Decatur Eagle, Volume 2, Number 3, Decatur, Adams County, 26 February 1858 — Page 1

Tll E 1) ECA TI R EAG LE.

rrr - VOL. 2.

; THE EAGLE. i ■H- »VBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING. i the jffioe, on Mail Street, in the old School House, J one Square Sorth of J. & P Crabs’ Store 1 Terms of Subscription : For one year, $ I 50, in advance; $1 75, w ithin , t ‘lix months; £2 00. after the year has expired. IT Nopaper will be discotit limed until all '“j; trreraees are paid, except at the option of the 'Publisher. Terms of Advertising: ,c ’ One square, three insertions, $1 o<> ■ Each subsequent insertion, . 25 JZTNo advertisement will be considered less •I than one square; over one square "ill be counted aud charged astwo; over two, as three, etc. >e:< JOB PRINTING. We are prepared to do all kinds of JOB WORK, in a neat and workmanlike manner, on 'the most rensonble terms. Our material for the completion of Job-work, being new- and of the latest styles, we are confident that satisfaction can be given. I,aiv of Newspapers. I. Subscribers who do not give express notice 'to the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue their subscriptions. «. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their papers, the publisher may continue to send r i: them until all arrearages are paid. 3. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their papers from the office they are held responsible ■1 tilt they have settled the bill and ordered the paper discontinued. 4. If subscribers remove to other places with •®ut informing the publisher, and the paper is r still sent to the former direction,they are held ~ responsible. ,RS fjjrTliß Court have decided that refusing of take a paper from the office, or removed and >H leaving it uncalled foriuraiMA facie evidence of UC intentional fraud. P l;t —— —

tie LOVE AND PHYSIC. ntu ‘ ■ A clever mrm was I'r. Dig, Misf«rtrnes well he bore, He never lost his pa.iencc till y ;■ He had no patients more; Though his practice once was large, Tt did not swell his gains. The pains he labored for were but in The labor for his pains. ffim .SV-J >'■ Though -'art is long,” his cash got short, And well might Galen dread ir, For who wilt trust a name unknown, aIl When merit gets no credit? « To marry seemed the only way To ease his mind of trouble, Misfortunes never singly come. And Misery makes them double. He had a pa tient, rich and fair, That hearts, by scores, was breaking, And as he once had felt her wrist, He thought her hand of taking; But what the law makes strangers do, t; Did strike Lis comprehension; Who live in these United States, Do first declare intention. So he called—Lis beating heart With anxious fears was swelling— Hi And half in habit took her h.-.nd, F i,: ■ And on her tongue was dwelling, But thrice, though he essayed to speak, ; ; He stopped,and stuck, and blundered, get! For say, what mortal could be cool, • ’ Whose pulse was most a hundred? rsr- -Ki "Madame,” at last lie falters out—- .„ His lore had grown courageous — id.'•i "I havediacerned,a new complaint, w I hope to prove contagious; And when the symptoms I relate, r ij r( And show its diagnosis, r Let me hope from those dear lips, Some favorable prognosis.” "This done.” he cries, “lets tie those ties Which none but death can sever; ; '- Since ‘like cures like’ I do infer y- That love cures love forever.” y He paused—she blushed, however strange r * I It seems on first perusal. Although there was no promise made, az: She gave him a refusal. ii F l ' • "I cannot marry one who lives ie 1 By other folks’ distresses— The man I marry 1 must love, id» Ner fear his fund caresses; ts. Fur who, whatever be their sex, ,|W However sti nge the case is, Would like te have a doctor’s bill ; Stuck up iato their faces?” ill cd Perhaps you think'twixt love and rage He took some deadly pction, Or with his lancet breeched a vein To ease his pulse’s motion. >be To guess the vent of his despair, ? s The wisest ones might miss it: He reached his office—then and there jee , We charged her for the cicit. to w i* r * The value of things is not in their size. ! P but quality; and so of reason, which wrapped in few words, has the greater weight. ———. i i _____ nd An old Scotch preacher said of a young opponent that he had "a great deal of the young man, not a little of the old man, i , rJi very little of the new man. ltd*’ ; •'! have lived to know,” says A darn •''' Clarke, "that the greatest secret of human happiness is this—never suffer your i , 6 '. energies io stagnate.” s

FRIGHTENING A PIRATE. 1 1 A sea Sketch t i . BY STLVASUS COBB, JR. I , Captain Ira Barnard used to sail ironi | Portland in a brig called the ‘Ellen Maria. ( He had her built for his own use, and | she was a neat, pretty craft, after the , Baltimore fashion, with heavy foretopsai! ] and top gallant-sail, and a goodly bit of canvass for a topsail upon the main. She was painted up to suit his own taste; and take her all in all. she was one of the ] handsomest vessels that sailed. The crew . consisted of the captains’s oldest son—lra j jr,—who was one-and-twenl y, and acted) as mate, and six others, all able men and fit for hard duty. | Early in the spring, the Ellen Maria I sailed for Havana with a load of shooks I and hoop-poles. She had some other articles for traffic, but these composed the bulk of the cargo. ‘lra,’said the skipper, addressing his son, ‘we must keep a sharp look-out, for I expect to meet old Sanders along here , somewhere.’ i ‘I was thinking of that,’ replied Ira. ‘He’ll have papers for us,’ added the: old man, as lie turned towards the wheel. I ‘Old’ Sanders, who was not a bit older than Ira Barnard, senior, commanded the brig Seguin, and was to have left Havana: at about the same time on which the El-! len Maria left Portland, and thus Barnard hoped to fall in with him. Nor was he disappointed; for early one morning, when off the coast ot Carolina, a sail was (discovered the south ward, and in an hour afterwards it was made out to be the j i Seguin. When the two brigs were near j enough, they both bove-to, and Capt ) Barnard and his son lowered their boat, and went on board the other vessel. Pa- . iperswere exchanged; Barnard told all; ; the news from home, and Sanders told ol ! all he had seen in Cuba. I ‘But*’ said the latter, with a serious look, ‘there’s one thing I haven’t told i you. There’s a pirate erasing about between here and Havana. She’s a BrazI ilian craft, and manned by Spaniards and negroes. She’s dangerous customer to fall in with. ‘A pirate! cried Ira, in alarm. ‘Do they kill everybody they take? •They have butchered the crews of some small vessels. ‘But ha”e you seen this critter? asked Capt. Barnard. ‘No, thank God, I haven’t,’was the response. ’But when I first saw you I began to j tremble. Your brig has about as saucy | a look as any cratt that floats. Them ! painted ports and your rakish masts kind i o’put an impudent air on ye.’ ‘The Ellen Maria is a beauty, said Barnard, enthusiastically. ‘I named her afj ter my wife, and she’s a beauty, too.— But, he added, more seriously, ‘how did you learn about this cussed pirate? ‘We heard of her first in Havana — She chased a French barque almost under the very guns of the Moro. And then : I met an English brig yesterday, that : had picked up four men who had been 'compelled to ‘walk the plank’ by the same villains. These men were part of ! the crew of a Spanish trader; The pirate captured their vessel, and, after killing (six of their men, made these four walk overboard.’ ‘Thunder!’ exclaimed Ira. ‘I say thunder! echoed his father. ‘lt’ll be thunder if we fall in with that chap, j But I guess I can run away from him. ‘Perhaps so, returned Sanders. ‘Your brig is a fast one, but the pirate is fast too. Howevei, you may not meet him. •But what does he look like? ‘A topsail schooner, long and heavy, i with new sails, and masts raking more than yours do. •We’d better not say anything to the men about this, remarked Barnared, as he and his sou pulled back to their vessel. j Ira thought the same; so they kept the ' matter of the pirate a secret while they , could. I During the day the wind was from the westward, though not very fresh, the brig, making not more than an average of six , knots. Just as the sun was sinking be- ! low the horizon, one of the men reported ; a sail to the eastward. Capt. Barnard got his glass, and ere long he was able to make out that the strange craft was atop | sail schooner, with new canvass, and very .rakish masts. ‘lt’s the pirate, sure as fate! he whispered to his son. •Do you think so? returned Ira, trembling •I’m confident of it. ‘The Lord help ns! •But it’s close on to night, said the old man, ‘and w c may run away from him. ,Run away from what? asked Jack Phipps, who had overheard the last remark. i ‘From- that schooner, the skipper re-' plied. ‘I don’t like the looks of her. I

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

DECATUR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA, FEB. 26, 1858.

Phipps was very inquisitive, for he had ! | noticed the old man air! Ira whispering i together, and lie mistrusted something, i I and finally he succeeded in getting the i whole story. Just as ihe sun disappeared below its bed of waters, Barnard got a fair view of the schooner, and he had no doubt left upon his mind. She answered exactly to! the description Sanders had given him of the pirate, and she had changed her course, too. When first seen, she had been close-hauled upon the Inboard tack, standing to the north’rd an t west’rd, but I now she had gone about, and was standing up towards the brig. The men were nervous; but as night closed in, and the schooner was shut out from view, they hoped to run away.— Some of them proposed to down with the helm and run for the coast. But the skipper said, no. He would stand on his i course, and run the risk. The piratel would be ns likely to run for the coast as I any way. ‘By jitr.meny, uttered Phipps, ‘if we had men enough, Bill and 1 could get our | drum and file a going, and frighted ’em.’ j ‘Yes—and if we had men enough, we 1 could fight ’em, returned the captain. ; This seemed reasonable, so all hands united in wishing that they had plenty of ( ! men, and plenty of arms and amunition. A strict Wat e h was kept., and at raidi night Bill Sawyer discovered the schoon- ! er upon the lee quartev He was in the main-top, and could just make out a dark mass upon the starlit water. Capt. Barnard went aloft with his night-g!ass--a powerful one, by the way, and he could see the schooner’s masts clearly defined. •She’s overhauling us, he said, as step- ; ped upon the deck;‘and, be added, reluct- ! antly, ‘we are sailing as fast as we can. i We have no more canvass to spread. The crew were terror-stricken. There ' was no back-door to glide through, and ino woods to hide in. They might do their utmost, and yet the sails could move them only sofast. At twoo’clock the pirate’s topmasts were clearly dt-fined against the (sly; and in an hour more the beads of her i lore and main sails were seen. Captain .Barnard paced bis quarter-deck very uni easily. His position was a hard one.— Had he not known the pirate from the description he bad received of her, the fact of her chasing him thus would have I been sufficient. •Half-past three—and in less than an i hour it will be daylight! groaned the cap- . tain, in agony. ■ ‘The pirate is overhauling us fast. Look you can almost see her bulkwarks! The men looked, and it was even as Barnard had said. The whole of the | schooner’s canvass was i isible againts the sky, and she carried a cloud of it, too.— , Once more the captain took his glass and ' went aloft. Just as he had gained the : crosstrees a lantern was brought upon the I schooner’s deck and carried forward. As the light gleamed out upon surrounding objects, Barnard could see that the deck was swarming with men, and that most of them were forward gaizing after his : vessel. He saw the gleam of knives and pistol-barrels, and also the heavy forms of two or three brass guns, ,| ‘lt’s all up! he said, as he came down. ■ ‘Her deck is full of men, and they are all 1 armed to the teeth. ‘How could you see? asked Ira. ‘A lantern was carried across the deck while I was aloft, and I saw plainly.—Oh if we only had men enough! ‘Make ’em!’ said Jack Phipps. ’Make ’em?’ I wish to the Lord I could ‘Make ’em outof shooks pursued Phipps. The captain gazed upon the speaker, but said nothing. He was thinking the i matter over. ‘Make your men, and ihen let me and ! Bill play the drum and fife. Phipps and Bill Sawyer had formerly: been musicians for a military company, and when they engaged with Capt. Barnard, they took their drum and fife with i them, and when the mood was upon them, I they used toplay for their mates to dance. The skipper soon comprehend the whole scheme, and ere long made arrangements I for putting it in operation. It was very evident that the pirate would overhaul . them in a few hours if they kept on thus, and unless some stratagem could be successfully carried out they were donned. ■ It would be daylight in less than an hour, . so it was necessary that they should work smartly. | The hatches were thrown off, and forty shocks passed up from the hold, and so arranged that Lbe main sail would hide them from the pursuer while the brig i stood on her present course. As soon as : this was done the men ransacked their chests, and every conceivable article of i clothing the brig could afford was brought forth. Some of the shooks were dressed in jackets, some in frocks, while others had to put up with old trowsers drawn down over them. Hats and caps were fashioned from strips of j tarpaulin, and when this article failed re- ■ courses was had to bits of canvass. th* wooden men were thus rig-

ged out, they were arranged so as to make as much show as possible, and yei. j hide their character. Some were sot up against the lee bulwarks, some against the long boat, and some propped up in tue gangway by means of chocks and lashings. In fact, these innocent bundles of staves made quite a formidable appearence. Banard was well aware that they could not stand the full light of day, but he meant to have them penorm their d?* -u. t.. 0 dusky gray of early dawn. The arrangements were all made just as the first streaks of the coming day were , visible in the east. The schooner could . be now plainly seen, and she was not more than a mile distant. The forms ol many men could be dimly seen about her . bows, and their motions seemed to indi-1 cate that thev were eager for tliair prey. The wind had hauled a little to the j southward durir.tr the night, so that the I brig was not verv near upon a ’nut bowline, with lier starboard tacks aboard. 1 ‘Ready about! cried Barnard, as the ’ eastern sky grew red. ‘Aye, aye,’ responded Ira, who had the ; helm. ■Helm’s a-lee! continued the captain. The tacks and sheets were raised high enough to clear the wooden men, and in a very few moments the brig was upon the pirate not over half a mile distant, the main sail still hiding the grotesquely i attired shook®. At length the vessels were near enough to answer the purpose, and Phipps brought forth, his drum, while Sawyer attended with his fife. A long, heavy roll' was rattled out, the sharp, shrill notes of the fife mingling with it, and while the | startling sound went piercing through the air, they struca up the reveille ami played it in right good earnest. i Thus far the brig had been standing obliquely across the schooner’s fore foot, but as the reveille was sounded, her helm was put up, and as she fell off the mainsail was dewed up, thus j-evdSSg t!ie . 1 wooden men. It was very soon evident that the pirates ■ I were alarmed. The sound of the drum : fife had startled them, for surely no vessel save a man-of-w>r would have such . accompaniments. But when they saw ■ the crowd of seeming men, who appeared ■ to have just come up at Hie sound of the call, they fancied that they had come very ; near catching a Tartar. , ‘Hi-yi !’ cried Ira, clapping his hands, . I they are o 3! These staves have scared ’em!’ And so it proved, for no sooner had the pirates heard the last of the music, i and seen the staving crew of the- brig, than thev put their vessel before the wind and •spread her sails ‘wing-and-wing. The . i brig at once gave chase, and kept- it up for over four hours; but at the end of ■ that time the pirate was far out of the way ■ and Capt Barnard concluded to give it up ; ‘lt’s no use, he said. ‘We might ns well put about on our course, and send our spare men below. , j ‘Aim it best io play the retreat/ asked i' Phipps. ■Yes. Play the retreat, returned Bar- ; nard, ‘and then we’ll let these poor sold- , iers turn in. So the drummer and fifer once mote awoke the air wit!) their startling notes, I and whefi they had finished the shooks Were undressed, the hatches removed, and the disrobed auxiliaries sent below. The Ellen Maria reached Havana in safety, and Capt. Barnard grew fat in tel- ! ling liow he Lad frightened and staved off the pirate. Ingenious tkst.—A Spaniard having stolen a horse from an Indian, the latter convicted him of the offence by a very ingenious plan He complained io a judge who had the Span’ard, with the horse, brought before him. The prisoner swore chat the animal belonged to him, and that he had always had it, so that the judge did not find himself in a position to convict. He was even about to return the horse to him, when the Ineian said,‘lf you will allow me, I will prove that animal belongs tome Immediately he pulled off his cloak, and, covering the horse's head, asked the Spaniard of which eye it was blind. The robber was much embarrassed at the question, but, nevertheless, not to delay the court, he replied, at hazard, that it was the right eye. The Indian, uncovering the head, exclaimed: . ‘The horse is not blind either of the right eye or the left. The judge immediately decided that the animal was his. Business.—The experience of nil demonstrates that a regular systematic' business is essential to the health happiness, contentment, and usefulness of man.— Without it he is uneasy, unsettled, miserable, and wretched. His desires have no fixed aim, his ambition no high nnd noble ends. He is the sport of visionary dreams and idle fancies, a looker-on where | all are busy, a drone in the hive of indus-; try, a mope in the field of industry and labor. If such were the lot of the feeble and helpless only, it were less to be deplored, but it is sadly otherwise. 1

The Passions. The emotions of the mind, Which are j commonly spoken of as passions, without stopping to make nice distinctions between the different classes oi emotions, or to gauge them by philosophical rules, were uuduubtedly provided lor by the Creator with a view to man’s happiness. And the justification of the arrangement is found in the beatific their legitimate play. Without them, social life would present the tiresome conoilion of i dead level, with no (ears ~jj s . —none of those varid alternations of which the human soul is capable, and which give vivacity aud buoyancy to : character. Divested of these mental mo-j i tors, we should ail become Stoics in the I most, practical sense —for what is the gist jof the teachings of Zeno and his school, ; but the condition of moral insensibility, and therefore that inditierence to pleasure 1 and pain, which such a divesture presupI poses. Clearly, it is nothing else. It has strikingly been said that the vir- | luous man of 'he Stoics is like a ship in a calm—unable to move one way or the ! other—while the follower of Epieurus is 1 : like a vessel in a violent storm. Every moment lie is in peiil of being dashed to pieces, or being sunk to the bottom of the ocean! It is, then, to the proper control ; of our passions that we are to look. What, but tire cultivation of the graces •of Christianity, can give a safe reliance for this result? What, but that which, as Hannah More forcibly observes, changes even the passion of our amfer —auainst persons we dislike—into hatred ol their I sins? With a sort of divine alchymy, I Chirstainty has so tranmuted passions • that have been working for evil, as io i make them most active in the cause of j Religion, and for the production of the ;: virtues as its living fruits. II How to Carve roeft FogTVNE —Cut . your poor re'ao onS( an( j s |j ce , away as ; ueeply as you can into the pockets of otb- | ers Help yourself always first, before 3. you think of helping anybody else, nnd i \ help no man that is not likely to help you -1 in return. Be careful about lorkimr cut i i wr,til you have secured as much as, if not i ! more than, you want. I J How to Carve your way through a ;! Crowd.— Get a chimmey-sweep to walk ’ I before y v n. How to Carve yourself a name.—-Fine , ! chisselling wtli do it, so that your name, 1 in a short time, will figure very largely in all pie police reports. 1 The best way of carving a Goose.-~ , Cut him up finely, in the presence of his i lady-love. 1 ' •■■—■■■ . An Alabama Constable After Es Al , —An Alabama correspondent of The Mos bile Advertiser, justly proud of the good , | things of his native State, writes to that ): paper as follows: J ‘A certain fat constable in the County of C——a-.... w, Stn’e of Albarna, once received a writ from a Justice of the Peace [ knoivn as Josh M c. The case was I R vs. D et al. The good . j constable, who was more famed for his . honesty than literary attainments, was I sorely puzzled at et al. So, after keeping ; ! the writ for a week, he entered the Justice’s office with much anxiety depicted s,oft his countenance, and saluted Squire Josh with this exclamtion: ’Josh, who’s the et al! I've been looking for him all i ] over the county for a week, and I can’t . | find him. I don’t believe there’s any sich f | man iu C w.’ ill hi Taxable Property.—The following is ; a literal copy of the list handed in to the ■ I assessors, under the laws of Connecticut, • j requiring a sworn list of all taxable pro- •! periy: E- B -list for 1857: ■ To 3.5 nkers of land worth S4OO — . I House nnd barn nothin atal on!ey a place ; where theafes and Robbers brakes into and steels all I put into theffi. My head which people ses I muss put it which is so weeke and feebel is not worth nothin atal. [ My wife is no use to me atal, and she : is gon all the time nothin at ftll. ; lOSheape $32,00 One old tom cat 25 One Kitne half prise 12| —Providence Journal. • Hf OHr - -r A Sailor's Main Want—.We reinem- , ber once seeing it specimen of a sailor’s which ran in this wise: •Dear Jack—l want you to stnd me some pigtail tobacco, a tarpaulin hat, and a pair of duck trowsers. You must be sure nnd send the pigtail. If you forget everything else, don’t forget the pigtail.— Send me. lots of pigtail. ‘Lour friend, TOM. ‘N. B. Be sure and remember the pigtail. ‘P. S, Don’t forget the pigtail. Bavard Taylor thinks that ‘Sweden and ; the United Stales will in the end establish the fact that lager bier is more efficacious in preventing intemperance, than any 1 1 amount of prohibitory law.’

A lady advertising for a husband, in th* I Water-Cure Journal, does it id th& following description of hertelffi—“l am just twentv, but will not marrv until I am two vears older. I atn a graduate of the Marietta Seminary. T J O| ~R , J ] ovc t 0 ,j 0 al! maiiiier ot housework, from making pies and bread washing shirts; I can do all kinds of sewing, from embroidery to linsey pantalo ms; I can skate, ride, dance sing, play on the pianoor spinning-wheel, or anything that mar be reasonably expasted f/ntn c.qe of mv s<-t p required, I can act tl c dunce in society of the -Upper Ten,’ or the part of a woman among women. Ac for riding, here let me make , a banter. Any man may bring two liorses, give me my choice and ten feet, and then if he overtakes me in one mile, I am hi*; if not, the horse is mine. Beware! By sortie lam styled handsome;by those I frown upon, ‘the duvils imp;’ by tbc wise and sober, I am called wild and foolish; by my female acquaintances, ‘Mol* ]ly;’ and by n,y uncle 1 am called ‘Tom,’’ Tbue Politeness—As to politeness, ' many have attempted' definitions of it.— I believe it is best known by description definition not being able to comprise it. I would, however, venture to call it ‘benevolence in trifles,’ or the preference of ! others to ourselves in little, daily, hourly ; occurrences in the commerce of life. It is a peipetual attention to the little wants ot those with whom wc are, by which at* . i tent ion we either prevent or remove them. Bowing, ceremonious, formal compliments ■ I stiff civilities, will never be politeness! ' that must be easy, natural, unstudied, manly, noble. And what will give this i but a mind benevolent and pcrpetOaily ’ attentive to exert that amiable disposition in trifles to nil you converse or live with? - 1 ■—■ ■* ♦♦ i in Trfs DfsTINCTION BeTWLKN GIiEA'TNESS . and Meanness.—What I must do is all i; that concerns me, and net what the peo* pie think. This rule, equally arduous ■ in actual and in intellectual life, may I serve for the whole distinction between i greatness and meanr? ss. It. is the hard , er because you will always find those wlio i think they know what is your duty beti ter than you know it. It is easy in the i world to live after the world’s opinion; it ; is easy in solitude to live after your own; but the great man is lie who, in the midst ■ j of the crowd, keeps with perfect sweetness , the independence of soiitdde.— Pmerson. i —in t j Fevlalk Purity.—All the influence which women enjoy in society—their right ; i to the exercise of that maternal care which forms the first and most.indelible species of education; the wholesome restraint , which they posses over the passions of ■ mankind; their power of protecting us ! when young, and cheering us when old—■ II depend so entirely Upon their personal ! purity, and the charm which it casts ’ around them, that to insinuate a doubt of ■ its real value is willfully to remove the : broade*st corner-stone on which civil so* ; eiety rests, with all its benefits and all its I comforts. *' ~ <»i —Bfc H l ii The Sci lfture cf Habit.—Did you r ever watch a sculptor slow 1 v fashioning a ■ ; human countenance? It is not moulded I at once. It is painfully and laboriously : wrought. A thousand chisel-points pol- ; ish and perfect it, put in the tine touches, I and bring out the features and expression. It is a work of time; but at last the i full likeness comes out, and stands fixed forever and unchanging in the solid marI blc. , Well, so does n man under the > leadings of the Spirit, of the teachings of ’ I Satan, carve out his bwn moral likeness. Every day he adds something to the work. A thousand acts of thought, and will, and deed, shape the features and ! expression of ihe soul, habits of love, and purity and truth, habits of falsehood malice, and Unc’ennness. silently mould and 1 fashion it till at length it wears the likeness of God, or the image and snperscripiion of the Evil Gue.— Plttin Pareckial Sermons. A Labor for Science —A geologist io England, Mr. S. H. Beekies, Esq , F G. 8. in order to ascertain ifmamalia, or other air-breathing animals of a high order, existed in any number during the age in which the Secondary rocks were deposited, has caused to bo removed many j thousand tons of rock, and laid bare an • ama of nearly seven thousand square feet. He found in a bed of Secondary rocks splendid specimens of mama'ifl, which destroys the theory that a fish bv length ol times becomes a reptile, an ape, and finally a man, and which tends to pro*.-» that not merely spectis, but whole orders were created from lime to time by some absolute act of the Almighty mind. Constant success shows us but one side iof t!ie world. For, as it surrounds us ; with friends who will tell us only our merits, so it silences those enemies from whom alone we can learn our faults* i A truth for lawyers to stare at la« case most easily got up is the staircase.

NO. 3.