VOL. LV. BARTER, AUCTIONEER, RKBERSBURG. PA. J C. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Next Door to JOURNAL Store, MILI.HKIH, PA. gROCKERHOFF HOUSE, (Opposite Court House.) H. BROCKERHOFF, Proprietor. WM. MCKKKVKK, Manager. Good sample rooms ou first floor. Free bus to and from all tralus. Special rates to jurors and witnesses. Strictly First Class. IRVIX HOUSE. (Most Central Hotel In the CityJ Corner MAIN and JAY Streets, Lock Haven, Fa. 8. WOODS CALWKLL, Proprietor. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travelers on first floor. D. H. MINGLE, Pkysifian and Surgeon, MAIN Street, MILLUKIM, Pa. JOHN F. HARTER, PRACTICAL DENTIST, Office in 2d story ol Toinliuson's Gro cery Store, On MAIN Street, MILI.HF.IM, Pa. BF. KINTKK, ■ FASHIONABLE BOOT A SHOE MAKER Shop next door to Foote's Store. Main St., Boots, Shoes and Gaiters made to order, and sat isfactory work guaranteed. Repairing done prompt ly and cheaply, and in a neat style. S. R. PEAI.K. H. A. MCKKK. PEALE & McK EE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Office opposite Court House, Bellefonte, Pa. " M " C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Office in Garman's new building. JOHN B. LINN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. OLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Northwest corner of Diamond. jQ 11. HASTINGS, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Office on Allegheny Street, 2 doors west of office formerly occupied by the late firm of Yocum A Hastings. 4 C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Practices In all the courts of Centre County. Spec at attention to Collections. Consultations In German or English. F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J W. Gephart. JgEAVER & GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Office on Alleghany Street, North of High. A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Office on Woodrlng'B Block, Opposite Court House. . JQ S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA Consultations In English or German. Office in Lyon's Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. & BELLEFONTE, PA ® Office in the rooms formerly occupied by the UM W. P. Wilson. THE INNER MAN, TO A GOOD COOK. Although, ilear maid, thy ieauty rare Would tempt H stole soul to woo thee, "Pis not aloue that thou art fair That warms my loyal heart uuto thee. The brightness of ihiue azure eye, The honeyed sweetness of thy kisses. At Time's command, alas 1 will fly, Mute in the wake of other blisses. But when thy dear eyes dim have grown. Thy golden locks with silver sprinkled; When age hath dulled thy voice's tone. And care that auowy brow hath wriukUsk Still love for thee my heart shall All; The roae smells not less sweet for crumpling; Aud age shall find thee able still To make me steak and kiduey dumpling. HOW HK I.OVKD HER. JOHN ESMOND had just come home to the Cliffs and found another man in his place. It was pretty hard. There were 1 plenty of bouncing, rosy-cheeked girls ! iu the neighborhood, but not another j Goldie. The pet name which had been given Captain Grant's daughter in child hood still clung to her. Plenty of girls with bright eyes and ready smiles, but not another so dainty, sweet and win some. Why couldn't Fawdou Darrell have taken Mollie Dare, or Kate Knox, or Belle Buxton, instead of stealing his Darling, Goldie Grant ? John Esmond had asked himself this question until he was sick at heart. He wondered if he ought to have spoken to Goldie before he wont away; but she was so young—only sixteen—and he had not expected that his one year's absence would lengthen into two. But this had been the case, and he had returned to find Goldie fairer and taller, with a new richness in her bloom and added depth to her sweet eyes. And at her side Fawdou Darrell. To be sure she had given him her hand, had smiled, but he felt a reserve in her that was now. "She does not care for me, and she loves him," was the swift, silent bitter thought. He watched her all the evening, his heart breaking, it seemed to him. With the gold waves of her soft hair—her round, young figure, her silken blue dress —she w as a picture indeed. In his passionate worship of her, he was filled with amazement and anger to see Fawdou Darrell, as he stood beside her at the piano, take up one of her fair curls and roll it about his fiuger. Goldie's face was turned from him. He did not see her start, or the sudden rush of color to her cheek. "Have things gone so far as that? Is she piomised to him?" he muttered. He loon took his leave, going out dis consolately into the dark from the lighted parlors of Cliff Cottage. But Fawdou Dan-ell, in his determina tion to mislead John Esmond, had gone tot far. He saw it in Goldie's eyes when he bade her good-night. " Your favorite, Duke , has just been sharp shod, and my new sleigh came home last night. Will you try them l>oth to-morrow?" lie said, insinuatingly. " Thank you! I shall not lie able to," replied Goldie, reservedly. He might have read his lesson from her compressed lips and averted eyes, but Fawdou Darrell was not easily per suaded to do anything he did not want to do. "Shall I see yon at Mrs. Graham's New Year's party?" he asked. "I do not think you will. I do not intend to go," answered Goldie. And Mr. Darrell took his leave with out an invitation to call again. Not but what he would come to Cliff Cottage when inclination suited him without it. Goldie knew that very well; but she was deeplv resentlul of his familiarity, and she had never committed an insin cerity in her life. And then she was longing so to get away and cry about it all. John Esmond had come home and greeted her like any common acquaint ance. She had been very silly, of course; but she had waited so long watcliiug the ship news, and hoping that he would write to her. And now he had come back from under the Flori da suns, bronzed and bearded ; he was handsomer and nobler than ever. Goldie had not been so happy ill two years as just in that little moment when lie held her hand that evening, but he soon went away from her side and talked to her father about Pensacola and the Everglades. It was so sweet, and yet so sad, to hear his "voice again. She lay curled up, a little blue heap, on the foot of lier white bed, sobbing and thinking, till past midnight. And then she crept, a pale, heart broken little ghost, among its snowy folds, and shiv ered wretchedly asleep. Six weeks, and John Esmond never came near Cliff Cottage. Goldie made it pretty clear to Fawdou Darrell during that time that he was not wanted there. But the young man was not thin-skinned, and Goldie Grant was an heiress in a small way. He had deliberately deter mined to keep off other suitors and marry her. "That Esmond used to be deuced sweet on her, but I've got the inside track on him now, and I mean to keep it." he said to himself. He was a selfish, brutal fellow, but had a knowledge of good breeding, which kept him afloat in good society, and prevented his being intolerable. His favorite- teste was for hunting, and • Lis chances vere utterly lost with Gol- MILLIIEIM. PA., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1881. die, when, at the beginning of their ac quaintance, she saw him beat his favor ite setter, Fanny, until the auimal fell senseless from a blow on the head. This had been more than a year ago, and Goldie had only politely tolerated him since. But, as I have suid, Mr. Darroll was not thin-skinned, and Captaiu Grant favored liis suit. The Darrell's were a good family, and the Captain bad a weakness for family. " Nice people—nice people, Gohlie,' he was wont to say. " Fawdou's brother is the smartest lawyer in the county, and Mrs. Dudley, his sister, was pre sented at court when abroad. And they are rich. I want to leave you well pro vided for when I die." " Then don't ask me to marry Faw don Darrell, dear papa," Goldie respon ded, a little sadly. She knew that her father was mista ken in his estimate of these worldly and selfish people. His honesty and sim plicity did not fathom their brilliant hardness. She had heard, too, that Fawdou lived largely upon the bounty of his brother-in-law, Dr. Dudley. In short, the possibility of hei ever marry ing Fawdou Darrell was long ago settled when John Esmond came there. In one matter Goldie and John Es mond were similarly agreed. She thought she was the most wretched per son in the world, and ho believxl he was. One soft March day settled it all. Esmond had met Goldie one day in the village, and she had spoken to him as sweetly and civilly as if her heart had not nearly leaped out of her breast at sight of him. "We are having some very nice arch ery practice on the old ground where we used to play croquet, you know. Come and see us. And John Esmond, condemning him self for the folly of it, had accepted the invitation. He had ordered his horse brought round, and was going to drive out to Cliff Cottage. The frost was already oHt of the ground, the road hard, the trees bud ding; in the air that spring hint of coin ing life and enjoyment which may turn "idle fancies" to love, but it stirred John Esmond's heart in his breast to exquisite pain. He set his will resolutely to smother it, however, and, touching up his horse, bounded lightly over the hard rood. Then he stopped for a moment to speak to an old day laborer, who, in his youth, had been John's father's garden er, but, as it chanced, only was requited by a drop of bitterness. "How are you, Timothy?" "Is it yerself, Mast her John? But a ftne-lookin' lad ye are, sure! An so ver 'av' been down South? Well, that's a good country for fruit-farming. 1 wish I'd gone there when I was young; but I'm too old to make any changes now. An' ye left some fine orange groves a growing up for ye', 111 be bound. Yes, yes, you'll be a rich man some day, Masther John. Well, may the Lord prosper ye! Which way was ye going? Toward the Cliffs ? An' young Mr. Darrell has been before ye this three hours," with a giiu. Esmond was so angry with himself that lie winced. Of course Darrell was there, since lie believed that ho knew what his habits were. The probability was that he should meet so frequent a visitor. Yet his brow darkened and he turned his horse sharply. The (*zar was not accustomed to the sharp twisting of the bit and lie did not like it. He backed, got it between his leth and began to run away. It was a deliberate piece of malice, for lie was not frightened. A spirit of resentment, lawlessness and recklessness had entered into the beast, and he im meliately proceeded to do all the mis chief in liis power. Having dashed the buggy against a mile stone, without, however making a perfect wreck of it, he then tore away down the flinty road. In the moment of the first furious leaps, John Esmond found that lie was comparatively powerless. Ihe liorse was running in a straight direction, but in liis anxiety he remembered that he was heading straight for the cliffs, which terminated high above a rocky cauldron of boiling sea. If lie went over it must be almost certain death. " I will let him go a mile. He will soon cool with such running," John thought grimly, as the foam flew in his face from the moutli of the leaping horse, "When we get to the cottage, I car. throw force enough on the line to turn him into the yard door." Fortunately, the front of Cliff Cottage stood open to the road, tho smooth stretch of springing lawn grass being dotted only by an occasional flower-bed. He saw it plainly as they tore down the last rise. They were a few swift strides from the spot of refuge, and John had already braced himself for the struggle, when he saw —Darrell, standing with his back to ward him, looking down at the crocuses in a flower bed. John Esmond's brain whirled! Should he turn the furious liorse upon this man? Had lie not a right—a perfect right—to save himself ? But he made no effort, for he heard a cr y—a pitiful, appealing cry—and, as he sped so frantically by, caught a glimpse i nut! sweet white face at an open wiudow. On, ou ho went to his death. The horse leaped high in the air us he went up the last steep aaeent. The fierce salt wind blew iu John's nostrils ; the sea thundered iu his ears. "She loves him," he thought, "and 1 would not bring suffering on her. He is safe, while I—" The horse gave a shrill shriek as they went over; but John Esmond's lips were tightly shut. As the buggy overturned at the edge, the instinct of a diver—for he had been a skilled swimmer from his boyhood— made him place his hands palm to palm and extend them before him, while his feet unconsciously repulsed the carriage by a quick motion. Goldie and Darrell from the cottage, saw all disuppeur to gether. He never knew who uaoie to his res cue. A rush, a crash, a darkness, and then, for a long month, the days and nights were all as one to John Esmond. But when at last, consciousness came, he found Goldie and her father attend ing him. " The crisis is past ; he will recover with care," said the physician. A warm white chamliftr was about him; Goldie's cheek was so near him ho could have kissed her hail he strength. By-uml-by lie hud strength, and then he drew the tender cheek to his lips. "You would not be so kiud, Goldie, if you did not love me." " No," she sobbed, creeping worn and weak, to his breast; " if you had died I should have died, too, John." He told her all. " I wish Fawdou Darrell no harm, but I could not have spared you," she said. "And you know now how I love you," he responded. Major laUKxr. Major Sanger, who is known in mili tary slang as a "bantam," was returning one day recently from Bismarck to Fort Lincoln which is across tho river, and the ambulance in which he was riding was delayed by a team and wagon driven by one of the class known as mule whackers in this country, The driver of tl ie ambulance and the mule-whacker , got into wordy altercation, and Major Banger got very indignant at what he believed to lie impertinent language and unwarrented interference in his journey. He jumped from the ambulance, Tom Thumb in size but a Goliah ill fury, and exclaimed; -•Uht that wagon tmi Of the traj." The mule-wliacker looked at him quiz zically and asked; "Who the devil are you." "I am Major Sanger, of the army, sir, and I want you to get that wagon out of I thewuy " The mule-whacker ejected a mouthful j of tobacco into the road and remarked ;' "Do you know what 1 will do with you, Major Sanger, of the army, sir, if you don't make less uoise with your mouth." "What will you do?" inquired the major,looking as large and tierce AS JKlS sible. "I'll set a mouse trap and catch you, Major Sanger, of the army, sir, and give yon to mv puppy to play with. John I'luugtiukan'M Proverb*. Never offer a looking-glass to a blind man. If a man is so proud that he will not see his faults, he will ouly quarrel with you for pointing them out to him. Many preachers are good tailors spoil ed and capital shoemakers turned out of their proper calling. It is not wise to aim at impossibilities; it is a waste of powder to tire at the inuii in the moon. Give your money to fools sooner than let rogues wheedle you out of it. Men willingly pour water into a full tub, and give feasts to those who are not hungry, because they look to have as good or better in return. To see plum pudding in the moon is a far more cheerful habit than oroaking at everything like a two-legged frog. Never say die until you are dead, and then it's no use so let it aloue. He pulls a long rope whp waits for an other's death. He that waits for dead men's shoes may long go barefoot. Men who strike in their anger gener ally miss the mark. No man's lot is fully known till he is dead. All the world will beat the man whom fortune buffets. When a man's coat is threadbare it is an easy thing to pick a hole in it. The Bate President. The affairs relating to the estate of the late President will shortly be turned over to Trustees that will be appointed. All expenses incurred dnriug the sickness of the President will be regarded as debts ol the estate, and the bills will be called for by the Trustees. If Congress so desires, a schedule of the bills will be furnished for any action that they may see fit to take. If any appropriation is made coveriug the expense incurred, the estate will lie relieved from the payment. The Trustees will pro ceed on the theory, which is a perfectly correct one, that these expenses are private debts, and not an indebtness of the Gov ernment. What part CoDgress may see fit to assume is, of course, not known. Mr. J. Stanley Brown says that he has no idea if what the entire expenses of the sickness of the President will amount to. Bo far no bills have been presented, and probably ;hey will not be until the Trustees call for them. He says that he left Mrs. Garfielo in good health, and making preparations to superintend the education of her children- CMJ'SM lit November. When Mr. Topnoody cunre home the ofehwr night he iiotuiud that his wife was so unusually polite and nice that he wondered if he hadn't got into the wrong house. After supper she called him off upstairs aud said: "Mr. Topnoody, I have a serious matter to present to you this evening, aud at the saute time one not unmixed with joy." "Great Casiiu!" replied Mr. T., 'what's the matter? Have I forgotten anything?" "No, uot that,Topnoody." "Well, then, he quick, aud tell me what's come unfastened!" "Why, Topnoody, you see our eldest daughter is just twenty now, and she told me that Mr. Jones the rich mer chant's son, had asked her to l>e his wife, and you know they love each other und want us to agree to it. What do you say, Mr. Topnoody?" and his wife looked pleased all over at the fine pros pect. But Topnoody was grave. "I see, Mrs. Topnoody, hut after all your experience in the married life with me, and your evident sorrows of house keeping and all that, I am surprised that you should he williug to let your daughter get in the sume box." "Pshaw, Topnoody," answered his wife, bracing up sml getting mad. "don't he a fool. The cases are not similar. My daughter is marrying Mr. Jones, while I married a Topnoody. I should thiuk you could see the differ ence at once without making such a foolish suggestion to me. Now, if I were—" "Hold on," broke iu Topnoody, "I grasp it; go and tell the girl to marry just as often as she pleases and who she pleases. Jones is getting a Topnoody anyhow, and I guess the reputation of the family will l>e kept up." The cards will l>e issued iu November. HUrUug. The "Shoeblack Plant" is said to be the name jxjptilarly given to a species of Hibiscus growing in New South Wales, and remarkable for the showy appearance of its scarlet flowers. Grow ing freely in almost any kind of soil, the plant is frequently cultivated for the flowers, which, when dry, are used as a substitute for blacking. The flowers contain a large proj>ortiou of mucilagi nous jtiise, which, when evenly pp ed, giyes a glossy, varnish-like appeaiunce, which is saitl perfectly to replace ordi nary blacking, with the advantage that it is cleanly in use and < au he applied in a few moments. Four or five flowers, with the anthers and polleeu removed, are required for each l>oot, and a polish ing brush may be applied afterward, if L**ireel Gen. Buckner, to whom it had descended from his grand father, who was a participant in the John Paul Jones tight, on the American side. It will never hereafter shoot auy but Union powder. l.ei&ouade. We are assured that it is becoming the polite thing to set. forth lemonade for the refreshment cf callers at many of our fine residences. A very tasteful arrangement in the form of a miniature sideboard, or something of that nature, contains the glasses, the sugar and the supply of fragrant lemons; also hand some appliances for cutting and squeez ing the lemon, etc. Eaoh guest is ten dered a glass freshly made, and the quality of the beverage equals the beauty of the arrangements for its com pounding. We are glad this is becom ing the proper thing to do, for it is the most sensible thing which lias of late been reported as fashiouable. The juice of the lemon is as far more healthful than many drinks, and if the custom becomes prevalent, it will result in general bodily well being. More than this, it will largely inorease the loc 1 demand for good lemons, and thus make profitable the plantations of the improved lemons I which are now being made* Cloud Kulea. There was once a man and woman who planned to go and spend a day at a friend's house, which was some miles distant from their own. Bo one pleas ant morning they started out to make the visit, but they had not gone far lie fore the woman remembered a bridge they had to cross which was vary old and a as said not to I*e safe, ami she began to worry about it. 'What shall we do about that bridge?' she said to her husband. 'I shall never dare to go over it, and we can't get ac ross the river in any other way.' "Oh," said the man, "I forgot that Bridge! It is u bad place; suppose it should break through ami we should fall into the water and got drowned?" 'Or even,' said his wife, "suppose you should step on a lotteii plank and break your leg, whut Mould become of me and the baby?" "I don't know," suid the man, "what would become of any of UH, for I could not work and we should all starve to death." So they went on worrying aud worry ing, till they got to the bridge; when 10, and behold! they saw that since they hod been there lust a new bridge had l>een built, ami they crossed over it in safety, and found that they might have saved themselves all their anxio ty. Now that is just what the proverb means. "Never waste your worry on what you think may possibly be going to happen." Don't think. "Oh, suppose it should rain to morrow so that I can't go out!" or "What should I do if I should have a headache ou the day of the party?" Half the time the trou bles we look for do not come, aud it is never worth while to waste the hours in worrying. Walking-Si Irk*. To break off a brancti for defensive pur poses, as Crusoe did on finding himself en an unknown island, would be one of the first acta of primitive man. A rude sup port of this kind would soon be followed by the pilgrim's staff, familiar to us in pic tures of patriarchs; and from these early staves down to ttie gold-headed cane of our modem dandy, what a variety ot walking sticks have been produced, according to the fancy and fashion of the time. When, in 1701, footmen attending gentlemen were forbidden to carry swords, those quarrel some weapons were usually replaced by a porter's staff, "with a large silver handle," | as it was then described. Thirty years laler. g*ntlcmjw af fgthinn Iwimn m Hia. card their swords, aud to carry large oak j sticks with great heads and ugly faces carved thereon. Before very long a com petition arose between long ami short walk ing-sticks, some gentlemen liking them as long as leaping poles, as a satirist of the day tells us; while others preferred a yard of varnished cane "scraped taper, bound at cue end with a wax thread, aud tipt at the ether with a neat turned ivory baud as big as a silver penny." SU INS Cooking. The Swiss in the matter of the kitchen are like the Bourbons. They have learned nothing and forgotten nothing. Their cooking is detestable; not only inartistic, but unwholesome. 1 had a cutlet for breakfast the othi r day that would have made a cannibal shudder It looked like the raw thumb of au Anak, and was as bard and tough as the heart of a mother-in-law. On the other baud 1 had a couple of fried trout the length of my middle finger, which were excellent. And the merry Swiss boy had me, for he charged two francs for the luxury. 1, howevei refused to pay for the cutlet, so altogether it was a morning of surprises on both sides. What they j have got good are butter, eggs, milk, fish from the lakes, cheese, honey, and wine, j But you cannot go ou eating "butter, eggs ] aud a pound of cheese" forever. They : seem to think that gaping at a mountain or glacier ought to satisfy the appetite, i That is all very well in early youth; but j in middle age one is apt to prefer the pi quant to the picturesque. Their railways are very comfortable and the officials wore than civil. Timber aixl Kent*. It is predicted that if the destruction of timber around the great lakes goes on as it has for the past ten years, 18&0 will see an advance in the price of timber of 100 per cent, and a consequent rise in rents of 50 per cent. Dearer limber is probably close at baud, although the supplies iu Washington Territory may prevent this; but it is a great mistake to suppose that rents will advance iu even half the propor tion that timber will. Year by year an equal space of house room takes propor tionally losss timber, partly because less is used iu frame houses, and in pa r t because more houses are built of brick and stone and iron. The experience of Great Brit ain shows how little rents are dependent on timber. The real factor in houserent is rohm, not material. Crowding a popu lation into cities raises rents, unless the available space for houses is increased, and (be living radius of a city was never larger than to day. Garfield's Diary. One of the habits of the President for many years was the writing of a private diary, and he has left a number of volumes, which are about six by eight inches in size. He did most of the writing in these him self, though wheu very busy he dictated the entries to the secretary. The last en try he made himself the night before ne was slot. Under the date of July Ist is written, 4 Brown returned to-day,'* and af ter a few more notes were the last words, "Cou9in Cordelia died to day. Retired at 12 o'clock." It will be remembered that Private Secretary Brown returned from Europe the night before the President was shol. The cousin Cordelia spoken of was Mrs. Arnold, who was fatally injured by the accident in which his uncle, Thomas Garfield, was killed near Cleveland. Mar shal Henry says the late President has left several boxes lull of papers and documents, which will probably be examined some day and edited for publication. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Our vices are like our nails. Even as we cut them, they grow again. Those who trample on the helpless are likely to cringe to the pow jrful. Piety is a good thing to have, but Christian charity is very much better. Never excuse a wrong action by say ing some one else does the same ihiug. If evil be said of thee, and it is true, correct it; if it be a lie, laugh at it. Who never walks save where he sees men's tracks, makes no discoveries. Avoid a slander as you would a soor pion. Activity may commit some injuries but indolence is sure to do no good. We owe a large part of our happiness to our mistakes. He is wise who never acts without rea son, and never against it. To win, work and wait—but work a good deal more than you wait. What is called impudence is generally either ignorance or forgetfuluess. I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered. We must learn to comprehend the es sence of art from admiration of excel lence. Extreme self-love will set a man's house on tire, though it were but.to roast their eggs. Let friendship cross gently to a heignt; if it rush to it, it may soon run itself out of breath. Love is more pleasiug than matri mony, just as romance is more entertain ing than history. The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly ooming 011. Eloquence is the power to translate a truth into language perfectly intelligible to the person to whom you speak. There are some persons on whom their faults sit well, and others who are made ungraceful by their good qualities. The sphere of Christian duty is not there nor yonder, but here, just where you are. Curiosity is a tiling that makes us look over other people's affairs and over look our own. How absurd to be afraid of death when we are in the habit of rehearsing it every night. God is great, and therefore he will be sought; he is good, therefore he will be founu. It is one of the worst errors to suppose that there is any other path of safety ex cept that of duty. All nature is a vast symbolism ; every material fact has sheathed within it a spiritual truth. Adversity is the trial of principle Without it a man hardly know s ~ Don't be anxious until you are com pelled to be ; many a man worries about a ghost that never appears. One year of a noble and generous life is worth a century of cowardly years, and* self-cares and over-solicitude. Whoever entertains you with the faults of others, designs to serve you iu a similar manner. Seeking and blundering are so far good that it is by seeking and blunder ing that we learn. We hope to grow old, yet we fear old age ; that is, we are willing to live and afraid to die. Religion is good for nothing one day m the week, unless it is also good for all the seven days. Opportunities are very sensitive things ; if you slight them on their first visit, you seldom see them again. Excess of cere money was always the companion of weak minds ; it is a plant that will never grow in a strong soil. He who has no taste for order will be often wrong in his judgment and seldom considerate or conscientious in his ac tions. When you are sick it comes easy to promise all sorts of reformation, and when you recover it is easy to forget then. The bright geuius is ready to be so forward as often betrays him into great errors in judgment without a continual bridle ou the tongue. "Faith ! never forget it is faith, and faith only, that swings wide open the door leading into the Gospel treasure house of plenty." It you would find a great many faults, be on thelooli-out; but if you fiud them iu unlimited quantities, be on the look in. Good nature adorns every perfection a man is master of, and terows a veil over every blemish which would otherwise prevail. A woman of sense is not ashamed of poverty, nor of coufessingtoi!; ; out her taste induces her to keep the marks of it out of sight. Persons dispirited by bad omens sometimes prepare the way for civil for tune ; for oonfidence in success is a great means of ensuring it. Character is like money ; when you've got a great deal you may risk some, for if you lose it, folks still believe you've plenty to spare. To think kindly one of another is good, to speak kindly one of another is better, but to act kindly one towards another is best of all. As few roads are so rough as those that have just been mended, so few sin ners are so intolerant as those that have just turned saints. Selfishness though refined, is still but selfishness, and refinement ought never to interfere with doing good in the world as it exists. Conceit is an assumption which is to Nature what paint is to beauty—not only needless, but a detriment to that which is meant to improve. Never swerve in your conduct from honest convict* >ns ; decide because you see reason for decision, and then act be cause you have decided. There is uo condition of life so bad but it has one good side. Every situa tion has its point of view; we should place it in that favorable light, NO. 48.