X2`2' TgW4ZIS2WAVoI,
Lao Nrc.
A Psalm of. Life.
BY H ER BY W. LosvrELLow
Tell me not, in. mournfurnmilberi, -.
Life is but an empty dream ; - "
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
Azul things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest.
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dug thou art, to dust retamest,
Was not spoken of the soul,
Not enjoyment, and not-sonnw,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
- Find us farther than to-day.
izt is long, and Time is fleeting,
;And our tieatts though stout and brave,
0111 like muffled drums are beating,
Funeral marches to the grave. -
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life ;
Ben9t - like dtirnb, driven cattle!
Bea hero in the strife !
Trust no future, howe'er 'pleasant!
'Let the dead past, bury its.destl !
Act,—act in the living present !
Heart within and God derhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of Time.
Footsteps, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, _shall take heart again.
lAA' us, then, be up and doing,-
With a heart for any fate; •
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn ➢ to labor and to wait.
Lines suggested by the 78th birth-play of
Andrew Jackson.
1:=1
Old lion heart! hciw light the snows
• Of ages rest upon thy Lead ;
While, far and wide - , l thy fiercest foes, I
Are numbered with the silent dead!
Within thy manly bosom leaps
. The life's blood es in days of cdt l / 4 ,
When sank the slain iserimson heaps
By Chatahooches , waves of gold,, •
Thy hattlo-sword, unsheethed in wrath
Where tempests brood and eagles moult,
Flashed on the red man's blasted path
Like the avenger's thunderbolt; •
ambuscades and sylvan bowers,
From ranks to ranks its terrors Sew,
' Till, streaming (rum the land of flowire,
It drank the blood of Waterloo.
More precious thah the sceptre fouud
Among the grim old Rodeiick's dust, .
In friendship's hands, with garlands crown'd,
It rest; a nation's sacred trust;
' And when it gleams in triumph where
The island queen her empire sway;
Let the bold English knight beware
The conqueror's steel of other days.
Man of the Hermitage: live on,
To bless the land, and crown thy fame,
Till, like a second Washington,
The nations wake to shout thy name:
Live on, amid earths fairest bowers,
An 'oracle- of truth and love,
And find' it last, mid blooming flowers,
A - pathway - to thy rest above.
WAsnuccrrOs, March 15, 1845.—'
Thaw to Marry.
When your get married, don't marry it pet,
A jilt, or a vixen, or yet a coquette
"kut marry a maid—that is, if you mi—
n:lie fit for tho wife of a sensible man.
toot out for the girl, that is healthy and yoing ,
more in her broth= yon hear from her
•
tongue. _ •
And though she be freckle], or burnt to, a tan,
et she is the girl for a sensible awn.
With riches will,wretchedness often in
Go linked, when Your riches are;ot with a wife;
Bat marry, and motet; nilthe riches you can,
Like a bold, independent, and sensible man.
Look foc a girl who is gentle and kind, .
And modest end !client, and tell her' our mind,
If ahe's wise, as bewitching, she'll welcome
the plan, -
And,poon be the wife of a sensible man. - .
Then cherish her excellence wisely and kind;
And be to 'small foibles indulgently blind ; .
For so you make happy, if any thing can,
The wife of a eober, abd sensible ratan:
• • 'Epitaph. -
.
How lov'd, lioiv sa .
u'donce. avails
To whom related, or by whom begot:
A . heap of dust alone reniaiws of thee ;
w all thou art, and all the protid shall he.
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Almost an Elopement.
We met an old friend the other - day
whom we had not seen : for. several
months. John," said we, .in the
course of a conversation with him, “why
don't you get married and settle down
somewhere?",
Get married and settle down,
,you
sa id," John repeated with• emphasis."
~ Yes."
‘• I came very near settling down
without getting married,, a white ago."
• How's that-?"
No matter—l don't like to tell se
crets to an editor."
"- But in confidence, you know, John.
Come out with it."
Won't you. tell ?"
No."
" Now I know you will ; but pledge
me that my name shnll not go with it,
and. you shall have the story, and may
tell it as much as you please. • •
i We pledged our " sacred honor," and
John threw away his cigar and com
menced. . .
,
" Here , some two or three months
ago, I happened into oneolthe prettiest
little villages you ever set your eyes
upon—" . - 1
e What was its rimer
"'That's my concern, ' and I'll man- 1
age it'vathout your assistance, It was
indeed a beautiful village, with pretty
streets, pretty houses, pretty gardens,
pretty fences, pretty every thing—and
among other things, pretty women.—
The latter, you know, I naturally take
a liking to; and of course. I was not
displeased when a kind of fifteenth
cousin, whom I called on during a short
stay there—on business, strictly—in
vited me 'to make his house my home
for a fortnight or so, while I went over
the sporting grounds in the neighbor
hood„ and killed all 'the beasts, birds
and witches that ran wild there. Hang
me, ill didn't thank the fellow with a
full heart ; and I moved my little bun
dle of clothes and other rubbish to his
house in double quick time. Well, I
had been there three or font days, and
had been gunning every day, without
so much as killing a woodpecker or
tree toed,' when one day, in crossing a
piece of open ground surrounded en
tirely with woods. 1 discovered, not a
little to my surprise, the prettiest girl I
had ever seen in my whole life. From
her appearance, I judged- at once she
had lost her way.' prepared myself im
mediately to perform a piece of true
gallantry. So walking straight up to
her, I communicated my suspicions,
very politely, and inquired if I could
render any assistance. . .. .
She reblied that she had lost her way
in attempting to get through the wood
by an obscure path, and would be very
much obliged if I led her into the main
road, or point opt to her the direction
in which it lay,
,Away we started to
gether. On theiyay we chatted about
every thing we could think of, (except
her pretty self, which I was thinking
of continually,) for she was sociable as
an old school mate, and even told me
her name, the name of - her father, and
the names of Italia dozen brothers and
sisters whom I had never seen, and did
not care to see. We we got into the
road, she pointed out herfather's house,
which was in sight; and, was going to
thank me .for my services; but I stop
ped her„ . hy saying . that it would be very
little out of my way to see her home,
and I preferred to do so. All the way
there, we chatted and laughed, andeold
stories, and , even jokes ;, and by the
time we parted at the gate of Old Dea
con B--"efarne house, I could have
sworn that ,we were old acquaintances.
1 left her,
...hoping to see her again,
sometime," andshe left me,, .t" hoping
to -learn of my. safe arrival at home,"
- The next Sabbath I met her atchtirch
--.the next Monday evening at a village
party, end,eseorted'her home—the next
Friday I, called on her "_accidentally "
-;-the ne.n.Spnilay evening by permis
sion.; 'in two weeke. I was in love---in
three, " I had told.my love "—and in
four I was.the next move to the biggest
,f491-thatzever grew out ofikatural .phi
losophy; . Three : times I .popped : the
.question e hut she,wouldit't say yes or.
no, or even hint that she would or
I would ~not seal, my. happiness. , The
' fopith time she looked very grave, hung
down heir her head, sighed, and I even
midtrusted , shed tears.: ." Shall I .ask
„ - the..conseht. of . your
,father r,', said .1, ,
after waiting : hall an , hour for an answer
to . tim-, lineation tin. Which hurig my
hopes, : ~ That - .would never.do, ' she
answered with a .sigh,-; .. he would : not
'consent . to .my.. marriage with 40ti, I
km* he-would n0.t,',',..
i inisfruated, from .this that shelter;
self had broached - the - subject : to:tha.
Deacon, and had got a flafrefusal of his
Regardless' of Denimitatims from Cloy
wkiramt s , 2323..&w0razi) ozurgivw 9 . maw . sa s r 024:1541,
consent to the 'match. I tvalked home
that - evenink in'mueh distresi, •Passed'a
restless night at my cousin's house,and
rose__ the next morning with my.head
full of pains and dark forebOdings. My
cousin•. rallied me , on oak dull appsar
undo, and I determined at once to tell
him" ' the secret of my :troubles and ask
his advice. .I accordingly accompanied
him ~to his little grocery, and when
there, Unravelled the whole matter as
to It briitlier." That Ellen 8.--=,"
said he, when I had concluded, " is the
greatest coquette in the country ; or the
world, and I adyise, you to keep your
love matters to yourself, when you are
in her company. If I had-"mistrusted
you were at all tender I should have
told you of this- before,' but as it turns
out, I advise you now tolet her alone."
I did not make 'any reply, but really
thought my cousin the biggest fool in
Christendom. Had she not - kept my
company—and said soft things to me—
and blushed, and grieved, and sighed,
when I popped .the question for the
fourth time ?
The next evening I, called on Ilen
again—she was alone and seemed twice
as beautiful as ever, - For the fifth time,
I offered her my hand. She came very
near fainting , away, but would not an
swer me yes or no. What Could the
matter be ? Of course I attributed the
whole to the obstinacy of the deacon,
her father,—and being more than half
crazy between love for her and hate for
him,. it will scarcely be wondered at,
that before leaving, I suggested to her
that if we couldn't be happy with his
consent, we had a perfect right to pro
ceed without it,—" We' could take a
ride, some evening," said I ; " go to the
mail train of cars and in two hours be
mnn and wife.. "
When would you call for me ?"
she asked. - -
, oro-Morrow evening," I replied,
almost wild with delight,— ,, eight
o'clock.'?
Well," said she after a pause, '3l
will be there."
The next evening, at half-past seven,
the village stable keeper drove a car
riage to my door. Just as I was step
ping into the carria;gc, a little boy hand
ed me a note. I turned into the ,house
a moment to read it. The contents run
after this sort.
,s My dear Mr. S—: I have con
sulted with my ther about running
away with • - ight, - and he thinks
the air is so da"p I should certainly
take cold. He suggests that it would
answer all reasonable purposes for you
to run away alone. But I hope you
will not do this till you have accom
plished the intention you expressed on
your arrival in our village, which was,
I believe, before you left it, to make a
conquest of the heart of the prettiest girl
within ten miles.
Yours as truly as ever,
ELLEN 13.
I immediately recollected having
foolishly expressed this foolish inten
tion a day er two before my arrival in
the village, to an old friend
,who ac
companied me there on business with
some other merchants. I recollected,
too, that the boast was made while we
were on a walk through the village, that
a lady was close behind us all the time,
and my friend , who saw her face,
thought she must be an angel. She
turned out to be the one !
Alk horse was sent back to the stable,
and the next, morning I was leaving the
beautiful village and the beautiful . Ellen,
and my fifteenth cousin and his' happy
family, as fast as steam would carry
. • -;
The Friendless.
It is strange and'sad that-society doesi
afford no stay, no support, to those who
are. left alone. in: the wide - world ; nay,
more, that so to be left, seems in,a great
- degree to sever the ()duds between us
And society. “:11e mist' have some
friends-let hint apply -to them," ve . are
apt to, say
.whenev,er : one.of these solita
ryones.come before us, whether it is
advice, assistance, or defenee thafis
needed. He must have some friends !"
It is - 'a phrase In • cotistant use, - and in
- our - o wu - heartrs•we eir, On to say; ".If he
has not, he must have lost them 4y,his .
own fault,".
,and yet how many,events
may deprive Men, :and much more Ire
quently women,' of the only friends - pos..
.seseed - • -.' •-•'
GET OUT 0F Di.ir.--ileatler,:if you
oweany one, - Tiay -liim iminediStely, if
you,, es.ri. If w
you edn't, go to ork',
dig delve, vrork-night and day until yon
_get out of debt.. Do ; anything that .
-,honest and honorable, so iliat,y?u,ean
say; «I citre perion, no, not evqn
the Prifitit." - ; DO die; andleur Con ,
science Will -be =easy. and your sleep
sweet.
in 'irtms 'in Lift; '
It is iiSeful, 'as wellas interesting; to
notice the- changes,: for 'the better or
worse, v.rlitch-ten or fifteen years serve
to operate , in a cOmutonity.
1 know a bitsiness man on Main
street, 'refused credit in 1830 for a'stove
worth twelVe- dollars. He is now di
rector in One of the banks, and is now
worth $150,000 at least: Every ceot
of this has been_ made in. Pincinnati du
ring that - short period:
I know - another business man, also
on Main street, who was refused cred
it in 1825, by a firm in the drug line,
for the amount of five dollars. In
1830 that very firm lent that very man
five thousand dollars upon his unindors
- ed note.
I know an extensive dealer in , the
city, now worth one hundrsd thousand
dollars and who can command more
money on a short notice, •"for sixty,
ninety, or one hundred and twenty
days, than almost any man in Cincin
nati, to whom I, as - clerk for a grocery
house in 1830, sold a hogshead of SU.-
gar, with' great inisgiving and reluc
tance, under .some apprehension of
not getting the money when 1t became
due. . ,
I know a man whose credit in 1830
was such that when I trusted! him for a
keg of saltpetre, my employer told me I
might as.well have rolled it into the
Ohio. Since, this period he was worth
fifty thousand dollars ; then a bankrupt:
worth in 1837 one hundred thousand
dollars ; and bow worth twenty thou
sand dollars.
I know a man good for thirty thou
sand dollars who, ten years' ago, exhi
Wed a monkey through the streets o
Cincinnati for a living.
I know a heavy businlss man, a
director of a - bank, who sold apples
in a basket, when a boy, through the,
streets.
I knew one of the first merchants in
our city in 1825. who could at that pe
riod have bought entire blocks of the
city on credit, a director in, • one of the
banks, who, within ten years of that
period, died insolvent and intemperate.
Another influential man of that day
whose credit was unlimited, being pre
sident of one of our insurance com
panies,'and also a bank director, died
within five years insolvent and intem
perate.
Another individual who was consider
ed in 1837 worth half a million of dol
lars. has since died, leaving the estate
insolvent.
Another individual, of credit equal to
his wants, and 4 worth, at one time,
twelve thousand dollars, and a judge of
our court, died in our city hospital, and
was buried at theislublic expense. I
have seen him once and again presiding
at public meetings.
The founder of the penitentiary sys
tem in Pennsylvania, and well known
in that State and elsewhere as aliublic
man, died a pauper in the commercial
hospital in this city. I have seen him
addressing the legislature of that State
at Harrisburg, and listened to with the
attention and deference that would have
been paid to John Quincy Adams, or
any other public man of his age.
I know a lady, the descendant of a
distinguished Governor, of Massathu:
setts, who supports, herself by her nee
dle ; and the niece - of 'a Governor. of
New Jersey,'still living, who 'wellies
for her subsistence:
I know a lady,: itvhe. .thirty years
ago, in the, city in; Which I . then lived,
was the cynosure, of eyes; one of
the most graceful 'aitl.,beautifnl of the
sex; and moving in- -tWfirst circles of
wealth and , fashion, gow , engag ed in
drudgery, end depenaepce, at one c 'tlollar
and fifty cilpts per wide. Al! these re
side in thiS.city:' • •
What. are the limiting' of '.. romariee
writer co pared to some of there-
alities of Inman, life ?—eist's ..11d.ver
lisir.
Boiling
.Potatqc3.,
Not one . , house keeper poi ,of,..ten .
knows how ,to bbilpotathe,s.prbrierly.
ilanjrish; Method; on e of the best
we know: Clean and wash the pota
toes and leave the skin.no.. then bring
the Water to : a and throw . them in.
As seott boiled;'sdit 'Cntitigl lit a
-fink to be eatiibilthrusi: „iioiigh 'there;
'dash sair.b ~cold water intiv the' pot r let
,the potatoes remain ,
_two inintnes; and
then. pour Oil ,the-,water,.. This. ,done,
half remove the potliii; and lei the pb
tatoish-remaircover a sloW fire till Ake
stearti is, eybPorcted, : thett .pepLami, set
thern,bn the table• hi_ art, ppett
Vinatoes ~ora go,id 140 tliui. coked,
will alivays Isirief,
A covereirtliah±li bed-lot:4iotathee,;'lti
it tps the steatb in,and thatiftiliteib
watery. •
ME
, .The . Ninister.:,
• Few,p'eo - Plerealize,the,manifold toils
of a isettled - cler6rhan. l4O truly the
Servant of alt. Every member of his
congiegation may -command his sem
des at any time'. Sonee one has. aptly
remarked, that ? the , p,eople expect
theii minister to be always in his study,
and always visiting his flock." They
want sermons that require
,much deep
thought, extensive reading, thorough
investigation of the subject matter of
which they ,_treat, logical arrangement,
and every ,thing that characterizes .a
hnished production—and three such
sermons,each week, when every -such
production would
,cost, a month's hard
labor! -
Ho must visit the sick; preach ma
ny funeral sermons ; go to_ the,house
of -meurning ; -comfort the widow,- and
soothe the fatherless; rejoice' with the
prosperous ; condole with' the infer
innate; labor to reclaim the-backslider;
look after the wayward and disobedi
ent; devote hours of each day to con
versation with those who call at his
study for instruction ; read alVihe new ?
ly. published -theological works; an
swer every letter that, is addressed to
him, even those written upon-the most
frivolous subjects; and ;always be pre
pared for the Sabbath, and so prepared,
that he can please every auditor, and
drive-the spirit, of drowsiness from eve
ry one disposed to slumber in- church.
In point of fait, the majority of people
desire that amount of labor at the hands
of the minister, that no five men can
perform. Are not the minister's labors
onerous ? in -this respect, is his.posi
tion an enviable one, and can he possi
bly meet all the Wishes and realize all
the hopes, of all his people ?
Who, that looks correctly at the sub
ject, can withhold the exclamation—
.. Who is sufficient for these things ?"
And then his compensation—does it
correspond to the amount of labor he
performs ? No. With few exceptions,
the language of the pious deacon to the
newly settled minister, is painfully re
alized—i, the Lord keep you humble
and we will keep you poor," a mere
living being allowed him; and when,
he sinks in death, by care or toil, or'
sears oppressed," his children are left
penniless, to brave, unprotected, the
black froWns, and experience the cold
charities of the world. There are a
few settled clergymen, who constitute
an exception to this picture—but the
exceptions are comparatively • few.—
Reader, if you will carefully consider
the life of the pastor, you will, be less
inclined to complain when the sermon
is not interesting, and will -more fre-,
I gently pity the minister !
Astonishing a Cockney.
The Rev. Doctor' Breckenridge, '• in
his. travels in Europe, relates the follow
ing amusing anecdote; . •
”.A. gentleman-like and well-informed
Englishman, who was in the stage coach
with me, and who found out that I was
an American, after dilating on the great
ness, the beauties, the majesty ; in short,
of this noblest of British rivers (the
Thames,) concluded thost ' , Sir, it may
seem almost incredible to you, but it-id
nevertheless 'true,' that this prodigious
stream is, from its mouth to its source;
not.much ifat nil short of .one hundred
and fifty miles long , I looked stead
fastly in his face, to see if he jested, but
the gravity of deep conviction was opon
it. 'lndeed Jelin 13n11 never jests. After
composing myself roi i 'moment, I slow
ly- responded--“ perhaps, sir, yon: never
heard of the Ohio ?" think I have.
" Perhaps of the Missciuri ?" I think
Sri; though not sure:" • Certainly of
the Mississippi ?" " - Olt yes,. yes.i
Well, - sir, anion will deicend thebbio
steamboat.of the largest class a thou
sand miles." Of what, ear.",....1.H0w
many sir ?" "A. thousand mile S—and
,there. he will meet anoihor steamboOt, of
the ctass,,tvhieh Lae, come ,in :an .oppo
'site direction,, twelve. buntlred miles
. do'wn the 14 itisissippi=--he sees that flood
of water disembogne by fitly`Chantiels
into the sea."' I hail' made-tip mind to•
ate condidered.a cheat; so..t went calmly,
and.emphaticallythrough the, stateittent.
As I progressed,.my ponipariiott, seemed
somewhat 'disposed to. take' my story as
n personal afriOnt but at its , close he lei •
doWn:hi's . vigage -, r446 . a `con'tempttion4
pout, and regularly cut in ac nettitita
- • , ,
BEST *AY TO COOK' Ecos'.—Bienk
iltenfifitn- trot (not
,boilind) uratei. and
Jet then' teutairt the. yoilt.is sufficient-
JYA°P4O7-the.4.::1?4 1 ,, , 9 11 - I ?guri: P.ePPer
and satt,• and,
.y . opll
.21V,..e AOll yi,
C ur ut
roost etgs.'
-F4llter-•;.1'
. .
r
Oil etliti io aseetiaill
he has at interest r, -
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MEE
(Wtt tEtO cdcruliaotaiel ate.
Vihnt lm 1 r
BY - -"DOW, JR::;
..
•Wheia 1 ask myselfAlii question;
‘. l What am, U": it puzzles me lipw to
answer lt, MateriallY speaking, lam
.6 sort of increased nonentity- , -iiiimall
- barrel of unetrained oil oririothing.
thickened into.riubstance by accidental-
ly coming into. -
,contact .witha kold;
congealing world. Chemirally , Speak
ing, I am a cbmpound of phosphorus;
gas,and'aiinospheric wind- - -as' mostOf
you have, - doubtless;-:long. discovered.
MecbnicallYcl am an old clock. madp.
wound, set in motion seyeral years ago
by the clockinaker of the Univeree. 1
was made to 'run - '7O years; at-least ; arid
if Fate and Fortune wilt keep my inner
works in order, I. shall expect to keep
going till my. - weights hate rim the-,full
length of their Acura.: Motally,speak
ing. l'am an equal mixture of:vice arid
virtue-a kind olvinegar and inolasFes
mess. - So nicely''are they mixed; to:
gether that the vinegar of. vice is„not
too sour to be unpalatable, nor the mo
lassie of virtue so siviet as to be sicken
ing.; , MY feelinge are tender as todd
stools—my passions as strong 'as a de
coction of tobacco Juice—my sympa
thies are as down puderan angel's wing .
and my desires for the promotion of
human happiness are just as I happen
to feel about the head, heart 'arid - ski;
-mach. .
Metaphorically speaking, I am a trs.
thing_of time, played for a short period
and then cast . , among rubbish ; a foot
ball of fate, •kicked abotit till I buret,
and am tier: More worthy of a stick ;
and wind pi 111.excuetnent, that moves
with the Ovular breeze, but is still in,:t
calm and curtcut thermometer,.my mer
cury rising to summer beat by the
warm rays of,hope, and sinking to be
low zero in , the cold atMosphere of
doubt ;'a mean tallow candle,' already
burnt one-third of tIM way to the sock
et, and every moment in danger , of be
ing extinguished ,by the sufferers of
death an old boot worn' by -a pil,gritil
with a wooden leg; over the rough road
of existence,'-till it is -neither • worth
heeling, soleing, patching, nor preserv
ing. In fact, my friends, I,dou't see
that I an iny \ more use to the universe,
(considered as a whole,) than a shoi , el
of poudrette we ten acre cornfield.
When lam dead atul go'ne,lshall be
as a thing that - neyer •had been; and
children. of
~posterity.wilt,probably
shoot marbles across my 'grave, as nn=
conscious of their scriligtoits doings,
as a 'parcel of tnice gnaiving at the grea
sy leaves of an Old and favorite !multi
Bible.
Suitable for Various lileiidia6.
The Times and,Preess.. alteivspapei
publiShed at Fort IY4no, tndiana, has
a Chapter on boys, groin which we copy
the following paragraph, Velieving it to
he as applicable to the rising keniuscs
of our Own - meridian as - to•any .of the
young fry of the Hoosier-State:
It.does appear as though all parental
restraint - and authority were remo v ed
from the youth of the present day 'A
five of tik, years of age, and they Were
permitted to at ooie ends frorn'
time on: It is no uncommon thing
our streets,to hear boys, from. ei4bt . tti
sixteen years of age, cursing and swear
ing oaths and imprecations
. that would
choke' pirate. We know plenty . of
such boys; and yet ibis 'community *it's
raising Money—and seine of diese. very
boys parents contribute to the fund—to
send to the, other side. of the
to ebni7ert . the 'heathen. l3enetiet,:efen't
indeed! Better to 'begin 'at 'du roir'ti
firesides! • • •
The Dignity of Printing.
God was the first Printe r! • ITe:ra'r . o
from his awful hand, mid the • darknesiA
of .Sinai,.the. ,mind. of God
ealogue,of all moral.law, • the-claims of
Man, upon man, antl.God upon all. ,
thy art ilia( shall: :hat.til
to the htest `y ears ,-
posterity,' to' inutnerable -- millienk 'yet
unborn ••of G od, , The. - rilto!ighl'a.:4 inert
wh . o are,lliAng no ;. of rnenrwhuitved
eeittitiieS since, they defy, time, and tlin
'printed transcript Hof ihesein'ets
live toe full of • soul' to be tint in - the
grave::with•theirv'erisliable. bodies.. ,• It
was a bright thought of that-author.
Who iti.his dying tnontent, ivasjustablo
to asii proof of liislast„. work .:Was
correole4—"all corrected-! - "..Yes,nll. l 7
.have !:t:to,triplpte . ,pdition
MIEMI
. .
nip. feltoßm; -in
Lottis,' in. ahutling to the tb.biii 'for the be-
neht„ef . then before.
ilia Alis,souri ; LegishilittOiaslis if it wnnitl
b'eeibii for the tueinhers to (To t•Oin.e
hi ben ch L'at single ladies; anti
not trouble. tlienlqlvc;s:wiili; other men's
S•
=SI
~YyeiO Al&