VOLUME 19, POTERY AND NCI SONO. =EM=I we have launched our bark 01 To 1/oat o'er a aunuy Fea, And for weal or woe on the wa I have cast my lines with the We 3rc coine but now from tbi rront the toEslng and the prs And the vows that we blothed ! On the calm and'holy And the organ's high tri n e i,han That thrilled on the n lence, It, floating out from the baered Oct' valley and vine-chid lull To the tniAlow Ittow of the Autd, We turned (row the chancel But a holier oicc is on iny ear Than the anthem's bw(Thrig, And my tout lit hustle,' tt ith its Like n flamer surcharged with,. That moos 00 thrill front the fief. Lea Re treamard drops Ceti] , . But I oeek thy glance with n chair t For safe on is ballots ed shrine lr the heart I luau e pledged lit( litit While thet soul !urii light is nit I have conic, love—come (rain Of , ItMve turned from the gcntle ha With whom, in the light of lot c IBS 1 bat r )olroet d haml in Irinnl 1 have come from the ,Bade Of th From the voices Iri.:rt and free l l That rung through the ni,lca w he hat e lefl'thent ail for tl,ce. hate left them, 10ve,11.1 the tt u Looks bright, though ' tis all uni: L'vr no welcome settit4 upon youth: I 'nay claim but Owe alottr; And I knon' that the hreght vti) u'i May ILmer tt ith the teelhe,t'h Duttny heart IS blnattg, far the ece!, of our God lend. Wee our path. And r. - 1.1 on dl}' N, rowOved anild . t. ttarilge the storm or eon-lone %%11011)1 thhilOve light lATrtit+ IVe have come. love—coon. Iron t/ 11 'e have launched on a trackleJ! To the world' Llrollged 114:1111, or l l I ant going forth n ith Litt'. 1 I.tki Etat., TWA. THE 3UB tt ;IT L. .11%RIA (111111 Pri in Barber belonged to that vim ere neither bolter nor worse than oth erehan in his infancy, the paths of lift lonely iat t. He had a violenti heart.. 'J'ho first was often roused into ished with energy kindred to its own;) shook undeveloped, for want M . gel and reciprocated :Het tion. Ono not upon hie early path, and be loved it without comprehending the great law !, made it co very plesseaut. Whets IttS in the winter months, he always wei little girl named .711ar,, s lyillilms. Oi lie Mt.. pomp v... 4; 4.- who disobliged her. Theircorm odes ed him Mary's beau; and they Wu dtetli tlOgh they Itattno idea what courting hid arrived at this state of half-reveal , lie being fourteen years old and 31.1ry. hien& reinovcd to tlia fl'est„ and Mei fluence parried out of Lis life. Ile i t e , whether he was in love with Alar; but, when people talked to him about Man - , i. her, wondising where rho spas, and membered hiri l t. When he drove Ilia pasture, the blackberry bm,lia. on the' ijsions of his favorite school mate, with bonnet thrown back, her glossy, brown the winds, and her innocent fire snsilim friendly groetipg. "She was tae best ai l I over saw," Ile often said.to `.. dello would flo its pleasant now," S of going to the West and treekingqier on not s hero to find her; his funds wet , courage Poll at the thou - iglu, " , 011;- it is linmy years' ago , dince we were diiildren toiether. Perhaps I should find her married." _Crndtially this I/13 ray) of poetry faded out of his soul, and all his thoughts felt into the common prosaic mould. His lot WRY cast with rmigh people,who required much work, in l gave little sympathy. The im ago of his little mate hunted farther and farther away, and more and more seldom her clear blue eyes smiled upon him though the rainbow-wit-to of the past, or from the air-castles of the future. In process Of time he mar ried, after tho same fashion that a largo proportion of men do; because it was convenient to h j ave n wife, and there was woman of good character in the neighbor bood to marry' vvhoevt,:r first ofrerc l d horn respect able home. Her character bore the stamp of harmless Mediocrity. She was industrious andlpitient, but igno rant, dull, and quietly obstinate. Tho'ncighbors said she teas suited to him, be was so rough land passionate: arid in the main.he thought so himself; though her im perturbable calmness Sometimes fretted him as a rock ehafes the lashing ocean into forum The child that was horn to them they both loved better than; they had ever ,lored: and according to their ) light, they iiincerely etrove to do their duty. His bodily is ants were well supplied, often et the cost of great weariness and self sacrifice; but their ot,en rude training had given them row good ideas Concerning the culture of an immortal so ul. The infant did more for them, than they for hint. A i n,gelic influen ces. unseen and unheard amid the hard struggles of their eutward life, became visible and audible through the un• tonscioueinnocence of the i r little one. or the second ttne in his life, a , vision of beauty andlove gleamed Prose the rugged path of that honest, laboriouis man.— Vague impressions of beauty be had constantly received from the panorama of the universe. Ilia heart sometimes welcomed a biight flower in the istfishine,lor it cluster of ' hel " , stream; he marvelled at the plendor of the. rainbow; and sometimes gazed reverently at the sun sinking to rest in his rich drapery of purphi and gold.— ASt these were glimpses of the Infinite: t eir beauty did ' llat I " to appertain to him: it (lid no enter like a sulk charm into the sphere cif his owner stance, as did the mien of Mary Williams and his own li tle Joe. The s trasattenderness there was in him leaped up at the sm\le of his babe , and every pressure of the little fingers of dimple the father's heart. Likis the outbursts ,ai "hiring, titer a long cold winter, was thei Ictitafttnes to hitn, When he plodded home tiork, it rested him bad -and soul t o tie en . ) P ne into hut arms fur a kiss, or cl 41 "il , jilting his little-porringer of milk, in ] eat his suppe r on father'i,knee. But though this now influence seemed tin miraculous powerover his nature, it c d, r nthe power of temperament and ht g b sbe grew into boyhood, he weenie . ' ll ed with injudicious fondness, a n d soineh , burets of passion, that made him run ati 1 : I I from she over indulgent father. Mr i educated tinder the dtspentst . . . . . . , . .• . $ . , .. . .. . ~ - ...- •- - , .. , I . I'. . , . . `- . „ . • 1 t:: • .7.-.. . . ~ r 1 _ , SERVE, . . . , . .i. . . . - _:,...,... .. , . . , ~. . . , .. , ..., - - , _ 1 - F . : , . j . ,CELLAN V. the gleaming tide, El= altar's side— 'Aare Ecarr.cly die,l IMES !inn rut .1133, SE !eight 4 , r derv, IMEIM geless fnitli, or cicut`., altar': el 1 , Itg tne clu,stering e the my rile nettles— Id lei re BEE! MEMO r lie IILM mitt. MIME ng bri ast =I SEMI V ai/1.) a id, AN. (uctous class, who men. Left an were rough and .Itemper and a good ILe and pun the last remained circumstances )ening• gleam fell ;Ice tho of attraction that attended behool kilted honio with a ti tha pla. -ground oitii .itighed, and call !Mid felt awkward, tneunt. Things led CO:ISCiOUSIIC2S, when her seams; bright ht- cr rightly 'knew IN cars afterwards. 'xig, he thought of whether she re cows bonio from , tVrty Uroil g.) t up II her clean cape hair playing with h la upon hint with lid pretticmt child wheth niadinca ho . But knew small, and hi 11 .1 1 .5"Prilef after a hard have the lit- me troddling eagerness to have an al. uld not quite abit. As the ietimee cher. ?Ines repelled pd hide him ' Barker had ion of pair ishment, rather than attraction, and ho believed in it most firmly. if his son committed a fault, , ho thoUght of no other punishment than severity. If a neighbor did litat an ill turn, he would observe, in presence of tho boy, "I will watch my chance to pay him for it." If the dog stole their dtnnor, when they were nt wink in'tho woods, he would say, "Run after him, Joe, nod give the rascal a sound boating." When ho saw the child fishing with some larger hul, who had offended him. ho would praise his strength and courage, and tell him never to put up with an insult. Ho was not aware that all those things wore education. and doing far more to form his son's character than anything he learned nt srhool. He did nut hum it, becauso his thoughts had never been direct ed towards it. Tho only moral instruction ho received was from the minister of the , parish.; and he usually preached about the hardheartedness of Jews two thou sand years ago, rather than the errors and, temptations of men atul boys, who sat before him. Once ho received an admonition 'from his neighbor Gnodwin, w•flich, being novel and unexpected, offended him as an impertinent interference with his.rights. no was riding home with Joe, then a lad of thirteen, when the horse took fright at•a piece of white paper, that tho wind blew across the road. Mr. Barker was previously in an ill humor, because a sudden squall of rain had'wet some fine hay, all ready for the barn. Pursuing the sys : - tom on which ho had himself been eduepted,.he, Sprang to the ground and cudgelled the poor beast unmercifully. Mr. Goodwin, who was passing by, inquired the cause of so much severity, and remonstr.ated . :rigainst it: assuring him that a horse was never cured of bad habits by yid fence. •He spoke mildly, but Mr. Barker was irritated, and having told him to mind his own business, he con tinued to whip the poor frightened animal. The humane neighbor turned away, saying, "That is a had lesson for your son. Mr. Barker." '1 $ .1r you say inch more, J will flog you instead of tho horse," muttered the angry man. "It Witt his horse.— What business is it to hine" He did not reflect In What a narrow circuit ho. - was nailing up tho sympathies of his child m by such words as those. lut when he was resented in]thu wagon, ho did not fuel altogether pleased with himself, and his inward uneasiness was expended on the horse. Tho poor be wildered animal, covered with foam, and breadbing l shott and hard, tried his utmost to do his master's will, as fur ' as he s could understand it. lint nervous and terrified, constantly in expectation of die whip, he started at every sound. If he welt too fast, he was reined in with a sod. den jerk, that tore the corners of his mouth; if he went too slow, the crack of the whip made him tear over the ground, to be again restrained bylthe violent jetk. The sun was setting, and throw a radiant glow on ev ery tree and little shrub, jewelladhy the reehnt shower. Cows grazed peacefully in verdant hollows, birds sang, a little brook rippled cosily by the wayside, winds played gently with the flowers, and kissed the raindrops from thlr faces. But all this levelness passed unheeded by but tan hearts, "because they had at the moment no in wall bounty to hattnonize with ;Wore. Pethaps the fa,- mil:or landscape seemed quite othetwiso to the poor Muse, titan it would have done, had he trayelled„along those pleasant paths guided by a wise and gentle hood. liad Joseph continued to be little Joe, hie eager wel conic and toting prattle might soon have tamed the, evil spiy:it in his father's soul that eight. lint he was a tall 1 lad who had learned to double up his fists, and tall oth. or boys they had better let bitu alone. if dm) , whftt was good for themselves, lie still loved his father bettor Matt anything else iu the world, but the charm and the • power of infancy was gone. 'lle reflected betck the vex., cd <pirt like a too faithful mirror. Ile was no longer a transparent unconscious medium for tho influence of an gelq Indeed, paternal alicction gradually becamo a harden ing rather than a softening influence. Ambition fdr his son increased the love of accuniulstion; and the gratifi cation of this propensity narrowed his symputhiea more and more. Joseph had within him the unexpended gertrs of seine noble qualities, but ho inherited his fath er's passionate temperament with his mother's obstina cy; and the othicatien of such circumstances es I have descrihid, turned his energies and teaings into wrong cha.nes. The remark ••It is'nt his horse; what husi- is it to him?" hoard in his boyhood, expressed the riev a and habits of his latter years. nut ins mental giot•th. such as' it was, pleased his father, who often said cxultingly. ••There is no danger of Joe. lie knows howito fight his own way through the world." mattral product of character, when Mr. Ilai'iter was tiumtuuoed to a jury, in a case involvinglife or death. ile was vexed to be called away from his cm ployMents, and had never reflected at all upon thelearful responsibility of a juryman. James Lloyd, the loner, was ver3 young luau, and his open honest countenance - 1 the indication of capacity for crime; but ha was se cure dof minder, and eirctunstawial evidence was strong against him; It was proved that a previous quarrel had existed between him and the snurdered man, and that they had been seen to take the same rood, the prisonorin a state, of intoxicalico. Most people thought there was nu doubt of his guilt; others deemed the case by no means certain. Two of the jury were reluctant to con vict him and wished to find the evidence insnificient; the penalty was so dreadful, and their feelings was so Much touched by the settled misery of his youthful collate- ;nonce. Others talked sternly of justice, and urged that the Scripture demanded blood for blood. Of this nap .was Peter Barker. Prom the beginning, ho was' against the prisoner. The lawyer who pleaded for him had once been employed in a law-suitagainst Mr. Barker, and had gained the cause for his client. The juryinrin cherished a grudge ogeinsthim forhis sarcastic eloquence on that occasion. Moreover, it so happened that neigh bor Goodwin, who years ago had reproved his savorily to the horse, took compassionate interest in the accused.— lie often consulted with his lawyers, and seemed to watch the countenance of the jury anxiously. It Wei a busy sonson'of the year, and the jury wore impatient to-bo at their workshops and farms. Mr. parker would not have admitted it, even to himself, but all these circumstances helped to increase his hardness against the prisoner. By such inconceivably slight motives is the conduct of men often • swayed on most important occasions. "If the poor young fellow really did commit the act," said one of the jury, "it'acems likely that ho did it in a state of intoxication. I was once drunk myself: and they told me afterwards that 1 had quarrelled with a man, and knOcked him down a high flight of stops: hut I had no recollection of it. If I had killed him. and they had hung me for it, what an awful thing it would have been for my poor father and mother. It taught me a good lesson, for I was never again intoxicated. Perhaps this poor youth might profit by his dreadful experience, if a chance were allowed him. lie is so young; and there is nothing bad 1. utenance." "As for hie womanly face." replied Mr. Barker, "there is no trusting to that. ll The worst villains aro not always the worst looking. As for hie being intoxicated. there is no telling whether it is true or not. That cunning lawyer may have made up the story for the sake of exciting cant passion, and the witnesses may be more than willing enough to believe everything strange in the prisoner's conduCt was the result of intoxication. Moreover; it won't do to admit that plea in extenuation; for then, don't you Bees a man who want'l to kill his enemy has only to get drunk in the first place! If any body killed my .100, drunk or not drunk. I should want him to swing (brit." illy such remarks, urged in his vehement way.. he EMMEI swayed minds more timid and lenient than hls . own, without being fully aware what ho was doing. Ho' was foreman of the jury: and when the awful moment Arrived on which depended the life of h fellow balng, he pronounced the word "Guilty." iu a strong firm voice.—.. The next instant hie eye fell on the prisoner, standing there so pale, and still looking at him with each: fixed despair. There was something In the face that moved him Strongly. Hp turned quickly away, but thivlsion was before him, always and everywhere before "This is weakness." said he to himself. "I have mere ly done my duty. The law required It. I have done my duty." But still the pale young face looked at .It4h; Al ways and everywhere looked at him. Ho feared to touch a newspaper, for be wished not to know when tho Joy of execution would arrive. But of ficious neighbors, ignorant of his state of mind, were eager to talk upon the subject; and drawn into such dis course, he strove to fortify his own feelings by dwelling on all the worst circumstances of the case. Notwith standing all his (Ants, the night before the exec ion, ho had troubled dreams.'in which that ghreitly young face was always conspicuous. —When ,ho woke, be saw it in the air. It Walked beside him as ho ploughed the fields, it stood before him on the threshold,of his own Joon All that the merciful jurymen had suggested came before him with painful distinctness.. Could there be a doubt that the condemned had really committed the murder?— Was he intoxicated? Might ho have happened to be in toxicated for the first time_ in his life? And he so yaung! But he drove those thoughts away; saying ever to him self, "The law required it. I merely did my duty."-- Still, everything looked glooiny to him: The evening clouds seemed like funeral pulls, and a Mlle, despairing face gazed at him far ever. , For the first time in his manhood, he °saved a compan ion in the darkness. -Neighbors came in, and described the execution; and while they Calked, the agitated jury men beat the firebrands:into a. thousand pieces, and spoke never a word.. They told -how the youth had written a long letter to his mother, and had died calm and resign ed. "By the way, perhaps you know his mother. Mr. Barker," said ono; "they tell me she used to live In this neighborhood. 09 you remember a girl llama of Mary Williams?" - The tongs dropped fronri Mr. Bather's baud as lie gasp ed out, "Mary Williams! Was he her son? God for give one! Was he her soul!! And the strong eau laid his head upon the table, and wept. There was silence in the room. At last thelotmarions neighbor said, in a subdued tope. "I Am sorry 1 hurt your feelings. I didn't know sill was a friend of yours." The troubled jurymen rbso knottily, walked to the win dow, looked out at the stars, ;and clearing his . ehot4itut voice, :aid, "It is many years since I know her. But she was a good ternpered, pretty' girl; and seems but yes terday that we used to go together to pick our baskets full of beiries. And so she was his mother? I remember how there - wus something in his eye that seemed familiar to me." Perhaps the mention or Mary's beauty, or tho' melting mood, so unusual with her:husband, might havo excited a vague fooling of jealousy. im . Mrs Barker. Mater : or might have boon the mcitive. she her"derlihro way, without raising hereyes from her knitting. "We% it was natural - enough to suppose the young man hod o mother: and other mothers are likely to have heartit, that can fool, as well at this Mary. Williams:"- . • —1.113 May anawered by shaking his head .slowly. and repeating, as if 'to himself, "Poor Mary, and so ho was her son," Joseph camo in, and tho details of the dreadful scene were repeated and dwelt upon, as human beings era prone to dwell on all that'excites emotion.. To bim the name of Mary Williams conjured up no smiling visions of juvenile love; and he strove to fortify Ms father'sjo tenting feelings, by placing in a strong light all the argu ments in favor of the prisoner's ;uitt The 'jurytti•iu was glad tube thus fortified, and rap ied 10 a finis, reas sured voice, "At all events; I did, any duty." Yet, for pintails after tho pale young facOlabked at him despair ' ugly from evening air, and came between him and the sunshine. But thud, which softens al! things, drifted the dreary spoctro into dim distance, and Mr. Barker's facul ties were again completely absorded in making money for his son. Joseph was called a frac, Promising young man, but his conduct was not altozethbr satisfactory to bin parents. Ho was fotid of dross and cotnpany,. and his impetuous temperament not urifrequoutly involved hint in quarrels. On two or three of those occasions, the feared ho had been a little excited by drink, But he was, la' reality, a good•hoarted follow, and like his rong/r father, had un developed germs of deep tendernesS within him.. His father's life was bound up within his: his mother loved hitm,with all the energy. of which her shiggit.h nature was capable: and notwithstanding the inequalities of his violent and capricious temper, the neighbors j loved him :11$0 WI hat then, was their consternation, when it was ru tutored that ou his twenty-fourth birthday he:hitd . been ar rested for murder! And, alas! it was too trite that his passions had thus far overcome his reason. Ho wished to please a young girl in. the vicinity, and She treated hint cooly, because a rival had informed her thathe"was seen intoxicated, and in that state spoke over-boldly of being surd of her love. lie' drank again, to drowo his vexation, and while the pxcitentent of the draught was on him, ho diet tho man who informed 'against him.— Unfortunately an axe was at hand, and, in the double fury of drink and rage, ho struck with it again and again One hour after, he would•have given all he ever hoped to possess, nay, would gladly have died, could he have re stored the lite he so wantonly destroyed. Thus, Mr. Parker was again brought into a court of justice, on an affair oflife and death. How differently all questions connected with the subject presented them selves now! As h) sat beside that darling son, the Pride of his life, his only rope •on earth. oh; how ho longed for words of fire to plead that his young existence might lie spared for repentance and amendment! Pow well he remembered the juryman's plea for youth and intoxica tion:and with what an agony of aelf-repreach he recalled his own hard answer! With intenie ansieti ho watch., ed the countenance!, of the jury for some gleams of But ever and anon, a pale young face loomed up between him and thorn, and gazed at him With fixed despair. The visions of other years returned to haunt him; and Joseph, his best beloved, and 'only one, stood beside it, pale and bend-cuffed, as he had been. The voice that pronounced - hie son guilty, sounded like an awful echo of his own; and he seemed to hear Mary Williams whisper, "And my son also was very- young." Thai vigorous offiehoot .from hie own existence, so full of life and feeling. and, alas, • of passion, which mis guides ns 'all!—he Must die! No earthly power can save . him. May that Am' Msnctrut. sustain that poor father. as he watcheaithe heavy slumber of his only son in that dark prison, dud while ho clasps the cold hand. remembers so well the dimpled fingers he used to bold in his, when little Joe sat upon his. knee and prattled childish love. And the At.t. Manctrut, was with* 'him, and sent in fluence to sustain him through that terrible agony. It did not break his heart: It melted and subdued bird.-- The congealed aympathies of his nature Bowed under this ordeal Or firm and, for the first time, be had a• reali sing sena. that entity human being is, or bee been: some body's little Joe. ..How kind you we to me," said the . torisiiter, in an- SATURDAY MORNING, \ FEBRUAR nr.ostvrenn-zu IMMI ewer to hie `soothing wor fle reAliedii;eacly. "1 Then turning his face Joseph's hand, he avid, h truly, 'nay son, does it dv been io blame for this gr, yeti?" "Yon, door father!" hol stand what you mean." I I ' I E4II keeping his face W I tun ed nwaf.‘and speaking with effort. Mr. Barker said." o you rertielter once, when I waii * beating-iny horse cr oily (yoti were's' boy of twelve then.) neighbor Goodwin ornarkOd to me. that I was giving n bad lesson to my soil?' 1 wee angry ttfh him at the time; and perhaps t tat resentment made me.hard toward a - toor young fello who is dead and gone; but his words keep ringing in . i ears. _May God, in hi`s mercy, forgive me if I have ever done or said anything to lead you into this great - din. Tell me. Joseph, do you over think it might have inippened otherwise. if you had had a lest violent father? _, "51y poor father:" exeimed the prisoner. pressing , his hand convulsively, "it almost breaks my heart to hoar you thus humble yourself before me, who So little deserves It at your bands. I Only forgive me my violent `outbreaks, dear father: for in the midst of them all. I always loved you. You hive always sought to/ do trio good, and would rather have died than have led 'me into any harm. But since I have been hero in prison, I have thought of many things that never occurred to me' bo il fore. The world 'and all t l ing in it are placed before mo in a different' light. It seems to me men are all wrong in their habits and teachings. I . coo now that retaliation and hatred are n order. I have read often , of late, the exhortation ofJcsu to forgive our, brother his ofilmces; not only seven tit es. but seventy times seven; and I feel that thus it oughtltolbe with human beings in all their relations with each other. What I have: done cannot be undone: but if it ..ill be any satisfaction to you. rest itsrured that I did not lttend to kill him. I was wretchekand I was fool ei ought° drink: and then I knew not what I did. Viol nt us my temper has been. I i never conceived the though of taking his life." "I know it, my son, I kn w it," he said: "and that reflection condoles main so Ito' degree. Whilo 1 havo a loaf of bread I will share with the mother and sister or him yoit---." ho hesitated, shuddered, and added in a low deep tone—"you murde ed." . "I was going to ask that o you," replied Om prisoner: "and one thing more, dear'frither: try to bear up bravely under this terrible blow, foil o sako of my poor patient mother." ' 1 "I will, i will," he answand: "arid now my deal:mis guided boy. say you forgive p ur poor father for the teach ings of his violent words and actions. I did nei.forsee the eonsequences,—my child, I did it in my ignorance. But it was wrong, wrong, alt wrong," The young mat throw himselfon his father's bosom, and then had no other utterance but tears. • , After hia only strong link' . hi was ,broken by the violent arm of the 111r.,Lisrkor was a changed man: silent, and melancholy. patient, gentle and forgiving to aktl.- 44* w..,....reresobllaileA-vrt , ther great sorrowthat wast ed away his life, hOt tho neleibore saw how thin end end he looked, and tho roughest natures felt compasidon for him.- Ivory year, she; who bad been Mary Williams received a hundred dollar note. fie never whispered to any mortal that it was mint by the juryman who helped to ronuletnn her eon to death: but when ho died, a legacy of a thousand dollars to her showed that ho never forgot tho pale despairing face, that for years had haunted his dreams. WOULD-BE GREAT mons,. Timm: is probably no country whore the desire for .how and popularity' is greater than in this. There is scarcely any thing that many will not do to gratify their foolish itching for distinction. The silly girl puts all, and often more than she can justly call her own, on her back, and walks the . street merely that others may see and know who site ie.. her counterpart is the creature called a fop—and tt very poor creature ho I. We have seen soma daMlies that would almost do credit to the monkey species. Passing a stop further, we see another class greatly ag hated for fear they will not be thought respectable! This word respectability is a great word in our language. To be respectable too must wear fine clothes, live in a largo, house, and ape somebody whom, it is supposed has a little more gear than yours*: There are many persons who are engaged day and night to appear respectably. They wont to appear just as respectable as they can—that is, they want to ape just as nearly rs they can. How delight ful this Mrs. Gripes follow Mrs. Swipes! What ex cellent society! flow charming. Then there are Mr. SWipos and Mr. Gripes. Ain' they somebody? Swipes 1,0 en uncommon genteel mt' at lie is the very rtsk of perliteness. • Moreover, Swipes is an Orator! None of your common -place, but an Ori; ental, p flowing 00ter! Ilia biographies ,and his mes sages show this. Swipes has ione a proper eight for the people, and posterity will reward him for it. Ibis a very remarkable man.—what people sometimes cell a man of parts,—und we shouldn't , Itvonder il; one of these days. lio - were run for some pI co ho don't think of. If so, Gripes would support him t ten, just as he does now; for Gripes. like his associates, goes - iti" for whatever is respectable! Such is a part of what is den minatod "good society!" And this Mani contend is as mod a social condition as the wants of• the people require If gay dress, excessive vanity, prido and egotism, eh w and parade, together with all that is artificial, are th chief requisites to make what is ciallod "good society," vhat sensible person can fail to hate and despise it? •That very many, if not all, of well bred people-,those who : possess intelligence and discrimination—do disliko thes customs, wo aro quite sure. We trust the time is not far distant when they will he reformed.—Syraeuse Re'rcifle. , ' Ix Col. Fitment's llmnoirs Upper California. we find some accounts of the forest trees of dist country, which,if the statements.were not vouched for by good 'authority, wo should class them with the stories of Baron Munchausen. The writer speaks thus of sound, reel on the coast mountain botwebn St. Joseph and Sante Cruz: The mountains were wooded !with many varieties of trees, and in some parts with heavy forests. These for ests are characterized by a cypress (taiodium) of extra ordinary dimensions already mentioned among the for est trees of America, by its superior size and height.— Among many which we measured in this part of the mountain': nine and ten feet diameter was frequent. eleven oometirnes, hut going lioyoud cloven only in a single instance, which reached (fourteen feet in diame ter. " Above 200 feet was a frequent height. In this lo cality the bark was very deeply furrowed, and uAusually thick, being full sixteen inches id' some of the trbee. e The tree was, - in bloom (February. 1844.) flowering near thp summit,'and the flowers consequently difficult tonmeure. This is the staple timber tree of tho country, being cut into both boards and shingles, and is the prinCiple tim ber sawed at the mills. ,It is soft. and easily worked. wearing away too quickly to be used for floors. 'lt seems to hay* ell the durability which anciently gave the cy press so mulch celebrity. Posts which have been exposed to the weather three quarters of a century (since the foundation of the missions) show no marks of decay in the wood, andstro now converted into beams and posts for private dwellings. In California this- tree is called the paid cobra*. It is the king of trees. On the 28th to February. on the coast near the North-Western point of Monterey Bey, he Speaks as follows of this same tree. A forest of paid calorado, at the foot of the mountains in this , vicinity. is noted for the great siva and height of the trees; I measured one which was 275 feet in he!" and 15 reef diameter. three feet above the base - (46 feet nirtuinference.) Though this was distingnished)a,ylhe greatest fOrth, other surrounding trees were bet HttW in ferior lit size. and still taller. that Is. of coulee. More then one hundred and seventy- fi ve festlis height! • 3, 1849. I s and affectionate attentions. "ould I had alrayAKliiiiiir no:" away, and earnestly pressing an agitated voice. "Tall we !r occur to you. that I way hal.* I. • i at misfortune that has befallen exetitimed, "I do not under- LOFTY TitEES IP Olt ostaroniczA, no Volbot 13411-41).. abbi IT OIMP.Y U. \MAL: 0, mines of California, Ye surely are the And challenge admiration Prom men of every age. This great Pacific fever Nukes people swear and tight; And not a tone but•lifoney-Musit" ' is heard frOm morn till night. The teller sponge ditelay *heirs, And cuts, the cloth ciitlrci To cries of goose he does not list, Gold cools his gathering Ire. As delving sand is now the rage, • He meemets takes to go; O remnant tailors shape your rams - For California. bo \ Tobacconists are up to snuff; And take a short tat way t Eschew the weed and spurn pig-tall, ' And Skt.lC at such child's-play. The "Mackaboy" and "prime old Scotch" They say they'll no wore see; " "Gold dust" shall constitute their stook, Instead of coarse "rappee." The printer trashes err hii form, And straightway tight locks up ? Takes realms and stick—lit once sets off In brighter lands to sip. The merchant closes up his 14oks. Resolved to leave this land— To 'winkle all the Maros henceforth With naught but golden sand. Co ilwa'runs immolate their awl, 'Rogues guilty' sadly frown— seWlynce's clay moulds es tie cries, With casts I'm quite rest down. No bread the loaf-er baker kneads lilt fortune's at a throw— And tucking wry doth rola a shout For California. .Fitinplastere (10011 no note will Le, . Their own they cannot hold; 31ead or these vile picture rags Well have the shining gold. Th•! hant“ will soon (dose up their doors. Cashiers be at a slaw?, Ant nolca that hat ate coining due. • Will be paid oTe in sand. TUE ollazurtrz. Exiers-ve "I cannot eltotWe but marvel at the way In which our lives pass on. from day to thlY l*srning atrange lenona in the human heart. And yet like 81171(1ov:a letilng them deleirt." Lt Naos' How wearily the little news-boos plodded along the' deserted streets on that Now Year's Eve' The cold rain was beating fiercely upon him. and a few tattered gar ments served to protect him hem its rage. All day long had ho boon out amid the storm, and was now returning,. weary and hungry, to his humble' hem°. Tho street lamps were lighted, and as he passed by them you could see by tha gleam that his face was trite and emaciated— cou'd ate that, young as he was, something had hen there already to attenuate his features, and give him that wan and desolate look which can be given only by some great unction, some pinching want) or overwhelming. grief, You could tell at a glance that a dark shadow was resting upon Itis pathway—a shadow out of which there seemed, just tton, but little hope of escape. Born amid poverty and w etchedness, and left fatherless while yei in his cradle, ris life up to that hour had boon nothing but misery—a td the whole record of that life was written in his polo fac and tattered rags. Yet, with all this, as ho passed aim g e e close observer might have noticed a strange light i t his clear, bl o eye—an expresion of kindly cheerio no's, such as wo may not often seal in this world of care .nd grief-4or God's blessing was upon him—the tiles ing of a cheerful heart. Tho sorrow of his life, howo% r deep and abiding, thei l gloom upon his pathway, howtivor dark and fearful, dimmednot the light that burned solquietly. and yet so steadily within! Like the Vestal fire of old, it grow Mg dim, but threw its rays far out over th great gloom around hitn—even now the cold storm ben upon him uuneeded. ' There are 'Welting drea - ve that co to upon us sometimes jvhen we least ex pect them—brght dreams of loie, and !loin°, and hear- en—beautiful isions of future, all gloilous with its bur den of song on gladness !— end such a vosion, of such a future, now fill .d and crowded and blessed the heart of that forsaken any. He was dreaming, as he 'walked along, of bate days t', come—of the tiltio poverty in his 1 1 pathway shook depart, and the beautiful flow Ors should spring up to bliss him with their prisence'— , of a bright home far away from that great city, upon whose cheer ful hearth the tire should not go out, and. where hunger Should never haunt him moi•cti., And then into drentn of a better life- r intothat vision of a cheerful horny fer ia among the Freon hills—came a pleasant face—the face of his belovtl mother. Ho could see her as she sat by the-lattice at the quiet evening hoqr. reading the sa cred Bible, witl: the lust red rays resting like a glory upon her brow, while the rose-leaf trembled at the win dow. and the lit le violets folded themsalves to sleep.— i fifts Very pleasant n the picture there passing before the gaze of that rag ed child, very glorious the _piion:llx of green hills and right flowers and singing birds—very beautiful that hi mido cottage, half.covored by the clue-. tering foliage: -andhis heart , thrilled and heaped with a strange rapture Mover -known before, such rapture. such j o y as the strilen poor can never know, save when some good ange i comes down Vim the blue heaven and beckons thorn at ayfront the haunts of woo and want ill which they stare ,to the free air and the blessed sun shine, But the dream had puled—the sun had - set—the flow ers faded—the eittago disappeared. Of all that hentut ful -vision, so cho °ring and so glorious, no tree* remain ed; no vestige o loaf or tree or bird; no letter of hi, mother's Bible— io iovelight of his mother's eye. The darkness carno mound him, and he found himself there amid tho.storin i the silent streets of that great and sin• ful city. Bo gathering his' garincniti more closely about him, he hurried tilting to his hems with a prayer upon his lip and God'aLunlight in his heart. Turning 'moan 1 obscure street, a ow steps brought liim to the door of a wretched dwellin , which ho entered . Follow new and behold a scone o want and penury, etch as maybe found sometimes in thi world of ours—a scene upon which men look with a oncern. but on which. thank God! the angels gaze with joy; a home where poverty struggles with, a brave hea end is conquered. Before the firet e pale, sad woman. upon whose fea tures the traces t f great loveliness were still visible, a though sorrow ha shapened them somewhat, and ghast ly want done mu s e to dim their beauty. Upon her high and queenly bros , , tho blue veins were clearly visible, as the blood coursed through them with unwonted rapidity. Het large dark eyes were dim with team. 4 8ome now sorrow had started afresh the sealed fountaliiref her grief —and now as She gazed silently Upon the 4,a embers in all the utter agony of despair, it might seem that hope had gone forever and pod forsaken her. , ..hlotheri!'issid. the boy. as he _entered: all dripping with4Llgn."l bare cement last. sad lam tired and hurt. M." ..„ , ' . ‘ "My eon! ilty tont!' replied the mother', others is no morsel of food 113,410 Ittituitri n and bet lip quivered. **We musteterve: we in l / 2 tOtre God beip new and bar ! teen brake forth atiiiio Thor bad it been for many a weer). month. With scarcely food sufficient to support life, that mother and her boy had struggled, and antlered, and wept, and pray+ ed—and now that the cold winter was corning on 3 no wonder that her heart shuddered and her cheek grew pale at tho hopeless prospect ahead. How could they pais the dreary days and long night, - the storm and the terrible cold, Vvithont food and raiment, and shelter? And then where could they go when the heartless landlord should thrust them from their present wretched dwell; Ing:Uhe had threatened 'to dawn the morrow? Verily tho Orion' and the despair were great and fearful!, And yet.even at that desolate hour an eye looked down from heaven -upon. that friendless widow. There by the hearth-stone—by the dying embers an angel hovered— en earthly angel, oven in tho luise of that cheerful child. For _ - .Earth has its anrele. though their tenni are moulded - nut of such clay ail fashions alt: Though harpe are tvatnia,g and bright pinions &idea. We know them by the love-listiton their brow. "Mather," said he, "we, willnot starve. God has not forsakenint. There are better daps to coma.mother! I Flaw it In a dream, and in it t beheld your' own dear self. and you were singing a pleasant song away in that bless ed borne. Oh! mother. cheer up! cheer apt" • • • When the little boy lay down upon his wretched couch that night. he was changed. Vile mother's' great des pair bad transformed him from a sifforing child into a strong-hearted man—from a weak and helpless depend ent, into an earnest and thoughtful worker; henceforth his path was one of duty alone—and no allurement. belt ever so bright; could turn him from it. Before him glit tered forever a guiding star; and his intense. absorbing gaze, from which neither the tares nor the plessuree.nor tho vanities of life could be for one Instant diverted. Ex irtence had for him but one object. and his utmost ener gies were taxed fur its ottairiment.' Never did the sun riso in grenter.splender than on the New-Year's morning following that night of. gilding the spires and domes of the city with its rays - The streets were rapidly filling with the gay crowd Seek'. ing pleasure. and 'men walked as though new life had been given them by the general hilarity and the' bracing. air. In the most crowded street was the newsboy. bit not the disconsolate, wretched lad who had plodded his way through the stoint the night before. to a desolate Worn, and a supperless bed. You would not hay* recognized him as he hurried along, eagerly intent upon his .attoca.. tied. and his face ell radiant with the greet hope that struggled at his heart. That night joy visited the forsaken fireside. They bad paid the landlord his rent, and still had sufficient left wherewith to purchase food. It was a merry New Year for them.. Years came and went. 'Groat changes had token place. The body had grown to manhood. High honors worn conferred upon him. Wealth flowed into his oaf.' ,fors—his praise Vitis upon every tongue. And at this very hour, upon tho !iambi of the majestic Hudson. his mansion stands conspicuous among a thousand others for its taste and elegance. Ho has but one companion—his aged mother—the lonely witioW we BSW some years ago„ guilt mournfully into the fire, and watching its flickering light. Hie in fluence was felt fur and wide, and the poor and wretched of occiy class and kiud. come Aro u u d him with their 1 . blessings. ~ Thank God: thank God!—for every suffering son of man, who thus comes up from the deep shadow of des ., pair into the blessed sunlight. and. turning. gives his word of cheer to the groping Million benoath him. Thank God'. thank God, that scattered here and there throughout the ninthl in many an hunibie hotie may be found. men and women, Unto whom life presents but lit. tic of love, or hope, or joy, end yet who r pass along amid itsdesolata paths without !a murEnur,l sustained, and soothed, and blessed by this alone"—A mir A Tinitkoo Attorney on Capital Putdi'mutat. The following oration was delivered some where .in Wisconsin, by (mea l of the profession, who would - seem UP bravo quite an aversion .to capital punishment: "May it please your Lordship and Gentlemen of the Jaary=The case Is l as clear as ice, and sharp to the &du' as 'no' from yoor sweetheart. ' The Scripturo smith. •Thou 6141 t not kill;' now; if you hang my client, you transgress the command as slick as grease, and'as plump as a goose egg in a i loafer's face. Gentlemen. murder is murder, whether committed by twelve jurymen. orbv a humble individual, like my client. Gentlemen. I do not deny. the fact of my client's having killed a man; but is that arty reason why you should do so? No such thing. gentlemen. You may bring tho prisoner in 'guilty;' the hangman may do his duty; but will that exonerate you? No such thing. that C 490 you will all bo murderers! Who among you i prepared for the brand of Cain to bas stumped on his brow to-day? who, freemen, who. in this land of liberty and of light? Gentlenien, I will pledge my word not one of you has a bowie knife or a pistol la his pocket. No, gentlemen, your pockets are odorifer ous with tho perfumes of cigar cases and tobacco. Ton can smoke the tob.acco of rectitudo in the pipe of a peace- IV conscience: buOtang my unfortunate client, and the scaly atligators,of retnorso will gallop through the intel4 nal principles of animal vertebrae, until the spinal vorte hrm of your anatomica l construction is turned into a rail road for the 'grim ad gory goblins of des air. Gentlemen, beware of committing m rder! Beware. I say, of meddling with the internal "pr rogativo! Be ware! I say. Remember t he fate of thman who at tempted to sternly the ark, and tremble. Gentlemen. I adjure you by the Manumitted ghost of to portal sanctity. I n to do no murder! .I adjure you by the name of woman, the mainspring of the ticking timepiece of time's theo retical transmigrathm, to do no murder! I adjure you by the love yon have for the esculent and condimental gusto of our native Itimpkin, to do no m u rder! I adjure you by the stare set n' tho fl) ing ensign of our emanci pated country, to d no murder! I 'adjure you by the American Eagle, th .t whipped the universal game cock of creation, and now sits roosting on the -Magnetic ,tele graph of Time's iltuttrious transmigration; to do no mur der ! And lastly. go, Ilemen. if you ever expect to *ear long-tailed coats—if i,yott ever expect free dogs not to bark at you—if you ' l ever expect to wear boots made of the free hide of the Rocky Mountain bald*, and, to sum up all; if you ever xpeet to be anything but a set of sneaking, loafing. r eally. cut-thfoat. braided, small ends of humanity. whittled down to indistinctibility. ac quit my client and salve your country!" ' The prisoner was 4cquitted. rr "Why do you hot hold up your head In I do?" I*. quired an aristometio _lawyer of a laboring farmer,. "Squire," replied ill farmer, "look at the field of grain; all the valuable hoadshoug down like mine. while those that have nothing in hem, stand up right Mho yours." 0:1' "What carrot -headed. ugly little brat is :that madam; do you kno v his name?" ...Why, yes. that's uy youngest son." "You don't say so iodoedl, what Wbeautifullittle sweet, dove•eyed cherub he is, to- be we!" • . . tI3 "Sir; / am as, pure as the vaulter 11easen." said a p o etic a l female e t ; final to the Marshal yeaterday. "Yee. and about itigikssd fill as bins," retorted the "venerable." ”tut that tight bsc whets you took it from:" as the gly) maid when her In 'ar snatched a kiss. NUMBER 38. =3:CEM
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers