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THS SOUTH! KM WBaK&Y POST 174 COMMUHICATIONS MT5TR0P0LITAtf C0EB1' urvmrrro - New Yoek, Sept. 15, 1855. "ZJt-Parodi Concert Maurice Strahmh-Mai-Stmbck-Eot eather-Ne Building.-The tool PubUeher AfoeiationA Frvit-Festival to A Oarr-Cry Falae preparatum-Neu, BoohTU " etecome complete Bunyenen Council of Jrenf Panama-Simmf Guy KiverBU of Blarney EabiU and Men Southern vritert LiyU and Dark Msg "Alone" not alone Representative Women A forth coming boob Babbitt Lippencott'i great Gazet teerA final deprecation. My Dear Post, This is the hundredth let ter of your 44 Metropolitan Correspondence" and it is always 'allowable', nay more, it in quite proper, that when this number is reached in any series of years, or of epistle?, it should be espe cially mentioned. I have called this therefore " a Centennial Letter." One hundred times has u Cosmos " striven to amuse and inform your readers not always successfully of course but if frequently so he is more than satisfied. It is exceedingly uncertain that this correspondence will ever reach another century point. In all probability it will not. More than two years are embraced within the past period of it. It has been an eventful period in the history of the world. Europe has been involved during much of the time in a most fearful and destructive war. Little did I. imagine when I began-to chronicle the events of the Rnsssian campaign, that the story would be such a long one. Now indeed, it bids fair to "stretch out to the crack of doom," and every week deepens and broad ens the. issues it involves. I shall not dwell up on it here, for no one cares just now to hear anything more about it until they hear, on good authority, that the long beleagured city has fall en at last ! Such inte.ligence will come, let who will please to doubt it; .and I am waiting for it with very great solicitude. I have no sympathies' with Russia in this terrible conflict. I dare not desire the triumph of despotism the most ab solute and fatal. I cannot bear the thought that the Muscovite heel shall be put upon the neck of European civilization. My whole heart is warm d with yearnings for the success of those arms which will, in the end, sustain Cousiitutional Lib j erty and enlighted Christianity the arms of Britain never yet false to the cause of God and man. I wait therefore, for the fall of Sevasto- i pol, as a-matterm which I, as a loveVof freedom of person and of conscience have a personal in terest You have heard all about Queen Victoria's triumphal visit to France how she was feted and flattered and fanned on by the impulsive multitudes of la belle nation ! It is one of ihe curious chronicles of the year 1855 I uia say of the nineteenth century. It is four bundled r years since an English Monarch set foot in France, iu pomp and power. What a comment j is this royal visit on the mutations which tune! s about, Victoria drops a tear upon the j till 4 ! ajjq,jb of him over whose lonely txile at St. llel- j tipua the whole British uaiion once rejoiced a over a world-blessing! Vertly, -"'Umpores uui tantur, et nos ramantur illis. ." The fearful ravages of the Yellow Fever i Norfolk and Portsmouth have spread a pall over our newspaper columns for weeks past. Tho.-e desolated cities excite our deepest piiyt Wi.en will the destroyer be satisfied! Alas! for u.e public sorrow is but a faint echo of that wailing which is coming from a thousand broken hearts. The contributions for the relief of the sufiewrs : in those cities, made in other-places, amounts at present to $120,000, of which sum this metrop olis has furnished about one-sixth. The net.d is still urgent, and I trust that humanity will meet its fullest demands, and that too in season. In circumstances like these lilt bis dat qui cele rtterdat." The greatest event of the month in th'U city, if judged by the space it occupies in the news papers, is the advent of the famous French Tra gedienne, Madame Rachel, upon our shores. She is here the great tradgedy Queen play ing at the Metropolitan Theatre, not to crowded but still to very large houses. I have not seen her, nor do I care to see her, for as I don't, un derstand the French language sufficiently to comprehend her words, I should not, I am sure, enjoy her playing. She cannot make h rself intelligible to the American public. Fashion and curiosity, and a desire to be thought knoio ing, may tke many to her plays, but they will . have no real enjoyment of them. Rachel is great, doubtless very great in her role, and in Europe where French is a common tongue, but here she must fail to reach the public soul. Theie is notnin&r in tne woman moreover to win ourl hearts. She is not good as well as great. Her avarice is as stupendous as her tragic power.i 2s"o halo of purity and gentleness and benevolence surrounds her; and lacking this she will not come into the sanctuary of our national heart. I have little doubt that her American adventure will be a pecuniary failure. Here however, just , now she is the "bright particular star" of the city. The tradesmen are worshipping her. Already we have Rachel bonnets and Rachel slippers. The restaurants advertise Rachel pud ding, and to-day I saw in a window the follow- . ing sign : Rachel long seck Clams ! Raphael Felix soft shell Ckabs ! Raphael Felix, my dear Post, is Madame Ra chel's manager. Last Tuesday night I enjoyed, in spite of the . excessive heat, a grand concert at Niblo's, given by Mile. Parodi, and her delightful troupe of - artistes. It was a rare treat I assure you. Pa rodi has a magnificent contralto voice, anda lone, or in duos with the charming Madame Patti Strakosch she brought down the house with genuine and unstinted applause. Maurice Stra ; kosch, the amiable favorite and scarcely excelled pianist, presided at the pianoforte, and occasion ally gave admirable solos in his own fascinaiiiiir style. The Brothers Mollenhauer, played on their twin violins with rare delicacy and precis ion of style, Aptommas made the harp 4is- course sweetly, and Signor Bernardi sung well with his deep baritone voice. But Parodi herself was queen of the night maintaining her great ' reputation, and if possible increasing it. Madame Strakosch looked and aung English balladi quite as charmingly as ever she did. These Parodi concerts, are quite too few for the public wish. The accomplished troupe goes to Philadelphia nexfc week,'to the regret of multitudes. - We have had some melting weather here this week, temperature which made me sigh for the grassy glades of New England, so recently de serted by me for this wilderness of brick and mortar. New York, by the way, grows every day more and more so more a wilderness of brick and stone I mean. The summer has wrought a perceptible change. Vacant lots are now the sites of handsome buildings. The " Cooper Institute" is pushing up its massive walls of iron and brown stone. The Historical Society has commenced the erection of its per manent Hall on Second. Avenue, adjoining the beautiful Baptist Tabernacle. The new building is to be constructed of the sleatUe, which I men tioned a j ear ago as likely to be a popular ma terial for building here. It is of a light green ish brown color, and blends great durability with elegance of appearance. There has been recently formed in this city a Book Publisher's Association, for the pupose of promoting the material interests of the craft and of the author-craft. The association will give a grand Fruit Festival to the two crafts at the .Crystal Palace, on the 27th inst. Besides the fruits and delicacies of the table, there will be speeches from distinguished men, inclu ding Thackeray, Irwing, Prescott and Bancroft. It is supposed that while the author-world will be there as guests, the reading world will go as spectators and auditors. They are already fitting up and furnishing the Crystal Palace for the fes tival and for the Fair of the American Institute in October. And now let me turn from book publishers to their recent issues. A very large number of readers have their impatience at length satisfied, by the completion of Thackeray's brilliant novel of " The Newcomesr and its appearance in one large handsome vol ume. They have reluctantly forbore to read the tempting instalments in the pages of Har per's Magazine, promising themselves doubtless, a vast and aggregated pleasure in sitting down to the whol-- story, its charm and freshness un impaired by " I roken doses." The volume, as just issued by the Harpers, contains over 400 octavo pages of double column print, and is a good week's work even to an inveterate novel r ader, who has any regard for health and duty. 44 The JS'evocomcs" is undoubtedly Thack'-ray's cleverest story, and he must be a droll reader who d-X'S not find its portraitures of society and character fascinating and delightful. Anoher very noteworth$.book from the press of the Harpers this month is Bunjem-r's '''Coun cil of Trent." Mr. Bungener is a Protestant clergyman of France, whose brilliant pen has a ready thrown an irresistible charm around the characters of royal and ecclesiastical persons of a brilliant age of France. His books, 44 The Preacher and the King"1 and 44 The Priest and the Huguenot"1 are extremely popular. The p esent work is more strictly historical in its mann.-r than either of the foregoing, and indeed ii is by far the most striking and readable his t rv of that famous "Council of Trent" which h:is ever been written. It constitutes, hencefor ward, an important part of ecclesiastical histo ry, with the advantage of being coupled with a fr sh and picturesque style. The English ren dering of the book appears to be characterized by great fidelity. It has been edited by the Lev. Dr. McCbntock of New York, who has pre fixed to it a digest of the Acs of the Council, and thus made it as perfect as possible for the student and the general reader. Panama in 1855 is the title of an agreeable little volume from the pen of Dr. Robert Towes and the prolific press of the Harpers. It is an account of things as they are at the Isthmus of Panama, and the author had the favorable op portunity of seeing them which was afforded by the geneious management of Mie Panami Rail way Company, which in February of this year invited a score of gentleman of various profess ions to go out as its guests and in-peet the re gion of their work. They went they gized .hey feasted they made sketches and notes by the way and in this little book many of the lat ter are faithfully reproduced. Of course it i3 a readable aud infoimation-full tome. w Mr. Redfield has published three books this month. First in interest, to me at least, is a new and veised edition of that most excellent story with which Mr. Simms commenced his fine career as a novelist I allude to 44 Guy Rivers" nuicu is mo iirst ui. iuau series OI nis DOOKS which he appropriately calls Border Novels. It is a siory of remarkable interest for its fine characterization its daguerreotype pictures of fiontier life and its dramatic power which Lit er is a great element of the author's style. 44 Bits f Blarney" is an amusing olla podrida coll. cte I by Dr. R. Shelton McKenzie, the Ed itor of He Itield's excellent editions of The AToc- Its and the Odoherty Papers. Of course the book is brim full of genuine Irish humor, aDd what humor can surpass it in any legitimate element ! To the reader who believes in the laughing philosophy this book is the very thing he desires. Habits and Men, is the quaint title of a quainter book, by Dr. Dorau, the author of 44 Table Trails" and other popular miscellanies. It is a volume of entertaining gossip about dresses and their wearers ! Its staple is anec dote and reminiscence, but it contains a great deal of incidental information concerning vari ous perods of history. Among its most enter taining topics are Beaux, Beards, Wigs, Swords, Gloves, Hats, Tailors, etc. It is published iu Redfield's usual excellent style. The. appearance of a book by a Southern wri ter was only a few years ago quite an event. Now, however, it is of so frequent occurrence that it scarcely elicits a special comment. I have before me now two new books by Virginia ladies both of them young. One of these books is a first appearance, and is from the press of the Appleton's. It is entitled 44 Light uwl Darkness" and its author is a Miss Petit though there is no name on the title page. It purports to be M a story of fashionable life," and without intending to be either severe or un gallant, I must say that the book seems to be about as frivolous and aimless as the society which it portrays. There is a good degree of vivacity in its style, but of moral or religious principle, as a lesson to be inculcated through its pages, not a whit ! The time is misspent which is employed either in writing or reading such books as this. A few hours' amusement it may be a little unhealthful excitement i8 the sum total of their effect. The other Southern book is "Marion Har land's" second adventure on the sea of author ship. Her first launch was " Alone", but it is now no more alone. It has a companion which bears the name of " The Hidden Path." Of this book it is s fe to say that it is both well 1 and wisely written. As a literary prooucuon u is a positive advance upon " Alone" and as a story of life and love, it reaches farther and deeper than that story interesting and absorb ing as it certainly was to most readers. The au thor of these books is still quite young, and it is safe to predict that a brilliant future lies be fore her. 44 Marion Harland" is only 'a non de plume as is perhaps generally known, but the real name of the fair author will soon be a fa miliar word in the land. V r. Derby is the pub lisher of the work. He has also just issued a novel called 44 Isora's Child" of which I am not yet prepared to express an opinion. Messrs. Sheldon, Lamport fc Co., have just published a handsome and attractive book under the title of 44 Representative Women" from the pen of Rev. Dr. Baldwin, a Baptist clergyman of Troy. It contains numerous well delineated portrait tures of Bible women as the representatives of various classes beginning with Eve, as the "Tempted and Fallen Woman,' and ending with "Mary the Mother of Jesus." Between these i'lustrious names occur those of " Rebecca, the Managing Woman," ''Ruth the Young Widow," 44 Esther, the Resistless Petitioner," and many othersaffording both examples and admoni tions. The same hous j have in press, and will publish next week, a book that judging from the proof sheets I have read, will make its mark upon the times. It is entitled "Aspiration", and is design d to set before young ladies at school the importance of a high and holy aim in their studies. It is a story of school girl life, brilliant and witty powerful and pathetic by turns fwhile the whole narrative is pervaded by a spirit of evangelical piety. It will be just the book to put into the hands of a young lady - not too frivolous to read fr wise ends. The name on the title-page is 4' Mrs. Manners" but this is undei stood to be a Den name onlv. The au;hor is a sister of Mrs. Alice B. Neal, and al ready known as a successful writer. Mr. Saxon the agricultural publisher, has just is-ued a handsome little volume on raising Rab bits! It is called 44 tye Rnbbit Fancier" and conveys al desirable information about the kinds of rabbits and the manner of treating them suc cessfully. Its.iuthor is Mr. C. N. Bement. Messrs. Lippmcott, Crambo fe Co., have com pleted and issued their magnificent ' Gazetteer of the World" whith is beyond all question the best and comp'ew st and cheapest of its kind in the world ! It is needless to say more than this to enable any one wh wants a World Ga zetteer to decide which to buy ! Entreating you not to print this letter as you did my last, misplacing two whole pages of it, and separating the scientific gentleman from their. 44 ices fruits," fec, by an iirelevant batch of book notes and apologizing for its unwar rantable but not unprecedented length. Tarn, Yours, for the hundredth time, COSMOS. MISCELLANEOUS. THE TJNUEANT REBUKE- A LIFE LESSON. BV SYI.VANUS COBB, JR. Charles Nelson had reached his thirly-fifth year, and at that age he found himself going down hill. He had onco been the happiest of a a mortals, and no blessing was wanted to com plete the sum of his happiness. He hud one of the best of wives, and his children were intelli gent and comely. He was a carpenter by trade, and no man could command better wages, or be more sure of work. If any man attempted to build a house, Charles Nelson must boss the job, and for miles around, people sought him to work tor them. But a change had come over his life. A demon had met him on his wa', and he had turned back whh the evil spirit. A new and experienced carpenter had beeu sent for by th ose w ho could no longer depend upon Nelson, and he had settled in the village, and now took Nelson's place. On a back stieet, where the great trees threw their green branches over the way, stood a small cottage, which had once been the pride of its inmates. Before it stretched a Wide garden, but tall, rank grass grew up among the cho king flowers, and the paling of the fence was broken in many places. The house itself had once been white,'but it was now dingy and dark. Bright green blinds had once adorned the windows, but now they had been taken off and sold. And the windows themselves bespoke poverty and neglect, for in. many places the glass was gone, and shingles, rags and old hats had taken its place. A single look at the house ii nwiijjjnuimt-uLs coin me siorv. it was the drunkard's home! Within sat a v oman yet in the early years of life, and though she was still handsome to look upon, the bloom was gone from her cheek, and the brightness had faded from her eyes. Poor Mary Nelson! Once she had been the happiest among the happv, but now none could be more miserable ! Near her sat two children both girls, and both beautiful in form and fea ture; but their garbs were all patched and worn, and their feet were shoeless. The eldest was thirteen years of age, and the other two years younger. The mother was hearing them re cite a grammar lesson, for she had resolved that her children should not grow up in ignorance. They could not attend the common school, for thoughtless children sneered at them and made them the subject of sport and ridicule ; butrin this respect they did noUuffer, for their mother was well educated', and she devoted such time as she could spare, to their instruction. For more than two years, Mary Nelson had earned all the money that had been used in that house. People hu-ed her to wash, iron and sew for them, and besides the money paid, they gave her many articles of food and cloth ing. So she lived on, and the only joys that dwelt with her now were teaching her children and praying to God. Supper time came, and Charles Nelson came reeling home.. He had worked the day before at helping move a building, and thus had earn ed money enough to find himself in rum for sev eral days. As he stumbled into the house the children crouched close to their toother, and even she shrunk away, for sometimes her hus band was ugly when thus intoxicated. Oh, how that man bad changed within two years ! Once there was not a finer looking man in the town. In frame he had been tall, stout, compact and perfectly formed, while his face bore the very beau-ideal of manly beauty. His noble form was now bent, his limbs shrunken and tremulous, and his face all bloated and dis figured. He was not the man who had once heen the fonrl husband and dotine father. The loving wife had prayed, and wept, and implor ed, but all to no purpose ; the husjaand was bound to the drinking companions of the bar room, and he would not break the bonds. That evening Mary Nelson ate no supper, for all the food she had in the house there was not more than enough for her husband and children; but when her husband had gone she went out and'picked a few berries, and thus kept her vital energy alive. That night the poor woman prayed long and earnestly, and her little ones prayed with her. On the following morning Charles Nelson fought the bar-room as soon as he arose, but he was sick and faint, and'liquor would not revive him, for it would not remain on his stomach. He had drank very deeply the night before, and he felt miserable. At length, however, he managed to keep down a few glasses of hot sling, but the close atmosphere of the bar-room seemed to stifle him, and he went out. The poor man had sense enough to know that if he could sleep he should feel better, and he had just feeling enough to wish to keep away from home ; so he wandered off towards a wood not far from the village, and sank down by the side of a stone wall and was soon buried in a profound slumber. When he awoke, the sun was shining down hot upon him, and raising himself to a silting posture, he gazed about him. He knew that it was afternoon, for the sun was turning toward the west He was just upon the point of rising, when his motion was arrested by the sound of voices near at hand. He looked through a chink in the wall, and just upen the other side he saw bis two children picking ber ries, while a little further off were two more girls, the children of the carpenter v ho had lately moved into the village. 4 Come, Katy,' said one of these latter girls, to her companion, 4 let's go away from here, because if any body should see us wlh those girls they'd think we played with 'em. Come 4 But the berries are thick ted the other. itre, remonstra 4ever mind well come out some time w hen those little ragged drunkard s mi l are no: here.' So the two favored ones went away hand in hand, and Nelly and Nancy Nelson sat down upon the grass and ciitd. 4 Don't cry, Nancy,' said the eldest, throwing her arms around her sister's neck. 4 But you are crying, Nelly.' Ob, I cn't help it,.' sobbed the stricken one ' Why do they blame us V murmured Nancy, gazing up into her sister's face. 4 O, we are not to blame. We are good and kind, pnd loving, and we never hurt anybody. O, I wish somebody would love us; I should be so happy.' 4 But we are loved, Nancy. Only think of our noble mother. Who could love us as she does V 4 1 know I know, Nelly; but that aren't all. Why don't papa love us as. he used to ? Don't you remember when he used to kiss us and make us so happy ! O, how I wish he could be so good to us once more.' He is not ' 4 sh, sissy ! don't say anything more. He may be good to us again ; if he knew how we loved him I know he would. And theu I be lieve God is good, and surely he will help us sometime, for mother prays to Kim every day.' 4 Yes,' answered Nancy, 4 1 know she does ; and God must be our Father sometime.' 4 He is our Father now, sissy.' 4 1 know it ; but he must be all we shall have by and by, for don't you remember that moth er told us that she might leave us one of these days f She said a cold linger was upon her heart, and and ' 4 sh. Don't, don't Nancy; you'll ' The words were choked up with sobs and tears, and the sisters wept long together. At length they arose and went away, for they saw more children coming. A soon as the little ones were out of sirrht, Charles Nelson started to his feet. His hands were clenched, and his eyes were fixed upon a vacant point with an eager gaze. 44 My God !' he gasped, ' what a villain I am ! Look at me now ! What a state I am in, and what have I sacrificed to bring myself to it ! And they love me yet, and pray for me !' He said no more, but for - some moments he stdod with- his hands still clenched, and eyes fixed. At length his gaze was turned upward, and his clasped hands were raised above his head. A moment he remained so, and then his hands dropped by his side, and he started homeward. W hen he reached his home he found his wife and children in tears, but he affected to notice it not. . IJe drew a shilling from his pocket it was his last-and handing it to his wife, he asked her if 6he would send and get him some milk and flour, and make him some porridge. The wife was startled by the strange tone in which this, was spoken, for it sounded just as that voice had sounded in days gone by. The 'porridge was made nice and nourishing. and Charles ate it all. He went to bed early, and early on the following morning he was up, He asked his wife if she had milk and flour enough to make him another bowl of porridge 4 Yes, Charles,' she said. "We have not touched it.' v. 4 Then if you are willing, I should like some more.' The wife moved quickly about the work, and ere fong the food was prepared. The husband ate It, and he felt better. He washed and dressed, and would have shaved had his hand been steady enough. He left his home and went at once to a man who had just commenced to frame a house. Mr. Manly,' he said, addressing the gentle man alluded to, 4 1 have drank the last drop of alcoholic beverage that ever passes my lipe. Ask me no more questions, but believe me now while you see me true. Will you give me workT Charles Nelson, are you in earnest V asked ManlyJ in surprise 4 So much so, sir, that were death to stand upon my right hand, and yonder bar-rtomupon my left, I would go" with the grim messenger first.' ' Then here is my house lying about us in rough timber and boards. I place it all in your hands, and shall look to you to finish it. While I can trust you, you may trust me. Come into my office and you shall have the plan I have drawn.' We will not tell how the stout man wept, nor how his noble friend shed tears to see him thus: but Charles Nelson took the plan, and having studied it for a while, he went out where the men were at work getting the timber together, and Mr. Manly introduced him as their master. That day he worked but little, for he was not strong yet, but he arranged the timber, and gave directions for framing. At night he asked his employer if he dared trust him with a dol lar. 4 Why, you've earned three,' returned Manly 4 And will you pay me three dollars a day ?' 'Ifyou areas faithful as you have been to day, for you will save me money at that. Tl e poor man could not speak his thanks in words, ut his looks spoke for him, and Manly tmdersSood them. He received his three dol lars and on his way home he stopped and bought first a basket, then three loaves of bread, a pound of butter, some tea, sugar, and a piece of beef-steak, and he had just one dollar and seventy-five cents left With this load lie went home. It was sometime before he could com pose himself to enter the house, but at length he went in and set the basket upon the table. 4 Come, Mary,' he said, 4 Ihave brought some thing home for supper. Here, Nelly, you take the pail and run over to Mr. Brown's and get a couple quarts of milk.' He handed the child a shilling as he spoke. and in a half bewildered state she took the mo ney and hurried away. The wife started when she raised the cover of tbfi btislcet. but she dared not speak. She 7 i moved about like one in a dream, and ever anr: anon she would cast a furtive glance at her hus band. He had not been drinking she knew it and yet l.e had money to buy rum with i he had wanted it. What could it mean I Had her pravers been answered ? O, how fervently she prayed then. Soon Nelly returned with the milk,jind Mrs. Nekon set the table out. After supper Charles, arose, and said to his wife : 4 1 uiu:-t go up to Mr. Manly's office to help him arrange some plans for his new house, but I will be at home early.' A pang shot through the wife's Leart as she saw her husband turn away, but st ll she was far happier than she had been before for a long while. There was something. in his maimer that assuied her, and gave her hope.' Just as the clock struck nine, the well-known footfall was heaid, strong and steady. The door opened, and Charles entered. His wife cast a quick, keeu glance into his face, and she almost uttered a cry of joy when she saw how he was changed for the better. He had been to the barber's and to the hatter's. Yet nothiug was said upon the all-important subject. Charles wished to retire early, and his wife went with him. In the morning the husband arose first and built the fire. Mary had not slept until long after midnight, having been kept awake by the tumultuous emotions that had started up in her bosom, and hence she awoke not so ear ly as usual. But she came out just as the tea- kettle and potatoes began to boil, and breakfast was soon ready. After the meal was eaten, Charles arose put on his hat, and then turning to his wife he asked : 4 What do you do to-day V 4 1 must w:sh for Mrs. Bixby ?' 4 Are you willing to obey me once more?' 'O yes.' 4 Then work for me to-day. SeDd Nelly over to tell Mrs. Bixby that jou are not well enough to wash, for you are not. Here is a dollar, and do with itf'as you please. Buy something that will kee you busy for yourself or children.' Mr. Nelson turned towards the door, and his band was upon the latch. He hesitated, and then turned back. He did not speak, but he opened his arms, and his wife sank upon his bosom. He kissed her, and then having gently placed her in a seat, be left the house. When he went to his work that morning he felt well, and very happy. Mr. Manly was by to cheer him, and this he did by talking and acting as thoug i Charles had never been unfortunate at all. It was Saturday evening, and Nelson had been almost a week without rum. He had earn ed fifteen dollars, ten of which he now had in his pocket. 4 Maty,' he said, after the supper-table had been cleared away, 4 here are ten dollars for you, and I want you to expend it in' clothing for yourself and chil ,ren. I have earned fifteen dollars during the last five days. I am to build Squire Manly's great house, and he pays me three dollars a day. A good job, isn't. it ?' Mary looked up, and her lips moved, but she could not speak a word. She struggled a few moments, and then burst into tears. Her hus band took her by the arm and drew her upon his lap, and then pressed her to his bosom. 4 Mary, he whi.-pered, while the tears ran down his own cheeks, 4 you are not deceived. I am Charley Nelson once more, and will be while I live. Not by an act of mine shall an other cloud cross your brow. And then he told of the words he had heard on the previous Mon day, while he lay behind the wall. Never before,' he said, 4 did I fully realize how low I had fallen, but the scales dropped from my eyes then as though some one had struck them off with a sledge. My soul started np to a stand point from which all the tempters of earth cannot move it. Your prayers are an swered, my wife.' Time passed on, and the cottage once more assumed its garb of pure white, and its whole windows, and green blinds. The roses in the garden smiled, and in every way did the im provement work. Once again was Mary Nel son among the happiest of the happy, and her children chose their own associates now. Bai louts Pictorial. 7, A PORTRAIT FROM LITE. 8ETH WOODSDM's WIFE. As Mr. Seth Woodsum was moving one morning in his lower haying-field, and his eld est son, Obadiah, a smart boy, of thirteen, was opening th. mown grass to the sun, Mr. Wood sura looked up towards his house and beheld his little daughter Harriet, ten years of age, run ning towards him with her utmost speed. As she came up, he perceived she was greatly agit ated ; tears were running down her cheeks, and she had scarcely breath enough to speak. 44 Oh father," she faintly articulated, mother is dreadful sick; she's on the bed, and says she will die before you get there." Mr. Woodsum was a man of a sober, sound mind and calm nerves; but he bad, which sometimes happens in this cold and loveless world of ours, a tender attachment for his wife, which made the message of the little girl fall upon his heart like a dagger. He dropped his scythe, and ran with great haste to the House. Obadiah, who was at the other end of the field, seeing this unusual movement of his father, dropped his fork ond ran with all his might, and the two entered the house almost at the same time. Mr. Woodsum hastened to the bedside, and took his wife's hand. " My dear Sally," said he, 44 what is the matter ?'' 44 What is the matter ?" echoed Mrs. Wood sum, with a plaintive groan. 44 1 shouldn't think you would need to ask what is the matter. Mr. Woodsum. Don't you see I am dying J" 44 Why, no, Sally, you don't look as if you was dying. What is the matter ? how do you feel?" "Oh, I shan't live till night," said Mrs. Woodsum with a heavy sigh ; 44 1 am going fast." Mr. Woodsum, without waiting to make furth er inquiries, told Obadiah to run and jumn on the horse, and ride over after Doctor Fairfield, and get him to come over quick as he can come. 44 Tell him I am afraid your mother is dying. If the doctor's horse is away off in the pasture, aek him to take our' horse and come right away over while you go and catch his." Obadiah, w ith tears in his eyes, and his heart in his mouth, flew as though he had wings add ed to his feet, and in three minutes' time was mounted upon -Md Grey, and galloping with full speed towards Doctor Fairfield's. 44 My dear," said Mr. Woodsum, leaning his head upon the pillow, 44 how do you feel?" What makes you think you are dying ? And he tenderly kissed her forehead as he spoke, and pressed her hand to his bosom.- 44 Oh, Samuel," for she generally called him by his Christian name when under the influence of tender emotions ; 44 Oh. Samuel, I feel dread fully. I have pains darting throughyny head, and most all over me ; and I feel dizzy, and I can't hardly see; and my heart beats as though it would come through my side. And besides, I feel as though I was dying. I'm sure I can't live till light; and what will become of my poor children ?'' And she sobbed heavily and burst into a flood of tears. Mr. Woodsum was affected. He could not bring himself to believe that his wife was in such immediate danger of dissolution as she seemed to apprehend. He thought she had no appearance of a dying person ; but still her earn est and positive declaration, that the should not live through the day, sent a thrill through his veins and a sinking to his heart that no langu age has power to describe. Mr. Woodsum was as ignorant of medicine as a child ; he there fore did not attempt to do anything to relieve his wife, except to iry to soothe her feelings by kind and encouraging words, till the doctor ar. rived. The half hour which elapsed, from the time Obadiah left till the doctor came seemed to Mr. Woodsum almost jn age. He repeated ly went from the beside to the door, to look and see if the doctor was anywhere near and as often returned to hear his wife groan, and say she was sinking fast, and could not stand it many minutes longer. At length Doctor Fairfield rode up to the door, on Mr. Woodsum's Old Grey, and with saddle bags in hand, hastened into the house. A brief examination of the patient convinced him that it was a decided case of hypochondria, and he soon spoke encouraging words to her, and told her although 6he was considerably un well, he did not doubt she would be better in a little while. "Oh, Doctor, how can you say so!" said Mrs. Woodsum ; "don't you see lam dying ? I can't possibly live till night ; I am sinking very fast, Doctor, and I shall never see the sun rise again. My heart sometimes almost stops its beating now, and my feet and hands are growing cold. But I must see ray dear children once more ; do let 'em come ri and bid me farwell." Here she was so overwhelmed with sobs ond tears as to prevent her saying any more, j TlU Doctor having administered the drug's in such case made and provided, is followed out by" Mr. Woodsum, all anxiety to learn the real danger of the case. He is assured that it is only an attack of hypochondria, and the good lady herself ereIong recovers. Again and again, however, is our friend Seth summoned from his plow and the doctor from his pills to administer consolation and relief in her dying hour, and again does she recover. We give below the story of death's last assault. At last the sober suddening days of autumn came on, Mr. Woodsum was in the midst of his 44 fall w ork," which had been several times in- L terrupted by these periodical turns of despond ency in his wife. One morning he went to his field early, for he had a heavy day's work to do, and had engaged one of his neighbors to come with two yoke of oxen and a plough to help him "break up" an old mowing field. His neighbor could only help him that day, and he was very anxious to plough the whole field. He accordingly had left the children and nurse io the house, with strict charges to take good care of their mother. Mr. Woodsum was driving the team and his neighbor was holding the plough, and things went on to their mind' till about ten o'clock in the forenoon, when little Harriet came running to the field, and told her father that her mother was dreadful sick," and wanted him to come in aa quick as he could, for she was certainly dying now. Mr. Woodsum, without saying a word, drove his team to the endofth, furrow : but he looked thnnr)ir.,i , a " ana peml ed. Although he felt persuaded that L ger was imagmary, as it had always pr0v d be before, still, the idea of a bare Dossil.;);, , k ays pr possibi this sickness miaht be unt.n Jltai him with such power, that he laid dow goadstick, and telling his neighbor to W cattle breathe awhile, walked deliberately wards the house. Before he had accoa'pii -v) the whole distance, however, his own ation had f.dded such wings to his speT' Via fonnrl himself mnrinn . ' "St w,u, pressed " & quick rim entered the house, and found his wift H4 as h so otten found her before, in her own bad almost ready to breathe her last was faint aud low, aud her pillow was tears. She had already laken her leave 0fh dear children, and waited only t0 extha ' few parting words with her beloved hu.Wd' Mr. Woodsum annroached tl i,.i i . u' estinm.: . , , , , "uaiu?, aud took , 1 her baud tenderly, as be had ever be,n WOllt . ! 1 do, but he could not perceive any ' approaching dissolution irifW..,. e. . ' f had witnessed on a d. zen totnier oa aioD.- 4' m mv rloar " r. n , v , ..., .UI.s. noodsutu, fa aint- ly, tne time lias come at 1 st. I fed tns. am vu hit ucrtti -WU, HUU Have L-Ut a cl, . longer to stay with you. But I i0,,e We sl feel resigned to the will of Heave.,. 1 v0ll'd , cheerfully dear, if it was not for mv anxie about you and the children. Now, 'fat think, my dear," she continued, with jiiC,e J"'' tenderness, "don't you think it u0ul,J for you to be married again to &ome kiu 0o woman, that would be a mother to our d'-ar jt tie ones, and make your home pleasant for a'i of you?-' ' She paused and looked earnestly in h s face ' Well, Ive sometimes thought 0f 1 jt might be best," said Mr. Woodsu-D, with -avert' solemu air. ."Then you have been thinking about it'' said Mrs. Woodsum, with a slight contraction of the face. "Why, yes," said Mr. Woodsum, "I have sometimes thought about it, since you've had spells of being so very sick, it makes me .feel dreadfully, to think of it, but I don't know but it might be my duty." 4' Well, I do think it would;" said Mrs Woodsum, 44 if you tan only get the right sort of a pei son. Everything depeudsipon that my dear, and I hope you will be very particular about who you get, very." "I certainly shall,";-, said Mr. Woodsum; " don't give yourself any uneasiness about that, my dear, for I assure yu I shall be very parti, cular. The person I shall probably have is one of the kinde.-t and best tempered women in-the world." " But have you ben thinking of any one in particular, my dear ?" said Mjs. Woodsuru, with i a manuet look ot uneamess. "Why, yes,'' said Mr. Woodsum, 4 there i one that I have thought for some time past, I should probably marry, if it should be the will of Providence to take you from u." "And pray, Mr. Woodsum, who an it be!" said the wifr, with an txpression nmrf of earth than heaven, returning to her eye. " Who is Mr. Woo(Uum I You hav. n't named it to her, have you ? ' 4' Oh. by no means," said Mr. Woodsum : "but my dear, we hadh-tter drop the subject: it agitates you too much." "But, Mr. Woodsum, you must t.-ll ine who it is ; 1 never could die iu peace till you do.y . "It i a subj-ct 100 painful to Inink about," said Mr. Woodsum, "4 and it dont appear .to me it would be b. st to call name." 44 But I inst on it," said Mrs. Wodsun:, who had bv ti.is time laised herself un with great e-irn 4tues and was leaning on her elbow, while hT searthiu glance was r ading everr musi-le in her husband's face. 4 Mr. Woodsum I insist upon it." 44 Well, then," said Mr. Woodin, with sigh, "if ou insist upon it, mv dear Ihave thought if it should be tha will of Pro ideuce to take you from us, to he here no more, I have thought I should marry for' my second wife, Hannah Lovejoy." An earthly fire once more flashed from Mrs. Woodsum's eyes she leaped from the bed like, a cat, walked across the room, and sealed herself in a chair. " What !'' she exclaimed, in a tienilJing voice almost choked with agitation " what!" marry that idle, sleepy slut of a Hannah Lvt joy ! Mr. Woodsum, that is too much for flesh and blooJ to bear I can't endure that, nor I won't. Han nah Lovejoy to be the mother of my children No, that's what she never shall. So you .may f to your plowing, Mr. Woodsum, and set yout heait at rest. Susan," she continued, 4' make up more fire, under the dinner pot." Mr. Woodsum went to the. fietd, and parsaei bis work, and when he returned at noon, he found dinner well prepared, and his w if: ready to do the honors of the lable. Mrs. Vood?um' health from that day continued to improve, and she was never afterwards visited by the terrib.e affliction of hypochondria Way 1) own East, by Jack Downing. AEMVALS OF THE ORPHANS IS EICH M0ND. Yesterday evening there came up iu the Curtu Peck twenty-eight children in charge of the Re Thomas Hume. They were all from Portsmouth. They were of all ages from 15 months to 15 yen". The number was smaller ih.in wus anticipated.' They were diminished from several causes som were claimed by their relatives, others were de tained by the desire of friends or relatives, who ex pected to be able to take charge of them, Ac; but the chief reason was that the authorities of Port mouth thought it best to divide the number send ing a part at a time. Others will be sent hereafter- Upon the arrival of the children, thej were ken in charge by the committee, and were iron diately conveyed to the College. About the Norfolk orphan nothing ha9 been communicated to our coniadtfee. They ba again procured the consent of Mr. Hume to me application for them. It has been stated that Sot folk will not part with them. Rich. Despatch- ... . Maine Elections. Boston, Sept. 17. Returns from 384 towns in Maine give Morr U, the, Rep"1 lican candid-it for Governor, 48,700; Wfc'ls, ' republican 45,200 ; and Reed, wbi?, 10,200 Republican Senator has been chosen., TheHon stands 61 Republicans ; 67 Democats, id Whigs. Two districts as yet unreturned are prob. ably democratic i j ltaleigQ, iSoV. V5, ISM. 6S-- j marcn bi, looo. 1; Usnh, 115.
Southern Weekly Post (Raleigh, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Sept. 22, 1855, edition 1
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