JVrERICAKXOLUIjfTEEE.
.DBLISIIKD EVEBY IHOESnAT rfOBHWa DY-
Jaliu B. Bl'Httoir.
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fforftoilv
From the Notristoum Register .
SUMMER FRIENDS.
BY AMELIA,
' %hero arc friends who come to then
Summer flowers are bright,
' the Spring birds sing pn every tree,
S&fcKnd all around is light; 1
jajwhen mirth, and song, and the dance are high,
■K&nd perfumes fill the air, ,
BKnd .the sun shines forth in the glorious sky,
■RThdy ate with tbco everywhere!
ht let the Tempest-gather, ,
|A.nd tho Sun withdraw his ray,
md ho gleam of light or joy illume
mio long and dreary day;
|hcn the fond, the true, and tho faithful hearts,
|Are gathered with tho dead,
fhd Sadness reigns where Mirth hath been,
l_A.nd.Hope hath almost fled.
there, where id nil their friendship 1
Forgotten long ago,
if" it hot quite forgotten ’tia ‘
;BUt mockery of thy woe :
or the careless, cold, and distant smile,
And the altered manner now, -
ay plainer fat than words can tell,
>Tis but an empty show I
Lean not on earth.! ’Twill pierce thee,
Alii pierce thee to the heart!
t last ’twill prove but a broken feed —
Too oft a poisoned dart.
S fairest flowers must wither,
And .its brightest prospects fade,
pd the friends whom thou hast trusted, change
When most thou need’s! ■their aid. :
U there is a land where no change can come—
The; land of the “deathless flowers”—
fliero the loved, and the bravo, and thc.trno
Sf|' have gone,
K'Aml the friends that once were ours
.grief, nor fear, nor death arc there—
here the weary are at rest
fend all tears are wiped from the mourner’soye,
those mansions of the blest I
I HAVE NO MOTHER NOW.
nir b. u. OBiswELt,
.1 hoar the soft wind sighing,
Through every bush and tree;
Where now dear mother’s lying
Away from love and mo.
Tears from iny eyes are starting,
And sorrow shades my brow;
Oh, weary was onr parting—
I hafro no mother now I
j I see the pale moon shining
; •. On mother’s white, head-stone j
’• The rose bush round it twining,
■ Is hero like nie—alone.
And just like mb are weeping
'! Those dew-drops from the bough;
. (Long time she has been sleeping—
i • X have no. mother now!
Jljvhcart la ever lonely,
■ ,Jly liil3 is drear land sad s,
’Twaa he* dear presence only
; „ -That niadjtrmy spirit glad, ■
from morning until even,
Care roats'hpon niy nrow;
She’s gone from mo to heaven —.
; I have ho mother now ! .
3fiio«l(nnjqtio.
THE BEAUTIFUL DECOY.
lOM .THE UNPUBLISHED CHRONICLE OP A
TRAVELLER.
It is well known to all in any degree familiar
ilh the history of Mexico, that a regular sys
,m of highway robbery exists in every section
’ that miserably governed country, and that
irough a want of interference of the author!-
es, this has grown up info such a regular and
irmidable shape, that every traveller must be
repared to put his life at hazard at every
age, or he provided with a suitable contnbu
m for los cabdlros del camino. (the knights of
i road.) who, in the event of Unding you rea
and willing, will make their levy With a po
mess only equalled,by the smiling landlord,
eh he receives your overcharged fare (or
ir last night’s entertainment. Why such
t'cnmtio boldness of robbery is allowed—it
with the connivence at least with rarely
interference of the government or slate au
,-ilies—is one of those mystical matters
ich among others, so puzzle and perplex the
•lligent foreigner, but that such is the truth
■y traveller through that wretched country
bear ample testimony. ~ , „
ne years ago having business which.lirst
me to the Oapital.of Mexico, and thence
ich.thc interiorof the country to the north
-1,1 met with several thrilling adventures,
ih I have recorded for the benefit of .whom-
Cr may take-an interest therein, omitting
f the dales, they being non-essential to the
irest of the narrations,
the first of the scries occurred on the route
men Vera Cruz and the City of Mexico. In
■gular diligencia running between the pla
ust mentioned, I had taken passage, and
passed through the beautiful city of Jalap
and entered the gloomy town of Perole,
lout meeting with any unusnal incident,
igh being continually warned to be on my
1 against the dangers of the road. ■. At Pe
where we halted for a relay and refresh*
inta. all my fellow passengers, took leave of
i very solemnly assuring mo that, if assailed
! lhe Uidrones, or robbers, it wotild be much
: te r for me to take matters quietly, and suf
mvself to be genteely plundered, than to
the risk of having my throat cut for resis
•e as I had somewhat boldly proclaimed it
mv intention of doing, t thankedl them
Tefr advice, and replied that I would take
matter into serious coasiderauon.
? Poro e,I repeat, all who had been ray
janions, from Vera Cruz took leave of me,
being the end of their journey m that di
ion but there was one new passenger here
. forward, whom to ray agreeable surprise.
m d to be a beautiful young lady, some
ity years of age.
mrita Paula, aaT subsequently ascertained
unc to be, was indeed one of those rare
ies seldom met with except in the works
lion—tall, graceful, with a profusion of
dack hair—soft, clear melting dark eyes
.lires as perfect as ever came from the
of the sculptor, and with an animation
lost fascinating, varying in- expression
wery changing mood of the intellectual
ior. A glance at her bewitching dark
rowed me that she was one who was
!y of social disposition; and aa we rat
.ckt-avray from the gloomy town, I took the
.Alibirty of opening a conversation.
: i , vk l,, Thuy tell mo.” said I, ‘‘that the route be-
ISvecn here and Mexico, is a very dangerous pne
|b travel.”
“There j g ]|m o to fear,” she replied, with
sweet smile and in l a melodious tone of voice/
BY’JOHN B. BRATTON.,
YOL. 45.
“except from the professional robbers and
they seldom harm any one who makes no resis
tance.”
‘•'lt seems strange to mo,” I rejoined, “that
you Mexicans should take such things as a mat-,
ter of course, and deem resistance a very impo
lite way of treating the knights of the road, in
stead of boldly asserting your.rights and aba
ting the evil by a manly spirit of resistance.
For myself, I must consider it the roost cow
ardly of proceedings, for any respectable party
to set out prepared to quietly gratify the cu
pidito of ladrones, and unprepared to treat them
with their just deserts.”
“Every traveller, Senor;” she replied,“should
before Setting out, count the cost of his journey
and, of course, value his lite highly, it seems to
me natural that he should pay a certain sum
for positive safety rather than put his.jifo in
jeopardy. For instance in travelling from
Vera Cruz to Mexico, if ho will first reckon
that so much is. the fare of the diligencia, and
that so much will be required fur entertainment
on the way, arid so much for the contingency
you speak of he will then have, the exact cost
between the two points; and ifhe will look at
the whole sum total of his journey , he will not
seem to be robbed by anyone party more than
the other.”
“That,” I replied, “may be, I believe is, the
Mexican moecof doing business, but does hot
tally with the preconceived ijleas of us foreign
ers-” '
. “But every one,” replied the fair, speaker,
“should conform to the customs of the country
he visits.” ■ .
“And do you then go prepared for this high
way robbery ? and , have* you no fear to thus
journeying by yourself?”
“Well, Senor, whatcan I do? lam ns you
perceive an unprotected.lady' ; .who, for certain
reasons, am required to make the journey be.
tween Perote and the Capital some twice or
thrice a year, and you certainly could hot ex
pect hie to be prepared to resist an armed band!
As to fear, I will not deny I have my share of
that; but, so far, I have never inet with any
rough treatment, and of 'course.l . trust to .the
saints, that'my fortune will ever be as proph
tious."
“And have you really been robbed on your
journey back and, forth ?” I inquired, .
“I, think I have paid my share,to the ladrones
for my transit through their country ?” she
laughed. .
“And you expect to contiuno a repetition of
the same for your life ?”
“Who knows,” she replied. “At least I
hope to be always prepared.”
“And your fellow-travellers,” said I.; “have
vou never seen disposed to resist these unlawful 1
acts ?”■
‘•Once, SenOr, an American and an English
man, who were in the same diligcncia with hie,
fired upon the robbers, killing one, and wound
ing two.?’
“And did the robbers fire back ?”
“Yes, but fled immediately, and. fortunately
injured none of our party.” ;
“As I should have expected,” returned I.;
‘-You'were not robbed on that occasion, I sup
c not, Senor; ■ but the Uvo foreign
ers paid dear for their resistance; for on jour
heying back and forth, both were killedAepar
atoand at different times,, near, the same spot.
You sce.these crosses by the side of: the toad,
Senor?” , .
“I have observed them frequently, but here
the seem to bo more numerous, I replied, look
ing from the vehicle.
••Each stands oh the spot: where some one
has met a violent death,” she rejoined; “and
as we go along,.! will call your attention to]
those which mark the places where the foreign-
ers lost theirs.” . - ' , -
-Do you know,” said.!, ‘‘that I am resolved
to emulate their example, let the consequences
be what they may ?”
“Holy Saints defend us !” she exclaimed:
“you are not in earnest. Senor ■”
"Seriously so, I assure you.”
"You would only bring certain death upon
us both.”
••Say, rather, I should lighten the expenses
of the journey—for your knights of the road
understand retreat as well as advance—and you
yourself acknowledged, that-firm resistance put
them to flight for once.” , ’
-But there were numbers opposed to tnem,
Senor. and you are only one.”
-But .fortunately, I,have a couple of revol
vers, which, in two good hands amount to ten
or a dozen shots, and my friends have repeated
ly told me that I am not a bad marksman..
-Ah ! Santa Maria! you will think better of
this. Senor—the very idea of resistance terrifies
me !’*
-But not the idea’of robbery ?”
“Because I never met with violence. ;
We continued to converse in a similar strain
for some time longer—my fair companion gra
dually,changing the subject, and seeming muon
interested in myself. I learned that her fami y
name was Valerde, that she was unmarried,
that her father and brother were officers: m the
army, and so forth, and so on ; and in return
I gave her my. name,.stated something of ,my
hisiory, business and prospects, and altogether
became mOre communicative than X would ad
vise any friend to be with any stranger of either
sex in a strange'country.
As we continued our journey, the conversa
tion gradually changing from one thing to ano
ther. Senorita Paula suddenly brought it back
to the point, where it first started,
“We are coming to a very dangerous part of
the road,” she said ; "arc you still resolved to
defend yourself if assailed ?”
With your permission. Senoritc?"
" I don’t think it advisable.” she replied,
“ but still if:aUch Wyour inlentiop, I.think it
no more than right that you should give me a
chance to take a part in my defense, since' my
risk of danger wjll be as great as yours ?
“And have you really the nerve, after all,
to defend yourself ?” I inquired.•
“ H I had the means, Senor.”
“If I have two pistols,” said I; “if you
will accept one of them it is at your disposal "
“You are very kind, Senor—but can I fire
it?” ...
“ With case, Senorita;” and, producing - one
of my revolvers, I explained to her the manner
in which it was to be used. -
“ And this you say, will shoot some half a
dozen times?”
“ I think it safe to calculate that five char
ges out of six will explode, Senorita.” . _
“ A very formidable weapon, indeed ?” she
replied ; " and with such I can almost fancy
we arc safe. You have another, you say, like
this? ' . ‘
. I produced it.
•' What a beautiful invention !”.she observ
ed, reaching over and taking it from my hand.
Then extending her hands, one of the revolvers
in each, she continued: “ Armed like this, one
might almost consider himself safe against a
host! You say this fired in this manner s she
proceeded, cooking one of the weapons as she
spoke ; and pointing it towards the road.
“Have you a- bate, Senorita. or yon will
discharge it?” ' • , ' .
The words were scarcely uttered when her
finger pressed the trigger, and of the barrels
was exploded with a sharp report. A minute
after, and while I was chiding her, w# heard a
loud, quick, tramp of horses, and several sharp
rapid exclamations. The next moment our
conveyance was stopped suddenly, and wo saw
ourselves surrounded by some -eight or ten
mounted men, one of whom, in a loud voice, ex
claimed : ■■
“Yield you prisoners, or die !”
“Quick, Seuorila!” said I, extending my
hand; “ quick! in heaven’s name! give me one
of those weapons! for now is our time for deci
sive action!”
“Nay.” she replied, putting the weapons
behind her; “you will be too hasty! Let
them suppose we yield—let them open the
door-1”
“ Oh, no! it will then be too late!”
As I spoko the . door was suddenly thrown
open, and three or four swarthy, heavily bear
ded men presented themselves to my view. ,
“ Quick, Senofita, for the love of God!” I
cried grasping at her arm.
“Hold!” she exclaimed, instantly present
ing one of my own revolvers at my head. “Rw.
sistancc is useless—you are our prisoner.”
“Good God!” exclaimed ,1,, perfectly as
tounded. “ Our prisoner did she say? It is
not possible that one so fair and lovely,as your
self, cart be in any way connected with these
banditti?” _
“ It is Oven so, Senor,” she replied with one
of the inost bewitching smiles, still keeping one
of my own weapons turned against myself, and
signifiaahtly' pointing the other to tho door.—
You will oblige me by stepping forth and giv
ing yourself into the .care'of those good gentle
men, who will sco that yoil’r treated as a brave
man should be, but who will trouble you in the
meantime, for any little change or valuables
you may have to spare!” ■ '■■.i-
There seemed no help for it—the 'beautiful
Scnorita Paula Valerdo was a'spy And ah. ac
complice of the ladrones. She had. entered tho
diligcncia of Perote fotj no other purpose than
to ascertain the exact state of things inside, arid
be able to signalize her associates as she passed
along, so that they might know exactly in
what manner to conduct themselves, and make
the work sure without risk. By a simple
stratagem she had obtained tny arms, just at
the point where she knew the attack would be
made ; and the discharge of the pistol, as if by
accident, was the signal to show them that all
was secure. v . . .
.'*• l ackhowledge.myself conquered by being
outwitted !” I said, bowing to In Scnorita.
Then : turning to the robbers, who had col
lected in a body, in front of the door of the dil
igencis, I continued :
“ Gentlemen will you permit me’ to alight
and . make you some; presents ? In,
thelanguage of yotlr'epuntry all I have is
yours ?” - - ' ’ ;
The leader of the party bowed politely in re
turn, and said with grim smile:
“ SiSenor, we will be most happy to receive
anything which so distinguished, a traveler may
have to bestow.” ' j
With this: I quictly’Stcppcd from the vehicle
andonc quick, searching glance put me in pos
session of the whole slato.pf- affairs. The diii
eenoia'had been;Stopped?tn.'a.' wildy^paiMt.
on
lifs box. taking everything -as ’ a matter-of,
course: He might. °f
rob hers: or .he. might not, but in either case,,
thfere was little hope of assistance from ; hirai—
any attempt of thOkTn'd w-oiild certainly bijng
upon' him a severe punishment,‘sooner or later.
I glanced, up ‘ and‘.down the road; Where it
wound between dark overshadowing trees, but
discovered nothing to give me any hope. The
robbers, some ten.or a dozen in number; and
all well armed, were collected around me; part
of them mounted and the others standing on
their feet holding their mustangs by the bridle..
Looking upon my. case as a desperate one, so
far as being plundered was concerned; I still
retained my presence of mind, and did ' hot
wholly despair. True I had ■ been * outwitted 1
and disarmed, and now stood singly between
numbers; but the idea of yieldingitamely to
this outrage was repugnant to my very nature,
and I resolved to put the least favorable oppor
tunity for defense and retaliation to the stron
gest test. ‘
•* Will you accept this purse s said 1, pro
ducing ono that held several gold coins, and
handing it to the chief of the ladroncs.
“ Thank you, Sonor! you are very kind!
ho said, as he took it in his hand, with a polite
bow, and chinked the money. ■
“ This diamond pin may prove acceptable to
your friend !". I added, as I quietly removed it,
from the bosom of-my:shirt, and, handed it to
the gentleman bn his left who received it m the
samb polite manner. This diamond ring I
trust you will retain as a keepsake 1 I contin
ued drawing the jewel from my huger, and
presenting it to a third. “ I beg your pardon,
Senores,"! pursued glancing at Senonta Pau
la, who with my, pistols still in her possession,
was quietly standing within the diligencia, re*
carding the whole proceedings with one of her
sweetest smiles.. “I must not forget this beau
tiful lady ; I have here,” I went on..at the same
time producing the article, ‘j a very beautiful
gold sriuft box—set, as you perceivfe, with dia
monds—will your ladyship honor mo by ao
bepting this as a slight token of my regard for
the pleasure afforded mo by your company and
conversation,”
“ You are a very gallant gentleman, beno
ri!” she .laughed, taking the two revolvers in
one fair hand, and presenting the other.
t reached the box toward her—but my hand
trembled a little-and just as the present was
about to touch her fingers, it slipped and fell
between us. , , , ■ ,
“ A thousand pardons, Senonta, for awk
wardness!” I said, as I bent down to pick it
up. .
How was the all important moment—the mo
ment of life and death ! All were in a measure
off their guard, and ono quick, furtive glance
showed mo that the girl still held my weapons
in ono hand, with the other remaining extended
for the prize!, lifted the box carefully; but
asl taised myself,gave awild, startling yell:
arid as the. SCOPWia started back, X with the
quickness of lightning, seized both weapons and
wrenched them from her.
To .wheel and commence firing upon the par
ty was how only’the work of a moment. The
first shot, fortunately, stretched out the chief;
tho second shot.-took effect' on the nearest to
him ; add by tho time the third had been sent
to its mission, there arose one sirauUancsus
yell of dismay; and the astounded robbers be
gan to scatter in every direction. I. had no
disposition to follow therm however, another
minute they might raliy and turn upon mo; and
springing forward ! 'grasped the reins of a freed
mustang, .and vaulted into the saddle! One
more glance around me showed me tho Scnori
ta Paula, upon tho body of tho chief, her laugh
ter changed to grief, and some of the scattered
cowards bringing their weapons to bear upon
mo. ■ -
“ Adios Senorita and Senorea !” said I, bit
terly, “ he laughs best who laughs last!”
The next moment I was dashing away down
the road, tho half-rallied robbers pouring after
me a volley, but fortunately not touching their
mark. They would have followed me doubt
less, in hot, pursuit, but for the wholesome
dread they had of tho still undischarged weap
on. ■ As it was I escaped, and entered the town
of Puebla in triumph; where it is almost need
• ‘OUR COUNTRY —MAT IT ALWAYS BB RIGHT- HOT BIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 20, 1859.
less to add a narrative of my exploit made me a
hero and a lion for the tilnfl- Hero I sold my
captured mustang and trappings for enough to
indemnify mo for what 1 ■ had disposed of in
the.way of presents, and thfc.next day saw me
an insidepassenger of the same diligencia en
route for Mexico. whcro I|arrived in safety,
without any other event worthy of notice.
What became of .the robtyjrs and their beau
tiful accomplice I never learned; but the lesson
taught me,on that have not forgot
ten ; and during th. of my stay in
that country, no p ever had the
honor of being my . W Ponfidanto, or of
getting possession ofVoomMSly and unfailing
revolvers. ■ - ■
Frightening Children. ■
We know of nothing
nothing more dangerous’' than
the practice of' frightening o phildreo in the nur
sery, at the family fireside,-£nd in the social
Circle, by retailing tefethem ghost stories, gob
lin tales’and' witchcraft flotiods. They receive
painful impression fibra which their nervous
system does not recover for ysars, perhaps not
during their whole lives; . Children and young
persons have generally great .'curiosity in rela
tion to these talcs of thc iuiogination, especial
ly when they are attended by some gossiping
niirse, whose head r being.eraptyr of good sense,
has been filled* brim full of ghost legends and
black letter recollections. If there is a worse
condition upon earth thanthat into which
monstrous superstition plunges an imaginative
child, we have no, conception-of its curdling
horrors. Never to lay the head upon the pil
low, from the time it is two or three years of
age, tiritil,.seven, eighty dr ten, without feeling
the most perfect assurance in its own mind of
realizing its own prophecy* apd seeing some
hideous spectre before morning.’ This is the
purgatory of early, innoccnti. and otherwise
happy childhood; These midnight, horrors
haunt the imagination even to’old age. _ They
may lose somewhat of their painful vividness,
their appalling distinctne^— soinethiDg of their,
curdling horrors, so potent initfe mystery, and
so terrific even in : its iropb^ib|fity ; -—-bill these
terrors Unger in the imaginatioh .still, ready to
be.called up in every suspicious spot, awaken
ed in every sohtude. m .spit® of all the judgment
can do or the person,pan urge. Fora moment,
at certain times, evett to old age, .the heart will
throb .with painful the hair will
become perpendicular, and n disagreeable shud
der will make the blood cold invhis veins, even
when manbdod has reached • its prirae. To be
sure, the judgment soon:dispels these unfoun
i ded fears, but they will. 'hauift ,the, victim at
times, to his dying day, spmo of the
. painful deleterious effects of frightening chip
dren in the early season of their giowth; How
r important it is that parents should guard them
against these groundless terrorai exciting the
early, imagination, and chaining,the trembling
r yiclinrtb the indescribable agony.of this ner
vous bondage for all itp future! life. - -
“TpEUfi’S. NO I 1 LACE LIKE
Thus the poet onde
snondsto the truthofthe bpaujif.
sentiment. What .t cijd fefh
ifags; and hallowed rwolleotfqna pluelcr around
the words “iNo place like home..it was the
sentiment which gave beauty to the verse and
life to the song—that awakened alt the refined
and undying sensibilities of thesouU Emotions
the most tender swell the bosom', aathe heart in
warm affection, sighs for the sanctity of homo.
Prom its sacred altar goes forth.au influence
that gives to fife its beauty, its sweetness, and
its charm, and : around, -that altar" lingers thel
hope of destiny; for in its educating and ele
vating,influence is the safeguard ol innocence
and purilv. And, as the evening and prison
ascends, God accepts the sacrifice, and sends
down the rich fragrance of his love to suffuse
and imbue the hearts that mingle in sympathy
there. .
But this .hallowed abode of innocence, virtue,
and piety—this home of, the aflections—has
beep invaded by the spirit of the age; and amid
the interests and excitements oflife, theoldnhd
sacred idea of home is fading away. Its in
struction—the germ of principle that moulded
the characler—its influences that guarded the
aspirations and restrained.the waywardness of
youth, and its hallowed rccollectjpns that filled
with delight the heart,in after life—where are
they now ! Alas! how painfully is it that the
old idea of home is passing away.. Its instruc
tions are deemed unimportant; ' its restraining
influences lyrranical; and its tender recollec
tions nnroanly. And for this.folly and mad
ness we forfeit all that is precious in the noble
and virtuous career of our sons and daughters.
The spirit of the age, which pants,for novelty
and excitement, is undermining the culture of
family afleolion and influence, until the sacred
power of its fender scenes are unknown and tin
fclt by those who go forth to give tone arid
character to society. They than hasten to en
ter upon the stage and mingle in the business
of life, ignorant of its duties, its obligations,
and its destiny—unrestrained and uninfluenced
by the tender recollections of the . sanctity of
home. How deeply anxious ought every parent
to be to impress the youthful heart an un
dying love for home, urged, as be is, by every
tender motive, by all that is desirable in the
blessings and fearful iu the displeasure of God,
and by all that is elevating and permanent m
■ those influences whose sweep will be parallel
with the stretch of eternity. Never let the am
bitious forget, or the wayward trample upon
the sanctity of homo: for it is the power of that
institution which God has owned and blessed,
and which must ever give to society character
and destiny. _ r • , ' ■
Mrs. Partington was much surprised to find
Iko. ono rainy atternoon, in a spare room, with
the rag-bag hung to the hod post, which he.was
belaboring very lustily with his fists as- huge as
two ono cent apples. , , ~,,
•■What gyranastfness are you doing here?
said she, as she opened the door. ' , . . .
Ho did not stop, and iperely replying ‘ train
ing,” continued to pitch in. bhe stood looking
at him as ho danced around the hag, busily,
punching Its rotund sides- ■
••That’s the Morrissey (ouch,” said ho, giving
one side a did, “and that,” bitting the other
side, “is the Benicia Boy. She said. ,
“Stop!” and ho immediately stopped alter he
bad given the last blow tor Marrissey. “I am
afraid the training you are having isn t good,
and I think yon had bolter tram in some- other
company. X thought your going into compound
factures in school would,bo dilatorlons to you.
I don’tknow who Mr. Morrissey nM«d m l't
wadjrtd, but I bear ho has been whlpplng ; the
Pornioioua Boy, a poor lad with a sore leg> and
I think ho ought toho ashamed ; pf himself. .
Jko mmt have; read the papers* ;
33rA sweet little girl was looking at the
twilight sky, wherein the stars weredast over
coming the daylight. Suddonly.sho discovered
a constellation brightening gloriously ont of the
blue, and exclaimed with delight; «Oh moth
er, mother, see, see! God it making a bouquet
o v,t of the tlart I”
Ike Partington and Pugilism.
Sleeping With the landlord’s Vile.
Wo give tho annexed incident in regard to
Rev. Zeb Twitchell, a melhodist clergyman in
full and regular standing, and a member of the
Vermont conference:
At onetime he represented Stockbridge in
the State Legislature. Zcb, says our inform
ant, is a man of fair talents, both as a preacher
and a musician. Ini the pulpit he is grave, sol
emn,. dignified, and a thorough systematic ser
monizer; but one of it there is no man living
who is more full of fun and drollery. On one
occasion he was-wendihg his way towards the
seat of the Annual Conference of Ministers, in
company with, another clergyman. Passing a
country inn, he remarked to the other clergy
man ’ - T.
■ “ The last time I stopped -at that tavern, 1 ;
slept with the landlord’s wife.**
In utter amazement, his . clerical friend wan
ted to know what he meant. . .' ,
4 * I mean just what. I say .” replied Zcb ; and
on went the .two travelers in unbroken silence
until they reached the conference.
In the early part of the session, the confer
ence sat with doors closed for the purpose of
transacting some private business, and especial
ly to attend to the annual examination of each
member’s private rather conduct,
.during the past year. For this purpose the
clerk called Zcb’s name. • t . .
*» Does anyone know aught against the char
acter of brother Twitched during the post
year?” asked the bishop, who was llie
ding officer,
Alter a moment’s silence. Zeb’s traveling
arose with a heavy heart and grave
countenanS?? said he had a duty ,to perform—-
one that he owed to God,and the church, and
to himself; he must therefore discharge it fear
lessly, though tremblingly. Ue then related
what Zeb had told him while passing the tav
ern, how he slept with the landlord’s wife, etc.
The grave.body, of .ministers ere struck as
with a thunderbolt, although a few, smiled and
looked first at Zeb, then upon the bishop, know
ingly, for they knew better than the others the
character ol the accused. ■ • ■ •
The bishop called upon brother T., and ask
ed him what he had to say in relation to so se-.
rious a charge. Zcb rose and said:,
“ I did the deed M never He!” .
Then pausing with an awful seriousness, he
proceeded with a slow and solemn deliberation:
‘ 'V There was one; little citcumsiancc, hpwev^-
er, connected with the affair, I did not name to
the brother.. It may not have much weight to
the conference, but although it may deemed of
trifling, importance, I will state it: When I
, slept with the lapdlortJ’s wife, as I told the
brother, I kept the tavern myself! ” . ,'lu
At a public school festival in Boston, the J
Hon. E. C. Winthrop spoke as follows'; .■,v.
/‘These boys, I heed not say; are the m«n or :
the future ; and, under God,-the masters PI > the '
iuture. . The ever moving .procession pf human
lir^Tyin'p^Q^raTew:sicikrand^e^vvUUbc
on the plalfocips, and we shall be beneath the
sod. But to-day we are not'tterelv cx.am :
pies and models, but their ; and.men
tors; and the schools aro the studios, in which,
:by. Qpdls help, \heynitypa. formed,-and; fash
ioned and shapedaswc will.;- -Xes. iny friend?*,
-Dofe.by any Jdle ropipings .on, senseless tables,
but by, simply knocking at our 6wri f honest .
school room doors, and asking how many boys :
and girls there, are within, and what is. their ;
mental and physical, andi inoral,’ and spiritual i
condition and culture —we may find the revela
tion of the future, .hardly less sure or exact than '
ifit Were written in letters of light by the pen
of inspiration.
And while you strive to fulfil every duty to I
your neighbors and yourselves, and to advance 1
the beat intercst of the world in which you live, 1
may you ever look forward with humble faith 1
i and trust to the day of which you are just about
* to sing, when other palms than those mere hu
■ man triumphs may be seen in your' hands, and
when, with a multitude which no man can num
ber, you may be. permitted to mingle in other
: and nobler songs than any which can be fully
learned,on earth J”
Eye Sight.
Milton’s blindness was the result .o/.joVer
work and dyspepsia.
One of the most eminent American dirines
having, for soma time, been compelled to fore
go tile pleasure of reading, has spent thousands,
of dollars in vain, and lost years of time, in'eon
sequence of getting up several beforc day,
and studying by artificial light. Uis eyes nev
ergot well..
Multitudes of men and women have made
their eyes weak for life, by the too free use of
the eye sight in reading small print, and doing
fine sewing. In view of those things, it is well
to observe the following rules in the use of the
eyes• "
Avoid all sudden changes between light and
darkness. V
Never begin to read, or write, or sew for sev
eral minutes after coming from darkness, to. a
bright, light. ■
Never read by twilight, or moonlight,or-of
a very cloudy day. '
Never read or Sew directly in front of the
light, or window or door.
It is best to have the light fall from above
obliquently over the left shoulder.
Never sleep so that, on first waking, the eyes
shall open on the light of a window. ■
Do not use the eye sight by light so scant,
that it requires an effort to discriminate.
Too much light creates a glare, and pains
and confuses the sight. ,The moment you are
sensible of an effort to distinguish, that moment
cease, and take a walk or ride.
As the sky is blue and the earth green, it,
would seem that the ceiling should be a bluish
tinge and the carpet green, and the wails of
some mellow tint. ... . ,
The moment you arc instinctively prompted
to rub the eyes, that moment cease using them.
’ If the eyelids arc glued together on waking
up, do not forcibly open them ; but apply the
Saliva with the finger—it is the speediest dilu
lent in the world—then wash eyes and face in
warm water.- — Hall's Journal of Health .
Goodness Eternal.— “ Tlia pains wo spend
upon our mortal solves will perish with our
selves : but tho care wo give out of a good
heart to others, tho efforts of disinterested duty,
the deeds and thoughts of pure affection, oro
never lost; qro not liable to waste; and are like
a force that propagatds'itsolf forever, changing
itself, but not loosing its intensity. In short,
there is a sense id which ifotliltig tinman dies ;
nothing, at least, which proceeds from tho high
efand characteristic part of man’s nature; noth
ing which' ho does as a subject of God’s moral
la*; Safeflal structures are dissolved; their
fndehiity and function aro.gono,. but mind par.
takes of tho eternity of tho groat parent spirit;
and thoughts, truths, emotions, ouco given' fo
tho world are never lost t they exist as truly,
and perform tholr dury as’ actively, a thousand
years after their origin asonthoirday of birth.”
Provoking. —To dream that you have lot
of money, and then wake up and find yoursel
an editor.
Children.
AT $2,00 PER ANfcL r
Counsels lor the Vonng.
Never he cast down \>y trifles. It a slider
breaks his web twenty times, twenty limes
will he mend it again, Make up your mind to
do a thing, and you will do it. Fear not if
trouble comes upon you; keep up your spirits
though tho day may be a dark one—
*-Troubles never list foteVcr,
The darkest day will pass away.”
If the sun is going down, look up to the
stars; if the earth is dark, keep your eyes on
heaven. With . God's presence and promise, a
man or child may be cheerful.
“Never despair when fog’s in the air,
A sunshiny morning will come without
warning.”
Mind what you run after! Never, bo content
with a bubble that will burstnor a firewood
tliat will end in smoke and darkness. But that
what you can keep, and which is worth keep
ing.
“Something startling that will say
When gold and silver fly away!”
Fight liat-d against a hasty temper. Anger
will come but resist it strongly. A spark may
set a house on fire. A fit of passion may give
you cause tu mourn all the days of your life.
Never revenge an injury.
“He that revengcih knows no rest;
The meek' possess a peaceful breast.”',.
If you have an enemy; act kindly to him, and
make him your friend. Tou may not win him
over at once, but try again. Let one kindness
be followed by another, till you have compassed
your end. By little and by little great things
are completed.
••Water falling day by day
Wears the hardest rock away.”
And so repeated kindness will soften a heart
of stone.
Whatever you 4°. do it willingly. A boy
that is whipped at school never learns his lesson
well. A man that is compelled to work, cares
not how badly it is performed. lie that , pulls,
off his coat cheerfully, strips up his sleeves in
earnest, and sings while he works, is the man
for me— , ,
“A cheerful spirit gets on quick ;
A grumbler in the mud will stick.”
Evil thoughts are worse enemies than lions
and tigers, for we can get out of the way of
wild beasts—but bad thoughts win their day
everywhere- Keep your heads and hearts full
of good thoughts, that bad thoughts may not
find room— \ ,
“Bo on your guard, and strive to pray,
To drive all'etiitboughts away.”
■iv,Minis to ronng^Sthcrs.
following good,hints to:tgoso who-con.
Bpon themself; the weighty
dutlfts, necessarily
cbbnectcdvWitlrilui pnfesai6p;,of'.tjtacliing, are
Icon! JpurnSl but
-are'presume, they ,wlUsuit IhlsTpcality; adralra
■Wy-.- Try them-s• V (,
i.l ly Meet Vyonr school ‘at the' outset, avlthn
i^i^^4\'suittii<s[',idcineapor... Affect neither
'stethncbS nor afllbility, - Say 'a fowsimplonvoyds
■ do- your, scholars, t hat . ij-pu; hbpo lodothera
good," and will try to do'fhffVWst you can,Tor
.them.-.
: 2. If ,whispering or disorder occurs, pause at
onco, and do not proceed until order is roster-,
odi The more pause is generally,sufficient, for
this. ■
: 8. Remember that good discipline is ,tho
principal tiling; without this there can lie no
successful teaching. - ,'
4. Govern yourself; do not fly into a passion;
never stamp or scold, and: dp not threaten or
talk too much. Let a kindly interest in your
pupils temper all yoiir actions.
6. Have the school room kept tidy and com
fortable ; wash off scribbling and ink spots, and
hang up maps and charts to give the room an
attractive appearance. ...
.0. . Let the lessons be short but truly mas
tered. Go over the same ground again and
again In reviews. No lofty superstructure can
j arise except on solid foundations.
■ '7. Foster in your pupils a spirit ol justice and
.generosity, kindness and forbearance, and rev
erence for truth arid duty..
8. Make daily preparation for your work j the
oldest and ablest teachers do this. You will
be able to give clear explanations, to infuse life
nod-spirit in your instructions.
9. Remember that your every act is closely
watched, and that example teaches more pow
erfully than precept. That teacher who is a
gentleman in dross and demeanor—whoso lan
guage is pure, simple and truthful—whoso
deportment is gentle, graceful and kind, will
awaken a respect in both pupils and parents,
that will make his task easy.
10 ■ Put yourself into communication with
neighboring teachers. If there bo no Teacher’s
Association, organize one as soon as possible.
A Domestic Necessity.—Every house should
have as an intimate, a good-natured, sensible,
tidy, old )ady. This important fixture should
always bo, it possible, a grandmother, or, as she
next host, an aunt; yet so indispensable to tlrd’
respectability, eomfort, and convenience of a
well-regulated household is the old lady, that if
this system of housekeeping become general;
it will bee unit) 'quite natural to find under the
head of-“ wants” in the newspapers, inquiries
for proper old ladies to supply the lack of dear
old folks gone to the better homo. Indeed, old
ladies discovering fhenisolyes in demand, Would
keep in preservation raiibli longer, nor begin to
make winding sheets and grave caps full ten
years before the great reaper came to gather In
the shocks of corn fully ripe. Old ladies arc
needed. Providence designed such to till a
Idfgti Space in the domestic circle a class re
markable as not living for ihbiiiselvcs but for
others—the most beautiful specimens of dfsin
forested love this side of Heaven.
03** Tlio Clarion Democrat, with much force
and appropriateness, remarks:
« A Republican paper inquires ‘what will he
the position of the Democratic party twelve
years hence?’ We can answer that question
confidently. It will occupy the same position
twelve years hence that it did twelve years ago,
and that it occupies now. It has been, now is,
and over will he tho stauncli defender of States’
rights,’the rights ol the people and the integrity
of tho constitution. Sucli is its' position now,
such it will bo twelve years hence, and as long
as tho country exists a united and iudependent
confederacy.”
[C7* A bachelor is a fellow who culs.hitnsclf
off from a blessing for fear of a.trilling ann&'y
ance. He rivals the wiseacre who secured him
self against corns; by having his legs amputa
ted. .In his sottish' anxiety to live uncmcum
bered, he only subjects himself to a (Wavier
burthen; for tho passions, that apportion -to.
cvery.individual the load ho is to boar .through
life,' generally say to the calculating bachelor,
“ As you are a single man, you shall carry
double.”
. C?’ A Dutchman having a
this country, wrote t 6 his friends. Informing
them that after addressing, a largo crowd ofoit
izens, the scaffold on which ho stood gave way,,
owing to which ho fell and broke his neck .
Kf Reason governs the nfto nian, on-1 cud
gels tho foot.'
t.Ct? - True oloqueuco consists in saying, hii
thatishcWessary,ohdnothingspore; '
gy A- tfeto
vebiclothat aiptettorstifak info minting.” -
. (jy Most poopio don’t think—they only think
thoy-jhlnkr”” ~ : ' r 7 — "
tty Time Dios fast, bnl 'every pbytician- of
any nolo can beat time. . ,
ls it (i proof that a man is sober hccauiso
bo can stand a loan.
•• . a ,i ... v.
a m'dtnlng stream whoso m&tiorf ,
gilds the day. , , . T
The thinking man hath wings, theroct!n&
mahonly hatb'lhct and bands. -
gy To ctire tfie aciio—lot nti 6&pil>us j
run over yout loot. . , "
gy Books arc silent oompapTons,of tJiQlone
ly hour: friends who
Qy The osiVcrionco.bf life! What.nfooll’to
been.
NO. 32.
B3F“ fatienco isihotrea. whgso touts are.bii-i
:ur, but the fruit ifl very sweet. . ' ■ ’
By- Tlw things yah .can sgfuiy putod' until
;o-niorrofr aro idleness ana vice. ■;
iX7" Santa Anna’s jyifo i|as; left, him. And Sa
now the “reigning belle” of HaVa'mV. ,
.irTfitt is it that cause's a 'cold, ’cuVeb a
cold and pays the doctor ?” A draft.
K?T That's a flame of mine,” ns the bellows
said to the fire. '
OS’” When may bread be said to bo inhabitei
When it has a little Indian in it.
OT’Jt dress makes lliq rtajk, .what .does Iho
tailor make ? From ten to twenty dollars profit’.
CC?” Though you cannot successfully-imitato;
eminent men in every parlicnl&r of,,cpnduct>-
strive td Seaworthy oi emhlatioh in some.
K 7” Tilo liiat tains showed A r)djclllpiis sight
—ah atihmpl to crowd two fashionably 'dressed,
women lilldol-.one ffhlhrella.
CE?” Col. Fremont’s Mariposa mine yields,
from SI,COO to $3,000 every week.
K?- Mad. do Fay, a French sporting
recently won 530,000, being hi bet made,'on a
favorite horSC.
Throe young Indies of Anderson, 111.,
were married a few days since, to three brothers ■
by the name of Ice. .
tXP' That disiinguishod notability— tho urs|
shad—has made his appearanco in Charleston
and Savannah. a
(gy Why ate A Jfbllng lady’s affections- dl
ways doubtlul 1 Bocallao they ahl thia-givingsi,
05“ Tears of beaiity are iiSo ’clouds floating
over a heaven of stars, bedimming them fdr, a
moment tliat they may shiifo witb grcatcrluttl-o
than before'. . ' '
gy At a shop window there. nppeVrS tli,6'fo\-
lowing notice Wanted Info appionticei/who
will bo treated as one of the family.” '
py Most,arts require long study.apd appllcft*'
tion; bill the most useful art, Of all, that of
pleasing, requires only the,desire.".
gy Who smoked the lirSt pipe? .Promo
thous, when he stole the tiro from Heaven td
light his clay. , ,
. gy In order to live justly,-And bo respected
wo must refrain from doing what wo blame ili
others. '•
gy iVhy Is a man paying his note at .the
bank like a father-going to aeo his children 7
Because be meets bis responsibilities;
gy Politeness is like an
may lie hothlng. iii Sty hut it eases . your jdlte
wowletftllly; ■ .. :
03f* Fortune ia.SoisielllhoS like this
snow, And, Blto ilio ..sndl.Y-,n|olt3 and; thqws to;
nothing again! ' ' ; - .
gy Bflia is a piquant-eitracl < iib klsaoA
her arid promised,, Such beaulllul lips').' Mali’s
usual late—ho wahlqst Upon tho coral reels. :■*.
tfy What is that which, supposing its great-"
est breadth to be lout inches, length nine inches, ,
arid depth three ibebes, contains a solid foot I-
A shoo. • ■'■■ ■ u . ;: '' '
BT’Hi man cad fell whether lie is rlcfi oib
prior by tUHilhjf, to'-’-his-ledger. It is the heart
that makes iho liiari-l'lbli. Ho is rich or .Jjopfc
according to what ho hast ’ - .
(jyA Dlibliri merchant rb'cbm'riiehding a piec'd'
of Silk to a lady for a gown, said, “'Madam it
will. drear IrireVer, and tnrikb a potliboat attcr
warda.
03T A fellow found guilty of burglary before:
Justice Day, in Ireland, observed, that-“his fatu;
was singular, as lie lost by day what he got by
night;” /
’fey It won’t do for a man to thump his'head
against an iron post, even with a brick in his
hat; unless he conscientiously believes that bis
head'is the hardest. * ' -
Oy One of our exchanges toils of a lazy ge
nius up his way, who being asked as ho lay sun
ning himsoil on Iho grass, what was the height
of his ambition, replied, “To inatry a widow
that has got a cough.”
[ty Some of the formers in Northern Ohio
and on the borders of Indiana have commenced
the brooding arid' raising of deer the Same ah
they do sheep, arid they bring them to market ;
hence the abundance of venison.
Ky Tho man who paid his bompiiments had.,
enough left to pay a year’s subscription to the
Volunteer,
tty What wind dojadies like iho bdst 7 Why
the north wind, of course, bocaiise it brings the
chaps to their lips. . ,
try An Indid rubber dmnibua iij about being
inveblcd, which, when jam foil, ivill hold a coUr
pio tuorei .
0 y Wb should be honesi, because ivb afo di
rected to bo ab by the moat lofty and imdyihg
principles.
[jy Kindnesses are slowed away in Iho heart,
like rose loaves in a drawer, to sweeten every,
object rohnd fhbni.
By When fliero is love in iiio hdari, tfiofo are
rainbows in. the eyes, which cover every black
cloud with gorgeous linos.
[jy Demosthenes, that, poor, stuttering sort
rif a cutler, became the most famous orator of
encifipt tithes. .tliojsqn of ri.Uakor, was
the most celebrated of iliu Latin poets. AJsop,
the son of, a Slayo, a slave himself, managed to.
acquire imperishable fame.
Dy To converse with-tils spijits—lay a five
cent piece on the table at a gfog shop ail'd they’ll
show themselves cjuibkof than you can say
beans.
02?* At ,th<t Wp, Ihdifiri .Conference of tlio
Methodist Episcopal Church South, tho Venera
ble Bishop Early ordained twelve Indians, prin
cipally chiefs ol their tribes, to the Gospel.mlhr
istry.
Ef English papers report the recent death
of a woman ip London, 92 years' of ago who
was horn in tho room in which she died, and
never slept out ol it for a night in her long life
time.
03” A waiter at a lashionnblo hotel, tho other
day, requested jy hoarder, if ho heeded his sot
vicos.'to “just agitato .tlio Cfoqimunlcator,”—
Previous to tlio rapid tuiiffch of intellect, “.ploaao
to ring tho hell,” would have been tho phrase
used.
Blushtng.la said lh bo a sign that some
thing ol lliq angel IS' left in woman beautiful to
tho oyo, and bespeaking j(h’ci inward purity of
'the'hoart,- Whop awpnian, ceases to blush, she
bail lost her groates't ofl’afin."
05- An old lady said her husband was very >
fond of poaches, and tjiat was his only fault,—,-
« fault, maduni,” Said one, “ how cuuyouoaU
jthat a fault ?” “ Why, because there arpAiflbr.
ont ways of onjinglnepi.sjr. My husbatd takes
them in (ho form of brandy.”
p3* A loafer took a fish in tho market house
and slipped it tinder Ill's vest.' The tall hanging
down so us to bo seen, Iho first man ho met sug
gested to him that he shouliLmUher wear a lon
ger jacket oi s(ea! a short fish.
diib