=II
VOU.AF.2A WEra,
,IVOWiLSSIDAJe.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBEt 8, 1945
Boora's Licruil is commenced in this week's
pa p e r. It posewes the great merit of originality, and is
written ins chaste, tlasaical and beautiful style.
Jona 11.trasan.—The following beautiful lines are
d oter tptive of a most touching act of bravery—one of
those scenes of patient suffering and death which are
rarely met with—the pilot standing at his post, until the
t u r a have scorched and burned him to death.
Those who read the incident to which we refer—for
i t was very generally published at the time--will find here
tribute to the .Helmsman of Lake Erie," whose con
duct then excited their admiration.
•‘ The Helmsmen of Lake Erie."
==:l
At morn a gallant vessel !wept
O'er Erie's emerald wave,
She bore an hundreds:ole along—
The beautiful—the brave,
Boldly she ploughed the ocean-lake—
A power that knows no stay
Urged her along with heaving breath,
Upon her watery way.
All day she held her onward course,
Her pilot's faithful eye
Marked, as the evening fell, her port,
Beneath the western sky.
And joy, and hope, and happiness
In many a bosom burned,
As o'er the rolling waves, bright eyes
With eager gaze were turned. `,
For on on the distant strand were seen
Full many a home of bliss,
And lips already yearned to give
The pure parental kiss;
And beating hearts, and beaming sighs
Full many a bosom moved
Lest the proud vessel should not bear
Their cherished, their beloved.
But oh, in life, how soon the cup
Of joy is drugg'd with gloom,
How soon the shadow of despair
Follows the blush of bloom.
The sunlight glow on beauty's cheek,
A moment may o'ercast,
As sweeps, before the tight of day
The wild sirocco's blast.
What. ho! that smoke!"—the captain cries,
As from the hatchway roll'd
The curling volume's graceful wreathes,
Up from the vessel's hold;
The answer needed not a voice,
For, to all eyes it came,
In the most terrible of forms—
A sheet of lurid flame !
And there she was a ship on fire,
Blazing against the sky,
The most sublime, terrific sight -
That meets the sailor's eye !
And every art to quench the flame,
And all the seamen's skill
Were vain,—a thousand fiery tongues
Seemed mocking human wilL
And while despair rang o'er the deep
In accents wild:and loud,
While the lasthope seemed to have fled
Froin all the maniac crowd,
Where was the brave old pilot then.
When everything seemed . lost I
Standing, as duty bade, unmoved,
And calmly at his post!
One hand still held the wheel, as on
She madly swept the tide, •
The other hung, a blackened thing,
Yet seething, at his side—
And onward still she strove,
Still shoreward rushed her keel,
Still Stood, amid the blazing mass,
Her pilot at the wheel!
And boats came rushing from the shore,
And reached in time to save
All the devoted vessel bore
From a dread and watery grave—
Not all—not all—that helmsman, bold,
• Whose life all else did save,
Now deeps amid that blackened, wreck,
':death Erie's rolling wave
Build high a monument to him,
Let oot his humble name
Perish, ill he has nobly earned
•l'he richesttrieed of fame !
Ve give THOit monuments who seed
Their:millions to the grave !,
Then give JOHN Mar:fano, one, who died
A hundred lives to save !
•
SAT/W.3IXL rocs ows Pm.sas.—We commend the
following article to the attention ofthose who srepatronia-
Mg. foreign papers, in preference to those in theirimmedi
dine vicinity. The recent reduction of the postage,
now places the country papers nearly, if not quite, on s
level with those of the city, in point of price. Then, in
vour country paper, you have a compendium of what
w passing immediately in your vicinity; personages, pla
ces and incidents with which you are familiar, and in,
which - you have an interest, which no city pavr can
gratify as fully. Nor need' they be lacking in; general
information ; but should be in fact " an abstmctind brief
chronicle of the times." A well-conducted county pa-
Per. will be hailed with greater pleasure,' and `perused
with more satisfaction, than the best city paper. Then
if You would have a paper in ycor own county: worthy
Of your support. you hovtd Grist cheerfully and pirpt
ly give. it that encouragement, which is due to it, and
within:it which it cannot be worthy of support.::;-'
There is another elan of individuals,Whe, posieseed of
no generosity, no spirit of independence and pride, or no
ecapuneni'xia of «ftsience, and eontentha nea4rolFeekli,
the property °father!.
, Frnm plicapapq• Ornourh*-7
I'veaS ! They are a curio to the Printer, •and.. - n4ana
mil ambit to the stbscaiber. :Every aublicribeilo a pa ,
Per should repel perrziptovey,' way
they would get rid of trehbleiSame visitors, who tio.;oliot
eiose to - discover that theyare unwelcome;and insure
•
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._...
_.,....._.._ --....._ .
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' 1.- I ~... •::.
. .-.. • ". i ' ::i,. ':.!.''' ".. .: .-• I ' L . -
. . i- , 1 : 7 , ' . - r , , . 3 , . ' r.tc: .!: IPa7; 1 ;,;
. !,...I e, •7' 7..' , .. 1i . : 1:; hilir ',?V.I . '' , ' . .
1
• 4 . " • .7' , ' • .''• I .".i L 4", • -
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~ , . . . '• . . •
the quiet possession of their own property. But hete . is
the article from the Patriot.
Let 'no farmer and no other man relinquish the
newspaper published in bis own neighborhood, for the
sake of some other larger, cheaper, or more popular
paper, published in ma's awn town, is always, as a gen
eral rule, more valuable than any other, if it for nothing
but the advertisements; aye, the somewhat abused and
much neglected advertisements, are a thermometer of the
business of the place, and often the key which opens the
dOor to excellent bargains. It is of no little consequence
for the farmer to know what is going on in his market
town—the competition in buying produce—the change
in business operations—the settlements of estates—the
sale of farms, stock, &e, Etc. We venture to say, there
is not a man who may not every year much more than
save the price of subscription to his neighboring newspa-'
pers. This should be done also for weightier masons,
one of which we will name; the mammoth weekly
sheets of the cities bling furnished at a price with which
no country printer can compete, (for one reason; because
made up generally from the once used and paid for in
the daily papers,) are encroaching largely upon the coun
try papers, thus diadouraging improvement and enter
prise, and gradually bringing the whole country under
the influence, and in some sense the control of the (ced
ing cliques in the cities. Thus a tone is given to the
morals, the politics, and the habits of the country—and
we hesitate not to say, that the preponderance of this in
luence is bad. The people of the country get full
enough of this influence through their own papers ;
and if they would not see the complete supremacy
of the cities over the moral and political destiny of the
country newspapers. Tells the city papers if you can
afford it, and as many of them as you please ; but first
see to it that you Cave your own home paper as a
regular visitor to your fireside. Support them first and
liberally, and they will hardly fail to support your in-
MI
Mamas. Entrees proceed in nay review of Juve
riis' answer to my first paper. He says: "It may bowel!
for these who want the means of a gentlemanly life to
avoid both brandy and cigars; or if one is too weak to
keep himself within the bounds of temperance, be may
as well choose the safer course : &c."
Here it should beconsidered whether Juvenis has the
true idea of " a gentlemanly life," or whether it may not
involve more than he seems to think. He certainly will
not make indulgences in question, an indispensable part
of such a life: for he would not have to go farther than
the bench of our Court House to see a true gentleman;
who avoids both the articles referred to. One is not sur
prised that boys should fall into mistakes as to the pro
cess of becoming gentlemen ; but one of Juvenis' age
and intelligence, is hardly allowed the benefit of their
plea.
L cannot but remark upon the admission that there
is " a safer course,"' in this matter. Indeed I think it
'decisive. In all common instances men choose, or at
least profess to choose, the safe, rather than an. un
safe way ; and this especially if the possible gain in a
hazardous path is very small. Suppose now the gain
incontestably small, and the risk very great, more than a
possibility of one's losing himielf even, and that for time
and eternity—who can think of the unsafe course as one
that may be wisely chosen! These same gentlemanly
indulgences have cost thousands cat that they had to lose,
and never brought one any real gain—howi then is it
possible to choose them in preference to the 'certain ad
vantages of abstinence! Men have found it practicable
to live and do good without doing themselves much harm
=is not this the wiser course?
I am not speaking of the practices in question as im
moral, or as incompatible with high respectability : but
as very questionable for young men, and as having noth
im to recommend them in preference to less expen
sive and less dangerous pleasures. I feel no Ilisposition
to indulge in vituperation or caricature. If reason and
religiqn are not on my side, I shell deserve, and surely
encodter an entire defeat. If they are, Juvenis will do
well.to accept my friendly admonitions. I wish him
well; and hope he will not be less than this his own
friend. He may expect to hear from me again.
There is a stream whose narrow tide
The known and the unknown worlds divide,
Where all must go.
Its waveless waters, dark and deep,
'Mid sullen silence downward sweep,
With moanless flow
I saw where at that dreary flood,
A smiling pratling, infantstood,
Whose hour had come
Entaught of ill, it neared the tide,
Then sunk to cradled rest, and died ,
Like going home.
m:s Followed with languid eye anon,
A youth ditsetosed, and pale, and wan;
And there alone.
He gazed opon the leaden stream,
And feared to plunge—l heard a scream,
And he was gone.
And then a form in manhood's strength,
Came bustling on, till there at length
He ahruirk, and raised the bitter prayer
Too late—his shriek or wild despair
The waters drowned
Next stood upon that surgetess short
A being bowed with ninny a score
Earth-bound and sad, he Tel the bank,
Back-turned his dimming" aye, and eank
- • Alt; NI of tears.
How bitter.must thy waters' he„,
O, Death !—How hard a thing, ab me !
It is iodic !
I mticed—when to that stream again,
'Another child'Of mortal meet,
With /mike drew nigh,
. the lad pang, he calmly i;- 7 -
ead
• •
To, me, 6 heath . ' thou bast no &mar
. . Bariotir, I come!
.Spread bat thine wins, on yonfles ohm,.
I sce•—yo waters ben aus
TaEn Is NT IIOYE•
EffEIIMMMEI
PUB ' LIKED EVERY- iVEDIUSDAY, AT TOWANI)A, BRAI)FORD BY E. S.:'.(100DRICII S. SON:
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
B N TOLL
The Stream of Death.
He saw life's bound
Of toilsome yews.
MEM
El
RidAIibLESS DitiUSCfATION . AN'Y fattgßTEß."' :" '" ;1 '
• : y.ll
Addreis Deflirered by, Mr, Booth,
Before the Borough Temperance Society, Monti'' , Even
ing, Sept. 29. Publtched by Repeat of the Society.
Frixow-CrrasNa.—The prominent idea
that I wish to present to you. in connection
with the subject . lof temperance, may be ex
pressed in a few words. It is the bread fact
that the affairs of 'this world are administered
strictly upon a principle of compensation.—
Every thing has its price. Every gratification
which the the faculties of man are capable of
receiving may be enjoyed by paying its price.
There is a quaint saying of the ancients, "if
you would have any thing, say the Gods, p 4,
fur it and take it." This principle which had
received the form of a proverb in ages gone-by.
seems to be forgotten among us at present. I
wish to recall it ler your consideration at this
time—for it is eternally tree, Nature is a
strict accountant; and will not be balked in I I
the thousandth part of a grain, of the price
which she exacts for her favors. No man ever
cheated her in any of his dealings. No man
ever stole a pleasure from her. Her ministers,
more subtle and refined than the element which
we breathe, and irresistible as the force that
binds the planets together.. pervade the consti
tution of all things; seize upon the culprit and
exact to the uttermost farthing the full price of
whatever gratification he has enjoyed.
'Phis grand principle which governi this life
of ours may be illustrated by many familiar
examples ; and, it is immaterial for our purpose
what one we select t . for the principle will be
found equally true in all. But to choose one
that is most familiar to all men, we will for a
moment mark its application in the ordinary
pursuit of wealth. We say. then, that a poor
man may become rich by paying the price of
wealth. In those cases where the acquisition
of fortune has been made during a long series
of years by the slow profits of persevering in
dustry, all can easily see that a price has been
paid.. The accumulator has labored much,
foregone much, suffered much, and what is
frequently, though not always the case, ac
quired such habits as have entirely Incapacita
ted hint for making a rational use of his trea
sures or of rendering them contributary to his
enjoyment. The estate has grown bulky. but
the man has dwindled. Nature ha taken
from the man all that fortune has put into his
chest." At all events in such cases as these,
all men understand that the man has made his
bargain with Nature and paid her, her price
for x hat he has got—that to him at least her
favors have not been given, but sold.
But when, as it sometimes happens, a man
by speculations, by taking advantage of the
necessities of his fellow-men, and by gambling
in some of its various forms, has suddenly suc
ceeded in massing riches ; the justness of our
principle in its application to such a case may
not be so readily admitted. Let us not how
ever be deceived by appearances. This man,
too, as well as the other, has paid for his for
tune—though.a different price ifUM the former.
If lie has moved among his species like a shark
only to devour and prey upon them, insensible
to their rights and regardless of their enjoy
-1 ments ; if he has gone about to establish a rule
I of dealing with his fellow men that is good for
himself and for no one else, and to appropriate
with greedy rapacity the good things of this
world, leaving none for his neighbors, we shall
hask little. difficulty . in discovering the price
that he has paid for his acquisitions. He has
parted with the confidence and esteem of his
lellow-men. He has aroused the suspicions,
and acquired the universal distrust of his spe
cies. Such is the too general absence of that
'reliable merit and and deep self-respect among
men that would enable them to bestow their
regard upon men rather than circumstances,
that a show of respect will always be paid to
fortune ; but it is hollow and unmeaning.—
There will be no cordiality in the hand that is
extended to greet tim—no real kindness in
the look that meets his. The bosoms of his
(fellows are barred by distrust against the man
who wages a social war upon the interests of
the community.
But these suspicions which his line of con
duct has induced in others are not all, nor in
comparison any very considerable portion of
the price he has paid. Even if he has escaped
his reckoning in this particular, there still re
mains a fearful account unsettled. Nature is
not so weak a governess that she requires the
instrumentality of other men in order to exact
her penalties. She is supreme also in the dis
pensation of rewards and punishments within
his own bosom. If he is conscious of villainy
and unworthy practices in the acquisition of his
gains, he has lost the fret and bearing of a
man. To fear no evil and to dread no accusa-
Lion is the prerogative of conscious integrity
alone, but the moment a rein has selfishly I
committed a crime against the happiness of a
fellow-man, there is confession in his' eye,
there is accusation at his heart. He is con
scious that every individual whom he meets,
knows some evil of him, and therefore the
knitted brow—the restless, fertive glance—he
is a poor, pitiful. trembling culprit at the bar
of his own conscience.
Bin it may be still insisted that there is at least
one exception to the principle which-we have
asserted, in the case where a fortune has been
inheiited, and therefore no odium as to the
means of its acquisition can attach to its pos
t4sor,,and no illiberal habits have been, formed
inconsistent ,with-44 ,enjoyment—tv here it. is
sufficiently' ample,and there exists no desire to
increase it;-surely here, it, will be said, is_
gift, and Nature has for once besttiVved a favor
without demanding eipecting a conven4:l,
tint). A closer attention will - cOnvince thaf
Nature has no more intended a gratuity ih thiti
instance than in any other, anti that . the.princi.
pie lititrho has inherited.wealthl
has also inherited the_responsibility of makingi
a WiSB appropriation of it for benevolent and
Worthy .purposeE Nature has made: the . adTi
vancement and the price she deinandif• for nny'
advantageih'e're
fliprn; is that . he,bestir, .with ell
gents `
lathe exercise of. whatever.faculties be
may possess in order to make it , as•nseful as
possible in producing human happiness. This
TITITT,T)r:Iii.in - ai.o
r~r ,
pay cheerfully, or it is in her
urge his delinquency:lshii' Such
ay cause him to re„orfiferer hair.
recipient of, her favollt. If he
y her bounty in voluptoutiness
then she stings him with dis
him with spleen, or tortures him
escribable disguits'and horrors
price he must
power to sco
penalties as
ing beendie
thinks to enj.
and indolence
ease, stupefies
with those in,
the vacant mind.' Nature will
or cheated ; and the wise, man
Impdy and cheerfully all her de
.is head and heart, by a free,
noble activity in every good and
, knowing that her lavers when
.umulate on hie hands unpaid for,
infinite uneasiness and pain. and
he day of settlement may fur a
l oned, l vet it can be only post
t he williat last be forced to pay
'farthing.
;pie" holds true respecting all our
:II our talents. Has Nature giv-
that prey upo l
opt be robbed
will pay pr.
mantis upon .
generous and
g6nerdus wor
suffered to ac
will give him
that though t
time be post
ported, and th.
the uttermost'
This print
faculties and
a talent Then she holds hi
!Diable for the employment of that
le threatens him with penalties for
Has she given to one man a
en any one
strictly :wenn
talent, and t.h
Its perversionli
clearer insig t into the spiritual relations of
things than tol another: has she illuminated his
understandina with new truths that have not
.1 3
found accepj l ace among mankind? 'Then she
has placed hi n under the necessity of asserting
these Jruths, f running counter to the received
opinions of his age. of losing that sympathy
of his fellows that is so dear to him ; and
though the to l ich and the faggot should threaten
him, he must still ' bear testimony to the light
that Is in hire. ,
Personal advantages are also subject to . ..,the
same law of compensation. ; Does Nature con
fer upon a man a person of singular grace and
elegance, together with features of unwonted
comeliness ? She at the same time rnailagei
tp trick him out with such disgusting airs of
foppishness and vanity as reduce him to a full
vel with the majority of his. fellow-men.—
Does she bestow upon a wom a n a face of ex
traordinary beauty? She the 'same time
sends the world distracted after her and the
(air one trusting to the evidence. of her eyes,
and believing that she can reign supreme over
he hearts of men by the; fascinations of a
betty face alone, neglechithe cultivation of her
Mind, indulges in the suggestions of vanity; so
that very soon there is no diffeience between
aerself and a waxen beauty. except in her mu
aeriur tendency to fade. On the other hand,
iss Nature given a woman plain features ?
he at the same time shows her the necessity
,s well as the superior value of mental aurae
ions, and thus the balance is kept even.
A. sufficient number of examples has now
een instanced to illustrate the principle that
as been asserted ; and it will be understood
hat this law of compensation is equally ap
.licable to the distribution among mankind of
• hat are called natural plus. and those which
re the proper subjects of the human choice.
t is however with the latter that we are chiefly
rincerned, and to these( int•ite your particular
ttention.
The whole progress and history of pur lives
is determined by a succession of choices, in
which from various desirable objects of oppo
site nature, we are continually selecting some
in preference to others, and in which the good
!thongs that we renounce may properly be call
ed the price that we way for those that we en
joy. We choose daily and hourly, and our
choices extend in their effects not only to the
day and hour in which they are made, but
they reach forward and involve in their conse
quences interests as weighty as the well-being
of the immortal soul. The'result of one choice
becomes the ground of another, and the chain
of cause and effect thus begdn may be as limit
less as the universe.
Since then, the character of life depends up- I
on our election, and since every gratification
has its price which must be paid in order to
its enjoyment, a wise man will make a wise
choice, and drive such a bargain with nature
as shall put him in possession of her noblest
and most valuable enjoyments at a sacrifice of
those that are of least consideration. When he
sits down to her banquet there will be some
thing of the epicure apparent in his selection of
dishes; he will partake moderately, and of
those that are most congenial to health and
blandness of spirits, and will not'overburde l n
the body and stupefy the soul by swinish
gluttony and drunken excess. The intellect,
the soul will shine for& apparent in all his
acts, and show that the man is master of him
self and all his habits and appetites; and
though he does not undervalue the pleasures
of sense. vet lie kndws too well the conditions
upon which they must be enjoyed as also their
inferiority to the joys of the soul, ever to give
them an inordinate importance in his well re
gulated plan of living. Aiwise man, in short,
will not make a foal's bargain with Nature.—
He will not barter away the soul for the body,
health for disease, the equable and nninterrep
tad enjoyment of all his faculties,. for irregular
and interrupted, pleasures. 1 say be will not
drive a fool's bargain—for if therets a fool that
walks the face of the earth, Su unpardonable
fool, it is he who sacrifices the rational 'enjoy.
ment of a serene, • unclouded , mind, Of health,
of reputation and-friends. ig the gratification of
a sensual appetite:, who can Ipok, abided over
the fair face of nature; and the'thouSand enjoy
ments of social' and eiiiiceiie 'no higher
gratification to eat and be stupefietrwith glut
tony--to drink i,and be drunken.: Our Me is
surrounded with innumerable smirceis.of plea
sure andenieseiament. 'f he past.ii;opeit to,
as with its semis of wisdom; history invites
with' its instrnctive le.sons ; science displays
her invaluable treasures ; the earth is clad with
beauty and sublimity,; there is splendor in the
sunbeam ; ,theret is poetry in the stars. §ocie
, tYla enlivened and charmed by all,the endear-
Mint& Of the ConjUgal: patental,' and' filial re
,A.well-regmlated mind vibrator to - a
thousand cords of eyropstbyanklove thaw:die
bim,to hie itindrol,his,f{ie,utia, epuntr,y;
and -to every : thing that daq. :. 4! .. c ta4 gt . And
Can 'Other' Map Fool" Who
sacrifices all these to &beastly appetiteiVAVLO•
drowns the soul and deadens the sense of
MUMMIEMI
=I
MEM
pleasure from every relined and elevated source
in the intoxicating cup
Cant thou forego the pure etheria/ soul.
In each fine sonic so exquisitely keen,
Upon the gilded cob of luxury to roll,
Sting with disease and stupefied by spleen?
All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
And all that echoes to the song of even,
All that the mountain's aheltering bosom shields
And all the dread magnificence of heaven—
Oh how mist thou forego and hope to be forgiven!
Among the gratifications that Nature affords
us.-are those of the natural tastes and appetites.
These when indulged within moderate limits,
such as are easily understood, are legitimate
sources of enjoyment which may he purchased
at a price that a wise man would be willing
to pay. Beyond this hes a whole, fairy re
gion of excess and intemperance ; and there
too are pleasures, keen and exquisite, which
may be enjoyed by paying the price. In ad
verting to the pleasures of the flowing. bowl,
the audience must not understand me as speak
ing from my oven experience. Ido not pretend
to preach front the text of my own errors in
this particular: and therefore my remarks are
subject to whatever deduetioLs are due on the
score of inexperience. 1 never enjoyed a
drunken frolic in my life—to my recollection;
though (-helieve persons arc not usually apt to
recollect such things. -I speak simply from
observation—but ant obliged to believe that
there is pleasure. deep, ecstatic pleasure inihe
in the flowing bowl. There is abundant evi
dence of the fact from a thousand sources.—
The poets have sung the praises of rosy wine
and brandy too. /
Wreath the bow) with flowers of soul
The brightest)wit can bind us;
We'll bike a flight towards heaven to-night
And leave dull earth behind Inv—
and we have no doubt that many a mistaken
Wight has in fancy at least supposed that soar
ing to the highest heaven of enjoyment upon
the fumes of rosy wine; until he has broken
through the .enchanted cloud that wafted him
upward. and been precipitated headlong as
many fathoms deep into the gulf of *retched
nese and repentance. To drink oblivion to
dull-thoughted cure and black-browed melan
choly : and while the tide of health glows
strongly along one's veins andarteries, to meet
a merry hand of friends and push about the so
cial glass with song and jest and repartee,
until the company have reached that happy
elevation of excited spirits which Tam O'Shan
ter attained by inspiring virtue derived from
deep potations of tippenny and usquebaugh—
Kings may be blest, but Tun was glorious,
O'er all the ills of life victorious—
all this is doubtless quite pleasant so long as it
lasts. But sensual pleasure especially of this
character is eternally subject to the important
objection that it does not last.
Pleasures are like poppies spread—
You seize the flower the bloom is fled;
Or like the snowfalls in the river—
A moment white, then gone forever.
Nevertheless , they are pleasures still, and may
be enjoyed by all who are willing to pay the
price.
There is no gratification of the human mind
but that may be enjoyed ; there is no depraved
desire of the human heart but what may be
satisfied by paying the price. We live in a
wide field of Nature, and around us are grow
ing innumerable pleasures tempting to the eye,
the mind, tfle heart; and we are all invited to
gather each for himseil whatev , r pleases him,
but under condition that we pay for all that we
take. They are all labelled in such a sort that
every wise man may distinctly understand be.
forehand the terms of die bargain. An inex
cusable fool only is liable to mistake. There
is no room for artifice or deception. You can
not pluck a fruit, you cannot touch a flower,
though it. he done ever so secretly, but imme
diately her invisible monsters have seized up
on you, and ere you are aware, the conditions
of the purchase have been exacted, and you
have parted with the full estimated value which
she had placed upon the favor that you have
enjoyed. Crime and retribution are fruits that
mature both upon one stem ; and you can no
more gather the one without plucking the oth
er, than you can toy with the beauty of the
curling dame without being affected by its
heat. Punishment," says a beautiful writer,
.• is a fruit that unsuspected ripens within the
flower of the pleasure which concealed
'rile flower is fragrant and beautiful—the fruit
is deadly: ‘Vould you escape the terrible
poison of the fruit you must let alone the flow
er. The gratification of revenge for real or
imaginary injuries, to minds of a certain con
stitution may afford a pleasure of the most in
tense description : and there is no doubt that
the assassin may feel the keenest delight as he
pulls away his blade from the heart of his vie
tim. But watch him afterwards when passion
has accomplished its work, and excitement
subsiding has delivered him over to the tyran--
ny of reflection ; and mark the writhiugs of
remorse and the :agonies of apprehension.—
These are part of the price he has to pay for
his hasty gratification. Nature has laid the
groundwork of his retribution in the laws of.
his own being, and it is almost immaterial ex
cept for the purposes of exSinple, whether he
suffer the penalty of human lawa or not;, for
her penalties 'are sore. The truth of - these.
observations as well as the universality4lhe
'principle that vreccintend'hir must be Obvious
to every man upon a moment's consideration.'
Nothing is more common Than to see men
everywhereand in every position in society,
paying. slowly. painfully and by lives of ex
treme wretchedness, the price of former plea
sures—the debauchee by a wasted constitution,
loathsome disease 'and withering scorn.nf all
:men; the drunkard by all the evils . combined.
`ate
ttist
ever inflicted upinitlebaited and degrad
ed These things clearly
;11nderstond end carefully" considered, so 'that
'each Men in Making his bargain'vrith . Nature,
may well know dm:_ price be has to pay,' and
meet the exaction with the air of a person who
MEI
BEM
zinamila
has counted'ihe cost and is not taken in," in
the result of the transaction—who acts deliber
ately and wishes no sympathy from his friends
in case of either event, There is good sense
in the language which Milton puts into the
month of Behal, one of the fallen spirits, in
reply to his weaker companions.
laugh when those Who at the spear are bold
And venturous, if that fail them, shrink and fear
Whet yet they know must follow, to endure
Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,
Thi sentence of their conqueror.
It is admitted that there is pleasure in the in
toxicatine bowl ; let there be a full understand
ing as to the price that Must be paid for its en
joyment. On this head I can only tell you
what you already know. though you may not
all you have thought of it precisely in this
light. You who are leading a,free and easy
life and abusing the blessing of good health
and sound constitutions for the purposes of ex
cess, who can enjoy nothing until you have
heated your blood with intoxicating drinks, and
who know no pleasure until you have partially
drowned the voice of reason in your own bos
onia, may understand to a fraction the reckon
ing you must meet for your tumultuous, short
lived gratifications. That reckoning is fixed
and inevitable. Nature has- written It upon
your own mental and physical constitutions,
End upon the constitution of things around you.
Are you a young man of an ardent, vivacious
temperament, fond of caroustng and inclined
to excess ? Do you find your chiefest delight
in the social drinking party where the wino
and the brandy circulate freely with song and
jest and merriment ? We will not insult your
reason or belie your experience by asserting
that there is no pleasure in all this, for you
know to the contrary. There is doubtless a
good in this, though far enough from the high
eat good of which your nature is susceptible.
But we ask you whether you•are willing to pay
the price that Nature puts upon such gratifica
tions ? Choose your course deliberately and
abide by your choice. It is brief in itself, but
endless in its consequences. Have you ast
intellect capable of appreciating truth with
clearness, fond of exploring the domaini of
science, which revels in the beautiful creations
of genius, which is equally et home in the
graceful walks of literature, and in the sober
shades of philosophy ? All this you must
Prepare to renounce. Gradually, it may be,
and by slow degrees, but certainly and inevi
tably, you most descend from• your high men
tal elevation and become assimilated to the
brute, The hardest rock does not more cer
tainly yield to the continued wearing of water,
than does the soundest intellect to habitual ex
cess in animal gratifications orwhatever de
scription. You cannot bury up reason under
a load of animal excesses, without affronting
her sovereignty and compelling her to abandon
the throne of your intellect. Have you a per
ception quick to take in and enjoy every pleas.:
'Mg - variety of sight and sound ? Have you a
sensibility alive to everything beautiful or re
fined in nature or in arty That delicate texture
of your nerve. upon which such sensibilityde
pends was never intended by nature to with
stand the convulsions of drunken excitement,
or the irritating action of alcaholic poisons.--
Whatever refined enjoyments you are amis..
tamed to derive from these sources you must
renounce.
Have you a moral sense that has never yet
yielded to temptation, ready to discover the
right and magnanimous to pursue it? Have
you a sentiment of honor that scorns all little
ness and meanness, that feels a stain like a
wound, and would you maintain that honor
unblanched and stainless till the day of your
death ? Have you hitherto preserved a pride
of character which has never faltered, and
which has in all circumstances armed you with
the independent bearing of an honest man
All these high sentiments of honor, of character .
and morality you must renounce. Instead of
that nice moral sense, you must become fa.
miliar with the odious features of vice, and ex
perience her disgusting trail upon your own
person. Instead of those honorable sentiments
by which you are now possessed, you must
exhibite in your' own character and person a
most humiliating instance of degradation. A.
sense of infamy will have succeeded to your
present self-respect, and you will by degrees
have descended from your present respectable
position in society, and from the sight of those
bright prospects that allure you, to make your
hed with swine. Those buds of promise
which the spring time of your youth has put
forth. and which have excited the hopes of
your friends, will bear no fruit sacred to the
interests of virtue. The honors of the young
tree are destined to untimely blastments and
premature-decay. Your course is downward.
You are destined to witness the decay Weyer"
dower of virtuous growth‘ and behold every
shoot of generous affection wither; until you
stand in the sere leaf orage. " a blighted trunk
upon a cursed root." The price that you pay
fur your pleasures is yourself, yourenoril and
intellectual being.
[CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.)
THE CROWN ON THE FLOOR.-A notable in
cident occurrid in connection with the ceremo
ny of proroguing Parliament, which the Queen
did iu person. The old duke of Argyle, whose
office it is to carry the crown on a cushion on
the occasion. being &little stir in the joints, es
old noblemen are apt to be, stumbled and fell
flat'im the floor. prostrating The emblem of
royalty, 'and 'scattering the pret•indl stones
of which it is eomposed on the floor of the
house. .
A 'room of 11IN suntans:.—The Wolvereen,
published at Ann Arbor,- Michigan, gives the
following :/
A man that would cheat she , printer. iktuld----
steal 'a meeting house, nnd rob the grave yard.
trni it
If fi e had a soul, ten theniand of I fait would ;
have more 'room in a musquitike e "ikati a
bull frog basin the Pacific Ocean. ' "‘ribghll
to be winked at by blind people.inittitited to .
death across lots by cripples. .
.' •
OE