Vincennes Gazette, Volume 15, Number 16, Vincennes, Knox County, 18 September 1845 — Page 1

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M5o TRUTH WITHOUT FEAR," voLiiii: xv. VICEAES, EA'DIAIVA, THIKSSJAY KOR.I'Itt, S2-:PTIJI5fiK IS, E

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IP O IS -I? 11 v3 -2? ii IL - 1KOM TIlK LOI ISV1LLE JUlUNAI.. y Aft- I a long, and, we iniIit almost say cul;.i!ile sileucf, the Western ran tt?s hj favored u njiU a beautiful and powerful prod action upon flu" Mbjwt of il.e Mammoth Cave. The l.nea re worthy of such a j oetrs ami of stmh a theme. At lu-r reqiiest, ne ei-.e a trifle of our own upon ili.- same fuhject. It is honor tnoush for us to .!' tlie fji! to Amelivs diamond: On ENTERING THE MAMMOTH CAVE.

ijv :-tns. ameua u. v.iiujv. .'jt-li! f r my hcait-r.l.nil cu'dles as wo enter To guide in gloom these sha.loway realms about; ii what a scene! tie round rjlotie lo its centre, l'of..rm tliU awfut cave, m-ciih hollowed oul! "t p.m-ie no mytif word hath yet hern spoken To win us entrance to ihia awful sphere whimpered pnyer must he our watchword token, And peace like that around us peace unbroken The passport here. An I now farewell, ye bird and blossoma tender, Ye glistening leave by morning dews empearlcd, And 50u, ye beams that liltt with softened splendor The glimmering glories of yon outer world! While, thus we pause these silent arches under. To you and y ours a wild farewell we wave, lr oh! perlm p this awful spot may sunder Our hearts from all we love this world of wonder May be our grave. Ar.d yet farewell! tho faintly flickering torches l.'l our lone footsteps o'er the silent sod,A ud now il! hail ye everlasting arches. Ye dark dominions of an unseen God! Who would not for this siht of bliss surrender Of all the beauties cf yon sunny sphere. And beak the sweetest ties, howeTer tender. To bo tUt witness of the silent splendor That greets us here! IV liUri'm caves, ye hiih o'erhangin; arches, A T.ilgrirn-baiid we glide amid your gloom, With breathless lips and hih uplifted torches. All fincifuily decked in cave-costume; l:r fonu the da s glad beams, nnd songs aid (Tower. We've cv:ie with spell-touched heirts, ye countless caves. To jrli.le enchanted, for a few brief hours. Thru' the calm beauty of your awful bowers And o'er your wave! luau'i'ul cave that all my soul entrances. Km own as the Wonder of the West so long, h 't .vore a fate beyond my wildest fancies, Could I but shrine you now as such in song! 'hit "lis in vai;. the utitantjht rhild of Ttai.ire, I cannot en: the thoughts that thro me flow, Vet none the less is graved thine every feature ! mil the wild imaginative creature Th it hails you now ! I'alace of Nature! wPh a poet's fmcies I've oft times pictured thee in dreams of bliss. And glorious scenes were given to ray glances, Uut never gazed I on a scene like this! Competed with thine, whet are the awful wonders Of the deep, fathomless, unbounded sea? r the storm-cloud whose lance of lightning sua tiers Tho solid oak! or even thiae awful thunders, A'iagani! liaik! hear yc not those echoes ringing after lur gliding tepT my spirit faints with fear Those mocking tones like subterranean laughter Or does the brain grow wild with wandering h.oe! "i'here mv besjectres wild and forms appalling Our Wdtidiing eyes, wher'er we rove, to greet Methinks I hear their low sad voices calling pon us now, and far away tho falling Of phantom feet. The glittering d irac, the arch, the towering column, Are t-ihts that greet us now on every hand, And all so wild so strange so sweetly solemn Sj like one's fancies formed of fairy land! And these then are vour works, mysterious power! Your spells, are o'er, around us and bonea'h. These opening aisles, theo crystal fruits and Oowcrs And glittering grots and high-arched beauteous bowers. As Mill hs death! Hut yet lead on! perhaps than this fair vision. Some lovelier yet in darkling distance lies Siirai cave of beauty like those realms ciysian That oft times open on poetic eye;-! Some spot, where led by Taney's swiet assistance wandering feet o'er silvery sands may stray, Where prattling waters urge with soft resistance Their wavelets on. 'till lost in airy distance. And far away! ft the Imie Indian ver these low-toned waters Has bent perhaps his swarthy br .w to lave,It seems the requiem of their dark-eyed daughtors Those sweet wild notes that wander o'er tho wave! Hast thou no relic of their ancient glory. No legend, lonely cavern! linkeJ with thine? No tale of love no wild romantic story Of some warm heart v.hose dreams were transitory And sweet as mine? It must be so! the thought your spell enhances Yet whv pursue this wild, romantic dream! heart, afloat upon its fluttering fancies, ould lose itself in the bewildering theme! et, ye waters! stil I list your surging. 1 ever and anon I seem to view, fancy's eye some Indian maid emerging Through tlie deep gloom, and o'er your waters urgins Her light canoe. Oh silent cave' amid the elevation Of lofty thought could I abide with thee, My soul's sad shrine, my heart s lone habitation, Forever rd forever thou shouldit be! Here into song my every thought I'd render And thou and ihou al ne shouldt be my theme. Far horn the weary world's delusive splendor,

Would not iriy lonely life be all one tender 1). lieious dream! Yen! tho' no other form save miu might hover In these lone halls, no other whisper roll Along those airy domes that arch me over tave gentle Echo's, sister of my soul!

Yet, 'neath these domes whose spell of beauty weiahs me My heart would evermore in bliss ubide No sorrow to depress nohpe to raise me Here would I ever dwell with none to praise me, And none to chide! Region of caves and streams! and must I sever My spirit from your spell! 'Twere bliss to stray The happy rover of your realms foiever, And yet, farewell forever and for aye! I leave you now, yet many a sparkling token ithin yoar cool recesses I have sought To treasure up with fancies still unspoken Till from those quivering heart-strings, Death hath broken The thread of thought! MAMMOTH CAVE. Be" 4JEUKGE I. PRENTICE. All day, as day is reckoned on the earth, I-ve wandered in these dim and awful aisles, JShut from the blue and breezy dome of Heaven, While thoughts, wild, drear and shadowy, have swept Across my awe-struck soul, like spectres o'er The wizard's magic glass, or thunder iiuJ O'er the blue waters of the deep. And now I'll sit me down upon yon broken rock To muse upon the strange and solemn things Of this mysterious realm. All day my steps Have been amid the beautiful, the wild, The gloomy, the terrific. Chrystal founts Almost invisible in their scene And pure transparency high, pillat'd domes With stars and dowers all fretted like the halla Of Oriental monarchs rivers dark And drear and voiceiess as oblivion's stream That flows through Death's dim vale of silence gulfs All fathomless, down which the loosened rock Plunges untill its far-off echoes como Fainter and fainter like the dying roll Of thunders in the distance stygian pools Whose agitated waves give back a sound Hollow and dismal, like the agitated roar In the voieanoe's depths these, these have left Their spell upon me, and their memories Have passed into my spirit, and are now Blent with my being till they seem a part Of my own imaiortality. God s hand. At the creation, hollowed out this vast Domain of .darkness, where nor herb nor flower E'er sprang amid the sands, nor dews nor rains Nor blessed sunbeams fell with freshening power, Nor gentle breeze its Eden-message told Amid the dreadful gloom. Six thousand years ? wept o'er the earth ere human foot-prints marked This subterranean desert. Centuries Like shadows came and passed, and not a sound Was in the realm, save when at intervals. In the long lapse cf ages, some huge mass Of overhanging rock fell thundering down, Its echoes sounding through these corridors A moment, and then dying in a hush Of silence such as brooded o cr the earth When Earth was chaos. The great mastodon, The dreaded monster of the elder world, Passed o'er this mighty cavern and his tread Bent the ohl forest oaks like fragile reeds And made Earth tremble Armies in their pride Perchance have met above it in the shock Of war with shout and groan and clarion blast And the hoarse echoes of the thunder-gun The storm, the whirlwind, and the hurricane Have roared above it, and the bursting cloud Shutdown its red and crashing thunder bolt Earthquakes have trampled o er it in their wrath Rocking Earth's surface as the storm-wind rocks, The old Atlantic yet no sound of these E er came down to the everlasting depths Of these dark solitudes. How oft we gaze With awe or admiration on the new And unfamiliar, but pass coldly by The lovelier and the mightier! Wonder tin Is this lone world of darkness and of gloom But far more wondeiful yon outer world lil by the glorious sun. These arches swell su'dime in lone and dim magnificence, But how suhlimer God-s blue canopy Beleaguered with his burning cherubim Keeping their watch eternal! Beautiful Are all the thousand sno-.v-white gems that lie In these mysterious chambers gleaming out Amid tlie melancholy gloom, and wild The rocky hiils and clilFs, and gulfs, but far More beautiful and wild the things that greet The wanderer in our world of light the stars Floating on high like islands of the b'e'sl The autumn sunsets glowing like the gate Of far-oir Paradise the gorgeous clouds On which th gloties of the Earth and sky Meet and commingle Earth's unnumbered flow, ers All turning up their gentle eyes to Heaven The birds with bright wings glancing in the sun, Filling the air with lainbow miniatures The green old forests surging in the gale The everlasting mountains on whose peaks The setting sun burns like an altar-Hame And Ocean, like a pure heart rendering back Heavetrs perfect image, or in his wild wrath Heaving and tossing like the stormy breast Of a chained giant in his agony. 1lhi!etic(iU Arranged. A wife shouM be Amiable, artless, affable and accomplished Beautiful, benign, benevolent Chaste, charming, candid, cheerful, complaisant, charitable, civil, constant Dutiful, dignified Easy, elegant, engaging, entertaining Fond, faultless, free Uiv.d, graceful. gen?rou?, governable, gay, good humored--Handsome, harmless, itealliiy Intelligent, interesting, industrious, ingeni Just Kin'l Lively, liler!, lovely Modest, merciful, manneriy Neat, notable Obedient, obliging Pretty, peaceable, pure Righteous So cUl, submissive, sensible Temperate, true Virtuous Well-informed and Young.

FKO.M THE NEW YORK MKIKOS.

IS' LETTERS FHOBX LONDON. Ji lT 01 B E It E I U II T . My Pear Morris. Four or five of the first singTS of tho world in one cast of a benefit u'ght,' at the opera, and iba four first dancing women of ilia world in the ballet that accompanies it, are (in the heaven of theatrical starring) like a starlight evening lit exclusively with moons. I am a little doubtful as to tlie interest which genend readers feel in descriptions of common operas and ballet, but the extra ordinary combination of celebrities in Thursday night's entertainment at the Queen's Theatre, makes it worthy, per haps, ot an attempt to 'photograph its impression with some paticularity. Ju!i;i Cirisi, Castellan, Tita Borio, Rossi, Cuecia, and Brambilla were the fema'le singers. Lablache, (father and son) Mario, Moriano, were the male singers. The danseuses were Taglioni, Corito, Lucile Grahu, and Charlotta Crisi!! To those who know stage valves, the very reading of these names in one 'bill of the play' would send a sigh across the Atlantic. I was curious to see our favorite Castellan on the stage, for, in New York, we had only tlm opportunity of admiring her in concerts. Hhe was to play the part ol Fioridigli in tho opera of 'Cost fan tuttc' (so ail women do.) The opera is Mozart's, but it quite takes this composer out of thy solemn niche in which we commonly view him, to .ito to what nonsense he married his delicious music. . Two sisters are betrothed twooHicers, and the first scene open? with Lablache's laughing at the young men's belief that their sweethearts will be constant to them. A bet of a hundred sequins is laid by the old phi losopher, that he will prove them to be no better than all other women ready, that is to sav, for tho newest comer. To de cide the bet, the two lovers pretended to be ordered off to the wars, take a heartrending leave of their lady-loves, and re turn immediately in disguise each one making love to the other s mistress. I ne fair ones prove inconstant, sin agreements of marriage to the new comer", and when the plot h discovered, quietly change back again, and marry as is first agreed upon the bet lost but all offences most expeditiously forgiven r od forgotten! Fancy Mozert ready to write his Requiem after putting music to such a slander on the sex! I did not recognize Castellan when she first came from the eido-ecene, she is so changed in her appearance. Her outer shell of plump sluggishness is entirely removed, and she is both thin and spirituel-le-Iooking, as if the removal of flesh had disclosed the spirituality. She is some what less beautiful about the neck and shoulders, much more beautiful in conn tenance and action. Still, though she plays with expression and grace, she lanks one quality of an actress that capability of inconstancy in herself, without which it cannot be represented in srago chsrac ter. Never was anything more convtnc ingly in earnest than Fioridigli's first refu sals to listen to a new lover s persuasions. Any body in the theatre would have in sured Madame Castellan to have (off the stage) no idea that vi omen could ever do such a thing. Madame Jiita Borio, on the contrary, who represented the other betrothed sister, played she yielding much better than refusing. Castellan has not sung in all ihe capita.V. "of Uurifj'c without improving as singer. She has filled up the crevices in her throat, so to speak, and in Iitenin2 to he., v. z , yuu Jo not come to those places where the ear is caught and left wonder ing for a nolo or two, as if something was there that requires soothing, either by the composer or the singer. Those exquisite descents into the lower but uio9t enjoyable Heaven of the contialto, for which Cas rellan wan so invariably applauded in our country, told with great effect last night, and indeed, the audience seemed eager to applaud her whenever there was an op por tunity. One tiling we lost by her appearing only in concerts her smile which finds it way somehow to the ear for ha voice sounded sweeter after seeing it. Rita Borio i3 discouregingly plain'.'.nd coarse, and l need not describe her sing ini;. Brambilla is a handsome woman and a second-rate singer. Rossi Caecia 1 described in a former letter and I liked her no better last night. Lablache you know all i. ".xcept, perhaps, that he is grown so moni.rously large that his stomach ;e any part he represents seem com icaft. He must be wholly unfitted for tragic opera. Mario and Moriani are fine singers, but poor after Ruhini. But Julia Crisi seems to have missed the way to grow old, and quite forgotten that her voice by this time should stop mellowing and improving. Till she discovers these two obstinate oversights till she lets the last ten years make their mark, and dismisses the delicious fulness that seems more at homo than ever in her throat of pliable ivory, there i? none but secondary admiration for any other singer in the world. It fatal I v imiioverUhes the richness of Castellan's voice, and it makes trash of most other Memory of operatic singing, to have listened, since, to a single air to this beautiful Empress of music, Julia (JrUi dots the mo 21 difficult

acting and singing in the same way thai a

cuti 01 smoiie manages 10 oe "raceiui. There is a queenly ease a voluptuous abandonment to her own infallibility which takeaway all nervousness in the j looker-on all apprehension in the ear of the listener. The preservation of her person is singular. And I do not think it is by care of her own, for I have often supped in her company, and seen that she :tte and drank with all the thoughtlessness of an Italian contadiui. As I'-ir as her fieart goes, (if she has .ine) her life has been somewhat tuibulent. If there is anj secret in her immutability, more than a good constitution ami a natural genius, it i, Infancy, in her 'taking no thought for the morrow' saving thereby the making of many a wrinkle. A night or two ago, when sue ami Brambilla were singing their most ravishing duett of 'Dolce comforto al misero, a cat rati across the stage and inturrupied them, during which Grisi stood for a minute or two, perfectly unconscious of observation. I was sitting very near the foot-lights, and could not but remark the infantine play of her lips over the smtill white teeth while she was laughing, and the dimpled hand that hung beside htr looking like a girl's of sixteen mote than like a woman's of forty. But. I have tilled as much paper jis tho Government will carry to Liverpool for 2 shilling, and only half my evening's amusemsnt described! The ballet by the four stars must make the beginning of another letter. Yours faithfully, N. P. W. BUSYING ALIVJ3. There can be but little doubt that burying alive is much more frequent than the world supposes, or has any inclination to believe. There are conditions of suspended life so closely resembling death, and of such huig continuance, as to deceive the physician and induce tlie sepulchre. The late eminent and most worthy Piiilip Doddridge was within an ace of meeting the dreadful fate of being buried alive, and what made it worse, with a perfect consciousness of all that was passing. He was supposed to be dead, having fallen into a state actually resembling death, ai for as the body is concerned. His pulse and respiration ceased, his limbs became rigid, bis face assumed the sharp outline characteristic of' death, and he rema'ned in this condition until the family, physicians, and friends (all but one!) supposed that his spirit had passed. That one was Mrs. Doddridge; her love refused to despair, and she continued to use rem edy after remedy to restore animation. F-:ially 6he poured a spoonful of brandy (a case of breach of teetotalism which we think Father Matthew himself would excuse) down his throat, and the powerful stimulant almost immediately dissolved the trance, and restored Mr. Doddridge to the command of his limbs, and to many vears of distinguished usefulness. But for it, he had in all probability been buried alive, for the weather was warm, and he already shrouded for his last abode. lie ued to relate, with thrilling effect, his sensations during the time of his suppos ed death. lie could not stir a little finger to e notice of being alive, but his sense of hearing remained perfect, and his mind collected. He heaid the fact of his being dead announced, and the outburst of cries that followed, the directions for shrouding him, and the usual preparations in the chamber of death! Desperate, but vain as desperate, were his efforts to give some token of life not a muscle could he move. Even despair, and the immediate presence of a fate more appalling probably to the conscience than Hell itself, could not arouse his dormant body to perform the slightest of its functions. At last he heard Mrs. Doddridge call for the brandy, with a delight and rapture of love for her which the horrors of his situation may easily explain. lie felt that he was saved, and he was saved. He himself wittily said, that it was as little as the brandy could do to accomplish his resurrection, as it had produced his living death! When we relied, that of the buried, the coffin of probably not one in msny millions is afterwards examined, and yet among these few, several instances have occurred in which it was obvious (as from the deceased having turned m his side) that the dead had been bured too soon, wo cannot reject tho hobble conclusion that the occurrence is pot so rare a3 our shuddering natures vould desire it. An examination of the catacombs of Paris, some years ago fhere the dead ar stowed away in open "boxes, or simply deposited in the vault.) led to the discovery that some had turned over on their side", and oihcrs had quit their places and died at a distance in the agonies of famine, having gnawed away their own flesh. The following authenticated and affect ing story has suggested these reflections: In the year 1810, a case of living inhumation happened in France, attended with circumstances which go far to warrant the assertion that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. The heroine of the story wa Miamoiselle I.afouseade, a young girl of illustrious family, of wealth and of great personal beauty. Among her numerous suitors was Julien Bosseut, a poor literatuer.or journalist, of Paris. II is talents end general amiability had recommended him to the notice of the heiress, by whom he seemed lo lac been truly beloved: but

j her prido of birth decided her. tina.lv, to

jiijeci nitn, aim 10 won n .viiHisieur iir ueile, a banker and a diplomatist il some eminence. After marritisre, however, th s gentlem n neglected, and oeri.ajis m rtpositively ill-treated h-r. Having p i d with him some wretched v?;,rs. she died a? least her condition 'so closely i'eemMe.i death as to deceive ewrv on- who f-nw her. tShe was buried not m a v:init but in an ordinary grave in the village of her nativity. Filled with despair and still inflamed by the memory of a prohm-.i ! attachment, the lover journeys lro:;i tie' capitol to tho remote province in which tlie vi'lage lies, with the romantic purpose of disinterring the corpse, and possessing himself id its luxriant tresses, lie reach ed ihe grave. At midniuht he unearths the cotliu, opens it, and is in the a:t of detaching the hair, when he is arrested by the unclosing of the beloved eyes. In fact the hidy had been buried alive. V itality had not altogether departed; and she was aroused by ihe caresses of her lover, from the lethargy which had been mistaken for death. He bore her frantically to his lodg'ngs in the village, lie employed certain powerful restoratives suggested by 110 iiitle medical learning; in fine, she revived recognized her preserver. She remained with him until by slow degrees she fully recovered her original health. Her woman's heart was not adamant, and thb last le.-soti of love sufficed to soften it. She bestowed it upon Bosseut. She returned 110 more to her husband, but concealing from him her resurrection, fled with him to America. Twenty years afterward?, the two returned to Fiance in the pcrsuation that time had so greatly altered the lady's appearance th;t her friends would be unable to recognize her. They were mistaken, however, for at tlie first meeting. Mons. Renelle did actually recognize and m-.ke claim to his wife. This claim she resisted; and a judicial tribunal sustained her in her resistance; deciding that the peculiar ciroumstances, with the long lapse of years, had extinguished not only equitably but legally tho authority of the husband. Electric Gun. The London Times contains 311 account of a newly-invented f.ngine of -destruction, likely to rival in terror anything which the genius of man h s hitherto invented; it is called the electric gun, and is the invention of Mr. Beningfield, who has been exhibiting it before a coramitleo of the royal artillery at Woolwich. But a fewpersons were permitted to be present. Mr. B. himself has furnished the following description of the instrument: The barrel is placed upon a small carriage running upon a pair of wheels, and may be drawn by one horse at ten miles an hour. When in position it has a third wheel attached, by which it traverses with ease rjnd .steadiness. It is light and elegant in appearance; the barrel for dis charging the bullets is over the body of the machine, bring about five feet uom the ground, so that the engineer who works u can take a true aim; it is supplied with balls by two chambers, one of which is fixed, the other a moveable one, which h ca' led the volley chamber, and may be made to contain any quantity of balls. From one thousand to twelve hundred balls could be discharged per minute. These volleys are shot off in quick sti'-ces sion; and, while being re-loaded, the sta tionary chamber continues to supply the barrel, and a constant discharge is main tained. The bullets are five-eights of an inch in diameter; (those used in the experiments on Saturday were not so large;) but in actual service the apparatus Leit)" but little enlarged, vvtuid diseharge balls one inch in diameter with increased force. The bullets now usedjare calculated to kill at the distance of a stat ite mile. They pass freely thrmighja three-inch plank, which, in volley firing, is torn toa'oms by their force; bot, if discharged against an iron target, th'-y are dashed to pieces; and, if into h solid log of wood, ate often found welded together, appearing to be melted by semi-fusion. In its narrative of experiments made to test its fi:eulii-j, the Times says that, a: a distance of foiry yards, tlie eileet was tremendous. A three-inch plank wns rf rforated, and the bills which struck the iron tarert were listened as thin as half crowns, indeed to infie plates of metal, and frequently beaten to atoms. The rapidity of the discharge was very surprising; and th; '!i.rhrg were k pt up without intermission ?ppreutiy as Inns and as continuous cs itje engineer thought fit. To the engineers.nd to the naval and military officers, who have been (.resent at the trial, the results are said lo have been satisfactory ; and the most unqualified praise has ben given to the. inventor, and the highest testimonials of the efficacy and importance of ihe invention. The cost for keeping the machine in a contin.ual discharge for eighteen hours, testing a few minutes every four hours, has been estimated at .10, during which lime more bullets would be discharged than from the fire of two regiments uf musketry fired at their creates! rate of qtiic k lies s . Louisville Journal. Why It a room full? of married folks like an empty 100111 'There is not a siig!c p.-rson in it.

Interesting to l'riaters. !!! .-ail ii.eru is nothing new : sun," hut he did not say there ; (mining nvv, and if he had, iho g- of new and wondeiful inven

' ui:u. r I; j would ! jpiK-rM tions ui.ual t'o far if) prove that he at least was not th 11 in u r luirvcfant slate when ' !!tter-d such an auti-go-aheadaiive Iprophvy. in th.j art of all arts, we had jt'i .u.; : thy "istest improvements" had I recch d the uli tmafum. We were mista ken. We hal, within a few weeks pas'., uoticoj ia -!)iaa of the papers, "something new in typography," but we passed it by s something probably belonging lo that family whose progeny are so numerous: as m r.-ict the humbugs" might well be called -legion. To-day we ere satificd. !v the be--! ehdene.p, that there is aomethins new' yet to tu added to tho art cf printing. We were waited upon yesterday by Mr. Solon Itohinsnn, of Indiana, whose r.aine will sound familiar to our agricultural readers; who is now acting as aent of tho patentee of this new dis-overy,, with tue evidence that certainly goes far to prove, if .Mr. Kobinson's aiatements can bo relied upon, ti.-r.t this detest improvement' will he of va; t impoi ianee to 'the. craft,' and will work a revo'ution in every thing couiif ted wiih typographic pia.c , whether made from original design?, or copies of drawings, 01 ordinary swreotype work. The great secret seems to be in the substitution ol a now and very cheap type met;d. suscepi.ble of giving tho very finest lines in tlie matrice. and yet so easily fusod and managed that any "-inter can cast his own plates without an o.'.er fixtures than is to be found in r.ny printing office, and that, too, in a very short space of time, and at a cost less than one fourth the cost of common stereotype plates. Mr. Rohinson showed us a plate that had borne 10, Otl impressions of a power pre-s without affecting it. lie also has specimens of printing from original type metal p'ates and f-reo those duplicated in tlie new metal, of which it is difficult to tell which is theoriginal'and which the copy If any of our trjp o friends feel curious to learn more about this matter, we believe Mr. Robinson will be-pleased to satisfy them, snd may he seen at our ofiice, or at the office of the Farmer's Cabinet, for the few days he will remain in tho city. Ilia address will then be "New York city. Although not a practical ptinter, we have been so long an i so closely connected with the business, that we ft.el ihe deepest so. licitude in every improvement that take3 place. In fact, during the quarter of a century that we have been so connected, when we look back and consider what improvements have taken place, it actually seems magical and past belief. United Stales Gazette. 9IIVha are the Old Hunkers? This is becoming a very important question. A shoiltime since we were told there were no divisions among the progressive dem eraey. For the benefit of the several divisions hereabouts we copy tho following from the F. S. Journal, the organ of the young democracy. Iivtiana Slate Journal. We are indebted to the able editor of the Slcu'cnvi'Ic Union, for the fodowing exposition of Ull Iunkrrisii. It telU the whole story in a few words. 'Di.n It.wcutrs.' Some people aYar to be at a loss to know who are tho 'old hunkers' so much talked of. If that is all they wish to know they can soon find out all they desire. Tlie 'old hunker' in the. democratic ranks is a fellow behind the democratic tendencies of tho age lie o-po-es democratic progress by standing still when all il.e world aruuml him is moving forward. I Ie sticks to the paper money -like grim (hei h to a dead logger;' ami has not mind enough u perceive right from wrong. Such there are in tlie democratic ranks; but they are being left so fur betint, in tlie race with the democracy who roil in the progressive bad, that nobody knows where to tind them!!' These are the men who have ridden upon our necks like the old man of the sta, in the story ofSinbad the sudor, they ere the men of seven principles five loaves and two fishes; they are those who have 'principle in proportion to their interest; whose patriotism depends upon calculations of profit and loss; they have been a curse instead of a blessing to our cause. Tiiey have retarded our onward progress have held in fetters tho free spiilt, which vvou'd otherwise hare explored (he yet unJiscovered regions of human improvement and universal happiness. Tlie time is rapidly coming when their paralyzing chains will he thrown off when their palsying and corrupting influences wid become extinct. -ew Courting. 'Ou, la nit! h'ewke, I wish I whs a cape!' 'A w hat, Jonathan ?' A cape a nice muslin capt.!" 'La. Jonathan, you're so ;oar!' 'Well, 1 guess I hjel quar, any how.' What's the matter?' 'Oli! yon tsrnal crilter, you know w iut I mean. I wih I was a slick hide cape, I duz.' 'What for?' '(dive me a kiss and I'll iell you.' 'O, I I'm skeered too. Bui you're only to have just one. Now tell!' Cos then I'd give myself to you. and you'd put me lite round that putty neck of yo-irn '