a H. FRAZIER, Publisher.
VOLUME 11.
guolinoo glutting.
DR E. L. BLAKESLEE,
T)FFTSICIAB AND SURGE ) N. to locate] al Benorem.elte
r qu,beani ~ .Xnety. Pa. Will awed premptly -to all eels
wee yr lab be may be termed. Office it L. IL Beldam'..
July 10. MA—, .
Dn. E. L. GARDNER,
pRYSICIAN AND SURGEON. Montacus. Ps. Oflee onr
webb's Wm. Board.. t3earlo's Lio tel.
Montrose, Jane A 1814.41
GROVES & REYNOLDS,
maRIONARLE TAILORS. Shop over Chandler%
r rwre. public AVMS..
Lountse. June 11.111.3.
Dm CHARLES DECKER,
PRT , MILN A.D uUTLGIDIN. having located Movelf at
Bovhs•deale, Susquehanna County. Pa., mill attend to all the
Aritt) welch he may he !avored.rith prqutplassuland attend=
st Ors re .ideace near ' , range Hat's. Sot.
u.recardrllle, Sus a. Co.. Pl. May Zl. the tf.
JOHN BEALTMONT,
JUL oiltt.El4, Cloth Drawee, and Manuracturer, at the old
stand known se &QUM. C.lrellns Machin. Tams mails
sr wan the work Is atoned.,
ktan - 0 70. 1£43•
Dn. G. Z DIMOCK,
PIITMCIAN and SURGEON MONTROAS, Pa. Mks on
meet, oppoalte the nem °Mee. Boards at
sn -11111 ,, 1e1.
ic•mtrose. Prhruary eth.1863.-Iyp
C. M. CRANDALL,
)1 0CTFACTITHER, of •Llneaorbeels, Wool wheels, - Wheel•
, r 4 A , ae aad
Inockols. .C. 3r. Wood-tun:dm. dope to order, L ,„ toaaner. laming Shop aud Wheel rattoryta Santa'
fw.C.7 Building.. op Min.
, 3.1244 80th. 180.-11
It S. BENTLEY, JR, NOTARY PUBLIC,
moriTFLo
T.rin •K ES ...troac.iodgment of Deeds. Itfortiesp* as., for sey
.L. 4. Ir. the Ur.bed rits,tei. Pension Vouchers and Pay Cer.
,ctn.,:irdzed before dim do tot require the certified., of the
of the Court. Montrose. Jan. 1.1865.—0 f,
CHARLES HOLES,
nEkLIR IN CLOCKN, WATCHES, AND JEWELAT
u NeTair../ clo
r ne mra4., Onott notice wad reasonable tezms
• üb& A resua 7n F. B. Cbasellefa stem
~:sse: N.. Nov. lAGt.
Dn. S. L. RANDRICK,
pncorslcu, aGEOB, maw:l:ally tendon his pram
.0 nom to the either' of Frieredneßle and ale-Baty. Or
Ol lb! [lSt, Or pr. Leet- Boards at J. Horford'a.
'hoe:reale. Joly SY. 1884.41
E. W. SMITH,
nolo SY e 001:11i8SLLOR AT LAM and UMELlied MILD.
Ajext ()Eke over Lee's Druittore.
,aquelaZta r.pot J. 11117 IS. SSC
' H. BITRRITT,
D sigv e a r mo-daroc s. r m c. ar..... ia
1tf0rd, 7 11,., Axil 11, 18b1.—tt
S. H. SAYRE & BROTHERS,
Ifs , !‘ . 3TAFITFLIG,NO3 of kllllosinlnga, Castings of 311 kinds
„ <n it t6r. „ ..4lstest o fron W m area c gricoltoral . Implements.
k antra, ?drossy 13,1864.
BILLINGS STROUD,
Fadr LIFEINBUBANCIE AGENT. Office In Late
hllittil4, oast end of Brick Block. In kis abaence. bud
Ain: mill be transacted by C. L. Brown.
it,unse. February 1, 18114.11
J. D. VAIL, M. D.,
311(60PATFLIC PHYSICIAN, has permanently locator
~matlf in ktontrole, Pa, where he will promptly attend it
Ltn
West
With , rhtch he may favored. ofam
,4wdecc, West of the Court Hove. hear Bentley
4 - A-usx, Fehoary 1.1364 -Oct. Si, 1811.
A. 0. WARREN,
A rroamm AT LAW, BOUBTY. BACK PAT sed FEN
MON CLAIM AOZNT. All Peaclon Chem, ertnefully prt
room formerly occupied by Dr. VAIL I.W. B
A:, , e.:Stur. belay. Searle's Hotel.
Feb. 1,1884.-febrtyl MS.
LEWIS lIIR.BY & E. BACON,
ILP , nettantly on head • full enrol, of ererr e.
tt 1:0-: ILI lE", and CONFECTIONERIES. By Ariel atter.
ted ntlenessin drat they hope to merit the ilhern
nrt public. An OYSTER end EATING SALOON 1.
the Onrrery. where bivalve, In tetuton, are nerved to er
.cat the taste. of the public demand, Retnewberthe Owe.
Urn Grocery stud. on Moth Street, below the Postorme.
Nov. 17. 11363.—mch17,13—tf
Da. CALVIN C. HALSEY,
DETSICIAN AND st - RSICON, AD E.ILLICINIEO SUR"
I GE. oN P ENSIONERS. o . 2ce over the liter.. of J. Lyca,
I mac. ?We, Aoea ne Boards at Mr. Etherldiell.
a =rum klnbet, 1564-tf
D. A. BAL.DWIIi,
TTOILN ET AT LAW. and Pcosion. Bounty, and Back Pro
.1 !amt. great Mud, Sagqnslanta County, Ps.
Gnat fiend. nzuhl lA. IPtIl.-ly
BOYD 4 WEBSTER,
DLLIER-' n Stocea Stove Pipe, Tla, Copiper. and SLee
Ware; . . n, Window Saab. rune] Toon% Wir.dou
Lau.. Me Lumber,_extd all kands of Bnlldlug
poo:/, of _xarlee and Carpenter Shop near the
11,,Jar. , urct
11...r.,Er. Ya .. Jantury 1, 1864.-17
DR. WILT IAM W. SMITH,
SURGEON DENTIST. OElee over the Sankla;
' , Set of Oooper & (./e. AS Dente! Operation.
--as vr,l, be performed le his weal Se.xl etTle sod
.I.—ator. Et...member, office formerly of H. SmithSoo
1864.—tf
E. J. ROGERS,
Ire...it:l4E7=MM of CI desoriptlone ofV7AO
- SLEIGHS, ax.., in the
er.nr.teW ..talwashlo and of the beet tostertele.
...1; en, , wo mod of E. EL EWERS, o few rods cost
Montrose, where he will be tosPRY to re
all who want smythtos la LIU Ma
int,. Jute I laal.-tf
Da. JOHN W. COBB,
,r 5171 e 5 %ea SURGEON, mpectrully tenders hip serelter
• :ant: tl•tqueltattna °minty. He will ree medal
• • 4 •tol trrataient of &wares of the
tt• „ Vt. av te roast tee relative to eargteal operattaur
tt • l• ..tilte over W J RS.H IlloltorerPBt.rrt
tta. te eat. of J. 8. Tart.ell'• Hotel.
•an County, Ya. , June n.
BILDISIN & ALLEN,
n Luta, FLA)H., bait, Pork. Flah, lAN!. Grab. Pend
11. d lee. Clove, and Tinronby Seal- GROCEZIES
?. slWwe klolasees, limp., Tea and Care. Wen ride o
AV , LUt nue door below ELllVidge-
Mxtr,s, January 1. 1864,41
Dn. G. W. BEACH,
pFTSI ^ LLN &ND SURGEON. having permanently Iscatu
Etrnnklra Center. P. tender. him proteaalonal wet
, catuvu of eloßsiorilitans County, Or tarot ColaMenatil •
, Malple. the olikx of the late In. B. Richard
.m.rilo .1. Mr.. Rchardeoe.
Cyr. P... Jme 4.1864.-11
F. B. WEEKS,
DTICAL BOOT AND SHOE MAKER: slam Mater ft.
. ac,As leatber.artel Sboe Piacilnzv. gep t tadoto
c•atnn, ato dispar.c.h. Two docosabore beads.
January 1. 1611t.-tl
W3l. & WhL H. JESSUP,
Prr)U.NETti itT LAW. Mout:ram PL. Practice le Buseve
a .2.. Bradford. Wayne, Wcomine and Lome Counties.
January 14. 1861.
ALBERT CHAMBERLIN,
WsTRICT ATTORNEY AND ATTORNEY AT LAW.—
/-f over the !Mare formerly occopled by Post Brother
~. .lr+se, Pa. January 1. /860.
_
J. LYONS SON,
r -+LP-Is
E IN DRY GOODS. Groceries.Crockery.Bardsrare.
T , sare. Rooks, Melodeons, Pianos, and an kinds of Moe
,cuts, Sheet Music, he. Also carry on the hook Bind
Cavuema in all fu briindal.. J. iron!.
January 1. 1861. T. A. LIDS.
EL TURRELL,
E &LEE Ile D 2I RU B GS. CITIEttICALB.
D
Pcsa,n, tills. Dye-stuffs, Varnisties. Window Ohm,
Crockery. Glassware, WaA-Yaps,. J ew. t
ranee o , e,Gs. Perfumery, gungreallmetrumenta, s
Ske...„—and Agent for all of tbe most opl
•twr.t. hie limes. Montrose. January 1. 1861
C. 0. FORDHAM,
lIANITFMTIUKER of BOOTS &SHOES, liontrose,
bop OVLT DeWitt' . Stove. All 'Linda of work =Ole
teptdrtne done neatly. Work done etnen Wm.
st.u.a. Anil 2...193/..4
CHARLES N. STODDARD,
nzeLER. to Boars a MOEN Leather and I , lnd.
Male on. third door helo. Searles Hotel. Lia
Wort Towle to order , wad repeiring done neatly.
tnawti Pe_ December 12. 1860.
L IL BURNS,
rrekliti EY AT LAW. olllce CM; WalLam J Tmex.ll.
HosAL Penedo,. and Lundy Cialmscartul.
a. P,Tc. prompqy made.
21.16A4. u.
-
B. R. LYONS At C 0.,„
„DRY CPJuI/J.% CiROCKICIES, BOOTS, SHOES_
iicionu. Carpets. OU Olotbii, cold Window Po.
vita. Atc. Store Om auto:Mc of Public Aram,
cross. - . J. D. LYONS
ii iccoc.Jactuory 1, 11164.-tf
READ, WATROUS it FOSTER,
45A.,,,,Ltrt, IL DRY ri?ol3b. liresot Paints .
J 0 .1. 1.
4'6. poons,VanTery., dm, 8111.1. block. Montrose.
• :c."tf7.
" 4 . - uit, J.rhry 1. 1844.
WILLIAM W. MTH, RI
CABINET AND MAID 116.W17-
"`'-". •- • , Kap. eonstant!y• as aand all
• dr (Jamas? raniurdaa. tnr
dam, and Ware !Soo= toot d /kW Bt.
akauute. 11Arth L903.-tf
PIIIL&NDER LINES,
&HU: TAILOR. 84ek 84414 '"" 114 4
it4riertSnolfe. 1600evs•.
PS.
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,
THE WILLOW.
0 willow, why forever weep,
As one who mourns an endless wrong I
What hidden woo can lie so deep?
What utter grief can last so long?
The Spring makni . haste with step elate
Your life and beauty to renew;
She even bide the roses wait,
And gives her first meat care to yon.
The welcome redbmst folds his wing
To pour for you his freshest strain ;
To you We earliest bluebirds sing,
Till all your light steam thrill again.
The sparrow trills his wedding abng
And trait. his tender brood to you ;
Fair flowering vines the summer long,
With eitutp and kiss your beauty woo.
The sunshine drapes your limbs In light,
The rain braids diamonds in your hair,
Th. breeze makes love to you at night—
Yet still you droop and still dtpair.
Beneath your boughs, at fall of dew,
By lovers' lips is softly told
The tale that all the ages through
lies kept the world from growing old.
But still , though April buds unfold,
Or Summer sets the earth Meat,
Or Autumn pranks your robes with gold,
You sway and sigh with graceful grief.
Mourn on forever, unconsoled,
And keep your secret, faithful tree!
No heart in all the world ran bold
A sweeter grace than constancy.
—Agontk Monthly
. ~;p Yc t~~ 4:r. a ,eye
Holy Saint Martin, once at Amlen's gate,
Passing that way, where went both low and great,
Saw there, a-shiver with the winter's cold,
A poor halt-naked wretch. Silver or gold
The Saint had none ; his kindly beaming eyes,
Mild as the light of eters Within the skies,
Filled with the rising plty.ln hls breast,
Where dwelt all charities which make men blest,
At sight clone, a soul so desolate,
RODSCICSei and friendless by the city's gate,
And taking from his back the coat he wore,
Into two parts the garment then he tore,
And, with a blessing which all lips may say,
Gave to him there the half, and went his way,
Next night, alien some deed of mercy bent,
By that same gate thegood Saint Martin went, •
And saw within its shadow, 'standing there
A man of thoughtful meind presence falr,
Around whom shone a miry radiant light—
None like to it had ever b his sight—
And in Its sheen the city'a frowning gate
Seemed Heaven's own portat where good angels
wait,
And to the Saint's meek eyes, with wonder wide,
The palms of Paradise uprods each side ;
And lo! the man was Christ 4 speechless, amazed,
Spellbound with wonderment, Saint Alartbagazed,
And saw the ragged garment he had given ,
Worn on the E. houlders of the Lord from Heaven!
Little Mrs. Somers stood by the cooking-stove in
her bark kitchen, In no very genial humor. It was
a hot, sultry, dog-day morning ; and, though the
winfict.rs on both aides the room were open,. no
current of pure air was wafting through it, as there
should has', been (for Mrs. Somers lived in a breezy
place.,) but all was close, damp, disagreeable.
"Such weather Is enough to provoke a saint,"
had been Aunt Elvira's utterance the moment be
fore; and Emily Somers was by no means a saint,
but an honest little wife and mother, who, In the
main, wished to do her duty, though. If the strong
est desire of her heart at that particular moment had
found words, they would have been, " Let me lie
down in the quiet grave,where nothing can ever fret
tne again." Was it the weather which had brought
the once sunny-hearted little housekeeper Into thin
dismal mood r That, perhaps, had something to do
with it; but her soul was bowed beneath heavy
burdens and chafed by sore trials. Small trials
some would have called them, and it would have
been difficult to put them in words; but, for all
that, they were none the less real burdens and
trials, which took the life out of her, body and
soul.
For five years after her mania,ge, her borne bad
been as sunny and charming as a home onuld well
he; her husband was a prosperous mechanic, and
their house, though not large, a snug little place,
nicely furnished; end her little Frank and Kitty the
dearest little daelings eyes had ever seen—at least
her eys. Was It too lovely and sweet a home for
this poor, imperfect earth t Perhaps so : at any
rate, at the end of those years, a change came over
it. Old Mr. Someri bad died, !eating but a small
property to his widow—quite too Small, In fact, to
he a support for her and an rinfnarried sister of
hers, who had lived with tier mini years and who
bad no other home. At this juncture George and
Emily had a consultation.
" Somebody must take care of mother and Aunt
Elvira," said George. "The other boys arc all off
West ; and none of them are so well off as I am, if
they were here,"
His wife, with her heart full of hope and kind
ness, answered•at once.' "let them both come and
live with us, George; we can ere up the spare bed
room well enoegh, and it is the largest and pleas
antest room in the house, yon know;
they can
hare that, and by packing a little closer, there'll he
room enough left. As you say, somebody must
take them, and nobody can do It so well as we."
" But there', are a - good many things to be taken
into aecount," , said George; " Yon bad better not
be too hasty in deciding. It will make a great
cbange in the ; two old people will bring a
great deal of care upon you, Emily."
" Yu!, I know they will; but,' said the hopeful
:late wife, "mother min do a great many little
things about the house,And take some care of the
baby. Bhe's very fond of her, you know; and
Aunt Elvine--'
. _
There was a little pause, and George and Emily
exchanged a look, half troubled, hall amused, as if
it were rather a problem how to place Aunt Eivim
eligibly.
•' Aunt Elvin' is a great worker, you know," be
gan Emily
Yes, and a great Better, too," interrupted
George, "there's no use In denying that; and now
we arc about it we may as well remember that mo
ther, though the's been an excellent, good mother,
has a pretty strong will of her own. I'm afraid
she'll interfere sometimes, and the two together
will try your temper a little, I fancy."
"A temper that can't bear being tried isn't worth
much ; 1 don't know bow mine will bear it," said
Emily, "for everybody has been so kind to me I
have hardly had a chance to know what spirit lam
ut " And the bright eyes gleamed with tender
love and gratitude. " But," she added, more bed.
°nab', "the question George, is, what is right? we
most do the duty God puts before us, even if it
does involve some sacrifice."
" Yea, we mus fighed Georg", who was of a
bra sanguine spiri e," t
than his sunshiny wife, and
really dreaded ouch an innovation on their tranquil
home-life. " I don't well sea where else they eau
go. Still yon had better not decide till you've
thought about 11, for once here, they must stay ; the
chief trouble will come on you, Emily, not on me ;
mothers4o-law aren't generally considered very de
eirable inmates, to ray nothing of aunts-in-law," he
added, with a faint smile.
"I know it," replied Emily, "but I think the
heling is all wrong. " It's a shame," she said, put
ting down her little foot decidedly, "that when a
mother has worn herself out by years of ' toil for her
children, she should be looked upon Oa nuisance,
or at best a burden, Witten very children Think
what It would be to have our Frank, or little Pet
thereolreadlne to havens come to live with them
And as the stooped over the.cradie a teareame Into
her gye. "I don't believe it's impoe,ible for a
son's wife and his mother to live together without
quarrelling, especially," she added in &Softer tone,
where both are disciples of Christ, and are, day
by day, seeking to do his will. Little trials may
come up; they will, of course, but both will be
helped to do right, and they will soon pass over.—
We will have the two bears in the bonne, bear and
forbear," she added, laughing, "and then there'll
1 be no ' trouble."
" And Aunt Elting, don't overlook her."
" Well, I sup Pose she'll be a little trying some
times; but there's a great deal of good In her in
spite of her fauna ; an she's no other home in the
wide world to go to. ,Poor Auntie I really feel
sorry for her. If she' had had as good a hustamd
and children as mine are . , she'd have Dem as cheer
ful ard amiable as env NOY, I dare thy, 'She'll be a
deal of company for mother, and may he she will
• • help about the sewing; my bands am to (all of
o th er things now, my sewing gets fearfully behind
hand; and it would be a help indeed to bare some
one do a part of that. Any way, George it's our
duty we most take her, and then do our Wt."
I don't see how we could very well tam 'her off
on strangers," ma George's rather ungracious re
, once.sp
No, we won't; and I don't feel at all afraid bat
that we stall get along together nicely."
And so it wadtdecided that the mother and tent
ahouldbecoma e int=a f =age cottiv
*deb Mini Val
BY N. a SIISPEELIID.
THE AUNT-IN-LAW.
A Domestic Story
" Freedom and Right against Slavery and Wrong."
IYIONTROSE, SUSQ. CO., PA., TUESDAY, AUGUST 22, 1865.
Mrs. Somers, senior. was a very good woman in
her way, but a woman with a will, which had been
paramount in her own home; moreover, Emily
wasn't the wife she bad picked out for George, and
the highest praise ebe bad ever been known to ac
cord to her was, "She's got,pretty ways enough,
but what's such a little young thing as she good
fort" 83, though it wan the beat thing she could
do to live with George, she went with the strong
conviction that nothing would be done in a proper
way unlesse she looked after It herself. As for
Aunt &vim though we have the greatest respect
for single women, and consider them, as a whole,
models of all the womanly virtues, there was no de
nying she was peculiar. She was a talloress by
trade, and bad cut coats, vests, and pantaloons for
forty years, going from house to house with a goo-e
and press-board, till her flesh, and may be her sold
too, bed become as wrinkled and puckered as one
of her own seams, and sorely needed smoothing and
stretching out. She was one of those unfortunate
beings to whom nothing good has ever happened,
and who know nothing ever will. Poor Aunt El
vtaa, she had been unfortuna'e; she had worked
hard all her life, and laid up quite a sum of money,
but the man dhe lent It to proved a scoundrel, and
decamped; and though oho threatened, with ex
tended hand grasping it, to send her goose after
him, It never reached him, or brought back any of
her bard earned dimes and quarters. She was on
the shady side of sixty, and when George asked her
to share his home she assented as reluctantly as if
she was leaving a king's palace for his lowly cot.
tae Por my part, I don't expect 'twill be very easy
to put up with that doll-wile of his," she grumbled
In her. afflictions, " and it's hard that a poor critter
like me, who idlers hated children, can't live where
there ain't a noisy pack of 'em tearin' round." So
it was manifest that If George and Emily consider
ed they were conferring a favor on her, they were
greatly mistaken.
On the first August morning when we find Emily
Somers standing by the Stove in her back kitchen
and wishing ahe were dead or buried, the mother
and Aunt Elvim had been In the family a year and
six months ; and the little wife had chosen that par
ticular moment for a review of the whole period.—
What years and months they had been, she thought,
as she stood stirring the enttard she was boiling in
a pitcher, set Into a kettle of hot water. What a
happy home she and George had once, and now
there was no such thing as peace and comfort!—
and she fumbled with one hand for her pocket.
handkerehlef,while she stirred away with her other.
How she had tried and tried to please them, how
she bad given up her way In everything, and had no
will of her own, and all shegot for It was to be
snubbed and fretted at, and found fault with perpet
ually ! Even George never looked pleased, or com
fortable now-a days. How could a man who al
seays stood between two fires, and never knew who
was most to blame? No wonder he had taken a
contract in another town, and only carne home for
Sundays. And the children, little cherubs they had
been till they had so many mistresses, had been
fretted at. and ordered around by so many different
people, and now they were as cross and disrespect
ful and bad tempered as two little tigers. And
worst of all—yes, a great deal the worst—ehe her
self, who was once so merry, and good tempered
and beloved by everybody, had grown sour, and
peevish, and fault finding, tier sweet temper all
turned to gall, and her whole nature embittered
and as hateful as it well could be Yea, if the little
woman could have seen anything to be satisfied
with in herself she wouldn't have wished to go in
to her grave, and he forgotten; but she couldn't!—
Hadn't she flared up that very morning at the
breakfast table, when Annt Elvira told Frank to
hold his tongue, and in no pleasant tone Informed
said aunt she chose to govern her own children ;
upon which Frank bad tittered, and spoken disre
spectfully to his aunt, who thereupon remarked
She wished she would govern them," and Katy
had lifted her great blue eyes wonderingly to her
her face, and asked, " What makes , two red spots
ou 'oo face, mamma ?" and then Aunt Elvira - had
given her hateful little giggle, and said, " Little
folks ask close questions ; ' and Emily had felt all
the blood In her body come Into her face, and a bit
ter feeling of hate rise up in her soul. She, who
had considered herself so sweet and amiable ! And
yeaterday.when Aunt Elvim had Insisted on squeez
ing Frank into exactly such a Jacket and trowsers
as little boys wore twenty years ago, making a per
lee fright of the child, how her temper had risen as
she snatched away the odious garments, declaring
he never should put them on again, and Aunt Eh i
ra had left the room, muttering, " That's all the
thanks I git for working my fingers off to make
clu'es for that air young, 'nn."
These two Instances were not alone ; hosts of
others rose before her, when, as she now pat it, she
had been driven frantic by their interference, and
b'en compelled to lose her temper, and give them a
piece of her mind in self-defense. Bow o'lluos nil
this was—these hiekerings and strifes and sharp re
torts; how unladylike and contemptible: What
would she have once said bud anybody told her she
would ever thus degrade herself ! "Bat," she mur
mured to herself, " I cannot help it, they force me
to it. It never was so till they came into the
house;" and poor Emily's tears came thick and
last as she remembered the first happy years c.l her
married life.
Was there no help [or it! Were all her future years
to be thus blighted! Must her home, instead of be
ing a little heaven of peat's and love, become a place
of torment, where wicked mullions rage uncon•
trolled ? If in one year and a half—they seemed to
her like ages—she had gone so tar on a downward
track, who could tell what she should nosily be
come or what, her home would be at last! Wss
there no help? Tnis was the question, some invisible
voice asked in Emily's Goal that morning. She had
taken off her custards, set them away to cool, and
washed her dishes, and now she had a little lei-ure;
and taking off her apron, she went into her own
room and eliot the door for a little sell-communion.
find we looked Into the mother's heart, and espe
cially into Aunt Eivines, we should have found a
very similar state of things ; there too were disepti
tents, sstoulshment at the pass things had come to,
and also a lurking self-blame, silenced In the same
way; they too aaid, " I can't help it, she is too pro
vokiug—in the old house it wasn't so; I could keep
my temper there,"
I..^t us try to take an impartial survey of the situa
tion.
As we have said, Emily began with a sincere de
sire to do her duty, and to make the new inmates
happy; nay, more, she was confident she could.
That she was a little sell-complacent in view of these
new Auden was not to he wondered at, for before
her marriage she had been the pet of a large circle
of admiring friends, and since, she had been the
darling of her husband's heart and home, caressing
and caressed; why should she not still expect to
please and be pit-lased? She had honestly meant to
do right, to be unselfish and considerate • hut it had
sit been so different from what she had expected
Real trials of her temper had come; she had been
tested, and failed ignominously. So she would have
said ; but if some guardian angel had stood by her
side through ell the conflicts of her last eighteen
months, and seen bow often, though sometimes 61/ ,-
mmsbinr to the spirits of evil, she had bravely fought
with, and crushed them oat of her heart; how sin
cerely, when overcome by them, she had abhorred
herself, and resolved to be amiable, and kind, and
gentle-spoken in future, be might have given a dil
&rent verdict ; he might have seen that though the
evil In her nature had been, brought to the surface,
making It dark and turbid,' there was no Increase of
evil there.
The truth is, and Emily should have been aware
of it, though she Was not, that several people mount
live together in one family, each having an interest
In all that goes on, and wanting to assist In the dai
ly labors of the Inztusehold, without being trials to
each other, however good they may all be. Hence
comes the call, not to separate, or to despair of ever
living together harmoniously, but for • special ex
ercise of all the Christian graces, and for special
strength from above to enable each to overcome
these trials. In this cane the mother was one of
those admirable housekeepers who do everything
systematically, and forty years' experience had
worn the grooves to such a smoothness that the do
mestic machinery ran without a jar. It was Impos
sible but she should see many defects in Emily's
hotusekeeping, and seeing them, it was scarcely In
hninan nature not to try to right them. She meant
to do this wisely; she did not mean to interfere, but
In fact she did interfere, and kept constantly io ex
ercise a snitit of criticism which Emily felt keenly,
even when not a word was spoken. Then it was not
in human nature, certainly nut in Emily's nature,
not to be fretted by this. " Nothing I ever do Is
right," abe would say to herself, because I don't
do it exactly a• mother used _ to, and in my own
house I have a right to my way; she Lad her way In
hers. Circumstances are changed, and it would be
absurd for me to go on cooking just the same
dishes she did, to just the same way, and arranging
my table and rooms, and entertaining guests pro.
eisely as she did; I've begun housekeeping for my
self, and, so long as I consult George's interest and
their comfort, vo a right to &flange tells in nay
own way."
Elie was right ; It Is the prerogative of every wife
to preside over her own household; to plan and ex
ecute according to her own judgment; but It does
not follow that she should not be willing to learn
from others, or take advice when rightly oft-red.
Rightly offered I who in this imperfect world does
or can ever offer advice rightly? In nine cases out
of ten we venture to say that it Is better for a moth
er-l A-law not to give advice unless she Is asked.
" What!" you will say, "stand by, and see every
thing go to ruin!" Yes, stand by and see things
done foolishly, perhaps, certainly very differently
from. what i wou ld do them; and the young wife,
Vjelle be 1,0 =a t ant i rgp, RUI
MOM ti/ bYldb:
advise: that is the way you learned, and at twenty
five you were just as impatient of Interference as
she Is, and things won't go to ruin ; the ship of
home, (why shouldq't there be a ship of home as
well as of state?) will rock unsteadily; it will now
and then give a fearful lurch that threatens to rep
ots) it, and drown the crew; but it will right Itself,
and take a new tack, sail out Into smoother waters,
and finally reach the clear open sea, and gain a
steady onward motion. Trust, and don't worry ;
that is your beet motto. Tes, don't worry • don't
be always Implying by words or looks that destruc
tiont Is close at baud. In a majority of eases whore
you want to set things right, and predict ruin If you
don't succeed, the matter Is of no great conse
quence; it is surely some trifling matter of conven
ience, or taste; nothing vital, nothing that will
shipwreck mind, body, or estate. Put your will
entirely out of the question, and calmly consider the
matter, and you will probably be forced to smile at
your folly In making such an ado about it If the
wife is grossly wanting In principle or judgment, It
Is a different thing; still don't fret, don't keep
throwing out hints which will ouly irritate; but after
getting your own spirit Into as sweet and calm a
frame as passible, take some opportunity when the
young wife Is also - in her best mood, and have a
frank, serious talk with her • not to gratify your own
self-will, but to do her g ood; that is your only
chance of really helping het.
Now for the young wife herself; she should ba
willing to ask advice, and willing to follow it when
kindly given, and b. specially on her guard against
fancying her prerogatives are being intruded upon,
not letting her wilt, ender the guise of her rights,
or justice to herself or husband, get the upper
hand. Very careful should she be to be gentle in
tone and look, and above all of a truly meek and
loving spirit, for she will doubtless have sore need
of these lovely graces.
To return to Emily In her room. Her irritation
was subsiding now; she looked down into the cradle
where baby was sleeping so sweetly, and her heart
grew tenderer 'till; but with the tenderness came
also end thought& It was humiliating to remember
how certain she was ol doing right, how pertly she
had boasted that she would hear and forbear, and
now to look at her miserable failure. No doubt
others had been to blame, but now she was mute
disposed to look at her own taidts than theirs ; and
these were very numerous end very grievous, and
filled her with shame and self reproach. Again re
curred the question, Is there no help for thin! Is
it impossible for three people to live in one home:
together peaceably ? and other questions she naked.
Cannot I preserve my own peace or mind and do
right, if others do wrong? Must my darling Kitty
grow up with an Irritable, peevish mother, fu a dis
cordant home! Were then, she asked herself, all of
her Lopes of being a true disciple of Christ a delu
sion, all her faith in Him as one who could help her
do her duty an Idle dream, which fled when help was
needed!
"Can a woman forget her sucking child that the
should not have compassion on the son of her
womb! rva, they may forget, yet will I not forget
thee." suddenly these words came into Emily's
mind. Did her Father in heaven then really love
her as she loved her little darling! was He as willing
to lift her poor, weak soul over the trials of life, as
she was to lift her little one's tender feet over all
the rough places before her! Yea, His love was
greater than a mother's, deeper and more endering,
If the Bible were true. How her heart yearned to
INTO her child tram all suffering; and did His heart
yearn still more lovingly over her, poor, wandering
child that she was! Her heart melted within her
at the thought. She, so helpless and needy, yet
with an Infinite Father standing close by her, on
whose strong arm she could always lean, a Father
so wilting and able to guide her and keep her from
felling. Ob, how wondertul It was! The little room
grew bright about her: her tears flowed still, hut
they were refreshing tears—tears of contrition, of
trust, of gratitude. Her heart grew strong; by faith,
that mysterious link binding the buntaa soul to the
Divine soul In a union which Christ compares to
the Joining of the brarith to the vine, she took hold
no the Almighty strength, drawing life from HI,
life, Mace from His peace. Yea, It was very won
derful, but none the less real and tens.
During that half hour of silent communion the
fogs had been lifted from the hills, and when Emily
put back the curtain, a ray of sunlight and o breath
of pure west pled stole in at the window. Yes,
both without and within the darkness had fled, and
the sun was shining forth. Emily shrank from go
ing forth Into the cares and vexations that lay wait
ing for her; but she carried out not only a new sense
or her own weakness, but also a new sense of the
Divine strength and nearness. Christ's words, "My
grace is sufficient for thee," lay warm at her heart
like an inv6ible shield, and she tremblingly hope d
to keep her evil temper in subjection; If she only
could keep her hold on the Almighty arm. With
that peace In her soul, how easy it was to co quietly
about her work; how easy to ask, when her mother
came Into the kitchen, " Mother, bow long will It
take to cook this joint of meat ?" or how easy to
find a place on the stove for Aunt Elvira's flatirons,
and to hold her peace when she kept fidgetting about
the room, finding fault pith all she saw.
"I do believe George Somers will end his days in
the poor-house!" exclaimed Aunt Elvira„ predi
rating that event on the fact that an old tablecloth
had been recently transformed into dish-towels.
Grace had been given Emily to answer pleasantly,
'O, I hope not, Aunt Elvlra." Yesterday, she
would probably have said. " I should-like to know if
I can't do what T please with my own things?"
Said it to herself, if not aloud. Just then, Frank,
that perpetual apple of discord, rushed in Dom
school, boy-like, with a shout and a bound.
" What a plague hays are! tearia a body's head
off !" cried Annt Elvira, in the most abused tone
Frank evidently expect...l a scene. but Instead of two
red spots on mamma's cheeks, he only saw a pleas
ant smile, and when quietly told he had Avt , er ;nay
out of doors till dinner time, walked off wlthont a
word So it was through all the day. It was trying
enough to see little Kitty swathed up in n most re
markably constructed garment presented to her by
the indefatigable aunt, and by her denominated a
tyre, and to have three mammoth yellow marigolds
thrust Into her beautiful vase of flowers, " to rice
some color to it, and make it smell good ;" but Em
ily refrained from speech, and an hour afterwards
could smile as she thought how much sooner baby
would ontgrow "the tyre," than her temper out
grow a twist •, and it was really marvelous how lit
tle she thought about the marigolds. " Peace and
good will are better in a house than tasteful vases of
flowers," she said to herself. If she had snatched
them out before Aunt Elyira' a eyes, as she was son
ly tempted to, we dare say she would have been
made far more uncomfortable all the afternoon than
by the odor of the marigolds, odious as that was :
and that lasted but for a day or two ; the sting of
the 111-tempered act would have lasted months.—
Yes, for one day at least, Emily had found,
'How strong within doth reign the calmer's power,'
and she lay down on her pillow at night with a
sweet sense of having been helped.
" I declare," Bald Aunt Elvira, that night, as sh e
took off her frisette, and unpinned her dress, with
her month full of pins, " Ido believe the millen
nium's a-comin' Emily is so good-nittned. I'm at
raid she won't Ilve long!"
We said at the beginning Emily Somers was no
saint, and she sever became a saint ; but by szod's
help she did become a remarkably good tempered,
lovely woman, instead of the soured, fretful one she
at one time threatened to change , into. She often
lost her temper, but by struggling to subdue it, and
looking to the Helper for aid, street last gained smelt
self-control that it coat her little effort to be amiable
amid the trials which every day brought. She was
not "overcome with evil, but had overcome evil
with eood." Aunt Etvira still enjoyed afflictions,
and predicted the poorhouse, but then as Emily
said one day, " It's astonishing, George, how little
things trouble us when our will Isn't In the way.--
I'm convinced It's bow we take a thing, not what
a thing Is, that makes the difference. When I feel
right myself, I'm not a bit fretted by what vexes me
beyond endurance, if I happen to be a little oat of
tone. It is really wonderful how little mother dic
tates when I'm willing to ask advice, and Aunt El
vim don't fret half as much when I feel amiable
myself; or if she does, I don't care a ilg about it."
" Wall, really now = I do call Our George's wife an
uncommon woman." It was Aunt Elvira who
spoke, but ten years bad passed sway since she
feared the millennium was close at hand, "a most un
common woman. She wax always proper good to
slater, and I used to say to sister, 'ulster, there an't
no need of quarrelling with sons' wises ; you never
did; and the very day she died—l was standin' by
the bed-post, and Emily bent over her—says Rozy,
says she, ' Emily, you've alleys been good to me,
and the Lord will be goad to you, and bless you for
it," and then turning her eyes to me, she said. "
El
clry says sbe, "she's been good to us both, don't
forgit it of her." And I mean to give her my
changeable silk gown, just as soon as ever she's out
Of mournin', my blue and orange changeable, that's
just as good as new. I've neversore it but tdread
ful little • I used to wear it anceln • while to meet
in' real little;
Sundays, and to all the weddin'a In
the neig borbooci, but they ain't macho! a mamba'
set round here, and I ain't got much chance to wear
It. Now, 'twill make Emily look as pretty as a
poppet; she paint no silk gown that's got a Idle of
color In it' kind o' faded out looklo ' things they all
are ; but then some folks don't never know how to
themselves up tasty, and I don't justly know as
tber are to blame for It; vs can't have what alai gin
to us, I tell 'em."
Let us hope that Emily bas by ti' 'me acquired
sufficient tact to steer round the hi, and orange
changeable, without either wearing It or losing her
temper over It. Our taste in dress might not coin
*le Issigh Au,nt E . l=but Lit thotg o Vit r r
peer bib/ zoo OW. Ito
when her husband said, "Emily, you've proved that
a woman can live peaceably with an aunt in-law."
Little did the honest man know of all the tribula
tions his little wife bad gone through, and he didn't
quite understand her emotion as she whispered,
with tearful eyes, " It's no thanks to me, George ;
Ws because I have been helped."
A RIOH IikIIRTAGE CEREMONY.
The following description of a marriage In Illinois
by a newly appointed Justice of the Peace, •ho is
mmething of a wag, is taken verbatim from a letter
written to a friend in this city. Be says:
Having been appointed to the desirable " pettish"
of Justice of the Peace, I was accosted on the sth
day of July, by a sleek looking young man, and in
slivery tones, requested to proceed to a neighboring
hotel, as he wished to enter Into the holy bonds of
matrimony. Here was a "squelcher " I bad never
done anything of the kind, and had no books or
forms ; yet I was determined to do things up
strong and In a legal manner, so I proceeded to the
hotel, bearing In my smile one copy of the Revised
Statutes, one ditto Webster's Unabridged Dictiona
ry, one copy large sized Bible, a small copy of the
Creed and Ankles of Faith of the Congregational
Church, one copy of Pope's Essay on Man, and a
sectional part of the map where the victim lived.
Having placed a table In the middle of the room,
and seated myself behind 1, In trumpet tones,
called the vase. With that the young man and wo
man with great alacrity, stepped up before me.
Having sworn them on the dictionary to answer
well and truly all the questions I was about to ask,
I proceeded. I told the young mats that, being an
entire stranger, I should have to ask him to give ball
for the costs. Having heard this an frequently in
court. I thought it Indispensable. He answered if
I meant the fee for performing the ceremony, he
would deposit It then and there. As I did not
know exactly what I did mean, I magnanimously
waived that portion of the ceremony. I then told
him it would be necessary to give bail to keep the
peace. This he said he was willing to do when
he arrived at home, and I then waived that point
also.
Having established to my satisisztion that they
wanted to stet married, and that they were old
enough to enter into that blessed state, I proceeded
to lie the knot. I asked him If be was willing to
take that woman to he his wife. He said he was.
I told him that I did not require haste in the an
swer, that he might reflect a few minutes If he wish
ed. I told him she looked like a fine girl, and IMO
no doubt she was, but if the sequel proved that he
had been taken in, I did nut want to be held re
sponsible. I said he must love, honor and obey her
as long as she lived. He most not be "snappy"
around the house, nor spit tobacco Juice on the
floor—all of which he pmmieed faithfully to heed..
"Now," said I, "Georginia," (her name was
Georginia,)"you hear what Humphrey says. Do you
accept the invitation to become hie wife; will you
be lenient towards his faults, and cherish his virtues;
will you never be guilty of throwing furniture at his
head for slight offences, and will you get three meals
a day without grumbling. Bhe said oho would. I
asked them if they believed in the commandments,
and they said they did. Having read the creed and
the articles of faith, as aforesaid, I erelaimed,
"Humphrey, take her, she le yours; I cannot with
hold my consent. Georgbaia, when safe In the arms
of your Humphrey, you can defv tile scoffs and jeers
of the world."
I then read a little from the the " Essay on Man,"
including that passage, " Man waste but little here
below, but wants that little long." As a finale to
the scene, I delivered the following exordium: "Go
in peace, sin no more."
The generous Humphrey haring placed a fifty
cent check in my unwilling palm, I bade the happy
pair a final adieu!—Xissouri Ripublican.
THE DOOTOE in HIS PATIENT.
Of all the professions, trades and occupations that
eneagr the min& or men, that of a pllysieian is the
most diversified_ In locating be has to find out the
constitution of those be is called on to visit, for It in
frequently the ease that emcees. may be owing more
to a deep and thorough knowledge of the constitu
tion of the patient than mere commonplace applica
tion As an illustration of this, we will relate an
anecdote of one or our physicians, who, " if he find 3
physic will not cure, tries other means as the case
may require."
Dr. D. had long been the attending physican of a
lady past her teens, affected with certain disorders
Incident to a want of occupation and care of a &ral
ly. She sends for the doctor, In and out of BPISOLI,
be rushes out in a 2 40 pace, and finds hi. patient
physically perfectly well, but sad and lonely, and, of
coarse, afflicted with tbn blues. Ail he can do is to
administer a " tincture," with a few drops of pep
permint, and the patient Is well for a day
(Yu one occasion, a cold, blustering night, the
doctor has just turned In, wrapped himself snugly
in his blankets, with the hope of a quiet sleep,
when a loud rap aroused him.
" Who Is sick," inquired the doctor, murmuring.
"Miss Sally Strickland, sir; she's most dead; ex
pect she'll die before you get there."
"I'll be along," Buys the doctor, and exclaiming
to himself, " I'll try to cure her this time."
The doctor plods along through mod and mire,
cold and rein, studying his application. When he
arrived at the dwelling of Miss Bally, be found her,
as usual, In a rather depressed slate of mind.
"Doctor," s he said, feebly, "I expect to die every
moment. lam very low. Can you do anything for
me !,"
The doctor lelt her pulse; nothing the matter,
inertly wanted company. The doctor hecomes
communle-atlve:
" Miss Sally, I was having a terrible dream when
your servant awoke me.
" I dreamed I was dead," continued the doctor,
"and descended Into the lower regions, where I met
the • Old Scratch,' who invited me to view his do
minions. The Inmates were engaged In different
occntationa—lSOTC playing cards, others swindling
their neighbors; and in tine all the pursuits they
followed during life they continued there. When
he got through be proclaimed to the four quarters
of his dominions that all should go to bed, ' for,'
said he, 'Sally Strickland will be here directly, and
there'll be no sleep in bell for a month!"
The doctor's speedy departure was Increased to
flight by the sight of a broomstick flourishing active.
ly in his rear, but the remedy was effectual
L Mama Cuu.n on Finfate Fasutona.—Thlnk
log of the great and blessed work done during these
last four yearn by women In the Sanitary Commis
pions, the hospitals, and In the school-houses for
the emancipated, I seemed to see a bright light
dawning on our future career. But the vision re
ceded in the distance, when I looked from my win
dow and saw a bevy of damsels sallleg by, with hen
coops In their skirts, and upon their beads a rimless
pan of straw with a feather in It—utterly usele•s
for defense against wind or sun. To make this un
becoming head-gear still more ungraceful, there de
scends from It something called by the flowing name
of waterfall, but which In fact looks more like a
cabbage In a net, tricked out with beads and wam
pum. If I had met them in Western forests, I
should have take" them for oJibbeway squaws, hot
their dress Wda ala mode Pdritienne. This tyranny
of France Is, I suppose, one of the things that must
be endured, because It cannot be helped, till our
brains are better developed. In process of time, I
trust the Empreas Eugenie will sleep with her Illus
trious ancestors, and that no other fantastic queen
of fashion will corns alter her, to lead the civilized
world sueh a fool's dance. What a set of monkeys
we are, in feathers and furbelows, dancing to the
tune of that Imperial show-woman!
HINDOO FAMATICEL-I have seen sores who have
stood on one leg for years, while others engage the
sympathy and extort the charity of many by holding
one arm overhead until, in time, the flesh withers
and the bones set in that nosition. A few I have
met, who, clenching ono hand, have kept it closed
until the nails have grown right through the palm
to the other side; and it is well known that many
have traveled the whole extent of land from the
Himalaya to the Cape of Comorin, measuring their
bodies as they went. Also, there is Chamb Poja, or
hook worship, in which the devotee &Howel steel
hook to be placed through the muscles of his back,
and in this manner is suspended from a machine ILke
a windmill, to one of the arms of which the victim
LB attached. On their great feast days they can be
iron thus, whirling round and round, and looking
all the time as pleased as if they really enjoyed their
ride. All this is done with a devotion worthy of a
better arse.—Soldering in Sunshine and Storm.
or As Yether Taylor was giving • temperance
address In Rocky Hill meeting house, • certain
drunkard was so much offended with his severe gut
truthful remarks, that he rose up and began to bits
the speaker. Instantly Father Taylor turned {he
attention of the large audience to the insolent row•
dy, and then forcibly said, as be pointed to his ele
tim—" There's a red nose got into cold water:—
don't you hear it his& r The otiose" disappeared
amid the roar that followed.
Won', Pass von arr Asont.—A Vagrant called
at a house on Sunday and begged for a drink: of
eider. The lady of the house refused to give him
soy. Be reminded her of the otbquoted remark
that " she might entertain an angel unawarea."•—
ta
" Yega she old, 43nutletr" aogela don't go about drink. g
-WOLA.
~:~sicyyl3~~'~s+:li:jei'tNk~
VT JOll2l 0. SAXE.
When desply lu love with Miss Emily Prycle,
I vowed lithe maiden would only be mine
I would always endeavor to please her,-
Bbe blushed her consent, though the stuttering hum
Bald never a word except, " Yntere an ass—
An ase—an zusa-idnotts teaser !"
But when we were married, I found t' my ruth
The stammering lady bad spoken the truth;
For often, in obvious dudgeon,
She'd say —if I ventured to give her a Jog
In way of reproof,—" You're a dog—dog—dog—
A dog—ii dog-matic curmudgeon I"
And once when I said, " We can hardly afford
This extravagant style with our moderate hoard,"
And hinted we ought to be wiser,.
She looked, I ensure you, exceedingly blue,
And fretfully cried, " You're a Jew —Jew—Jew—
A very ju-diclous adviser!"
Again, when ft happened that, wishing to shirk
Some rather unpleasant and arduous work,
I begged her to go to a neighbor,
She wanted to know why I rude such a fuss,
And saucily said,—" You're a cus—cns—ens—
Ton were always no-cas-tomP4 to labor l"
Out of temp.'. at Lmt with the losnlent dome,
And ce.ling the woman wee greatly to blame,
To geoid me Instead of caressing,—
I mimicked her speech--like churl as I am—
And angrily said, "You're a dam—dam—dam--
A dam—age instead of a blessing !"
pil;s4:l>tytio:4 es val 4611
INTERESTING FACTS AND REICINISCENCES 07 MRS
SIMARD, DT MRS. SWISBUELM
WILSIIINGTON, July 30th, 1865
The pall of silence which has fallen upon the
grave of Mrs. Seward Is still more remarkable than
the unobtrusive quiet of her life, and I trust it la not
Idle curlo•ily which makes me more anxious to know
her history than that of any woman whose name
have ever heard. If I mistake not, her example Is
one which the women of this country cannot afford
to lose, and in hope It may induce some one who
knew her to give tis some incidents In her
honorable life, let me tell you the little, the very
little, I know.
When I went into Campbell Hospital, after the
battle of Chancellorsville, I called on the public for
fruit acids as an antidote to thirst and hospital gan
grene. The heat contribution I received was tram
Mrs. Frederick Seward. It was accompanied by a
note, asking me to send Ito her when anything spe
cial was wanted. Some one, that I supposed
told me that this Mrs Frederick Seward was the
wife of a nephew of the Secretary of State,who being
a bachelor had this lady to preside over his home.
She afterward called at my rooms, and I at Mr. Serv•
ard's house, on hospital business, I supposing she
was Mr. Seward'a nieee by marriage until the follow
ing winter, when there was much trouble In the
contraband camps. Among the teachers was a Qnak
cress from Central New York, one of those women
wbo left homes of wealth and refinement to live In
camp, cabin. and barrack, to distribute clothing,
hooka, encouragement and instruction amongst
those scattered and bereaved people. We were one
day in troubled council on one of the many wrongs
which had stubbornly refused to be righted. It was
hard to ask Secretary Stanton to give the time nec
essary to understand the case, while his ante-room
xas conetanUy thronged with persons waiting on
Thiportant business. What to do was the question.
Folding her hands In her tau and looking down
thoughtfully, this lady soliloquised: "If Mrs. Sew
ard was oily here."
What Mrs. Seward ?
Mrs. Secretary Seward! she answered abstracted
ly, and kept on thinking.
My exclamation of surprise aroused her, and her
surprise at my ignoratce was eqnal to mine at her
Information. A question as to the presentability of
that lady, since such a person did actually exist,
started her to talk as I had never before heard her.
She described Mrs. Seward as one of the excellent of
the earth. A woman of wonderful intellectual pow
er and great breadth of attainment—the companion,
confidant, counselor of her husband—one who read
his written speeches before the printer saw them,
and gave an opinion which he valued more than any
other—one who read and digested long, tiresome
documents and gave film the anbstance In a few mo
ments' fireside chat, thus contributing largely to
the fund of information which distinguished Mr.
Seward. She was his "higher law" adviser, and
whenever his policy fell below that standard he had
differed with bar in opinion. She evgr regarded the
right as the expedient ; or, in other words, aimed
always to walk In the narrow path straight toward
"the mark for the prize of the high calling which is
In Christ Jesse our Lord."
In dress and manner this friend described her as
simple and unostentatious to singularity. A smart
mechanic's wile would not hays exchanged ward
robes with her, and milliners' apprentices looked at
her in pitying wonder fur her lust opportunities.
A few days after this conversation Mrs. Seward
returned front Auburn, but her arrival was not pnb
hely announced The contraband trouble was ex
plained to her, and a short note of modest request
from her to one in authority removed the difficulty
before which we had been standing in dismay. Af
ter that, when I heard people remark that the Sew
ards gave no receptions, I have thought of a little
teacher of contrabands, in the magnificent coetnme
of mixed straw bonnet and brown ribbons, dark
woolen dress and shawl, and heavy shoes having
marks of "sacred soil," with n little traveling bask
et on her arm, going to Mr. Seward's house In the
gloaming weary, hungry, disheartened and foot
sore, and finding a reception, a bath, a dinner, a bed,
a breakfast, a long, comforting chat, a note to re
move her overhanging mountain, and saw her light
ened step as she returned to her duties rejoicing
I never heard what kind of jewels her hostess wore
at these receptions, but calculate they were not
bought at Tiffany's.
A woman in Mrs. Seward's position, who simply
remained outside that gilded pagoda, society, in
which Het Majesty, First Family with twenty-pound
of-tobacco-worth of grandmother to stand upon—
tier Royal Highness Official position, with a wire
pulling husband to bear against—the Duchess of
Shoddy, with apedestal of greenbacks for support—
the Countess of Petroleum, with a sea of light to
theme her diamond., and My Lady Bloomer, radi
ant in health and independence—contended so fierce
ly for the precedence, she would have been worthy
of study as a natural curiosity; but to know that
she lived oat of the world of fashion, and in the
world of duty, from a high ideal of Christian obliga
tion is to know that her example is one that the
world cannot well afford to Isle.
Mr. Seward's recovery from the double Injuries of
accident and the assassin's knife, is a common won
der; and Surgeon Barnes has mid that when be left
Frederick Seward on the night of the assassination,
he little thought to find him alive In the morning;
that for weeks the quickening of hla pulse at aoy
moment must have been fatal. What secured t bat
perfect repose of body and mind necessary to the re
covery of both! The report of her death says it
was canned by Illness occasioned by the distress in•
to which the family was plunged by the attempted
amassination. In other words, the devoted wife and
mother died that the husband and eon might live.—
Those liven In which she had merged her individual
being could only be reached through hers. The dag
ger of the conspiracy made a passage for her spirit
out of Its clay prisod as ermtually as if It had pann
ed through her heart, and In doing so was turned
aside from its purposed victim. Nothing in the his
tory of remarkable women interests me so much as
the little 1 know of this strong, heroic, unselfish, si
lent wife and mother of men whose names are known
over the civilised world.—fbr. qf the Pittsburg Cbm-
YR. BZWIILD DIMINO mu ILIMESS AB DESCILIZED In
ECEIE3
Mr George Vocke, the soldier whom the &Wiest
Director detailed to attend Mr. Seward as nurse,
alter the latter's accident by a fall, has favored us
with interesting verbal information, in addition to
the written communications formerly published by
on concerning tho attempted assassination of Mr
Beward. Ile speaks with the warmest enthusiasm
of the sublimity of character which the, venerable
statesman evinced during that terrible period, in
which George Vocke spent many days and nights
at his bedside.
At the time Paine, alias Powell, burst Into the
sick room, Mr. Seward was asleep. While the as
sassin was Inflicting his mnrderens blows, he lost
neither his !tenability nor his presence of mind. Af.
ter his lacerated cheek had been sewed up. his tint
Inquiry was about the rendition of his son Freder
ick. He was informed that under the circumstanc
es, he lints doing well, and sleeping. Not ouW two
months later did the surgeon deem 11 advisable to
take the rather to the bedside of his goo, who, In
consequence of the terrible Injuries received, had PO
long lingered on the brink of death. HO an how
atter receiving his own wound Mr. Seward heard of
the attack on the President, which hia sharp car
gathered from the by-atanders, and of the President's
death he was at once Informed on Saturday morn
inA. As during theendastrophe,solmmedhitely there
after Seward displayed the composure of the
_phil
osopher. When he leamed the death of the Presi
dent, he remarked to the physicians around his bed.
aide that be had warned the President and also had
tOlfig*"lo4l*ONtia
02.00 per annum, in advance.
NUMBER 34.
dreamed that they would mall a wordy wounded
man In his bed.
On the morning of the iumassination he said to
bin nufites, his senaations immediately after the as
unit bad by no means been of an unpleasant nature.
lie had experienced no extraordinary pains; but
while the brood was gushing from his outcries he
had supposed that his end wasnigh ; and thought
at the same time what a pleasant thing it was to dis
than, without a bit of pain?.
Toward bin nurses said Girard all who came near
him during his sickness, Mr Seward was uniformly
friendly, even &Mx-Hon/toti never, when shake,
did Ilia philcooptdcal anon desert him. Only
when asleep be would at times, during the first two
weeks after the attack, suddenly start up and beat
around with his hands when dreams brought the
assassin to his imaglnetlon, but in two or three
minutes he was always quieted.
During the first three weeks Mrs. Seward was
constantly, day and night, at the bedside either of
her husband or that of Frederick, and these emu ,
Lions have since hastened the death of a lady equal
ly distinguished for the excellent qualities of bar
head and heart. No less noble was the conduct of
Mr Seward'', daughter, Miss Fanny. Indeed It is
perhaps to her courage that her father and the na
tion owe the salvation of blot lite. Like her moth
er, Miss Fanny was an untiring attendant upon her
suffering relatives.
The greateist trouble to the physicians was flew•
ard's mental activity, which did not abate, even dur
ing his greatest physical weakness and severest
pains. in order to prevent all excitement during
this critical period, and on account of the shattered
jaw bone, the physicians enjoined on him not to
speak, bet It was difficult to get him to comply.
It was not mere loquacity that rendered silence so
irksome to the statesman, bat chiefly his patriotic
anxiety about the republic. He desired to express
bin mind about the condition of the eountry,_to rta
fill Ms official duties as Secretary of State. The at
tending physicians bad prohibited speaking even be
fore the attempted assassination ; but to express his
thoughts by writing was also Impracticable, as his
right arm was broken. But as soon as the eatidl
tion of the fractured bone would allow, the medical
gentlemen had to bandage and fasten the upper
third of the arm, (where the fractured existed,) so
as to enable him N nee the lower part and band for
writing lo thin manner he conversed with the
President during the last days of that lamented
functionary's life. The President would aft at his
bedside and express himself' on the exciting ques
tions of the day, when Seward would write his views
ou a elate. In the Lame manner he conducted his
interviews, before and after the assassination, with
Mr. Hunter, the Assistant Secretary of State, and
tuns actually conducted the affairs of the Depart
mtnt of State—the papers dispatches, documents,
etc., of which had to be minted to his bedside, even
during the critical periods of lila Illness.
It was this same patriotic restleasness and saki.
,y of fir. Seward which prevailed on the physicians
to send for is skillful physician of New York , who
arranged an artificial wire apparatus In his mouth,
which enabled him to speak without risk, even be
fore his law-bone was healed. The apparatus cana
rd th- illustrious patriot at drat excruciating pain,
and at one time became displaced, so that the - New
York physician had to be telegraphed In order, to
replace it- But all those great and little annom .
cell did not for a moment disturb Seward's p
sophic intellect nor slacken his patriotic activity.
Few meek' history have evinced as much sublimity
of character and strength of mind as William Henry
Seward on his bed of sickness, surrounded by the
:errors of assassination and ronsplracy. He main
tained these qualities even when, alter his partial
recovery, he received the additional blow of the In
telligence of the death of hal faithful spou.se.-Ztaata
Zeitung.
Some persons eat themselves to death, Omen ars
dieted to death. When a man Is Melt he is weak,
and concludes that as when he was well be ate hear.
illy and was strong If he now eats heartily ha will
become strong again; well-meaning but ignorant
friends are of the same opinion, and their solicit'.
done to eat become one of the greatess annoyances
of a sensitive invalid. Nature purposely takes away
the appetite under such circumstances, and makes
the very sight of food nauseating. A sick man is
feeble; this feebleness extends to every muscle of
the body, and the stomach being made up of a lim
ber of muscles, has its share of debility. It requires
several hours of labor for the stomach to " work
up" an ordinary mad ; and to give it that amount
of work to do when it Is already In an ambulated
condition, I s like giving a man worn out by a hard
day's work, a task which shall keep him laboring
half the night. Mothers are often afraid that their
daughters will hurt themselves by a little work, if
they complain of not feeling very well; and yet If
such daughters were to sit down to dinner and
shovel In enough provender for an elephant or a
plowman,, it would be considered a good omen and
a harbinger of convalescence. A reverse proced
are would restore multitudes of ailing persona to
permanent good health ; namely, eat very little for
a few days; eat nothing but coarse bread and ripe
fruit, and work about the house hada/trim:Ay; or,
what is better, exercise In the open air Or the great,
er part or each day on horseback, In the garden, or
walking throng the woodlands or over the h il le t for
hours at a time. Objectless walks and lazy lo lling
In carriages are very little better than nothing. The
effect of Interested, absorbing exercise Is to work
out of the system the diseased and surplus matter
which poisons It; this relieves the stomach of the
burdens Imposed upon It, and allows It time to train
strength, so as more perfectly to convert the food
eaten into well-made, pure, and life-giving blood.
A weakly but faithful servant, In the effort to get
through with a specified amount of work, may per
form it all, but none of it is thoroughly done; where
as, If a moderate task had been assigned, all of It
would have been well done; so • weak stomach, in
flitted by a poor appetite, may be able to convert a
small amount of food into pure, invigorating blood.•
bat If too much Is eaten, th e attempt to "get
through it all" la made, blood Is manufactured.
but It is an Imperfect blood, It is vitiated, and mixed
with that already in the system, at every beat of the
heart the whole mass is corrupted, and "I am
ailing all over" is the expressive desciption. In
another set of eases there Is a morbid appetite; the
unhappy dyspeptic Is always hungry; and finding
that be feels beat while eating, and for a brief epics
afterwards, he is always eating and always dying.
To hear him talk, you would imagine that he could
not possibly live long, and yet he does live and
grow old In his miseries. Such may reasonably
expect a cure. la. By eating very moderately at
three specified times each day, and not an atom at
any other; then In less than a fortnight sometimes
these distressings cravings will cease. Sri. Spend a
large portion of daylight In agreeable out-door se
tlvities.—Halls Juarnal of Health
OYiso)/4)00:41:11111A.*:
One of the Paris Journals relates an inebient which,
If not true, deserves to be so; and, at any rate,
reads more like a dramatic invention than the fact
which It probably may be. It is odd that a Parisian
gentleman—who may be called M. Zero, In the ab
-epee of his real name—received one morning, a del
icate, rose scented billet-dnux, Informing him that
if his heart was tree, and ho had as much sentiment
an wit, he should enter a earn ke which *dab° in
waiting for him et nine the next morning, dose to
his house. To the driver he must say 't Forttinen
and thu reply, " Mystery" would assure bim that be
ors right. It was concluded with the etbserwatied
that if he did not keep his appointment, It
I wr be
because there existed a morn fortunate woz 'who
had won his affection. " I shall envy her," the hit
writer said, " but hate neither her nor Yon."
epistle was signed " Gabrielle" M. Zero, who Is •
marked man, read It and smiled—gentlemen usually
smile when they have assurance of having made •
conquest Ho finished his breakfast, and proceeded
to the head of the police, with whom he had an in
terview. Nine o'clock In the evening attired, and
Si. Zero left his house as the clock stink. Near the
door stood a handsome private carriage. The driver
challenged him—"wh• goes there," "Fortune"—
and the countenslgn—,' Mystery." "All right,"arut
the word, and IL Zero entered the vehicle In which
a veiled lady. eat. Ho desired Jehu to drive to the
nearest " poste," or police station, and when he ar
rived there the lady was banded out to a polite po
liceman, who transferred her for the remainder of
the night to the custody of the person who taut
charge of female prisoners. She slept soundly, was
liberated next morning because no one attended tO
make any chime against her, and returned home in
excellent spirits. There is • key to the enigma;—
Madame Z e ro wall *Jealous wife, who Ingeniously had
contrived a tittle plot to try her husband's fidelity.
He recognized the Menlo= as hay iNg been writ
ton by Or, and resolved to pay her off in het own
role, had her taken up under special arrangement
with his friend of the pollee office. for an attemt4 to
Mi ll s
his coulogal happiness, and thus Menet
wife, and quietly avenged hinmalf at the Paw
time.
WIWI. John Monts wu a chonis toper. One
day while returning bum the tavern, he found loco
motion Impossible. and brought up La the COlller of
a worm fence, where he remained standing. Es
bad been there only a few minutes, when the cable•
ter clime along.
"Uncle John," said he, "where do you suppose
you will go when you come to die V'
goylf I can't go i n aletter than can now, I shan't
anywhere," Uncle John.
PraMe.—AaMPlvm* bats WO..
DIETING.