Sa sae NIGHT AMONG THE HILLS. So still | Bo stilll The night comes down en vale and hill! Sa strangely still, I ean not clos» My eyes in sleep! No watchman goes About the little tewn to keep All safe at night. [ can not sleep! 80 dark ! So dark! Save here and there a flittering spark, The firedy's tiny lamp, that makes The dark mere dense. My spirit quakes With terrors vague and undefined 1 see the hills loom up behind. So near! 8o near! Those solemn mountains, grand and drear, Their rocky summits | Do they stand Like sentinels to guard the land? Or jallers, fierce and grim and stern, To shut us in till day return! I hear a sound, __ chirping falnt, low on the ground: A sparrow’s nest is there. I know The birdlings flew three days ago; Yet still return each night to rest And sleep in the forsaken nest. No fear! No fear! weep, timid heart ! Sleep safely here? A million helpless creatures rest Securely on Earth's kindly breast: While Night her solemn silence keeps. He wakes to watch who never sleeps. ON MOUNT ETNA, Among the wonderous sights on the earth, the volcano of Etna will always hold a just pre-emience. Renowed by past and present history, sublime by its elevation, its form, and the awful se- crecy of unknown terrors which lie con- cealed within its bosom, the Sicilian volcano will always be viewed with the deepest, the most solemn awe. It was with such feelings and with such thoughts as these, that I began to ascend the volcano on the morning of the 5th of May, 1840. I had left Catan- ia on the day before, in order to visit this wonderful spot. I did not wish to glance carelessly upon it—no; for to me there was always something rever- ent, something almost divine, in con- nection with this great mass of up- heaved lava, which led me to look ear- nestly at its rugged sides, I wish to ascend, to view from its summit the fairest regions on easth; to glance down, down into those unfathomable depths, where fire, lire in all its terror, forever dwells, forever struggles! It was with slow steps that I ascen- ded the cone, after the patient and hardy ponies had been dismissed. I had been an invalid, and the fatigue of climbing up the steep and rocky decli« vity might well have daunted me. But after many restings and many haltings, 1 was able to attain the summit, The summit! Good heavens! can 1 ever forget the delirium, the transport of joy, which the boundless prospect there awakened within me? Can 1 ever forget the glimpse which I first caught of all the glories and all the horrors of nature mingled together in such fear- ful unison? Far away on one side spread the fer- ale plains, the green meadows, and the gentle valleys of Sicily. There were streams glancing and flashing in the sun as they wandered to the sea, with ten thousand labyrinthian turnings; lakes whose glassy surface showed not a ruffle, not a ripple; there were ter- races upon the sides of a hundred hills, where vineyards were planted, ana where the treilised vines passed along, all blooming; there were groves of orange-trees, and the dark-green foli- age of which the golden oranges peeped forth like the flashes of phosphorescent light in a midnight sea; there were jong avenues of cypresses, of acacias, of noble trees of many kinds, amid which kingly assemblage at times could be seen the noble summit of some stately palm, as it towered on high above the others. And the sea—the wide, the bound- less, the deep-blue Mediterranean— there it spread away, on the other side, as far as eye could reach, spread- ing away as far as thoughts could run—glorious as “The Dashing. Siiver-fimsning Sarges of San Salvador.” Bat turn aside—and there, beneath, far beneath, lies an abyss like that of which Milton has sung in sublimest mortal strains. 1 paused upon the brink, and, shud- dering, 1 gazed down—down! The thick and funereal volumes of tortuous- ly-ascending smoke came seething up- ward as from a cauldron. It escape. from a myriad crevices in the rocky, precipitous sides; it poured forth from behind projections; and united with the vast mass which came sublimely upward from the unfathomable depths, Here, upon the sandy, rock edge, where sulphur, and crumbled lava and pumice-stone, were all mingled together to form a horrid soil, here I sat and looked down. From the scene beyond, from that glimpse of earth, which made it seem like heaven; from that vision of all that was most lovely and all that was most overpowering; to tum and gaze into a volcano’s awful d s—what a change! nvolved in a thousand thoughts 1 gat there, thivking myself alone, when a sudden grating struck iy ear. 1 was startled exceedingly, and turned around. The place where 1 had been sitting was a peninsular projection of the cliff which formed part of this in- fernal chasm, pon the narrow strip of land which joined it to the other cliffs—upon the isthmus--1 saw a mild Aooking, middle-aged gentleman me. He was dressed in plain black clothes, and io his hand he held a light stick. hn] beg yous pardon, signor,” said he, in a polite manner, and with great softness of tone; *‘I beg your pardon for in myself upon your coms y. But it is not n that I see any visitor so far up.” “My dear sir! ow you will make ” 1 replied; i was jast ad- miiiug this S208 below.” ‘Ah! yes, a glorious sight, “G { say rather, a terrible one," Te Php ou; but do be 1 say to me it : y lovely!” spoke, a sulle of bewiteh- “Oh, yes! I live here,” Le replied, waving his stick around. “I live here,” I thought that he meant me 10 un- derstand that his home was on the mountain where very many villas are situated, “And I should suppose,” I contin- ued, “that you ave often on the sum- mit?" ‘Oh! yes, I am here always.” “Always! what a strange fascination it has for you!” sgt has! it has!” said the gentleman. “Oh! a fearful”—and his voice grew low and hollow—*‘‘a terrible fascina- tion!” 1 was silent. “I will tell you,” said he, sitting closely by my side and turning his eyes full toward me, *‘I do not wish you to inform any one, Promise me that you will not.” I had not noticed his eyes before, but I saw now that within their depths there gleamed a strange and sinister ight, I premised him, and at the same time I uneasily drew pack farther from the edge. “Well, then, signor,” said he, “I am king here! I rule Mount Etna!” “Yes? I answered, a little alarmed at his words, and attempted to smile. “Yes, 1am king here. In me you geo the being who causes the lava to pour forth and overwhelm the regions below. I have lived here for centuries. The spints of the deep obey me. See!” He leaped up from the ground. There was a fearful fire in his eye, his nostrils were dilated, his pale face became as white as marble, and as bloodless, save that on either cheek there glowed a deep red spot. “See!' he shrieked wildly and loudly, ‘spirits of the deep, arise! Hal-—yon- der—ses them!—they* are coming-—in clouds—enrobed in thunder-garments— see!” I leaped from the ground; I gazed at him. He threw off his hat wildly, and it fell far down in the abyss, He flung off his coat and threw it away. “Signor,” said 1, in hopes that a mild tone might make him calm, “gsignor, the winds obey you, Let us go.” “(3072 Where? Is not this my home? Is not this my palace? Saw you not my servants? You are my guest!” “Will you not sit down and tell we about your home?” said 1, shudder- ng. “No! there are secrets that can never be spoken. Can you understand tiem? Who are you, a mortal, that you dare ask?" I walked slowly toward the narrow passage of land—the bridge, But he saw me and stood upon it. I could not go. “Can this thought I. through me blood. Pleasantry! There he stood, my wild companion, his eves blazing, fixed piercingly on me, his hands clenched, his mouth foaming, every sinew in his body worked up. He laughing. maniac! “You are to go with me,” “Where?” “Theres. I have come to carry you tomy home.” Iie pointed with a cold, snaky smile down toward the unfathom- able abyss whence ascended the ter- rible column of inky and suffocating smoke. I gazed at him, for there was some element of fascination in his glassy stare which forced me, to gaze, There was a cold smile upon his lips, which were all bloodless, and disclosed, as they parted, his mouth and tightly- shut teeth, “There is my howe there;and I have come to take you with me. Ha! hal how happy you will be! Come!” Still 1 gazed, while my heart throbbed with slow but terrible pulsations. He advanced one step toward me, 1 looked all round. Toe spell was broken which enchained my gaze, I looked all around—at the bine sky abuve, at the scorched earth around, at the horrible chasm beneath. There was no hope Oh! could, I but leap the space which separated me from tae main e¢liff! Could I but do it—but 1 could not! There was no hope! What! do you not answer?’ he ered, suddenly lashed into fury by my silence. and stamping his foot in frenzy upon the rock. **Do you not answer? Then 1 must carry you with me.” The maniac sprang toward me, With all my energies roused inlo frantic action, with every sinew braced and every muscle contracted, I planted my feet backward against a small an- ular rock which projected above the oose, sandy soil, and endeavored to meet the shock. With a wild scream, which arose thuillingly into the air, his eyes all bloodshot, his mouth foaming, on he came, He struck me-his arms surrounded me in a fearful embrace, lis hot breath came burningly upon my cheek. 1 stood firm. for despair and all the bitterness of death bad given no place to fear and Jmidity, but had bestowed upon me the coolness of one in an ordluary situation, I threw iy {ett arm beneath his, my right I passed over my neck and around upon his back, thus seeking to press him to the earth, * it was » moment of horror such as no mortal tongne could ever tell. A struggle with a maniac! To be on a surface of a rock, while three thousand feet beneath lay the abyss of untold horrors! At this hour heart beats more forcibly even as the time. Thus we stood, breast to breast, face to face—the madman and I--he with his arms encircling me; I seeking to save myself. He me toward the edge of the cliff. feet deep nto the ground; ug meckingly, snd screamed, as he tried to destroy me. But against that rock my feet were firmly braced, and 1 held him tightly, and 1 pushed tim, and I sought to hurl him from me: Eurl him from me! as well might the huugry tiger, be hurled from his prey. Ob! the agony of that struggle! I * all be pleasantry?”’ An awful thought passed which froze my heart's he cried. * know not how long it was, but to me it seemed like many hours. The wild eyes of the madman glared at mine all the time, and I found it impossible to look away. His fearful face, all white, all ghastly, was upturned to- ward me, as he shouted in his fiend- ish, mocking laughter. “Oh, Heaven! Oh, horror! Can this, will this endure forever? cried I in the agony of my fear. The maniac howled with derisive shouts. I felt that 1 was growing weaker. But he was a madman; and would he grow weaker also? A thousand thoughts fled through me. Suddenly the maniac gave one fear- ful plunge. It was with the strength of a giant that he seized me, He raised me from my feet. The rock, the sav- ing rock—I had lost it; I was gone. I threw my arms high into the air, and my scream of terror ascended in unison with the maniac’s mocking yell “Down! down! to the bottomless pit To the home of fire and brimstone! To the endless horrors of burning lakes!’ he screamed as he gaye a bound toward tne edge of the cliff. Inspired by a sudden gift of super- human strength. by a partial possession of even a madman’s power, I caught him by the throat, and even on the very edge, even in sight of the abyss, I sprang back, I bore him back, I brought him to the ground. Falling heavily upon him, I held his throat still in a fierce grasp, while his own aris were wound tightly, around my neck, and his legs around mine. I feit his hot breath from his open mouth as my cheek lay pressed against his face; i heard them grate harshly, and drew my head violently away, ds he sought to seize me with his sharp teeth. In our frantic struggles on the ground we rolled wildly about, and the dust from sulphur and from pumice- stone ascended arouud us in suffocating clouds, I wgs half insane. I was struggling for life. I caught up a handful of the fine choking dust and rubbing it violently over his open mouth. It went into his nostrils and lungs. He gaye a jerk forward in agony. Amid the clouds of dust around I could not see where we were. fle held me by the hair as he force was straining there. holding wy head down with trresistible force. Another moment and I arose, while wild and high arose the shriek of the maniac as he fell down—down—into the abyss! PRINS LN OR Broncho Sam as an Equestrian, Speaking about cowboys, Sam Stew art, known from Montana to old Mexi- co a8 Broncho Sam, was the chief. His special delight was to break the warlike heart of the vicious wild pony of the plains and make him the servant of man There may be joy in a wild gallop across the boundless plains in the crisp sticking through your vest, and find that your nimble steed has returned to town two hours ahead of you, there is a linge of sadness about it all Broncho Sam, however, made a spe- cialty of doing all the riding himself, arse to ride him, In a reckless moment he bet $10 that he could mount and ride a wild Texan steer. The money was put*up. That settled il. Sam never ook water, This was true in a double sense. Well, he climbed the cross-bar of the corral gate and asked the other boys to turn out their best steer, Mar- quis of Queensbury rules, As the steer passed out Sam slid down and wrapped those parenthetical legs of his around that high-headed, broad-horned brute, and he rode him until the fleet-footted animal fell down on the buffalo grass, ran his hot red tongue out across the blue horizon, shook his tail cgnvulsively swelled up and died, It took Sam just four days to walk K. A ten dollar bill looks as large to me as the star spangled banner sometimes, but that is an avenue of wealth that had not occurred to me. s*1'd rather ride a buzz saw al $2 a day and found. French and English Customs, Marjuis Tseng, the Chinese Embas- sador to France says the French and English are both fond of lauding their own national customs and finding flaws in those of other countries, My French interpreter jeered at thé English, and my English interpreter ridiculed the French. A Chinese going to Europe suffers from two difficulties to which he finds it very bard to accustom himself, One is the confined nature of the house accommodation, the other is the high price of everything. In the West the cost of ground for building purposes is enormous, and the consequence is that people are obliged to live in houses eight or nine stories high. Not only this, but so sparing are they of land in constructing their houses that there are generally one or two pits underground, which serve as kitchens and wine cel- lars. Their parks and gardens, how- ever, are laid out on a most extensive geale, and care is taken to copy nature in all its wild simplicity. These resorts of amusement and pleasure vary in size from one to three miles in circumfer- ence, Here show no disposition to stint themselves in the matter of land, and bestow much care upon the neat mts of such places, thereby embodying the maxim trans mitted by Mencins, that “if the people are made to share {n the means of en- joyment, they will cherish no feeling of discontent’ Both France and Eng- land are as one in the above respect, The English excel in their use of ays and means for the acquisition of weal i the French delight mn extravagance waste, With the former, the result of the general eagerness to get rich is that everything, however inferior in quale ity, 1s high-priced, while with the latter extravagance has become a national habit, and prices know no bounds, such is the difference between the two countries—a difference, however, which entails the same inconvenience upon the traveler in either case, Trained to Hunt Men. “And these are the bloodhotinds I hear 50 much about?” 1 remarked to my conduetor, “Yes, they are the famous blood- hounds, that 1s, as much bloodhounds as you will find in Texas. They are simply foxhounds trained to hunt men,” “Do you keep them shut up all the timer” “Yes, they would make ii lively for the boys if they got out.” “How often do you have occasion to use them during the year,” “Not more than two or three- times. Convicts will not leave when they know good hounde are on hand.” “Do you have difficulty in properly training your hounds?" “Oh, no; that is about the only sport there is, Here comes the puppies. We will give them a run and let you see how it is done.” A trusty was sent down the lane and over the fence, through a large field for dear life. When ne had accomplished about half a mile, or half his circuit, the puppies, three six - months - old hounds, were put on his track, and they started, nosing the ground and yelping as they ran. On they kept, over fences and through stubbles and ditches, never ceasing their noise. Sometimes they would run over the trail where the trusty had made an abrupt turn, but soon they would return to the spot where they had lost the scent and cau- tiously felt their way until certain they had the trail, when they would be off again, The trusty was a long distance runner, but the soft ground made his impromptu track heavy, and he lagged as he approached the end of his run, evidently fatigued. The dogs gained on him rapidly and were yelping close upon him. He was ordered to run to a tree or fence and get out of thelr way, so that they would have to find him by the scent, He first tried to climb a high gate post, but the dogs, with their noses to the ground, were upon him almost and forced him to take shelter in a wagon whieh was standing in the yard, when he hid himself in the bed just as the dogs came to the gate, They looked up the gate post and smelled around a { little, then without delay followed the | trail direct to the wagon, and discoy- ered their prey lying panting like a tug- boat. looked at the perspiring con- vict, and my heart smote me for being the cause of his race, but I soon found out it was a great privilege enjoyed by but few, and giving the puppies a race was considered by tiem the very essence | of pleasure. The convict took an old | blanket in his hand and alighted on the ground where the dogs fought him fiercely, making vicious springs for him. He repulsed them by buffeting them with the blanket, jumping away {and thwarting them in any manner | without hurting them. Finally, one of | the dogs fastened his teeth in the con. | viet's coarse pants, at a point where the most cloth was used in making, and, holding on with unyielding te- The dogs were — ssn AI Hs I Monte Cristo. Across the beautiful bay from Naples hour or such a matter, is the famous Edmond Dantes, a young mas- ter of a vessel sailing from Marseilles, and bethrothed to Mercedes, falls into a trap laid by a powerful lover of the girl and is accused of conveying letters from the Emperor Napoleon, then eon- fined at Elba, to his partisans at Mar- seilles. He is entirely innocent, but his accuser is powerful in the govern: ment, and poor Dantes is torn from the arms of his love and hurried to the castle of 4’If. Once there, hope is fone, for the prison often opened its oors for the incoming of prisoners, but seldotn swung them upon departin ones, The young sailor was immu here” for years, and had given up all noise on the other his dungeon. He from an old abbe who had also been confined in the prison for years, and who was digging a hole through the wall, not knowing or caring what the result might be. A few days sufficed to widen the aperture so that they could converse, and the result was, the abbe, who was well nigh gone with years, confided to Dantes the secret of the isle of Monte-Cristo, near Naples, where fabulous wealth was concealed. The abbe immediately expired and Dantes determined to make a bold stroke for liberty The custom was to envelop dead bodies in a sack and throw them over into the sea at night, Dantes pulled the corpse of the dead abbe into his cell through the opening, and enveloped himself in the sack, se- creting a knife about his person, The two soldiers pame at the proper hour, carried the supposed abbe, but really the living Dau to the precipice and threw it over. he moment he struck the water Dantes liberated himself with his knife, and swam to a rock in the neighborhood, there are plenty of them, and escaped by a miracle. It takes three large volumes to show how Dantes found the island of Monte. Cristo, how he himself of its wealth, and taking the title of Count of to France and Monte-Cristo, devoted his life to the hunting down of the three conspirators who had wells nigh been his ruin, ending, of course, th lis matying Mercedes, after killing Dangler, who had forced his Jove, Mercedes, into a marriage with m. i A ef Hie. eae and the disused ne : : ogy the most of the ce- RR AN 8 SAN 055 fact instead of the revelation of the most wonderful romancer France has yet produced. However, it might have bappened; the island is smmply a rock.in the sea; its summit crowned with a prison as horrible as one could imagine. There are cells below cells; there are dungeons into which the ravs of the blessed sun never penetrate, There are oth:rs through which all the light there ever is, is what must come through a narrow slit in the thick wall, ana it is so sit- uated that escape any other way than that suggested by Dumas would be im-~ possible, As it was used as a prison of Stato during the old regime, and by the Re- public afterward, a great many trage- dies have taken place within its walls, which still show mementos. Mirabeau was confined here for a long time, a brother of the King of Poland was here for twenty years, till death relieved him, *‘detained,’”” ns the records say, *‘by request of the King.” The brother was probably troublesome, and Kings were in the habit of obliging each other inthis way. He was safe enough here, z The walls are covered with inscrip. tions of prisoners who had no other way of passing their time. A nobleman ime prisoned here in 1848 sarcastically wrote on the wall “Hotel of the Republic.” Others abused and satirized the Kings who imprisoned them; in fact there is hardly a square inch that has not some inscription. There is one large room, circular in form, in which the prisoners were per- mitted to assemble, though they were not permitted to converse, A singular discovery enabled them to evade this rule. A singular aconstic quality was discovered in the walls, By putting your face close to the wall and talking in a whisper the sound passes around the wall, and may be distinctly heard by any one who puts his ear thereto, no matter what part of the room he might be mn, and so prisoners who wished to converse would talk to the wall, which, like a faithful servant, carried the mes- sage on its smooth surface to the lis- tening ear thirty feet distant, and the watchful guard, pacing up and down outside was none the wiser of what was said. Priests, nobles, revolutionists, assas- sins, agitators, authors, poets and phi- losophers have all tasted the terrors of imprisonment in this monument of by- gone cruelty. Now itis entirely un- used, the place being in the guardian- ship of a dozen invalid soldiers and an old woman with a handsome daughter, who make a living by exhibiting the place retailing the lies that others have invented, They have cul the great story of Dumas down to a very fine point and they have photographs of the good old Abbe and of Dantes, and an engraving of the escape, all which you are urged to purchase, Whether you | mnvest in illustrations of the fertile | brain of Dumas or not, you must drink | a bottle of very bad wine or beer, and | you must likewise disburse a franc or | two for services, This, however, is {the best use the hoary old record of crime was ever put to. i em —— A ——. Tred on Gloves, “Will | “loves?” This was addressed by a lady wearing a sealskin cloak to the saleswoman al the glove counter of a large dry goods store. “We cannot exchange them,” was the reply, after they had heen critically examined, “Why not? I bought them for your best gloves, and the moment I put them on they tore at the thumb,” “Then why did you not bring them here without wearing them?” “1 did not wear them,” was the an- swWer, “Both, certainly have been on, and they look as though they had been worn some time’ was the emphatic remark of the saleswoman., “Well, 1 bought them to wear last evening, and, not haviag any others, I, of course, had to wear them,"’ The gloves were six-button, tan-col- ored kid, not only torn at the thumb, but wrinkied at the wrist and very much stretched out of shape, and the fingers were considerably soiled. In fact, they looked as though they bad been warn a week, The saleswoman looked at them again and finally took them to the manager of the department for his decision, and he also declined to exchange them. “Do you have many such customers?”’ a looker on inquired. “Not many. We warrant our best gloves, and if they break in putting them on or are damaged in any way, we gladly exchange them for another pair, provided they do not look soiled {rom wear.’ “In a nwhnber of pdirs of gloves, say 100, are many of them likely to be im- perfect?” “Oh, no.” “Are many gldves torn in Lying them on?" “Not many,” she replied, smiling, and perhaps having an eye to the inter- est of the business of her employer. “Then how do you account for the damaged gloves that are sold occasion iy?” “Oh, they are collected during the year,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders, BR ————— “When are you Mary?" lunch with you please exchange these dows and cannot see one except, vay “Have you notified them that you wished to get cut? " es, and they promised to be on YOO YOR THOUGHT, Pretension is nothing; power 18 every- thing. The trial is not falr where affection is judge, Better break thy word than do worse in keeping it. Candor is a virtue often affected to cover hypoerisy. Sadness is a disease, the best remedy for it is occupation. True happiness does not abide with wealth or indolence, Indolence is the rust of the mind and the inlet of every vice. The cause of our grandeur may be- come that of your ruin, When our hatred is too keen it places us beneath those we hate, Eloquence may serve us, but plain words accomplish them. Do not impose too much patience and change it to fury. A father’s blessing cannot be drowo- ed in water nor consumed by fire. The world 18 a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who [eel upon With God, even across the sea; with- out him, not even to the threshold, The winds and the waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators, The breath of him who wishes fo sal isfy every one must be hot and cold, The man has not lived in vain who plants a good tree in the right place, The utility of virtue is so plain that the unprincipled feign it from policy. He is the best accountant who cau cast up correctly the sum of h Errors, lest satisfied with leave others to talk please, We shall all be perfectly virtuous when there 18 no longer any flesh on ou bones, No metaphysician ever fel ficiency of language so much as tl grateful. No action will be considered as blame- less unless the will was so, for by the wiil the act was dictated He is happy whose circumstances suit his temper; but he more excellent who can suit his ¢ stances, Experience shows thal success is due less to ability than to zeal, The winner is he who gives himself to his work, body and soi Ope of life's Bown doing well, ax of you is emper VW any circuin- bardest lessons from the cradle to the grave is waiting. We send out our ships, but cannot patient- iy await their return. Foundations are good, and paths are good; but they are not enough. Foun- dations are made build on; paths are made to walk in. Every man is not so much a work- man in the world as he is a suggestion of what he should be, Men walk as prophets of the next age. Self control is promoted by humanity. Pride is a fruitful source of uneasiness, It keeps the mind in disquiet. Humility is the antidote to this evil The permanency of marriage is indis pensable to the security of families; and families are beams and girders which hold together the Slate. No one loves 1o tell a tale of scanda) but to him who loves to hear it, Learn, then. to rebuke and silence the detract- ing tongue by refusing to hear, We must look downward as well as upward mn human life. Though many may have passed you in the race, ther are many you have left behind. 4 vO Money and time are the heaviest bur. dens of life, and the unbappiest of all mortals are those who have more of either than they know how to use. He who is conscious of his ignorance, viewing it m the light of misfortune, is mare wise than one who mistakes superficial polish for real knowledge. Jove in iis varied phases, can acquire purity or dignity only when guided by an inward power over our- selves that is the very gem of virtue. It is as absurd to pretend that one cannot Jove the same woman always, as to pretend that a good artist needs several violins to execute a piece of music. It is often better to have a great deal of harm happen to one than a little; a t deal may rouse you lo remove what a little will only accustom you to endure. 2 Good manners is the art of of making those people easy with whom we con- verse. Whoever makes the fewest persons uneasy is the best bred in the company. Try to be happy in this very present moment, and put not off being so to a time to come; as though that time should be of another make {rom this, which is already come, and 1s ours, Mere bashfulness without merit is awkward; and merit without modesty, insolent. But modsst merit has a dou- ble c.aim to acceptance and generally meets with as many patrons as behold- ers. Religion is a necessary, an indispen- sable element, in any greal human character, There is no living without it. It is the tie thal connects man with his Creator and holds him to his throne. Real merit of any kind cannot be concealed; it will be discovered and can d +jate it but a man’s ng it himself. It may not always t ought; but it will always be known. Habit, it wisely and skilfully formed, becomes truly a second nature, as the common saying is; but unskilfully and feally directed, it will be as it were the ape of nature, which imitates noth to the life, but only clumsily and aw y. Work every hour paid or unpaid, see
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers