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. ' - ' ! V & 8TB0THEB, Proprietor. OXFORD, N. G. JULY 8, 1858. VOL. lNO. 22. To ny Daughter Lily. J BT PHILIP rtSDLETOX COOK. "Sit changeful years arc gone, Lily, Since jou were born to be j A darling to your motker good, A kappines to me: A litt! shivering, feeble thing-, You were to touch find view, But we could sec a promise in Your lab eye of blue, j " Yoa fastened on our hearti Lilj, An day by day woro by, j And beauty grew upon jour chseks And deepened-in your eye, A year made dimples in your hands Anl plumped your little feet, And ybu had learned some merry ways, Which wo thought very sweet. "ltd when the first sweet word, Lily, 4Your wee mouth learned to say, Your mother kissed it fifty tims And marked tho famous day, I know not even now, iny dear, I! it were quite a word j But your proud mother surely knew For she tho soand had heard. t .t j , ,,f " When you were foHr years old! Lily, You were my little friend, ! . i And we had walks and nightly plays, And talks without an end. j You little ows aro sometimes wise, For you aro undented, A rrave grown man will start to hear Tho strango word of a child. - 14 When care pressed on our house, Lily, Presicd with an iron hand, I hated mankind for the wrong Which festered in the land. But when I read your young, frank face, Its meanings sweet and good, My charities grew clear again, . I felt my brotherhood. "And sometimes it would be, Lily, ' My filth in God grew cold, Tor I saw virtue go in rags ' I And vice in cloth of gold: But in your inuueeuce, my child, And in your mother's love, I learned thoo lessons of tho heart Which fasten it above. 'At last our cares aro gone, Lily, And pcaco is back, agaiu, As you hare seen the sun shine out Alter the gloomy rain : In the good land wliero wo wcro born, We nuiy bo hannf still, A life of love will bless our home The house wpon the hill. " Thanks to your Jentle face, Lily ! v Its innocence was strong To Wp me constant to the right When temptrd by tho wrong. The little one were dear to him, ' Who died upon tho Kood I aik hi gontlf. care for you, And lor your mother good." 1 From an Knglish Paper. An Incident in , , " - UWUCJ UlVUlli , I do not know if any one elso will think the tory I am going to try to write down as inter esting as wo that is, John and I a id, I will try to tU it in tho simple words in Which it was told to us. nt, first I must y thatwe h-ard it during our honeymoon, which we were pending at a cottage in the; beautiful park of Lord ; I shall -fenll him Dimdale. The cot tage'uas situated in a wild and lonely part of it; and tho deer used to come up close to the door, and licunder the One old oaks, through whose branches the sun glimmered on the soft warm turf and clump, of young fern. And .how the birds sang! for It was the beginning of May, and fine hot weather. But to come at once to the story. In one of our walks, we had made acquaint ance with tho clergyman, Mr. Morton, an old man, itvith a placid sweet smile, and long snow, white hair, who somehow gave one tho idea of perfect happiness and peace He asked us to drink tea with hira in his vicarage, lo which wo gladly agreed; and he led us through paths in the forest, all bordered with primroses and bluebell, to a small house covered with creepers and in front having a garden as neat as you c&u imagine a garden to be, and full of old-fashioned flower, such as crown' imperials, Btarch hyacinths, and polyanthus. and sweet with southernwood. etc. On entering the bonsn T rerciired that the parlor was full of children's cys and work-baskels, and I expected- every moment that a whole flock of grand children Wd come rushing in ; but none appeared. I suppose Mr. MortOQ observed aurprse; for while wo wcro at ten, j before ,tho open window, ho said: Mra.FWi.M 1 J.- JL. looking at thoso tovs.an.l . .... . " v"v;riug wnamtue hldren come hero to enliven an old man's loneliness; but no child comes here. Tho little girl whose busy finger, last dressed that wood, n Uby, would have been an old woman now and the merry toys who laughed and shouted at fUy with those horses, would hare been elder 1, care-worn men. Yes, they were mine; and in one. week (hey all left me.H I uttered torno exclamation of pity, and be went on in a dreamy voice, as if moro to hiu elf than to uy looking from the window all the tirno: '."' Yc5, thank yo my'ear young lady. Jn one week, wife and children were taken, and I bcranio th'o eolitary man I have been ever iinfc. . , . It was in a fever he continued, after a pause a fever brought- nere by Borne wanderers, who eame one night to a barn near the tillage, where one died, and u, wnom tne infection spread. The weath- was very bad for, itburning hot arid very dry i fhra ipsa n : i J .i ' uy U or UQWt so mat the flowers dronnel onr? mer sun beating down all day long. There .r icoC8 wunerea wiui tne sum were deaths around me every day, and the bell wa always tolling for the passing of a soul or a funeral. They brought the coffins that way, and he pointed to a green path out of the forest, in the evening, when one could, hardly see them and their attendants against the dark green foliage in the dusk. j! 1 " I went to the sick as much as possible ; bui I took every possible precaution against infec tion to my wife and children. We would have sent our darlings away, but we had no one to send them to, and we were a mile and a half away from any infected house. We had three children : Ellen, about eight years old, a thought ful, quiet, loving little thing older than her years. How she used to trot about! the house after her mother, trying to help her; and look ing up at her, with:calm deep blue eves. Th-n ' there were Huffh and Harry, rosy boisterous ouyr, ana tneir mother tllen, Ellen. AH that jour bride can be to you, Mr. Fairfield, my wife was to me." J : 1 : ltd was silent, and looked from the lattice window into the sweet spring evening, at the swallows darting about in the-, sunshine, the young green leaves and the flowers, whose scent floated through the open window, think ing of the dear companion who had once walked by his side in that bunshine, and tended those flowers with him.' .-!'.-'!.:. L ;- " 0ne evening, "he went on, "I was at liber, ty, and we took the children out," letting the breeze, what; there jwas of it, blow from us to the village. jVe went to a liillj from whence we could sVj the silent : village afar off The boys ran about and shou'ed in their glee, but little Ellen came and lid her golden head on my knee, and looked in my face, with her deep sweet eyes, j She said : Papa, there must be a great many people sorrowful down there in the village, I would like to help them. I wish we could comfort them. I should like so much.' I told her how we Could help "them, by asking Him who sends us all our troubles to help us to bear them patiently, knowing that they are sent in love and pity. Then we walked f home, for the fcun was setting like a red ball of fire. The children gathered great nose-gays of roses and honeysuckles, which they put in water whpn we got home. The smell of a honeysuckle al ways brings that evening again before me. " My darling laid her doll to sleep just as it lies now, antj wished it and myself good-night -f tho boys arranged all their play'Jiings, and then their mother took hem to bed, and I sat here, where I am now, looking into the darkening night; I heard them sing the evening hymn-- ,.u ut-r ruoiner, aoitiy and clearly the boys with loud, eager, joyous voices-and mv heart was very thankful for tho many blessings voucnsaiea to me. , I j , j-nai nignt there was a great jcry in our house, as in Egypt of o!d, for our first-born was to die. The fever had begun. Our frighted servants ran trom the house at midnight, and we were left alone with ourslricken 'child. The morning dawned. fThe boVs awoke, und " we oia tnera f reps themselves, and go and play in the forest. Meanwhile I went to Marston. the nearest town for the doctor and a nurse, resolv. ea on tneir arrival, that I would take the boys wj io me wooaman'a wire, Artnice : I kne wouiu iase care of tuem. But neither nurse cor doctor could be spared from Marston : una an mat turning July day we watched by our darling's bed, listening to the distant sound of the boys at play in the forest, commingling with her ravings. Hardly ravings either for tnere was nothing frightful ; all was happiness and peace, as her young life had been. She talked of narry and Hugh, of her birds and flowers, and of appearing in the ! presence of ucr uew oaviour. i i -. lAt last the long, dreadful day was wearing away. The sun was lowering and w . struggle was nearly over. Those who had that fever rarelv UvpA mnra . j . .uwu tweniy-iour poors,' en me strong, much less one like our darling A wuk uuev x neara a voice under the window. u was t Annice, who had heard of our trouble and had come to. help us. I want down to speak to her, and she told me we We to part with our merry healthy boys. Jhad not dared to go near thera all day j but we had heard their voices within on hoar. JJut Annice had found them, and recognized the ghastly signs too well I knew, too, as soon as I saw them. I went hack to tell, their mother, and we sent Annice to be with them, and staid with the one from whom we were firs to part ; . "It was dark now, and the stars; came out, U red glow on the horizon showed where tho moon waa to rise , by and by. EUen was U.kingf walking as we had done last night, Tapa, I am very tired ; do carry me home; we are coming very near home now, aren't we, Tery near home P Then wo were in church. ou have seen how the sunset light shines on toe monument to the Lady Dimdale; light tin 2 up the sweet pure face that is raised to heaven ? She thought she saw it, I It is growing dark ; I want to see the glory on the;monument. Ah 1 there it is; the head is all, bright and shining It is looking at rm. I am coming. Such i giory is au around. 1 am coming Wait till the hymn is surig, or papa arid mamma will be vexed. And the raised herself, and stretched out her arms; and, as loud and sweet as last night she had sung in health and reason, she now sung the evening hymn : " ' 'Giory to thee, my God,1 this night, I For all the blessings; of the light ; f Keep me, oh! keep me ' And so singingj the angel of Death, that had come so gently jto her, took her home. We stood by her grave that night under the solemn stars, and, grief.stncken, thanked the chasten ing Father for the child he had given and taken away; ; . ;!; ; - : . : " ' ; ' But 3 ffreat horror fell on me when we went back to our rejmaining dear ones. It was in bitter anguish that our jlitfle Harry left us. IIe was 80 strong and so healthy, that he struggled hard to live. : He wanted to be rout in the forest at play, he said, to feel the fresh any and to cool his burning hands in the sparkl ing brook. Noj vision of glory calmed his last hour, and we were thankfnl when the end had come. fThen Hughwoke up from the deadly stunor in which he had lain. He stil) and quiet in his litUejcrib; and when his mother took him on her lap, he said in his own sweet lisping voice : Harry is better now ; 111 be better soon, mamma.' j jl " ; r " His mother toid him HaiTy would never and never sorrv: but. taken to be ill any more, his Saviour, would rest and h.,rTvo- more. ' K :: . . ; - . I'll rest, tool tiU morning, mamma : ' and so clasping his little hands round her neck, he went to his eternal rest ; and! ! we were child less ! ; :!; ;v ::h:K;..:i;jh' :; v-r f After the little coffins ! had been laid by the first we hadj followed ther Ellen, my' only Ellen, and I satj together on that seat in the twilight Welldo l remember the night The air was heavy wfith the scent of hay and flower ing; bean-fields ; ;bats wheeled round our head ahd great White moths and; cockchafers flitted PM us. We talked of our darlings, and how Derhans ovpn than tu: i.i 1 . i us ; and we felt that it was well. We had laid . r ""f-" i"cw augei spirits were, near tnem m the dark bosom of the earth for a. tin bdt it would soon; pass away oh very, very i anu lQeninow tight the present bittei ness! . j flu' - -1 V ' And, dearlheart, ' I said to mv beloved one, we have,;s!il! each other;; we will not be aesoiate.' , An we felt peace; in our heart ; - I' wjuuu, uiaii me wortd can not give, uut the pestilence that walketh in dark ness nad not yet done its mission. My dearest ) my wife said to me one' day. la oj gomv to leave vnn tnn- mn r:ii alone, but do riot let tour heart WV ' W '"jvwuu. WU WW I.lllll W 1U little while-a few years-and then weshallaU meet together before the throne of th Lamb ! " 1 watched one day by niy wife's dying-bed, with Annice, and I remember no more, - A loner ngutiui dream .-a deep tupor .succeeded nen i awoke it .fras evening,! and the golden u,uauuw ;waa IJf mJ foom, From the. window I could see into the forest ; I saw that rain had fallen and tho grass and leaves were men againv ine lurid mist had cleared away, and .. . ' 1 . i tne sny was soft and hlue. All looked joyous and glad ; but I knew there was no more -"'j 6iue lor me ; xtie Blessed ' rain had iaiien on the graves of all I loved, and the gras grew green upon them. - I ; ?I need notleil of all I suffered; it has Ion gone oy. When i hrst came down here from 4 was as i nad left it the night that sorrow first fell upon 1 1 us The 3 vei4 "" oy we little (hands that were siuied lorever, were there, but1 dry and deat I would not let any thinr b moved W tha have been for fifty years, and so they will be uu 1 Join l00se f ho left them i there. And in the, quiet evening I can see them unaltered be fore me, Ellen niy wife, with" her quiet eyes and smile, in the wicker-work chair; and little wien dettly working by her side, with a sedat womanly look oh her sweet fafee; and the boys at noisy, play around them, irid then I feel that I am alone But He who tempers the num iu iae snorniamb. hashelmd th au my lonely days. - 11 LI" . . .--! " --.iUl I I "w x nave to tell in a!? 1M. napa. you wonder at my telling" it I could not have done ii-twenty,' nor even tPn'v ago ; but I am now an old man. eiahtr.fi ro of age ; and jt can not be long ere the chants and chances of this mortal life are o ver for me A long life have I had. arid rest will hS., after the burden! and heat or the day. I never see the sunset light on the Lady Dimdale's sweet face, without thinkin!? of the .hfmW glory round that angelic head, that ,Pm call my little Ellen 1,0 and longing for the time when I tooj ehaU iome to fiftr, genUe mother, and her two happy brothers." Ana wnen Mr. Morton was silent we rot nn gentlyj arbadelhim good-nighL and walkp! homd through tfie quiet forest- ;.Tlie influenco i -- : m - - - of his calm resigned spirit seemed to us to per- vaae an mmgs ; and 1 earnestly "prayed thai when our day, dark or sunshiny as it may be is over, and the golden evening falls, that 'the wondrous peace which is his, may be ours also joun and J, as we walked along, talked serious- f of our future life; and of the vast importance of possessing that faith in God, and trust in the ban on r, which alone ; would fit us to endure with calmness the shocks of earthly sorrow and trial. And the twilight fell gently around us as we came to the cottage-door For the Leisured Lour. Reflections on the, History of the Mid? die Ages. There is a period in the history of. the world cnaractenzed as the dark ages." It extends from the fall of the Roman Empire to the Re formation. . The poetic fiction of an " iron age" seems to have its realization in this period,- Vivuizaiion and Daroansm met, struggled, min gled, and formed a new epoch in man's history , 1 he lamented Hugh Miller found the "Foot- pnnts of the Creator' in the formations which compose the crust of the earth.! The foot-prints of the Controller are no less evident in tho histo ry of the human race. Erase these-r-deuy a God in - history, and it is emphatically a tale full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.' 1 The recognition of this fact will aid us in assigning the reasons as well as the causes of eventsi These , may" often be hidden in the depths of man s being m the counsels Of eternity; but they are essentiaUelements iri: the philosophy of History. ; They are the thread of Ariadne which guides the philo sopher j through the ! in tricate ; mazes of human .actions. They give a meaning to the law. irrowth and dpraw 'iaw which applies to nations as well as to individuals. " What reflection is to the individual, history is to the human race." "Each moves onward to a definite goal, in the unity of ono grand harmonious design." Knowing this, the death of nations sound not so mournful in our ears : the Decline ahd Fall" is not the solemn sneer on religion and humanity that Gibbon, would make it We see the hand of Providence in this great -u. .M.. 0w,6) auu me bccue lisen dwindles into insignificance as it passes before us on the great stage of human events. We are trans ported from the rains oY. tie Capital,1 and find ourselves gazing on the rise and fall of other and greater empires, until Hh? cloud-capped to wefs, the gorgeous palaces, ;xue BWitiuii lempies, tne great e 16 be itself, lea, all which it inherit shall dissolve." ! . : ' ."- i- j '- -'.V' X - - ? - r t - - xne genius or desolation encounters in Gibbon - guuiy Home nnus a generous friend to mourn her greatness, and; expiring Paganism a 'master spirit to sing her funeral dirge. Jiut we pity the spirit that could sit among the rhms, and coldly moralize ' on the vicissitudes of fortune, which spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, arid which Dunes empires and cities in a common grave. uiCy lue juecay or one 'empire! implies more man tne decay of succeeding ohes, and history is not a solemn 'farce, and we are not created to be. deceived. j . i f The immediate result of the 'tremendous col lision between the civilized and uncivilized rio tion of mankind was the dark sees. " Could we (sayg an able writer) suppose a philosopher to! nave meuai ims period ofjthe world, elevated oy uenevoience and enlighteoed by learniri and reflection, concerned for the happiness of mankind and! capable of comprehending ir, we . . v. uwtumg more interesting than. would to him have appeared the situation and fortunes nf htrm.. !ttti . .! i r gerness would he - have wished to penetrate' into futurity. How would he have sfrhed to lift up that awful veil which no band - - uuuja" a,;e nn wnat ea4 can remove. ! With what intensity of curiosity rvwu u iuxi luugea to gaze upon the scenes which were in reality to appear ' Arid could such an anticipationof the subsequent; history! of V4 luxxts ueen maeed allowed him, with what variety of emotions .would he have sur veyed the strange and shifting drama that was auerwaros exnibited by the conflictiHg reasons and passions: of mankind the licentious war rior, the gloomy monks,' the nulitanr tirnnht the priestly despot, the shudderinir devotee, the iron oarron, j tne ready vassal,' the courteous knight, the princely merchant, the fearless nav igator, the patient scholar, the munificent patron, the bold reformer, the relentless bigot, the con suming martyr, the poet, the artist and the ruupuer, ine legislator, the statesman and the sage all that were by their united1 virtu and labors lo; assist the progress of the human race, all that were at last to advance socieiv tk the - state which, during the- last century it so happily bad reached, the state of balanced power, of diffused humanity and kriowled.' of political dignity,-of private and public han- pinessln - J The first century after the overthrow of the. "Western Empire "may be justly "described in the words of the Roman poet : " " I ' ; -Prodit bellum Sanguineaque ma nu crcpitautia conculit arma. The, majesty of Rome perished' beneath thi bloody hands of the barbaians, arid on the' ruins " ! .. - : . :. ' . ; . - t '1 I f , s of the empiro-cew systems and govemmenU arose. Th Rm,. -LL ! . . . .. . --- wm iHeariin tngtand, the -r s,&oina m uaul and Spain, the Goths and Lombards in Italy and the adjacent provinces. Jt is to be remembered that at the period of this ( erupUon the chrisUan rli was diffused throughout the Roman Empire. It had already achieved a glorious victory over ine learned and luxurious citizens of the em pue and it alone withstood; the shock of bar barian conquest, and finally triumphed over their nerce superstition.! , j j .1 1 - i A century and a half of repose" succeeds this collUion; but darkness envelopes Its history. The j light breaks! upon (from an unexpected source. jFrpmj the parched and sterile nlains of Arabia the ' wild man of the desert" goes i I cuu4enng and to conquer. There is but one God arid Mahomet is his prophet " was bis creed. His warlike disposition; hi belief m aDsolute predestinauon, his hope of a bliss ful immortality as the reward of a faithful ad herence tO the doctrines: of n. dered him invincible. Persia. Egypt, Africa and Spain acknowledged his sway. But fi the words of. the hfstoriari) his sovereignty was' lost; by the rapidity and extent of conquesV His blood was mingled with' the blood of his icon verts and captives. His country; was ruled by the rod of stranger, and jthe Bedowean of tha desert, awakeng from his dream of domin iori, resumed his old and solitary indepencence. On the plain of Poictierste received the blow whfch shattered his power. ' )' ' In the person of Chartemange we see the empire of the west temporarily restored. Tb is is the beginning of a new era in the history of in Europe, j France, jSpain, Italy, Germany, and Hungary were united under Lis sceptre. ' He passes before, arid eyes illumining the darkness fr a brief season,! - and awakening hope for decaying' -Rome ; but the! diserraces and misc- ries which followed his' reign obliterate bright illusions and leave j us again in darkness. On the ruins of his empire arose the separate King doms of France, Germany and Italy ine lace of Europe is again ! darkened by swarm3 jot savages from the north', from ; the east, and the northeast l Northmen. Hungari ans and Danes : ; . I ;-'.; : -" disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fears of change Perplexes monarchs " j ' " j;: " ' ; ii- ' ' ' ! j Anarchy. and confusion mark their progress until they came to England; There Alfred checked iand. drove iback the: lido of barbarian conquest, laid the foundation of the English ujui,u;,tin;uuiageu iearmng,introduced man ufactures of all kinds, planted the seeds of mar- atime power, and won for himself the title of Alfred the grcatf1 And now we Uhold empires and kingdoms crumbled to oiee and 1,nt in:.-.r. fi". U;,; ' ZiZ L"Z; S S J r in? itself: a vKm tliirK a . t - . v.vttU tuc ypiiwriuuuy oi aeveion- tne energies of hfthnmon miA -a i . - i . L T! T t rub ftfnrt. in mnwn,. : ' , . . .p . wltSA ftJlu u mer. ZTF r. rZrrr1? m0ILSler 01 PPres- fcion, ana to vindicate the nob est nrinciDles -of i - . : " F W r-VL human nafnr Thn A rn j ..i , T ' , oauo eu, "tne most uuraoie monument of numan folly,". but V l l l - i ! - . . i - ' - I n a 'hufhtnrvnw V.l it ' rri! . 7 T 'Ti "S 1 CJ mtr- luveu iavoraD cnanges in government, opened the way for commerce; -destroyed the water from a man in wax-cloth dreW Bles tau and barren trees of the fore?t, and cave aid ed is fhi hulihv and scope to the vegetaUon of the smaller and xmtnuou, plan s of the soiL- ' - . u.-J( ,wj oo imagineu mat rehgion suf- fered severely during this turmoil. It, genius was changed mtojthe demon of poperv. and it became the unwilling instrument of untold c UmiUes. But under the rubbish of popery and euperstitbna spark wai found which kindled a flame in the breast of Luther i that flame spread with wonderful raniditv. and thfl Tlpf,t:v, was the result. ! . i i " T . I ! i" I A can7 pema! of the history of the mid- die ages will convince us that civil lihorr nA the natural liberty- of barbarians are different, and that religion cannot exist with uncivilized i i ignorance. We abo. learn that this period of aging to Seott;for Cobbetalso. a. the pern darkness was a penod of intense suffering, and 3ohn Bull of bis centuryi stroi a therbinoc tnus we learn that; knowledee and religion the best safeguards of liberty. and happiness, Ve should also remember that the passions and prejudices which were active at that period still exist, that hnman nature was- then the same f!;1: ? "W nf learn jnuch feouvrvua m nooieirom ouraTsffe ancestors.4 It is not likelv-'fW trt.'. r- w ,i, . - I jcrwacia again, xne arm or dviza- tion w strong; distant natkms are brought near i a otner oy commerce, science and religion; thought flu on the wings of the lightning, and " T-T T - " wmunaneonsiy, ln: dividual suffering then will be so loner as "man , nt.. uuu w maxe 1513 leiiot mourn.1 - The 'proud 5and heartless nrl I mon worshioDinir krewiWill "fK-V.vi . . aim in- i. crew ! will for ever ha th'o f "Tru uus w uuFiuss, sua ,many a sensi- live snirit will KuflVr .t ut,- .k;- : : "."n-vT:--" mure ice- T,fn1(U (V If.; ""-w"'?5 . cr f"' or savage devised. I that every age of the world has increased, w. .u. uS uruuiem oi numan ur-1 in the aaddlp. xr.il. f- v . . . fenng w,d one day be eolvcd", and let us acqui- acqnUted himself as he did at the desk with hi, esce in the pIeaMng:COndusion of the hUtorian 1 rien.4 One tnVT W-. t;:.. . i , , r and slHl Increases the real wealth, the' happl ness, the knowledge, and perhaps the virtue of the human race. j j tariyie on Walter Scott . 1 - uana, me Ban; est critic mutt allow that Scctt was a geriuine man, which it pelf is a great matter. No affecution, lantaa ticality, or distortion, dwelt in him ; no thadow iofcant. Nav.w:thal. ; Vnf nn fKa Atk.. 1. J . i ... . . 1 strength he both worked on this earth, arid en joyed it; inyincincible to evil fortune. and to good ! A most composed and invincible man; i? difficulty and distress knowing no duconr agemen Samsoo-li.ke, carrying off on hia stron Samsop-shoulders the gates that would impris on film ; In danger and menace, laughing at the whisper of fear.' Ana then, with such a .nn. ny current of mor and humanity, a free jvj.ut oyujpauiy witn so manv iMn... u. 01 nre he had, all lying so beautifully latent, as radical latent heat, as fruitful internal warmth of life ; a most robust, healthy man 1 The truth is,t our best definition of Scott were perhap. even this, that Le was, if no great man. then something much pleasanter to be a rbustl thoroughly healthy man. An eminently well--conditioned man, healthy in bodv. healthv in . J t u soill ; we will edl him one of the healtient of men. Neither U thU a sraafof msUcr: health is' a great matter, both to the possessor of it and to others. On the'whoie, that humorist in the. iloral Essay was not so far out, who determin ed on honoring health only; and so instead of humbling himself to the highborn, to the rich and well-dressed, insisted on doffintr hia hat r the healthy ; corronetted carriages with pale iaces in tnem -passed by as failures miserable and lamentable ; trucks with ruddy-cheeked strength dragging atthem were greeted as suc cessful and. venerable, j Fo does not - health mean harmony, the'synonym of all that Is trmK justly ordered good ; it Is riot, in ! some sense. wie net-toui, as shown by experiment, of what ever worth is in us? The healthy man is a most meritorious product of nature, so far a he goes.. A healthy body is good; 'but a soul in right health, it is the thing beyond all otrrera to 'be prayed for; the;" blessedest thing this earth receives of Heaven. Without artificial mendicament ,of philosophy, or tight-lacing of 3rt&iways Tery questionable,) the healthy discerns what is good, and adheres to it. and retains it : discerns what U hA .r i i ' ; " -rmrma NMV VUw taneously casts it ofTT An instinct from nature herself, like that 'which guides the wild animab of the farest to their food, shows hira what bo La 'Z , ""T fcuaii uo, wnat ne snail absUin from. The false r-":'-"? w ttnal uc imagination are impossible- ' Wker lbe Ong in such eminence of 1 7. 7. "w lvl "lJ If wu'- y B1U0U hca tK v f- u;. ' u abstinence from son knH w -if- ! . . r 7 . irtirfw farp ! Thi. tU- 4 t. i ' wmiuw WUU WIUI :pd profit' by. thU tbingjls substantial and Worthy : that other thinW thoa Wt WV L;m ; 4 i j - If ltQ t t trivial and inapt: so 6Deak uner. ; . -, w ner- rmgly the inward monition of the man! whole nature. !Kn!UT. absurdity absurd; as Gothe save I, - " "iiiv v I'lUTC lUV UlOkL 1 ' . ..www of himaelf. all thi- r ,.L- ly coperuUve, not incoherent, selfHnatracting. .lf-detructiveone ! , In the . harmonioua J Jortment and play of all the factillie. the ju.t balance of oneself give, a" just feeling toward all men and ill tMrw nuA uk . .,. rkdiatiM. Ant,. . ,t:v... L , lushes. - . . : , . ' U Now aH this can be rredlcated of Walter Koott, - and of the British Ifcitr man that we i u . icureuwuu iuc uT8L lO MT SBffl Tlnl ir it u .fl'i.ti I T , vi uue, me most opposite Lqv aginable to Scott, but his eoual in thU i;t -" nA w ua. r ?. tt-mi- . . . , i ii . F (he re. are-other aimilaritiea, widely different a. W too look: nor b th n.- . MWAua mjm ik. i nam .nmrukVT a.' ities shining through hi.thick .kin, Is a moat hrrr.nnm r. to'tiR I in th .s.i w J . British literature Jar all bukWabd .,; ipJWeterism, Byronkm, and other aentnnenta? - isno. tearful or eoMmodt'frr,; r i x-.. ' U-i , v. . - . lrt wrew Ka enoagu to tend as two healthy men, of whomshe triight still say, not without pride, These also were made in Entr- laid ; such limbs I will also ' make there 1 It h Cone of the cheerfulestiight,, let the quep- tiqn of its greatness be settled as you wilL - A h!ihv tm. m LKTft ia Tte PTMt TLtrira ! t rf t . I i.i i . - J" ii nw roctnnn r,f v, r MJLA i lie nuuc am ti iv ws Tnr saa. r l-' ' 7 m mtrinsicaHv .very much tr, A " t v r ' . , . . uertrr oi prior- centuries; th kind of man Na- lure did of old mik in iht A.- rv .. ... - ' MM-MUUl nisi ttout Beardio of IIardcDs time lie could have played Beardiee ana strong man, according to hia kind I , Whal a foad of toil, what a measure of felicity he qui efly bore, along with him: with what onWt 1 j - - ;'r. i
The Leisure Hour (Oxford, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
July 8, 1858, edition 1
1
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