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.cJttt ratfrll.
ONE BY ONE.
I=
One by one the sands arc flowing,
One by one the moments fall;
Some are coming, sonic are going--
Do not strive to grasp them all.
One by one thy duties wait thee,
Let thy whole strength go to each :
I,et no future dreams elate thee;
Learn thou first what these can teach
One by one, bright gifts from Heaven,
Joys are sent thee from above,
Take them readily when given,
Ready too to let them go.
One by one the gifts shall meet thee—
Do not fear an armed Land;
One 'will fade as others greet thee,
Shadows passing through the land.
Do not laugh at life's long sorrow,
See how small each moment's pain ;
God will help thee for to-morrow;
Every day begin again.
Every hour that fleets so slowly,
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
If they set each gem with care
Du not linger with regretting,
Or for passion hours despond
Nor the daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.
Hours are golden links, Cod', token,
Reaching Heaven but one by one ;
Take them lest the chain be broken,
Ere the pilgrimage be done!
cLczt s„.forD.
AN INTERESTING STORY FOR GIRLS.
MY MARY A. KEABLES
CILIPTE'R
" What an idea ! Absurd Preposterous !
I, Julia Winters, roll up my flounced sleeves,
put on a checked apron, and go in the kitch
en. I, the belle of S—, with my jewelled
fingers in the dish water, my white arias
turned as red as salamanders in the suds
washing days, and my fair face broiling over
the cook-stove baking. No indeed, not II"
and the young lady sank back on the luxur
ous sofa, so helplessly one would certainly
have imagined her to be an invalid.
"Yes, yes, you would be a martyr, no
doubt ; the fate of John Rogers nothing
compared to it !" exclaimed a merry voice,
and a slight girlish form sank down by Julia's
side. " Allow me to sympathize with you
in your anticipations if, indeed, you antici
pate venturing upon this life of toil and im
aginary suffering, for I have the benefit of a
little experience, having passed through a
few of these fiery trials."
The light, merry voice was slightly ironi
cal, and seemed not in the least to lessen
Julia's anxiety, for she raised herself on her
elbow, and exclaimed, petulantly :
"Well, well, don't be always trifling; se
riously, don't you think housework an old
story, by this time, and wish you had never
left your embroidery for baking and drudg
ing ?"
" Honestly, then, I must tell you no, if you
still persist in knowing it."
" And how do you progress ?"
" Oh, famously ! Cook is so willing to
teach me, and so patient with my ignorance,
I am learning finely; but great work indeed
I should make without her. As it is, how
ever, I think in a year or two, I shall make
a first rate housekeeper."
" A year or two I horrors You don't pre
tend to say it takes as long as that to do
housework ? Why I supposed a month or
two was all that was necessary."
" And why should it not take a year or
two, or even more time to acquire a good do
mestic education ? You know we spent four
years at Mount Hope, finidting our scholas
tic education and preparing us to fulfill our
antics in the parlor gracefully. I tell you,
Julia, among the fashionables of our day, a
young girl's domestic education is entirely
neglected. So that one can boast a diploma
as a skillful performer on the piano, dress el
egantly,
dance gracefully, and entertain vis
itors with fashionable politeness, all is ac
complished, as far as education is concerned,
to render a young lady an acceptable mem
ber in the first class of society. If there
was a new era in fashionable society, if girls
were educated in the kitchen, as well as in
the school-room and parlor, there would be
an entirely different state of society ; fewer
slatterns, dissipated husbands, ruined fami
lies, and more true, noble-hearted, energetic
women. What is a fashionable woman ?
With a few exceptions a mere doll, fit only
to be dressed richly and to be admired. In
this the highest, the most ennobling sphere
our sex is to occupy. I truly hope not ; there
is one more worthy the true woman—that
of—"
" Well, well ! don't go into heroics, pray,
Lousie ! Your lecture has had a very un
pleasant effect upon me ; you know how I
detest any thing pertaining to the kitchen."
" A good dinner, for instance."
" No ! no ! the wcrk I mean !"
And why is there more disgrace in pre
paring than eating a dinner?"
" There is no use in trying to explain it
to you, Lou.; enough that the odor of the
kitchen is too much for me I" and the young
lady applied her perfumed handkerchief to
her face, and commenced fanning herself vig
orously.
" Never mind, sister Julia, you may yet
see the day you will repent your negligence
on this subject," replied Louise, seriously ;
"a woman should know how to superintend
her own household affairs, and there is no
better teacher than experience."
" Never mind, Louise, you need. not fear I
shall ever be reduced to kitchen labor; if so,
however, that will be time enough."
" T believe you are a hopeless case," laugh-
$l. 50
1 insertion
j 25....
2 do. 3 do.
$ 37% $ 50
75 1 00
1 00
1 60
3 months. 6 months. 12 months.
...$1 50 ....... ...$3 00 $5 00
2 00
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XIV,
ingly responded Louise, as she left the
room.
CHAPTER 11.
Ring, ring, ring
" Who can be calling so early?" solilo
quized Julia Winters, one morning, glancing
at her jewelled watch and discovering it to
he ten o'clock. Arising, she stood before a
full length mirror smoothing the dark folds
of her splendid hair, and arranging the rich
tassels of her blue silk morning habit, turned
to meet the visitor announced.
" Mr. Leslie."
He was a tall, line-looking man of perhaps
twenV-five years of age, with a handsome,
intelligent countenance, and an air of true
politeness which distinguished him as a man
of good sense, combining the fashionable air
and manner with rare manly excellence and
true merit ; not passing with power alone
among the gay and heartless, but also among
the honored and the learned.
After the compliments of the day were
passed, and he had apologized for this early
call, on account of business taking him from
the village to be gone some length of time,
he inquired for Miss Louise.
Julia touched the bell, and ordered the
servant, who obeyed the summons, to call
Louise.
" Plaze ma'am, but, include, Miss Lousie
cannot lave now, for she's got her hands in
pa'chrust, bless her swate sow'!"
" Obey me, this instant 1" commanded Ju
lia; and the daughter of the Emerald. Isle
closed the door with a bang, and descended
to the kitchen.
" I am truly ashamed to say, Mr. Leslie,
that my sister has some very strange notions,
that of assisting the cook, a certain number
of hours every day, fur instance; I am afraid,"
she added, gaily, " you will be troubled with
her very much before you can rid her of
them ; for when she is Mrs. Leslie, you will
have a little idea of my anxiety on her ac
e° u n t ."
We will here inform the reader, Mr. Leslie
and Louise were betrothed. There was a
slight curl of the gentleman's lip, but he
made uo reply.
" Lousie is a strange girl ;" and Miss Win
ters played nervously with her watch chain.
" Do you not think," she continued, "it is a
singular as well as foolish idea, that a young
lady should understand all the mysteries of
the kitchen, Mr. Leslie?"
There was no reply, for the door was
thrown open and Lousie entered. She was
dressed in a simple gingham, plain and neat,
with a white linen collie• and silk apron ; her
soft curls were thrown carelessly back from
her sweet face, flushed with exercise, and a
playful smile wreathed her rosy lips as she
extended her hand to her visitor.
" I did not keep you waiting to make a
more approved toilet, Mr. Leslie," she said,
gayly. " I have been busy in the kitchen
this morning with Jane, which, according to
my views, is a very pleasant, as well as profit
able way of spending a forenoon."
"So von think housework pleasant ?-
1. - unit g ladies generally pronounce it drudg
ery," replied her lover, smiling.
" Indeed !" answered Louise, " it can be
made a drudgery, as well as all other things,
and to one inexperienced, with no teacher, it
would be truly so ; but I enjoy myself very
well thus engaged."
" But do you really think it pleasant?"
persisted her companion.
"I truly do ; one should know how things
should be done, and learning is not a disa
greeable task."
1, "
But work in the kitchen is tiresome."
" Not more than that of the parlor. We
often see young ladies too weak to make a
bed or dust a room, who practice many hours
at the piano, and dance a good part of the
night without acknowledging themselves wea
ry..
_
'• nu see how very set she is in her way,
Mr. Leslie," remarked Julia, who was no
doubt, very much shocked at Louise's "vul
garity," and wished to change the subject.—
So conversation turned into a general chan
nel, and soon Mr. Leslie arose and took his
leave.
Kind reader, let us pass over two years.—
Louise is married, and now occupies one of
the handsomest residences in the city; for
Mr. Leslie is quite wealthy, and his young
bride enjoys every luxury that wealth can
purchase. Yet her domestic education is
very useful ; she presides over her own house
hold. Although they live richly, nothing is
wasted. The elegant rooms show plainly
Louise's taste and skill, while she possesses
that knowledge which enables her to know
bow to direct her servants and to judge if
things are done in the right manner. I need
not say how much benefit she would derive
from her domestic education in case of a
reverse of fortune, for that will be very easi
ly seen.
And Julia, the bright beautiful Julia had,
too, found one she loved for himself alone ;
man noble •and good, with talent of a high
order, and a lawer by profession ; he is far
from being rich, but Julia considers her
large property will make them independent;
and they intend, after their marriage to re
move to a neighboring State, there to find a
home in some village or city.
It was but a week previous to her intended
bridal that Julia sat by the window of her
luxurious apartment, playing carelessly with
the rich heavy curtain tassels, and gaZing
out upon the moving crowd on the pavement,
when a servant opened the door and informed
her that her father wished to see her in the
library.
With a light and graceful step Julia obey
ed the summons. She found her aged father
reclining in his easy chair, his trembling
hands pressed over his furrowed cheeks, and
the silver hair floating above his careworn
brow. There were tears coursing down his
face and trickling between
. his fingers, and
his whole form trembling with emotion.—
With many dark forebodings, Julia approach
ed him; he drew her down upon his knee,
and smoothing back her dark hair from her
brow fondly, he gazed into her eyes a mo
ment with a sad, heart-broken expression.
t!..1
" he said at length ; " can you hear
ill new---very ill, my darling? I have lost
all that I once possessed ; not a penny re
mains ! My going security for Morris has
ruined me."
Julia heard no more ; with a deep cry she
sank down in a swoon ; the surprise was so
sudden, and the misfortune so great she
could not but be very much affected. When
she returned to consciousness, she was told
that her father was dangerously ill with a
brain fever. For days he lay in a wild dele
rium, and at length the death angel released
him from his sufferings.
After her father's death, Julia made her
home with her sister for a few months, when
she was married to her affianced lover, Charles
Harvard, and removed with him to the west.
They found a pretty little cottage, for a home,
in the suburbs of a rustic village, and Julia
imagined a cottage would be a palace with
her good and noble husband. Ah !
you made a sad mistake once when you sup
posed you would always enjoy luxury and
ease ; reverse of fortune will come, and you,
of all others, are least prepared.
Yes, it was a pretty little cottage with its
white walls and green blinds, its lattice en
twined with clinging vines and shaded by a
few ornamental trees. The front yard was
enclosed by a pretty white fence, and rose
bushes, and a few choice flowers bordered the
little path leading to the gate.
The cozy little parlor, too, with its simple
white draped windows, plain carpet and pret
tily papered walls, with its simple but tasteful
furniture, and a few choice pictures, presen
ted a most pleasing and home-like appear
ance ; there Julia sat from day to day at her
embroidery, while the trusty Jane attended
to her household affairs; but, alas! a change
came at length to Julia, for Jane was sum
moned home, and where could a girl be found
to fill her place ? Mr. Harvard now started
off in search of one, and Julia was in a dread
ful state of anxiety.
At length a violent ring summoned her to
the door.
" The top of the morin' to yer, ma'am ;
sure, an' is it yerself as is wantin' a girl?"
asked a rosy daughter of Erin, bowing and
courtseying violently.
" Did Mr. Harvard send you ?" asked Ju
lia, with ill-concealed vexation
" Sure it was his own Missed self, an my
name is Biddy M'Crakin, ma'am ; an' it's me
that will do yer work right well." And Bid
dy followed Mrs. Harvard into the kitchen,
where she installed herself forthwith.
Now we will not attempt to describe the
scene that followed. Biddy had previously
attended to chamber-work alone ; but as she
was out of a place concluded to try her hand
in the kitchen. Did Mrs. Harvard order pud
ding, custards, or any kind of pastry, they
never bore the least resemblance to what they
were intended. Bread, meat, vegetables,
were entirely ruined in the cooking ; the
kitchen and dining-room were always in the
the utmost confusion and disorder, to say
nothing of pantry and cellar ; the parlor and
sleeping-rooms were but slightly put in order;
everything became disorder, and Julia, tired
and sick of the mismanagement, grew peev
ish and sullen, greeting her husband to the
dirty, dusty parlor, and uninviting table with
an ill-concealed frown.
"Can't you learn Biddy to keep a neater
house, and cook better ?" asked Mr. Harvard,
pleasantly, one evening, as he sat by the lit
tle centre-table, and pointed to the pretty
lamps covered with dirt and grease. The re
mark was evidently not intended as a reproof,
but Julia answered, sharply,—
"I think you might have known better
than to get such a girl as Biddy—'can't I
learn her ?'—l never was brought up for such
drudgery."
"You know I could find no one else." an
swered the husband, still pleasantly; and,
moreover, I always supposed a lady should•
know how to superintend household affairs
herself."
"You might have known I wasn't acquain
ted with such work."
"It would have been better if you had !"
was the quick reply.
"Yes, I suppose you would like to make a
mere drudge of me;" answered Julia, sharp
-Iy.
"That is your opinion."
"Do you insult me, Mr. Harvard ?"
"Just as you please to term it."
"It is a pity you hadn't married some one
to your mind."
"So it is."
We do not know how much longer the an
gry husband and wife would have talked had
Biddy not entered the room. Mr. Harvard
took his hat and left the house, while Julia
threw herself upon the sofa and burst into
tears ; poor girl ! those were the first unkind
words that had ever passed between them.
Long did Julia lie there ; nine—ten—elev
en—twelve—and still no husband ; the agon
izing wife pressed her face upon the window
pane and listened for his well-known foot
steps ; but in vain ; then she opened the door
and looked out in the night ; then walked
down the narrow path, and leaning over the
gate, gazed down the street. At length a
sense of chillness warned the of the danger of
the damp air, and returning to the house, she
retired to her room, threw herself upon her
couch and tried to sleep. Where was he ?
why did he not come ? The heart of the
young wife was filled with strange and
dread emotions. At length, when the little
clock on the kitchen mantle-shelf rung out
the hour of two, the well-known footstep was
heard in the ball. Julia's first impulse was
to meet him kindly and confess her fault ;
but, when she saw him safe at home, her
pride arose, and a remark touching the late
ness of the hour was the only greeting.
Thus commenced an estrangement between
those two once loving hearts. Julia, discour
aged and vexed, after trying in vain to find a
better "girl," settled down into a sort of a.
desperate calmness--ay, moroseness—endeav
oring neither to make herself or husband hap
py ; while lie worried and annoyed, weary
with daily care and anxiety, returned to his
home where he should have found rest and
HUNTINGDON, PA., MARCH 16, 1859.
CHAPTER 111.
-PERSEVERE.--
happiness, to find everything gloomy and
disordered ; an untidy room, a miserable meal
and frowns, and sometimes unkind words for
a welcome. At last he staid from homes al
most entirely ; his dinner was eaten at the
village tavern, his evening spent over a "so
cial glass," with a few friends iu the •'club
room," and after a few weeks it was report
ed through the village that the young lawyer,
Mr. Harvard, had "taken to drinking."
"Poor fellow, if he had only had a little
comfort at home ; but his wife is too stuck up
to descend to such meanness as making it
so !"
The sentence was spoken sadly, in a slight
ly sarcastic tone; the speaker did not know
Julia was walking directly behind and heard
every word ; but could one have looked into
the countenance of the young wife they would
not have doubted it.
"Has it indeed come to this," she whisper
ed to herself, and pressing her hand over her
heart and pausing in her walk, "am I the
cause of this ? Is it because of my negligence
that my husband is forsaking his home and
turning daily from me? Oh the mistaken
ideas that once possessed me ! but for a false
gentility I might now possess the undivided
affections of my husband, and instead of a
cheerless, untidy home, have one of neatness
and order. But it is never too late to learn ;
I will commence now ; yes, I will put an end
to this, and strive to the utmost to again be
what I once was to my husband ; and more,
learn what I once despised, to be a good house
keeper."
The next morning Biddy was dismissed,
and without informing her husband of her in
tentions, Julia went to work ; she was in good
spirits, for she wished to surprise her hus
band with a neat home and nice supper ; so
she did not stop to wonder if rolled up sleeves
were becoming, if a broom and dust pan
were unfashionable articles, but commenced
with great energy. But Julia knew nothing
of that part of housework, for in a few mo
ments such a dust was raised as to almost
blind and suffocate her, settling upon books,
furniture, curtains, &c., much to her discom
fiture.
We will pass over washing dishes, making
beds, and other things, which she tried, how
ever, took up the entire afternoon ; although
she tried her very best, everything, had a pe
culiarly slovenly appearance, and one o'clock,
P. M., found her weary and almost discour
aged, and the kitchen still in disorder. The
sink was filled with dirty dishes, rusty knives,
broken tumblers and cold dish-water. The
cupboard with half-washed dishes, shelves
covered with crumbs, spices, scraps of cold
meat and mouldy cheese, which formed a
very disgusting sight. The white smooth
floor covered with grease and dried dough ;
the pretty cherry table had lost its varnish,
and the stove, once so black and shining,
wore a very different appearance. Poor Ju
lia I she was very weary and almost discour
aged ; and all these things meeting her view,
she sat down rested her face on her hands
and burst into tears.
But that would not do ; there was nothing
for supper, nothing cooked in the house but
sonic cold burned meat and a few dry crumbs
of bread ; with a heavy heart, Julia took her
cook book and looked over a number of re
ceipts.
"Yes, that will do ; biscuits and butter,
some of my nice preserves jape made before
she left, and some cookies—or seine kind of
cake—let me see"—and she named the dif
ferent ingredients of which each were compo
sed, and, finally, set to work in earnest.
Reader if you never made a cake, you ima
gine how perfectly ignorant was Julia. "But
ter, eggs, buttermilk, soda—let me see—l
guess this is soda—yes, it says soda on the
box"—and Julia proceeded to mix the afore
said articles together, but, to her astonish
ment, the cake instead of being a .delicate
color was almost black.
"I suppose it will be lighter when baked ;
let me see—bake in quick oven—wonder
what a quick oven is ?—well the fire is all
all out as true as the world 1" and with this
soliloquy she burst into tears.
Yes, sure enough, the fire was out, every
spark ; and, turning to the woodbox for sha
vings, her flowing sleeve caught a cup of mel
ted butter on the table, upsetting the con
tents upon her dress and breaking the dish.
As she stooped to the floor to pick up the frag
ments, the flounce of her thin dress caught
on the corner of the stone-hearth, making a
sad rent, and raising her head from its stoop
ing position, gave it a stunning blow under
the table. Almost dizzy with pain, and
overcome with vexation, after a half-hour of
blowing and puffing the fire began to burn.
Julia placed the cake in the oven, and as she
saw, according to the cook-book, it must bake
three quarters of an hour, looked at the clock
and calculated the time it would be done ;
five minutes—ten—fifteen—twenty—it would
not bake—more wood was put into the stove,
and as some other things needed her atten
tion, she did not look to it again until the
striking of the clock reminded her it must be
done. And it looked done, in fact, black as
charcoal. Julia tried to take it out of the
pan but found it impossible.
"Oh, dear I what shall I do?" and again
the tears streamed down her cheek. She
was a picture then very different from the
morning she said, "never fear that I shall be
engaged in kitchen labors ;" then reclining
on her crimson damask sofa, she dreamed
not of a day like this.
Ring, ring, ring I
"Oh !oh ! who can it be ?" Julia glanced
at her torn and dirty dress, at her arms and
hands covered with burns, smut, and dough ;
her hair was standing out in every fantastic
manner, partly unconfined by combs and
pins, her face was smutty, wet with tears,
and her eyes red with weeping ; oh, what.a.
plight Gentle reader or tidy housewife, be
lieve me, such was the appearance of Julia,
the proud, scornful Julia Harvard.
Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring! That would
not do ; there must be something urgent to
cause such a summons ; forgetting ler ap
pearance, Julia now obeyed the call, and the
next moment stood facing her sister Louise,
and Mr. Leslie her husband. We can better
imagine than describe the meeting.
Mr. Leslie was going west on business, and
Louise accompanied him ; the surprise was
intended to be a pleasant one, although to
Julia it was a very mortifying one. But
Mr. Leslie made an excuse to go and attend
to the baggage, really so as to leave the sis
ters alone ; and Julia, after confessing her
past trials, begged her sister to forgive her
past faults and lend her a little assistance in
her hour of need.
It is useless to tell how willingly that as
sistance was granted. Louise went into the
kitchen, and, after laughing at her sister a
little for using indigo for soda, because the
articles had exchanged boxes, told her sister
to go to her room an dress and she would at
tend to the supper.
In the first place the dishes were washed,
the cupboard wiped out nicely and things put
in order. The sink was removed of its load,
and the room swept nicely. Louise did eve
rything quietly and quickly ; there were no
steps lost; every turn and movement counted
and when she had put everything in its prop
er place, the biscuit were made, table set, and
when Julia again appeared, Louise was ready
to sit down and talk with her.
Not long after Mr. Leslie and Mr. Harvard
came in, and Louise was as engaging and
lady-like as if she had sat in the parlor all
the time. There was not a very great varie
ty for supper that evening, but the biscuit
were light and nice, and. Mr. Harvard thought
it the best meal lie had eaten fur a long time.
Louise spent a month with her sister, and
during that time a wonderful change has ta
ken place in the cottage. Let us peep in,
kind reader, as they sit around the cheerful
fire in the cozy little parlor. Louise has re
turned home, yet the order and neatness has
not gone, too. Julia sits by the table busily
engaged with her needle, while her husband
with a pleasant countenance and cheerful
voice, is reading aloud. The light of the
pretty astral lamp reveals the neatness of the
room and streams through the door into the
kitchen, falling upon the cupboard with its
snowy dishes and white shelves, gleaming
upon the bright tin-ware, and resting upon
the clean oaken floor. If one would notice
carefully they would observe there was a place
for everything and everything in its place ;
one of the great mysteries of good. housekeep
ing. The sewing is laid aside, and Julia
seats herself at the plain though rich-toned
piano and plays a sweet good night song ;
then Charles draws his chair to her side, say
ing—
"I have good news for you, Julia, I have
paid the last cent we owed for this little cot
tage, and it is now ours ; and another item,
too. Jane sent me word to-day she will re
turn and take her old place next week; I am
very glad, for your sake, although a better
housekeeper could not possibly be found."
"'Then would you not prefer this same
housekeeper, Charles? Believe me, when I
say I have learned the great art of house
keeping ; and the labor is not hard when one
understands it; we are both young; our
means are limited, and I find that I enjoy
much better health in active employment
than moping in the parlor."
" But, my dear
" Now don't make any objections ; let me
have my own way this time," and Julia kis
sed her husband playfully, then turning to
the piano, played, while he joined with his
deep manly voice in singing—
" llome, home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home, There is no place like home
UNITED IN DEITIL-A few days since was
seen in Portsmouth, Ohio, the solemn spectacle
of a funeral, in which were two hearses, bear
ing to the last resting place, the remains of a
husband and wife who after a pilgrimage to
gether of forty-five years, had together, on
the same morning, gone up that long journey
from which no traveler has yet returned.—
The husband was Mr. Richard Fitzgerald, at
the age of 87. He died in the house which
his grandfather built, and in which his mother
was born ; and till the last week of his life
he occupied the rooms which were his birth
place, and that of his mother. Ile never en
tered a rail car or a stage coach in his life.—
By his first wife, who died about fifty years
ago, he had six children, most of whom arri
ved at mature years, but have been dead for
the last fifteen years.
The Cleveland (Ohio) Herald states
that a disease called by some the "hoof ail,"
and by others " black leg," is making serious
havoc with horned cattle all over the coun
try. It commences in the hind foot, and ex
tends upward, paralyzing the hind parts so
that the creature comes to the ground on its
hind quarters; the appetite is destroyed and
the eyes grow dim. This malady is attribu
table to ergot in the grass, grain, &c. As
wet weather is favorable to its development
many suppose its appearances lately is at
tributable to that cause. Webster defines
it thus :—" A parisitic fungus growing with
in the glume of various grasses, as wheat
rye, herd's grass," &c.
DANGER or CATS SLEEPING WITT' CUILDREN.
—A small girl seven or eight ears old, on
the night of the 27th ult., can% pretty near
losing her life by a cat. Her mother heard
a strange noise which awakened her, she has
tened to the bed where the child was lying,
found the cat with her mouth close to the
f ll ir d's mouth. At first they took the child to
be dead, but they soon perceived it seemed to
catch for breath occasionally. After two or
three hours she was restored to conciousness,
but has been very stupid and unwell since.—
Parents should beware how they trust their
cats to sleep with their children.— Galesburg
(ill.) Democrat.
g, When Gen. Ethan Allen was a pris
oner in Canada, he was dining with a party
of officers and their ladies, and seeing some
small red peppers on the table intended to be
cut up with the meat to season it, he picked
one up and put it in his mouth. After chew
ing awhile upon the tough skin, he picked it
out of his mouth, and, looking rather admi
ringly at it, said, the tears starting in his
eyes: "Ladies and gentlemen, if yon have
no objections, I will put this little red thing
back," and he immediately suited the action
to the word,
Editor and Proprietor.
NO. 38.
Incident of History.
'Twas a glorious morn—'a morn for life in
its most subtle luxury' The first faint rays
of sunlight had begun to gild the cistern sky
of an ancient city, when the sound of mar
tial music, and the prancing of steeds, hur
ried feet, proclaimed a mighty nation going
forth to war. They have gathered themselves
together, and now with glittering spear and
flashing bayonet, they prepare to go forth
amid the flourish of trumpets and the shouts
of the people. But why this delay ? The
captain of the host, a mighty man of valor,
speaks. Silence prevails, and all heads bend
low, as with uplifted hands, the mighty man
makes a vow to God, that if he is victorious
in this battle, if the enemy. is delivered into
his hands, he will offer as a sacrifice, the first
living thing that cometh from his gate to meet
him when he returns. The vow is recorded;
the word of command is given, and the gor
geous cavalcade moves on. Long they trav
eled ere they reached the field of battle.—
'Tis reached at last.
A glorious array of men in warlike armor
present themselves to view. And they are
engaged in deadly conflict; man strives with
man ; the conflict rages fierce and terrible ;
blood flows like water; the shrieks of the
wounded and dying rend the air ; the field is
covered with heaps of the wounded and the
dying, and the dead, ere the flourish of trum
pets and the shouts of victory announce the
battle won—by the mighty man whose vow
was recorded ere they left home, and now he
prepares to lead his army in triumph to the
city.
On they go for many a mile over bill and
dale, through forest and city. They near the
gates of their homes. Every eye is strained;
they remember the vow, and look on the right
and on the left for the sacrifice, but no goat
is by the side, no heifer gambols near, no
lamb is in sight, no bird skims the air, and
even the dogs do not come forth to meet him.
What means this stillness ? Why (loth no
Hying thing come forth to meet him ? Are
they not victorious, fresh from the field of
battle—upon their brows the laurel wreath,
and in their hand the palm of victory? Du
not they come with all the pride and pomp
of martial glory ? Why does no living thing
come to greet their coming?
They approach the gates of the palace, and
the eye of the captain casts quick and am:-
ious glances around, and his heart trembles
fur his vow. What shall come forth to meet
him? Perhaps a well trained hound, or it
may be a favorite servant.
Hark I a sound of music is borne upon the
air. Soft and sweet its strains are heard in
the distance, and now they sound. louder and
more near. It is a song of joy and triumph !
Why does the cheek of that proud man blanch
and his hand tremble upon his rein, and his
head droop upon his breast? Behold issuing
from the gates, a maiden of surpassing beau
ty, dressed in gala robes, with timbrel in her
hands she comes to meet the conqueror, and
conmatulate him upon his safety. Well may
his cheek blanch, and his heart quiver, fur
in that fair girl he sees his daughter, his only
one ! Beside her, lie had neither son nor
daughter. She is all in his aged heart. Can
he yield her a sacrifice to the flames ?
" Oh, my daughter," he exclaimed in an
guish, "why didst thou come forth to meet
me ? Behold, I have made a vow that the
first living thing I met on my return from
battle I would offer as a burnt offering. Thou
art Mat living thing."
One earnest and imploring look she cast
upon her father, then sank upon her knees,
her whole form convulsed with agony at the
dreadful import of those fearful words. The
stillness of death prevails, as with blanched
cheek and quivering lip, the maiden said—
" Do unto me according to thy vow, my
father !" And these brave warriors who had
waded through seas of blood and never wa
vered on the field of battle, turned silently
away, and murmured, " Alas for thy vow I"
A short time has elapsed, and now behold
the maiden ready for the flames. Dressed in
simple white, she comes accompanied by her
maidens, singing a low, mournful chant. A
large multitude had gathered to see the sac
rifice. For a moment father and daughter
are locked in a close embrace, as if soul had
melted into soul. The old man trembles, for
paternal love is strong within his heart, and
gladly would he recall that vow; but it may
not be.
Meekly the maiden kneels ; and with bare
bead and white locks streaming in the wind,
her father commends her to his God. Now
the flames enwrap her fair form ; they clasp
her feet, her hands, her head, but no shriek
escapes her lips. She is dead!
The vow is performed, and the childless
father turns in agony away, and looks to that
God to whom he has performed his vow, for
strength in that dark hour.
For many years after, the Jewish maidens
celebrated four days annually, in commemo
ration of this melancholy sacrifice.
WONDERS OF THE ITEAvExs.--John Tiers
chel in his essay on the power of the teles
cope to penetrate into space, says there are
stars so infinitely remote as to be situated at
the distance of twelve millions of millions of
miles from our earth; so that light 'which
travels with the velocii,y of twelve millions of
miles in a minute, Would require two millions
of years fur its transit from those distant orbs
to our town ; while the astronomer, who
should record the aspect of mutations of such
a star, would be relating ; not its history at
the present day, but that which took placo
two millions of years gone by. What is our
earth in space almost infinite ? and still more,
what is man, that he should be the special
object of regard to the Infinite Author of this
system of worlds ?
BEAUTIFUL WORLD.-Ah ! this beautiful
world! I know not what to make of it !
Sometimes it is all sunshine and gladness,
and Heaven itself lies not far off—and then
it suddenly changes and is dark and sorrow
ful, and the clouds shut out the day. In the
lives of the saddest of us, there are bright
days like this, we feel as if we could take
the great world in our arms, Then come
gloomy hours when the fire will not burn on
our hearths, and all, without and within, is
dismal, cold and dark. Believe me every
heart has its secret sorrow, which the world
knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold.
when he is only wrapt in sadness.—Long
fellow.
We often speak of being settled. in
life ; we may as well think of casting anchor
in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, or talk of
the permanent situation of a stone that is
rolling down hill.
tEr" "Boy !" said a- pious deacon, " dont
you know it is very wicked to fish on Sun
day ?"
" Oh I deacon, there is no harm dono';, I
dont catch anything."
ik — lf* a good act benefits no one else it
benefits the one who does it.