1 ' i
CALVIN II- W1EEY, ;
WILLIAM D. COOKE,
i
A FAMILY.
NEUTRAL I POTJTICS.
EDITORS.
TERMS:!0 DOLLAllS
PER ANNUM.
cDotctt to nil fljc Sutcrrsts of 0or Carolina, education, Mculture, Citcratmc, 3tcfei5, tijc ittarktts,
VOL II - NO. -15.
RA LEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDAY, OCT. 8,
1853.
WHOLE NO. 97-
. - - - - - - . . . . - - -- -V
N E VV or Ar EK
a' i
G-1
SELECTED STORf.
' SOMETHING DIVINE- -
I do beln.-ve lit neither quinine nor saline
draughts were so eli' c'.ual in curing me of the-raarsh
f.;ver which prostrated roe in Home as the good
little stories my excellent, Doctor used to tell me.
One .f "is est -was .about a servant-maid.
Maria, the heroine, was the daughter of a farm
- cr hut became, afa very, early age the iiant tT
a sculptor of some celebrity in his day, named Pule!,
who had removed from Florence to Koine to court
inanition' in the Metropolis .of Art, for a great
work. 'He was a., grave,; serious man; and, after
-having instructed Maria iii the duties required of
her, retired vitLi.i iiiiiiIarid allowed her to do
pretty much as she liked"; so that she governed his
l:U'e household in her own way. She was a come
ly drl, of quiet 'manne'i', and sooh became a favo
rite with all Puici's visitors. The engraver Savori
nr .was .stnt'.-k -wi'di l ve at first sight for her, and
oll'ere.l to .make her hi- wife; but she replied calmly
tl,-,t tJu li.id en ; el with Signor Pulei to be his
FCrvant-'foF three veiirs, :ui'd eyuld not think of break
ing her ciigagcnieiit. " I wtill find a substitute."
said .-Savoriiii'. ""' i 'can no: be replaced," she replied.
.i 'J'Ii.j engraver 'called her a Proserpine of pride ; and
Lis cai I t.-dii J el. d d .for the time.
' Master Pulei. was "bu y vi; !i an important group ;
."the subject, being Rigibn leaning upon Science
and Art ah ahegory which Italians are fond -of
developing. A though not a first-chur sculptor, lie
htiii occupied a .-u!li i.-i.t rank to bring him in con -t
u t wjlh' all'th v.. h'brat.-d artists of the day, who
u-ed to come tV.an t in- to time to his studio.
Maria was often c.tlK-d in for one purpose or anoth
er, and listened greedily to their animated discourse
'oil genius and its consequent fame. From the
: very ours t i-he began to leel yearnings after earth
ly '-immortality.. A year, however, passed before
a definite plan succeed e 1 to her vague impuls.es.
. 'One day Pulei invite 1 some of his friends to din
ner, avoiini ainong.-t the rest. The meal was taken
i:i the studio, and the conversation naturally turned
upon art. ..All spoke -enthusiastically ; for all were
Italians, and were deeply, devoted to their various
departments.;' Savorini, who still retained a strong
sentiment for idaria, and perhaps wished to dazzle
her (die was moving quietly to .and fro performing
lef usual duties-; but listening to ail that was said
with respectful attention) rather exaggerated the
dignity and the privileges of the profession to which
they all belonged. Kings and emperors, the Pope
1 iniself. he said, ranked below great artists ;. and it
was better to have prod tuel that Diana pointing
to a clay model, which Pulei had just finished
than to .guide the councils of nations. " I place my
art," he added, " not. quite on an 'equality with-4
'S otus, Signori, bat, I own, no" superiors except you ;
for. I" ab-o feel that I have a spark of something di
vide within hie." . .
' He"-talked inueh in this strain, being excited bv
the good Lachryma Cliristi and by the presence
of Maria. Although the girl admired what he
said, she in ijo wise set it down' to his account iti
the way he would have desired. She looked upon
'hi in oniy as an'interpreter of truth, and went about
, the room and backward and forward between it
and-the kitchen pondering whether she had-not
also a spark of something divine within her. " Yes,
I have it !' she said' at length. As she said this,
. she pushed against Angela, an old, dame who had
come in to assist her in her duties, let go the dish
that held the stewed prunes, and broke it, splash
ing' the rich red juice over her ow n white stockings'.
" ''Are they quite spoiled?"' inquired' Savorini.
'She gave him a familiar pti)i, as if she was remov
ing one of her .father's heifers out of her w ay. " Let
her al one 1" cried Pulei. " We must not punish
; her for. her accident. She has not chipped a statue
. or a model since she has been with me" -
' 1 would rather break one of my own limbs,1' she
exclaimed. u lti ava 1" cried they all ; and, after
complimenting her, they went on talking of their
ai t, as cheerily as if they had not been disappoint
ed of stewed prunes. - Meanwhile, Maria became
nunc and. more convinced that there was a spark of
something divine within her. .
. From that time she began in secret in her own
little bed-room to endeavor to produce some of
; the forms of beauty that filled her mind. The clay
became Hfe-like in her hands;' and, in a very short
time, she. almost started' with surprise at beholding
e l mass which she had placed on her window-sill.
A natural tear of being ridiculed and repressed,
prevented her from confiding her projects and her
studies to her,, master. But her secret was too
troublesome to . be kept entirely to' herself At
first .she thought of. the engraver Savorini ; and
jsibly it would have been, well had his ljonest
love then found favor in her eyes. But tl7e re
inembrances o his rough gallantries made her fear
ful of, confiding in him. There was Caterina, the
daughter of Angela; but, when she came to gossip
of evenings, all her talk was about the handsome
cavaliers whb looked at her in church impious
men and followed her home, trying to talk non
sense. This was not a proper confidante; so she
chose my old doctor, Corona, who : had attended
her in an illness,and had won her confidence by his
benevolent manners. She went to him, made him
promise secrecy as if she had been going to confess
a murder, and revealed that she felt the power to
become a great artist.
-My famenvill fid the world," said she.
-"But will it fill your heart i" '
; .'' I hut is full alrea ly of hope." '
He saw that she. did not come ;for advice but
encouragement : and he encouraged her. He would
' have preferred had she told all to j Master Pulei ;
but that artist, though good and kind, had some
thing cold and satirical in Iiis manner. " lie will
never believe in me," said Maria, " until he sees that
I can do something. lie is not a man of faith.
-i
Besides, who will admit genius in the person that
cooks one's dinner? These hands that have made
so many messes can do nothing but spoil marble,
hwmth-Tn"" -. "
"She must take care," thought Corona, " not to
deceive herself as to the motive that makes her un
willing to communicate her ambition to her master
If I mistake not, slie hopes to dazzle him."
But the .Doctor was mistaken. Maria's whole
being was, from that time forward, devoted to art
and art alone. It is truej that she did not fail to
perform her household duties ; but she did so me
chanically, and, if Master Pulei had been anything
of a gourmand or a -fidget, he would have found
daily grounds of complaint. However, matters went
on very well ; and neifher he nor any one else ever
suspected that the girl had turned; her bed room '
into a studio, and tliat she was robbing herself of
sleep in order to ma'ke up for the hpurs necessarily
lost in the day-time. i feavorini alone noticed that
her cheeks grew pale, and that her eyes gleamed
with unnatural brilliancy. "Her feoul is wearing
otutHier body, Doct6r," said he to Corona. The
dioctor assented sorrowfully, without daring to be-
tray the secret.
v Maria afterwards said that her life seemed to have
begun oj) Iv from the time when she perceived the
presence of the " divine spark " in her. All the
former years faded from her remembra-ice. Her
imagination became filled with beautiful forms.
Her ears were ever open to catch words of instruc
tion from her master, or his visitors. Her eyes
greedily devoured the models that surrounded her
She took Puici's books, one by one, to her room
and learned all that they could teach her. When
ever she went forth, it was to some church, or to
the Vatican, to admire1 the achievements of the
-schools.
At length she felt herself sufficiently prepared to
attempt' original productions, and she began to
model a statue of Minerva. A practised hand would
probably have produced a result as good as hers
in a much shorter time ; but she was ignorant of
routine, and many accidents retarded her work.
However, as time proceeded, the figure grew under
hei. hands;' and day by day, the consciousness of
her own genius increased within her.- Her deter
mination was to send the figure to the annua com
petition for the prize secretly in ..order. that she
might hoar the impartial opinion of the judges.
Thi difficulties in her way were immense. But
she overcame them' all ; and, when one-day Master
Pulei w as absent, some porters, sent by Dr. Corona,
came and took away her model. Thus it. was re
moved to the exhibition hall without accident. .
Maria entered with the crowd on the appointed
day, and contrived to place herself near to her
statue. Her ambition djd not .extend to winning
the prize. All she dared to hope was-to escape
ridicule. But her astonishment was indescribable
on perceiving by degrees all the connoisseurs col
lect round her 'Minerva, and begin to speak enthu
siastically in its praise. The judges stood betore it
in their turn. There was an unanimous cry of ad
miration. Her heart swelled mightily within her,
and it was with difficult' she could repress her
pride anil exultation. These came to their height
.when the .prize was unanimously, given, to her
statue 4 aud a crier began to exclaim, " Let the
sculptor of the Minefya declaie himself!" It th'en
struck her iii her confusion that a woman had
no right to compete, and she hastened away un
perceived. Her object, however, was gained. She was now
sure that she had not deceived herself by a false
idea of her own merit; and she .saw in the future,
a long series of triumphs. Doctor Corona, who
had watched her, followed and complimented her.
Even he had not dared to admire her work until
public opinion had crowned it. He went with her
to the-studio of Pulei; and there she threw herself
on her knees befote her master, and confessed the
truth. He at first thought she' was mad ; and it
was not until Dr. Corona confirmed her statement,
that he could believe that his servant-girl Maria
had won the first prize of sculpture by the unani
mous vote of the first artists of Rome !
The news soon spread Vh rough the 'city and Sa- .
lorini came hastily to cpmpliment the young art
ist. She allowed him to embrace her, and listened
gratefully when he said, " She must be at once
raised from her menial capacity. It is impossible
to deprive the aits of this wonder." He did not
repeat his declaration of affection ; but he seemed
to claim a right to watch over her future fortunes.
Pulei at once agreed to hxk out for aother serv
ant; but Maria refused to quit his house. " I will
superintend everything still," she said.
The three supped together pleasantly that even
ing; and Savorini began the well-known etching
which represents Maria sitting at the feet' of her
Minerva, pausing in her work to admire it. Next
day, all the elite of Roman art came flocking to hail
their new comrade. For some months, indeed, ther
fashionable society of the city talked of nothing
.else but this pleasant story ; and it became a popu
lar opinion that Maria would equal or surpass the
greatest masters. There was some exaggeration
in this. The causes which would have made them
refuse to acknowledge her talent, before W public
triumph, induced them to magnify it now. It
seemed so extraordinary that a servant-girl .from
the Campagna di ' Eoma could do anything, that
people began to suppose nothing was too great for
h?r to perform. Even old Nosotti, -Maria's father,
undertookfa journey to Rome fori the" purpose of
seeing his daughter, and. looked in at . St. Peter's
by the way. She received him with delight ; but
shook her head when he suggested that she might
now marry farmer Raimondo. Savorini, who was
by, ventured , a hope on his own.vccount,"nd &e
whispered Something in her ear. She smiled faint
ly; and, giving him her hand, said ; If you ask
me again in six months I will say yes !" He did
not understand.
The truth was, that the divine spark was burn
ing too fiercely within. In vain Dr. Corona exert
ed his art and endeavored, moreover, to wean Maria
for a -while from the studio. The hectic flush and
the brilliant eyes proved true prophets.
The Minerva was the only Work of the servant
Maria ; who died on the twelfth of May, eighteen
hundred and one. Household Words.
MISCELLANEOUS. -
; : v"
Correspondence of New York Observer.
ZURICH.
Aug. 18. To-day I have been exploring Zurich,
a city famous in the history of the Reformation
and dear to every Protestant hearty Here the ex
iles of England, when Bloodyfary was on the
throne, found a hiding-place from her bitter perse
cutions. Here the first entire English . version of
the Bible, by Miles Coverdale, w as printed in 1535.
From my window I see the cathedral where Zwin-
gle, the soldier of the Reformation who resisted
unto blood striving against sin, once thundered the
wrath of heaven upon the abominations of the
Church of Rome. Here is the. house yet stand
ing in which he p issed the last six years of his
noble life. The clock of St. Peter is now striking.
This church had for its pastor for twenty-three
years the celebrated Lavater, author of the work on
Physiognomy. He was born here, and in the door
of the parsonage which I visited to-day, he was
shot by a brutal soldier, when the town was taken
by the French in 1799. He'had given wine and
money to hi murderer but a few minutes before :
and though he lingered Arfee'SntieteTus
ed to give up the name of the assassin to the
French commander, who desired to punish the
atrocious deed. I plucked a flower and a 6prig of
myrtle from his grave in the humble church-yard
of St. Anne, where a simple tablet to his memory
bears this inscription : " J. C. Lavater's Grave.
Born loth Nov. 1741. Died Jan.4 1801.' In
the town library of 45,000 volumes, admirably ar
ranged, is a fine marble bust of Lavater, and also
of Pestalozzi, with portraits of Zwing'e and many
other reformers. But I was more interested in
reading . several manuscript letters in Latin, by
Lady Jane Grey, Joanna Graia, addressed to Bul
linger. The beautiful execution of the writing, the
quotations in Greek and Hebrew, the spirit they
breathed, and the fate of their lovelv author, gave
them all but sacred interest in -my. eyes. Here, too,
I read in m own Bible the family record of Zwin-
gle and his wife Anna Bullinger; and I saw many
Greek and Arabic manuscripts which I knew that
Dr. Raffles or Dr. Sprague would give a heap of
guineas to get. But why should I make a cata
logue, of the curious things I have looked up in
Zurich ? It is said that the sunset view of the city,
valley, lake and mountains' is not surpassed by,any
scene in 'Switzerland. I had been so busy in these
old . and interesting scenes, that the day was gone
before I kuew it, and as we walked out to climb
the hill, from which the view is to be had, I feared
the sun had already set. Part of the old rampart
of the town remains, an elevated mound which has
been tastefully laid out with walks and planted with
shrubs ai'd flowers, for a botanical garden. Qa
the summit fine shade trees stan 1, and here is one
of the most beautiful promenades in the world.
The sun was half an hour high, and just as we
reached the hill-top it began to come down from
behind a dense cloud, like a mass of molten gold
distilled into a transparent globe. Its liquid form
appeared to tremble as it came forth ; but the face
of nature smiled in his returning beams. The
nearer summits first caught the brightness, and
then the more distant, invisible before, now stood
forth in their majesty, shining in the sunlight. Be
low me. lay the lake like a silver sea. And al
along its shores and far upon the hill-sides, thou
sands of white cottages and 'villas, the abodes of
wealth and peace and love, sweet Swiss homes, re
joiced in the sunshine, as they sent up their even
ing psalm of praise from ten thousand happy hearts
'to God. A hundred years hence our vallevs mav
be so peopled : but we have none now like this : for
a thousand years the hill-sides have been tilled, and
all these acres, wrested from the forest, and subdued
by the hand of industry and art, have been plant
ed with corn and wine, ne,at and many splendid
mansions have been reared in every nook and on
every sunny slope, and now on all sides the pano
rama seems to present the very spot where learn
ing, religion, taste and peace would delight to find
a refuge and a home. It is now sunset in the val
ley. The lake is dark. The last ray has played
on thfc spire of St. Peter, and the Minster. But
the dome of the Dodi still gleams in the sun, and
the far-off glaciers of Glarus and Uri are reflecting
his lingering beams. Ibesjeus.
Not to affect to be witty, or to jest so as to
wound the feelings of another.
J'- , A CHINESE E0MAITCE.Hv
In; some Chinese romances and tales, we find a
considerable share of wit as well as senti ment. From
one t( these, Voltaire has not disdained to borrow
one of the best stories in his "Zadig." A disciple of
the sect of Taoutsee, or Doctors of Reason, while
meditating among the tombs, observed a young
lady: seated by one of them, eagerly employed in
faunBigjt?ie structure.' On approaching the spot,
and8eeii)ghert'fri tears,lie entureuto ask "tvhose '
tomb it might be, and why she took such pains in
fanning it? Tlie lady, with great simplicity, replied
"You see a widow at the tomb of her husband :
he was most dear to me, and he loved me in return
with equal tenderness. Afflicted at the idea of par
ting with me, even in deaths his last words were
these 'My dearest wife, should you ever think of
marrying again,. I conjure you to wait, at least, until
the plaster of my tomb be entirely dry ; after which
you have my sanction to take another husband.
Now," said she, ''as the materials are still damp,
and not likely soon to dry, I thought I would just
fan it a little to assist in dissipating the moisture.
"This woman," thought the philbsopher,"is in a
monstrous hurry ;" aud having r cently taken to
himself a beautiful wife, he hastened home to apprize
her of the adv enture.
"Oh, the wretch !" she exclaimed, " what an un
feeling monster! How can a virtuous woman ever
think of a second husband' If, for my mifoi tune,
I should ever loe you, be assured 1 should remain
single for the rest of mv life."
"Fair promises," thoug t the philosopher, "are
easily made ; but we shall see." He sudden
ly became dangerouly ill ; a tender scene oc
curred ; the lady vowed eternal remembrance,
and repeated her resolution- to remain a wid
ow to the end of her days. " Enough," said
the philosopher, " my eyes are now closing -for
ever
atid-so saying, the breath departed from his
body. The desponding widow, with loud lamenta
tions, embraced the lifeless body, and held it locked
in her arms. Among the mourners who assembled
on the melancholy occasion, was a youth of fair
exteiior, who said he had come from a distance to
place himself as a pupil under the deceased sage.
With great difficulty he procured a sight of the
widow she was struck with his appearance. She
together, supped together; and exchanged tender
ooks and expressions. The youth was half-smit-
tfii, the lady wholly so, and a marriage speedily
agreed upon. The. youth, however, previously de
manded three conditions. One of which mav suffice
or our notice : it was that the widow should forth
with turn out of the house the unsightly coffin
that contained the remains of her late husband.
The lady readily consented, and the coffin was sent
into an old shed at the bottom of the garden.,
Preparations were now made for the marriage
east, but the bridegroom was suddenly seized with
convulsions and fell on the floor. The bride, was
desired by his domestic not to be alarmed, for that
these fits were not unusual, and that there was a
A-
cure for them the only and 'celt am cure the u
brain of a man recently" deceased "taken in warm
wine.
0h!"4said the lady, "my late husband has
been dead only a few davs. Get mo a hatchet,
and I will go myself and open the coffin and take
out the remedy. -
Thus fortified, she posted away to the bottom of
the garden, and striking a blow with all her might
behold! the lid flew open, a groan was heard,
and to "her great horror, the dead man rising up,
very coolly said" My dear . wife, lend me your
hand to get out!" - "
N The unhappy inamorata, finding all her intrigues
discovered, and unable to survive her shame, hung
herself to one of the beams. The philosopher
found her, and having satisfied himself that she
was quite dead, cut her down very coolly, and hav
ing repaired his own coffi.i, laid her in it, fully de
termined never to take another wife.
STRENGTH OF SOME EARLY IMPRESSIONS.
Talk of salt beef and pork, dried fruits, and
pemican, asrmuch as you please ; after all, nothing
keeps so long and well, asthe eternal habits of
our youth, and some of the impressions of early
education.
We saw and heard a man the other day, who
had recently travelled in this his native land more
than eighteen thousand miles, had visited many
climes and countries of Europe and Asia,.and spent
the better part of his life in the bosom of Turkey.
After all this, when he returned to this country of
his birth, and rose up to speak among the hills,
where he had learnt his vernacular upon his moth
er's knees, and in the Yankee school house, we re
cognized the old prominent twang in his English.
His pronunciation was redolent of the same rich
flavor, as when he first left his mountain home. It
had survived the jargon of savage tribes, and the
seductive company of the most musical dialects of
Europe and the East, and came back with him a
gain to the United States, with all its original
strong, but natural, and unsophisticated music It
was entirely its own, not borrowed from any foreign
er under the sun of any other latitude. The broad
and honest mother tongue and tone, had stuck to
him like a burr amid the roar of the Atlantic, and
the corrupting gibberish of many strange languages.
He had carried away a score of years ago the sin
gular dialect of fhe village where he was born!
He had brought it back again safe and round, and
now one would not know, to hear him, that he
ever had departed from his father's farm.
Truly, notniDg keeps so well as our early habits
and idioms of speech, and suffers so little from
contact with foreign elements. Would that the
print of early moral and religious lessons on the
heart could be preserved as well, amid our journey
ings round the world ! Newark (JV. Sentinel.
' JOB, THE SANDWICH ISLANDER.
Job is a native of Molokai, one of the Sandwich
Islands. He is now an old man. Grey hairs cov
er his " tieadnns Tacedeeply furrowediT and his
form stoops with age. When he was a child, the
missionaries had not come to these islands. No
one told htm about God, and he grew up in ignor
ance and vice. At this time he was a worshipper
of idols. Great abominations used to be commit
ted i this worship, such as it is a shame even to
speak of. In these abominations he took an active
part. The chiefs also used to employ him to do
their sinful work, and he shrank from nothing,
however loathsome and cruel. You are shocked
when you hear of a murder, and wondei that any
one can be so hardened as to commit it. It was a
part of his business to commit murder. He would
do.it with as little reluctance as a man here kills a
wild animal. ' II.e killed those who had never harm
ed; him, and who had done nothing worthy of
death. Whenevej- thq chiefs wanted any one to
be'put out of the way, 'they knew w here to find an
instrument bold and .pitiless enough to do the base
and murderous deed.. One who would peifum
such acts for others,; would not be slow to perform
thedn for himself. He had shed a great deal of
innocent blood. There was not, perhaps, a more
wiiked man on the island.
The Gospel at length made its way to Molokai,
and multitudes have become the joyful disciples
of the Saviour. Amongst the earliest of these was
Job. When he first listened to it he trembled ;
fori it brought to view his sin's. But it toll him
.aisjo of the pardon of sin through the blood of
Christ", and assured him that Jesus would not turn
away the very chief of sinners. Ho found this to
be true, and became a humble, meek, - and zealous
follower of the Lr nib. Blessed Gospel, that works
such changes !
It was with great zeal that Job entered on the
new life. He had served Satan till his strong
form was beginning to bend under the burden of
years,. , lie had , done him, effectual service. He
now wanted to serve his new Master as faithfully,
lie felt that he had a work to do, and he at once
commenced it. His path became the path of the
just, and has been shining more and more", as it
has been drawing towards the perfect day. Yet it
was not great powers either of rriind or body that
he had now to bring to the service of the Saviour
lie hrfd not much learning. f He was not eloquent
He did not possess 'great talents.. But the love of
God was shed abroad in his heart, and this love
constrained him to act. lie seems also to be nrow
ing more diligent and active, as he approaches the
end of his course.. . .
HOW THEY GET M-VKRIED IN NORWAY. A
new book of travels in the north of Europe, con
tains the passage annexed :
The interior of the church i; pain tod white, with
some gilding here -and there. Immediately under
the pulpit, which is entered from behind by a stair
case out of the church in a sort of vestry-room, is
the altar, round which a double railing runs ; one
close to it, as in our churches, the other reaching
out a long way into the church, inclosing h consi
derable space'. Within this space the public were
not admitted', but the whole Tridal party sat there
round by the outer railing. During the ceremony,
two immense candles v were kept burning on the al-
tar, which was covered by a white linen cloth. On
this cloth, where it hung over the rails, garlands of
fresh flowers were fistened, and on that part of it
which was on the floor of the church, little bouquets
tastefully arranged in patterns, were plentifully
strewn. It was on this spot that the bride aud
bridegroom had to stand during the greater part
of the ceremony. When the time was come, the
minister preceded the party from the vestry, into
the spaca before the altar. He was dressed in the
old starched ruff, which one sees ruportraits of di
vines of Queen Elizabeth's time, and wore a long
bliick gown, without sleeves, meeting in front, and
enveloping the whole figure. After all the bridal
party had taken their seats, the ceremony began by
the singing of a hymn by the choir. .The organ
wa-s playing, and the choir singing as at an ordina
ry service. The priest then kneeled down for a
short time before the altar, with his'hand resting
upon it, and his back turned to the congregation,
as in Roman Catholic churches. When he rose,
the bride and bridegroom also rose, and, coming for-,
ward, stood upon the flower-strewn white linen
cloth, while the minister delivered a long extem
pore exhortation to them. He was Remarkably
fluent, and most impressive in manner; but it
must be a most awful part of the ceremony
for; the poor young couple, who have to stand there
all the rest of the party sitting round in a circle
for a mortal half hour, the observed of all ob
servers. Toward the close of his exhortation, the
old priest, ceasing to address the young people,
turued solemnly round to where the elder? of the
party were sitting, and addressed thera in such af
fecting terms as to draw tears not only from the bride
and young and old ladies present, but also from a
tender-hearted little German tradesman of the
place, who stood next to us and wept copiously.
We had bought a few things from him in the
morning, and seeing us in the church, he had eome
up to us, aud very obligingly explained everything
we wished. , I heard afterwards that the marriage
exhortation is always considered to demand a care
ful display of oratory on the part of the pastors,
wno, unless tney can draw tears consider it a failure.
After the exhortation, the minister, taking a book,
asked questions of the bride and groom, to which
they bowed the head in answer"- the bride then
pulling oft her right-hand glove, and taking the
land ot the bridegroom in hers, they kneeled
dtown' and the old jastor laying his
imis ciaspeo, pronounced them man and wife; and -
then placing his hands alternately on each of their
leads, prayed for them, and pronounced blessings
on both of them. This and the nrecedin? rart
the old man did in a simple, impressive manner.
The couple then returned to their seats, and after
the intoning of some prayers by the priest, and the
singing of another hymn by the choir, the whole
thing concluded by the old ,inan giving threo
sweeping bows to the congregation on the three
sides of the church, and marching out. We met
lim afterward in the street, trotting aloii"- in full
canonicals, in the middle of a number of the bridal
company, laughing and joking, evidently the life
and soul of the company.
m
CONVALESCING REMINISCENCES-
Many of our readers will no doubt peruse with a
iccuh'ir interest the following "lines, dictated by a
friend from a sick-bed.' We hope it will not be lonr
ere our friend is fully restored to health :
X 0. Pic.
Off the Roadstead of Health, Aug, 26.
Dear Pic I have been cruising for several days
in the beautiful Bay of Convalescence, touching at
the various islands of Gratitude which are po
delightfully situated, and where every thing that
meets the eye brings gladness to the heart. My
little bark has been dreadfully shattered since I
parted company with you ; she was struck by a
sudden and terrific gale (a chill) and for a time I
doubted if she would be able to right herself; she
however came up handsomely, and then surged
off into the prevailing epidemic.
Memories came to me of hot mustard baths and
quantum of essential oil. For a season there was
a struggle between heat and moisture, the blood
continued quickening in its courses until it ran one
burning stream from the thrice-heated citadel of
the heart ; there was no throbbing ; the pulses,
were consumed and tne all ef life was concentrated
in one all absorbing, all conscious feeling of an in
ward, burning, liquid, lake of fire. Even the
thoughts, as they presented themselves, were burn
el up, and this one feeling, which has no compan
ion, alone remained.-Exhausted nature sought relief
in sleep ; hours passed on and I awoke to new
trial's ; I found that twenty grains of quinin and
forty drops of laudhum, intimately mingled,; had
joined their forces to do battle "with the enemy.
For a season it seemed doubtful whether they
would scatter the fever or the patient, but the
fever yielded and the patient became as one living
nerve, conveying the feeblest sound with notes of
thunder. The almost noiseless step of the nurse
seemed like the trampling of a host, and thealnxst
breathless whisper with which the parting injune- ,
tions were given to the watchers, for the twentieth
time, by the lips of affection, seemed like a regi
ment of kettle-drums. At length all was still :
the watchers were asleep and every thing was quiet.
Days passed away, and then came that utter ex-
haustion, that perfect debility, that nerveless weak
ness "which defies all description, when the simple
lifting of the hand to the mouth excites the perspira
tion and affects the breathing. Fortius therd is
no remedy but time;
- After remaining eight or ten days in the quiet
waters of Patience and Resignation'indulging in
chicken both and beef-tea, with now and then' a
refreshing brandy-toddy, I weighed anchor and took
my departure for the Port of Health,, where I hope
soon to arrive . and exchange friendly salutations
with thee. Yours, faithfully,
VALIN. "
Cocrtesy. Courtesy is a distinguishing feature
of civilized and intelligent society. It is the most
beautiful illustration of the refioingpower which a
highe? development of humanity always exerts up
on our race. By courtesy is meant that behavior '
of man toward man that he would ask for himself.
It is but a part of the mode of carrying out the .
great- Christian precept which lies at the base of
order and harmony among men ; u Do unto others
as ye would that others should do unto you.'
That this precept which implies courtesy is divine,
as is all moral truth, is proven by our common
appreciation of its .fitness and beauty. Do what
we may in life, the wheels of society can never
move smoothly and well, where the spirit of cour
tesy does not actuate the thoughts and deeds of man '
in his intercourse with roan.
We copy one sentence from the obituary notice .
of. a Scotch schoolmaster, recently deceased: "He
taught Latin so thoroughly, madeliis pupils inter
pret out every particle of the meaning of the au
thors whom they read so punctiliously, was so se
vere on a bad construction or a false quantity, that
to learn Latin from him, though it was 6nly Latin,
teas to be disciplined in accuracy and research on .
all subjects for the whple of one's life.n " Classical
teachers, stick that passage on the inside of your
desk lids. , 4 :
1495. "Whex Cranmer married his first wife, be
ing reader then of Buckingham College, he did put
his wife to board in an inn at Cambridge ; ' and he
resoiting thither unto her in the inn, some ignor
ant priests named hirq to be the .ostler, -aDd bis wife
the tapster. Southey' Common-place Booh,
"" ' --'"