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
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,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