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INVARIABLY HASH.
jlVctvu.
RICH AMI POOIi.
WITH choicest meat the cloth is spread
And clustered fruits from off the vine.
And in the goblets, gold and red,
Sparkles the warm, delicious wine.
The rich man lifts it to his lips.
And murmurs while he slowly sips:
•' Ah. wealth, what bounteous gifts are thine !
Where does the poor man find his bliss?
for him there glows no generous wine
With fruity flavor like to this.
Wealth builds us round a wall secure
Which shuts ns irom tlie vulgar poor."
Oh, rich man, once upon the earth",
In years gone ny, a stranger trod ;
The pmphets who foretold his birth
Proclaimed him as the Son of God,
And lie. whose every deed was pure,
Chose his own frieuds among the poor.
In yonder naked garret's gloom,
.ier aching sight made dim with tears,
With little left which once was bloom .
And seeming twice her actual years,
1 A woman toils from .lay to day
To drive the wolf and sin away.
And here a mother, mate with griet,
Bends low above her prostrate boy ;
Th- nights arc long, the days grow brief,
To her the morning brings no joy,
But finds lior watching by the bed
Where lies her darling cold and dead.
Somewhere beyond our mortal sight
There is a city fair to see,
Where conies not sorrow, want,or night,
And time is an eternity.
And there 110 frowning wall secure
Shall separate the rich and poor.
WORDS FITLY SPOKEN.
ISY T. s. AKTHIR.
"Have yon called to see Mr. Parsons ?'
asked Mrs. Fuller, addressing her husband.
" Not yet. The tact is, I feel rather diffi
dent about going to sec him. It ! hsul any
sii_'!g"stioiis to make, or anything to nib-r
him, it would he different. S >ine men are
peculiarly sensitive when things gn wrong
with them. I know how it is with tnvrelf.
He might consider my visit tin intrusion."
Mrs. Fuller thought differently. She did
not see the ease from her husband'* point
of view.
"M >st people," she replied, "sire grate
ful for siny msinif sL I interest in time of
grief or trouble, if it be sincere. They
easily discriminate between etiri ets intru
sion and genuine good feeling."
'■ Very true," answered Mr. Fuller. "Hut
si man in Mr. Far.* ms' condition wants
something more than svtnpathv. lie wants
"help."
" IVrhaps vou can help him," said Mrs.
Fuller.
"Me !" The surprise .f Ms. Fuller was
unfeigned.
" Help comes by many ways. You may
be able to suggest the very thing lie
Heeds.
"To a man who has been living for the
lsist ten years at an expense of four times
greater than my income ! O, no ! 1 csin't
helpliiin. If 1 had ten thousand dollars to
spsiro, there would he some sense in my
calling."
Bnt Mrs. Fuller could not see it in that
light.
" Self-help is the surest help," site return
ed. " A quick, suggestive mind, may get
more of the true material prosperity from
a hint than from thoussjiids of dollars."
" Not from that hint of initio. It's of no
use for you to argue with tin- in that direc
tion," sstid the husband. " Fsirsons can
teach me twenty things where I can teach
him one."
" And your one may be of more use to
him than his twentv to vou,"sai 1 Mrs. Ful
ler. *
Tiie woman saw that she was right, and
did not yield. Will is very persevering.—
After tea —for it was in the evening - —Mrs.
Fuller drifted upon the subject of their tin
fortunate neighbor again, and insisted that
it was her husband's dutv to make him a
call.
" If I could see any use in it." answered
Mr. Fuller. "If i had any suggestions to
make that would be of value to liitn."
"It would be of use for liiin to know
that you have not forgotten an old friend
sind neighbor," replied Mrs. Fuller. "There
will he enough to recede—to stand alar oil'
—to look upon him cildly, or to pass him
hy as of but small account in the world,
seeing that he no longer has the old money
\ alue."
In the end, Mrs. Fuller prevailed. Her
husband, sifter concluding to make the visit,
thought, he would defer it until the next
evening ; but she urged that the present
hour lor si kind act was the best hour.
It was about s o'clock when Fuller stood
at Mr. Fsirsons' door. He felt sure that his
visit would Itc considered sin intrusion if
not an impertinence. That Mr. I'sirs -as
would set; in it a rude intimation that tlic-y
were now on the same social level. His
hand grasped the bell, but he hesitated to
ig. If the thought of liis wife, and what
she would say if he went heme without ac
eompVsliing the errand that took him out,
had not crossed his mind, he would have
turned away horn the door. Hut that
thought stimulated his wavering purpose,
and the bell was rung.
A servant showed him into the library,
where lie found Mr. Parsons. He had an
ticipated a cold and formal reception he
was prepared for it; but not for the high
pleasure that beamed in Mr. Parsons' coun
tenance, nor for the cordial hand clasp with
which he was received.
1 lie two men sat down hy the lily try ta
s;'ije on which were packages of letters, ac
in'xfroni I *' I' : M"Ts, and other evidences
widpnrktiu 1 " B ''" w TliiVt Mr. Parsons had lnisi-
Tle young ro^i when his visitor called.
Franklin, irhl'' s ,n;t y he an interuption," said
and committed to jaiM'cilig at the table,
nnd lc years.
L
1/
ji if^'
E. O. (iOODBICJI, Pul>li*l&ei-.
vomit; xxv.
" No ; your coming is welcome sitnl lime- j
ly. I was just wishing for a cool, clear-j
seeing - , conscientious friend with whom to !
take counsel ; and 1 believe you sire the ;
man. You know that 1 sun in trouble."
" Yes."
" The failure of Lawrence Sc James in
volves everything I have. ! am on their
paper for more than ! am worth."
" Hut they will have assets. The loss I
will not In; complete.
" In the meantime, being under protest
on their paper, my credit is gone. The ;
banks throw me out, and I can only get
money on the street at ruinous rates. To
struggle longer would be folly. Usurers
would get what creditors might divide. To
day. my own bills went into the Notary's
hand."
"So 1 have heard."
"Such news tlics through business circles
with electric swiftness Well, the agony
is over ; the dread trial past. My name,as
drawer, is dishonored —I am si broken
merchant."
His voice expressed bitterness of feel
ing.
" Commercial dishonor is one thing—
personal dishonor another," sstid Mr. Ful
ler.
Mr. Farsons looked away from the bice
of his visitor. He moved with a slig-bt
guest are of unesis'ness- -a.shade went over
his countenance.
" Men who go down to the valley of mis
fortune," added Mr. Fuller, "tread on slip
pery ground. They must look well to their
feet."
There was no response to this.
" On safer ground," continued Mr Fuller,
" we may recover si false step ; but here it
is very diflicult : something impossible.—
We si]- no longer msistcrs of the situation.
It wil in>l do in risk anything."
Still Mr. Farsons remained silent, with
his lace turned partly away.
" All doubtful expedients should be avoid
ed," .Mr. Fuller went on, following out the
train of thought which had been suggested
to his mind. " They sire never safe under
the most favorable circumstances ; but
when misfortune limits and cripples st man,
they almost always fail and leave him
more unhappily situated than before."
" Fnqucslionably you are right," said Mr.
Parsons, taking a deep bresith. He spoke
partly to himself. From his tone it wsis
plain that he was thinking - intently. "When
a man gets in trouble," "he added, "it is
of the lirst importance to him to show a
clear record. As the ease now stsinds 1
think mine is clear. I will be misjudged,
no doubt All men sire who fail in business.
Tin- lirst impression is against them. How
readv the T.-iigue is to whisper "There's
something wrong.' It is dilliciilt for cer
tain men, when tiicy lose their money, to
believe iti anything but roguery."
" Brine - r in *at heart themselves,"said
Mr. Fuller.
"No : that does not always follow. I
have known some very honest men to be
s vcrc on their debtors, and quick to judge
them harshly."
"Hid you ever see these honest men tried
in the crucible of misfortune ? Hid you
ever see them amidst - their falling fortunes
—bewildered, half I litid, grappling this
way and that for help, like drowning men ?"
" i can not now recall sin instance," said
Mr. Parsons.
" I can," replied his visitor—"many in
stances : and the clear record of which you
speak did md appeal - when the struggle
wsis over."
Mr. Parsons sighed heavily.
"These are diflicult wsiters to navigate,"
he remarked, in atone of sadness, not un
i.ii-.gied witii doubt and perplexity. "The
man is in danger.
" Ot losing bis integrity."
" Yes ; in great danger."
" With honor at the helm, and rectitude
lor pilot, the passage is safe."
" And faith in Hod ?"' said Mr. Parsens,
speaking as front st sudden impulse. His
countenance lighted up ; his eyes grew
calm stud steady.
" Yes. in faith always," replied Mr. Ful
ler. " lie is very near to us,especially in
trouble; and if we desire to do light, He
will show ■ s what is right. We must not
hesitate to put our trust in Him. No mat
ter how many lions are in the path of duty,
our safest way is right onward. If we
turn aside, our souls are in peril."
Alter setting with Mr. Farsons for sin
hour, Mr. Fuller went home. Their con
vets itiou had been of the general character
we have si en touching mainly on those
principles that lie at the basis of all right
act ions.
" It was kind in you to call," said the for
mer, as the visitor retired. " 1 think you
bave helped me to see some things in a
strong light that were obscure. It is often
very dark with men so hard pressed as I
am—with men who grope amid the ruins of
a falling fortune. Friendly counsel is good
for them. Come and see me again."
It was perhaps a month later that Mr.
Fuller, urged once more by bis wife called
on Mr. Parson*. He was one of your diffi
dent, retiring men, who are always afraid
of intruding themselves. His wife, who
knew his worth as a man, and understood
his value among men, was always dispos
ed to push liini out of himself, and farther
into the soeisil circle than he was inclined,
of his own accord, to go.
" Ah, Mr. I - tiller 1 am glad to see you !
Why have you not called before?" was the
warm greeting he received. Mr. Parsons
still had a care-worn look, hut his manner
was more cheerful and confident,
" I have had it on my thoughts many
times : but did not wisli to intrude my
self."
" Your calls can never be regarded as
intrusion, Mr. Fuller," was replied with
much earnestness of manner. " No, never,"
was added. "I think your visit, one month
stgo, at a time when 1 was in gresit dark
ness and bewilderment, was a direct inter
position of Providence. When you called
I was deeply revolving a scheme that prom
ised extrication. It was not a very safe
scheme it w'as hardly just—nay, it was
not just ; for it it had failed, it would have
involved in loss persons in no way concern
ed in my affairs at the time. That I must
have failed, is now clear to me,and I should
have hurt myself inwardly, and given fair
cause for a harsh judgment. But to-day,
Mr. l uiler, I bear si clear conscience. 1
sun right with myself, and can look every
man luirly in tin: face. 1 have thanked von,
a hundred times, for your fitly spoken
words. They were as apples of gold in
pictures of silver."
TO WAN DA. IVILVFOliI) (01 N'T V, I'A., DECEMBER I. 1(H, <_
"And yet 1 came with groat reluctance, ]
fearing to intrude," suit! Mr. Fuller.
"If we mean kindly, we shall never in- 1
: trade," was answered. "When we get in j
j trouble, our friends and neighbors arc apt j
| to recede from ns ; not for lack of interest ,
or sympathy, I am sure, but from a false j
i impression that we are sullen, morose or lull
I of sensitive pride, and will repel advances.
I But it is not so. Misfortune sweeps up a
j great deal of pride, and mellows the hard
! est. There arc few men its trouble who will
! consider the call of an old friend or acquain
-1 tance as untimely, Thousands, lam per
suaded, might be saved from false steps it
j their friends would come close about them
and help them to find the right path for
their straying and stumbling feet. In the
I multitude of counsellors there is wisdom.
; I speak feelingly, for 1 know bow it has
been with myself. My feet were just about
! turning aside, when you showed me the
! right way, and I thank Hod that he gave j
me the courage to walk therein. I shall
ever hold you in grateful rcmemberance sis
one of my best friends."
[From Dickens's" All the Year Rouud."
SHOTS AT ELEPHANTS.
Probably no man ever shot so many ele
phants as Major Rog - ers, once of the Ceylon
ivilles. He kept an account of the number
lie had killed until it amounted to the mod-
J crate total of twelve hundred, lie then got
tired of keeping the score, and it is sup
posed that after that he shot a couple of
hundred more. This is no mythical legend.
It is a well-known, and recognized, and uu- |
I disputed fact, lie would undertake some-j
I times to do strange things in the shooting
! line ; for instance, to kill two elephants at
| one discharge of his gun. This he accotn
' pi it". Ed l>v waiting till a young one was be
■ low its mother, when lie would lire at the
i latter, and her fall would kill the young one.
i It is almost distressing to think of the en- j
I ornious quantity of animal matter thus left <
in the forest by one single man, and we can
• hardly consider such destruction justifiable,
even though we know that numbers of stni- |
tauls would be ready to tsill upon the cstr
! ease and fatten thereon sis soon as the sports- '
i man had left. But it is well known that j
Major Rogers purchased one or more steps
j in the sinny by the proceeds of the ivory se- j
, | cured in this manner, for, although very few
! Ceylon elephants have tusks, all have tushes.
it may be supposed that Major Rogers
j was si man who devoted his whole time to i
j shooting. Tliis is very far from the truth, j
| He was the principal government officer in
i a district containing some eight thousand '
' inhabitants. He was commandant, govern- !
| mont agent, district judge, sind coroner, lie ,
' traced roads, lie planted coffee, and was one
I of the most energetic government servants
jin the island. The Kandinns regarded him
j with superstitious veneration, and believed
| him to bear a charmed life, and the manner
-of his death was calculated to (aver their 1
idea of his being different from ordinary j
mortals. He was at a bungalow on the
j Hoppootalle Pass one day during a than- 1
1 tier-storm. Ho stepped out and looked up i
to see if it were likely to clear. A lady and j
I gentleman, bis travelling companions, were
; on the verandah. Suddenly there was a
Hash, and Major Rogers lay lifeless on the i
ground. Nothing could he found on his
person to show where he had been struck,
(save si small spot on the heel, just below bis ■
i spur.
A gentleman, baiting for a night in the
neighborhood years afterwards, overheard
an old Kandian telling of the famous " Msi- ,
jor Rogers." lie told of his msirvellcous
feats, and how he could pass unscratched
• J through imminent danger. "But at last,"'
j sstid tiie story teller, " he cut down the for
-1 est that belongs to the Katfrogain temple
| sind planted coffee : then Buddha got angry
i and killed him bv lightning - ." There is a
j monument to his memory in Kandy church
|—a palm tree in the pride of its beauty is
j smitten by a Hash of lightning. In the dis
■ tance is Adam's Peak. Beneath is inscri
: scribed, " Lo, these are parts of His ways, j
j but the thunder of His power who can un
j derstand."
There are many stories of his wonderful
j escapes. Among others, the following : —'
One morning, alter shooting five elephants
' out of a herd, he retired for breakfast un- j
! dor a tree a short way off, and directed one
! of his followers to go and cut off the tail* [
l of his victims. The man came back with
• three, and said the owners of the remaining I
two had vanished. Major Rogers thereup
on went to see what had heroine of them, ]
I and soon saw one of them standing in the
j jungle, near the sandy bed of what was in
[ wet weather a large river. As soon sis the I
I elephant saw the major lie charged The j
! major fired and brought him down on his j
' knees, but be got up and again charged, j
I The second barrel was fired, but without
i better effect, and it now became necessary 1
, j to rue to cover, across the bed of the river.
! The major ran, the elephant ran, and it be- i
! came a question of life smd death which of •
the two could run the fastest, Once in the |
jungle and the sportsman would be safe.
At length lie readied the bank ; another i
: second or two —si few more steps—and he !
| might take a shot sit, his foe ; but ere lie j
i could reach his cover, he felt a blow on his j
| shoulder from the trunk of the elephant,!
I and rolled heavily on the ground. Hegath- j
ered himself up, and m;ule a second attempt
jto get away, when another ltlovv, another, I
| and yet another from the merciless trunk,
; dislocated his shoulder and broke his arm j
and several of his ribs. IJo then lay mo- i
i tionlesg, though still conscious, when the i
I elephant began to play football with liirn, '
knocking him backwards and forwards be- '
tween his fore and bind legs. At this crisis, j
one of the men who had heard the firing ;
| came up with a spare gun, and tired both
bsirrels into the elephant ; but this extrsior
; dinarily irrational bosist, that would not lie
quiet and dielike a well conducted elephant,
now left his victim, and charged Ins second
| foe, who ran off into the forest smd climbed j
a tree. Thereupon the elephant took post '
i beneath it, but finding that the man did not
! come down, and remembering where he left
11is football, lie returned to the same place,
| no iloubt intending to have another game
with it. But the major had managed
to crawl into the jungle, where be
i concealed himself sis best he could. Theele
! pliant sniffed about and made search for him
j for some time, and at last trumpeted and
i wont off'. Major Rogers was carried into
j Budulla, where his wounds and bruises in
due time healed ; but, tired of inactivity,
while one arm was still in a sling lie bor
rowed a light gun, which lie could bring up
REGARDLESS OF LIEXUXCIATt'IX FROM AXY OCARTER.
to bis shoulder with the other band, and
i therewith killed two elephants.
| Sometime ago, a gentleman living in
j (lalle heard of an elephant in si jungle about
I eight miles off', so he set. out in pursuit. He
i soon came upon the marks of the elephant,
| and then upon the individual in person. My
friend had never shot an elephant before,
and knew nothing of going up the wind or
other similar dodges, and the consequence
was he could not get a shot forever so long - .
Every now and then, when he got near, the
elephant would walk on a little way ; then
lie would stop, and just as my friend got
near him he would go on again. This las
ted from half-past nine in the morning to
half-past three in the afternoon. At last 1 lie
elephant got aunoyed at being - thus followed,
and resolved to put a stop to it. So lie went
into si thick clump of jungle, made si cir
cuit, and came back and waited l'or his ene
my. My friend wsis poking about looking j
for the elephant, and wondering what on
earth had become of him, when all sit once !
he rushed out quite close to him, with bis j
trunk lifted ready to strike. .My friend had j
not an instant to lose ; he mechanically j
threw up bis gun without taking aim, smd j
fired, and down came the elephant as dead !
as st herring. In the scrimmage his hat fell j
off. A fellow ran to the bungalow, where j
ho had left bis "ladye fair," awaiting bis re- j
turn in triumph, and announced the death j
of the elephant, adding, that he had knocked
the master's hat off. The "appoo," or but
ler, in his interpretation, proclaimed t hat lie
had knocked the master's hea// off'.
Two gentlemen were not long since out j
on sin elephant-shooting expedition,in which
they lisul been rather successful. On their '
way home, one of them encountered anelc-l
pliant ; he fired smd wounded hint, on which ;
the elephant charged. The gentleman ran i
i for it, hut his adversary overtook liiin ; he j
j fell, and the elephant stood over him. The '
j gentleman had sill his wits about him, and j
; had time to ask himself, as lie lay there, !
! whether it was more likely that he would ;
; be pounded into si jelly, torn into pieces,
tossed into the air, or kicked about like si
j ball. As lie could not come to a satisfactory
; solution, lie looked up at the oh pliant as if
| to judge from the expression of his counte-
I nance what were bis intentions : when lie
i perceived that the elephant- was "dazed."
j The ball in liis forehead lisid evidently con
tused his intellects, and In- did not quite
know what to do. At this juncture one of
the sportsman's attendants came up and
j drew off the ereal lire.
I When sin elephant is killed, sill the car
i nivorous beasts of the field, and birds of
! the stir, come together to feed on his re
mains ; among others, the wild bosir. A
i gentleman w as one day looking sit the car
case of sin elephant which had been shot
some days previous, when he observed si
movement in the body as if it had been
again imbued with life. For a moment he
! knew not what to make of this resuscita
' tion, but the mystery was soon explained
I by a wild pig emerging from within the
b'hy of the elephant, where he had been
| taking bis breakfast, and scuttling off' as
; hard sis be could run.
Some jugglers paid us si visit (in Ceylon)
recently. Their s!ight-of-h:tnd tricks were
exceedingly clever, when it is born in mind
i that their strms sind shoulders are entirely
uncovered, sstid afford no such places for
conceulmejit as the sleeves of a European
conjuror. From the means and applisinces
which the party brought with them, I saw
they were going to perform the trick of
j which so lunch lisis been said and written,
i of putting - si woman into a basket, killing
her with si sword while within, and then
bringing b<-r Li life again. I have now twice I
seen this t'essf ]. rformed, and confess it has j
"ii neither occasion struck me as hciugapc-j
eulisiiTy good one: very possibly] may have!
seen it performed by sin inferior set of at - -1
tists The mode of operating is doubtless j
the .same with sill jugglers. A man orders !
a woman to make a salaam tosi lady or gen- j
tlernan looking - on, or to do something - or I
, other, and she refuses ; then an altercation i
j begins, and at last he seizes her, and ties j
her up in a net ; lie then gives her another |
chance of obeying his behest, and, on her j
I refusal, he pretends to be very angry, and
' sticks her into a wicker basket, and ties
down the lid ; lie then calls to her, and she
! replies from within ; he asks her if she will
: do what she is told to do : she still refuses;
! thereupon lie seizes a sword and sticks it in
every direction into the basket ; he then
! calls again, but there issues no answer ; lie
kicks the basket, and it rolls along as it
! empty. He affects surprise, opens the lid,
and draws out the net in which the woman
had lain : all the knots are unfastened.—
i Then, after a while, the spectators hear a
j voice behind them, and, on looking round,
i there stands the woman smiling, and she
I makes her salaam voluntarily, or else she
! conies running from a distance. Now for
the solution. The bodies of all Asiatics are
pliable to a degree we cannot conceive
! without having seen it. Oil this very oeca
! sion these jugglers took a small child oft
! about throe years old, and laid it across a j
sort of couch, on it* hrifl-. and such was the j
| pliability of its spine that it hung with its j
| head and feet dangling on each side, as it
j would have done ha 1 it been lain across the '
j crutch-mi its stomach. This being the case,
! it would not be at all difficult for a woman,
; accustomed to the trick from her youth, to
1 coil herself up in a corner of the basket in
i such away that the sword, when thrust in, :
would not touch her, and. by preconcerted
\ arrangement, she would quickly move a
i bout, so that she was always at the oppo
; site side of the place where the thrust was
next made. Meanwhile, she would untie the
' net. When the lid was opened she would
I lie in a corner, and by practice would man
age so, iliat wlifit tlii' basket was kicked
she would assist in rolling it along as if
! empty.
But now comes tin' difficult part. llow
1 docs she get out and Come behind the spec
tators? It is on this that narrators have
j laid so much stress. They have said that
' such have been the attendant circumstan
ces, that she could not have left the basket
without their seeing her, or passing through
a crowd of eager watchers. This is very
likely, and possibly she does not leave the
basket tit the time. Perhaps the following
may be the solution: It is not so easy to
distinguish the features of Asiatics as of
Europeans, and the mode of partially veil
ing the face and of avrnng'ng the drapery
is such, that if two sisters bearing a strong
resemblance to each other were to dress ex
actly alike, and wear the same kind of ban
gles, ankle ornaments, hair pins, and nose
jewels, bystanders whose scrutiny had not
been particularly directed in that channel, : 1
might very readily mistake the one sister I
fbr the other,and so, while htokingfintciiscly t
at the basket, the sister wlio had not gone 1
into it might slip up from some place a •'
short way off', and lead spectators, to believe '
she was the one who had been apparently j '
killed in the basket. The jugglers to whom I 1
I now especially allude adopted a very i 1
clumsy contrivance. After the woman was ; j
"kilt and inurlhered entirely,'' they surroun
ded the basket with some canvass sis aj •
screen. I observed that one man was j i
watching my eye very keenly ; bis part : 1
evidently was to give a signal when my ut- j i
teiition was diverted. Another man tin ni '
asked us to see what he was going to do. ! ;
lb- went behind ns on the verandah where
we were setting, and placed a large ring of
metal on the ground. All of us natuially
turned round to see what lie was at, but as
1 bad smelt a rat, 1 at once turned round
towards the basket, and was just: in time to
cateli my lady bolting out from behind the
screen and running off. Had I not seen
this, she would have gone round the out
houses, and while we were looking at the
jugglers, would have came behind ns and
stood by the magic ring.
NO PEACE FOR THE WICKF.L).
PEACE with Tlie serpent's no.t ?
Peace with the traitor race,
Who have stabbed their mother's breast,
And brought our laud disgrace ?
Whose feet were on our necks,
Whose bravos swarin our decks.
Who have drenched with blood our sod ?
There is no peace ! saith our God.
Come on ! ye sunburnt ineu,
I-'rom hay field and from plow!
Spring up fiom desk and pen!
Forward ! if ever, now
Come faces dusk and pale !
Shall whips or thews prevail?
Come, storm across the land,
And win peace, hand to hand !
Remember all our dead ;
Have they, then, died in vain ?
The blood that they have shed
Calls irom thegroand again!
Clasp ! noble hands and true !
Those hearts t lint hied for you
ls lliis the peace they sought ?
The liberty they bought ?
No peace while breathes a slave!
No pgace while lurks a stain !
No peace with brute or knave!
No peace with love <.f gain !
O patient land.endure!
When chastened, strong, and pure,
Like dew upon thy sod.
Shall fail the peac# of God.
AN ADVENTURE IN THE ALPS.
Professor Tyndall sends to the London
Timet> a narrative of a rather exciting ad- i
venture in the Alps. On the ffd of July ho
and two friends, with a couple of guides, i
Jenni and Waller, ascended the Piz Mou- !
teratueh. The ascent was accomplished
which was made along the Morterasclie- i
glacier :
" We at length reached the point ai which !
it was necessary to quit our morning's track j
and immediately afterwards got upon seine
steep rocks, which were rendered slippery
hore and there by the water which trick!' d
over them. To our right was a broad cou
loir, which was once tilled with snow, I tut
this had been melted and re-frozen, so as tu
expose it sloping wall of ice. We were all
tied together at this time in the following
order: Jenni led, I came next, then my
friend If, an entrepiil mountaineer, then his
friend L, and, last of all, the guide Walter.
After descending - the rocks for a iime, Jen
ni turned and asked me whether I thought
it hotter to adhere to them or t-> try the ice '
slope to our right. 1 pronounced in favor j
ot the rocks, but lie seemed to misnnder- j
stand me, and turned towards the couloir.
He cut steps, reached the snow, and de
scended carefully along it, all following
liiin, apparently in good order.
" After a little time he stopped, turned,
anc looked upwards at the last three men.
lie said something about keeping carefully
in the tracks, adding that a false step might
detach an avalanche. The word was scarce
ly uttered when 1 hoard the sound of a fall
behind me, then a rush, and in the twink
ling ol an eye my two friends and their
guide, all apparently entangled together,
whirred past me. 1 suddenly planted my- ,
soli to resist their shock ; but in an instant 1
I was in their wake, for their impetus was
irrisestable. A moment afterwards, Jiiiini
was whirled away, and thus all five of ns j
found ourselves riding downwards with un- I
controlable speed on the back of an ava- j
lauche, which a single slip had originated.
When thrown down by the jerk of the rope
I turned promptly on my face and drove my
batou through the moving - snow, seeking to |
anchor it in the ice underneath. I had held j
it firmly thus lor a low .seconds, when 1 !
came into collision with some obstacle, and
was rudely tossed through the air, Jenni at'
the same time being shot down upon me. '
Both of tis hero lost our batons. \\"e had, i
in fact, been carried over a crevosse, had j
hit its lower edge, our great velocity cans-!
ing us to lie pitched beyond it.
" 1 was quite bewildered for a moment,
but immediately righted myself, and could j
see those in front of me lutlf buried in the I
snow, and jolted from side to side by the
ruts among which they were passing. Sud
denly 1 saw them tumbled over by a lurch
of the avalanche, and immediately after
wards found myself imitating tlicil - motion.
This was caused by a second crevasse. Jen
ni knew of its existence, and plunged right i
into it—a brave and manful act, but for the j
time unavailing. He is over thirteen stone !
in weight, and lie thought, that by jumping j
into the chasm a strain might be put upon ;
the rope sufficient to check the motion. He
was, however, violently jerked out of the '
fissure, and almost squeezed to death by '
the pressure of the rope. A long slope was |
below us, which led directly downwards to !
a brow where the glacier suddenly fell in a !
declivity of ice. At the base of this de
clivity the glacier was rut by a series of
profound chasms, and towards these we
were now rapidly borne. The three fore
most men rode upon the forehead of the
avalanche, and were, at times, almost whol
ly immersed in the snow ; but the moving
lava was thinner belting, and Jenni rose
incessantly and, with a desperate cnergv,
drove his feet into the firmer substance un
derneath. His voice shouting, "Halt ! Her
Jesus, halt!" was the only one heard dur
ing the descent.
" A kind of condensed memory, such as
pet* Annuin, in Vd\ tuiee.
that described "bV people who have narrow
ly escaped drowliin'g, took possessiofi'of
me ; and I thought amj reasoned with pre
ternatural clearness as I rushed along. Our'
start, moreover, was tort sudden,and the ex
citement too great to permit of the develop
ment of terror. The slope at one place be
came less steep, the speed visibly slack
ened, and we Thought we were coming to
rest ; the avalanche, however, cro-sed the
brow which terminated this gentler slope
and regained its motion Here H. threw
his arms around his friend, all hope- for the
time being - extinguished, while 1 grasped !
my belt and struggled for an instant to do- >
tach myself. Finding this difficult, I re
sumed mv pull upon the rope. My shore
in the work was, i far, infinitessinial, but
•Iciuifu powerful stra in made itself felt at
last. Aided probably by a slight, change
of inclination, be brought the whole to l est
within a short distance of the chasms over
which, had wo persevered our speed, a few
seconds would have carried us. if. emerged
iroiii tiie snow with his forehead bleeding - ,
lrit the wound was superficial. Jennihad
a bit of flesh removed from his nana by col
lision against a stone ; the pressure of the
rope had left black welts on my arms, and
we all experienced a tingling sensation i
over the hands, like that produced by incip
ient frost-bite, which continued fop several
days. I found a portion of my watch chain
hanging roqnd my tieclg and another por
tion in my pocket—the watch itself was
gone.
On the ltith of August Professor Tyn-'
dull made an expedition in search of his'
watch, which was found after a rather per
ilous search. "It had remained eighteen
days in the avalanche, but the application
of its key at once restored it to life, and it
lias gone with unvarying regularity ever
since."
HOW TO GET SID OF A ROCK.
I'rialiAbell was a Connecticut farmer, '
and in his time a pretty good one. His
farm, iiko a great many other Connecticut
farms, was full of stones, and he delighted
to char thetu off out of the Way of the plow.
He built a great many rods of substantial
stone wall, but lie could not use up all the
stone. He had cleared one field of all but
one great boulder, about the size of a large
haycock. Etc wanted to get rid of that.
He would have " bl >wn it to ffindcrs," us ha j
11ad a good many others, but it was within ,
two rods of "the host room" wind.".vs.
which might go "to Hinders" at the same
time. .So fie; attempted to haul it out of its
bed one day. After trying bis own and his
neighbor's oxen, and breaking several
chains, Uriah grew wrathy. and declared
that " he would give so to unv one that
would p it tin pesky l >ok out of his siglil."
\\ aa! licow. J don't lu.nd taking the
job if you'll find a spade and throw iu.-.-m •
dinner, and a mug of cider aloftg fri the af
ternoon.''
1 his pr position was made by a strut.g r
who had just then come up. lie was af;.'r
specimen of a working- Yankee, and I riah
dropped the broken chain and turned r uind
to look Mm full in the face.
" Yes, I'll give it, and the dinner at < i
der too, but 1 won't poll my oxen again at
that stone, ny iiuv."
•' Duii't wan't you shoul 1. I'm to put tin
stone out of sight, make all smooth about 1
here, so you can pi >w right along-. That's 1
what I'm to do, ain't it
" Yes. tlial is all I want. J don't carp !
how you do ii. but it' y at fail I don't pay
anything, do you understand ? Very w- ii, j
then come in to dinner."
That done, and a large end of tobacco
adjusted, the Yankee threw o<V his coat and
took up the spade. He gave a look at the
stone to see which way it would tip easiest,
and then commono 1 digging- a bole nu the ;
lower side, large and deep < sough to 1 mv
the boulder quite out of sight. In tlree
hours lie got out and took a careful meas
urement, and. then dug" a lillle jnol'e upell
one side. Then he went to the we d pile
and got a stout stick of wood, which he j
planted firmly with oue end in the bottom
of ins hole and the other bracing against j
the rock. Then he began undermining, and
worked till he saw the dirt begin to give,
and Jound that the rock was resting upon
his brace.
'• Now," says lie, " 1 think that 1 will take
that, mug of eider."
I riali, who had been watching liini, or
dered out the eider with a right good will,
lie even offered to add "some doughnuts
and cheese."
While the Yankee was wiping away the
perspiration and drinking his eider. Fri ah
brought his oxen around and hitched a chain
to the wooden prop.
- 1 did say 1 wouldn't pull my oxen again •
and 1 don't mean to, cause it only needs a '
smart jerk."
Jerk it was and down went the boulder, '
with it a shovel full of dirt, and another
and a other, in quick succession, until all
was smooth and level, and long before night
the Yankee was ready to resume his jour-'
ncy.
"There," said Uriah, as be banded him
the live dollars, "there is the best spent
live dollars that I ever paid for work on my
farm. Won't you take another drink of:
eider. You are entirely welcome. I have,
learned something < f you."
l'erhaps some persons who read this may
learn something—learn how to get rid. of
some ol the boulders that encumber the
surface, and which are often blasted and
broken up and hauled away, "just to get
rid of tlieni," at a much greater expense
than it would require to bury them when
they lie, entirely out of sight.
BROTHERLY LOVE. —Were all Christians to
dwell on the virtues of their fellows—were
they to talk of each other's excellencies
atie amiable traits, throw the vail of Chris
tian charity over each other's little faults,
how much more love there would bo among
the followers of Christ I How much more
enjoyment among- Christians I And how
much more success would attend the preach*
ing of the truth ! The example of ("nrist
tians would then convince the world of
the reality of religion, and the unanimous
exclamation of the world would be "See
bow those Christians love." Christians
then would be one. and the world would ,
know bow to be followers of Christ. Then
let us love one another, and be more anx
ious to see is each other something-of the
likeness of Christ, than to notice and talk
of each others faults,
LOVE OF THE SEA. —Love the sea ? I dote
upon it—from the beach.
It is very easy to think that we love
Chrisf,' and to lo'vo Christ when it is not
Christ the Savior, the Cod-man, Christ the
holv oue ; but when it in merely Christ the
lovely one whom wo love—love poetically.
Kviy nature of necessity
must lie attracted toward the picture oi
such a life of gentleness and purity and
benevolence ; every philosophic nature
must be attracted toward the utterances of
sneb ci teacher as lie was ; every pathetic
I nature must be attracted toward the story
1 of sue!) sufferings us bis : every child-na
l tine must be fascinated by the deseription
of such a heroic life as be lived ; and yet
this poetic, philosophic* instinctive admira
tion and love, which may shed a mellow
and attractive glow over the whole soul and
life, may so miss of what is evangelical
and essential to salvation in Christ us to
1 exist without one trace of sa\ ing effect
upon the sdiil—one symptom of real piety.
The last infidel who has written a book I
refer to that singular and fascinating Life
of Jesus which has just been issued by M.
Kenan. of the French Institute) has placed
OB it S htst page one of the most elo
quent and loving tributes that was ever
written by human pen to the character of
Jesus ; and again and again, in the book
you feel that .the man loves Jesus —loves
the Jesus of his conception with a real love
' —and yet the whole object and result of
the volume is to degrade our Lord ; to take
the crown of divinity off his head, and the
seamless robe of mortal pe: feet ion oil his
back, and give Mm to us, a great and no
ble, but yet art erring, deceived and short
sighted mail! So thai a man may really
t love Christ with a kind of love—as one
loves the character of John Howard or
Florence Nightingale and still be an infi
del—not even ahno*t Christian.— 7?ce. 11. M.
f)i':rh y
M MBE II 27.
EXPERIENCE, A NECESSITY. .
Nearly all tin; accompli.shmeiitsof iTir 0 n
years of life Ist ween twenty and thirty,
may he summed up in one wold, o.\; erience.
At tli commencement of that period r we are
in the condition of a young sailor jus. ship
ped for his first voyage* Life expands be
■ fore us ; it seems limitless as we i. ave Uie
shore; odorous breezes fill our white sails,
and We hear away for tropic isles or palms
and spices. On ur charts there are 110 in
dications of hidden rucks j there arc no
hurricane regions : we gee no magazines of ,
wind and lightning and thunder, ready to
' overwhelm us m tferriblO explosion. We
1 play with the wares, we laugh in the sun
light, and think not of waiting dangers
■ aboot our pathway. Hut the clouds hide
• the sun: they roll fearfully np from In .i/.un,
and canopy the dark waters. We i< rgeh
onr pleasures in the terror of the present.
As we enter upon the twenties, we have
hosts of friends who would spare, noeff 1;
to benefit us. So ;i jxi us are thev, that we
have only to indie ile ilto direction in win h
they may be of use. and they will straight
way rest not until our desire is accomplish
ed. All this exists in our imaginations.—
And when we are undeceived—and it takes
several years to effect this- we find that
we mu-t first give evidence of < ur own ca
pacity before barred doors are ilune - open
ibr us a"nd we are besought to enter uj ■ n
' our inheritance < f labor. Yes, even t!
privilege of labor is denied us, until we
i have demonstrated that the world m . is
just the work that we, bolter than any one ,
else, call aecompiish.
We earn money. For what de we spend
it t For experience. Wc will have cxper
i' nee of our own, modified by our
own nature, in spite of the euireatios
l of our elders that ?w will pr fit by
thi T experience. No, no, grandmother,
grandfather, we can no more take the r< suit
of ymr experience than the young - 5i.... t
y .11 hav. to-day planted can appropriate
the hi > om and fruit which belong- to Fiie
, older tu We will ucc< pi gratefully, and
Is dylair aduion :nc.s ;we will ei. . ; v-;
to be what '.<oi intended, noble men, noble
i women : bet we snaii act .oolishiy, ignor
i antly. simply because we ave foolish and
ignorant, and in this way we shall become
! wiser. We expect to pay our own 1 ills
lbr. Hogging. We saw lately a copy of a
copy of a curious I ill against one of the
slave states for whipping ncgr-.es. Our
state is not so kind to us. We pay for own
puuishtm at, and tin a learn little enough.—
11n,,, ' Miji'ttllly.
CONSTANT E.MI'I.OYMKXT. Tile DUUt who is
; obligi d to be constantly employed )•> earn
necessaries of life and support his family
knows not the unhappiness he pray- for
when lie desires wealth and idleness. To
be Constantly busy is to be always happy,
l'ersous wliohave suddenly acquired w< tilth,
broken up their active pursuits, and began
to live at their ease, waste away and .lie
in a very shert time. Thousands would
have been blessings to the world, and ad
l del to tiie common .stock ol happiness, if
they had been content to remain in a hum
ble sphere, and earned every mouthful <T
fo.- l that nourished thou - bodies. Hut no :
I fashions and wealth took posse.--ion of
them, and they were completely ruined.—
They ran away l'ruui peace and pleasure,
, and embraced a iingci'iug d( ath. V. who
I arc sighing for the poin]> and splendor of
j life, beware ! Ye know not what ye wish.
Persons who are always busy,and'go ehcor
' fully to their dady tasks, are the least dis
' turbed by fluctuations of business, and at
! night sleep with perfect cornposttre. The
, idle and rich are seldom ever contented.—
fhoy are petulant, fearful, irrnscible. Hid
them good morning - and they will scowl.—
, Nature and art appear to have a few at
tractions for them. They are entirely out
of their views. While in this state the
springs of lif. are rusting out, and the de
cay of death has commenced undermining
their, constitutions.— Anon.
,
Marriace in Laplaxd. —lt is death in Lap
land to marry -- a maid without the consent
of her parents or friends. When a young
man lias formed an
the f-tshi..!! *s t-> app-.int their ' Wends 1..
behold the two voting parties run ;t raee to
gether. The maid is allowed in starting
the advantage of one-third part of the race, t
'• so that it is impossible, except willing- of
! herself, that she should be overtaken. If
the maid outruns her suit. r. the matter is
ended ; he must never have her. it being
penalty for the man to renew the motion of
marriage. But if the virgin has an aff. e- f
tion for him, though at first she runs l';st
to try the truth of his love, she will with
out Atlanta's golden balls to retard la r
s|H-ed) pretend some casualty, and make a
voluntary halt before she comes to the mark
or end of the race. Thus none are com
pelled. to marry against their own wills ; '
and this is the cause thai in this poor conn- ,
try the married people are richer in their
own eontentna nt than in other lands,where e
so many forced matches make feigned love,
| and cause real unhappiness. j
A disconsolate young lady was i.2
heard to remark the other day, that if a 'u
"cart wheel had nine follies, she didn't see
j why she couldn't have one.
1
A Maiden's Voice. —ller voice—'twould
coax a nail out of a heart ol oak,
. j
1