The globe. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1856-1877, July 18, 1860, Image 1

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- -
THE GIRLS AND THE WIVES.
Somebody has written the following about the girls and
wit it afloat:—
God bless the girls,
Whose golden curls
Blend with evening dreams ;
They haunt our lives
• Like spirit wives,
Or—as the naiads haunt the streams
They soothe our pains,
They fill our brains
With dreams of summer hours;
God bless the girls,
God bless their curls,
God bless our human flowers.
The wives, wo think, are as deserving of a blessing as
the girls ; therefore, we submit the following:—
God bless the wives,
They fill our hives,
With little bees and honey ; .
They ease life's shocks,
They mend our socks,
➢hut don't they spend the money !I
Of roguish girls,
With sunny curls,
We may in fancy dream;
But wives—true wives—
Troughout our lives,
Are everything they scent.
(I.ltertsting . Att
Letter from a Dying Wife.
The following most touching fragment of
a letter from a dying wife to her husband,
says the Nashville Gazelle, was found by him
some months after her decease, between the
leaves of a religious volume which she was
very fond of perusing. The letter, which was
literally dim with her tear-marks, was writ
ten long before her husband was aware that
the grasp of the fatal disease had fastened
upon the lovely form of his wife, who died
at the early age of nineteen.
" When this shall reach your eye, dear
George, some day when you are turning over
the relics of the pdst, I shall have passed
away forever, and the cold white stone will
be keeping its watch over the lips you have
so often pressed, and the sod will be growing
green that shall hide forever from you the
dust of one who has often nestled close to
your warm heart. For many long and sleep
less nights, when all beside my thoughts
were at rest, I have wrestled with conscious
ness of approaching death, until at last it
has forced itself upon my mind.; and, al
though to you and others, it might not so
appear, dear George, it is so! Many weary
nights have I passed in the endeavor to re
concile myself to leaving you, whom I love
so well, and this bright world of sunshine
and beauty ; and hard indeed it is to struggle
on silently and alone, with the sure convic
tion that .1 am about to leave all forever, and
go down into the dark valley ; " but I know
in whom I have believed," and leaning on
his arm, " I fear no evil." Do not blame me
for keeping all this from you. • How could I
subject you, of all others, to such sorrow as
I feel at parting, when time will soon make
it apparent to you. I could have wished to
live, if only to be at your side when your
time shall come, and pillowing your head on
my breast, wipe the death damps from your
brow, and usher your departing spirit into a
Maker's presence, embalmed in "woman's ho
liest prayer, But it is not to be, and I submit.
Yours is the privilege of watching, through
long and dreary nights, the spirit's final flight
and of transferring my sinking head from
yo'lr breast to the Savior's bosom ; and you
sh—il share my last thought, and the last faint
pressure of the hand, and the last feeble kiss
shall be yours, and even when flesh and heart
shall have faild me, -my eyes shall rest on
yours until glazed by death, and our spirits
shall hold one last communion, until gently
fading from my view—the last of earth—you
shall mingle with the first bright glimpses of
the unfailing glories of the better world,
where partings are unknown. Well do I
know the spot, my dear George, you will lay
me; often we stood by the place, and as we
watched the mellow sunset as it glanced in
quivering flashes through the leaves, and
burnished the grassy mounds around us with
stripes of burnished gold, each perhaps has
thought that some day one of us would come
alone, and which ever it might be, your name
would be on the stone. But we loved the
spot, and I know you will love it none the
less when the same quiet sunlight linger and
play among the grass that grows over your
Mary's grave. I know you will go there,
and my spirit will be with you there, and
whisper among the waving branches—' I am
not lost, but gone before.'"
111 Er Mr. Steele was putting up a splendid
suite of apartments. One of the largest of
them was to be devoted to public lectures, and
he was very solicitous that it should be so
constructed- as to be favorable for the trans
mission of sound. He was very slack in pay
ing his workmen ; and one day, when he was
quite behind-hand in this matter, he came
suddenly into the midst of them, to see what
progress they were making. They were at
, work on the lecture•room, and he told the
boss carpenter to stand on the rostrum and
make a speech, so that he might judge of the
,effect of sound in the house. The carpenter
took the stand, but commenced scrztching
his head instead of speaking, and was
obliged to say that he was a better hand at
clinching nails than arguments, and could
make a house sooner than a speech.
"Never mind," said the owner, "never
mind about that; say the first thing that
comes into your head."
" Well, then, your honor, if I must I must,
so here goes We have been working here
for six months past, and have not recieved
one dollar of our pay, and we would just like
to know how soon you intend to do the fair
thing ?"
" Very well done," said Mr. Steele, "you
speak very well.. I can hear very distinctly ;
but I must confess I don't like tho subject 1"
$1 50
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XVL
ME
The Sympathizing Woman
If we were called upon to describe Mrs.
Dobbs, we would, without hesitation, call her
a sympathizing woman. Nobody was troubled
with any malady she hadn't suffered.
" She knows all about it by experience,
and could sympathize with them from the
bottom of her heart." •
Bob Turner was a wag, and when one day
he saw Mr. Dobbs coming along the road to
wards the house, he knew that in the absence
of his wife, he should be called upon to en
tertain her, so ho resolved to play a little on
the good woman's abundance of sympathy.—
llastily a large blanket, he wrapped
himself up in it, and threw himself on a sofa
near by.
" Why, good gracious'. Mr. Turner, are
you sick ?" asked Mrs. Dobbs, as she saw his
position.
" 0, dreadful," groaned the imaginary in
valid.
" What's the matter ?"
"0, a-great many things. First and fore
most, I've got a congestion of the brain."
" That's dreadful," sighed Mrs. Dobbs.—
" I came very near dying of it, ten years to
come next spring. What else ?"
" Dropsy 1" again roared Bob.
"There I can sympathize with you. I was
troubled with it, but finally got well."
" Neuralgia," continued Bob.
" Nobody can tell, Mr. Turner, what I have
suffered from neuralgia. It's an awful coin
plaint."
" Then again, I'm very much distressed by
inflammation of the bowels."
" If you've got that I pity you," commented
Mrs. Dobbs. " For three long years steady,
I was afflicted with it, and I don't think I've
fully recovered vet."
" Rheumatism," added Bob.
" Yes, that's pretty likely to go along with
neuralgia. It did with me."
" Toothache," suggested Bob
" There have been times, Mr. Turner,"
said the sympathizing woman, " when I
thought I would have gone distracted with
the toothache."
" Then," said Bob, who, having tempora
rily ran out of his stock of medical terms, re
sorted to a scientific name, " I'm very much
afraid that I have got the tethyarasus !"
" I shouldn't be surprised at all," said the
ever-ready Mrs. Dobbs ; " I had it when I
was young."
Though it was with great difficulty that he
could resist laughing, Bob continued :
" I'm suffering from a sprained ankle a
good deal."
" Then you can sympathize with me, Mr.
Turner, I sprained mine when I was coming
along."
. " But that isn't the worst of it."
" 4t is it ?" asked Mrs. Dobbs, with cu
riosity.
"I wouldn't tell any one but you, Mrs.
Dobbs, but the fact is, "—here Hob gave an
awful groan—" I'm araid, and the doctor
agrees with me, that my reason is affected,
that, in short, I'm a little crazy."
Bob took breath, wondering what Mrs.
Dobbs would say to that.
" Oh, Mr. Turner, is it possible !" exclaimed
the lady. " It's horrible ! I know it is. I
frequently have spells of being out of my
head myself!"
Bob could stand it no longer ; he burst into
a roar of laughter, which Mrs. Dobbs taking
for the precursor of a vtolent poroxysm of in
sanity, she was led to take a hurried leave.
A MoTuErt's GlFT.—There is something
sublime associated with the most insignificant
gift or token that a mother may present her
child. The gift may be some almost value
less texture—worthless to him who knows
not its history—but the one for whom it was
intended soes in it a remembrance of olden
times, wanders back to the theatre of little
incidents in earlier days, and by the memen
to is reminded of blissful recollections which
even adversity has been unable to erase from
his mental tablet. The boy too often forgets
the parent who adores him ; his ambition leads
him away from the fond maternal thoughts
that should ever be his brightest imageries.
With the mother the case is widely dissimi
lar ; her thoughts are ever with the wandering
one ; her greatest aspirations, in reality her
only ones in many cases, are coupled with
the name and career of her boy. No chill,
save that of death, can ever congeal the trans
parent fount from which a mother's adora
tion flows on to gladden her child. No man
date but God's—and he never issued an un
natural one—can still the restless affections
that nestle around a mother's heart. A gift
from a cherished friend brings with it a key
that unlocks our tenderest feelings ; it opens
portals that the benefactions of pomp and
glitter could never reach ; but a mother's gift
to her child conveys an import that has a
heavenly impress upon it.
LOOK OUT FOR TUE WOMEN.—Young man,
keep your eyes open when you are after the
women. If you bite at the naked hook, you
are green. Is a pretty dress or form so at
tractive ; or a pretty face, even ? Flounces,
boy, are no sort of consequence. A pretty
face will soon grow old. Paint will wash
off. The sweet miles of the flirt will give
way to the scowl of the termagant. Another
and a far different being will take the place
of the lovely goddess who smiles and eats
your sugar candy. The coquette will shine
in the kitchen corner, and with the once
sparkling eye and beaming countenance will
look daggers at you. Beware! Keep your
eyes open, boy, when you are after the wo
men. If the dear is cross and scolds at her
mother in the back room, you may be sure
you will get particular fits all over the house.
If she blushes when found,at domestic duties,
be sure she is of the disbrag-aristocracy—
little breeding and a great deal less sense.—
If you marry a girl who knows nothing but
to commit woman laughter on the piano, you
have got the poorest music ever got up. Find
one whose mind is right, and then- pitch in.
Boy, don't be hanging round like a sheep
thief, as though you were ashamed to be seen
in the day-time, but walk up like a chicken
to the dough pile, and ask for the article like
a man. That's the way to do it.
[From the Germantown Telegraph.]
I thought it was a question entirely settled
by ornithologists and the general knowledge
of observing and intelligent people living in
the country, that migrating birds travel by
night. When living in the country, and after
riding in a still, starlight night. I have heard
their music high above me. Wild geese are
constantly heard at night in their migrations ;
and it not unfrequently happens that where
some few of the tribe have been domesticated ;
they answer the call and decoy the travelers
to land, where, if they are much fatigued and
'happen to be seen, they become an easy prey
to the farmer and his boys and dogs.
Wilson gives an extract from a letter from
a Mr. Platt, a respectable farmer in the State
of New York, stating that he wounded a wild
goose which proved to be a female ; she was
turned into the yard with the flock of tame
geese, and soon became quite familiar with
them, and in a little time its wounded wing
entirely healed. In the following spring a
flock of wild geese passed over the farm, and
the leader sounding his well-know bugle note,
our goose, not having forgotten ancient hab
its, spread its wings, mounted the air and
joined the travelers. In the succeeding au
tumn, Mr. Platt happened to observe a flock
of geese going South, suddenly three of them
detached themselves from the rest, and wheel
ing round several times, alighted in his yard,
and to his surpise and pleasure, by well
known signs he recognized in one of the three
his long lost fugitive, with, as he supposed,
two of her offspring !
This account is too well authenticated to be
doubted, and though it has no direct bearing
upon the flight of birds by night, it is an in
teresting fact connected with the subject, and
no doubt many similar have been made by
others.
Of the Rail, Wilson says, "It comes they
know not whence, and goes we know not
where. No one can detect the first moment
of their arrival ; yet, all at once, the reedy
shore and grassy marshes of our large rivers
swarm with them, thousands being found
within the space of a few acres. There, when
they first venture on wing, seem to fly so
feebly and in such short fluttering flights
among the reeds, as to render it highly im
probable to most people that they could pos
sibly make their way over an extensive tract
of country. Yet on the first smart frost that
occurs the whole suddenly disappear.
That these birds have strength of wing to
carry them an immense distance, and that
they do fly by night, is proved by a fact stated
by Wilson, that " he was informed by a Capt.
Douglas, that on a voyage from St. Domingo
to Philadelphia, and more than a hundred
miles from the capes of Delaware, at night
the man at the helm was alarmed by a sud
den crash on deck that broke the glass in the
light. On examining the cause, three Rail
were found on deck, two of which were killed
on the spot and the other died soon after."—
Another fact was related to Wilson, by Bish
op Madison, President of William and Mary
Colleg,e, of Virginia, that he was told by Mr.
Shipwit, some time one of our Consuls in Eu
rope, in his voyage home, when upwards of
three hundred miles from the capes of the
Chesapeake.
I would willingly extend these extracts,
but fear to trespass upon your space, as you
cannot, like a Rail, expand your columns to
300 miles ; but the subject is one of interest,
and Wilson's Ornithology is a book very ac
cessable and well-known. I would add how
ever that one peculiar charm in his writing
is looking up always to the Great First Cause
of all things. lie says the birds cannot re
main in Pennsylvania, where they find abun
dance of food, at one season, because the
plains are under snow and ice in the winter.
" He even has, therefore, given them in com
mon with many others, certain prescience in
of their circumstances and judgment, as well
as strength of flight, sufficient to seek more
genial climates, abounding with suitable
food."
How to Get Rid of Chicken-Lice, and to
Keep Hens Free from Them.
EDS. GENESEE FARMER :—Two years ago
my chickens were infested with vermin, and
my hen-house (which is also my wood and
coal-house,) so overrun with the lice that no
one could go into it without being covered
with them: They were a great pest. To get
rid of them I sifted air-slacked lime over the
roosts, floor, wood, coal, and everything in the
house, but to no purpose.
Just then, I saw the statement of a woman
in one of my agricultural periodicals, saying
that she did not know that sassafras roosts
would prevent chickens from having lice, but
she did know that when she had such roosts
her chickens were never troubled with ver
min.
Upon this hint I acted. I got some sassa
fras poles for roosts, and scattered the bark
of sassafras roots among the nests. The re
sult was that the lice soon disappeared.
My neighbor S. was in the same predica
ment with his hens and hen-house three
weeks ago—the nest of one setting-hen being
so full of lice that she deserted her eggs. I
informed him how I had got rid of them, and
he immediately procured sassafras poles for
roosts, and scattered sassafras bark about the
hen-house and in the nests, with the same re
sult that followed my experiment. His hens
are now free from lice.
To try the effect of sassafras upon the lice,
he dropped some of them upon pieces of the
bark • the consequence was, that almost in
stantly ivon touching it they died. He also
dropped pieces of the bark among the deser
ted eggs, which were covered with lice, and
noticed that when a piece fell among them,
there was an immediate scampering to get
away from it. From these experiments, I
infer that sassafras is fatal to chicken lice.
WASHINGTON CITY. N. SARGENT..
re'- It is just sixteen years since Professor
Morse put up the first Electric Telegraph in
America. The first piece of news sent over
it was the nomination of James K. Polk for
President, made at Baltimore, and announced
in Washington " two houts in advance of the
mail."
;
HUNTINGDON, PA., JULY 18, 1860.
The Migration of Birds, &c.
-PERSEVERE.-
The New York Presbyterian, of a late date,
relates this story
We were returning from our spring meet
ing of Presbytery—one gentleman and two
young ladies—in a `rocks ay,' and the road
none of the best. Night, cold• and damp,
overtook us eight or ten miles from home, but
only a short distance from Judge Blank's,
who after we arrived at his house, narrated
the following unique tale. Said the Judge
as follows ;
"Years ago we had in our house a sweet lit
tle child, about four years of age, and the ob
ject, of course, of a very tender affection.
But sickness laid its hand upon it. Reme
dies, promptly resorted to, all proved in vain.
Day after day the rose faded from the cheek,
and the fire in the eyes burned low ; and at
length death closed her eyes and sealed her
lips forever; and we learn by trying experience
how intense a darkness follows the quench
ing of one of those little lights of life.
"The time rolling sadly on brought us at
length to the hour appointed for committing
our treasure to the ordinary custody of the
grave. The friends assembled, the customa
ry services were held, the farewell taken and
the little form securely shut beneath the well
screwed coffin lid and in due form the grave
received its trust.
"We looked on and saw the earth thrown
in the mound raised above, and the plates of
sod neatly adjusted, and then wended our way
to our desolate home. Evening came on and
wore away. My wife had gone into an ad
joining room to give some directions to a ser
vant, and I unfitted by the scene of the day
for aught else, had just laid my head on the
pillow, in our room on the first floor of the
house, when I heard a shriek, and in a mo
ment more ; my wife came flying into the
room, and springing upon the bed behind me
exclaimed :
"See there 1 our child ! our child !"
"Raising my head, my blood froze within
me, and the hair upon my head stood up as
saw the little thing in grave clothes, and open
but manifestly sightless eyes, and pale as when
we gave it the last kiss, walking slowly to
ward us l Had I been alone--had not the
extreme terror of my wife compelled me to
play the man, I should have leaped from the
windcAr and bed without casting a look be
hind.
"But, not daring to leave her in such ter
ror, I arose, and sat down in a chair, and took
the little creature between my knees—a cold
sweat covered my body—and gazed with feel
ing• unutterable upon the object before me.
The eyes were open in a vacant stare. The
flesh was colorless; cold and clammy ; nor did
the child appe,_: to have the power either of
speech or hearing, as it made no attempt to
answer any of our questions: The terror of
our minds was the , more intense as we had
watched our child thro' its sickness and death,
and had been but a few hours before eye wit
nesses of its interment.
"While gazing upon it, and asking in my
thoughts, 'What can this extraordinary Provi
dence mean ? For what can it be sent ?' the
servant girl, having crept to the door, after a
time suggested, 'lt looks like Mrs. 's
child.'
"Now, our neigebor had a child of the
same age as ours, and its constant companion.
But what could bring it to our house at that
hour and in such a plight ? Still the sugges
tion had operated as a sedative upon our ex
cited feelings, and rendered us more capable
of calm reflection. And after a time we dis
covered the truth, that the grave clothes were
night clothes and the corpse a somnambulist !
And it became manifest the loss and burial
of ,its play-mate, working upon the child's
mind in sleep, was the cause to which we were
indebted for this startling and untimely visit.
"Wiping away the perspiration, and taking
a few long breaths, I prepared to counter
march the little intruder back to its forsaken
bed. Lack we went, it keeping at my side
though still asleep. I had walked quite a
distance across the wet grass. I found the
door of its home ajar, just as the fugitive had
left it, and its sleeping parents unconscious
of its absence. The door creaked as I push
ed it open, and awakened the child, who
looked wildly around a moment and then
popped into bed.
"Now, if it had not been for my wife, as I
have said, I should, on the appearance of this
apparion, have made a leap of uncommon
agility from that window ; and after a flight
of uncommon velocity for a person of my age
and dignity, I should have been ready to take
my oath in any court, either in christendom
or heathendom, that I had seen a ghost."
YOUNG MAN, YOU'RE WANTED !-A woman
wants you. Don't forget her. Don't wait to
be rich. If you do, remember that, ten to
one, you are not fit to get married. Marry
while you are young, and struggle up to
gether.—Ex.
But mark, young man ! The woman does
not want you if she has to divide her affections
with a cigar, fancy dog, fast horse, or whis
ky jug. Neither does she want you simply
because you are a " nice young man "—the
definition of which, now-a-days, is too apt to
be an animal that sports an immense hirsute
appendage, lotof jewelry, kid gloges, a fashion
ably cut coat, a gold-headed cane, a pipe hat
on an empty head, drives a fast nag, drinks
like a fish, swears like a trooper, and is given
to all manner of licentiousness. She wants
you for a', - companion and helpmate—she wants
you if you have learned to regulate your ap
petite and passions—in fact, she wants you
if you are made in the image of God, not in
the likeness of a beast. If you are strong in
good purpose, firm in resistance to evil, pure
in thought and action as you require her to be,
and without which inward and outward puri
ty neither of you are fitted for husband or
wife—if you love virtue and abhor vice—if
you are gentlemanly, forbearino• c' and kind,
not loud talking, exacting and brutal ; then,
young man, that woman wants you—that
fair, modest, cheerful, bright-looking, frank
spoken woman—we mean one who fills your
ideal of maiden and wife—it is she who wants
you! Marry her when you like, whether
you are rich or poor—we will trust you both
on the conditions named, without further se
curity.
A. Strange Apparation
Editor and Proprietor.
Integrity of Character
There are many counterfeits of character,
but the genuine article is difficult to be mis—
taken. Some, knowing its money value,
would assume its disguise for the purpose of
imposing upon the unwary. Colonel Char
teris said to a man distinguished for his hon
esty, " I would give a thousand pounds for
your good name." " Why ?" " Because I
could make ten thousand by it," was the
rogue's reply. Integrity in word and deed
is the backbone of character ; and loyal ad
herence to veracity its most prominent char
acteristic. One of the finest testimonies to
the character of the late Sir Robert Peel was
that borne by the Duke of Wellington in the
House of Lords, a few days after the great
statesman's death. " Your lordships," he
said, " must all feel the high and honorable
character of the late Sir Robert Peel. I was
long connected with him in public life. ' We
were both in the councils of our Sovereign to
gether, and I had long the honor to enjoy his
private friendship. In all the course of my
acquaintance with him I never knew a man
in whose truth and justice I had greater con
fidence, or in whom I saw a more invariable
desire to promote the public service. In the
whole course of my communication with him
I never knew an instance in which he did
not show the strongest attachment to truth ;
and I never saw in the whole course of my
life the smallest reason for suspecting that he !
stated anything which he did not firmly be
lieve
to be the fact." And this high-minded
truthfulness of the statesman was no doubt
the secret of no small part of his influence
and power. There is a truthfulness in ac
tion as well as in words, which is essential to
uprightness. A man must really be what he
seems or purposes to be. "When an Ameri
can gentleman wrote to Granville Sharp that,
from respect for his great virtues, he had
named one of his sons after him, Sharp wrote :
—" I must request you to teach him a favor
ite maxim of the family whose name you have
given him—Always endeavor to be really what
you zoish to appear. This maxim, as my
father informed me, was carefully and hum
bly practised by leis father whose sincerity,
as a plain and honest man, thereby became
the principal feature of his character, both in
public and private life." Every man who
respects himself, and values the respect of
others, will carry nut the maxim in act—do
ing honestly what he proposes to do—putting
the highest character into his work, scamping
nothing, but priding himself upon his integ
rity and conscientiousness. Once Cromwell
said to Bernard—a clever but unscrupulous
lawyer—" I understand that you have lately I
been very vastly wary in your conduct ; do
not be too confident of this; subtlety may de
cieve you, integrity never will." Men whose
acts are at direct variance with their words,
command no respect, and what they say has
but little weight; even truths when uttered
by them, seem to come blasted from their lips.
—Smiles' Self Help
The Dream.
I once heard a minister who stated that he
preached a number of years in a certain place
without any visible benefit 'to any one. Fi
nally, he concluded it was not right for him
to preach, and, in consequence, thought he
would give it up. But, while musing on the
subject, he fell asleep and dreamed.
" I dreamed that I was to work for a cer
tain man for so much, and my business was
splitting open a very large rock with a very
small hammer, pounding upon the middle of
it in order to split it open. I worked a long
time to no effect, and at length I became dis
couraged and began to complain, when my
employer came. Said he:—
" Why do you complain? Have you not
fared well while in my employ ?'
"'Oh yes."
"'Have you not had enough to eat?'
" 'Yes.'
"'Have you been neglected in any way ?'
" No, sir.'
" 'Then,' said be, ' keep to work—cease
your complaints, and I will take care of the
result.' lle then left me.
"I thought I applied my little hammer
with more energy, and soon the rock burst
open with such a furce that it awoke me.—
" Then," said he, " I ceased to complain—l
seized my little hammer with new vigor—l
hammered upon the great rock (sin) with re
newed energy," nothing doubting, and soon
the rock burst. 'Fhe Spirit of the Lord rushed
in, and the result was a glorious ingathering
of souls to the heavenly Shilah.
" Thus you see, my brother, that to perse
vere in well-doing is the sure way to gain the
prize."—Youth's Guide.
TAKING VIE CENSUS.-" Preparations to
take the senses- of the United States !" ex
claimed Mrs. Partington. "What will yet
become of our inheriticked liberalities ? If
our extinguished men, who are the public
male factors of the country, will desist in their
course and their influence, or by expulsion
take away the senses of the impenitent vo
ters, then add to the rice communities which
our noble pergrinators conjured by their
blood and pleasure." Having exhausted her
self by this long and earnest sentence, she
was only able to add : " Others may do as
they confer, but as for me I will never en
gender my senses to any one." Then, ad
justing her spectacles, she was heard to say
softly to herself : " If they take away the
people's senses, I thing it makes very little
diffidtnce how many children and cattle, net
cetera, they have in their profession.'
CUSTOMS IN REGARD TO NAMES.—The Jews
named their children the eighth day after
their nativity; the Romans gave names to
their female children on the eigth day, and
to the males on the ninth, on which day they
solemnized a feast. The Greeks gave the
names on the tenth day, and an entertain
ment was given by the parents to their friends
and sacrifices offered to the gods. The name
given was usually indicative of some par
ticular circumstance attending the birth,
some quality of body or mind, or was ex
pressive of the good wishes or fond hopes of
the parents.
There is a dreadful ambition abroad for be
ing " genteel." We keep up appearances•
too often at the expense of honesty ; and
though we may not be rich, yet werany seem.
to be so. We must be "respectable," though:
only in the meanest sense—in mere vulgar
outward show. We have not the courage to•
go patiently onward, in the condition of life•
in which it has pleased God to call us ; but
must needs live in a fashionable state to.
which we rediculously please to call our—
selves, and all to gratify the vanity of that
unsubstantial genteel world of which we
form a part. There is a constant struggle
and pressure fur front seats in the social am
phitheatre; in the midst of which all noble
self-denying resolves are trodden down, and"
many fine natures are inevitably crushed to
death. What waste, what misery. what
bankruptcy, come from all this ambition to'
dazzle others with the glare of apparent
worldly success, we need not describe. The
mischievous results show themselves in a
thousand ways—in the rank frauds commit—
ted by men who dare be dishonest, but do not!:
dare seem poor; and in the desperate dashes:
at fortune, in which the pity is not so much•
for those who fail, as for the hundreds of
innocent families who are so often involved;
in their ruin.
Mr. Humes hit the mark when he once
stated in the House of Commons—though his
words were followed by "laughter"—that
the tone of living in England is altogether
too high. ..11i(Itie classes of people are too
apt to live ap to their incomes, if not beyond
them ; affecting a degree of "style" which is
most unhealthy in its effect upon society at
large. There is an ambition to bring boys
up as gentlemen, or rather "genteel" men ;.
though the result frequently is, only to make
then gents. They acquire a taste for dress,.
style, luxuries and amusements, which can
never form any solid foundation-for manly or•
gentlemanly character; and the result is that
we have a great number of gingerbread
young gentry thrown upon the world who
remind one of the hulls sometimes picked up
at sea, with only a monkey on board.
NO. 4.
How beautiful is old age I The sun is ever
brightest when is is about to sink below the
horizon and hide its radiant brow behind the•
curtains of a peaceful sleep. It is in the
evening that the nightingale sings its sweet
est songs, and it is in the autumn time that
nature is ripest and most beautiful ; how can
it be then that the sunset of life should be
less joyous and cheerful than its meridian?
Everybody says that old age is an evil, and
everybody believes it, too; for he had the
words drilled into his mind a thousand times,
but how many have found that " fear of ill ex—
ceeds the ill we fear," and that the enjoyment
of life suffers no diminution from The increase•
of years.
Age is a mighty thing. It has triumphed
over the trials of life, and flushed with victo
ry it awaits its reward. From bloodless lips,
the youth, as he sits gazing into the wrinkled
features and lac-lustre eyes before him, hears
the experience of the past ; he is warned of
the shoals and quicksands of life, and direct
ed to the noblest channels and. heeds the
warning. Thus age is mighty again, for into
the hot blood of rising generations it sends
its own genius and directs its course..
Age is a holy thing ; it is the sanctuary of
well-spent lives ; it is the temple , at the top
of the ladder e,f existence, where tottering
limbs and wearied hearts may find repose,
whence they may look back without regret
upon the great world they are so soon•to leave,
with smiles of encouragement to those who
are still struggling amidst the stormy waves
of fortune, and then turn the gaze with yearn
ing eyes upon the portals of that wondrous
spirit reblm that will soon unfurl and' give
them entrance to the glories of the Dbrd..
Ear- A well-known minister. in Chelsea,
Mass., was greatly surprised, some time since,
at receiving an epistle from a lady friend at
Cape Ann, containing sundry and divers•fe
male confidences relative to her approaching
marriage, and an urgent request to S'end im
mediately a "hoop skirt." The minister was
completely dumbfounded. It was a strango
epistle for him to receive, but there was the
superscription, Rev.—, as plain as- could
lie. In the course of the day, however,. tho
mystery was cleared up, and it appeared, that
the fair correspondent had indited two letters,
one to the Reverend, requesting his presence
to tie the marriage knot, and the other to a
female friend, enlarging on the anticipated
occasion, and requesting her service in , pro
curing that highly useful article,. a hoop.skirt.
By some hocus pocus the letters were placed
in the wrong envelopes,but luckily the right
ful owners eventually exchanged letters ) and
the minister and the hoop skirt were both
there !
Goon. llumen.—Good humor is the clear
blue sky of soul on. which. every star of tal
ent will shine more clearly, and the sun of
genius encounter no vapors in his passage.--
'Tis the most exquisite beauty of a fine face
a redeeming grace in a homely one.. It is . like
the green in. the landscape, harmonizin;; , with
every color, mellowing the glories of the
bright, and softening the hues of the dark ;
or like a flute in a full concert of instruments,
a sound, not at first discovered by the ear,
yet filling up the breaks in the concord with
its deep melody.
TRADING lIORSES.-" What do you ask for
that ere beast."
" One hundred and twenty-five dollars."
" One hundred and twenty-five dollars ?"
"Yes:"-
" Give you twenty-five."
". Take him. along. It shan't be said that
I spoiled a good trade for a hundred dollars.."•
Dec' An afflicted husband was returning
from the funeral of his wife, when a friend
asked him how he was.
" Well," he said pathetically, " I think lE
feel better of that little walk.'
ger' " Sir," said a colporteur, " shall .1
leave some tracts here ?" " Yes" was the re
ply, " with the heels this way."
► A palsy may as well shake an oak, or
a fever dry up a fountain as either of them
shake, dry up, or impair the delights of con
science.
Dar Commend a fool for his. wit, a knave.
for his honesty, a coward for his bravery, and
he will receive you into his bosom.
xte, " I believe, Miss, that you think Tam
as old as Time in the Primer." " Yes, sir,
older—you haven't even a forelock."
Ile?' Many persons carry about their char-•
actors in their hands : not a few under their:
feet.
What is wino; -even to my U
I love, but the secretf' omy friend' l- , her 's
not Ilan°.
Gentility.
Old Age