed through me to his papers, not with a view to influence them as others against him or his papers, or in favor of my own publication, but to show them that I was not to blame be cause they did not get the papers. The facts are these. I had obtained near 1000 subscribers to “ It rights Paper ” cjr “ Casket,” mostly in Ga. All of them received some Nos. and then they failed to reach them. They did not know the cause and charged it upon me, and complained to me as if I were re sponsible for the failure. 1 wrote to Mr. Wright about it, time and again and got others to write for their papers themselves. After writing to him frequently for 4 months and failing to get the matter right, i again wrote 4 times to him stating that that unless an immediate answer was giv en I should publish the facts to the world. ; Still I uttered not a word against him, (and ) have to this day,) and still the papers did j not come , and still no answer came. 1 1 could do no more, and was compelled to publish, or forfeit my word and leave room for suspicion. And now, after wait ing six months under these aggravated cir cumstances, my mctii'es must be impugned before a people who are not interested in the matter, maliciously and for no other i purpose than to depreciate my character to injure my success in a a good cause and to promote a bad one, as it could have no other effect. As to Mr. Wright's rascality I bioie nothing. The above are plain facts.— Why his answers were not recieved 1 can not tell. 1 have look upon him as being a good man. 11 is papers arc doing good in the world and they are well worthy ol general patronage. I have advised the subscribers to hold on as long as they can get one No. a year, believeing that to be worth the subscription. I still hope that the difficulties will be removed to the satis faction of all concerned. My paper is not an “attempted imitation” of wright’s. It is devoted to higher and more important interests—to interests which will bless mankind arid elevate oaf people. It is designed as a prelude to a 1 more important work intended as the 1 Me- I dium of a great national , Moral. Chris ! t ionise li Literature ’ —to opperate as a useful help in the Moral and Civil cleva i tion of our race,” to promot truth and vir tue, and to disseminate useful knowledg- All this is clearley set forth in my Pros pectus and salutatory. My paper is only 50 cents a year, and I ask the people totry me one year and see if 1 am not Capable and faithful—my work good and useful My Model is Truth, Humanity and the good of the world. My aim is the devel opment and practical application of great principles to promote the good of my coun try and my race. My motives are pure and true. My actions are the result of hsavenly principles implanted by the spir it of God, cultured by the power of Truth and the practice of virtue. Ilive for Truth and strive for purity. I shall succeed when others fail, and live when others die. God is my foundation and my great ness is humility Ilive, I labor forthtn- I am sorry to be compelled to make some statements presented in this notice land should much rather “ Let the dogs of party baric’ and winds disperse the noise, and peaceful” j l v pursue my “ work of faith and labor o r love but the enemies of truth will r * vokc an answer when falsehood - , abroad in the garb of truth, or slander, professed friend of the public, iu the B oo ** of“ A Publisher,” J. D. REAGAN- Athens. Cln. August Bth. 18-19. -♦ - SSy* An Indian chief being in ancatm?’ house was asked whether he would have a glass of ale. lie cast a verry aborigm look upon the pale face, and replie® “ Thank you, sir, I have not become sos* 1 civilized ns to drink liquor.”