Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, September 15, 1859, Image 1
THE BRADFORD REPORTER. OIE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOAVANDA: Thursday Morning, September 15, 1859. Sflerftb |!oetnr. THE SLEEPERS. They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ? Children wearied with tbelr play ; For the stars of night are peeping, And the sun has sunk away. As the dew upon the blossoms Bow on their slender stem, So, as light as their own bosom, Balmy sleep hath conquered them. They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ? Mortals, compassed round with wo : Eyelids wearied out with weeping. Close for very weakness now : And that short relief from sorrow. Harassed nature shall sustain, Till tbey wake again to-morrow. Strengthened to contend with pain. They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ? Captives in their gloomy cells ; Yet sweet dreams are o'er them creeping, With their many colored spells: All they love—again they clasp them ; Feel again their long lost joys; But the haste with which they grasp them. Every fairy form destroys. They are sleeping. Who are sleeping? Misers, by their hoarded gold ; And in fancy now are heaping Gems and pearls of price untold ; Golden chains their limbs encumber, Diamonds seem before them strewn ; But they waken from their slumber, And the splendid dreaai is fiowu. They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ? Pause a moment, softly tread : Anxious friends are fondly keeping Vigils by the sleeper's bed : Others hopes have all forsaken ; One remains, that slumber kaeo : Speak not, lest the slumberer waken From that sweet, that saving sleep. They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ? Thousands who have passed away, From a world of wo and weeping. To the regions of decay. Safe they rest, the green turf under ; Sighing breeze, or music breath. Winter's wind, or summer's thunder. Cannot break the sleep of death. 5 11C Ct f b £3I f. THE MIST OF THE VALLEY. "My wife was dead. I bud never loved her—l may as well speak plain—never lovtd ter ; and yet for her sake I cast away the one priceless pearl of my life I think every human existence has its moments of fate—its moments when the golden apple of the Hes pendes hangs ready upon the boucb—how is it that so few of us are wise enough to pluck it ? The deeisiou of a siugle honr may ojeu to us the gate of the enchanted gardens, where are flowers and sunshine, and air purer than any breeze of earth ; or may condemn us, Tantalus-like, to rech ever more alter some far off,unattainable pood—make us slaves of the lamp forever and forever. And yet we seek no counsel. We stretch torth onr hand aud grasp blindly at the future, forgetting that we have only ourselves io blame when we draw them back pierced sorely with thorns. My life, like all others, had its hour of des tiny ; and it is of that hour, its perils, its temptations, its sin, that I am about to tell you. I had knjwn Bertha Payson from my in fancy. She was only a year yonnger than I I can remember her face, far away among the raisty visions of my boyhood. It looked then, as it does now, pure and pale, yet proud Her eyes were calm as a full lake underneath the summer moon, deep as the sea—a clear, un troubled gray. Her hair was soft and smooth, and daik She wore it plainly banded away from her large, thoughtful forehead The pure, yet healthful white of her complexion contrasted only with her eyes, her hair, her clearly defiued, arching eye brows, aud one line of red narking the thin, flexile lips. It was relieved by no other trace of color, even ia the cheeks. I have not painted for yon a beauty, and yet now I think that Bertha Payson had the noblest female face that my eyes ever rested on. Her figure was tall and slender ; her voice clear, low and musical. From my earliest lioyhood she had seemed to me like some guar dian saint, pure enough for worship, but, for a long time, I had not thought warm enough for lore s>he was twenty before I began to under stand her better I bad ja-t graduated at Harvard, and I came home—perhaps a little less dogmatic and conceited than the majority of new fledged A B's—full of lofty aspira tions, generous purposes, and romantic dreams I was prepared to fall in k>ve. Vint 1 had nevtr thought of loving quiet Bertha Payson. my my next neighbor's daughter. The ideal lady of my fancy was far prettier—a fairy creature, with the golden hair and starry eyes of Ten nyson's dream—an Airy, fairy Lillian, Ftnuag, lairy Lil.iaa. And yet in the meantime. I looked forward with pleasure to Bertha's companionship. To taik with her always broognt out " ibe most of Heaveu I had in B<* There was uothing in art or nature so gioricos that it did not uke new glory wheo glauces of ber eye kin dled over it. My nnod never scaled any height of lofty parpose or heroic thought which her far reacmng soul had not couqnered before me. aud so the beat purposes of cay life grew better and stronger .u UM atreat atmos phere of ber approval. Thus it came aboot that we were daily to gether. Long betora I though: of looking at the pale prwid face with a lover's passion. 1 *.D"ts ] batl thooght, what other *ste"pre?A'.ion PUBLISHED EVERY" THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. could a womau so pure, so single-hearted, so true, have put upon the eagerness with which I continually sought her society ? I passed the largest portion of every day in her pres ence. She was an early riser, and often, even before the summer sunrise I went through the narrow path and little wicket gate which di vided our garden from hers, to persuade her to join uie in a ramble in the delicious morning twilight. There was OLe Bcene of which we never tired ; I have never seen it anywhere but in Ryefields. In the Valley of Quinebang, the mist rises so blue and dense that from a hill overtopping it at a mile's distance it looks like some strange inland sea, w hereupon, perchance, Curtis' Hying Dutchman might take his long and wonderful cruise, or a phautoiu Maid of the Mut, sailing at dawn out ot some silent cove might cut the phantom sea with her phan tom keel, and go back with the sunrise into silence and shadows. On one of those over- topping hills Bertha and I watched the slow coming of many a summer morning. It was in one of those enchanted hours that I first learned that a woman's heart, strong and pas sionate as it was pure, slumbered beueath the calm reticence of her external life. We had been watching as usual, the sea of mist, and speculating idly about the phantom bark and its strange crew. Then we stood silent for a moment, Bertha looking out over the mist, and I looking at her dilating eves, growing so large, so solemn, so full of thought. At last, she turutd with a quick aud sudden motion— " Who would think, Frank, toseethis pros pect now, that underneath this seeming sea lay smiling the greenest and loveliest valley in Connecticut ? I was thiukinghow like it was to some human existence—men and women whose outward life is a vail, denser aud more impenetrable than the mist over the valley, screening the throbbing. passionate, yet silent heart from human vision. And ret there comes a time when the vailed heart will assert itself See. the sun is rising now- ; the mist look- like a soundless sea no longer ; it is be ginning to cnrl away in golden wreaths ; soon we shall see the fair valley with its three white houses ; its waving trees, its little becks of bright waters. Sometimes, even thus, from all proud hearts, the mist will roil goldenly away, and we shall see as we are seeu, and know as we are known—if not he-re, there." She paused, aud I looked at her inspired face I did not wish to break the i-ilence which followed her words. I started, and led the way down the steep hill. After a little, I looked round to see if the same morning sun rise lingered in her eyes. I caught my foot in the same incautious step, against the roots of a tree from which the spring rains had washed away the earth. I was throwu headlong and violently to the ground. I was stouued for a moment. My first sensation of returning consciousness was a jlea.-ant one. I felt Bertha's old Land upon my forehead. She had run swiftly to a neighboring spring, and, with quick presence of mind bad saturated her handkerchief and mine, and she now was bathing my brow with the water. I did not open my eyes at first.— It was so pleasaut to lie there and receive her Dlea>ant oiinistraicns. At length I felt her ear close to my lips. By a resolute effort I held my breath. I wished to try her. She thought I was dead. She did not shriek or moan ; only as if against her wiil, a cry, low and sorrow fu! escaped— " Oh, Frank, darling, darling !" I slowly opened my eyes and met hers There was a look in them 1 have never seen in any other woman's before or since. Then I knew Bertha Paysoneould love ; that she loved me with a 1 ive that not cue womau ui tea thousand could even understand. I saw that underneath the marble heart her passionate woman's heart was flame, but it was n flame as pure as the heaven kimi|cd fires on the altar of the God of the Hebrews. I knew she loved me, and in the same momeut. that with all the might of my heart I loved her— that she alone was the woman to whom mind and soul coo Id do homage, and say, " I have found my Queen." But I did not speak of lore then. I knew she must have read my glance as I had read hers, but she only said very quietly. " Thank God that you are aiive. I must leave yon now to see about gett.ng some oue to take you home " No, I can walk if you will help me." I made the effort but could not rise. The least attempt to move caused me such exquis ite pain that I began to think my i; juries mast be severe. I "said reluctautly, "I am very sorry Bctha. I shall have to let you go. I see it is inijiossibie tor me to walk." She drew a light summer <hawi from be r shoulders, and arranged it so as to make the position in which my head was lying a little easier. Then she tripped away, and lyn g t K ere, I watched, half dream:: g y. her light figure go out of sight, down the h.II side.— The time of her absence seemed very short Except when I attempted to moTe I felt lit tle pain, and never had been my soul so flood ed with happiness. I loTed Bertha—l was befoved by her. I felt too weak to speculate about the future. I only rejoiced to the pres ent Soon Bertha returned with the village doc tor, and two or three sturdy assistants. Ar ranging a nastily constructed litter they start ed to bear aie down tae hill. At the first jolt the rnouon caused me intense pain. With a longing sympathy. I stretched en: my hand.— Bertba understood me, and laid ber own hand in it; ard so with ber waitiug beside me, I was bora home. No bones were broken by my :a. My irjcr.es werea.i interna., thoag . not dangerous ; but my convalescence was te dious. In ail this time, Bertna was like an angel of light. Sue shared with my mother tn the labor of narsing me. She read to me, sang to me ; or when I liked it better,?*! by me in silence. It was sax weeks before I was agaio able to wa'k about ; but in ai! this time we had never spoken of Jove. With *!! my run! I wxNhipped her ; but ay passion WAS " RESARDLE3S OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER." too reverent for light or hasty utterance. I resolved to wait, until I could stand on the hill top, where I had first my heart's love in her eyes. When at length, I could go out, my first visit was made to Dr. Green. He had beeu so kind and attentive, he seemed to take so much pride in his success, that I could not re fuse to take my first walk to his house, and drink a cup of tea with his wife and a friei.d c he had staying with her. It was with this friend only that my story has to do. God knows that I did not willingly put mv self in the way of temptation. How could I tell that in sitting l that sum mer's ufternoon in Dr. Green's quiet parlor, I should find a Circe ? " Miss Ireton," said the Doctor's deep sonor ous voice as I entered the room, and before me rose a young, slight figure, robed in white, with rces in her bosom, roses on her cheeks, roses in her goldeu hair, that 'ay in ringlets upon her dainty shoulders, and clustered round her proud little head. Her eyes were bright and full of smiles ; dimples played a hide and seek among her cheeks' roses ; her lips were full and red, and her complexion wonderfully clear, with a quick changing color, infinitely charming. Nellie Ireton was indeed beautiful. Sometimes—even now out of the darkness of death, and the grave, that face rises up to me. and I see her stand before me once more, in all her witching loveliness, as -he stood that summer afternoon. If you had seen her then you would have thought her immortal—that death and change could never have come to that form of grace, those eyes of light. Miss Ireton was a practiced flirt. It was not in the nature of all things, that any man could love her as I loved Bertha. She could not have comprehended Bertha's self-abri"na tion, her heroism, her entire freedom ft cm all vanity, all de>ire of triumph. And yet her dominion over the senses was absolute. I was born a worshipper of beauty. I could not help admiring the airy grace of movement, the sparkling change of her faPe, and ttie smiles that hovered so archly about her lips. Days passed and no fly was entan gled ever more in a spider's nei, than I in the meshes of her golden hair. At first I could see Bertha was simply incredulous and u-toD ished, then aw ild trouble began to darken the clear gray of her eyes. All this time 1 loved her. A single tone of her voice had more power over uiv highest nature than ail tiie en chantments of the others ; and yet I could not break away from t'e fata!spell that bound me. My sen-e were intoxicated—steeped in delirium by the Circe. Can you comprehend the enigma ? Its solution involves the history of mauy a man's marriage besides his own. Just at the right time. Miss Iretou brought a new competitor in the field. In a young law s'udent visiting the place I fouud a rival. Nellie wis a good tactician She played us off against ea h other most adroitly, until we were inspired with all a gamester's eagerness to win. Bertha had now withdrawn herf!f from my society almost a'- together. Indeed. I seldom visited her; but whea 1 did i only saw her in the presence of her mother. Every evening 1 pi-sed at Dr. Green's. At la*:, in one fata! hour, I found Mi-'.* Ireton alone. 1 proposed an i was ac cepted far had my madn-> Listed : but when I heard her faltering yes ; when the golden head sank with fully a-, much triumph as tei.derr.ess upOO my shmilder ; when I Au'il have pressed the k -s of betrothal uj on her lip*, a co'd shudder ran through my veins. I closed my eyes for a moment, in the struggle to rega n my clf command, and there before my closed eyes. I saw Bertha stand as she had stood that rnorirng. 1 saw her pale rapt face, her eyes d.'ated with thought, fixed on thi mis: over the valley. I heard her inspired voice— "Some time, even thn, from a!! proud hearts the mist will roll suddenly away and we shall see as we are seen, and kuow 'as we are known." Ala! in vain had the mr-t rolled aw.iv frotn '.hut proud heari of Bertha Payson. show ing me its hidden ftWMWtt. I h.ui rejected the golden fruit of U**per;de£, lured by t!i fair aetming apple of Sodom - and now 1 tun-' wait vainly at the closed gates of Eden. We have but one birth and one death, and the charmed boor of fate comes but once to life. My betrothed was speaking ; I roused mv self to listen. "I I ked you the very first time I saw TOO. Mr Osborne : and I meant to make you like me. You see I though; it would be more lidSeuit, for Dr. Green told me that yon were half in IOTC with that proad Berths Parson, and I meant to s e if I couidn t make voa fancy me in spite of all." You succeeded only too well, little char mer" There was a iuoun r ul truth in mv answer, which her light heart did not pene trate. Ido think Nellie loved me. or assne -aid l.ked uie, as she was capable of lik.i g Her freely expressed preference was sincere. I should have a true wife, as tae world reck or.s truth ; and yet in God's s ght, I should be unmarried still. We two could never be made one. 1 made haste to announce my engagement. I hurried the preparations for uiy nuptials.— I felt that ray only safety would i.e in leaving HycSeldas soon as possible. Now that the eicttetnent of tr.e ioverdriise wis over, and the young law sta ;ent had saos-.ded into the quiet fnecd of my affianced I could uot conceal trom myself that I had set the seal on my own mad foliT and condemned myse!f to an eternal yet unavailing despair. I earefullj avoided any opportunity at seeing Bertha 1 would not have dared to trust myaeit in her presence. It was the day before my br.dal. So far had I traversed my path of thorns. I rose rarij aud went out of door*. One more walk I wtmld ia*Te to toe hill where the knowledge of Bering's iova had come to me—down whose slopes i had t eea borne with her hand in ra.ne. It was September, but it had been a cool dark summer, and the verdure aoag the h.ii side was still fresh as Jane. Ic! mbed it rapidly When I was wuiuo a few rods of its sammi: 1 loosed up A tail si ght tgsre was cloar'v defined against the sky. Should Igoou ? j Dared I meet Bertha then and there ? I an swered these questions to myself l>y climbing j on quietly and quickly. I could not help it. In live minutes I stood hv Bertha's side. She ! had not heard my approach. Froud woman ' as she was, she had not been too proud to weep. The tears glittered heavily upon her , long lashes. She made no vain attempt to ; conceal them. She met my glance steadfast ly, '• Bertha," I said in a choking voice, " I did not think to find you here." i "Or I you,"she answered. "See, the mist lies as heavily over the valley as when we stood j here last. How little the scene is changed !" 1 " And how much everything else ! " I inter rupted her wildly. " Bertha, it may be mad- j ness or sin, but I must speak. I love you bet ter than my soul. I always did love you but • not with such passion, such despair as now. Is j l it too late ? Must it be too late ? " She 'looked ut me a moment in wonder, in sorrow, tier dark, searching eyes questioned me. Then her lip curled. Would yon be twice a traitor, Frank Os ' borne ?" "No !" I answered impetuously. " I would not but return to my true allegiance. Nellie's ! pride would be wounded, but her heart would j I not suffer much Aud you oh ! Bertha, you did leve me—you do love me. Do not wreck your life and mine." ' frank," said she quietly, yet earnestly, " this is worse than folly, it is sin To-morrow you will be the husband of another. What right hare you to speak to me of love ? True I did love once, but that dream is past. If you w ere fret to-day I could not trust my hap pmess to your keeping. Forget me, or think of me only as a kind, well wi>hing friend." " Is there no hope, Bertha?" But I could not so give her up. The hour had come I had dreamed of through my long convalescence. I stood with Bertha again up ou that Hill-top where I had meart to tell her my love. I must plead with her a little longer. Scarcely knowing what I said, I a-sailed her with prayers. I poured out my very soul at her feet But she only looked at me with her dark, wistful eyes, and returned the same firm reproachful No. At last I was silent. J saw it was of no use. I had myself cast awav my pearl of great price. I must he contented hereafter with the glitter of my lost brilliant. " ell," I saiii, humbly and sorrowfullv enough, 4 1 do not deserve you. You are right, Bertha. But give me your hand once more, as y<m .1 d that morning ! Frieuds claim that much. Bertha." Site laid her fingers in mine. They did not tremble, but they were very cold. SLe said with a deep, pathetic earnestness : "God bless you Frank Osborne! I, who know yon so well, behove that you are sincere in the words you have spoken to me this morn ing. But y>>u must think such thoughts no longer. Frank, happiness only comes to us in the right. Your duty is to Miss Ireton.— Fulfill it I conjure yon. You have a woman's happiness iu your hand. Yon mu<t answer to God for it. I conjure you to make her future bright. Trust nothing to her light heartedn&s. I tell you no woman's heart is light enough to hear up under any want of love from the man for whom she has given up nil things Io your duty and you will fiud comfort even yet. Good bye, Frank." She turned away, and once more, ason that more ;g, 1 watched her slight figure tripping down th- hill. Her step was firm Her heart ninst have been strong. She did not once lo'-fe back. I watched her till I c->otd see her no wn.g.r, And tbea I turned ai d looked moodi ly over the vailey. Already the mist had . parted, and !>efore the sun's fiery eye the val-1 • v lay onshrooded. andttguised, a? our so I'S I :n ist -*and -ome day before llis eye. at whose , word the first sun rose and the last <un st. II thought of the solemn import of Bertha's words, j I had indeed a duty to perform. I cou d lay 1 ..y In.rdeu of sin and ps;iuliment on no other's -'••.'IT'S. It was not Nellie Ireton'S fault that I had turned away from Berlin and a-k --ci ber to be my wife. I owed her mv lite now : Sn>* aid have it. I knelt upon the hill sue. I oared my forehead to the cool breeze of the S ptcro ber morning. I cried oat to heaven for strength. T think ray prayer wis heard. The nut day 1 W3> married. We left Rye fieKl at once, and for three years I did not re turn there. I do believe—thank God for this gleam of comfort—that I made Nellie happy. Io her i own way she was fond of me. She loved socie ty, mirth and fashion—she had them all. I placed no restraint upon ber pleasures, tliough I never accompanied ner Often she has re turned from some gay party late at night, and found roe sitting iu my study. She woald boot 1 into my lap. at tiams, *'h ?. r fine clu d like abandon, tell me what a fine time she bad ; who bad talked to and complimented her, and then a<keu with a com .cul >a r of se.f it>fact;ots, if I was no: proauv* suei. a hand some little wife. You know I am handsome. you provnk'-<g teassrg, clever old fellow, now don't you T~ was usually the conclusion to the harangue ; and I wouiu always give her the coufiru.ation she co veted. Thar.k God, she never know now lone ly my soul was in those days—how my heart pired for companionship ; how ray spirit pant ed for a Kindred spirit to share its doubts, its seeking after the Infinity ! Taa-.k Gcd that the lark :a the meadow was not gladder or merrier than she! She had been ray wife more than two vea-s when sLe went cot one co d night, with her far arms and neck uncovered, a d only an op ; era cloak tore wo over thetn as she drove to a gy party. I had remonstrated. but she had pleaded to be allowed to hare her own way, and I could never brir.g myself to cross her in ! anything—l, wotjld never look at ber without ' j a remorseful couac ousnes* that the heart which j ; should have oeeu hers only shriaed in secret the image of another. I strove, by the most i lavish icd ge.uce even to her wh ms, to make Iwhat eompensat.oa I could oerergive her.at-d so this eight, as USUAL she had her will. She did i?de*d. look rerv lovely with a rare deers 1 falling in such graceful folds about her little figure—the golden curls just veiling but not concealing the snow of her neck, and her arms gleaming through misty lace Most men would have been proud of her ; but I bad known one woman whose simple superiority to all outside decorations so far transceuded all the aids of dress and fashions that I could not triumph in the mere beauty of the external. For once the consequences of myindo'geDce was disastrous. That night Nellie took a se vere cold. In a few days it settled upon her lungs, and then medical skill was of no avail She grew rapidly worse, and they made her a grave beneath the cold gray sky of March.— Through her illness I had been a patient nurse. .She died with her head on my bosom. With almost her last breath she told me I bad made her very happy, when I stood over her grave I mourned for l.er sincerely. I would have given much to call her back to life ; nay, I would have been willing—life was not so pre cious to me, to have taken her piace under the mould, so that she couid have walked forth again in youth aud beauty, and yet as weeks passed OH, God who judgeth not as man jndg eth, will forgive me if a wild thrill of joy did sometimes inuke my heart quiver when I tho't of the love of my youth aud remembered that j I was free. \ After a time I went home to Ryeficld, I sought B- rtha's society. At first it seemed to ! me that she tried to avoid me. Bat I perse vered. I know she must felt to the co _ e of her heart the sincerity of uiy love. Would she ever again return it ? At last, one night, I asked ber to go with me the next morning to the hill overlooking the valley, where we had stood together so manv times in other days. She consented We rent up the hill almost in silence and when we reached its summit we stood silently i for a time. At length I turned to ber. " Bertha, there was a time when, as the morning mAt rolled away from your heart, and I I saw its hidden treasures, your love for me. I have sinned since then ; but oh. Bertha, 1 have suffered. I loved you first, last, always. With nil the might of my sou! I love you now. Will you tuke me, and weave the broken thread? , cf my life into brightness at iasi ? She looked at me steadfastiy and sorrowful- i !y. " Frank," she said, with a gentle, pitying aspect, "I came here because you wanted to i a?k me that question. I couid ee you were cherishing hopes about me that I ought nut to let you cherish any longer. It was a!! in vain. I will be your friend Frank, your warm tender friend, but the day for anything else is past There was a ti.ue when I would have gone with you to the world's end ; but you yourself made my love a sin. I could not cherish it for the husband of another. Frank, I conquered it, and on earth it can have no resurrection.— By the wild agony of its death-throes I know that it is dead—dead utteriy. You can never a_rain k.ndle the life in its cold corp-e. If vou wronged me once. I forgive you. If JOB are an happy I pity you. On earth I never ran have a dearer friend than yon. but the Svne i on my heart's altar is bnrned to white ashes. 1 can never l>e your wife." I looked in her clear, friendly ey-s. An ' angel's pity soften -d their glance. but tli-v i were not ouee casi. down. I couid see in t iein no shadow of hope. I turnec away troru their wisilul look. I uttered no more prayers. I only clasped her hai.d in mne, and some tears Iw as not ashamed to shed fell over it. Then I let go. Once more sue went down the hill alone, and I was left upon its brow to strug gle with the anguish of my despair. Oh, Bertha, Bertha. ARTEIT s WARD'S OURR!\G FXRSTRIRY-E.— Twas a earra -uli n te in Joon. when ail natur was husiit A ruary Zeffer disturbed the ser-ne silense. I sot th the ol.jek of mi bart'- nffeck-hiips on the fence nv her daddy's was tar. I bad experienced a bui.-kerin arter hui fer some time, butdarsunt prociame mi poslioiß. Weil we sot tlnr on the fense a swinging of our feet • *2 A frojr A Uoshioß m read m the BaUtiagtoo skale bonze when it was first paint j, A .k ed very cimptil, I tnake no dowt. My left arm was ok ipide iff baUousiu nays'.if on the I fciise wii !e my rite arm was wound aff •sauui te\v r<-.a 1 Snzinners vri>'e. S 7. I, "S izanner i thinks very much of you." >ez -he. " How ti d : run on." Sex I, " I wish there was wir.d-?r '■ mi - !e scz vou coo"! see mv feelins." A I e J.piv I pawd !>ere, bnt as ; he mtde no reply to it, I contiuu ion tie following straae : " Ah. ec-od yer know the rite I parse on yer account, how tittles have =eas| to le a tractive tu me A haw ml limbs is shrank no. ye woodn't coat me net by no Gre on ;hi- wa-tin form At sonken 7-." I cride. jumping np. I shool l have e<ntinn--1 s u " ie r iigt-r j.robih'y, lot on'ortunatr'r 1 ! -f Qi balar.ee A fell over tote the p.-; or ker smash, taring ray c ose and domogia ;ryse.' generally Sozanner sprung to my assist ir.ee A dragged ine 4ih in dobl>!e quick tire:. Tt.cn drawing herself up to her full h.te ; - i ; " I wont listin to your nor'-? ts e.oy longer. Jest yu sa rite cut what yos are driv.a at. If ya mean gittin hitch'-d I'm in " THE Mom'S —Young man ! Thy mother D t'ay best eart'dy fric- ■] The world may forget yoa—thy mother never • thw worii may tii> ' 7 J 4 ' l tna r y wrongs—thy Mtkr neve"; the world may per* cute you wnile living, anu when dead, plant the ivy and the nigbuhade of slander upon your grassie&s grate —but thy mother wiii love ard cherish TOO while living and if she surv.ve.s you, will weep for too whr deal, such tears as none ou; a mother knots how to weep. Love thy mother ! S&- Au lowa editor sa 1 bis attent ca *i< first drawn to the su' ject of matrirßony. ojr the skillful manner in which a Mun pretty girl handled the fcrm j whereupon a broth er editor remark--?! that the manner ia whir' hi* wife h sod led the broog: was z,: so :op:l --rating. VOL. XX. —NO. 15. ! Tea Culture in the United States. ! The importation of tea plants and seed by I the U. S. Patent Office, and preparations mak ing by that Bureau for a practical attempt at tea culture in this country, gives a fresh inter est to the subject. Similar experiment, on a scale comparatively limited, have been made jiu former yeais, particularly by the late Dr Junius Smith, of South Carolina, whose com munications in relation thereto, frequently ap peared in these columns ; and though his ef . forts resulted in no immediate success, they i cannot be said to have been uselessly made.— • On the contrary, they afford the very best as i surance that it is practicable to produce tea in i this country. Such at least was his own opin ion and this is the belief fully entertained by those familiar with his endeavors. ThcCharles , ton Courier of a late date says : | "We regard that exfierimeDt a3 proving conclusively the adaption of the tea plant to the climate of Greenville District. It was the opinion of Dr. Smith after a careful exam ination, that portions of the mountain region of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee, were better adapted to tea, than a great proportion of the land cultivated iu Cliina. This opinion was derived not only from examination of the soil, and persouai in : quirv as to the climate and conditions of tbo I weather, Lut from a study of meteorological i records and observations. The same opinion , as to our soil and climate was confidently ex -1 pressed by M. Francis Donynge, whose visit | some eight years since will be remembered by : many readers, as his views were uttered thro* the Courier, in several appeals in behalf of tea ; culture. Dr. Smith was Dot far from seventy years of age when he began his experiments in ; Greenville district, South Carolina, and could ; he have transmitted his acquirements and re ! sources to a successor, there appears to be uo reason why Lis plantation should not have coa tinned so flourish. The U. S Commissioner of Patents, in his ' la-t annual Report, presents the results of a careful inquiry as to the nature of the soil and climate p ssessii-g the conditions necessary for the production of the tea plant ni a largepor ; tion of our territory, and that it only requires j enterprise, capital, and intelligence, to bring th:> bra! ch of industry into successful compe tition with the Celestials. Improved machine j rv and other appliances for preparing the arti cle, wiil afford an ample substitute for the cheap labor of China. Even should there be A deficiency in this respect at first, the prover | bial ingenuity of American mechanics would prove adequate to every exigency. That skill ; that produced the cotton gin, still exist* to be stow on the country u tea Manipulator. The adaption of climate aod soil being de termined, no impediment exists to opening a n w scarce of national wealth. Tire remutene-s of the tea-growing countries of the old world w.l; eu-u-e " protection" for native industry. T;.„- Com mi.--: oner of Patents has stated, in a circular, that no disposal w ill be made of the plants no* growing at the propagating gar dens !;~fure the next meeting of Congress, after which a fea.-:bie piaa will lie proposed for their distribution.—Journal of Ctmmtrot. DEATH. —The article on " Death " in th New Cyclopedia, has the following : As life approa- he- extir.cion, insensibility supervenes —a numhne-s and disposition to repose, which do not ad at of the idea of suffering. Even iu those case- where the activity of the mind re mains to the last and where nervoas saosihiHtjr would seam to continue, it is surprising hour often :!. re has been observed a .-tate of happy feeling on the approach of death. If I had strength enough to hold a pen I would wrtu how easy and Idightful it is to die," were the last w. r .s of the celebrated Wm. Hunter,dur ing h s las', mrjietits. " Mo:.taiga®, in one of his essays, describee an a .videat width left b.m -a insen-:tle, that he was taken op for d-ad. Oa being restored, , however, : e says ; " Me-thought my life ooly hang r.;va my lips ; and I shut my eyes to help threat it not, and took a pleasure laiv g lis] kg .. ttii g mywll go." A waMf in ih *1: art ;•].* R vew records that a gentle* man wio i.j been r. -■re i from drowning c' ir-d that h • had not experience;! like slightest feeling of - T cation. '* The stream was trans paren', th® day brill. ast, and as he srixal op ngi.t lie c . ?e tie sun shining thrmgh the water with a dreamy foaseifrusnc.ss that his eyes were about to I e eles I on it for-rer.—. Vet he neither feared h s fate nor wished to avert it.—A c epj sensation, which soothed and gra 3-1 si, ta-ao a i .xarloos bed of a , watery grave." A N- . Sr ST —Two larkic* had bought a me-< ■ F'-rk in partner- ..p ; but Sa;a hav ing noplace to pit h - wr a ia, consented to enrra-i li.e :oie to J u. * keeping. Tt.c c.-x: UJJT.I. .g i .ey wet, when Sam '* G sod lao-ain. Jula-, anything happen s-rnnge or JOSA in voar wtctiuty lately r " Vti!. Sin, most strange thing happen at ray house jest; rlast night. Ail mystery, ail mystery to '• A . Ju. as, w hat wasdvt ?" " Wr.. S.*n 1 toie you n w D - raonin I w-rat :.\a i: ode seller for to get a p,ece of kog for - Agfi '• e.il* and I pot my hard dowu i;. do brine an felt roaud, but no pork CP-** —all gone. CoaldnT tell wh3t '.ewer!": w "hi% so I turned up debar"!, an Sara true at pre. min'de rats had ea: a hole clar froo , -••era of de tar*! and dragged da pots ad cat ; Sam wa-:"trlfied w h astonishment, but | p.-esen'ly sa: 1— " M"-y d a .'t de brine run out ob de wra-s bev'e ?" " " An, Sags, dat's de mystery—dat demys terr'' 1 —— * * t - g-ara? appeared in *he . vo-Id. y--j may k. jw him by ar. infaUibS sigo, • titt '*•• d:r.eesare in agxiast him.