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Vatfu. - From the New York Churchman GOD HELP THE POOR. Darkly the winter day Dawns on the moor: How can the heart be gay; Who can endure ; Ste the sad, weary wight, Wanders from noon to night, Shelterless, homeless quite"! God help the Poor! Now tlig red robin here, Sits on the sill; Not e'n a grain of bore Touches its bill ; So with the houseless poor, AVand'ring from door to door, Seeking a morsel more! Lord, 'tis thy will! White is the virgin snow, Bitter the more; See those starved children go, Wretched, forlorn ! Feet without shoes or hose, Backs without warm elothe3, Strangers to calm repose— Why were they born ? See thationc, aged man, Snow white his hair; Mark his sail visage wan, Deep his despair, Craving the rich man's food, Owner of many a rood. Lord, thou art always gond, Hear his heart prayer: Yonder a woman goes, . Ragged and old, Barefooted o'er the snow, Famished and cold; 'Tow her poor children cling To her side, shivering, Chickens beneath her wing Both she enfold! Fast falls the t•leet and rain, ' 'Slowly they go, By forest side.. sheltered Wailing their woe; City street now they here "they roam will and free, Canat thou say "no?' Night spreads licr Fable wing, Where can they lie? fs . nrrivws" like theirs intt-t brhig Tears to the eye; Full the cloud torrent fall,, Down they must lie in hall 4, I x:adi to his maker calk, "Lord! let me die!" Ye wl oily tar heavens Givedrem yOur store; "rwil,l neer make your tr,' , .tiures less, Atm,t,' make them more: ror he that gives cheerfully, ;01.1 loves so tenderly, (live to them—pray with me, Clod help the poor. Frein the Lancaster Intelligencer. is It Zv fill'all be Right iiii the 21..lor.ning:, I= When the brwinflingll.ai of thfi-hoo-rt of And the springing step grow slow: " When the form of a cloud in the, blue al»ve, . , Lies dark on the path below ; The song that he sings is lost in a sigh, And ho turns where a star is dawning, And lie thinks, as it gladdens biA heart and his eye, "It will all be right in the morning:' When "the strong man armed," in the middle watch, From life's dim deck is gazing, And strives, through the wreck of the tempest, to catch A gleam of the day-beam's blazing t Amid the wild storm, there hard by the helm, lie heeds not the dark oceawyawning, For this song in his soul not a sorrow can 'whelm: "It will all be right in the morning!" When the battle is done, the harp unstrung, Its music trembling—dying 'When his woe., ;ire unwept, and his deeds unsung, And lie longs in the grave to be lying, • Then.a voice shall charim•as it chatmed before, . Iletad V:ept or waited the dawning; They do love therefor ayc—l'll be thine'mt tif yore -..tt wilt all be right in the me aint tied 5.4)f0ji1. ELSIE RAYMOND 1V VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND . " Wait a MOM eat, grandma, ljustwant to run out, and say good-bye to Daisy;", and the sweet face,-set in a frame work of bridal-hat flowers, looked a moment through the open door, 'and then vanished, .before the lady, in her Quaker 'satin and White muslin cap, could reply. ' Vitat, isn't Elsie here !" The question er was a young, fine looking man, and there was something peculiarly attractive ,in the smiling -of his dark expressive eyes, as they swept / the room with a single glance, and then lighted-on the old lady. " She's just run. ,out, Alden, to bid Daisy good-hye., You know .it wouldn't do to go off without seeing her, old nurse,, any, how. Ev eryithing'spacked, istet'it?" '" Yes, tual the carriage is 'waiting ;" and, as the young man. spoke, a tide of, gleeful laughter rolled up to their cars froM the com pany below stairs. The old lady, did not,. mind it. She'etime close to the newly-made husband, and laid her hand on his:Shealder. "Alden,",she said, very ,earnestly,„"now the honrhas wine for our parting, 1, can think of many things 1 want to say to you, and" ought to have done this before. - But it's too late. -- noN‘v; Oh, Alden, you will he very ten de of my darling, won't you ? You. will never forget hoW she has been watched .and cared for, (Vniay be too much,) and how she has never' khewn a .harsh word in the home whence' yon are taking her The oldlady's Veice . Was pleading, almost to sadness, and her , eyes were full of tears ; but dimmed as they were, she saw the look of beautiful tenderness that flashed into the young Man's expressive features. • " Do not fear to trust me, Mrs. 'Williams," he said, solemnly taking both her hands in his. "fier happiness shall be the one great aim of my life. The love, that has watched over, the tenderness that has guarded her girlhood from the very shadow of .evil,.shall be-increased a hundred lbld in the home,to which I:,take her ;" and had you heard. those eloquent tones, and seen the look,which ac companied them, you would have predicted a joyous wedded life for ,Elsie, :Raymond. "I do believe ,you, Alden, my boy," an swered the old lad-;, fervently. . "But some times yoTa may find Elsie a little impatient, or selPwilled... I don't like to say it, for her heart'S always in the right place,; only you know how quick and impulsive. -she is, and she . don't bear contradiction, for I s'pose she's a spoiled child." Who's a spoiled child ?"•asked a - voice so sweet it would-liars thrilled your heart like $1 GO FEI2 1 iiviertior.' 2, do, •: do. 50 WILLIAM VOL. XIL a sudden out-break of harp-music, and the graceful figure of the girl-bride sprang into ihe room. Rubens ought to have seen her at that-mo. ment. With her blue, sparkling eyes, the, half blush gathering into her soft cheeks, and the arch smile breaking over her lips, as morning sunshine breaks into the. heart of mountain roses, she was just the vision of outward, joyous earth-loveliness that his soul would have delighted in. Her white hat with its loopings of lace and ribbon, and her rich traveling dress, harmonised with the rare, English creaminess of her complexion, and altogether she looked to the loving. eyes that now rested on her, so bright, and spark ling and happy, that they forgot everything but her beauty. " Grandma's been saying bad things about me," said the bride, with a pretty pout, that any young husband would have thought worth a dozen kisses. "Now, Alden, don't you let her frighten you one bit, for I'm going to be, just the most loving, obedient little wife in the world, and never do a thing you say I musn't, as long as I live." " I shan't say 'musn't'.very often, darling," answered the young husband, stroking te curls that fell out of the little hat. " But come, Elsie, we shan't be in time for the cars. Say good-bye to your grandmother, quick." "I'll be a good girl, indeed I will," whis pered the trembling lips, as they' drew up to the grandmother's ; and the smiling face was dim with tears. " God bless you, Elsie, my child !" And. her husband hurried her away. Elsie Raymond's future must tell the story of her past. Both her parents lay under the spring grass before she had learned to know them, and so she went to her - grandmother's heart and home. There, only sunshine lay-, over her life. The tender, indulgent grand mother forgot there must come an hour when the clouds would rise, and the great life Storms descend upon the flower that grew- up in such beauty at her hearthstone. Elsie had one of those fine, rich, impulsiVe natures, that especially require judicious training. This she had never received from her grandmother, and the under-current of self-will and pride in, her nature had gained depth and, force, which, in her early girlhood, only revealed themselves in her impatience of mild reproof, or contradiction. But usually she was so laving, so gentle, so transparent—and, as I said ; her fatura must tell her past. Two 3.-ears had gone swiftly, happily by., Mr. and Mrs. Raymond sat at their breakfhSt. mine-that morning.- - plia,fiees, of taste and luxury, was one of those. rare home-genis, that , only an artist can ap-. prociate. But the little wife, behind the silver coffee urn, in her fawn colored morning gown, with* its tassels of blue silk, was, after r,all, the crowning beauty of the sweet home-scene. " Alden," said. Mrs. Raymond, as shepass ed his second cup of coffee, "wthf.t you just put down that paper, and listen to me a mo ment. Yon know that party you promised me, almost a year ago. Well, I've decided to have it next week. It's just the season for it now, and we'll make it grand effort to have it pass off well." If Mrs. Raymond had. at that momenflook - - ed narrowly. at her husband's.face, showould have seen it grow pale at the mention. of the party. " I , in sorry, Elsie," he commenced, moving restlesSly'on his chair. " Noiv don't," interrupted. the - little, wife. quickly, "don't, Alden, say one word against the party, - fox I've quite set may heart onzhax- 7 , ing it. , 1. told the Campbells, and the' Wild mans about' it, more than two,weekS 'ago, s 9 I should.'die o with shanie to postpone it." " You Shouldn't have mentioned it to them, without consulting meifirst." " Mr. Raymond's. tones were cold' and severe for the first time, but his wife would have. forgiven them, had, she guessed. the anguish thatlay, at his heart. As.it was her face flashed with anger., "Really," she answered, "I was not, until this morning, aware I was responsible.to you, Mr. Raymond; for the subjects I might choose . to select for conversation , acqimin-. tances. Once, for all, what is thereason, you refuse me this party ?" "I, do hot, refuse it, Elsie, I only.ask you to delay it." " And, 1 viitht and, gqii/ have_ it, next week, or. never. I cannot see why you wish me to postpone it, unless. it be because you know the delay will greatly annoy ,me." The young man's pale. face flushed with the paiii her words, had occasioned him„ "Elsie," and his voice Was , quieter,. and sterner than before, "you cannot move me by these.accu sations because you know as well as do" I, there is no truth in them. I have some heavy, payments to meet this week, and. that alone was the reason. of my requestingyou.te defer this matter. All I have to' say is, you will, he quite as likely to accomplish your wishes by presenting them in a less dictatorial man ner." It was very unfortunate for Mr. Raymond that he added to his explanation that last re mark • for now that he assigned a motive for - the delay, his wife's heart had begun to sof ten toward him, but that last speech harden ed it again. " I don't believe a word of what you're saying, Alden aymond," she answered, push ing back her chair, and bursting into a flood of passionate 'tears. "If' the money had made any difference, you'd have told me be fore this late day ; and it's only because you want to mortify me now' before the world, that you're so stingy this morning. I wish. I was back again in my old home, with grand ma, and dear old Daisy, who :wMild never have spoken to me the harsh,. cruel words that you have just done. I wish IWas Nck. there again, and that' I had never kfi it for, and that I had never seen you, Alden, Ray mond!" And springing from her seat, the lady 'burst out of the room, and her husband made no effort to detain her. Ile only leaned his head on his hand, and groaned. deeply. It was the last drop in his, cup of bitterness. 1: ,- ; 4 . j ,ti \. . •,.. 6 . i ts- , , , ,,.. , 7 -. 1..!:,' ~.. ..,.,:; rqi.... ~' '.:..:`,.,... • . ii,i , ,75.' • .fit An hour later the' young merchant was walking up and down his counting-room, with. restless step, and haggard face.. There had come a sudden revolution in the mercantile world, and his house was one of the first to feel it. "There is no chance to sail clear of this, that Lsee," murmured the young man, as he struck his forehead. "A few weeks, and we must all sink. - I shall be a ruined man, and Elsie--" his face worked fearfully a moment, and then he resumed, "There is no way to raise the - Money,- unless stared anxiously all about him, as though he feared the terrible secret which lay behind that "unleSs" might have revealed it self, though it had never crossed his lips ; and for the first time in his life, his face wore a look of cowardice and guilt. " Yes ; I could get it so," he said, leaning his head on his hands ; "and if. our aflairs should happen to take a favorable turn, - I could repay the note before anybody was the wiser ; if .not," and his voice grew hoarse, "the river or a pistol shot could: settle it all." " Elsie's little property's all swallowed up, too. God knows .1 meant to secure it to her, but there was no help for it, and were she to know this she'd hate me worse than ever, and maybe I can win back one of the old ove smiles to her sweet lips if—" he did not fin ish-the sentence. "Elsie, you can give out the invitations for your party next week. There is the money which will defray expenses," and Mr. Ray mond placed a; note for a thousand dollars in the lap of his wife. - It was dinner time, and Elsie had had all the morning to reflect on her conduct at breakfast, and bitterly had the young wife reproached herself for the niikind words she had., spoken. But her will was unsubdued still, and when the footsteps of her husband rang through the hall, the old pride mine back to her heart, the morning curl to her rosy lip, and she thought to herself, "Alden shall speak first." And he did; and that generous deed of his overcame - at 'once, all the pride 'and self-will ofthe ( really loving wife. She Sprang up quickly, and wound her white arms around her husband's neck, while tears of remorse and tenderness swept ,doWn her face. "Oh', Alden,"'she said, "forgive me, forgive me for the cruel words I said this morning. I have been so sorry for them. I do you better than - all the world beside, and I would not leave you - for a - thousand orandniethers. - Say just once' to me ,`Elsie, 1 forgive you,' and I - shall be so happy." Ile drew her bright head" to 'his • bosom,, and: he - rained clown kisses on her sweet brawl, 2s - 1 - 1675117, -- MST - C — ,ol.lce and forover - f fargtve you, but I hate beeiryory weak, and I have suffered ,much, this - morning. Let me lay my head "in your lip; and see if I shall nut feel better, while you talk to me." . , And Elsie sat• there ,a long time, running her little dimpled' fingers through the thick brown eurlS'of - her 'husband, and laying her cool lips 'every few moments to his fevered ferchead, Chatting to him in. her sweet hum ming-bird style, ~of • her party, • and what a delightful aiTair.it,would . he ; dreaming little of the darkness, and. sin, and shame, that teas drawing cloSer' and closer to their thresh hold I it was late morning after the party.„ It had been as the young wife had predicted, "a brilliant affair. " And now she•Waiked through the elegant' confluiton of Tier parlors, and. thought what glances of admiration had followed her, during the evening, and how proud. Alden'would be when she recounted to him the compliments which the guests had bestowed upon their "beautiful lleStess ;" and how she had inad vertently heard. Mayor Hamlin, who was pronounced the mAt• artistic judge in the 'city, ca. 11 he - "the rare blossom of the'feSti val." But these pl6asant dreamings experi enced a rude interruption. • „ Two rough-looking men entered the'parlor, and inquired`if - liir:•Raymond was in. "No, ' answered his wife; surprised - and startled.' "lle went to the store this morn-. lug." One of them replied, with a. significant look around the rooms, that he was not there, they had just come from his store. "I have not seen him since," Nvas Mrs. Raymond's laconic rejoinder; and after Con ferring together a moment, the two men left the room. The lady sank down. upon a sofa, and covefed her face with.her hands., They were policemen; she could not disguise from her self this fact, - and a vague, terrible fear took possesSion of her soul. A few moments later, and her husband stood before her, wild, pale, haggard. "Elsie," he asked hurriedly, "has there been two policemen here after me ?" "Yes, and I told them you were at the store. "Oh,. Alden"—she could not finish the sentence, for he 'rushed from her, out in to the hall, and up the stairs like a mad man. - . Elsie's heart died within her, and it was only by grasping the cushions of the sofa, she prevented. herself from. sinking to the floor. She feared—she knew not what, but the next moment the woman's heart of Elsie liuymond awoke within her... Alden; her husband, was suffering, it might• be he was in disgrace and shame, and who should stand by him, and where should he find comfort and strength, but in her? She sprang up, and though her limbs shook like a reed beneath her, and . her face would not be whiter when it lay under the coffin plaits, she went straight' .out into the hall, and up the long stairs to his room. The door was not locked, and she•opened it without knocking. • What a scene for the bliio eyes of Elsie Raymond l Her husband. stood in the 'centre of the room, with a pistol pointed at his heart. ; Ono minute more, and she had been too. late. • With one loud. shriek. she rushed to his side:, with one blow of her-small, white hand, she struck the heavy pistol. to the floor, and with a wild, sad_cry springing.from her pale lips, "Saved, saved, Aldeu;'. she• wOund.• her arms about.him.••• The desperate• man put- her ,away. "Saycd," he cried, hoarsely, •"saved to ruin, HUNTINGDON, PA., NOVEMBER 5, 1856. -PERSEVERE.- degradation, to worse than death. Leave me, Elsie, and let me do the deed now." But she came back to~him, for she would not be put away. "No, no," she answered, and her pale face shone almost like an angel's, with its beautiful wife-tenderness, "did you think, Alden, your Elsie would leave you now, when your arms have sheltered her so long ? Did you think she would not follow you through suffering, and shame, true and loving to the end ?" "BUt not to prison, Elsie, not to prison?" HiS head dropped as he said it. "Yes," she answered, drawing closer, and the light of her soul was shining in her eyes, to prison, to the gallows, to death, Alden !" And then he took her in his arms, and: while his heart was wrung with deeper agony for her than for himself, he told her all. 'And Elsie learned, for the first time, of the threatened collapse in her husband's bu siness, and of the utter inipossibility of his meeting the expenses of their late party with out—he whispered the words—"hc had fora- . ed- a' note ,for two thousand dollars !" He, hoped to pay it, and- so elude discovery, but matters grew worse, and lie could not raise, the money. " And it was for me you did it, Alden; be cause I spoke those cruel words ! Oh, God help me ! lam to blame, not you 1" cried the heart-broken wife. But before her husband could answer her, she had sprung from her -seat, and a great hope had dawned into her face.—" Alden," she cried, "it was I that ruined, it is I that will save you. I am-going. to that man whose, name you forged, and I will beg, pray, any thing, till he promises to spare you." " Elsie," and her husband shook his head mournfully ; "his heart is a hard one." "No matter, I will find my way to -it. I will not let_him go till he has promised to save you. ray'Gd, Alden, while lam gone, pray Him without ceasing, to be with me !"" She pressed one long, loving kiss upon his bowed forehead, and left him. Mr. Ilolburn, the millionaire, was slowly pacing up and down his long, narrow office, with his hands behind him, as was his' cus tom., Ire was a dark, stern-looking man, with deep wrinkles set in his forehead and thin fate,• and altogether, it ' was not one that a little child; or a heart yearning for comfort and sympathy would have been drawn to ward. _ " Strange, strange," muttered the million aire to himself,- "that a young man of such family, ct - ccupying such ti,position on 'change, ,A - iad_ , slipuhibnyo_ (lone - trirs - Thing. W-hat-a sensation 'twill create ! Gave that - splendid party last night, too—." Mr. nolburn's monologue was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a lady. She made her ingress unannounced, and putting her long veil aside, revealed a face hardly yet ripened into full womanhood, yet very touching in its pale, mournful loveliness. "I am Mrs. Raymond," she said eagerly, "and you now know for what I have come. Oh, sir ! will you not spare my husband?" " Madame," said Mr. llolburn, partially recovering himself, "it is a very painful duty to refuse you, but Justice must have her course. The offence is so palpable—." But Elsie had sunk down at the man's feet, unable to stand. "0, sir," she cried, clasping her hands, while the tears rolled down her sweet face, "do not say that If you ever had a mother who sang you to slum ber in her arms, or a sister by whose side you knelt in prayer, or a wife whose head slumbered on your heart, by all that you have ever loved and cherished, have pity up on me, I pray you—have pity upon my hus band, and spare us both from a life that will be worse than death ! " There will come a day and an hour when' you will be glad that you listened to my prayer, and oh, as you hope for mercy at the ' judg ment, show it to me now !" And the man looked at her, as she knelt there in her mournful beauty at his feet, with her shining curls lying about her tearful face, and his heart was touched. " I am sorry for you," he said, " but • Ma dame, your husband has been greatly to "It was L It was my fault," eagerly in terrupted Elsie. " I instigated him to the act by my folly and extravaganCe. Do not accuse him, let the shame, as was the sin, be mine, but oh I you will not kill us, will you?" The stern heart melted. Mr. liolburn raised the young wife gently, and whispered: " Mrs. Raymond, I will prosecute the thing no farther. - Your husband is safe." _ A half hour later, Elsie burst into the room_ where sat her husband. " Look up, Alden," she cried, exultingly; "I have saved yciu!— I have saved you 1" But this sudden joy, after those hour's Of exquisite suffering, was too much even for the man's strong physical endurance, and as the glad words died on Elsie's lips, her hus band dropped senseless to the floor. A week had passed. It was 'a soft star bright April evening, the closing of 'one of those days that conic 'up, golden wanderers from the Tropic, and shake hands with 'the mouth's gloom, and chill and mist. Alden Raymond sat in his large easy chair; in the pleasant room where we met him at breakfast, and Elsie sat on the chair ariia— She looked. very charming and very happy too, albeit there was a deeper, more' subdued beauty in her whole face, but you would have loved it.better than itll the sparkle of the old tunes. "And so, Alden," said the little wife, run ning her fingers thrthigli her husband's hair, " oyandm.a, writes she will be with us next month, as soon as May brings the clover wind to her bed-room Window. I aiii - so glad, and now your business has turned out so favora bly, we .shall be very happy. I Cannot thank God enough when I think of it!" _Alden drew his arms round the slender waist. . • *. "Nes • darling, the worst is over now," he answered.• 01 business is on a properous footing again ; thank God, as you say ! I have this afternoon paid Mr. holburn. all that debt. We should be very happy, if it ta, ,4 ;VA ,71754 were not for that one terrible memory, Elsie ;" his head dropped on her shoulder. The wife put down her rosy lips to his ear, and whispered softly, "Don't think about it, dear Alden. It was all my fault, not yours, you know, and what a lesson has it been to us both. We will never quarrel again." And Elsie kept her word, and when her grandmother returned home from her happy visit she said to Daisy, with tears in her eyes, "I have no fears for Elsie now; she is the best wife in the world, and she has the best husband, too." So Elsie Raymond's first quarrel with her husband was her last one. A. Princess Selling her Soul We copy the following story from the Court Journal:—The utmost interest has been ex perienced in the fashionable circles all over the continent by the publication of the bro chure of the Princess de S., which, printed at first in small numbers and for private cir culation only, has • gradually spread itself throughout the aristocratic and religious co teries of Europe. It is now exactly a year since the young Princess Eleanore de S., in the prime of her youth and beauty, a young wife, adored by her husband, and much be loved by her family, died suddenly at the Ho tel de S., in Paris, and was buried in great pomp at Pere La Chaise, where a splendid monument, by Lechene, recording her age, . her lineage and virtues, has just been put up by her disconsolate husband. In spite of the high position held by the Princess, and from I her great wealth and beauty having become the observed of all observers, there has al ways existed an extraordinary feeling of mystery in the publio mind with regard to the circumstances of her death. The sudden determination, taken immediately after the event by her mother-in-law, of retiring to a convent, greatly increased the doubt and won der spread around the whole affair, and now this pamphlet comes to fill us with a deeper amazement than we can well bear. The pamphlet is printed in German, .and in it the whole life of the :.princess is set forth. A child of immense imagination and power, left at an early age an orphan with the con sciousness of beauty and the command of boundless wealth, finding herself suddenly transported to her guardian's old castle in the Hartz, was not likely to enjoy either content or happiness ; and here her temper grew so wild and. untraceable, that after repeated • ef . fr, t v4-p, c ! ..7 sable to send her to he trained into rule and discipline by seclusion in a convent. The child was placed beneath the surveillance of the superior of the Sacre Occur ' in the Rue de Varennes, where she could be better trained to habits of obedience than elsewhere. But, alas ! this first experiment proved total ly abortive. Three unsuccessful efforts at escape were folkwed by a decided attempt to set . fire to the furniture of her room where she was confined ; and the governess, fearful of the effect of such example on other pupils, and weary Of the task of taming this wild, vehement spirit, reluctantly restored. the young lady . to the care of her guardian. A conseil de janzille was held, and it was resolv ed to send the culprit, now no longer a mere child, but a fine, high spirited girl of fifteen, to England, to complete her education, with the hope that the conviction of being thus alone in a foreign country, dependent upon her good behaviour to ensure the kindness of those about her, might have the desired effect. The young lady was accordingly placed at —,at Hammersmith, and for a time the hoped for change seemed to have ta ken place iu her temper. But, after a while, it appears that the bursts of violence to which she gave way, and the fits of depression which succeeded, became so alarmin g c , as to cause serious fears for her health. Letter after letter was despatched to her guardian from the young lady herself, begging to be taken into favor, declaring that the climate of England was weighing her to the earth, and the discipline of Hammersmith breaking her heart. For some time the guardian, acting with the prudence' he thought necessary, suffered these complaints and supplications to go on ; but at length, moved by one of the letters more heart-rendino; than the others, he allowed his anger be . 'melted, and de termined on fetching his ward from the place, where she declared, in the strong language she was wont to use, she was damaging both soul and body and hurrying both to everlast ing perdition. The Prince de S. arrived at Hammersmith one Sunday morning. The lady commissioned to be bearer of the news reported to have seen her on her kness alone in her room praying, with a most fearful ex pression of countenance, and, on being in formed of her ' guardian's arrival, she had uttered a most unearthly shriek and rushed down the stairs like one possessed. The guardian was much pleased with her prog ress and improvement, and brought her back to Paris triumphantly, as a specimen of the good training of the ladies of Hammersmith. There was, indeed, no token of the old in domitable spirit left within her. She was silent and subdued, submissive to all, and only urgent in her supplications never to be left alone or in the dark. She to whom re ligion had hitherto been a subject of derision, changed suddenly to practices of the most ex aggerated piety, but always persisted in maintaining that it was useless to lay any plans for her welfare, for that she should die before she was 21 ! _ The Princess, in the brnchtire, says :--` Even when she became the bride of my son Leon, she would insist upon every arrangement be ing made with a view to this early death, which seemed to prey on her mind for ever. It was not till the young couple had been married for some time that, by dint of mater nal care and solicitude, I managed to wring from her the confidence of her direful antici pations ; and judge of my dismay witcn she coolly told me she had sold herself to the Evil One, and she would be claimed before she had reached the age of 21 ! She confess ed that her despair had been so great at be ing exiled, that, wearied with incessant pray Editor and Proprietor. ,Cz tellairt.ru~. . _ . ers to Heaven and the saints for deliveraned without effect, she had at length addressed her vows to the' powers of darkness on the very Sunday morning when her guardian had arrived,. and the annfouncement of his preseneas evidently the token of the ac 'c'eptance of that fearful vow.' It seems that; 'in spite of - every efre and counsel, despite of the : constant watching and wise teaching of the Abbe Dupauloux; nothing. could turn aside the- ?ke fixe froth the."mind;of ‘flo Princess Eleanore ; and, although every ex treme of dissipatioh . ,and excitement were tried to divert her thoughts .she gave way to a settled melancholy, and died. j„Ast=two dayi before the completion of her 21st year, sud denly, and in her chair; full dressed for a ball at the Ministre d'Etat. The pamphlet has caused the deepest impression on the minds of all who have perused it, and the re: tirement from the world of the Dowager Princess de S., for the avowed purpose of praying for the soul of the Princess Eleanore, has added to the terrible effect of the tale, which FOCITIS more like a dark legend of the middle ages than an incident of yesterday ; but is, nevertheless, perfectly true for all that. NO. 20. Every man should do his best to own a home. The first money he can spare ought to be invested in a dwelling, where his fam ily can live permanently. Viewed as a mat ter ofeconomy, this is important,- not only because he can ordinarily build more cheap ly than he can rent, but because of the ex- , pease caused by frequent change of residence. A man who in early life builds a house for a home for himself and family, will save some thousands of dollars in the course of twenty years, besides avoiding the inconvenience and trouble of removals. Apart from this; there is something agreeable to our better' nature in having a home that we can call our own. It is a form of property that is more than property. It speaks to the heart, enlists the sentiments, and ennobles the pos-' sessor. The associations that spring up around it, and the birthplace of children— as the scene of life's holiest emotions—as the sanctuary where the spirit cherishes its purest thoughts, are such as all value; and when ever their influence is exerted, the moral sensibilities are improved and exalted. The greater part of our happiness in this world is found at home; but how few recollect that the happiness of to-day is increased by the place where we were happy on yesterday. and that insensibly scenes and circumstances gather up a store of blessedness for the weary hours of the future ! On this account we do all in our power to make home attractive.—Not only should we cultivate such tempers as serve to render its inter course amiable and affectionate, but we should strive to adorn it with those charms which good sense and refinement so easily impart to it. We say easily, for there arc persons who think that a home cannot be benefitted without a considerable outlay of money. Such people are in error. It costs little to have a neat flower garden, and to surround your dwelling with those simple' beauties which delight the eye far more than. expensive objects. If you will let the sun shine and the dew adorn your yard, they will do more for you than any artist. Nature delights in beauty. She loves to brighten the landscape and make it agreeable to the eye. She hangs ivy around the ruin, and over the stump of a withered tree twines the' 4raceful vine. A thousand arts she praeti,s,. .4,,urruritt,' trio , n•sm ann plea - settle mina.- Follow her example, and do for your Self what she is always laboring to do for you. Beau ty is one of God's chosen forms of power.-- We never see creative energy without,some-. thing beyond mere existence, and hence the whole universe is a teacher and inspirer of beauty. Every man was born to be an ar tist; so far as the appreciation of beauty is concerned. r:-Little said is soon amended. -cr,a,f'Keep your shop, and your shop will keep you. te—Liberality and thankfulness arc the bonds of concord. Liberality is not giving largely, but giving wisely. V2F-It were no - virtue to bear calamities if we did not feel them. Just praise is only a debt, hut flattery is a present. ngl..Let reason go before every enterprie i and counsel before every action. ma,z.Every bushel of wood ashes, applies to the corn crop, is worth one dollar. ,EGY"Why is a cowardly soldier like butter ? Because he is sure to run when exposed to fire. DS-Among the advertisements in a late London paper, we read that "Two sisters want washing." Ite-The onion, it is said, destroys the at= tractive power of the magnet. It has tho same effect with young ladies. ner."Miss Brown, I have been to learn how to tell fortunes," said a young fellow to a brisk brunett. "Just give me your hand if you please." "La I Mr. White, hoW slide den you are Well, go ask pa." TUE WISE( OF A VETERAN.—"Dash it, Sir!" said a poor old Major, on hearing the amount of the retiring allowances of the Bishops of London and Dublin, "I wish I were an officer on half pay in the Church. Militant." se - A young man in one of our western towns, has patronized the fine arts so far as to buy a picture of the Temptation of Adam and Eve. So one asked him if it was a chaste picture ? " Why, yes," he said, " chased by a snake." e.." Thanks!" muttered our bachelor friend, "no more women in heaven—they can't get in. Their hoops are so broad they will have to go the broad road! None of these fashionables can ever crowd through the narrow gate. ltla” A "stuck up" sort of genius entered a shop in Philadelphia, and turnin g up his nose at seine apples in the window, exclaiixt- - ed : " Are those apples fit for a hog to eat 2" ‘ , l don't know, try them and see," was the reply of the shopkeeper. Ur on. Dowx ?—ln going on hoard a Misr sissippi steamboat the other day, Mr. Jones. met Mr. Smith—" Which way are you going Smith—up or down ?" " That depends on circumstances. If I sleep over the boiler, up—if in the cabin, down." Beautify your Homes PRESENT FASMON: Bonnet on the shoulders Nose up to the sky ; Both hands full of flounces; Raised a la Shang high; Under skirts bespattered, Look amazing-neat : All your silks get "watered," Sweeping down the street !
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers