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Family Newspaper-:povoted to IPolitics, igiicultur Miscenaneous lleadi
TER1I3 OF THE PAPER, j
Vol, 1 1.
.!.
Statesville,:N. C, Friday, October 28, 1859.
1
$2 a Year, in
Advance.
No.'
sd until ordered eut.
" B. DRAKE. , T W P DRAKE. . ' " ' " j" ! . J i (y A Sj 0 0 H l
T T - .2 . : i-K .4
- Wishing.
ET JOHN O. SAXE.i
Of all amusements for the mipd, ,
r rom logic down to nMiinij,
There isn't one that you can ;find
So vcrv cheap as -"wishing'!"
A very choice diversion, too,-
sit we Wt.richtlv uee it.
And not, as we are apt to dol
IX'ervertffit, and abuse it. j
I wish a common wish, indeed
:My pure was something fatter,
That I mijght cheer the child of need,
And notjTOy pride to flatter;
That I mijfht tiake oppression reel.
Aw only pold ran make it':
And break the tyrant's rod ojf ateel,
As only gold can break it.
T wish that sympathy and '
And every human pa'esion
Th.it hap its origin above,
Would-come. 'land keen in
ove,
ash ion;
That Scorrt, and Jealousy, aaid Hate,
Ana every bae emotion; j
"Were burirtd.fi ftv fathom deep
Beneath the waves of Ocesiri !
I wish that frtfnds were always true,
'.lAnd motive always pure:
I wi.h the zoot were not ho few,
j I wish t lie, bad were fewer;
Ij I wish thatmarpons ne'er forgot
I iTo houd ttfieir .ioiip teardiiii;
3 1 wifh that rartir:iiirr was not
I fVuifiereiit 1'ronj preaching
t i . .i
I wsn in;
in. modopt worth niieht he
Aiirrniseii
with truth and raniIor;
rmpcence were free
I wifsJi .that
: From' t reach erv
and elnndjjr:
I wih that
rnc-ri their vows tould mind.
That womjen ne'er were rovers : "
I v if-h tliar tvives were always kind,
And linabands always lovers. '
I wl-liin fine that Joy and mirth,
And every poo l ideal; '
May come, ejrewhile, throughout the earth
To be the L'lorious Real ; !
Till Ood pha!l evcrv creature:, bless
.With Us f. n pre rn est blessing,
1 And hope be lct in hnppinea.
I And wie-hing in'posscHsingl
immws .
J..-:-'
Tlha Cabin Boy.
On my way across the Bound I fell
in with two old sea captains John
Btreeter andj Asa Morton with whom
I'.li'ad some slight acquaintance. Capt.
Rtrceter was about three I score, and
had followed the sea during -nost of
his life. Morton was considerably
. I . .Ml f 1
younger, , oui piul a seaman 01 mucn
''exfjerience.'
TllO Sul'joet af tho aboli
tion of floggiing in our navy came up
in -course 3f
-. Morton expr
conversation, and Capt.
based himself verv decid-
edfYj in favor
of time honored institu--o'nine-tails.
tjoiis,' the ca
fl am not prepared to say,' remark-
ed
Cant. Streeter, in -reply; 'that the
oViiitition of our.man-o'-wafs-meri will
lie itt every ;ase benefitted by the a
liolition of flcgging, though I am sure
that it might be so. I mean, of course,
for' such offences as are usually punish
ed on ship.' j
'For my p:irt,' returned jMorton, 'J
shouldn't carp to take command of a
hip if the power of punishjng rcfaeto
ry seamen I thought proper were
taken from me.' j
H I'Well,' saul Capt. Streeter, 'I used
to think just so. In fact, there were
but fetv masters more passionate or se
vere than I was. Men usefl to run a
way from me, and on morii than one
occasion my ..life has been in danger
from violence of men I hajve abused.
. I used the cat and the rope's end al
most as freely as I ued rnv tongue ;
and I used tq wondor how it happened
that I always had, the luck to get such
baVl men. . - j
: When I was about forty years of age
I took command of the ship petersham.
She was an old craft, anl had .seen
. full as much :ervice as she was capa-
hie of seeing with safety. But her own
;ers were willing to trust a valuable
cargo in hcrso I wouldn't refuse to
go myself. We were bound for Livcr-
' pooh and nothing happened until about
the eighth dajy out, when ve ran foul
of a "small ice berg. It was early in the
morning, befo re sunrise, and not above
five or six foojt of ic? rra abovewater,,
' it having nearly all mcfted in the warm.
: waters of the Gulf Stream.! I did not
think we had sustained much injury,
. for the shock was slight but I was very
angry and gave the look-out a severe
..punishment, with out stopping to en
quire, whether he could have seen the
berg in time 1o escape it. .1
j My cabin boy was named Jack With
ers. He was fourteen years bf age, and
this was his first voyage. Ij had taken
bim from a widowed mother, and had
promised, her that I would see him well
treated that was, if he behaved him
scF, He wa? a bright, quick, intelli
gent lad, lmt I soon made Imyself be
lieve that he pad an awful disposition.
I fancied tha, he was the most stub-
i rOrh piece of humanity J had ever
come across, j I made up my mind he
had never been properly governed, and
resolved to, break him in. I told him
J'd curb his temper before I had done
with him. Inj reply, he told me that I
might kill hira if I'liked; andlflogged
him with the end, of the mizzen-top-'
gallant halliards till he coiild hardly
: 'f-tand. T ask ?d him if he got enough,
and he told mo I might flog him more
' it I wished it. I felt a Btrring inclina
jUon to throw the boy overboard, but
me momenx no staggerea DacK a
igainst the mitzen mast, from absolute
weakness, and I left him td
himself.
Wh
en I voasoncd calmly
about the
tsccl
boy's disposition, I was forced to ac
knowledge that he was one of the smart
est and most faithful lads I had ever
seen. When l asked him to do any
thing he would be off like a rocket;
but when I roughly ordered him to do
it, then came the disposition with which
I found fault.
One day when it was very near noon,
I spoke to him and told him to go down
below and bring up my quadrant. He
was looking over the quarter rail, and
I knew he did not hear me, and the
next time I ppoke ripped out an oath,
and intimated if he didn't move I'd
helphim
i JLli .-I! 6 Sa ' W'th an !
independent tone.
'No word?,' said I.
1 s poe I can speak, he retorted, !
moving slowly towards the companion
way.
His looks, words, nnd the slow, care
less manner in which he moved, fired
me in a moment, and I grasped him
by the collar.
'Speak to me again Tike that, and
I I'tl flog you within an inch of
I life,' said I.
f your
'You can flog away,' he replied, firm ,
and undaunted as a rock
And I did flog him. I caught up the
end of a rope, and beat him until my
arm fairly ached; but he never even
winced.
'How's that,' said I. .
'There is a little more life in me
you'd better flog out,' was the reply.
And I did flog him again. I heat
liim until he sank from my hand against
the rail ; and then I sent one of the
men for my quadrant. ,
When it came and I had adjusted it
for my observation, I found thatthc'
sun was already past the meridian,,
and that I was. too late.
TJiis added fuel to the fire of my madness,-and
quickly seizing the lad by
the collar, I led him to the main hatch
way, and had the hatch taken off. I
then thrust him down it, and swore I
would keep him there until -his stub
boi riess was broken. The batch was
then put on, and I went into the cabin,
t suffered a good deal that afternoon,
not with my compunctions for what I
had done, but wlth.my own temper and j
bitterness. Jiut it made me mad to
think that I could not conquer that
boy f-that I could not break down his
cool, stern opposition. 'But I will do
it,' I said to myself, 'hj the heavens
above me, I'll starve him into it, orhe
shall die under the operation.' ,
After supper I went to-the hatch
way, and called out to him, but he Re
turned me no answer. So I closed fhe
hatch and went away. At ten o'clock
I called again, and I got ho answer.
I might have thought that the flogging
had taken away his senses, had not
some of the men assured me that they
had heard him, not an hour before,
talking to himself. I did not trouble
him again till morning. After break
fast I went to the hatchway and call
ed out to him once more. I heard noth
ing from him, nor could I see him I
had not seen him since I put him down
there. I called out several times but
he would make no reply and yet the
same men told me that they had hea?rd
him talking that very morning. He
seemed to be calling on them for help,
but he would not ask forme. I meant
to break him in to it. 'He'll beg before
he'll starve,' I thought, and so deter
mined to let him stay there. I suppose
he had crawled forward to the bulk
head, in order to make the sailorshear
him. Some of the men asked leave to
go down and look for him, but I re
fused. I threatened to punish the first
man that dared to go down.
At noon I went again, and as he did
not answer me this time, I resolved
that he should come to the hatchway,
and ask for me ere I went any more.
The day passed away, and when eve
ning came again I began to be start
led. I thoueht of the many good qual
ities the boy had, and of his widowed
mother. He had been in the hold thirty-six
hours, and all of forty without
food or drink. He was too weak to
cry out now. It was hard for me to
give up, but if he had died from abso
lute starvation, it might go harder wi th
me still. , So at length I made up my
mind to go and see him. It was not
quite sundown when I had the hatch
taken off, and I jumped down from the
boxes alone.
A little way forward I say a space
where Jack might have easily gone
down, and to that point I easily crawl
ed on my hands and knees I called
out there but could get no answer). A
short distance farther was a .space,
which I had entirely forgotten, but now
remembered had been left open on ac
count of a break in the flooring of the
hold, which would have let everything
that might have been stowed there
rest diredtly upon the thin planking of
the ship.
To this place I made my way, and
looked down. I heard the splashing of
water,-and thougrft I could detect s
sound like the incoming of a tiny jet
or stream. At first I could see noth
ing, but as soon as I became used to
the dim tkht, I could distinguish the
faint outline of the boy, at some dis
tance below mc. 'He seemed to be sit
ting on the broken floor, with his feet
stretched out against the cask. I call-
1 ed out to him, and thought he looked
up.
! 'Jack, aro you there V
Ana ne answered me in a faint wearv !
tone :
Yes, help me ! For heaven's sake
help me! Bring men, and bring a lan
tern, the ship has sprung a leak !'
I hesitated, and he added in a more
hurried tone
Make haste I will try and hold it
till you come back.'
I waited to hear no more, but hurried
on deck as soon as possible, and re
turned with a lantern and three men.
I leaped down beside the boy, and could
scarcely believe the evidence of my
own senses. Three of the timbers were
i ... i . . .i
completely worm eaten to the verv
teartL"f ne th 'TJ plan.ks 1
moment the bov might loave it, whose
r . i c. . ' , ,
... . ' j
feet were braced against th c;i-k. be-
lore him. Half-a-dozen little jets of
water were st reaming in about lrm, and
he was wet to th skin I saw that the
plank must burst the moment the strain
was removed from it, so I made my
men brace themselves against it before
I lifted him up. Other men were call-
en clown with p!anks, and -p kos, and
adzes: and with much care and trouble.
i down with
1 -a .
we finally succeeded in stopping the
leak, and averting the danger. The
plank which had been stove in was six
feet long by eight inches wide,
and
would have let in a stream of water of
tha capacity. It would have been be
yond our reach long ere we could have
discovered it, and would have sunk us
in a very short time. I knew it must
be where the iceberg struck us.
Jack Withers was taken to the cabin;
there he managed to tell his story.
Shortly after I put him in the hole he
crawled forward, and when he became
used to the glimmer that came through
the dead-lights, looked about for a
snug place in which to lie, for his limbs
were sore. He went to sleep, and when
he awoke he heard a faint sound, like
water streaming through a small hole.
He went to the open place in the car
go, and looked down, and he was sure
that he saw amall jetof water spring
ing up from the ship's bottom: He
leaped down, and in a few minutes
found that the timbers had wholly giv
en away, and that the water without
was pressing it inward. He had sense
enough to see that if it gained an inch
more it must - all go, and the ship be
lost, and -perhaps all hands perish.
And he saw, too, that if he could keep
tho tnoifcu utn.uk in us place hemignt
stop the incoming flood. Sohe sat him
self upon ;t, and braced his feet against
the cask, and then called for help.
But he was so far away, so low down,
with sucli a dense mass of cargo about
him that his voice " scarcely reached
other ears than his own. Some of the
men;' heard him but thought he was
talking to himself.
And there he set, with his feet brac
ed for four-and-twenty dreary hours,
with the water spurting m tiny streams
all over him, drenching him to the skin.
He thought several times of going to
the hatching and calling for help ; but
he knew that the broken plank would
be forced in if he left it, for he could
feel it heave beneath him. His strength
was failing him his limbs were rack
ed with pain but he would not give
up. I asked him if he would not have
given up if I had not come as I did.
He. answered that he could not have
done it while he had life in him. He
said he thoughtnotof himself he was
ready to die but he would save the
rest if he could and he had saved us,
surely saved us all, f rom a watery grave.
I hat boy lay sick almost unto death;
but I nursed him with my own hands
nursed him through his delirium ;
and when his reason returned and he
could sit up and talk, I bowed myself
before him, and humbly asked his par
don for all theVrong I had done him.
He threw his arms about my neck, and
told me if I would be good to him, he
would never give me cause for offence;
and added as he sat up again 'I am
not a coward I couldn't be a dog.'
From that hour I never forgot those
words : and from that hour I never
struck a blow on board my ship. I
make men feel that they are men
that I so regard them, and that I wish
to make them as comfortable and hap
py as possible ; and I have not failed
to gain their respect and confidence.
I give no undue license, but make my
crew feel that they have a friend and
a superior in the same person. For
nine years I sailed in three different
ships, with the . same crew. A man
couldn't be hired to leave me save for
an officer's berth.
And Jack Withers remained with
me thirteen years. He was my cabin
boy ; one of the fore-most hands ; my
second mate ; and the last he sailed
with me refused the command of a new
barque because he would not be sep
erated from me. But he is a captain
now, and of the best this country'ever
afforded- Such gentlemen, is my ex
perience in government and discipline
on shipboard.
i There is an anecdote of an editor
out West, who, when he was short of
j matter, or grudged the labor or type
i:'!'""'.
out his paper with one side or page
entirely blank, merely drawing his sub
scribers' attention to the fact by note
"This space will be useful for the chil
dren to write upon." ' s:
"Much remains unsung." remarked the
tom-cat, as a brickbat, cut short his serenade
A Story for Yonng Husbands.
"Where are vou going. George?"
asked Mrs. Wilson, as her husband
rose from the tea-table, and took his '
hat.
"Oh, Tm going out," was the care
less response.
"But where ?" asked his wife.
"What odds does it make, Emma?"
returned her husband. "T Khali b
back at my usual time.'" j
The young wife hesitated, and a I
quick flush overspread her face. She
seemed to have made up her mind to
speak plainly upon a subject which
omo time, and she could not let the
had lain uneasily upon her heart for
-
onnorti n tv nass. It wmnrpn an f
e v C ' :
tort, but she TDcrsevered.
"Let me tell you what odds it makes
to me," she snid, in a kind but tremu
lous tone. "If I cannot have your
company here at home, I should at
least feel better if I knew where you
were." :
"But you know that I am safe, Em
ma and what more can yoru ask ?"
"I do not know that you are safe,
George. I know nothing about you
when you are away." ".
"Pooh ! pooh ! Would you have it',
then, that I am not capable of taking,
care of myself?"
"You put a wrong construction up
on my words, George. Love is al-.
ways anxious when its dearest object
is away. .If I -did not love ygu as I
do, I might not be thus uneasy. When
you are at your place of business, I
never feel thus," because I know I can
seek and find you at any moment;
butwhen you are absent during these,
long evenings, I get to wondering
where you are. Then I begin to get
lonesome ; and so one thought follows
another, until I feel troubled and un
easy. Oh, if you would only stay with
me a portion of your evenings!"
"Aha ! I thought that was what you
were aiming at," said George, with i
playful shake of the head. "You would
have me here every evening."
"Well can you wonder at it?" re
turned Emma. "I used to be very
happy when you came to spend an
evening with me before we were mar-
ned ; and I know I jshould be
happy in your soeietv now !" .
verv
"Al, V ooM n. :t. - :i
... , j.
-tin. rtmi JCUI Jp, 1L11 cl S.1111IL.
"those were business meetings. "We
"And why not continue so to do,
my husband ? I am sure we could be
as happy now as ever. If. you will
remember, one of ouj -plans was to
make a home." !
"And haven't we cot one, Emma?"
"We ha ve certainly a place in which
to live." answered the wife, somewhat
evasively. .
"And it is our home," pursued
George. "And," he i added, with a
sort of confident flourish, "home is the
wife's peculiar province. She has
charge of it, and all her work is there;
while the duties of the husband call
him to other scenes." j
"Well, I admit that so far as cer
tain duties are - concerned," replied
Emma. "But you must remember
that we both need relaxation from la
bor : we need time for; social and men
tal improvement and enjoyment ; and
what time have -we foi .this save our
evenings ? Why should not this be
my home for an evenipg, as well as in
the day time and in tike night?"
"Well isn't it ?". asked George.
"How can it be if voiu are not here?
What makes a home fjr children if it
be not the abode of the parents 1r
What home can a husband have where
there is no wife ? And what real
home comfort can a wife enioy where
there is no husband, , You do not con
sider how lonesome I : am, all alone
here-during these long evenings.
They are the very seasons when I am
at leisure to enjoy your companionship,
arid when you would-be at leisure to
enjoy mine, if it is worth enjoying.
They are the very seasons when the
happiest hours of home life might be
passed. Come will you not spend. a
few of your evenings with me
i "You see. enough off me as it is,"
sajid the husband, lighily.
'.'Allow me to be the best judge of
that, George. You jvould be very
lonesome here, all alone'
"Not if it was my place of business,
as it is of yours," returned the young
man. "You are used jto stayinghere,
all wives belong to home."
i "Just remember, mjf- husband, that
previous to our marriage, I had pleas
ait society all the timei. Of course, I
remained at home mucfh of my time,
but I had a father and ja mother there,
ad I had brothers and sisters there,
and our evenings were: happily spent.
Finally, I gave up all for you. Heft
the old homej and sought a home with
my husband. And now have I not a
rijght to expect some o your compan
ionship t How- would you like to have
me
t,
away every evening, while you
were obliged to remain: here alone V
Why-I should like U well enough."
"Ah but you would not be willing
to try it. ' !
"Yes, I would," said George, at a
venture. !
"Will you you remain here every
you
as you imagine.
With this thi husband went out, and
evening next weeK, anja jet me spena ; Ana can it oe tnat sue reels as I ao, pus, ior our own; saice jana mo eiiet ; penoaicai attacK oij ine wasp, ana
my time among my female friends ?" ! when she is here all alone ? It must of the passengers. generally, wewalk- ( brushed in vain with his hands, to rid
j "Certainly 1 will," he replied ; and , be so he pursued thoughtfully. -. 'It ed boldly into tike captain's officand f himself of the little jtorraentcir. - Sev-
i snail not De so lonesome is lust as sue says, lietore we were laia tne wnoie matter netore v tne,i OUsi erai oi ine passengers anempieuj-iu
i
; was soon among his friends. He was
a.steady industrious man, and loved
!ms Wlte "uly but, like thousands of
otners he had contracted a habit of
spending - his evenings abroad, and
thought it no harm. His only practi-
ical idea of home seemed to be that it
was a place which his wife took care
of, and where he could eat, drink and f
'.sleep, as long as he could pay for it.
In short, he treated it as a sort of!
Fivate boarding house, of which his j
wife was landlady ; and if he paid all
tne b'!'8' ne considered his duty done, j
His xr5fe na(J frequently asked him to ,
sta7 at borne with her, but she had
. l . '
"ever ventured ny argument be.
fore, and he had no conception of how
much she missed him. She always
seemed happy when he came home,
and he supposed she could always be
se.
Monday evening came, and George
Wilson remained true to his promise.
His wife put on her bonnet and shawl,
and he said he would remain and keep
house.
"What will you do while I am gone?"
Emma asked.
"Oh, I shall read and sing, and en
joy myself generally."
"Very well," said Emma. i I shall
be back early."
The wife went out, and the husband
was left alone. He had an interest
ing book, and he began to read it.
He read till eight o'clock, and then he
began to yawn, and look frequently
at the clock. The book did not in
terest him as usual. Ever and anon
he would come to a passage which he
knew would please his -wife, and in
stinctively he turned as though he
would read it aloud, but there was no
wife to hear it. At half -past eight he
rose from his chair and begun to pace
the floor and whistle. Then he got his
flute, and played several of his favorite
airs. After this he got a chess-board,
and played a game with an imaginary
partner. Then he walked the floor
and whistled again. Finally the clock
struck nine and his wife returned.
"Well, George," said she, '1 am
back in good time. How have you en
joyed yourself ?"
".Capitally," returned the husband.
"I had no idea it was so late. I hope
you have enjoyed yourself."
"Oh. splendidly !" said his wife. "I
u-o-.., ;jv now much en joyment there
was away from home. Home is a dull
place, after all isn't it?''
. . TTT1 T" 9. ,1 . ft
"Why no -l can t say tnat it is,
returned Cieorge, carelessly. "In'?
fact," he added, "I rather like it." 1
'I'm glad of that,' retorted Emma,
'for we shall both enjoy ourselves now
You shall have .a race, comfortable-!
week of it." j
George winced at this, but he kept !
his countenance, and determined ttf !
stand it out. " I
On the next evening Emma prepar -
ed to go out again.
'I shall be back
in good time,' she
said.
'Where are you going
band asked-
: ner nus-
'Oh, J can t tell exactly. 1 may !
go to several places.'
So George Wilson was left alone a -
gain, and he tried to amuse nimseit as . i . ,f t "--j"
before, but he found it a difficult task. you: all events our next everi
Ever and anon he would cast his eyes ment sa'1 h thaf effect. Liwill
upon that empty chair, and the thought I tl'y and see how! much home pojjjfort
would come, 'How pleasant it would I . can. nndwhilp we are both to
be if she were here !' The clock final-1 eiW Emma was too hapjSf to
lv struck nine, and he began to listen ! express her joy m words ;. bnt sex-'
for the step of his wife. Half an hour ! Presscd 1(' nevertheles?, and m gian-
more slipped bv, and he became very
nervous and unhappy.
11. T
'T declare,' he muttered to himself,
after he had listened for some time in
vain, 'this is too bad. She ought not
to stay out so late !' But he happen
ed to remember that he often remain
ed away much later than that, so he
concluded that he must make the best
of it. " - ;
At a quarter to ten Emma came
home. ;
'A little late, am I not?' she said,
looking up at the clock. 'But I fell
in with some old friends How have
you enjoyed yourself?'
'First rate,' returned George, brave
ly. .'I think home is a capital place!'
'Especially when a man can have it j
all to himself,' added the wife, with ai
sidelong glance at her husband.
But
he made no reply.
On the next evening Emma prepar
ed to go out as before, but this time
she kissed her husband ere she went,
and seemed to nesitate.
'Where do you thmk of going,
Creorge asked m an under-tone.
"4I may drop in to see Uncle John
replied Emma. However. you won't
be uneasy. You'H know I'm safe.'
40h, certainly,' said her husband ;
but when left to his own reflections he
Degan to ponder seriously on tne sun-
ject xnus prcsentea ior consiaeranon.
He could not read ; he could not play;
i i " "
nor enioy himself in any way while
at cnair was
j found that horn
j without his wife
that chair was empty. Tn short, he
C had no real COmtortl
The one thing need -
cu 10 maKc nyrae cnecriui was not pre-
; senT-.
'I declare, he said to himself, 'I
; did not think it would be so lonesome.
married, she was very happy in her
childhood's home. "Her parents loved
her, and brothers' and sistersjlloved
her, and $hey did all they cqlJd to
make her comfortable j . f
'j After this he walked up and fjown
the room several times, and theist6pr
ped again and -communed with 'him
self. .. v i". W
'I can't stand this. saicl hit I
should die in a week
If Em m : were
only here 1 think I could -. tfnru'Kj .niY-
self very wel. How l6nesom(land
dreary It is ! ' And only eight or!ock!
I declare I've a mind to! walk far
as Uncle Jblrn's and see if she isjiere.
It would be a relief if I, only sa her.
,1 won t go in Ibhe.san t knot; but
, . -T- , , i. . m- 4 1
George Ws?n t00 ahoV',p"!
across the rdom glanced, brice mjrc at
the clock, and then took " his haf and
went out. Hfe Jlocked th doorfter
him, and then bent his steps tirard
Uncle John's. ; It was a beautiful poon
light night, and! the air was keef and
bracing. He wjas walking alorife with
his eyes bent upon the pavementprhen
he heard a light step approachinhim.
He looked up, and could not hp mis
taken saw his' wife. His firsjt im
pulse was to avoid her, but sh; had
recognised him. I
'George,' she! said, in surpri, 'is
this you?
'It is,' was tile response. t.
'And you do iuot pass your eviings
at home?' j ( $ . '
'This is thejfijrst time I"haveibeen
out, Emma, ubon my word, amfteven
now I have nqtjbeen absent frrn the
house ten minutes. I merely came
out to take the fresh air.
Butfrhere
are you goin;
v.
'1 am going! ihome, George. v Will
you go with mej?' ''&
'Certainly,' jrpturned the huscand.
She took his jarm, and they wlked
home in silence.! When Emma ld ta
ken off her things, she sat down n her
chair, and looked at the clock, j
'You are home early to-night. re
marked Georgei . v
The young wife looked up in'o her
husband's face;, land, with an depres
sion half smiling and half tertrf, she
answered, "I will confess theruth,
George ; I hare given up the experi
ment. I managed to stand '&. last
evening, but I could not bear it through
here
. It
g&t. 1 haven. t eroyed
myself at all. . I have no honjg? but
this.' j ! 4 : - :, .f:
'Say vou so ?' cried George, Waving
uls ulut11 lu UiS Mue h s,ut afm W'g
onc of her hand-: 'Then let meiake
mJ. confession. I have stood, itota
hlt better. When I left the $ouse.
f?is evf",ng' coul1 bear itnolcger.
I ound that this was no home. ftp me,
hile my sweet wife was absef. I
thought I would! walk down by kfnele
John 8 and see Jour face, if. potable.
1 a(i gaze(1 uPn Jpur empty jjhair
till mv heart ached.' He kissed her
as he spoke, and! then added, whir? she
reclined her heiaid upon his an j, 'I
have learned a very good less. -Your
presence htcrc is like the thirst
ing forth of the ! sun after a s(trm ;
! a x Ju love PTe as 1 love, X?u
! whlch of coursei I cannot doubt-my
j neitoonot to be mistaken.
The.next evening was spent at rome
by both husband and wife and i.jvas
a season of mtiih 'enjoyment.1; ffh a
short time Geojrge began to rlize
bow much comfUrt was to be foufd in
a quiet and peaceful home ; ''aniSf the
longer he enjoyed this comforff thd
more plainly did. he see and underJartd
the simple truttiL .. that it takeC?'two
td crake a happy home, and tr'tt If
me wne is onet party tne nuana
must be the other. -
Scenes
REAL LIFE
from Life
i lAN'D
Scene3 ;jis '
BEHIND TIIE SQES.
BY OUIt KED.
THE EIVaIIveXTRTLOOJCIHTS,
i
i-'
"Once upon a; time," as the 'ry-
tellers nave it. we were saiunr' iown
the ?veat "father of waters '' thIis-
sbsippi, in tho beautiful stcamer,,t5od -
dess of Liberty .7 bound fr6m St..ou-
.-j, , ytZ
is to New Orleans. Wc had on Board
the usual variety of passengers fTbut
I for some unexplainable cause, an ( nn
usual degree of monotory prevled.
i :Tis true, the CSird-nlavers weils at
( work, with their! accustomed energy,
j anj little groups of passengers ere
j earnestly engaged .over the quiet Wme
i 0f "checkers? r ''tiraii?H:i'vfii,ip
drauglits" i ihile
j one little circle tnly were absorM in,
f -X
that old, butnow popular game "cliss.
iare number ! of passengers rerc
sitting in tne lorwarti saioon, Mine
listlessly at each othen apparency, in
etutwfaction. J ' ?S '
1 Beinz of an active tcmnerajont
flnd iond ot excitement, we. .coalfeViio.t
. I suffer ennui, upon suqh an occas'n to
get the upper hiand oiius, s,
; view to kickingst:p so me kind of arunr -
tinguished commander,
'Wc have ho music (
oa , boardy? the
to-night. Mieti I thought of yoi
nil nlone. T wanntpo" tri ri"h -with Vf4
aian t seem ri
captain remarked, or we mht wake
the passengers up wiih a little 'hop on
the light fantastic " j -
."'Well,' we replied lookin; earnest
ly over the list on the passenger-roll,)
we must have some lexcitement, for
the passage is really vearysojme.' .
Just at that moment our jeyes fell
upon a name distinguished in the an
nals of diablerie no less a personage
than the celebrated wizard and ven
triloquist, Signor Bliti. Hefe was in
deed reason for crying 'Eureka,' and,
forthwith we proceeded in iearch of
the mysterious wizard.. In 4 few mo
ments, the Sicmor was found! quietly
reposing in his stater-room, I jnd the
sion called for eloquence) laid before
him. Blitz consented; to create a lit
tle 'harmless fun,' as j he termed it ;
but the sequel proved jit moife funny
than harmless. But, without antici
pating, the wizard entered the stew-
self with a few huge slices cif bread,
and obtaining some of his Little ani
mate assistants, ho announced himself
prepared ; but remarked that we must
select a good subject, for on that se
lection depended the fun. V?e enter
ed the forward saloon noiselessly, arm-in-arm,
and advancedtowarc( Jthe qui
et, sleepy-looking passengers, iwho were
collected together without aim or ob
ject. While running our eyes rapidly
around the saloon in iearcn bf a vic
tim, our attention was attracted to
wards a young man dressed in a deep
suit of black, who was deeply jabsorbed
'in a book, which he Was attentively
perusing. We 'nudged' the Signor ;
pointed significantly at fhe young man,
and received from theiforme an af
firmative answerby a (quiet movement
of the head. The Signor" picked up
stool, seated himself unceremoniously
between the young stranger and the
end of the table near by. This move
ment arrested the attention of the
stranger, who looked up, inquiringly.
"You seem to be much interested
in your book, sir,' thelsignoV remark
ed, j ! f
'Yes, sir,' he replied, 'a good' book
is to me preferable to "ja good dinner.'
Signor. 'That depends. upon the
length of time you have fasied. By
the way, I did not see you at the dm-
I
Stranger.- 'No, sir!
book.' "
I preferred ray
, Signor. -'One dollar is hilf for a
single meal ; I commend your econo
my.' ' , ' -i
S tranger (indignantly.) I eat when
hungry, whatever the price ! v
- Signor. 'I spoke of economy, be
cause I observed somie provi sions in
your hat V J
Stranger (in an offended jtone.)
'Provisions, sir ? I carry" no provis
ions with me ; I always eat at! the pub
lic table, and pay forj it, too 11
Thet whole attention of th passen
gers was now centered upon tlie speak
ers and considerable interest manifest
ed by the company in the pect liar sub
ject under discussion. Y
Signor (lifting up the 'young gent's
hat from his side, and passing; it un
cer the' eye of the entire group) 'I
do not wish to offend you, sir ; but I
see here quite a supply of previsions!'
This created not a jlittle merriment
at the expense of the stranger, which
soon increased to a lalugh, as the wiz
ard drew forth slice ajfter slice) of stale
bread fr,om the young jman's hat. The
stranger bit his lip.4 in .Confusjon,' and
fixed Ms gaze upon the Sign'olf ; therl,
with a smile, got up from his scat, and
movered toward his sjtatc-rooiji.
" 'Frightened ?' eaya one of he lookers-on,
smiling at thji suddeV disap-.
pearance of the stranger. .
Stranger (emerging from 'tfi.C state
room.) 'No ; not frightened, 'exact
ly. "I merely put away my liook, be
cause I find there is going to jbe some
fun aboard, and when there's fun a
Bout. I want to be 'pcuntcd jin,' for
that's ray fo rte. ' '
Looker-onfenthusTasticallyl-'Good!
bravo, bravo! Go it, jlittle 'un4 you're
a tnatch for him ! ' . i '
' .Thestra.nger had barely finished his
remarks, when a loud yelpDg4 and
snapping was heard it his heel?, and
j the passengers began! to scatter, think
ing a raoia aog was m . tneir miast;
Bit a few minutes served to prore the
(Da'ng and jelping anotber jtrick of
the ventriloquist, - i.
. . . J '. v vr :
. During the excitement , about .the
dog, tho v fcignor e;emed constantly
brushing tome things from behind his
ear, and becoming much annoyed by a
continual ouzzing at juis neaa, jrcquest-
ed onoeof the passengers to examine
his neck, for he was fearful a wasp had
taken passage on the) boat, anij was cn-
gaged in the exclusii-e busioess of an-
' loving him. An examination nroved
' " i I' "
the Signer's fears groundless! and the
fun with the stranger continued; Now
came ine squeaimg df a piff, and, in
a few moments, th p. Ft; rmor. to the crreat
i a.mnsemmt nf h AveA nrtAnel from
J the stranVer's hoorri a small ; cruinea-
pic, which jumped and ran round the,
saloon as if pleased at being released
berth:
1 Again the bignor was seized with that
catch the refractory wasp, but each at-
tempt proved futile, , and .the : attacks
.-i
1
.. .. . . r: v -
' ' i -..''. !
' '' . " -. '""' ! '
-I
n