Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, August 25, 1847, Image 1

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1 1 / 4 111101 1121 VIM&
rincebap Morniin," Utust 25, 1847.
From Chambere•cycAopedito4gustish Literature.]
Times As by. Taros.
~ if ---
The lopped tree Usti - me may grow, again
Most naked plants renew both fruit.and flower.
The sorriest wight may find release in pain
The driest soil suck in some moistening.shower,
Times go by turns, and chances change by course
From foul tio fair, from better hap to worse.
The sea,of Fortune doth not 'ever flow ;
She draws' her favors to the lowest ebb;
Her tides have equal times to come and go;
Her loom cloth weave the fine and coarsest web ;
No joy so great, but runneth to an end.
No hap so hard but may in fine amend.
Not always fall of leaf, nor ever sprint , ,
Nat . enillesTs, night; nor yet eternal -tray ;
The saddest girds a season. find to,siag,. • • ,•
The roughest storm a calm may soon• allay.
thus. with succeeding turns, God tempereth all,
That man may hope to rise, yet fear to-fall.•
A chance may win• that by mischance was lost;
That net that bolds no great, takes little fish;
t o so me thtgs all, in all things none are crossed ;
Few all t ley need, but none have all they wish.
I mingled joys here to man betal,
Who least; bath some ; who ost, have never all. -
t A, . IR' as ted cart. •
A siiiii
nJ.I ret it is awa e a heart: ~
lt,is l' a Waited Ent .._ •
Th4t seeks not in ner world
Its happiness to find— ,
Find happ'iness•is like the bird
That broods above=its nest,
And finds beneath' its wings
Life's dearest, and
A little space is all that hope
Or love can ever take—
rite wider . that the eircle spreads,
The soon.: r it will break.
I Vi 111 !
Yon 4ouk sober, Laura. What has thrown a
our happy face r raid Mrs,cfeaveland
her uk:ce, one morning, hei alone,
i.i tvith a thou,ginfnl pountenance.
D•. 1 really lota soher and Laura smiled as
-I‘,u 'did just now. But the sunshine has al
di•ir•lled the ttansient cloud. lam glad that
I:1 W.IS not portended.'
I iel; sg,hcr, mint," Laura said, after a few mo
i face again becoming serious.
So 1 supposed, from your looks."
• 1,1,1 1 . l6 still."
..11.1)\-!•• .
Iram really diecouraged, aunt??
(!gout what !"
The . iiialden.:s 'cheek deep' died its hue, but she
0! reply.' •
)111; and Harry have not &hen out like a pair
!: , h lovrrs, I hope."
• Oh. no! . ' was the.quick and emphatic answer.
wkit has troubled the quiet ;raters of you
•11 r, %bout what are you discouraged !
•• I will tell you," the"tnaiden replied. "It was
ati.nit a week after my engagement with liar
rt. that I called upon, Alice Stacy and found her
• ulhappy. She had not been married over a
11101101$. I asked what troubled her; and she
I tcel as miserable as I can be." " But
~ t -tai makes you - miserable, Alice ?" I inquired.—
. Because William and I have qartelled—thatlis
reason," she said, with some levity, tossinglher
liPad and compressing her lips with a kind of defi-
Lr e: was shocked—so much so, that I could not
" The fact is," she resumed, before I could
all Men are arbitrary and Unreasonable.—
' They think women inferior to them, and their. ,
Tivf;:i as a higher order of slaves. : • But I am not
roe to be put under i any man's feet. - William has
led that trick witli me, and failed. Of course, to
IFie foiled. by a woman is no very pleasant thing for of your lords of creation:. A temTest in a tea
was the consequence. ilut I did not yield the
t o ntnt in dispute: and what is ruore,• haVe no idea
doing so. t tle will have to kind out, sooner or
r. that I am his equal in ei!ery way ; and the
:locker he can be made conscious of this, the bet
for both. Don't you thinkso 1" I made . no
•,- - I was Much astoiiishTl . and stteckiii.
AU men," she continued,.-"have to be - taught
'There never was a -husband who did not, at
. attempt to lord it oVer his wife. And there!
e 1 never a woman, whose condition as a wife;
"at at all above that of a passive -slave, who did i ,
tot had It necessary to oppose herself at first with
' 4 aulching perseverance.'
• To all this and a great deal mere, I could say
It choked meuro. Since 'then, I haVe
eat her freyinentfy, at home and elsewhere, but she
trt'never looked happy. Several times she has
5 . .44 tq me, in company; when I have taken a seat
her, and remarked that she seemed dull.—
)t , „ lam dull but Mrs. Stacy there, you ree,
herself. Men alwayfrenjoy themselves in
''"'fin—apa r t froin their wives, of course.: I
a sbnietnneF• oppose to this a sentiment pallia
'ihrigisband : as that in company, a man
rare Yralurak wished to add his mite to the genet.-
1 J o Yousne-z, or something of a like nature, But
Illy excited her, and drew forth remarks that
v44 ed my: feelings. Up to this day they do not
4 ?Pear to be on . any better terms. Then, there is
rani% Glean—married only three Months, •and as
t zl( 1 , of carping at her husband for his arbitrary,
klaineero4 spirit, as is Mrs. Stacy. I couldname
or three bthers who have been married ; some
aver and some a longer peri&l,that do not seem
voted by any close bonds.
th the condition of these young friends,.ating
lases m e to tel serious. lamto be married
I, '‘v weeks. caM it be possible that my union
lienry Arniout' will be no- happier, no more
than their*? This I cannot believe. And
th e relation that Alice and Frances }mid to
7111 st-rand., trouble::: me whenever I think alit.
", as tar a.:.• I have been able to 'understand
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him, has strong peintrin - his character. From a
tied course of actiin,—Or, from a course of action
that he - thinks right—no consideration, lam sure,
Would turn hini. I, too, have mental characteris
tiCs somewhat similar. There is, liiewise, about
me a leaven of stubbomess. i . I tremble when the
thought of opposition betweel tui, upon any sub
ject, crosses my mind. I wquld rather die—so I
feel about it—than ever have a misnnderstanding,
with my husband.
Laura ceased, and her aunt, who was, she now
perceived, much agitated, arose and left the room
without speaking. The reason of this to Laura•
was aliegether unaccountable. Her aunt Cleave
land', 'aft:trays s o mild, so ealm,to be thus strongly die- -
turbed ! What could it mean ? What could there
be in her maidenly fears to excite the feelings of
one so good, and wise and gentle ? An hour af
terwads, and while she yet sat, sober and perplex
ed in• mind, in the same place where Mrs. Cleave
land .had left her, a domestic-came in and said that
her aunt wished to see her in her room. Laura
attended her immediately. She found her calm .
and self-possessed, but paler that water,
" Sit down beside me, dear," Mrs. Cleaveland
said, smiling faintly, as her niece came in.
" What you sail:lllns morning, Laura she began,
after 'a few moments, " recalled my . own early
yearW so' Vividly, thar I could not keep down emo
tions I had deemed long since powerless. The
cause of those emotions it is now, I clearly see; my
duty to reveal—that is to you. For 'years T have
carefully avoided Premitting my mind to go back
to the past in vain musing over scenes that bring
no pleasant thoughts, nos glad feelings. I have,
rather, looked into the future with .a steady hope, a
calm reliance. But,. for your sake, I will draw
aside the veil. May the relation - I am now about
to give you have the effect I desire. Then shall I
not suffer. in vain. How vividly, at this moment,
do I remember the joyful feelings that prevaded
my bosom when like you, a maiden . ; I looked for
ward to my wedding day. Mr. cleaveland was a
man, in many respects, like HenryArmour.' Proud,
firm, yet gentle and amiable whemnot opposed; a
man with whom I ' might have been supremely
happy ; a 'man whose faults I might have corrected
—not by open opposition to theni—‘not by seeming
to notice them, but by leading him to see them
himself. But this course I did not pursue. Iw.
proud ; I was self-willed ; I was unyielding. gle
menta like these can never come into opposition
without a victory on either side being as disastAus
as defeat. ,
We were married.• Oh, how sweet was the pro
mise of my wedding-day !Of my husband I was
very fond. Han some ; educated, and with talents
of a high order, tftere was every thing about him to
make the heart of a young wife proud. Tenderly.'
we loved each other, like . days in. Elysium passed
the first few months of our • wedded life. Our
thditehts and wishes were one. After that, gradu
ally. a change come over my husband.
He deferred less readily ',to my wishes. His own
will was more frequently opposed to mine, and
his contentions for victory longer and longer conti
nued. This surprised and pained me. But it did
not occur to me, that my tenaciousness of opinion
might seem as strange to. him as did his to me.—
It did not occur to me, that, there would be a pro
priety in my deferring to him—;-at least so tiir!asto
give up opposition. • I never for a moment reflect
ed that a proud, firm-spirited man, *tight be klriv-
en off from an opposing wife, rather than diawn
closer, and united in tenderer bonds. I coati per
ceived my rights as an equal assailed. And from
that point of view, saw his conduct as dogmatical
and overbearing, whenever, he resolutely set him
self, as was.fitr too frequently the case.
• " One day ; we had then been Married about six
months he said to me. a little serionsly,, yet smil
ing as he spoke, " Jan, did not I see you on the
street this morning "You -did," I replied.—
" And with Mts. Corbin r' " Yes." My answer
to this last question was not given in a very plea
sant tone. The reason was this. Mrs. Corbin, a
recent acquaintance, was no favorite with my hus
band ; and he had more than once mildly suggested
that she was not, in his view, a fit associate for me.
This rather touched My pride. It occurred to me,
that I ought to be the best judge of my female as-
eociate'oi imd that for'my - husband to make any ob-
'fr.) *4fie,
___l- i i
I lt
jections was an assumption on WS part that, as a
wi4 I was, called upon to resist. ci I did mil, On
previlms 'Occasions, say any thing decided, conten
ting myself with parrying his objections laughing.
ly. This time, however, I was in a less forbearing
mood. " I wish you would not make that woman
your friend," he said, after I had admitted that he
:was right in his observation. " And why not,
- pray !:, I asked, looking at him' quite steadily.—
" For reasons before. given, Jane," he replied,
mildly but firmly. " There are reports in circula
tion touching her character that (fear are—."—
'• They are false !" I interrupted him. " I know
they are false !" I spoke with a sudden excite
ment. My voice trembled my cheek burned, and
I was conscious that my eye shot forth no mild
light. "They are true !" Mr. Cleaveland'
sternly, but apparently unruffled. " I don't believe
ti," I retorted. " I know her far beuer. She is an
injured woman." .
Jane," my husband now said, his voice slight.'
ly trembling, •" you are my .wifji As such, your re
putationtro is d me as the apple. of my eye.—
Suspicion I been cast upon Mrs-Corbin, and that
slispicio have good reason for believing ' well
founded. If you associate %AM her—if you-are
seen upon the street with her, your fair fame will
receive a taint. This I cannot permit."
•• There wiis, to my mind, a threat contained 4 ,
the last sentence—a threat of an authoritative inter
vention. At this my pride took fire.
" Cannot permit," I said, drawiig myself up,—
" What do' you mean, Mr. Cleaveland I"
The brow of kr husband instantly flushed.—
Hetsktikitienefor a moil:tent or two. Then he said,
• with foratioainmess, yet in a resolute, meaning
tone.. • ,
i - '1 -5." . .
•" Jane, I do. not-wish you to keep company with
Mrs. Corbin:"
'• I..wiu.!" was my indignant reply.
" His face grew deadly pale: For a. moment his
whole frame trembled as if some fearful struggle
were going on within. Then he quietly arose, and
without looking at me, left the room. Oh ! how
deeply did L l regret uttering those unhappy words
the instant .they were spoken ! But repentaqce
came,too late. For about the space of ten min
tea, pride' struggled with affection and duty. At
the end of that time the latter triumphed, and I
hastetnectafter my husband to ask his forgiveness
for what I had said. But he was not in the par-
!mks. He was not in the house ! I asked a ser
vantif she had seen him, and received for retily
that he had gone out.
4nziously passed the hours until night-fall.—
The sad twilight, as it gathered dimly around threw
a deeper gloom - over my heart. My husband usu
ally came home before dark. Now he was awa •
beyond his accustomed hours. tustead ofreturn
ing gladly to meet his young wife, he was staying
away, becauie that young wife had thrown off the
attractions of lore and. presented to him features
harsh and repulsive. How anxiously I longed to
hear the sound of his footsteps—to see his face—to
hear his voice. The moment•of his entrance I re
solvid should be the moment of my humble con-
fession of wrong, of my faithful promise never
again to set up my, will determinedly in opposition
to his judgment. But minute after minute passed
after nightfall, hours succeeded minutes; and these
rolled on until.the whole night wore away, and he
came not back to me. As the gray light of
morning stole into my chamber, a terrible fear took
hold of me that made my heart grow still in my
bosom : the fear that be would never return, that I
had driven him off from me. Alas! this fear was
too nigh the truth. The whole' of that day passed,
and the next and the next, without any 'tidings.—
No one had seen him since he left me. An anx
ious excitement spread among all his friends. The
only account I could give of him,l was that he had
parted from me in good health, and in a sane
mind. ,e
" A week rolled by, and still no word came. 1
was nearly distracted. What I suffered no tongue
can tell, no heart conceive. I have often wonder
.ed that t did not become insane. But, Irkm this
sad condition I was saved. Through all, m}'-rea
son, though it often trembled, did not once forsake
me. It was on the tenth day from" thatepon which
we had jarred so heavily as to be driven widely
asiipder, that a letter came to me post marked New
York, and endorsed "In haste." My•hands trern
bled so that I could with difficulty brerk the seal.
The contents were to the effect that my husband
ebeen lying for several days at one of the hotels
re ; very but now Oast the crisis of his dis
ease, and thought by the physicians to _
danger. The wtiter urged me, From my husband,
tq come on immediately. In eight hounlkom the
time I received that letter I was in New York.—
Alas ! it was too. late. The disease had returned
with double violence,and snapped the feeble thread
of life. I never saw my husband's living face
The self-possession of Mrs. Cleaveland, at thiS
point of her narrative, gave way. Covering . her
face with her hands she sobbed violently, while the
tears came trickling through her fingers.
" My dear Laura," she resumed, after the lapse
of many minutes, looking up, as she spoke with a
clear eve, and a sober, but placid countenance:
"it is for your sake that I have turned my gaze
solutely back. May the the painful history I have ,
given you make a deep impression upon your
heart. Let it warn you of the sunken rock upon
which my bark foundered. Avoid carefully, reli
giously avoid, setting yourself in opposition to your
husband. Should he prove. unreasonable, or arbi-_
trary, nothing is to be gained, and every thing lost
by contention. By gentleness, by forbearance, by
even suffering wrong at time, you will be able to
winhim over toa better spitit, An opposite course
will as assuredly put thorns ip your pillow as you
adopt it. Look at the unhappy condition of the
friends you have named. Their husbands are, in
. their eyes, exacting, domineering tyrants. But this
need not be. Let them act truly the woman's part.
Let them not oppose:but yield, and they will find
that their present tyrants will become their lovers.
Above all, never under any circumstances, either
jestingly of in earnest, 'say /will," when you are
opposed. That declaration is never made without
its robbing the wife of a portion of her husband's
confidence and love. Its utterance has dimmed
the - fire upon many a smiling hearth-stone."
Laura could not reply.' The relation of her aunt
had deeply shocked her fellings. But the words
she had uttered sunk into her heart ; and when her
trial came ; whert she was tempted to set her will
in opposition to her husband's, and resolutely to
contend forwluil she deemed, right, a thought of
Mrs. eleavelandS story Would-put a seal upon her
lips. 'lt was well. The character of He4Ar
mour too nearly resembled that of Mr. Cleaveland.
He could illy have brooked a wife's opposition.—
But her tenderness, her forbearance, ber devoted
love, bound her to him with cords that drew closer
'and closer each revolving year. She never Oppo
sed him further than to express a difference of opi
nion when such a difference existed, and its utter
ance was deemed useful ; and she carefully avoi-
de. .on all occasions; the . doing of any thing that
he the smallest degree disapproved, The con
sequence was, that her opinion was always weigh
ed by him carefully, and often deferred to. A mu
tuakconfidenee, and a Mutual dependence upon
each other, gradually took the place of early re
serves, and now they sweetly draw together : now
they'smoothly glide along the stream of life, bles
sed indeed in all their marriageable relations.—
Who will' say that Laura did not act a wise part%
Who will say, that in sacrificing pride and self
will, she did not gain beyond all calculation
one, surely. She is not her husband's slave, but
lus companion and equal .:he has helped to rC-
form, to remodel his character, and make him less
arbitrary; less self-willed, less disposed to be ty
rahrOml. In her mild forbearance, he has salt,
A beauty more attractive far thaii lip or cheek, or
beaming eye.
!A Tomtit:no 4CIDENT.—The following Incident
Was related by Mx. P. 5.,. 'White in the course of an
eloquent addreatt which he delivered at a recent
celebration of the daughters of Temperance in New
York. We give it as reported by the " Spirit of the
Age." A widow lady in Richmond had two sons.
The elder was , a printer. Instead of attending to
the wants of his aged mother and supporting her
with filial affection, he indulged his base propensi
ty to drink. In these ‘ babits of sensualism and idle
ness he wandered frorktown to town, until he found
himself arnotri the Winn e away off West,
in the then Territory or Viricsditsin. How he came
thither he knew not. But now he became sober of
necessity. During his sober life he got engaged in
the fur trade, and bartered his furs for land in the
vicinity of where Milwaukie now stands; land at
that time which was nearly'worthless. .Every body
knows how rapidly property increased in value at
Milwaukie. This man soon made a: fortune.—
With prosperity his affections returned. He longed
to see his mother again. He started fur home.—
Whee be arrived hiS mother was not there. Mother
and brother both gone,and no one could tell whither.
With a-sad and desolate heart he looked about him ;
the world lay before him in beauty, but those whom
he loved were gone—he was alone. With an ach
ing heart lie retraced his steps Westward. At
Wheeling on the Ohio, he fell in with some acquain
tances, who induced him to become a Son of Tem-
Perance. He was pleased with the Order, and im
mediately took a deep interest in its affairs. Pret
-1 ty soon after this he made up his mind to settle in
Cincinnati. I paid an official visit to that, place,
and on the same evening that I attended at one of
the Divisions this , young man applied for admis
sion. He gave the travelling pass word, and was
formally introduced. Were I to live a thousand
years, never shall I for to get that scene. No sooner
was his nam"*...mounced and he stept into the room
than in an instant a - tall and handsomely formed
young man, with light hair, and a full and beauti
full blue ej e, bounded across the floor and clasp
ing the stranger in his arms, exclaimed "My
brother ! oh ! my long lost brother!" The scene
cannot be descrit'ed. Tears chocked the tu
t. . 'ee of both. When at length the elder could
fin words, his first eiclanaation was—tell me is
my .. either yet alive ! Yes I said the younger.—
" An., where is she--oh ! where. is my forsaken
and , eglected mother !" '• She is here. and she .is
well. \ God has enabled ine to support her in comfort
and s
be obth her weary journey towards the grave.—
Now h r list hours will enlivened with-joy and
that her ng lost one—her prodigal has returned."
'P.—Don ' t be down hearted. What" s
the use in giving up to every trifling discourage•
ment that may cross your path Life is not all
sunshine, and you cannot make it so if you try.—
Then why not take things as they come, and - submit
to the allotments of Providence with a good grace !
If you feel dull, look round on the world and see
if you cannot find some one a great deal worse off
than we are. It makes but little difference from
.what source arise the trials of life; there is no degree
of suffering which has not its parallel in the ex-pe
'ricnce of others. Live while you can, and make
the most of everything that will minister to your
happiness. As with the pleasure of life. so is it
with life's reverses, the most of their effect is in an
ticipation. When, we reach the point desired or
dreaded, the rose exhibits the thorn, or the deep
gulf a safe, though it may be, a narrow passage
across it.
A Norm. Moor. -rat .the news
of the passage of the corn bill reached some of the
small towns in England, the inhabitants immediate
ly set to work to make up the flour they had on
hand into mammoth plum puddings, in honor of
the event. In one towiti-a pudding was prepared,
ontainin a peck of (lour and double the weight
in plums, currants and other_ condiment. It was
mingled secundem arum by the best cooks in town,
and boiled at a near mill, from which, at 1 o'clock;
it was paraded on a boat, drawn by four gray horseis.
througk the town, accempauied by a band of mus c
and nearly the whole population. It was after
wrads cut up and distributed among those who had
proeured a ticket for participation in the feast. This
pudding was supposed to exceed in size the one
which the old scug says was made by king Arthur,
when he "ruled the land."
Pzsett PicaLEs.—One of the most del icions pickles
ever tasted is made from ripe Clingstone Peaches.—
Take one gallon of good Vinegar and add to it four
pounds brown sup r ; boil this for a few minutes and
skim off any scum that may raise ; then take cling
stone peaches that are full ripe, rub them. with a
flannel cloth to remove the down upon them, and
stick three or four cloves in each; put them into a
glass or earthen vessel, , and poor the liquor upon
them boiling hot. Corer them up and let them
' stand in a cool place for a week or ten days, then
pour off the ligor end boil it as before; after which,
return it boiling to the peaches, which should be
carefully covered up and stored away for future
of yellow Peruvian bark, a quarter of an ounce of
cream tarter,one table spoonful of powdered cloves,
and one pint of Tenerife wine. mix them together
and shake it well. Take a wine-eiassful every two
hqurs atler the fever is air.
Before taking the above, a dose of Epsom salts,
or •>other. medicine, should be administered, to
cleanse the stomach, and render the cure more
S and certain• The atkve is an excellent re
A Quiallt c —(lllhy iloift they bring the whole of
China here at once," said Mrs. l'artinE,•ton, imtead
.ot bringing it here in pnik..•'
Wrote the Evening hlirroni
Ballad. \ A
1. "Lost, lust. tost"—ecori:
Shine, 0; moonbeam , thro' my lattice,
Thro' my 'casement gently fall;
iLe y shadows dimly picture,
Fai .fimares nn the wall:
So thy lid will but remind me,
That thereblessed day,
When I lived— now' live not—
For my wits hav lea away.
I—, no
Gaze upon me, stars of - yen,
Watch me through the si t night;
When methinks the angels wh • •r,
To my vacant heart, respite! • '
And their Voices will remind me,
That there was -a blessed day, _
When I hoped—as now I hope'4ol—.•
For my wits have passed away.
Wooed and - won—and-lost forever !
Lost was I ere fairly won
WiTher'd branches—gatherd roses! -
Is there truth beneath the sun!
So he told me, and I believ'd him;
Ah ! it was a blessed day,
When I loved—as cowl love not— • '
For my wits have tied away.
Loving most, but all too trustftl,
W , How deep love will conquer fears!
Smßing through a dream—l waken'd
With my eye-lids wet with tears! •it
Now nip heart's.a broken vessel,
But th e was a blessed day,
When I wepnow I weep not—
For my w ive fled away. -
Bear me witness satikmountain„.
Heard ye pot the vows se made !
Know ye- not, 0 silentrivev,-..
How I was beg" uq, betraftli .
How upon the banks he *oo'd die ; •
It was on a blessed day,
For I was—as now I am not—
But my wits have tied away. •
Ilide me, 0 my better angel, •
save me from a world of scorn
Chide me gently. I can love thee,
Tho' my aching heart is torn ;
I would pray. but now I cannot,
For it was a blessed day,
When I knelt—as now I kneel not—
For my !wits have fled away. e
e now a sound of music
faintly in mine ear 1
aver, 0, my motherl , - • -
dear voice I hear.
ve me ! let me clasp thee!
's a blessed day,
thee- - do not spurn me—
wits have passed away.
Seems the
Nearer, n
It is th
Do not le
Ah ! it
Let tne ki:
er! how it darkens,
brain grows raging hot;
cal doth faintly whisper,
forsaken, fear thee not!"
in the dim future,
and blessed Say,
4 est—as now I rest not—
wits have fled away.
Holy mot:
t And m
. Now a v.,
' And I see'
A faro
When Pd;
Tho' rn'
est achievem • ts of moral philosophy, is to - rise
above the • :,•-, vexations and clisappointmenht of
life; and the ndency of religion; resting upon a
divine basis, buoys the true Christian above the
evils that suritnd him, and inspires him with mo
ral. fortitude • d vigor to battle every calamity, and
to'ntaintain u ruffled spirit amid the billows and
conflicting cu nts which agitate the ocean of hu
man. existenc . If the hurricane rages, instead of
yielding to i fury, and giling away to disponden
cy, he exerits very energy-to-ward oft-danger,` and
strives to, lobk forward, indulging a soothing hope
that the future will be less disastrous than the pre
This ethcid of encountering the' evils to
which every yto a greater or less degree is ex
posed, depriv disappointment of its sting, is an
antidote to t poison of slander, and begets a spi
rit of eheerfu ess which is essential , to happiness.
Ile is like th Eagle, which, when clouds over-
Apread the e h, rises. above them, to enjoy the
sunshine. .!'4 matter what his pecuniary; domes
tic and soci relations—if he suffers liii spirit to i
be discom .d by trifling annoy-antes,. he is 'a 1
stranger to e joyment, and every day of his lifeis I
embittered b4' some petty chose of vexation, which
his own morbid disposition magnifies intoa serious
calainity. On the other haod,overwhelming is the .
misforlwlo, which can prostrate a man that ha's'
beenxii:ctplibed to patient endurance, and habitua- 1
ted himself tq a uniform - cheerfulness of mind.
On Loarcr!—The 7 Rev. Stephen Thurston.: of
Deerport. Maine, has been attacking Odd Fellow-
Ship. Hit principal argument appears 'to be that
it makes a great gulf between a man and his
wile! Many a lovely and faithful wife It ith pined
because her husband would ,not disclote his :se
crets." !! \ Fine . business for 'a
engage in.
Tto: Humax HEMT.—TiIe velvet moss will.grow
upon the sterile rock ; the misleto flourish an, the
withered branch; the ivy cling to the moulderingruin:
the pine and cedar remain fresh and fadeless amidst
the mutations of the. dying year ; and, heaven be
praised ! somethiting green, something beautiful to
see. an,;trateful to the soul, will. in the coldest
and darkest hour ()rho. still twine its tendrils around
the crumbling altars and broken arches bf the deso
late temples of the human heart.
An electric current has beau discovered to . 7.1 - exist
between the exterior and interior muscles .4 the
animal. It was discovered by an instrument call
ed the galvaniscope, which can detect very ininute
influences. Of course the current is more strong iti
some animals than others. A very
per on this subject has been read before the British
Scientific Association. •
A N EDIMR'S APOLOGY.—An Alab;una, &liter ha
ving been able to raise a piece yf muslin, a real
jubilee is held in the familY on which he takesoc
casiOn to give us a touch of his humor and Wit for
the lack of -" Editortal.s” by saying : Sal, his better
half, has the sc. I,”ors. " - The, babies, - he adds,
" must have shirts and. Sal won't cut out shirts with
a handsaw, no how !
PALtiTING 'lO TUC LIFE.—The Philadelphia Galaxy
says artist in that city, painted.a cow Inn' cal , bage
so natural that he was ofted in separate them
before he had finiAted, because the Ow commenc
ed exult , : the t Abbate
- :
• 4-:17.,
Relationship of
In abroad upon - the war
ing the condition of its inhabitants
that we are very fit from being lade
Tor within ramelves we possess n
necessary. for Ole support of lite r bu
on the-most significant things ant
means-of existence—we cannot live
out intercourse with the world t
and while we live upon the subtle
.time4here are many other substan
our existence which ara`not so bon,
ed as air and water, but which are
and toprocute them in the tenet eco
experience has led to the found
which is the arranged result of Inc
~exe rti oa.
e necessaries and comforts
around us, but then
r,cneralkit fit for our
which support
within our
, ed from 71
I nature are a
though the elurnel
are scattered
quire labor l to fit aiem
which we eat, and reflect foi
great amount of science and m
ed into requisition in bringing it intch a light
' l and easily digested substance. In the Best place ,
i there is the science of agriculture, ithich e es
a knowledge of soils, of plants and their natt il itut
the food or salts required for their growth and the
besi manner of producing such chirpieal results.—
The earth is covered with the treys of the forest
and man goes forth with his axe in his ban& to
cleave them to the dust, and on their ruins makes
the golden com to grow. But think' for a tit:Orient
upon the great amount of skill and science that are
brought into requisition iu making the simple 'lie.
The mine has to be dug. the iron ore has to be dpg,
the iron ore has to be roasted, the iron bhiont has
to pass through an intricate process and from the
crude mass, there is. the trip-harmher to form it,
the wheel or engine that drives, the skill of temper =
. ing and the art of finishing , • and - than the simple
helve is fashioned now in a machine, and man
looks on and sees a rough stick chiselled out by an
inanimate hand to . fit the iron w that levels
the trees, of the forest and makes a pathwiy for the
smiling vineyard or the laughing vr eat field. Just
reflect fora moment upon the study and experience'
and labor expended in acqUiring 4 ii in knowledge of
the combinations of science and echanical art
necessary to make a simple axe, and you will at
once be impressed with the value of science and
readily perceive its :lose relationship to man.—
Scientific American.
A , Parable for LIIU
Naomi, the young and lovely daughter of Sala.
thiel and Judith, was troubled in spirit, !vellum, at
the approaching feast of tnunpeta, she would be
compelled to appear in her plain; undyed stola,
while some of her young acquaintances would
pear in blue and purple, and • -, fine
~ l inen of
E&vpt. Her mother saw the gloci #
'that appeared
upon the face of her lovely child, and taking her
apart,•• related to her this parable A dove thus
made her complaint tit the guardian spirit of the
feathered tribe : ~1
"Kind genius, why is it that t*
and strutting peacock spreads his
the sun, daring the eyes of eve
his richly b mished neck and ro4l
tonishment end admiration of e
whilst i , in iy plumage, am ove
gotten by all ! m Thy ways, kind
to be equal towards those under tl
I The genius listened to her corn
replied :
" I will grant thee a train rimi
that of the gaudy bird you seem
dethand. of thee but one condition
"What is that t .. eagerly inqui
joyed at the prospect of possessi!
lo promise's°
_much happinesB
"It is, sititllte• genius, that yo l,
render all those qualities of rnee ,
constancy, andlove,for which thy
distinguished in all time."
" let me consider," said the dove. " No-1 can
not consent to such an exchange No, not for all
the gaudy plumage, the showyvain, of that vain,
bird, will I surrender thck , e qualities of which you
speak. the distinguishing featuresOf my family from
time immemorial. I nOst declite, gOod genius,
the condition you propose." II
,4 1 • .
Then why complain, dear ird I Has Provi
donee bestowed upon thee qmilift which thou vai
nest more than all the gaudy adomings you ad
mire ! And art thou discontent id still !"
A tear started into the eve of the dove at this
mild rebuke of her guardian spirit, and she prorni. , -
ed never to complain.
The beautiful girl, who had entered into the sto
ry with deep-and tender emotion, raised her fine
blue eyes to meet her mother's gaze, and, as they
rolled upwards, suffused with penitential tears, she
said, in a subdued tone, w ith a smile like that as.
smiled by all nature, Wh6n the bow of God
_pears in the heaven after a storm—' My mother,
•think I know what thy story means.' LiA• me be
vour dove ; let me but have that ornament of 4 .
meek and quiet spirit, and 1 tau satisfied to see
others appear iu rich and'"nutiv apparel;'
AMMONIA IN kny me may \ satisfy him:
soif of the prveriee of ammonia, in rain by symply
adding a little supluirie Mur:atie acid to a.ctiantity
of rain water. and by evaporafing this nearly to dry
ness in a porttlain ba.-in. The amnionia remains
in the Tesidat c ,in a combination with the acid employ
ed; and may be de:mi.:xi either by a little powdered
lime, which seperatce the ammonia, and thu4 ten..
dors sensible it 3 peculiar pungent smell. 'the sen
sation pereeived on I:n4)i:46lnm:the hand with rain
water,so different from that produced by puredhliH.
ed wa•er,imil to which the term '• snftness "
arty aprlied.i= ills•% due to the (..arbanate Of =mania
contailiecl itt the lottner.
end 'consider-
we perceive
the elements
are dependent
ed us for the
moment with-
I - r, at the same
paces ary co
I;fully,beetciw , t
as neelisiary
Ig of science,
tal. and
mate of
' our etistence
reach r they •re.
k at the bread
nt upon the
gaudy train to
beholder with'
crown, the ai
ich passer-by,
looked- and for
realm, eeem not
y care and pro-
la►nt, and thus
r in richness to
envy. and shall
tin return
the dove over
what seemed
t consent tn Sur-
ft; s, tenderness,
tinily hare beet*