ti. r. SLOAN, Editor. VOLITME 20. feint plittrq. TIIE VZOGILIN G DIII.D. IIV A. A. serK From the vale, vi hat initalc ringing t'llts the ho.inn of the night! Jtt the iiense, entranced, flinging r 4 t0.11% of witchery end delight! O'er innpnolfa,litne rind cedar. From yon locubt-top, it swell,, Like the e hant of serenader, 4)/ the rhymes of silkier hello' I.f.ten!.dearesl, listen to it: dwecter souls were never heard, the song of that wild poet,— litinie the ntinbtrel-Mocking Bird SI, him an urging in Lin glory, On yo.i topmost booting limbo ' (*a roiliott Ilis:ttnorous n tory. lac .0111 e ivild crusader's hymn! Now it faint.' In tones delicious As the lira low vow oflorc! No u• It burns in e%vella capriciuu. All the moonlit vaults abuve' Listen' dearest, &c. 11'hy 114 . 1 thus. t h is syk an retrareli Pours all !light his sejenaLle? • 'Ti6 for some proud rioodlond Lours. Itts sad sonnets all are made! • l'te changes now his measures.— Gladness, bubbling front his nioutti, , — Jest and Jibe, the mimic pleasure.— Winged Mire ui io of the e7oLith. Listen! dearert, dze. Bird of music, n tt, and gladnesi . l'rutoduur ul eunny clone! I t tseuclian ter of all sadness! Would thine an I , :re in my rh)tne. I' er the hea . rt heattug by me. %ould neave a spell dis there aught she c , ,01 , 1 deny in.!. Drinksng 111 such strains as thine• Listen! deariAl, listen to It! .S'- (I:ter Rounds it ere never heard' 'Tie the song of that wtltt Milne nud minstrel—Hoch tug Bird Cola 311i5tell1uttr. THE DESERTED WIFE, A LEAF FROM THE LIFE 1 OF A "GOOD FELLOW % TALE wrrif A 3101tA1 BY H. HASTINGS WELL. L-VIIIENL.t lie at Was What the world, or a certain part, rail by the rather ambiguous designation of a "good . fellow". Ile held a goad hand at whist and a good was a capital whip, and carried .at his tongue's ends the pedigr'ee of all the blood horses on the course. Ile was a fair theatrical criiir, a d passed for a better— was prompt and dashing in his business operation., and rough, frank and cheerful in his ordinary demeanor. Ile WWI sitsttniversal favorite with - all the fashionable •'huzza b.qa," tuung men about town, and the admiration of all the fashionable young women. But Henry in this rough exterior did not put his bestside out. There was "more of Mtn" than his rattle-headed male friends suspected, an I more penetration in his glance Ehan the superficial mikes, who spread their 'toils for him in vain, supposed. Ile-tired of the heartlessness of fashionable bachelorism— saw the ruinous folly of fashionable extravagance, and reset% ed to get married, and abjuring tho follicu ipiscallcd pleasures, to be domestic and happy, the comforter and comforted of a good, little, unpretending and' modest woman of a wife. It is easier to get on s Cangled "good fillovis" Cum to net clear of them. flurry pe.r• foruml the first volt of his resolution, and made a good rommenceniCht at, the req. It a grant pity that it was filly a cotti nencentetit—Layne Itiu,t not nntivipatu MIME Paiin, Price was the gentlest 'of thC gentle; her lin, band—for ionic of his eccentric ai.lielor allletatious had become habits. itet readily to be shaken ell'—was rudest of the rude. Fanny Was rather inclined to lie si lent and thoughtful—ilair was ri-ckless and. noisy. Her taste in dress was tin. modest and simpl) becoming—he affected the flashy and exaggerated. She seemed u fill child—he was rough as a sat> r. It is strange that sent; apparent contradictions often meet, lint when titer de, and are let alone, one is an rat ellent eorreetne of the other. Fanny was already gaining in becoming confidence, and Hairy in becoming modesty—she was losing a little other over precision. and he gaining a touch more of lautnattiis, in Ins appearance when his "good billow" friends took the alarm. lie had dis4ppeared (rein this billiard' room. Ile was the life of no more ammo suppers. Ile absolutely did not know the ,next entries cur the Beacon coarse, and had po'ssitively declined to ofliciato as a "gentleman of audience" to throw it wreath of boquets tipon the stage to the honor of a fashionable iinicer. fits wife was spoiling him, and his friends— defend us from such!—were resolved to prevent it The good fellows lauded him s the perfection of all that W3B grand in spirit or chivalric in nature. tl is rude -11..1W21S aWI the in open frau -in-GA, and his ancoulhliee.. wie manly behavior. Ile 1,...!•ed current among the male world a's an extraordine . 1-, heroic, substantial and übk fellow; and the women n ere taught to give in their adhesion to this opinion, or to let it pass without contra diction. The praise of poor Fanny's oppogito in every point of course involved something vely like censure of Fanny herself; and she was deemed a delicate w.lksop— pretty torment, who wits nhogether unfit for her noble mid rather a clog upon his enterprises and a liar to his happiness. The commiseration which poor Fanny really deserved Harry received, while his gentle and retiring wife was regarded a lib a species of humane contempt. She was pretty and kind, people said—what a pity she was co useless! What a sad thing it tans for Harry Price that he was so miequally yoked with a mere dsheitie trifle of a woman, without ambition and without character: a persein who could never aid him in the world, hut would only serve to make his children, by her circa). units OA ample and instructions, as useless and insignifi t ant in the world as herself. It was a great mystery to those who knew Harry's eloracter and biz household affairs well eking!' to be apprised of the circumstance—it was a great mystery to such that, despite of his apparent rudeness nod •uncouth I harom, Harry dearly loved his wi ! She hart, it was Perceived, notwithstanding the affected (and perhaps "al) contempt for petticoat government whieltfie once rtyrel.%ed, sit immense influence over him. She could bad a lion with a silken thread. A few knew that this thread was love and wondere43t Harry's weakness. Other, and these the groat majority' said she was an on' ful mins with all her silliness, and that she studied and labored to keep her husband as useless and impOtent as hAnteli—and that she succeeded all too well in all her an. a vont. She managed somehow or other to monopolise 1, 1 ti:a leisure, poor fellow, and to maintain herself at :110, t a continual spy upon his ac ions and damper upon 1111.rity. When ilarry's bachelor friends and his lees obedient .nerriq ones were so lucky as to surprise him out of the tars of hie keeper, they welcomed him with a noise .0 nnior of the true reason of which he was partially re. The ) I eprfird bits as an towered schoolboy, or T _ , , II E ,' Ell I 'll -....0 .- -1 . .,': SE ' ::."' . .‘':V:, E It a transiently manumitted prisoner, whom it was their duty to cheer and encourage by giving him theteenjoy mem of which ho was unfortunately debarred by his dis astrous marriage connection. They pressed upon hith all sorts of equivocal and forbidden pleasures, and push ed him into frolics of dissipation and acts f unlicensed and worm than unprofitable diversion whic I gave him no enjoyment, whatever delight he might counterfeit arid whatever appearance of pleasure lie might assume. They shouted hint into doing violet co to his inclinations, and into submitting to-their evil airections and following their bud examples, by artful general sneers tdmilk sops, and laughter at the effeminate mottle of woman's coun sel. They knew better how to lead into temptation than to be so impolitic, as to make , any particular application of their iduendos, but laughed at the wliole gentle sex and all "innocent men," as if each of them were expos ed to the 611111 Q restraining influences that Harry felt in his heart that he was. He was thus the more readily induced to set his former determination aside and to re solve inaiiky to put apron string bonds at defiance, as his friends did. The gentle wife could not avoid perceiving that some bad influence woe at work upon her husband, nod that he preferred or seemed to prefer other attractions over those of his home. She could not tell to what precisely to attribute this, and carefully and rigidly examined her own thoughts and conduct to discover if she had been deficient in duty or in attention—cif 3Ni had failed in any measure to keep up the respect and love which she was sure ho had once felt for her, but which she saw, or fan cied she saw, with poignant redret, he felt no more. Oh s painful. terriblopain ful, is such a discovery to a young wife's heart when it. is forced upon her! • To find that the support upon which she bad counted to loan through life is grudgingly permitted to her—to suspect that the mutual love and esteem upon which the happiness of the married state is based, is becoming diminished—to have the conviction brought home by_her husband's de meanor—nay, perhaps, by his distinct diclaration, that the scanty companionship which ho once sought and / courted he now merely tolerates and endures—this is a • state of unhappiness which is worse than poverty and shared and alleviated by affection. h loaves life to the wife a blank, and taking away the earthly reward of her performance of her duty, at length makes that du ty, once a pleasure, a burden. But hope, a deeper prin ciple in the weaker than in the stronger sex, sustains many an unpeppy i wife in the patient performance of her vows to her husband who has utterly forgotten his. Fanny had, in the care of her household affnipt some solace in her abandonment. ,We any abandonrrient, for such is the state of the wife, often when the world knows nothing of ii, for the reason that the husband with tolera ble punctuality repairs to his home for hie food and rest, as he would to any other boarding-house. When she who should be the partner of all his joys and his cares becomes to hint a person of less respect than a rlandlady wotild.be: and the confidence he should bestow upon is . tvliolly withdrawn. except so far as he rudely visits the ronsquences of his misfortunes upon her, without per mitting her toli:lrticipato in his hopes, to know his plans or to share his success, in any other way than in the in cidental effect upon his demeanor toward her: when his pleasures are not only such as she cannot participate in, but.are subjects upon which Ito absolutely resents her ,•xpression of interest and curiosity—what is such a state as this better than abandonmentr- It is worse. The utterly and avowedly deserted wife litts only the past to lament, and 'the bitternecs of hot thoughts is relieved by the kindness and sympathy of friends, who endeavor to alleviate her present distress and guard against her future sorrow. She resigns the fall I. ss runaway, and strives to dismiss him from her thoughts and to sec!: comfort in other ties and associa• tms. But the poor Ix, man who lives in the continual di cad of a domcstie tt runt, who has no sympathy with her thoughts and no regard for her kindness, who catches Ii only pleasure from the unintentional reflection of his t.itish happiness, and the complocetey which ho exhib its 111 his unthankful enjoyment; n ho feels in his absence the aKetioorito and unavoidable pain of n wife unjustly 11 , -1 , 1.e1l and negleeted far other companions, and for ments in which site has no participation, not oven report; and who millers in Nis presence the slavish dopetisin of lea e unrequited, and the feai• that: some unintentional of ettee. or unwitting neglect of her's may salt farther estrange hint, is not such a state as this—of love unrequited. conscious of no fault )eviloubting the exeellence of licr j own domestic virtues—and her own claims upon hoe ty:ant's favor—worse than deseetion?— Is it not worse than widowhood? Oh, lot us say no more of the 510,1 em chile in a Christian land such a State of domestic misery tray exist and the wrong-doer be the fa vorite of society, while his wife is considered the bar to his happiness, and all the world cries "what a pity (hot such a good fellow should be so unequally yoked!" Thus Fanny Price lived on for many years till the tru•ting romance of her young heart was withesed. As she played the hypocrite in public—or that is too strong a word—as she acknowledged with gratittide and real pleas ure, the attentions which common politeness required of her husband before wilitesses;,and as she affectionately concealed his faults, avoided allusion to his defects, and even praised to others such excellences of character as . he possessed—in brief, es she (as women will) boasted of her husband, while her heart was ticking, so she fan cied all did. She learned to suspect behind every wife's happy smile the canker of Secret sorrow and to believe that her's was the common and indvitable lot of woman. Site lived for her family, silently and laberiously, doing good to her ungrateful husband-.and devoting het: whole life to the edUcation of her 'cliildien in the fear and love of God and in respect and generation for their father.— Rio latter was no easy task: as many a patient wife can te:Stify. Precept is powerless indeed when unsupported by example, and 'painfully is a wornusa:Q!! .... srt wrung when, in answer, to her cautions against fault and folly, or Oen sin, the little mil exclaims—"why father does it!"—or when inculcating a positive duty, she Is met by inquiry from the little observant scholar, "‘f it is tight. why does not f.,ther do it?" What shall the mother do? Which must she sacrifice—the Father in Heaven, or the father on earth? Nothing but woman's tact Clll3 at all reconcile the difficulties of such a trial—clothing but woman's patience can persevere till even a child is taught to love tho father and respect him, despite his faults! and how very many father's thus impose upon their wives a task so fearful, and chide them ir they do not succeed in educating their children correitly, despite their own had examples. And latterly n now cause of anxiety had been added to her misery. She saw in the unsteady hand. and in the increasing grossness of the mind and person of her husband, that ho Was falling into courses which must re sult in his ruin: and although oho labored as directly as she dared to arrest hint ire his downward course, the on ly result of her efforts was the heart sickening discovery that what influence she might have once possessed was now entirely lost. • He was no more ashamed of his folly and wichedness before the purity of his wife and chil dren. and introduced visitors to his house and topics into his conversation which made his gentle wife's heart ache con Account pf their evil example and influence. He spoke lightly of faults and crimes which Fanny had taught. bar children to regard With horror; and, at last, lost even the external redeeming characteristics of the gentlemanly rOUO. CIIAPIXII WHICH !TAUS ROLL ON SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBE "Can these things be?" asked Fanny of herself one night, es she sat alone in her sitting room, having just attended to the evening devotions of her children and puzzled herself in answering their troublesome questions about duty and their father, with "your parents do not always do as they ought, though we strive to do our du ty. You must imitate ,us inn what we do right, not in what we do wrong." "Who punishes you %viten ,on du ,ivrong?" asked Fanny the second child, a girl of six years of age. "God punishes us." "Ana will God punish father for drinking too much wino and saying wicked worth., if he 'don't do no any more?" It tvas too 'much for the mother, and she turned the little one off, but heard their voices in debate as they went np the stairs. "Can these things he!" eta said, as she reviewed her married life, opening but a few years before with the promise of no much hiippiness. It was the an , 'niversarj• of her wedding. The faded and use-racked furniture about her, unreplenished by a man who cared nothing for his household, was eloquent of bitter memo ries and suggestive of painful reflections. The children were often, as they had been to-night, the innocent causes of new pain to her; and elle deeply felt how dread ful a thing it is to a have a bad example continually be fore your offspring, against which you cannot warn them without impressidg upon them the fact that their fattier, whom you would gladly teach them to respect and lion or, is unworthy of such sentiments, even from his The father entered nt, for I • , this unusually early hour. She looked up in some anxiety, and an ho bade her good evening in a kind toile, her face lit up with the smile of other "lt is our wedding day, Fanny. and 1 thought yott might like to h..ve- me at tea with you. se t seldom drijik ten, you know, but you women like it, and I fancied my presence to-night would improve the flavor." Oh, silly, fond Fenn) ! Indefinite years of returning happiness danced before her imagination, as she rang up tho maid and moved about in preparation for a trifle which was to her an event. And bebe had really then nut for gotten her! Flo remembered as well as she the anni verity. And she might—who know?—even Win him back to home and peace. Ile watched her, perhaps with a sentiment of affection and regard—of patronage at least —as her graceful though care-worn face and figure piss ed and repassed before him in glad employment. And when she had seated herself at the head of the quiet board, and he took his place opposite, he wondered an instant, if hh had not been wrong after all, in slighting a'quiet and happy home like this for the noisy and guilty mirth of tho haunts of folly. Fanny was in elysium, and when the tea wns removed and her husband actually bostowad himself comfort ably in his former favorite chair, as though prepared to spend the whole evening tit house, site really scarcely knew how to trust her /temps. IL was like the return of a friend or the renewal of an old friendship. Harry had not wasted so many words upon her in as many years as ha now spoke in a few hours; and by the provision or 'a few little delicacies, fruit and other refreshments at n later period in the evening. she made the man feel com fortable ,and happy—but a little—and a twinge of con -science visited him with the thought—a little like estran ger and a visitor in his own house. The very servants noted the phenomenon of a whole evening spent at home, and wore astonished and pleased. The children asked what kept mamma so long down stairs, and stared open wide their sleepy eyes when they were told it was father. An aspect of cheerfulness seemed to have come over the whole household. The faded carpet,in Fanny's imagination resumed its pristine brightness, and the whole room. 'which at twilight had appeared no dull and gloomy, was now cheerful with pleasant nssoci.tions, for as her own dear husband sat with her—the but-band of her'early love and choice—it seemed to her like' a new and happier bridal chastened into sobriety by experience, and giving new and bettor hopes of the future, inasmuch as it held out no extrava gant promises. Henry heard with apparent interest long acrounts of the shildron's littlellives and progess in their studies and pursuits, and even encouroged.the garrulity of a mother upon a subject co near her heart by n' multitude of ques tions—a thing unheard of in their household, for he had before barely tolerated their presence a few a moments at a time, and checked convensatiun respecting them with hardly courteous abruptness. Wns there ever such, a change in a man's &tritium!! Would it be perma nent and continual' or was it to be but a gleam of sun shine amid her misery to mock Fanny with the contrast in her usually unhappy, bows? She would not let these quotations abate her happinesa, but thanked heaven fer vently for the joy she felt, and wont to her Cost with a peace and tranquility of mind which had for weary yoars been strangers to her pillow. I= When Fanny Price rose, on the morrow, it was many moments before she could percuade herself that the re collection of what had passed the evening before was not a deceitful dream mocking her sorrow. Bat circumstance after circumstance rocalfed the conversation she had held with her husband, the longest since her honey-moon, and it seethed .to her as if the morning sun never so cheerfully lit up the breakfast room before. Sho super kited with morn than ordinary care 'IT preparations fur the morning repast, and hoped, yet scarcely dared to hope, that her husband would come doWn with the same cheerful temper and smiling face whicl\ he wore on the -evening previous. How _cheaply 'nigh' husbands make their wives always happy if they would! 1)i And when on her return from the kite yon, after one of the many bustling and busy runs to a fro which she made that morning, olio found her husband with the youngest of her three children upon his knees, and the other two, one at each elbow, listening with ey:es and ears and open mouths to sotne,diverting story Which their fa ther was telling them—now shouting interjections of incredulous surprise—now bursting into shouts of noisy laughter, she verily doubted her senses. Breakfast' passed, as breakfast had not for many a month passed before. Not an article upon the board was complained of by tho husband—not a word of fault was found with the noise of the children, although, in the strange liberty in which they found themselves placed by the demeanor of their father, they were more than usu - sly hilarious. Fanny 'could not think that the breakfast could possibly he entirely to her husband's satisfaction and attempted two or three apologies; but he ruled out excuses so pleasantly, and insisted with such cheerful apparent sincerity that every thing was all right and good enough. that oho could scarcely trust her ears. A still farther pleasure was in reserve for her, Hurry actually intrdduced his business end prospects as a theme for conversation with her—with her/ He who had billi on° frowned at the mast distant question end suppressed the slightest expression of interest on her part with tho remark that women should attend to their children and households and keep within their proper prdvince—n re mark often surlily uttered—he had really himself bro't forward the forbidden subject sad asked her counsel:— How could this change have come over him? Had some good angel whispered to him his duty to Ins wife, or had some kind friend of her's avepraised to him hes capacity to think sad mum!. Had he tired, of the hollow frie,noOdirctf the world, or was be reminded by his own belie: nature of whet he owed tn.the partner of his bo etlin. /.7•0 *AU D-a.l As he proceeded any but an affectionate wifo would hay° suspected that the exact and entire truth was in tentionally withheld frout l her; for Funny knew that her husband must be embarrassed In his business relations But th e 'worst that her !Joint accused him of was, thnt from regard to his family he cheated himself into the hope and belief that matters were quite as well as he had represented them, and that it was through kindness ho was making her the partiCipant in the consoling and pro pitious circumstances which he found on reviewing his affairs. "And now my dear," he continued, as the hour op- preached when breakfast conferences usually terminate. "you perceive that in a little time, I shall not have so much care and anxiety harrassing me, and then I shall be able to wear the cheerful face at home which a hus band ought." "And I shall be so happy, Harry! Oh, if you had only told me all this before, I could Imo alleviated your anxieties by sharing them, and I should not have been so miserable, with all yossbusiness and embarrassments upon my hands, unaided, as I have been in the doubt whether my husband had any affectiOn for mo or was utterly estranged. • "I am very sorry, Fanny, that I have caused you so much uneasiness. Now, we understand each other.— And you can assist me, not only with bind words, but with deeds." • "Oh, any thing, Henry, only show me how! We will move out of this largo him's° and let it, and the rent will comfortably maintain the family in a more modest tette- ment." "My own dear wife! nut I expected as much from you. We will movcrinto 6, smeller house an you soy; but would it not be [' j otter to sell, instead of renting this?" •;You forget, my doer husband, how, beforo our mar riage, you insisted upon settling. this house, my only pat rimony, upon me, notwithstanding my earnest objee- tions." "Oh ne, Fanny, but I remenabor your objections, and supposed you entertahrted them still." ..Tints have Changed since then. Henry." The wife trembled as sho said this, and was aghast at her own boldness. It was the first word like reproach which- sho I - had uttered to him . A cloud passed over his brow, as ho answered, wit t some feeling:— "And persons !mist have changed with thorn, when the wife can taunt her husband with his misfortunes." "Forgive me of it sounded like a taunt, Henry. God knows how patietit and silent I have been, and I find now that you have only underestimated my mind for the weakness and fond endurance of my affection. Forgive me if I speak plainly, but out of the fullness of a heart long pent up the ttiouth *twst speak at last." Henry was astehished. He-bad not appreciated before the firmness of wife's character, latent in the blind fondness of the m ek and 'suffering wife, undeveloped till the duties oft o mother and the claims of her chil dren called it fort . lie made a rapid stride or two across the room, t , ok his hat in his hand and strove to carry his point by last violent effort. "Mrs. Price." ho said with the calmness and slow pronunciation of d'ep and terrible anger; ••I trust that you are nut determined by an exhibition of the folly and perverseness of your sex to make me a by-word end laughing stock. Tho house is already sold, conditioned npotour consent the tithi deeds are ready for the Rig naturemf yourself I and your trustees, and the money which we shall receive will'put mo on my feet and make me a man again." Fanny choked a sold over her head irresolute and foolis h of course. For her' to hesitate—for her "Henry," she an I should be content penniless. destitute admissions and hal very one for which patrimony upon mo beggared—but I ful act of mine howeve those who must herl upon me. If I spa.' ing upon my %realm Exlmusted and ' sank upon a chnir.a band to strikc--but audibly cursing mot That day ho WII9 p said his icifc tart-rin Poor Fanny was s• red the trouble of contriving bow in her large and cumbe see furniture, fi tted for one of the palaces'of our mere ant priers, could be crowded into a email house. Her husband's wreck curried every t i thing ivith it. Fa ny rose with the exigence to a strength of character and purpose of which no one had supposed her capabl ; ur rather, we should say, adver i-i shy developed the tr its In her character which, under proper treatment fro her husband, might have .shown themselves long be ore end s have prevented the ruin which had now overt ken hint. To the articles of her .own personal propert • and th other household chattles which the law resenr, she Madded, by the "temporary 1 aid of her friends, such thins ns were necessary and convenient, personallr attend i pg the vendue and purchas ing in the absence of competition, which was withhold where she was the bidder. People were astonished at her firmness, and won upon by her lady-like appearance and absence of weakness or affectation. A better esti mate began to be put upon her, and she rose in respect as her husband sank in infamy. Yea, the word must be writt;ller the rash of his business, the asset, which had disappeared unaccounted for, and the inves- , tigations which news arily anointed the settlement, de veloped rt'eßiurse of a ameless 'profligacy, conjugal in fidelity and reckless g mbling: which stamped him mor ally nswindler, if not a such l ainenable to the laws.-.:. Respect for his mint) o nod excellent wifo and pity for his children, prevents legal proceedings which might have ended in his utt r multi. Acting as a free ivg nt, untr.ammoled by her hussliand's ( e t follies and unchecked by fear of him, Fanny, with the assistance of her frien a, put her a ff airs in the best pos. slide posture. Her h use wasrepaired, repainted, and profitably rented, and in a little tenement in a -humble street, neat without nnld comfortably anff tastefully fur nished within, she lived with mid for her c hildren. . Care ful economy without Meanness kept herself and children prettily and comfortably clad; and tho improvement of every article and of or .ry moment to some sensible and profitable purpose. left hor-n surplus both of time and of means to relieve the at erly destitute. She was grieved at the falland disapp tunnels as her husband—pained that he should treat her so ill as entirely to forget and neglect her, and force , in the few moments of unoreu. pied solitude which he occasional tear to the mind conscious of yen tier, and above ell, the good God who sustain the fatherless, strength ehildrep wore growing could wish: and‘thous! alwcp cheerful end co, Three )ears bad pa :44,:t and h.c , had bete, R 22, 1849. this now insult! Her own house utl tho Consent of herself, as a weak. counted upon as a .thing elf alone she would not have dared tubes sti l e would dare every thing. veered,' if[ alcine were in the case, to vender houseless for lour sake— But tile strait which lo ur tardy confiab;nces now betray, way the you told me the settlement of my would p l otrido. -I am willing to be y, finally and firmly refits . ., by any speciously you present it. to beggar Defter. I ldo believe, be dependent k harshly it is you who, by prestn ess, havti provoked it." rrified adwhat she had said. Fanny id wept bitterly. Ilenry raised his spared himself that disgrace. and ter and children left the house.— ,roclaimed n bankrupt, and people 'ed hitn! What a lying world this SEM INIMME=I Olin avocations left her. to drop an emory of her early love. But is udo—ti busy astcntiou to her do eliance: of true piety upon the and comforts thy 'widowed and nod and encouraged her. Her p about her. all that her heart BeldoMne never merry she was tented. ed aid not a word from blot-- I is her elmest- as ono e! the dead. It was again the anniversary of her wedding, but she never marred thn children's comfort by reminding them of a day marked In her calendar only by sorrowful recollections of confidence abused and love neglected.— She sat a silent I though abstracted observer of. their amusements, occaiioaally caned to herself to smile an instant at some juvenile sally, and then forgetting it to lose the present in tracing in the dim light the features of her husband whose portrait hung above the mantel.— As slur gazed the canvass seemed-almost ready to speak to her, and she fancied that the lineaments took the ex prowled of kindness and confidence. She nhuddcred and started to her feet. for the bitter memory come up how on such a night as this ho had artfully put on that expression to win tier to her ruin! She mentally thank ed God, who lied enabled her to resist, and turning her oldest daughter. snide-- "Is it not almost limo -for little ones to think of re tiring?" • A few "ohs!" and "ohs!" of objection were smiled , down by the resolute yet gentle mother, and on arrang ed themselves in a quiet and respectful attitude, when the eldest daughter comMenced a simple and touching evening hymn, with the words of which all were Etna, I liar; and the whole joined in the sweet and plaintiv air. The second child then road in a clear and nude standing voice, as ono who comprehended what she mai; a chapter in one of the gospels, and then mother and I children knelt to acknowledge the care which had pro served theirs to that hour—to thank God for his many benefits and to implore a continuance of his protection,; hrough the silent waMbes of the night. On this occa sion the mother and the wife, who often remembered him in her silent prayers, conid not forget the absent and erring but. still beloved husband; and when they rose from their knees ho stood silent and in tours before them! !lobed knocked unheard—or if hoard by the children unnoticed—in their habits of reverence, add knowing the voice which was speaking hail crept silent ly in. Fanny took hint by bath hands—studied his face an instant, but in that instant, with all a woman's tact and quickness she read all she wanted to know—and throwing herself into his willing arms alto wept tears of joy upon his bosom. Deserted wife and mother—all the past was forgotten, and Fanny Price was Fanny Price— confiding, loving, self•saerificing Fanny Price still! %%re need not further describe the particulars of that meeting. Nor need we very minutely follow the story which Fanny would not permit her husband to commence pistil the children were kissed off to bed. Then she pla ced the wanderer in his own chair, which she had still 'preserved, and droving up the ottoman worked by her' fingers during this past days of ht r married happiness and leisure, she rested leer elbow upon his knee and looked up trustingly in his face as lie proceeded in his narrative.. Could he have deceived her while those gentle eyes were / fixed upon his face? He neither did nor desired to. When 'first in difficulty he applied for loans to his gay friends, but they soon taught him the difference is li:ch they perceived between a "good fellow" with plenty of montly and a •'poor fellow" who wanted assistance.— The very basest of the parasitese,male and female, nho had fattened upon his ruin, spurned hint with contempt. Consious of having forfeited the esteem and respect of the good, he thought with love, regret and shame of his abused wife. "Oh," interrupted Fanny, "if you bad only come to her then!" , "It is better as it is," ho paid, as ho looked offection ntly in her face. "I hove learned wisdom in my absence." The naval service, which catches many a disappointed roan and hapless malcontent, had been the place in which for three years the broken merchant had hidden 104 woun ded pride, and the repentant husband his self-reproach and chagrin. He tad written, and more than once too, and was deeply grieved that his wife hod not received his letters; but the postman could not so readily find her in her retirement, as when her letters canto to the care of Henry Price, Esq. It remains only to say that Henry's reformation was through and lasting. Ile thanked again and again the prudence which had saved an as)lum for his children from the wreck of his fortunes, and studied only the more , to esteem and respect the diameter ocher who had shown herself more equal to the emergency of misforknue than her husband. He commenced life anew under better auspicies and with bettor associations, and Fanny Price is again in her own house, and the acknowledged and respected mistress of it: her husband the hapies t of mar ried men and a walking bundle of cautions against ell friends, male orlon:ale, who would FOE Hp man or woman, by disparaging the mate who should be:protected if weak —shichied from observation ,if erring, and lose! at all hazard!. WATX.It barviaxo rN Clll4lllloolL—lt is particularly with those who IMve been accustomed to water-drinking in childhood that it will show its good effects in after life. During the first nine months, the infgtilis to be nourished by its mother's milk, which servos as food and drink, it is gradually accustomed to other sustenance during tho period of weaning. After this is-accomplish ed, however, the infant should have water as well as milk. By water drinking in childhood and youth. the foundation of a durable stomach is laid, and thus of a healthy body through life. The nerves and blodd system are aver excited by taking viands. spice+, beer, wine. chocolate, cuffs°, .Cc., and thus a constant artificial state of fever is maintained, npd the proaoss of life is so much accelerated by it, that children fe t i iii this manner, do net attain perhaps half the ag•S ordaMed by nature. Besides' this, experience has taught that they berme passionate and wilful, having neither the will nor the power to me te themselves or others happy. Furthermore, too, excitiug and nutritious food gives rise to many diseases to which they fall a sacrifice iu early years. Parents should weight this well. They should throw esido their prejudice against water; which they look upon as weakening, ig norantly considering that the tender organism of chil dren iermires far More nourishing diet to Airing it to ma turity than the already perfected body of tho adult. This is a wrong notion; children thrive beet on the simple, moderately nourishing vegetable diet—on milk and pure .water: Wo seo this confirmed in the cottogo of the peasant.—&irtilific American. Ttii: UNCRIITtINrY or 1.1 l x.—Sertreely a dty piveCtri that we aro not reminded of the 'frail tenure nuM ha+ up on life and the things of time. r nd the necessity of a cou rt-int preparation for thut change which awaits all. A striking illustration of this solemn fact came to our knowl edge a day or two aince, A gentleman actively engaged in extousive business in Elul. Boston, was crossing the ferry in company with a friend, and in tho course of conversation remarked; "Well, I have worked ying enough. and hard enough. and have managed to Bemire sufficient property tcosupport myself and family through life: I mean, therefore. to retire front business and en. joy myself the reit of my life.•• The gentleman arose the next morning in his usual health. and went to his place of business; at about 2 P. M., he was seized with th e c holera. and ere theittin again rose. eras numbered among the dead! • His bright anticlpationd of future' en joiruent on earth were blasted. and the wealth! which fur years ho had been telling to secure. in a moment forever snatched from his posesalon. Life is indeed suspended by a brittle thread, which tho faintest breath may stmder -Ciktstost Jour. The Tante here a proverb labith nye. that the do-ii tempta a',l ()the; men * but that Idle men tempt the devil. =I Sl5O A TEAR, In Advance. DEATIIOF 51E11E511T ALI. EX-PACHA OF EtM2l iFt,:xit the Woston 130.1 • This is a world of c - Aanges.-sa dozen years since the name of the Macedonian which is at the head of this ar ticle,es/ was in nearly every mans mouth, and his de ds were the theme of nearly every writer for the public eu . Now, other men and other measures are talked f and written about—columns are filled with sp adorn on campaigns which none save the actors therein know any thing about—and a paragraph of three lines informs the world that Mehemet Ali is dead. lie who, by his ener getic will conquered the land of Pharaoh--sought to etivit lin its people by people by baptising them in blood—came near driving the Turks (rem Constantinople. is suffered to pass away without eliciting a word of comment. Eu - Ingiums or funeral honors his memory deserveth not, but a hasty glance at his eventful life may net be uninteres ting to nur readers Born nt Cavala, in the year 1766, Mehemet Ali embra ced the profession of arms, and won his first laurels in fighting the French at Rahmaniels. When the army evacuated Egypt. he entered the Pacha'r service, and gradually worked hie way along by his sword, his sagacity and poison, until he ruled the whole valley. of the Nile; although occasionally rho Sultan, jealous of this "Napo leon of the East," would appoint a Pacha over him. The last of these unwelcome superiors was Elfy Bey. chief of the Marnelukes, who perished with his band in 1811. Four hundred end seventy of these gallant caval iers were enticed into the citadel of Grand Cairo, and there shot before Mehemet Ali's eyes. One, only, dash ing down a steep pricipice, on his Arab steed, escaped this bloody and treacherous massacre. Meliement then undertook to introduce European cus toms litto Egypt, at the point of the bayonet. Factories were started, schools were founded, squadrons were built, armies were disciplined—yet behind this mark of civiliza tion there was the most barbarous despotism. The fertile valley of the Nile was covered into one vast plantation. belonging to Mehemet Ali, who made every man, woman and child therein execute h:s bidding, or ordered them to the scaffold. Ills greatestiwork, the Mahmoodich Canal. is a sample of the rest of his .'arilired operations."— Uniting Alexandra with the Nile, it is of the greatest utility to Egpf, and it was a mechanical triumph to con strust a canal sixty miles in length. minty feet in bredth and eighteen feet in depth, in less than eighteen months. (!llut how was the work dune? By en order from Mehemet 'ili. the chiefs of the:villages assembled the/clinks. and cacti district furnished a certain quota of laborers, who were chained, and marched to their allotted division.-- 3011,000 , men 'were thus torn from their homes, and foe-- ced to serape up the earth with their hands. or bits of hoard, and carry it to the banks in baskets on their heads. Their food was of the coarsest description, and of the 330,000 who commenced the work, '2.3.000 died before it was completed, for want of the necessaries of life and front excessive labor. This Is a fair epecitnan of ciaikaiion in modern Europe, where the people are _es abased, as brutal, as depraved and as they werntwenty years since. • While carrying on his iron - rule ''at home, Mehemet Ali has sustained his power by several bloody wars aroad. His eldest son, Tustan I'acha, died after an expedition against the N'Vahliabies in 1816, after which the sanguin- Meltemet's step-son, took command of the Egyptian forces. Sustained by French renegades, he has left a bloody record of his prowess in the Morel). and in Syria. where the European powers arrested him on the plain of Nezib, and prevented him iu the very flush of victory from drhing thu Turks beyond the Bosphorour, On this occasion, France Wnquestionably withheld promised aid, and Mehemet Ali learned not to put his trust in Princes. ffe 'afterwards re-acknowledged the supromecy of rho Sublime Porte. and some half-dozen years ago %sent in state to Constantinople. to pay homage to the Sultan. Every humbug scheme was sure to receive his uid, and the miserable Egyptians toiled under the lash, to raise exports in order to pay for •'civilized" economical and political Mike. -- - Fite years ago This very month. Europe was startled by the announcement that Mehemet Ali had abdicated his pachalic to Ibrahim, and was about to rekkre to Mecca• 13tit the example of Charles Ffth was not - really put into execution, for the old Nero returned to power. Ibrahim died not long afterwards, but Mehemet_ was gradually supercedcd by ona of his sons, and has been for the past two years in his dotage. His remains have been interred • in a magnificent musque,' which ho constructed. (lined entirely with rock al tbater,) in the citadel of Cairo. Tho view from this mosque is one of the finest in the world! Directly beneath isGrand Cairo, w ith its tom :wets, toms, a ill Saraeenic ardhitecture--heyond, the majestic Nilo winds through a broad belt of verdure. studded wiili_groxos of acacias, sycamores and orange trees—while in the distance are the distance are the gi gantic pyramids, standing on the border of the fearful and Gar-spreading Lybieri desert. We Wave had interviews with Mehemet Ali at this beauti ful opol, and at his palace at Rasertin, near Alexandria. lie was a spare, vigorous old man, with a flowing white beard, and an eye General Jackson's. Courteous to strangers. he always gave them full protection while visiting the wonders of his pachalic, 'and during his war with England, in 1840. while "Abiniral Stopford was ntiacking one of his castles. he sent a flag of truce with the Mail," which had just arrived-by way of the Red Sea. This "Indian mail" route makes Egy?t` a desirable , Requisition for the repacity of England. and various havo been the stralogetni used by John Bull to get a "right of way" from C., re, to Sncz. The most that ever could be obtained was vie snb.titution of homen for the, slow end uncertain camels. although a few of the latter are used to c•trry wider for the, horses to the "half-way house." rranee has now her hands full at home, but we shall not be surprised to see a straggle bet coon her and Eng• Lad fur the valley of the Nile, now that Mehemet is go•ib. Let either nation come into power there. the polo, ple will be tile gainers, and happiness may thou again bo found in that once moud Lind, uuw a melancholy spec tacle of post grandutr— "rlelhal unm er gilds her Rut all eteept her sun io set. '1'111; sputa OF PROGRESS Large :Li are the strides. and splendid as are - the tri• umphs of the spirit of progress of the nineteenth centu ry, she still numbers her enemies by thousands. Chi nese walls, rind Chinese hatred to improvement, still hold some sway among many of our people. They loro and would fostcr "the good old way:" Why, in the meridian time of ;..the good old nay." ships required months to perform a voyage from Liverpool to New York, now, the winds and tides, held in vassalago by the spirit of progress. waft the vessel from world to world in a single fortnight! By "the good old way."a hark we. polka from New York to Albany in twenty days; now, the superb vessel nsks but ten hours to accomplish the sant . e journey! According to "the good - old way," a press which could griko off' a thousand newsp i pets in a night, was viewed in a light but kilo removed from the marvellous; now, a press in the same time hurls from its great iron hands fifty ihousond - sheen+. Dy "the good old way," nice old ladies, wito , lllppened to be blessed with ugliness end blaek Cats, aveset'hung up or drowned I ,t at witches;l now, our **old ladies ar honored only less than our handsome young ladiesl• y "the good old way," monarchs were clad, by even , merienns, in the light of divinity; and now, the Yankee "Woallthahe kiwis with the king unan his throne. - And think it kindetts to his moje:ty." By "the good old way." Colambda Would slumber an nu known man in an unknown grave. But the spirit of pro t . t.es - pointed his ardent aces to another world. bapti zed by another sea. in the far of Ileverides: and that race which is the crown of humanity. now swam 0 1 1 tho fortilersoil of that new earth, to chain matter to the ear of civilisation, illumine mankind with the beams of liberty. and send hoary errors crumbling away in the awful shadow of reform. When you eon bind ilia wittit , of the eagle with a cobweb, when you can stop the world in its motion by a priestly dictum. then attempt to arrest the giant of progress in his majestic career. He who does sttempt it before these tabors have been aceempli.h ed..ntust only be crushed himself beneath his mighty feet, NUMBER 19,