Vol XXX V 2 Yo SKs<>.
Rates of Advertising.
Oae square, 18 lines, I 2 squares, G mos. $5.00
1 time 50 " 1 year 6.00 !
" 2 times 75 column, 3 mos. S.t'O
3 •' 1.00 " 6 " 10.00
1 mo. 1.25 " 1 year 15.00
" 3 " 2.50 1 column, 3 mos. 10.00 ;
44 6 " 4.00 44 6 " 15.00 |
" 1 year 6 0!) " 1 year 25.00
2 squares, 3 "times 2.00 Notices before mar- !
" 3 mos. 3.50 riages, &c. sl2.
Communications recommending persons for j
office, must be paid ia advance at the rate of
25 cents per square.
IJOCtiMJ.
THE BOTHER'S IIAYD.
Br CHARLES SWAIN*.
A wandering orphan child VVBS I
But meanly, at the best, attired;
For oh, my mother scarce couid buy
The common food each week required:
But when the anxious day had fied,
It seem'd to be her dearest joy,
To press her pale hand on my head,
And pray that God would guide her boy.
Eut more, each winter, more and more
Stern suffering brought her to decay;
And then an Angel passed her door.
And bore her lingering soul away!
And i—they know not what is grief,
Who ne'er knelt by a dying bed;
All other woe on earth is brief.
Save that which weeps a mother dead
A seaman's life was soon my lot,
'Mid reckless deeds—and desperate men?
But still [never quite forgot
Tiie prayer I ne er should hear again :
And oft when half induced to tread
Such paths as unto sin decoy,
Ivt fell her fond hand press my head.
And that soft touch hath saved her boy '
Though hard their mockery to receive,
Who ne'er themselves 'gainst sin had striven
Her, who on earth I dared not grieve,
I could not —would not—grieve in heaver, ;
And thus from many an action dread,
Too dark for human eyes to scan ;
The same fond hard upon my head
That blessed the boy— hath saved the man!
SI Srlrtt Calf.
SWEARING OFF. i
BV T. S. ARTHUR.
24itor of the Home Gazelle, and Author of many Moral
and Popular Tales
'John,' said a sweet-faced girl, laying
her hand familiarly npnn the shoulder of
•a young man who was seated near a win
dow.in deep abstraction of mind. There
was something sad in her voice,—and her
countenance though lovely, wore an ex
pression of pain.
4 What do you want, sister?' the young
man replied, without lifting his eyes from
the floor.
4 You are not happy, brother,'
To this, there was no reply, and an em
barrassing pause of some moments ensued.
4 May i speak a word with you, broth
er?'—the young girl at length said, with a
tone and manner that showed Iter, to be
compelling herself to the performance of
a painfulyind repugnant task.
4 On what subject. Alice?' the brother
asked, looking up with a doubling expres
sion.,
This question brought the colour to
Alice's cheeks, and the moisture to her
e\ es.
4 You know what 1 would say, John,
she at length made out to utter, in a voice
thai slightly trembled.
4 How should 1 know, sister?"
4 You were not yourself last night, John.'
♦ Alice V
4 Forgive me, brother, for what I now
Bit,' the maiden rejoined. 4 ltis a pain
ful trial, indeed ; and were it not that I
loved you so well—were it not that, be
sides you, there is no one else in the wide
world to whom I can look tip, I might
shrink from a sbler's duty. Hut I feci
that it would be wrong for me not to whis
per in your ear one warning word—wrong
not to try a sister's power over you.'
•1 will forgive you this time, on one
condition,' the brother said, in a tone ol
rebuke, and with.a grave expression of
countenance.
4 What is thai?' asked Alice.
4 On condition that you never again, di
rectly or indirectly, allude to this subject.
It is not in your province to do so. A
sister should not look out for her brother's
faults.'
A sudden gush of tears followed his
cold, half-angry repulse : and then the
maiden turned slowly -away and left the
room.
John Barclay's anger towards his only
sister, who had no one, assiie had feeling
ly said, in the wide world to look up and
love, but him, subsided the moment he
saw how deeply his rebuke had wounded
her. But lie couid not speak to her nor
recall his words —for the subject she had
introduced was one so paintul and mor
tifying. that he could not bear an allusion
to it.
From long indulgence, the habit of
drinking bad become confirmed in ihc
young man to such a degree that he had
almost ceased to resist an inclination that
was gaining a dangerous power over him.
And yet, there was in his mind an abiding
resolution to bteak away from this
lie did not intend to become a drunkard.
Oh, no The condition of a drunkard
was too low and degrading. lie could
never sink to that! After awhile lie in
tended to 4 swear off," as he called it, and
be duue ywuh the seductive ptnsou ul'.o
Oi * PSA C"\ YRFV biTWN on f 6-3 *\ cir*~S\ c-*3 ~— 1 c — , ' - - ••-
*• -^ jfr -Nj ' ' .'• J *■'& ■ 'V-lL * J ti mmt v- -• "--- „, 1-- n '- * " J J ry\ 1-" . iT"' I ," "\! h J^s*T ? rik '' SI <ra Tj Y~3 S~gw" y~si j-y y lx i;a
? 3 I W±>;
getiier ; but lie had not yet been able to
bring so good a resolution.into present ic
tivity. 'l'llis (>eing his state of tnimi-r—
--ronscious of danger, and yet unwilling to
fly from that danger, he could not bear any
allusion to the subject.
Half an iiour, passed in troubled
thought, elapsed after this brief interview
between the brother and sistes, when the
young man left the house and took his
way*, scarcely reflecting upon where he
was going, to one of his accustomed pla
ces oi resort —a fashionable drinking
house, where every device that ingenuity
could invent, was displayed to attract cus
tom. Splendid mirrors and pictures hung
against the walls, affecting the mind with
pleasing thoughts—and tempting to self
indulgence. There were lounges, where
one might recline at ease, while lie sipped
the delicious compounds the richly fur
nished bar afforded, never at once dream
ing that a serpent lay concealed in the cup
that he heid to Ins lips—a serpent that
one day would sting him, perhaps unto
death!
4 Regular as clock-work,' —said ar. old
man, a friend of Barclay's father who had
been uead for several years, meeting the
young man as he was about to enter the
attractive establishment just alluded to.
4 How,' asked Barclay in a tone of in
quiry.
* Six limes a day, John, is too ofien for
you to be seen going into one drinking
house,' said the old man, with plain-spo
ken honesty,
4 You must not talk to me in that way,
Mr. Gray,' the other rejoined sternly.
' My respect and regard for the laihcr,
will ever cause nie to speak plainly to the
son when 1 think him in danger,* was Mr.
Gray's calm reply.
• In danger of what. Mr. Gray V
4 ln danger ol- shall i utter ;he word
in epeaking of the son of my old friend.
Mr. Barcla) ? Yes; in danger of-—drunk
enness !'
-• Mr. Gray, I cannot permit any one
speak to me thus.*
4 Be not offended at me, John. J utter
but the truth.'
4 1 will not stand to be insulted by any
one !' was the young man's angry reply,
as he turned suddenly away front iiis aged
friend, and entered t e drinking house.
He did not go up at once to the bar, as had
been his habit, but threw hiinseif down
upon one of the lounges, took up a news
paper, and commenced, or rather, appeared
to commence reading, though he did not,
in fact, see a letter.
4 What will you have, Mr. Barclay V
asked an officious attendant, coining up, a
few moments after he had entered.
4 Nothing just now,' was the reply,
made in a low tone, while his eyes were
not lifted from the newspaper. No very
pleasant reflections were those that passed
through his mind as he sat there. \t las!
he rose up quickly, as it a resolution had
been suddenly formed, and left the place
where clustered so many temptations, with
a hurried step.
4 I want you to administer an oath,' h<>
said, entering iiie office of an Alderman, a
few minutes after.
4 Very well, sir. I am ready,' replied
the Alderman. 4 What is its nature
' 1 will give vou the form.'
4 Well V
' I John Barclay, do solemnly swear,
that for six months from tiii? hour, 1 mil
not taste a drop of any kind of iiquor that
intoxicates.'
4 1 wouldn't take that oath, young man;'
the Alderman said. i
4 Why not V
4 \ou had better go and join a temper
ance society. Signing the pledge v.nit In
ol as much avail.'
4 No—l will not sign a pledge never to
drink again, i'rn not going to make n
mere slave of myself. 1*1; swear oil' for
six months.'
4 Why not swear off perpetually, then ?'
4 Because, as I s..id, 1 am not going ;<>
make a slave of myself. fc>ix months of
total abstinence will give me a control over
myself that 1 do not now possess.'
4 1 very much fear, sir,' urged the Alder
man, notwithstanding he perceived that
the young man was growing impatient—
-4 and you must pardon my freedom in say
ing so, that you will find yourself in error.
If you are already so much the slave of
I drink as 10 feci yourself compelled to Ijave
recourse to the solemnities of an oath to
break. away front its bewitching power, de
pend upon it, that no temporary expedient
;of this kind will he of any avail. You
will, no doubt, keep your oath religiously,
but when i.s influence is withdrawn, )ou
i will find the strength of an unsupported
i resolution as weak as ever.'
4 1 do not believe the position you take
to be a true one,' argued young Barclav—
-4 All I want is to get rid of present temp
tation, and to be freed from present asso -i
i aiions. Six months will place me beyond
the reach of these, and then i snail be
able to do right from an internal principle,
and not Iroin mere external restraint.'
4 1 see the view you take, and would
not urge a word against it, did i not know
1 so many instances of individuals who have
i vainly opposed their lesolutiou against the
power of habit. When once an appetne
for intoxicating drinks ius been formed,
! there is only one way of safety—that of
FRIDAY I3VEIVIAG, JANUARY IG, 1 *52.
taking a perpetual pledge of lotal-absti
: ncnca. That, and that alone is the wall
of sure protection. Without it, you are
• exposed to temptations on every hand.
i he manly and determined effort to be free
will not always avail. In some weak and
unsuspecting moment, the tempter will
j ste.ff quie'iy in, and all will lie again lost.' I
4 It is useless, sir, to urge the point with
me,' Barclay replied to this: '1 will ,
not now take the pledge—that is settled,
j 1 will take an oath of abstinence for six
months. If | can keep to it that long, 1
can keep from drinking alway.'
Seeing that further argument would be
useless the Alderman said no more, hut
proceeded to administer the oath. The 1
1 young man then paid the required fee and !
turned from the oflicc in silence.
V hen Alice left the room in tears, stung
by the cutting rebuke of her brother, she
retired to her chamber with an oppressed ■
and aching heart. Slie loved him tender
ly. They were, sister and brother, alone
in the world, and, therefore. Iter a flections
clung the closer to him. The struggle had
been a hard one in bringing herself to
perform the duty which had called down
upon her the anger of one for whom she
would almost has e given life;and, therefore,
the result was doubly painful, more par
ticularly, as it had effected nothing, ap
parrendy, towards a change in his habiis.
4 But perhaps it will cause htm to re- ;
fleet—if so, 1 will cheerfully bear his
anger,' was the consoling thought that pas
sed through her mind, alter the passage of
an hour, spent under the influence of must
painful let hugs.
4 O, if lie would only be more on bis
guard," she went on. in thought— 4 if he
will only give up that habit, how glad I
shall be I'
.fust then she heard him enter, and
marked the sound of his footsteps as he
ascended to his own room, with a flutter
ing heart. In the course of fifteen or
tweak minutes, he went down again, and
she listened to observe if lie were going
out. But lie entered the parlour, and tin u
all was, again, quiet.
For some time Alice debated with her
self whether she would go down to him
or not, ami make the ctlurt to dispel the
anger that she had aroused against her;
hut she could not make up her mind how
to act. for she could not teil in what mood I
she might find him. One repulse was as |
much, she felt, as she could bear. At last
however, her feelings became so wrought I
up, that she determined to go down and J
seek to be reconciled. 11 <-r brother's
anger was more than she could bear.
When siie entered the parlour, with her
usual quiet step, she found him seated near
tfie window, reading. He lifte'd his head
as she came in, and she saw at a glance
that ail Ins angry feelings were gone. How
lightly did her heart bound a- she sprang
forward !
4 \\ ill you forgive me brothershe >aid,
la\ing her hand- upon his shoulder as sin
stood bv Itis side, and bent her lace dou n
until* her fair cheek almost touch; 1 Ins
own.
• Rather let me say, will you forgive
me, sister V was his reply, as be k,--ui
her alb ctionately—• for the unkind re- ,
pulse I gave YOU, w hen to say w hat you
did must have caused you a most painful
sacrifice of feeling ?'
4 Painful indeed ii was, brother. But it
is past now—and all forgiven."
4 Since then, Alice,' lie said, after a
pause, 4 I have taken a suit inn oath, ad
; ministered bv an Alderman, not to touch j
j auv kind ol intoxicating drink for six
months.'
4 On am so glad, John ! the sister said,
a joyful smile lighting up her beautiful
\ouug I tee. 4 But \vh\ did you say six
mouths ? Why not for life ."
' Because, Alice, 1 do not wish to bind j
myself down to a kind of perpetual sla
\erv. I wish to be free, and act right in
freedom from a true principle of right.
Six months of eniire abstinence from ail
kinds of liquor will destroy that appetite :
for it which has caused me, of late, to seek i
iit Jar too often. And then 1 will, as a free
man, remain free.'
• 1 shall now be so happy again, John !' !
Alice said, fully satis tiled with tier broth
er's reason.
• So you have not boon happy then ol
| laic.'
4 0, no, brother. Far from it !'
Ami lias the fact of my using wine so
fret iy been the cause of your unhap
piness ?'
• Solely !'
4 Its effects upon me have not been so
visible as often to attract your attention,
Alice V
4 0, yes, they have. Scarcely a day
lias gone by for three or four months past,
that 1 could not see that your mind was !
üb-cun-d, ami often your actions sensibly
affected.'
4 1 did not dream that it was so, Alice."
4 Are you not sensible, that at Mr. Wes
ton's, lust night, you were by no means
yourself !'
4 A es, Alice, I ain sensible of that, and
deeply has it mollified me. 1 was suffer
ing acutely from the recollection of the ex
posure winch I made of myself on that
occasion, especially before Helen, when
you alluded i<> Hie subject. i fiat was the
reason that 1 could not bear your allusion
to it. But tell mc, Alice,did you perceive
that my situation attracted Helen's atten
tion particularly ?'
| * A PS. She noticed, evidently, that you
were not as you ought to have been.'
4 How did it affect her, Alice?' asked
the young man.
'She seemed much p vined, and. [ thought,
mortified.'
' Mortified ?'
• Yes.'
A pause of some moments ensued, when
Barclay asked, in a tone of interest,
• Do you think it has prejudiced her
against me ?'
4 It has evidently pained her very much,
i but 1 do not think that it has created in her
mind any prejudice against you.'
4 From what do you infer this, Alice ?'
4 1' rom the i.-.ct. that, while we were
alone in her chamber, on my going up
stairs to put on my bonnet and shawl, she
j said to me, and her eyes w ere moist as
well as my own, 4 Alice, you ought to
speak to your brother, arid caution him
against this free indulgence in wine; it
may grow on him, unawares. If he were
as near to me a he is to you, I should not
f< el that my conscience was clear unless i
warn d him of fus danger." '
4 Fid she say that, sister V
' A i s, those were her very words.'
• Vad you did warn mc, faithfu ly.'
•Ai s. But the task is one I prav that I
may never again have to perform.'
4 Ainen,' was the fervent response.
4 How do you iike Helen ?' the young
man asked, in a livelier tone, after a
silence of about a minute.
4 i have always been attached to her.
John. Aou know that we have been
together since we were little girls, ualii
now we are most like sisters.'
• And a sister, truly, 1 hope she mav
one da\ become," the brother said, with a
meaning smile.
'Most affectionately will 1 receive her
as such, was the reply of Alice 4 1 ban
Helen Weston, there is no one whom I
had rather see the wife of my dear bro
i ther.'
As she said this, she drew her arm
around ins neck and kissed him alicction
ately.
• it shall not he my fault, then, Alice, if
she do not become your sister—' was the
> brother's response.
Rigidly true to his pledge, John Barc
lay soon gained the honourable estimation
|in ihe social circle through which he
moved, that he had held, betore wine, the
mocker, had seduced him from the ways of
true sobriety, and caused even his best
friends to regard him with changed feel
ings. Possessing a competence, which
a father's patient industry had accumulated,
he had not, hitherto, thought of entering
upon any business. Now, however, he
began to see the propriety of doing so,
and as lie had plenty capital, he proposed
to a voting mail of industrious habiis and
thorough knowledge of business to enter
into a co-partnership with him. The of
fer v is r ccpted, a 4 i ! the two voung men
t omen i>i the world with the forest
pi o--;n cts.
Three months from the day on which
i .! din B irelav had mentioned to his sister
that he entertained a regard for Helen
Vv eslon, he made proposals <d marriage
to that young lady, which were accepted.
4 But how in regard to ins pledge ?' 1
hear some one ask.
4 t). as to th it, it was kept, rigidly.
Nothing that could intoxicate was allowed
'to touch his lips. Of course, he was at
nr.- frequently asked to drink by his as
sociate-', but his reply to all importunities
was—
-4 So—l have sworn off* for six months.'
4 So you have said for the last six
months,' remarked a young man. named
Watson, one day, on his refusing for the
twentieth time to drink with him.
4 Not for six months, Watson. It is on
ly three months this very day since I
; swore off.'
4 Weil, it seems to mc like six months,
; anyhow. But do you ihink that you feel
, any better for all this total abstinence ?'
4 O, as to that, 1 don't know that 1 feel
: such -i wonderful difference in bodv ; but
in mind I certainly do fed a great deal bet
• tor.'
4 llow so ?'
4 While 1 drank, I was conscious that 1
; was beginning to be too fond of drinking,
and was too often painfully conscious that
I hud taken toy much. Now, I am, of
j course, relieved front alt such unpleasant
! feelings.*
4 Well, that's something, at least But
I never saw you out of the way.'
• Do you know the reason, Watson.
4 No."
4 I'll tell you. A'ou were always too far
! gone yourself, when we drank freely to
gether, to perceive my condition.*
4 b'o you say.'
4 It's true.'
4 W ffl, have it as you like. But, see
here, John, what are you going to do
when your six months are out ?'
4 I'm going to be a sober man, as I am
now.'
4 A ou never were a drunkard.'
4 I was precious near being one, then.
1 4 Nonsense ! That's all some old wo
man's notion of yours.'
4 Well, be that as it may, 1 certainly in
tend continuing to he a sober man as I
have been lor the last three months.'
4 Won't you drink a drop afier your
; time is up V
4 That'll be just as I choose. I will
drink or let it alone, as I like. I shall
then he free to drink moderately, or not at
all, as seems agreeable to me.'
! ' I'll >i is a little more sensible than your
perpetual total-abstinence, teetotal, cold
water system. Who would be such a
miserable slave ? I would rather die drunk
in tne gutter, than throw away my liberty.'
4 i believe 1 have said as much myself.'
4 Don't you feel a desire to have a good
glass ot wine, or a julep, now and then ?'
' -No, not the slightest. I've sworn oil
hr mx months, and that ends the matter.
Ol course, i have no more desire for a
glass ol liquor than I have to fly to the
inoon—one is a moral, and the other a
physical impossibility ; and, therefore, are
dismissed irom my thoughts.'
' What do you mean bv a moral impos
sibility V
' i have taken an oath not to drink for
six months, and the violation of that oath
is, lor one of my views and feelings, a
moral impossibility.'
' Exactly. There are three months yet
to run, you say. After that, I hope to
have the pleasure of taking a glass of
wine with you in honor of your restora
tion to a state of freedom.'
' iou shall have that pleasure. Watson,
i! it will really be one—' was Barclay's
reply, as the two young men parted.
[To be concluded.]
£?£VfCttUurai,
4 ' Sponly Land.''
Farmers are often troubled with what
are generally known as spouty places in
their ileitis, They are caused by small
streams ot water, which coming near the
surface, are scattered through the soil.
Keeping it too wet for the growth of use
ful plants. This evil can be remedied at
a small expense ; and that which is an in
jury to the field be converted into a bene
fit, in the following manner:—Dig a ditch
across the upper end of the spouty place
deep enough to cut off the streams of wa
ter which cause it, and then carrying it in
the direction in v. hich the ground ascends
until it reaches a point w here the surface
oi the ground is a littie lower than the
bottom of the ditch where it traverses the
wet plain. This done fill the ditch a few
incites deep with small stones; and upon
the stones lay some straw, leaves, or some
thing else to keep the earth from filling up
with the clay or soil which was thrown
out. The water which caused the • spout'
wiii find its way among tite stones at the
bottom of the ditch, and follow thetn to
the issue prepared, where it will form a
small spring, sufficient in many cases to
make a watering place lor cattle. We saw
a small spring ot excellent water obtained
in this way, which did not fail in the drv
cst seasons. This is what is commonly
calletf 51 Trench mam.
Infallible fare for the Toothache.
Those of our readers who have felt the
cxcruci it i; i _ pangs oi tins disease, and who,
like ourselves, have experienced but little
human sympathy on such occasion, will no
doubt be gratified to be put in possession
of a remedy which will in all probability
forever quiet the unmerciful offender.
On one occasion while laboring under
the tortures of litis disease, a friend entered
the room, and after learning the cause of
our suffering, joyously exclaimed :
* Why, my dear friend, I can cure you
in live minutes.-
• How ' liow !' inquired we.
• Have vou am aium V
< Yes.* "
' Bring it, nn 1 some common salt.*
They were produced—my friend pul
verised them, and mixed them in equal
quantities; then wet a small piece of col
ton. causing the mixed powders to adhere,
and placed it in the hoiinw tooth.
• There,' said he, * it that does not cure
you, I will forfeit niy head.'
It was as predicted. On the introduc
tion of the mixed alum and salt—a sensa
tion of coldness was experienced, which
gradually subsided, and with it the tor
ment of the toothache.
!
Dr. Powell's Mixture
For the Fistula, Pole Evil, Felons, &c.
Spirits of turpentine, half pint.
Oil of spike, one ounce.
Verdigris, half ounce.
Sulphuric acid, two ounces.
The Sulphuric acid is to be added in
very small quantities at a time, and the
bottle is to be shaken at every addition.
If for a felon, grease the skin and hold the
allected parts in the mixture.
To Relieve (Stoked Animals.
I ako a llexible roil about tour feet long
and three iourths of an inch in diameter,
vv ind 011 the but end tow or cotton, and
tie a rag over that ami grease it. To keep
the mouth open, place a piece of hard
wood one foot long, lour inches wide, and
one inch thick with a hole bitted 111 the
centre for 1 tn- rod to pass through, and
then push it gently down the throat, and
\cw Series—Vol. G—r\o. 315-
it is said to be always effectual ami to gi\e
immediate relic!'.
It is also said that a round stick about
the size and length of a rolling piu with a
cord tied in the notches in the ends, placed
in the animals mouth and fastened to e i.ii
horn, will, if allowed a little time, unehoke
them and s rve the suffering crcaiure from
a lingering death.
JK i g 1111 a tt c o u 0
ffr. Ottca. late Cori-ni at Havana*
I hc National Intelligencer publishes a
letter tilling near three columns* from Mr.
Owen, late Consul at Havana, m which
he defends himself from the charges of
inhumanity and want of energy in the
discharge of his duties iu reference to ike
prisoners who were captured by lite Cu
ban authorities and executed for their par
ticipation in the Lopez expedition. Mr.
Owen denies strenuously, these charges
and insists that lie did all that was com
patible with the circumstances under which
the prisoners were placed, and the limited
powers with which lie was himself invest
ed, He publishes the copy of a letter
he addressed to the Captain General, so
liciting tite lives of fifty prisoners who
were sentenced to be shot, or in the event
that could not be granted asking that their
execution might lie deferred. To this the
Captain General replies that the men cap
tured are not American citizens or citizens
of any other nation, but pirates, and that
he cannot permit any interference in re
gard to their fate from Mr. Owen or any
other resident Consul. In regard to the
prisoners who were subsequently cap
tured Mr. Owen asserts that he did every
thing to the utmost of his ability to alleviate
their condition and administer to their wants,
furnishing them with food,clothing and other
necessaries out of his private funds. He also
publishes a letter from Mr. Thrasher,written
on the eve of his departure for Spain, in
which he says to Mr. Owen:—"l have to
thank you, which I do most sincerely,
not only for your exertions in my behalf,
which we can only regret having been un
availing, but also lor many acts of kindness
which you have extended to me."
SLAXDLB. —Let it be graven upon your
memory that a person who repeats a slan
der, even though he give the nunc of his
author, is no better and far more mischiev
ous, than its originator, lie endorses the
lie by his repetition of it. and as, without
his endorsement, it never could have gained
credit, he is responsible for the mischief
by the law of God and man. We would
take a spurious note far more readily from
an honest man than from a known coun
terfeiter. and every additional hand it passes
through adds to the deception. Because
slander is more accumulative than the snow
ball. It is like a salad which everv one
will season to his own taste or those to
whom he oilers it; or like the kite of a
child, to which additional exaggerations
are attached, each light in itself, but togeth
' er, forming a couuu ;i;a!!ancing weight
without which the airy inlie would full
again to the earth, when with eager speed
he runs to make it soar aloft.
THE JOYS OF Arrrcriox.—Cherish
your hearts best affec.ions. Indulge i-i
die warm and gushing emotions of filial,
parental, ant! fraternal love. Think it not
weakness. God is love. Love God,
everybody, ami everything that is lovely*.
Teach your chtldren to love; to love the
rose—o love the robin—to love their
parents—to love their God. Let it be
the studied object ot your domestic culture
to give them warm hearts, and ardent af
fections. Brfril your wliole family to
gether by these strong cords. \ou can
not make litem too strong. Religion ;s
love—love to God, and hue to man.
BBROVV N'S Essence of Gixgkk, at A. A.
ILIO BANKS' Variety store.
Braces. a new and supeiiur
article, ai A. A. BANKS'Variety store.
SHAVING Creain, a delightful article,
so tening" the bear- and eating the 'labor
oi shaving at BANKS' Variety store.
pERFUMEHV —Bay Runt. Cotogoe, Ver
£ bona, Sweet Briar, Patcheoly, Jenny
Bind. Jasaiine, Rose, at
D! 9 BANKS' Variety store.
tL IGAIIS.—A great variety of CIGARS,
J bought low and selling accordingly.
Lovers ot tiie weed, the place to get a good "and
cheap article, is at BANKS' V a riety store.
OR PL DOlNGS.— lltcly i r'.v Furiua, pre
pared expressly tor lainilies, luitels and
eating houses. Corn Starch, a new article for
the -nme purpose, Similarly prepared, for sals
at decl2 BANKS' Variety Store.
IjlOR C IRISTMA B.—Seevtifulornament
al Alohas'- r i"tin> ij liox> .i , and other
kmek -knocks.
Also, E.AV v Soars. 'tdmirahle irmfa'lONS in
appearance', of fruit—a new article, just re
ceived and ;or saie at
decl'd BVNKS' Variety Store.
Stali dti'fy !
IHI.UE and White LETTER PAPER
(jilt edged " **
A-ssoi ted colors "
Plain and Fancy note "
Blue and White Fcclscap *•
f nv'-epc.-;, Wsk*-, Quids ai d Stee. Pens.
DL* V A. hanKS*.