Locomotive, Volume 44, Number 6, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 March 1858 — Page 1

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I. .. ' , , . .. . , . . W 0 b: ' r,- . ... -rj7-H-Y, ,- - ...J" mpw.nS.-C:: ELDER & HARKNESS,; :i.!',U:j':.'"h 'Chariots shall rage In the streets, they shall seem like torches, they shall run like the lightnings.",-'''"'. -'"' ,'" ' Printeis and Publishers.

"' EMM Aatfai. IJ

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,s PRINTED AND PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY ' ELDER & HARKNESS, . 4, ,'hair Book and Job Printing Office, on Meridian Street, Indianapolis, Ind., opposite the Post Office. TlfRMS-0.,o Dollar year.- Twenty-five Cents for three Tb.? w Annies to one address for one year, Five Dollars; mo"tM-.,,L, one year for Ten Dollars, irjii vc. i thirteen copies one y efwUlbe ,ent UIlti, fOT, and no papewMioTiontinued after the time paid for expires, unless TrnTx ou r f-orth. Cko6s.-AU mail and county subscriber, can know theirtime isout hen they see a large cross niarked on their paper, and that is always the last paper sent until the 4abscription is ronowed. - ' .. - : - a o r . a d v i r t i si h : - ' 'onesquare,(Hlines.or less, 250 ms,) for I week.-.. ,i n for each subsequentinsertion. ... .... .. L 'a -' if for throe months , ,, tf ,.. , it i : for six months. ... ..; . u ii . for one year, without alteration ,. " ' n ii '. for oneyear, with frequent changes.... small reduction made on larger advertisements 0.50 0.25 , 3.00 5.00 . 8. (Ml 12.00 Cuts and Special notices uouoieuie auuT r.t.. " Terms---Casili. ', fry Advertisements must be haudedin by Thursday of each week, or they mill be deferred until the next issue. , , VISION l Improved Periscopic, Glasses. mllKSE LKNKKS are ground in the couravo eonvex Mirror' 1 form which is in accordance with the PiiilosOi-hti of Xa TriiK Th'oir perfect surfaces, purity and transparency of Material", and exact spherical figureoaa the most perfect spectacle lens in use. ' ' i, They are soft and. pleasant to tlie eye. Tl!y streiigllien and improve the Sight. Adjusted to vision with care and judgment by ' ... f ' Mj V. ' Practical Optician, No. S, West Washington street, - llovH-ly " ' Indianapolis, Indiana. , JOHN KALO K'S ACCOMMODATION CAISIUAGE! wi ID3 Passengers conveyed to and from the LAWRENCE Sf ALLEN'S LIVEKY STABLE, tN THE RKAR OP THE PALMKR HOCSK. june(i-9rn INDIANAPOLIS, IND. FT1A KES pleasure in returning bis thanks to the Ladles ana J Gentlemen of this place and vicinity lor their very liberal patrortnge, and still hopes to meet the same confidence he has engaged since he commenced the practice of his profession in Indianapolis. ' T T . Artificial Teeth, from one to a full set, Inserted on Platina, Gold, or Silver. ' ; - Particular nttentlon given to regulating, cleaning, and extracting Teeth. Ether given when required. i All work warranted, and charges reasonable. Office 2d story Fletcher & Woolley's block, No. 8 East Washington street. Oct. 24-tf ,; .. ( . J. T. H1H. ' O. GOLDSMITH. J. B. IlUt Fruit and Ornamental Nursery. THE undersigned have established themselves in the Nursery business on the woll known Nursery grounds formerly occupied by Aaron Aldredge, a few rods east of the corporation line, Indianapolis. . We have on hand a genera assortment of fruit trees, of such varieties as are best adapted to our soil and climate. The trees are of the very best quality. Also a very flue stork of Ornamental Shr"bbery. IQ We are now ready to 1111 all orders promptly. Address, HILL, GOLDSMITH Sr CO., " nov7-'57-tf ' ' " ' Indianapolis, Ind. Important to Young Men ! ! ! "TP YOU WISH TO ACQUIRK A COMPLETE KNOWIJ EDGE of Book Keeping in nil its brandies, attend HAYDEN'S MERCANTILE COJL1.EGE,. At Indianapolis, where each student is drilled At the desk, step by step, until he has mustered the entire routineof un accountant's duties, and u fully qualified for Uking charge of any set of books. i i-. - . TppThe Kvenine Session hoscommeneed. If you wish tox wish tox . lePrin- I , Ind. compl te a course this winter, you should enter soon Foi a circular containing full particulars, address the octl7-ly J. C, HA YUEN, Indianapolis, JOSIAH LOCKE. ERIE LOCKE. INSiniANClv AGENTS, N. W. Cor. Washington and Meridian st's, over Dunlop's Store, INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA, t nARTFOKD INSURANCE CO., of Hartford Conn., . Kett Assets, $542,820 74 Home Insurance Co.. of New York, - Nett Assets, 872,823 00 Phosnix Insurance Go., of Hartford, Conn., . ' Kelt Assets, 309,149 94 Farmer's Union Insurance Co., of Athens Penu., NcttAsseU, 237,138 82 City Fire Insurance Co., of Hartford, Conn., Kelt Assets, 201,685 49 New England Life Insurance Co., of Boston Mass., ' T Nett Assets, 1,074,820 95 Charter Oak Life Insurance Co., of Hartford, Conh., July 4, '57 1-y . , . Nett Assets, 495,702 20 w. keys. JAS. H. SEYBOl.D, C b N T It E UlARnLG WOKKSi KEYS & SEVBOLD, Wholesale and Retail Dealers in ITALIAN AND AMERICAN MARBLE! Meridian St, Opposite the Post Office, Indianapolis, Ind. . OUK stock of Marble is selected with great care, and is superior to most of stocks any where. I hose who wish to purchase choiee kinds are invited to visit our works. Orders to any extent, and for any kind required, will be f rnished on Short notice. All work nypcntml in tin, ht nf workniaushsp, and of the most approved order' Vft 1'aoiiiimenis, lirnve stones, Counters, Table-Tops, ITIantles, &c, constantly ou hand, or furnished to order. ? Persons wanllnp any thine in onr line, will find it to their interest to give us a call before purchasing elsewhere Kemember opposite P. O. niay23-ly " E. J. BALDWIN f CO., - J e.w.e;l:e"r;s: . No. 1 Ilates House. , rpHASKFUL FOR PAST FAVORS, would respectfully beg 1 leave to inform the public that they are still on hand with their usual full assortment of every thine in the way of Watche., Jewelry, Si 1 vex' Ware, &c. We wish it distinctly understood that we do not keep the lowpriced, boeus ; Watches and Jewelry, eotteu up for auction sales; but will guarantee to sell good, honest articles as low as can possibly be had elsewhere in the West. Our Silver R are is warranted equal to Coin; our Watches bound to go and keep FTr'a',',dall,l"'rg0?,l5ji,st whal we represent then, to be. for further proof call and examine for vourselves nl." 'mT8 lh8 best WiT,,;h"kk in the countrv ii, onremPio;. so bring on your Watches. " feb2-tf aCEENSWAKE. . D '.Eltw.L'por"".ion pBT Sll'is "N'TthlandOaBd Mnongus, MI9 Crates in Store, assorted in Whit t- k Dining Ware, new styles; ' Tea do ' do Toilet , do tlo liishes; Bakers, ozc. ' ' ' ' ,, ' - JACOB LIKOMtV, aug'Bi' No- I, West Washington street. House, Sign ami Orriiiiiipi.i.. f sureil .,r ii h7. .' , """'"I "ors to me inav be as- "'. n. ban'Z satisfactorily done. I ...M ,..-ir..n TZ J"? ..' "one to their WorkXnairrs'waVS'Ltl .. . , J.B. OSGOOU. mar as-ij ' m No- 6' Blne's Balding, second floor.

INDIANAPOLTS,

' - A EESUKECTIONIST STORY. : 1 Db. Monkton was a phyaieian ; and was so far advanced in fortune and reputation as to be able to retire for four months every year into the country, and leave his practice and his patients to be ready for his return. There was a very romantic story attached to him, which, looking at his red face and considering his precise, old bachelor habits, one would have not . suspected'. But there was' something 'when' 'Gne' lenew him better, which seemed td Intimate he might have gone through trying scenes arid hours. ' It might be fancy, however, for he' never' said One word on the subject, and, intimate as I have'been with him, I never dared inquire how much of the' report was true and how much false. ; ' The tale was this : When he wag'duite a young man, and only beginning to make some little porgress and money in his profession; it was said that the strange chance had happened to him to revive the apparent dead body of a subject brought to him, he knew not whence lor dissection: " Whether this part of the story was really true, or had been adopted to account for subsequent circumstance, I cannot tell. ' Certain it is, that the knowledge and belief of the story grew up with me, and it was very long before I thought of doubting it. What further is certain, is, that all the few friends he had at that time remembered a most beautiful woman who lived with him, and whom he de clared to be his wife, but few believed her to be so. A profound mystery liung over her, none ever heai : ing of father or mother or former friend of any kind. It was not many, indeed, who had the opportunity of : inquiring, for not above two or three persons were ever auimueu miimateiy io tneir nouse. x ne name ny which he called her was Umbra. Whether it was a fictitious name'Of a' "real one be would not say.' "The report which these persons made, of her was, that she Was exquisitely lovely; but as far as intercourse went, little better than some warm marble to which I)r. Monkton had riven a dose Of the elixir of life. The story goes that, like those Athenians who recovered from the plague, all trace of her former existence had been erased from her memory by the illness which had consigned her to the grave, and that she retained neither any recollection ot past events nor, except the use of language, any trace of what knowledge she might have formerly acquired. Hower that niiriit be, Monkton loved her better than every clever and learn ed creature ot the earth, and during the years ot their connection he gave his friends the idea of a man who has one sole interest forever present to his imagination. It was about two years alter it first became known that this beautiful shadow inhabited his house, that a merchant who had a tolerable intimate acquaintance with Dr. Monkton, returned from abroad and chanced to be admitted to the presence of his shadowy inmate. He seemed wonderfully struck by her, ad afterward told Dr. Monkton that if he had not seen his own wife in the tomb he could not have but believed that she and this beautiful creature were the same. Monkton repelled the idea with an indignation for which there seemed to his frieud no cause ; but the. cause, I suppose, was the frightful fear that it was true. She, however, was wholly unmoved at sight of the stranger, and this comforted Dr. Monkton a little, and prevented him from taking any steps for the absolute exclusion of Provost, for so was the young merchant named. r-. Provost; for his part, desired nothing more than to come frequently to the house, and indulge the pleasure he felt at looking at the image of one whom lie had lost in the height of love and youth; and at last, unlike any other of their acquaintance, came alone, and in the morning, and succeeded m getting admitted to the presence of the mistress of the house, even when the master was absent. Dr. Monkton learned with some displeasure, and forbade the continuance of his visits. Umbra was willing, nay, seemed glad to concur in this prohibition, and Monkton informed his friend that the arrangement of his very small and secluded establish ment prevented him from receiving guests, except when invited. . , His friend thought him iealous and acquiesced ; but it excited rather than discouraged him, and he sought every occasion to elude the prohibition. A few days after it had been given, he made some pretext for call ing m the evening, and succeeded m establishing himself in the little drawing-room. Here he endeavored to talk to the lovely shadow more than was the custom of Dr. Monkton's guests. It was necessary for him to bear the chief burden of the conversation, for he got few words from her, and almost fewer looks ; and, in order to keep conversation alive, he told anecdotes and described scenes, to which she gave a mere passive at tention. " I was walking," said he, " with only one person along the edge ot the cliff i have described to you. Ihe sea was many hundred feet befow us ; the preci pice went sheer down to its brink. On a sudden a great layer of the rock seemed to unjoint itself from the rest, and the rent yawned between the ledge we stood on and the main mass of the mountain. My companion sprang into my arms. I feel her now. "U, no, no ! cned Umbra, ."lhat is a dream, L know it is a dream. Don't speak ; but is it not a dream t , At Umbra's voice, at her most unusual manner, Dr Monkton started up, and then ran to her, aud receivher mhis arms.' - "Oh, Monkton, I cannot bear to hear any body else talk of that dream. It seems to become real again. His foot slipped just at the very edge 1 " "O God ! who told you that ? " cried Provost, in the most vehement agitation. She looked- up, and full at him, when she heard these tones of his voice, streamed aloud, and shrank into Monkton s bosom, pressing her hands on her fore head. Provost was no less agitated. He would have seized her hands ; but she turned away from him with such agony of fear that life seemed unable to support it, and, gathering herself closer into Monkton's bosom, she fainted luce one dead. He carried her from the room, and would suffer no one to hear the words of reviving consciousness from her lips. But from this moment he could no longer repress the idea that Umbra had been the wife of this man. Yet he did not allow it to separate her interest from his. Ihe grave itself had given her to him. lie had devoted all the affections ot his soul to her. Any right to claim her by another he cast off as a weak pretense, which, if she should urge, would be mere proot that she loved another better than she did him. This was the idea that people said haunted him, and, in the fury of his jealousy and his love, he made it the sole question between himself and Umbra. She, in the mean time, with purer instincts, saw the same idea very differently. With her it was a wandering notion, which terrified her like some dreadful phantom. Her love for Monkton had absorbed every faculty that remained to her, and whatever interfered with it was terrible to her imagination. When a dark and doubtful sense of duty, then, came between her and him, it was repelled by all the efforts of her will. Yet at times it seemed to overshadow her in a shape which she was not able to drive away. She was frightened at herself when happiest in his presence, and he was vehement with her m proportion to his adoration and his jealousy, i ' Provost, .in the meantime, became aware of the miscry which had grown up in the house of his friend, and knew that he himself was the cause. The extreme beauty of Umbra, and her resemblance to his wife, moved him strongly to compassion and interest ; and, firmly believing that she was not the wife of Monkton, he felt but little scruple, when he learned and knew how she was now treated, in endeavoring to induce her volunfarily to quit her present home for

IND SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 1858.

Ids. A horrible wavering notion, seems to have pos- i sesseu ner that l'rovost had a right to command her to do so. Then, again, she lost sight of it, and only a vague idea that she was to be cast off by Monkton darkened her imagination. ' r i When Monkton learned from hor own lips the struggle that she was enduring, the last hold upon 'his passions gave way. They broke that hour over their boundaries and spread their own ruin around them. In his madness he himself hurried hor from the house, and led her to Provost's door. - There he furiously ring, and hearing some one running to open it, he started away like the wind, and, -rushing into his own desolate house, locked himself in his room, and neither answered nor summoned the frightened servant who beheld his retnrn. .' 1 . ;' .. " It was a winter night of tempest, but there was no fire or light in Monkton's room. ' He was not heard to stir from the moment he entered it; and the servant who watched a little while at his chamber-door, and once or twice knocked timidly, was fain to retire at last, and conceal her fears for her master in hor still greater awe of him. Morning camo, and she onee more tried to obtain an answer ; but all was silent within his room.., After a few more moments, however, she had forgotten her awe of him, oi beholding an object of mucli greater terror. She screamed his name m a voice which prevailed over his passions. It made him spring up, unbolt the lock, and the door was thrust open as lie did so by the trembling servant. , She drag ged him to the step of the entrance, and there lay the dead Umbra,' frozen to death. No doubt she had followed him in his flight, and had not attempted to enter since he had driven her away, and had sat down and died on the step. Monkton took her up in his arms, and for three days he never loosed the dead body, not though the dreadful taint of corruption spread over it. At the end of that time his brain reeled and his strength wavered, His arms, in spite of himself, gave way to force; she was taken from him, and he sank into a stupor from which it was lonsj before he revovered. A short outbreak of remorse followed, and then be shut up her name in silence as profound as the grave which a second time held her, lie made no confident; he gave no detail. One journey he took as soon as he was released from the restraint- to which his temporary a'ienation of reason had reduced him,, and at that time he was too much absorbed in his own feelings to care whether he was observed or not. They thought he intended to open the tomb of Umbra, and see her with his own eyes in the last resting place. They watched him, but he did not go there. He went to the vault where the wife of Provost was recoded on the marble to lie, and caused the lid of the coffin to be lifted which bore her name. The lid was lifted, and the coffin was an empty one. ( Published by request. ' '.' AN ORATION, ' , Delivered before the Metropolitan Literary Institute, Indianapolis, March 9, 1858. BY JAS. M. II1ATT. ' ' . Mr. .President : We have scarcely entered the threshold of life before we are encompassed by a score of difficulties. In whatever calling or occupation we may engage we may expect enemies, competitors and misfortunes; and as many of us will go forth to the world without wealth or friends,- and will have poverty, obscurity, superstition and envy to combat, I invite your attention to the following propositions, namely : Oppositions do not justify us in relaxing the prosecution of a worthy undertaking. In the first place we cannot avoid opposition. The air is impure, the soil is churlish, and every where puts forth its thorn. The sea is tempest-tossed. Whether we are in the forest or in the field ; on Persian plains or Alpine heights; amid Iropical heats or .temperate climes, or Polar solitudes, we are met by a thousand impediments. We read of spotless canopies, of ever genial climes, ot golden fields that only need the sickle but no one finds them. The faultless country is still ahead ot the emigrant.Man is born to trouble. Hence we find it in affluence and poverty; in indulgence and restraint ; in toil and in indolence ; in infancy, in manhood and old age. It attends every path, very pursuit and every pleasure ; it resides within the human heart we cannot escape it. Take a few illustrations :- A young man' resolves to be eminent. Entering a Literary Society, he finds it is required of him to perform some given duty every week ; and that to perform these several duties successfully, mental labor, investigation and i close thought are required. He resolves to abandon it but does he escape difficulty ? Nay; he has plunged from strengthening to prostrating difficulties. How can he - become famous without self-development ? And how snail ne mate a gionous aispiav wiuiout moiviciuai ei1111 1. 1 1 1. I ..!' l lr fort ? -Will he rescind his resolution ? Then bid him tame his restless ambition. Suppose we send such a man to the United States Congress ? The very first time any person proposes to "dissotve the Union, un less certain measures are adopted, he is ready in view of a difficulty to concede such measures, however con trary to past professions, or equitable principles ; thus outraging his constituency, and sinking himself by the sacrifice of his integrity, to inexplicable depths of political treachery and cowardice. Again, Suppose a nation being embarrassed by the curse ot slavery desires to free herself of it, but because ponderous diffi culties lie in the path of reform she shrinks from her dutv ? In so doing has she escaped? No. Her soil decreases in value ; her institutions and improvements lag far behind those of a country endorsing "free labor." Her citizens are morally and physically ener vated, and general effeminacy and corruption threaten to finally sap her foundations and utterly destroy her government Verily, she has gained. Second. Difficulties invigorate the mind. Not. however, the difficulties of indolence these are withering curses but the difficulties of industry. They are conditions essential to power. What gives strength to the arm of the smith i X he weight ot his hammer. What gives fleetness to the "Chamois hunter " ? The swiftness of his game; Thus it is with his senses.What enables a deaf man to distinguish words by the slightest motion of the lips? That impenetrable sep tum which having closed the passage ot sound through the tympanum, forces the man to note the slightest . 1..... mi . -.1 .1 . .1 rpi . external indications. Jnus it, is wun ine minu. xuo greatest reasoner is he who struggles with the worst difficulties that can be mastered by reason. Many are disposed to complain of a feeble intellect. . Before you accuse Deity of an unequal distribution of gifts, try vour mind on some appropriate difficulties ; lead it in to the fields of close discipline ; teach it to combat with mathematics, metaphysics, and the sciences if it appears indolent, goad it, urge it ; if it faint, bid it rise and resume the conflict ; allow it rest when rest is needed, but teach it that it must conquer ! AVlien Sir Isaac Newton was asked how he had attained greater heio-hts in Philosophy than any other man ? He replied.C"bv constantly thinking about it." The imagina tion affords its delightful fruits only to those who give it the most extensive fields of operation. The lofty oak never spreads his giant top in the damp, sunless cellar. The memory only yields its revenue to those who tax it. Likewise all the baser passions as avarice, ambition and malice, strengthen m proportion to the difficulties they have to combat Difficulties give a healthy tone to the powers. As a body long in a state of inactivity becomes lethargic and diseased, so the mind if not duly exercised, becomes enfeebled and sinks under the power of the passions. Third. Difficulties bring out resources. Necessity has ever been acknowledged to be the "mother of invention.'' She levels forests ; she prompts emigration

and civilization ; she prostrates mountains ; she fills valleys ; she builds railroads and constructs telegraphs; she extends her dominion from earth, to air aud ocean: she even ascends the heavens and treads around the zodiac. 'i : . j Transport the wild Indian from his native forest to your city of a thousand spires, numerous manufactories, schools, etc., would you describe the secret of all his eyes behold, or his cars hear? tell him that the citizens of New England recently resolved to meet the obstacles that lay in the way to their highest commercial and mental development How numerous are the illustrations on this point. The llevolution was the prime mover of all our institutions and improvements, from the Declaration of Independence to the Magnetic Telegraph. Why is China considered so feeble among the nations? Because; with all her Arts, Im

provement, Science and Discovery, she lacks enterprise enough to combat with other nations off her own shores. As with a nation, so with an individual. The hostile armies of Gaul and Britain gave Ctesar his martial skill. The snow-clad Alps made Hannibal the most adroit and irresistable General of anciont days. Fourth. Almost all difficulties maybe overcome by perseverance. Trace any illustrious mind to its culmination and you will find that its ascent was gradual, and by a natural process, and that its obstacles were such only as ordinary minds could surmount.. It is a known notorious fact that great issues, whether moral or physical, are, not frequently, the offspring of giant power.' Genius has generally been a greater curse than blessing. : Its possessor depending on his superior gifts, generally acquire habits of indolence, and fails to make the necessary exertion to bring about good results. But there is a thing which will always succeed , and that is the determination which, having entered upon a career with the full consciousness that it is right, boldly continues in cabn defiance of all opposition. Possessed of such a feeling, a man can only be great. Labor does not weary, pain does not .arrest him.' Carrying within his breast a compass that ever points to one bright star, he takes no footstep which docs not tend in that direction. .Neither the heaving earthquake, Hor the yawning gulf, nor the burning mountain, can inwars ms piaus or wrrny mui irum ma course ; and if the heavens should fall, the shattered ruins would strike him on the way to his object. This attribute is heaven-born and God-like; descending upon the human heart as the dew descends upon the budding flower. It has devoloped an Aristotle, a Demosthenes, a Howard, a Washington ; all of whom, with many more, were men notot superior genius, but of superior will. I admit there are differences in mind originally ; but there is thinking power enough enclosed in every human cranium, if rightly directed, to work mighty issues. What are our oppositions ? Poverty Ignorance t ubscunty t Have not an illustrious group of immortal men overcome these ? Who were the Socrates, the Luthers, the Shermans, the John Jacob Astors, &c? Admit no obstacle to be insurmountable. Ask every profession, ask the battlefield, the cabinet, the legislature, if almost all difficul ties are not conquerable r and thousands oi voices shall respond, Aye ! . txtth. Difficulties are more easily overcome than the maioritv sunnose. The simple assertion. " I can and will," reduces a difficulty one-half, if made iin earnest It converges to.one point afl the rays ot intellect. There is much exertion in a retreating army; though of not much avail, for it makes no impression on the foe. The wounded are to be cared for, the slain to be gathered-up, the baggage taken care of, the rear protected from attack. All this is etlort lost. But let it stand its ground, let every gun be manned, every bayonet directed against the foe; and every moment will reveal important results. Look to the pass of Thermopylte for a striking example of the virtue of simple resolution. Resolution combines all the powers of the soul, mind and bodv; it begets the be lief that we are sufficient for any undertaking, how ever great When Uaesar stood with his armv outside ot the prescribed limits over which a foe of Rome dare not cross, it is said of him that he rode one whole night in deep anxiety, up and down the Rubicon, hesitating as to his course. JNo doubt he deplored the idea ot opposing his fellow-countryman, Pompey, who pos sessed at that time the highest privileges ol the great Mistress of Nations; no doubt he hesitated much before taking the leap which should declare him the enemy ot Rome. But when after all his cogitation and anx iety he finally resolved upon his course the greater portion ot his work was done. It is quite reasonable to suppose that his whole conflict with Pompey did not afford him the pain that his irresolution did before he crossed the Rubicon. The Continental Congress felt not half the assuranee ana seii-renance prior io me ueciarauon oi independence that it did after that glorious event The l if. l ' ..ilT-ll i?T. mere knowledge that they had entirely cut loose from the mother country, and that they were no longer un der any obligations to her, threw themselves upon their own resources, called out their inventive gemus, their determination that they would free their country. Oh! that these principles were as liberally shared by their descendants ? ' Then, indeed, might we hope for better days. , . . , i Metropolitans ! let us take this subject home to the inner chambers of our minds, remembering that we should (knowing ourselves to be right) laugh in the face of opposition, and glory in the opportunity to combat it. The more rugged and elevated the mountain the greater will be the achievement in ascendining it, and the more lofty and glorious will be the eminenee when gained. It, like bardanapalus, we wrap ourselves in petticoats and seek seclusion from difficulties, vain will be our hope that the world will ascribe the attributes of men. : However, I would not teach that we should all cultivate the desire to be great leaders, but a determination to be eminently useful m the in culcation and dissemination of invaluable gems: Irutl: Benevolence. Patience and Industry. These afford the best employment, the highest assurance of suc cess, and the most enduring reward. They j'ield to the heart that wealth which leaves us not at the Charnel House, but which, during the existence of Heaveii s throne, and throughout the continuation ot tne song of the "one hundred and forty and four thous and, shalt only increase in interest lo maintain and defend these excellencies will require that effort which wifl devefop the noblest elements ot lame. -But, say some, "there are not now circumstances to call out great men." Indeed ! Is there no longer any error to oppose ? Is every part of government, and of society, so thoroughly cleansed that good men are no longer in demand ? The great political commotions that shake our country from year to year, do not confirm it. The detection in our country of a vast number of law-defying scoundrels, some of whom have even been taken from the pulpit and other high positions of honor and trust, does not confirm it O, Sirs, there is a call for a host of truly great men men of truth, of integrity, of nerve, and of power. Our duty to our country and our kind, requires that we rear high our banners, and on them inscribe that undying motto, " I can and I will," and like the handwriting upon the wall, which made Belshazzar tremble, we shall shake the knees of all the opponents of truth. Society requires many reforms ; let us not shrink from the diffculties that even impede the progress of the right, but boldly and manfully defend it, and ours shall be a useful life, a glorious future, and a triumphant death. ' ' ' For the Locomotive. Editor Locomotiae : Having spent the week in por, ing over newspapers and old musty books, on Satiu-

NO. G.

day I took my staff and started for the. woods. The day was stormy, and as I wandered over hill and thro' field I was highly entertained with the high cultivation of tho farms and the many varieties of beautiful stock on them. Hero in one largo field was twenty or thirty large bullocks quietly feeding on corn ; off to my right were a half-dozen fine cow9 accompanied by their calves; on my left, in a maple orchard, where the stately trees towered high towards'the blue dome above were a flock of snow-white sheep, while the large, dry and spacious barn-yards were filled with that most noble of domestic animals the horse. It looked like peace and plenty reigned throughout the neighborhood. , I strayed onward, stopping at intervals to notice and admire choice objects of beauty in the surrounding landscape, and then quickening my pace to atone for the delay, I walked on and enjoyed Nature. Passing a purling rivulet that meandered through the grove bard by, I was suddenly startled by the clear, soft voice of a little sprite that hopped on a bough before, me. I started 1 A new thought had forced itself upon me. I asked myself this question: How can God's works exert such a controlling influence over us if his spirit is not moving and breatliing throughout the whole ? ' There I stood transfixed to the spot contemplating the grand and magnificent scene. Never before had nature Seemed so lovely. On my right the bank of the rivulet rose abruptly and stretched far away in a series of hills covered by forest trees, while on my left lay large fields and pasture lands. How long I would have stood and gazed I know not, had not the neiging of a horse arrested my attention and caused me to hurry on. Following the direction from whence the sound proceeded, I shortly came in sight of a neatly built school-house situated in a picturesque place. I entered and found the house crowded with young people awaiting the arrival of the presiding officer. We had not long to wait. Dr. II. T. Cotton soon made his appearance and announced that the Teacher's Association of Pike Township had convened to hold its 4th session at House No. 4. The programme was read and the exercises were carried on with spirit and energy. Dr. Cotton and Mr. John Uomaday read interesting and instructive essays. 1 wo very interesting doclamations were delivered by Mr. Myers and Mr. Combe. This was followed by a very spiritea aiscussion in wnicn .). m. vornis, jne. Jennings, John Hornaday, J. II. Wiley, C. Pollard, and P. W. Cotton took part. Subject Affirmed, that Capital punishment is wrong. Alter the discussion, Mr. E. Klingensmitn read a tiiim'kAi. arlMoa Awi tl.o PIl.nt, T?,l fMVrr. jiuii.iik.i v. uiua iiuui lire x iivl iaj r Ll Atuicbi vmiiiiJi;,a paper established by the Society, which were very. interesting to the large audience present. ' jwr. Moore was introduced to the audience and de livered an address on Phonetic Reform. The speaker was in favor of the Phonetic method of learning to read. u It was a matter of fact, not of theory. It was easy. . He learned it in three weeks, dull as he was, and others could do the same. J. he transition from it to common print was easy. He had asked, not long since, a Convention of Teachers to give him the sounds ot the twenty-six letters ot the alphabet and only three could do it There was not one in fifty who could pronounce at first sight all proper names according to the present method. . Hoped that the Phonetic would soon be introduced into all our Common Schools. The teacher could do it with little effort. The sneaker extended his remarks to some- lensrth. advocating the reform, and urging Teachers to adopt it.

ihe Association adjourned and I regained the high-, way just in time to see the sun throwing his last rays upon earth, and tipping with fire the tops of the giant ' sycamores that grew along Eagle Creek. ' Prospect, March 15, 1858. Viator. (; . For the Locomotive.. . . NATURES ARISTOCRACY. ! It was remarked by one of Europe's noblest bards( and one, too, who was a faithful student of human nature, that "the world is still deceived with ornament.'' The experience of our own age will verify the asser-' tion. The ornamental, instead of the useful, appears to be the grand' inspiring idea. Whenever men are seeking for reputation, the person of gilded front and glittering exterior far outstrips his less favored adversary. - Among all grades, and all the occupations of life, the idea presents itself. The monarch, adorned with all the magnificence of costly attire, surrounded with his retinue of nobles, however bare his character, may i be applauded, yea admired by the astonished multitude. ' The Pope, seated on his royal throne, his name sullied by deeds the most atrocious, and whose offences are ' so rank they smell to Heaven, emits a dazzling splendor bewildering to the minds of the people, and is almost worshiped by his ignorant vassals; while he who . is truly the child of God, is passed by wretched and , fbrgotton. Even in the lower classes of society how prevalent this sentiment The lewd, enveloped in silk . and satin, possessing a beautiful exterior and glowing with jewels and bracelets, is admited into society, where ' tho pure and virtuous female of talent and integrity can not enter, because she is the child of poverty. Such is the custom of the present time; but there is an Aristocracy of a nobler kind Nature's Aristocracy. , Something which, rising above the creeds and dogmas of society and etiquette, respects a man because he is i a man; something that can appreciate the jewel, how- ; ever uncouth the casket may be which contains it ; something that will give to genious and talent their proper reward, no matter what exterior may enclose them. It hath been said "the world knows little of its greatest men," and the remark is not' without foundation. It has been too much the patron of sound, and not s enough of sense. The man of boldness and impudence, who thrust himself forward, is received as one of its greatest champions; while the child of genious, nurtured in solitude and tutored in poverty, and who truly is it3 best friend, has been left to perish, his abil- ' ities unappreciated, and himself uncared for. But we may ask who are natures noblemen, and to whom should the world pay respect ? . It should ever bear-in mind that, "It is the mind that makes the body rich, ' And as the sun breaks through the darkest cloud, So honor appeareth is the meanest habit." - ' ) It should not lavish its praises upon high sounding titles or hereditary decent, but he who possesses the , elements to form a man should merit its approbation. t And what are these elements ? What forms true

greatness ? It is moral grandeur alone that makes the mighty man." Ho who will dare to do right, regardless of tho circumstances which surround him, who ' acts from principle, and rather than sacrifice that ; would endure the scoffs and jeers of the multitude, , who, conscious of rectitude, acts for himself, independent of associations; who follows not the multitude to do evil, but heeds the path of duty unaccompanied; whether sprung from the castle of opulence, or reared in the obscure vale of poverty; such a one possesses a claim to the world's esteem. He who acts thus is one of nature's noblemen one of her favorite sons. The greatest ones have been those who never swerved from the right, and who always acted from a conviction of duty. No earthly power could drive them from their position. In the language of Rome's greatest poet, "although the heaven's, broken to pieces, should fall upon them, they would remain strangers to fear." A ,