01
craZgrElE iZiGt
TOW ANDA:
I:ocbnisban LUorninn, 3ntte 6, 1849.
RESIGNATION•
VT EL W. LONGFELLOW,
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there !
There is no fireside, ifowsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair !
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mountings for the dead ;
The heart of Rachel for her children crying
Will not be .comforted
Let us be patient these Revere afflictions
Not from the ground arise.
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;
Amtd these earthly dainps
What seems to us but dim, funereal tapers,
May be Heaven's distant lamps.
There is no Death ! what seems So is transition ;
This life of Mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life elvsian,
Whose portals we call Death.
She is not dead—the child or our affection— .
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ himself doth rule.
In that great Cloistefs stillness and seclusion
By guardian angles led,
SaTe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
:he lives,-whom we call dead.
Day after day we think what she i doing
In these bright realms of nir :
Year after year her tender thoughts pursuing,
. Behold her grown more fair.
Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which. Nature gives,
Thinking that our remembrance thonugh unspuken,
May reach, her where she lives.
Not as a child shall we again behold her;
For when with raptures wild
I❑ Our embrance we again enfold her;
sue will nut be a child;,'
But a fair madien,in her Fathers mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace ;
And
_Beautiful with all the soul's expansion
we behold her face.
And though at times impetious with emotion
And anguish long suppressed.
The , welling heart heaves moaning like the ocean
That cannot be at rest;
We will'be patient! and assuage the feeling
We cannot wholly stay ;
By silence sanctifying, not concealing
The grief that must have way.
TRIAL AND TRIUMPH.
DT METNA N. FULLER
The boglit, cheerful parlor, had but one occu
pant. TA tire sparkled and glowed in the shining
grate, and the lamp upon the centre table burnt
softly and richly. To and fro, to and Ire, swayed
the fairy form of a bright, sweet child oh ten.—
lier head was drooped musingly upon one chubby,
dimpled hand; and the dark, glossy hair fell in a
wild profusion of curls around her beautiful, dreamy
face, and over her lovel) shoulders. Every time
the chair came forward in its swaying motion, the .
tint• pink slipper of one pretty foo' went down into
the heart of a crimson rose that glowed like life in
it,n tufted carpet. The large, sweet, spiritual eyes
ni the child were fixed steadily upon upou the tire
burning in the polished grate. Darting, and quiv
ering, and changing ever, the fantastic flames rose
and fell, and brightened and darkened before het
gaze. By and by she became so absorbed in the
t trifling play of the beautiful element, that the arm
chair ceased to sway to and fm; and by the dream
ing expression of her eloquent young lace one
might read the wonderful fancies that were flitting
through her brain.
" I will try and make the music sound the - way
the fire looks." she exclaimed at length, starting
from the seat, and bounding across the apartment.
The piano was open, and the youthful perform
, er ran her small fingers over the keys, with a touclr
so rapid, so delicate, so spirit-like, and etherial;
that the lovely little being must have been inspired.
Tinkling afar off, like little fairy bells r —sweeping
upward m grand power,—melting don it into wavy
melody, the notes stole out from beneath those tiny
lingers,' embodying lief radiant laucies . in . bewilder- .
r.g beauty and gracqand melody.
With her *tit floating off'on the music, she
played on, heelless that the 'door was softly opened
4, t0 admit a listener. Tito intruder was a boy of
tourteen, dirty and iattired. For a while he
-tool by the door, listening to the performance Of
las youth rnistrers; but as she played on, with wil
der and deeper eloquence, he . crept cautiously,
(.10,:e to the instrument; and crouched down on the
tloor n here he could look into the beautiful face,
and wash the motion of her flying hand.
Despite of his poverty and servitude, there was
something very interesting in' the boy, as he sat
wi:11 fla.diing eyes and quivering lips, intesely ab
sorbed in the music, and altogether forgetful that
that splendid parlor, with its lusuriods adornings
arid beautiful occupant was entirely beyond his
station.
Like a spell, the sweet music made by the gift
ed young musician stole over the spirit of the ser
vant boy; breathlessly lie listened—intensely his
large eyes were fixed upon her face—tears swelled
into those eyes and hung on their dark lashes.
A !Ow, mournful sob !—and the little girl ceased
playi'itg,. and looked wonderingly at the boy, whose
emotions had at length burst forth in uncontrolable
power. The beautiful face immediately grew sad
v. ,:h sympathy, and laying her little hand with
r',ddish tenderness upon his drooping head, she
sail softly ;
" Why, Will ! what ails you, Will what makes
yov, cry r'
"The music—the sweet music, Alice ! You
cannot tell how it makes me love you, when you
Play so beautifully. It makes me think of palaces,
and flowers, and angels! it-makes me love you, for
1 am a poor servant boy, darling Alice."
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THE.
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"Then you are just like me, if music. makes
you cry," was the artless response. "I did'nt
think you minded it or cared about it. You may
come into the parlor every evening when pa and
ma are away, and let me play for you."
" f ear Attie, you are so kind," said the boy,
wiping away the tears.from his pale, thin cheek,
while a gleam of happiness brightened for a mo
ment his large melancholy eyes.
"I wish I had a piano and could play so sweet
conticued, gazing wistfully at the ivory
keys, whose fairy-like intercourse with musical
spirit was so strange, and bewildering, and enthiall
ng to his soul—the soul of the servant boy !
The I;ttle maiden glanced down at his dirt stain
ed fingers, and hei tiny red lip curled scornfully,
as she said in surprise : "You.? why you scour the
knives, Will ;" and then laid her own white dim
pled hand upon the keys.
It was her education, not her heart that spoke
then—the sentiments instilled by a haughty moth
er, whose aristocratic eyes saw no beauty, I'm gen
tleness, no fine susceptibilities in the hearts of the
lowly of the earth.
A painful color glowed through the thin cheek
of the sensitive boy, and starting to his feet, 'he
said proudly :
-" I shall not always scour knives, Ante! I know
what you think of me—l know you despise me—
I know you are beautilul• and rich and beloved;
while I am a pool-, lonely orphan boy whom no
one cares fur—but it shall not always be so. I
not stay here in this splendid hotfse and look upon
what my heart longs for, and be despised even by
ydo, Able. But you have been very kind to me
sometimes, and I shall not forget you—never, nev
er ? Good bye, Attie, good bye forever !'
• The proud boy turned away, and hurried across
the apartment witout another word; but just as he
passed out of the door, little Alice laid her hand
upon his arm, and he paused. A
" Are you really going away, wit, and in the .
dark, too? I did not mean to grieo . you, indeed,
did not."
I know it Allie,—l know what I am and what
you think of me, and I cannot stay here—not if I
starve—good bye!'
He took her small hand and pressed it tightly in
both his—turned away—paused—hesitated—and
looking pleadingly at the dark curls flooding her
snowy shoulders, said earnestly :
"Just one sweet curl, Attie, too• look at when I
think of you ?" -
"
" Don't tell mamma, then, - and taking 4 litle
gold pen:knife from her pocket, she severed a tress
of hair from the rest, and placing it and the knife
in his hand, said, " keep them both, Will, for
Allie's sake, won't you I"
The hot-tears fell fast from the eyes of the boy,
and his utterance was so choked that he could not
•
speak his gratituc'e. •
What a scene between these two children !
That ni2ht Alice slept in a bell of down, with
soft pillows and silken coverings and rosy curtains
—and Will Bennet slept in the street, with a stone
step for a pi:low, and the bright cold sky, for a can
opy.
Five years! and again Alice Landon sat dream
ing before th%pleasa.nt fire in her father's parlor.
Beautiful ! the sweet, young girl was beautiful ex
ceedingly. • The spiritual beauty of her-gifted soul
illuminated With a rare fascination the outward
form, which Was itself grace and loveliness and
eloquence eutodieal. A wayward, passionate, ra
dianicreature—with the most ineffable sweetness
and tenderness melting over her face like a shad
ow over a visible dream, and succeed distantly by
supe:b and matchless haughtiness—all pride, all
eloquence, all irresistible eloqueuce ! Love was
her sceptre; and Pride was her crown, and a beau
tiful queen was she ! • •
The sound of a step in the ball her from
her musings, and Alice sprang•to the door to meet
her father as he came home to his even.ng fireside.
lie did not speak when he entered, nor return the
embrace of the soft white arms that were entwin
ed about his neck. The young girl looked up into
her father's face, and-bright smile which dimpled
her cheek vanished at his stern aspect, and her red
glorious lip curled resentfully at the coldness with
which he received her caresses. But he heeded
not the smile for the resentment, as he went for
'ard to the fire, and sinking silently into his cash,
ioned chair, pressel his hand upon his brow in
iainful thought.
Alice did not know what troubled her parent, but
she thoUght that hi ought not to have been so cold
to her—his pet, his darling—antl her young heart
swelled full et bitterness, as determined to be in
different as he, she walked like a princess across
the apartment, and opening the piano, commenced
a lively air, as sparkling add soulless as possible.
Gaily the notes sprang away at her tight torch, and
laughed and chased each other through their fairy
apartment; but the stern man spoke not nor stirred.
Alice began to think that some great disappoint
.ment must have affected. her usually kind papa,
and sorry that she had been angry for a moment,
she changed the careless air to his favorite pike—
an exquisitely tender and sweet melody.
As the familiar music crept into the ear of the
musing man, he brushed a hot tear from his check.
"Come here, Allie," said he.*
The bright girl bounded to his side and saidown
on a low ottoman close to him, smiling up into his
face bewitchingly. '
-2, Where is your mother, this evening, darling ?"
he asked in a low, sad voice, smoothing his daugh-
ter's bright tresses.
" She has gone to - the Fancy Ball, papa. She
was dressed for a Persian Princess--oh? sherlooi ,
ed so proud and beautiful!"
A heavy sigh straggled up from the bisorn of
Mr. Landon.
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
I, Out every evening ! her haughty heart is en
tirely absorbed in display and splendor--nnhappy
wife—my poor pet child !--I cannot,. cannot make
them so miserable l'rhe murmured to himself,
tt stiecumaucas Or DEICIIIICLIATOW MON ANY 411,111171:110
The small, wft hand of Alice stole into her lath
er's as she looked at him anxiously and wonder
ingly. He spread out those slender fingers in his
palm, and putting one arm around her beautiful
form he drew her closer to him, as he said :
•" What would you think if I told you that those
delicate fingers would have to grow hard and soil—
ed with work, with no,liarp nor piano for them to
call music from I"
" 1 could•uot live without my music papa," was
the earn ast reply; "what makes you ask me?—
what makes you sad and speak so mournful, dear
papa!"
" Because, my darling, they am no longer yours,
nor mine. Everything is lost—l have failed—we
are beggars !"
Beggars? papa!" repeated the young girl,
drawing in her breath with a gasp and turning very
pale. -
" My child!" moaned the strong man in anguish
folding her slight form to his bosom convulsively.
There was a silence of several moments, and
then Allice raised that tearful face which lay on his
shoulder, and said with touching tenderness
" Do nut grieve so terribly, papa; not for me—l
shall be happy wherever you are, even if we are
poor."
" To think of sorrow and privation for such as
you, my Mlle," murmured the father, "you and
your mother—is it not a dreadful thing to tell your
mother? that gaiety and festivity and flattery can
be hers no more; that even comfort is hence•
forth denied us ; that poverty—poverty is all t"
" She will be resigned--she will love you all the
moreas I do, my own dear papa," said the sweet
girl, in the effort to encourage him; but her own
heart failed when she remembered the golden idol
where her mother worshipped.
With clasped hands and mournful bosoms r the
parent and child sat together in silence, waiting
the return of the absent one. Hours passed by ;
and they were at lengili startled by the sound ol
the carriage as it drew up at the door. The gay
good night 01 the lady and her escort sounded like
mockery to their hearts. Mr. Landon turned pale
as death, and Alice brushed away the tears from
her cheek ; as a light step approached the parlor,
and the mother stood before them. •
She was a maginificient woman, and ,her rich
oriental attire, dark, flashing eyes, brilliant lip and
queenly form, made her seem like the Princess
she personated. Even more than usual admiration
had been bestowed upon her that evening, and
flushed with success and sparkling with triumphant
pleasnre, she stood before those who bad awaited
ber.
c: Why ! what is this r she asked, as her eye
fell on the tear-stained face and distressed look of
her daughter and husband. " Why have you wait
ed fur me? any one dead!"
Mr. Landdn arose, and meeting his beautiful
wife, look With her hands in his; and looked ear
nestly into her lace.
" Arabel," he said in a low voice, " be arm, be
composed, be a true apd noble woman. We hare
lost no friend—nothing so sorrowful as that—but
-1 have failed in business—entirely There is noth
ing now that we can call ours—nothing!"
Mr. Landoc !" exclaimed the haughty woman,
starting back in cold surprise, "can this bpi:invisible!
can you have the effrontery to tell your family you
have ruined thim—made them despised, dragged
them from their present station by some folly of
you& Do you expect me to descend to poverty
and toil—to forego the luxury in which I was rear
ed? Verily, this is a 'fine reward for wedding you,
when a count laid a fortune at my feet? Lore, love,
forsooth ! would f had never semi you—never
lis
tened to your voice !" •
" Arabel ! Ambel !" exclaimed the agitated hus
band sternly, "peace! do you dare to talk thus,
and before our child ?"
"I dare to speak as I choose, Mr. Landon."
" You are a heartless, unprincipled woman, Ara
bel, or you would treat the husband of your bosom
with more sympathy when you saw bim lepress
ed in spirits and ruined in fortune and all for you
—you are the cause of it ! I have loved you, Ara
bel, as man seldom loves woman—l have toiled
for you willingly, that all your wishes might be
gratified ; I have wasted many precious years in
heaping up gold to buy you flattery and splendor,
and this is my reward. You know, too, that it was
necessary for you to economise some, till my for
tunes were again firth ; more extravagant, if possi
ble, than ever. Now, you see the results—l cannot
longer avert them—l have no wish to; it is right
that you should sutler."
" Suffer !" repeated the beautiful woman, with a
full curve of her superb lip. "Do you think I hare
anticipated this, and ant been prepared for it f There
are those wha are ready to bestow upon me what I
• will not live without, and to still retain me in the
station to which I aspire."
" What do you mean, Arabel !" gasped the int
happy man.
"You will know within ti•ents4onr hours," was
the cool response, as theinaglificent prineqsa swept
glittering from the to*. I •
Mr. Landon sank intria chair and ;maned in ago...
ny.
" Papa! papa, r dp#kitherl
, Wlitspered the soft
voice of his daughter , ifer,unurn lips were cover
ing his pale fairri•vithAirairao-, Mechanically he
opened his anntiliglhijitrt*--yonng girl nestled
to his heart, and iiiobbir4)giibliis bosom murmur
ed:
" She is unworthy, papa, unworthy P' with a full
comprehension of the great sin of her proud mother.
A very few days from then, Alice Landon, the
frgile, beautiful, gifted, and delicately roared young
being, was a penniless orphan. Her ambitions and
unprincipled mother had collected her jewels and
rich articles of dress, and eloped with a wealthy
Parisian, a termer suitor. Before her husband was
aware of her perfidy, they were fare away on the
brad ocean, destined for the gay French mettopo.
lis. Then the fond, true, loviag heart of thetttiken
man suddenly broke—he died
Ilis blessing—bin dying Wok of loce—sces all be
eft for poor Alice, upon whom he had of late years
avished the overflowing affection of a strong no.
ure, that sought love and sympathy from the patt-
nor of his life, but found not.
So Alice, with her pride and tenderness, her
youth and inexperience, her loveliness and genius,
was left suddenly alone and utterly destitute.
" I had rather die than stay here," murmured
A lice Landon to herself, as she sat at midnight in
her little chamber.
It was a year since, a friendless orplian,the had
been taken by a bard•hearted, wealthy relative, as
a teacher of music for several ill-tempered, over
bearing little misses. Young as she was when she
attempted the task, her rare musical abilities ren
dered her very competent; and had it not been
that the family were so patronizing and haughty in
their manner towards her, she might have been
comparatively happy. Site had even "scoured
knifes" more than once; Mr if a failure to obtain
sufficient help upon any octa.ion chanced to occur,
Alien was unhenuatingly sent into the kitchen to
perform the duties of servant as well as teacher.
There was music arid mirth and splendor in the
parlors below her, and as the unhappy girl listened ;
a mild flush of lever gleamed through her cheek,
and brightened into her !eyrie ; dark eyes. She was
thinking of the moments of suffering, the many
wrongs and insults, that she had endured within a
year. She was thinking how she had that evening
dressed and adored, with her own hands, the two
young ladies who were to Make their dcbute under
the favorable auspices chf wealth and friends. They
Were not so beautiful, so accomplished, so gifted - as
herself; but the voice of praise and flattery, and
perhaps love, was melting into their hearts, while,
desolate and t °undid, she was lett to direct ser
vants and soo the fretful children, and then steal
away to her chamber to muse bitterly over her des-
As she sat in the darkness of despair, coming
over wild plans of escape from her unhappy situa
tion, one of her cousins hurried into the room in
her ylitterin.! attire.
''.Come, Alice, some of the guests wish to hear
you sing," she said, glancing at herself in the mir
ror and arranging a becoming tress upon here f.ne
head .
"Excuse me, this evening, won't you, Emma?"
plead the ycung girl. "1 am not very well, and
have not had time to change my dress."
" Your dress is well enough," was the imperti
nent reply, with a cold glance at the plain, dark
dress of Alice. "Do not keep them waiting for
you."
There was a deep color on the cbeek of 'the proud
girl, as, rising, she followed her lady cousin from
the apartment. One might have deemed her a
peerless queen, instead of a crushed and slighted
music teacher, as L.} e passed through the crowded
rooms and took her place at the piano. It was one
unfailing source of happiness to her—the enthusias
tic love of her art ; and when she sang or played
she always forgot surrounding circumstances in the
absorbing delight in which her whole soul melted
and floated
There was a sudden hush throughout all the apart.
menu, when the sweet, clear, wild tones of the
beautiful singer rose through the light and perfume,
upon the enchanted ears of the brilliant assembly!
All who could press around the instrument to catch
a glimpse of the fair performer.
Alice's heart was , swelling, with mournfulness
and pride and bitterness, when she chose a theme
for song; and if ever a high and glorious but agoni•
zed spirit expressed itself in music, the inspiration
of an eloquent soul was breathed,in that full, sweet,
but intense melody! . •
Men murrnered or drew in their breath with . a
sudden sigh, as they gaze on the radiant young mu
sician. The thick, dark hair was folded in wavy
and shining masses around her exquisitely propor
tioned head; her brow was matchless in starry pu
rity and pride ; her eyes were magnificently large
and dark and, soft, with lovely lids, and long, black,
passionate lashes ; her bright lips werz. curved Mid
the very perfectness of love and eloquence and
scorn; her form was grace ineffable ; her hands
were beautiful; her expression was inspiration.
The first, the second, the third songs were sung,
and still the young musician was not allowed to de
part—the brilliant debuts of the Misses was
likely to prove the still more brilliant , dcbuts of this
musical star!---the alma was imeSistible! The
jewels were not jewels, and the belles were not
belles, while that beautiful wonder in the plain at.
tire, sat there in an atmosphere of melody !
Alice was to sing one more song, • as she heard
distinctly a low, earnest voice inquire—
" Who is tat glorious being ?"
" Only the tbusic teacher," was the half-vexed
reply of her cousin, who was already jealOus of the
humble girl she had compelled to appear for the
gratification of others.
There wassomething in the voice of the inquir
er which caused Alice to raise her dark eyes to
his. His own deep, thrilling glance, was on her
faUe with a strangely intense, yet softened look,
and as the careless reply of the lady met her ear, she
fancied that there was pity and exultation in that
gore—Pity ! Alice could not brook pity—and her
soft eye flashed, and her lovely lip curled a vety
little.
The stranger smiled!-,-a rich crirnsen shot into
the clear cheek of the young girl—she was woun
ded by that expression, or—she did not know her
self, what made her heart throb so rapidly—she at
tempted to execute the requested song, but the
touch of her trembling fingers was false— her lip
quivered—she crushed back the tears 'neath those
fringed lids, and hurried from the gazing throng, out
upon a deserted bakmny, and burst into a passion
of weeping.
It was a long time before Alice grew calm, and,
wearied with the events and the emotions of the
evening, ithe fell asleep upon the balcony, with her
beautiful head drooped upon the balustrade. When
she awoke it was nearly mottling ; the music was
hushed, and the revellers departed. But in the
hand that rested in her lap, lay a little fokled note.
Wherefore? Alice's head beat quickly. Hurry
ing into thb.deserted parlor, she stood beneatb a
dimly burning chandelier, and unfolding it with
trembling fingers, she read :
" There is a soft low voice in my bosom Alice ;
and a bright tress slumbers on my heart: They
have been there nearly seven years, Alice, ever
since the night when the beautiful maiden gave
them to the poor servant boy. .They have been a
blessing and, a spell o'rey life, dearest;-those
gentle words and that beaiful tress that once kiss
ed your cheek ! They h ale inspire& the humble
boy with ambition—he haS succeeded beyond hie
dreams--the power of the rich man, and the fame
of the poet, are his, Alice ! He has met you again ;
your beauty and genius have thrilled him! May
he love you I-- oh, eloquent one ! There is scorn
and bitternes in his heart, for those who was unkind
to thee_-may be not take thee to his own lovely
home, where tenderness and refinement may soothe
the mournful spirit of the beautiful young being so
created for sympathy and luxury! Think of what
I have said. Alice, and tell me, when I come, if
you can make me blessed by loving and trusting
me.
'• To-morrow there will be a, throng of visitors-,
I will not come—two arenings from this I shall see
you shall I not ?"
Now, Alice knew who was the intense-eyed stran
ger who had thrilled her to tears, by his soft, deep
glance. She pressed the little note close to her
heart--she hardly dared to think how happy she
was—she passed to and fro in the silent apartment,
w ith trembling yep and tearful eyes, till the lamps
paled away and the stars closed their eyes, and the
gray morning sunlight crept in and kissed her feet.
As she stole back to her little chamber that had
seemed so dreary and desolate when she sat there
at midnight is deep despair, the same beautiful sun
light lighted it up with a pleasant glow, and spar
kled and quivered on the dewy spray that waved
by the open window.
But the sunlight was not so glad or brght as her
young heart!
When Alice Landon told her fair cousins that she
had an engagement for the evening, they smiled
disdainfully, and told her she could receive her
company - in the east parlor—they should have visi
tors in the other. But the sweet young girl was too
full pf pleasant dreams to heed their scorn, as she
wove a few rose buds in her hair, and 'arranging
her neat black dress, descending, to await tire cern
.
nig of the dark-eyed stranger.
There was a ring at the door-bell, and she heard
the servant anuounce--" .Ir. Wm. Bennett," and
close the door. Tie fair girl knew it was very
awkward to sit there, blushing and trembling, and
never looking up, but how could she? were not
those eyes fixed on her with that same Jeep, agi
tating look! She felt they were.
Doublers the young man could read her heart in
that sweet, eloquent face ; for he came close to the
sofa where she sat, and, smiling at her confusion,
said, in a low, soft voice : _
Alice--dear Alice-14 have come!"
His breath w on ter lorehead, and her small
band was already a prisoner in his--and raising
her soh, moist eyes to his face, she smiled the wel
come that her lips could not speak, eloquent though
they were.
They neither of them regretted that the young
lady cousins were ectertainingcumpany in the weal
parlor that evening.
These same cousins were very much surprised
the nest day, to learn that Alico bad an engagement
for life with the same gentleman to whom they had
spoken of her as " only the music teacher ;" and
the iadul!Tent aunt like a sensible woman when
she found that her niece was really going to have
a splendid home and distinguished husband, not.
wi.hstanding her natural 'egret at losing so compe
tent an instructor for her fine family, concluded to
give a magnificent weedding and trquwatf to the
beautiful bride.
if you love music, or beauty, or luxury, you
should have been iu their parlor the first eyening
that the groom and the bride were established in
their own sweet home. The blissful and beautiful
lace of Alicellowed with the radiant light of spirit
—and Will, bandsom and noble Wilt r _proud and
earnest and tender, watched every graceful move
ment with thosCcleep, soft eyes of his, and blessed
her that she was so peerless and so bright. And
when they sang together one little 89ng of fove, cer
tainly no music was ever so fraught with eloquence
and soul. And this was a marriage in the true
Hum Live ! The servant boy had accomplished
the high purposes of bisitestiny !--the young mu
sic teacher fulfilled hers ! Were they not blessed
beyond the power of words to tell?
TATLollWmsgess.---" Your whiskers remind me
very much of old General Taylor,"- said a gentle
man the other day to a young fop who was culti
vating a very unpromising and sandy crop of hair
on his face. " Why so?" eagerly asked the am
bitious. youngster, wiith a gratified tone and air.--
" Becauso they are rough and reddy," was the re
ply.
.
A French Officer' qnarrelling 'with a Swiss, re
proached him with his country's vice ter fighting
on each side for money, " while we Frenchmen,"
said he " fight for honor."
"Yes sir," replied the Swiss, every one figts for
what ho most wants.
Scr.p•Appacctsamsi.—An Irish laborer
in the river s and hauled out a gentleman wbo was
accidentally drowning; the gentleman rewarded
Pat with a sixpence.
" Well," said the dripping miser seeing Pat's
doubtful pause," ain't you satisfied Do you think
you ought . to have more!"
"Och !" answered the poor fellow looking hard,
at the one he had rescued ; " I think Pm over•
paid!
Domestic HAPPLIIzra..-4b ! whit so 'refreshing,
so soothing, so satisfying, as the placid joys of
home? See the traveller--does duty calf him for
a season to leave his beloved circle? Thor ilia.,
of his earthly happiness continues vivid in hie re
membenuic e ; it quickens him. to diligence, it Makes
him hail the hoar which sees his invest accom
plished anti his face turned toward home,. it, costs
mones with him as he journeys, and lie hears the
Promise which cusses him hope— ,, Thou shah know
also that the tabernacle shall be in peace, and thou
shalt visit thy tabernacle and not sin." Oh! the joys
of a divided family—the pleasures of renewed in• .
tervrew and conversation, aAer days of absence !
Behold the man of.science—he drops the laborious
and painful re.searchL-closes his volume—smooth
his rinkled brew—leaves his muddy, and Mirben
dirg himself, stoops to the capacities, yields to the
wishes, and mingles with.thediveisioas of hvicbil
dren. Take the man of trade—what reconciles him
to the toils of business ? what enables him to en
dure the fastidiousness and impertinence of rosin..
mere? what rewards loin for so'many hours of te
dious confinenient ? By and by the season of in®
tercourse will behold the desire of his eyes and the
children of his love, for whom he resigns his cam ;
and in their welfare and snuile i i he will find his re
compense. Yonder comes the liborer—he has
borne the burden and heat cif the day—the descen
ding sun has released him of his roil, hastening
home to enjoy sweet repose. Hall
.way down the
lane by which stands his cottage, his children - run
to meet him. One he carries, one be leads. The
companion of his humble life is ready to furnish.,
him with his plain repast. See his toil worm court
; termites assuming an air'of cheerfulness. His hard
, ships are forginten—fat4ini vanishes—he eats and
iis satisfied. He * walks with uncovered headaround
his garden—euters again, and retires - to rest; and
," the rest of a laboring man is sweet, whether he
. eats little or much." fuhabitams of this lonely
dwelling,i who can be iudifferent to thy comfort
Peace to hhs house !—Rat. II . Jay..
VI
AtusiecaAc - r.—There are men—we blush lo cal
them men—who turn up their noses at the mechan
ic and humble laborer. Being liberally educated
as it is called—they look down with a sort of con
jemFit on those, who in some cases have contribu
ted to their support. " You need not despise a
spinning wheel," said an old lady to her pompoas
i son, one day " for many a night have T worked at
it to gel money to send you to school." There are
women, too, who will not touch a needle with their
delicate hands, who laugh at the poor and indus
trious, who learn trades, or work iq factories, for
a living. "La! how unrefined They are, she
says, with a scornful smile, as she lounges on the
sofa, reading the last pink novel. We once knew
a Inily--shall we call here lady comislex
ion. She was loudly belaboring a poor, hard
working girl, calling her low and unrefined.--
" Why," said she, " her father was nothing bat a
low mechanic." " Yes," remarked a woman
present, "her father was a- mechanic, I knew
him well, for he lived in the same neighborhood
with your mother, when she went cut a washing."
There, reader, if you had been present, you
would have seen a strange confusion of face, and
heard a vain attempt to utter something too prickly
to come .ont. It stuck in her throat. When we
hear men or women speak lightly of the indus
trious part of the community, we feel just like trac
ing back their genealogy. We 'have done so in
several instances, and you would be surprised at
What we learned. The most .aristocratic woe of
our acquaintance is the grandson of a fiddler; the
proudest woman, the laughter of a wash woman.
It betrays a lack of good sense to condemn or look
with contempt, on any virtuous penson, however
poor he or she may be. , The wise and good re
spect and love goodness wherever-it is found.
KNOWLE*.--Qne of the most %getable conse
quences of )mowledge is the respect and import
ance which it communicated to old age. - .
Men rise iu character often as they increase in
years; they are venerable from what they have
-acquired, and pleasing from what they can impart.
If they outlive their faculties, the mere frame itself
is respected for i what it once contained ; but with
uneducated woman, - when youth is eine, all,. is
gone. No human creature giv-ea his admi
ration for nothing; either thit eye must be charmed,
or the understanding etified. A woman mast
talk wisely or look well. tvery human being
must put up with the •cbldest civility, who has
neither the charms of youth,
,nor the wisdom of
tee; 1
Maxims roa You Mex —Staring at a lady on' .
der a bonnet is considered very much beneath a
gentleman. Never sit next tt a baby in an omni
bus, much less between two bellies. II you light
a cigar at a lamp post take gate it has not been
newly painted. Certain yng men, when they
are invited out to a ball, on rgo in time for sapper.
These are what may be called supper-nomeraries
of society. • A welling stick has legs, but an um
brella has wings. By the bye if, you are wee you
will take care not to_buy u rilk umbrella, for it flies
the quicker. The most certain method of borrow
rowing $5 is to ask for $lO.
AN EQUIVOCAL I'ItATER.-4VVO old Highland cro
nies in the north of Scothind were' sitting, about
dusk one evening, before- the fire, talking about
their deceased husband, their virtues and deserts.
" Ah, well," saidpne rising to light a farthing .
candle, "My Jemmy, good mon, always loved-a
bright light in this world. I hope he's ifilhe world
of light now."
" And my Sawney, answered the other throwing
a faggot on the fire, "he, poor mon, alwayr loved
a hot fire in this world, God grant he may be in
the world of hot fire nnw r,
ri
.4,
ilang,ed
Paum.--Prido emariates from a weak mind; .
you never see a man of strong intellect, proud and
haughty. Just Toot about you. Who are that most
givep to this folly t Not *the intelligent and talent
ed, 'bit the weak-minded and filly,
-
,
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