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Original Vatirg.
ON- BORROWED WINGS
I asked the nine to grace my humble lay,
The subject named, this done,—they fled away
And now no light gleams from each truant lino,
To make them all, like Robert's,—so divine!
He left the muse's haunts to deal in ham,
And while with brow serene, and heart as calm
lie deals in lowly life, why may not I
Rob him of wings, and like him—try to fly.
The balmy breezes fan me as I soar
To dizzy heights which Robert trod before,
Bach lofty mole-hill with success is gained
As I admire a Pegasus so trained!
Immortal Bob I how oft celestial fire
Has flow from off your chariot's blazing tiro,
As with the lightning's speed, you seemed to play
With space,—and picked up pebbles by the way I
But all! we're higher now than o'er before,
And fearful lest this view we have no more,
We'll eye the plain spread out before our feet,
And see the tumblers at their loathesome treat.
With fear and care each sinking heart_opprest
With double gloom each lowly brow is Brest,
And wild commotion fires the doubling mass
As Whittaker lets out the pent up gas.
The combat deepens, Oa, he cries, ye brave,
Who kindly run the gauntlet to the ,gravel
With fired eye : lie bravely takes the van,
And calla on each to show himself a man ;
With lunges fearful bursts upon the foe,
And madly kicks and bites and squeals, each blow
With feet and hands,—with frenzied head and heart,
Makes legions fly beneath the galling smart !
One more—my hero—this may be the last,
'Tis done—and now at "blud" ho stands aghast:
With clutching fingers rends his matted hair
And damns himself in frenzy of despair !
The Doctor now in sweet simplicity
Commends the act that made his paper free,
And with a swelling heart in joy he cries,
" Theman that nobly lives, right nobly dies !"
flow noble in simplicity his end!
Ho stabs himself to help along a friend!
The world with hollow-heartednesa is led
Here's ono so tender both in heart and head
A pity 'tie his value is not known
And must ho die without a tear—alone?
The dread decree is passed—with piteous sigh
brawn brokenly, he lays him down to die.
His partner smoothes the pillow for his head,
And sings the solemn requiem for the dead,
With ono short howl, he quickly dares mankind
And with the film of Death is likewise blind.
"The world recedes—it disappears"—all's o'er,
Tho "Journal" now is but a thing of yore!
Levi, dispirited, is seen to turn
And shed a tear beside the mouldering, urn—
" My friend is gone, too nobly gone," ho sobs,
l'And ever while ray aching bosom throbs"—
But here, the sun had melted Robert's wings
(They were at best nought but indifferent things)
And I was forced to leave the hill before,
Compassionate, I saw the matter o'er.
Now Robert, here, I bring your wings all back,
With them I flew just like another jack,
Obliged, however, Rob, I am to you,
For I have learned some things I never knew.
.ititresting ilisttliany.
A SUDDEN CONVERSION
BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR.
The simple story I am about to relate pos
sesses much interest for those who were ac
quainted with the parties concerned, and to
others its interest will not only be in its
truth, but also in the peculiar soul-touch it
developes.
In one of the northern towns of Vermont
lived a young man whom I shall call Daniel
Bryan. Ho was a lawyer by profession, and
one of the most intellectual men in that sec
tion of the country. No one possessed the
confidence of his friends more than he did,
and no one was better calculated to secure
the good will and friendship of all with whom
he came in contact. Business poured in
upon him, and he failed not to give the ut
most satisfaction.
At the age of twenty-seven Bryan took to
himself a wife from among the most favored
ones of the country. Mary Felton experi
enced a strange pride when she gave her
hand to the young lawyer, and if none envied
her, many at least prayed that they might be
as fortunate.
But ere long a cloud came over the scene.
Conviviality ran high among the members of
the bar, and young Bryan possessed one of
these peculiar temperaments which at length
gave the whole body and soul up to the de
mons of appetite. For three years he follow
ed the social custom of the times without
neglecting much of his business, but finally
be sank into the lowest pit of degradation;
when at the age of five-and-thirty, he had be
come a. confirmed drunkard. He now neg
lected his clients altogether, for he could not
remain sober long enough at any one time to
carrry any case through court. The only
business.he had now upon his hands was the
collecting of some few small debts.
On the evening of his thirty-fifth birth day
he joined the Washingtonians, and once
more his bright genius shone out upon the
world. But it could not last long ; amid the
examples of those who were his constant com
panions' he went back to his cups, and down
he sank as rapidly as he had risen. In one
short year from that time he was a miserable,
degraded thing. People who had left notes
and accounts for him to collect, .called at his
house, and upon inquiring of his wife where
he was, she would tell them he was away.—
Poor woman I they could not bear to dispute
her—they would go their way . though they
knew full well that the remains of Daniel
Bryan were prostrate upon his bed-room
floor.
One day a Mr. Vinson called to see him.—
Vinson had left notes and accounts to the
ani ount of several thousand dollars with Bry
an) to collet:t r am} hewras anxious about: them.
Hik poor wife answered him as usual; that her
bus band had gone away.
" My dear madam," returned Mr. Vinson,
" I know your misfortune, and I appreciate
you r feelings ; but -I- must see your husband.
iiiii
WILLIAN LEWIS;
VOL. XIII.
If I can ' see him for even one minute I can
learn all I wish to know."
Mary Bryan spoke not a word, but with a
tearful eye she turned away, and Mr. Vinson
followed her. He found Bryan in a back
room, stretched at full length upon the floor,
with a jug of Medford rum at his side. With
much effort Vinson aroused the poor man to
a state of semi-consciousness, and asked him
if he had done anything about the notes and
accounts he had left with him.
" Yes," returned the lawyer, in a weak,
husky, hiccoughing voice. " I've had the
money for you. over a•month. I've deducted
my per centaoe, and you'll find the rest in
that trunk. Mary's got the key."
Mrs. Bryan was called in, the key was pro
duced, and Mr. Vinson found his money, four
thousand and some odd hundreds of dollars,
all right and safe.
In his worst moments Bryan never used
for himself a single penny he had in trust.—
Hundreds there were who labored bard to re
claim the wanderer, but without effect. Year
after year went by, and he sank lower—yet
his wife left him not. Her brother, a young
lawyer, named Moses Felton, often urged her
to forsake her husband, at the same time of
fering her a comfortable homo beneath his
own roof, but she would not listen.
At length all hope was given up. Week
after week would the fallen man lie drunk on
the floor, and not a day of real sobriety mark
ed his course. 1 doubt if such another case
was ever known. He was now too low for
conviviality, for those with whom he would
have associated would not drink with him.—
All alone, in his own office and chamber, he
drank accursed poison, and even his very
life seemed the offspring of the jug.
In early spring, Moses Felton had a call to
go to Ohio. Before he set out he visited his
sister. He offered to take her with him, but
she would not go.
" But why stay here ?" urged the brother.
" You are all faded away, and disease is
upon you. Why should you live with such
a brute ?"
" Hush, Moses. Speak not so," answered
the wife, keeping back the tears. " I will
not leave him now. But he will soon leave
me. 'lle cannot live much longer."
that moment Daniel Bryan entered the
apa - rtment. Even Moses Felton was startled
by his appearance. Ho looked like a wan
derer from the tomb. He had his hat on and
his jug was in his hand.
" Ah—Moses, how are you ?" he gasped,
for he could not speak plainly.
The visitor looked at him a few moments
in silence. Then, as his features assumed a
cold, stern expression, he said, in a calm but
std ongly emphasized tone-,-
"Daniel Bryan, I have been your nearest
and best friend but one. My sister is an an
gel but mated with a demon. I have loved
you, Daniel, as I never loved man before, for
you were noble generous and kind; but I hate
you, for you are a perfect devil incarnate.—
Look at that woman. She is my sister—the
only sister God ever gave me. I wish her to
live with me, but she will not while you live;
yet when you die she will come to me. Thus
do I pray that God. will soon give her joys to
my keeping. Now, Daniel, I do sincerely
pray the first intelligence which reaches me
from my native place, after I shall have
reached my new home, may be, that—you—
are—dead."
ANONT3fOIie
Bryan gazed upon the speaker some mo
month without speaking.
"Moses," he at length said, "you are not
in earnest?"
"As true as heaven, Daniel, I am. When
I know that you are dead I shall be happy,
and not until then; so go on. Pill your jug,
and—
"Stop, stop, Moses. I can reform."
"YOu cannot. It is beyond your power.—
You have had inducements enough—enough
to have reformed half the sinners of creation
--and yet you are now lower than ever be
fore. Go and die, sir, as soon as you can,
for the moment that sees you thus shall set
mourners free!"
Bryan's eye flashed, and he drew himself
pronellk up.
"tae," he said, with a tinge of that old,
powerful sarcasm that had often electrified a
jury, "go to Ohio, and I'll send you news.—
Go, sir, and watch the post!"
With these words Daniel Bryan hurled his
jug into the fire place, and while yet its
thousand pieces were flying over the floor, he
strode from the house. Mary sank fainting
to the floor: Moses bore her to a bed, and
then having called in a neighbor, he hurried
away, the stage was waiting.
For a month Daniel Bryan hovered over
the brink of the grave, but he did not die.
"One gill of brandy will save you," said
the doctor, who saw that the abrupt removal
of all stimulants from a system that for long
years had subsisted almost on nothing else,
was nearly sure to prove fatal. "You can
surely take a gill and not take more."
"Aye," gasped the poor Man, "take a gill
and break my oath! Moses Felton shall
never learn that brandy killed me If the
want of it can kill me, then let me die! But
I won't die ! I'll live—live till Moses Felton
shall eat his words !"
He did live; an iron, will conquered the
messenger death bad sent, and Daniel Bryan
lived. For one month he could not even walk
without h'elp. But he had help--joyful f
prayerful help, Mary helped him.
A year passed away, and. Moses Felton re
turned to Vermont. He entered the court
house at Burlington; Daniel Bryan was upon
the floor pleading for a young man who had
been indicted for forgery. Felton started
with surprise. Never before had Bryan
looked so noble and commanding, and never
before had such torrents of eloquence poured
from his lips. The case was given to the
jug , and the youth was acquitted.
The successful advocate turned from the
court room, and he met Moses Felton,
They shook hands but they did not speak.
When they reached a spot where none others
could hear them, Bryan stopped.
"'Moses," said he, "do you remember the
words you spoke to me a year ago?"
"I do, Daniel."
"Will you now take them back? Unsay
...
. .
. .. .. ....
)
..... ~... :
.7r.' • . :;:4 . .]
''...".: ."......:'
..".,;:.• :!..'
,
them now and forever!"
" Yes—with all my heart."
"Then I am in part repaid."
"And what must be the remainder of the
payment?" asked Moses.
"I must die an honest, unperjured man!—
The oath that has bound thus far was made
for life."
That evening Mary Bryan was among the
happiest of the happy. No allusion was
made in words to that happy scene of one
year before, but Moses could read in both the
countenances of his sister and her husband
the deep gratitude they did not speak.
And Daniel Bryan yet lives, one of the
most honored in- Vermont. Five times has
he sat in the State Legislature; thrice in the
Senate, and once in the National Congress,
and he is yet a noble man, and an ornament
to society; declining all offers of public office,
from the fact that his profession is more lu
crative, while plenty of others want the offi
ces which he cares not for.
Many who read this will know the charac
ters whom I have used, and will at once rec
ognize the true individuals beneath the ficti
tious names I have borrowed.
In times of trouble and disaster all our
selfish instincts are first awakened to activity.
This is apt to be the case with the most dis
interested, so long as they see the means of
guarding themselves and their own firesides
from impending harm. It is not till they
find that the storm of desolation can be stay
ed by no human hand, and is liable at any
moment to sweep over them, that they lift up
their eyes and follow the lightning's shaft to
the hand that directs it. Then our selfish
impulses give way to more generous emotions;
we find ourselves involuntarily drawn tow
ards our fellow sufferers by the ties of a com
mon brotherhood, and how reverently to dis
pensations which prove in the end, to all
right thinking men, blessings in disguise.
There is much in the present state of af
fairs in. the financial world to move our sym
pathy, and there is much to arouse our sel
fish impulses. So many and such great chan
ges of fortune as have occurred within the
last month, have rarely, if ever before been
witnessed in this country. 'While it was sup
posed that the rage of the storm was circum
scribed ; so long as the wary and the wealthy
believed they could keep beyond its reach,
they naturally flattered themselves that they
had been more prudent, and perhaps more
deserving than their unfortunate neighbors.
This complacency on the one hand, and pre
cautions for their own security on the other,
left them little time, and less inclination, to
concern themselves much about the troubles
of others. Presently the cloud, which was
no bigger than a man's hand, covers the
whole horizon with its darkness. No one
can any longer comfort himself •with the as
surance that he is beyond the reach of its
accumulating terrors. The wise man begins
to realize his weakness; he is ashamed of his
harsh judgment of others, and of his too
flattering judgments of his own wisdom and
goodness; his indifference about the troubles
of others, which he might have relieved and
did not, fill his heart with remorse. The
curtain. of selfishness which bounded his
vision seems to be suddenly drawn aside, and
ho discovers for the first time how little he
has had, himself, to do with the accumulation
of property upon which he has presumed so
much; how it may have been sent to him for
the very purpose of being taken from him
again under circumstances like these, and as
the best means of revealing to him a sense of
his daily dependence upon Providence and
upon his fellow-man. Looked at from this
point of view, who shall speak of the recent
breaking up of the great deep of commer
cial credit as a calamity? Who knows how
many, in consequence of it, will experience
for the first time the enduring pleasure of
obeying a general impulse, and of sacrifi
cing a selfish one? Who knows how many
it will teach to think moderately of their
own aehievments, and judge leniently the
short comings of the less successful? How
many will learn from it what they never ex
perienced before, the acquisition of wealth
is neither a test of a man's merits, nor any
security for his happiness. Can any one
doubt that this crisis will develope in many
a higher morality, a more watchful domestic
economy, less ostentatious habits of life, and
a corresponding respect for those whose ob
scure and humble lives may have been teach
ing the inattentive world around them from
infancy, how little the splendid fortunes
which we spend toilsome lives in accumula
ting, contribute to our goodness or to our
happiness?
What, after all, is the loss about which we
make so much ado ? The money or the pro
perty, for the want of which so many fail, is
not lost. The absolute losses—such as occur,
for example, by fire and slfip-wreck—have
been less for the last six months than usual.
The wealth of the country is merely chang
ing hands. Some of those who had it, per
haps, will be bettor off without it ; some will
be benefitted by the trial which their pride
or their vanity will experience from losing it ;
it will unite many domestic circles which
worldly influences were separating, and it
may remove unsuspected temptations from
the path of young people who were not pre
pared to resist them. On the other hand,
there are those in the lower walks of life who
require the discipline of prosperity. The
lessons of adversity may have been lost upon
them. Their hard hearts may require to be
broken, as the eagle is said sometimes to
break the shell of the tortoise by bearing it
high lute the air, and then letting it fall upon
the rocks. Shall we murmur at this dispen
sation till we know better than man possibly
can know, how nearly and deeply wo may
all be interested in the results which are to
come from it ?
The unexampled prosperity of this country,
and the prompt reward which every species
of intelligent industry commands here, have
macte`.A:mericans the most conceited and self- -
reliant people upon the face' of the earth. So
far as this self-reliance has emancipated us
from the tyranny of traditions, and has be
gotten habits of independent thinking, it has
HUNTINGDON, PA., OCTOBER 14, 1857.
The Moral of the Times
-PERSEVERE.-
served a great, we believe a Divine purpose.
But it has long fulfilled that purpose, and for
some years past we have been growing as a
nation, grasping, arrogant, quarrelsome, in
different to international obligations, and
tolerant of private as well as public fraud.—
It requires something more than self-confi
dence to produce an elevated national char
acter. Our conceit may help to rid us of
other people's errors, but not of our own.
Being in a measure rid of the faults which,
as a nation, we inherited or were taught, it
is now time that we make war upon our own,
and we can conceive of no lesson more effica
cious for that purpose than that we are now
receiving. All our past follies are coming to
light ; tjie great men of the Exchange, to
whom we bowed with a selfish idolatry, are
proving to be but wooden images; the powers
that we were accustomed to regard as irre
sistible, crumble up like paper in the fire.—
Nothing proves in these times to be strong
but the virtues which as a nation we have
most neglected to cultivate. Their value is
being proved and vindicated, and we already
begin to see the fruits of it. We witness ev
ery day striking instances of forbearance and
consideration for each other's troubles among
commercial men. They are less disposed to
judge hastily, even where there is room for
censure,
while multitudes spend their whole
time in doing what they can to relieve and
assist their less fortunate acquaintances.—
There are men of wealth among us who go
about quietly doing good in this way, like
nurses in an hospital, by night and by day,
who but for some such crisis would never
have revealed their own noble attributes to
others, nor would they have learned how
much better and truer hearts than they had
ever suspected are beating around them.—
N. Y. Evening Post.
As snow is of itself cold, yet warms - and
refreshes the earth, so afflictions, though in
themselves grievous, yet warm the heart of
the Christian and make it fruitful.
When a man has the approbation of his
own mind, the frowns of the world, like the
pressure of an arch, only serve to strengthen
him in his position.
Many friends are lost by ill timed jests—
rather lose your best joke than your worst
friend.
As nothing is so honorable as an ancient
friendship, so nothing is so scandalous as an
old passion.
Prefer solid sense to wit:, never study to be
diverting without - being useful; let no jest
intrude upon good manners, nor say anything
that may offend modesty.
In love, in friendship, the dream of senti
ment is extinguished,, the moment we utter a
word which has been necessary to calculate
or consider before it is pronounced.
When acts of courtesy come gratuitously;
they are as acceptable as the clear brook to
the thirsty traveler.
When the million applaud you, seriously
ask yourself what harm you have done—when
they censure you, what good !
lie who would! have friends, must show
himself friendly. True, and when a man
complains of having no friends, he ought to
ask himself the question, whether he is a
friend to any one.—Eliza Cook.
A MASONIC MOVEMENT -Pu rchase of
Mount Vernon. ----We find the following an
nouncement in the Richmond Dispatch:
We understand that one or more of the
Masonic Lodges of this city have originated
a plan for the purchase of Mount Vernon,
which, if taken hold of in earnest by the
"brothers of the mystic tie" throughout the
Union, cannot fail, of success. The plan pro
posed is to get the subordinate Lodges to con
tribute $1 for each member. The price ask
ed for the Mount Vernon estate is $200,000
and the Masonic statistics show that the or
der numbers three hundred thousand ; so that
if all the Lodges in the Union accede to the
proposition—and the probability is that they
will—the purchase of Mount Vernon may be
looked upon as a fixed fact. But the sugges
tion, as given out, does not stop here.
When the lands which contains the last
mortal remains of the immortal Washington
is possessed by the Masons, they propose to
present it to the State of Virginia, only re
serving to their order the right to meet
around the tomb of their deceased brother
once every year, to celebrate his imperishable
deeds and to keep alive his great name. We
have strong faith in this patriotic plan for
the purchase of Mount Vernon,` knowing, as
we do, that the order from which it emanates
are ever ready for good deeds, and never look
back when they put their hands to the
plough. Let every true Mason feel the tomb
of Washington, can only be preserved from de
cay by his efforts, and but a few short
months will roll by ero it will be the proper
ty of that State which gave him birth, and
to whose keeping alone his ashes should be
entrusted.
THE NEW TERRITORY OF DACOTAII.—The
last Congress, it will be remembered, formed
a new Territory under the name of Dacotah.
The Independent, published at Sargeaut's
Bluff, says the Territory includes a great
part of the valley of the Sioux, the valleys
of the James and Vermillion rivers, and
large tracts of beautiful bottom lying on the
Missouri. In reg ard to the climate, it be
comes milder to the westward, so that the
winters in the northwestern parts of Dacotah
are said to be not much more severe than in
northern Pennsylvania. The prevailing want
of this entire region is timber. Its chief at
tractions are fertile soil, pure air and water,
and unusually healthy climate; and it is be
lieved also to possess abundance of mineral
coal.
NoTmNo To SmOat.—The whole number
of cigars exported from Havana up to the
15th of August, the present year, was 84,-
985,000, of which 29,681,000, were cleared
for this country,• 16;30b,000 to Great Britain,
17,733,000 to Hamburg and Bremen, 9,628,-
000, to France and 8,130,000 to Spain. The
exports of tobacco amounted to 1,180,345
pounds, of which 528,636 pounds were clear
ed for this country.
Diamond Dust
•
• •
The Scoffer Silenced.
DY REV. C. R. SPITRGEON, OF LONDON.
Let me tell you a story. I- have told it
before ; but it is a striking one, and sets out
in a true light how easily men will be brought,
in times of danger, to believer . in a God, and a
God of justice too, though they have denied
him before.
In the backwoods of Canada there resided
a good minister, who one evening went out
to meditate, as Isaac did, in the fields. He
soon found himself on the borders of aforest,
which he entered, and walked along a track
which had been trodden before him; musing,
musing still, until at last the shadow of
twilight gathered around him, and began to
think how he should spend a night in the
forest. He trembled at the idea of remain
ing there, with the poor shelter of a tree into
which he would be compelled to climb.
On a sudden be saw a light in the distance
among the trees, and imagining that it might
be from the window of some cottage where
he would find a hospitable retreat, he hasten
ed to it, and to his surprise saw a space clear
ed, and trees laid down to make a platform,
and upon it a speaker addressing a multi
tude. Ile thought to himself, " I have stum
bled on a company who in this dark forest
have assembled to worship God, and some
minister is preaching to. theta at this . late
hour of the evening, concerning the kingdom
of God and his righteousness ;" but to his
surprise and horror, when he came nearer, he
found a young man declaiming against God,
daring the Almighty •to do his work upon
him, speaking terrible things in wrath against
the justice of the Most High, and venturing
most bold and awful assertions concerning
his own disbelief in a future state. It was
altogether a singular scene ; it was lighted
up by pine knots, which cast a glare here
and there, while the thick darkness in other
places still reigned. The people were intent
on listening to the orator ; and when he sat
down, thunders of applause were given to
him, each one seeming to emulate the other
in his praise.
Thought the minister, "I must not let this
pass ; I must rise and speak; the honor _of
my God and his cause demands it." He
feared to speak, for he knew not what to say,
having come there suddenly ; but he would
have ventured, had not something else oc
curred. A man of middle age, bale and
strong, rose, and leaning on his staff, he said,
" My friends" I have a word to speak to you
to-night. I am not about to refute any of the
arguments of the orator; I shall not criticise
his style ; I shall say nothing concerning
what 1 believe to be the blasphemies he has
uttered; but I shall simply relate to you a
fact, and after I have done that, you shall
draw your own conclusions. Yesterday, I
walked by the side of yonder river ; I saw
on its flood a young man in a boat. The
boat was unmanageable; it was going fast
towards the rapids ; he could not use the
oars, and I saw he was not capable of bring
ing the boat to the shore ; I saw that young
maturing his hands in agony; by and by
he gave up the attempt to save his life,
kneeled down, and cried with desperate ear
nestness, '0 God, save my soul! If my
body cannot be saved, save my soul!'
hoard him confess that he had been a blas
phemer ; I heard him vow that, if his life
were spared, he would never be such again ;
I heard him implore the mercy of heaven for
Jesus Christ's sake, and earnestly plead that
he might be washed in his blood. These
arms saved that young man from the flood ;_
I plunged in, brought the boat to shore, and
saved his life. That same young man has
just now addressed you, and cursed his
Maker. 'What say you to this, sirs ?"
The speaker sat down. You may guess
what a shudder ran through the young man
himself, and how the audience in one moment
changed their notes, and saw that after all,
while it was a fine thing to brag rend bravado
against Almighty God on dry land, and when
danger was distant, it was not quite so grand
to think ill of him when near the verge of
the grave. We believe there is enough con
science in every man to convince him that
God must punish him for his sin, and that in
every heart the words of Scripture will find
an echo, "If he turn 'not, he will whet his
sword."
kar . A. shocking instance of human deprav
ity is related in the Cincinnati Gazette. A
brutal-looking fellow, while walking along
the bank of the Mianii canal, saw a noble=
looking spaniel lying in the sun, and most
wantonly threw a stick with a heavy piece of
lead attached, which he held in his hand, at
the poor brute, but missed him, and the mis=
sile flew into the water. The dog, who, it
seems, had been taught to go into the water
and dive, plunged into the canal, brought out
the weapon, and carried it in his mouth to
the , man, and laid it at his feet; and that man
picked up the stick s and struck the generous
creature dead ! From this incident our cotem
porary very naturally doubts whether all men
have souls.
How TQ EAT GRAPES.-Dr. Underhill has
reduced eating grapes to a science. Here
are his directions : " When in health, swal
low only the pulp. When the bowels are
costive and you wish to relax them, swallow
the seeds with the pulp, ejecting the skin.—
When you wish to check a too relaxing state
of the bowels swallow the pulp with the skin,
ejecting the seeds. Thus may the grape be
used as a medicine, whilst at the same time
it serves as a luxury unsurpassed by any
other cultivated fruit. An adult may eat
from three to four pounds a day with benefit.
It is well to take them with or immediately
after your regular meals,
A WARNING --COWS POISONED BY WILD
CHEARY.—The Ohio Farmer reports that a
man having occasion to cut down a small
wild cherry tree, threw the branches over the
fence into the road or common, and that two
cows, after eating the loaves, died within
twenty minutes, and within fifty feet of the
place. That Prussic acid. is contained in the
leaves, &c., of this tree, we were aware, but
did not suppose it existed in sufficient quan
tity to produce such effects.
Editor and Proprietor.
NO. 17.
"Don't tell Father."
There is many a good mother who plans
the ruin of the child she dearly loves—teach
es it the first lesson in wrong doing, by simp
ly saying, "Now don't tell Father." Sara.*
mothers do it thoughtlessly; ignorantly, not
considering that it is a first lesson in decep- :
- don. •
Not at all strange that gamblers and liars_
and thievbs and hypocrites, and distrustful,
evil minded people so abound, when weak,
loving Mothers, with honeyed words, and,
caresses, sweeten the little teachings that so
soon ripen into all kinds of meanness anci
unprincipled rascality.
1 heard a kind, well meaning mother say
to the puny baby in her arms, "well, birdie
shall have its good candy every day; bad.
pappa shan't know it; see how it loves it!"
and the little thing whose reach of life had.
not a whole winter in it yet, snatched at the
bright red and blue colored poison, and made
as imply glad motions, as though it took its
whole body to suck it with. The poor little
thing had been fed on candy, almost, and
fretted for more whenever its mouth wasn't
filled, Even the nourishment nature provi
ded didn't. wholly satisfy it, for it wasn't as
sweet as candy.
-
I thought it was no won,-_r,if children
were taught even in babyhood that papa was
bad and ugly and unkind, that in youth they
ehotild call him a "snob" and "the oldman,'
and the mother, Whoni they had learned by
experience had no stability of character, and
was capable of deception, not strange they
should. so little respect her as to call her the
"Old woman.?"
I shudder when I hear the frequent words
drop from young lips, "Oh, I must not lot
father know that." .
The father may be a stern man, rigid in
his way of bringing up his children, but he
has a heart somewhere, and surely truthful.
honest, loving words from his own child, will
find that warm place. So it is best never to
deceive him in anything, but keep his confi
dence whole and unshaken, and the whiteness
of the soul unstained by that loathsome sin,
deception.
_;
. "Fathor don't allow me to read. novels,"
said a young lady to me lately, "but mother
does, and so we two read all we can get, and
he never knows it;" giggled as though they
were very cunninc , and worthy of praise,
for so completely deceiving poor, good father.
My soul sickened at the idea of a wife
daring to teach her children to disobey their
father; of the daughter, vain and unprinci
pled, with such a mother to teach and vide
her. Better for the world she had never been
born,— Ohio Cultivator.
What do these things mean ?
We find the following in a late number of
the New York Evangelist :
" Vermont, one of the most purely agricul
tural States in the Union, exhibits sad evi
dence of religious indifference. The annual
report of the general convention in that State,
discloses the . following fact, published in the
Congregational (N. I.) Journal:—
" More than 20,000 families in Vermont
habitually neglect all public worship ; only
about one-fifth of the people in the average,
attend upon evangelical worship, and four
fifths of the inhabitants on each returning
Lord's day are absent from the sanctuary.—
IP hat do these things mean? Making all duo
allowance for the necessary absence of those
who, in the Providence of. God, cannot be
present, there ought to be at least three-fifths
instead of one fifth of the . people at public
worship. Where, then, are the 150,000 souls
that ought to be in the house of God every
Sabbath ? What are their thoughts and deeds
on God's holy day 2"
The Boston Courier has the following com
ments on the above:—
" The New York Evangelist (a religious
paper inclining.to anti-slavery) ought not to
ask: What do these things mean ?' as if
the reason were not perfectly obvious. That
abolitionism would inevitably lead to such a.
sad result has been preached upon the house
tops. The Courier, with other conservative
journals, has never ceased to urge entreaties
and warnings upon the subject for a year
past. Many of the clergy, with a zeal quite
surpassing their religious ministrations, have
entered into abolitionism in the pulpit, direct
ly or indirectly ; and out of the pulpit have
too often set examples of partisanship to
their people. Abolitionism is not religion ;
but; like all other fanaticism, it is an absorb
ing delusion. The human niind cannot be
Mil of One engrossing topic and find room
for another. The consequence is that aboli
tionism in Vermont, and elsewhere, has ex
cluded Christianity. The process of opera
tion is—first, lukewarmness, then neglect of
religious, ordinances, then disbelief. And
yet the New York Evangelist, adopting the
report of the convention, innocently asks,
What do these things mean?"
A HARD STONE.—About the hardest case
ever heard of was a murderer named Stone,
exeCuted many years since in Exeter, N. H.
Just before the rope was put around his neck,
he requested the Sheriff to give him a mug
of ale. The request being promptly acceded
to, he took the mug and commenced blowing
the froth from the ale.
"What are you doing that for?" nervously
asked the Sheriff.
" Because," returned the stubborn wretch,
" I don't think froth is healthy."
CLEANING SADDLES, &c.—The following is
a good recipe which will give saddles and.
bridles a good polish, and be entirely free
from all stickiness :—The whites of three
eggs evaporated till the substance left resem
bles the common gum, dissolved into a pint
of gin, and put into a common wine -bottle,
and filled up with water.—Scientific Ameri
can.
1169. A Lewisburg pal* says, a farmer re
siding somewhere on the North Branch in
voked curses upon his head, because ho was
unfortunate in some of his crops, and an of
fended God. has taken him at his word by
Pausing him to remain in the position he was
in when he invoked. the curse. He is not able
to move a muscle, and can only roll his eye
balls to give signs of life. He has not been
able to speak another word since the profane
sentence passed through his lips.
rer A bright child asked his mother
where he should go to when he died.
"To heaven, I trust," said the mother.
"Bhall I have anything to eat there?"
- "Yes, love, you *ill be fed on the bread of
life."
"Well, I hope they'll put lots o' butter on
it," concluded the youngster.
XPEr" You saved my life on one occasion,"
said a beggar to a captain under whom ho
had served.
"In what way ?"
"Why, I served under you in battle, awl,
when you run away, I followed."