C.
C. i;'.READIS: IL H.. FRAZIV.M, EDITORS.
i'oefs
E!EI
THE LETTERS.
Ell l , rgNlita 0
on the tower stood the vane,
: A black yew glootted the stagnant air,
-I,peer'd athwart, the chancel pane,
' Aad saw the altar cold and bare.
A clog of lead was round my feet,
A band , of pain across my brow ;
o cold altar, Heaven and earth AO sheet
Before you hear my'marriage . •
.
turn'd and hunarred a bitter song • -
That inock'd the Wholesome human heart,
And then we met in wrath and wrong—
We met, but only meant to part.' '
Full cold my greeting was, mad dry;
She faintly smiled, she hardly moved;
aaw, With a half-unconscious eye, •
She wore the colors I approved. -
She took the little 'very chest, " -.,. ....
With half a sigh she turn'd the key,,
,
Then raised her head with lips compritst,
..Ind gave my letters back to tne; • •
And gave The trinkets and the. rings,.
..
iMy gifts, when gifts of mine could please.; .
As looks a father on the things • . •
Of his dead sou, I look'd on these. ' . •
She told'me all her friends had said ;
I raged.against the public liar;
She talk'd as if her love were dead,
But in my words were seeds of'fire.
"No more of lave; your sex is known ;
I never will be'twiee deceived,
Henceforth I trust the man alone—
The woman cannot be believed.
"Throngh slander, meanest spawn of Hell,
1 , (And woman's slander is the worst,)
1 , And yon; whom once I loved so well—
Through you, my life will be accurst,"
I spoke with heart, and heat, and force,
- s I shook her breast with vague alarms
- Like torrents fiom a mountain source •
We rush'd into each other's arms.
We parted: sweetly gleanal the stars,
And sweet the vapor-braided blue,
Low breezes fann'd the belfry bars,
As homeward by the church I drew.
The very graves appear'd to smile,
So fresh they rose in shallow'd swells ;
" Dark porch," I said , " and silent aisle, '
There comes a sound of marriage bell a." •
iljitsedigoop.
A NIGHT OF YEARS.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
MY READER: I ' have sat some minutes
with my' pen suspended in the air above my
paper. I. have been debatinga delicate point :
+I am in a position. You will perhaps rec.
• (likct that one of Fanny Forester's exquisite
ketches was entitled "!Lucy Dutton," .
- INow it happens that the real name-of the.
eroine of tire," otter true tale" • which I am
bout to do myself the, honor of relating to
: i r u . , b w h a e s on r
of tt e t e r r i b
i t r ha ih a tt L
l lcy Dutton.
I t_eiimp .hall
ci.
her to'
e P i t , hc eac r ores a y n s:g t : h a l v a iine e es tir d t e h ell e t u rt l e t t r i b e r . e s r t ia i b o n ee f l e . t 4 o , s ‘ e o N i n r o e '3 of i l s h . t o c er u r .
i eat cre atio ns ? Shall I sacrifice 't ruth to
id tal l ,did, you not ? Theri Lticyi Lucy
,
utton let rthe. ; • ---'
iSinne frirtyi years since, .in. the interior of
y beautiful native State, New Yark, lived
the father - of Our heroine, an honest - and re
sPeetable fernier. ' Ire, had butl,wo children
,Lney, a noble girl of nineteen; and EHen a
• ear or terc4otieger. The first named was
inningly, rather thin strikingly beautiful.—
i.
. ieler a manner observable for its. serious.
iss,and nnn-dikerrerenity,•were concealed an
iinpassioned tliture, and a heart of the deep
capacity for loiing. She-was remarkable
't im bee childhood fora voice t,..f
'iilinganeda-riieslisunt ting ne
lien Dutton was the brilliant antipode of
sister ; a "born beaoty" whose perga
r,
t Se of prettiness was to ,have her irresponsi
own way, In all-things and at all times.—
' indulgent father, a weak mother, and an
i Olizingsitner, who had' unconsciously con
. t 'buted to the rule of her nature not at first
arkable for strength orgenerosity.
Where, in all God's creatures, is heartless.
so:seeming y unnatural—is selfishness so
iiiid table , as in a beautiful woman ? ,
ucy possessed $ fine intellect, and as -her
rents,were Well read New Englanders, she
a her sister 'were far better educated than
e 'er girls cf her station in that - "then half
titled -portion
- of the country. 'ln those
d ys many engaged in school-teaching from
honor and pleasure which it afforded,
tiler than Irian necessity. Thus, a few
Onth previouS to the commencement of our
' I etch, Luch Dutton left for the. first Lime her
i t
fi e.side circle, to take charge of a school
some twenty Miles frotn her native town.
'or some While her letters home were ex
piasHve only. Of the happy contentment which .I
sprang from the consciousness of active use
• feleess„of-reeeiving while imparting good.--
iluViiirr i there came a - change :'• then were
thriff%iest* for home chaiacterized by fitful
.. .
~#lolllvesiy- sadness; indefinable hopes
rota' seenied striving for supremacy in'
the Writes- 1 s troubled little heart.. Lucy lovedi
but seirreely,a4kuowledged it to berself,while
she ktiewnot -that- shewas loved '
• so for a
nme, that beau tiful, beau tiful,second-birth - of woman's
ature was like. a warm Sunrise struggling
Ith the cold Mists of the morning. • I
But one day -brought a letter which could
:
'• of tarn be forgotten in the house of the ab
' iient, and aletter.traced by a hand that trem
fbled fp aympathe with a heart tumultuous
`faith happinestr.- - - Lucy had-been wooed and
4rotioind she but waited fiir her ivarents' ap-•
• Prowl of her choice, to beceme.the betrothed
-
of young .--!
Edwin W. a Man of expellent
!amity and. standing in the town vrhere she,
had , been teaching., The father and mother
accorded their!saactiou with many blessings,.
• rirnd Lucy.'s. next letter promised -a
* speedy
vont from the 'lovers.
• '
I To, such nitro es as Lucy's, what an absorb.
ing and yet what a Irevealieg of self -is a first
Parsion--Wier(a prodigality of giving, what
an incalculable wealth of receiving— what a
?ltflraking - up, is there of the - deep waters of
thasoul. and how heaven -descends in a awl
ded star -shower of life. If -there is a season
!when an angel may look . with intense and
fearful interest :Minn her mortal sister, 'tis
- When, she behcilds her hea'rt pass scorn its bud
. , like itureeence,and freshness of girlhoodand
!altini to its .very core t b7e fervid light of
sove . , - ,grow and - Crimson into perfect WOMA . n'
, good.!
• At'last thepighted lovers cam e , an d % i t .t:
Comes and fottivities awaited thera.o Mr. W.
-- gav*Atutlre-saiisfaction _to the lather;rnOther,
Andeyea tct-lhe exactio "b_eaut
g y." Be was a
handsome anin, with - some vretensious. to I
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JashiOn; . .but in manner,, and apparently in
character,i the 'opposite Of his betrothed.
It was decided . that. Lucy should not again
. leitvelothe until after her marriage, which
'at the request of the ardent lover, was to be
celebrated -within two months, and on the
coining birthday of the bride. It was there
fore arranged that Ellen should return with
Mr. W. - to M--, to take charge ocher sis
ter's schoid for the remainder'of the term.
. The bridal birth-day had come. It had
been ushered in by a May morning of sur
passing loveliness—the busy hours had worn
away and now it was nigh sunset; and neither
the bridegroom, nor Ellen, the first brides.
maid, had appeared. Yet in her neat little
chamber sat Lucy, nothing doubting, nothing
fearing. She was already in simple white
muslin,and her - few bridal adornments lay on
the table by her side. Maria Allen, her sec
ond
.bridesinnidot bright-eyed, affectionate
hearted girl,her Chosen friend from childhood
*as arranging to a more graceful fall ; the
wealth of light, ringlets, which swept her
snowy ilea, To the anxious inquiries- of
her.
,companion respecting the absent ones,
Lucy Smiled quietly and replied,
'Oh, something
. has happened to detain
them a while; we.heard from them the other
day, and all vas . The,ywill be here by
and by; never fear,'
„Evening emote, the guests were all assem
bled antLyet the bridegrootarried.. -There
were whisperings._ surmises and wonderingi
and a shadoW of anxiety passed over the
thee of the. ,bride elect. At last a carriage
drove rather slowly to the dobr.
'They 'mei comer cried many veices,and
Ellen entered. i i, In reply 'to the hurried and
confused inquiries of all around him, Mr. W.
muttered somethingabout unavoidable de
lay,' and stepping to . the side.blard, tossed
ott It:grass of Wine,: another, and another.—
The company stood silent, with amazement.
Finally a rotigti)old &rater exelaiinea,—
'BAtter late.'; than never, young mari—so
lead out the bride.' .
.
W— strode hastily across the morn,
Placed himself by Ellen and took her hand in
his ! Then, without daring bi meet the'eye
of any one - nboUt he said -
-' I wish to make an explatatiOn-1 am un
der the painful necessity—that is, 4 have the
pleasure to announce that dam already mar
ried: The lady whom. I hold by the hand is
my wife!' • 1
- .
turning in an apologcitical manner to
Mr. and Mrs. Dutton, he added i
I found. that had never. loved until I
knew your • second daughter !'
And Lucy ? heard all with a strange
caltnness i then walking steadily forward, con
fronted her betrayers. Terrible as pale Ne
mesis. herself, she stood before them, and
her looks pierced;like a keen, cold blade.into
their false hearts.i .As though to assure her'
self of the dread 'reality the vision, ..she
laid her'hand on :.Ellen s.shoUlder, and let it
glide down her it'rti - i--Lbut she ,touched not
Edwin. As those cold fingers met hers, the,
unhappy wife- first gazed full into tier sister's
face; and as she marked the ghastly pallor of
her cheek—the dilated nostril;—the quivering ,
lip and intensely Mournful eyes, she cover
ed her own face with her • bands and burst
into -tears, while the young hUshand, awed by
the terrible silence• of. her I.e, had , wronged,
azsped fur .breath atid,staggered back against
the wall. Then Luey-clasped her hands on her
forehead and first gave voicv'.. to her anguish
and despair in one fearful cry which could
ring forever through the soul: of that guilty
pair, and fell in a 'death -like swoon at- their
feet. •
After, the insensible girl had 'been removed
to her chamber, a i:tbrzny serge ensued in the
room beneath:- The parents and guests were
alike enraged hzainst but the tears
and prayers of his 1 young ,wife, the petted
beauty mai spoiled child, tit last softened
somewhat the anger of the, parents, and an
opportunity for attlexplanation was accorded
to' the offenders.
A sorry explanation it proved. The gen
tleman affirmed ti aft the first sight of Ellen's
lovely Elea had weakened the empire for her
plainer sister over his affectiOns. _ Frequent
interviews had completed the conquest of his
loyalty ; but be bad been held in check by
honor, and never told his love,.until, wheu on
his way to espouse another, in an, unguarded
moment, he revealed it, and the avowal, had
forth an answering acknowledgment
from Ellen. • . .
They had thought it best, ►n order to save
pain to Lucy,' and' prevent opposition from
her, and to secure their own happine,s, to be
marriea before their arrival at C—.
- Lucy remained insensible for some hours.
When she had revived and apparently regain
ed her consciousness, she still maintained her
strange silence. This continued for many
weeks, when it partially , passed away, her
friends saw with inexpressible grief, that her
reason had fled--thaf site was helplessly in
suite I But her Madness was .of a mild and
liarmless nature. She was gentle and peace.
able as ever, but frequently sighed and seem
ed burdened With some great sorrow which
she could tiot herself comprehend. She had
one peculiarity, Which all whb knew her -in
after years muss recollect; this was a wild
fear and carefUl avoidance of 'AWL She also
seemed possessed -of the spirit of unrest. She
could not, she would not, - be confined, but
was constantly escaping from:ll'er friends, and
going. they knew :nOt whither.'
While her parents lived, they, by their
watchtul - .-eare and unweary effOrts, in some
measure Controlled this sad_Propeasity ; but
when they died, their stricken child .became a
wanderer, horneleo. friendless and forlorn. -
Through laughing -springs, and rosy• sum'.
mars, golden autuiflos and tempestuous win.:
tors, it was tramp, i tramp, tramp—no rest for'
her of the crushed heart and 'crazed brain. ,
I remember her; as she was in > mfearly
childhood, toward , the last of, her weary pil
grimage. As ray ;Gutter and 'elder brothers
were frequeetly
_absent, and ; as my mother
never closect'her lie.art or door, on the anfiir
tunate, '4;:a•azy LuCy" bftenapent an hour or
two by our-.fire-side. Her appearance was
very singular. ,Her gown was otwayspatsbed
with many Celors,Ond her shawl or mantle-
worn and torn, until it was all open-work end
fringe. The rernainder of :her miserable
waidrobe she"carried in a Vutidle On her arm,
and sometimes she had a number - of parcels
of old rags, dried herbsoke• . ;
In the se.aiOn -of flowers, her tattered bon
.
net was - profusely decorated With those which
*she gathered in the woods or by the wayside.
Her'fote fur these and her sweet voice were
all that . were her 'of the #tlQoiat and music
ofaxiStenee. Yet r no; her lieek and child]
like piety 'still lingered. Her Owl had riot
mi..ipmg.F[Doo. n 4 .6. 'Egamt:aHtaa:.,.Olr
MONTROSE, : T:,FIURSDAYFYJERUARY. 12, ':1857
fOrsa;ken her ; dawn in . the .dim.chaos of her
spirit, the Smile of His love still gleamed
faintly—in the waste garden.of her heart she
still heard Ills voice at eventide, and she was
nor, afraid. Her Bible went with her every
wheriL-a torn and soiled.volume, but as holy
still ; and . may he i as dearly cherished, my
reader, as the gorgeous copy .now. lying on
your table, lx)und7nt purple. and s gold,' and
with the gilding untaraishea on its delicate
leaves.
1 remember-to have heard my mother re
late' a touching little incidkt connected with
one of Lucy's brief visits to us.,
The poor creature once laid her hand On ,
the curly head Of one of 'my brothers, and'
asked him his name.
be replied, with. a timid
upward glance. She caught away her hand,
and Sighing heavily, said
. -
I, knew an Edwin onee, and be made me
broken•hearted
This was the only instance in which she
was ever-known to revert to the s:id 'event
which had.desolated her life. • ,
Thirty years front the time of the com
meneement of this mournful history, on a
bleak autumnal evening., a rough, country
wagon drove into the village of It
stopped at the al rus-house,an attenuated form
was lifted out and carried in, mid. the-wagon
rumbled away. Thus was Lucy. Dutton
-brought to her native town, to die.
• She had been ina decline for some mouths,
and the miraculous -strength which hattsti
long sustained her in her weary wanderings,
litst forsook her utterly. lier sister hid .
died some time before, and the widowed hus
band-had soon atter removed with his
. 140)4
to the far West ; so Lucy had no friends, no
home, but the alms-house. '
Ore day about a week from the time of
her arrival., - Lucv. appeared to suffer greatly,
and those about her looked for her - release
almost impatiently; but at night she w as ev
idently better, and for the first time she slept
tranquilly-until morning. The matron ,who
was by her bed-side. when she awoke was
startled by the cle.,at-,- ; -earnest gaze which 'met
her own, bat she :6'410 tend bid the invalid
Good Morning.' _ Lucy looked bewildered,
but the voice seetreno re-assure her, and
•
she exclaimed :
Where am I?—atia'who arc yoli?-1- i do
not know.you' ,
A wild surmise flashed across the mind of
the matronl the long-list reason of the wan
derer had .returned ! But the good woman
replied .calmly and soothingly,--
Why, you are among -your friends and
you will know me presently.'
Then may be you know Edwin and Ellen,'
rejoined the invalid ' have they come ? Oh;
I had such-a terrible dream ! ?dreamed that
thew were Married ! Only think, Ellen mar
riea,to Edwin? .Strange, 'tis that, I should
dream that:
My poor Lucy,' -said the matron with a
gush of tears, . 4 That was - nut a dream ;'t was
all true.'
All true !' •eried the invalid ; then Ed
win must . be untrue, and that cannot be, fur
he loves . me ; we loved eaeh_other well; and
Ellen is my sister. Let me see them: I will
go to them.'
She endeavored to ?raise herself, but fell
back fainting on! the. pillow. •
Why, what dues this meanr said she.—
' What makes. me so weak !'
Just then hee eye fell on her own bend—
that old and withered hand'! She gazed on
it in. blank astonishment. • • .
'Something is the matter of my sight,'
she said smiling fiantly, for my hand looks
like an old woman's.'
And so it is,' said the matron gently, 'and
so is mine ; yet we had air, plump bands
wen we were young. Dear Lucy, do you
-know me .lam . Maria Allen-A was to
have been your -bridesmaid P•
I cannot say more—l will not . , make the
vain attempt to give in detail all that mourn
ful revealing-to reduce to inexpressive words
the dread sublimity of that hopeless sorrow.
To the wretched Lucy,the his thirti - years
were as•though they had - neverlieeri. - Of. not
a acetic, not au incident, bad she the slightest
remembrance, since . the recreant lover and
traitorous sister stood before tier, and made
their terrible announcement. •
The kind matron' pauses' fiquently in the
sad narrative of her poor frirald s madness and
wanderings; but . the invalid would sal, with
fearful calmnesli, 'Go on, go on,' though the
drops of agony stood' thick upon her fore
head.
When she asked forter sister, the matron
replied :
'She has gone before you, and your father
And my mother said Lucy, her face lit
up with a sickly ray of hope.
Your mother has been dead fur twenty
years '?'
'Dead I All zone! Alone, old, 'dying !
Oh God, my cup of bitterness is full ! and
she wept aloud.. ' -
Her friend bending over her, and mingling
tears with her, said affectionately:
But you know who drank' ,that cup before
you?
Luey , looked up with a bewildered expres
sion, and the matron added
'The Lord Jesus you reineinher him.'
.A look like On-light breaking through a,
cloud, a look which only saints may wear, ir
radiated the tearful face of the dying woman,
as she replied i
'Oh, yes, i knew. bim and loved Him be.
fore I fell asleep.' • • •
The man of God was called. A few who
had known Lucy in her early days,atme also.
There was much reverential feeling,and some ,
weeping around hr.delith-bed. Then rose
the voice of prayer. At first her lips moved
as her weak spirit joined in that fervent up
peaL Then they grew stilt and. poor Lucy
was dead—dead in her gray-haired youth. -
But those who gazed upon her. placid (nee,
and remembered her harmleus life and patient
suffering, doubted not- that the morn of an
eternal day had broken on 'her - Nunn or
Etaiirmattro Larraas.—We hive a word
to lay about this abomination. Nitle out of
ten of our losses by mail, so far, have: been
registenad letters, and in no one instance has
one of them been traced up. lathe thing not
evident., linguae do not have to play the
grab-same. -The P. IL-General. k indly points
out 40 them 'Etter:. have money in
them; and. they. are saved all 'trouble. We
say unhesitatingly, do not register your let-,
tens.-4ades_Boak. . '
f* . .itti idle braiu is the devil's -workshop,
TiONO ON
TERESTINGIVBJEOTIL
, • ''
•
"Mother, what . 'MO i an eclipse of the
Moon?" . ".`. :-
• - "!t is caused by the - oon passing through
thd earth's shadow." J: ~---,. : : .
I
"Then it can only .fal l place When it is in
oppoSition'to . the - sun,,thtt is, when it is full
mooii." z ' • . - 4
" That is all." i . . .
" But. how is it; limit, mother, we 'don't
have an eclipse everi . ti pe the moon is full ?"
" Becanse.the . ortilt..4l the rcton - doci-toit
exactly coincide witlitheseartles-orbit; there
f•ire, the-moon ginerally passe:s: alive or be,
low the earth's shadow.!' -
" Wheti can it be Eclipsed, then mother ?"
" Only when the full ;moon happens in or
near one of the nodqs, lrhich never happen's
more than twice a'year." .. .
" What do you ttloatti.by node, mother?"
"That point whire their orbits intersect
each other.",
" What is the retison that an eclipse of the
moon lasts so long4mother?".
"Because the earth's shadow is much wid
er than the moon's diameter.. It is by know
ing the exact distance between the earth and
moon ' and the width the earth's shadow - to
that distance, that astronomers are -enabled
to tell many year before_ when un eclipse
will take place." - .
" low are the eclipses of the mat caused,
mother ?"
" By the moon passing between the earth
and sun, which depilves'us of the sun's light.
Wei of coure, eati.vnly occur at the time of
the new moon."
"But we do not have an eclipse of the sun
every new moon."
" No
_; for the sole reason that we do not
have an eclipse of die moon every 6'16 it is
full. Five is .the 'greatest number we can
have in oue year."
. " But, mother, an eclipse of the sun is only
visible at particulari places at one time ; what
is the cause of that`? "
"The moon, yoli know, is much smaller
than either the; sun Or the earth, and of course
its shadow can only cover a small poitiotii,ar
the earth, - ne.l:er nictiv than two hundred Miles
in diameter: • Thai7you see, an eclipse of the
sub cannot be visible to but few of the inhab
itants of the earth at the same time.
" And I i:uppose t inother, if thetritioc is.in
habited, when we have en eclipse of the sun,
they have an eclips4 of the earth?" .
Ves." •
4 = Is the whole of. the aun ever eclipsed
mother?"
•`" It is, sometimea, but cannot last more
than three or four Minutes."
" And is it: perfe ly dark, then Motherr
"Just u dark as midnight"
" Oh how gloom] it must appear !"
" Yes gloomy enbugh, I should. suppose,
Clara. ' it is said otiltne' that took place in
Portugal, above a hundred and fifty years
ago, that the darkness was greater; than
. that
of night; the largesstars made their appear
:nice, and the birds Were so, terrified that they
fell to the ground."
" Has there been none since that, motper?"
Yes ; -there was One in New England, on
the 16th . of June, 1806. It: was a beautiful
clear day, and tunny istars were visible;the
beasts appeared much agitated, and the chick
ens weft to roost, ai if it were night."
" Was not Columbus much benefited one
time mother, through an eclipse 'I"
" Yes ; ecliPsealis•e ever been regarded
with terror, by the ignorant and unlearned of
all ..ti; , ° es; and nutnorous ridiculous stories
have been iniented,i by superstition, to ac
count fur these wonderful phenomena. Many
of the heathens suppO,se, that in an eclipse of
the sun a great serpent. is devouring it. The
Mexicans used to fitst,limagining thatthe moon
was wounded, by the put in. a quarrel. Other
nations supposed that; the sun was angry with
them for some cause other,
and thus had
turned his face awair from them in abhor.
rence. By fasting thOy• thought to reinstate
themselves id his favor."
"Oh, mother, how ibsurd ! But how was
it with Columbus 1 It is so , long Since I read
it, that I have forgottO the particulars."
" He was at one time driven to great dis
tress in amseque6ce of the natives refusing to
supply him with proiisis, He bad- so&
eient skill in astronomy to know that there
would soon !,e an eclipse of the moon ; so the
day-before the cello* was to take place, he
assembled all their chief men together, and
told them that the G:catSpirit was displeas
ed with them for their conduct towards the
Spatiiards, was about to visit them with great
vengeance; and as a Token thereof, he would
cause the moon that
-fiery night to withdraw
its light, amPappear 4' a bloody •hue—a sure
sign of Divine wrath." • .
" Did-the3r believe hini, mother 1"
" Some did, muksoMe did not; but as soon
as the moon began to?, be darkened, all• were
alike struck with fear."
" Then I - suppose they took him Tood, did
they no; mother V'
Yes; they hasteiied to their homes, and
loading themselves with provisions, returned
instantly to the ship t , beseeching Columbus,
who was shut up in= the cabin to intercede
with the Deity for then; that hewould avert
the threatened adaniity. Columbus told
them he would do , 4?, and as soon as the
eclipse was about to pass became out and
told them, that the Great Spirit bad promised
to forgive them, and would again restore the
mooh to its usual brilditnesa."
"I suppose they had no lack of provisious
after that?"
" No; 'and from that time Columbus was
regarded with peculiai, awe and reverence, - as
our who not only knetr what was passing on
earth, but had intimate communion with the
Deity " c
"Do the eclipses take -place -at the same
time each year, moth4l t"
' " No ; every year ix different from the pre
eeding ; yet after the lapse of nineteen years,
they will occur' spire.; on the mme month
and day, and with little variation. Thus the
almanac of the protein year will be found
correct enough to use fur the year 1871."
" Mother, you sai4l it; kw days ago, that
the moon was the ttmee Of the tides, didn't
y ou = .
" Yes."
" Will you explain to me - how, mother r
"That is just what I intended doing this
morning. Although Cite tidei are occasioned
chiefly by the attraction of the tstoOti, yet
they are atrectitd by tifat of the, soti.l .
If you had not told tne, mother, 1 should
have supposes they were occasioned altowth
er by the attraction cif the sun:- But stilt I
eaanut See how the niiion eau - attract this wa
tors of the earth when It doesnot shipe oa
them."
1‘ I don't knoW exactly what you mean,
Why, mother,' yon kn9w s haNic-high .
Water ni - the middiC'Of the day Soinetiniei,
and sometimes in the Morning or afternoon,
when ti 4 moon is on the 'other • side of the
earth. How can it attract them then V'
"All bodies, Yeti know, Street each other.
NoW as ;the mootiTiises round the earth, the
waters* any, place over. Which
yield more readily. to this itifluenee than' the .
Solid park thereof; 'cOnsequently:the 'waters
will be lipped' up under the !neon as it were.
Do Ou 'Understand *thief" .' • . .
"Yes, but then I should think -high_ water
wouldonly, be 'at flight." - . .
"Stop a moment, and you will see how it
is. On the side of the earth opposite to that
which is more 'immediately_ under the influ
ence of the moon, the waters are less attract-,
ed than the solid parts'; consequently' the
earth is drawn away from them, which eaitses
high water there also. Can-you understand
now how it is?" •
"Yes, and' I suppose •es the waters are
raised under the moon and on the opposite
side of the earth also
.they must flow from
the parts between which causes low water."
‘-‘ Exactly; and thus you see the attraction
of the moon anises high water at two places,
and low water at two places on the earth at
the same time." , . •
" But, mother, you said that the tides were
likewise affected by the sun." _
Yes at the time of the new Ind full moon,
when the action of both sun - and moon are
united, and draw in the same straight line,.
the tides are the highest;, and the- nearer
these luminaries are to the equator, the more
this elevation is increased."
"At yrhat time are the tides the Low es t,
mothitr
"About the first and third quarter of the
moon, when the stin and moon net in a con.
trary.direction ; for then the sun raises the
waters at• the' place where the moon causes
them to be lowest. These are-called neap
tides."
" Where are they raised the most, Motteri
under the sun, or under the moon.?"
" Under the moon." •
" Then the• Moon tuts more power than the
sun?"
Yes,' on account of
_lts nearness .to the
earth. If it had not, we should at these times
hav,e no tides at all."
" What 1 could not the. sun raise waters as
Hell n 4 the moon ?" •
"If its power was greater, it could ; hut
on account of its great distance, it 46es not
have as much etlect on theta as to moon
has."
" It is not high water at the-same hour each
day, is it mother ?" '
•
No, it is 'fifty minutes later each I . .sty.'
4 'l suppose- you - can tell me the. reason of
this."
•" Not unless it is the same as that which
mtses the moon to rise fifty, minutes later
each - dav:l. -
• " Whnt is that?"
"Because while the earth. was making its
daily revolution on its axis the moonlwas ad
vaneing in its orbit, so that more than a com
plete revolution is tiecesmry to bring the
same patta of the earth opposite.; to the
moon."
" You are right, and I aui,glad to see you
remember so well what I have been telling
yon."
•
"But, mother, are there not some bodies
of water that have no tides?" 1 -
"Yes, in small - colleetions of water, such
as lakes for instance, there are no tide s , tie=
caUse the moon attracts' every part alike, and
thus no ptirt can he raised higher than an:
other. It. is partly' on this account, part
ly' because the inlets by which they 'commu
niCate with the ocean are so small,lthat the
Biltie and Mediterranean
,seas hive such
small eleratietis."- - •
Are the regular tides affected by
,an . jr oth
causes fowler in
r "Yes, strong wind's gently a ff ectthem.—
In !the gulf of Hamburg the ordinary tide is
kern
.six to eight, feet, yet When the wind
blpws violently from the north - west, it has
been' known to •exceed twenty feet. In the
bay of Fundy they sometimes rise as high .
as3eventy feet. Continents also stop them
in i their course, and the resistance offered
trOm the' banks of rivers frequently causes
them to rise very high and very sadden."
t , Who was the first to ascertain that - the
tides weresaused by the moon, mother'!"
Kepler, and it was afterwards redueed to
a !system
_by' Newton. As I have finished
my explanations of the tides, we I, will stop
f04.t0-day." .
WHear the story of the child which
went forth into thcmountain ravine.. While
this child wandered there ' be aloud to
break the loneliness, and heard a voice which
called to him in the same tone. IHe called
again and as he thought; the voice again mock
ed Mini Flushed
,nrith, anger; he rushed to
find the boy who insulted him, but could find
none. He then called out to hi( in anger,
and with very abusive epithets, all , of which
irew faithfully returned to Inie.,' Choking
with rage, the child ran 'to its. mother, and'
ebinplained that a boy in the woods bad alms
edi and insulted him with many vile words.
Btit the mother took her child by the band.
and said, "My eland,. these names were but
the echoes of thine own voice. Whatever
thou didat call was returned to thee (ruin the
bilside. Hadat thou called out pleasant
words, pleasant words bad returned to thee..
Let this be tby lesson through Ade. The
world will be the echo of thine own spirit.
Treat thy fellows . with unkindness, and , they
will answer with unkindness '
viith love, and
thou shalt have love. Sendforth sunshine.
from thy spirit, and ,thou shalt never have a
cloudy.day ; carry about a vindictive spirit,
and even in the flowers shall lurk curses.--.
Thou shalt receive,ever,what thou givest, and
that alone. , :
• A. CHRONIC Comon.antr.—:- Wonsan (to little
boy)--4 imoiy; are your folks.all well 't
Little Boy.—Yes, ma'am all but' Salt y Ann. "
Woman —Why - what's the retitter with
her t
Little Boy.- 24 -011 xtly
ahe had the hoopin•eonghs aniiiihe ain't
never got over' it.' Tbo .06 4; h ain't:or any .
account now, but she has the hoop deapeete.
GZOGRAVIIIOAi MISTAXI.; 4 .IIOVII Can Ito!.
land be corroetly.;.tertned i portion of the
low countriesi when every womarcin tai ter
ritory id a Dutcheile in her own riXhti
H. H. FRAZIER,
• . -7 7 - 7 7- 7 -7 7 --- ; -- . c - 7 •
(Traitslaird front tXtr . Fame, It Valciip!, by 1,1444
Se. t:Wea ,
14020* -t
1 - Milton,travelitig throngkltaly2inhiaiititit
Saw, repre s ented. at - Milan, a Coniedie itled,
`'Adam, or the' Firit Tritt - isgreisi ri *--- Writ s =
......ai nt
ten by h eeithin . Andreino; and'
. i4d . -to
Maria de Medict, 4tieen''Of France. - The
subjeot of thiS comedy iiiii,_Therallof Mai:
'The 'actors were God the Father,,,Deitili, Ati.
,gels, Adam, Eve, the Serpent. death; and f the
seven 'deadly - sins. . - This, subjcet, - 7Werthy - of
the absurd genius Whieli:fire.vailed - litilieatri
,mls at that titne,'was - . - Written, In ' a manner
Whieli . ftilly Carried out the.design. ..- ',- ,
.. The scenoOpens With a Choir of angels,and
Michael thus in the name of hia confederates;:
'"'Let the raiti-boW be the 'fiddle-stlek Of 'the
violin oldie heavens; let, the' seven stars.be
the seven notes of our music; let the - ,sea,
iotis fall,';exnetlY in unison ; let the winds -
play our organ, 'Sm. - . The whole piece '
was
after this style. - I inform only Frenchnien,
who liugh at it, that our own *theater was
hot, little better at that time; as an example
nf which the:death Of John the Baptist,- and
alimdred other 'fiieees written ; .only :that
- we,have no " Pastor Fido," Or " Aininta.". ' _
.-;-... --, Xilton, Who waspresent at this represent
ation, discovered, :through the absurdity o
the work, the sublimity hidden in thesubject.
- He found there, in some things, where to the
vulgar all appeared ridicittnus,'la film - id:Alan
of grandeur, perceptiblaonly ' tO-men of gen,
ius. The seven deadly-sini, dancing with the
Devil, was assuredly the height of. eitrava
gance 'and folly - but the universe . rendered
unhappy by the imakness• of a man ;-* the
godliness and,_ justice of our Creator;: the'
source of our misfoitunes and our critnes,are
subjects worthy of depicting 'of the boldest:
There is throughont the winds - of this subject
an inexpressibly. gloomy horror, a- melan
choly and somber sublimity, - which agrees
not illy. with the English int:tin:WO::: Mil
ton conceived the di.%ign-ef making ,a trage.
dy of the farce of, Andreino—he even com
posed one act and a half. This - was 'assured
me by some, literary persons, who had -it of
his daughter, who died since I was in. -Lon
don. . . . ~ _ ,-.. .•
. ,
The tragedy of : Milton eminences with
the monologue, of Satan, which we find in the
fourth canto of his epic poem. '. .."
While he was. laboring on this tragedy,the
sphere of his ideas enlarged in - proportion as
he thought. • His plot' becaine great 'wider
his pen _and; at length,,instAd of a" tragedy,
which after all had been 'only:•whimsical and
uninteresting, he imagined an epic poem, a .
kind Of work in Which. Men are often com
pelled to approve the fantastic under the
name of marvelous.
The civil ,wars of England for along time
deprived Milton of the leisure nece , sary tor
the execution of so great a design. The love
of liberty_ was with him a pamion Obis sen
timent alwayi prevented liiiii from taking
side with those parties which desired to"us
urp the government in his country ; he would
submit to the tyrituay . . of no human opinion,
and there was no church which r soukl boast
of counting Milton as one of its Mernhers.—
But he observed none of this neutrality in
the-civil wars 4 the King and Parliament.
He was one of the greatest -enemies of that
unfortunate King, Charles L; he -was among
the foremost in' favor; .of Cromwell ; - and-by
a fatality which is only too-'common; his re
publican-real was made tci'lierve a tyrant.—
He was the Secretary of Oliver• Cromwell,
of Richard Cromwell, and of the Parliament,
which lasted until the restoration. The En
glish employed his pen to justify the death.
of their king, aid to reply to. thehOok-which
Charles 11. had caused to be written by San
maise on the'subject. of-.this-.'tragic event.—
Never was a better cause, and more' boldly
plead on both sides. S.sumaise pedantically
defended the party -of a king who died on the
scaffold; of- a royal family ; -wandering- thro'
Europe, and even all the king* of Bairope in
terested in this 'quarrel.. Milton rantingly
supported : the cause . of a •victorionS--;Reople,
who boatted of having judged their. prince
acoarding to the laws. The memory, of Allis
strange revolution will never 'perish amoug
men : -the Books of Saumaise -and Milton are,
already buried' in oblivion, Milton, whom
the English cow regard as a poet divine,wis
every- bad-prose writer." . -
He was fifty-two years: of age. when the
'royal family were re-established. .11e was,
included is the amnesty which Charles 14
gave to the enemies of his father ; ;but he
was declared by an act of the , same=incapa.
ble of holding any Office under -the royalty.
It was then that be commenced his epic poeni
at the same age that Virgil finit•bed - his.—
Scarcely had be put his hand to the work,
when he was deprived of sight. He found
himself forSaken and blind, and yet was not
discouraged. ]tie was nine years in compos
ing Paradise Lost. He had then very -little
reputation ; the /iterati of the.courrof Charles_
11. either did not know him or had no re
spect for him. It is not -surprising that an,
ancient secretary of CrOmwell, grown: old, in
;retirement, blind and without wealth, 'should'
be ignored or despised by. a court which; to
the austerity-of the government, of. the Pr. .°-
tector, succeeded all, the . gallantry Of tne
court of Louis XIV., aid in which- they rel
ished only 'effeminate poetry . -4he aoNicast of,
Waller; . the satires of the Earl of Rochester,
and tIo spirit of Cowley. ' , .. ---, _
One:indubitable proof that he had no rep,..,
utation is, that he had much difficulty_in find-.
ing a bookseller who would publish hie Par.
adjs.) Lost. AA:length Thompstse r gaite him
thirty pistoles t for this book. which` AIDA)
been mere than a hundred' thousand. ) crowns.
value to his (Thopsotes).. hairs ;, but this
bookseller-was so f ful of making. a ; ba4,
bargain, that be stip lilted half ok-Ahe thirty
pistoles should notite payable.ext iti.A.liati ,
1 they made . a second. edition s‘f.Ahek :poem,
which never bed the..epowlation of
seeing.' - He , remained , poor,pand.. .without.
thine: his.namo Ought to 06.4 added ~ 10,-tho,
list of great geniuses pertiecuted,hy,fOrtune, ,
- Paradise Lost was thus niglieted.in Lon
don, and Milton died witheut sAspeeting that
it wald have, its day of reputition.., It was
Lord Somers and Dr. Atterbury, singe 8h4 ,, ,
op of Rochester,, who discovered 414 ' Eng'.
hUid had. tin epic Kora. ; They, i engaged Abe :
heirs of Thompson to publish. -A, fine , ediOciTi -
of Paradise , Lola. Their. support Attracted
man l °there-to' it, and ; since ' thou thecelehis-:
to &Awe yrrote formaltY - to: Egire, that,
this poem was equal`to those "of: V irgiL And .
Homer. The- English began 4 to_ persuade
themselves of it- and the fiwneit Mittorfwas
etntdithedl .l, , -' . ',, ' ' - -,- i: - : , - i'' P . - ~
OAK..ll3ll.cpiti. 1800,
MEE
ffEERI=I
rAny. Wlifispri; pn'AntitcOnitnig..so-4 3oasen.
or JO:Wiight, of indiinia„'Ape('
up almost; 163 many Pit.the nie`
ter Of 'a:learned hgt iciiltu#isc as fo:'ihal as
asttite politician:,, Ho has been-the President
of the. Indiana State Agricultural Nation;
and hiniAteeii making
tWvarieui places upon agricultureP•in some
of which he `introduced most erudite
talons upon, !pots and top!: The 40k:owing-
Cruel stories Of- the Governor'i - practical •
knowledge on. agricultural , nubjeota- Ore
fished by the Wabash Espress. - We are in-,
dined to thinkthe GoVernor . is.'n-hiina*:lll •
agriculture,and that he knows St . View as-,IC
poiitician . • -
Joe Wright—We beg his pardim..rtliti,
iforl. Joseph K.-Wright, Oil' present worthy
Executive and Senatorial aspirant, tie' per `rs
eellenee the ,figrieuttural orlndiatial
lie is wohderfully - familiar-withfirmireloro,
—a second poor Richard in' the economy
. hasbandry, He .will,discourse with animist
wisdom about soils and sub-soils, t.t041 . #91,1i
draining, crossing, seedinii ruPtu-aiui I P_PN
and - every other possible 'topic Plan -
and fancy farinino.
He knows at sight whither.a new fatten`
a plow is practical ; and , is altogethit Auk
ail in churning machin!s, reapers,, planters;
miters, and agricultural implements general
ly,: In feet, when` the PoVernor dies'{ ,Sen:f4i
en cce/unt 'recleat dinotte
sek !) it will be wquestion what niche in the:.
modern Pantheon he shall occupy —Avitlher
his statute shall be . placed upon the 'Demo.
erotic Platform, or in the -
pertinent.' •- , ;
6 With a view - to~ the - elucidation
*abject we wish to preserve thefoltowing.an4.
thentic anecdotes:,
• Not many springs ago, His excellency, in
company_ with another distinguished -,eitiiett
of Indiana,. was riding in , the
,country. ‘, In
passing a beautiful field of grain just begin:
ning to head, the GOvefuor reined up_.
horse and burst into raptirous admiratictryot
the - wheat. • • ' .
- -
-Quoth Ned—' Governor, how much will
that wheat
.yield. to the acre V =
Oh, from seventeen to twenty, bushels.'
'What kind of 'seed is that from,Goverti.
orr
Common winter. That Vis ., the best for,
this soil.'
.
`YoU are the P,r*sident of .the_lndiaiti
Agricuitural Society, :we. you'. not, Gar:
ernor
' I ant, sir.'
' Delivered' the addrega., before the
cultural Society 'of New York'. laat`YearT.
'You are the auihor of an elequentprulato
about:the cultivation of roots and top" r
A mere trifle, Ned.' - - - -
yOu are- the - only ass I ever air,
wixpeould not tell 'oatafronitcheat - P
A certain burner, one of the Gleveriaes'
constituents, who
_had profourid - admiration
for his talents and practical knowledgeoriota
to ndvice as'-io'the
bnproving . his stock of sheep. 'rhO'Gr:oiifait-.
or's answer a•as instant,' briec
siniere: Get i llydraidit
the southdown for mutfaif;
me i hus .. forsvic as: -
,The'Express . iidds
question, we haire a pumpkin 'sitiorylll4 - 10
serve that may . east some
Tag Guts B=sec--The .offiow
f ki
wonderful current , of water in thennennonink*
how' admirable are the provisions ;
denee in the mechanism uf:At!, _
ing from-the Gulf . of Me*m PRI= ; 41 r,W
the,l3ahaton passage i nto, the tlan tic
where its waters:retain "an. their ; mist=
temperatiiii and their,,nn'qto.r::o;*k*'
for many,thouSinds of Je4gUes:, „J.tit - 11**c
Alaury's recent oliseryntiolti;
so much scientific interest end SpraKtict4,- fiatt
nel 1 41 4 ',
tes*ctinitina - reiniKkabl*Ortant':
ZOWsnd and the vaigile I,9oiitilintak
owe et their
lailiperapilitlaii en* Id;;lkeiiiiiittll4iditai(,
where: stern reigns 'dariiiifiv*ina_tithL
on the Americaneontinent,to the Guifigitionr-
WhiCh Lieutenaht Mtunii ' aptly Delta 3biii:eiift
ducting. pipe of an iinen* . heatiiitraiatrittni l
of which the torrid: onel ii.thifocus, - and thi
Gulf of lieitiooand . Ont Qu l ngid Sea Abo r
ervoire. • During, bfpnat ;winter, ratipi.‘4
our captaini,of Aninka;: . ;`,/bnias .Vllll.Oll,
were sliented With no, OtheeWay .
of thaiinethereselves out, dia**iiinniat
into 'this beni6 cent d'u If &remit, • , - .
BROWNLOVS Lasv.= ,, Parsen llrownlour of
the KnOxville' Trkig;• tiet' - yet: Ore
thoileJoneshorit debt Ora Of . 'his,- bat ,
the following final aPpeal
tbe bills of the Bank of East , ll*CotiStair;
ran, for' all , these debts; and
ingly. And thit'we'do - with*pmfestjanidlo - =
standing, that '.wer ant' mar *di' 7101,64 4 -
twenty cents on the dollar, far t e-m
Persons wiOing•to square Op faitt(tweeto dox
six- If however, they - g•corait 4 .li; , ,afgeptc'
can
rats, - theywithhold event these ".10114-and' .
we promise - during the . °riming year;' . tev" - Cs*:k
(Apt thinrin full through the ptiper t ret!
and Ille.our against , them- hutise
qameery ofHtatans, vat lettheaieettieltitht:
their God in the- world to eome
leave all - without, excuse ; Wirfurther agren - --to'
take Shanghai' chiCkenti . ,=ltoopadtitta7
jacks, broora•Corti,bsibyjito
patent' medieines . 4' iniekipr - plits,;-!#611*:*10:=
helm
old clothes, colt': .:repot
hand toottl-brisbak'
corn; or any other 'article taindlti4-elithtUf
retail store - '
Pr' Wheireefini thiretheitiakt , pdpihig . ;
den complain to - actita t antilli;ot thOlimiltie - ':
pains, in the fickle-climate et:N `
but more especially along 'the - atui , shorik'php7
eleiint have Wig their po*eto4ll#4ll4l-1111
*manse lingwat 'citiniere anigykint,':iiiti*: - ;
scribing 'the eelittili . : 7 oll . 4itimietarkAkiir;
employed as i_nbaracieiltilleiti t e-tiatfaitto 7.
In-ita own weight of ideoltehar . RAiid,
Some Patient* : tram,tibitiet tAtC,I ticv,tateikt
'odor 1 - bur thatlirtentporariothlte,thaientie` '.
edy auk hi iaiMiltlati protre'z iklitintiiimitit'
Gm*, make the -apPlicatiblt at liwitielition4' - :
`day, and protect, tlittl piirtiiithilitikhrnilit'" ''
Mustardmills an' in operation lo Ai tOli :
Inintuillyi*lihicli-tito:oll4Airiliiiisl4ll - A,:;:
_it being vi artielent . 4.niutikiii:44****k::.
la*
arti: %kat not , Ali' ilitott.,. itfill* : - _. -
gent Odor; } hie - hiniriV - ':, iirtC.
era l'emedr An" thdatiaPilaalK , ' - ':;-:..,f,
*nostrum' 'knee milinatlf* #1 101 04 r :- ' . '';-•':
;c uratitril prOpeittiti t no:oolo4llll
1 - Medial Worliki i r;l",. , "i''' , 'l , -ea - -‘, , -- , :' , ,, , f. , }x : -.
MOO
M
~J.:',-ri. , :-,-:,-,, , :.,, . ..,
;=:-J•::,,,A.-!-.-:-...-.:
1;f,:',4:;f.:1i,-.". -. :: , :,:i. - .:' , . i 3 t-:-:',
.:.:.9;',','''.:':',-.:q'-:.-'3,';:,..::';':
=lll
ME
f
~ i ~
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111
MI II