cyzaZYM
U0W.LE13).61.8
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1845
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
Life—An Allegory.°
I saw a glad and laughing child
In thoughtless mirth go forth,
With joyous step and laughter wild,
To tread the paths of Earth:
Bright floes appeared, with rosy wings
And strewed his path with flowers,
And told him in her whisperings
Of gay and happy hours.
She told him Life was but a joy,
From care anti sorrow free ;
Its pleasures were without alloy,
A but of melody."
And bright and`,oorious visions came,
Of c'aeristied friends so dear,
In whose breast's love's brightest flame
Burned beautiful and clear.
And he believed her—and in haste
Set out this path to tread;
E a ger each pleasant fruit to taste
That bles.orrid o'er his head.
The hri;htest (loners his feet then preseed,
And.joy was in each hour;
I,arest portion then possessed,
And gained its happiest bower.
But nn he went in thoughtless glee,
Cdl TIME his pathway crossed:
Then from his side dear friends were rent,
Life's fairest scenes were lost.
.11! thus •• our fondest hopes decay,"
Our brightest dreams are flown—
.llll Demo with his tyrannic sway,
Has marked us for his own.,
Towanda, December, 1815.
FriritilliCS of the Sons of Temuranee.
[The Wowing is part of an Address, delivered at a
puoLte meeting of the Sons of Temperance, at Brooks,
Maine, on the 18th ult., by JANES COCHTIAN. The ad
.!ress was quite lengthy,.and we have selected such pot,
4, defined the nature, principles and oljects.of the
ln,ntuti , m f the '• Sons of Temperance." The recent
czar,:zati , nt of a Divihion in this plare, and the conse
o.nt interest excited, has led us to the conclusion that
t!,e inf:rmation conveyed in the folluwin,g would be ac
c,; rece:‘
:` , NS Tr,:trErtANcE—As one anciently ex-
Behold what manner of love the Fa
lath bestowed upon us, that we should be
e,ied the Suns of God "—so may we upon the
preset`Loi-casion, exclaim with equal wonder
a-rejoicing-I—Behold what manner of love He
truth beAowedupon us, that we should be called
-6Sue . s of Temperance !— The Sons of Tem—
xrnace! An order instituted upon the ,true
Vincipl6 , of 'Christianity, to carry out the doe.
liin,•s of
,the Savior, as inculcated by hint upon
Ie:S : 1(111m ! An Order whose foundation rests
in the Motive- of the Almialny in sending His
nn;y dun into the world, in that lie bored the
walk Love without dissitnulation—Purity of
intention, and fidelity to religiously perform our
ET
urselves, our brethren aid our fellow
be enquired, what is our Pledge, and
principlep which govern us? To us
familiar, to the uninitiated they may
It tna
Rltat
they ar
nal he .
First
Our pie
atstint. t
the Pledge; and then our principles.—
fge is formed upon the principle of total
tice, and mutual benefits in sickness and
It is as follows: I will neither make;
I, nor use as a beverage, and spirituous
liquors, wine or cider." /No person is
for membership, who is under eighteen
f age, or who does not possess a good
iharacter. The enquiry may arise, does
Lard possess a good moral character ? I
strictly speakin,7, he does not. Nor is
ided as an immoral man. After be be
comes sober. lie sees himself as he really is, lost.
undone and degraded ; his conscience is affected,
Ins heart I , softened, he becomes penitent,- the
sprit of tile Almighty i..orks upon him, and he
at once becomes the subject- of better and holier
I ' lll [in:ices ; I; reso!res to reform and tonehes
the irgoxiearing dranght. lle becono 4 s a
. _
distress
boy, se)
or malt
lc rs o
floral
a 'run
MEE
nor niaa. Once aloathsome drunkard, now he
oid habits and old character are
lard wide, and a thornuzh reformation has hap
pened to hon. Ile has a formed a new (-florae
tpr, that of a sober, temperate man. - All his
eJs and wicked propensities are abandoned. and
Pten we receive this new man in a new charac
ter. "as one risen from the dead." All these
Preparatory steps are passed through, and can
be and must be. before he is welcomed among us.
Even• member, on being admitted, must pay
:at initiation fee, of not less than two dollars.—
Ile must subscribe his name to the Constitution
and By-laws of the Division, giving his arc, oc
cupation and residence,=and pledge himself to
support the rules and usages of the Order. Our
ceremonies of initiation are of the most simple
and religiously impressive character. Every
thing is avoided in their' arrangements that sa•
vors of mystery or ostentatious display. Each
member is requested to pay certain weekly dues.
amounting to aboutifour dollars a year, for which
he is entitled as a right—not as charity-1n case
of sickness or distress, to a weekly allowance of
.
three dollars , except it be shown that such sick
ness 'lll* disability was brought on by his own
improper conduct. In case of the death of. his
Icife, to fifteen dollars towards her funeral ex
penses. And upisn his own death. his family
are allowed thirty dollars. During the . sick
ness or disability of a brother, it is the duty of
the Division to which he may belong, to dole.
Tate members to attend upon him, watch with
him, procure him medical aid, and see that all
his wants are supplied. As our organization
consists of a National, Grand and Subordinate
shcutd a brother be, while traveling.
overtaken by sickness or distress, he can. if out
of the jurisdiction of his own Grand Division,
apply to the nearest Division for assistance.
which is authorized to assist him to. .the extent
kreach case, of thirty dollars, which sum is re
imbursed to the Division by the National Divi.
THE BRADFORD REPORTER,
sion. Our passwords of admission are the same
throughout the United, States. Therefore, a
brother of our Division can obtain instant admis
sion, and find himself surrounded by friends in
distant States, by the simple word made use of
at lime.
A Son of Temperance when sick, if his in
disposition is dangerous, or such as to render
watchers necessary, the brothers take turns in
watching, two being present each night. The
sick are, never without friends,., friends who are
willing to exert themselves to the utmost of their
( ability to comfort the distressed and render the
lonely cheerful. In case of death, brothels feel
it their duty to be present at the funeral and pay
their last tribute of respect to, their departed
friend and associate, and also so far as in them,
lies, to pour into the bosom of the afflicted the
oil of consolation and support. And this they
invariably do, if in good faith they are true Sons
of the Order, however humble in life the brother
may be.
The subordinate Divisions bold their meet
ings weekly. At all regular meetings the inter
rogatory is made—Are any of the brethren sick!
—Has any brother broken the pledge ? Le. Al
ter the disposal of these questions. the Division
proceeds to the transactioseof miscellaneous bu
siness. If no business ii to be transacted, they
may proceed to the discosssion of any question
that may arise or be presented ; thus presenting
the advantage not only of a temperance society.
with funds for - Mutual benefits in sickness and
distress, down to administering the last office
that love rind friendship ''an render to the dead.
but also of a lyceum or debating society, in
which, by a consoliintion of ideas and a concen
tration o!' views, the members are fitted for good
extemporaneous speakers, with minds well stor
ed with fit and useful knowledge. Of the pri
rate affairs of the Division, no member has a
right to speak. out of doors, as they are under
the seal of his sacred honor. If he forfeits his
honor, and divulges them, he is and ought to be
subjected to discipline. For a violation of the
rules and usages of the Order, members are sub
jected to fine, suspension, or expulsion, as the
case may demand. But notwithstanding the pu
rity of our principles, sind the uprightness of our
intentions, it is objected that we are a secret or-
ganiz3tion
That we have secrets in nur Order is true ;
but those secrets, what are they ? " Principally,
a Quarterly Pass-word, which on being given
Ito the door-keeper, admit you into any Di
vision in the country. Then, the ceremony of
initiation. The candidate is introduced into a
company, with his eyes wide open ; the evil ef
fects of intoxicating, drinks are vividly portray
ed, in a simple lecture; he is-obliged neither to
make, buy, sea, nor use any spirituous or malt
liquors, wine or cider; to observe the Consti
tution and regulations of the Order, and not to
divulge, its private affairs ; to promote its hit
mony, and advance its interest; he is charged
to exert all his influence to induce others to ad
opt the principles of entire abstinence from M-
I toxicating drinks ; to pursue a life of integritt. ;
to love his brethren, and keep inviolate the
pledge.. Several times during the performance,
he is asked if he is willing to proceed ; and if
lie is nut an opportunity is afforded to retire.
Well, some one says, but a member is obligated
not to divulge the private affairs. Certainly he
is, and what are they, other than those winch
have been enumerated? I will tell you. If a
brother is so unfortunate as to break the pledge.
—that is private; and no member is at liberty
to retail the fact about the streets. If a brother
is in want, and we relieve hum—thisisprivate;
and no member has a right to tell it out of the
Division. If a person is proposed, and a broth
er gets up, and asserts that he knows him to be
unworthy Ofadmission. he is held responsible
for the assertion to the Division ; this, also, is
private. Now this is the character of our se
crets-. Is there any thing alarming in thorn' ?
It is our aim to avoid, as far as possible, the im
putation of serrocy K We have Pass-words. re
quired fin admission into our Halls. In this, we
differ only front private Concerts and assemblies,
in selecting a word for instead of a card of ad
mission. Our business proceedings are pub
lished quarterly', and are open to the public.
We have no signs or words by which one broth
er can distingutsh another nut of our Halls. We
have no means of recognition, out of doors ; no
oath ; no ceremony, that angels might not look
upon and smile ; and any person is at perfect
liberty to withdraw from the Order, at any time,
if there are nit char, , es against Linn. Si) MUCII
for our secrets. It is well known that all asso
ciations. all Bodies, pnlutical r legislative and re
ligious, have their secrets ; and the example i s
set by our Saviour, himself:" Take heed that
ye do not your alms before men, to be Seen of
them ; otherwise, ye hive no reward of your
fattier which , is in heaven. Therefore, when
thou toot thine al ws, do not sound a trumpet be
fore thee, as the hypocrites do, in the SVlla
origut's and in the streets, that they may have
glory of men. Verily, I say unto yOll, they
have their reward. Cot When thou does; alms,
let not thy left hand know what thy right hand
doeth ; that thine alms may be in secret, and
thy father which seeth id secret, shall reward
thee openly. When thou prayest, enter thy
closet, and when thou twist sr,ut the door, pray
to thy father which is in secret, and thy father
which seeth in secret, shall reward thee open. '
ly." Our Order has been in existence only
-three years, and now numbers in the U. 'S.,
about 3,000, and is rapidly increasing ; compo
sed of men of all orders, names, ranks and pro
fessions. 'lf we - harbored secrets at war with
the public safety, pule morals, or individual
rights, think you, they would not long since
have been exposed, when it is taken into ac
count of what discordant materials we are com
posed.
Anntherobjection. which has been advanced,
is that the establishment of Divisions of the
Sties of Temperance will have a tendency to
withdraw our most active men from the support '
of the old Organizations. This objection is
not well founded. • But on the contrary, the
opening of a division in places - where the ex
citement was abated, has immediately revived
it, and given a new impulse to the friends of !
the cause, heannot fail to have such an effect.
A number of . those Most interested in the
movement, in one of our Diiisions, must, of i
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0.. & 11. P. GOODRICH.
" REGARDLESS OF DENIINCIATION,, FROM Alllt QUARTER:Ii
necessity, lead to tbe.adoptien of means to ad-'
vance a cause, upon whose existence, depends
the prosperity and existence of the Order. In
our large cities and villages; it is a well knirri
fact, that almost the entire support of Waith
tonian meetings rests upon members of the Or
der.. Scarcely a speaker is now heard in a
Washingtonian meetiug, where a Division of
the Order exists, who is net a Son of Tempe;
lance. At the present time, one of the most
Celebrated Lecturers in this State is ander ap
plication for admission into our Division.—
Some of the oldest Pioneers—those who first
broke the ice. years and years ago, in the cause
of temperance, are now members of the Order.
Among whom. I may mention the Rev. Dr.
Beecher, and the celebrated surgeon, Dr. Mus
sy. We are almost daily receiving accounts
of the accession of distinguished men to our
ranks, and of the good effect of the Order, in
giving stability to the temperance movement.
In many instances, persons who had for some
reason or other, withdrawn from the field of
labor, have received new life by uniting with
us : and very many have been enlisted in the
good work for the first time, through the direct
agency of our Institution.
We have hundreds associated with us, who
multi never have been reaelied by the Washing
tonian pledge alone, and many who have fallen
from 'other associations have been saved by our
Order. It is well known that the greatest ob
stacles, at the present day, to the temperance
reform are that class, called moderate drinkers,
gentlemen drunkards, and rusnsellers. They
cannot be induced to sign the Plehe. and are
perpetuating the evils of intemperance. They
have a nervous sensibility at what is called pub
lic opinion ; a sensibility which leads them to
shun observation in such an act, as cautiously
as they would avoid a criminal offence. With
such, our Order is a city of refuge. 'l'hey will
find among us a support and countenance, and
in the privacy of our meetings, a protection
from the taunts of their former associaties, with
out which they could never be induced to re.
form. Instances of men are abundant, who
have, time and :gain broken the Pledge. and
who were Inebriates up to the very time of their
initiation, where reformation was considered
hopeless. who from the moment they took our
solemn obligation. became, and still continue up
to the hub fur total abstinence. So efficacious
is our obligation in binding. our brothers to the
observance to the Pledge, that in the exciting
electioneer;ter campaign of 1844, out of 5,000
members, only eight were expelled for a breach
of their obligations. An instance is given. to
particular, of a ,g entleman who had signed the
Washingtonian ' Pledge about a dozen times,
and as often broke it. As a last effort. through
the solicitation of his friends, he joined our
Order. Two years have passed since the oc
currence, and lie hati not yet, and probably ne
ver well violate his Pledge.
To how many a once desolate home has the
ascending star of our Order conveyed the bright
est beams of thankfulness and of gratitude,—
With what feelings of fondness and pride, the
happy wife welcomes the return of her husband,
not from drunken dens of human misery, hut
from the altars.of temperance, where he'has
both been receiving and communicating fresh
resolutions to pursue the paths of rectitude and
integrity ! Yea, all the domestic relations—
all the domestic affections can rejoice in the
Son of Temperance. De crowns the grey hairs
of his parents with honor—his sisters exult in
his unsullied fame—his children rise up and call
him blest—he is the widow's protector, and the
orphan's friends ! To use the language of ano
ther. •• it is doubtful whether there is any oth
er human society calculated to be of more last
ing benefit to mankind." Total abstinence.
benevolence, chlrity, universal love and most
of the ennobling principles of which the
acter of man is susceptible, are incalculated in
the Division room in a manner ‘vhich cannot
fail to promOte the health, happiness and pros
perity of all who are,,brought under its influ
ence.
Pennsylvania.
Land of the gently swelling hills.
Land of the swiftly, gliding etrearnr,
Thy very name the free heart thrills,
%With truth and honor's brightest beams
Thy well earned praises have been sung,
By bards beyond the deep;
And may they be forever rung
In tones that cannot sleep.
Since first the mild and free horn Penn
Gazed on the dark green forests tall,
Till tyrants trembled nt the blast
From the old Independence Hall.
Thy sons for Honer, Truth and Right,
Firm es the rocks have stood,
And poured the terrors of their might,
Through tempest, flame and blood.
Oh! may no trusted child of thine
Dim the bright stirs that deck thy brow ;
But cause them brighter still to shine,.
And deeper, hirer yet to glow.
Let other states around thee own
The Tyrant and the Slave,
Thy children, Pennsylvania,
Are free as wind and wave.
THE ELDEST DADGIITER.—The deportment
of the older children of the fnn,ly is of great
importance to the yontiger.—Their obedience
or insubordination operates thro'out the whole
circle. Especiallyls the station of eldest daugh
ter one of eminence. She drank the first draught
of the mother's love, She usually enjoys much
of her counsel and companionship. In her ab
sence she is the natural viceroy. Let the moth
er take double pains to term her on a correct
,model : to make her amiable. dilligent, domes
tic, pions ; trusting that the image of those vir
tues may leave impressionS on the soft, waxen
hearts of the young ones,`to whom she may in
the providence of God, be called to fill the place
of maternal guide.
A mixture of honey andlthe purest charcoal
will make the teeth as white as snow.
Fanny M'Depliot. 7 4 Tale of Sorrow,
BY NISEI C.. M. BEM WICK
lES
...Then," said she, "I am very dreary
He will not come," she laid,
she wept. "I em eareary, 'weary,
Oh, God, that I were dead."
PART FIRST
Invention need not be taxed for incidents
fitted to touch the heart, nor need they to he
heightened With the dyes of romance. The
daily life of our own cities abounds in events
over which, if there he tears in Heaven, surely
the angels weep. But it is not to draw tears
which flout toe,easily from susceptible, young
readeys that the following circumstances •are
related, but to set forth dangers to which many
are eipoied, and vices which steep the life
God has given as a blessing hr, dishonor, mi
sery and remorse.
A few years since there lived, on the east
side of our city,; where cheap and wretched
residences shiJund, one Sara lira. Sara was
a widow, not young nor pretty, nor delicate.
with none of the elements of romantic inter
est, but old, full seventy, tall, angular and
coarse; with a face, roughened by hardship,
sharpened by time and channeled by sorrow,
Her:Voice was harsh. ar.d her manner un
gracious. There was one, arid but one sign,
and that a faint one, that she might once have
partaken the weakness of her sex. She wore
that hideous supplement to the hair which wo
men call "a sprout." and not being, very, exact
in the adjustment of her cap, thejnalaPoSifidn
of the foxy auburn exotic, and the indigenous
silver hairs_ set off this little lingering ol.ranity
rather strikingly. But as all , is not: gold that
glitters, and beauty is but skin deep. - so under
a rough shell is often found excellent meat,and
under Mrs, Hyt'e rough exterior, there was
strong common sense. a spirit of rectitude, a
good conscience, and affections that the rough
usa g e of the world had not abated. Theie
had attached her with devotion and self-sacrj-
Gee to one object after another, as the relations
of life had changed, first binding her in loving
duty to her parents
. and sisters: then to her
husband and children, and finally, when, one
after another, they had dropped into the grave
settling on the only one in whose reins a drop
of her blood run, a little orphan grand-niece.
" A sweeter thing could they not light upon."
Go with us up a crazy , staircase at the ex
tremity of Houston street. If you chance to
look in at the door of any of the rooms you
pass you will see, it being Sunday, an entire
Irish family, mnther, half a dozen children.
more or less, with a due allowance of cousins,
all plump, rosy, and thriving (in the teeth of
the physical laws.) on plenty of heterogeneous
food, and superfluity of dirt. Oil entering
Mrs. Hyat's room, you are in another country;
the tenants are obviously Americans, it is so
orderly, quiet and cleanly, and rather antiso.
cial. There are only an old woman and alit
de girl ; the bud of spring-time and the seared
leaf of autumn. The table, windows and
floor, are all fresh and immaculate from Sat
urday's scouring. The only dirt in the room
(y•ou almost wonder the old woman tolerates
it there) is In two flower pote in the window,
whence a white jessamine and a tea rose dif
fuse their sweet odours. A - table is decently
spread for the mongrel meal that our people
call supper, which blends the substantial food
of dinner, with - the aromatic tea, and its sweet
accompaniments of pastry, cake, or preserves.
The tea-kettle is hissing ,nn, the stove and a
pie is warming there. The old woman sits in
her rocking chair weaving backward and for
wards, reading a time-discolor'ed letter, while
a little 'girl (the only thing in harmony with
the rose and jesgainine in the window) laying
aside a tract she is reading. says... Aunt Sara,
don't von know every word in that letter by
heart I do."
•• Why, do you, Fanny? Say it then
.• My dear aunt. I am dean discouraged
—it seemed as if Providence frowned on me.
There is black disappointment turn which way
will. I have had an offer to pi to Orleans.
and part pay beforehand, which same 1-send
You herewith. Sefina's time draws near, and
It is the only way I have to prove, 110 dear
aunt Sara. I think it my duty to go. I can't
summon courage to bid you gond•bye. I
can't speak a: word to hoer. I Should not be a
man in a month if 1 tried. You have been a
mother to me, aunt Sara• and if Good spares
toy life, I'll be a dutiful son to you in the
place of them that's gone. if any thing hap
pens to my poor wile, you will see to my
child I know. .
•' Your dutiful nephew.
JAISES MCDERYInT."
"New York. 25th Sepiember, 1827."
" I declare. Fanny. you have said it right,
date and all; and what a date it was to me—
that sth of September: that day your father
sailed that very day you were hurtt—and that
very day when the tide went out, vour mother
died—life coming—life going—and the dear
life of my last boy launched nit the wide sea.
My boy, I always called your lather—lie was
idle my own eon IR me. lie, lived just one
week after he got to Orleans. and the. news
came:. Evacuation day. We have always been
that is, the Rankin side, a dreadful family for
dyini r ! young—all but me; I've lived to follow
all my folks to the grave. My three boys I
have seen laid in the ground; lull grown six
men, and here I am. my strength (ailing, my
eyes dim, working--working, shivering. trem
bling on."
Poor little Fanny shivered tooi, and putting
some morn wood into the stove, she asked her
aunt if it were.nnt time ,for emptier, but Mrs.
Ili - at, without heeding her. went on, rather
talking to herself than the child: "there has
been something notable about times and sea
sons with ourfolks. I was born the day that
great peace was declared. My oldest -was
born the day Washington died ; my youngest
Sister, your grandmother, Fanny. died the
day of the total Eclipse ;,my husband died the
day that last pesky war was declared; your
father saw your mother the first time Imita
tion night, and 1 said, It'wtts Ai Evacuation
day," we got the twist) of h's death ; puor
Jemmy ! what a dutiful boy he was to me;
half my life went with his! How that letter
is printed on your memory, Fanny! But ynu
have better learning than ever I had, and that
makes the difference! learning is not all, though
Fanny ; you must have prudence. Dul not
hear you talking on the stairs, yesterday, with
some of them Irieh cattle?'
" Yes, aunt, 1 was thanking Mrs. O'Roorke
for bringing op my pail of water fur for me."
That -was not it, 'twas a racket with the
children, I heard." Fanny made no replY.—
"I won't have it, Fanny ; you're no company
for Irish, and never shall be, the Lord made
'em. to be sure, but that is all ; you can scarce
call them human creturs."
They are very kind Aunt Sara."
"So are dogs kind, Fanny. I have moved
and moved, to get into a house free of them; I
but they are varmint, and there is no_
getting away from them. It's the Lord's will
and must he, but Pit have no right hand
of fellowship with them. there I have set down
my loot. Now child tell me what was all that
hurry skurry about?" •
Mrs. Hyat gave Fanny small encouragement
to communicate a scene in which the banned
Irish were the prinoipal actors. But afterla
little straggle, her sense of justice to Ahem
overcame her.dread of the old woman's pre
judices. and she told .the true story.
The overseer at the new buildings gave
me leave to bring my kasket again for kind
linos. Pat and Ellen 0 Ruorke were there
before me. and they picked otit all the best bits,
and put them into my basket, and it was pret
ty heavy, and Pat would bring it home ; Ike
was so kind, how could I huff him, Aunt Sara? .
but I was afraid you would see him, that 'Was.
the truth, and I wanted to take thet:tit:et be,
fore we got to the house, so I ran acres' the
street after him, and there was a yomkgentle 7
men driving a beautiful carriage, with, serf - =
vant beside him. and another behin4ndilite
of the horses just brushed againgArlllrand
knocked. me over.
" Pat and Ellen were frightened, auilitin.
too, and Pat. and Ellen screamed, ant :,the
gentleman stopped, and the man behind jiiitljt
ed off and came to us, and Pat kicked
add he struck Pat, and the gentleman got out
and stopped the fight, and said he was very
sorry, and offered Pat money, and Pat would
not touch it. The Irish have some high feel
ings, aunt, for all ; and I am sure they are
generous ones."—
.• Well, well, go on ; did the gentleman say
any thing to you ?"
•• Yes, auni he P3w there was a little blood
on Inv cheek, nod he took off my bonnet. and
turned off my hair; it was but a little bruise—.
and—"
" And, and. and what, child ?"
" Nothing aunt. only he wiped off the place
with his handkerchief and—kissed it."
'" It's the last time you shall stir outside the
door. Fanny, without me."
" Aunt Sara! 1 am sure he meant no harm ;
he was a beautilul gentleman."
" Beautiful, indeed ! Did he say any thing
more to you ?"
De said something about my hair being—
looking—pretty, and he cut oh' a lock with
my scissors that you hung at my side yester
day, and he—he put it in his bosom." As
Fanny finished, there was a tap at the door,
and on opening it. she recognized the liveried
footman of her admirer. In one hand he held
a. 'uglify ornamented bird-cage containing a
canary, and in the other a paper parcel.
" The gentleman as had the misfortune to
knock you down )esierday, sends you these."
fie said. smiling to Fa :riv, and setting them
down on the table. he withdrew.
Fanny was enchanted. .• The very thing I
always wanted," she exclaimed; and the lit !
bird did the very thing to cheer
her, solitude, to break woh its sweet Ho les
tliW heavy monotony of her days, to chime in
harmony with the happy voice of cliildhood.-
While Fanny, forgetting her supper and the
paper parcel, was trying to quiet the frighten
ed fluttering, of the timid little stranger, Mrs.
Neat, lost in a reverie - of perplexity and anxie
ty, was revolving Fanny's adventure and its
consequences ; a world of dangers that most
besei the poor girl, when, as in the course of
nature it final soon be her protection was
withdrawn, were all at once revealed to her.
Fanny was just thirteen, and the extreme
beauty that had marked her childhood, instead
of passing away with it, was every day devel
opine and ripening. Her features were .sysn
metrical, and of that order which is called-aria.
tucratic, mid So they were of nature's aristocra.
cy ; if that be eo which is reserved for her
rarest productions. Her complexion was fait
amd colt as a rose leaf, and the color, ever vary
ing on her cheek. ever muumuu , and subsid
ing with the flow and ebb of feeling ; her hair
was singularly beautiful; rich and (iodine. and
though quite dark, reflecting to the light a rud
dy glow.
• If she looked like other citildren," thought
Sara Ilvat, as her eye rested on Vanity, she
might have been thrown down, and had both'
her legs broken. and that ) ming spark would
never have troubled himself' about lief. If it
had -but pleased God to give her her grandfath.
er's bottle nose; or her father's little gray
twinkling eye: or if slur had favored any of
the Floods, or looked like any of the Ranking
—except her poor mother. But - whet a pic
ture of a face to throw a poor girl with, alone,
among' the wolves and loxes of this wicked
city. Oh! that men were men. and opt beasts
of prey ! Fanoy—Fannv, child"—the old wq
man's vomeitrembled, but there was an earliest.
ness in it that impressed each word as she tit
tered it.—"mark my words', and one of these
days. when I ant dt:ad and gone, you will re
member them ; God gives beauty, Fanny.-for
a trial to some, and a temptation to other 4.—
That's all the use I could ever see in it; to he
sure it's a pretty thing to look upon, hut
junlike a rose; by the time it is bloomed nut.
it begins to fade, • Now-do leave that bird
cafe one minute and listen to me ; when 'men
follow you, and flatter you, turn a deaf ear.
Funny ; pay no kind of attention to them, and
MTIETIMESE. 6114
if they. persevere. Ay away from them as you
would from rata." .
•• Aunt Sara! 1 don't know .hatyou mean!"
• The time will come when 1 can make my
meaning plainer; for the present, it is enough
for you to know, that you most not listen to
fine dres'sed men,"that you must go straight to
school, and come straight home from it, and
say nothing to nobody. If ever 1 get the mon
ey that good for nothing Martin owes me for
work. done tire years ago, .I'll bu, you a bird.
Fanny, hut if you can get a chance, you must
send this back where it came from.
•• 01i, Aunt Sara! must 1 ?"
•• Yes. 1% hat is in that paper? Unite it."
Fanny united it. It enveloped a quintuy of
bird seed, and a dainty basket tilled with
French bonbons. Fanny involuntarily smiled,
and then looked towards, her aunt, as if to ask
her if she might. The cloud on the old lady's
brow lowered more and more heavily, and
Fanny said timidly—
• " Must 1 send these hack. too. aunt? or
may 1 give them to rat and Ellen I. '1 won't
eat any myself." *,
You area good child, Fanny, and docile.
Yes, you may go down and hand them in, and'
don't stay, Jalking with them; and mind again.
if ever an opportunity comes, the bird goes
back."
Fanny could not, for her life, see the harm
of keeping the bird ; tt seemed to her, that the
gentleman was'veryfiled, hut, the ; posspility
of disobedience Oierr aunt, or of contending
with-her, lid not occur to her. - -.;,,5,4
and - that was enough, to knsWVeri r 'mint
indulged her wcienevezaVe :thought indulgenek
eight, and drat she strained every nervefor her..
Itet wishes, were - . riot easilytsubdued as he r vvilreild each :day she grew more in loyewitfi
tier Canary they. became stronger that the : op-
-portunity niight:never come to seritthim away.
Hut tome iftlid. The following, Thmiday . -
Clifi.unas 'day ;„ a - holiday . o. l - 1 course to
; hut tvone.to hiving
strictly-breda Presbyterian.held in pee- _
darisin disdaltvei;en -this deareSt ;and:noblest of
; . She Was doing. 'did.
Which, she, earned her. bread. taking tariaite:.;
ea:Menlo-kir a neighboring stoptslAi.',Tannyt
,Il ad
done pit ttlehouse work-, and put the'froom
,06 - 41:1,14)1(!lit14, order whkeli is to,she poor
what and fariefz-deetirations are
to the rich. She had fed her Canary bird;and
talked to it, and read through the last tract left
at the door, and she was sitting gazing out of
the window, thinking how happy the people '
must be, who rode by in their carriages, and
wondering as she saw dolls. baby-heuses and
hobby-horses carried by where all the children
could live who got these fine presents. There
is nobody to send me one, she t hought. Its
if in answer to her thought, there was a tap at
the door, and the well known livened footman
appeared with a huge paper parcel.
Fanny's rose colored-cheek deepened to crim
son. Mrs. Hyat surveyed the lad from head to _
heel, and nodding to Fanny, asked, "is It he r
" Yes, aunt."
" It's something for you, miss," said the foot
man, advancing. and about to deposit a parcel on
the table hefitre ; "it's Christmas
day, old lady," he added pertly; "a nice day
f r young people us has red cheeks and bright
eyes." •
" Hum ! you need not take the trouble to set- .
that thing down heir."
ma'am. here will do just as well,"
lie said, playing it on the bureau.
Nirr there, either, ytung man." hut he, '
without heeding her, had already untied the par
eel, and diselitsed to Fanny's enraptured eye
a ruse-wood work-box with brilliant fittings or ,
rri"son velvet and steel and silver utensils.
it was but a single glance that Fanny gave to •
them, for she remembered the goods were con
traband, and she averted her eye, and cast it
Hewn.
Tie the thine np, and take it inhere it came
from." mitt Mrs. Ilyat. What is your feas
ter's name?"
"The gentleman as employs me is Mr. Nu
gent Stafford, Esquire."
Where dues Ile Itve t"
•• At the Astor Noose."
Give hint the bird, Fanny."
Poor little Fanny obeyed, but with :v Item.
Ming hand and tearful eye. The little bird
had been a bright spirit in her dead, daily life.
•• Take them ad hack," continued Mrs. Hyat,
•• and tell Mr.-.-t. What's his name t •that seek
fine things ate for fine people ; that we are poot
and honest. -and plain spoken. and if he is a
real friend to2us, he'll leave us to eat the bread
of our own -earning without disturbing out
minds with-things that's no way suited to IN,"
The footman and Finny stood a little behind
Mrs. 11) at. and he, taking advantage of her
deafness, shrugged his i•haulders, saying,
" crusty, crusty." and adding, with a diaboli
cal prescience, fitting the school in which his
toaster bred him, if ever you hear three
whistles below clone flown."
What are yon waiting for? you've got
your nu•aeage, ninth"
..1 tvaa waittug for your second thoughts.
old lad v."
" r
ve not given you my fi rst, nor my see
nod thoughts ; FO you may go to 'Mr. W„--
Whitt do you call him, as quirk as pin please."
The man departed, flowing and kissing his
hand to Fanny, as he shut the door. s• What
said the fellow to you ?" asked her .annt, who
had heard, as deaf people generally hest what
'is meant not to reach their ears, •
'• Oli aunt," replied Fanny. he saiti some•
thing about your bring rruert•."
Most tintrirtunately, and for the first time in
her life. she dealt tinfairlv by her aunt. Sin
cerity is the eompasti of ; there Is no sail.
tug without it. The poor child-wait perplex.
ed Stafford's gifts hint charmed her. She
did nut clearly sre why they were rejected.—
She was ilrea,ly filled with vague longings for
some variatiran of her dull existence ; and aim
was but thirteen years old. Seldom-have thir.;
teen years of human life passed with a more
stainless record. To do her duty. in be quiet.
industrious and true. from being Fanny's in
stinct, had become her habit. The fountain of
[FEN worm raora