VFase- i: . . pa a ,• v-rq.Rrjttorg. Stitd Vttt-tr. For the Democrat FR lEN DS. Howe'or dim this life may lie with.sorrois~ nowe'er dark the clouds may lower Above, Still we \ find it full of pleaSant places Witch surrounded by.the ones we love. • Like the flowers that sprinkle earth in spring. time, • And such beauty roncd our pathways fling, !tre the blossoms of sweet thought and feeling That beneath affection's sunlight spring. .They delight us as in our own garden Those that we ,have tended day by day,— They delight as through field and forest • Those that spring unlocked-for in our way. Friends whlin death has separated from me, Eriends who` still are walking with'me here, Loved alike \ and near, ye make my spirit . Cheerfully 4'e's weary burdens bear. • S. 11. D o.onunititiations. EXTRACT . rf an A4dresi before the Alumni.tif ffaz:ford ,Upirersity, at the Anniversary of July 3d, - 1855. . • . BY B. F. TEWKSBUTX. :Of the many vicissitudes which beset the pathway of human 'existence that of.sepitra jtion, of bidding'adieu to friends and cherish ed associations comes with the most inelan- .. choly,. yet intie - xible mandate. • . When the tender ties are to be severed, which link us in active and mutual sympathy with ;hose we have learned to regard. as friends and co-la borers in nkindred cause, there is not &heart mong us, so stout, that it will not feel the calm, still waters of earnest regret; welling upfront the quiet-recesses of its inmost depths, and soothing, with the limpid wave, the sti fled grief of a sorrowingsoul.- It is natural, it is proper that we, upon a time like - this, should give utterance - to words ;of- mutual consolation. .But in the perfortnance of this portion of our duty, we should noeforget that we have another duty to perfOrm,..equally- as imperative and more binding 'upon us from essential nature. . Life is made up : of the ideal and the actual • . a composition of hopes, aspirations, and anticipations, - underlying ;di of • which there is a stern and uncompromising reality. And to meet this reality in the most advan tageous manner, to give aright direction to . the untiring ,energies of manhood's noblest vigor—to give free .scope and exercise to the intellectual mid moral elements of oar - xistence; to train our Thoughts* and lac ltie to the alleviation bf human suffering-- to ferret out and remove the secret obstacles which itenede the progress of manes trium phant hunianity.conceived by the OmniciNt Author of our being—these, and more , than these, are the great objects and aims of the life of him who lives. consistent with the ob vious design of his creation. And here:may- the theme one brings to the important iiiquiry which underlies the main hodynf nay remarks upon this occasion. in pursuing its discussion I am allowed to are .dress mYself alike to you .who have given cbaraeter to these exercises and to those who hare successive years beforepassed nut from the - classic shades of that venerable Institu tion from which you are now upon the eve of separation. Thus much of preliminary, and I am . ready to inquire : What is most conducive to the successful elevation of the standard of true humanity . I answer, and perfect ,rec -cognition, both. by governmental institutions and by that great Arbiter of human. action, Public Opinion, of the distinctive, individual, ..mereignty of every citizen—of his preroga tive to that and its,unstifled utterance. Presumptuous tho' you deem me I must throw - myself upon your indulgence, while I utter and enlarge upon . 'what I consider a well-established truism, viz : -That' perfect as 1e consider our institntions ; as complete as we are ever willing tokt i elieve the details of our system of governmtat to be,,they are, as yet, but in their, merest infancy and unnun3- bred ages of progreas and improvement can only give that completeness of b eau ty—p la t \ symmetry of proportion which is clearly em- bodied in the great and ever-enduring prin . uple upon which the - whole superstructure rests. Do you. tell me that our system was conceived in the practical fulfilment of that , 'lmmortal principle which guarantees to - all a truer liberty and a 'completer happiness?-- Then. I keply: true accidents of that system are not in accordance with the-gnat principle ppon which .kbe systein is based. But lam not here to sPeak of mere abstractions only,, I sill, therefore, indicate some,' of what ap pear to we theradical4rils which have in vorrorated ,ThemsehresiAto Our body politic, and are now receiving l & too ample protec tion under the broad -er ' is of our social- and , governmentatsystero. In doing this I shall- exercise that freedpn of thought, and .its utterance, ' which I ear-. nt‘tly urge upon all others to exercise in the various relations of life. Oulrasking your tolerance, of which I sincerely hope all -who Lave opinions to, express will ever be the ready recipients at your hands Isbell (neap while, frankly tell you my convictions, not that I expect you .to endorse them. all ; ,but -because I cannot in honesty speak less. - First, then, we are, as a people too intoler . . . . . . . - ' - . . • . •. . . • . , . , . . • • • . . 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Ne find dint the opin ions entertained by the people of One section of the conMiy, are not allowed lin another section, to — be given public expression by their adveeates, because from circumstances, prej udice, or conviction, those opinions are be lieved to be obnoxious or detrimental to their peculiar interests. To a reflecting mind this proposition will at once resolve itself into an axiom. But to render it still inoreobnoxious let me inquire; where is the gran among the 1- Many who entertainK the solemn conviction that human slavery . fs a dark land, polluting. sip ; that it is - an evil alike to•themaeter and theislave ; that it is a Pondrons curse both tO 4 Cho citizen and thit state;—ivliere I ,say is ~ theindividuall*ho deeply and earnestly feels all this; and Would gladly, in all humility, i make known te - the iinperions master the rea r son:for those donvietiOns,, , and, yet, could be so reckless of life antt!its blessings- as'to post himselfaS an, anti -:slavery lecturer in the city 11411-of charleSten ?. I: I wait for no response to such an inquiry-- , -few would •be found, ready for the .perilous task. And to theni the follies : stippose some heroic sou of trop feel chi Valry should lash the conscientious citizen; of free-soil SYracu , e—that . worthy , . namesake of her renowned, histotictd, proto type—for their',.law-defying. rescue of the 'fa mous fugitive Jerry .1 ' . .Who tYkuld not hold I l i4, kreath. in suspenseawaitiuglthe results of such seeming i . impropriety-1 I Who would wonder if they Si:middeem this son of the tropics toojthit'lly- : clad for th,iir, northern lat itude, and,',so thinking should cha t him again ..--. and again with: Pittsburg's pitchy staple ? And again .';': wliere is the press] that. is bold',, enough to titter its sentiments i 'unmindful oil the bias of its N . :biers ? Thet ii anxious and! determined to give, publicity, to the whole' truth;binvitig he coesequenceslwith a manlyl integrity which gathers sustaining strength from the inflexible honesty of • its purpose.— Such a'press would indeed be a beacon light —a morning herald of a more glorious epoch —a new. erei,ushering in the dawning light of a brighter d - eltiny for the human race. If such - a pret.s 'should make: its appearance among us•ni-daY, it would justly be entitled to the - appellatiOn of the first great *owlet of,: 4.1 n,... nineteenth-century. - ti Arid further : Theodore` Parker dared to utter his convictions in relation to the life I .and charac-ter oflllaniel . Webster, if N4. - YOrk I EditOrw.as boll enough tO - ... publish ibein, 1 when two tho'ustnd subscribers came 'down. I upOn him with the thundering manifesto of, stop my pa sir. i Ralph - Waldo Emerson is hissed from the . staild in 'puritanical - -New England i because, forsooth, he . thoughtle-ssly . , t , gives utterance to the: spontaneous outpour iufis of an hone manly soul. . I bring these in illustration as i they are fa : miliar to -.:)u all. - An:l;althotigh; such things imay pit - riper sectional prejudices, and. some 1 miry even think they are truly seri - lee' a good . _ ,cause, there is no well balanced! mind that will not earnestly condenan such' exhibitions of uncurbed passion as decidedly wrong in theinselves• and, as 'examples, extremely un wholsompiet opinion meet opinion in open manly cenfliet. lilt, is an honest conviction let it be out-sPoken, also. .Deal with opin ionsFA with !the matt who: utters them in true and soleMn earnestns. - ' Leave-to.oth ers the use °fit that subtle serpent,. that ready weapon of fooli—blear-eyed ridicule. If a man shall utter strange opinions ; if he shall urge what seems to us the worst folly, he is nevertheless ekitled to a'candid hearing for' we shouldall remember that / what ..may ap pear to-day trig: faint flicker of a - chimerical hype, may to-morrow -be recognized as the [ most substantfal, ' historical or philosoptical truth, The an who boldly and fearlessly i 1 tells us what he -readily believes to be true, _althongli we May not be' able to endurse a single sentiment, demands Much-more of our reepee l t - time he who_gloats- over prejudices 1 contrary to'his own convictions of truth and rjustice. ;To mind can be 'too fully imbued with the important truth,'that the posses-sion e •Ofsufficie - ni moral courag e ] - tea tea speak all :the . ,. I 1 earnest 69nvictions of the soul, guided by an earnest desire to do good,ir.t: Nature's highest-. noblest gift to man.' It opens to the mind a thousand Herr and beamiftil avenues to im , Iproveinent ; it cilowns - tin intellect with a more perfect conce i ption . oflita own inherent Ipowers,---ehithes it withrreisv strength to corn-. prehend ini;g4able truthsjand, finally, ren- . dei-s it more fit to " look t rough Nature up to Nature's Q4d.” . • - . And cow my young friends; you who are standinglipon the threshold of an active and busy career, ;it is'fiii . you 'to master the sol emn conrictien; the t life is indeed a sober re ality,--thatm trafficked it is , a toy to be tracked Ad : bartered' for ar- impty.,bauble.--that its duties demand the 'puMmoning of the strong;' • ' .`i - O God-given est energies 0 or faculties.t . ... i . . Tradition tells us that : titro thousand years - i ago the. impe . riOus mi s ter of a mighty empire moved in allielie pomp of Oriental,pageantry along the Chad tie) , Choke; of ancient Delhi. But alas, for :Sill htii k+iideui! his. temples have disSolVed tddusti--khe '. 4 splendid wealth and shibbysplklidorncif his courts kavepass- • ed-awan and hfrfer.g6 tteitt ashes 4 uricared ' for, and unbonoted: beneath: the crumbling ruins' of his aticitia &at fallen glory: . • • And mark thloounterpart.- - A poor Egyp tian, ieholar,wia ped in theiwaddling Clothes of peaury;puraMog the 'rugged patli, slay .; of science under'the dim and donbtfnl, rays, of the,laMp of,earlyitges—no artificial splendor acconipan' ym' g h 4 career—no dauting l pa -14C,,,., ' • 1 A WEEKLY - JOURNAL-DEVOTED' TO POLI geintry luring him onward, and bracing his energies for the reception of a gilded sceptre, but. humbly plodding in the great labra tory of Nature he spent life in developing :her bidden principles for the benefit of man kind. Ages have passe, awaY, but Millions rise np to bless - the name of Euclid. His `fame is itntnOrtal as the immutable laws of the Universe. Then let , no hollow fame lure you to her slippery and deceitful paths. Court no emp ty honors as you value_ the blessings of a true and upright life. Rise to the compre bension of that. itpperishable truth, that life is valuable only as it is truly useful. Re member if you live in the line or" strictest rectitude And loftiest endeavor" you have a noble, life-long task before you. . Wait not for' opportunity but create your own. I In the language of a fearless writer. -of our daY—speak not regretfully that . the age of heroism, of chivalry is passed away. Re member that to render any age one of hero ism nothing is wanting but heroic souls.— Waitingfor the dead past to be acted over again for our selfish gratification or aggran dizement ice suffer the' l living present to glide away from us undervalued and unittiproved. To-day is a king in disguise. To-day-always looks common and triVial in the face of a uni form en)erience that al great analhappy ac tions have been made up of these-same blank to-days. Let us :uranask the king as he passes..: , Yes my young :friends, hero is our high privileges-, out imperative duty. Not from among the children of 'monarchs ushered in to being with the boom of cannon and. the shouts of revelling millions, but from amid the sons of obscurity and toil, cradled in per il and ignominy—from the bnlrushes and the manger come tOrth benefactors and . saviors of inattkind. So when all the. glare and bab ble of this age shall have passed into a fitting oblivionwhen those who have enjoyed rare opportunities, and swayed vast millions, and been borne on the shoulders of shouting mul titudes, shailhave at last been laid lo rest in gOlden coffins :the stately marble their only monument, it shall be found that some hum ble youth, who.neithe - r- inherited, nor found, but hewer? out his own fortunes, has uttered the.thotr-ht• which shall render thb age Mem; orable by extea ding the means of enlighten ment and. blessing to our race. The great struggle for Human Progress and 'Elevaticht proceeds often unnoticed. often checked .and apparently bathed - amid the clamorous and delAking strifes impelled by greky selfi,hness and low ambition. In that struggle maintained by the, good and the wise of all parties,' all creeds, all clitites, I call : you to bear the part of men.— Heed .tiCe lofty summons and with souls se rene and constant prepare . to tread boldly in the path of highest.duty. So shall life be to - . volt truly exalted and heroic ; S'o shall death be to you; a transition neither sought nor dreaded; so shall your memory though cher ished at first but. by a fos.:humble loving beans, linger long and gratefully in human remembrance, a watchword• tO" : the truthEnl, an ineitement•to generous endocor, freshen ed by the proud tears of admiring affection, and fragrant with the odors of Heaven. I was a lonely . sort of a bactelor, and had • never yet known what young men style "the passion." Of, passion 1 had enough, as my old mate yonder can tell you. I broke his head twice and his arm once, in fits of it;— but he had seemed to love me the better, and he'clings - to me now: very much as two pieces of . the same. chip cling together when drifting at sea: -; We are the solo survivors of a thousand ,wreeks, and of the companies that sailed with us tiro years Ago, no oths; r _one is left afloat. Iliad been a sailor from boy- ho;:xl,. and when I w4s . twenty-Sre I may Safely say no man-was m o re to .command a vessel among -the mariners of England:— And at this time my uncle died and .left his fortune. I had never seen hint,and hard ly knew Of his existence; but 1, had now speaking,evidence of the fact that he existed no town • I was try young and strong in limb; And I think stopt at heart, and I. was possessed- of the rental] of some thousand per annum. - -What hat was there to my enjoyment of the. goods of life I *No bar indeed,but I felt sore ly the lack of means of enjoymekt. I was a sailor in every sense., My education was tol erable, and IchadSonie books, but my taste I was nautical; and -I pined on shore. You ea; sily understand then, Why I built a yatch,and did spend much of my time on her. She was a fine cmft, and suited to my taste .in every respect, and I remember with , a sigh, now, the.happy days I spent in the - ." Foam." Niantrost, Susquehanna iisaltaninus. The Bride of the Wreck. - - - r, A BEAUTIFUL s*hr, I used to read considerable in my cabin, and occasionally, indeed weekly, invited par ties of gentlemen to cruise with me. But the foOt of a lady had never been on the deck of my bont, and I began to have an old bach elor's pride in the fact.:;. Yet I must confess to you a secret hinging for some sort of affec tion "different fiorn any I had 'heretofore knovinotnd a eestlessness when Men talked of beautiful women in my presence. _ One summer evening I was at theold hall ,in which my talkie died, and' was entirely aloni. - Towanis sunset I was surprised,while - ; • t . 7 11 •• 7 * • , tRAUT"t: fenn'a, Cknrstran horning, ',August SO, 1855. 100 l ing over my books, by the entrance of a gentleman .hastily announced, and giving in dieitiois of no little excitement. "]Four pardon sir, for my unceremonious entrance. My horse has ran - away with my carriage, and dashed it to pieces near your park gate. My - father was badly injured and my sister is watching him. I have taken the liberty to ask your permission to bring them to your residence. Of courso my consent was instantly given, and my own carriage dispatched to the park gate. Mr Sinclair was a gentleman of fortune,re siding about forty miles from me, and his father, an invalid, fifty years or more of age, was on his way in company with his son, to his son's' house there to die and be buried.— They. were Strangers to me, but I made them welcome to my house as if it were their own, and insisted upon theieusing . Miss Sinclair . was the first . woman who had crossed my doorstone sincel .had possession of the ball ; and well might she have been loved by better men than .L L. -She - was very small and very beautiful , --a the size of, Ye nuq, which all men:worship as the. perfection of beauty, but having a soft blue eye, shaded by jet-blriek brows, her face presented eleven traSt of Purity of .whiteness in the complexion set off by raven hair; and yet that hair hang ingin clustering curls, unhound by comb or fillet, and the Whole face lit up with the ,ex pression of gentle trust and - complete confi dence either in all around, or else in her own indoniitable determination ; for Mary Sin clair has a mind of her own, ands far-seeing one too. She was nineteen then Her father died in my house, and I atten ded the solemn procession that bore his re mains over bill and valley; to the 01.1 church in which his ancestors were laid 4 Once after that I called On the family, and Ithen avoided then.• -I cannot tell you what r Its the cause of the aversion I had tolintering - thitt house or approaching the influences ollthat match less girl. .1 believed thati I feared the magic of her beauty, and was Impres4d with my. own unworthiness to love her or ; bei loved by here I knew her associates wer4 of the noble the educated,.the refined, wadi, that I was none of these. What then cold .I expect but misery, if I yielded to the charms of that exquisite beauty or grace , which I knew' was in her soul! - . • . . A.-year passed: and I was a 'ivory boy in. my continued thoughts of 1 --•- I persuaded mygut a trmummali - tames that 1 ow • n•o, zirm her, 'and thousand times determined to prove it by • er.teting her presence. length I threw Myself into the vortex of London sonic- . . . ty, and was laSt in the whirsipoo One evening, at a crowded assembly, I was standing near a window in a reces. , a, talking with a lady, when I felt a strange thrill: I cannot describe it, but its effect was visible to, my companion, who instantly said," You are unwell,.Mr. Stewart, are not? Your face became suddenly flushed, and your band trembled so as to sbake the curtain." It was inexpliq.ble to myself; but I was startled at the anAtincement of Mr. and Miss Sinclair. I turned Iktd saw she was entering on her brother's arm, ►ore beautiful than ev er. • How I escaped I did not know, but I did Thrice afterwards I vas warned of her presence in this mysteriops way, till I believ. ed that there was some mysterious link be tween us two, of unknown,but, powerful char : adv.. I have since learned to believe the communion orspirit, sometimes without ma terial intervention. I heard - of her frequently now as -engaged to a Mr. Waller, a. man 'ivhorn I knew well, and was ready to do honor as worthy of her love. Wh en at lengthl: saw, as I supposed, satistactory evidence of the rumor, I left Lou doniand saw them no more. The same ru mor followed me in \ rny letters, and yet I was mad enough to dream of:Mary Sinclair, until months after I awoke to the sense of what a foal I had been. Co vinced of this, I 'went 4 aboard my yatch ab ' midsummer, and for four weeks never set foot onshore. ' One sultry day when pitch WAS frying on the deck, in the Lot sun, we rolled heavily on the Bay of Bisciy,and I passed the afternoon under a wail on the larboard quarter-deck. To ward evening I fancied a storm was brewing, and having made all ready forit, smoked on the taffrail till midnight, and then turned in. Will you believe me, I felt that same thrill through my veins, as I lay in hammock, and. awoke with it fifteen seconds before the roach on deck called suddenly to the man at the wheel, "'Port—port your helm !a sail on the lee bow ; steady . ! so !" I was on deck in an instant, and saw that a stiff breeze was blowing,sind a small schoon er, showing no lights, had crossed our fore foot within - pistol shot, and was how ,bearing up to the north west. The sky was cloudy and dark, but the breeze was very steady,and I went below again, and after vainly endeav oring to account for the emotion I bad felt in any reasonable way, I at length fell asleep and the rocking of my vessel. as she flew be: fore the wind, gave just motion enough to my hammock to lull me into a sound slumber , But I dreamed all night of Mary Sinclair. I dreamed of her but it *as .in unpleasant dreams. I standing on deck of the " Foam" and as I mould advance towards her the form of Waller would interpose. I would fancy at times my arm was around her, and her form resting against my side, and her head lay on my shoulder; and then by-the strange mutations of tintioss, it WU 00t I, bat Waller that was holdineher, and I was elinined _to a post, looking at them,and she would kiss him and again the kiss would, be a burning on 'my lips.. The Morning found me wide awake, reasoning myself out of my fancies.. By noon I had enough to do. The,peean was roused. A tempest was out on the sea, and the "Foam went before it. Night came down gloomily. The very: blackness of darkness was on the Water as , we flew Ufore the terrible blast. I was on-: deck lashed to the wheel, by which I stood, with a knife within reach to cut the fastening if necessary. We had but a - rag of a sail on her, and she moved more likes bird than a boat from wave to wave. _Again and again a blue wave went over - us, but she came up like a duck, shook off_the Water .and dashed on.. Now she staggered: as a " blow was on her bow that Might have staved a man of war, but she kept gallantly on ; and now she rolled heavily and slowly, bu i rnever aba ted her swift flight towards: shore. It was midnight 'when the wind was highest. The bowling of the cordage , was demoniacal.— Now a scream, now a shriek, now a wail and laugh of mocking madness. On, on we flew. I looked up, and turned quite- around the horiZon, but' could see no sky, -no sea, no ekud, all was blackness. 'At that moment .felt again :that strange thrill, and at the in-: stunt fancied a deuseeblacknesS ahead ;; and the next, with crash , and a, phinge, the ".Foam" was clear gone ! Down Went my gallant boat, and with her another vessel, un seen 'in, the black night._ The wheel to whichH I had been lashed; had broken loose and gone over with me before she sank. It w.as heavy and I cut it. away, and it went down in the deep sea'above my boat.. And seeing a spar, I seized it, and a thrill of agony shotthrOugh me as 1 recognized the delicate figure , of. a woman. I drew her to me and lashed her to• the spar by my side,- and so,. in •the black' night, we:two 'floated-away over the stormy; ocean. companion was senseless—for aught knew, dead.- A thousand emotions pissed through my mind in the next five minutes.— Who ‘ was my companion .on the slight spar f What Was the vessel had sunk I'. Was I with the body only,of a human being, or was there a spark of life left ? -And how could I fan it to a flame ? Would it not be better to let her sink thati to float otf with me, thus :alone to starve or die of thirst and agony ? I chafa4 lactr -51raS - mlic lIar10:11 r I.: VuitT .utn.--ree a feature of her fide, nor tell if-sheowcire Old or young—Scarcely white or black. The si lence on the sea was fearful. • So long as I bad been On the deck Of my boat, the wind whistling through theiropes and'around the'spars had Made a continual sound; but now 1 heard:nothing but tlfa'oe casional sparkling of the sprat, the dtlsh of a foam-cap, or the heavy sound of the iluind pressing on my ears. At length she moved her hand feebly lin mine. ffow my heart leaped at that ilindit i evidence that I was not alone on the.! wild• ocean. I redoubled my exertions. r pasied one of her arms over my neck to keep it Out of the water, while I chafed the other hand with both of mine... I felt. the clasp of that arm tighten ; I bowed my head toward hers. She drew me close to her=laid her cheek amainst mine.- I let it rapt there-Lit .rni6t, warm her's, and so help to give -her Then she nestled close to my bosoth and whispered "Thank you." Why did'my brain throb so wildly in my head at that whispered sentence I She knew not where she was, that was deal!. Her mind was wan-, dering. At that instant' the end of the spar struck-some heavy object, and we were dash ed by a huge wave over it, and to my joy were left on a floating deck. I cut the lash ing from the spar,-and fastened my compan ion and myseltto the part of new raft or wreck, I knew not which, and all the time that arm was around my neck, and rigid_ as if in death. . Now came the low, wild wail •-that pre cedes the breaking up of the storm.- The err seemed filled with viewless spirits mournfully singing and sighing. . I never thought ber anything else than a human being. lOW* that humanity, that dear likeness of life, that endeared her to me. I wound my arm around her and drew her close to my heart, and bow ed my head over her, and in the wildness of the moment I pressed my lips to hers in `'a long; passionate kiss of intense love and- ago ny. She gave it back, murmuring • some name. of endearment, wound both arms round 'my neck, and laying her head on - my shoul der, with her"-forehead pressed against my cheek, fell into a cairn-slumber. That kiss burns on my lips this hour. Half a century of the cold kisses of.the world have not suf ficed to chill its influence. ' It thrills me new as then I It was madness;. with idol - ',Noir ship, of the form God gave in the image of himself, which, in that hour I adored as eti God I I. feel the unearthly joy again today-; as I remember the clasp of those, - utiknO arms, and the soft pressure of that forehea I. I knew Pot. I cared not, if she were old a d 1 haggard, or young and fair. ' • I only knew and rejoiced with joy unto d that she t wits, human, mortal, of my own kiit, . by the great Father of ens race. . , 1 I -I ; It waste night of thought and .;emotion' , and phantasms that never cau be describe . Morning dantied grainly ; .the first faint gleam of light showed inek -, a driving clond above rux 11*—it was 'welcomed with, a shudder. I hilted light. I wanted to fleet over that heaving ocean with that form cling ing to one, and my arms around it, and my lips everand anon pressed m the passionleis lips of the heavy sleeper. I asked no light: -It was an intruder on -my domainomd would, drive her from my 'embrace. I was mad. But tisl saw the face of my companiO,n gradualiy revealed iu the dawning. light, as my eyeS began to make'out one by ono the` fenturtal at length the terrible truth came slowly huining into my brain, I mourned aloud in my agony, "God of heaven, she is dead'!" and it was Mary Sinclair. But she was not dead. We floated all day long on the sea, and at midnight of the nes] I hailed a ship and they took us off. Every man from the' Foam" and the other vessel was saved, with one exception. The other vessel was the "Fairy," a schooner yacht, belonging to a friend of Miss Sinclair, with whom she and her brother, and . a Party of ladies andgentle men, had started, but three days previously, foi a Week's cruise. need not tell you how I explained that strange thrill as the schoon er crossed our bpw the night before the col lision, :And what I felt, again at the moment of the - crash, nor What interpretation I gave to the wild tumult of emotions all that long I married Mary Sinclair, and I buried her thirty years afterward, and I sometimes have the satire evidence of her presence now, that I used*, have when she lived on the same earth with me. An Aizatomienl Rencontre. ' fly TEM OLD.IUN. Green is- not a fast color. Transplant the verdant youth into the city, and give him there a local habita l tion, and he wil'. soon out shine ,the most ruse native. The change from the 'gawky' to the ` lion' is is rapid as the transition from a Russian winter to'. a Russian summer. Cowhides change alto bea ks verities, mittens into kids,.'with really mar vellous•celerity. YOu soon find it dfficult 20 distinguish the exotic rem the indigenous.,':, Mark that young man who sports a _cab a cigar,and bundles his ribbons with Paris kids. A yearago:he was following the plough-tail —bapp4in all probability, than he is now —a stu3enkf surgery. •-. • Zir A French officer being a prisoner at A var ago when he came down to Boston,• P°115")1W; England, w as' Per/flitted to walk 1/1, • honi 4_ about tosvn on - his parole, and accordingly all his ea thly' bossessions, viz., a mon snit of a -7 !IPA ti nQr eirot onfi_Haaria,7.mgruidiz; to church, where saw- tire mayor daps* a tine tooth co , two dozen socks, and " 'box of blaain . , 'n e cowhide trunk, he was handsome girls. one of the mot verdant specimensof aim! Ab," said monsievr, when he.carruiletae, you ever encountered. Hi s go id e ii j " two very .fine ladies were at de church dia ..I , hair slightly shaded his ruddy I:heel: 1 s, his gar: 'morning l" '" Who were they I" inquired the. landlady. &tvored of a remote.-an alMost medit "Me have; forgot, do game, but what be dat, oval age, He put tip at a fourth-rate house; and then sallied forth to look About thing dat nibble de grass r' His only acynaiutance was a far away . cons- t` Oh," said the landlady, "a cow" in, a student of surgery and medacine (Mark: "No, no," eagerly interrupted the _French= - Merriwether by name,) and on him Verdant relied for information and aid, as he had come to Bostongo pnrsue the same career.— /; . ow Mark -had paid Verdthst a.visit ltt the mountains some years previous,and the yonng V . ermonter had sold' the city buck extensive- ly—that is, be had put him on the back of a wild filly, had upset him in a boa; broke Ins head at cudgelling, and extended numerous other civilities with which some country cans are in the habit of welceming their city friends, . . They met ip town, :then, and Mark, aftei the Ai's:greeting, inquired the purport of hii cousin's visit.. • . - : " Iv'e: cOnie up heie to stay .a s,pell, was the reply. • , Glad to bear. it. - "Heow du yeou like pour trade 7" Very well. • "Most learned it—hey?" Most. " Wall; I'm - thl nkin' to roller the same line of busies---and I want you to help Me along With the greatest pleasiiie, Zeke . -111 put you threcgh an entire course of sprout a. •" Spreouts r ' Show' you-the ropes. , , gißopp . / r Let yon see bow we,do things. Where shall we begin I " Wnll—,l want to see that ere place where, . you cntlollc up—fust thing..' 0, very well, come along. ' Mark'did ftbe honors of the'college to- his guest, and it may be imagined that, his pro-. fessional san,gfroid offered a strong :contrast to the naive horrer of his guest. Still, there was a sort fncinaticin in what be witnessed that impelle Zekiel to pronounce, though in s a faint and ping voice, that every ., thing oi l. was " fut ra t te.l At lastthey reached a lit tle malitank cabinet. - " What's in there 1" asked Zekiel. ' . ' "'Olio) and sea" said'his friend.. gekiel did so, kind was instantly clasped in the 'arms of al 'skeleton. .' ' 'With a h Avl of herror,he exclaimed : "Lem, ; me go I. help I help!" - ' - 1 - Mark ',as dying with laughter. •, "pens ath ;alive cradled . me, sure enough l"' "ex lainuxl the . sufferer. - lie ;gain appealeir to ark for help. Finding his cons in inexo;nbl be determined - to help hiniself. "Look he _ old Bonypart, said he, irYou ro l e don't lees me go, 11l lick y6uinto fits I" and getting one rm, free, he dealt ! the_ skeleten. a tremendows low in the hied, which knocked him Vick int 4 the box, the doors of ivhick closed initantly, leaving Zeikle a free ,pituf again- ;' • - • - " That"ere 'natomy was a pooly behaved. pap," he run rked, re •assured by The success Ootume 12,''''Sittiber, 44.2 _ . of his eiertions: I've a good miraito - AWES him out bt his bot and gin him a regular lickih. Why didn't \ you' : step in - iihuni- - pat see him attacking_me Y - - "I stood by to s fait playPiaid #ark. " Wralljesi you , tell him this from uie,'said Zeikle, " as long as he , keeps hiraseAfTii.-Idi own quarteis, Int him alone; but- if be ever Conies aeross.me oaten this effP*l i ii wallop him ! like A few days after' this, Zekiel, lad made formal application. to Dr.------to e- he re ceived as a student, fekeived a note from, tlitit gentleman, requesting him to call at Ms of fice. 1 . He accordingly rang at thodoor of thedoo tot'Saiistooratic rr.imaiorn It must be . betne in mind that the doctor is as thin as it possi ble for a live man to be. He was seated in his study-chair Nyten Ziekie entered; so that the a rming nunN. not at first glance recog nize the peculiariq"Cf his appearance; but when he stood up and eittended his haid, a -Ipminous idea flashoillirough tie I biain of his visitor. • " Hands off," said IM; "no stutkin' _pa7s 'with me. • Ikaaw your tricks." The Doctor :assumed an air of astordshuient and offended dignity.. ' " As you please, young man," said he, sit , dog down. " 0, you needn't be so offish r said' 21ild e. " You and I have seen each other afore to day." "Not to my knowledge, r said the dixtor., P'raps not; said Ziekle knowingly. sap, old feller—hOws your head Er- • " My head ! you're eraiY." - " Not by a long chalk I say," be added • ir k a confidential whisper, how . often do they. let yoii out?" • , , "Let me out ".Yes, darn you ;-I knoiti you it you haw got your clothes on 1 you're the livin'AMle: ton they keep up to the +lege, there—the chap "gin the Hokin to the other day." . The doctor burst into a Inagb., undeceir4 his visitor, and received hi tn as :a pulpiLi, but eren nis cousin dares not reinind him 'ofthe - adventtzre, for if he did, he would not .hiive whizle lona enough left to- make a skelertati. man. ",A shenp,perbaps I" said she. "A - 1 "No." - • - „ "Perhaps you mean a horse I" • "No, no, not de horse, but what dehorsi4,l wife's name!' - I I " Amara 1" • - ' "tai ! de mare's daughters vAI•W` - it churoh l f, dis morning I I vera pretty4oung day put de water in my month." • : "-.. " 0C1A134 ArrAm. 77 . The Usior; compa-1 ny **th Topaz, called upon one of our:idval.-I tisers the other aftempon„ to fetch a leek; - sit one of themost improved sowing machines 4 After the two had-gaz4mil upon it for e 1 time in silen i de, Topaz asked the Major . he thought of it I "Oh," said the Major, l l conAder it, oa r a so-so affair." - ' "goit, 'seeing; but then, Major; I`Lhink fit could be used to good advantage.in "In "what way r inquired the Mai " Why,".repllad TOR; "it Would be n et. use in repairing brreckes."' Respectability. " Cato, does , yon know dew Job 4 iLtdtiga,' up - klar, in Conga. place is go to lie berry Speeta,..! We folks V ! • - - •• . • -"Wall Scipio, I t'ought dey was. Ottin!,, along berry well; but doesn't kunst ;.how. . 'spectable day is: . = "How'speetable dOes you tink,-- Car ' Wall, guess bout tree.tousand dol . ra.. ..- • "More speen‘ble dan dit." "Wall, how 'speetable is 4ey . f . • “Wy ; five tousand dollars, an: alonise lot." " Whew ! good bye; 'Cato, Linnet gi4"ent a call." _ - - - • How To Cnootoicleve r' . rya luau until you 'harp bird al* :Lek: the candidate for your , bin& pass tbrOttei*i: -. ordesi r of eatiUg - soft b o iled eggs: If he 4tt`":, do it and leayfif the table spread the and his.sbi • , ,uspotted 7 Htikti nett wi Itate-rib. , he.Z4:4OttiOtialai this fea Without putting , out . 03' 436 :Pr-Pito ,g t h e , bones . into YOUr Ps en L eonia the wed4ing.day at 'Orice Vita tti. tie to: ere the tiniblillitat colorslie, Of the stars in Henveit . B~eauee_ they ere beyead fie powervrtuit mown to pou:tkelp t icay ß ., Ei r trienti e foots will'iearn iii n o oth r ~ - Atir Ropor and fiches rata thetiowibaabi world ~_ . , upon.which the it InoTed - i'llijitadl. ahem; • hos 'discontent mile with - - . -, '-- . =Gil 1 r i' 11
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers