B. E. SLOAN. Editor
VOLUME 20,
VIM Vnetg.
We occasionally meet, going the rounds of the papers: poems of
extraordinary merit, with no authors name attached. They fly
hither and thither like wandering snowflakes Mime beauty only
cliches the eye of those who appreciate the harmonies of the
spirit. The following we caught flying past us, and it was so fill
of beauty and truth, that we determined at ones to embalm it here,
It smacks of the right ingredients, and we know will commas
frequent perusal:
What if in that subliMer state,
To n hich our souls shaft once attain,.
The things of earth, and (fine, and fate,
Shall pass before our eyes again, -
Shall we review our life's slow way,
Its wants and weariness beholding,
And by heaven's purer noon survey,
What earth's dim twilight now is folding?
O, what a wondrous change will pass
O'er all that here lath Needled and been!
Darkly we see, as through a glass,
What then shall face to face be seen;
The nothingness of alt we prized,
The falshood of the love we sought,
The priceless' truth of hearts despised, •
The worth of all we valued not!
Perchance, It shall net then be seen
'that this, ourearthly path of tears,
So desolate a waste bath been
1
As to the in urner's eye appears:
When clearer fight UTOUTItI us breaks,
Our eyes she I read their course below,
A dreary line of long mistakes,
Atoned by ninny a needless wo.
Our youth wits passed in visions fair,
In las iDhing the health of heart;
Our manhood had the harder care
Of watching all those dreams depart
What was there left for sad oldmge,
Except In use less grief to rue
The errors of a pilgrimage
We could not, if we teduld, renew:
Yet in ourselves the evil lay,
Poor. steak artificer of wo!
Our idol/ then were made of clay,
But 'tw as out hand that made them fo,
We needed some diviner call,
To teach our hearts alike to shun
The lovely fault of trusting all,
The bitter sin of trusting non 4
Turn we not therewith V . 3 fu disgust
From lord betrayed and faith deceived,
Nor let our hearts forget to trust.
When they are wounded, %%rung, and grieved;
'Pakeitome this lesson—it Is such
As turns life's darkness into light:
0! we can never lot e too much,
If •at e will only lute aright!
Riottrit fhttrli.
[From the 4ttguEt Democratic Do imv.)
John 11111, alias Nixon Curry:
OR
THE VIOT.IN Cr CIIV;IIMSTANOES,
A TRIM SYSTEM OF ARRANSL3 Luz
"Among the trucot frienilirof the peAtle of all in the present
Fornewion, may he named John Hill, of ,St. Francis. His energy,
eluyuena• alp! courage, fully entitle hint to 1110 KOMI place he
halo, and, as «e trust, will long retain—that of louder of the
Arkansas peudtcraC) —.Lane Ruck Gatette, IR the days of Con
smarm.
fitooDt ArYstit.— . A desperate enconntre occurred laA. week
in St Francis. Two distingui.hed eilizetat were killed, and three
others , langerou.ly wounded. - The dilficulty resulted from ail at
tempt to arrest John Hill, a member ot the last legydatare, nud
formerly of the State Cont ention, w ho, it is allegedp the 111.40110115
robber, l'ileart Curry. tint committed such ntrucitteh tilteen years
nr). In We mountains of Caroltna."—Littts Rock Ga:cite, if
le4o.
WO have given the previous extracts from the oldest
and most respectable Journal of Arkansas, in order to
satisfy evcrry reader, that the following narrative,
extraordinary as some of its ,incidents may ap
pear, is no tissue of fiction. Indeed, while rela
ting genuine events, and painting now scenes, we have
been especially careful to avoid all vivid colors.—Should
this short sketch, by any means reach the forets of Ar
kansas, the people there will deem it; descriptions tame
in comparison with the deeds of the man. The writer,
who has long resided on the frontier, has no use for fancy
in portraying its exciting life. Simple memory will serve I
him well.,
About fifty years ago, there lived in Iredell county,
Norh Carolina,- a Presbyterian preacher by the name of
Curry. He was a man in easy circumstances, of irre
proachable character, and having a largo family of pro- i
raising sons and tlatightenr. Among these, the favorite
was Nixon, distinguished when a boy for his fearless
courage and tenderness of his heart alike. He seems
from several anecdotes of his early days, to hails bean a
child of impulse and intense earnestness and passion.—
When
onlyeix years of age, ho had a combat with a bul- '
ly of the play ground, nearly twice his dm) weight, and
after suffering dreadfully at last achieved victory, due
almoit entirely to the sheer power of his endurance.
Front the time he was six years old, that is to say, from
the first session he attended in the country school-house,
had Nixon Curry been in love. His idol was a little girl
of the same age, and under the tuition of the same mas
ter. The attachment appears to have been mutual from
the commencement. They stood up in one class, and al
ways managed to stand together. During the hour. of
reces4 whelt the' other juveniles were amusing them
selves with boisterous sporbs, the precocious lovers would
wander amidst leafy groves, or by the mossy margins of
the silvery rills. Forever, to eternity, and whenever, the
soft spell of first love comes, it brings with it the bright
spirit of poetry, scattering thick starred dreams and divine
visions of beautzovei all-things. Even then they exchan
ed pledges, and discoursed in sweet, sinless whiipers of
their future bridal.
And thus they grew up in one delicious identity •of
fancy and feeling. Their bias for each other's society
when children, caused no particular remark. Such at-•
tachments are common in the country, between the
youth of opposite sexes, and as urinal, terminate abruhtly,
on arrival of mature years. Far different however, was
the caso with Nixon Curry and Lucy Gordon. Their
passions became so evident at fifteen, that all further in
tercourse was forbidden by her parents—among the
wealthiest aristocracy of Carolina. - Then followed sto
ke meetings by starlight, firnme vows, and wilder love,
-which always increases in proportion to lits crosses; and
like the tree of Lebanon, sends down its deepest root in
to the heart, the more it is shaken by storms.
Finally at seventeen, when Lucy's relatives were en
deavoring to force her into the arms of another, she fled
with the lover of her childhoid. They were pursued—
overtaken; and Nixon Curry shot his rival and one of
the proud Gordon dead upon the spot, and then 0805P
ed with his bride, although hotly chased by niore men.
and found an asylum in the Allegheny Mountains, near
the source of the Catawba. Here, under the plea of ne
cessity, ?us embraced the profession of's robber, and ren
dered Ids name famous by the number and astonishing
boldness of his exploits. Wo may record it, not as a
matter of merit, perhaps, but for the sake of historical
truth—that the young bandit never was known to per
petrate any deed of murder for the purpose of plunder—
though he did several to avoid arrest. At length tho ru
mor of his daring felonies cepaed suddenly, and notwith
standing a reward of five thousand dollars wits offeMd for
his apprehension, by tho Governor of the State, he•wm _
beard of no more in North Carolina,
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,
At the first settlement of the fertile delta, bordering on
the St. Francisco. there came an emigrant, who called
himself John Dill, and whoaoon succeeded in acquiring
universal popularity. Although of moderato means, he
was sober, indwitrious, generous and hospitaule; and
such continued to be his character, in the now Country
of his adoption, for twelve successive years, During all
thationg period he . never had a personal difficulty or
quarrel with any human being, and yof every body was
satisfied that such a peaceful life—singular for that lat
itude, was not owing to a want of courage, or deficiency
in power to perform good service, to any sort of battle
field, for of all bear-huntertithat ever pierced the jungles
of cano in "in the groat swamp," or descended by torch
light into the dark caves of the Ozark Mountains, he was
celebrated ea the most fearless.
He was repeatedly elected to the Territorial Legisla
ture, whore he distinguished himself by a strong impels-
Blount° eloquence, tur a chief leisder in the Democratic
ranks. Ho was next, as wo haVe already:seep, a mom
of the Convention that formed the State Constitution;
and was elected again the ensuing year, to represent his
•
county In the Senate of 'Arkansas.
At this period commenced his second series of misfor
tunes. Hill's nearest neighbors were Strongs, four bro
thers of considerable wealth, mom ambition. and if we
may borrow the phrase of the country, **moue fighters."
Notwithstanding their characters was so dissimilar from
that of thiancific "bear hunter," a close and cordial in
timacy grew up between them; and Hill„ in tin unguard
ed moment, made the elder brother, George, a confidant
as to the secrets of his previous history. It happened that
this same George conceived a violent desire for political
distinction, and requested Hill to xesign his' seat in the
Senate in the illiberal friend's favor. Hill refuied, and
the Sronga conspired for a terrible revenge. Writing
back to Carolina,. they procured a copy of the reward
offered for Nixon Curry. the far-famed robber, and then
eellectinga purty of a dozen desperate men, they attempt
ed to capture Hill in his own house. The latter had al
ways gone armed with his enormous double barrel
led shot gun, two long rifle pistols, and a knife so hea
vy that few hands - besides his own .could wield it. The
assault of the Strangs proved horrible to themselves. Hill
killed two of the brothers. and dangerously wounded five
of their friends, escaping himself unhurt, although more
than twenty. rounds of ball and buck-shot were aimed at
his breast.
The excitement resulting from • tho affair was bound
less. A requisition came on from th Eexecutive or Car
olina, demanding the surrender of Nixon Curry. The
Governor of Arkansas published au additional reward for
the arrest of John Hill; and thus betwixt the two fires,
the victim's chance socaneil perfectly hopeless.
Hill's conduct, in the crisis, was prompt and fearless
as over. Packing up hastily. he set out with his wife and
children, in a common moving wagon for Upper Arkan
sas, whore ho knew of a band 'of desperadoes that he
believed would protect him. Ho was overhauled at Con
way Court House by two hundred men in pursuit. all
thoroughly armed, and some of them renowned "fight -
ars." Hill saw their approach On the distant pararies,
and with his doublo-barrel—tliat sure death-dealer to
either man or boast, withinslie range of two hundred
yards—instantly tnalte_cl„o meta his foes. This incre
dible bravery, joined to fear before inspired, by his des
peration, affected the advancing troops with such an ac
countable panic that the whole live hundred sought safe
ty in a disgraceful and rapid light. 1
Several other attempts were Made to capture the dan-,
gerous outlaw, all alike ending in either ludicrous sr
bloody failures. In the meautiMe, llill's character un
derwent a complete change. Ferced `to be always on the
lookout, and, therefore, unable to follow any steady busi
ness in order to support his fam Ily. he resorted to the
gaming table. He learned also to indulge in the fiery
Nom ttious of ardent drink, and his disposition, necessarily
soured by recent events, becamel quarrelsome in the ex
treme. Perhaps there never was a man, excepting only
that Napoleon of duelists, James Bowie, who was more
heartily dreaded. I have myself seen persons of un
doubted courage „ turn pale, merelj• at the appearance of
his gigantic form, broadly belted had bristling with pis
tols. He was waylaid and shot at a number of times,
yet still escaped without a scar. But this could be con
sidered no wonder, for even brave men's hands shook
Whin they saw him, and shaking hands generally make
very poor shots.
During tho September term, 18.13, of the Circuit Court
for Pope county, in which Hill resided, he got out of bed
one morning uncommonly glooMy, and, while at the
breakfast table, suddenly burst into tears.
"What is the matter, my dedr 1" asked Lucy—that
beautiful Lucy, who had formerly left her wealthy home
in Carolina for the robber, and robber's cave.
"I have had a dreadful drawn," answered the hus
band, shuddering at the recolleCtion: "[ saw George
Strong in my sleep, and ho kissed me with his pale lips,
that burned like fire, and smelt of sulphur. lam sure
I shall dio before sunset." •
"Then do not go to court to-dity." said the wifo In ac
cents of earnest entreaty. I '
- - ,
, "But I will," replied the husband firmly. "When a
man's time is come, he cannot hido front death; beSidee,
it would be the act ora coward to do so, if one possess ,
the power." Then addressing son, a fine intelligent
boy of thirteen, ho continued; "Bill, you see my gun!"
pointing his finger as he spoke to the great double bar
rel hanging on buck horns over the door; "practice with
that every morning, and the day,yOu are sixteen, shoot
the loads of both barrels into the Man who will this day
kill your father."
”Yonder coact, Mose}l°w ard. • t he will protect you,
Pa." remarked Mary, Hill's eldest daughter, a lovely
girl of fifteen, who was to be married the next day to tho
youth approaching.
Hill and Howard departed; Lucy
both calling Guise they h `
good care of him. Mose, and be su l rl
to-night."
"Never fear," answered the
"Hill will never die till kill him.
"Then he will live forever," red
also,
As soon as the friends reached tt
to drink deeply, and manifested mo d
iety for a combat, insulting everybt
path; dad all the youth's entreatiesl
At last the desperado swore that he .
houso; and immediately entering vti
nauce, and a threat as to his purpi
jury and spectators, made a general
One old drunken man alone did not'
wished, and he sprang , on the imbeC
manned beating him unmercifully.
Howard than caught hold of his
(alas! who was never to bo!) and all
away.
With eyes red, and glaring like
ed upon his friend, and with a singl
od him to the floor; then following t
leaped upon the youth. and began a
tory. In vain flowardendeavore d
in tones of beseeching horror:
"For God's sake, cease! Hill. di
Your friend Mooch • Remember 14
11111's anger only increased; till
hand to his holt, and clutched a piste
ard's blood also boiled.r he reads
life. He was of as pow " f 'ul•a free
only person in Arkansas to be compared with the despe
rado in physical strength.
Howard grasped the barrel of the pistol as. Hill cocked
it, and the weapon exploded in their hands without inju
ry. Once more they clenched, and the most dreadfu
struggle ensued ever witnessed in the Weet. T he ad
vantage shifted from one side to the other for the apace
of five minutes, till both were bathed in streams of their
own blood. Even the bystanders, looking on through
the windows of the log cOurt-house, were struck with
wonder and awe. At length. while writhing and trvie
ting like two raging serpents, the handle of Hill's huge
bowie knife, unthought of previously, protruded from be
neath his hunting-shirt. Beth saw it at the same time•
and both attempted to grasp it. Howard eucceeded:
quick as lightning he drew the keen blade from the scab
bard; and sheathed it up to the hilt idthe bosom of his
friend and, his Mary's father:
"The dieam is fulfilled," exclaimed Hill, with a smile
of strange sweetness, that remained on his features oven
,after he was a corpse. He then sank down and ex
pired withont a groan.
• - Howard gazed on him there as he lay, with that sin
gular smile on hie face, and his glazed eyes open. And
then, awaking with a Start, as if from some horrible vi
sion of the night, the poor unhappy youth, fell headlong
on the body of his friend, crying in tones that melted
many a hardened spectator into tears, "Groat God! what
have I done?" Ho kissed the clammy lips of the dead;
wet his cheeks with a rain of unavailing sorrow; essayed
to staunch the bloody wound with his handkerchief;, and.
then, apparently satisfied that all was over, sprang upon
his feet, with a shout, or more properly a scream. "Fare
well, Mary, your father is one, and I am going, with
him;" and turning the point of the gory knife toWards
his own breast, would have plunged it into his heart,
had ha not been prevented by the bystanders, who had
now crowded into the room.
The same evening blose Howard disappeared, and
was heard of no more for nearly two years, when a horse
!
trader brought back word that he had seen him in San
Antonia, TILIVIS.
When the shoekhig news reached Hill's family, the
beautiful Mary burst into a wild laugh. She is now in
the Asylum for the Insane at New -Orleans.
It Will be remembered that the fallen desperado had
enjoined if on his son to slay the slayer of his father on
the day ha should arrive at sixteen. Without any such
charge, vengeance would have been considered by that
boy as a sacred duty; for on tho frontiers the widows of
the slain teach vengeance to their children. and occasion
ally execute ft themselves.
"Accordingly, Bill Hill mcliced,with his father's gun
every day for two successive years, and this even before
he had any rumor as to the place of Howard's refuge.—
Ho then learned that his foe was in Texas, and two
months before he was sixteen sot out to hunt him up.
At the end of four months, Dill Hill came back; and,
hanging up the double-barrels in their old buck-horn
rack, answered his mother's enquiring look: "Mother,
Mose is dead; 1 let him have both loads, though I cried
before I done it. and afterwards too; ho looked so mis
erable. pale, and bony as a skeleton.
"Peer Mose!" said the mother weeping; but it could
nct be helped. The eon of such a brave man as Nixon
Curry must never be called a coward; and, besides. It
was your father's order." '
Husband, think of the good qualities of your beloved,
not of her bad ones; think of her good common sense,
her industry, neatness, order; her kindness, affability,
and above all, her ardent piety, her devotedness to things
heavenly and divine. Suppose you had a slattern for a
wife, a slipshod hussy, a gossip, a real terinagant, whose
touguo was not merely a triphammer, but as the forked
lightnings! so that even the house top'would be a thank
ful retreat from hot unmitigated fury: Suppose all this,
and still more, then say has not Gad doaltinfittitOly bet
tor than your deserts.
"But sho is not all I could wish."
Nerve Hoes: wonderful! And are you, think, all she
could wish? Turn the wallet. Suppose you cast
an eye within and without, view your own ugliness, and
crookeMess, and blackness? How many things does
your beloved wife see in you that she has reason to des
pise as mean, selfish, miserly, grovelling? Are you ell
that she could wish? Far from it. But this prying into
and scanning each other's faults hypocritically, is alto •
gether wrong and will always keep you on the hatchet,
fidgety, and rickety. Better a thousand times, study
each other's grace* and good qualities. endeavor to.
correct the faults of one another in the spirit of meekness
and love. The cause of all this bricko ring, and sparring
and jarring, and spitting, twitching, and hitching. is want
of love. Love covered' a multitude of blemishes. Let
the heart bo filled with love, and tho little faults which
now appear mountains will be ,swalloved up, or become
as mole 41s. A husband who is always complaining
and growlihg, and snapping \ and snarling, is enough to
crush a heart of sted, or sour tho mind of an angel, The
female heart is tender, soothing, sympathetic, lovely.
Husband, speak kindly, to your beloved—
The frail being by thy;side is of finer mould; keener
her sense 4f pain, of wrong; greater her Inv° of tender
ness. How delicately tuned her heart; each rude breath
upon its strings complains in lowest notes of sadness, not
heard, but felt. It wears away her life like a deep un
der current, while the (air mirror of the changing sur
face gives not ono sigh of woo. Man, put away unbelief.
banish that sourness and moroseness, and sullenness,
put on a smile of sweet affection. exhibit kindness, ten
derness, sympathy and love; rind rest assured, your wife,
if not a real termagant. will-rociprecate, clasp you to her
bosom in affection's grasp. Your mouth Will ha filled
with laughter,—your domestic firaside,l iustond of a pan
demonium, will be a little paradhie. Your little ones will
gathoraround you as olive plants—blooming sweetly in
all the beauty add freshitess Of spring. Mao, try it.—
Golden (Ky.) Rule. 1
, with team, and Mary
eft, the gate, "Take
.e and bring him back
outh with a laugh
rted IlUry, laughing
village. 11111 began
re than ordinary anx
ody that crossed his
failed to pacify him.
would ,Clear tho court
'ith a furious conntei
ass—judge. lawyers.
rush fur the door.—
run as fast as ilill
Ale wretch. and cow-
Too DiD—AtaiosT —The. Sunday Atlas of New York.
tells its readers that. while walking on the edge of the
town a day or two ago. it saw eeveral , boys engaged in
perpetrating a murder of one of those harmless reptiles
called water'snekes. which was lying in the ditch by the
road side. They. bad thrown several stones at the ere"
lure. and paused to dispute whether the vital spark - bad
fled, or it was only "playing possum." At this moment,
a very respectable and - skilful physician approached in
his carriage. and seeing a small crowd gathered by the
side of the ditch, he stopped his horse and inquired what
was "going on." The circumstances were related to
him by the boys, who ware still debating whether it
would be necessary to throw a few more stones at their
victim, to prevent all chances of recovery. Another
snake was now seen approaching that which was partly
killed, and moved about a's if to ascertain the !extent of
the injuries it had received; "That." said the physician.
who was leaking en from his carriage. "that is the snake
dotiort" - "Is it?"
to
the boys; "then come along.
Jake; it's no use to throw`anothpr stone; if the doctor is
tending him, he's as good as dead, and all h-11 couldn't
says him!" The medical gentleman gave his hem a
-term eteeke.teith the : whip. and went_off at a brisk can=
toff the boys /eft iti an opposite direction, perfectly sat
defied that the Snake doctor would rive a good accouat:of
hi s ratisa,tl v
uture father-in-law.
tOmptod to pull him
mad dog. Hill turn
'. blow of his fist fell
p the violent act, he
Most ferocious bet
to escape, crying ott
on't pan know me?
0 ..1)
innUt he - throwlpia
?1. , And thin How•
ittt to fight for kin
le as the other,• h
SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 6, 1849.
A' GENTLE WHISPER TO iIUSBANDS
Speak kindly to her. Little dolt thou know
What utter wretchedness, what helpless wo,
Haug on those bluer WOOF, that stem reply;
Tire cold demeanor,h3d reproving eye.
The death steel pierces not with keener dart, '
Than unkind words in woman's trusting heart.
aro wate a 2)-4Eu
%ratitifullgrir for JO grapon.
A BONG Pon AUTUMN.
Migatlang, from (Brandt! (Baq.
TELE scisoos. nzzaT nEsa.
"The school ma'am's coming; the school ma's n's
coming;" shouted a dozen voices, at the close of half
lan hour's watching to catch a glimpse of our, teacher.—
Every eye was turned toward her with a most scrutiniz
ing glance; for the children as well as others always hirm
an opinion of a person, particularly of their teachers at
first eight.
"Bow tall she is!" exclaimed one.
"Oh, don't 4e look sweet?" cried another.'
"Ho, I ain't 'afraid of hsr, nor a dozen like her!' cried
the "big boy" Of the Reboot
"V I. eithtar," cried tho big boys ully; " 1 1 could
'llelC'lter easy dumigh; couldint, you, Tom?'
"Yea; and I Will, too, if she goes to touch me."
"Hush!" cried one of the girls.'"she will hear you."
By this time t i the had nearly reached the door, around
which wo wero cluslorod, and even- oyo was fixed upon
her taco with au eager yet half bashful gaze, uneertain,
as yet, what verdict to pronounco upon her.
"Good morning, children," said she, in the kindest
voice initho World, whilo her taco was lighted with the
sweotest emilo imaginable. "This is a beautiful morn
ing to commence school, is it not?"
"I know I shall love liar," whispered a little pet in my
ear. •
We all followed her into the schoolroom. except Turn
Jones and his ally, who waited until the rest were seat
ed, end then came in with a swaggering, noisy gait, and
a sort of dare-devil saucy look, as much assto say, " Who
cares for you?"
Miss Westcott looked at thorn kindly, but appeared not
to_ notice them further. After a short prayer, and read
ing a chapter in the Bible, she passed round the room,
and made some inquiry of each ono in regard to thou,.
solves and their studies.
I •
"And what is your name?" ahct *Acid, toying her hand
upon Tom's head. while he eat with his hands kn his
pockets, swinging his feet backward and forward.
"Tom Jones!" shouted he. at the top of his vole
"How old are you, Thomas?" she asked"
"Just as old again as half," answered Tom. w
saucy laugh.
"What do you study Thomas?"
"Nothing."
•
"What books have you!"
"None."
Without appearing at all disturbed at his replies,
Westeott said, "I am glad I have ono ortwo largo
iu my school; you can be of groat assistance to
Thomas, and, if you will stop a few minutes altar sci
this afternoon, wo will talk over a Mao plan that I
formed."
This mug a mystery to all, and particularly Tem,
could not comprehend how ho could be useful toy
ono, and for the first time in his life ho felt that Ii
of some importance in the world. Ile hadihad no
training; no one had over told him he could beef any
use or do any good in the world. No one loved him,
and of couso he loved no one, but was 011 C of those who
believed he had got to bully his way through the wink!.
He had always been called the bad boy at school, end he
took a sort of pride and pleasure in being feared by
the children and dreaded by the teacher.
bliss Westcott at once comprenended his whole char
acter, and began to ehapo her plan accordingly. , She
maintained that a boy, who at), twelve years old made
himself feared among his school fellows, was capable of
being made something cf. Heretofore all influence had
conspired to make him bad, and perhaps a desperate
character. She was determined to transform his char
acter by bringing opposite influences to work on him.
and to effect this, Must first gain his confidence,
Which could be done in no better way than by making
him feel that alto plaCed confidence in him. When
school was out, more than half the scholars lingered
about theldeor wondering what Mrs Wescott could be
going to say to Tom Jones. Ho had often been bid
main after school, but it was always to receive a punish
ment or a severe lecture, and nine times out of ten lie
would jump out of the window, before half of the schol
ars were out of the room; but it was evidently for a dif
ferent purpose that he was to remain now. and no one
wondered more what it could be then Tom himself.
"Don't yon think Thomas, that our sebool-: own would
be a great deal pleasanter if we had iomo evergreens to
hang around ill something to make, it look-ehoerful!" in
quired Miss Westeolt- '
i'Yes'rn, and I know whero I can' got plenty of them."
Thorne'. (f you Will have sotno here at eight
o'clock to-morrow. morning. 11" Will be here to help you
PM them up. and we will-give: the children a pleasant
surprise; and here ire some -books I will glvo you,
Thomas; yOu,may put Mem in your own drawer; they
ars what It want you to study,"
ti s. U. rrocauto
A song for the autumn time,
The merry old autumn time;
Summer Is over at lash
And past hitter flowery prime.
She was well enough In her way,
Doing her best while here,
But she ean't compare with Autumn,
The merry old king of the year.
Tbe days are a-growing cold,
('Tis Autumn a month to-day,)
The winds are a•growing bold—
How they swagger and sweep away,
MI eking the bare old trees,
(limiting the yellow leaver,
Shouting aloud in their glee—,
Whistling beneath their cave,. •
Men run In the crowded street,
!Brisk In this biting weather,
Stamping to warm their feet,
Rubbing their hands together;
'What a saucy wind it is,
'Pinching their noses blue;
Itow they shiver and shake i' the cold,
'And yet they're a-laughing, too!
The women and girls at home
Are crowding around the hearth;
The boys an playing out doors,
Shouting cloud in their mirth,
Buttoned up to the chin,
-
heir caps turned mcr their cars,
d running to reason themselves—
Their eyes o'crilowing with team.
Oh, the autumn days are no pleasant.
And then thire's the autumn night—
Milne, and the loved tines about us,
And the fire a-blazing bright;
Kate sits in the corner peeping
Through her fingers at little Joc,
And Will is pillager' fagots,
W irt' his face in a rudy glow.
And so the days and nights
Of the merry old autumn glide—
The pleasantest one in the year—
They're worth all the others beside,
Spring and summer are bright,
And they tell that autumn is sere,
But they can't compare with hint—
The merry old' king of the year'
o=3
"But I can't study geography and history." exclaimed
Toni. confusedly. "I never did."
"That is the reason why you think you cannot," re
plied Miss Westeott. "1 am qu i te sure you eau, and you
will love them I know."
"Nobody over cured whether 1 learned anyihing or not
before." fluid Tinn, with some emotion. •
"Wall, I care," said Miss Weatcott; with earnestness;
"yon are capable of becoming a groat and good man; you
aro now forming your character for life, end it depends
upon yourself what you become. The poorest boy in
rho country has an equal chance with the -wealthiest,
and his chances are inoro favorable for becoming emi
nent, for he beams to-depend upon himself. I will assist
you all I can in your studies. Thomas, and I know you
will succeed; rentember that 1 am your friend, and come
to me in every difficulty." •
Tom Jones had, not been brought up, he had come up
because ho had been born into the world and could'nt
help it; but as foromy mental or moral training, he was as
guiltless of U l ul wild bramble bush or a pruning knife.
His father was an intemperate, bad man, and his mother
wits a totally inefficient woman 'At home he received
nothing but blows, and abroad nothing but abuse. His
bad passions were therefore all excited and fostered; and
his good ones were never called out. Ile always expect
ed that his teachors;would hate him, so ho whetted anew
his combative power to oppose them, and be made up
his mintl,to turn the - ..new school ma'am' out of doors."
When, therefore, Miss I'Vesteott declared that she was
glad to have him in her school, ho was amazed; and that
she should manifest an interest fur hint, and give him a
set of new books, was completely iincumprohensible to
him. Miss Westcott understood his position and char
acter, and determined to modify them. She felt that ho
was equally capablo of good and bad actions though the
bad produminnted. She knew that his active Mind must
be bus . F. One might as well think of chaining the light
ning as binding down by farce that wild spirit to his
books. She would give him employment, but such as
would call out a now set of ideas and thoughts. Ho must
feel that he was doing good to others and for others' sake,
' and that he was not guided aluno by his own wayward
will, and yet there must be no appearance ef restraint
upon hint-he-must choose to do good.
Tom Jones went home that night with h now feeling
in his breast; for-the . first time in his Her he felt that he
! was capable of rising above his present condition, and
becoming something greater andletter than he theft was.
His mind became inundated with now and strange
emotions, and like a mighty river turned from its course,
his thoughts and energies from that hour sought a now
(Inaction.
The next morning ho was up with_ the dawn, and
when Miss Wcstcott arrived at the school house she
found Tom there with his evergreens.
"Good morning, Thomas," she ■aid kindly. !'And
so yeti aro here before me. You must have risen early;
and you have found some beautiful evergreens. And
now if you will help me hang them, we will have the
room all arranged by nine o'clock."
"I have brought a hammer and some nails," said
Tem; "I thought wa shOuld need some."
"Yes, so we shall. lam glad You thought of them,"
replied Miss Wescott.
That day irvery j scholar , looked amazed to see Tom
donee actually lutlying his hook, and to hear him an
swer several questions correctly; and they wore still more
confounded when at roctass Miss Westcott said, "Thom
as, you will lake care of tho little children, will you not,
and see that they do not got hurt? You must be their
protector." -
One would - hare as soon thought of setting a wolf to
guard a Rock of lambi, as Torn Jones to take care o
the little children.
oxclaimod Sam Eveng, "I novo! saw such a
schoolmaitnn before in all the days of my life. Did you,
Tom?"
"No," replied Tom, "but I with I had, and I would
have boon a (Harem boy from what I tun now, but I am
going to study now, and learn Somothiug. Miss Wol
cott says I can, and I am determined to try.' „
It was astonishing to observe the effect that Miss
Wosteott's treatment of Tom had upon the, scholan.—
They began to consider him of some impedance, and
to feel a isort of respect for him, which tbeY manifested
first by dropping the nick-name Toni. and substituting
Tommy, which reve.sled con-shay a 111 Jr;kiudly fooling
toward h:tn.
' In less than a week, Miss Webtoot( had liar school.
completely under her control. Yet it was by \love and
respect that she goverrd. and not by an iron mile. She
moved among her s.thelars a very queen, mud yet she so
gained their confidence and esteem, that it did not seem
to them submission to mug/sees will, buten) prOmptings
(Albeit. won desire t:, p1..1i0 ire. o,so glance of her dark
cyo would bavo quelled an insurrection, and one smile
madethent happy for a day.
Julia Weccett taught school with a realization of ti le
responsibilities' resting upon her, and slit, bent 'serene
gigs to fulfill them.. Carefully and skillfully she unlock d
the soul's dear, and g.sve a boarching glance within, in or
der to understand its cap icities and capabilities, and tt4ts
shaped her cOtiess aixordingly. The desponding and in;
active she aurora', 1; tits obstinsto site subdued; to ilia
yielding au l fickle she taught a strongself-rolisSuce. She
encouraged the one rain. .IrJp to do all the good it could,
and the rushing torrent sits tukit.!il whero it would ferti,-
ice, rather than destroy I mit,l decoit - tte. - _
1221
There are in' every rhoul roam dormant energies,
which, if nronsed, might shake the world. There are
emotions and passions, :Odell if 1,.t, loose, will, like - the
lightning of heaven, scatter ruin ;aid blight, built controll
ed, may. like that element, become the 'messenger of
thous to the world. In that head that youcall dull, may
iti6 same slumbering passions like sem:client-op volcano;
open the' closed crater, and see if there do not belch forth
flames which your owti hand cannot stop. Put helms
man and pilot to that wayward mind which floats at the
mercy of wind and wave in the wide sea of thought, and
you will see it bearing its course beautifully upon the
waters, and anchoring at lag in a quiet haven, laden
with the riches of the earth. Call out rho train bands of
thought that lie lurking under the benches of the school
room, twin and equip them for action, and give, yourself
the word of columned and lord on, and see if there he
not vigor enough to scale those fortresses of knowledge
' wide!, now rise like dark mountains before them. Thom
is not a school room where there is not energy' and vigor
and thought opough, if developed and directed, to revole
rt'onixe the world. There are genesis which burst forth
like a spring from the mountein, and there are also streams
'as beautiful and pure. far, far, down in the earth, which
'will flow on—forever in their darkened coarse. unless
some excavating baud digs away the heaped piles' of
earth shore them and thcM their gushes up an' unfailing
well of pure and sprinkling Waters. - The sculptor may
form from the block of marble before him.' either angel
or devil: so the soul may be made either a serliph'a home
or a.demon's haunt; and do you not know. parent teacher
that it is your hand that fishient rho abode, and beckons
thither the visitant?
EOM
I have seen a father mourn aver his besotted son. when
his own hand pressed first to hie child's lips the hellish
draught that sets his soul on Ore. I have seen a poor lone
mother weep as if herheartwonld break: bear her ruined
idols. Yet that mother's smile beamed first wpen the
coming footsteps of the destroyer. 'andrheit voice warned
not her chlid of danger. that shall
bring wry thing into judgment, will , not the tunes
6150 A TEAIt, in Advance.
which rang so fearfully in the offender's ears In this world
roll back with crushing weight upon,thos6 who fulfdl not
their responsibilities to limb when young? Who knows
that every murderer might not have been a minister of
mercy to wretched thousands? Ho was not bora a mur
derer; that sweet blue eye had no fiendish glare. as its
baby face rested upon its mether's bosom—that little hand
bora no stain of blood as it clapped them in childish glee.
Mother, remember that earnest eye which mirrors thine
own glance so lovengly, will ever reflect the light thou
giveat it. A skillful farmer first prepares his ground sad
then plants such seed as is adapted to the soil:
and shall too be less careful to make a fit dwel
ling place for the "thoughts of immortal mould."
that spring up in the soul? and shall we not care
fi
and know what seed is sown in -those immortal iuds
which are bearafter to tiajtidged by their Emit s The
sower in the parable sowed good seed; but that on which
fell upon good ground bore fruit: had the thor been
rooted out and the moil enriehA, would not the other field
have yielded a harvest also? 1 Wave seen-e teacher mike
his entrance into a school by reading a Fst of rules of
two or three feet in length: "You , niust - do this—you
must de that." without a sineo remark upon the properis
ty or impropriety,, the why and wherefore of the thing.
'but only "you muet do if."
You might as well Expect to cure amen of stealing or
poking hint with Bibles. The truth certainly hints hard
enough—sod so would stonestlet a man feel the beauty
an well as thu violence of the law, and he will be quite a■
apt to profit by it.
Julia IYestcott understood litinian nature. She made
it a study, as every teacher ellen to-do. She tooted out
error and prejudice front Ilthe' tniudi of her pupil,.
showed them the evil of sin and the beauty of virtue. the
advantages of educltion and the consequences of ignor
ance, taught them their own capabilities and responsibili
ties, and she adapted herl instructions to their capacities
and necessities. And tuna oho went on- year after year.
scattering good sued into good ground, and 'she has re
peated an abundant harvest.
From many a happy homo and high place comes a
4lossing upon her, and there is no one who breaths b er
name with greater reverenee.!or remember her with more
grateful affection. then '•Tons Jones." who has filled with
eminent ability, one of the highest judicial offices in the
union, and who freely acknowledges that be owes his
Present character and position entirely to her treatment
and instructions.
Truly. "ho that goeth forth weeping, and bearing pre
cious seed. shall come again- rejoicing. bringing bin
etiorives with hint."
;"TIIE SUMMER IS ENDED."i
The titno of Song and Flowers has come and gone.
,and the 'gentle breozes of an approaching Autumn are
heard sighing e'er the withered beds of decaying flow.
era, and through branches of leafless trees. when this
merry bird trilled forth its richest songs. The melody of
bubbling brooks is drowned in the passing,Avinds; the
quiet, gentle grove has been stripped of its green roof;
the hill and valley are fast losing their summer loveliness.
and the leaf is sear and yellow.
Since' last our cheeks were fanned with the cooling
winds of Autumn, what dschauge has come o'er the do
meiotic hearths of many of us! IVhat dear domestic
scet.es have been broken assunder—the heart's idol laid
low in the dust!—and familiar faces been buried in the
cold obstruction _of the tomb! The strange- disease.
whose track in the Old World was marked by grief and
desolation was wafted to our beloved shores, and its com
ing was the signal for moaning subs and freaked hopes.
Our goodly city was notexempt from its ravage.,
For more than three months, its poisoned shafts were
fixing their envenomed points in the hearts of thousands!
Sobbing Mi l d wailing wore heard iu the deserted streets!,.
And now, es the lain sighing of the Summer winds are
dying into au echo, the notes of woe and sorrow are stilt
heard in our city. Hearts bereft of their idols; a father
weeping for tho absent one; a wife for the cheering smile
allies who won her early love—a daughter. for that
mother whose only fault was in the kind indulgence' to
this bereaved child; the-son. whose hopes have been
stricken by the sudden taking MEW a kind father. To
such as have felt the fatal tench of this terrible disease.
Autumn has an unwacome Sound. Then the, ripened
fruit and golden grain will bounheeded by these "sor
rowing ones " Their hearts'tWill hoar no music in the
journeying winds of Heaven, as they tell man that anoth
er Season has rolled away—that another Summer is en
ded—that the gleaner for the grave has been busy with
friends and neighbors. No—no—they wept in silence
for the beloved objects that cat( never cheer them again
'n this world. Tho Autumn time has come—and Song
and Flower have vanished! W,lto shall teach us to for
get the heart's anguish—the heart's vice—Cincin
nati Chronicle.
INEstictix I:Logus.rici.—Arkansas has its literature--
its lawyers—tho latter of %%how loom up their legal effects
occasionally in this style:
"By highty: your honor; I shall burst my heart. Beres
a man I've known ever :duce I was knee high to a
warming pan, el uelly charged with stealing a shirt. I
know him well; mind he's as honest as you are. If he's
as honest as you aro, it's an inetilt o the profession to
call him a thief. And you know it is as well as I do.—
My blood flows through my veins, I bear the ow
dacious coin:nue:it I poeze with ago 'and am almost a
good miod to leave the bar and lake to coopering. Steal,
a shirt! he's got six at hommtand ono of em is on my
back nit the present minute. I'm proud to borrow ono.
or all, of so amiable citizens, and I feel that the Consti
tution of our country is ontiroly inndokato to the perfec
tion of the masses, whoa a man like that can be fiercely
charged with stealing anether garment—Massey on mo
Why Judge, you dont believe it, 1 know you don't.J i •
Discharge the gentleman prisoner, and let's hiker."
A KiSSINO Cam WATE.-A good atory'li told of Major
%% hen a candidate 1 . 9 r county office in Mississippi.
Ito was tiaveling the comity in order to make or renew
an acquaintance with his "respected friends and fellow
citizens," (a practice by-the-by becoming rather dimwit •
ing than otherwise.) Among other', the Major called
on farmer 11., who met him at the door and - invited fain
in with all his usual, blunt cordiality. In a few minutes
ho comely wife and handsome daughter made their ap
pearance. "My wife, Major —." The Major anise.
and !Awed. "Kiu her, Major," continued Mr. 8., and
- the Major gracefully sainted the dame. "My daughter,
Moir —." Again the candidate bowed as gracefully
as possible, and smiled moat blandly. "Kiss Aar Major
Tho Major was a little surprised, but not abash
ed, and saluted the pion; lady with all the modesty and
grace which ho could muster. "Well Major," said
Farmer 8., "you have kissed - my wife, and you have
kissed my daughter, suppose you now kiss me!" Tho
Major blushed—and fainted.
Usesma.—Bearing a man complain that politicalpa
pera of all kinds "had becomo suck liars. that for - his
part. he did not believe any of them," remind., one of
the old story of tho miller and his three sons. Cothing
Into th e mill. end finding a grist in the hopper. the old
man cried out—" Tom. have you tolled this grist?"-..
"Yes. sir." "Bill. have you tolled this grist!" "Yes.
sir." "Sam, have you :tolled this grist?" "Yea air.''
"You ate all a pack of scoundrels." says the old man.•-•
"I don't believe a word you nay—Pli coil it opera
II
NUMBER 21.