' - ..........'''' , .' , .: , .'i'Ll- 4 . ...111:::;T;, - ....,.;..•-,..•.:-LtAi. i':1?--...::.•:i*..../.:•4
SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXVIII, NUMBER, 5.]
PUBLISHED EYE&Y SATURDAY MORNING.
'Office in Northern Central Railroad Com
ryany's Building, north-west corner Front and
t.3 7 alnut streets.
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tun . ! Copy per s: , rtnum, i i f f Ettidpiatld within three three
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Rates of Advertising.
ik square [6 lines] one week,
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Larger advertisements in proportion.
A liberal discount will be made to quarterly, half
yearly or yearly adverasers,who are strictly confined
to their business.
DR. S. ARMOR
HOMEOPATIIIC PHYSICIAN. Office and
Residence in Locust street, opposite the Post
Office; OFFICE. PRIVATE.
Columbia, April 25, 1857-Gin
Drs. John Rohrer,
AVE associated in the Practice of ,Itedi-
Hcine.
Columbia, April let, 185041
DR. G. W. MIFFLIN,
DENTIST, Locust street, opposite the Post
Office. Columbia, Pa.
Columbia, May 3, IBM.
H. M. NORTH,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.
Columbia,Pa.
Collections, promptly made, in Lancasteeand York
Counties.
Columbia, May 4,1850.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
C1cau.222.11=34.4% , „, X 3 '.19".
Columbia, September ti, 1056-tf
GEORGE J. SMITE',
WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake
Dairen—Constantly on hand a variety of Cakes,
too numerous to mention; Crackers; Soda, Wine, Scroll,
and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every description,
/cc., lc. LOCUST sTaur.r,
Feb. 2,'56. Between the Bank and Franklin House.
B. F. APPOLD at. CO.,
;
GENERAL FORWARDING AND COMMIS
SION MERCHANTS, ivi la r
RECEIVERS OF
COA LAND PRODUCE,
And Deliverers on any point on the Columbia and
Philadelphia Railroad. to York and
Baltimore and to Pittsburg;
DEALERS IN COAL. FLOUR AND GRAIN,
WHISKY AND BACON, have just received a
large lot of Monongahela Rectified Whiskey, from
Pittsburg, of whichthey will keep a supply constantly
on hand, at low prices, Nos. 1,2 and 6 Canal Basin.
Columbia, January 27.1954.
OATS FOR SALE
BY THE BUSHEL, or in larger qnantities,
at Nos. 1,2 & 0 Canal Basin.
E. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, January 26,1655
Just Received,
5v BUS. PRIME GROUND NUTS, at J. F.
n SMITH'S Wholesale and Retail Confectionery
establishment. Front street, two doors below the
iVashington House, Columbia. [October 25. 1.858.
Just Received,
20 MIDS. SIIOULDERS, 15 TIERCES HAMS.—
For sale by B. F. APPOLD & CO.,
Nos. I, 2 and 0, Canal Basin.
Columbia, October 18, 1156.
Rapp's Gold Pens.
CONSTANTLY on hand, an assortment of
N.,/ these celebrated PENS. Persons in want of a
good article are invited to call and examine them.
Columbia, June 30,1855. JOHN FELIX.
Just Received,
era.ALARGE LOT of Children's Carriage,
Gigs, Roeking Horses, Wheelbarrows. Propel-
Nursery Swings, &c. GEORGE. .1. 13M1T.11.
April 19, 1996. Locust street.
CHINA and other Pitney Articles. too numerous to
mention, for sale by G.. 1. SA, ITII, Locust street,
between the Bank and Franklin House.
Columbia, April 19, 1856.
THE undersimd have been appointed
agents for the sale of Cook &Co's GOTTA P ER-
C A PENS, warranted not to corrode; in e laslicity
they almost equal the quill.
SAYLOR & McDONALD.
Columbia Jan. 17, 18.57
Just Received,
A BEAUTIFUL lot of Lamp Ehadez, viz: Tie
torine, Volcano, Drum. Butter Fly, Red Roses,
and the new French Fruit Shade, which can be seen
in the window of the Golden Mortar Drug Store.
November 0,1856.
ALARGE lot of Shaker Corn, from the
Shaker settlement in New Yotk, just received,
D. SUYDAM & SON'S
at
Columbia, Dec. 40,1856
T_TAIR DYE'S. Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and
Egyptian hair dyes, warranted to color the hair
any dented shade, without injury to the skin. For sale
by It. WILLIAMS.
May 10, Front at., Columbia, Pa.
FARR & THOMPSON'S justly celebrated Com
mercial -and other Gold Peue---.the Letitia the
oterket—just received. P. SHREINER.
Columbia,April 39,1833.
F / %1&1 PAM FLOUR, by the barrel, for
aide by B. F. APPOLD & CO,
Columbia...rune 7. No.. 1,2 and 6 Canal Basin.
WIIY ihould.any person-do withpnt a Clock,
when they can be had (or 81.50 and upwards.
t SIIREINERW
Colombia. April 24 1E45
QAPONUIBII, or, Conookitted Lye, for ma
king heap. 1 lb. is sufficient for one barrel of
rlllelltilitap or tlb.for 9 lbs. Hard Soap. Fall *Wee
itions will ,e given at the Counter for making Soli,
railed and Fancy Soaps. For sale by
R. WILLIAMS.
, Columbia, March 31,1E153.
ALAUB lot of Baskets, Brooms, Baskets
&c,, for sate by If SOYDAAI I SON.
WEIKEL'S Instantaneous Yeast or Baking
VV : Powder, for sale by H. SUYDAM & SON.
t2ODOZEN DROONS, •10 BOXES CHEESE. For
sale cheap, by D. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, October 25, 1856.
A. surzazoB article of PAINT on.. for Pain by
IL WILLIAMS,
Front !Street, Columbia, Pa
May 10, 1E56
TWIT RECEIVED, a large and well selected variety
of Brushes, consisting an pan of Sboe, Mar, Cloth,
Arnoth, Nall, Hat and Teeth Brushes, and for sale by
IL WILLIAMS.
Tront street Columbia. Pa.
March 22, ,S 6
ASUPERIOR article ofTONIC
suitable for Hotel Keepers, for sale by
R. WILLIAMS,
.Front street, Columbia.
May 10,1836
MESH ErREREAL OIL, alwayann Land, and fo
3. salad); R. WILLIAMS.
May 10,18 Z. Front Street, Columbia, Pa.
TUST raceirradokltSS II CAW II ENE, and for sale
el by it. WILLIAMS,
May 10,1558. Trani Street, Columbia, Pa.
if)
'4 l ` l la" n hew City Cured Ha= and Bhouktirts,,
fecund and for salell?y
Feb. a u t M.I11).111 80N.
Igrtry.
Absence and Presence.
To live alone; to think, to grieve alone;
With winds and sounding falls to mingle man;
To sit long hours as silent as a stone.
OM
To live with you, and be your lover still;
To bend all wishes to your gentle will;
With you to weep, to smile, to joy, to thrill
To utter useless thought, to vacant air,
To labor always with a causeless care;
To seek for joy, and still &ad sorrow there
To speak your name, and hear mine whispered sweet;
To listen for the sound of coming feet;
With ardent smile and honeyed kiss to greet.
CEI
To sit with books, and commune with the deed;
Racking all day the strained, unfruitful head!
Then seek, with fevered brain, a thoughtless bed
To feel a tender hand upon my face,
And turn from labor to a long embrace;
From pain to blies, love, laughter, music. grace
To lie alone and wear the age-long night,
While fancy, grieving both for love and light,
In darkness shudders at her lonely plight.
To hear the murmur of a peaceful rest
Breathed by an angel sleeping on my breast—
Like love's fair planet on the glowing west.
No joys know I of dismal solitude;
Nor in those bards whose cold, fictitious mood,
Seeks ever scenes devoid of life, and rude.
I, not in herbs, nor trees with hoary rind,
Nor tumbling rivers, nor complaining wind,
Aught ever ot their vaunted solace find.
The sun-eyed daisy charms not me, unless
My darling's foot doth on it gently press;
But then it seems to feel a dear caress.
Or in the shadowy folding of her hair
Deign she the happy, modest flower to wear,
It seems a star of love fallen out of air.
Sounds not for me a mu.ie in the brook,
'Lees on its trembling foam my love doth look,
And then it seems with a sweet rapture shook.
Dear are the dusky hollows of the gloom,
And ember-light within the curtained room,
But this, alone, were an upholstered tomb.
Joy of the voice, the viol, or the vine,
Concerts of pleasure. music, dance, and wine—
Give me not these, till Love can make them mine
Thou selfish bard, that &test unloving try
The ennobling verse, thy song and name shall dio--
Die like the weeds thou singest, utterly.
India Ink.
It is a tarry sailor man
Doth Fbili his quid and sigh,
Andimusing o'er his "hijin
lie spits and pipes his eye.
In all their queer variety,
Perusing one by one,
Spars, anchors, ensimts, binnacles,
Ilia "fokesal" chums have done.
Around his arms, all down his back,
Betwixt his shoulder blades,
Are Peg, and Poll, and July-Ann,
Andler, and other maids;
And just below his collar bones,
Amidships on his chest,
He has a sun in blue and red,
A-rising in the wort.
A bit abaft a pirate craft,
Upon his starboard side,
There is a thing lie made himself,
The day Ma Nancy died.
Mayhap it he a lock a( hair,
May hap a '•kite co' rope"—
lie says it is a true love knot,
And so it is I hope.
Naught reeks that gentle foremast hand,
What shape it wear to you—
With soul elate and hand expert,
He pricked it—so he knew.
To •"Ward Cuttle, mariner,n
His sugar tongs and spoons
Not dearer than that rose pink heart,
Transfixed by two harpoons;
And underneath, a grave in blue,
A grave-stone all in red—
" Here lies all right, poor Tom's delight:;
God save the mark—she's dead!"
Permit that tarry mariner
To shift his quid and sigh,
Nor chide him if he sometimes swear,
For piping of his eye.
Few sadder emblems arc the heart's
Than, traced at first in pink,
And pricked till all the picture smarts,
Are fixed with "Injinistk."
[Putnam's Monthly
griEttiono.
The Lost Wife.
OR, THE WHISPERING TREE.
In the city of Cairo, there once dwelt a
Christian merchant named Hanna, who had
amassed a considerable fortune, so that en
vy often turned its glances towards him. As
is usual, however, in this world, Hanna
found cause to complain of his condition.
It was true that ho had a fine house in the
street of the saddle-makers, and his furs&
niture was costly I that his slaves, pipes,
mules and asses were of the first quality. =
Ono thing was wanted a son and heir to
inherit his wealth and continue his mame.
Now, in an Eastern story, no sooner is
this difficulty mentioued, than we can, as a
general rule, foresee, that in some manner
more or less ingenious, the much desired ad
dition to the family is miraculously made.
Sometimes a pilgrimage is taken to the tomb
of a saint ; sometimes prayers are addressed
directly to Heaven; sometimes a magician
makes his appearance and gives two child
ren, on condition that at a certain age he shall
be allowed to claim one and slay it for the
purpose of some horrible incantation;
lowing that - he chooses - the' favorite, and
leaves the disconsolate parent to cover his
head with ashes, to clothe himself in sack
cloth, and to perform all the heart-breaking
ceremonies of an Eastern mourning. The
difficulty in the case of Mums was that he
had no wife, and was determined never to
get married; and considering that he was
past his seventieth year, the determination
can scarcely be called unwise.
There was mystery, however, in the life
of this Christian, which would explain in
some measure why he did not give himself
up to sullen And absolute despair. About
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 8, 1857.
half a century before the period of which we
speak, he had been a traveler, had visited
Hind and Sind, with many other wonderful
places, and had resided in Persia and sailed
upon the Caspian.
Ile would tell to one or two friends that
when at Ispahan, he had loved and been be
loved by a lady whom he married and lived
with for nearly a year. A child was born
to them, on whom both showered all the
treasures of their affection. But it happen
ed one day that they were in the gardens in
the neighborhood of the city, and Hanna
feeling weary, went under some trees to
sleep, whilst his wife sat with the child, by
the side of a stream of water, that danced
gaily along through a grass-fingered bed.—
The young man's slumbers lasted some time.
The shadow which protected him when he
lay down, had moved away when he awoke.
Indeed, it was the sun playing upon his eye-
lids that recalled him from the land of dreams.
He arose from the warm turf, and called lan
guidly for Lisbet ; but though he could see
all across the meadow where he had left her
under a locust tree by the water, his eyes
discerned no sign of life. He went forward
slowly, stretching his arms and yawning,
until he came to the spot where the young
mother had been sitting. Here he saw traces
of the trampling of many feet, both of horses
and men, and a riband that had adorned the
wrist of the child lay on the ground. Fear
of a calamity came upon him—he gazed more
eagerly over the meadow, and beheld a track
through the grass as if a body of horse had
rushed along. One loud cry of " Lisbet 1"
—a cry which burst in anguish from his lips,
but to which he did not expect an answer—
showed that he understood what disaster had
befallen him. He sprang on the track of the
ravishers, crossed the meadow, burst through
a little screen of trees, and saw upon the ex
treme limit of the plain, just fading from his
view, as it were a little moving cloud with
a cluster of sparkling rays of light above it.
The Turkomans were shaking their spears
in triumph, as they entered the desert with
their prey.
Hanna had never obtained any reasonable
' information as to the fate of Lisbet. Per
haps he did not do all that some heroic na
tures would do to recover her and the child.
Hs sent messengers with offers of money to
some of the tribes ; he undertook a journey
to the stronghold of Jaffir Khan, but with
out success. The Turkomans hinted that
perhaps the charms of Lisbet lad smitten
some independent chief, who had carried her
far away into the wilderness. After some
years of vain waiting, the extreme manifes.
tations of grief disappeared. Hanna resumed
his commercial enterprises, and at length be
came established in Egypt, where he re
mained buying and selling until wealth sur
rounded him. But fifty years passed away,
and he did not take unto himself another
wife.
So far, he easily confided to the few whom
he called his friends ; and when these would
condole with him on his childless position,
he used to smile strangely and insinuate
that there might yet be found an heir to in
herit what he had amassed. Yet he never
admitted that his hopes lay in the child of
Lisbet, and that he had some faint reason
for believing that he was not feeding upon
a delusion.
The truth is that Hanna, who was a good,
kind man,—made better and kinder by all
his misfortunes,—as he was travelling be
tween Damascns and Bagdad; several years
after the loss of Lisbet, fell in with a poor
man, who begged for succor from amidst
some bushes—for he was totally naked, hav
ing been stripped by robbers. All he asked
was a cloak and a loaf, that he might contin
ue his journey to another town. But Han
na stopped his kafila and clothed and fed
him, and gave him money, and sot him on a
mule—his own spare mule, white, and fit
for a king—and took him all the way to Da
mascus, where he sat him down in tho street
without so much as asking his name, his
country or his faith.
This poor stranger was a Jew, who came
many years afterwards to Egypt, and recog
nized his benefactor. He was also a magi
cian, who discovered the secret thoughts of
those with whom he conversed,—so ho said
ono day to Hanna, " There is a mighty
sorrow within thee ; for I see the signature
of regiet upon thy brow, near the right tem
ple."
" I regret not to have a child," replied
the merchant.
" Nay," said the Jew, "thy grief bath re
lation to a thing past. Tell me thy story,
and I may bo of service."
Hanna told his story, and the Jew forth
with went away, and burnt perfumes, and
uttered words and wrote symbols, and wres
tled with the keepers of the unknown. When
he came back to the merchant, he said, "I
have not discovered all I wish to know; but
they tell me that if thou canst find the Whis
pering Tree, it will speak to tho of Lisbet
and her child."
Tho Jew could give no further informa
tion; but Hanna, who believed, began forth
with to make cautious inquiries about the
Whispering Tree. Ile questioned not only
the people of Cairo, but wrote to all his cor
respondents in various parts of the globe
asking them about this strange thing. In
deed he went about catechising the world in
general respecting the mysterious Whisper
ing Tree. But he got no information. All
replied that they were ignorant. Nobody
had heard of a tree that whispered. Year
after year Hanna persisted in inquiring of
every stranger who argued from various
provinces whether he knew anything about
the Whispering Tree, until time had passed
and strength began to fail. When all his
friends were tired of hearing him ask the
same question, and he became tired of ask
ing it, despair was a frequent visitor with
him.
One day he was at Gizneh, in a garden
drinking coffee with his friend Malek, and
listening to the bubbling of his water pipe,
when, along the path leading from the pyr
amids, appeared coming a string of laden
camels acoompanied by many men. "Is it
the caravan from Mourzuk?" inquired Han
" Nay," replied Malek, "that caravan
IME
came in the week past; and I know not from
what country this arrival may be." They
went to the garden gate, moved by curiosity,
and waited until the forerunners of the car
avan came by.
Their costume was that of the sons of the
desert, except that round the head was a
wrapper which enfolded both the brow and
the mouth, leaving little more than the eyes
exposed.
"They are of the Muthelameen," said
Malek, "and come from the deserts towards
Beled-es- Soudan, but of what tribe we shall
only learn by asking." Then he raised his
voice and said: "0 strangers, merchants;
from what country and with what merchan
dise?"
The man addressed muttered from beneath
his muffler, "From Agdaz in the land of
Ahir, with gold-dust and ivory, and a rem
nant of slaves, the strong and sturdy—the
rest having perished by the way." So say
ing, he passed on.
"Hest thou ever heard of this country?"
inquired Hanna.
"But little," said Malek. "It is not a
country of commerce; and I cannot under
stand why they should have come this way."
As he spoke a youth of pleasant countenance
riding on a camel, with his mouth uncover
ed, came slowly towards them.
"0! young man," cried Hanna, as if obey
ing a sudden inspiration, "thou comest from
unknown lands over wonderful regions.—
Perchance thou canst tell me of the Whis
pering Tree."
"It is at Kama," replied the youth strik
ing with his heel the neck of his camel, and
causing it to turn out of the line and stop,
"and what, my father, is the reason of thy
curiosity?"
"Tie a long story," replied Hanna; "but
if thou wilt alight and repose thyself after
thy fatigue, I will relate it to thee." The
young man leaped down, called to a black
man who had followed him on foot to take
care of the camel, and entered the garden
with the two old men.
When he had heard the story of the mer
chant, the young stranger said, "My story
is similar to thine, 0, my father. Thou art
seeking what thou host perhaps never seen.
I am seeking what has only appeared to me
in a vision. I come not of the Muthelameen
of Agdaz. My father was a merchant of
Egypt, who traveled with me into the land
of Talebs, of wise men and magicians,
and dying, left me there a child.—
Now it happened a year ago that I dreamed
a dream, and lo! a maiden of surpassing
beauty, came and bent over mo like a lily
over a pool of sleeping water; bent and bent
until her lips swept my temple, and I awoke
tremulous as after a kiss of love. I stretch
ed my arms in the darkness, but there was
nothing. Then I knew that I had dreamed,
and turned upon my pillow again, and
sought to return to the country I had quitted.
Soon I slept again. and the same maiden
appeared, but this time afar off, beckoning
me to follow. I endeavored to rise, but my
limbs had lost their vigor. I struggled, but
in vain. The earth drew me still closer to
it, until I burst away into consciousness,
and found myself trembling in the bed.—
From that time I pined for love of the maid
en in my dream, and naught would content
me. My friends at first, laughed and mock
ed; but when I became in truth sick and
pale, and unable to rise from the bed—una
ble and unworthy; for whenever I slumbered
the same form of beauty appeared—when I
drew near to the gates of death, they brought
to me a wise man who inquired into my
case, and smiled when ho heard what had
befallen, saying:
"'The remedy is not easy; for the road is
long, and there are dangers by the way.—
But if thou bast courage thou wilt hear
what thou wishest, murmuring amidst the
leaves of the Whispering Tree.'
"He then told me that the tree was situ
ated at a place called Kama, in Khorasan,
' beyond Persia. I instantly sold all my goods
and prepared to depart with a caravan that
was bound for Tripoli. After we had trav
eled a month, we came to a country where
there was war; and we were compelled to
traverse the regions of Thibet, and the Ho
ronj Mountains, and the Walls, and to travel
through many disasters to Egypt. This is
the reason why we have met; and now it
will be better for us both to journey together
in search of this wonderful tree."
When Hanna heard what this young man
said, that Sams was in the country of new
sman beyond Persia, he doubted not but
that he should hear there some news of the
lost Lisbet and her child. He therefore re
solved to depart in company with the young
man, whose name was Gorges, although the
prudent Mal& objected to his great age and
the possibility of danger and death. In a
few days the worthy merchant bad closed
his business for that season, and, with a.
purse of money and a case of jewels, was
ready to socompany the love-lore Gorges.
The narrative need not trace their itiner
acy. Many months elapsed ere the young
and the old traveler—the toys of love and
parental affection—were wandering, dis
guised in humble raiment, through the wilds
of Khorassan, asking of the rare people they
met for a place called Kama. Nobody
seemed able to give them any intelligence.
The place was a place unknown. They
began to think they were the victims of de
lusion, and when they had passed several
years in the vain search, it is said they be
came, as it were, mad. They thought and
talked of nothing but the Whispering Tree
of Kama. The people in the villages and
encampment knew them as the strange ques
tioners, and pitied their case; and instead of
harming them on the road, would cry: "Has
there any news been heard by ye, 0 melan
choly searchers?
.0, father! 0, brother! has
the unknown place been made known? Has
the place been revealed?" Thus they con
tinued wearying the desert with constant
going to and fro, until Haena became a bent
shadow and the youth grew up to be a beard
ed man.
It happened one evening, as they were go
ing through a mountainous country which
theyhad not hitherto trodden, far on the way
to Bucharia, they came to a small valley
locked in the embrace of rugged rocks. Its
surface was like a green emerald. Grass,
and shrubs„ and trees, and flowers, spread
to the feet of perpendicular cliffs. A silver
stream wound here and there, as if unwilling
to leave so pleasant a spot, and at last gath
ered into a small lake without apparent is
sue: The two wayfarers expected to find a
village where they might pass the night.—
But there was no sign of human habitation.
The night began balmily; the stars shone
warmly: there was scarcely any breeze, and
the little that blew was warm and fragrant
as the breath of woman. Hanna, and Gor
ges lay down under the shadow of a tree,
and slept as the travel-weary alone can
sleep.
They both dreamed a dream—if dream it
was. The tree above their heads began to
wave and wave its boughs; murmurs seemed
to creep from every leaf, there was a hum
and a buzz, as if a swarm of bees was set
tling over head; and by degrees a chorus of
small voices seemed to sing, "This is Kama,
Kama, Kama! Go no further; but tarry
hero. Rest and peaco will find you; for this
is Rama, Kama, Kama!"
All night long the same melody refreshed
their ears; and an evil spirit, who bent over
them intending to do them wrnog, fled away;
for, on seeing their smile of happiness, ho
said to himself: "That is the smile of the
angels of God!"
The birds were singing when the old man
and young awoke. The name of Kama was
still ringing in their ears; and it seemed as
if the thrush that had come to perch in the
boughs overhead was repeating it. Sudden
ly a clear, sweet voice sounded over the
meadow, and the wayfarers beheld a maiden
with a jar upon ber head, tripping lightly
along a pathway that passed near them and
led to the stream. She was singing, and
the burden of her song was: "Fair is the
valley of Kama!" Hanna turned up his
eyes with gratitude towards the whispering
Tree; but Gorges kept gazing intently at
the maiden. His dream stood before him
embodied.
The maiden of Kama was alarmed at first
at the aspect of strangers; they soon con
trived to reassure her, and bidding them
wait until she returned from the spring, she
promised to conduct them to her dwelling.
They waited accordingly and followed her
steps, which she made slow out of rsspect
to the age of Hanna, passed by a green gar
den, in the midst of which were three graves,
and reached a kind of hermitage scooped in
the rock, in front of which on a sunnybench,
sat an old man with a huge white beard
that swept to his knees. No stranger had
penetrated into that valley for•many a long
year; but the patriarch was past the age
when surprise is possible, and meekly bade
the travellers to be seated on the bench be
side him.
When they had refreshed themselves with
rest and food, the old hermit bade them tell
their stories, whilst the maiden sat at their
feet, a little nearer Gorges than to the oth
ers, listening with downcast eyes. Hanna
related what had sent them in search of the
Whispering Tree of Kama, omitting nothing,
not even the love of the young man for the
being of his dream. The hermit smiled in
his white board and said: "I am one hun
dred years old, and no longer fear the en
mity of man; for I am in hopes of the mercy
of God. I have sinned, but I have suffered.
It was I, 0 Hanna, who took away your
wife, Lisbet. I took her to my tents, not
far from this valley, but she refused her love
and died. Then I desponded and retired to
this hermitage with her child, which I bred
as my own. I called him Kama, which in
our tongue means the Bereaved, and named
the place of our dwelling after him. lie
grew up not knowing his origin, and in due
time he knew a maiden, and took her and
dwelt with her in happiness until he died,
and she died, leaving her daughter to my
care. There are the graves of Lisbet and
her son, and her son's wife," said the old
man, pointing to the three mounds of earth.
His hand fell, says the story with a rattle.
Old age had done its work. He bad lived
to restore the granddaughter of Lisbet to
him who had so long sought for herself, and
was buried in the little garden before hie
hermitage.
10,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; , 2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE.
The worthy gentleman who related this
story to me, after observing that of course
Miriam became the wife of Gorges, and that
they and Fianna returned in safety to Cairo,
endeavored to play the free-thinker by ex
plaining whatever seemed supernatural in
this story was purely ornament; that the
tree most probably did not whisper at all;
and that there was nothing in it incompati
ble with the supposition of an extraordinary
coincidence.
I observed, however, that while venturing
on this ticklish ground he had an uneasy
look, which reminded me of those philosoph
ical young gentlemen who one meets in so
ciety, and who observe in a dismal voice
that they believe in nothing they do not un
derstand.
The fact is, these Levanites are credulous
as the Muslims; and, although their stories
are not quite so wild and extravagant as
those of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments,
they exact the exercise of nearly as great an
amount of faith. I mentioned this to the
narrator, and observed, instead of entering
upon a philosophical discussion with him,
that he seemed to lay no stress on the joy of
Hanna at recovering hi , grand-daughter, or
on that of Gorges at beholding the lady of
his dream.
"As to the latter point," said he, "we can
all imagine the feelings of the young man;
but I remember it is usual to say, in telling
this story, that the good old Hanna whilst
the hermit was telling his story, put his
arms round the neck of Miriam and Gorges,
and, pressing them to his bre:l,f, tried to
speak, but could only give utterance to a
loud cry of triumph and joy. They say, too,
that he always wandered in his speech a
little afterwards, and would now and then
wish that he were a•lecp in Kama by the
side of Lisbet."—Household Words.
To l!y Elderly Friends
There are two extremes my reverend se
niors, into which we are tempted to fall when
we find ourselves upon the wane. Declining
ladies, especially married ladies, are more
given, I think, than men, to neglect their
personal appearance, when they are con
scious that the bloom of their youth is gone.
I do not speak of state occasions, of set din
ner parties and full dress balls, but of the
daily meetings of domestic life. Now, how
ever, is the time, above all others, when the
wife must determine to remain the pleasing
wife, and retain her John Anderson's affec
tions to the last, by neatness, taste, and ap
propriate variety of dress. That a lady has
fast growing daughters, strapping sons, and
a husband hard at work at his office all day
long, is no reason why she should ever enter
the family circle with rumpled hair, soiled
cap, or unfastened gown. The prettiest
woman in the world would be spoiled by
such sins in her toilette. The morning's
duties, even in store-room and kitchen, may
be performed in fitting, tidy costume, and
then changed for parlor habiliments, equally
tidy and fitting. The fashion of the day
should always be reflected in a woman's
dress, according to her position and age: the
eye craves for variety as keenly as the pal
ate; and then, I honestly protest, whatever
her age, a naturally good looking woman is
always handsome. For, happily, there ex
ists more than one kind of beauty. There
is the beauty of infancy, the beauty of youth,
the beauty of maturity, and, believe me, la
dies and gentlemen, the beauty of age, if
you do not spoil it by your own want of
judgement. At any ago a woman may be
becomingly and pleasingly dressed.
The other error— the more pardonable of
the two, because it shows an amiable love of
approbation and a desire to please, though
it implies weakness—is a continuation of
of the costume and decorations of youth after
they have ceased to be fitting ornaments fur
the wearer's age. I must say that ladies in
general are less addicted to the mistake than
men. The number of quinquag,enarian fe
males who display themselves in society in
white muslin frocks, with their locks in
ringlets, and a girl's pink sash tied behind,
is considerabiy less than that of old bucks,
with their padded substitute for muscular
grace, their wigs, their jewelry, their per
fumes, and even their rouge. Baldness, in
men, is neither a disfigurement nor a dis
graeo. To soothe your personal vanity, you
may call to mind that many young and hand
some men aro bald; to console your intellect
ual dignity, remember that "calvi, prompti,"
ready are the bald—an invaluable quality
in the affairs of life. As a rule, the harder
we fogies try to convert ourselves into boyish
cupids, the less do we succeed.
There is a great truth in Alphonse Karr's
remarks, that modern men are ugly, because
they don't wear their beards. Take a fine
man of forty, with a handsome round Medi
cian board, not a pointed Jew's beard, look
at him well, so as to retain his portait in
your mind's eye; and then shave him close,
leaving him, perhaps, out of charity, a couple
of mutton chop whiskers, one on each cheek,
and you will see the humiliating difference.
And if you select an old man of seventy for
your experiment, and convey a. snowy
bearded head that might sit for a portrait
in a historical picture, into a close-scraped,
weazen-faced visage, like an avaricious
French peasant on his way to haggle for
swine at a monthly frano-marcha, the descent
from the sublime to the ridiculous is still
more painfully apparent. Beard or no beard,
must remain at present an open question in
England; there are social difficulties of a
practical nature in the way, however we
may decide as to the theory. A servant
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,410.
would hardly be allowed to consider his
beard as his own. A bearded tradesman
might be thought by many customers to be
giving himself airs and to be Resuming un
due consequence. Many find fault with
beards, as too aristocratic, too vulgar, too
foreign, too philosophic, too symptomatic of
Socialism, in short, too they don't quite
know what; forgetting all the while that
the beard was planted on the chin of man
by the same Power that adorned the lion
with his mane, and the peacock with his
plumes. But, certainly, it is the artistic
interest of us elderlies, as far as our own
personal appearance is concerned, that
beards should at least be tolerated.
Perfumes are better altogether discarded
by well-dressed gentlemen who are past the
age of dandihoud. Extreme personal clean
liness is the most judicious cosmetic we can
use. Our money is more wisely laid out on
Windsor soap and huckaback towels than on
Eau de Cologne and essence of millefleure.
False teeth are permi..able or not, accord
ing to their object and their animus. An
accidental deserter from an otherwise even
and goodly set may have a substitute bought
for him without reasonable blame. Teeth
that really and truly help either to eat or to
articulate, are no more than the natural
tools to carry on the business of life. But
if you cause your two or three remaining
stumps to be extracted, in order to make
room for a complete set of pearly ivories,
both top and bottom, with patent spring
hinges, which you want to display at the
opera while you smile at the girls in the
boxes, or ogle the dancers on the stage
through your binocular glass—then, you are
no better than a foolish old fellow; and do
not forget the true proverb, "There is no
fool like an d foil"
I take it for granted that you have made
your will. Many elderlies (who grow older
and older every day, whether they know it
and like it or nut,) look upon will-making, as
an unpleasant or painful operation of t'te
same class as bleeding or tooth-drawing.—
They will submit to it under the influence
of chloroform, not otherwise. I assure you
they are mistaken, having tried it myself
and found it a very comfortable anodyne
against several uneasy sensations; of course
to have that healingvirtue, the last will and
testatiwnt must be a fair and just one, with
nothing set down in malice or caprice.—
!People will sometimes avenge themselves in
their wills of affronts, little or great, real or
fancied, that have been put on them. Peo
ple also often repent of the harsh resolutions
they have made. Now, if personal reconcil
iation has taken place, or even if the offend
ing party is only forgiven in the secret
chamber of the complainant's heart, the re
cord of estrangement in black and white
ought not to remain uncanceled a single
hour. Death may step in, without pre
viously sending in his card, and may con
vert a free pardon into a vindictive sentence,
thus baffling the dilatory testator, who
thought and meant to have made his peace
with all men before departing hence.
Merciful change of mind may come too
late to be carried into execution—a strong
reason for not fixing on parchment any un
merciful resolution in black and white. At
the last death bed at which I was present
others had retired, and I was left alone with
the sinking patient. Consciousness and in
tellect remained clear to the last; but, as
strength ebbed away, the eyes alone re
mained eloquent, while the lips continued to
move in the attempt to speak, without the
faculty of uttering a sound. I guessed pret
ty nearly what the moribund person was
wishing to say; at least I felt sure of the
tenor of it, because the previous contersa
tion, while speech was possible, had been an
expression of thanks and blessings, with
good advice and judicious observations.—
But, I thought, had those unutterable last
words been, instead of what they were, an
unavailing expression of forgiveness, a desire
to restore some young offender to his sus
pended rights, now forfeited forever—what
an awful struggle must take place in the
mind of him who feels himself quitting
earthly things under such conditions, the re
sult of his own hasty harshness or his tardy
tenderness.—Household Words.
BarWe copy another chapter of the an
cient Natural History, recently discorered
by the editor of the Boston Post, and now
again brought to light in print:
Parte X.—ro Vayde Seruant.
A Damsel of a pleasante dysposytion ys
a eerie greats helps to ye goode Horserrife.
Ye chearful mayden vvyll Synge righte mer
rielye abort ye Horse. She lyketh better a
merrye songe than ye Psalmes of Sternholde
do Hophyns. She lykervyse loueth not to
abyde jn ye horse of ye Lorde upon a pleas
ante Sabbathe; but yf so be that she mygbt,
vrolde readylie vralke jn ye Fields & Woodee
vvyth herr svvetehearte, and sytt vvyth hym
yn some shadie playce, vntyl ye goings
dovvne of ye sun.
Herr take ye heede, listo and hearken rate
me, alle ye Hvsbandes: yt ye nott vvyse for
ye Goodman of ye Horse to have larch talke
vvyth ye Damsel, (more especiallie yf she
be comelie I faire to looks upon,) leste, per
adventure, ye Gooderryfe should be trovbel
led vvyth jealonsie thereatt, the vvych ya
nott goode yn mayntainynng ye peace of ye
Hovseholde.
• GOOD DsvrvtrtoN.—The Chicago Journal
,eye that by the term "Strong-minded wo
man," it moans - •one who spoils a very re
spectable woman in vain endeavors to become
s very ordinary men."