University of South Carolina Libraries
YOL. 1. ' ' s/C;: l KIDAY M()RNINC.N0V24, 1854^ ^ * M 28. lje jwitljern Cnter^irisr, ' A REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS. > a?. &mima9 ! . EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. < T. J. & W. P. Price, Publishers. 1 ' TTK3SSIRKflh ' ' *1 50, payable In advance ; $2 if delayed. . CLUIJS of TEN and upwards (1, t^e .money in ?verv instance to accompany tho order. ' AuVEKTISKMEJITB inserted conspicuously at t the rates of 76 cents per square of 8 lines, and 25 cents for each subsequent insertion. Con- 1 tracts for yearly advertising made reasonable. i ^clrrtfii ^ortrij. . IbeSbqdoto. ' BT FLORENCE PERCY. ^ fiEVf.xTF.rs long years ago t and still The hillock newly heaped, I see, i Which hid hcncath its heavy chill One who has never died to mo. ^ I And since, the leaves which o'er it wave Have been kept green by raining team: . Strange, how the shadow of a grave Could fall across so many years! . } Seventeen long yours ago! No cross, 1 No urn, op monument is there; 2 But drooping leaves and starry moss Bend softly in the summer air: ? ' The one I would have died to save, 1 Sleep# sweetly, free from griefs and fears: 8trangc, how the shadow of a m avo 1 Could fall across no many years 1 Seventeen long voars ago! I see The hand 1 held so Iunjj in Ytiiu; The lips 1 pressed dcspnrmgly, Because they answered not again ; I sec again the shining wave Of the dark hair, begemmed with tears; Strange, how the shadow <>f a gravo Could fall aero** so many years! Seventeen long years ago! The hand Then fondly clasped, still holds my own, lending me gently to the land Where storm and shadow are unknown ; The summon which I gladly crave Will come like music to my ears, And the chill shadows of the grave 11c changed to light ere many years t [A-nudrrkxdrrr. Iiinktj limbing. For the Southern Enterprise. difficulties of Solution. " And if tho righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the Ungodly aud sinner appear." Wk are informed in tCc Scriptures that after death and the judgement, two places will contain the whole human family?one of these, a place of eternal happiness, the other a place of everlasting torment. How solemn and important then, is the question? Where shall I appear? Without stopping to dwell on this most interesting inquiry, 1 propose to notico a very important character mentioned in tbetext: "If the righteous scarcely be saved." Who are the righteous? First, they are those who have been justified by the blood of Christ. They are not now under the condemnation of God, and exposed to his wrath, but are enabled ' to say, "Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him." Again, "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace yvith God through our Lord Jesus Christ?'? Hero, then, are the procuring causes o^ the sinner's justification, the blood of Christ, and faith in that blood, and here ho obtains his righteousness. Again, the rightous man is' one who has been renewed in the spirit of his mind. It is not enough that the 'sinner imply be justified. This may be done and I'nt ka vamain !?? -I4- -- J %JW uv ivitiiniu 1U ? WIIUIllUll \JI I^UIll StIJU sin. His own heart will condemn him, and I 1m will idtvji: tha pkintiv,0; language of the j Apostle?"Oh wretched man that Iain, who hall deliver mefrorn the body of this death." ' Something more, then, is neceasary?a fresh impulse must be given. This takes place in regeneration, when the soul is born agnin, and all tilings become new. The irapartation of this new principle has changed the mind from sin to holiness, and the heart ( now delivered from ttfe love and dominion, I seeks conformity to the law of God. Last- 1 ly, to be righteous implies the work of sawtific&tion begun in the heart. The soul thus justified and renewed is not without sin. So , deep has man become involved iu sin, that i the process by which lie is to be reclaimed, v most needs be gradual and thorough. To be made meet for the kingdom of heaven, 1 every remain of siu must bo removed.? j SaQC^idcaticn aims to accomplish this. It ?. $bV, heart at an oai;ly stage of this i great Work;of mauYrestoration, and under 1 iu refining Influence the soul assimilates * a s 4 - nore and more to the likeness of its Maker. \t first, tbis principle dwells unseen in the -emote depths of the heart, but afterwards it * seen in the actions, in the countenance ind in the words of the man. Then is the toul repining fast4 for glory and ultimate diss. Such is the righteous man, and yet t is said of him, that he is "scarcely saved." Phis is a point that has long perplexed many 1 >ious minds. It is true that in this world he Christian is exposed to many tempts- ] ions; he is harassed by foes within and foes without, and his enemy is going about as a ' oaringjion seeking whom he may devour; ' >ut to this it niny be replied that v.'e have i merciful High Priest wliocontiuually inak- ) ;th intercession for us, and beside* that, they < vho are for us are more than tbose against js ; where then is the difficulty of our sal- j ration ? Perhaps we may remove the difficulty irising out of this view of the subject by a >lain and simple illustration: We see a ship at sea, tossed upon thebilows, and all eves looking intently for n port wherein the ship and crew may rest from .ho fury of the waves. At length a harbor 8 seen?it is still and calm. And now the hip directs her course thither and every leart Js animated with the prospectof repose < ind deliverance. 7 \ The ship sails onward, and just as she romes near enough to obtain a full view of lie port, she is stopped. Alas, a treache- i ous bar,frightful breakers, and hidden rocks, i ie between her and that desired haven. To venture to sail over this untraversed rond would be Budden destruction. Thus she nust sliii continue to be tossed upon the rillows?nod is there no harbor to receive I ler ? Yes, there is a harbor in view?a vide, free and commodious harbor, in which he might lie at OAse. No fault can be found .villi the harbor, but it is the bar. The Christian is the ship. Tossed upon ' he billows of iniquity, lie too, longs for rex?e and deliverance, lie directs his course leavenward, and now while he is under full tail and a haven of rest is spread out before lim, suddenly his onward course is arrested. ^ Ele, too, has encountered a bar, and a more reachorous one than ever mortal mariner van exposed to. Ah, how many hidden ocks are here! There is temptation of sverykind, lust of the flesh, deceitfulness of iches and worldly honors, the rocks on ' vhich so many split And these wrecks of nir souls are hid from our view, br else minted in false colors, Besides, they lie , lose to each other, so that if you escape the ine; you are right on to the other. Are we lot saved with difficulty ? The way to ieaven is indeed a narrow way, for it leads hrough perils and is hedged in on cither title by the snares of tho devil. But who is ? blame? Surely God is not lie has nado every provision?has opened, so to .peak, a tree and ample habor for tempestbeaten and rock-bound voyages, ami bid* hem enter in and be at rest, if we are not laved, we cannot lay it to the charge of God In this light we are scarcely saved, but thore Is a light in which salvation is easy and Mailable. We said, at tint, that it would be sudden destruction for the ship to try to cross the l>a?, and so it would he, but with a pilot she might find a safe and ready entrance into i die long-sought port. The Christian has a pilot, a tried, skilful and experienced pilot, lesus sees the frail bark of the Christian tossed upon stormy seas, and mercy hastens tiim to its rescue. Now with Jesus as our pilot, we may sail boldly through this hitherto defiant and invincible bar, and drop within port, whence we may be at peace and rest forever in the bosom of God. J. O. W. Man is but a little thing in the midst of ' objects of nature, yet, by the moral qunliti (VomTila countenance radiating of magnitude, find, in his manner*, equal the majesty,of the world. Toil to some is happiness, and rest to others. Thitf man can only breathe in crowds, and that man only in solitude. Cot'NSEL TO A PftlLOSOPHRR.?"InsUuul :>f saving tilings to make people stare and wonder, say what will withhold them hereafter from wondering and staring.?t This is philosophy : to mako remote things tangible^ useful things extensively common, and to leave the least necessary for the last I have always a suspicion oi sonorous sen** t-;r ^ .. . - . 51 tmj?rance Ikttrjj. Sir." There is a deep, dark alley not far from where we live. It is a dirty alley, ill-paved and unwholesome. It is lined by old rickety wooden houses with damp cellars and crazy garrets. It terminates in a sort of square court, where there is a bdiler factory and a tireless, panting steam engine. This alley is inhabited by a myriad of people, chiefly poor Irish laborers, with their families?Urge families, too. We believe our alley would turn out more little ones of both sexes than any alley of its dimensions in the city. Poor creatural ragged, dirty, bare-tooted, luingry?yes, half-starved, sometimes. Scores of such children live thero. There is a great deal of drnnlcepness, quarrelling, fighting, swearing, and hunger and cold and gaunt poverty in that alley. We wish a ' foreign missionary" would visit it. Perhaps some of our good people who are so interested in the "heatheu" could find objects of charity there. We are very sure they could. Night beforo last we were going home about ten o'clock, and as we passed the alley's mouth, a little girl turnod in form the Btreet. She was half clud in thin summer clothes, Iwrfooted, wet and shivering (for it rained heavily.) She was a miserable looking object. In her hand was a battered tin cup, which she held carefully while stepping across the swimming gutter. It was a strange inqxxlse, but we said? "What have you got in that cup, sis ?" She btopjjed ; and turning her thin, pale face toward us,(lhere is a laiup near the alley) she answered in a hesitatiug, tiinid voice? "Whi.ky, sir." "Who is it for ?" "Father and mother." "Do they drink it ?" "Yes, sir?sometimes," she said, with a iiutituuog, liait-tnghtened tone. "Where did you get it i" "At the grocer}', sir." "Show me where you got it." "Oh, I can't; I must go?it's so cold !" And she vanished up iuto the damp, dark alley. Now, 1 knew the secret of the noises, the oaths, the poverty, the wretchedness of thut alley?-or at least one great cause? "Whisky, sir!" J<ook at those bloated, brutal men, those brawling, ragged, obsceue woman, those starving, freezing, hopeless, joyless children. Why are they so? "Whisky, sir ?" What brought that man, stained and Woody, before the,Police Court this morning? What sent that wretched female to the "vagrant" cell? and that boy or girl to the House of li"fuge? ^ "Whisky, sir!" And when that criminal is asked by tbe Judge if be has anything to say why the sentence of the law should not be passed upon him, any plea to make and defence to put in. what should be his honest reply? "Whisky, sir!" There goes a man who only five years since was in excellent circumstances, had a good business; and a happy family, lie is now a dissolato loafer; bis family sutler every day for the necessaries of life. What brought him to misery and them to despair and want ?? "Whisky, sir!"' See those little children, growing up in sin, ignorance and poverty, with no childish joys no buoyant feelings no pure thoughts, no fond hopes, no affection, no respect for their wretched parents. What keeps them in such a terrible condition !? "Whisky, sir 1" Ah ! child with tbe tin cup, you spoke a volume then ; a volume that brings no joy to the reader. You told the story of much crime and beggary, ruin and death, of woe ?!..* i.? ? -?? VUU'i lltH IIV wnwiauuii. But, there stands a beautiful and costly buildings money has been lavished to adoru it in every style of elegance, inside and out It is a noble structure! Who was the builder ? "Whisky, sir!" "Yes, where was a great volume in the child's words?a volume of splendor, of Jrouth, of sudden riches, of money accumuated yenr by year ; of aristocratic fain ilea, of gny men and beautiful, women, who for everything they have and enjoy, are indebted, and to nothing else indebted, but? "Whisky,sir P! We have noticed that girl with her tin cup many times before, coming from a grocery, near by but never did we imagine her errand. We thought the day of retailing ru.n to children was passed, among men of couscience ar^l feeling. God knows it should be. Remember?"Cumeth is he who putteth the cup to his neighbor's lip." There was a murder in that alley last winter. The corpse was fouud, the coroner summoned, an inquest held. The verdict was? "Came to his death by a violent blow on the head, delivered by some person unknown to the jury." That was no verdict! At the lima that man was killed there was a drunken row, several people, men and women,' were Injuredand there was rioting and brawling all night long. The verdict might have been shorter? two words would have expressed it? "Whisky, sir I" There will he much suffering in that alley this winter. The spirits of Cold, Hunger and Crime have rented it, we opine, and moved in many tenants. Hut there is one 9 who pays uo rent, who who carries misery < with him, who brings sorrow, contention, r yea, death/ Who is Tie! < "Whisky, sir t" 1 IIa i? a minAiw nnnA it ?? - ???mv??0V UU|?ilVMVUiV| ^IWIVUI tenant.-?Cincinnati Timet. ' , ITnbirs' Drjinrtmrnt. ; ii iffotfecb's JLobe. < ? ? Bright upon the altar of evory heart 1 should burn the. holy tire of a Mother's love. ? Akin is it to that of Deity itself, filling the t soul with holy aspirations, which lead us I heaven-ward, and teach us that beyond the i darkness of the sombre grave, its fullness < shall be only felt. f Black indeed is that soul that has not i some time known the soothing comfort of a i Mother's love. When bowed down by wire. < or racked with pain, has not the gentle voice of thy sainted Mother whispered sweet * comfort and ministered like an angel of iner- > PV in till' rnlii)f 1 T?% ?rt/*??nnfo ' ?y ? ?jr vitw* < m n (uVUIVIliO V/* I tlIWlJV/II, * and when alone, lias not memory brought * back the gentle echoes of her voice, which, I falling upon ibiue ear like the murmuring < of the gentle brooklet, beneath the calm soft moon-light; or the dulcet strains of the acoli- i mii's softest cadences?bathed thy soul in bliss, i and given thee a peep into the brightness of ' Heaven, which she awaits to share with ; thee ? l Gentle reader, if thy mother live, love, < cherish, honor and obey ber; and by acts of I kindness smooth her path to the "grave wki- < ther thou guest!" If she live in cternitv, remember her un- t dying love for thee ! Remember her sainted look as so knelt by thy bedside and poured 1 out at the throne of the Everlasting, her < heart's most earnest prayer for thy happiness, present and to come! liememberHhis, and allow by every act of thine that the mother "being dead, yet speaketh" unto thee with the voice of an uusullied and translated < soul ? It i9 said that when the mother of Washington was asked how she had formed the , character of her son, she replied that she had early endeavored to teach him three , things : obedience, diligence and truth. No ^ better advice can be given by any parent. i | Teach your children to obey. Let it be | the first lesson. You can hardly tagin too ; soon. It requires constant care to keep up , the habit of obedience, and especially to do it in such a way as not to break down the strength of the child's character. / Teach your child to be diligent. The habit of being alwaVs employed is a great safe-guard through life, as well as essential to the culture of almost every virtue. Noth ingcan be more foolish than an idea which parents have that it is not respectable to set their children to work. Play is a good thing, innocent recreation is an employment, and a child may learn to be diligent in that as in other things. But let them learn to be useful. As to truth; it is the one essential thing. Let every thing else be sacrificed rather than that. Without it, what dependence can you. place in your child I And be 9ure to do nothing yourself to give the lie to your own preoepls. 1 i?i i L Female Beauty.?The charms that are really indespensihle to being beloved, may be possessed by every one who is not personally, mentally or morally deformed.? Let us enumerate them : Firstly?an eye, whether black, blue or gray, that has tiio spirit of kindness in its expression. Secondly?A mouth that is able to say a good ueai, and that sincerity?its teeth clean as possible ; must be very good Matured to servants, and friends that come unexpectedly to dinner. ; {, Thirdly?A figure that shall preserve itself, not by neglecting any of its duties, but , by good taste, exorcise, and a dislike to gross living. A woman may be fond of almost any pleasure under the nun, except those of tattling and the table, and ostentation. Fourthly?The art of being bappy at home, and making that home the abode of peace. Tbese qualities will sway the minds of men,when the shallower perfections would cease to charm. A great heart is the beautifier. Womax's Rights.?A new phase of Woman's Rights developed itself on Lower Market street, near Broadway, yesterday morning, in the shape of an inebriate female, who insisted that it was woman's privilege, and i her's only, to get drunk whenever she saw i fit Her harangue attracted quite a crowd of eager listeners, who cheered her vocifor- 1 ously whenever she made a point?Cincinr 1 w? Columbiao. . ' ' 1 Untrrcsting IMiaccliantj. Jbe Slqss *flqiI fioqd. 'It seemed to me as though I had been suddenly aroused from my slumber. I look- : d around and found myself in the center of t gay crowd. The first sensation I experi- i meed was that of being borne along, with a : peculiar motion. I looked around and i bund that I was in n long train of cars which 1 *ere gliding over the railway, and seemed ' .1 Ki. manv lonnrlli Tf ivua minmw. ' - ? , h1 of inany^cnrH. Every cur, open at the I ,op, was filled with men and women, all gai-1; y dressed, all happy, all laughing, talking!' tnd singing. Tp? peculiarly gentle motion >f the cars interested me. There was no \' jrating micli as we hear on the railroad.? 1 ['hey moved along without the least jar or j1 onrid. This, I say, interested me. I look- \ *1 over theside and to my astonishment found lie railroad and cars made of glass. The 1 jlass wheels moved >ver the glass rails with- ' >ut the least noise or oscillation. The soft ( gliding motion produced a feeling of exquis- ! te happiness. 1 was happy ! It seemed as 1 f everything was at rest within?I was full A' peace. 'While I was wondering over this circum stance, a new sight attracted my gaze. All ilotig the road, on eithes side, within a foot ?f the track, were laid long lines of coffins on sitlier side of the railroad, and cverv one conLamed n corpse dressed for burial, with its ;old white face turned upward to the light, l'he siodit filled me w ith horror : I veiled in O ? tgonv, but could make no sound. The gnv throng who were around me only redoubled their singing and laughter at the sight ofinv agony, and we swept on, gliding on with | jlass wheels over the railroad every moment ' :otning nearer to the bend of the road, which rormed an ntigle with the road, fur, far in the Jistance. Who are those!' I cried at last, pointing :o the dead in the coffins. 'Those are the persons who made the trip before us,' was the reply of one of the gay3st persons near me. What trip!' 1 asked. 'Why, the trip we are now making. The trip on the glass railway,'was the answer. 'Why do they lie along the road, each one in his coffin!' I was answered witlr a whisper and a half laugh which froze my blood ; 'Thev were dashed to death at the end of the railroad,' said the person whom I addressed. 'You know the railroad terminates at an abyss which is without bottom or measure. It is lined with pointed rocks. As each car arrives at the end, it precipitates its passengers into the abyss. They are dashed to peic?s against the rooks, and their bodies are brought here and placed in the coffins as a warning to other passengers; but no one ir ti-a ii en ua ? unntr An t Ku nrl'i^c rml . It, wu*i ^nwo IUII , road: 4I can never describe tlieliorror with which i those words inspired me. 'What is the name ot' the glass raiiroad ?' I asked. 'The person whom I a?ked, replied in the same strain: 4It is very easy to get into the cars, but very hard to get out. For, onec in these cars, everybody is delighted with the soft, gliding motion. The ears move gently. Yes. thbia railroad of habit, and with glass wheels we are whirled over a glass railroad towards a fathomless nby>s. In a few moments we'll be there, and they'll bring our bodies and put them in coffins as a warning to others ; but nobody will mind it, will they V 4I was ciioked with horror. I struggled to breathe?many frantic efforts . to leap from the cars, and in the struggle awoke. I knowit was only a dream, and yet whenever IJ think of it, I can see the long train of cars' move gently over the glass railroad. I can | see cars far ahead, as they are turning the j bend of the road. I can see the dead in j their coffins, clear and distinct, on either side J of the road, while the laughing and singing, r k'?e gay ana nappy passengers resounu in my ea-s. 1 only see the cold faces bf the dead, with tliC-i.- glas?v eyes uplifted, and their frozen hands upon the shrouds. 4It was, indeed, a horribie dream. A long train of glass cars, gliding over a glass railway, freighted with youth, beauty and music, while on either hand are stretched the victims of yesterday?gliding over the railway of habit, towards the fathomless abyss. There was a moral in that droam.' 'Header, are you addicted to any sinful habit ? Break it otl' ere you dash against the rocks.'?Lippard. . . ....... It is said that out of four hundred yonng men just now seeking British Govenncnt employment only thirty could pass the following examination, viz: To write a good business note ; take down a paragraph from a standard author from diction ; write out the names of the different counties in England, and oxhibita knowledge of the four first rules of arithmetic. Of the incompetent* it is said that the majority were offshoots W the aristocracy, and not of U*o middle class, whom Cobbet used to conme "to turn away their eyes from Somer??tflio<He^\ v ' *"' 4 " %T> *?' w ' * ; ' Being Ouf, Or, a Eight-Handor Badly Invested. "Thank yon, I don't care if I do," said & fn-it. voimor mo?i vvifli u J ,e ?.... .. .?.Sv (Hwcru ""V* in hi* hat as he serged upon the Indian that stands in front of Van Cott'a tobacco stdrei iu Broadway, with a bunch of cast-iron Hegars in iiis band. 'Til take one, I smoke sometimes," and he reached out to take the ^ proffered weed, but the Indian wouldn't give ' it up. He hung on to the cigar like grim death. "Look hero old copperhead," said the fast young man, "none of that, no tricks upon travellers, or there'll be a tnusa, and you snd I'll fall out, somebody'll get a punch in thaheHd." The Indian, said never a word, liut held on to the cast iron segifrs. He was Eld in dignified, nntnoved, as an Indian should be, looking his assailant straight in the face, find no muscle moving a single hair. "Yes,yes, look at me, old leatherhead !I'm one of em,I'm around, l'tn full weight, potato measure, neaped up.'and he placed himself in a position, threV back his coat, ann squared oft' Torn tight. All the time the Indian never ?ud a word, looked without the least alarm, unwiukiugly straight iuto the face of thefast young mail, still holding out the cigars in a mighty friendly sort of way. The vouug man was plucky, and just in a condition t6 resent any sort of insult at fill He was ready to "go in," but the calmness and impertural?i lity of the Indian rather cowed him and he was di.sjKwed tore:ison the matter. "I'll take one," said he, "certainly ; I said so before.? I'm one of the smokers. My father was one of the smokers, he was; one of die old sort, and I'm edition two, revised and corrected witli iiolcs, author's hand-writing on the titlepage, and copyright secured. Yes, I'll, take one. All right old red skin. I'll take one." But the Indian said not a word, all the lime looking straight in the face of the fast young man. and holding on to the cigars. Look here, old gimlet eye, I'm getting riled, my back's coming up, and you and 1II have a turn, smell of that old copperhead," and he thrust his fist under the nose of the cast iron Indian, who said not a word, moved not a muscle, but kept right on, lookiug straight into the face of the fast young man, as if not caring a fig for his threats, or taking in all thcodor of his fist. "Very well," said the fast young man. "I'm agreeable, I'm around, look to your ugly rang, old pumpkin-head," and he let go a right-liander, square against the nose of tho note of the cast iron Indian, who never moved an inch, nor stired a muscle, looking with calm, unchanged dignity, as before, in the face of the enemy. "Hallo," cried the fast young.man, in utter bewilderment as he reeled back halfway across the sidewalk, with the blood < '*. dripping from his t>k nned knuckles ; "Hallo; here's a go, here's an eye-opener, here's a thing to hunt for round a corner. I'm sati?tied, old iron-face, I am. Enough said between gentlemen." Just .then he caught sight of the tomahawk and scalping knife in the belt of the savage, and his hair began to ? rise. Tho Indian seemed to be making up his mind to use them. "Hold on," cried tho fa>t young man, as lie dodged around the awning post. "Hold on, none of that I'll apologise, I squat 1 knock under. Hold on, i fay," lie continued, as tlic Indian seemed to sc<?wl with peculiar fierceness^ "Hold on ! Very well, I'm off, I've business dow'n the street, people at home waiting for me," and lie bolted like a quarter horse down Broadway, and his cry "hold on" died away as he vanished lieyond the lamp-lights up Columbia-street.?Albany Reyintrr. Good Kmc.?It is always a good rule to follow, to step into no path, sj?eaK no word, to commit no act, when conscience appears to whisper beware. You had better wait a twelvemonth, and learn your duty, than to take a hasty step, and bring tears and repentance to a dying day. How many a lost tnan might have been saved, liad lie listened to an inward monitor and resisted the first inclination to deviate from the holy path of rectitude. See far away before you, and on either side, the ground whitened with the bones and sinews of millions who have perished ignobly in the march of life. They resisted the spirit of truth, and fell. They trusted to themselves, and sunk at the onset. Take warning by 1)10111. Could their bones live, breathe and/peak, how earnestly would * they appeal to you I They would com]>cl vou. as it were, to pursue a virtuous course, that your end might be joyous and not dy iI J ? giauvu. Thk IIkaltufclnesh of Smc*e.?A wH?, tor in tii? London Timet discourses updti' ' the fjroperties of *tr?Ake. lie thinks London and ;i!l Urge cities would bq^mn-b loss healthy hut fur the artificial at biosphere created by the combustion of w?<?i ami coal, desci ihing smoke as nothing inure than mitiute Hakes of carbon or charcoal, which absorb tho poiaonotH gases emanating from the aev- * era and from works where animal substance* are under manipulation. ; If this theory l>e tiue,Pitt*burg ought to be the healthiest city known, fur it is the smokiest bole in creation. A wliter in an Irish newspaper, after mentioning the wreck of a vessel near Skene*, rejoiced that all the crew were saved, except four bcgtW&d* of Moknwca! I ' "'tf'Tk'k- 'M m V ef' HK ' Ha ?