Decatur Eagle, Volume 1, Number 50, Decatur, Adams County, 22 January 1858 — Page 1

T H E D E C AT U R E A G LE.

VOL I,

T H EAG L E. published every Friday morning. OSes, on Miin Straet, in the old School Heaae, one Square North of J 4 P Crabs’ Store. Terms of Subscription : For one vear, $! 50, in advance; $1 75, " ithin six months; $2 00, after the year has expired. EF No paper will be discontinued untilall arreragrs arc paid, except at the option of the Publisher. Terms of Advertising: One square, three insertions, $1 DO Each subsequent insertion, ‘'s ETNo advertisement will be considered less than one square; over ene square ill be connted and charged as two; over two, as three, etc.. JOB PRINTING. We are prepared to do all kinds of JOB . WORK, in a neat, and workmanlike manner, on the most reason b!e terms. Our material for the completion of Job-work, being new and of the latest styles, we are confident that satisfaction can be given. Law of Newspapers. 1. Subscribers whodonot give express notice to the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue their subscriptions. 2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their papers, the publisher may coutinueto send them until di arrearages are paid. 3. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their papers from the office they nre held responsible till they have settled the bill and ordered the paper discontinued. 4. If subscribers remove toothcrplices without informing the publisher, and the paper is still sent to the former direction,they are held responsible. (LFfhe Court have decided that refusing of take a paper from the office, or removed and leaving it uncalled for is psima facie evidence of intentional fraud. MY LITTLE BABY’S SHOES. Two little shoes are lying on My table as I write; Two little shoes that, I held in joy. My very heart’s delight, Two little velvet feet, contained. That but two years had grown — Two little, dainty, tottering feet. Just toddling round alone. The strap of one is broken quite, And off a button's torn But still t’ y both retain the shape They had when they were worn; The leather of them both is chafed When through the holes his little toes Would often, often peep. My heart, my very eyes arc full Os the soul’s bitterest dews. When 'er I sit me down and see Those little ragged shoes I always keep them lying there. Though sorrow’s o’er the brim Os all my heart. They’re all I’ve got, Yes, all that’s left of him. The tears are gathering in my eyes, But past are sorrowing years. Again he’s in his little shoes, I see him through my tears. ***** ’Tis gone, and blessed thought, I know I may no longer fear; His little feet have gone to Heaven, His little shoes are here. Ants of Business. —Nothing is more interesting than to tee an army of ants engaged in divesting u tree of its foliage. In doing so, they manifest an intuitive system and order which is truly surprising. A regular file is continally ascending on one side of the trunk, while another is descending upon the oppo-ite side each one of the ants bearing a piece of a leaf of the size of a sixpence in his mouth. A large number appear to be stationed among the upper branches, for the sole purposeof biting off the stems of the leaves and thus causing them to fail to the ground. At the foot of the tree is another department whose business is evidently that of cutting the fallen leaves into small pieces tor transportation. A long procession is kept constantly marching, laden Witii iue leaves. An Irishman with his family landing at Philadelphia, was assisted on shore by a negro, who spoke to Patrick in Irish.— The latter taking the black fellow for one , of his own countrymen, asked how long i he had been in America. About four ! months was the replv. The chop fallen i Irishman turned to his wife and exclaim- i cd, but four months in this country, and almost as black as jet. The Sepoys in the Cawnpore district, who had never seen anv of the Highlanders until the recent outbreak, puzzled »t their appearance and appaled at their prowess, have at last come to the conclu-' ’ion that they are devils, and go barelegged So as to be able the more handily to break the backs of Sepoys across their knees, The launching of the leviathan steamer 'lie Great Eastern, it is estimated, will to£ - UE a m Ilion of dollars —by f«r the ®.°w ixpeusive iduuc’u’ ever be'orc known. GMxidn't someboay invent a soap to cn-, ft °le mammas to tret their daughters off. ’A»tr bands? I

THE BOY EXECUTI jNER. I — A STORY OF THE DESERT. T. . I A merchant of Tripoli, named Yezid, was traveling to Egypt. With him were ! his wife and three children, and two other merchants. They rode upon camels end camels bore their merchandise. In their way they w*re to cross the Lybian Desert, their business being below the j tropic. At the close of a hot, sultry day, worn, weary and athirst, the party reached the small oasis ol Lebon, which was nearly in mid-de i-rt. There they water for themselves and cartels, and an ample' place for repose. The tents were pitched and the beasts secured in their feedingplaces, and after this the evening meal was prepared. Y.-zid had gathered his family about him and read a chapter from the Koran, and his wife and youngest child had re- ; tired for the night. He sat, with his two I elder bovs, discussing some mercantile matters, when the tramp of horses’ feet ' was heard upon the sand. Starting quickI !y up, he hastened to the door of his tent and looked forth upon the desert. ■What is it, father?’ asked the eldest : son, who had also arisen. ‘There comes a band of horsemen,’ re--1 tnrned the merchant, pointing off to the ’ westward. ‘Ave —and they are of the wild Tibbi ous, too,’ the son rejoined, the diin mjin- ■ light revealing the quaint garb ot the coming party. ‘We are in danger. Yezid at once sprang from his tent and aroused the other merchants, but iie was j too late. The Tibbous came dashing up, ! eight in number, with the pale moonbeams reflected from their bright cimeters. ****** Malek, the youngest child of Yezid, heard the loud din, and in sudden alarm he left his couch, and crept out beneath the back of the tent. How long the noise lasted ere be awoke be knew not, nor did he have time for thought, for hardly had he reached the open space when he saw j *ouie rusti unfastening the eamels. He : stopped only io see Li.at they were of one lof the tribes oi the Tibbous, and then he crept back into tile tent tor the purposeof giving the alarm. He searched lor his father, but could not find him Hethen wen! out by the front way, and was just ir. season io ste the Tibbous driving oil the camels. The boy—he was only fourteen, would have given some alarm, but at that rnoj ment his eyes rested upon a prostrate i form close by his feet. He stooped down : and turned the pale, cold face of his elder brother to the moonlight. His hand touched something warm upon his brother’s shoulder, he looked—’twas blood. •‘Father! Father!” the boy cried. But no father answered him. Then he arose,and found another prostrate forme. He bent over it, and saw chai it was the ■ body of his other brother, and this one ! was'dead, too. At a short distance an--1 other form lav, a female, his mother. ! He found his father, too, and the two oth'er merchants, but dead, all dead! The j Tibbous had murdered ihem every one, and carried otl every-thing of value save i che teats. I Poor Malek wept and tore Lis hair, I and rent his garments in twain. He had I loved his parents and his brothers, mid he ■was frai.'ic now. When be had become weak from excessive grief, lie threw him- [ self upon the blood-stained grass, and there he lay for hours among the dead, with the moon-beams resting upon his pale cheek, and glistening upon his teats. Finally the boy started to his feet, and gazed once more about him. I'or a long while he stood thus, and then lie raised. I his clasped hands towards Heaven. ‘A poor child is left alone upon the wide desert. His life has been I■- le dark ir. its early moin. and all he loved have been stricken down in death. My moth- i er, where art thou ? My father, where art thou? My brothers, oh! what hath befallen thee? Dead! dead! dead! And who hath done it? The chieftain of the , Tibbous hath been here with his men, and . this is the work of their hands! Having spoken this in a mournful, ini- [ passioned strain, the bov moved to the i side of his dead mother, and kissed her. , He did the same to his father and brothers j and then he started up and clasped his hands again. This time a fierce fire burned his eve, and his fine form was sternly erect. The Tibbou chieftain hath done it — | Malek alone, of all his family, is left to tell the story. Shall he tell that he tied from . before the face of the murderer, or shall I he tell how he revenged the deed? Fath-1 er, mother, brothers, you shall be revenged if Malek lives! I With a narrow tent-spade which had bi liin J, Malek digged the graves Os his ir ui's. ill man T hours in lhe j work, the sun arose and set again ere it | was done. But the last prayer from tne t bov-lips was said at length, and the sand ; smoothed over the resting-places of all 1

“Our Country’s Good shall ever be our Aim—Willing to Praise and not afraid to Elame."

DELATOR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA, JAN. 22, 1858.

; that was mortal of bis friends. Then the i | lad lay down beneath the old lent, and | { slept alone. | In the morning Malek arose, and hav-1 ing bowed himself upon the graves he bad j made, and said his pravers, he prepared for the task before him. First he d.-itk- , ened bis skin wilh some berries which lie found at band, and then b" gathered Jp such provisions as he cou ■! find, and filled a leathern bottle with wa.er To MG low the track of the murderers over tin sand was easy enough, for there had been no wind to fill them up. l-or three days the hoy followed the. trail, and when he awoke on the morning of the fourth, he saw a small village ahead which lay at the foot of rugged mountains. He pushed on, and al. the first hut he stopped and asked for food. An old woman named Noona owned the place, land she admitted the applicant at once. Malek told her he was from the mountains I and that his parents were dead. She look 1 pity, an 1 offered him a home if he would Gbe a son to her. She had lost all her H children, and was alone. The Moorish boy readily accepted her offer, and from | that lime he had a home. Old No >na protected him, and claimed him as her - own; and when the people asked hit i whence the child time, she said—“ll ■ is I my dead sister’s child, and he found bis way to mv hut. As soon as Malek dared question ■ Noonah he began togain light. He found i that the chief of the place was named Ben- ' i Zuma, and that he was a robber bv pro- ■ session. In time the boy learned all he 1{ could wish to know, and a part of it he ' learned from the chieftain’s own lip*.— . | Ben-Zama and seven of his chcson followers were the men who had murdered his family. He made sure of this, he knew every mutt and then he turned his thoughts and energies in another direction He began to wander among the mountains, aud at length he found the place he ! sought. Ii was where a narrow shelf ol rock ran around an almost perpendicular mountain-side, and overlooked a ■ frightful chasm, along the far-off bottom j •? o ■ i of which d— i. d ai.d roared a swift, while ‘torrent. I’. was a wild, fearful place, but ■ \ the boy wt.s not. afraid D*y Htte* day :j he made his way to that giddy height, ‘ and there worked right bravely. This shelf, which seemed to be midway ■ up the steep mountain’s side, led from a rugged pathway which only- the wild gazelle had trodden before. It was not over six feet wide at the commencement and then led lor some distance in a cir- ' cuitous way, hut when it became streight it widened to a broad inclined plane. — This plane descended at such an angle th it no man could have heli! himself ot> i , and at a distance of twenty yards it ended abrubtly, leaving a broad chasm open at its foot. Some convulsion of nature seemed to have split and opened the si.elf at tin's point, <or at the distance of a few yards it commenced again, and led ot! around the mountain on a place. But the charm ha I been opened clear to the roaring torrent in the dim, deep distance. The side of the mountain had been wholly i cleft in twain, so that between the two j ends of the shelf there w, o a yawning g“l f . Malek got long, strong vines, and having secured them to the rocks above, he let himstlf down the inclined plane. Then he brought long, dry sticks, and laid them ; carefully over the chasm, and when lie ! had framed a groundwork thus he brought grass and twigs, and broad fl rkeS of light moss. At times he let himself down upon me sweeping plane, and a' others he ascended the mountain by another way, and worked upon the opposite side. Months had passed since the boy Moor I commenced his work. It had o. n a' j work of great moment, of great inagni-l | luife, a work which few strong men would . shave daii.d to ci.ins.xi.ee alone. But the hoy had done it. Day alter day had he labored when he dared, and week alter j week saw but little dune. But when the months had g»n , and the rainy season was at hand, the work was complete i One morning Ben Ztma satin his tent, , and widi him were the seven men who ‘ had helped '.o murder t/.e Moorish merchj ants. While they conversed, Noona’s i bov entered their presence. He had wail;ed over a week to find these eight men . together. ‘What now?’ asked Ben-Zama, half angrily. The boy drew a piece of yellow metal, from his bosom, a piece which hi- h id ob- ‘ tained from that very room a month before, and handed it to the chief. , l ‘What, is that, Ben Zama? he asked. ‘This? ciied the Tibbou, starting. ’Tis j igol.il pure gold! Whence camo it? ‘From the mountains.’ ‘Ha! The mountains? ‘Yes, valient chieftain. I found it in i a bed where is a wounderful mine. j i • 1 OU UK* • •Yes. But the way is difficult of access.’ •Never mind. ’Tis pure gold! Lead me ' there 1’ 1

I ‘Aye, lead us there! cried the others. . Ben Z ima dared not object to his aid* [ I following him, aud ere long Malek was. ‘ leading the way over the rough path of | ! the mountains. It was a wild, difficult passage, and : the chieftain wondered what could have led the lad thither. The latter said he had come in search of eggs for Noona — At the end of three hours they came to i the narrow shelf upon the steep mountain I side; but as the boy went boldly on the men did not hesitate. When Malek reached the edge of the declevity he stopped I , ..nd turned to his followers. ‘Do you see that bed of moss and gravel?’ he asked, pointing down to the; ; strange work he had done. ‘Yes, we see it; but how do you reach it? ‘Why, it is easy to slide wn to it.— ‘ All you have to do is, to s ' ‘ ■ down and start. \ ou’ll stop when yuu reach the bottom!’ ‘And the gold, is it there?’ Follow me and look for yourself. Here, •, so, now come on. i As the boy spoke he settled to a stoop-j i ing posture, and bal inced himself for the ' i ■ slide. The greedy men followed his ex-, ample. The shell was wide here, and ; they had room to start nearly together. M ih-k went on ahead, down, down, down, ht>t with a keen eve and a steady nerve. ‘Attheedgeof the moss his right loot i toucher! the end of a concealed s.i-.-k, his j i , form assumed an upright position, and ; with one flying leap, his left foot just touching a firmer spot in the center of the mass, he reached the opposite rock. And there he turned as quick as thought and snatched away the stout cross-stick upon which he had stepped ‘Remember the of Lebon, and the ■ Moorish merchants!’ he shouted, at the s j top of his voice. t The boy caught the quick, frightened look of Ben-Zama—he heard the fearful ■ cry of terror, and on the next instant the I bloody chieftain was at the edge of the ■ precipice, lie gave one more wild cry, i made a desperate plunge for the spot j i wh'-re the boy-avenger stood, but he . nng'r as we!' it eve tri.-d tn leap to Heav,‘tn He touched ilie baseless fabric, and .I in » hiomfiv p'»Ti? h n •r*! f? *: Tne others comprehended their dread- 1 ful fate now. They threw themselves up | lon their backs, and pressed their hands; ; upon the rock; but the smooth surface as- 1 I forded them no holding place. Down I they went, down, down, down, the voice i of the young executioner sounding still in th. 'rears, down, down. A low cry, a erv of death, came up from ; . the vast depths of the ch«sm, and in a few moments more nought was heard save ; the dull roar of ihe distant, torrent as it i bore upon its foaming bosom the forms of ! eight dead men. •1 hurried six beneath the sands of the i desert. I have buried eight here! Father, mother, brothers, you are avenged!’ I Noona never saw her adopted son again; , I but in a few weeks niter wards Malek, the sonoi Yezid, arrived in Tripoli, end when ■ he had told his story he found no lack of ' friends. I saw Malek in his native city, a stout, j hale man, doing a g<. S business as a silk I merchant, and this story was lola to me by one of his own household. ‘How many genders are there? asked the master. I ‘Three sir,' promptly replied little blue j -eves; the masculine, feminine and i euter. ! I ‘Give me an example of each; said the | master. ■Whv. vou are the masculine, because; you are a man; I am feminine, because 1 ■ am a girl. •Well proceed. j ‘I don’t know, said the girl, ‘but I {reckon Mr. Jones is neuter, as lie is ai I bachelor. | | We have al! hemdot” the smiles of ( Providence We were much pleased with Uncle Jim’s idea on the subject. ‘Good morning Uncle Jim. ‘Good morning, sir. •W> |1 you have got ycur daughter married oil', have you? ‘Yes.’ ‘Really, Providence smiled on you. ‘Smiled!—no, bless you he snikered ■ right out! “You are from the country, are you , not, sir! said a dandy clerk in a book ■ store, to a handsomly dressed quaker who i 1 I had given him some trouble. •Yes.’ | 1 ‘Weil, here is an essay on the rearing ' of calves I ‘That, was the reply, ‘thee had better 1 present it to thy moth. r. The hoop question, like most others, has two sides to it. The ladies take the ! 1 in’ide, ami of course we must take the 1 other. 1 The best w— s o eil.-n-e n talkative pet-, v .on >« never .o interrupt lum Do not | r snuff the caudle and it will go out oi it-i < •elf. ' I

The Wonders of the Created Universe1 What mere assertions will make anv one believe that in one second of lime, in ‘one beat of the pendulum of a clock, a I ray of light travels over 162,G00 miles, land would therefore perform the tour of the world in above the same time that it requires to wink w ; ih our eyelids, and in much less than a swift runner occupies in i taking a single stride? What mortal can be made to believe wuhout demonstration | that the sun is almost a million times larger than the earth? and that., sithough i so remove from u* that a cannon-ball shot ■ directly towards it and mautaining its full speed, would be tweuly years in reach i ing it, yet it effects the earth by its at- | traction in an inappreciable instant of I time? Who would not as.k for deinonstrai tion, when told that a gnat’s wing, in its ordinary flight, beats many hundred limes in a second; or that there exist animated and reguraly organized beings, many thousands of whose bodies, laid close together, would notextend an inch? Bu‘ >v.iai are these to tl.e astonishing truths , which modern truths which modern op--1 tical inquiries have disclosed, which teach us that every point of a medium through which a ray of light passes, is affected wilh a succession of periodical raovemenls i regularly recurring at equal intervals, no less than five hundred millions of millions ■of times in a single second! That it is by j such movements communicated to the nerves of our eyes that we see;—nay more , that it is the difference in the frequency !of their recurrence which aflecls us with the sense of the diversity of colour. That lor instance, in acquiring the sensation of redness, our eyes are affected four hundred and eighty-two millions of millions of times; of yellowness, five hundred and forty-two millions of millions of times; and of violet, seven hundred and seven millions of millions of times per second! Do not such things sound more like the ravings of madmen than the sober concluj sions of people in their waking senses? They are, nevertheless, conclusions to j which any one may most certainly arrive, who will only be at the trouble of examining the chain of reasoning by which they i have been obtained. I A Word to Storekeepers. Humbugging strangers, countrymen ' especially, is shocking bad policy in you Country people are good customers, but they will never go a second time into a store w!i re hey have been once imposed upon. Little do some of yott yard stick igrntleman suspect what you have turned | over to your more horn st. and sincere next door neighbors, by your smartness in sei- ; ling ‘that dam«g-d article’ at full price, ! Lc. Well, so may all such knavery be rewarded. A merchant ought to be, at jail times, as obliging as he can be, without damage to himself. Too clearly is it manifested to the most careless observe!, that no higher principle than interest, or, jin other wo>ds, svltisl.ness, is allowed to direct men in their business, as well as in their political affairs. It is not right, it is not honorable, it is j not even good policy, as many a time and { oft, experience shows. But. just so long as their lives are ruled bv sinister desires j and motives, men will ”.navoidab!y stand {in their own light, and do themselves j harm. This in every situation of life and in every regard. There is a liw from which no mortal man shall ever find anv way of escape, that he who is forever silking his own g'.od. regardless of'he j good of those wilh whom he dials, shall never find it. IL- mav, for a time, have what seems to him go.. ' but in the tn l ji; shall be as dust u; li< head, ashes ! between his teeth, and bitterness and sorI sow in his soul Theon/t/ way to get I { is to do good. Pleasures of Contentment.—-I have a rich neighbor who is always so busy that he lias no leisure to laugh; tl.e whole { business of his life is to get money. He l is still drudging on, saying that Solomon says,‘The diligent hand inr.keth rich.’ And it is true, indeed; but he considers ‘ not that it is not in the power of riches to j make a man happy, for it was wisely said j [by a man of great observation, ‘th it there be as many miseries beyond riches as on ; this side ot them.’ We see but the out-' side of the rich man’s' happiness; few considered him to be like the silkworm, that, when lie seems to play, is at the verv same tin) spinning her own bowels, and I consuming himself. And this manv rich I inen do, loading themselves with corroding cares, to keep ivliat they have already got. Let us, therefore, be thankful for health and competence, and above all, for a quiet conscience. A servant girl, the other day. hearing that a certain advestiser would be happy to give the character of any person on the receipt of a lock of hair and so many postage stamps, actually cutoff her finest curls and sent through t post with a r< qu< st‘.list he would give her such a character as would enable !,c. to toget J' bciur flace Lbtui the oac »lie bad.

History as a Teacher of Youth* To all the deluding enchantments of ■ the world we should oppose a voice that i shall make itself henid amid the contusion . of dangerous opinions, and disperse all f these erroneous predjudices. Youth ru-n-quire a f.ithful and constant monitor or i advocate, it we may u v e the expression, i to plead the cause of truth, honestv, and i reason, to point out the mistakes that prei 1 vail in the common language of the world and to lay before them certain rules i : whereby they may discern thrm. But i who shall this monitor be? The master i; who has the care of their education? And shall he make set lesson on purpose io instruct them on this 9 At the very name f of lessons they take alarm, keep tbem- ■ selves upon their guard, and shut, their i ears to all he can say. To avoid this we - should give them masters who are reliaI ble to no suspecion or distrust, we must cary them back into other counties and • 1 the examples of the great men of antiqui’y ’ to tl.e false ;>i :nc;p!c.> «ud bau examples II which mislead Lite, majority of mankind. • How different from the taste of the pres- > , ent day are the instances we meet with > in ancient history, where we see dictators and consuls taken from the plough! How - low in appearance! Yet those hands, > grown hard by laboring in the field, sup- ' ported the to’tering state, and saved the • commonwealth. Far from solicitously • endeavoring to grow rich, they refused the ■ gold that was offered them, and found it '! more gratifying to command those who i i were rich, than to possess riches theint selves. ‘ History, when properly taught, becomes ■ a school ot morality to all mankind. It > I condemns vice, tears off the mask from I pretended virtues, exposes popular errors ; and predjudices, ispeh the delusive II charmsol riches? d vain pomp, which ! 'dazzle the imagin ion, and shows by a G thousand examples more effectual than any reasoning, that nothing is great or ' probity. Theestcem admiralion, which > 1 the most corrupt cannot refuse to the , , great and good actions recorded in history . confirms the important truth, that virtue ’ is man’s real good, and alone renders him j truly great and valuable. The m»ior"y iof the most i.m.uus conquerers they will i find consideren as public calamities as the i! enemies of mankind, and the plunderers of nations, who, l urried on by a blind and ! restless ambition, spread desolation from G country to country, and. like an irunda I; tion or a fire, ravage all before them. . I — I I At Home in the Evening. I What incalculable mischief to the you hfnl mind, is the improper spending ol the . evenings! In the evening quiet ot home, G the youth finds security from the tempta- ; lions of misconduct, and kII improper de- • sire are banished by its scenes and rectii! aliens. , When the youth goes forth in darkness it , l is a temptation in its pathway to engage > in mischievousness, and often disgraceful G conduct. What we see is deplorable ! enough, but this is lost in comparison to - that which is revealed to the public eye, I multitudes blasting their prospects for , honor and usefulness, by running uncar- ; ed for in the evenings. Parents who value their own comfort s ! and the unimpaired success of their offI spring, should mark the obligations which i their position has imposed. They should learn that the fairest flowers of social life • must bloom in the atmosphere of home; . and by kindness and gentle restraint, eu- | force this w l.oleiiofne irnth In you h, ’I i- M»tll is pliable io the inI firn rice t.l pa; int a! ctft < ; .Li t. if n> «y <u- . twine ii.e iin.liils ot young afll c. u>n a-' ■ round the stately torins of if i'll itnl vir- , I love and atliniie tl.e lamilv grottp drawn within the circle of converse and instruction; thin is didtts -d hope's h.-ilcv- ■ on eye all over the path of youth. It is t;.cn ti;at the rocks and quick sands over ■ which many a youth is wrecked uro i pointed out. Babbath evenings are blessings indeed, they gather the family around the social hearth, and all are raised to the exalted level of truth by the purity of thought j that is awakened; they arc invested with . a capacity from on high, to assist each lotheron the piths that lead to honor, 'glory and immortality. ‘ls this your brother, Pat? ‘Yes snr. ■ls he not older than you? J ‘No. iudade, he’s not! ‘Well then he’s younger? ! ‘No, sure he’s not! ‘Why, matt, . e be cither one the other. ‘Faix, then he’s nayther. '0!:! then y> t are twins. ‘ludade, no and bow did you know it?’ We find the following in an elcbangt paper, with a ‘slight variation.’ We are told by an exchange that the editor of the Louisville Journal carries water on u >th shoulders. We suspect, f that he rr»k»«fp4er •; hy carry any ou hiz MoiiMcb-

NO. 50,