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" SAMLw.MEiioH^ditor^ I > independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |mpesabhumisaivahce. VOL 5. ~ ' YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MAY 12,1859. NO. 19. Cjjeforhbillc inquirer is ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY MOREIKO, AT Two Dollars per year, in Advance. SIX COPIES, 910 50 t TEN COPIES, $15 00, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. ADVEIiTlSF.MENTR Will be Inserted at ONE Dollar per square for the first and Thirtt-seves-aND-a-Half Cents for each subsequent Insertion (less thnn three months.) A Square consists of the space occupied by 12 lines of Brevier type; 100 words or one inch and a half space. No Advertisement counted less than a squnre. Semi-Monthly, Monthly, or Quarterly Advertisements, will be charged One Dollar per square for each insertion. For Advertising Estrnys Tolled. 82: to be paid by the Magistrate. Citations, 92 ; to be paid in ndvance by the person applying. 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Indlvidnal contracting. *,*Pcraoaal rommnnle?tloni, when admissible; communications of limited or Individual interest, or recommendations of Candidate! for offices of honor, profit or trust, will be charged fbr at from 3 to 10 cents per line. - jn Stflrg-Cdlcr.' AN OLD STORY IN A NEW DRESS. A very long time ago, in the western part of England, there lived an aged couple, whose time bad passed away since early youth, in the every round of farm life, and who had never been known to have the least i'l feeling towards each other since the time when good old Parson Heriot had nnited them in the holy bonds of wedlock, twentyfive years before. So well was the fact of their conjugal happiness known, that they were spoken of, far and near, as the happiest pair kDown. Now, the Devil (excuse the abrupt mention of his name) had been trying for twenty years to create what is commonly called a "fussio the family," between these old companions. But much to his mortification, he had not beeD able to induce the old gentleman to grumble about breakfast being late once or the old lady to give a single curtain lecture. After repeated efforts the Devil became discouraged, and had he not been a person of great determination be would doubtless have given up the work in despair One day as he walked along, in a very surly mood, after another attempnRTgec Wie~oTu raffy to quarrel about j the pigs getting into the yard, he met an old woman, a near neighbor of the aged couple. As Mr. Devil and the neighbor were very particular friends, they must needs stop on the way to chat a little. 'Good morning, sir,' said she, 'and pray what on earth makes you look so badly, this beautiful morning, isn't the controversy between the churches doing good service V 'Yes.' 'Isn't Deacon W. making plenty of bad whisky?' 'Yes.' \ * 'Well, what is the matter, my highly honored master V 'Everything else is going on well enough,' replied the Devil, 'but,' and here he looked as sour as a monkey on a crab apple tree, 'old Blueford and his wife, over here, are injuring the cause terribly by their bad example, and after trying for years to induce them to do better, I must say I consider them hopeless.' The old hag stood for a moment in deep thought. 'Are you sure that you have tried every way ?' 'Every one I can think of.' Are you certain ?' 'Yes.' ?Well,' replied she, 'if you will promise to make me a present of a new pair of shoes, iD case I succeed, I will make the attempt myself, and see if I can't raise a quarrel between them ' To this reasonable request the Devil gladly consented. The old hag went her way to neiehbor Blueford's house, and found old Mrs. Blueford very busily engaged in getting things ready for her husband's comfort on his return from work. After the usual compliments had passed, the following dialogue took place: Well, friend B , you and Mr. B. have lived a long time together.' Five and twenty years, come next November,' replied Mrs. B. 'And in all this time you have never had the least quarrel ?' 'Not one.' I am truly glad of it, continued the hag. 'I consider it my duty to warn you, that though this is the case, yet you must not expect it to be always so. Have you not observed that of late Mr. B. has grown peevish and sullen at times ?' 'A very little so,'observed Mrs. Blueford. 'I know it,' continued the hag, 'and let i 1 > me warn you id time 10 oe on your guaru. Mrs. B. did think she had better do so, and asked advice as how she ought to manage the case. 'Have you not noticed,' said the hag, 'that your husband has a bunch of long, coarse hair growing on a mole under his chin, on the side of his throat ?' 'Yes.' 'These are the cause of trouble, and as long as they remain you had better look out. Now, as a friend, I would advise you to cut them off the first time you get a chance, and thus end the trouble.' 'If you say do so, I will,' replied the cr6dulous old lady. Soon after this the hag started for borne, and made it coDveuient to meet Mr. B. on the way. Much the same talk, in relation to his domestic happiness, passed between them as did between the old woman. 'But friend Blueford,' said she, 'I think it my duty, as a Christian, to warn you to be on yoar guard, for I tell you that your wife iateuds your ruiu.' Old Mr. B. was very much astonished, yet he could not wholly discredit her words. When he reached home he threw himself upon a bed in great perplexity, and, feigning sleep, studied over the mutter in his own mind. His wife, thinking this a gjood opportunity for cutting off the obnoxious hair, took her husband's razor and crept softly to his side. Now the old lady was very much frightened at holding a razor so close to her husband's neck, aud her hand was not so steady as it once was?so, between the two, she weut to work very awkwardly, and pulled the hairs instead of cutting them oil.? l Mr. B opened his eyes, and there stood hi6 wife.\axh a razor at his throat! After what had been told him, and seeing this, he could not. rlmihr fVint. fihr> inffinded to murder him. He sprang from his bed >n horror, and no explanation or entreaty could convince him to the contrary. So, from that time forth, there was uo more peaee for that house. It was jaw, jaw, quarrel, and wrangling all the time. With delight the Deyil heard of the success of the faithful emissary, and sent her word that if she would meet him at the end of the lawn, at a certain time he would pay her the shoes. At the appointed time she repaired of to the spot, and found the Devil at the place He put the shoes on the end of a long pole, and standing on the opposite side of the fence, handed them over to her. She was very much pleased with them; they were j exactly the article. 'But there is one thing, Mr. Devil, that I would like to have explained : that is, why you hand them to me on that stick V Very easy to explain,' replied be; 'any one who has the cunning and meanness to do as you have done, don't get nearer than twenty feet of me.' So saying he fled in terrbr. After a while thn old woman died, and when she applied for admittance to the lower regions, the Devil would not let her in, for fear she might dethrone him, as she was so much his superior. So the old woman is ? 1 ! ~ j iaamjam a?*am a marl/i JCt UUUJpCIICU IU VtaiJUCI u?vi cut; nuuu, creating quarrels and strife in peaceful families and neighborhoods. Would you know her name? It is Madame Scaodal. When she died, her childreu, the young Scandalizers, were left orphans, but the Devil, in consideration of past service done by the mother, adopted them, and so you see he is the father of that respectable class called scandal-mongers. John, what has become of last week's paper?' inquired Mrs. C , of her husband. 'Surely, wife, I cannot tell ; it was brought from the office, I think. 'Yes, James brought it home on Saturday evening; but neighbor N and his wife being here, he laid it on the parlor table.' 'Oh, N has got the paper, I remember now of lending it to him.' 'I am very sorry fur that; I think you do very wrong, husband, in lending the papers before we have read them. He who takes a paper and pays for it, is certainly entitled to the 6rst perusal of it. ?l know it wife, but ueighbor N don't take a paper, and 1 can't refuse when he asks to borrow ours.' ?. % . i o? : j Uon't i> taKe a paper i mquireu Mr?. C with surprise. No.' Why not? he is, as be says, always very food of reading.' 'Yes, but he seems to thiuk himself unable to take one.' Unable! He iscertainly as able as we are. He pays a much larger tax, and is almost always bragging of his superior cattle and?' Hush, wife ! It is wrong to speak of our neighbors' faults behind their backs. He promised to return the paper to-day. I hope he will. It contains an excellent article which I desire very much to read.' Mrs. C was an excellent lady, and probably possessed as liberal feelings as her peace-loviog husband; but she could not believe it to be their dury to furnish a free paper to their more wealthy and covetous neighbor. N had formerly taken a paper; but, thinking it too expensive, to the no small ! discomfiture of his wife aud little ones, he had ordered its discontinuance. He, how ever, dearly loved to read, and had, for a year or more, been in the habit of sending ' little Joe" on the disagreeable erraod of borrowing old papers from his neighbors. Mrs. C waited patiently through the day, expecting to see 'little Joe' coming with the paper, but the day passed, as likewise did the evening, and no paper came. The next morning, after breakfast, she was heard to say? iWpII .Ttihn. thf> n finer Tins nnt. heen re. turned yet.' 'Ah, indeed; I guess neighbor N i has either forgotten his promise or is absent | from home, replied C . ?I think,' ?he continued, 'we had better i seud James after it.' 'Would it not be best, wife, to wait until afternoon? N may return it before that time.' i 'As you think best,' was the reply. They waited until nearly dark, but no paper made its appearance. James, a smart j lad of ten years, was now instructed to proj ceed to neighbor N 's and get the paper. He soon arrived and made known his errand. He was very politely ioformed that it was lent to R the blacksmith, who lived half j a mile further on. James, unwilling to reI turn home without it, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, continued on to the blacksmith's. It was quite dark when he arrived, but he soon made his business known, and was informed by Mrs. R that 'little sis had got hold of the paper and tore it up.' I'll take the fragments,' said James, who was for having nothing lost. 'The fragments, Jim!' exclaimed Mrs. j R , 'Old Donk the pedler, came along I here to-day, and I sold 'em with the rags.' James, somewhat dispirited by his unsuccessful mission, and not beiDgvery courageous in the dark, silently beat a hasty retreat for hotne, where in due season he attired, and reported the result of his errand. 'Ah,' Very composedly remarked Mr. C ?T suppose R. asked neighbor N. to lend him'the paper and he did not like to deoy him. We cannot, I think, accuse either of doing intentional wrong and one paper,' continued he, 'is }f little value/ 'You may argue N'u case 89 you please, replied Mrs. C., 'but be assured of one thing.' What is that asked Mr. C., with evident fear. 'Nothing, only neighbor N. will not long "be at the inconvenience of troubling people for old papers.' In about three weeks after this conversation, N. was informed by the postmaster that he had a paper in the office. He was highly pleased at this announcement, but could not think who was so very kind as to send him a paper. After many conjectures, however, he came to the conclusion that it wa9 from some kind friend whom he had.assisted in former years. One year had passed : the paper continued to come, and N. was still ignorant from whence it came ; but one day at a 'hauling* he informed his neighbors of his good fortune, and expressed some fears that he would have to do without a paper soon. No you shan't,' said James C. in a loud tone of voice,. 'for mother sent on two dollars for you 4ast week.' Well done, Jim !' shouted a dozen voices, .while a simultaneous roar of laughter ran along the line of teamers. N., who had previous to this announce, mentbeen remarkably cheerful and talkative, became suddenly silent, while a deep red color, the emblem of shame, mantled his brow. This was a good lesson for N. Early next-morning he went and paid Mrs. C. the $4, acknowledged his error, and was never known afterwards to take less than two weekly papers. , POWEB OP KINDNESS, A young school teacher had one large boy, Joe Stanton, who was riDg-leader of all mischief. The first day he managed to make the school a scene of roguery and confusion. The poor teacher went home with a heavy heart. The next day she thought if she could gain the confidence of this boy, and have him on her side, she could have but little trouble with her school. As it-closed in the afternoon she spoke kindly to him, asked his help in closing the school-rooin door. He readily complied. As she turned homeward, Joe followed. At length she inquired, 'Have you any sisters, Joseph V The right chord was touched. 'I had one sister.' he said, 'little Marv, but she died;' and thus encouraged by the ready sympathy of bis listener, he went on to tell that Mary was his only sister, and that he used to take care of her, and play with her, and carry her out of doors, and draw her in the wagon he had made for her, and that she loved him more than any one else did, and always used to run to the door to meet him when he came home. 'But she is dead now,' he added, 'and I have not any body that takes care of me. She had a fever, and she did not know me when I spoke to her, and in just a week she died. Her grave is right over here,' -he continued, 'and perhaps you would like to see it sometime. The teacher willingly went with him asking him still further about little Mary as they passed along, till at length as they approachI ed the grave and sat down upon a stone near it, poor Joe could no longer wipe away'the tears as he had done, when one by one they trickled down, for the fountains within were broken up. He covered his face with his hands and wept aloud. 'She's dead,' he exclaimed again, and nobody cares for rae now. 'I will care for you, Joseph,' said the kind teacher as she laid'her hand upon his now uncovered head, and then she spoke'to him of heaven, and the happy mee.ing of those whom death has severed aod of One who cares for us more than our earthly friends, and who will keep us if we wish to do right. Theo she grew calm and they nad risen to go, she told him of her own sorrow, of tha father whom she had lost, of her wish to be useful while she supported herself by teaching, of how hard the West Brook school seemed to her, and how she still meant to do the best she could for him and for all her scholars. 'I'll help ye Miss Mason,' responded Joe. 'I'll help ye all I can,' and then the old mischievous twinkling coming again, he added, ?I guess the rest of the boys won't trouble you much. They'll do pretty much as 1 wan't 'em to. Joe was subdued and won by the power of kindness. And hard indeed must be the heart that kindness will not win. ,1M1| | Very Touching.?'Farewell, farewell,' I cried. 'When [return thoul't be ray bride; till theo be faithful, sweet, adieu?in silence oft I'll think of you.' The glistening tear stained her bright eyes ?her thickening breath is choked with sighs?her tongue denies her bosom's sway ?Farewell! I tore myself away. 'One moment stay,' she stammered out, nnd nnifik as thousht I wheeled about. T n 'My angel speak can ought be done to comfort thee when I am gone ? I'll send thee specimens of art from every European mart; I'll sketch for thee each Alpine scene to let thee know where I have been. A stone from Simplon's dreadful height, shall gratify thy curious sight; I'll cliuib the fiery Etna's side, to bring home treasures for my bride; and oh, my love, each ship shall bear a double letter to my fair.' 'Ah ! George I' the weeping angel said, and on my shoulder fell her head?for constancy my tears are hostuge?but when you writ#, phase pat/ the postage.' likellatwms Beating. From the Mensenger. MAKE A NOI8E. BT MB8. M. W. STRATTOJt. Would yon win the greenest laurel? Would you wear the freshest wreathBind earth's gems, and ocean's coral, Round a brow that burns beneath, Oh, make a noise. Never dream by only earning t? Ml .1 _ ' 1 J? J XOU will gain me worm s regara? That the light not boftily burning Ever wins the wold's reward? Its glii'ring toys. Humble merits?lowly flowers, Gently resting in the shade, Scarcely catching April showers, All unnoticed bloom and fade To nothing gone. Brilliant thoughts, and grand creations, Springing from a nameless brain, Lofty bopps in lowly stations, Are but torture felt in vain So little won. Make a noise?in page of story Half iff wonders ne'er had been, Or the hlood-stained field of glory naif its gallant soldiers seen, But for its sake. Drnm, and fife, and trnmpet blending With the cannons deafning roar, To the heated bosom lending Courage never felt before, . Can heroes make. When some splendid babble's soaring O'er the heads of startled men. And the crowd its incense pouring Round its maker, help them then To make a noise. And when that same bubble's breaking. And the same crowd gladly shouts, Even then a part he taking Follow one of Fashion's routs, And help the boys. But when gentle hearts are swelling, When a fair oheek flushes high, And first love his tale is telling, Or bis step is drawing nigh, Oh, then be still. For there's nothing life has given, Like love's early dream of bliss, In hearts worn and tempest driven, There are memories of this, Time may not kill. When the poet's soul is dreaming O'er the children of his brain, And life's daily business seeming Cold, repulsive, bitter, vain, Oh, make no noise. Leave bim in his fleeting heaven, Let him all his worship pay, For the faintest whisper given, ? Pilgtiw w? ml) ?- " His bliss destroys. When the dream of life is ending, When the light has left the eye, And hopes and feara together blending Fill the heart while death is nigh. Ob, make no noiBe. Let the soul its peace be making Ere it pass from earth away, With no sound the silence breaking Saint or sinner, let him pray For heavenly joys. Columbia, April 12, 1859. Prom the London Quarterly. THE HUMAN SYKTEM. Paley applauds the contrivanoe by which everything we eat and drink in made to glide on its road to the gullet, over the entrance of the wind pipe without falling into it. A "little moveable lid, the epiglottis, which is it.. 5 _! i ?l _ j mien up wneu we ureaine, m puo.-cu uuwn upon the ohink of air passage by the weight of the-food and the action of the muscles in swallowing it. Neither solids nor liquids, in short, can pass withont shutting down the trapdoor as they proceed. But this is only a part of the safe guard. The slit at the top of the wind pipe, which never closes entirely while we breathe, is endued with an acute sensibility to the slightest particle of matter. The least thing which touches the margin of the aperture causes its sides to come firmly together, and the intruding body is stopped at the inlet. It is stopped, but, unless removed, must drop at the next inspiration into the lungs. To effect its expulsion the sensibility of the rim at the top of the wind pipe actually puts into vehement tRJtion a whole class of muscles placed lower than its bottom, and which, compressing the chest over which they are distributed, drives out the air with a force that sweeps the offending substance before it. The convulsive coughing which arises when we are choked is the energetic effort of nature for our relief when anything chances to have evaded the protective epiglottis. Yet this property to which we are constantly owing our lives, is confined to a single spot in the throat It does not, as Sir Charles Bell affirms, belong to the rest of the wind pipe, but is limited to the orifice, where alone it is needed. Admirable, too, it is to observe, that while thus sensitive to the most insignificant atom, it bears without resentment the atmospheric currents that are incessantly passing to and fro over its irritable lips 'It rejects,' says Paley, 'the touch of a crumb of bread, or a drop of water, with a spasm which convulses the whole frame; yet, left to itself and its proper office, the intermission of air alone, nothing can be so quiet It does not even make itself felt; a man does not know that he has a trachea. This capacity of perceiving with such acutcness, this impatience of offence, yet perfect rest and ease when let alone, are properties, one would have thought not likely to reside in the same subject. It is the junction, however, of these almost inconsistent qualities, in this, as well as some other delicate parts of the body, that we owe our safety and our comfort?our safety to their sensibility, our comfort to their repose. Another of the examples adduced by Bell is that of the heart. The famous Dr. Harvey examined, at the request of Charles I., a nobleman of the Montgomery family, who in consequence of abscess, bad a fistulous opening into the chest, through which the heart could be seen and handled. The great physiologist was astonished to find it insensible ?I then brought him,' he says, 'to the King, that he might behold and touch so extraordinary a thing, and that he might perceive, as I did, that unless when we Mi? touched the outer skin, or when he saw our fingers in the cavity, this young nobleman knew not that we touched the heart.' Yet it is to the heart that we refer our joys, our sorrows, and our affections; we speak of a goodbearted, a hard-hearted, a true-hearted, and a heartless man. Shielded from physical violence by an outwork of bones, it is not invested with sensations which could have contributed nothing to its preservation, but while it can be grasped with the fingers, and give no intimation of the fact to its possessor, it unmistakeably responds to the varied emotions of the mind, and by the general consent of mankind is pronounced the seat of our pleasures, griefs, sympathies, hatreds and love Persons have frequently dropped down dead froth the vehemence with which it contracts or expands upon the sudden announcement of good or bad hews?its muscular walls being strained too far in the upward or downward direction to enable them to return?and one of the purposes which this property of the heart is probably designed to ?n 4a m<?4 a aVi A/llr ?Vl ttrtOfilAno ouuscrvc IB IU put U UIICUA upuu tuc poooiuuo through the alarmiog physical sensations they excite. The bitin, again, is enclosed in a bony case. All our bodily sensations are dependent upon the nerves, but even the nerves do not give rise to feeling, unless they are in connection with the brain. . Tbe nervous chord which, in familiar language, is called the spinal marrow, is the channel by which this communication is kept up as to the major part of them, and when the section of what may be.termed the great trnnktoad for the conveyance of our sensations is diseased, and by the breach in its continuity the nerves below the disordered part can no longer send its accustomed intelligence to the brain, the portion of the body which thus becomes isolated may be burned or backed, and no more pain will result than if it belonged to a dead caroasa instead of to a living man. The brain, therefore, is subordination to the mind, is the physical centre of all sensation. Yet, strange to say, it is itself insensible to the wounds which are tor* ture to the skin, and which wounds the brain atone enables us to feel. (It is as insensible,' says Sir Charles Bell, 'as the leather of our shoe, and a piece may be cut off without interrupting the patient in the sentence that he is uttering. Because the bone which envelopes it is its protection against injuries from without, it has no perception of them when directed against its own fabric, though it is at the same time the source of the pain which those injuries inflict upon the other portions of tbe system. But the skull is no defence against the effects of intemperance, or a vitiated atmosphere, or too great mental toil. To these consequently the same brain which has been created insensible to the cut ot the kmie, is rendered tully alive, and giddiness, headaches, and apoplectic oppression gives ample notice to us to stop the evil, unless we are prepared to pay the,penalty. HENBY EVANS, THE NEGBO PBEACHEB. In the course of his autobiography, Bishop Capers refers to some of those remarkable characters, who may be found in many parts of the South to shame our abolition brethren, and who are denominated "black preachers." The account of Henry Evans, of North Carolina, exhibits one of these. "Henry Evans was confessedly the father of the Methodist Church, white and black, in Fayettville, and the best preacher of his time in that quarter, and was so remarkable as to have become the greatest curiosty of the town; insomuch, that distinguished visitors hardly felt that they might pass a Sun day in Fayettville, without hearing him preach. Evans was from Virginia ; a shoemaker by trade, and, I think, was born free. He became a Christian and a Methodist quite young, and was license4 to preach in Virgiuia. While yet a young man, he determined to remove to Charleston, S. C., thinking he might succeed best there at his trade. * * * This determined him to stop at Fayettville; and he began to preach to the negroes with great effect The town council interfered, and nothing in his power could prevail with them to permit him to preach. He then withdrew to the sandhills, out of town, and held meetings in the woods, changing his appointments from place to place. No law was violated, while the council was effectually eluded ; and so the opposition passed into the hands of a mob. These he worried out by changing his appointments, so that when they went to work their will upon him, be was preaching somewhere else * * * Happily for him, and the cause of religion, his honest coutitenanee aud earnest pleadings were soon powerfully seconded by the fruits of his labors. One after another began to suspect their servants of atteudiug his preaching, not because they were made worse, but wonderfully better. The effect on the pub lie morals of the negroes too, began to be seen, particularly as regarded their habits on Sunday, and drunkenness. And it was not long before the mob was called off, by a change in the current of opinion, and Evans was allowed to preach in town. At - -? ? * ?:?i?i L ^J: tnat time, mere was not a uiugie uuurcu cuifice in town, and but one congregation, Presbyteriun, who worshipped in what is called the State House, under which was the market; and it was plainly Evans, or nobody, to preach to the negroes. Now, too, of the mistresses, there were not a few and some masters, who were brought to think that the preaching, which bad proved so beneficial to their servants; might be good for them also and the famous negro preacher had some whites as well as blucks to hear him. Seats distinctly seperated, were at first appropriated to the whites, near the pulpit. But Evans had already become famous, and these seats were insufficient. Indeed, the oegroes seemed likely to loose their preacher, negro though he was, while the whites crowded out of their appropriate seats, took possession of those in the rear.? Mean while, Evans had represented to the preacher of Bladen Circuit, how things were, induced him to take his meeting house to the circuit, and constitute a church there. And, now, there was no longer room for the negroes in the house when Evan6 preached; and for the accommodation of both classes, the weather boards were knocked off, and sheds were added to the house on either side; the whites occupying the whole of the original building, and the negroes those sheds as a part of the same house. Evan's dwelling was a shed at the pulpit end of the church. * * It was my practice to hold a meeting with the blacks in the church, directly after morning preaching every Sunday. And on the Sunday before bis death, during this meeting, the little door between his humble shed and the chancel where I stood, was opened, and the dying man entered for'a last farewell to his people. He was almost too feeble to stand at all, but supporting himself by the railing of the chancel, he s^d : 41 have come to say my last word to you. It is this: None but Christ. Three times I have had my life in jeopardy for preaching the gospel to you. Three times I have broken the ice on the edge of the water, and Bwaoi across the Cape Fear, to preach the gospel to you. And now if in my last hour, I could trust to that, or to anything else, but Christ crucified, for my salvation, all should bo lust, and my soul perish forever." Printer's Devil.?We have so frequently been asked by friends and others, why the boy in the printing office is called the "devil," that we conclude to give what little we know upon the subject. The f ret persons who carried on printing to any extent, (if they were not the actual inventors of the art as asserted,) were John Guttemburg, John Faust, (or JFaustus,) and Peter Bhoeffer. Germany was the place the art was invented and first carried on. The following story is told of the first introduction of printing in France: In 1592, Faust carried a number of Bibles into Paris, which he and hie partner (Shoeffer) had printed, and disposed of as manuscripts ; at this time the discovery of the art was not known in France. At first he sold them at the high price of five ot six hundred crowns, the sum usually obtained by the scribes. He afterwards lowered the price to sixty, which created universal as tonishmentr, bat when he redaoed them to thirty, all Paris became agitated. 'The uniformity of the copies iqcreased their wonder, the Parisians considering it a task beyond haman inventionj informations were given to the police against him as a magician; bis lodgiogs were searched, a great number of Bibles were found and seized; the red ink with which they were embellished was said to be blood. It was seriously adjudged that he was in league with the devil; whereupon he was cast into prison, and would most probably have shared the fate of such, whom ignorant and snperstitious Judges condemned in those days of witchcraft. He now found it necessary in order to gain his liberty, to make known his discovery of the art. This affair gave rise to the tradition' of the Devil and Dr. Faustua,' which is banded dbwn to the present time.' The ignorance and superstition that considered printing an invention of the Evil One, would also very naturally suppose the men engaged in it as beiDg the servants of Satao, if not actual fiends in human shape. It is universally considered that the above story gave rise to the practice of calling the boy by the name of 'Devil.'?Printers News. How they Make Dead Heads in China.?The correspondent of the New Hampshire Patriot, writes to that paper as follows: "One sight which met my eye from one part of the city walls at once recalled all the scenes of butchery and babarrity which have been exhibited by the rebels in the war they have been waging for years in China, and by Yeh, the late Governor of Canton, who have by his executions cut off the heads of 100,000 Chinamen?one hundred thousand ?within the two or three last years, in a small square in the city, sometimes five hundred at a time, till the ground was so steeped with blood that he who entered that horrible butchery ground sank at once into the blood and mire up to his very ankles.? What startled me was the sight of eight human heads, tied up by their tails in small baskets, high up the wall! Some Chinese pirates had watched their opportunity, and stolen on board an English vessel at night, aod rushing upon the captain and mate when asleep, bad murdered them and others in cold blood, and this not on the high seas, but upon the river on which Shanghai is situated, and in full view of the city, in the day time. A few days after, they were all apprehended and suffered the extreme penalty of the Chinese law, by beheading, and then the suspension of their heads in the manner I have mentioned, before the public gaze, till they shall utterly consume away i The Chinese and Japanese both maintain I that the ends of justice, and indeed of hu- . inanity, are alike promoted by severe punishment, and certain." I?" A neighbor of mine was, fairly or otherwise, accused of stealing sheep, and the day was set when he was to answer the 1 charge before a court of justice. But, as it happened, before the day of trial he sickened and died. His old mother was over- 1 whelmed with grief, and sat long by the ' corpse, filling the house with lamentation. 1 At last a thought seemed to strike her; she ' brightened up, and, throwing up her hands, J she piously ejaculated, "Well, thank God, he's out of the sheep scrape anyhow !" The colored people of Chicago, at a formal meeting on Monday evening, which < was very numerously attended, adopted resolutions declaring it the imperative duty of every free coloied man in the Uuited States 1 to emigrate to Hayti, and appointed a com- i mittee to open a correspondence on the subjecfc with that republic. A New Bill op Rights.?A wag has made op a summary of what be calls the Inalienable Rights of Americans,' and whicfe are not enumerated in tbe Declaration of Independence. There ik a vein of poigna&t sarcasm running through it: To know any trade or business without appreoticeship or experience. To marry without regard to fortune, state of health, position or opinion of parents or friends. To have wife and children dependent on the contingencies of business,.and, in rnioo t\f on/l/1iin loom tKom whnllf iu voov ui auviuvu uvuuu <vwv v vuvu* ?? unprovided for. To put off upon hireling strangers the Ifo erary, moral and religious education of children. v . To teach children no good trade, hoping they will have, when grown up, wit enoogh to live on the industry of other people. > To enjoy the general sympathy when made bankrupt by reckless speculations. Tp v-heat the government, if possible. To hold office without being competent-to discharge its duties. To build houses with nine and six inch vails, and go to the funerals of tenants, firw men and othera, killed by their fall, weeping over the mysterious dispensations of Providence. .. To building up cities and towns without parks, 'public squares, broad streets, or ventilated blocks, and call pestilence a visitation of God. .. t ?? i ' Interesting Discovert at Bethixhem.?A letter from Jerusalem, in the Cazette du Midi, says: A very important discovery has been made in the vioioity of Bethlehem, near the spot which is generally admitted to be where the angel appeared to the shepherds, to toe Eastward of Bethlehem, and miwday between the town and spot above mentioned, some workmen, while employed in making an excavation, found the rains of an immense convent, of the period of St. Jerome and St. Paul, with evident marks of its having been afterwards repaired by St. Helen and the Crusaders. The cisterns are very large, regular, and in a perfect state of preservation. The ir.osiac pavements of several rooms have been already laid bare, and the workmen are on the trace of the marble pavement of the Qhurcb. The satisfaction occasioned by this discovery is so great that the inhabitants of the village of Beth-Sekour (Village of the Shepherds,) hasten to the spot, and offer their services on the works gratuitously.?: The. site of these ruins is known to the Arabs by the name of Siar-el-ganem (Resort of the Sheep.) It is surrounded by a considerable unmber of deep grottos, where the shepherds have been in the habit of taking shelter with their flocks. What Cbedit Costs.?A writer in one of the journals shows tho workings of the credit system upon business and the community. He takes (he article of tea as follows:%. * "A credit on London at an expense of j three per cent, the tea shipped to the United {. States is sold by the importer at six months' \ cre'dit equal to 3J, and guarantee 2} per \ cent. Follow it Hi the bands of the jobber ) A who supplies the retailer. A credit given? say equal to 3} per cent, and 2f guarantee. It is now in the hands of the retailer. . Expecting to loss a portion of his sates, he pots on from 3. to 150 per cent, as a guarantee against such-loss?id all makings sum equal to 20 per cent, upon the industry of the couotry. Why should' he who pays, subject himself to this extra charge, simply to pay for him who does not pay. And thus labor ir taxed for the benefit of tbe defaulter, the speculator, the gambler, the politician, the drunkard, the spendthrift, the idler, tbe vicious, the thief, and the blackguard. Now suppose we who pay, buy for cash, would we not save a large portion of this expense? The limitation of credit would drive the idle to work; and this reform is needed, especially in the smaller transactions of life." Swearing in the Pulpit.-?Above all things, my young fiiend, do Dot swear in the pulpit! I have heard tbe sacred name used in a manner that left a doubt whether the preacher had ever read the Ten Commandments. Your brother, Gubblegurcbins, is given to the bad habit of denouncing certain crimes as "damning villainy without a parallel on God's earth;" or, once in a while, for the sake of harsher emphasis, he wilt say, "God Almighty's earth." Now I have disliked to give you this specimen, for the repetition of such language is like handling pitch, it leaves a defilement and stench upon the mind. I have given it, however, that you may know just what I mean. A clergyman who rants at this rate ought first to be advised by a friend, and if he show no sign of repentence, he ought then "to be dealt with as in other cases of immorality j" that is, set aside as a profane fellow, dangerous to good morals. It may perhaps, give some force to this counsel, when I tell you, that not long ago a preacher used this style of reproof toward a noisy drunkard who had strayed into church. He was not so drunk, however, as to be forsaken of bis witj? for hft uharnlv retorted, bv savin? that ' """ """ rv ~ ~ y y o would have no such swearing there 1?Ma\ional Magazine. Ameican Victories.?In the last international regatta, we whipped Europe on the water: in the last chess in London and Paris, we whipped her on the land; and in the late balloon race between an American aeronaut and the French champion, we beat ber in the air. We wonder what element she will choose for the next trial.' She had better not name fire, for we have shown in two wars that we can stand fire better than she :an. I?* One of the illiterate who "bad a call to preach," recently set his congregation on the broad grin, rittbe close ofahammer-and* tongs sermon by requesting them to "Sing the Sockdollogor."