id to tf
sSSsSsu H""' A FAMILY NEWSPAPEE-EUTRAL IN POLITICS. .
s -- . : . . , - "77 ' ' " : : . ' : ; '
i , : Bcotc to all fyz Sntetests of gtovfi) teolina, fotcatiott, &flwultwe, Sltttatutt, rMetos,$i &fadtots,; &t. ' ,
V0J HKO. 36. RA LEIGH, NORTH CAROLiyATUIlDAY, AUG. 0,, 1853. . " WHOLE NO 88.
TO MY HUSBAND.
BT MRS. EMILY C. JUDSON.
'Tis May, but. too s-.teet violpt sjjrings,
In these stranire woods aDd dells;
The dear home-lily never swings,
, Her little pearly bells :
But search my heart, and thou wilt see
What wealth of flowers it owes to thee.
The robin's voice is never heard,
1 From palm and banvan trees,
And. strange to me each gorgeous bird.
Whose pinion fans the breeze,
But love' white wings bends softly here,
Love's thrilling music fills my ear.
heavy ram uncensmg tails;
inds. hurry, to and fro ; .
damp mould gathers on our walls,
dreitry, d;irk, and low ;
shadows throng my aching brow
peart is never shadowed how.
Sometimes we tread the busy street :
Dart, bold eyes on us gleam,
As patjer onjard sandalled leet.
In ofte continuous stream,
The'iron'auercd sons of proud "Pegu,
rFeh Mogul, the cringing Jew.
subtle soft Armenian,
1 The Pai see in his pride,
The jquaint " celestial'Tj-artisan,
The slave Jrom Cassay's side,
ThelBurmari in his pomp and power,
Whose jealous brows upon us lower.
None, none to greet us kindly here!
Their ban is on our door :
, Of J?sus Christ, with frown and sneer,
They speak like men of yort
Not mine to brave the glance of hate,
But bravely will I share thy; fate.
The pure, the beautiful, the good, -
Ne'er gather in; this place, ""
None1 but the vicious and 'the. rude,
The dark of mind and face ;
But.all the wealth of thy vast soul,
Is pressed iiito ray brimming bowk
Where fragrant cocoa blossoms hang,
Or i'n the citron's shade,
'My brothers' voices never rang,
My sisters never prayed ;
I love them none the less, that thou
r.iinst make me. scarcely niss them now.
Yet think T oft of one'sweet home,
My father--mother Kate,
" And tender, tearful memories come,
And clinging round me wait,
1 But at one sound they vanish all
.Thy footfall in the dim, old hall.
litre closely nestled by thy side,
Thy arm around me thrown,
Task no more.. In mirth and pride,
I've stood oh, so alone !
Now, what is all this world to, me, '
Since I have found my world in thee. -
Oh, if we are so hr-ppyhere,
Amid our toils and pains,'
With thronging cares and dangers near,.
And marred by earthly stains,
How great must be the compass given
Our souls to bear the bliss of heaven.
"The money drawer, was found broken open,
an( a large amount abstr cted, and the robbery
has been traced to your son and another lad who
sleeps in the .store, and they are now confined
awaiting their trial ;"i and unable to bear that
fixed gaze- any longer; he wished him ' hurried
gbod morning, and muttering some common place
phrases ot condolence, departed. ;
. lie might as well have said nothing, for they
fell on an unheeding ear. The last words that Mr.
Wentworth heard were that his boy, the last of a
numerous nock, had dishonored nis name ana
brought sorrow on the head of his poor old father.
The sun shone as brightly, the birds sang' as joy
ously, the elms whispered as musically, yet to him
all nature had changed.
The soft summer breeze stole through the open
window, and lifted the thin white hair fijom his
aged temples, and the little house dog came and
put up his silky paws oh his knecs tor ins accustom
ed k'md word and caress, and turned away whin
ing piteously, as "if he knew that something had
gone wrong. - - . ,
The glad sunbeams came dancing in and nestled
lovingly among his dear old books and manuscripts,
yet he heeded them Dpt. lie had known trials,
had with his own hainds closed the eyes of three
sons, and one darling daughter, tha light of his
household, and last of Till had crossed the hands
on the dead bosom, and folded back the gray locks
"on the brow of his cherished wife, the partner of
. "' i ' i 11 i 1 i' i
his jvs ana sorrows, ana lata uiem away 10 rest
in the quiet churchward. He could look from that
verv window and see the hiimble'graves as the cold
marble gleamed in the) sunlight, and in the still'
aut umn nights he could "'.hear the murmur of the
willow boughs, as they waved and sighed in gentle
music tones above the green mounds.
Me would think -that the plain white slabs were
but placed there to tell him that those dear ones
but rested from' earth .and its cares, and he knew
that they all died pure and good, and that when
the frost of death gathered on his brow,and dim
med the lustre of his eye, he too would sleep with
them, and join them in their ceaseless anthems be
fore the throne of the invisible, mightv, eternal'
But this last stroke was harder than all the rest,
for he had much rather have placed him w'ith the
dead band, than have heard that he had proved
unfaithful-tO'his trust; and his brave old heart,
that had never given wav beneath all his afflictions,
was bowed, atid the firm, enduring spirit, that had
never bent through the long battle of life, gave
way,- and crushed, and broken Jn spjrittheaged.
pilgnm crieoTToudTor hefp and support.
For several hours he sat there, then rising), he
went to his o'd seat in the porch, and opening the
bible, read as in the morning. No one would have
known that aught had happened, save 'that there
was a look of deep, helpless sadness round the usu
ally placid mouth, and the lines on the venerable
brow had deepened, and the meek countenance was
a shade- paler than it was wont to be.
The. news bad spread through the village, and
one by one the neighbors came dropping in some
basket ot strawberries or some
The nervele&s hands fell, and he sank back, and
all that was left of the minister was the poor worn
out body, for the spirit, in all its pristine purity, had
soared to its native home. The brave old heart
was stilled, and in silence, sadness and tears, they
shrouded him for his final rest, and mutely, sorrow
fully, they bore him to his church-yard bed, and
turned away to seek their darkened homes, for they
had dearly loved their pastor, and to them it seem
ed as if one of their own fireside circle had gone
from among them.
Peace to his ashes and though-his field of ac
tion was a limited and humble one, yet many a true
and trusting christian looks on his lowly grave, and
with tears blesses his memory, and in the glad
summer time? the village children reverently come,
and with low tones and whispered words, place
.bright flowers on the simple tablet, on which is in
scribed by his mourning people, "He resteth in
God." A :
Tlie next dav was Sunday, find as .the
church bell broke the Sabbath stillness, the
Fron? the Boston Olivo Branch.
THE OLD PASTOR.
the' sun "shone brightly on the old parsonage ;
.the: wild birds caroled their gayest songs in careless
freedom, the wind swept with il low musical mur
inur through the tall elms, and all nature seemed
ejoicing that the glad summer had come again.
An old man. sat in a wicker chair on the stoop,
jwith a large b' hie' open before him, and as he read.
casting now and then glances at the olje ts around
lim, and then at the clcai-t blue sky. Everything
was tamihar to him, tor, lor manv years had his
yes rested on the same scene ; yes, he loved it,
and with a liart overflowing wiih gratitude, for his
manv blessings, he exclaimed " erily the Lord
mindful ot his servant I .
Good old parson Wentworth had seen many
and bitter trials, yet with a calm, "unfaltering trust,
c had ever kept his gaze faxed on high and holy
things, and. th rough all the batde ot lile nad kept
mre ind uncontaminated by rude contact with the
world and its selfishness. As he sat there thinking
in his singlerheartedness of the works of nature,
and wondering why men wished to lave such a
spot, and mingle with those who dwell in the dusty,
eated city, a carriage drove to the gate, and a
tall, business-like, looking individual sprang out,
and coining hastily up the walk, paused as he saw
tne minister, and said,
Mr. Weatwonh, I presume I I would like to
see you' a few moments on business, if you please,
sir." "" '
The old gentleman led the wav into the house.
and, taking him ub into his little study, signified
hhat he -was r ead v. .'
The stranger gave a preparatory hem, and then
aid,, . ' '
" Iieally, sir, I am commissioned to communicate'
uipleasaiit news. You have a son, I believe, em-
'loyed as cltik-'in the firm of Dayton & Co ?"
; " wr are correct, sir," said the father, while he
jniljed a proud smile at the thought of him, and
"ttl thinking that the unpleasant news referred to
JMivthinir wruiisr he had done, he added. " I sud-
e the news is that Mr; Dayton has concluded to
feephim another year, and though I miss the dear
o.vet as uis mmu seems 10 nave a mercanu a
'W -. -
ent, I shall not appose hiirr if he wishes to' stay."
The stranger gave another, and a louder hem.
n twisted uneasily on his seat, as if he wished
e were anywhere -else, and then witli an ettort,
laid,- - - '-.'.
" You are laboring under a mistake, sir, for Mr.
yton has no desire to keep him ; but on the
jotitraiy, requested me to inform you that he has
fn exceedino-lv pained by tne conauci ol your
tli em bearing a
little gift and their tones were lower and more
tender, and though they spoke no word of sympa
thy, yet the good maii felt it all, and blessed them
for it. "
ter came forth ; but his step was slower and feebler,
and he leaned more heavily on his stout oaken
start", and as he tottered up.:tbe aisle, the deacon,
struck by the eictfvme paleness of his countenance,
a'epped forwardTto assist him up the pulpit steps.
He shook his "head,, and unaided climbed to the
desk ; after wiping his brow, on which the rerspi
ration stood in large beaded drops he rose, and
stretching out his withered, hands, repeated' the
morning prayer, and gave out the hymn.
They had no music pealing organ, or fashionable
orchestra, but the tones of those Voices were heard
on high, for they came'frorn pure, simple, untutor
ed hearts, and rose like incense till they reached
and pierced the clear blue dome above. The min
ister joined, aiid when it was ended, in low, but dis
tinct tones, he preached the morning sermon, ana
when he had concluded, he added
"The liand of the Lord has been laid heavily on
mo, my people , but still his goodness is" apparent,
and though his ways are mysterious and past the
finding out, of poor finite mortals, yet my trust is
still in Him, and through the dark clouds that en
velope me round about as a shroud, the pure beams
of the sun of righteousness still shine, and all is
well with me." , ' '
The stillness was unbroken, save by the sobs of
those assembled, and the last hymn was hardly ar
ticulated at first, but by degrees grew louder, and
closed in one pealing anthem of rejoicing, and after
the last words had sounded on the ear, and the
echoes died away, still the minister did not move,
and they went to him,' and with (murmured words
of sorrow bore him honie. He was not quite dead ;
and they tried every means to bring warmth and.
life back to the aged limbs in vain. All that day
and the next they stood by him, but still the spark
flickered, but lingered before it went out
As they leaned tearfully over him, a quick bound
ing step was heard," and heated and flushed, a
youth-sprang in, and rushing to the sufferer, threw
himself beside him, and amid sobs and tears, broke
" My father, oh 1 my father, why did you die
before you knew that -I was innocent? Why did
you die without giving me your blessiugf"
. As if the tones of that dear voice had called his
heaven-drawn soul back to earth, the pastor stretch
ed out his hands, and in low, trembling tones, said
"Say yet once again, my boy, that you are in
nocent, before I go." ' ' "-',
' "I aA not guilty. The true perpetrator of the
crime of which I was accused, has confessed all,
and they have set me free. Bless me, my father,
and live for my sake,? and the boy rst into a
nbcdnn if tfnr and wailinsTS.
The old pastor laid his hand on the bright young
head that' drooped beside him, and said :
" I am dvinr, my son the hand of deatu is on
me now. and mv old heart has almo:
last throb !" Turning to the weepers
A merchant of Munich, having obtained a large
fortune, gave each of his three daughters a consid
erably large sura, and married them to three broth
ers, sons of a worthv man of Hamburg. He re-
served to himself a large capital, and his sons-in
law employed all their efforts to induce him to
erive it to them. At last, by flattery and demon-
strations of affection, they got the old man s mon
ey. But from that time they commenced to show
indifference for him, and at last totally neglected
him. The good old man" was very wretched, and
what was worse, very poor. One day his young
est -daughter went to him and tried to console him
In the course of . conversation, she suggested to
him that he might gain the good will of her and
her sisters husbands, and obtain from them all -he
needed, by pretending to be still rich. The old
man, seeing; the idea was a good one, resolved at
once to. act on it. He went to a friend of his, a
bankerand obtained an advance of money, and
the ban of a service ot plate, lhe next day he
. x ,
invited his sons-in-law to .dinner. They were as
tonished to find a service of plate on the table,
and still more so when the servant brought the
old man a letter, and he exclaimed,
" What ! let an old friend be embarrassed for
ten thousand florins I" and he went and got the
sum from his strong box, adding, " There ! take it
to your- master ! You see," said he, " I am still
The, sons-in -law were confounded, and each, with
great earnestness,, immediatelypressed thepld, map,
to go anl live with him, promising him that he
should receive every attention, and everything he
could possibly wish for. But the old man laid
down his conditions that he should have his own
apartments and domestics, a carriage, and a certain
sum nlaced at his 'disposal. To this the sons-in-
r ; i
law eagerly consented.
For some time the old man lived comfortably
enono-h. and wherever he went he took the pre-
- emotion to'-carrv with' him his strong box, which
was very heavy.
Shortly after he fell ill. nis sons-in-law pressed
him to make his' will, but he said that his inten.
Glad ords I The waters dash upon the prow
of the gallant'-vesseUY She stands on the deck and
the windivfvod her 'ringlets, as she, Joksnjoousjj.
for her hea?anj$alio
kisses on br 3Sp aofi v"3o.vlier temples:-.
Many, arms press; her to a throbbing heart, and
one voice, jb wee ter than, air the rest, whispers,' " My
child!" - V
Come hwmel Full to bursting is her younff.
heart, and ihe seeks the cabin, to gWe her joy vent
in blessed .tears. .. . f s-
Comingiome't' The best room set apart for
his chamber. Again and again haveloving hands.
folded away the curtains and shook ou the snowy,
drapery. frlSeVasea are filled every day 'with fresh
flowers, an.. every evening tremulous, loving voi
ces whisper, " He will be here to-morrow, perhaps."
At each meal the table is set with scrupulous care.
The newly-embroidered slippers, the rich dressing
gown, the$tudy cap that he will like so well, are
all paraded, to meet his eye.
That sttident brother ! He couM leap the .wa
ters and fly like a bird home. Though he has
seen all ther splendor of olden time, there is but
one spot that fills his heart, and that spot he will
soon reach-4 sweet home."
Coming "home! What sees the sun-browned
sailor in the darkling waters ! He smiles ! There
are pictures there of a blue-eyed babe and its moth
er. He knows that even now his young wife sings
the sweet cradle-song :
Size of the Ark. Infidels have objected to the
6ize of the Ark, and have asserted that it is quite
absura1 to suppose that ever there could be a vessel
" For I know that, the angels will bring him to me.".
He sees, her watching from' the neat cottage
door; she feels the beat of her heart in the pulse
of his own, when a familiar footfall touches only
the threshold of memory.
That bronzed sailor loves his hpme, as an eagle
whose wings seeking oftenest the tracks of the air,
loves best his mountain eyrie. His treasures are
Coming home ! Sadly the worn Californian
folds his arms and sinks back upon his fevered pil
low. What to him is his yellow? gold I Oh, for
one smile of kindred! But that may not be.
Lightly they tread by his beside, watch the dim
eye, moisteji tne parched lips.
A pleasaht. face bends over him a rough palm
gently pusMpg back the moist hair, and a familiar
voice whisprsQ" Cheer up, my friend, we're in
port you are going home." K
The filmfalli frorn'the sick man's eye. Homel
i'a ,t Tienr fc-ifVif W be most there? A thrill
endsihWoolingthrough hislimbs. What 1
shalf he see those dear eyes, before the night ot
darkness settles down for ever? Will his babes
fold their little arros about him, and press their
cherry lips to his ? What wonder if new vigor
gathers in that manly chest ? ' He feels strength
in every nerve, strength to bear the overwhelming
joy of meeting those dear ones.
Coming home ! The very words are rapturous.
They bear import of every thing sweet and holy
in the domestic lite nay, more, they are stamped
with the seal of Heaven, for the angels say of the
dying saint, " He is coming home."
tKapnust have been placed in it, together with suf- J
DCienx rooa-it may ie, ior,six or iweive mouuis
water for the fishes! corn for the four-footed an-
imals, seed for the birds, nd so on. ; Njnw, we will
take the dimensions of the Ark from the record of
Moses; and calculate them on the lowest possible
scale. There are two definitions given of a cubit ;
one that it is 18 inches, or a foot and a half the
other that it is 1 foot 8 inches. JWe will take it
only at the lowest. Moses states that the Ark was
300 cubits long; this would make it 450 feet long,
or about the length of St. Paul's cathedral,- (Lon
don.) The breadth of it he states to be 50 cubits ;
we then have it 75 feet in breadth. He states it
to be 30 cubits high, so that it was 45 feet in
height. In other words, it was as long as St Paul s
cathedral, nearly as broad' and half as high. The
tonnage of -the Ark, according to the calculation ot
modern carpenters, must have been 32,000 tons.
The largest English ship-of-war, the St. Vincent, .
ror instance, wuicn is oi a size auogeiuer unimagi
nable to those who have never seen it is 2,500
tons burthen ; so that the Ark must have been
quaMo seventeen first rate ships of war, and it
armed, as such ships are, it would have contained
much beyond 1800 men, and provisions for 18
months. Buffon has stated that all the four-footed
animals may be reduced to 2od pairs, and the birds
to a sil smaller number. On calculation, there
fore, we shall find that the Ark would have held
more than five times the necessary number of crea
tures, atid.more than five times the required quan
tity of food to maintain then; for twelve months.
Our readers geaerally, and very many - co:
pondents especially,, are ; aware that it in no0or W
habit to give insertion toTpoetical effusion; . but 'V?
i . ii hi i. ravr yrj;tiig iuuOftTagpwt?
aioeit we find it among the advertisements in A - v
Richmond:jouraaLV;Tbe.pathoi-;:of 5 The Last
Rose of Summer" would not suffer alongside of thi
clever parody National Intelligencer.
Tis the last clock of fifty
Left standing alone ;
All its noisy companions
-Are purchased and gone.
No watch of its kindred, 1
No time piece on tick,
To reflect back its music,
Or give click for click.
Til not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the shelf,
Since no body will huy thee
I'll keep thee myself.
Thus kindly I place thee
Behind my own door,
Where the mates of the mantel .
. Have flourished before.
Oh! long mayst thou follow
The course of the day,
As from Time's tated circle
Each hour falls awny. ',.
When old clocks need cleaning,
- And people seek new,
Oh! who can supply them
. Like; Bartholomew' ? - .
Thk;Happy Man. The Commonwealth makes
the following extract from a phonographic report of
a sermon by Rev: Theodore Parker, of this city.
The original of. the picture is understood to be a
highly esteemed resident of Newton :
,"The happiest man I have ever known, is one
far enough from being rich, in money, and who
will never be very much nearer to it. His calling
fits him, and he likes it, rejoices in its process as
much-as its result. He has an active mind, well
filled. He reads, and he thinks, lie' tends his
garden before sunrise, every morning then rides
sundry miles by the rail does his ten hours' work
in the town whence he returns happy and cheer
ful a WithJiisj)wn jm2!Q,M catches ; the. earliest
t smile ot the
Holmes in one of his poems, says in a parenthet
; ' " My grandpa
Loved girls when he was young."
No doubt of it ; for Holmes is a sensible man,
and must have had a ' sensible grandfather. All
sensible men love girls when they are young, and
when they are old too. (We apply the " old " to
men, not the girls mind you.) Girlhood is ah
institution a " peculiar institution " which as
lovers to girls,slarge and small, we hold that no gen
tleman's family, !is complete without them." Of
little girls an American poet says -
" With rosy cheeks, and merry dancing curls,
And eyes of tender light,
O very beautiful are little girls,
And goodly to the sight !"
And as to large girls "big, bouncing girls"
what a pity it is that they must soon be, " women,"
stately, matronly, queenly women, who are only
.not angels beCatise they tire- not -girts ! wh'o, by
morning, plucks the first rose ot his tjie b avetiot angels either, but vastly more charm-
roes to work with the little nower in tu a members of the angelic hosts that we
remember to have seen in pictures elsewhere !
tion was to divide the contents ot his strong box
equally betweeulhem and a friend, and that they
and his executor should each have a key. About
a fortnight after, he died. ; ' ,
By a writing which he left behind him, he di
rected that the box should not be opened until
five days after his interment that he should be
buried with the greatest pomp, and that each poor
man in the town should receive an entire new suit
of clothes and a florin. At last the day for open
ing the strong box arrived. The sons-in-law, to
their bitter mortificaticn, found not, as they had
expected, money 'or securities to a large amount, but
lead and stones !
Wtomex and Ladies. In the days of our fath
ers, there were such things to be met with as men
and women -but hbw they are all gone, and in their
place a race ot gentlemen and ladies, or, to be still
more refined, a race of "ladies and gentlemen,"has
snrunfr ud. Women and crirls are amonrr the
things that were. But " ladies " are found every
Miss Martinoau, wishing to seethe women wards
in a nrison in Tennessee, was answered by the
,1 - " " i
warden, "We have no ladies here at present, ma
dam." Now, so far as the ladies were concerned,
it was very well that none of them were in prison;
but then, it sound a little odd ladies in prison,
It would seem bad enough for women to go to
such a place. -
A lecturer, discoursing upon the characteristics
of women, illustrated thus; "Who were the last at
the cross ? Ladies. W'ho were the first at the
sepulchre ? Ladies On this modern improvement,
.1" .1.1- .1
we have heard or but one thing that oeats tne
above. It was the finishing touch to a marriage
ceremony, performed by an exquisite divine up to
all modern refinements. When he had thrown the
chain of Hymen around the happy couple, he con
cluded by saying,"! now pronounce you husband
and lady The audience stuffed their handker
chiefs into their mouths, and got out of the room as
quickly, as possible, to take breath.
An Exquisite Story by Lamartine. In the
tribe of Neggden, there was a horse, whose fame
was spread far and ne'ar, and a Bedouin of another
tribe, by the name of Daher, desired extremely to
possess it. Having -ottered in vain tor it ms cam
els and his whole wealth, he hit at length upon the
following device, by which he hoped to, gain the
object of his desire. .He resolved to stain his tace;
with the juice ot an herb, to clothe himseltm rags,,
to tie his-legs and neck together, so as to appear,
like a lame beggar.' Thus equipped, he went to
wait for Naber, the owner of the horse, whom he
knew was to pass that way. When he saw Naber
approaching on his beautiful steed, he cried out in
a weak voice,.;! am a poor stranger tor three
days I have been unable to move trom this spot to
seek for food. I am dying, help me, and heaven
will reward you." The Bedouin kindly offered to
take him up on his horse and carry him home ; but
the rogue replied, "I. cannot rise; I have no
strength left." Naber touched with pity, dismount
ed, led his horse to the spot, and, with great diffi
culty, set the seeming beggar on its back. But no
sooner did Daher feel himself in the s dale, than
he set spurs to the horse and galloped off, calling
out as he did so, " It is I, Daher. I have got the
ho-se, and am off with it." Naber called after
him to stop and listen. Certain of not being pur-b
sued, he turned, and halted at a short distance from
Naber, who was armed with a spear. " xou have
taken my horse," said the latter. "Since heaven
has willed it, I wish you joy of it; but 1 do con
jure you never to tell any one how you obtained it,"
And why not!" said Daher. "Because," said the
noble Arab, "another man might be really ill, and
men would fear to help him. Jou would be the
cause of many refusing to perform an act of chari
ty, for fear of being duped as I have been." Struck
with shame at these words, Daher was silent tor a
moment, then springing from the horse, returned it
to its owner, embracing him. Naber made him
accompany turn to his tent, where they spent a tew
days together and became fast friends for life.
erarden. and goes
his hand, and a great one blossoming out ot his
heart. He runs over with charity, as a cloud with
rain i and it is with him as with the cloud what
coming from the clouds is rain to the meadows is
a rainbow of glories to the cloud that pours it out.
The happiness of the affections fills up the good
man, and he runs over with ine,nusnip and love
connubial, parental, flial friendly, too, and . phiT
anthropic, besides. His lite is a perpetual ".trap
to catch a sunbeam" and it always "springs
and takes it in. I know no man who gets more
out of life ; and the secret of it is that he does his
dutv to himself, to his brother, and to his God. I
know rich men, and learned men men of great
social position ; and if there is genius in Amerjca,
I know that but a happier inan i nave neyer
How we Rush Forward. Scarce a month has
passed since the terrible calamity at Norwalk oc
curred, arid it is alreadv almost forgotten. It has
ceased to be the subject of thought or remark
Another fortnight, and the sigh of the bereaved
The piano is the doctor's best friend, for no soon
er does a young lady goes near one in society, than
I she is immediately seized with a very bad cold she
is. In is is true onlv of those spinsters who don t
know how to behave themselves in company, and
allow petty pride to usurp the place of common
widow, or tne tear tncKiing silently down tne cneeK senSe and good breeding. It , was rood advice
of the ornhan, will be the only memorial of that that a mother gave to her daughter : " Emily, when
sd event. Such is the world. Onward rolls the jn company you are" ask8d t play, make no half
wave of time, sweeping in its resistless course of way work of it, but politelv show your readiness
human events, be they 'joyful or fraught with sor- to oblige. This will win for vou golden favors
row, in th;e silence of oblivion. A great man dies. fr0m all present, even although you do not perform
ine wave rous over nis grave, tne wonu wipes me as well as you would wish." Good advice, truly,
tear from its eye, and turning away from his sep- That mother had seen the woTld. All Diano spin-
ulchre, moves on. The chasm left by his removal sters and singers should have it printed and pinned
is closed up, and he passes from the minds of men. irrevocably tight to the bosom of their cheraizettes !
It is a sad thing to think of, this perishing utterly
from the memory of the world. It is well calcu
lated to humble the spirit of a man to reflect that
he will one day be laid in the grave, and from the
not so !
tn. and. that tl.rb tl nrnofs of his guilt are i o.u i not leu you, my people, tuat too -
uo. i ' .i m,otlir inrniir i brod were oast our feehln comnrenension, and is u
vei ne expresses me utmost by m r - . -
pliction " .
I The bid man leaned over the table, and clasped
' withered hands, while he gazed imploringly m
Others faa K,it eoJ t a nnul 1 OUChed UV
- VJ V, -v y IS 131 4 liVU M
niute" agonv''of his expression, he hurriedly
M, as if he thought it better to relieve his sus-
Here is one of the many beautiful thoughts to
which Fanny Forrester has given expression :
" Oh, let me die in the countrv. where I shall
st throbbed its stillness ot nis last resting-place near the tramp oi not tall, UKe the single leaf of the fofest, unheeded ;
heedless tnousanas aoove mm, and Know tnai tie
is forgotten of them all
se at once.
May Heaven's best blessing rest on you, my boy,
my youngest and last born, and may you ever keep
in the path of peace and rectitude I have endeav
ored to point out to you. Teace and blessings rest
with you, my people, and may God keep you ever
as in the hollow of his hand."
A. I .1 t .1
wnere loose mat love me need not masK tneir
hearts to meet the careless multitude, and strive as
a duty to forget me ! Bury me in the country,
" Does tho Court understand you to say, Mr. amid the prayers of the good and the tears of the
Jones, that you saw the editor , of the Auger of loving : not in the dark, damp vault, away from
Freedom intoxicated F . the sweet-scented air, and the cheerful sunshine,
" Not at all, sir ; I merely said that I had seen but m the open fields, among the flowers that 1
him frequently so flurried in his mind that he would ioved and cherished while living.
English Ignorance of America. In a debate
in the English;Parliament, Sir Robert Peel stated
that the number of States in ,the .American Union
was thirty three ; and a Cabinet Minister called
the late "old patriot of America, John Randolph,"
a statesman of Massachusetts, aad quoted him as
having said that "if you wished to make the in
habitants of a State a set of scoundrels, you had
only to give them secret voting." In a recent
English journal, we noticed an account of the
political movements in the "State" of New Orleans.
One of our citizens was asked, a short time since
in England, if "there were many persons in Boston
who could speak the English language !" Dr Baitey,
editor of the National Era, in his last letter from
London to that journal, remarks, "We must not
forcret that the masses of English people are. ex
ceedingly ignorant of our country its geography,
its people, their institutions ana usages, tneir
Government, the relations of our State Governments
to each other and to the Federal Government, and
tboir relations severally to slaverv. Many intelli-
trent nersons believe that, this evil is diffused
O. r. ... . -m l- 1- 1 J f
t.hrmiorhtout a the States. An xungnsn iauy oi
. . . . . i .i
hirrh nnsitmn ate v asked an American wnetuer
ha saw much of it in Massachusetts ? At
considerable dinner party, the other day, an English
o-entleman remarked to one of our countrymen
that he had understood that the great vegetable for
t I TIT
makW soud in the States was pumiiin I were
you to iell many respectable peopl here that
Massachusetts is the capital ot .rniiaoeipnia, iuey
would not knowthat you were quizzing them.
W'OME.N FATTENED IN TtJNIS FOR Mi.BRIAGE. A
girl, after she is betrothed, is cooped up in a small
room, shackles of gold and silver are placed upon
her ankles and wrists, as a piece of dress. If she
is to be married to a manho has discharged, dis
patched, or lost a former wife, the shackles which
the former wife wore are placed on the new bride
limbs, and she is fed till they are filled up to a
proper thickness. The food used for this. custom,
worthy olthebarbarians, is called " drough " which
is of an extraordinary fattening quality, and also
famous for rendering the milk of the nurse rich
and abundant. - With this fee, and their national
dish, " cuseasco," the bride is literally crammed, and
many actually die under the spoon.
Prayer in the Wthite House. The Christ
ian public generally will, be gratified to learn that
the President's House at Washington is, to some
extent at least, a house of prayer. One of our
contemporaries states that the President regularly
keeps up family worship in his household. "W hen
our rulers are men who fear God, and Divine bless-
u rli'lp cMirrbt in n familr of the chief
magistrate oi tne nation, we nave rea""
for good things for the country. .
Authors "And Printers. In the great arena of
ife's 'varied pursuits, there is no class of actors more
shamefully misrepresented than the author and
printer, live world iorms a wrong estimate oi tne
value of each, from not being able to distinguish,
in the perfection of their labors, the efforts of one
from the other. An author is some times lauded
to the skies, when in fact, if his manuscripts had
been given to the public instead of the printed vol-
ume, he would have appeared in a most ridiculous
aspect ; and if a comparison of the two were made,
a striking resemblance would be found only in the
title page. Among this grade are some Congress
men, Assembly-men, fcc, whose elevation may be
attributed to a false public estimate of their abili
ties from reading their printed speeches. A work
was published a short time ago in this city, and
favorably noticedby the press, the manuscripts of
which would compare, with any ettort ot Otiawles
Yellowplush ; and it is really a readable book, but
the compositor and proof-reader made it sq. ouch
writers are a source ot more vexation to the printer,
than perhaps any thing else with which he has to
contend ; while the necessity begets 6uch a prone
ness, that, others often appear to disadvaptage
through his uncontrollable habit of altering and
amending; and thus the innocent sufl'er from his .
intrepid zeal in behalf of those who are really cul
pable. Philadelphia Sun.
When Sigourney, a notorious wag of Boston
was expiring, a servant entered and informed the
attending physician that a man had fallen" down .
the well. The dying man overheaid the servant,,
and inquired, with scarcely an au 'ible whisper, " I
say Doctor, did he kick the bucket?
- i - -
A Word to Boys. Stick to your trade, boys,
and learn. how to work ifyou wish to be truly in
dependent There is no more pitiable sight than
a half mechanic applying for work. Be is always
at the foot of the hill, and labor as he may, unless
he becomes perfect in his trade, he'can caver-rise; 7
undertake to cut out copy with the snuffers thai's
He who greases his wheels, helps his olen.
Tall Poitry. That rhyming Fourth of July
Aiinn in tb Stindar TimA. was A BUDeriof sam-
M 1 ' TIT I'l i L.
tl ot don east poetry.
We like this verse
n fact, the, universal globe will 11 be onm, thaf s BarUij
To say republics won't endoore, i in my eye and ueuy i"
This1 Union wUl Uke in tjie airth, with xW it States and ki
f revoloshia comes aanounced ift Revelsshina.
Some lone bachelor editor away out in Missouri,
is guilty of the following :
Why is the heart of a lover like the sea serpent ! '
Because it is a secreter sea creetur of great
sighs size J. Dreadful, wasn't it ?
A modest cotemporary calls veal M unfinished
beef." This is pretty good ; but why not extend
the vocabulary ? - Suppose we term lamb " incip
ient mutton," and denominate pig " premonitory
Fight against a hasty temper. A spark may
set s house on fire, ; a fit of passional ay cause you
to mourn long and bitterly. Govern your passions,
or they will govern you.
Keep doing, always doing. .Wishing, dreaming,
intending, murmuring, talking, sighing and (repin
ing, are all idle and profifjess-employmente.
An honest, virtuous man live not to the world,
but to his own conscience. He, as the planets
above, steers a course contrary to that oMhe world.
A virtuous person, in the thickest of misfortunes,
is like a quick-set hedge the more he is cut and
hacked, the better he thrives.
To be really and truly independent, is to support
ourselves by our own exertions. .
It is better to sow a young heart with generous
thoughts and deeds than a field with corn, since'
the heart's harvest is perpetual..
A spirit-rapper in Iowa, says that -Dr. Franklin
has opened a circus, Voltaire acting as ticket seller.
Sr ' jv