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^jjjaa^^SasE^teUBH M c GRA WVILLE A FAMILY NEWSPAPERS-NEUTRAL IN POLITICS. VOLUME I. Wstaut) U .Sctenrr, %ilnnUxs, IP&rltcg, JStlfc^suif 1x13, ^m^mme, Xs&s »f jasaing 3s£eni$s, Jretfrijjn ai$ UPcssMgik EnteJiigcnw, &?. &e. NUMBER 3. BY S. C. CLISBE, & A. T. BOYNTON. MC'GBA WVILLE, CORTLAND COUNTY, N. Y. AUGUST 26, 1847. Immediately after supper, she called an elderly gentleman, a member of the Coun- cil, in whom she was acoostomed to con- fide, to another room—complained bitterly of the rudeness of the stranger—told the manner of his introduction into the house 1 —observed that he appeared like an out- landish man ; and, she thought, had some- thing very suspicious in his appearance— j and concluded by soliciting her friend's ad- ' vice, in respect to the way in which she j could most easily rid herself of his pres- ence. The old man assured her that the chocolafp, as you appear to be a strangei here, to w hat distant country do you be-, long ? I, madam, belong to the city ol Philadelphia. At t u e mention of Philidel phia, the Doctor declares he, for the firs! time, perceived any emotion in her. Phil, delj.hia ? you live in Philidelphia, perhaps you knew our Ben. Who,madam? Why, Ben Franklin; my Ben; oh! he is tin dearest child that ever blessed a mother ! What, said the Doctor, is Ben Franklin,the Printer, your son ? why, he is my most in- timate friend ; he and J lodge in the same Natural Aflcction, A writer in the Louisville (Ky.) Advertiser, com- batting the common idea, that there exists an in- stinctive aflcction, which would attach lo each others relat.ves who were unconscious of the fact, and by force of which friends long seperated wo'd instantly recognize each other, cites the following characteristic anecdote of our illustrious country man, FRANKLIN, as a proof of the truth of his ar- gument. Doctor Benjamin Franklin, after the de- cease ot his father, returned to Boston, in order to pay his respects to his mother,who resided in that town, lie had been absent some years, and at that period of life when the greatest and most rapid alteration is made in the human appearance—at a time when the querulous voice of the stripling assumes the commanding lone of the adult, and the smiling features of the youth are succeeded by the strong line of manhood. The doctor was sensible, such was the al- teration of his person, that his mother could not know him, except by that instinct which, it is believed, can make a mother's hpart beat violently in the presence of her child, anil point the maternal eye, with a quick and sudden glance, to a beloved s in. ' To discovpr the existence of this in- stinct by actual experience, the doctor re- solved to introduce himself as a stranger to his mother, and to watch nanvuvly for the moment in which she should discover her son, and then to d termine with the cool precision of the philosopher whether that discovery was the effect of that instinct of affection—that intuitive love—that innate attachment, which is conjectured to con- nect relatives of the same blood; and which, by according the passions of parent and child, like a well tuned viol, would at the first touch cause them to vibrate in unison, and at once evince that they were different chords of the same instrument- On a sullen, chilly day in the month of January, in the afternoon, the Dr. knocked at his mother's door, and asked to speak with Mrs. Franklin. lie found the old la- dy knitting before the parlor (ire—-introdu- ced himself by observing that he had been informed she entertained travellers, and re- quested 'a night's lodging. She eyed him with that cold look of disapprobation which most people assume when they imagine themselves insulted by being -supposed to exercise an employment but one degree below their real occupation in life—assur- ed him that he had been misinformed—that she did not keep a tavern ; but that it was true, to oblige some of the members of the legislature, she took a number of them in- to her family, during the session ;»that she had then four members of the Council, and six of the House of Representatives, who boarded with her—that all her beds were full; and then betook herself to her knit- ting, with that intense application which expressed, as forcibly as words could do, \If you have concluded your business, the sooner you leave the house the better.\ But upon the Doctor's wrapping his coat around him, affecting to shiver with cold and observing that it was \very cold weath- er,\ she pointed to a chair, and gave him leave to warm himself. The entrance of the boarders precluded all further conversation—coffee was soon served, and the Doctor partook with 'the family. To the coffee, according to the good old custom of the times, succeeded a plate of pippins, pies, and a paper of Mc- Intyre's best, when the whole family, form- ed a cherful semi-circle before the fire- Perhaps no man ever possessed the collo- quial powers to a more fascinating degree than Dr. Franklin ; and never was there an occasion when he displayed those pow- ers to greater advantage, than a t this time. He drew the attention of the company by the solidity of modest remark—instructed them by the varied,ncwand striking lights, in which he placed his subject, and deligh- ted them with apt and amusing anecdotes. Thus employed, the hours passed morily! along until 8 o'clock, when, punctual to a moment, Mrs. Franklin announced supper. Busied with her household affairs, she fan- cied the intruding stranger had quitted the house immediately after coffee, and it was with difficulty she could restrain her re- sentment when she saw him without mo- lestation, seat himself at the table, with the freedom of a member of the family. stranger was certainly a man of education ' room. Oh! God forgive me! e.tclaimed , and, to all appearance a gentleman; that,! the old lady, raising her watery eyes to [ perhaps, being in agreeable company, he I Heaven; and have 1 suffered an acquain- • had paid no attention to the lutein ss of thci lance of my Benny to sleep on this hard hour ; and advised her to call him aside,' chair, vthile I myself have rested on a aood \\\\\\y bed! How the Doctor discovered himself to his mother he lias not informed us ; but ho could command, recapitulated the situ-' from the above experiment, he was firmly ation of her family, observed that it grew! convinced, and was often heard to declare, late, and mildly intimated, that he would, that natural affection does not exist. , Doctor replied, that he would by no means | (M]iJ©©iI[LLAIM[E®(y]© a incommode her family ; but that with her and repeat to him, her inabilit to lodge him. She acoordingly sent her maid to him, and then, with as much temper as leave, he would smoke one pipe more with I her hoarders, and then retire. Helmsmen oi'ltalcc Eric. It was on a pleasant May morning that ' lie returned to the company, filled his, a steam vessel was riding at anchor, oppo ; pipe, and with the first whitl' his powers of! site the town of Buffalo, on Lake Erie.— 'converse returned with double force. lie ! You know, I dare say, that Erie is one of i recounted the hardships—lie extolled the those sea-lakesfor which America is so fa- i piety and policy of their ancestors. A;mous; and, as you stand on its shores, and ! gentleman present mentioned the subject see the green waves dashing in one after j of the day's debate in the house of repre- |anothcr,you might well think that you were jsenlatives. A bill had been introduced to ' looking on the great ocean itself. The extend the prerogatives of the royal Gov- Jersey—for that was the name of the ernor. The Doctor immediately entered ; steamer—was dressed gaily with many upon the subject—supported the colonial I bright flags ; the Blue Peter, the signal uf ' rights with new and forcible arguments; her immediate sailing, was at her mast- ' was familiar with the influential men in ; head, potters were hurrying along the ; the liou&e when Dudley was governor—re- ; narrow quay that juts out into the lake ; , cited their spi eehes, and applauded the no-; boatmen quarreling with each other for j ble did'enee of the Chamber rights. ! passengers ; travellers hurrying backward During a discourse so appropriately in-laud forwards to look for their luggage, ! teresting to the company, no wonder that friends shaking hands and bidding each j : the c-lock struck 11, unperceived by the'other farewell; idlers lounging about! . delighted circle ; nor was it wonderful that with their hands in their pockets; car dri- the patience of Airs. Franklin, by this time, _ vers jugling for a larger fare; and all the grew quite exhausted. She now entered various kinds of bustle and confusion that; the room, and before the whole company, attend the departure of a packet from a i with much warmth, addressed the Doctor;; watering place. told h in plainly she thought herself impns-! But presently the anchor was heaved, edupon; observed, that it was true she the paddles began to turn, the sails were was a lone woman ; but that she had friends set, and leaving a broad track of foam be- ' who would protect her, and concluded by , hind her, the Jersey stood Westward and i insisting on his leaving the house. The • held on her course for the town of Erie. Doctor made a slight apology, deliberately ; It was a bright blue day ; and as hour af- I put on his great coat and hat. took a polite ! ter hour went by, some mingled in the bu- j I leave of the company.approached the street ( sy conversation of politics, some sat apart j i door, lighted by the maid and attended by ; and calculated the gains of the shop or the I the mistress. While the Doctor and his counting house ; some were wrapped up) i companions had been enjoying themselves' in the book with which they were engaged ; I within, a most tremendous snow storm and one or two, with whom time seemed j ' without had filled the streets knee deep— \io hang heavily, composed themselves to and no sooner had the maid lifted up the'sleep. In shot t one and all were like men latch, than a roaring northeaster forced \ who thought that let danger come to them jopen the door, extinguished the light, and 'when it might, at least it would not be that I almost filled the entry with drifted snow'day. and hail. As soon as the candle was 1 re-j It drew towards four in the afternoon,! lighted, the Doctor casta woeful look to-(and the steamer, which had hitherto been wards the door, and thus addressed his i keeping the middle of the lake,stood south- j mother :—My dear Madam, can you turn wards—Erie, the place to which it was me out of your house, in this dreadful i bound, lying on the southern side. Old storm ? I am a stranger in this town, and John Maynard was at the wheel—a bluff, shall certainly perish in the streets. You weather beaten sailor, tanned by many a I look like a charitable lady ; I shouldn't | wi#rry tempest. He had truly learned to | think you could turn a dog from your door be content with his situation; none could, , on this tempestuous night. Don't tell me i ever say that they ever heard him repine; : of charity, said the offended matron. Char- j at his hard labor and scanty pay. He had ! . ity begins at home. It is your own fault J in the worst times, a cherful word and a[ you tarried so long. To be plain with you j kind look for those with whom he was sir, I do not like your looks or your con- duct, and I fear you have some bad de- signs in thus introducing yourself to my family. I The warmth of the parley had drawn I the company from the parlor, and by their I united interference, the stranger was per- ' mitted to lodge in the house ; as no bed I could be had, he consented to repose on an ieasy chair, before the fire. Although her I boarders appeared to confide perfectly in the stanger's honesty, it was not so with Mrs. Franklin; with suspicious caution, she collected her silver spoons, pepper box and porringers from her closet; and after securing the parlor door by sticking a fork over the latch, carried the plate to the chamber, charged the negro man to sleep with his clothes on, to take the great cleav thrown—cast, often Into bad company, he tried, at least, and generally succeeded, to say something for good. He was known from-one end of Lake Erie to the other, by the name of honest John Maynard; and the secret of his honesty was—his love of God. The land was about ten miles off, when the Captain coming up from his cabin, cried to a sailor, \ Dick Fletcher, what's all that smoke I see coming out from the hold ?\ \It's from the engine room sir, I guess,\ said the man. \ Down with you then, an 1 let me know.\ The sailor began descending the ladder by which you go to the hold ; but scarce ertobed with him, and to awaken andjty had he disappeared beneath the deck, seize the vagrant at the first noise made in \ than U P hc came a gain with much greater attempting to rob the house. Having thus j speed- taken every precaution, she retired to bed with her maid,whom she compelled to sleep in her room. Mrs. Franklin rose before the sun, rous- ed _ her domestics, unfastened the parlor door, with timid caution, and was agreea- bly surprised to find her guest quietly sleep- ing in the chair. A sudden transition from extreme mistrust to perfect confidence,was natural. She waked him with a cheerful good morning—and enquiring how he had rested—and inviting him to partake of her breakfast, which was always served pre. vious to that of her boarders. And pray, sir, said the old lady, as she sipped her \The hold's on fire sir,\ he said to the captain who was by this time standing close to him. The captain rushed down and found the account too true. Some sparks had fallen on a bundle of tow ; no one had seen the accident, and now not only much of the luggage, but the sides of the vessel wore in a smouldering flame. All hands, pas- sengers a s well as sailors were called to- gether ; and two lines being made, one on each side of the hold, buckets of water were passed and repassed; they were fill— from the lake, they flew along a line of ready hands, were' 1 \ \\' \•>• jurning mass, and then passed on the) other side to be refilled. For some min- utes it seemed as if the flames were sub- dued. In the meantime the women on boafd were clustering round Julin Maynard, the only man unemployed who was capable of answering their questions. •' How far is it to land V \ How long hhall wi be get- ting in?\ \Is it very deep?\ \Can hey sec us from shore /\ The helmsman an&wcrcd as well as lie could. There was no boat, it had been left at Buffalo to be mended; they might bi seven miles from shore, they would probably be in, in forty minutes; could not tell how far the fire had reached- \And to speak the truth,\ he added \ we are all in great danger, and 1 think if there was a little kss talking, and a lille more praying it would be the bet- ter fur u-s and none the worse for the boat.\ \How's her head?\ shouted the Cap- tain. \ West-sou'west,\ answered Maynard. \Keep her south by we>t,\ cried the captain. \ We must go shore anywhere.\ It happened that a draft of wind drove back the flames, which soon began to blaze up more furiously against the saloon, and the partition betwixt it and the hold, was soon on fire. Then long wreaths of smoke began .to find way through the skylight,and the captain seeing this, ordered all the wo- men fbiwarrl—the American flag was run up and reversed in token of distress ; water was flung over the sails to make them hold the wind. And still John Maynard stood by the wheel, though now he was cut off by a sheet of smoke and flames, from the ship's crew. Greater and greater grew the heat—the engineers fk'd from the engine room—the passengers were clustering round the ves- sel's bow—the sailors wera sawing plank on which to lash the women—the boldest were throwing off their coats and waist- coats, and preparing for one long struggle for life. And still the coast grew plainer and plainer—the paddles as yet worked well—they could not be more than a mile from shore; and boats were even now starting tu their assistance. \ John Maynard !\ cried the captain. \ Aye aye sir!\ said John. \ Can you hold on five minutes longer ?\ And he did try; the flames came near- er and nearer ; a sheet of smoke would sometimes almost suffocate him ; and his hair was sing\d—his blood seemed on fire with the great heat. Crouching as far back as he could, he held the wheel firmly with his left hand till the ff-sh shriveled, and the muscles crackled in the flames ; and then he stretched forth his right and bore the agony without a scream or a groan. It was enough for him that he heard the cheer of the sailors lo the approaching boats ; the cry of the captain, \the women first then every man for himself, and God for us all.\ And they were the iast sounds that he heard. How he perished was not known ; whether dizzied by the smoke, he lost his footing in endeavoring to come for. ward and fell overboard, or whether he was suffocated by the dense smoke, his comrads could not tell. At the moment the vessel struck, the boats were at its side ; passengers, sailors and captain leap- ed into them, or swam fir their lives ; all, save he to whom they owed everything,es- caped. He had died the death of a christian he- ro—I had almost said of a martyr; his spirit was comnvmdeel into his father's hands, and his body sleeps in peace by the green side of Lake Erie. Genius vs. Labor. \Of what use is all your studying and your books V said an honest farmer to an ingenius artist, \they don't make the corn grow, nor produce vegetables for market. My Sam does.more with his plough in one month, than you can do with your books and papers in one year.\ \What plough does your son use ?\ said the artist quietly. \Why he uses 's plough to be sure' He can do nothing with any other. By using this plough, we save half the labor, and raise three times as much as the old wooden concern.\ The artist, quietly again, turned over one of his sheets, and showed the farmer a drawing of the lauded plough, saying, ''I am the inventor of your favorite plough, and my name is> •.\ The astonished farmer shook the artist heartily by the hand, and invited him to call at the farm house, and make it his home as long as he liked. Second Marriages, 111 my eyes a second macriage—on whichever side—is the worst of all sacrK leges of the heart. The being you have hived is no more ; never shall that hand which once pressed yours in affection, re- po-e in your tender grasp; never shall those worshiped eyes meet yours again with a glance of ineffable sympathy, i'he tie is dissolved ; the links are broken asun- ler; the golden b'nvl is broken and the accents which fell upon your ear in touchs ing love, are hustled in an endless slumber. The one who bore life's bitter cross with you, whose angel care smothed the pillow on your couch of sickness; the one whose tears greeted your departure, and whose smiles welcomed your return ; the rose in your dreary path, the gushing spring on the arena of your existence, has vanished ; and the churchyard mound, the wild flow- era that spring there, and the plaintive rob- in that sings his melancholy winter song over the spot—are all that earth has left to recall the memory of the dead. Angry words may perchance have passed between you ; coldness may have for a time check- ed the bounding heart, and frozen up the gush of affection, but still the heart longed to bound, and beneath those icy fetters the warm stream of love was deeply flowing. Death has swallowed up all the little anis mosities, all the petty differences and dis- cussions which prevailed between you,and a treaty of eternal peace has been signed over the grave. How truly said Emilie Sonvestre—\ The slightest seperation ex- tinguishes resentment in a generous heart; but to transform that resentment into ten- derness, it requires that greatest absence of all, that absence which we know to be without hope, and from which there is no return!\ We may be told of a happier meeting in realms above; we may be bid to look upon the bliss which has passed a mere mortal dream, to be realized in ten thousand fold bliss during an eternity in heaven ; but these consolations in the first agony of grief fall coldly upon the ear, « hich has listened to that formula of \dust to dust,\ to the ominous and gloomy rattle ol the earth upon the coffin. Our \house- hold gods,\ are \ shivered ; we return to the lonely hearth, where the lost one once sat to greet us; we gaze at the vacant seat, the glove forgotten on the table, the little relics of the departed; and, oh .' how bit- terly recur to our bleeding hearts each word of unkindness, each hour of neglect, which that departed one endured from us, and which we would now give worlds to re- call ! Cold and heartless, then, must that man or woman be, who throws of with the mourning the memory of the mourned, and fills that vacant seat with the form of a stranger.— Hints on Husband catching, in Reynold's[Miscellany. I am Engaged. The following is an extract from \ The Journal of the Tour of Lafayette in A- merica,\ written by Mr. Levasseur, his Secretary. The American ladies are not more re- markable for their severe conjugal fidelity, than the girls are for their constancy to their engagements. At parties I have of- ten had young ladies pointed out to ine of eighteen or nineteen, who had been enga ged and of whose future husbands, one was in Europe, pursuing his studies, an- other in China, attending to commercial business, and a third dangerously employed in the whale fishery, in the most distant seas. Young girls thus engaged, hold the middle place in society between their still disengaged companions and the married la dies. They have already lost some of the thoughtless gaity of the former, and assu- med a slight tinge of the other. The nu- merous aspirants, designated here by the name of beaux which at first surrounded them, and were received until a choice was made, still bestow upon them delicate at- tentions, but by no means so particular as formerly, and should one of them, either from ignorance or obstinate hopes, persist in offering his heart and hand, the answer, I \ I a m engaged,\ given with asweet frank- ness and an indulgent smile, soon destroys 'all hisillusions,without wounding his pride. Engagements of this sort, preceding mar- riage, are very common, not only in New York, but throughout the United States; and it is exceedingly rare that they are not fulfilled with religious fidelity. Public o- pinion is-very severe on this point, and very justly, and does not spare either of the two parties which may dispose of them- selves without the consent of the other. Preservation ot the Teeth* Nearly all the expedients resorted to in these scientific days, for the preservation cf the teeth, are directly calculated to has* ten their decay. In the first place, pul- verised charcoal, applied from day to day with a brush, an almost universal practice, wears upon the enamel by constant attri- tion ; under this gi hiding operation, ultK matel-, the osseous, or inner bony part, begins to have a blue tinge ; and finally, carious spots give evidence of the certain commencement of disease. Salt, lemon juice, indeed any of the acids, are posi- tively injurious, as they act directly upon the lime of which the teeth are constituted, destroy the cohesion of particles and bring on a speedy decay. Ashes, next to char- coal is intolerably bad. Peruvian bark is a good application for the gums, but possesses not the least control over the chemicd composition of the teeth. Burnt crust reduced to powder also scratch and mar this enamel. Those persons who exclusively confine themselves to brushing their teeth daily with pure cold water, without any regard to the thousands of ar- ticles extensively prepared with cost to ar-. rest the progress of caries in the teeth, with very tew exceptions, preserve them in the highest state of organic perfection. Tlko Death Lump. A person writing from France mentions the following curious scene, which present- ed itself on his visit to the vaults of the church of St. Dennis, in which the French' Kings are entombed :—\But the most sin- gular of all other things is a lamp which is kept burning on the coffin of Louis 18, and which, it is said, is to be continued burn- ing until Louis Philippe dies—he being the next king, if he dies on his throne, to whom the lamp will pass until his success. or dies. Napoleon did not die on the throne, neither did Charlos 10th j conoo. quently Louis 18th has not been buried, neither has the lamp ever been allowed to go out. It looks dreary and dark as mid- night in the vault, and I involuntarily shuddered as I looked through the iron grating into the chamber of death, and viewed the dark pall upon the tomb. The light of the lamp was more like a star flickering through atlark cloud. It was indeed the chamber of death.\ The aiean Man. Scrimping wretch! see him at his gold! How much of it has been wrung from wid- ow's hearts none can tell. He would re- main in a ditch all night to save a groat, and yet he knows not how to dispose of his income. In gazing on the countenance of this wretch, we ask, in the language of Young : \What then is man ?—the smallest part of nothing. What insect can possess a soul so small ?\ Surely in Hudibrasian language we would say : And when from earth he passes, Satan to see his little soul, Will have to use his glasses. Influence. Every person has more or less influence. The greater tho talent, the larger the wealth,the high or the office, the wider will be the influence. Re- member this, and so live that your good deeds and daily example nuy lead to truth und virtue. (KF'One hundred thousand women have peti- tionod Queen Victoria for a law to punish seduc- tion. Let them refuse lo associate with tho se- ducer and there will be no necessity for such a law. Why should not n railroad car be made to an* swor for duinago done to bagage as well as a stage coach T Because it has no tongue. The Bishop Trickled. \Vhen a certain Bishop, who held many livings, was one day travelling on a visita- tion, he met a poor curate of his diocese, and desired to know which way he was go- ing ? \To Farnharn,\ said the curate.— \ Then, sir,\ said the bishop, with great pomposity and haughtiness of tone, \ I must desire that you call at such an inn, and order me a good dinner.\ \For your grace alone ?\ said the curate. \ Certain. ly, sir.\ The poor parson was a man of some hmnor, and feeling himself a little hurt by the meanness of his commission, told the landlord of the inn that he must provide a dinner of three removes, for a dozen of the clergy, with the bishop at the head, and an handsome desert into the bargain. His grace, on his arrival, was a good deal surprised at the preparations, but on calling for the bill of fare, his as: tonishment was great beyond description; then ringing violently for the landlord, he exclaimed, \ how in the name of wonder could you think of such a profusion for a single person.\ \ Sir,\ said the landlord, \ the gentleman told me there was at least a dozen clergymen—there was the Bishop of \ \That is me\—\and the Dean of Salisbury\—\ that am I,\ said the bishop —\the Prebend of Winchester\—\so am F'_«Vicar of \—\so am I\—\the master of College,\ \soatnL\ Here the Bishop smoked the jest, told the land- lord he knew the rest of the gentlemen, so desired him to send up the dinner directly, bnt not a little chagrined at what lie should have to pay. !D\\Well, Mary,\ said a lawyer to;R witnesi, \if I may credit what I hear, I may venture to address you by the name of Black Moll.\ \Faith you may, mister lawyor,\ said she, \for I am s>l« wttyu called BO by tho blackguards.\ ,«-\'
