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,