; . ..'
' - : '' ' ' " L: : ; ' ' i . ;f n r
WILLIAM D. COOKE, 1
TO EPE N D EI T FA MI L Y NEWSPAPER.
T0 DOILIES pa ifsra ' '
JJclmtctr to all t)c n tmsts of ftlje Smttih Citcmtofc, true atttm, Agriculture, 3tcfes, tfje iWatfeets,
VOL, IY NO. 16.
RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 185.
WHOLE NO. 171
t -
JTROPEIETOI
i '
I : i . .
I
SELECT POETRY
SONG.
BY: UHLAND.
Sweet Sabbath of the year !
Thy evening lights decay ;
Thy parting steps methinks I hear
Steal from the world away.
Amidst thy sifent bowers . "
" 'Tis sad yet sweet to dwell, '
Where falling leaves and fading flowers
Around us breathe farewell.
A deep and crimson streak '
The dying leaves disclose,
H As on Consumption's waning cheek
' 3 Jlid ruin blooms the rose."
The scene each vision brings
Of beauty in decay,
Of fair and .early-fading things,
Too. exquisite to stay.
Of loves that are no more ;
Of . flowers whose bloom has fled ;
Of farewells wept upon the shore : -
Of friends estranged or dead.
j Of all that now may seem
To memory's tearfuLeye :
The vanished. raptures of a dream,
O'er which we gaze and sigh.
llISCEnUKEOUS;
A THRILLING SKETCH FROM LIFE.
'" T : THE HUNTER'S FEAST.
Captain. Mayne Reid, in his1 " Hunter's Feast
gives the. following graphic account of a thril
IiiioF adventure lie had on one of our wild wes
terrf rivers. "While in search of thescarlet ibis,
his boat floated away, and teft bini on a barren
- t '- 1 - XT. 1 1 1 . il ,.
island, ue tens uis story tnus :
I Jay in a state of stupor, almost unconscious,
howjlong, I knoTv not; but many hours, I am
certain. I knew this by the siin; it. was going
down when I awoke, if I may so term the recov
ery my stricken senses. J was aroused by a
strange circumstance ; I was surrounded by
dark objects of hideous shape and hue-rep-tiles
they were. They had been before my
cyesj for some time, but I had not-seen them.
I had only a sort of dreamy consciousness of
theij- presence ; but I heard them at length :
my fear was in better tune, and the strange nois
es they uttered reached my intellect. ' t
It seemed like the blowing of great bellows,
with now and then a note harder and louder,
like the roaring of a bull. This startled me, and
I looKed up and bent my eyes upon the objects
they J were forms of the crocodilidce, the giant
lizards tliey were alligators. Huge ones they
were' some of them ; and many were they in
number- a hundred at least were crawling over
the islet, before, behind, and on all sides around
me. Their long gaunt jaws and channelled
snouts projected forward so as almost to touch
my body ; and their eyes, usually leaden, seemed
now" to glare. Impelled by this new danger, I
sprang to my feet, when, recognising the up
righ, form of a man, the reptiles scuttled off,
and tluDfrin- hurriedly into the lake, hid their
hideous bodies under the water.
Tfce incident in some measure revived roe.
i
I saw that I was not alone ; there was compa
ny een in the' crocodiles. I gradually became
mon myself, and began to reflect with some de
gree of coolness on the circumstances that sur
rounded me. My eyes wandered over the islet;
evenjF inch of it came under my glance ; every
object upon it was scrutinized ; the moulted
feathers of wild fowL the pieces of sand, the
fresh water muscles (unias) strewed upon the
beach all were- examined. Still the barren
answer, no means of escape.
Tl e islet, was - but the head of a sand-bar,
form id by the eddy, perhaps gathered together
with n the year. It was bare of the .Herbage,
with the exception of a few' tufts of grass.
Thece was neither tree nor bush upon it not a
stick A raft, indeed! There was not wood
enough to make a raft that would have floated
a fro;. The idea of a raft was but briefly en
tertained ; such a thought had certainly crossed
my ind, but a single glanee around the islet
dispelled it before it had taken shape. I paced
my Drison from end to end ; from side to side I
m walked it over. i I tried the water's deDth on
all sties I sounded it, wading recklessly in
everj-where it deepened rapidly as I advanced.
Threfe lengths of myself from the islet's edge,
and I was up to the neck. The huge reptiles
swanj around, snorting and blowing; they
werejbolder in this element. I could not have
safely ashore, even had tfie water been
shallow. To swim it no even though I swam
like fa duck, they would have closed upon and
quartered me before I could have made a dozen
StroU'S. Ilorrifuxl hv thir
turned back upon dry ground, and paced trjt
islet, 'with dripping garments. I continued
med
walking until night, which gathered round me
darkand dismal. With night came new voices
of the nocturnal, swamp; the qua-qua of the
i"gbjt heron, the screech of the swamp owl, the
cry ff the bittern, the el-l-uk of the great water
toadj the tinkling of the bull frog and the chirp
of the savanna cricket, all fell upon my ear.
feouids still harsher iza1.
r T j T me-tue gashing oUhe alliga
tor, 4nd the roaring of his ;aa
tor,
me tl
O w-w-w y uuctc ICiUJUUCU
'at I must not go to sleep. To sleep ! I
Dot have slent fnr a smrrU inafoVt T
durs
Ul.oi T , ,C"
"1 liy wr a tew minutes motionW th
,
dark reptiles came crawling round me, so close
that I could have put forth my hand, and touch
ed them. .
v At intervals, I sprang to my ieet, shouted,
swept my gun around, and chased them back to
the water, into which they betook themselves
with a sullen plunge, but with little semblance
of fear. At each fresh demonstration on my
part, they showed less alarm, until I could no
longer drive them, either with shouts or threat
ening gestures. They only retreated" a ' few""
feet, forming an irregular circle round me.
Thus hemmed in, I became frightened in turn.
I loaded my gun, and fired. I killed none.
I They are impervious to a bullet, except in the
eye or under the fore-arm. It was too dark to
aim at these parts ; and my shots glanced harm-
JlesslyiTom the pyramidal scales of their bodies.
The loud report, however, and the blaze, fright-
ened them, and they fled, to return again after
a long interval. I was asleep when they re
turned ; I had gone to sleep in spite of my ef
forts to keep awake. I was startled by the
touch of something cold ; and, half-stifled by
the strong musky odor that filled, the airI threw
jout my arms. My fingers rested upon an ob
ject slippery and clammy; It was one of these
monsters -orie of gigantic size. He-had crawl-
led close along side me, and was preparing to
;make his attack, as I saw that, he was bent in
;form of a bow, and I'knew that these creatures
assumed that attitude when about to strike their
victim. I was just in timo to spring aside, and
avoid the stroke of his powerful tail, that the
next moment swent r.liA trrniind whari T lmel
rjlain. Again I fired, and he. with the rpsr. nnr
, -7 " v
more retreated on the lake.
All thoughts of going to sleep were.at an end.
iNot that I felt wakeful ; on the contrary, wearied
vith my day's exertions for I had had a a long
jpull under a tropical sun-I could have laid
down upon the earth, in the mud, anywhere,
and slept in an instant. Nothing but the dread
certainty of my peril kept me awake. Once
jagain before morning, I was compelled to battle
with the hideous reptiles, and chased them away
jwith a shot from my gun.
Morning came at length, but with no change
n TTIV rwlrilnilC -T-riCltl-n T'llA llvlif Anln oltsmrl
tTIA TV1T7 IClonH Ti Tl Kllf .attahIa1 , " I
, .. ' . . ,
pscape from it. Indeed, the chabgG could not
be called for the better, for the fervid rays of an
almost vertical sun poured down upon me until
imy skin Mistered. I was already speckled by
Ithe bites of a thousand swamp fiiesaud mosqui-
itoes that all night had preyed upon me. There
jwas not a cloud in the heavens to shade me ;
land the sun-beams smote- the surface of the
jdead bayou with a double intensity.
1 Towards the evening I began to hunger ; no
jwfjnder at that. I liad not eaten since leavinj
(the village settlement. To assuage thirst, I
fel rank the water of the lake, turbid and slimy
iasit was. I drank it in large quantities, for it
.was hot, and only moistened my pafhte, without
buenching the craving of my appetite. Of wa
ter there was enough ; T had more fear from
Kant ot tood. What could I eat ? The ibis.
But how to cook it ? There Mas nothing where
with to Tnake a fare not a sticky No matter
for that. Cooking is a modern invention, a lux.
ury tor pampered palates. I divested the ibis
pi its brilliant plumage, and ate it raw. I
spoiled my specimen, but at the time there Avas
jimie thought of that. There was not much of
ithe naturalist left in me. I anathematized the
hour I had ever promised to procure the bird :
a wisnea ray ir.emd up to his neck in a swamp.
Ihe ibis did not. weigh above three pounds,
bones and all. It served me for a sound meal
a breakfast; but of this dejeuner sans jourchette
picked the bones.
W hat next ? Starve ? No not yet. In the
battles I had had with the alligators during the
second night, one of them had received a shot
hat proved mortal. The hideous carcass of the
teptile lay dead on the beach. I need not starve-
x couia eat tnat. buch were my reflections. I
must hunger, though, before I could brino- my-
sen te touch the musky morsel. Two days'
more fasting conquered my squeamishness ; I
drew out my knife, cut a steak from the alliga
tor's tail, and a,te it not the one I had first
Kuiea, dui a second ; the other was now putrid,
rapidly decomposing under the hot sun. Its
odor filled the islet. The stench had grown
intolerable. There was not a breath of air stir
ring; otherwise . I might have shunned it by
keeping to windward. The whole atmosphere
cif the islet, as well as a large circle round it,
vjas impregnated with the fearful effluvium. I
could bear it no longer. With the aid of my
gun, I pushed the half-decomposed carcass into
the lake. Perhaps the current might carry it
away. It did ; f had the satisfaction to see it
float off. The circumstance led me into a train
of reflections. Why did the body of the alli
gator noat it Was swollen, inflated with gas-
ses. lia I
-1 i
m iuea snot suddenly through my mind-
one ot tnose ongnt ideas, the children of neces-
wi. a uiougui oi tne floating allitr nf i
i ntesti nes what i f I inflated them ? Yes, yes !
buoys and bladders, floats! and life-preservers !
that was the thought. I would open the alli
gators, make a boy of their intestines, and that
would bear me from the islet !
I I did not lose a moment's time ; I was full of
energy ; hope had given me new life. My gun
was loaded a huge crocodile that swam near
tjie shore received-the shot in his eye. I drag
ged him on the beach ; with a knife I laid open
the entrails. Few they were, but enough for my
purpose. A plume-quill from the wing of the
ibis served me for a blow-pipe.' I saw the blad
der like skin expand, until 1 was surrounded by
objects like great sausages. These were tied
together and fastened to my body, and then
with a plunge I entered the waters of the lake,
and floated downward. I had tied on my life
preservers in such a wy that I sat in the water
in an upright position, holding my gun with
both hands. This I intended to use as a club
in case I should be attacked by the alligators ;
but I had chosen the hot hotnrofiSuuii' w Leu the
creatures lie in a half-torpid state, and to my
joy I was not molested. Half an hour's drifting
with the current carried me to the end of the
lake, and I found myself at the debpuchure of
the' bayou. Here, to my great delight I saw my
boat in the swamp, where it had been caught
and held fast by the sedge. A few moments
more, and I had swung myself over the gun wale
and was sculling with eager strokes down the
smooth waters of the bayou.
T
A THRILLING NARRATIVE.
In the fall of 1846, 1 was traveling eastward
in a stage coach from Pittsburg over the moun
tains. My fellow passengers were two gentle
men and a lady. The elder gentleman's ap
pearance interested me exceedingly. In years
he seemed about thirty in air and manner, he
was calm, dignified and polished, and the con
tour of his features was singularly intellectual.
He conversed freely., on different topics, until
the road became more abrupt and precipitous ;
but on my directing his attention Jo the great
altitude of a precipice, on the verge of which
our coach wheels were leisurely rolling, there
came a marked change of his ceiinance.
His eyes, lately filled with the light of intelli
gence, became wild, restless . and anxious the
mouth twitched spasmodically, and the fore
head was beaded with a cold perspiration.
With a sharp, convulsive shudder, he turned
his gaze from the giddy height, and clutching
my arm with both his hands, he hung to me
like- a'drowning man. "Usekhis collogne,"
said the lady, handing me a bottle, with the in
stinctive goodness of her sex.
I sprinkled a little on his face, and he soon
became more composed but it was not until
'
descended into the countrv beneath, that his
fine features relaxed from their pertubed look,
mi 1
and assunfed the placid, quiet dignity that I
had first noticed.
" I owe an apology to the lady," said he
with a bland smile and gentle inclination of the
head to our fair companion, " and some expla
nation to my fellow traveller, also ; and perhaps
I caunot better acquit myself of the double
debt than by recounting the cause of my re
cent agitation."
It may pain your feelings," delicately .urg
ed the lady.
" On the contrary, it will relieve them,"
was the respectful reply.
Having signified our several desires to hear
more, the traveller thus proceeded :
" At the age of eighteen, I was light of heart,
light of foot, and 1 fear, (he smiled) light of
head. A fine property on the banks of the
Ohio acknowledged me the sole owner. I wa
hastening home to enjoy it, and delighted to
get free from a college life. The month was
October, the air bracing, and mode of convey
ance a stage coach like this, only more cum
brous. The other passengers were few only
three in all one an old grey-headed planter of
Louisiana, his daughter, a joyous, bewitching
creature about seventeen and his son, about ten
years of age.
They were just returning from France, of
which country the young lady discoursed in
terms so eloquent as to absorb my entire at
tention. The father was taciturn, but the daughter
vivacious by nature, and we soon became so
mutually pleased with each other she as the
talker, and I as the listener that it was not
until a sudden flash of lightning and a heavy
dash of rain against the window elicited an ex
clamation from my charming companion, that
I knew how the night passed us. Presently
there came a low rumbling sound, and then
several tremendous peals of thunder, accompa
nied by successive flashes of lightning The
rain descended in torrents, and an angry wind
began to howl and moan through the forest
trees.
I looked from the window of our vehicle.
The night was dark as ebony, but the light
ning showed the danger of our road. We were
on the edge of a frightful precipice. I could
see at intervals, huge jetting rocks far away
down its side, and the sight made me solicitous
for the safety of my fair companion. I thought
of the mere hair bredths that were between us
and eternity ; a single little rock in the track
of our coach wheehs a tiny billet of wood a
stray root of1 a tempest-torn tree restive hor
ses, or a careless driverany of these might
hurl us from our sublunary existence with the
speed of thought.
, "'Tis a perfect- tempest," observed the la
dy, as I withdrew my headfrom the window.
" How I love -a sudden stortn ! there is some
thing so grand among the winds when fairly
loose among the hills. I never encountered a
night like this, but Byron's magnificent des
cription of a thunder storm in the Jura recurs
to my mind. But are we on the mountains
yet'?"
f'Yes, we have begun the ascent."
' Is it not said to be dangerous r"
" By no means," P replied, in as easy a one
as I could assume.
" I only wish it was daylight, that we might
enjoy the mountain scenery. But what's that?"
and she covered her eyes from the glare of a
sheet of lightning that illuminafod - the rugged
mountain with brilliant intensity. Peal after
peal of crashing thunder instantly succeeded ;
there was a volume of rain '- eomirig down at
each thunder hurst, and, with tte deep moan
ing of an animjil breaking tipn ur cars, I
found the coach lad come to tl d -thalt.
ifjulsfy'elfffiliarteUd travdefi'became
as pale as ashes. She fixed her searching eyes
on mine with a look of anxious dread, and turn
ing to her father, hurriedly remarked :
" We are on the mountains."
"I reckon we are," was the unconcerned
reply.
With instinctive activity I put my head
through the window and called to the driver ;
but the only answer was the moaning of an an
imal borne past me by the swift wind of the
tempest. I seized the handle of the door, and
strained in vain it would not yield a jot. At
that instant 1 felt a-cold hand on mice, and
heard Louise's voice faintly articulating in my
ear the following appaling words :
. The coach is being moved backwards "
Never shall I forget the fierce agony with
which I tugged at the coach door, and called
on the driver in tones that rivalled the force of
the blast, whilst the dreadful conviction was
burning on my brain that the coach was being
moved backwards !
.What followed was of such swift occurrence
that it .seems to me like a frightful dream.
I rushed against the door with all my force,
hut it withstood my utmost efforts. One side
of our vehicle was sensibly going down, down,
down. The moaning of the agonized animal
became deeper, and I knew from his desperate
plunges against the traces that it was one of
our horses. Crash upon crash of coarse thun
der rolled oyer the mountain, and vivid sheets
of lightning played round our devoted carriage,
as if in glee of our misery. By this light I
could see for a moment only for a moment
the old planter standing erect, with his hands
on his son and daughter, his eyes raised to
Heaven, and his lips moving like those of one
in prayer. 1 could see Louise turn her ashy
cheeks towards me as if imploring protection ;
and I could see the bold glance of the young
boy flashing defiance at the descending car,
riag2, the war of elements, and the awful dan
ger that surrounded him. There was a roll
a desperate plunge, as of an animal in the
last throes of dissolution a harsh, grating jar
a sharp, piercing scream of mortal terror,
and I had but time to grasp Louise firmly with
one hand around the waist, and seize the leath
er fastenings attached to the coach roof with
the other, when we were precipitated over the
precipice.
I can distinctly recollect preserving con
sciousness, for a few seconds of time, how rap
idly my breath was being exhausted, but of
that tremendous descent I soon lost all further
knowledge by a concussion so violent that I
was instantly deprived of sense ind motion."
The traveler paused. His features worked
for a minute or two as they did when we were
on the mountain ; he pressed his bands acress
his forehead, as if in pain, and then resumed
his interestina; narrative :
" On a low couch, in a bumble room of a
small country house, I next opened my eyes in
this world of light and shade, joy and sorrow,
of mirth and sadness. Gentle hands soothed
my pillow, gentle feet glided across my cham
ber, and a gentle voice hushed for a time all
my questioning. I was kindly attended by a
fair young girl about fifteen, who refused for a
length of time tp. hold any discourse with me.
At length, ono morning, finding myself suffi
ciently recovered to sit up, I insisted on learn
ing the result of the accident."
" You were discovered," said she, " sitting
on a ledge ot rocks, amidst the branches of a
shattered tree, clinging to the roof of your bro
ken" coach with one hand, and to the insensi
ble form of a lady with the other."
"-And the lady," I gasped with an earnest
ness that caused her to draw back and blush.
" She was saved, sir, by the means that sav
ed you the friendly tree."
"And her father and brother !" I impatient
ly demanded.
" We found them both crushed to pieces, at
the bottom of a precipice, a great way below
where my father and uncle Joe found the la
dy. We buried their bodies in one grave,
close by the clover patch, down in our meadow
ground."
" God pity her, indeed, sir," said the young
girl, with a gush of heartfelt sympathy. "Would
you like to see her ?" she added. I found the
orphan bathed in tears, by. the grave of her
buried kindred. She received me with -sorrowful
sweetness of manner. I need not de
tain your attention by detailing the efforts I
made to win her from her grief, but briefly ac
quaint you, that at last succeeded in indu
cing her to leave her forlorn home in the sunny
South, and that twelve months after the dread
ful occurrence which I have related, we stood
at the altar as man and wife. ; She still lives to
bless my love with smiles, and my children
with her good precepts ; but on the anniversa
ry of that terrible night, she secludes herself in
her room, and devotes the hours of darkness to
solitary prayer. " As for me," added the trav
eler, while the faint flush tinged his noble brow
at the avowal, " as for me, that accident has
reduced me to the condition of a physical cow
ard at the sight of a mountain precipice."
" But the driver," asked our lady passenger,
who had attended to the recital of the story
with much attention, " what became of the
driver ? or did you ever learn the reason of his
deserting his post ?
" His body was found on the road, within a
few steps of the spot where the coach went
over. He had been struck dead by the same
flash of lightning that blinded the restive hor-
ses
BISHOP HUGHES CASTING OUT DEVILS
Among the more ignorant and easily deluded
portion of their miserable dupes, the Romish
priests often pretend to work miracles. Indeed,
as they claim the power at all times to convert
a small wafer made of flour, into the body, blood,
soul, and divinity of Christ, and their poor,
wretched devotees are required to believe it,
we need not be surprised at their faith in any,
even the most monstrous imposture.
It seems Bishop Hughes, of New York, some
time since, tried his hand at miracle working
on a large scale. The following is from the
American Protestant, which vouches for its re
liability :
" Being discharged from the United States
frigate Macedonian ic May, 1S45, from Brook
lyn Navy Yard, and having a hammock, mat
tress, and other necessary bedclothes, which I
did not then need, I concluded, rather than sell
them for a mere trifle, I would give them to
some of my countrymen who I knew needed
such. I inquired therefore after a certain
Michael Sullivan, with whose wife and himself
I had been intimate from infancy until they left
Ireland. Sullivan then lived in Water street,
and worked in the Screw Dock. In connection
with other trials which he had to encounter in
past life, he referred to his wife's intemperance.
I asked him if he had not endeavored to re
claim her thro' the mediation of a pledge.
" 'Och sir, all the pledges in New York
would have no effect on her.'
'"How do you know,' said I, 'if you have
not tried : '
" '1 know it well, sir, for I have tried some
thing of greater value, and if you will say noth
ing to her I will tell you all about it. Last
year my life was a burthen with this woman.
She drank all I saved from my earnings before
I knew it, and, to crown the rest, she pawned
my Sunday clot jes. 1 felt convinced she must
be possessed of an unnatural spirit. So I took
her to the Bishop '
'"What Bishop?'
" To Bishop Hughes and told him my
woeful tale, and also what 1 thought was the
cause of it. 1 he Bishop assured me she not
only had one, but she actually had seven dev
ils I became frightmed almost to death
firmly believe there was not then on the face of
the earth a man more sorrowful, terrified and
perplexed than I. My three little children
were helpless and destitute, and if I had the
benefit oT my clergy (extreme unction)
woould prefer death to life, that I may not be
hold their miserable condition. I told his rev
erence so. He told me I must take courage
In the language of despair I asked him what
could be done. He told me he did not at pres
ent see that any thing could be done. I asked
him in the name of Almighty God and the
blessed Virgin, to do something for her. He
made no answer, which still increased my alarm.
k rom the perplexity of my mind 1 forgot to
make an offering, so I saw at once the reason
he did notbing for her. He I suppose did not
wish to ask me, and knowing it would have no
effect if not paid for, I offered him one dollar
He asked me if I could give no more. I told
him I had to borrow that even from one of the
men that worked with me. He told me it
was not enough ; but seeing I had no more
and was poor, he would accept it and cure her.
He put on his stole, got his book and holy wa
ter, got her to kneel down, made the sign of
the cross on her forehead, mouth, breast and
back. He read awhile, then spoke some words
to himself, with his eyes lifted upwards. He
then breathed into her mouth, nostrils and ears.
She instantly turned pale, and seemed for a
moment insensible. In a few moments she
seemed to recover. He asked her to show her
tongue. She did. He pulled it, and then
commanded the lying spirit to come out of her.
After this she looked more like an angel than
a human being. She then asked leave of his
reverence to make an open cbnfession before
him and me. . He told her to go on. She did,
and told some things which astonished mej
and she assured me nothing short of the Spirit
of God could compel or induce her to tell them.
He also got her to sign the pledge of total ab
stinence, and gave me a medal, and told me I
might now take her home, assuring me in the
meantime, she would trouble me no longer. I
brought her home, and though I had to go to
bed without supper, I never experienced a hap
pier night. What was more strange, not one
of the children seemed to want a bit to eat
though they were fasting since morning.
The next morning I gave her directions to
borrow something from M. Driscol's wife, that
would get us some dinner, and went to work
without breakfast, with my heart at ease. I
came home at noon, expecting that she had
something provided for me to eat. But, as I
joyfully opened the door, behold, the first thing'
that caught my eye was my wife lying full
length on the floor, as drunk as ever, and her
medal shining among the ashes in the fire place.
I have only to say that if she was before pos
sessed of seven devils, she is now possessed of
seventy.' "
FALLACIES ABOUT EDITORS-
BY "ONE OF 'EM."
The popular idta of an editor is, a miserable
man, perpetually tormented with the task of
finding material to " fill up" a newspaper a
bottomless abyss, that is as incapable of overt .
flowing as the cup of . happiness. Out of his
yawning gulf there is supposed to issue perio
dically, a devil. Day and night the insatiable
end is said to haunt him, and scream in his
ears for " Copy, more copy."
It is no such thing. There is no such.man.
There is no abyss, and no devil. It is a hum
bug every word of it. The last apprehension
that ever flits through the brain of an editor
and there are a great many is the apprehen
sion that "there will not be enough to fill
up
with.'
Not enough to fill up I Does not Congress
sit nine months of the year ? Do they not
spend three-fourths of the time in making long
speeches of not the slightest interest to anybody
in the world ? No body listens to them when
they are made.' Nobody reads them afterward.
What then are they for ? Clearly to print to
fill up newspapers.
Are there not telegraphs in operation all over
the land, bringing in important rumors of start
ling events to-day, to be followed by equally im
portant contradictions of them to-morrow 1 If
there is any one thing the public like better
than having a mystery explained, it is being
mystified over again with a new one. Now,
how could this be done so frequently and effec
tually as by haviug newspapers to disseminate
telegraphs, and telegraphs to fill up newspa
pers. Are there not conventions, and convocations,
and assemblies, and meetings some benevolent,
some indignant, some hilarious, and all large
and enthusiastic constantly going on, and de
vising all manner of shortcuts across lots to the
millenium, which it is of the utmost importance
that the world should take immediately ? Do
not the eloquent gentlemen who invariably ad
dress them always happen to have in their poc
ket an elaborately-written rough draft of what
they said, which th?y would not have publish
ed for any consideration ? Do they not always
kindiy consent to waive their personal feelings,
out of regard to the editor and the public, not
withstanding it is so defective f What is this
but a method of filling up newspapers?
Are there not piles and piles of exchange paT
pers lying on the table, lying on the chairs, ly-
Ling on the floor of the editorial sanctum, every
one of which presents its readers this week with
the very best and latest original and selected
matter ? Are there not scissors lying at the
editorial elbow I
And above all, are there not hosts of kind
friends who every day send in long communica
tions, each one of which relates to the most im
portant topic in the world, and therefore the
one which ought to be written about first ? Do
they not generally allow them to be published
for nothing.! Do they not do all this solely
with a view to save the editor trouble, and to fill
up his paper ?
Instead of there not being enough to fill up,
it is just the other way. There is too much.
The trouble is to cut it down, pare off the edges
shorten in the ends, and leave out the middle,
so as to get it all in. Show mean editor and I
will show you a man that, twelve times a day,
laments that his paper is so small. More things
happen in a day than can be published in a
week. There is no limit to news; but newspa
pers, alas, are bounded by feet and inches.
The New Postage Law. Every person be
ing interested in the amended act of the third
March, 1855, in regard to postage, a synopsis
of its provision will not beunacceptable.
Under this law all single letters mailed for
any distance not exceeding three thousand
miles are to pay three cents, and for aay distance
exceeding three thousand miles ten cents.
Half an ounce in weight will constitute a sin
gle letter ; and double, treble, and quadru
ple letters to be charged in the same propor
tion. All letter must be pre-paid, except such as
are to or from a foreign country or those ad-,
dressed to officers of the government on official
business. '
The law is to take effect from arid after the
next fiscal quarter.
After the first of January next, the postmas
ters are to affix stamps upon all prepaid letters
upon which none are placed by the writers.
A registration of valuable letters is required
to be made upon the payment of a fee of five
cents in addition to the pre-paid postage, but
the Government will not be respensibla for the
loss of any registered letter or packet.
The franking privilege is to remain as hereto
fore. Selling postage stamps for a larger sum than
their marked value is to be punished as a mis
demeanor. Which He Would Take. A gentleman was
once walking in a 6treet, when he met a stone
cutter whom he thus addressed
" My good fellow, if the devil was to come
now which of us would he take ?"
After a little hesitation, the man replied :
"Me, sir."
Annoyed by this reply, the querist asked
him for a reason.
" Because, yer honor, he would be glad to
ketch raeself sure ; and he'd have you at anytime."
. Sleigh Riding. Squeezixg the wbono
hand. Remember the- girls while the snow .
lasts. Remember' there is no place to make
love like the inside of buffalo skin. You can
tread on one another's toes, and squeeze one
another's hands, without any one being the wiser
for it. Syracuse Journal. , ;
It does make some difference, however, whose
hand you get hold of. That was demonstrated
years since, ; Its no. matter iuat t htre the case i
occurred, nor jusTneS.'"" "It wWn'lToold
country, where day after day, the -sun upon the
south side of the roof, is as unmelting as a mi
ser's heart, and where the smoke stands up BCr
lid as if built on the chimney-tops, and the
sleigh runners creak upon the burnished path,
as if the happy song and bells' were gliding
over crushed spirits. It was in a country where
there are no formal, selfish cities, but social,
happy villages, and winter evenings are bright
as day out-of-doors, and light as joy in-doors.
It is no matter, either, whose experience it
was that we propose to relate-1 the incident is
"certain true," and it has a moral. Be sure,
you know whose hand you hold.
Well, once upon a time, as we said, it was
winrer, and a happy load . were returning in a
sleigh from a party. Such a sleigh, a big stage
sleigh, with stuffed seats, double curtains, hold
sixteen easy, ;going to a patty, and not ruffle a".
tuck, and hold thirty easyj going home from a
party, and not ruffle a tuck either. These were
month sleighs, made to run as long as an old '
fashioned bank accommodating paper, to be used
when there was six weeks sleighing in March.
Well, the party "was out," and the sleigh was
" loading up," and our friend arranged it satis
factorily, so as to be seated by the girl next to
him. It was a middle seat, and the back straps
are always too high up, and there were a great
many " thank-ye-marms," in the road. A
"thank-ye-marm," is one of those cradle holes,
without which, sleigh riding is of no account.
When the sleigh " pitches in," you pitch over
thl dash-board, and when the horses "jerk" the
sleigh out, the whole load goes over into the
back seat. We always preferred the back seat
in a thank-ye-marm" country, so as to keep the
girls from " spilling out." Well, as we were
saying, the sleigh was loaded,.the light gleamed
from the open air, like " gingerpop," the six
horses dashed off. and the -jovial load sang
" Tis my delight of a thiny night."
Soon a " thank ge-marm" was reached ; our
friend knew it was a deep one, and the strap,
as we said before, was high up, and of course
he put his arm around his next neighbor, and
she declared she would have pitched into the
snow but for that good strap. That encouraged
our friend in his work of love, and a little soft
hand grasped his, and he held on, and when
the "thank-ye-marms'' came and they were
very thick on the way home the little soft
hand acknowledged the kindness by a gentle
recognition, and our friend was happy. The
ride was four miles how they had shortened
since going to the party how much had been
accomplished in that four miles, and our friend
said to himself, it is a slander to say that the
" course of true love never did run smooth," it
is good sledding all the way. But the house of
our friend was reached, and a sister who sat
next beyond the little soft hand, reached for
ward and said, " brother," if you will let go my
hand I'Jl get out."
A ' thank ye-marm," deep enoughto. bury
our friend in, would just then have been wel
come. ,
Moral. f3e sure you know whose hand you
hold before you squeeze it. Cbeveland Her
aid.
A Singed Cat. The New York and Erie
Railroad Office, in this City, was on Thursday
the scene of an incident which is worthy of be
ing recorded with the events of the day not
only because it was a good joke, but because it
bears on its face a moral.
An old man enters the offce in. age appa
rently verging on three-ecore ; his clothes' are
of coarse texture, ventilated in some places,
and rather dingy withal ; his head, with its
long, grey locks, Is covered with a hard-worn
beaver; his face, the lower part of which is or
namented with a grizzly-gray beard, has an
humble appearance, and his dull eyes have an
imploring expression ; he has a folded paper in
his hand, and, advancing to the desk of the first
clerk, he extends It -
Clerk Go away, sir ; I haven't anything for
you.
Old man (Brightening up with a look of
suprise) But, sir
Citric No buts about it sir ; I tell you I
have nothing for you. Go out"
The old, man, with a mingled look of surprise
and indignation, passes on to the desk of an
other Clerk, and offers the paper.
Clerk Don't interrupt me, sir; get out of
the office; I give nothing to beggars.
The" truth begins to reveal itself to the old
man's understanding; that last word has re
kindled the fires of his youth ; his face glows,
and his eyes flash with indignation ; he is about
to retort sharply upon the man who called him
a " beggar," when a third party interferes, and
directs him to the Casbietj to whom the old
man hands the papers. The Cashier unfolds
them, and finds, instead of begging (certificates,
New "York and Erie Railroad Income, Bonds to
the amount of ten thousand dollars ! . Cashier
looks surprised the old man demands Jbis mo
ney Clerk No. 1 takes a seat on the cross-bar
.,1