m
i
£
iiß
JJ? JOHN B. BRATTON.
I VOL. 38.
W#fi t •»,'
poetical.
Tt r«.y u.:
SONO.
■‘■•’“Sl.V
v ' , Aliveme tho drink which naturedistils
■ *•• . i Deep }n tlio hcart of tlio motmlaln,
x j ; uWhleli gushes forth hi sparkling rills,
,- w . .U' s Its never failing fountain; • • .
. ... --Sphere's health In tho draught when freely .quanta,
•'V °> iSnll 4t frees tho heart from anguish;
1 f.* t'i'-f Atiidit'cu'ols the hrain, asautmner rain.
»v jOpils tho earth and flowers that languish.
i. Uow swonl to the ear the sound It makes,
1 SiQver’tlio precipice rushing! ■• v •••
aontiy thrmish meadow hrakes,
-o. i'll APrafeup from the groan award gushing; .
tK along It hears a song
to tho ghinous Giver,
gave to the earth of priceless worth, .
,’ ‘ r fountain, and rill, and river.
: I When cleaves to the mouth the porched tongue,
, When fovor within is rngingl
r/fiynrds havu not told, nor poets sung
1 • How sweet is the draught, how assuaging;
'i' ■ e'l- 'tfheit fancy teems, with glorious dreams
■i- ‘ . • Of waters In deserts welling—
'. . Or green moss that cling to rocky springs, ■
; .i, 'And of rills to rivers swelling I
i . Then gi*o me the drink which nature distils,
1 ' -Been tn the hooit oftho mountain, .
■'.jf t'.’r Which Rushes forth in sparkling rills,
- r From its never lalllng fountain,
f VTfftoi-/ Away with the bo«j. which brings to Ilia soul
i Jt Out shame, and rnsgracu ami madness I
n '* P* vo mo the draught, when freely quaffed,
r>> Thai blesses the heait with gladness.
HAPPV DATS.
BY CHARLES UaCKCY.
jack—come back-thou youthful lime (
i Jny and Innocence were our*,' .
l(o was in Its vernal prime,
redolent ofaweutaaml flower*. .
iack! and let ns ruAm onco more,
•hearted through life'* pleasant ways,
liber garlands ns of yoro,
1 back-come back—ye happy days!
mck—come back—'lwas pleasant then
herish faith In Love ami Truth;
tiling in dispraise of men
sour'd tiie lumper oi our youth's
iackl -ami let us still believe
gorgeous dream romance displays,
ml the tain that men deceive,
back—come back—ye happy (lays I
jack, oh freshness of (he past I
n every fttco siMimcil fair ajul kind,
sunward every oyo woe seal,
nil the shadows fail behind ;
’rack I 'twill come: true hearts can turn
r own Decembers into Mays I
;rci ho it ours to learn,
come—they come—those happy days 1
■ii' ■ : to** l latwmw.
froStf CHILD ON THE PRAIRIE.
11111 l
£ Ami a little grave they made her,
V ‘lioclmrch-yar.l cold they laltlhor—
' ho* 1 «'>fuy down to rent,
• a vvliito rose on Jjprbteait—
i • r Poor little Neill" '
.* Mas. Nicnou,
BV MARY mviNQ,
\ jOinhft’osly morning in November found us jour.
I,t?g t 9*ar the prairie. ll wus past the hour of the
.'A' ;.j n, y£W' l * lul, Bh the sullen luminary had nol do.
Ihl corner veil to give
‘sSßßjM||£fr(lng peep. Tjip'cqid sweep of
twenty iniltft lo llm.»oqibyuTd' t Qumo m*.
e»r»s;}T{ Wei rt g vtl trb ug f»" ef e ry*j»dro_ oC
muffling*, 'and. ,fihulJyNileo; uyyuy. in:
•skiriipg our western t aS*»nj , .f
Mb* *%bVta dft' ‘npb n the ocean shbrd; The roads jiudbeeii''
g thrown into rlMos by “ the cqujuoxl.il 1 * and Itslnirr
| .‘ .Blonnef so thol wo hud been dragging
| in rough, the day at a most unsatisfactory rale of
| |r«Vel,'and were far enough from our anticipated ha.
6 .ton,
7 y •* Dear !is (hero not a house on (Ills cvcrlasl.
4ng’prairie 7” spoke, at lasi, one of the company, in
lonoihalf Binoiliered by (ippel and buffalo robe.
■!, ‘'Plenty of log cabins in the woods yo dur,” re
turned ttie one addressed, “ Would you like lo make
«em is there not a public house, a tavern of
ind, where u liall'.lrozuiriraVeller might find
law his fingers by ?**
«—we shall oomo to - *a Corners directly.
.there la the house, away beyond that swell
g-ttwo story—d’ye see 7"
is (ho village, cli7 n
w/v "i say it wus a village! It is a point
■} Where four? foods meet, nml cluoisey enough Toads
| • they are;too;to bo sure!"
■ _ J,’ As wo drew near lo (ho house, a curiously huddled
- i together combination of logs, mortar and whitewash,
' * more from convenience (Inm elegance, we took no.
% lice of'tin upright polo in front of which once,
’} -evidently, held up a grateful invitation to gners by.
'■! -But .now It only creaked must taiilulizingly and
~ inhospitably-In the wind.
- “TheyVe.iSkrn down the sign, you see— oata are
l’ soliloquized nur driver, recun*
. i noiterlngv , 1 * But never mind—l calculate wo can
*j findaocommodation.* 1
| AApr;'*;, moment's parley with an old mnn in a
\\ brimlets white hat, who sauntered through (he door*
• way.at'buMpproach, and nodded assent, with un air
of dignified,nopehulonco, to our eager inquiries,-we
f were Tilled (Vomour carringo, gl.id enough (o unbend
' • our stiffened sih(isclcs by ttio blueing firo llial had
I toeokohoaiie'tnfough (he window-pmee,
, r A soon smoking before us, fit for a
,V; hungry. U«Veller«—a bruco of prairie chickens, fresh
I frpm, Ink feqoetand nooks where they swarm at that
- .’|-f -gupon, fcprntsbid with minor dishes of onions, saui.
- ' Jiges end ‘‘eodr-kraut,” llio favorite dish of tho tier
.l
daughters of tho old host had sprond the
|tPQ«rd, 'before us; und after their tusk was finished, I
ytttjofrd Jhst both went at once to tho window, laid
VWplr'neias each against a pane, and peered anxiously
?*»Tiiey?»ron't coming, bo they 7" Inquired the
knocking the ashes from his pipe irv
\<ne,florper of the wide.arm chimnoy.
> j Mi, It's high limo they wore bock. There's
ill tho cnws lo milk and fodder yet, and then—" '
i f The nosr tramping of hoofs cut off iho girl's'son.
/rt#nce,«nd {n a few minutes a couple of young men
their shaggy overcoats and shaggier
aooki, end drew up to tho blazing logs, to unsllflbn
T tiholr benumbed fingers.
I ' •" What'eibo nows?"
* j ! Anything found, Royal?" inquired the sisters,
tesgofJy proofing to hia side, while the father throat
Iho corner of hia mouth unllglilod, In
to catoh the answer.
10 1'* replied Ro_y«l slinking his bonded
ally, so that hia long, black hair Toll
r hia oyca, that wore fixed on the glim*
'
never*ll come to light alive!” exclaim*
Blurting up to face üb, in front of the
isnda clasped behind his back. ’ " Nov.
I on the prairie this biller cold night I
fh enough to kill a clever coon, much
of a little girl like her!"
'#!” responded the slater, feelingly,
r'hiloP* * afio’a boon out q'duors, and
f . “T’. 0 .‘ h ' r N Blel ' l J w ' ,n ' 1 0,1111 > illo this.. She won't
/ <«Uod It joef may depend on that.”
1 do ?’h oul •» " ,l ," r.m.rkcd 111.
* d ° "* no<l - 8,10 wm. « puny
ty •■Pr.lly •• > now pink morning glory, tho dor.
Jlng!” interrupted one of the daughter*.
11* Party enoua h to ’tlce some of (hn child iteafers
straggles about! I’d lay my little finger she's
£rnrenongn away by this day ?"
Whose child Is lost ?" we ventured to put la at a
ofa moment,
i Nel,y Warin ®» oia’am—child to John
■■ -fe'-l:'*
-Waring, that lives over three Imilcs yonder, on tho
prairie. .You see,'Miss— ' ’ '
But I will give llio short slory In my own words,
with additions and .emendations that I aftorwirda
gleaned, from others. :*
John Waring hod come from. New England to
“the weal," with his father’s family, to win a sub
sislenoo from a more generous land-(ban tho.homo
of. hills and valleys. The parents remained in the
part where they landed ;.but John, with 'the helpful,
ready wilted und ready handed “wife of his youth,”
resolved to improve (ho templing facilities, for farm*
Ing. So lie purchased a lot on our prairie, built him
a snug “ nest,” and took home his dove to cheer it.
• They, were fur from any neighbors, but that mut
tered little to them. : Each was u little world to the
other—and very huppy, as well .us very prospotptft,
were they in their flower girt retirement. Towards
the closed- the third year, John hud laid by,enough
la build what a thoroughgoing farmer ranks for. bo*
fore a house in importance—u good, capacious barn.
Very spacious It was, with dns, stalls and lofts in
abundance, where ono might, indeed, 44 lay up-much
goods for many, .years.” Ond coiild. not blamo lls
framer, for the thrill of satisfaction (hat warmed h)s
heart, when (ho last rafter and clapboard Were nailed,
and tho-complete building, in its newlcost of red
paint, blushed in the bluzu of sunset. His busy,
cheerful helpmate, with hands lucked up under apron,
came out by tils side to minglo congratulations with
his delight, • And she came not alone; a wee blos
som, Toiror than ever prairie in Its wildness bore,
had budded hi her arms two years before.
% Little Ellen Waring was a child of most uncom
mon beauty. Her eyes had caught their tinge from
llio violets that open to the eye of Spring, in tho edge
of the woods—her check's were changing os the soil
clouds of a July noon, half fleecy, half roseate, Cush*
ioned languidly on the light,blue pky. Her baby
forehead seemed, purely radiuhl with tho-smile of
her guardian angel, half shadowed by curls of ming
led! chestnut and gold j bul a smile, all tier own,
twinkling'in her eyes, and dimpling in her. checks,
linked her to earth, and. to at! hearts so lovingly 1—
Every one. marked the child, at first glance, as a
pearl of exceeding price.
Cynics may sneer at it os (hey will—beautiful it
the “ open sesame” to the universal human heort —
and there is no beauty so sweetly winning—so (ike
a dew drop purely fresh from Heaven, glowing in
Us glory yet, os the beauty of e lilllo child !
When the was carried to tho oily, tho home of her
grntid.pnrcnts, her tottering stops were often arrested
in the streets by strangers,-who pressed forward to
exclaim Involuntarily, “ what a beautiful child!”—
”An angel!” “JSho’s not for.earth, tong, sure!”
This last foreboding seemed to grow into a presen
timent in the mind of the grandfather. In.vain did
the eyes 01. little Ellen look into his, mocking uII Ms
fears.' In vain did ho sco that she was springing no
ns. healthy end hardy ns a wild rose or a prairie
chicken ; he pressed buck her curls always onxldtisly
and looked Intently into her face, often pressing her
in his rough srms, as though ho feared that some
unseen hand .would snatch her away, even then.
“ Little .pet 1 take carp of. her! don’t let anything
come to her, John!” wd§ his last parting charge, ns
ho .kissed her on both rosy cheeks, and lifted her
carefully into the wsgnn after her parents.
41 Never you fear, father ; ynn’ll see how «ho shall
spring up in the pruirio grass!”
“ Well,-well. God knows {"-replied thegrandfather,
drawing his. left sleeve actoai his eyes. “ Good bye,
and God bless you all !'*
' Two evenings previous to the one of our stay at
ihe log tnVorn, John Waring went out to his barn,-
lo secure his cattle for Ibo night, and,.go.lhrqugh
lliaj indeßprrbriVln routine of
nomprisiDi uniti'r’ (Its eonvenionl nn rrtS'On. ratlin res.’ 1
Little Ellen.’plfnded logo Willi him, ‘‘Sbe-diaß been
tmijding cub ensile**before - Iho henrlh HU a peony
iflusli l bloomed on one hoi little cheek; and then, tired
of her play, she inid been toddling nrnnnd in (he
wake"of hpr busy mamma’s footsteps, clinging rest.
Icssly Id her dress.
" Slay by pnpit, Ellie, pet I** said the,mother, ns she
lied the llitle blue {mod under her chin, and pinned
a warm, while blanket over the bare dimpling stionl
dors. “ l.lln go with papa !” laughed the little fairy,
dancing gleefully under her ninlher’s hands. "Come,
Ellie. 11 culled papa, reaching-out his -hand, ns he
fastened (he last button of his working truck. She
sprung to him, and swung her little self out of (he
dour by his strong lore finger. The barn was Juki
across (lie rood t tram the house. Skipping, tip the
platform, Oirongh the unfolding leaves of the great
barn door, she clapped her bahy hands lo the scamp,
cring chickens, shouting lo the echoes, climbed up
lo peep through'the tails at tlte “red calf* and
scrambled down In terror of-the cow's nervously
shaking her horns. At Inst she (rotted
demurely, in pursiiil of hen’s nests, tossing and tumby
ling on (ho nbw-mndo.hay, wiirbling like a.merry
turn swallow nil the white. The father was in anil
out, hero and there, occupied with his varying bus!.
ness.
The sun went down, and the shadows of the long,
dimly-lighlcd ratters began to deepen and blacken.
With half a sigh of weariness, the little onu rolled
off lha soft huy mow.
"Como in liniiso, papa, Ellin tired," ahe besought,
looking up, coaxingly into Ilia face.
"Is Ellie tired? Elite may go to mamma, then
Hu stooped to kiss her cheek, swung hack the door,
opened Iho gale, and saw her Inddlu through it, and
turned again to his.unfinished work. '
Half un hour pissed, and ho walked, whistling
carelessly, towards (he house, the duties and toils of
the day all over. His wife turned hastily toward
him mb he set down the brimming milk.piiil upon Hie
well scoured plno table.
** What have you dune, with Elite? Il’e late for
her to bo out."
*• Ellon I why t sent her in half an hour ago I" ho
exclaimed, startled.'
"You sent her in! She has not been boro! I
have not seen her!" returned tho mother—and. fiing.
ing open tho.donr, she called, quickly, " Ellen I"
. Tho sound rang shrill over the prairie, and echoed
loudly and lingeringly from the blank walls of the
barn—but no Ellen's voice gave answer. The mother
clasped her hands, and u quiver of ogony trembled
on hnr compressed )l]fc.
" Don't be frightened, Mary—she's strayed a bit
down (ho path, ll'e likely S I’ll bring her In a minute
or two."
John Waring sprang nvor the stops as ho apnko,
and rushed out of her sight, around the corner of the
born.
“ Gliie, Ellis, my pet! Elite, dear I" ho called and
oaltpd again, and he listened for on answer until his
ears ached and his brain reeled with the utter silli
ness. Then he plunged Idto Iho long, wild .prairie
grass, trampling down (he'purplo and golden flowers
like weeds.
"Whore Is she? Where ie the 7", brenlhod tho
mother, with a sunpresaed shriek, so her husband
burst open (ho door again, In the gathering night.
" Mary.” ho uttered, in a lone of ogony, “slip la
not to be found ( Give mo the bridle, quick 1 I must
go for help before it grows 100 into? Oh, God!
there Is no moon to night t Mary, dear Mary," he
added, catching one look of her anguish froxen face,
Vwo shall find her yet! God will keep her—don’t
lose heart!"
•<oh, John! she la our only one t God could not
toko her away!" whispered the mother, huskily,—
A quick, sympathising glance was all her husband’s
reply, as he opened (lie door end rushed forth.
Mary Waring listened . till tho last echo of his
horse's hoof-boats hod died sway on the still prairie,
and there was only the beating of her own heart to
brenkthe strange, heavy silence. She still stood in
the doorway, heedless of (he cold, damp night breeie
(hat played among her look*. • Her hands were bleep*
ed tremulously, In that attitude half of hope, half of
hopelessness, which sculptors hsve so often striven
to portray. There seemed scarcely a ripple of breath
to flow from her parted Dp*# and her eyes were In.
tomly piercing the darkness, to where a lone star,
the evening alar hid arisen, red In.the cloud mists
of the horiion. Starting, with & quick aob, from her
reverie, she called, with a half despahlng cry.
* OUR COUNTRY—MAY I T ALWAYS BX RIGHT—BUT R tGIITOR WRONG ,OUR OOUN.TRV**
CARLISLE, PA-, THURSDAY, JUKE 12,-1851.
-> Elliot'Elite! my child I"
. Sho‘ liAloned. The echo muttered back her call
confusedly, and died away in silence.
11 Elllo, darling,'come to mamma 1” she called,
more gently, as though Touring to have frightened
bar Tnilo ono by'the former wild cry, but ullwas
unheeded.' ’
She look two wavering, steps from the door; then
tho sudden crackling of (ho Bre log culled her back,
and aroused her. to n second thought.
: “ No,'l must hot'go oui!”'alio exclaimed throwing
herself down upon the hearth,-“ I could nol trace tho
dour cronturo where ho has Tulledf und I must even
wait! “ Oh, God! give mb patience and strength ?”
That prayer was never raised in vain. Mary
Waring grow calmer os she sat, with her head buried
in'her apron*, moveless ns a statue, save thectmvul
sive quivering of her lips and chest. How many
minutes that thus passed, she knew hot;.but a hand
on the latch string startled her lo.hor feet In on in*
slant. It.was thu wife of her nearest neighbor, who
come in.wil'h'it cheeked blanket shawl folded round
her head and shoulders,
. •*.De«r mo Miss ’Warin'ain't youdreadful lone
some like? Mr. Wsrin* cams thunderin’ up to bur
steps, and I says to Humphrey, says I, there’s some
body took sick on o sudden, and they have sent for
mo! I hadn’t more than, rolled; the words off rny
longue, afore John burst the door nail; and, says he,
* Mr. Humphrey will you do a neighbor a kind turn 7
My child is astray on tho prairie!’ ’ Sorry cools we
would ha* been, if we hadn't help a neighbor in thno
o’, (rouble! Humphrey fetched up old Sorrel in a
twinkle, while John drove ahead to Warner’s. Says
I to Humphrey. It’s distrncled-liko Mary Warin’
will be, poor body, takln* over her baby j und it being
all she had, and the beautlfulesl creature, too, that
over—”
• f Oh. don’t Mrs. Humphrey I” exclaimed Mary,
breaking, for (he first lime, (he tangled string.of her
well meaning visitor’s would bo consolations. :
“There! well, I didn’i mean In rake up your feel
in’s dear! but* olj is, Bays I to Humphrey, I’ll slip
on my shawl in a jiffy, and trot across lo Mary's.—
Siio oughl’nt to be alone tills while, and I’ll cheer
her tip lo hoping a bit, may be.”
Some less garrulous comforters would have been
more congenial lo poor Mary; in her hour of silent
sorrow. Dul slio was grateful for tho godd will that
prompted her neighbor’s visit; and she knew lhul.lt
is not always good to bo alone. So she strove to
smite thankfully, and even lo converse with her chat
lering'guest, though every sound grated bn her ner
vous cars, (hat were aching to' catch the slightest
echo of-a footfall without. .
The. con Is crumbled luw on tho hearth', nnd Mary’s
hnpo went down with (heir (fleam. Like (ho hum
of a spinning wheel,'her companion’*'low, monoln
nous (ono wns ringing in her cars; hut she look no
nolo of her words, as sho pneed heavily across tho
boards, or by a violent effort, forced herself to sit
calmly a few moments in her rush.rooking ahnlr.—
At intervals, a distant call startled both to tho door,
and they Heard die namo of “ Ellen” swell and die
over tho dry; Whispering grass, whilo dim lanterns,
like shooting stars, glanced and swayed In tho dis.
lance. Not until morning did one of (ho anxious
scorchers enter (he house, and then ho brought,no
tidings.
That day, fifty men mounted on horseback, and
as many an foot, trucked tho prairio up und down ;
buck und faith, lor many miles. They pushed into
tliu woods ih.tl skirted ono rdgo of the firm, leaving
nolb stone or log ulitui ned, frightened every timid
squirrel and pnrtridgo from' its nook, with the ono
cry uf-*“iSncn'liltlo Ellen I" ' :s ■ • •' •
and (he.next night-
.Uoftjrtiwoeod,; VYWuh : w/ns the d-ty
qno hundred and 'fitly .•hpriuinbn, (you
would not hard supposed ihstlho thinly dotted pml.
rio could have furnished llidf number, unless (hoy
hud sprung up, like the armed men from .(ho sown
dragon's teeth,) followed in the truces oftho others,—
and, like them, dime buck at night wjth tho full con*
vieliun that they hud nut left a bush.ndr a sod untried
or untrodden.
A mensago had al firs! boon tent, to the grandpa*
renin—mid comhtg with nil possible speed, (hey or.
rived «n •ho morning of third day, Tim poor lather
of the lost Ellen, worn out with (haling, watching
nnd agony, fell down in a swoon ul his mother's feet,
it a lie rnsu to receive herl Mary was more calm;
and limy fluid she 101 l (ha pang loss keenly. Woman
like, sho hud learned lo hide tlio lliom that was
piercing her heart, nnd lo smile white Ihnl hunrt
wan bleeding. Thai the child must have been stolon,
seemed now lo lie the opinion of every ,one.
“Oh! I could boor to know thut she la dead, 11
were olinoGl the first words of John Wiiring, on re*
covering from l>ls fainting Jit; “ but this uncertainty,
thin suspense, it will kilt mo."
Who could have stolen the child, snd with what
motive, were questions not to be satisfactorily an .
swvrcd., Perhaps sumo strollerj wlio. hud caught n
sight oChcr sweet luce In the city—and thu parents'
hearts thrilled will, new terror at the' thought— an
old Indian, wandering oil, tn (ho neighborhood, who
hud sometimes been provided with u supper on lllajx
hearth, mid « bed in their barn; , , •a*
An advertisement Was inserted in nil the papers
of the region, describing the lost child, nnd offering
n la rgu reward lo any person who would bring tidings
of her.
Still the search was kept up near homo, though
almost hopelessly, The neighbors could not rid
their minds of the impression that somoiraco, shred
of her dress, some . little shoe or shoo (ruck, might
yet lead lo (he dlsooyory of her body—llio spirit must
long since havo.taken wjng,
One morning, it,wus nearly a week after (ho little
one hud 101 l her homo, one of those gleaners of u
forlorn hope was pacing the prairie slowly, thinking
of his nwn. beloved 'children, nnd of (ho anguish
stricken parents in their loneliness, when his eye
caught (ho sight nf a dark object, dimly scon through
the waving meshes of the prairie sedge. Ho tOok
ono bound forward—nnd the veil of mystery was
rent from little Ellen I
There she lay—cradled In a hollow hntwoon two
hillocks nf the prairie, so narrow as to bo unobserved
except in one direction, within ana short half mile
of her homo ; there, while her friends, In tendorcsi
tones, were calling her—trampling all around, and
almost upon, her, sweet Ellon hud lulu, silent and
cold, five freezing nights.
The man for onn moment,stood transfixed by sur
prlso and grief; and then, with t\ deep breathed
groan, springing to the spot, ho lifted up the stone*
like form of (he child,and looked Into her face. It
was like a waxen statue In its pure beautiful while*
ness. The angel of the frost, who had opened the
goto of death (a her spirit, hid transfigured cheek
and brow, when lie breathed Ills chill blast upon
them. She had dreamed a.swool dream bnfuro she
owokoin Paradise, for a smile was frozen on her
still face, like the first flush of a sunbeam after a
shnwer. Her eyes, like half opened violets blighted
by the storms of nn early spring, lay weighed down
with-ioy dew. She had fallen upon her face, proba*
bly in her weariest hour, and the angels had looked
down in pity—they had taken in (ho poor benighted
little wanderer. The lips, when life had ebbed
‘away, were parted, us though. In a grmlo, sweet
surprise, alto had heard the call— I “Little Ellen, come
to Heaven I"
Ho untied (ho lilllo blue hood, end period back
the curie, heavy with hour froet end icicles. He
lore away (he blanket, end foil whore (lie heart Imd
throbbed, but life had frozen at its spring long be*
foie, The touch of the round, hard arm chilled hie
Inmost nerves—but he lifted it, for it grasped some*
thinrf lightly in its palm* He unclenched the stif*
fonod Anger*, and took ewny the treasure—purple
end while flowers of (he prairies, wild asters and
dairies; frozen, like herielf, In her dying grasp.
Poor little th|ng, they told her story wo!) enough.
Bhe had always loved flowers,'bud of Paradise that
aho wait and when she had left her' father 1 * aide,
they had beckoned her, waving their bright heads
among (he tall grasses. Bhe loitered to pluck them
—wandered on—growing weary, lay down to sleep
—and awoke in Heoven.
Suspense bad nerved the parents' hearts to on*
rldro certainty. They looked on the shattered oos-' Perfectly,young man,” replied MissVerjuice;
kot that hud enshrined their treasures, and bowed to " only, when my nephew married, I assumed all his
iho, dispensation of Providence.. But when the debts, and am now rtady mytelf io pdy. your claim!"
thought, of,that.first night—lho agonizing realize* " Fairly trapped, by Jupller!” exclaimed Scatter*
tion that she had .been almost within hearingof the ly, in on ecstucy of delight.
beating of their hearts carno over them, it broke tho “Stop—slop 1” cried .the unhappy gardener, re.
seal of calmness, and the fountain of grief poured coiling from the withered luce, bearded lip, and
forth its deep .bitterness unchecked. , shorp nose of the ancient spinster; “I relinquish
The blighted blossom was bedewed with (ears of my claim—l’li write a receipt in lull.”
many an honest eye that hud seldom opened its . 11 No sir,”,said Sciitlerly, "you pressed me fbr
sluice of sympathy. Rough men, who hud almost payment (his moment—and you shall take yqur
forgotten how to wo?p, in the hardness of their life’s pay. or I discharge you from my employ." :
rugged path, looked into her coffin, and drew, their I "lam ready. l ” said the spinster, meekly,
sleeves quickly actress, their brimming, eyelids.— ] Tom shuddered—crawled up to the old lady—shut
.Warm-hearted Irish women touched the golden his eyes—mode up a hoiriblo .face, and kissed her
curls, an cl ejaculated—"Thodarliht I Rest her soul while Mr. and Mrs. S. stood convulsed with laugh*
with angels—uvdurheon!" ‘ iter.
"Suffer little children to come onto me," said- Five minutes afterwards Tom entered the gar*
tho Sivioqr, “ and ho hath taken her.” whispered dencr’s lodge, pale, weak and trembling, and sank
one stooping to give Iho last kiss to the waxen lips, Into a chair.
before they wore sealed up, till the morning of the "Give mo a glass of water, Phoebe!” ho gasped,
resurrection,.' "Dear! what lias happened?”, asked the Utile
Ellen was burled near her home. The snows rest
lightly on hergravonnw; but in tho summertime
the grata waves whfopcringly over her, and (ho dni
alct tho died; to gather, dot her Jlltfo mound. - It
was filling that shi', tho-fairest, purest, hoaveniicst
flowerof all should eleep under (he flowers of Prof,
rio do la FleurJ ;
A KISS DN. DEMAND.
Wo bollevo the following excellent story, original*
(y appeared in the New York Spirit of the Times.
If it did not, wo crudtl tho author, tho " Old Un,”
fur it and servo it up for those of our renders who
arc fond of the 11 Toast of reason and tho fiuw of the
soul. 11
It was a very peculiar sound, something liko the
popping of a champagne cork, something liko the
report of a small pocket pistol, but exactly like
nothing but itself, ' ll wua a kiss.
A kiss implies two parties—unless U bo ono of
those symbolical kisses produced by one pair of lips,
und walled through tho air in token of affection or
admiration. But this particular kiss was genuine.
The parties In tho cusu were Mrs. Phoobu Mayflower,
the newly married Wife of honest ’rum Mayflower,
gardener to Mr. Augustus Scatlerfy, and. that young
gentleman himself, Augustus was a good hearted,
rattle brained spendthrift; who had employed the
tvvo.br throe years which had clipsed since his mo*
jorUy in making •• ducks and drakes" of tho pretty
little fortune-fall him by his defunct sire. There
was nothing very bad about him except Ids prodigal
habits, nnd by these ho was the severest sufferer,
Tom, his gdrdendr, had been married a few weeks,
und'Gusl. whu had failed to'bo at tho wedding, and
missed tho opportunity of **saluting Ihe bride," took
it into.hia head that’ll was both proper ond polite
that ho slniuld do so on tho first occasion of his
meeting her subsequently to that interesting cere,
many. Mrs. Mayflower, the other parly interested
in the case, differed from him in opinion, and the
young landlord kissed her in'spile of herself. But
slid was not without o champion, for at tho precise
moment when Soatlerly placed Ills audacious Up*, fa
contact with the b Mom log cheek of Mrs. Mi,Tom
entered thu garden and beheld the outrage.
. 'vJkVhst are you doing, Mr. Seattcrly," ho rested?
‘•0, nothing, assorting my rlghlsj
was only saluting th^brldo.”
".Against my vvlll|Tqrumy,’* sold the poor bride,
blushing like a nn'U wiping tho offended
clr«eK.wiili her checkered apron.
-Ami ril mako for it, if litre’s law in
sii'fij Sc.illerJy. ' * ‘ •
M I dun’t ‘mean to," answered the gardener, rather
dryly. 1 ,
" You’re not seriously offended at tho innocent
liberty I look ?•" ■
Yea I be," said Tom.
V Well, If you view it In that light," answered
Scalturly, “ I shall fuel bound to make you repara,
limu You shall havo a kiss from my bride when
I’m married."
“ Thai you will never bo."
“I must confess," said Scottcrly, laughing, “ the
prospect of repayment seems rather distant. But
who knows what will happen. I may not die a
bachelor after all. And if I marry—l repcat.it my
dear fellow—you shall have n. kits from my wife." .
“ No ho shan't," said Phoaho, " he shall kiss no.
body but me."
»• Yes ho shall," said Soalterly. " Have you’got
pen, Ink end paper, v l’om ?"
“Tube sure," answered Tom. " Hero they bo,
all handy." ,
Scullurly sal down and wrote as follows
••Tine Willows, Aug. —i 18—.
Value received 1 promise !» pay Thomas May*
flower, or order, ono kiss on demand.
Augustus Scatterlv.
“There ynu havo a -legal document," said I ho.
young man, as hb handed the paper.to the grinning
.gardener, “ and now,goud folks, good bye."
“ Miclakes will happen in the bast rbgulntcd fain,
ilios," and it so.chanced that in the autumn of the.
saute year, our bachelor mot nl the springs n charm*
ing hello nf Baltimore, lo whom he lost his heart
incontinently, din person and address were attrac
tive, and though his prodigality hod'-lmpalred- his
fortune, still a rich old maiden aunt, who doled nn
him, Miss Persimmon Verjuice, promised lo do the
handsome by litm on condition of his.marrying nnd
settling quietly to (ho management of his estate.
So, under these circumstances, ho proposed, was ac
cepted,'and was married, and brought homo his
beautiful young bride lo reside with Miss Verjuice
at Ilia Willows.
In the early days of (bo Imnoy.monn, one fine
morning, when Mr. and Mrs.Scallorly and I ho maid,
on aiint were talking together in 'tho garden, Tom
Mayflower, dressed in his best, made his appearance,
wearing u smile of most peculiar meaning.
“Julia," said Augustus, carelessly to his young
bride, “ this ia my gardener, coino to pay his re*
specie to you—honest Tom Mayflower, a very wor.
thy follow, I assure you."
Mrs,. Soalterly nodded condescendingly to the
gardener, ,whn gazed upon her with upon eyes of
admiration. She spoke a few words lo him, inquired
about his wife, his flowers, &c., and then turned
away wUh>lhe aunt, as if lo terminate the inter
view, *
But Tom could not (nko his eyes off her, and he
stood guxlng snd admiring,nnd every now snd then
passing (ho,back nf hla hand across his lips.
“ What do ymiihink of my choice, Tom?" asked
Soalterly, confidentially,
.Oh splendiferous!" said (ho gardener.
'•Roses and (lilies in her checks—eh 7" said Scat,
lorly.
•• (lor lips are red os carnation, and her eyes as
blue os larkspurs," sold (he gardener.
“lam glad you like your new mistress; now go
to work, Tom."
■■ <• 1 beg pardon, Mr.,Scatterly,but 1 called to see
you on business."
“Well-out with it."
u Do you remember anything about saluting, the
bride?"
“I remember I paid the customary homage to Mrs.
Mayflower."
. “Wall, don’t you remember what you promised
in case ofyour marriage 7”
“No I" •
Tom produced the promissory note with e grin of
triumph. “ It's my turn now* Mr. Soallcrly,"
“ What do.you mean ?"
“ I mean to kiss Mrs. .Soallerly." .
“Go to the douce, you rascal!"
“Ohl what is the matter?" exclaimed both the
ladles, startled by So<tllerly*s exclamation,and turn*
Jng back to learn (hs oause.
. “The fallow bee preferred a demand against me,"
said Sonllorly.
“A legal demand,” said the gardener slmdily,
“ and here's the document.”
“Give it to me," esid the old maiden aunl. Tom
handed hep the paper with an air of triumph*
“ Am I right?" said ho.
woman.
"Happened? why, that cussed Miss Vojuido is
puving Mr. Scalterly's debts I”
AWeil?”
"Well, 1 presented rny promissory note—ho harid.
ed it to her—snd—OJ murder, I’ve been kitting
the old woman!"
Phoebe pot her arms about his neck and pressed
her lips . to his, and Thomas Mayflower then and
there solemnly promised that he would never .more
have any thing to do with kieses on demand,
A GEM.
Beside tho stream that gently flows,
'At morning dawn I saw a rots -
- In modeil beauty blushing;
More fair than alt on earth beside,
It bent above the crystn I tide, ■
And listened to its gushing.'
Beside the stream that gently flows,
At iivmitide I saw the msi»,
Bui all it» It-avci were faded; -
Such Is tliy flue. oh man l~an hour
ThoU liv'd In home, but like the flower,
Thy hopes ami Joys are shaded.
HINTS ON SLEEP.
"Tired nature's sweat restorer, balmy sleep.
" GArly to bed and early to risn.
Make men healthy,.wealthy, end wits."
" An hour's midnight-is worth two after it."
In what senses‘uan houPs sleep before mid*
niaht
- • It nature that men should go to
restenrly. ’ The birds cease their singing as the
stfp goeA doWpl the sheep and the deer go to their
gallon’ early,‘and throughout nature quietness and
repose are the order of the’night. It Is natural,
lhon,fo x/eepccr/y; and for this ronson it may be
truly said, 41 It Is tvvicb as good to obey nature's
law as to break it.” It Is twlco as good to eleep
regularly, anil habitually before midnight as to wan
until .after it.
V .Sleep ia one of tho greatest of Heaven's bless
ings’, t’ When fatigued and careworn how grateful,
howyrbfreshing-Ita-lnfluence. VVero U not for
sWp,-how dull, would life become.
Th6;iidoy\maV whpJ&bnrji hard the livelong day.
wpuld become of4he pp
.^UbouUC : possibly be sustained fur
tfioWU&p* -
But. reTfeshing, nod<invigorating *s
is thia.provision^mmfroTi'r
people know
Thf-y generally, know almost nblhlng of the real
how to eat drink or sleep. It would seem ns if
ihelr whnlo study were (ff they may be said to
study at nil) continually to get the cart before the
here. Many kinds of tho mo«i unhealthy food
are, by almost every family In Christendom, eaten
merely from habit; and tobacco, lea, and coffee are
used ns If they were the most friendly and health*
ful substance in the world. j
So too in slopping, the room muni be almost her.
metlcally sealed, to keep out the night air, and the
softest feather beds with down pillowa are every
where used. People do not kno\V, or oven seem
to cato lo know that .breathing the air continually
over and over agpin, renders it a perfect poison;
that feather beds and feather pillows are among
the. greatest causes of.physical debility, horrible
dreams, nightmares, nnd, the most unrefrcshlng
sleep that can be. VVho doos not remember of be
ing put in those best rooms with a feather bed so
high' as almost to need a ladder to enable one lo
mount It: and how one almost loses himsoif in
the' smothering envelopcmeiits of tbeso "best
hedsl"
Remember, too what a stench there is naming
from the feathers and the impure air when we on.
ter In the morning such a sleeping room, nnd hav.
ing just come from the fresh air. Will people
generally heed hny admonitions on this'subjectt
Not one In a hundred, wo fear; but now and then
the seeds fall on good ground; nnd this encourages
us lo work on. One of the. most pernicious cus
toms In regard to sleep, is thefiractioaof sluing up
late at night, and losing .iho best and most delight
ful “hours of early morn." Studious persona par
ticularly are apt to contract this habit of sitting up
late al evening, The solemn stillness of night is
supposed to be more favorable for study nnd reflec
tion than the day. And when a person makes a
change, and undertakes to observe the proper hours,
Uft finds that he Is dull lu the morning, a.nd cannot
study so well as at lute hours. Soon, however. If
ho will persevere, howill learn that by rising early
nnd retiring seasonably to rest, ho will accomplish
more with less exhaustion of the nervous power,
than by sitting up Into*. It is. 100, an important
fact, that artificial lights, of whatever kind, are
much more trying to the nerves than the natural
light of day. Oeeulists tell us (hat the former of
ten injure the sight, nnd sometimes produce dis
ease of the eyes, my .difficult to remove.
[ What are we to eny of theolrc-poing people,
1 and thoise who frequent bade, parties, &r., habit*
ually, and late at night ? They are living contln*
uolly In opposition to nature** laws, and must re*
ceivo the penalty. Such people never enjoy good
health. See the fashionable young ladles of our
cities who remain in bed Into In (ho morning and
sit up late at night. How feeble, pale, sallow,
and nervous (hey are; orooked'hnckod often, and
not morn fit for a wife than a doll*hahy, 13ut it la
fashionable! therefore, they must be up lutealnlght
to show off jn soejety.
Shall we sleep at all during the day? It is na*
Mira), evidently, for Infants to sleep much of the
(line, day aa welt ns night.. Naturo demands it.
We think, too, that some feeble persons are the
batter for a "nap" before dinner. Farmers, who i
rise at daybreak, and toil hard during thelongdays
of summer, have a habit of sleeping after dinner*
This may on the whole, do good, since they, in
auoh oases, need more sleep, than they get. at 1
nightt but If they will make the experiment, they *
will be astonished to And how muon mure refresh* i
log the steep will bo bnfnro dinner than after,— 1
Fifteen minutes nleep before (ho meal is better than
a whole hour after it. Wo do not see tho animals
going to steep Immediately after. Sleep during
the day, should.be In the forenoon, to that it ho
not disturbed at night* If a person Bleep in tho
afternoon, he will oe pouch mors liable 19 wake*
fulness at night.
Some have agreed that sleep during the day. In
lha OAse of adults, Is always wrong..' Persons of.
ten feel unrefreshed and feverish after a day-nap.
Women when tired, often throw themselvee upon
the bod, and are surprised to find that they fee)
smothered, feverish, and worse than before. Now
tho oatipe of this ofton la tho lyingdown with their
clothes on, 1 It Is'natural for tho skin to broatbo.
msOOPEBANNDfc
mi.
“Bm” eaysono,“iheclolheeiare'on while we are
up, and why notthaharm then?” ; > /
Because then the clothing is more loose and lhe
skin Is left more tree.. But when we He dowri lhe
clothes are pressed against the skin much more
than when we are up. , To hawDleep refreshings
then, we should remove the external clothing as
we would at night. The if we need sleep It will
bo refreshing. But ss a general fact it must be
acknowledged that it is the beet not to sleep at ell
during the day; to keep active, and then early at
night to rest. Then sleep will be worth the white.
Indolent people have a pernicious way of doling
in (he morning, taking a second hap. The habits.
should be so active, and everything in our power
so regulated, that we sleep soundly, and oh the
first awakening, which,-with good dietetlo and
other habita throughout, will be early, wo tbould
rise. Do not wait in the vitiated air of your room
to sleep more. Rise, wash, drink some cold wa
ter, and if possible go Into the open air. It will
sivo a good appetite a keen relish for the plainest
food, vigor, health, and strength of body, and
peacefulness and contentment of the mind.
Try It idlers, regularly for three months, apd
then lell us if we are nbt right. Try U ye students,
literary men, merchants and ye ladies; It will glva
you a good circulation, warmth of extremities, and
glow of the ohcck, natural, healthful and beautiful.
Try it all. • .
Rules for Homo Education*
The following rules we commend to all oprpa
troha end friends for ihieif excellence, brevity end
practical utility.; They are worthy of beingprint
ed In letters of gold, and being placed In a contpl*
cuous position In every household. It Is lament*
able to oontemplato the mischief mlseryand rain
whlchore iho legitimate fruit of those deficiencies
which are pointed out In the rules to which W«
have referred. Let every parent end.guardian
read, ponder and Inwardly digest* - ‘
1. From yoar chlldreo’s earliest infancy, local*
cate the necessity of Instant obedience* .. ..
2. Unite firmness with, gentleness. Let.yout
children always understand that you mean exactly
what you soy.
. 3. Never promise them anything unless you are
quite sure you can give them what you promise.,
. 4. If you tell a ImlechUdtodoeomething.sbow
him how to do it, and see that It la done.
5. Always punish your children for wilfully
disobeying you, but never punish (hem In anger.
G. Never let them perceive that they can vex
you, or make you lose your self-command.
. 7. If they give way to petulenee and temper*
wait till they' are calm, and then gently reason
with them on the impropriety of ihelr eondubt. >
8. Remember that a little pruent punishment
when the occasion arises, Is much more effectual
than the threatening of a greater punishment should
the fault bo renewed. . t
9. Never give your children anything because
they cry for It. * ■
10. On r>o account allow them to do at one lima
what you have forbidden under the like clrcum*
stances* at another. ~ -
11. Teach them that the only sure and easy way
to appear good Is to be good. • . v - > •
13, Accustom them to make ihjslr Utile recitals
with perfect truth* .. * .
‘ 13.. Nevoc.allow of laid bearing. . ■ jW. ,
genet. Is-tho appointed, ana Ihoooro method Of
soourina. happiness* ' - *’
15. Guard them against lbs. Indulgence tff an
angry and resentful spirit.
If these simple rules were reduced to practice,
daily practice by parents and guardians, how much
misery would bo prevented—how many in danger
of ruin would bo saved, and how largely would
the happiness of a thousand, domestic circles be
augmented! . It Is lamentable to see how extensive
is parental neglect, and to witness the sad and
dreadful consequences In the utter ruin of thoua*
anda.
Stormy Women,
. The editor of the Albany Knickerbocker dlicour*
sea thus:
■ What Is moro disagreeable than a stormy wo*
man 7 A friend of ours, who lives in Pesrl street,
says that he has been on Ihe unfathomed deep, when
tha heavens, pregnant with the direst vengeance,
were delivered of their children of wrath—when
mighty Jovo rode his thundering chariot over tho
mountains of Iho see, and (ho red lightnings glared
at his courser's feel—when the demons of (he lent*
post hollowed in the blast, and (ho angel of destruo*
(ion spread Ids dark plnluns over (he marihefVbark;
but all those unutterable horrors didn't begin with
his wife when out of temper. When she saw tho
mercury of her husband's anger, begin to rise, she'd
throw fat Into the fire, and in (wo minutes be further
up the ladder of wrath than he could ever climb
without taking off h|s boots j and the way ha would
catch hot dumplings on his head was not slow,—
Some women love to scold, and enjoy themselves
best when in a violent passion, and they are as dn«
lovely as lobsters, and se distasteful a* stale mush,
room. We'd rather encounter a wild cat in tbo.for*
eat than a pettleoalod demon In anger*
WIFE—MISTRESS—LADT.
Who marries for love lakes a wife; who manias
for the sake of .convenience takes a mistress; who
marries from consideration takes a lady*. You are
loved by your wife, regarded by your rnlstrdiS,
tolerated by your lady* You have a wife for your*
self, a mistress fur your house and Us friends, a
lady for the world, Yuur wife will agree with
you, your mistress will .accommodate you, your
Indy will manage you. Your wife will take Cairo
of your household, your mistress of your house*
your lady of appearances. If you are sick your
wife wilt nurse you, your ralstpss will visit you,
and your lady will enquire after your health. Von
(nke a walk with your wife, a rido/wlth ycurmfe*
irons, and Juln parties with your lady* Your wife
will share your grlefe, your mist re* a your mooej%
and your lady your debts. If you/ dir, your wife
will shed tears, your mistress lament, and your
lady wear mourning. A year after your death,
your wife marries again, In six ftionths your mis
tress, and In six weeks or sooner, whoa mourning
is over, your Indy.
A Now Hampahlrn Farmer, going to a parish
mecting.,mpt his minister, and told hlcn that hli.
society thought of Increasing hi* salary. “1 beg
of you not to-think of any such thing,” laid iha
minister; ‘-Tor Il ls about as much business, to col
lect my present salary as.l wish to attend lo;lf It
should bo increased, 1 should be obliged let def old
my whole time to collecting It. 1 *
A young gentleman asked a lady onoday “what
shn thought of the married state In general V—
“Not knowing can’t toll,” was the reply, “ but If
you end I were to put.our heads together, 1 could
then glva you a definite answer.' 1
Addison says, 1 never knew a man of good tin*
demanding, a general favorite wlihwonienf some
singularity In his behaviour, some whim in hie
Way of Ufa, and what would bavtmado him ridi
culous among men baa recommended him.to the
other sex.
. lUtiisr Sharp.— A wag, had kept, up i oo'nfln*
ual fire ofwitiloiem at a social partyi whsn »
tleman, who enjoyed snuff heller thaib Jd«ei rf iW
pnn, sharply observed; •" : V !
1 “If you keep on you; will toakd aWry ,*Ieo«nl
person leave,lho hoiim,” < , * A
“That would boo sorry Joke, w f* the dry WMJT
••for-you would certainly bo very lonesome," -
i):
j. i.