Wabash Express, Volume 12, Number 43, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 5 October 1853 — Page 1

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•iv- -m AVID S. DAHALDSON, Proprietor.

WHOLE NO. 615,2

KT.T.KK

From Arthur'* Heat QazeU*.

DANE: OB THE DAUGHTER'S VOW. »T MART UiU HUK!"'

The followingtouchingand affecting in-, stanceof a sister's devotion, occurred in a

manufacturing town in New Hampshire,

not many years ago. It was related to the

author by the brother of the girl alluded to, now a minister in an adjoining Slate, and is as true as affecting:

Ellen Dane was the only daughter of a once flourishing merchant the idol of a large circle of admiring friends, and the pride of a fond father, who suffered

Alas, for human nature! There were few of t% many frieuds who fluttered around them in their prosperity, willing now to step forward to their assistance and. after struggling on for three years under the pressure of cares and burdens she was ill-fitted tc sustain. Mrs. Dane sunk into the grave, leaving hertwo fatherless children to the cold mercy of strangers. ,•

A short lime before her death, she called her children to her, and placing the tiny fingers of her son in the hand of her daughter, she solemnly committed him to her care. "Be mother to him, Ellen," she said, laying her trembling hand upon the bowed head of the weeping girl: "be a mother to him: he will have no one to love him but you. Promise rae that you will never forsake hitn." By the bedside of her dying mother, amid tears and sobs. Ellen gave the required promise. "You will not forget, Ellen." repeated Mrs. Dane earnestly "you will not forget." "If. I do to. may God forget me in my last hour, mother," returned Ellen, solemnly. "God bless you! my daughter," was the faint response of Mrs. Dane, "you have made my last

hour

Ellen had heard of ft far of! place where many of her own sex gained an humble but honest livelihood, by the labor of their hands, and she resolved to seek it. She. therefore, sold the wreck of their property, and taking her brother with ber. tnen but nine years old. she bent her way to the "Granite State entering the noted manufacturing town of

There, with a strong, hopeful heart, though feeble hand, she toiled day after day. week after week, feeling well repaid for every pain, every privation, by the increasing strength ana healthful bloom of htr youthful charge, who early evinced unusual intelligence, and a thirst for knowledge, which she wus resolved should be gratified.

A year passed slowly by, and found her still toiling on. Not even the voice of love, so dear to her woman's heart, could lure her from that lowly path. A manly form sought her side, a manly voice woo* «d her yet though her loving heart plead strongly in his favor, she swerved not. "I cannot leave my brother," was ber firm reply, as he warmly urged bis suit.~ "Nor can 1 consent to bring to my husbond a double burthen."

Vainly he ar^uod that she had done her duty by him that it was not right for her to sacrifice her health and every hope of happiness to his advancement. Vainly dia he portray in glowing colors, the light of happy home, the comforts with which be would surround her» sln$ was firm. ll'But your health is failing. Ellen," he aatd. earnestly. "Your feeble frame will sink under such unremitting toil. Yon will die, and tlxm what will become of him t"

A slight flash passed over her pale cheek, and her eyes beamed with a pure, holy light, as she raided them to Heaven. "God will temper the wind to the shorn iamb," she murmured. "The Father of the fatherless will be with him. 1 will not forsake him as long as I live."

In the selfishness of his son! his spolte of his own blighted ho

happy the Al

mighty bless you That blessing sank deep into theart of Ellen.

Pale and -tearful Ellen Dane turned away from her mother's grave—no longer a child, but a woman's duties and responsibilities resting upon her. Iler young heart was strong wiihin her but. unaccustomed to struggle with the world, what •could she do Whither could she direct her stops Her father's brother offered her a home in his family, but he didn't want the boy, he had quite enough of his own. Another relative in a different State, proposed ndfyuing her brother, but Ellen declined, knowing but too well, lje would be to htm not ttlyudpruttctor,but a harsh and cruel roasUji

ing emotion, she cam!? said, "Yon have charmed. a strong arm, a pleasant home, and many 11 mere)? sing you lull friends. He has only me—I will no*! again—tVre, there. Now go to *leep leave him." And so they parted^ Ah.*! you're ffoin^. Now for a last, gone

they parted*

"She ii incapable of loving." he exclaimed bitterly to himself, as he turned "•away, "utterly heartless.** W Heartless! Had he seen that pal# brow, heard that low wail of an^bh—-the4£,«A story is

At last, by the miost rigid eeooocny, S3- will

len gained tifc* sn tnmit ~of her ambition, present.

which was to place her brother at school in a neighboring State. Allowing herself! no rest, no relaxation, she surrounded him with every comfort her slender means would allow. Denying herself every mental advantage, she afforded him every fa

cjlity

n®1

even the winds of heaven to visit the cheek of his darling too roughly. While he lived his strong arm protected ber fronr, all sorrow, his kindness had surrounded her with every blessing that paternal love could devise, or money procure. But she had the misforiuqe to lo$e him at the early age of thirteen. i^Col. Dane was supposed, at the time of his death, to be in affluent circumstances. But his estate was found to be heavily mortgaged, and after paying the debts incurred by his long and expensive sickness, there was nothing but a bare pittance to the widow anXher children.

for study, carefully concealing from

ra the to}1 an(1 prjvauons

they cost her

The departure of her brother left Ellen, as it were, alone yet she was not alone. He was still with her. upon whose strong arm she had ever leaned with the confiding trust of childhood.

Three, four, five years passed slowly

yet she still pursued her quiet way.

«f heaven tn visit the report of her brother's rapi progress in his studies, the early talent he exhibited, filled her proud heart with joy. and cheered her path of toil. And though her pale brow grew still paler, and her slight form more shadowy in its proportions, the same clear, hopeful light beamed in her eye. the same holy smile played around her lips. Though her woman hand sometimes failed her. her purpose never wavered, her strong heart never fullered.

At the cl93e of a long sultry day in August. wearied by the day's toil, she seated herself by the open window, and resting her head upon her hand, seemed to slumber. The cool summer breeze came softly in. kisnng the pale cheek and gently lifting the soft dark hair from her wan brow. The drums turned in their ceaseless motions, and the clash of iron wheels, sounding like the far-off murmur of the sea. rose 6u every side—yet she still slumbered on. Kind-hearted maidens glided around

herheavy

Bending his head, he spoke to her, but she auswered not. He laid his hand gently upon the bowed head, but it only drooped yet lower. Surprised, he unclasped the slender fingers from the cold browbut he might not arouse her. She slept quietly and sweetly, "that sleep that knows no waking."

Amid the busy sounds of labor, the wild clamor of that noisy and dusty room, her spirit had broken its earthly fetters and soared up through the dark wall and rolling drum, out into God's pure air and bright sunshine-—up I up on. child of earth up farther still, through the dark ether blue—the regions of infinite space, to the throne of the Eternal.

Well and nobly had she performed her

vow Grave and learned doctors met in solemn conclave around her lifeless form, giving it as their deliberate opinion that she died of disease of the heart, of manyyears standing.

Sleek, portly citizens gave forth their solemn verdict, that she "died by the visitation of God!" Strange words! vain monkery This was all that they knew of the young, loving heart, that had been slowly breaking in their midst for five wearv years

Ii was not till theVavy clods lay thick upon her gentle breast, that her brother knew that he was sisterless as well as fatherless. And, though he sorrowed for her in bitterness of heart, it was not until he arrived at the ago of manhood that he fully real!ted the loss he sustained, that he fully -appreciated the depth of that

sisterly

devotion that led her to sacrifice

for him not only the spring-time of her youth and the chosen of her affections, but Wr very existence.

He became a minister of the church of God.and was instrumental in winningmany souls to Christ. His was the resistless power of learning—the wondrous gift of eloquence. Many lips praised, many hearts blessed him. But who thought of her whose toils and privations laid the foundation of his usefulness! Who remembered the lowly maiden who watered with tears the seed that brought forth so glorious a harvest I

But what needest thou of the praise of man.oh.glorious seraph! stariding among the white-robed martyrs that surround the throne of the "Crucified What carest thou for the voice of earthly adulation?— He who sees not as a man sees, who rewards not as man rewards, whose strong arm supported thee in thy wear? pilgrimage below, has given thee "that peace that passeth all knowledge," that "crown that ladeth not away."

«|V K*' E

AVhat TBS "Sssktsr" said to the

Suufcpr GeSTLKMAS.—Hum-um-hum!shut your eyes sir the noise you hear is but iiies, sir a whim-m—w-h-i-m!*—don't be scared, ^iryjo to sleep, your sheets wer* aired, su\7 Amu-flu—a h-y-m-n it is I'm singing, its music in your ears is ringing?

IMf An its mu

I won^t sting you, sting yon, s-t-i-n-g!-I'd scorn to ao so mean aiding. Ah-u-n

Celestial Coosih

trial, or

looms, guiding or check

ing their rapid motion. The form of him whose quick eye nothing escaped, passed through her narrow alley—but she heeded them not. Repassing, struck by her strange position, and thinking she still slumbered, he approached her but the eye so quick to perceive his coming, and the hand so ready to obey his bidding, moved not.

ft-

it is. not m#, that biles. Take care! don't siap,l never fight. Sap! whang! Take carel yon nearly hit me. 'Twasn't oae, my friend, that bit ye. There! again!

•pes, reproaching her it's come to blows you fool. I didn't touch I ?ain^50^fr

for giving pain, tp a heart $$ devoted to vour nose. What in the world's the use "oox,"nS '*«•. 1 |ofshipping—yoar own face, when youi t* Ellen was strongly moved—the tear* should be nafipingt A-h-e-m-tn-m, don't sprang to her eyea. But firmly repress*! be alarmed, you really ought to be quite

Hum-m-m! don't play the boy. hrilabv. A wham.

chap I go right! he's Saj%ottsl

have mr fill* bill!

Itonching prayer that ascended from her of young 1# Jlip# to the Great Father, during the still ]«hower and had the color washed from jwatches of that night, would ae hare! iheir checks. A lady at oar elbow thinks Meemed her hearties* I 1 the coJor in some of the gentlemen's cheeks

old ru

sleepy! here's my

msmi

lyt-prsf

is going the rounds, of a party ]«4e* who were caught in a

Chinese View of a Judicial Trial. China—Interesting Extracts.

I cannot but pitty the poor, however. when they have a trial with the rich. The rich man can always have the best

falsifier

In the San Joaquin Republican, of April I We take the following extracts from an 30, says the Cincinnati Commercial, we find authentic work, published by Mr. Wilthe following description, by a Chinese, of liams, who, from a long residence in Chitrial by jury in California. Some persons na. has been enabled to write knowingly may be disposed to consider it a satire.— upon the various subjects embraced in his We give it for what it is worth," as the work: *'V lawyers say of doubtful evidence Animals of China.—The denseness of

Tie Chong- C'Jut to Tsi-1 how- Choo: the population has long since entirely

administration of justice,

they phrase it, is in this way The guilty man, and be who accuses and seeks to fetch him to justice, each hire a manto lie for them while the matter is under investigation and the result of the trial depends upon the skill and ability of the professional men, and not upon truth fihat is absurd) and justice. When these hirelings are ready on both sides to begin, what are called the witnesses are brought before them. These witnesses are of two kinds just those who saw the transaction and those who didn't see it. The first are to relate what they know, and the last are to relate what they don't. The most curious part of the thing is that neither what is thus told by those who do, and those who don't know, is submitted to the triers as matters of fact for them to sift and separate what is true from that which is false but after both sides have been thoroughly worried by question and cross-question, the lawyers get up and tell the triers what the witnesses said and what they didn't. And here something very absurd occurs. The lawyer this side contradicts that on the other side, by a set speech uttered with great vehemence.

the matter. And then the first one closes up the debate by denying everything the latter said. Then the matter is submitted to the triers to say which told the (ruth or if neither told it, then to say how much truth is in the entire mass of falsehood and then to assess the value, if they find it worth anything. This is a serious, daily business and I am told that some professional men attain such great skill in this mode of lying, that he can satisfy the triers that neither he who affirms nor he who contradicts tells the triHh or any part of it. When skill has arisen to this degree of triumph, it is called hanging the jury." as the triers are called. I might make many philosophical observations lions on this scheme, as tending admirably to assist and protect rascality, but I need not for your acumen will at once see it for yourself.

fur'v and wrath. The first one that gets up contradicts omous serpents are very rare all the witnesses who saw or knew »ny thing about the contest. Then the other gets up and denies everything said by his adversary, and contradicts all that, the witnesses said who knew nothing about happily conceived and beautifully express-

and he can, also, hire as many

witnesses who don't know anything about the matter as he pleases, to testify concerning it. And you will remark that the evidence of these, in this scene of jugglery, weighs just as much, if properly hired, as Oiose who know all about it. But if both parties were equal in all repects, it is hardly possible, with the best intentions and most sincere desires, to do right on the part of the triers, that right can be ascertainpd and justice administered under such a constitution of things. The only fair thing I see about this scheme is that they have generally a Hu-ge-man or judge as they eall him. who is a sort of snperior president, sitting elevated up above all the parties, whose business is to see that each man hired by the litigants does his best, in his vocation, for his reward., In this, I think there is not often wny cheating. For, independent of the watchfulness of the Hu-ge-man or judge, their natural vanity and pride- of excellence in their vocation, spurs the hirelings on each side, to do their best to get a triumph over his adversary. If

The only evidence of felt meanness that I have universally seen among these barbarians. is exhibited by these professional men when they hare lost a case.

yoar chickens before they baa been rendered by a professor of eti queUe: w"The producers of poultry should postpone tin? cea«ns of their juvenile fowls, till the period of incubation is fully ac

5actly

msm

TERRE-HAUTE, INDIANA, OCTOBER 5, 1853.

The way wrongs driven out all wild quadrupeds and there

are righted in this country, is not the least are also few domestic ones, such as are curious of the barbarians. If a man robs found in Eastern countries. Beasts of buror cheats his fellow man here, the evildoer is not at once punished and made to give the first fruits of his crime. Instead of this, they first try him to see whether he did it or not. A serious truth, I assure you. This trial is a matter of singular, but rude complexity, ingenuity and mystery. The scheme is well contrived, both

to test sRill and develope lying and fraud but the entire soil is used in raising food for and I am led to think that one design of! the inhabitants. Wild cats are sometimes it is. to perfect the natives in out-lieing 'caught, and are considered a great dainty, and out traudingall the tribes of the earth Monkeys are found in the south-west prowith whom they come in contact. The vinces. What few horses and Bsses are found in China are small, and very inferior in every respect. The buffalo is some-

den are in a great degree superseded by the means of transport afforded by the numerous rivers and canals, and by the coolies or porters, a class of athletic men. who take the place of animals in carrying burdens and in dragging boats. Animals are excluded, to leave more food for men.

There are no meadows for feeding cattle

times used in ploughing. Dromedaries are used between Peking and Tartary. There are also hogs, goats and sheep. There is but one variety of dogs in the country, an animal about one foot high and two long, resembling a small spaniel. Rats are very abundant' and furnish the common people with meat. They are very large and destructive to crops.

Of the birds in China, there are the eagle, the falcon, the magpie, crows, sparrows, cormorants, curlews, pigeons, pheasants, larks, the rice bird, and many species of aquatic birds. Cormorants are u*ed by the Chinese for catching fish. The falcon is imperial property, and the magpie is sacred to the reigning family.

Fish form a very important part of the food ot the Chinese, and great care is taken in raising them in artificial fish ponds. The gold and silver fishes are kept in glass globes as ornaments. Among the fish eaten are the cod, sturgeon, mullet, carp, perch, sea-bream, &c. crab-fish and oysters are common on the coast.

The larger species of reptiles are unknown in China. Frogs, lizards, and fresh-water tortoises are common. Ven-

(£7-We are indebted to the local column of the Sandusky Register for the annexed

ed extract. There is poetry as well as true genial feeling in it Saturday night! How the heart of the weary man rejoices, as. with his week's wages in his pocket, he hies him home to gatlier his little ones around him and draw consolation from his hearthstone for the many hard hours he has toiled to win his pittance. "Saturday night! How the poor woman sighs for very relief as she realizes that again God has sent her time for rest and though her rewards have been small, yet is she content to live on. for even her "heart builds up in the future a home where 'tis always Saturday eve! How the careworn man of business relaxes his brow. and. closing his shop, saunters deliberately around to gather a little gossip ere he goes quietly home to take a good rest' How softly the young man pronounces the word, for a bright-eyed maiden is in waiting, and this Saturday nicht shall be a blessed time for him

wj||

beaten in a contest of this sort is a great for want of a comforter, and his summers shame, of which they seem profoundly are rife with false blossoms of hope. He conscious, by every mark and lineament is paying his addresses to solitary woe, of their countenance. While to succeed through life, finally to be wedded to the completely fooling the triers, and getting sods of the valley. Poor, miserable bachthem to decide against the truth and right, elor! Happy married man, with an anas is obvious to every one. is thought to gel for a wife, and a dozen little cherubs."

be one of the great triumphs of genius and the highest degree of excellence. They have a peculiar title of honor and veneration for such a roan. He is called Wimbled into a stage coach one bright a barabooster." and his effort bam-

Dem foine—isn't it

complishcd

e%mm

not be washed oot with water at show clearly that the "tnedmm" is hurry- divine teacher within as, we should have ing himself*toward Uw grave. few regrets. SI in

I^Y-

below words spoken by the

garden gate, and there will be a pressure of hands—perhaps a pressure of lips— blessed Saturday night! To all kind Heaven has given a little leaven which works in the heart to stir up the gentle emotions, and Saturday night alone seems a meet and fitting "time for dreaming gentle dreams. Blessed Saturday night! and we can but pray that through life we may bear with us the remembrance of its many holy hours now gone into the far past—memories which every Saturday eve but recalls like a benediction pronounced by one loved and gone."

(£r Why don't they let him alone 1— The old bachelor's miseries are all positive enough without such reminders as the following:

44An

old bachelor is a poor, forsaken,

unprovided for, creature. No young vines sprout at its roots, and no grapes are gathered from its branches. He tugs, toils and sweats for himself alone, and nobody else. He returns at eve to bis solitary abode, and no smiling angel says: *My dear, where have you stayed so long No lisping children climb his knee and with cherub tones beseech daddy for 'them To be thugarkitbelh.' He sleeps cold in winter

Extravagance— A

morn

oar iihistrioas kinsman. ^jguit

full grown buckeye

in rather an oblivious and "balmy" state.

b^ide a traveler who was in pur-

knowledge, certainly at that Ume.

TsB-Caoso-CH**.^.hinder difficulties." After the ribbons

la had been picked up, and the horses reTars ts evidently an age of refinement, ceived notice to start, the traveler re markThe old adage, that 'you should not count wl that Ohio was a fine country. vour chickens before they are hatched.* "T hie- ain't nothing else!" hie,

coughed jthe Buckeye: ••What is the staple production, sir?" ••Co-or-on," •-You roast raise a large quantity.— -. What done with it

I "W-h-hic wby, a great deal is used up in wh-bic-iskv. and some they waste in making bread!"

Tint jjimples on a toper's face are an old-fashion sort of *'*ptritoal manifest** lion." They cannot be said to come ex- Did we always do our duty by acting

from oevond the grave but tbev in accordance with the admonitions of the

Speed of Railway*.

Dr. Lardner adopts some ingenious illustrations to render familiar the extraordinary velocity with which our express trains move. The Great Western Express to Exeter, England, travels at the rate of 43 miles an hour, including stoppages, or 51 miles an hour without including stop pages to attain this rate, a speed of 60 miles an hour is adopted midway between some of the stations and in certain experimental trips, 70 miles an hour have been reached. A speed of 70 miles an hour is about equivalent to 35 yards per second, or 35 yards between two beats of a common clock.

All objects near the eye of a passenger traveling at this rate will pass by his eye in the thirty-fifth part of a second and if thirty-five stakes were erected at the side of the road, a yard asunder, they would not be distinguishable one from another if painted red. they would appear collectively as a continuous flash of red color. If two trains with this speed passed each other, the relative velocity would be 70 vards per second and if one of the trains were 70 yards long, it would flash by in a single second. Supposing the locomotive which draws such a train to have driving wheels seven feet in diameter, these wheels will revolve five times in a second the piston moves along the cylinder ten times in a second the valve moves and the steam escapes ten times in a second— but as there are two cylinders, which act alternately, there are really twenty puffs or escapes of steam in a second. s-

The locomotive can be heard to4,cough" when moving slowly, the cough being occasioned by the abrupt emission of waste, steam up the chimney but twenty coughs per second cannot be separated by the ear. their individuality becoming lost. Such a locomotive speed is equal to nearly onefourth that of a cannon ball and ihe momentum of a whole train, moving at such a speed, would be nearly equivalent to the aggregate force of a number of cannon balls equal to one-fourth the weight of the train. That a

4'smash"

And if any work of art should still rise over the deep ocean of time, we may well believe that it will be neither a palace nor a temple, but some vast reservoir and if any name shall still flash through the mist of antiquity, it will probably be that man who in his day sought the happiness of his fellow men rather than their glory, and linked his memory to some great work of utility and benevolence. This is the true glory which outlives all others, and with undying lustre from generation to generalion—imparting to work some of its own immortality, and in some degree rescuing them from the ruin which overtakes the ordinary monuments of historical tradition or mere magnificence.—Edinburg Review.

It is a little odd. perhaps but it is true, that the other day, while listening to a very long, rambling extempore prayer, the experience of poor Joe, in Dickens' "Bleak House." came all at once forcibly to mind:

Joe I did you ever know a

Bso

should follow a

••collision." is no subject for marvel, if a train moving at such speed—or any thing like such speed—should meet with any obstacle to its progress.—Dodd's Curiosities of Industry.

The Useful and the Beautiful.

The tomb of Moses is unknown but the traveler slacks his thirst at the well of Jacob. The gorgeous palaces of the wisest of monarchs, with the cedar, and gold, and ivory, and even the great temple of Jerusalem, hallowed by the risible glory of the Deity himself—are gone but Solomon's reservoirs are as perfect as ever. Of the ancient architecture of the Holy City, not one is left upon another hut the pool of Bethesda commands the pilgrim's reverence of the present day. The columns of Persepolis are mouldering into dust but the cisterns and aqueducts remain to challenge our admiration. The golden house of Nero is a mass of ruins but the Aqua Claudia still pours into Rome its limpid stream. The temple of the sun at Tadmor in the wilderness has fallen but its fountains sparkle as freshly in his rays, as when thousands of worshipers thronged its lofty colonades. It may be that London will share the fate of Babylon, and nothing be left to mark its site,' save mounds of crumbling brick-work but the Thames will continue to flow as it does now.

4prayer?'

'Never know'd nothink. Sir.'

4Not

so much as one short prayer?' •No, sir, nothink at all. Mr. Chanbands he wos a prayin' wunst at Mr. Snagsby's and I heerd him. but he sounded as if he was speakin' to his-self, and not to me. He prayed a lot. btltl couldn't make out nothink on it* Different times there wos other genlmen come down to Tom-all-Alone's a prayin' but they all mostly sounded to be talking to theirsd ves, or a passing blame on the t'otheri». and not a talkin' to us. We never know'd no* think. I never know'd what it was all about.'

There is a. "wbrld of meaning in this, "if oar philosphy could but find it oat."

The last question which has been brought before the notice of the Hollyhock Institute. is this. Suppose a boy were in an apple tree, with a gun pointed at him if he remained, and a hungry boll-dog if he descended—which should he dot The argument in favor of the negative was ably adduced by Abab Parkins, who supposed himself in the Above slightly uncomfortable position and. on the question of remaining in the tree, triumphantly exclaimed, '1*11 be shot if I do.' The question was still unanswered when the last dip was melted. Further particulars will be given next week.

It was remarked by an internment firmer. "I would rather be taxed for education of the boy than the ignorance ot die mas: for one of the other 1 am compelled to be."

Clothes.—Three-fourths

of the

bed covering of oar people consists of what are miscalled comfortables," vix two calico cloths, with glased cotton wadding laid between, and quilted in.

I'he perfection of dress, for day or night, where warmth is the purpose, is that which confines around the body sufficient of its warmth while it allows escape to the rest. Where the body is allowed to bathe protractedly in its own vapors, we must expect an unhealthy effect upon the skin. Where there is too little ventilating escape, what is called insensible perspiration is checked, and something analogous to fever supervenes. Foul tongue, ill taste and lack of morning appetite betray the error. In all oases the temper suffers, and

my dear, this is execrable coffee," is probably the table greeting. How much of the rosy health of poor children is due to the air leaking rooms of their parents and what a generator of pale faces is a close chamber I

To be healthy and bappy, provide your bed with the lightest and giost porous blankets. The finer the better. The cheapest in price are the dearest in health.

Comfortables" are uncomfortable and unhealthy. Cotton, if it could be made equally porous, and kept so, we should prefer to wool. The same for daily underclothes. But more than all else, let your chamber be ventilated. Knock in a hole somewhere to give your escaping breath exit, and another to give fresn air to your lungs in the place of what they have expired. So shall you have pleasant dreams at night, and in the morning cheerful rising, sweet breath and good appetite These blessings combined will secure to healthful parents a house full of bright and rosy cheeked memorials of rich and fruitful affection. '{i

5 11 1

Sorrowful Suicide in Cblcasror*'

Dr. F. A. Beselin, a German physician of this city, committed suicide yesterday afternoon under the following melancholy circumstances: -i* *Y^

He had, a few weeks since, a female patient on the west side of the river, and after his professional services were no longer needed, he presented his bill to the employer of the girl—a butcher. Payment of the bill was refused upon the ground that he had not been called in, but had volunteered his services—whereupon suit was instituted by Dr. Beselin to enforce the settlement of his account, and immediately afterward a criminal prosecution against Dr. Beselin was commenced by the girl, backed by her employer, the accusation being that he had attempted improper liberties with the girl. The preliminary examination was had on Saturday last, before a magistrate, in the course of which the prosecutrix was proved to be a woman of ill-fame, but Dr. Beselin tvas held to bail to appear and answer the charge in a higher tribunal. So confident of his innocence was his attorney that he entered bail in behalf of Dr. Beselin. Since this trial Dr. Beselin has suffered greatly from mortification incident to it. The Doctor called )Testerday noon upon a professional brother to borrow his pistol, (concealing, of course, his object in procuring it,) and shortly after discharged a heavy load through his head, resulting in his instantaneous death. A Coroner's jury rendered a verdict accordingly. We learn that the parents of Dr. Beselin are still living in Germany, and that they are of the highest respectability. He was a thoroughly educated physician, and withal a warm hearted and liberal man.— Chicago Democratic Press.

0^7" respectable citizen, In communicating the annexed recipe, says that it has been fuund entirely effectual in some recent cases:

Cure for Dysentery, or Diarrhaa. discoved by Dr. Perkins, of Salem, Massachusetts,many years since.—Saturate any quantity of the best vinegar with common salt to one large table-spoonful of ibis solution add four limes the quantity of boiling water let the patient take of this preparation, as hot as it can be swallowed, one teaspoonful once every half minute until the whole is drank this for an adult. The quantity may be Varied according to the age. size, and constitution of the pa' tient. If necessary, repeat the dose in six or eight hours. Carefully avoid keeping this prepaiation in vessels partaking of the qualities of lead or copper. The succeess of the remedy depends much on preparing and giving the dose as above directed. In order to Keep the preparation hot. it would be well to place the cup which contains it in a bowl containing boiling water, otherwise it will cool before being taken.

Everv family in the United States ought to know of this recipe, which is remarkable for its

Rtxa^or

Treatment.—"Cease

to do

evil, learn to do well," applies to sins bodily as well as sins spiritual. But what is well for the well man is not always well for the sick. It is well for the well man to eat, drink, take exerciie. labor, and partake of all enjoyments. But the best thing for the sick man may be to entirely stop eating, ahd to rest, mmd and body. ,The effort to digest food, to take exercise, and to "keep up,' is a cause of exhaustion. Many patients at water-care establishments are injured by long walks, as well as by too much treatment. They are ambitious to cope with others in exercise they want to get their money's worth of water-cure: exhausted by both, they eat to get strength, and over task again the digestive powers finally they sink under this triple mischief, and go away worse than they came.—Esoteric Anthropology.

A man in Maine applied for two gallons of rum for "mechanical purposes." ••For what mechanical purposes?'* inquired the ageat. "For raising a bam," was the reTMV.

S TERMS:—In advance $2 in si%£,-, (months $2.50 at the expirationj^f*•

VOL. III. NO.

waJ

-----

44I

The Rattlesnake*

This snake finds a superior foe in the deer and black snake. Whenever a buck discovers a rattlesnake in a situation which invites an attack, he loses no time in preparing for battle. He makes np within ten or twelve feet of the snake, then leaps forward and aims to sever the body with his sharp and bifurcate hoofs. The first onset is commonly successful, if otherwise, the buck repeats the tail till he cuts the snake in twain. The rapidity and fatality of his skillful manoeuvre leave but a slight chance for his victim either to escape or to inject poispa into this more alert antagonist. f'* *J.

The rattlesnake also finds a dreaded opponent in the black snake. Such is his celerity of motion, not only in running, but entwining itself around its victim, that the rattlesftake has no way of escaping from its fatal embrace, \frhen the black and rattlesnake are about to meet for battle, the former darts forward at the height of his speed, and strikes at the head of the latter with unerring certainty, leaving a foot or two of the upper part of the body at liberty. In an instant he encircles him in five or six folds he then stops and looks the strangled and gasping foe in the face to ascertain the effect produced upon his corseted body. If he shows signs of life, the coils are multiplied, ana the screws tightened the operator all the while narrowly watching the countenance of the helpless victim. Thus the two remain thirty or forty minutes the executor then slackens o«3, noticing at the same time whether any signs of life appear, if so, the coil is resumed and retained until the incarcerated wretch is entirely lifeless.— The mocassin is destroyed in the same

=====

Death from Obesity.—The

News says:

Savannah

One of our city physicians has handed us the following extract from a letter written to him by a professional brother in the up-country, describing a somewhat si ngular case, we believe of rare occurrence in medical practice."

must put in a slip to give you a singular instance of death from the rapid accumulation of fat. We had a young man residing eighteen miles from this place, who was one of the miracles of nature. At the age of 22 years he weighed 565 lbs. he continued gradually to increase in flesh until he reached a little over 600 lbs. he was able to get about with tolerable ease and comfori to himself, and attended to his planting interest he had a fine estate'and looked after it with care and interest. Some four weeks ago he commenced increasing in llesh very rapidly, and gained at first 1| lbs. per day. Last week he died suddenly in his chair. I think from an accumulation of fat around the heart. Three days prior to his death he weighed 643 lbs., and had he been weighed the day of his death no doubt he would have gone over 660 lbs'. I have often seen him, and visited his family a few months ago professionally."

*Widow of John HANC0CK.--Mrs

Han

cock, the widow of John Hancock, of the Revolution, married James Scott. Her last days were secluded. Those who were admitted to her little supper-table were considered highly honored. When Lafayette was last in this country, he made an early call upon her, and they, who were witnesses, speak of it with admiration. The once youthful chevalier and the unrivalled belle met, as if only a summer had passed since they had enjoyed social interviews during the perils oftheRcvolu lion. She was attentive in her very last days to taste in dress, as when in the circles of fashion. "She would never forgive a young girl," she said,44 who did not dress to please nor one who seemed pleased with her dress."

Man is a trading animal.—Troy Whig. Of course he is—a regular pedlar— dealing in all sorts of wares.

trader in

politics, in religion, in morals. In all that pertains to swapping, he's ahead of all creation. He'll sell his health for pleasure that will not last him an hour. He will exchange his soul for a gratification that turns to ashes in tasting. He will barter his principles and sacrifice his party for the scantiest dripping of the treasury, orthe poorest honors of office. Yes, yes, "man is a trading animal."—Albany Register.

First cla&s in Natural Philosophy, stand up. What attraction?' 'Please sir, I know—the look that a blue eyed gal gives her lover.' "Right. Now tell me what inertia in!'Inertia, air,1 is a aestfe to remain where you are—a feeling a piece of calico experiences when leaning against a canarycolored vest. Right, again—call the next

claw/

Tfre tfew fangled marriage ceremony in the mountainous portion of California, is done by the agreement of the parties expressed in writing, and the obligation signed in the presence of witnesses. Then tbey are one flesh.

How very seldom it happens, said one friend to another, that we find editors who are bred to the business. Very, replied the other, and have you not remarked how seldom the business is bread to the editors.

The immorality of the age is a standing topic of complaint with some men. Bat if toy one likes to be moral, we can see nothing in the age to prevent him. i##

The woman who was "buried in grief' ts now alive and doing well. It was j| case of premature interment.

The man who

4couldntt

contain himself,'

was found, upon inquiry, to contain abont a quart of the fluid extract of com I -r