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,tl.e.ct Vcretu.
THE DYING IRJSBAND•
ST SIRS. ....:5N S. STEPELENS
"lay, waver not, but fold me thus,
-
Pillowed upon thy faithful breast—
Ah, let my worn and weary soul
Pass forth to its eternal rest I
Ah! now I feel thy trembling breath ;
I know these arms are folding me,
Closer—still Closer 1 This is death—
My soul looks on eternity!
She stills the beating of her heart,
She clasps him in a last embrace,
Her white and trembling fingers part
The damp locks from his pallid face.
And there upon his cold white brow,
Her grief in one wild kiss was given,
And press'd as if 'mould draw him back,
Back from the very gates of Heaven.
A. sigh return'd, that last caress,
As if some spirit from above,
Ilad stirr'd deep waves of tenderness
Within the fountains of his love.
Death yielded to that holy Ides,
Ills grey and gloomy shadows fled,
And smiles of calm seraphic bliss
Stood, like a glory o'er the dead!
,
SUE BRIDE OF TEE ABYSS
A TALE OF III& BLACK. FJIIESTI
BY J. 'WOODRUFF LEWIS
:bay had deepened into twilight, and twi
light into darkness, and the sombre mantle
of night was now resting like an eternal can
opy of desolation over the vast wilds of Bo
hemia, whoSe mighty solitudes are seldom
broken by the steps of man. Near a small
cottage on the outskirts of the great Black
Forest, two persons were standing—the one
a gloriously beautiful maiden of not more
than seventeen summers; the other, a dark
browed man of twenty-five. A strong
limbed steed of glossy blackness was gra
zing near, evidently awaiting his master's
call.
No pleasing subject forms the theme of
conversation,' it is apparent, for suddenly
raising hiS hand
,and pointing toward the
moon which' came out from behhrd a dark
bank of cloud, the man explain - I.s in tuue
deep emotion :
" Lulu remember you not two short years
ago, when on this very spot, iu the presence
of yon shadowy crescent, I knelt at your feet
and claimed your hand 'I You spurned me
from you with scorn,, and your hand Wab
clasped' by the miser—the old dotard, Cras
lin ! You are now his betrothed! and you
moon which towers in the heavens, is the
same that beheld me honest and industrious,
but ntw beholds me branded with the name
- of Outcast 1 aye, of felon I"
" Wallace, your words are wild—your
manner strange !" exclaimed the maiden,
throwing her white arms upward in the
_Moonlight with a gesture of surprise ; " I
am betrothed to another, Wallace, but as I
have ever been true to you -in heart, bear me
witness, that it is nut from love that I am the
betrothed of the wealthy Craslin 1" and her
voice *as subdued in one, and her words l i
-were spoken fast and hurried.
" My father, Wallace, is old, very old, and
his late intercourse with the world has chafed
his mind, and strengthened his love for gold,
and—and—"
" And I am poor, and the heir of poverty,
you would say, Lufn." The young -man in
terrupted her with a bitter sneer.
" Craslin is old and trembling on the very
verge of the grave, but Lulu, he has gold!
ha, ha, gold.!'
" Hist, Wallace I my father is at home, and
should he hear you; harm might come. I
would say naught to displease you, and yet
you must go. However, much I may love
you, I can never be yours ; my father has
'said it, and his words are as irrevocable as
the dedrees of destiny I"
A dark cloud of hopeless passion swept
like a pall of death over the countenance of
the man, as, seizing her by the hand, he ex
claimed passionately :
" Lulu ! had you been true you might have
saved me, but now lam lost forever ! Lulu!
turn your eyes froin me, turn your face
from my gaze, while I tell you the secret
that rises from my bursting heart! Listen!
I am—Oh, God I I am—Santano, the Brigand!
and you, Lulu, you! have made me what I
'
am I'
As though some dread spirit had turned
her blood to ice and her face to marble, mute
and motionless the maiden stood. Not a
word, not a. whisper came from her lips—not
a sigh heaved her bosom.
,Iler . eyes, full
and dark; gazed upon the form of the speaker
in a wild, quivering glance, her hands drop
.ried powerless by her side, and the man
,looked upon-the form before him as though
he beheld-a - Spirit of the invisable world!
Yes!' Lulu, I a.na indeed the terrible San
tano,:the demon - of the Black Forest! But
hark! thoSe shOuts!_they, come 1 the blood
hounds are on my track I They tread in
my very foOtstepi 1 Ha I but I - Will foil
them!"
He spoke to his steed, and grasping the
maiden by the hand, in a moment was in the
,saddle with'her in his arms.. Applying the
spur, he plunged into the forest, while the
baying of blood-hounds and the shouts of
armed men canto ringing upon the stillness
of the air.
Deeper and deeper the bandit struck into
the dark recesses of the forest, and the in
terwoven branches_ began to cast a midnight
. shade upon the mossy turf of the wood-path,
which the rays of the moon might not illumi
nate or enliven with a single flash of light.—
The roar of waters, the deep yet regular
sound of a cataract rushing over a ledge of
rocks, now filled the air, and for a moment
drowned the bay of the blood-hounds and the
shouts of the pursuers. ,
As she was thus hurriedly borne along
into the recesses of the forest, - the maiden
1 to.aoition. 2 do. 3 do.
.....$ 25 $ 373," $ 50
50 75 - 1 00
1 00 1 50 ' 2 00
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XIV.
awoke from the spell that bound her senses
—awoke and found the arm of Wallace en
circling her waist, while the maddening
flash of his dark eyes gleamed in the sur
rounding gloom. A vague feeling of terror
seized upon her mind when she thought of
Santano, the brigand, but as she gazed upon
the face of him who held her and. saw the
features of Wallace Cameron, her first, her
only love, the bandit and his crimes were
forgotten.
"Wallace, what mean those cries ? Why
rush we thus swiftly along the forest-path ?
Whither do we ride ?"
" Onward Lulu, onward ! Hark ! those
shouts swell nearer, clearer ! A moment,
Lulu, and we are safe Ha! a tangled thick
et opposes our progress; the forest
,grows
darker; the midnight shadow deepens; one
more effort, Lulu, and we have foiled them !"
He spurred the noble steed into the open
ing brush-wood ; the branches gave way be
fore the resistless impetus of his mad charge,
and quick as thought they were- upon' the
other side of the dense copse, and stand
ing upon a shelving rock that reached far
out into blank space and hung over.a fathom
less abyss !
The horse, with a snort of terror, and trem
bling in every limb, recoiled from the brink
of the precipice, and sank quivering back
upon his haunches.
" Lift your head, Lulu, and gaze around !
Gaze upon yonder thunder-voiced cataract—
upon this shelving rock—above at the full
orbed moon—below, the dark abyss where
dwells eternal midnight! Is it not a beau
tiful scene, Lulu—a pleasant place where—"
" Wallace, 'tis a fearful place I —the dread
cataract of Bohmer ! Ha, my brain reels—
my senses falter ! I—
" Lulu, in life thou hast been mine, and
why, when the blood-hounds bay and the im
precations of my enemies are ringing like a
knell of death in my ears, should I part
with thee? Why should I seek to escape to
foreign lands, and return after a long lapse
of years to find the roses withered on thy
cheek, the glance of youth fled from thy
beaming eyes? Mine hast thou been in life,
mine shalt thou be in death ! Nay, start not
dearest, nor tremble. Gather closer to me
and pillow thy head upon 'my shoulder !
Closer, closer, Lulu ; thy bosom to mine—thy
hand to mine! Thy heart I is its pulsations
with love for me? It speaks in thy heaving
bosom ! Dost fear the abyss? Dost dread
the leap? Ha, ha! Lulu, the moon is-bright
and gleams upon our nuptial couch! The
cataract fills the air with thunder; 'tis our
marriage music ! Mine hast thou been in
life I and—"
•° Thine in death! thine forever!" shrieked
the maiden, raising her fair arms in the moon•=
light, while her dark eyes gleamed with su
pernatural lustre.
"Thine in Time! thine in Eternity ! fare
well, life ! farewell, hope Thine,- Wallace;
thine alone!"
With clasped hands, face to face, and lip
to lip, the spurs were sunk rowel-deep in the
side of the already maddened steed ; there
was a mighty spring—a rushing sound in the
darkness of the abyss, and as the horse and
riders vanished in the deep gloom forever,
the shelving rock echoed to the trembling
footsteps of a grey-haired man, who raised
his hands on high and gazed into the fathom
less void; while above the baying of the
hounds, the shouts of the pursuers, and the
eternal thunder of the cataract, arose the
words:
"Ha, ha! Lulu, in death we are united!"
"Is He Rich."
Friend Harlow, of the Greenbier Era, dis
courses very lucidly under thishead, as follows:
How often is this question asked ! Has an
acquaintance married a husband--"isherich!"
is the first inquiry propounded by his friends?
Not, "is he honest, industrious, sober, and
honorable," but, "is he rich ?" Nut, has he
a mind that distinguishes him among his fel
low men, and calls forth their homage and
adoration, but "is he rich ?" "has be the dol
lars and cents !" He may have everything
else—a manly heart-, a master intellect, he
may be upright, steady and industrious, but
if he lacks the "dimes and dollars, the dol
lars and dimes," he is but "as sounding brass
and a tinkling cymbal." The great sin of
our country is idolatry—an idolatry as de
grading, yet as complete as that of the Ilia
doo, or Pharisee ; yea, more degrading,
for
there is something . awfully grand and im
pressible in the majestic river, ever moving
onward, yet silently, to the great sea, and in
the gorgeous luminary of day, as he comes
forth from the chambers of night heralded by
streaming fire ; but we bow down to the Dol,
kw—the dull senseless Dollar, and make it a
God ! We work for it by day, we lay in our
beds and dream of it by night, we_ go to the
Sanctuary of Christ, and instead of medita
ting upon His amazing love, we suffer the
Dollar to come in and take possession in our
thoughts!
Our lives are spent in the .service of our
real god-Dollar • we bring upon our children
in the nurture Of the Dollar,•we teach them
that the Dollar, is the main thing to be-gain
ed, we teach it by precept and by example.
We profess to be charitable, we -profess to
feel for the poor, we profess respect for hon
est poverty, wo speak of silver and gold, and
this world's goods, as "trash,". and all the
while we are hypocrites, .and liars, for we
think more of our god-Dollar than of our Sa
vior Jesus Christ ! We have missionary en
terprises on foot and we talk pathetically of
the poor heathen bowing down to "stocks and
stones," and yet how much better are we,
bowing down to silver and gold ? With as
much propriety may they send preachers to
us, as we to them. The practices of men all
around us believe ,their professions—thay
profess to be.the followers of Christ, and they
are the followers of the Dollar. If the reali
zation of the-Dollar involves the selling of the
widow's only bed, or the orphan's last dress,
they are people, professed christians too, who
would not hesitate an instant. "Is he rich ?"
Yes, rich, -but riches shall take to them
selves wings and. fiy away, and when he shall
strive to enter heaven, and shall not be able,
then he will understand how hard it is for a
"Camel to - go through the eye of a needle.
Many amusing anecdotes of ventriloquists
have been published, and many more ,told,
that have not been published. But we think
there are few ventriloquil incidents that will
compare with one we witnessed recently on
the cars of the Virginia Central Railroad.—
We have read anecdotes of Nichols, Ken
worthy, Love, Sutton, _Harrington and Blitz,
but think the following actual occurrence
will bear favorable mention, side by side
with either.
The cars left Charlottsville, Va., for Staun
ton, at *2 m., and entered the tunnel, which
is very long and very dark, about half past 1
p. m. We- had hardly been shut out from
daylight, when a noise was heard in the rear
end of the last car. The conductor and several
passengers, who were standing on the plat
form, entered the car with a view to discover
the cause of the disturbance. But owing to
the extreme darkness, nothing could be seen.
While patiently waiting to hear the slightest
movement, which might explain the excite
ment, a boisterous noise, resembling- the
sound produced by fervent kissing, and at the
same moment a female voice was heard. ea
exclaiming,
"Get out you brute I Let me alone I'll
call the conductor ! Keep your hands off
sir I This is shameful 1"
"Where is be I" cried the conductor in an
angry tone, approaching the direction whence
the sounds proceeded.
"Here 1" says the lady, "this end of the
car, arrest him ! he insulted me shamefully
—here he is again Will you let me alone ?
I think it a burning shame that a respectable
lady should be treated in this manner ?"
"Get in the ladies' car then 1" shouted a
gruff voice. "You have no business here 1"
"She has a right here 1" replied the con
ductor, seizing the individual he supposed
guilty of a misdemeanor.
"You needn't grab me," said a husky
voiced old man; "I didn't touch her; I
haven't seen a woman in the car 1"
The conductor seemed confused, and retra
ced his steps to the forward end of the car.—
Again the voice was heard, apparentlyin-the
rear.
"Here he is again, conductor Go away I
quit ! let me alone ! this is shameful ! Keep:
your hands to yourself, sir I I'll leave the:
car ! You follow if you dare I"
This language was followed 'by an explo
sion resembling the concussion of two
All was confusion. The sympathizing . pas
sengers 'were all standing up, highly exalted ;
but owing to the darkness and the uncertain
ty that existed from whence the sounds pro-
ceeded, nothing was done. A noise like the
rustling of silk was heard, the rear door of
the car opened and then closed with a bang
ing.sound, making the extraordinary stillness
which followed fearful to contemplate, which
fearfulness increased to horror, when the
conductor announced that the lady must have
stepped off the platform, as there was no car
attached.
The cars were stopped by the signal rope,
and a lantern procured, when the passengers
headed by the conductor, groped slowly and
silently back through the tunnel, expecting
momentarily to discover the mutilated re
mains of the unfortunate female. But after
searching back to the mouth of the tunnel,
nothing was found, and they sadly retraced
their s teps.
Upon arriving at the train, a passenger
suggested that the cause of the excitement be
arrested ; and in the cars went the party
searching every seat until they came to a per
son, leaning forward on .the back of a seat in
front of him, apparently asleep. The con
ductor roughly shook the sleeper, when he
raised his head, when, lo ! and behold, it was
Wyman, the ventriloquist.
The party very reluctantly swallowed the
unmitigated "sell," The cars started and
sped on to their place of destination, having
been detained one hour over time.
ONE HOUR.—There was_ once a lad who at
fourteen was apprenticed to a soap boiler.—
One of his resolutions was to read one hour a
day, or at least at that rate ; and he had an
old silver watch, left him by his uncle, which
he timed his reading by. He stayed seven
years with his master, and his master said
when he was twenty-one he ,knew as much
as the old squire did. Now let us see how
much time he had to read in seven years, at
the rate of an hour a day. It would be twen
ty-five hundred and fifty-five hours, which
at the rate of eight reading hours a day,
would be three hundred and nineteen days,
equal to forty-five weeks, equal to eleven
months ; nearly a year reading. That time
spent in treasuring up useful knowledge
would pile up a very large store. lam sure
it is worth trying for. Try what you can do.
Begin now.
"Dear mother," said a delicate little girl,
"I have broken your china vase !" Well,
you are a naughty, careless, troublesome lit
tle thing, always in mischief—go, up stairs
until I send for you." And this was a
Christian mother's answer to the tearful lit
tle culprit, who had struggled with, and con
quered the temptation to tell a falsehood to
screen a fault. With a disappointed, dis
heartened lobk, the child obeyed ; and in that
moment was crushed in her little heart the
sweet flower of truth, perhaps never to be re
vived to life ! Oh ! what were a thousand va
ses in comparison !
AN IRISH LOVE LETTER.—Och Paddy !
swate Paddy ! if I was yer daddy,. I'd kill
you with kisses entirely ; if I was your broth
er, and likewise your mother, I'd
_see that
you went to bed airly. To taste of your
breath I would starve me to death, and lay
of my hoops altogether; to just have a taste
of your arm on me waist, and larf at the ma
nest of weather. Dear Paddy be mine, me
own swate valentine—yell find me both gen
tle and civil; our life we will spind -to an il
ligent ind, and care may go dance the divil.
Dir. It is said that a roasted onion bound
upon the wrist, on the pulse, will stop the
most inverate toothache in a few minutes.—
Simple, but worth trying.
HUNTINGDON, PA., MARCH 2, 1859.
Love in a Tunnel
-PERSEVERE.-
Mother, Home, and Religion
prom Life Illustrated.]
DEAR. READER :—I have lived in this world
twenty-eight years, and now can think of but
one word in our language sweeter than home,
and that is mother. How closely they are al
lied ! Sweetly the thoughts of home and
mother come to the heart of the lonely wan
derer in his midnight musings, perhaps tos
sing upon a feverish couch without a moth
er's gentle hand to bathe his burning brow.
And when the hearts of nature's erring chil
dren have become hardened by crime or have
grown callous from contact with the cold
charities of a selfish world, and all else has
lost power to move, still these househbld words
—home and mother—act with magical influ
ence upon the seared casements of their
hearts, causing the portals to fly open and
the briny tears to course their way down
many an aged and sun-browned cheek.
How sincerely do we pity those who in
their youth are deprived of a true mother's
care ! Indelibly impressed upon my mind
are the scenes of my child-hood ; when, but
for a day perhaps, our guardan angel left us,
how impatiently we waited her return and
rapturously we welcomed her back Or, if
prostrated by disease, with what anguish of
heart did we long and pray for her recovery,
and how happy we were when she was again
permitted to be the life and light of home !
Even now, after the lapse of many years, and
a family of nine children have grown up to
manhood and womanhood, and some of them
homes of their own, I still feel that home is
not home without a mother's love.
But there must be another influence co-op
erating with a mother's love, to make home
what God designed it should be. Religion
must have its dwelling place upon the alter
of home, that alter within the mother's heart.
No matter how well qualified she may be,
mentally and physically—and 'tis very im
portant she should be—yet we still hold that
she is materially incompetent to discharge
the responsible duties of wife and mother, if
her actions be not hallowed by religion's holy
influence. The marriage vow should only be
entered into in the love and fear of God, -with
an eye single to his glory and the improve
ment of our race.
We want more religion in our families.—
Not that religion that -is worn only on the
Sabbath, and hung up, garment-like, in the
wearer's wardrobe, from Monday morning
till the next Sabbath,- No.l Give.,as more
of that every-day home religion that shines
brighter there than elsewhere—that feels and
practically performs what it professes. Ex
ample is more powerful than precept, and
children will . imitate and grow up much af
ter the examples that are set them at home.
'Tis useless to preach to them, if we' do not
practice before them what we preach.
Give us more such homes as these, and
then there will be more of that "Good Samar
itan" spirit diffused throughout the world,
and more true religion in our churches.
Do not understand us to mean that hus
bands and fathers have nothing to do in this
matter ; but I do believe that the greater res
ponsibility rests with mothers.
When will woman awake to her interests
and her duty, and take her proper stand in
this great and glorious cause? "Truly the
harvest is great, but the laborers are few."
Young man! are the aims of thy life nick
as these ? Dust thou improve thy hours of
leisure, such as occur in the intervals of la
bor and business, in reading, in study, in
meditation, in profitable conversation ? If
so, thou art acting wisely; for thou wilt thus
lay up for thyself a portion that will stay by
thee, in every trial and conflict incident
upon life's pilgrimage. Not so, however,
with that young man who finds his chief
and almost only pleasure in the, gratifying
of his appetites and passions. A dark fu
ture awaits him. While the former is at
borne in the evenings with his books, the
latter is abroad with his convivial com
panions, wasting his time and money, and
by his vicious practices and sensual Indul
gences, is enfeebling both body and mind.—
In this way his character is corrupted and
destroyed, though he may, for awhile; keep
up his reputation, which, however, will not
last long after character, its only sure foun
dation, is ruined. Beware then, young man,
how thou spendest thy time ! As is thy
childhood, youth, and early manhood, so will
be thy maturer -life. Three terms being
given, it is nowise difficult to find the fourth, -
or final result
In a town in "Old Essex County," more
than half a century ago, were two lads at
tending the same school, the one a studious
youth, Nvho took fast hold of instruction, dili
gently employing every opportunity to get
knowledge and wisdom and understanding.
He avoided those places of amusement where
the young waste so much -time, and form
habits of dissipation—but lost thereby that
charming and characteristic title—"a ladies'
nitin." Not so, however, with his companion.
He did not like application to his books, and
did not find pleasure in their study. He
was fond of company, found his chief and
highest delight in parties, balls, &c. He
was ready to accept an invitation to attend a
dancing . party, any where within twenty
miles. He was the idol of the younF, misses
--was called by that sweet, charming, and
most endearing of titles, "a ladies' man."
Time passed on, and the young men en
gaged in the active scenes of life. The for
mer was appointed Judge of the Supreme
Court of the United States. The latter se
cured the place of "street scavenger," in a
village in the aforesaid county. Ilow true it
is—whatsoever one soweth, that shall he
also reap. This interesting sketch is a veri
table history, and names could be given,
were it necessary. It will serve just as well,
however, to illustrate the lives of multitudes
of young men in and out of Essex county.—
Remember, young man, that understanding
is a well-spring of life, and he that hath it
shall be able to shun the evil that besetteth
his path of life. How much bettei is it to
get wisdom than gold , • and understanding
than silver.—Boston Transcript.
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Aims in Life.
Editor and Proprietor.
110 - "''.The following poem from the San
Francisco Golden Era, is not only Homeric
in style, but complete in itself, for it ends in
the total annihilation of the combatants:
"On a pine wood shed, in an alley dark,
where scattered moonbeams, sifting through
a row of tottering chimneys and an awning
torn and drooping, fell, strode back and forth
with stiff and tense-drawn muscle and pecu
liar tread, a cat.
His name was Norval;
on yonder neigh
boring shed his father fought the cats that
came in squads from streets beyond Du
pont, in search of food and strange adven
ture.
Grim war was courted ; and twisted tail,
and spine upheaving in fantastic curve, and
claws distended, and ears flatly pressed
against a head thrown back defiantly, told of
impending strife.
With eyes a-gleam and screeching blasts
of war, and steps as silent as the falling
dew, young Norval crept along the splin
tered edge, and gazed a moment through
the darkness down, with tail a-wag triumph
antly.
Then with an imprecation and a growl— I
perhaps an oath in direst vengeance hissed—i
he started back, and, crooked in body like a
letter S, or rather like a 17inverted, stood in
fierce expectancy.
'Twas well. With eye-balls glaring and
ears aslant, and open mouth in which two
rows of fangs stood forth in sharp and dread
conformity, slow up a post from out the dark
below a bead appeared.
A dreadful tocsin of determined strife young
Norval uttered ; theu,with a face unblo.uched
and moustache standing straight before his
osen and tail flung wildly to the passing breeze,
stepped back in cautious invitations to the
foe.
Approaching the other, and, with prepara
tions dire, each cat surveyed the vantage of
the field. Around they walked, with tails
uplifted and backs high in the air, while
from their mouths, in accents hissing with
consuming rage, dropped brief but awful sen
tences of hate.
.Twice round the roof they went in circle,
each with eye upon the foe intently bent ;
then sidewise moving, as is wont with cats,
gave one long-drawn, terrific, savage yaw,
and buckled in.
The fur flew. A. mist of hair hung over
the battle-field. kligh 'hove the din of pass
ing wagons rose the dreadful tumult of the
struggling cats.-- So gleamed their eyes in
frenzy, that to me, who saw the conflicts from
a window near; naught else. was plain but
fiery balls that moved in orbits most eccen
tric.
An lionr they struggled in tempestuous
might, then faint and fainter grew the squall
of war, until all sound was hushed. Then
went I forth with lantern, and the field sur
veyed. What saw I?
Six claws—one ear—of teeth, perhaps a
handful; and save fur, nought except a
solitary tail. That tail was Norval's—by a
ring I knew it. The ear was—but we'll let
the matter pass. The tail will do without the
ear."
" A woman who loves unsought de
serves the scorn of the man she loves."
A Western lady thus comments upon the
above :
"Heaven forgive me ! but may the man
who penned that,. never see another bonnet !
May no white dimpled arms ever encicle his
cravat, or buttons vegetate on his shirts.—
May no rosy lips ever press his moustache,
and the fates grant that his dicky-strings
break short off every morning. May no
woman's heart learn to beat faster—except
with indignation at the mention of his
name, and may his stockings always need
darning."
We feel greatly inclined to say Amen to
that prayer, horrible as; would be the condi
tion of him in whose behalf the lady's fer
vent prayer might be answered. But when
the indignant fair one adds :
"And when his nerves are all unstrung by
disease, and his brain throbs with pain, as
though an earthquake was brewing in it, may
he have nothing in his sick chamber but
boot heels, and see not one inch of muslin
or calico."
We must hold back our assent to the male
diction, and dare wager our gold pen against
the largest nugget, California or Austrailia
ever produced, that herself would be the
first to hasten to the poor wretch's sick
chamber, and with those tender ministries
which reveal the nature of woman, tenderly
soothe and nurse the afflicted one.
A Speech on Scolding Wives.
At a Young Men's Debating Society, some
where out in Illinois, the question of discus
sion was, "Which is the greatest evil—a scol
ding wife or a smoking chimney ?" After
the appointed disputants had concluded the
debate, a spectator rose and begged the priv
ilege of making a few remarks on the occasion.
Permission being granted, he delivered-him
self in this way :
"Mr. President—l've been almost mad list
ening to the debate of these youngsters.—
They don't know anything about a scolding
wife l Wait till they have had one upwards
of eight years, and hammered and jammered
and jawed at all the while—wait until they
have •been scolded because the fire wouldn't
burn ; because the oven was too hot ; because
the cow kicked over the milk • because the
sun shined ; because the hens didn't lay ; be
cause the butter wouldn't come ; because they
are too soon for dinner.; because they are one
minute too late ;_ because they slapped the
young ones • because they tore their trowsers
or because they did•anything, (whether they
could help it or not,) before they begin to
talk of. the evils of a scolding wife ; why, Mr.
President, I'd rather hear the clatter of ham
mer and stones, and twenty tin pans, and
nine brass kettles, than a din din of a scolding
wife. Yes sir—ee, them's my sentiments.—
To my mind, Mr. President, a smoky chim
ney is no more to be compared to a scolding
wife than a little negro is to a dark night." I
Iter. A grain of prudence ie worth- a pound
of craft.
Chaur.ey Lewis and the Boy Soldier.
A boy of fifteen years of age was standing
before the open door of a Connecticut arm
house with a little fowling pleco'npon his
shoulder, while a matronly looking woman
was standing in the doprwo.yind gazing with
moistened eyes upon him.
"Go my son," she said, but rememhef
when amid the smoke and heat of battle, the
sentence in the blessed book I have given
you, 'the merciful shall obtain mercy."
" I will not forget it, mother," he replied,
" but our company is waiting, and now
farewell !"
" Good bye, my son," she kissed him, as
she spoke, " and - may he who has for two
score years watched over the mother protect
the son 1
A cloud of smoke hung over and enveloped
the blood stained soil of Bunker's Hill. A
noble looking man, in the uniform of an
American General was slowly retreating with
his face to the foe. The sharp report of a
'single rifle was heard, and Warren fell! A
young soldier—almost a boy, sprang towards
him and lifted his head ; at the same instant
a giant grenadier in the British uniform,
came charging at him with leveled bayo
net.
NO, 36,
To draw an old rusty horse pistol 'front
his breast, present and fire it at the approach
ing foe, was but the work of a moment. The
grenadier fell wounded, and seizing the sword
of Warren, which had fallen from his grasp,
the soldier boy ran and raised it over the red
coat to dispatch him.
But why does he pause when the sword is
uplifted, and allow it to fall Slowly to his
side, and then turn away and strike not?
Ho remembers the injunction of that
mother, whom two. months ago he left in
the open door of the farm-house. Remem
ber my son, amid the heat and smoke of
battle, " The merciful shall obtain mercy."
The tide of battle had swept like a whirl
wind over the plains of Trenton. The Brit
ish cavalry bad ridden with irresistable force
over a detachment of men and boys,
form
ing a portion of the left wing of the Ameri
can army, and among the dead and dying
'lay a. boyish soldier, wounded,.and with his
right arm broken.
A merciless party of Hessians, wore rang
ing over the field murdering and plundering
those who had fallen. They approached the
boy-soldier who datuitaesslv awaited the int
pending death, and one of them drawing his .
sword was about to plunge it into the . boy's
side, when a gigantic red-coated grenadier
rushed between the boy and the murderoris
Hessians '
and struck up the weapon. •
" Hold ruffians that boy spared my life
at Bunker Hill. It is now my turn," arid
raising him in his strong arms, he bore hint
from the bloody soil to a place of safety.
Ah bow those parting words of his moth
er again rang through his brain and made
sweet music in his soul. " Remember my
son, when amid the smoke and beat of bat
tle, that 'The merciful shall obtain mercy.'"
It never was forgotten, and when a little
more than two years ago, I stood above the
venerated form and gazed upon the calm fea
tures of the aged boy soldier, whose life bad
peacefully gone out, like the last flickering
of a candle which has burned down in its
socket, I thought of those words and in hong
ina.tion could see the parting of mother and
son at the old farm-house eighty-three years
A paper published in a neighboring Stal6;
after giving a . long obituary of a deceased
brother of
. tho quill, thus, in glowing stains,
conclude's :
"Are we not glad also that such an editor
is in Heaven ?"
" There the' cry of ' mo i re ci) . o3'.' shall never
again fall Upon hiS distracted ears. There
he shall never be abused any more by his
political antagonists, with lies and detractions
that should shame a demon to promulgate.—
There he shall no more be used as a ladder
for the aspiring to kick down as they reach
the desired height, and need him no more.—
There he shall be able to see the' immense
masses of mind he has moved, all unknow
ingly and unknown as he hits been during
his weary pilgrimage on earth;
There he will find all articles credited, not
a clap of his thunder stolenitti . there shall
be no horrid typographical 6rrOrs to set him
in a fever. We are glad' the'-editoT 3a in
Heaven."
tter' Young man, one of the first things
you should consider is to build up a character..
Allow us to tell you one thing about it, which.
we have learned from observation. It must
be built like a pyramid to be firth' and lasting
—broad at the base. Their the foundation,
must be good, or even a pyramid *ould
crack and fall to pieces: Get a reputation
from early boyhood, for truth,- honesty and
industry, obedience to parents and teacher
and above all, piety. By and by y=our char
acter will be as firm as a, Pyramid ; a host of
calumniators could not overthrow it. But if
youth and early life is bad, to build a char
acter on such a beginning, would be almost
as difficult as to build and poise a pyramid
•
on its apex.
Death is an unwelcome guest and ter
rible at all times. When the grim monster
approaches the aged, we are not so much
shocked; we have all along expected him;
but when the young and beautiful perish,
when the destroying angel crosses our tresh- .
old and the voice that created our music be
comes silent, 'tis then that a groat shadow_
settles upon our home, that time and circum
stance can hardly remove.
USE or KNowLEnuE.--Some men think that
the gratification of curiosity is the end of
knowledge; some the love of fame; some the
pleasure of dispute; some the necessity of
supporting themselves by their knowledge ;
but the real use of all knowledge is this,
that we should dedicate that reason which
was given us by God,.to the use and advan
tage of man.
Prmcocious..--A little friend -of ours was
rbcently asked the question—
" Who made you ?"
Placing his hand a few inches from the
floor, he answered :
" God made so much, and I grew WO' rest
alone."
ke".. A. father consulted a friend as to
whether-he had better give his daughter in
marriage to a man of worth and limited
means, or to a rich; man' Who had no other
recommendation. would give my daugh
ter," lias the reply, "to a; man without
money, rather than to money without a man."'
fitir An Irishman• and a negio were fight
ing, and while grappling with each other,
the Irishman exclaimed. "You black diril
cry enough, I'll fight till I die.," "Se'll
boss !" sung out.the darkey, "I always does."
ifl6' "So there's another rupture of Mount
Vociferous; said Mrs Partington, as she put
on her specks. "The papers tell us about
the burning lather, running down the moun
tain, but they don't tell us how it got a. tire!'
Ern Editor' in: Heavtn: