{ title: 'The journal and Republican. (Lowville, N.Y.) 1860-1909, May 09, 1860, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031789/1860-05-09/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031789/1860-05-09/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031789/1860-05-09/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031789/1860-05-09/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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fte Jaarftat & jg PDBIJSHKD BVBBY WSDHKBDAV M<»^»0» AV LOWTILiB, H. Y.i MT H. A. PHILLIPS, EDHOR _ D. S. BAJLEY, Associ*** EWTOB. TERMS-OIKI Dollar »<.«« F»Ay Ce.la, in edwne. p tid, except «l the option o f Hi» PttMMiW. joi pimtmo. AIL Komor wnotw *w» WTHB BEST nrti The Journal * Republican Offlce is now prepared with anewawt Large awOTtmeDt of Job and Fane Type. AU Job Printing wllj bo eiecnteil with — ' M rt on BeaaooabteTerma. trace, irrirg. HOMING. Morn again with golden pencil Tiols the cimuhi of the.East, And again in robes of tinsel Slandeth at her holy chancel Making ready for the leust! Gently flushing, Gently blushing, Like a bride before the priest! Oh, what holy thoughtB come o'er u As we drink Hie monring's balm! As we view the field before us, As we join the pleosont chorus Of the morning's holy psalm ; As we wander, As we ponder, In the morning's bletiBcd calm. Thoughts of other, happinr hours, rife; s with Come U And agara we seek the bowers Where we tned to gather flowers, In the morning march of life ; Memories greet ui, Yet unstained by care or strilc. Oh, how much of life is wasted In this so-called world of bliss, How much pleasure grain is blasted, How much happiness uHtasted— Just by keeping\ Dull eyes sleeping, Such a holy morn as this! TEBKB: (1,50 IN ADVAlfOB \ £U0eel(lj) h 5oq^^i of £oiifics, ftetos,, Jlif^fqi-e, %rtj 'gcieiw, ftgirie qifyfre # jXft^ Z-^Cb, =^=r= VOLUME i. y LOWV1LLE, LEWIS COUNTY;N/Y, WEDNESDAY, MAY 9, 1860 Huppv 1 ! hn'ppy ! blessed mcruing ! May my soul letoin the viesv ; Ere the evening lamps are burning. May the holy picture warning, Tench me 10 begin anew ! Guide me cheerful, - Make me prayerful, Till life's pilgrim day is through. Pisttllanwjts. THE SHEPHEBD OF THE CRAGS. Less frequent became Wakely'a visits to McDonald's cottage, less cordial his manner toward Jennie, until at last he told her that business of importance de- manded his return to England, and that it would be impossible for him to fulfill his promise of marriage to herr\ Had a thunderbolt shivered the rock on which they sat, she could not have been more astounded. Had she then been deceived by Wakely only for the purpose of accomplishing her ruin]— What should she do ? Too far over- come, she could not articulate a word, nor even reproach her betrayer for his baseness. Wakely really loved Jennie, and had,! at one time, intended to fulfill his prom- ise to her ; but the fear of his friends' ridicule, for a union with a shepherd's daughter, had prevented him. As he witnessed her violent emotion, he fully \ comprehended his own villainy, and half ', relented in his determination. He told her he would be reproached for selecting Tor his wife one so far below him in point of wealth and social position, and strove to console her by assuring her ! that her beauty would soon win some one better fitted for her, and whose posi- tion in life corresponded nearer to hers. The miscreant then left, telling her that he would call the following evening to bid her farewell. Pale as death, the heart-stricken girl wended her way to the cottage, and, staggering into the room, fell fainting to the floor. Surprised and frightened, her parents raised her, and strove by every ; endeavor to bring her to consciousness. ! Slowly she awoke, and in reply to their j hurried\inquiries, told, in heart-broken i accents, everything, and in agonizing tones begged their forgiveness. Hugh had feared as much.' Turning pale with rage, he cried, \Did I not warn you to beware?— But you heeded me not, and rushed for- ward only to shame and ruin !\ She could not reply, but burst forth in another paFxyism of grief, hiding her face and wringing her hands in agony. ,l What is this 1 ?\ thundered her en- raged parent, as he stopped before her, his eye catching a glimpse of a ring on her finger. \ Where did you obtain this 1\ cried he, eyeing her sternly as he spoke. \ He gave it me,\ sobbed the heart- broken girl, looking up imploringly as she spoke. As he gazed on the ring, he became still more agitated. His face grew deathly pale as he sank into a chair, and his whole frame trembled with terrible emotion. For a moment he seemed overpowed by his feelings; then, spring- ing from his seat, his features again growing dark with anger, and his black eyes flashing like stilettoes from under his contracted brow, he glared savagely | upon his erring daughter. ' ; Hold!\ cried his wife, rushing to him and laying her hand on his shoulder, \you would not harm her!\ \Fear not, wife,\said he, turning and pacing the room ; \no'injury shall come to her. Her punishment shall be the pangs of conscienee-AAj* DEATHT D O you see this ring?' continued he, hold- ing it up before her. \ It was once my father's, and after his inijrder, fell into his murderers ^posscssiojil Look at it •—count the diamonds. See here,\ and, approaching the light, he tremblingly touched a secret spring, which, opening, disclosed the inscription,\ HUGBMCIVOR, TO HIS FATHER, 4J. McL,\ delicately traced on the inside surface. \ : D o you see 1 The murderer of my father is our daughter's lover! He shall die!\ thun- dered the enraged man, as he placed the ring in his pocket—\ yes, die like a beast —with none to mourn him!\ His wife had never before beheld him so excited. A t last she ventured, \ Are you sure that that was onoe your father's ring V \ Sure ? What better proof than the inscription?\ cried McDonald. \This identical ring was made in Edinburgh while I was pursuing my studies there. 1 gave it to my father, and he always wore i t as a proof of his son's esteem. And yet this human vulture, not content with robbing me, preyed upon the life-' «• • body of my father, and tore from JHS nerveless fiagw this toWof affeatfos. And the villain, under an aasnmed name, a w entered our home and destroyed our ST* Befell Bot'<^to,« W ily tins time, J>r, I 8 wear *,i^revengei , Hi H iTT^ 0tem ^ fint5lcft «^o»Tes. «« shall die ! yes, he shall die as he de- serves ! The miserable dastard!'.' At length, stopping before the still weeping and frightened girl, he demand- ed, \ Does he see you again?\ \ ,l To-morrow night for the last time,\ she ialteringly replied. Standing a moment, he said, sternly, \ Meet him. Do you hear 1 Meet him to morrow night: it will be the last time.\ Seizing his gun, McDonald left,the cottage, aud took his way across* the heath. His wife endeavored to persuade him to remain, but all to' no effect, and telling her not to await his return as he might be absent some time, he departed, still agitated with excitement, and bear- ing on his countenance a determined look. Long did his anxious wife await his return, listening for his footsteps, w, ec P' ing and bitterly reproaching herself for her lack of penetration in permitting the addresses of the Englishman. \ Alas!\ thought sho, \ had Hugh, discouraged his advances, this sorrow had not come upon us.' Wearily the hours wore away, and yet McDonald came not. Some fim< after midnight he entered, and deposited\ his gun in the comer. His face was pale 1 but he betrayed no emotion. Silently they retired to their couch, but no sleep greeted their eyelids, and morning found them weary and unrcfreshed. The day wore slowly away. Hug! left the cottage in the afternoon, and. soon after, Jennie's mother, donning her bonnet and shawl, took her way rapidly down the mountain toward the village. At the appointed time, Jennie, with fal- tering step and features of ashy pale- ness, started for the place of meeting, and seating herself on the mossy rock where she had so often sat with Wakely awaited his coming. A short time elapsed, and she disceijned through the twilight the well-known figure,ascending the steep path at the left. ^,i'..Vyha,k„mY.„mojntain, S^riij here so ed, and seating himself at her side, at- tempted to kiss her pale cheek. She drew back, exclaiming sadly, \ No, sir, you have forfetied all claim to such an indulgence, and you will ob- lige me by never attempting the like again.\ Heighho ! my bonnie lassie, why so cold? 'Twas not so once,\ said he, striving to keep a show of gayety. \ i then had not learned that your sol- emn protestations were deliberate false- hoods,\ replied she. \Come come, don't talk in that strain. Remember that I have come to bid you farewell, not to hear you reproach me,\ said he, moving uneasily. \ What reproaches,\ cried Jennie, bit terly—\what reproaches are sufficient to denounce the destroyer of peace 1 — Here, in my mountain home, you found happy, innocent girl; you trans- ported me with visions of wealth, made dissatisfied with my humble life, and, not content with that, you would now to bewail my folly. What punishment is due such a heinous of- fence ?\ -j DJ:ATH !\ thundered a voice at their : side, which caused them to start up with terror and alarm. Looking up, the Englishman beheld the huge figure of McDonald standing before him. \ Death ! death is the punishment due your offences !\ cried McDonald^ and through the moonlight his eyes flashed hatred and scorn upon the man before him. What means this?\ at length de- manded the Englishman, recovering somewhat from his surprise, and retreatf f ! -backward a step. \ What means it, villain-? Wentford, i must die!\ said McDonald, in a nojlow voice. The Englishman started at the mention of his true name, for it was indeed Wentford, and then boldly replied, v \ My name is uot Wentford, sir, and I desire to know what such language] means.\ \Wentford said MeDonald, impres- sively, \ you must die !\ \Then I will not die without a strug gle,\ cried the other, drawing a pistol and placing himself iu a defensive atti tude ; \ come on !\ \ Be not impatient, sir—you shall die, and die, too, a deatn you richly merit,\ continued McDonald, and as he finished, he gave a low whistle. Instaiitly a score of Highlanders sprang from their coverts behind the crags, and before Wentford could have time to defend himself he was securely bound. \ Light the torches,\ said Hugh, still standing in the same position. Soon their red glare shone forth, light- ing ftp the rocks and heather around, and revealing the pale features of Wentford. as he lay straining.to break the bonds that held him, while a group fof dark, I stalwart men gazed upon him in silence.! Now,\ said McDonald, as he looked down upon, \ now we are a\bout to exe- cute what the law is so tardy in doing.— Do you npt rememoer Hugh Mclvor*— • him that you so' villainously robbed years ago?* •> ( *^\ knoV not what you mean, Mc Donald,\ faintly ejaculated Wentford, who was fast losing his courage, \You know ndt what I mean? Do you-know that ring?\ cried McDonald, holding it up in the light of a torch.— \ Look at it, and behold the proof of! your villainy ? My name is not Mc Donald, but Mclvor, the son ok him from whose lifeless finger you tore Jhir --'—\memento! Seek not to me, you are my father's murderer!\ \Oh ! Heaven!\ groaned the helpless man, turning ashy jfjale, and avertibg his face from the glaring gaze of bate that Hugh cast fiercely upon him. u Ay ! hide ydur face, and cjall to! Heaven for pardon^ Wentfordj, long years ago you committed a criojje for which a lifetime of penitence Cannot atuoe— murder ! You robbed meJof al l and, unsatisfied with mprder jflid rob- bery, years after you made desolate ray humble yet happy home, where if had retired to forget:my wrongs and the vil- lain who had reduced me t o poverty.\ Then, pausing a moment, Hugh de- manded: \ Do you still deny your name ? or do you confess your duplicityT' u I confess I have deeply wronged you, out I call Heaven to witness my inno- cence of the murder of Vour father,\] cried the now thoroughly humbled 1 Wentford,** be loofced imptern^ y lrrtetft w» tbe anrelentiiig *c * Idf Ids aowuer. * ^ \ \T o the crags with-Km,* eried Me Ivor, as he turned and walked slowly to- ward the precipice a few feet beyond them. *\ ,i \ And now, Wentford,\ said Mclvor, ||as the stalwart Scots laid thejr, prisoner upon the narrow brink, \ do you still persist In denying the murder of my father?\ \ - ' .\ 1 am guilty enough, Heaven j knows, blifc I reiteratie my innocence of the crime of murder,\ faintly filtered the misera- bly man,- now fully contpfehending his frightful position. ' ) \Lift him up and give him a eight of, the road he is to travel,''commanded Mc Ivor. They raised »hiin over the brink of tho abyss, silent, gloomy, and horrible, and as ho gazed down in the Cimmerian darkness, made still backer by the glow of torches above, his heaiq became giddy, and ha shrieked i« unearthly tones for mercy, while the rocks rfnd cliffs re-cch oed the appalling cry as if In mockery. \Listen said Molvor, \d o you heat- that ?\ While they supported tho shrinking and trembling mail over 'the brink, far up from the gorge below calne the dis- tant murmur of dashing water. \ That will benhe*terrriinus of your journey,\ continued Mclvor, the remem- \ ranee of his wrongs rendering him bit- jrly vindictive. \ Let me pray,\ begged Wentford, whom terror had transformed into a • niserablo and abject object of pity and commiseration. And what a prayer! So full of des- pairing agony, that Mclvor half relented his purpose as he listcnqd to his fer- •ut 8npplication for pardon, and heard In m, call on God to attest his innocenco of the murder which had 1acen charged igainst him. II is prayer finished, he was once more lifted over the yawning abyss. 11 And now,\ said Mclvor,. solemnly, you go to receive at the hands of a just Judge tbe penalty, of your crimes. May you obtain at the tribunal of Hea- r en that pardon and mercy which we de- tepping backward and waving his hand. Another moment and his body would be bounding from the sharp flinty rocks to the stream far below, when they were irpriscd and startled by a loud voice •ying in an imperative tone : \\ Hold ! , In the name of Heaven I >mmand you !\ Laying the almost lifeless body of the nglishman upon the brink, they looked behind them and beheld rapidly advancing the tall figure of black cloak, with his long white, locks streaming behind him and his fea- tures wearing a look of horror as ; he came among them. '• \ Would you commit murder !\ cried he, with a fearful emphasis, looking hur- riedly from one tu the other, and elevat- *ng his hand with surprise. \ Who'-are you, sir? and what means this intrusion ?\ demanded Mclvor, an- grily, i \ I am a minister of- God. and would event you from staining your hands th human blood,\ responded the ven- tblc man, as he gazed unflinchingly up- )n the swar-thy visage of his interroga- tor. I p - Instantly'every bonnet was doffed, and the Highlanders stood silent and respect- ful before him,. Mclvor alone remained standing as before, casting a look of defi- ance on tbe intruder. \ My reverend sir,\ cried Mclvor, passionately, \ do you know that you are endeavoring to prevent the punish- ment of villainy of the deepest dye 1~ — The punishment of a robber, a villain and a murderer !\ \ But why'deprive the law of its vic- tim ? Why take upon yourselves suchj an awful responsibility ?\ returned the other, solemnly. \ The law has refused to do what we ould execute,\ cried Mclvor, bitterly. Unsatisfied with robbery and murder, this man entered my home and destroy- ed my peace and blighted my happiness. What punishment is meet for such offen- ces 1\ But do you not know that he will live the penalty of his transgressions at a higher tribunal than earthly ones?\ said the undaunted man, slowly and im- pressively. \ Remember,\ continued he, pointing upward, \ remember that the^p is a God, and though human law iv not always award'to crime its just deserts, His all-seeing eye discovers ev- ery guilt, and H e works out for the of- fender a terrible retribution! Statn not your hands with murder, but leave his punishment to Him who hath said, 4 .Vengeance is mine, for I will repay, sVith the Lord of Hosts.' \ Impressed by the fervor of the man's words, Mclvor cast his eyes to the ground in silence. Looking upat length he askfed : r \And what would you have us do with him, good sir?\ \! would have him released, and him joined in the bonds of holy wedl to your daughtei God. Mclvor cast i bim i Think well, my friend, before y decide, 1 \ said the other, ' solemnjy.^- \ What say you ?\ he coritinued, address- ing Wentford, who lay pale and Vilent bef Jre him?. \ are you willing to enter into|the marriage relation with this»man's daughter ?\ \I am,\ replied Wentford, noTw bum- bled and penitent. \ I know I am un- worthy of her * but if she can forgive me, my life shall be * speaking atone- ment for my transgressions.\ » \ Then why not unite them ihis very hour, and on this very spot ? His peni- tence now is a guarantee 1 of his conduct hereafter,\ said the grajf-hatred preach- er, addressing. Mclvpr,< whq stood silent and undecided. A -long consultation was held by Mc Ivor and his companions, at the close of I which a tall Scott approached tbe minis- ter, who stood with folded arms calmly gazing heavenward. ' ' | .\-Good man,\ said he, \ we have con- cluded to act upon your advice.^' Then, i turning to the men, he added, ^ (Unloose | him.\ ; i J , j \ Thank Heaven,\ shouted the preach- er, fervently, \ who na $ looks down ap- provingly upon, this wjfyof mmUn clem- ency.\ • '\•.. i There, c*t the veir^ brink of tbatj yawning chasm, surroanditf by; naming torches, who»gr*r«lwht«**paw hardy fbmwiSf a .oore of J^Wao d abepherd*, Ivor juicing in the triumph of mercy. The solemn ceremony completed, the tall Highlander approached Wentford, and, leading him to the brink of the pre-1 cipice, bade him again look into its depths. \Listen!\ said he. \You have now taken upon yourself vows to love, cher- ish, and protect h*cr who is now your wife. Kneel, and swear to fulfil them.\ Kneeling, Wentford exclaimed, fer- vently, \ In .the presence of God and these \vitnesses, I swear !\ \ Enough,\ said the Scot. \ If that oath is' kept, you may be able jn a mea- sure to do penance for your crimes; but,\ he added, with frightful emphasis,! if it be broken wc will seek you at the ends of the earth, and our arms shall hurl you from these dizzy heights to death below.\ Then, leading him to Mclvor, |vho slood silent and gloomy, he again-ad- dressed him : \ Wentford, you havi deeply wronged rvitr esteemed' friend and neighbor, and it is bu> just that' reparation be made him. Ask his forgiveness, and endeavor by your Future liio to show him the sin- ci rity of your professions.\ '•-\ My father, for I hope you will own mo as your sonl,\ said Wentford, \ I h.ivo been guilty of gross injustice to' you; and here I humbly ask forgive-1 ness. I defrauded you of your right?, 1 but will restore them to you specially., You have accused me of murder, and here, before these men, and in the pres- ence of this holy man, I again assert my innocence of the foul crtinc*. The phy- sician yet lives, and will attest that your father was not murdered, but died a nat- ural-death. Go with me to-morrow, and 1 will convince/ you of the truth of my asseverations. As to the ring, it was given to in'e by your father just before his death. That I have said is true.\— And, as he finished, he extended his hand which Mclvor reluctantly accepted. \ And now,\said tho Scot, \ let all an- imosities be forgotten, and with it all Slowly the hardy\ shepherds sought their homes, and the following day found thepi engaged.in their usual \avocations. Tho good old man who had rescued Wentf u-d from his threatened fate, rest- ed at Hugh's cottage that night and fer- vently and impressively invoked the f! blessing of Heaven I:]H,H the newly wedded pair, conjuring th m to luvo e-ach other till death should part. He had . , been guided to the mountain precipice nan clad | } iy x \ xe wif e o f Mclvor, who, fearing that her husband deliberated vengeance^ had, after his departure ,iu the afternoon, has- tened to the village below, and directiug her steps to the home of the village pas- tor, fold him all, and conducted him to the crags, which he reached just iu time to prevent Wentford's execution by the honest and indignant shepherds. j Subsequent events proved Wentford's penitence sincere, and satisfied Mclvor I of his innocence of the .murder of his father. He sold his estates in England,! and shortly afterward settled in Scotland near the very crags from which, years before, he came so near being precipita- ted. He m by upright deportment, he won the esteem and respect of all around ; him, and, through life, walked in those i paths of integrity and virtue from which his feet had once strayed. Hugh was restored to wealth, and left his mountain home for an ample estate in the valley below. He did not forget in prosperity his friend's in adversity, but bestowed on each a goodly compe- tency, and surrounded by wealth and kind friends, almost forgot the hours of his poverty and the'time when he was only a shepherd of the crags. INHERITED CUMICTERISTICS. J 81,^5 AT END ,0V THlj TEA* 4s replied the man of startled glance about in bonnet and JtUtwace Jennie Me* Ove parents are them. and Wiffiam Wartford made oae. I Ther%«xi»tehereditar MSD iapreswve aceoiand, as tW tain forms;of disease, |«oo o looked : * ^ ' il \ rchikirai of , [ahnte with a loftier thanj before, as if re- II requires but a cursory glance over the antimatc \world to perceive the-lead- ing principles of Uniformity' and Diver sity in accordance with which it is or- ganized; the former manifested in these analogies of structure, type and func- tion which enable us to form groups for convenience of investigation and de- scription ; the later indicated, in those differences which constitute the charac- teristics of the various subdivision into classes, orders, genera and species.— With this'final division the law of diver- sity is suspended : no new species sprin- ging from one already existing, although' infinite varieties of individuality may be produced. Under the operation of these two ori- ginal laws, a writer'in the British Quar- terly, of which facts wo-avail ourselves, accounts for all the phenomena of life, Children inherit the general form and appearance of their parents, and also their mental and moral constitutions, not only in their original, and essential characters, but even in those acquired habits of life, of intellect, of virtue or of I vice, for which they have been remark- able. Under the law of diversity we observe deformity and -ugliness giving origin to grace and beauty,'health' pro- ducing disease, virtue succeeded by yicce intellect by imbecility, and the converse of all these phenomena. The action of these two laws is so interblended that it is impossible to predict exaetly' the qualites of a chjld from the knowledge oSf), those of the parent. ^jMueh of Jhediversity incident to; off- spring is attributable to the innate ten- dency of species, after artificial or acci- ' dental modification, to return to its orig- inal type, as.in the ease of mixed breeds often retailing to one or the other pa- rent stock. JJature seems to have an abhorrence br mongrel races, and will destroy then? in some way. The opinion commonatnong our learn- ed men may be expressed in the words ' of the yhysiologist Burdach, \ that her- itage has in reality more power overeur 'constitution and character'than all the influences from without, whether moral or physieaK\ There is something inter- esting in the tna^ner in which some characteristic feature is\ handed down froni one generation to another, some- times for centuries. Thus the Bour- bons have an aquiline nosei and a peeal- jar form of the,ear; the ircjperial honee] of Austria^ a thick lip, derived from Ma- ry of Burgundy ; and the two COBm|po- litart raees,the Hebrew* *od the Gip-1 •eyf^lia** * distiactive ^siognbrn T little -modified- b y any external eiifcmni. 1 stacks onder which they 1 form' and .eoldr, activity are heritable. Children I themsglvt deed are idiosyncrasies. In entire fam- ilies the slightest quantity of opium acts as a virulent poison; and we once wit- nessed in a;family sensitive to mercury, achild with swollen joints and unmista- kable evidences of mercurial poisoning, resulting in death, where the drug had been exhibited by a homoeopathist.—' Louis XIV. and his descendants possess- ed voracious appetites; and Boethius tells us of a young girl with a horrible .propensity to cannibalism,whose^parents during her infancy had been burned for eating human flesh. The different races of men have char- acteristics distinctly mnrked; tho red, the white, the yellow man, all comport themselves in a different and strikingly contrasted manner when brought into contact witlf the'white man and his civ- ilization. Neither will these differences disappear by custom ; the sombre red man and the volatile ricgio are alike in- capable of nssinwlatiftn to the European nature. Evon the Celtic, Teutonic and Slavic varieties are unable to Wend to- gether. Races consist of aggitations of I indiuiduals; it is clear, therefore, that to a certain extent individuals have the power of transmitting their own specific psychical nature. The education of the parent influences the rapacity Of the offspring. Even among animals, the progeny readily as ; sume the habits of the parents, with lit- tle or no training to them, even when those b'aljits were first superinduced by training. A St.jBernard dog, native of London, began to track footsteps in the snow. The pointer descended from a trained stock will take to pointing with- out any instruction, in the human fam- ily the same principle holds true. The child of the American Indian will nat- urally adopt forest habits to aji extent and with a skill altogether foreign to a white child, although both may have been brought up from earliest infancy in the same, manner. At their first as- sociation and their child and l]ntnnr.hahl» «>Uit | but. aft.- two generations,, during winch efforts at instruction have been partially success- ful, the young children indicate not only more docility, but much greater aptitude to learn. Dr. Moore observes that Our education may tic said to begin with oui forefathers. \ The child of the morally instructed is most capable of instruction^ and intellectual excellence is generally the result of ages of mental cultivation. Sir A. Carlisle cites the observation of a school-master that thecapacities of child- ren for learning, are affected by the ed- ucation and aptitude of their parents; and that the children of people accus- tomed to arithmetic learned figures quicker than those of differently educa- ted persons; while the children of class- ical scholars more easily learned Latin and Greek, and that notwithstanding a few striking exceptions, the natural dull- ness of children born of uneducated per- sons was proverbial. Burdach agrees that the development of the faculties o*' the parents raiders the children more capable of receiving education ; and G't- rou says that acquired capacities aite transmitted by generation, and this trans- mission is more certain and perfect In proportion as the cultivation hasiextend*- ed over more generations, and as that of one parentis less Opposed by that of the other. Children receive from their children receive from their parents, with the impress of their habits, all the shades f capacity, antitude and taste, which avc been the fruit of such habits. There we receptions; wise men have oft°.n fools for their children, and talent often cs front a family remarkable only for mediocrity ; but the tendency, indi- ating a law, is to the transmission of imilar qualities of offspring. No man >f talent ever had an idiot or imbecile for his father or mother. Imbecility is itted from generation to genera- It is also matter of daily observa- that the ordinary run of children tith civilized people, savjage; w an untamable of disease, a a 4 „ I longevity , capac- have about the same intellectual tics ; as their parents. As we ascend'the scale, we cannot fyil to perceive how comparatively rare it is to meet with but one distinguished person in a fami- ly. Thus there were two Pitts and two Foxes. The family of ^Eschylus con- ined eight poets. There were two Scaligcrs, two Herschels, two Coleridg- cs, two Montesquieus, two Sheridans. Raphael, Parmiglano, Titain, Vandyke ere sons of painters ; Mozart and Bee- thoven inherited their talent. Extremes however, are solitary—they are not of- ten transmitted. The moral tendencies follow the same analogy. Families inherit the drunken propensity the passions of their parents, and not by force of example or educa- tion Jperely, but by direct constitutional, heirship. Even the passion for garni ngi has been transmitted. The tendency to I iolate the-laws'for the protection of life or property is transmissible. Sui- \ le runs in families. The ofkpripg of young, immature pa- \ •rents are wretched and unhealthy. Old • age is also a direct\heritage; the child- ren of the aged are old at their very birth. So, also, certain psychological mditions. are heritable. Insanity, a condition but imperfectly defined in our common law, proneness to yield to pe- culiar forms of temptation, producing almost complete irresponsibilUy, may be transmitted through many genera- tions. Hence \th^ existence of \ danger- ous, classes\—people set apart to fill bur prisons, *t war'witb their kibjl, the pariah* of humanity, whom philanthropy and leghsty#WS fail to provide fori prop- erly. Such? cannot be reformed but measurably; ; generations must piss be- fore the stock cam be regenerated- The question whether marriages be- tween members df nearly allied families result in deterioration of stock has not been settled. Cefrtain it is that t U union of human types widely distinct *illefT. S t a mongrel offspring, which ! nature stens' t o fid herself of as a disgrace. Examples sustaining every View of this -ibjcct may be hberally quoted.. The law that \'like p^dtjces fike\ ex- ists everywhere, wbife, nevertheless, children, fa obedience to the law of cB-, ersUjY differ ttom their treats rfnd ] froiia each other. Every formation of body, internal and external, every defor- mity or de&iiency from disease o r acci- dent, every bab i or aptitude, isJiaWe * tooffsprbut •*?*$^ij*H6' i able inUu diversity, >pportuniti < NEW SERIES—No.| but irresistable injipulse of tbe child The law of diversity, as before explain- ed, affords opportunity of escape, so that healthy children pifoceed from unhealthy parents, etc. The , offspring of thatlarge portion of our population who are given up to intemperance) and other forms of j vice, inherit from| their parents strong' impulses and feeble wills, so as to be- j come more or. le^s irresponsible, and: bear a peculiar relation to the U>w, which I urgently claims an attention and, inves- ! tigatkm which it has as yet very imper- ! fectly received. ,, • It is not probably 'desirable thajtj mat- rimonial alliances phould be formed, as some physiologists, would insist, with exclusive referenceto the scientific prin- ciples herein involved; though a due consideration of mriny may be of advan- tage. Human nature instinctively re- pels arbitrary regulations in such matters and it is by no means certain that phy- siology, as now understood and taught, could supply rules to avert the heredita- ry transmission, of pertain constitutional infirmities. Nevertheless, tho whole subject demands attention, infinitely be- yond what it has thus far received. Ntrer do too much at a Time. Sir Edward! Buiwer Lytton,' in a lec- ture recently delivered, gave thf follow- ing history of his literary .HaDits:— \Many persons,- seeing me so ftjuch en- gaged in active life, and as mulch about the world as if I had never beW a stu- dent, have said to me. 'When do you get time to write all your books? How on earth do you contrive to do so much 19. ' CijNTENTMKNT.—Some people have a h.sppy knack for pitting in a pleasant way everything that concerns them- selves. Mr. A.'s son gets a poor place a* a bank clerk; hjs father goes about saying that the lad has found a fine open- ing in business. The young man is or- ilained, and gets a curacy on Salisbury Plain; his father rejoices that there, never seeing* humain face, he has abund- anf leisure for study, and for improving his mind. Or; the fcuiuoy is in the most crowded part of Manchester or Bethnal Green; the father now rejoices that his sou has opportunities of acquiring, cler- ical experience, and of visiting the homes of the poor. Such :a man's bouse is in a well-wooded country; the situation is delightful sheltered j He removes to a bare district without a tree; ah! there he has beautiful ppro air and evtensl.. .K.t»a. • It is well For human beings when they have,ihe; pleasant art of thus putting things, fbu many, we all know 4 have the art of puttjing things in just the opposite way. A CHINESE TOPER.—A story is cur- rent among them of a great wine drink er, who w^s able to sit on all day at th( table, and 'after consuming what would have been sufficient to drive the reason out of half-a-dozen men,\ would rise up perfectly sober. The emperor, heading the fame of this deep drinker, asked hii to dinner, that he might test his marvel- lous powers. As the story goes, the king had ordered a hollow figure to be ca.sf in bronze, of the exact size and mo- dj of this man, and, as the 'wine was served, for each cup that the guest drank a similar cup was poured into the open- ing.on the top of. the head of the image, This went on for several hours, until at length the bronze s>tatue overflowed, and the guest continued at the table and rose fi-e/m it perfectly sober ! ROSE-LEAF OVTHB Fd&Lcrjp!—An dition to the vast number of words that express drunkenness would'be considei ed almost impossible, but the BostoB-j C -urier announces thejriarvel—\ a Min- m sota Senator, in a debate, having in- formed a brother member, that he was -.ilif/htly obtuse.\ But let us refresh the memory of the reader with a few of the s\ nonymes! for this phrase, which are now common\:—Nuddled fuzzled, grog- gy, whittled, corned, screwed, raddled, sewed up, lushy, nappy, b^ozy, muddled, muzzy, tight, slewed, in one's cups, the wrs e for liquor, drop too much, half sens over, three sheets in the wind, under the table, drunk as a'piper, drunk as fi'Idler, drunk as a ijord, drunk as an 0' \drunk as a wheelbaifrow, Co splice the main brace, to liquor up, to take a horn, to take a hair of the dog that bit you, elevated, exhilarated, how-come-you-so, cocked, shot in the neck, etc., etc. r CASUAL WORDS.TT-A casual' word— mere sounding brearJh—how light its im- port seems ! how \ big with fate \. it of- ti n proves !- Not alone words that are the voice-of daily thoughts, but words that.are r only the utterance of a' trans- ient emotion, forgotten as. soon as felt: words,that are but in idly spoken im- pulse, melt not away from the air that holds - them, but assume mysterious shape's of good or evil to influence and haunt\ the hearer's life! These casual words-^re sieed ' scattered perchance by liberal, perchance by thoughtless hands ; though lightly, unpremeditatedly dropp- ed, if^they fall updo receptive minds, upon '-open, fertile soils, they strike vig- orous roots—germinate in silence and darkness, and, bjefore we know that they are planted, bring fdrth grapes or this- tles. Biessed'ire tney whose paths on earth may the-traced by the good seed sown in passing words! » THE HOME of TAS^E.—How easy it is 'jtb be neat! to be clean! How easy it i& to arratfge the rooms with the most graceful'propriety! How easy it is to invest our houses with the truest ele- gance!. Elegance, rlesides not with the upholsterer; or draperf\\\\**^ not'put up with the hanging and curtain^; i t is not in the mosaics^ the <j»rpetings,\the rose- wood, the mahoganyL the cardelabra, or the marble ornameifts ; it exists in the spirit presiding ovrir the chambers of j thcdwellmg/ ; ^ntejntmerit must always be most graceful; iff sheds serenity, over, the scene of ftsjioocte; it transforms a wasteinto a 'garden The home light- ened by these intimations of a nobler and brigfcter lire? ihstf be waiting Jn much which die disebntented deare ; but to its inhabitants Stlwil* b e a palace %V outvieibg:tke orienfja! -16 brHHaaey and glory. ,/./•\\; '...Tt: ll -, \ l;^f;' ; *wd'--SieBlaN»l!here' ir ; »iwa/ a s(^ethiijg of nature's' own. genttfl;ty in alf young wtfmen,'^ (except indeed^ when they getlbgMfaer and m%kggmg.)— ftt'shames urittea Wseep>w^mutth. soon- er they ^-pdTfsbea[irito convenwitiohal shape €h»n our roogb masculine angles. A vulgar boy requires, Heaven knows •> . -v ...-.«, ...v J *,_ - —« tfaree steps, I bat like a requ what assiduity, t o doafH **y M# i a g 1>oy *&£ » soul in iia ; but give the tw ^__ ^ . „oi$ty or tuition to ^'irifyaBdji hundred to one bot 1 glide into refinement before thej | makeja boW without upsel !Jf ^;;.t5lereaa sentiment ih flpaft that gives delicacy ta thou rjw-ft manrieiU withmeHittrj,, Jly n acquired, aaj offspring «*theb i lectual quality, not as witb the other \ \^ »rali4BnxT \\*\' ' sex, of tbe c -fBtj'iWisB 'ttrMi t • work? 1 I shall surprise you bfy the an swer I make. Tl^ answer is (this:—.'1 contrive to do so much by never doing to much at a time. A mail, to get through work well, must not over-work himself, or; if he do too much to-day, the reaction of fatigue will come, and he will be obliged to do too little to-mor- row. Now, since I began really and earnestly to study, which was not till I had left college, and was actually in the world, I may perhaps say I have gone through as largo a course of general reading as most men of my time. I have, traveled much, and I have seen much-; I have mixed much in politics, and the various business of, life; and, ih addition to all this, I have published somewhere about, sixty volumes, some upon subjects requiring much research. And,-what time, do you think, as a gen- ey^l r^ile, 1 hayo devoted to study—to reading and writing? Not jfrnoro than thjgca hour.-,- a .lay ; .and, when Parlia- ment i< sitting, not always that. But thdn, during those hours, I have given my whole attention to what I was about.\' Washington Described by an Englishman^ General Washington is now in the forty-seventh year of his age. He is tall, rather large boned, and has a genteel ad- dress. His features are manly and bold, his eyes of a bluish cast, and very lively ; his hair a deep brown ;. his face rather long, and marked with the small pox ; his eoTtrplexion sun-burnt and-«.without much color. His countenance sensiHln, composed, and thoughtful. There is a remarkable air of dignity about him, •withi a striking degree of cheerfulness.— He has an excellent understanding, with- out much quickness^; is strictly just, vig- ilant and generous ; an affectionate hus- band, a faithful friend, a father to the de- serving soldier ; gentle in his manner, in temper reserved ; a total stranger to're- ligious prejudices, in morals irreproach- able ; and never known to exceed the bounds of the most rigid temperance. In a word, all his friends and acquaintances allowed that no man ever united in his own person a more perfect allowance of the virtues of a philosopher with the tal- .ents of* a general. Candor, sincerety, af-' fability, and simplicity, seem to be the striking features of his character ; and when occasion offers, the power of .dis- playing the most determined bravery aud independence of spirit. * Remedies for Social Evils. , The following sound advice is-froru. the pen of an \eminent Boston divine. Let those who read it ponder well its teach- ings, and the growing evils which.itseeks to check : l\et : us'make our religion more prac4 ticalyN^ndour morality more severe ; and-: show by well ordered and righteous lives the wisdom and blessedness of subjecting the passions and appetites to the con- science and moral sense. Let us hold in chtfck the fierce.lust of gold, and be in HO haste to acquire a for- tune, but show 4n all our transactions that a good name is to be preferred to great riches. Let us frown upon all extravagance,, upon all who live beyond their means and learn, to call all things by their right names. If a mat\,steals another man* money, no matter what the method of doing it, genteel or vulgar, call him a thief*—and-treat him as a thief, whether in.brohdcloth or rags. Treat all labor of the hands or the brain, and all honest workers, with the respect and attention they deserve. Show that you mean it by educating your.sons and daughters to some kind of employment, by instructing them in the knowledge of some useful art, by which, in the day of calamity and want, they may get bread. Finally, look to* the moral and reli- gious home-training of your children, es- pecially the boys', who arc most exposed to the dangerous influence of the streets. Banish from your homes all books and newspapers, whose tendency are at all- questionable. Be gentle and loving, but wise, consistent and steady in your fam- ily government,, Make home cheerful welcome and welcome and desirable to the young members of the family, more? so than any possible place outside of it. Let .them see that religion in your hearts, and ,in youf.- glomes, is not mere profes- sion and- talk ; a dead form only, but a ing and controlling force—and that the only hope of permanent happiness, the only safety in temptation, the onljf con- solation in sorrow, and the only triumph in death, is a perfect faith and obedi- ence towards God. - When these things shall b.e heeded in all the families of toe land, then there will be such a diminishing of the crim- inal classes, and such sm increase of good men J such a declension,, of wickedness, and such a gro|w'th in righteousness— that all hearts everywhere shall rejoice and glorify the pame of the Lord. WHAT'THE LEAVES SAT.—You have Uften gazed upon thelmany-eolored leaves which* flutter in the lautumn breeize, just ready to faU» to the groand. Did you ever listen to hear .them talk t o you Tr- ior ;talk they d(j>, in their silent language -+teK|ng you of the bright spring-time, when they dranik in the gentle dew, and hibaled tbe balmy air, and spread out ihefrtdeKeete fibres to the. rays of the sun, and fidWoned by a divine Creator, took if<*ms pf beautjy j and painted by his batt# aawioied tfte pleasant green ; and how.op'beld by( .His power, they bad borne the;, pelting of many, a' pifcifew storm, and the scorching beat of the noon- day sun, while many of their companions had faded and fallen to the ground. And they would tell you that, one by ene, they too, should fall. Thus these fading, falling leaves, talk to u» of life^evening, and whisper toljMfo berfjady,ibr \w e all do fede as a leaf*\ And A> they not talk to us ofsome^baw brighter and bet- the unfadtoT?^ of the tree that grow* on^ j^nkso f tbe river of life^aod urg* qkt a seek that heavenly »«[fWifi-.\ --j '..' m - • ', ;' * ; Jdever tip a jbejlver to \f fine lady, and a woman [without seeming to see ,. | £j£\^»WfcM the rates allowed by l»w will he ,In? 'iH!!I B i lt f * *»' J * lr ;'•»<\ wh< ** » «»tic« Is leei «a ^aquwra It U charged u one, unless a special agreementnmadelottecontnry. , \\\ \^™ r i * o d *«POb8eai» haaa large circulation— \\\\*\ \\ a?iYeifl»ing. CektatodlBihoii Steele wrote excellently on temper- i\nce t when he teas sober. Sallust, who declaimed 90 eloquently against the li- centiousness of the agej was himself an habitual debauchee. Johnson's essay on politeness is admirable, but be was him- self a perfect boor. Young's gloomy \versefs give one the blues, but h? was htfsk, lively man. Martin Luther's literary labors were normous; during an interval, of less thsui thirty tears; he published seven hundred^ and ftfteeii volumes; some were pamphlets, bu,t the most were large and elaborate treatise. He was very fond or his dog, which was ever by his side. 4 Th« Comforts of Human Life,\ by U. Heron, were written \n a prison, un- der the most distressing' circumstances. The Miseries q£ Human Life,\ by Beresford, were on the contrary, com- posed in a drawing room, where the au- ' :-F was suriuunucd by every luxury, All the friends of Sterne knew him to . be a most selfish man ; yet, as a writer, ' Li excelled in pathos and charity. At one time beating his wife, at another wasting his sympathies over a dead rlouky. • So Seneca wrote in praise of poverty, on a table formed of solid gold, with millions let out at usury. The mariner's Compass. •To one who has \gone down'' to 'tho sea in ships,\ who has seen \ the wonders of the Lord fri the deep,\ there is some- tiring more interesting and suggestive in the. sightof that magical instrument, the mariner's compass. It is this, which, through all the winds and waves of their course, has guided them safe onward to- ward the \ desired haven ;\ this which, notwithstanding alr.the tcjssings of the great deep, has kept steadily progress- ing, never once losing sight of the -end, i.i the disturbances and-perplexities of t!iP way There is something wonder- fully quieting and solemnizing in the sight of that steady little needle, point- ing ever so true to its mark, and doing more than all that restless, busy machin ' ery, in bearing the mighty v??z~_l safe on its perilous way. It is, indeed, the life-pulse of the great breathing frame- work. There are many miuds that resemble the surveyor's-rather than the mariner's compass. They are forever -unsettled and unsteady in their pointing. Their tint in life isf often unbalanced by the. iiide touch of change, or the shifting of the wind of prosperity/ Such minds -d fell too much on the means by which thj-y hope to attain a certain definite c|# ; and, instead of leaving to God the choice of these means, t^iey are busied in fry ing. to surround themselves with- just such circumstances as they, in their short-sightedness, think favorable for the accomplishment of the^r object.— And so, when in the providence of God, these-means are upset, and rendered hin- drances instead o f help*, their whc'.^ .. i turcis unbalanced ; they know not where to turn, nor how to. go, to work .to build up the shattered foundations of life.— Protestant Churchman. C* EneonragiBf ft Newspaper. The encouragement, which some news- paper publishersvreceive^may \meet with , a comparison in; the 'folio, wing;,. The editor and p^ubii^ber of a paper m \ one of OUT inland'citie» had, a- few years Vigo, among his Subscribers,quite a protn«- inent individual/of',the place, who hud • been a constant.^reader of tho paper Bver - since the'commencement of fts..publK.'a- lion, : ;buthad^feverpaid-Vpenny. _ \_. The collector *>f „bills..having retyraed 1 hat against the delinquent to his 1 \employ-'; IT as one impossible to convert into cashj ihe editor resolved to-give the party in question a broad hint as to his remiss- ness the first time\ an'opportunity should occur in' public- v . H e did,-not have to wait long, for in a few. days be .discover- ed his negligent patron seated In the'-of- fice ofthe principal hotel, surrounded by quite a g^up-of friends, arid disposing of cigars pd other little luxuries \suffic- ient to haveUiquidated at least one year's subscription.: When the laugh', at the last joke had subsided, the editor ap- proached the group^and after the usual salutation to his subscriber, remarked': 11 Colonel,«you have had\ my paper IOW for five years, aud never paid for it '- It hough the bill has frequently been ?ut., I should like'my pay.'' \ Pay !\ ejaculated the Col•lonel, wMth well-feigned astonishment. \Did you ^ypay?\ • . -. v , \Certainly was' the_ reply, \you have had any paper, and I now want my pay for it.\ , ' .. -Pay!\ again exclaimed the Colonel, It can't he that^you expect me to pay in thing for that paper! Why, I only H'k'tho plaguey thing for the purpose of nc uraging you / \ The laugh from the circle of listeners ) this dialogue came in here like the u: i ti tig of a bomb -shell. Tti&JfBESEirr APPEARANCE OF SEVAS- TOPOL.—Sevastopol remains in the same forlorn and dilapidated condition as wherT the troops 1 left Balaclava. Inkerman and the Redan bear the sarne traces of the beseiging forces.. A few old houses have been converted into habitable dwel' i^.s by the \ftussian soldier >ho resided them. Lord Ragland's house and. the nfchyard also remain in the condition in which they were left, nor has any thing be^n done in the shape of restoration of the hospital, once one of the most mag- nificent buildings in Sevastopol. One portion of tbe city, which was not ren- dered wholly uninhabitable, has been patched u their livii fields of I —, „ treasure, and shot and shell. One of them, who had picked up a shell, acciden- tally let it fell, and die missile, not pre- viously having, been discharged, burst and killed tijepoor, fellow on the spot, A:though these «<« have been engaged far aloMriirae in gathering tbe shot and shell, and digging in tbe earth for bullets, yt t there is an abundance left in all di- rections. T!he harbor baa been partially filled up. H w Arb^rican Company en- gaged with ^aimfcaivvesiel* have rais- ed about 1brty i r Tb9 s^k«o d «»inak- ing of a patent slip forla patent dock are almost the only means of employment for the inhabitant*. wholly unmnabitawe, nas Deen ed up by a few poor Jews, who get living by going over the desolated of battle, picking up tin leaden ^^^s^^r^ tWreiltollver wHtw««|gl»
