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Six lines or less, 0 1 50 0 i 00 15 00 One square . 3 00 5 00 7 00 'rue squares, 5 00 8 00...........10 00 Three equates, 7 00 10 00 10 00 Four squares, 0 00 13 00 "0 00 INIle column, 12 00 10 00.. .... ....2.1 00 One column, 0 0 00 r .lO 00.... ..... 50 00 Professional and Business Cards not exceeding four lines one year. $1 od Admini,tratore and Executors' Notice, $1 75 Advet tisements not marked with the number of L1140,- tlons desired, will be continued till rot bid and charged :W -ording to these terms. [lt is not often that the Irmo of Stephen A. Douglas is connected in our minds n lilt literature, or au) thing out side of the fierce contentions of the political arena; but Lee is n poetical etilndon n Islets is credited to him.] BURY ME IN THE MORNING DT STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS fury ma in the morning mother— let me have the light Of one bright day in my grave, mother. Ere you leave me alone nit!. the night, Aloe in the night of the grave, mother, riga thought of tenible fear,— And you V. ill be here alone, mother, And stars MB be shining hero; So bury mo in the morning. mother, And let me have the light PI one bright day on my grave, mother, Ere I'm alone uith the night. You tell of the Fivior's love, mother, I feel if in my hemr— But oh! from this beautiful world. mother, 'TN hard for the young to part; Forever to part, when here mother, The soul is fain to stay; For the gravo is deep and dark, mother, And heaven teems for away. Then bury me in the looming, toothier, And let the have the light Of one bright day on my grave, toothier, Etc I'm alone with the melt. VTR WONDERFUL HOUSEMAID. BY MRS. CAROLINE A. SOULE ' bet I know somebody that's a great deal handsomer than she," ex claimed little Nell Summers in a lively tone, as she tossed her building blocks into a basket, pell-mell, and climcd in to the lap of her uncle Herbert. "Miss Kate Odell can't begin to be so beau tiful as our Ellen." " And who is our Ellen?' asked Mr. Lincoln, as he toyed with the child's sunny curls; "and how came little Miss Nell to know what her mother and I were talking about ?, We thought you were too busy with your fairy cas tles to listen to us." " And if I was busy, couldn't I hear ? Tt takes eyes and hands to build cas tles—not ears—don't you know that, Mr. Uncle ?" "If I didn't I do now;" and he roguishly pinched the small snowy ones that lay .hidden behind the long ringlets. "But tell. me little niece, - where and who is that beautiful crea ture that rivals the belle of the season in charins, according to you ?" " Why, it's Ellen, our Ellen, and she's up stairs; I suppose." "But who's Ellen, and what does she here ?" Why, the maid, and she _sweeps and dusts and lays the table, and waits on it, too, and does every thing that maids always do, and a great deal besides, for mamma never has to think any more, and -George Jind. I don't have to cry over our les sons. " l wonderful maid, indeed," said uncle Herbert, in au incredulous tone; Ifaney Miss Odell wouldn't be scared if she knew who her beautififi rival was. But limy came she here?" Why, mamma hired her, as she does all her maids; and unless she gets married, we shall always have her, for I know she'll never do anything bad." "A paragon, truly—this Ellen ; pray explain mamma ;" and Mr. Lincoln turned to his sister. " I cannot," said she. " I can only corroborate what sell has told you.— Ellen is a maid who has lived with me a fortnight only, and yet iu that time has won my heart completely. in per son—but as you stop to tea, you will see her, and you can judge yourself if she does not rival, and fairly, too, with the brilliant belle of the winter. In manners, she is a perfect lady; she has, too, exquisite taste and a tact in the management of household affairs that I never saw equalled—" " Tell him how sweetly she sings," interrupted the little daughter. ' " She sings me to sleep every night, and I always feel, when I shut my eyes, as if I was going right up to heaven !" " Bravo, Nell. A very angel of a housemaid she must be. I long to see her;" and he laughed in that peculiar tone which seemed to say, " you're tel ling me but a humbug story." . " You'll laugh the other side of your mouth," said Nell, earnestly, n n:on't he mamma, when he comes to see her?" "I shouldn't wonder," answered her mother gaily; "indeed, if he had not as good as owned that he had lost his heart to Miss Odell, I should not care to give so young and enthusiastic a man a glimpse of my pretty maid.— But list, I hear her gentle tread." The, door of the sitting-room was opened, and there glided into the room, with a step light as a fairy's, a young, slender, but exquisitely graceful fe male. The single glance' which Her bert directed towards her, as she en tered, Oiled his soul with a wondrous vision, for beauty sat enthroned - upon .every feature of the blushing face.— 'The fair oval forehead, the soft, dark eye with its long, drooping lashes, the ,delicately chiselled nose, the rose-tinted cheeks, the full scarlet lips, each items .of loveliness, were blended in so per -fect anct complete a Union, that one felt, as he gazed upon the countenance, as does the florist when he plucks a half!.blbWn moss rose—Heaven might have made it more beauteous still, htit this suffices. There was a little embarrassment visible in her attitude, as she found herself unexpectedly in the presence of company, but only for an instant did she yield to it. Recovering her self hastily she said to Mrs. Summers : "Did you decide, ma'am, to have tea an hour earlier than 'usual ?" It was h simple question, but the ac cents thrilled thC* young man's heart, and he thought to himself, if there is so much music in her voice when she speaks only as a servant to her mis tress, how heavenly it might be in a lover's e , ar; an from that time he did not wonder at little Nell's remark about her songs of lullaby. " We did, Ellen, and you may lay the cloth at once. Illy brother will stop with us." Intuitively delicate, Herbert seemed all the while busy with his little niece, and did not once look towards the beautiful domestic during the moments that elapsed ere the tea was ready, yet 111 WILLIAM LEWIS, Editor and Proprietor VOL, XVI. he stole many a , furtive glance at her through the golden curls of his little vlaymate, and when she glided from the room, he felt as , though the sun shine was driven front his path. " Isn't the more beautiful than Miss Odell, say, uncle?" whispered _Nell, as the door closed on her. "Didn't I tell the truth when I said I knew some body that was handsomets than she ?" " Indeed you did," said Mr. Lincoln, earnestly. "She is nearly perfect." " I wish you could see her with her hair curled, uncle. Once or twice, when we were up stairs alone, she has let me take out her comb, and such long silky ringlets as I made by just twisting it over my fingers—oh, I don't believe von ever saw any so beautiful in all your life I I teased her to wear it so all the tine, but she shook her head and combed them up into braids again, and said curls and house-maids didn't look well together; and when I asked why not, she said I'd know when I grew older, and then two or three great tears stood in her cycs and I do believe, uncle, Aio cries some nights all the time, for her eyes look so red some mornings. Ain't it too bad that such a handsome girl should have to be a maid ?" " Yes, by my soul it is," said the young man, warmly., "Do tell me ; sister, her story. There must be some romance in it. She has not been a menial all her life." " What I know, I can tell in few words, Herbert. When Bessie, my last maid, gave notice of leaving, she said she could recommend a substi tute, and I, not being very , well, thought I would sooner trtist her than run the risk of going clay after day to the intelligence office. She said a young girl, who, with a widowed mo ther lived on the same floor with some of her friends, had applied to her for aid in obtaining a situation as maid, and she thought, that what she had seen and knew of her, she would suit me exactly. 1 was somewhat startled when I saw her, for though Bessie had told me how beautiful and lady-like she.was, I was not prepared for the vision that met ine-to tell the truth, An a most unhusiness and unhouse keeperly way, I engaged her at once, without inquiring as to her abilities or her recommendation. She won my heart at sight and she has won my head since, for she is not only thorough in the performance of her duties, but executes them with a taste and judg ment, I have never seen excelled by any matron. If the clay is cloudy, when you enter the parlor you will find that she has so disposed the win dow hangings, that the "most will be made of the sunlight; if it is sunny, she will so arrange them that a gentle twilight seems to shadow you. She is, indeed a perfect artist in the ar rangement of every thing, studying and combining effect and comfort.— I feel with you that her lot has not always been so lowly. but there is a certain respect that she inspires in one, that forbids close questioning. I in cline to the opinion that she and her mother have been sorely pinched for means, and that finding needle-work an inadequate compensation, she has chosen to work out, as by that means, while she earns more a week, she saves her board-from out their scanty inc6me, and has time to rest. But here is papa and herself with the, tea." As soon as they were fully seated, and the cups bad been passed, Mrs. Summers turned gently to the maid, as'she waited beside her chair, and said, in a low tone, " we shall need nothing more at present." Quietly, butwith visible pleasure, she withdrew; and as the door closed on her, Herbert exclaimed : " Thank you, sister, for sending her away. I could not have borne to see so ladylike a creature wait upon me. It seemed clownish in me to sit for a moment while she was standing. In good sooth, if I had so fair a maid, I should be democratic enough to ask her to cat with mc." "And tints wound her self-respect. No, brother, she has chosen for some good reason her meniel lot, and I can see would prefer to be so regarded.— All I can do, till I eon further win her confidence, is to make her duties as little galling as possible. But come, sip some of her delicious tea. it will give you inspiration to compliment Miss Odell to-night.". " Miss Odell go to—France:" said the young man, hastily. " A painted doll—good for balls and parties, but no fitter for life in its realities than .Nell's waxen baby !" " beginning to laugh the other side of his mouth, isn't he mamma?" exclaimed the little girl. "I knew he'd love Ellen best.". Herbert blushed, and Mrs. Summers adroitly changed the conversation. The housemaid was not alluded to again till an hour after tea had passed; when George, the eldest of the family, a bright but somewhat capricious boy of twelve, rushed into the sitting-room, exclaiming eagerly: "Mayn't Ellen stay in to-night., mamma, and go out to-morrow eve ning?" " Certainly, if she chooses, my son." " But she don't choose, and , that's the trouble. I ya n t her to stay, and she says she can't because her mother will be . so anxious about her." "But why do you wish her to stay,, George ? You certainly have no com mand of her or her time. Pray, what do you want sho should do ?" " Why, I want her to show me how to do those horrible hard sums in the back part of the arithmetic, and I want her to tell me how to conjugate that awful irregular French verb, alter—l wish it would (Pier into France where it belongs—and I want her to hear my Latin and—" " Turn into a school-ma'am, after toil ing as maid all day. No, George, no —I have been very grateful to Ellen for the assistance she has shown you in your studies, but I cannot allow her leisure hours to he so sorely invaded," interrupted his mother, while her broth er held up both hands in much amaze ment; for, to tell the truth, since he had seen the maid, lie was preriared to believe everything wonderful of her, and would not have been surprised to hear that she knew as many tongues as Burritt himself. " Verily," said he gaily, " this passes all—a housemaid, and hear your Latin lessons What else does she know ?" " Everything," said George earnest ly. " She can talk French better than monsieur, and la belle Italian tongue— oh, how sweet; it is to hear her read and sing it ! I tell you, Uncle Herber, she knows the most of any woman I ever saw, and if you was a knight of olden times, you'd do battle for her beauty, and reseueler from the slavery of that old despot, poverty !" and the boy's eyes flashed, and he drew him self proudly up, as though he would have grown a man that moment and shown his prowess. " Bravo, George !" exclaimed his un cle. " She needs no more valiant knight than her youthful page promi ses to be. Should your right arm ever• be wounded in the defence of your queen of beauty, advise me of it, and I'll rush to the rescue." The words were lightly spoken, hat there was a meaning deeper and more divine in volved in them than the speaker would have then cared to own, even to him self The boy went to his lonely lessons, the front door closed on Ellen, little Nell was snug in the snowy couch whither the maid had borne her with kisses and music tones, and then Mr. and Mrs. Summers and the brother went forth to the brilliant ball room. But with all its light, splendor and gaiety, it had no fascinations for Un cle Herbert. his thought were with that beautiful girl, who had come so like an angel to the household of his sister. and when at an early hour he wi thdrew, a nd gaining his couch, threw himself upon it, it was only to dream of tournaments and visored knights and queens of beauty, and the loveliest of them all, and the one that crowned his brow with the nnfading wore the same peerless face as did 'Lilco the housemaid. Mrs. Summers had rightly conjec tured the reason why one so gilled had become a menial, though not for many weeks did sir: learn the whole story. It was briefly this The father of Ellen, Mr. Seymour, had been a prosperous merchant in a neighboring city. Wedded to a lovely woman, wealth flowing in upon him with a heavy current, a beautiful child to sport on his hearthstone, life fur some years glided by like an airy dream. All the riches of his own and his young wife's heart were lavished upon Ellen, and as she grew up lovelier in person than even her infancy had promised, so she grew beautiful in mind and soul, the idol of the family altar. She was in her eighteenth year when the first blow struck them=the long and fearful illness of the husband and }labor. A mere wreck of himself, physically and mentally, he was at length pronounced convalescent, al though perfect health, the physician said, could only ho bartered for in a sunnier clime. They sailed at once for Italy. A year had been passed in that beautiful land, a delicious and eNhilirating one to them all, for the step of the invalid had grown steadier each moment, his eye wore its wonted brightness, his cheeks their glow, and the pride of mind sat again enthroned upon-the noble brow, when, like a thunderbolt from a cloud less heaven, there fell a second blow. The mercantile house, in which he was head partner, had fhiled—ay, and failed in such a way that, though in nocent as a babe, his name was cover ed with infamy. , It was too much for the spirit not yet strong. Poverty it could have borne, but disgrace shiv ered it entirely. He lay for seine months in hopeless lunacy, never ra ving, but only sighing and moaning, growing each day paler and weaker. But ho passed not so away. When the last hour of life drew near, his darkened soul was light again, and he tenderly counselled the two dear ones who had hung over him so faithfully, and bade them be of good cheer, for though wealth was gone, the unspotted honor of the husband and father should be yet shown to the world. Then commending them to the All Father, with a hand clasped by each, their sweet voices blended in holy hymns, he passed away. A. grave was hol lowed out for him on classic ground, and the snowy marble wreathed with affection's chaplets a few times, and then sadly the mourners turned away, a proud ship bearing them to their na tive land. Where were the crowds that had flocked about them as they left its shores ? Alas! the widow and her child found none of them. Alone, and unaided, they were left to stein the torrent of adversity. Theirs was a trite story. One and another thing they tried to do, but the obloquy that rested on the dead man's grave followed his living darlings, till poverty, ht its most cruel sense, pressed heavily upon them. " Lot us go where we are unknown," said Ellen, passionately, yet mourn fully, one evening, as, after .' futile search for employment ; she returned to their humble lodgings, and bu'ried her weeping face in her mother's bo som. " They'll kill me with their cold, proud looks. I'd rather hcg my bread of strangers than ask . honest employ ment of these scornful ones, who tram ple so fiendishly upon our sacredgricfs." HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 3, 1861. . -PERSEVERE.- And they gathered up the remnants of their treasures, and silently, secret ly, lest the shame should fly before them, went to a lonely home in the city, where we find them. There they readily procured needle-work, and all they could do for their fingers beauti fied every garment that pased throiigh their hands. But the song of the shirt was soon the only one they could sing. Night brought no rest to the weary day, and though twenty, in,stead of the twelve hours' of the Bible Were spent in toil, they were famished and frozen. "Mother," said Ellen, one evening, as the "hour of midnight found them still at work. " this is too much for WO man. I shall sew no longer." "But what will you do, darling ?" and Mrs. Seymour wept over her pale, thin face; " shall we starve r Mothef," there was resolution in the tone now, " mother, I shall hire out as housemaid ; attempt to dissuade me, my mind is determined. It is as honorable as this T -I shall earn as much if not more than now; I shall save my board; I shall have my nights for rest." She pleaded till she won at last , a tearful consent, and entered the service of Mrs. Summers. His sister's house had always been a second home to Herbert Lincoln, but DOW it seemed dearer than ever. Their tea-table, in particular, seemed to have a fascination for him, and at the end of a fortnight, he had shaped so many cups of Ellen's fragrant tea, that Mrs. Summers declared she should certainly present him a bill of board,: And though in all that time he had not exchanged a dozen sentences with the beautiful maid, it was but too evident she was the magnet which attracted him. Business now took him - out of town, and three weeks elapsed ere ho re turned. As he was hastening from the depot, turning a corner, he espied, coming as it were to mptd, him, the fair girl of whom be had dreamed every nignt of his absence, and beside her, little golden-haired Nell. . "Uncle Herbert," cried the child, and embraced him passimmtely. •‘ Oh, I'm so glad you've come home. We missed you so much." •Then freeing him from her arms, she 6aid, graceffil ly, " and here is dear Ellen, too, ain't you glad to see her again ?" Ellen blushed, but theyoung man so courteously extended his hand to her that she could not refuse it. " I am happy to see Miss Seymour enjoying this beautiful day," said he in low gentle tones as respectfully as if addressing:t queen_ 2'-. 464 ,, "And I am happy to see Mr,-Lin coln looking so well," responded the lady, with a quiet dignity, and she passed along. " Bat where are you going, little neice ?" said Ilerbertto sell, detain ing her a giomont. " Oh, to she Grandmamma Seymour, she is a sweet lady, too. Ellen took me there once, and it made so happy that mother lets me go now whenever she does," and she tripped away. Herbert walked - rapidly to the first corner, then - turned and deliberately retraced his steps dud followed the two, till lie learned the street and number of Ellen's home. That night as lie carefully examined his bureaus, it occurred to him his sup ply of linen was quite too deficient, and forthwith he purchased a goodly sized parcel of the raw material, and at an early hour the next day was knocking at the door of the dilapidated house which he had seen Ellen enter. Through vaultlike halls, and up rick ety stair-cases he wended his way till he found Mrs. Seymour's room. The beautiful and saintly face of the wid owed mother fitscinated him as agra pletely as had the daughter's, and with a reverential tone he opened his er rand. While she inspected the linen, and made inquiry as to the particular way he would have it made up, his eye glanced eagerly over the room.— The exquisite taste of the housemaid was visible everywhere. Geraniums and roses• smiled hi the winter sun beams that crept so lovingly into the narrow casement; the white muslin that draped them hung in folds grace ful as snow wreaths; pencilings as rich almost as mezzotints, hung upon the walls; the rockers were cushioned with rose colored muslin; hits of cloth, gorgeous in hue as autumn leaves, wo ven into matts, relieved the bare floor of its scanty look; a guitar leaned un der the tiny mirror, and a few costly books were scattered in an artist-like way hither and thither, wherever the rambling eye would wish to see pinned some beautiful thing. " This is Tuesday," said Herbert; " can I have one by Friday ?" Oh, yes, sir, and sooner if you de sire it." Not sooner, unless you steal hours from the night, and your weary looks seem even now to say that you have done so." " It is the lot of the seamstress," said the lady calmly but sadly. The young man could not trust his voice, to reply, and hastened away.— lii his office he gave way to his feel ings: " She, the beloved and the beauti ful, toiling in menial service, and that angel-like mother sewing for her liv ing. It shall ho so no longer. Thank God for riches," and be seized his pen and inscribed these words on a slip of paper, " an honest debt due your hus band," he enclosed bank notes for five hundred dollars, and addressing the envelope to Mrs, Seymour, of street, dropped it into the post office. Could he have seen the grateful tears that stole down the widow's cheeks, and heard her sonl-touching prayers, as she received it that evening, he would have realized the full force of the text, "It is more blessed to give than to.receive." " Oh, that it were Ellen's evening at home," said she, " thank Heaven, I may . :,.--2,.....- ..2 ,• ..„.-„v. , . ~: • —, 4 c,: ~.,:e., ••,.„. ,i , 4c. - -,, i):•,-..:, ,i * , '..7.•ki :,.• --,.•-• : , 4 .. . - 2: :.'r ,ti :-... f•-:' , - ~. ....i.vi .v . „ ~ ~.... ..,.. :.. •-„4 .,. ...,., .. ~...,.,. ~...„.4._ have her all to myself, again. With this sum in hand, we can be comforta ble, without tasking ourselves as se verely as heretofore.. My beautiful child shall be no longer a menial." Impatiently she awaited Friday eve ning, for then Ellen would surely be with her again. But that eve came and went, and she was left alone. A sudden and severe illness had attacked Mrs. Summers, and when Herbert en tered her house on the sent of the same day ho had sent the generous gift, he found it full of sorrow. Tho physicians only shook'their heads sad ly, when asked if there was any hope, and when the loving ones gazed on the white face of the sick one and marked the intensity of her agony, they turned away with fainting hearts. Now, the full beauty of the housemaid's character was developed. Instinctive ly, they gave up all to her. She di rected the attendants, she soothed lit tle Nell, curbed the wild grief of George, and spoke so sweetly to the mourning husband and brother, that the spirit of faith seemed in their midst. To the sick owoman she was in very truth a ministering angel. No hand so softly wiped her brow, so tenderly bathed the aching limbs, so gently rubbed the .cramped fingers, so deftly smoothed the pillows, so strange ly sweetened the healing draught, brought such cool 'drinks to the hot lips, and such delicious food to the starved palate. Her presence seemed to beautify the sick room. Under her loving ministration, it assumed a beau ty that was almost divine. None knew whether it might be the gate to Para dise or to a brighter life on earth, but all felt that whether the path of the pale one was heavenward or here, it was flower-crowned. Day after day, and night after night, found the fair nurse beside her patient. Paleness gathered on her cheeks and lips, but the same sweet smile played there; lassitude quivered on her lids, but the same hopeful look beamed from the eye ; the limbs trembled with wear inea!, yet obeyed the faintest whisper from the couch. The physicians looked on in wonder that one so delicate held out ,so long under such heavy tasks, and whispered one to another, " under God, she is the healer." And when the crisis came, when Mrs. Summers lay there so deathly that only by pressing a mirror to her lips the fluttering life could be seen at all ; when husband brother, children and friends had stolen softly away, un able longer to restrain their cries, that young girl tarried still, motionless, almost- breathless, silent her prayer:, going upward. Oh, how clear she was to them ,all when again she appeared in their midst, and said in her own low, sweet music -tones, "You may hope." " Bless you, bless you, faithful one !" exclaimed Mr. Summers, as he wound his arms around her. " Henceforth, you are one of the treasures of our household, the sister of my. adoption. Come hither, Nellie and George, and thank her. - Under Heaven, you owe to her your mother's life." Little wet faces were pressed to hers, and pas sionate kisses brought fresh roses into her cheeks. Then a manly hand—oh, how its pressUre thrilled her nerves— grasped hers ; and a full, rich voice murmured, " our angel, sent by God." On a bright and glorious morning, in the mouth of roses, a splendid equi page drove from the city mansion of Mr. Summers. It held a tinnily party, the wife and mother still pale, her convalescence sadly retarded by the fearful illness that had smitten her taco idols; George and Neily, puny, though out of- all danger; the lovely Ellen, no longer maid, but cherished angel of hope and love, thin and white, too, with her winter and spring's nursing; Mr. Summers, his fine face all aglow with chastened joy, and Herbert Lin coln, looking as though a lifetime, of happiness was crowded into a moment. It was the first long drive the phy sicians had permitted the invalids, and they knew not where they were going, at least, none but Herbert. Ellen had declined going " I have seen my mother so little of late," said she, gently, "I think I must spend the holiday with her." But they said no, and promised; if ~she would go with them then, they would leave her with her mother on their return, and she should stay with out limit of time. How lovely she looked, as consenting at length, she came to the carriage in her summer array. Herbert thought lie had never gazed on so exquisite a maiden in all his life, and longed with a frenzy he had never felt before, to fold - her to his heart; the shrine which had been sa cred to her from the first moment of meeting. " What lovely home !" exclaimed Ellen, as leaving the main road, they branched off into a splendid avenue, lined with graceful elms, and came in sight of a small but elegant mansion, draped with rose-vines, and embower ed with rare shrubbery, "I trust it holds happy hearts." "Yes," said Lincoln, warmly, "that it does, and we will to-day share their joy, for it is here we are to stop."— Joyful eNclamations burst from them all. It seemed like a beaming of light in fairy land, that beautiful place, to those senses so long pent up in the chambers of sickness. They were ushered into a parlor that seemed the abode of the Graces, so charmingly were beauty and utility blended. A moment they waited ere the rustling of satin announced the ap proach of the lady, to whom they werp making so unceremonious a call. She entered, and in a second Nellie Summers was clasping het round the neck. "Grand-mamma Seymour, the furies did come to you, as you told me last week perhaps they would some time. Oh, lam so glad:" TERMS, $1,50 a year in advance. Mr. and Mrs. Summers _stepped for ward and grasped her hand; but Her bert and George, where were they 7 kscream from ellie announced them. Pale and passionless Ellen lay in their arms. She had not seen her mother, but tier oyes had caught sight of a small Greek harp in a pillared niche, her own father's gift, and sold by her when they left that proud city of scorn. Memories so many and sad had unstrung her nerves. Joy seldom kills, though. When awakening from her swoon, she met the tearful eyes of her mother, she felt assured there was some blest mystery to be told.. It was all soon explained. Herbert and Mrs. Seymour bad become fist friends in the past winter—be had cheered the lonely hoUrs of Ellen's absence—he had learned her story and assured himself that foul wrong had been (Toile her husband. Employing the best counsel in her native city, he bent all his own energies and talents to the cause, and sifted the matter 'to its very root, and triumphed, too. The fair name came back fiurer than ever, and the wealth with it, too; the wretches who had blackened the one and stolen the other, cowardly fleeing, instead of making manly confession. " I have to thank Mr. Lincoln for it all," exclaimed Mrs. Seymour, at the close of her recital, "and I have to pay him yet," and she glanced arch at him. "Bills should be settled, even amongst friends." Herbert hesitated a moment. Then be knelt beside her. " I have no mo ther," he said sadly. "Be as one to me, and I am repaid a thousand times." She threw- back the raven locks that clustered on his noble brow, and im printed there a calm, sweet kiss.— ‘,‘ My son," said she solemnly," "I adopt you into my love; Ellen, receive a brother." But Ellen was gone.— They caught, however, a glimpse of white muslin in the green shrubbery, and she was followed, not by both, though; Mrs. Seymour had, indeed, risen, but a sudden thrilling pulse in her warm heart checked her, and she resumed her seat. Herbert hastened out and found her under the shadow of an old elm, on a bed of moss, with her lap full of rose buds. Seating himself beside her, he whispered to her willing ear, long and passionately, his heart's adoration, and with a radiant look of joy, led her back to the house and to her mother's knee. "As a brother, Ellen will not own me," said he, "but when I asked her if coma day,. not very far away, she would call me by a dearer name, she was more willing. Our hearts have long been one—bless, mother dear, oh, bless the union of our lives!" How Not to Correct a Fault, "Well, Sarah, I declare ! you are the worst girl that I know of, in the whole country !" "Why, mother ! what have I done ?" "See there ! how you have spilled water in my pantry! Get out of my eight; I cannot bear to look upon you —you careless girl!" "Well, mother, I couldn't help it !" This conversation T recently over heard between at mother and her daugh ter. Mrs. A. the mother, is ft very wor thy woman, but very ignorant of the art of flunily government. Sarah, her daughter, is a heedless girl, of about ten years old. She is very. much ao cnstomed to remove things out of their proper places, and seldom stops to put them in again. On the occasion re ferred to above, she had been sent to put water• into the tea-kettle, and had very carelessly spilled a considerable portion of it upon the pantry floor. After the above conversation, which, on the part of the mother, sounded al most like successive claps of thunder on the ears of her daughter, Sarah es caped, in a pouting manner, into an adjoining room, and her mother wiped up the slop in the pantry. • Well, thought I, my dear Mrs A., if that is the way you treat your (laugh ter, you will probably find it necessary to wipe after her a great many times more, if you both live. Such family government as hero set forth seems to MO to be liable to several serious objec tions. The reproof was too boisterous. Chil dren can never be frightened into a knowledge of error, or into conviction of crime. It is their judgment, and their taste for neatness mid order, which need training, and not their ears. It was too unreasonable. The child was, indeed careless, but she bad done nothing to merit the title of "the worst girl in the country." Children are sen sible of injustice, and very soon find it difficult to respect those who unjusily treat them. It was too passionate. The mother seemed to be boilingover with displeas ure and disgust ; and under this excite ment she despised her darling ehjld— the very same that, in a short time af terward, when, the storm had blown by, she was ready to embrace in her arms, as almost the very image of per fection. It was inefficient. Sarah retired, un der the idea that her mother was ex cited for a very little thing, which she could not help. Thus she blamed her mother, and accjuited herself. If you have great talents, indus try will improve them; if moderate industry will supply them. Nothing is ever denied to well directed labor; nothing is ever to be attained without it. Remember, a roan's genius is al ways in the beginning of life as much unknown to himself as others—and is only after frequent trials, nttended with success, that he dares think him self equal to' the undertaking in which those who have succeeded, have fixed the admiration 2f 01 mankind. The French Gpvernmet and Arneri.can, ga.illardet, the rails correspon dent of - alp Cowrie/. des Etats and who also, by his articles in the Paris Presse, contributes very mate rially to the formation of public opin ion in France relative to. American af fairs, Writes as follows to the Courier : ‘.E T?rance saw with sincere and'unan imous regret, discord appear in the bosom of a confederation which is in part its own work,• and whose power is necessary to its interests. The wish es of France were favorable to a recon ciliation. and to the Union.. The Em peror Napoleon openly expressed his wish to Mr. Faulkner, and has abstained from saying or doing anything which could encourage the separation of the South, despite the advantages Which such a separation promised to the come merce of Europe in general, and to that of France in particular. But to day the division of the Union is ac complished; and at the moment when the Confederate States of the South ap ply themselves to enlarging:the freedom of their ports to foreign industry, the North restricts the entrance to its har bors. While those lower their tariff, these raise theirs., It is the slave States who show theraselves progres sive, and free States who Shosethow selves retrograde.,The Ameriean - peot ple, which so ractical, may . under stand that Europe shOuld be a little like itself, and go whither'its interest call. The Southern Confederacy, by prohibiting the slave. trade, as fore stalled the moral opposition of Europe. There will be. in America only five more-free ports. fox us. This is What the Republicani-of the North 'should not forget, if it ie not already too late. The .3lbniteur says:the new tariff should be one of the first sacrifices made to their reconciliatt, with the South; otherwise Europ . will end by seeing only a fortunate. went in a separition which she at grit' deplored ; and it will become not and right but a duty for us to recognize the independence of the new Confederacy.".' NO, 41, A letter from Guerero, Mexico, tells something of a now Saint, who is cj ' Ling a, great excitement at Mier, about ten miles distant from that place. It says: " Fancy a man, about sixty years of ago, very dark and vulgar looking, with a long white beard reaching half way to his waist, grey moustache and hair, with a hat of the old high Crown ed, broad brim Mexican style black wool, a coat of striped sack-cloth, pants of the same, a dirty white shirt, open down the bosom, sandals on a pair of very dirty feet, tied with' strings com ing up between the toes, and you have a personnel of a man who wields a rod of iron over about 2,000 human beings, and they following him and kissing his feet and hands, and firmly believ ing him to be the God of Hosts. I was with him all clay—took sup per with him and had some conversa tion with him. I asked him about peace in Mexico and the United States. He said there never would be peace again, in either country, u4til the world was destroyed. His mode of doctoring is curious. His medicines are atjua ordientp' and water. He rubs it on the affected parts while the patient is kneeling. He has performed seine astonishing cures, and supports the people who aro with him. He buys beeves, divides amongst them, gives them clothing, and supports them entirely, Where the money comes frora I do not know; but I do know that he supports them, and at an enormous expense. This is no hear say' what I have said. I have seen, and unless I had, would not believe." Never burn kindly letterf. It is so pleasant to read them over when the ink is brown, the paper yellow , with ago, and the Mud that traced ti) • friendly words, lie folded over the hearts that prompted them, - under the green sod. Above all, never lutra love-letters. To read them in after years is like a resurrection of one's yOuth. The el derly spinster finds in the impassioned offer she foolishly rejected twenty years agd, a fountain ofrejuVeneseence. Glan cing over it she realkies that she was once a belle and a beauty and beholds her former self in a Mirror much more congenial to her taste than the one that confronts her in her dressing room. The "widow indeed" derives a sweet and solemn consolation from the let ters of the beloved one, who has just journeyed before her to the far off land, from which there comes no messages, and where she hopes one day to join. him. No photographer can so ViVldly recall to the memory of a mother, the tenderness and devotion of the children who have left her at the call oflfeav en, as the epistolary outpourings of their filial love. The letter of a true son or daughter to a true mother, is something better than an image of the features; it is a reflex of the writer's soul. Keep all loving letters, barn onl.rtbe harsh apd cruel ones, and in burning, forget and forgive them. A BAD 'NIGHT.—.4 gentleman WSW once dining with a friend, when a most dreadful storm arose. In hopes of abatement, the entertainment was pro longed to the latest hour; but at length it was over and the storm showed no signs of ceasing, but on the contrary, grew worse and worse. The hest in sisted upon his guest's acceptance of a lodging for 4 night, in view of the impossibility of reaching his, home. The guest complied, but in a few minutes was missed frem th© parlor.— In Indian hour he veappeared, drenched with rain. " Where in Heaven's name, have you been I" asil.ed the host; viewing the singular looking object, which looked like a dog around the paws and a weeping willow about the head. " said he, quietly shaking off the water, If I have 'been at home to tell my wife, that, as it was such a bad night, I should not return." ge - Mr. Brown, you said the defen dant was honest and intelligent. What makes you think so—are you acquain ted with him ?" " No, sir, I never seen him." " Why then do ynu come to such a conclusion 7" " Cause, he takes ten newspayers and, pays for than ii adeaxee;" Affairs. A Mexican Saint Old Letters.
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