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ITNRIVALLED ATTRACTIONS !-
AND PUTNAM'S MONTIIIX,
TWO GREAT MAGAZINES IN ONE!!
NINETY THOUSAND COPIES THE FIRST MONTH! !!
MAGNIFICENT PROGRAMME FOR 1853.
TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS IN SPLENDID WORKS
FIVE-DOLLAR ENGRAVING TO EVERY
THE GREAT LIBRARY OFFER-AGENTS GETTING
The union of Emerson's Magazine and Putnam's Monthly
has given to the consolidated work a circulation second to
- but one similar publication in the country, and has secur
ed for it a combination of literary and artistic talent prob
ably unrivaled by any other Magazine in the world. Du
ring the first month, the sale in the trade and demand from
subscribers exceeded 90,000 copies, and tho numbers al
ready issued of the consolidated work are universally con
ceded to have surpassed, in the richness of their literary
contents, and the beauty and profuseness of their pictorial
illustrations, any magazine ever before issued from the
American press. Encouraged by these evidences of favor,
the publishers have determined to commence the new vol
ume in January with still additional attractions, and to
offer such inducements to subscribers as cannot fail to
place it, in circulation, at the head of American magazines.
With this view they now announce the following splendid
programme. They have purchased that superb and costly
THE LAST SUPPER," . .
and will present it to every three-dollar subscriber for the
year 1858. It was engraved at a cost of over $5,000, by
the celebrated A. L. Dick, from the original of Raphael
Morghen, after Leonardo Da Vinci, and is the largest steel
plate engraving ever executed in this country, being three
times the size of the ordinary three-dollar engravings.
The first impressions of this engraving are held at ten
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five dollars, being richly worth that amount. Thus'every
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large a plate can be taken as fast as they will be called
for by subscribers. We shall, therefore, furnish them in
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impressions, should send in their subscriptions without
delay. The engraving can be sent on rollers, by mail, or
in any oilier manner, as subscribers shall order.
TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS 7N WORKS 01
In addition to the superb engraving of '*The Last Sup
per," which will be presented to every three-dollar sub
scriber for 185 S, the publishers have completed arrange
ments for the distribution, on the 25th of December. 1858,
of a series of splendid works of art. consisting of one hun
dred rich and rare Oil Paintings, valued at from $lOO to
$l,OOO each. Also 2,000 magnificent Steel-Plate Engra
vings, worth from three to five dollars each, and 1,000
choico Holiday Books, worth from.one to five dollars each.
malting, in all, over three thousand gefts, worth twenty
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"TILE LAST SUPPIcIII,"
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REASONS WHY YOU SIIOULD SUBSCRIBE FOR
EMERSON'S MAGAZINE FOR 185 S
Ist. Because its literary contents will. during the year,
embrace contributions from over one hundred different
writers and thinkets, numbering among - them the most
distinguished of American authors.
2d. Because its editorial departments. "Our Studio,"
"Our Window," and "Our Olio," will each he conducted
by an able editor—and it will surpms, in the 'variety and
richness of its editorial contents :my other magazine.
_ 341 Because it will contain, during the year, nearly 6ix
hundred original pictorial illustrations from designs by the
first American artists.
4th. Because for the sum of $5 you will receive this
splendid monthly, more richly worth that suns than nay
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Zapper," worth $5.
sth. Because. you will be very likely to draw one of the
three thousand prizes to be distributed on the 25th day of
December, 1858—perhaps ono that is worth $l.OOO.
Notwithstanding that these extraordinary inducements
can hardly fail to accomplish the object of the publishers
without further efforts, yet they have determined to con
.t.inne through the. year,
TILE GREAT LIBRARY OFFER.
To any person who will get opts club of twenty-four snb
scribers, either at one or more post offices, we will present"
a splendid Library, consisting of over Forty Large _Bound
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ket. Tho club maybe formed at the club price, $2 a year,
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furnish a Library to every school teacher, or to some one
of every post office in the country.
AGENTS GETTING RICII.
The success which our agents are meeting with is almost
astonishing. Among the many evidences of this fact, wo
are permitted to publish the following:
GENTLEXEN: The following facts in relation to what
your Agents arc doing in this section, may be of use to
some enterprising young mm in want of employment.—
The Rev. John. E. Jardon, of this place, has made, since
last Christmas, over $4,000 in his agency. Mr. David 3L
Heath, of Ridgly, 310., your general agent for Platt county,
is making $S per day on each sub-agent employed by him,
and Messrs. Weimer .4; Evans, of Oregon, 310., your agents
for bolt county, arc making from $8 to 25 per day, and
your humble servant has made, since the 7th day of last
January, over $1,700, besides paying for 300 acres of land
out of the business worth over $l,OOO. You are at liberty
to pUblish this statement, if you like, and to refer to any
of the parties named. DANIEL GREGG, Carrolton, Mo.
With such inducements as we offer, anybody can obtain
subscribers. We invite every gentleman out of employ
ment, and every lady who desires a pleasant money-ma
king occupation to apply at once for an agency. Appli
cants should inclose 25 cents for a specimen copy of the
Magazine, which will always be forwarded with answer to
application by return mail.
As we desire to.place in the hands of every person who
proposes to get up a club, and also of every agent, a copy
of the engraving of "The Last Supper," as a specimen,
each applicant inclosing us $3, will receive the engraving,
post-paid, by return mail, also specimens of our publication
and ono of the numbered subscription receipts, entitling
the holder to the Magazine ono year and to a chance in the
distribution. This offer is made only to those who desire
to act as agents or to form clubs. Address
OAKSMITII d CO.,
No. 371 Broadway, New York.
Jan. 13, 185 S
THE CAMPAIGN OPENED !-
_L FIRST ARRIVAL OF FALL AND 'WINTER GOODS
Would respectfully announce to their numerous friends,
and public, that they have just received from the East a
most beautiful assortment of FALL and WINTER Goods ;
embracing every variety of new styles, such as Valencia
Plaids, Plaid Ducals, Oriental Lustres, Gala Plaids, Tames°
Cloth, Poplins striped, and plaid, ombre striped DeLaines,
French Merino, Printed DeLaines, Bayadere Stripes, Argen
tine, Coburg, Mohair and Madonna Cloths, Shepherd's
Plaids, French Blanket, Bay State, Long and Square Brodie
Shawls, Gents' Travelling ditto, French Cloths, plain and
fancy Cassixneres, Satinettes, Jeans, Tweeds, &c.
Ribbons, Mitts, Gloves, Gauntlets, Talmas, Cloaks, Che
nille Scarfs, Dress Trimmings, Ladies' Collars, Brilliants,
plain and spriged Swiss, Victoria Lawn, Nainsooks, and
every variety of white Goods. flats, Caps, and Bonnets
of every variety and style.
We have a full stock of 'Hardware, Queensware, Boots 2.;
Shoes, Wood and Willow ware, which will be sold on such
terms as will make it the interest of all to call and exam
Groceries can be had lower than the high prices which
have been maintained heretofore.
We also deal in Plaster, 'ish, Salt and all kinds of Grain
and possess facilities in this branch of trade unequaled by
We deliver all packages or parcels of merchandise Free
of Marge at the,Depots of the Broad Top and Penn'a Rail
liuntingdon, Sept. 30, 1857.
- COUNTRY DEALERS can
buy CLOTHING from me In Huntingdon at
WHOLESALE as cheap as they can in tho
cities, as I have a wholesale store in Philadelphia.
Huntingdon; Oct. 14, 1857. H. ROMAN.
WHALEBONE, Reed & Brass Hoops,
toad Reed Skirts, for sale at the Cheap Store of
D. P. GWIN.
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS and CAPS,
the largest stock over brought to town, aro selling
very cheap at EIMER & hiclqUitTßlE'S,
CLOTHING !—A large stock on hand,
at the cheap store of BENJ. JACOBS. Call and ex
amine zoods and prices. (oct2S. 3
0, Thou eternal One whose presence bright
All space cloth occupy, all motion guide :
Unchanged through time's all-devasting flight;
Thou only Gon! There is no God beside;
Being above all beings; Mighty One;
Whom none can comprehend, and none explore;
Who iiirst existence with Thyself alone:
Embracing all—supporting—ruling o'er—
Being whom we call Oon—and know no more!
Ilk its sublime research, philosophy
May measure out the ocean deep—may count
The sands, or the sun's rays—but, OW for Thee
There is no weight, nor measure; none can mount
Up to Thy mysteries. _Reason's - brightest spark,
Though kindled by Thy light,:in vain would try
To trace Thy counsels, infinite and dark;
And thought is lost ero thought can soar so high,
E'en Him past moments in eternity.
Thou from primeval nothingness didst call
First chaos, then existence. Loan, on Thee
Eternity had its foundation:—all
Sprang forth from Thee:—of light, joy, harmony,
Sole origin: all life, all beauty Thine.
Thy word created all and cloth create;
Thy splendor fills all space with rays divine.
Thou art, and wort, and shaltp; glorious, great,
Life-giving, life-sustaining POTENTATE!
Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround:
Upheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath:
Thou the beginning with end bast bound,
And beautifully mingled life and death;
As sparks mount upwards from the fiery blaze,
So sues are born; so worlds spring forth from Thee
And, as the spangles in the sunny rays
Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry
Of heaven's bright army glitters in thy praise.
A million torches, lighted by Thy band,
Wander unwearied through the blue abyss;
They own Thy power, accomplish Thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent sith bliss.
What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light,
A glorious company of golden streams,
Lamps of celestial ether, burning bright—
Suns, lighting systems with their joyous beams;
But Thou to these art as the noon to night.
Tea, as a drop of water in the sea,
All this magnificence in Thee is lost!
What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee?
And whatain I, then ? Ileaven's unnumbeed host,
Though multiplied by myriads, and array'd
In all the glory of sublimest thought,
Is but an atom in the balance, weigli'd
Against Thy greatness—is a cypher brought
Against infinity! What am I, then? Nought:
Nought: But the effluence of thy light divine,
Pervading worlds, bath reached my bosom too;
Yes; in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine,
As shines the sunbeam in a drop,of dew.
Nought; but I live, and on hope's pinions fly
Eager towards thy presence: fur in Thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell : aspiring high,
E'en to the throne of thy divinity.
I am, 0 GOD! and surely thou must be:
Thou art! directing, guiding all, Thou art!
Direct my understanding, then, to Thee:
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart.
Though but an atom midst immensity, •
Still ram something fashion'd by Thy hand!
I hold a middle rauk 'twilit heaven and earth,
On the last verge of mortal being stand,
Close to the realms where angels have their birth,
Just on the boundaries of the spirit-land!
The chain of being is complete in me,—
In me is matter's last gradation lost :
And the next step is spirit—deity!
I can command the lightning, and ani dust;
A monarch and a slave ; a worm, a god.
Whence came I here? And how so marvelously
Constructed, and conceived ?—Unknown. This clod
Lives surely through sonic higher energy;
For, from itself alone it could not be.
Creator, yes; wisdom and Thy word
Created me: source of life and good:
Thou spirit of my spirit, and my LORD ;
Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plentitude,
Filt'd me with an immortal soul to bring
O'er the abyss of death and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing
Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere,
E?en to its source—to Thee—its Author there.
0 thought ineffable! 0 vision blest !
Though worthless our conceptions all of Thee,
Yet shall Thy shadow'd imago fill our breast,
And waft its homage to Thy Deity.
GOD, thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar,
Thus seek Thy presence, Mixer wise and good;
'Midst Thy vast works admire, obey, adore;
And, when the tongue is eloquent no more,
The soul shall Speak in tears of gratitude.
The first day of the week derived its name
from the Saxons, who, in heathen times, con
secrated it to the Sun, which they worshipped.
The solemnization of the day began during
the early history of the Christain Church, in
commemoration of the Resurrection of Christ
and the decent of the Holy Ghost, both of
which events took place upon it. The Sun
day was at first distinguished only by prayers
and the reading of passages of the Scriptures.
Before the reign of Constantine, it was not
strictly observed as a day of cessation from
labor; but, by a decree of that Emperor, pub
lic business and military exercises were sus
pended. The Council of Lo,odicea which sat
A. D. 360, forbade labor of all kinds on that
day, and the laws of Theodosius sanctioned
the interdiction, and imposed penalties to se
cure its observance.
There is no time spent so stupidly as that
which inconsiderate people -pass in a morn
ing, between sleeping and waking. lie who
is awake, may be at work or at play ; he who
is asleep is receiving the refreshment neces
sary to fit him for action ; but the hours spent
in dozing and slumbering are wasted, with
out either pleasure or - profit. The sooner
you leave your bed the seldomer you will be
confined to it. When old people have been
examined in order to ascertain the cause of
their longevity. they have uniformly agreed
in one thing only, that they " all went to bed,
and all rose early,"
„ c ieled t.arg.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT;
HA.RILY .RICIIIIIOND AND HIS BRIDE.
Love, passionate young Love, how sweet it is
To have the bosom made a paradise
By thee, life-lighted with thy rainbow smile!
L E. L
Harry Richmond, a young man of twenty
ty-five, and partner, newly-made, in an ex
tensive jobbing firm in New York, found him
self one winter evening in a spacious up-town
church. The immense building was thronged
by an audience of beauty and fashion, and
of more than ordinary intelligence. Coun
tenances that were languid amid the excite
ments of fashionable life, because the hungry
soul found no food in the husks upon Which
it fed in such scenes, here lighted up with
animation and shone with a new and lofty
beauty. Young and old, alike, sat entranced
by the eloquence of the reverend orator, as
he presented to them a theme of surpassing,
interest, clothed in language the most appro
priate, and uttered in a voice which perfectly
harmonized with the emotions called forth by
It was the first of a course of lectures by
Dr. --, and Harry, who had often listened
with the highest pleasure to the preaching of
this celebrated divine, was among the first to
secure a seat on the occasion of his lectures.
For Harry, though young, and handsome,
and wealthy, and the favorite of a large cir
cle of fashionable relatives, was devoted to
intellectual pursuits, in which he spent near
ly the whole of his leisure hours.
Wedded to books, and a votary of science,
and conscientiously scrupulous in the fulfil
ment of his business duties, his time had been
so fully occupied as never to leave him leisure
for juvenile flirtations, or more mature love
affairs. At twenty-five his heart had never
acknowledged another mistress than knowl
edge, and it was only for her sweet sake that
he made one of Dr. —'s brilliant audience
on that winter night.
But he was not destined to return to his
home that night so heart-free. The lecture
was but half concluded when a slight bustle
near one cf the entrances attracted Henry's
attention. He turned, suddenly and invol
untarily, to see what occasioned it. But his
eyes, which had hitherto been riveted on the
speaker, were not so suddenly turned toward
him again, and his attention, which had un
til that time been. undivided, could not be re
stored. A sentiment, an emotion had entered
his soul that was to change the whole current
of his existence, a change commenced then
and there, startling, suddenly, but which was
to end only with life.
Near him, and within the direct range of
his vision as he turned his eyes toward the
door, sat a young lady. Many ladies, some
younger and more beautiful, his glance might
at that moment have rested upon, but he saw
It was a serene, fair countenance upon
which his glance rested. Deep violet eyes,
half shaded by the longest brown lashes, a
broad, unclouded brow, fair hair in long
bright ringlets, falling adown the pure oval
of her face, and partly confined by the brim
of her pretty blue hat, with its shadowy
lace, and delicate flowers, and floating plumes.
On the serene face, which one felt instinc
tively was always beautiful through every va
rying emotion, an unwonted enthusiasm now
shone. There was a deeper lustre in the vi
olet eyes, and a flush, slight and rosy though
it was, on the fair cheek which did not al
ways tinge its delicate outline. Her lips
were slightly parted, and her glance never
wavered from the speaker's face. She sat
there in her maiden innocence all unconscious
of the spell which her gentle beauty had
wrought, and the soft, slow pulsation of her
heart ungickened by the tumultuous bounding,
of another so near her. And while she list
ened with deepening enthusiasm to the bril
liant sentences of the lecturer, another read.
from her face, as from a fair unruffled page,
the records of a pure life, of innocent yet
lofty thoughts, and of a serene faith and good
Once, only, her gaze wavered, and influ
enced by that strange ma,gnetic instinct, which
all have felt, but few have sought to analyze
or comprehend, that conveys to the knowledge
of the fact that eyes and thoughts are fixed
upon us, she turned her glance for an instant
in the direction of her unknown worshipper.
Glance met glance, and over her face a deep
rosy blush rose up, flushing the pure brow as
the crimson tints of sunset flush the snowy
clouds that float above the horizon. Then
her gaze was again - fixed upon the speaker,
and, as she listened, Harry watched the color
receding, and saw the serene expression which
had for a moment been disturbed settle again
upon the exquisite face.
So absorbed was he in his contemplation,
that he did not hear the concluding remarks
of the lecturer, and was only made aware
that he had finished by the rising of the au
The young lady, whom. he watched, was
much nearer the door than himself, and fear
ful lest he should lose sight of her in the de
parting crowd, he elbowed his way almost
fiercely, heedless of many ungentle remarks
that saluted him, until he stood almost byher
side—so near that the soft folds of her gar
ments touched him as he walked, and the tip
of her snowy plume fanned his cheek. He
listened to her voice, clear, low, and sweet,
as she conversed with her companions—an el
derly gentleman and a girl of fifteen evident
ly a younger sister; and when they reached
the pavement he still stood beside them.
It was a night of extreme cold, and Harry
saw the fair girl as she kindly wrapped her
sister's cloak more closely about her, and
heard her admonish " papa" of a slight cold
with a tone and manner that told of a loving
thoughtfulness for others.
They walked on for a short distance, and
Harry followed, for in whatever direction
their homeward course lay, he determined
that his should be the same. They reached
an avenue and stood waiting for an omnibus,
and Harry waited too. Ho waited patiently
in spite or the piercing wind that swept down
HUNTINGDON, PA., MARCH 10, 1858.
the broad street, and whirled about the cor
ner, for his eyes were fixed upon the fair face
before him upturned, with a wrapt and rev
erent expression, toward the sky that over
hung them like a dome of steel studded with
myriads of stars gleaming in a cold silvery
He was aroused, at length, by the thunder
ing roar of the omnibus, as it rolled toward
them over the frozen street, and, almost me
chanically, he followed the party into the
The young girl glanced inquiringly at him,
as he entered, and he thonght that he saw, by
the dim light of the lamp, another flickering
blush pass over her face. But she turned
away and conversed with his companions, and
Harry fell into a reverie as he gazed upon
her beautiful profile, half shaded by the bon
net's brim. On and on they went, until they
came to a quarter, once fashionable and even
aristocratic, but now almost deserted except
by the middle or poorer classes of humanity;
and Harry had almost arrived at the conclu
sion that the party . were about to cross one of
the numerous ferries that led - to the Long Is
land or New Jersey shores, when the gentle
! man suddenly pulled the strap, and the stage
The young g irl, had perhaps, forgotten his
presence, for she did not turn her had as he
followed them from the stage, but walked
away leaning on her father's arm. He stole
after them, timing his foot-fall with their own,
though keeping at a short distance behind,
until he saw them ascend the steps of one of
the finest of the old mansions with which the
street was lined. And no sooner was the
door closed behind them, than he rushed for
and, ascending the stoop, endeavored,
by the dim light of - a far-off lamp, to deci
pher the name - upon the plate, and the num
ber above the entrance. The first he made
out, after much trouble, and the latter was
beyond his ken. But he had learned enough,
and resolved to visit the spot by daylight, and
if possible, to catch another glimpse of those '
violet eyes and that exquisite face.
Noting well the surroundings, and casting
a lingering glance up at the darkened front
of the tall building, he at length departed.—
Distance, and cold, and fatigue were alike
forgotten as he hurried homeward in a strange
tumultuous waking dream, that lasted through
the long night as he tossed sleeplessly upon
The next morning his mother and sisters
wondered at his strange absence of mind, and
when they chided him merrily for putting
his egg into his coffee instead of the egg-cup,
and turning the contents of the vinegar cruet
upon his breakfast cake, he only Whaled and
muttered, confusedly, something about "vio
let eyes" and a " Grecian profile." They
were still more astonished when they saw him,
a few moments after, go down the steps with
bare head and the servant running after him
with his hat. One of the sisters flew to the
door to beg him to remain at home if he felt
ill, and they all discussed the matter in fam
ily conclave amid gloomy forebodings of barred
windows, and straight-jackets, and lunatic
Meanwhile Harry pursued his way down
town, but not in the direction of his business.
Instinctively his footsteps turned toward that
dim and ancient street which he had visited
the proceeding evening, and soon he stood be
fore the tall dark house into which had van
ished. that vision of youth and beauty. Again
he read the name upon the door which he was
sure was hers. Again he gazed up at the
time-discolored front, now made cheery by
the sunlight that poured through the open
shutters, and, as he felt, ligted up pleasantly
the large lofty rooms wherein his soul's dar
There were flowers and cages of singing,
birds iu one window, and he fancied that slen
der figure, and fair bright face bending over
them, and he tried to picture her at hersweet
household avocations, and sighed to sce her
once a g ain. But that thick, dark door shut
him out into the dirty, noisy street, and away
from the gentle influences of that home ; and
yet there - were stronger barriers between him
self and that being who had thus suddenly
become the light of his eyes, and the desire
of his heart. There were barriers intangible
but stronthe bolts and bars of worldly
Dissatisfied with himself and all around
him, he was about turning disconsolately
away, when the door suddenly opened, and
she, oh, so fresh and fair, in a tasteful though
•!le street-toilet, stood within. Her small
simple stn. „ stoot.
foot was poised above the threshold, and she
was about to shut the door after her, when
Harry heard a voice within call "Constance,
Constance," and she turned to meet the
young sister who had accompanied her on
the preceding evening. A few words were
exchanged, and then she tripped down the
steps, while the dark door clanged behind
her, and soon turned in the direction of
He had heard her name—a beautiful name
he thought, and he repeated it as he followed
her along the street, and watched her grace
ful undulating walk—Constance Snowdon.
He watched her until he saw her disap
pear in a crowded Broadway shop, and then,
for the first time that day the thought of
business flashed across his mind, and he hur
ried on to his store, where partners and.
clerks were already in a state of astonish
ment at his unwonted absence.
A search under letter S, in the Directory,
soon put him in possession of the business of
James Snowdon, and then be saw clearly his
way to an acquaintance with the fair daugh
ter of the said James. You should have seen
the energy of the sly fellow that day. He
no longer dreamed, he went to work in the
most wide-awake manner.
He soon bethought himself of a profitable
investment in Mr. Snowdon's line of bus
iness, which he fortunately had it in his
power to put in his way, and that in such a
manner as to seem to be seeking, somewhat,
his own advantage. Then he made a tour of
the stores and offices of all his Broad street
acquaintances, bursting in and out like a
whirlwind, until he found somebody who
know Mr. Snowdon; and then he hurried
that unfortunate individual, forthwith, to the
office of his papa-in-law elect, and compelled
him, then and there, to perform such a cere
mony of introduction, between himself and
that venerable gentleman, as caused a vigor
ous hand-shaking, after the overpowering
American fashion, for the space of about five
minutes. And then, when the two had re
covered from their paroxysm of delight, and
had exchanged the results of their meteoro
logical observations for that morning, they
looked at each other with the eyes of mer
chants, and forthwith proceeded to business.
Within two days this interview resulted
in two desirable consummations. Mr. Snow
don pocketed five thousand dollars, and Har
ry Richmond received a pressing invitation
to pass an evening in the Snowdon mansion.
The story might as well end here, I sup
pose, for not one of its readers is so stupid
as to doubt the denouement. Unless, indeed,
it may be some of those trouble-borrowing
and unfortunate individuals, who are firmly
persuaded that "the course of true love never
does run smooth." In this instance there
was not even a ripple in the stream. Harry's I
fine person and distinguished manners at
once made an impression on the gentle heart
of Constance Snowdon. And when, after a
suitable time, he asked her to become his
wife, she said yes, modestly but firmly, and
placed her hand in his without hesitation,
because with perfect confidence.
Mr. and Mrs. Snowdon gave their consent
gladly, for they, too, admired and loved Har
ry, and thought him worthy even of their
cherished daughter. And, though Harry's
mother and sisters at first made some dispar
agingremarks about " G— street belles"
and " low connections," for G street
seemed very far from their aristocratic re
gion, both socially and geographically, yet
they no sooner saw Constance than they were
almost as much charmed with her beauty
and grace as Harry had been ; and at once
admitted her into theinhearts as a cherished
daughter and sister. With Mr. Snowdon,
a polished gentleman of the old school, who
chose to live in the fine, roomy and thor
oughly comfortable mansion that had been
the home of his parents before him, and
with his still lovely wife they were equally
Harry's sister's, then, stood beside Con
stance as her bridesmaids, when, one morn
in early spring, she and Harry were
married by Rev. Dr. —, in the very church
where they had first met but three months
previous. And the most splendid parties of
the season were those with which Harry's
mother and the whole circle of his fashiona
ble relatives welcomed the newly-married
couple on their return from their bridal tour.
harry and Constance, youthful, handsome,
and loving, blessed with a similarity of tastes
and feelings, with wealth and station, and
all worldly gifts, and a desire to spread hap
piness all about them, and comfort to the
poor and suffering, have commenced life un
der the happiest of auspices. And so, loving
and beloved, we leave them to walk through
the world together, through its storms and
its sunshine, protected by their perfect trust
in each other, and a serene faith in the great
A Big Story and a Big Man.
A correspondent of a Cairo (Ill.,) paper
gets off the following genuine specimen of
big talking. It beats Davy Crocket:
John Waterbury, a brakesman on Tom
Pay's train, is an original genius and a re
markable man; his weight is two hundred
and eighty, raw-boned, with a dangerous
spread in his stifle, broad shouldered, strong
jawed, with a fist that has half horse-power.
When they whistle down breaker, he brings
up the train so sudden that it often breaks
the coupling chains. When he cuts he takes
enough for six mon, and he drink whiskey
out of a quart cup, then knocks the landlorb
through a board fence or inside of a' house if
he wants any pay. lie is under a five hun
dred dollar bond not to strike a man at San
doval for fear of injuring the buildings, they
being slightly built. His hair is as coarse
as hay, and sticks up like the quills of a
"fretful porcupine." It takes two table cloths
to wipe his nose, and he generally feeds him
self with a "'scoop-shovel and pitchfork.—
When he exerts himself in a trip, he accu
mulates 14 pounds and 6 ounces of dirt and
lamp oil, and is not allowed to wash himself
in any stream smaller than the Wabash, for
fear of the cholera.
Once, when old Jenks cursed him, he
turned in and whipped nineteen men out of
revenge. He has to ride with his back to
the car and let his toes stick out over the
platform, it being too narrow fbr the length
of his feet. His great toe looks like a sea
turtle's head, and his nose like a young robin
held by the head with the big end down,
brilliant and pitted like a strawberry ; his
eyes have a twinkle of good humor and a
fascination for the fair. The skin of his face
lies in folds, like the skin of a rhinoceros;
his teeth look like cogs to a mill wheel ; he
has to have his hat made to order, and when
he loses it he wears a -water bucket, with the
bail under the chain. He will travel this
summer, but can be seen for a few days at
Sandoval, free of charge.
He thinks he " dead heads" his living, but
the company secretly pays Mr. Mena a dol
lar a meal.
The Queens of Prance.
The Dublin University, Magazine, com
menting upon the lives of the royal and im
perial wives of France, states that there are
but thirteen out of sixty-seven on whose mem
ory there is no dark stain of sorrow or of sin.
A contemporary, in summing up the state='
ment, says :—" Of the others, seven were di
vorced ; two died by the executioner ; nine
died very young ; seven were soon widowed ;
three were cruelly traduced ; three were ex
iles; three were bad in different degrees &i
evil ; the prisoners and the heart-broken
made up the remainder. Twenty, who were
hurried at St. Denis since the time of Charle
magne, werb denied the rest of the grave•--
Their remains were dragged from the tomb,
exposed to the insults of the revolutionary
populace, and then flung into a trench and
covered with quick litre."
Editor and Proprietor.
Bacholois , --Ild Cautious !
There is nothing so dangerous as a young
man staying in a country house with pretty
'girls. Ile is sure to fall in love with one or
the other of them imperceptibly, or one or
the other is sure to fall in love with him ;•
and then, when at length ho leaves,- there is
sure to be a little scene arranged.
with -her red eye-lids and lace-fringed ker.
chief, mamma with her smirks and smiles,
and hopes he'll " soon return," and so on.—
There are more matches made up in country
houses than in all the"tvest-end London ones
put together. Indeed London is always al- ,
lowed to be the only cover for finding the
game, and the country the place for running
it down on the open plain. .Be careful, there
fore, what you are about. It is much easier
to get entangled with a girl than to get free
again, for though they will always offer to
set a young man free, they know better.
Above all never consult a male friend on
these matters. The stupidest woman that
ever was born, is better than the cleverest
man in love affairs. In fact, no man is a
match for a woman until he is married—not
all even then. The worst of young men, is,
they know their worth until it is too late.—
They think the girls are difficult to catch,
whereas there is nothing so easy, unless, as
I said before, the girls are better engaged.—
Indeed, a youne '' man should always havehis
mamma at his elbow to guard him against
the machinations of the fair. As,
that cannot be, let me urge you to be careful
what you are about, and as you seem to
have plenty sf choice, don't be more atten
tive to one sister than to another, by which
you will escape the red eye-lids, and also
escape having mamma declare you have trif
led with Marta's or Sophia's feelings, and all
the old women of the neighborhood denoun
cing your conduct, and making up to you
themselves for one of their own girls. Some
women ask a man's intentions before he is
well aware that- he has any himself; but
these are the spoil sport sort of women.—
Most of them are prudent enoough to get a
man well hooked before they hand him over
to papa. Beware of brothers I have known
undoubted heiresses crumpled up to nothing
by the appearance (after the catch) of two
or three great heavy dragooners.
School Chi ldrenp
Many a child, the light of the house to-day
will have been laid in the grave before the
winter is ended, by inattention as to beat
and cold, inducing pleurisies, inflarnation of
the lungs, colds, croups, and other dangerous
Teachers should be spoken to about allow
ing the childrento sit with their back near
the stove, or register, or window, or in any
position where the child is exposed to a draft
of air, or to overheat.
The children should not be allowed to
come directly to a fire, or stove, on entering
In addition, they should be detained in an
outer room fifteen or twenty degrees colder,
for a few minutes after the school is dismissed,-
and then have their gloves put on, and a veil
put over the face and fastened, so as not to be
blown aside. The colder the weather, and the
higher the wind, the more necessary are these
precautions, not only in leaving the school
room, bnt on leaving home.
The grateful relief which is experienced
when facing a fierce cold wind, on putting, a
silk handkerchief over the face, will surprise
any one who tries it.
All india-rubber shoes or garments should
be removed the moment on coming in-doors.
Children should be instructed to rut SV'itir
the mouth shut for the first block or - two after
getting out of doors in cold weather:
Co-operation of the Wife
There is much good sense and truth ill,the
remark of a modern author, that no man ever
prospered in the world without the co-opera
tion of his wife. if she unites in mutual en
deavors, or rewards his labor with an endear
ing smile, with what confidence will he resort
to his merchandise or his farm, fly over
lands, sail over seas, meet difficulty and en
counter danger i ; if he knows he is not spend
ing his time ri vain, but that his labors will
be rewarded by the sweets of home 1 Soli
tude and disappointment enter the history of
every man's life ; and he has not half provi
ded for his voyage, who finds but an associate
for happy hours, while'for months of dark
ness and distress no sympathizing . partner is
The , 4 , Sister."
There is something lovely in the name, and
its utterance rarely fails to call up the warm
affections of the 'gentle heart. The thoughts
that circle round it are..all quiet, beautiful
and pure. Passion has no place with its as
sociations. The hopes and feats of love,
those strong emotions, powerful enough to
shatter and extinguish life itself, find no home
there. The bride is the star, the talisman of
the heart, the diamond above all price;
bright and blazing in the noon-day sun ; a
sister, the gem of milder light, calm as the
mellow moon, and set in a coronet of pearls.-
Labor A Consoler
There is a perennial nobleness,- and evert
sacredness in work. Were he ever so be
nighted, forgetful of his high calling, there
is always hope in a man that actually and
earnestly works; in idleness alone is their
perpetual despair. Doubt, desire, sorrow,-
remorse, indignation, despair itself—all these
like hell-dogs, lie beleaguering the soul of
the poor day-worker as of every man; but he
bends himself with free valor against his
task, and all these are stilled—all these
shrink murmuring far off into their caves.—
,gam' The natural alone is permanent. Fan- ,
tasticidols may be worshiped for a while ; but
at length they are overturned by the eontin ,
ual and silent progress of Truth, as the
grim statues of Copan have been pushed
from their pedestals by the growth of forest
trees whose seeds were sown by the wind in
the ruined walls.
HER PEESENCE.-" There is something to
me," says an eminent statesman, "Very soft
ening in the presence of woman ; some
strange influence even if one is not in love
with them. I always feel in better humor
with myself and everything else; if there is a
woman within ken."
No family is perfect without a daug
ter or a sister in it: A. round dozen of `great
big' brothers will not compensate for one soft
eyed-sunny-hearted girl. Such a treasure,
numbered in the household, has a humaniz'
ing and civilizing tendency—better to a
rough, ungainly fellow in boots and whiskers,
than two seasons at a dancing school, or a
year at college:
Accomplishments and ornamental learning
are sometimes aorizilied at the expense of
nsefulness. The tree which grows the tallest,
and is most thickly clothed with leaves, is
not the bearer, but rather_the_eouttpam,„----,,