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Tittruturr. MAIST ONIE DAY. câ€"â€"â€"_â€" The following beautiful lines were composed by Timothy Swan, the well known author of the celebrated tunes “ China ” and “ Poland," when in the 73d year of his age. They were sent to his son, then aresident of New York :-- 9‘ Ye ken, dear bairn, that we inaitu part, When death, cauld death,shall bid as start; But when he‘ll send his dreadfu’ dart We canna say. So We’ll be ready for his cart Maist onie day. ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. Vol. I. t‘ We’ll keep a’right and goals wi’in. SCARBORO’, YORK, MARKHAM, VAUGHAN, “ Let Sound Reason weigh more, with us than. Popular Opinion.” RICHNIOND HILL, FRIDAY, JULY 1, [859. Our wark will then be free fra’ sin : Upright we’ll step thro’ theck and thin, Strait on our way. Deal just wi’ a’ the prize we’ll Win fluently I’ 'you speak the Seminole tongue executive. Maist onie day. " Ye ken there’s Aue who’s just and wise. He said that a’ his bairus should rise An’ soar aboon the lofty skies, And there shall stay; Being well prepared. we’ll gain the prize Moist onie day. " When He wha madg a’ things just right. Shall ca us hence to realms of light, Be it morn, or noon, or e'en, or night, We will obey. We’ll be prepared to ta’ our flight Maist onie day. f‘ Our lamps we’ll fill brimfu’ 0’ oil, That’s gude and pureâ€"that wulna spoil ; We’ll keep them burning a’ the while, To light our way. Our work beiii’ done we'll quit the soil Moist onie day.” .â€"_.. A ROMANCEâ€"BY CAPT. M. ~___._ ( Continued.) THE 'I‘RAI'I‘OR CHIEFS. The conversation about runaways naturally guided my thoughts to the other and more mysterious adven- ture of yesterday ; having dropped a hint about this incident I was called open to relate it in detail. I did soâ€"-â€"of course scouting the idea that my intended assassin could have been Yellow Jake. A good many of those present knew the story of the mulaito. and the circumstances connected with his death. ' Why was it. when mentioned his name. coupled with the solemn declaration of my sable groomâ€"â€" why was it that Arens ltinggold started, turned pale, and whispered some WOI‘US in the ear of his father? Soon after I retired frotn the tness table, and strolled out into the Stockade. ‘ It Was now after sunset. Orders had been issued for no one to leave the fort; but, translating these as only applicable to the common soldier, I resolved to sally forth. I was guided by an irripulse ofthe heart. In the Indian camp there were the wives of the chiefs and warriorsâ€"their sisters and children â€"â€"why not she among the rest .7 I was on the eve of setting forth, when a summons from the comman- der-in-cliief called me to his quar- ters. With some chagrin,I obeyed the order. , I found the commissioner there. with the officers of higher rank, the Ringgolds and several other civilians of d'stinction. ' On entering. I perceived that they were in ‘ caucus.’ and had just ended the discussion on some plan of procedure. ‘ The design is excellent,’ obser- ved General Clinch, addressing him- self to the others; ‘but how are Omatla and Black Dirt to be met? If we summon them hither, it may create suspicion ; they could not err- ter the fort Without beingobserved.’ ‘Gcneral Cliucli,’ said the elder Ringgold~the most cunning diplo- matist of the partyâ€"‘ if you and General Thompson were to meet the friendly chiefs outside I ‘ Exacth so,’ interrupted the commissioner. ‘I have been think- ing or that. I have sent a messen- ger to Omatla, to enquire if he cart give us a secret meeting. It will be. best to see them outside. The man has returned. I hear him.’ At this moment, a person entered the rootn, whom I recognised as one ofthe interpreters who had offi- ciated at the council. He whispered something to the commissioner and then withdrew. ‘ All right, gentlemen I’ exclaimed the latter, as the interpreter went out; ‘Omatla will meet us within the hour. Black Dirt will be with him. They have named the ‘ srnk’ as the place. It lies to the north of the fort, We can reach it without passing the camp, and there shall be no risk of our being observed. Shall we go, general I’ ‘I am ready,’ replied Clinch. tak- ing up his cloak, anl throwing it over his shoulders; ‘but, General Thompson.’ said he, turning to the commissioner, ‘how about your in- terpreters? Can they be entrusted with a secret of so much impor- tance 'l’ The commie hesitate. ‘ It might be imprudent. he re- plied at length, in a half-soliloquy. ‘ Never mind thenâ€"never mind,’ said Clinch; ‘1 think we can do .without them. Lieutenant Ran- ,dolph,’ continued he, turning to me, REID. sioner appeared to 7 said. ‘Not fluently, general; I speak it however.’ ‘ You could interpret it fairly.’ ‘ Yes, general ; I believe so.’ ‘ Very well then; that will do. Come with us !’ Smothering my vexation, at being thus diverted from my design, I fol- lowed in silenceâ€"the commissioner leading the way, while the general. disguised in cloak and plain forage- Ca ), walked by his side. hVe passed out of the gate, and turned north ward around the stock- ade. The tents of the Indians were upon the south-west. The ‘ sink’ was nearly half a mile distant from the Stockade; but in the darkness we could easily reach it without be~ ing observed from any part of the Seminole camp. We soon arrived upon the ground, The chiefs were before us. We found them standing under the sha- dows of the trees by the edge of the pond. My duty now began. I had little anticipation that it was to have been so disagreeable. ' Ask Ornatla what is the number of his peopleâ€"valet) those of Black Dirt, and the other chiefs who are for us.’ I I put the question as commanded. ‘ One-third ofthe whole. Seminole nation,’ was the ready reply. ‘ Tell them that ten thousand dollars shall be given to the friendly chiefs, on their arrival in the west. to be shared among them as they deem bestâ€"that this sum is inde- pendent of the appropriation to the whole tribe.’ ‘ It is good,’ simultaneously grun- terl the chiefs, when the proposition was explained to them. ‘ Dues Omatla and his friends think, that all the chiefs will be pre- sent to-morrow l ‘ NOâ€"t‘iot all.’ ‘ Which of them are likely to be absent l’ ‘ The mico-mico will not be there.’ ‘ He! Is Oi’tiatla sure of that l’ ‘ Sure. Qn'ipas tents are struck; he has already left the ground.’ ‘ Whither has be gone 'I’ ‘Back to his town.’ ‘ And his people 'I’ ‘ Most of them gone with him.’ For some moments the two genâ€" erals communicated together in a half whisper. They were apart from me , I did not hear what they The ii'iformationjust acquired was of great importance. and seemâ€" ed not to discontent them. ‘ Any other chief likely to be ab- sent to-morrow l’ they asked. ‘ Only those ofth sticks.” ‘ Hoitle.mattee ?’ ' Noâ€"he is here, he will remain.’ 'Ask them if they think Oceola will be at the council io-mm'row.’ From the eagerness will: which the answer was expected, I could e tribe of ‘red- perceive that this was the most in- teresting question ,of all. I put it directly. ‘ What !’ exclaimed the chiefs, as ifastonishetl at the interrogatory. ‘The Rising Son? He is sure to be present ; he will see it out.’ ‘Good I’ involuntary ejaculated the commissioner, arid then turning to the general, be once more ad- dressed him in a low tone. He said 'it seems general as if Providence was . playing into our hands. My plan ts almost Sure to succeed. A word wrll provoke the imprudent rascal, to sortie rudeness â€"â€"perhaps worseâ€"at all events. I shall easily find a pretext for shut- ting him up. Now that Onopa has drawn off his followers. we will be strong enough for any contingeucv. The hostiles will scarcely outnum- ber the friendlies, so that there will be no chance of the rascals making resistance.’ ‘Oh i that we need not fear.’ ‘ Wellâ€"with him once in our power, the opposition will be crush- edâ€",â€"tlie rest will yield easilyâ€"Tiler, beyond doubt, it ts he that now in- timidates and hinders them from *butcd to their bitterness. sant purpose thwartedâ€"â€"my heart. I am ready to co-oper- ate with you.’ ‘Enough thenâ€"it. shall be done as we have designed it. Ask the ultiefs,’ continued the speaker adâ€" dressing himself to me, ‘ ask them, if they have any fear of signing to- morrow. ‘ Noâ€"not of singing but after- wards.’ ‘ And what afterwards ’I’ "I‘hey dread an attack from the hostile partyâ€"â€"-their lives will be in danger.’ ‘ What would they have us do I’ ‘ Ornatla sat s, if you will permit him and the other head-chiefs to go ona visit/to their friends at Talia- hassee, it will keep them out of dan- ger. They can stay there till the removal is about to take place. They give their promise that they will meet you at Tampa, or else! where,whenever you sumn‘ionthem.’ The two generals consulted to gether~ once more in whispers, This unexpected proposal required consideration. Omatla added : ‘If we are not al- lowed to go to Tallahassee, we cari- not, we date not, stay at borne ; we must come under the protection of the fort.’ ‘About your going to Tallahas~ see.’ replied the eonrmisstoner, ‘ we shall consider it, and give an an- swer to-morrow. Meanwhile, you need not be under any apprehension- This ts the war-chief of the whites; he will protect you.’ ' ' Yes,’ said Clinch, drawing him-.- self proudly up. ' My warriors are numerous and strong. There are many in the fort, and many more on the way. You have nothing to lear.’ ‘ It is good!’ rejoined the chiefs. ‘If troubles arise We shall seek your protection ; you have promised itâ€"e it is good.’ ‘Ask the chiefs,’ said the com: missioncr, to whom a new question had suggested itselfâ€"-â€"‘ ask them if they know whether Holata Mico will remain for the council of to- morrow 7.’ ' ‘ We cannot tell now. Holata Mieo has not declared his intention. We shall soon know it. Ifhe design to stay, his tents will stand till the rising of the sun ; if not, they will be struck before the moon goes down. The moon is sinkingâ€" we shall «soon know whether Holata Mico will go it" stay.’ ‘ The tents of this chief are not within sight of the fort?’ 9No they are back among the trees.’ 90:10 you send word to us .7’ .‘ Yes, but only to this place; our messenger would be seen entering the fort. We can come back here purselves, and meet one from you.’ ‘ Truceâ€"it is better so,’ replied the commissiorrergapparently pleased with the arrangement.’ A few minutes passed, during which the two generals communica- ted with each other iii whispers, while the chiefs stood apart. silent and immcbiie as a pair ofstatues.’ The commander-in-chiefat length broke silence . ‘ Lieutenant! you will remain upon the ground till the chiefs return. Get their report, and bring it direct to my quarters.’ Salutations were CXchanged; the two generals walked oII'on the path that led to the fort, while the chiefs glided silently away in the opposite direction. I was left alone. SHADOWS IN THE \VATER. Alone with my thoughts, and these tainted with considerable accr- bity. More than one cause Contri- My plea- . aching for knowledgeâ€"for a renew- lal of tender ties-distracted with doubtsâ€"Wearied with protracte d suspense. harassed by other emotions. I tex- perienced disgust at the part I had been playing. ,mourhpiece ofchicanery and wrong; aiding conspiracy had been the first ‘act of my warlike career ; and al: signing.’ i ‘ True,’ replied Clinch in :1 reflect- tive tone "but how about the go- ) vernment, eh I. Will it endorse the! act, think you? ‘It wrll5~~ it mustâ€"my latest des- patch from the President almost suggests as much. If yr u agree to act, I shall take the risk.’ ‘ Oh, I place myself [under your orders,’ replied the commander-in:- longer; and, choosing a fragment of chief, evrdently incline to the com- missioners views, but still not willing to share the responsibility. ,‘ It is my duty to carry outithze will of the though it was not the net of my own will, felt the disagreeableness ofthe dutyâ€"ea sheer disgust in its performance. i Even the loyeliness of the night :failed to soothe me. I's effect was contrary , a storm would have been more congenial to my spirit. My eyes wandered over the pond. Icared not to keep my feet any rock near the water’s edge, I sat down upon it. All at once. I was startled at 4’ screening 9 new Image “9°9- ”.".’ green .serl’i’llli In addition to these my mind was, I had been made the. aqueous reflector. A form, or rather the shadow of one, suddenly ap- peared among the trunks of the palms. It was upright, and evi- dently human, though of magnified proportionsâ€"ebeyond doubt a human figure, yet not that of a man. The small head, apparently un- covered, the gentle rounding of the shoulders, the soft undulation of the waist, anti the long. loose draping which reached nearly to the ground, convinced me that the shadow was that of a woman. When I first observed it, it was moving among the stems 'pf the palm-trees; presently git stopped, and for some seconds remained in a fixed attitude. My first impulse was to turn lround, and, if possible, get a sight of the figure that cost this interest- ing shadow. I was myself on the western edge of the pond, and the ridge was behind me. Facing round, [could not see the Summit nor yet the palms. Rising to my feet. I still could not see them: a large live oak, under which I had lseated myself, intercepted my View. I stepped hastily to one side. and then both the ridge andthe palm trees were before my eyes; but I could see no figure, neither of man nor woman. _ Iscanned the summuit carefully but no living thing was there ; some fronds ofthe saw-palmetto, standing along the crest, were the only forms I could perceive. Who could the woman be? An Indian, of course. It was not proâ€" able that a white woman should be in such a place, and at such an'liour. Even the peculiar outlines of the shadow were not those that could been cast, and by one habited in the garb of civilization : beyond a doubt the woman was an Indian. What was she doing in that soli- tary place, and alone 'l These questions were not so easi- lv answered; and yet there was nothing so remarkable about her presence upon the spot. To the children of the forest, time is not as with us. The hours of the night are as those of the dayeâ€"often the hours ofaction or enjoyment. She might have many a purpose in being there. She might be on her way to the pond for waterâ€"to take a bath ; or it might be some impas- sionate maiden, who. under the secret secluded grove, was keeping assignation with her lover. ’ A pang, like a poisoned arrow, [passed through my heart; ‘ .Might I it he .Maumce l’ The pain was of short duration ; almost instantaneous was the relief. A shadowy figure was seen gliding around the edge ofthe pond ; it enr- six paces from where I stood. I had a full and distinct view of it. It was a womanâ€"an Indiap woman, It was not Maumee. ' I saw before mea woman of middle ageâ€"somewhere between thirty and fortyâ€"a large woman who once possessed beautyâ€"beauty that had been abused. She was the wreck cfa grand loveliness, whose outlines could not be eflhced-â€"lrke the statue of some Grecian goddess, broken by Vandal hands, but whose very fragmnnts are things of price- less value. Not that her charms had depart~ .cd. There are men who affect to admire this ripe maturity ; to them, she would have been a thing of peerless splendour. Time ltad made ‘no inroad upon those large rounded arms, none upon the elliptical out- lines of that noble bust. Time could not affect, nor had it, that fine facial outline. The mould- ‘ing of the chin; the oval of those “lips ; the aquiline nose. with its de- licate spirally curved nostrals; the high, smooth front ; the eveâ€"the .eyeâ€"what is it? why that noâ€" ,earthly fiash’l that wild ppmeaning glance I Ha ! that eyeâ€"mg Merciful ’ heavens I the woman is mad. Alas! it was trueâ€"she was mad. Her glance would have satisfied even ii casual observer, that reason was no longer upon its throne. But I needed not to look at her eye ; knew the story of her misfortunes, of her wrongs. It was not the first time had looked at that womanly formj-more than oncel had stood face to face with Haj-Ewe, the mad queen of Micosaucs. Beautiful as she was, might have felt fear at her presenceTâ€"still worse than fear, I might have been l l lgaming table and in the bar-room! ‘i- '1, .AFâ€" KING, AND WHITCHURCH ADVERTISER. TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. No. 31. around her. waist, that glittered so the vow pastred my lips when a conspicuously in the light of the knock was hedrd at the door. and in moon, Was the bodv ofan enormous rattlesnake, living and writhing! Yes, both were aliveâ€"the smaller came Susan Srimkinsafter my dirty clothes. 3' ‘ Mr. Spicer,’ says she. ‘ I’ve serpent wound about her neck, with washed for you six months, and its head resting upon her bosom ; the more dangerous reptile knotted around her waist, its vertebratcd tail hanging by her side. while its about it I” head, held in her hand, and protrud- ing through her fingers, exhibited a pair of eyes that scintillated like diamonds. Truly 'I might have felt terror, had this singular being been new to me. But I had seen all beforeâ€"the green snake, and the crotalus, the king hanging tresses, the wild flain of that maniac eyeâ€"Ea“ before, all hariirless, all innocuousâ€"at least to rue. I knew it and had no fear. ‘ ‘Haj-Ewal’l called out as she advanced to where I was standing. ‘Ijevelal’ exclaimed she with a show of Surprise. ‘ Young Ran- dolph! war-chief among the pale- faces! You have not forgotten poor Haj-Ewa ’l’ fNo, Ewa, I have not. What seek you here I’ ‘ Yourself, little mico.’ ‘ Seek me 7’ ‘ Noâ€"I have found you. ‘, And what want you with me I’ ‘Ql'lly to save your lifeâ€"your young life, pretty micaâ€"your fair lifeâ€"your prectous lifeâ€"ah! pre- cious to her, poor bird of the forest! Ah ! there was one precious to me -â€"_â€"long, long ago. 5 Down, chitta mibo !’ addressing herselfto the rattlesnake, that at- my presence had protruded his head, and was making demonstrations of rageâ€"‘down, great king of the ser- pentsl ’tisa friend, though in the garb of an enemy-â€"quiet_ or I crush your head !’ ‘l-c-ela !’ she exclaimed again, as if struck by some new thought, ‘I, Waste time with my old songs; he is gone, he is genel they cannot bring him back . Now. young mico, what came I for? what came for? Asthe uttered these. interroga- tives. she raised her hand to her head, as if to assist her memory. ‘Oh! now I remember. I lose time. You may be killed, young miceâ€"you may be killed, and then _ Go I begone, begone, back to the topekee. Shut yourself up ; keep among your people ; do not stray from your blue soldiers; do not wander in the woods! Your life is in danger.’ All this was spoken in a tone of earnestness that astonished me. More than astonished, I began to feel some slight alarm, snice I had not forgotten the attempted assassi- nation of yesterday. She might be erged into the open moonlight, not privy to some scheme againstniy life, and had comp, as she alleged, to deâ€" feat it. i f I have no enemy, Ewa ; why should my life be in danger ’I" (To be continued.) SPEECH OF ZACHARIAH SPICER. 0n the question “ which. enjoys the greatest amount of happiness the married man or the bachelor.” Mr. President and gentlemen: I rise to advocate the cause of the married man. And why should I not. know something about the lit- stitution'l Ido. Will any gentle- man presume to say I do not I Let him come with me to my home. Let me confront him with my wife. and seventeen children and decide. High as the Rocky mountains tower above the Mississippi Valley, does the character and condition of the married man tower above that of the bachelor. What was Adam be- fore he get acquainted with Eve? What, but a poor, s‘iiftless, helpless. insignificant creature luv-No more to be compared to his afterself then a mill dam to the great roarin cata- ract of Niagara? [Applause] Gen- tlemen, there'was a time, blush to say, when I too was a bacheldr; and a more miserable creature you would hardly expect to find. Evgry dayI toiled hard, and at night I came home to my comlortless gar- retâ€"-no fire, no nothing.’ Every thing was a clutter, and in the words of the poet, ' ' " ’ ’ ‘ " Confusion was monarch of all I surveyed.," Here lay a pair of'pants, here a dirty pair of boots, there a play-bill, there a pile pf dirty clothes. What wonder that I took refuge at the terrified or awedâ€"the more so on Ifound it ‘wbuld never do, gentle; the hit} ., that ’ perceiving that her necklace was a men, and 'iii‘ a lucky moment girdle rjrat- ‘yowed to preterm. l ihaven’t seen the firstred cent in the 'way of pjyment. Now I’d like to knowiwhat you are to do It in my pocketbook. Ife There was'uothing in it, andI knew it well enough.’ tMiss Simkius.’ said I, ‘ its no use ‘ denying it. I heavn’t got the first pewter, l wish for your sake I lrad.’ t Then,’ said she promptly, ‘ I don’t wash another rag for you.’ ‘ Stop,’ said I, ‘ Susan, I will do what I can for you. Silver and, gold I have none; but if my heart and hand will do, they are at your servrce. “Are you in earnest’l’ said she, looking a little suspicious} ' ‘ Never more so,’ said I. ‘Then,' says she, ‘ as there seems to be no prospect of getting my pay , in any other way, I guess I’l' take up with yoiir offer.’ Enough said. “’0 were married in one week ; and what’s more we haven’t repented it. No more attics for me, gentlemen; I live in a} good , house. and have somebody to mend ‘ my clothes. When I was a poor, miserable bachelor. gentlemen, I used to be as thin as a weasel. Now - I am as plump as a porker. In con- clusion, gentlemen, if you Want to be ragged. without a coat on your back, or a shoe on your foot ; if you would grow old before your time, and as uncomfortable generally as a hedgehog. rolled up the wrong way, I advise to remain a bachelor; but if you want to live decently, get married. I have got ten (l l) daughters, gentlemen, [overwhelm- ing applause] and you may have your pick. ILLUSTRATION OF LAW. A good story was rife in our city this morning, (says the I’eora Union.) which serves to illustrate that ‘p05- session is nine points of the law.’ A. is a sharp lawyer, and resides next door to B. The house A. and B. occupy are similar in appearâ€" ance, and as they adjoin, a mistake might easily be made by a compar- ative stranger. B. being out of coal, goes to the market, purchases a load for 3.25, and sends it home. The man whom he purchased mis- takes the residence of A, for that of B.. and dumps the coal in As yard. The lawyers hired man sees the 'coal in the yard, gets a wheelbarrow and shovel, and puts it into the cellar. B. is in a 'pec-k of trouble’ that the coal does not conic, and goes to see the man he bought it from. Sep here, my friend? Ibought a load of coal from you, and you have not delivered it’ says ’B., as soon as he found the collier, ‘You bought a load of coal of me, and paid for it, and I delivered it in your yard,’ said the coal dealer. Here the thought struck B. that he had seen coal in the yard of his neighbor, the lawyer, and immed- iately diviues the mystery. Start- ing for the lawyer’s office, he thus accosts him ; ‘Lawyer A., suppose you should buy a load ofcoal, and the man who has agreed to deliver it should put it in the wrong yard, what would you require of the person who would appropriate your property I’ ‘Do I’ said the lawyer, ‘why I should make him either return the coal, or pay me the amount I paid for the load.’ ‘Very well,’ said B. ‘just give me 83 25, and you can retain my load of coal in your cellar.’ ,The lawyer drew twenty-five cents from his pocket, and handed it to B. ' ' f'What does that mean, Mr. A. you owe me three dollars inore,’ said the puzzled B. sNot at all,’ said the la wyer, three dollars is my lowest charge for prOfessiOiial advice. ' ’ Not long since, in South Carolina, a clergyman was preaching on the disobed- ienb'e ofJonali, when commanded to go and preach to the fitnevitesf After expatiat» ing for a e'onsi-di’able length of time on the truly, awful consequence ofdisobetlience to the 'divine' commands, he exclaimed in a voicé of thunder, that passed” through the congregation like an electric shock, ‘ And ar’é there any Jonahs here 2’ There Was allnegro present, whose name was Jonah: jivho thinking himself called bu, immediately arose, and turning pp his white eye to the prea'clrer,'with ill? ’ broadest: grin and best ,bow, martyred, 3 Here one, ,mas‘u.’ 5500.900“. ' ' ‘ .w»‘. t .. INGENUITY OF ’ It was the fate of the father of“ Lamartiue, theliving French poet and» orator, to bemix'ed up witluthe. French Revolution. Duringftltat stormy period, he, s with a great number of his compatriots, were im,- mured in prison at'Macon. He we not long there ’before’hisWife an her children took lodgings opposite the window ofthe cell Which enclosed the Itepublica'n'. She soon drew'lii’li, attention to herself and his' child.) though he could not speak to hei'for fear (if the sentinel, reconciled him in some measure if) his, capth‘I‘lV,‘ and lessened the burdensofhis woeh.’ ‘My mother,’ says Lamartine, ‘ car’. ried me every dayin her arms to the garret window, showed me to my father, gave me nourishment be: fore him, made me stretch out my. little hands towards thil‘tkebars of his prison. then, pressing my forhead to her breast, she almost devoured me with kisses in the sight ofthe priSon'ow er, and seeming thus waft him many tally all the earesses which she lavi-, shed on me.’ At last she hit on the happy expedient, of conveying ,liim_ letters in the following manner.’ She procured a bow and some,ar-, rows, and. tying a letter to a thread she shot the arrow to which was at? tached the other end of the thread; into the window ofthe prisoner’s ce-ll.’ In this way sh: sent himpetis, ink,’ and paper. He then by the same, ingen:ous expedient, sent love-letters to her. 'I‘litts the separated husband-V and wife were enabled to correspond, to cheer each otlier’s hepes, and Sue-1 tain each other in their misfortunes. I 'This was all done at night time,’ when the scrutinizing eyes of the sentinels remainedin happy ignorz ance of the medium of communica-~ lions. Success having inspired cour- age, the lady, with, the assistance of' the arrow and thread afterwards conveyd a file to the captive with which he silently filed'through one of- the bars of his prison, and, then re- stored it to its place, ' On the next evening when therewas no, moou-: light, a‘stout cord was firmly fas_ten-_ ed on the one end of the beam in the, garret of the lady, and the othercnd, on the bars of the cell ; then, some moning up all his courage, the prison: or glided along the rope, above the heads of the 'Sentinels; he crossed the street, andT found himselfin the, arms of his wife. beside thelcrar dle of his child. Suichan adventure, required the hero’s couragef’and, philosopher’s caution, and none but those who were personaly interested, in it can ever imagine the feelings, that must have agitated their hearts. From time to time, when the night was dark, the knotted cord would, glide from window to window, and the prisoner would pass from knot to: knot, and enjoy delightful hours of. converse with her whom he loved best on earth. ’ J' M I ‘ A Panadanpn TO BE Rosaâ€"«The, following paragraph deserves the careful attention of every business man :-â€"Some say theycannot afford; to advertise. In this country every body reads the newspapers; the, man must have a thick skull who does not see that these are the, cheapest and best mediums through which he can speak to tlielpublic, where he is to find customers, Pur on the appearance of business, and generally reality will follow. _ The’ farmer plants his seed, and While he. is sleeping his potatoes and corn are growing, So with advertising;’ while you are sleeping, er eating, or conversing with one set of cusv‘ tomers, your advertisement is being read by hundreds and thousands oft pet‘sogs who never saw you, and never would, had it not been for, your advertisement inihe news{ paper, THE Rautgious Foamâ€"The man, who hears a good sermon, but who, because some passage in it does not suit him, or some mannerism of the preacher offends him, gets mad de- nounces the whole, and is determino ed not to be profited. " ‘ A Little Lesson for the Paper-You, must do at Home precisely as Rome does, and as Home cannot move, you must not? think of moving. You must both stop where you are.â€"â€"-'Adtzige. pointed by the bayonet, by the F rend/7. on one side, and the Ausijzans' on the other. Honour the good. that they may love thee ; be ciin to the bad, that they may not hurt thee. ' ' ' ' Much smoking kills-live.- men and cure. dead swine. ' ' ‘ ” ' The Medora (IIL) press says that two citizens of ’that town have recently lost their wines by elopement, and that the customary Salutations in the streets, instead of-Z-"How’do you do, sir? has 'beCome ‘ Is your wife safe this morning '2’ " TELEGRAPH FROM CORNWALL to CANADAEâ€"iIt is stated that the prospect tus ofa coiirpany will be issued in a few days! for laying ’ down two telegraph cables from Cornwall to Canada direct, and {hat the proposed capital will