. • .
\
...
' \
. .
•
, .
. .
.
. ' . .
_ . . .... _...
# CIO 4.4 ._ , • ,—..,
' ....
.., . ... . .. .
• •i••.i
• .
..
.4 . . -
ti
••::'. i
i t ~. ': • -
..,..
•••a' t.
~ ,
41 civ il i. .
~ •tt 4 1,. :.„, ite • l ty
„ 4- 0 k .,
• - • •'• • ..h.
h, . I
.. • .
, .. .
.
' ' " . .
• OIC ...... o 0. t, 4-
e 'e: . ? •
. ,
. . . • lit , .
,
‘r. :•";, ,
.4' 'r •:. t of ~..1 : ..
..,
1 . .
. .. e kti... .
.'. .:
...• •. :' :: 0. 1 4 e.::: . :..; ,• r .. - ' 1 , e, ~. . .... 0 •
,•• e•
'1 • ~. ,
~. , .
, i• - . 4.7 , •..k'• N •,,,,
•
6 .••• ~4 . . ~
. .. P .s, .... . .1. :•;.
•
.. . , .
. •. ; t i ,
.. ,„ J.
. .
. ~t , .
~, .
:„ ~„ 4 , ;•t—
-n,., .. _
,!: ~, 11:'
. :1 :...
.••:••••;•:.k.',:..., '' , x, .. qt., i
11, ' • .. -.
.
...„.
..
• • • • -..,
1' i, ':•,i d e ` •
'':t :.. •4.:•• c ! . ...:.. ..
:-Y ' •
. • .
•,.. •
'. •
. .;
A -
...
• , .:- . • .
. .
BY W. BLAIR.
TOLURE 24.
tint Vottrg.
L3til!irellatirotui carting.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
[From the Quincy, (111,) Whig, March 16.]
A—few—months — since — several — emnretir
gentlemen, trustees of the University of
Chicago, desirous ofrecording in the sr
chives of that stitution. • - 4 • "
P.--
history, authentic evidence. concerning
the religious character and opinions of
their friend, addressed Rev. N. W. 'Min
er, for fifteen years a resident of Spring
field, and the neighbor of Mr. Lincoln,
requesting of him a detail of facts within
his •knowledge bearing on the subject.—
For many, years Mr. Lincoln was more
free and frequent in conversation on relig
ious topics with Dr. Miner than any oth
er, especially on the occasion of a :,o
journ of Dr. Miner and his estimable
wife at the White House, at the time of
the death of little Willie and the sad oc
currence of the war oppressed him with
sorrow and care, led him to seek, more
than ever before, the Consolation of reli
gious thoughts arid the counsels of his
friend. We commend this plain and truth
ful to those who loved Mr. Lin
coln and were profbundly grieved - when
his true sentiments on a vital point were
attempted .to be - turned to bad uses by
profane hands :
BELVIDERE, ILL., August 1, 1871.
Hon. J. Y. &amnion, Bee. J, •C. Bur
roughs, D. D., LL. D., Hon. L. D. Boone,
lien•. If: IV. Evarts, D. D., and others.
(YENTLEMEN :—Your letter requesting
ate to communicate to you the facts that
have come within my knowledge in re
gard to the religious views of - the late
President Lincoln is before me, and I
will endeavor to comply with your re
quest. Ido so the more cheerfully be
cause I ant anxious, with yourselves and
thousands of others who revere the mem
ory of that great and good man, to do
what I can to defeat the designs of infi
dels and skeptics, who are endeavoring
- to take from the memory of Abraham
Lincoln an acknowledgment of his be
lief in Divine revelation; and his known
reliance upon Divine Providence." I
shall in this letter state filets derived
iron' two sources, namely, from Mr. Lin
coln himself and his wife..
first became acquainted - with Mr.
Lincoln in the spring of 1855. Living
on the same street with him, my residence
I,ing on the opposite corner, I saw him
almost daily. I was a frequent visitor
at his house, and knew hint intimately,
sympathizing with him in his political
views, and admiring his honesty and
moral integrity, I was drawn toward
him and took special I aim to cultivate
his acquaintance, which, in process of
time, ripened into mutual confidence and
friendship.
At this period I do not think Mr. Lin
coln was ‘vhat is termed an experiment
al Christian. 1 used- to see hint some
tines at the funerals of his old neighbors
and sometimes at church on the Sabbath;
but he was not a eqnstant attendaat on
the means
. of grace, lint during my
long and intimate acquitintance with nim
and the maii conyersations I had with
him from time to time on numerous sub
jects, I never heard a word fall from his
lips that gaVe me the remotest idea that
his mind was even tinctured with infidel
bentiments; but on the contrary, the more
intimately I became acquainted with him
the mote deeply was .1 impressed with
the conviction that he believed, not only
an the over-ruling Providence of God,
but in the divinity of the Holy Scrip
tures, and had a profound reverence fur
.everything true, noble and pod:
After the election of Mr. Lincoln to
the Presidency, he seemed to have fully
comprehended the vast responsibility of
his high office and the dangers and diffi
culties he would have to encounter in the
discharge of his duties.. This led him to
serious reflection ; and feeling that he
was inadequate to .meet and discharge
those duties in his own wisdom and
thought, he asked Christians to pray fur
him, that be might have help from on
high.
In the en-rlr Wort of the riatcrf I'4n
it: view of the threatening attitude of the
Southern States in passing an ordinance
of secession, a national fast was appoint
ed by President Buchannan. The day,
I remember was observed in Springfield,
The meeting was held in the First Pres
byterian Church, and was largely attend
ed by the most respectable and best peo
ple in the city. The various churches of
the town were represented. Many fervent
were offered for our beloved
, and for the man whom Provi
ad raised up to guide the "Ship
over a rough and stormy sea.—
teoln was not indifferent to the
spiritual influence of that meet
.e listened attentively to the ear
,yers, which were made with thrill
rest. At the close of the meet
;sed down the aisle in which he
iding, and taking me by the hand
with deep emotion and tearful
Ir. Miner, this has been a good
I hardly know how it could
m made better. I feel very
for the prayers offered in my
ind hope they may be answered."
Le morning of the 11th of Februn-
Lincoln, with his family, left
eld for Washington. The-State
mre and a large crowd of his
tud neighbors had assembled at
t, on the occasion of his depar
/id him good-bye. Just before
started - he stepp - ed - on - the - plat
icovered his head, and delivered
t farewell speech which thrilled
is of those of us who heard it,and
.of the nation who read it. On
:asion I. heard him say : "A duty
;Ton me which is, perhapr, grea
ter than that which has devolved upon any
other man since the days of ‘Vashington.
-He-never-could-have succeeded except for
the aid of Divine Providence, upon which
lie at all times relied. I feel that I can
not succeed without the same Divine aid
uhirh sostaineditim4-andin-the-same-
Almighty Being I place my reliance for
support ; and I hope you, My friends, will
pray that I may receive that .Divine assis-
7 iZe?'
tance, without wuc cannot suttee
but with which success is certain;'
I did not meet with Mr. Lincoln again
till in April, 1862. Death had entered
the White House. Willie Lincoln, a
promising son of the President, had died.
The grief of Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln• was
great. Being the old friend and neigh-.
bor, we went to see them, that we might,
it possible, impart some spiritual consola
tion to them in their deep bereavement.—
It was during this visit, of nearly a week,
that we learned more of the religious views
and feelings of the late President than we
ever knew befbre.
Mr. Lincoln expressed great pleasure
on seeing me, and in the course of our con
versa,tion he remarked : "I am glad you
have come : it is a relief to see an old
frieLd from Springfield, And I can talk
with you as I cannot with any one else."
As it was my first visit to the Capitol, he
proposed to '' with me some afternoon,
when he had' little leisure, to visit the
Smithsonian Institute, the Navy Yard,
and other places of interest in Washing
ton. An afternoon of a Thursday was fix
ed upon for the ride. Being alone, we con
versed freely on the stirring events of the
times. The battle of Shileah had just been
taught, and many of Mr. Lincoln's friends
were among the dead and wounded. The
awful distruction of life, the loss of dear
friends weighed heavily upon his; mind,
cud he was sad and dejected. Aud then,
too, the elections, in some of the States,
has been adverse to the Administration,
and the President was almost discourag
ed at the state of things. I said to him :
"Well, Mr. Lincoln, you have this en—
couragment,*Christian people, all ever the
country, are praying fur you as they nev
er prayed for mortal man before." "I
believe that," he said, "and this is an .
f, en
couragin thought to me. If I were not
sustained by the prayers of God's people,
I could not endure the constant presure,
I should give up hoping fOr success.
Ii the course of our conversation at this
time I asked, "Do you think, judging
from your stand-point, that we
_shall be
able to put down this rebellion ?" He an
swered, "You know I am not of a very
hopeful temperament. 1 can take hold of
a thing and hold on Q. good while. But
trusting in God for help, and believing
that our cause is just and right, I firmly
believe we shall conquor in the end, But
the struggle will be protracted and severe,
involving a fearful loss of property and
life. "What strange scenes," he continu
ed to remark, "are these through which
ire are passing. lam sometimes aston
ished at the part I am acting in this ter
rible drama. I can hardly believe that
1 am the same man I was a few years ago.
when I was living in my humble way
with you in Springfield. I often ask my
self the question, "When shall I awake
and find it all a dream ?" This getting the
nomination for President, and being elec
ted, is all very pleasant to a man's ambi
tion.: but to be the President, and to meet
the responsibilities and discharge the du
ties of the office in times like these is any
thing but pleasant. I would gladly, if I
could, take my neck from tinder the yoke,
and go home with you to Springfield,and
live, us I used, in peace with my friends,
than tq endure this harassing kind of life.
"But t " with great solemnity he added, "it
has pleased Almighty God to place me in
my present position' and looking up to
Hint for wisdon and Divine guidance, I
must work out my destiny as best I can."
Our conversation on this occasion was free
and without ever a thought of its publi
cation; but all that was said ditring the
memorable afternoon I spent alone with
that great and good man is engraven too
deeply on my memory ever to be effaced.
I felt certain of this fact, that if Mr. Lin
coln was not really an experimental chris
tian, he was acting like one. He was do
ing Lis (lazy ma:111111y, - 11;i:LookiLig tip to
God for in time of need, and, lik2
A FAMILY NEWSPAPER---DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, LOCAL.AND GENERAL NEWS, ETC.
WANNESRORO
the immortal Washington, he believed in
the efficacy of prayer, and it was his cus
tom to read the Scriptures and pray hina
self. .
And here I would relate an incident
which occurred on the 4th of March, '6l,
as told to me by Mrs. Lincoln. - Mr. Lin
coln wrote the conclusion of his inaugur
al address the morning it was delivered.
The family being present, he read it to
them. He then said he wished to be left
alone for a short season. The family re
tired to an adjoining room, but not so far
distant but that the voice of prayer could
be distinctly heard. There, closeted with
God alone, surrounded by enemies and
those who would take his life, he com
mended his country's cause and all that
was dear to him to God's providential
care, and with a mind calmed with com
munion with his Father in Heaven, and
with a courage equal to the danger; he
came forth from retirement ready for du
ty. Like the "Father of his Country,"
whose character he so =eh admired. in
a time of impending danger he sought
and obtained help from Heaven.
But befbre bringing this too long letter
close, let me say a word or two about
to_achlsc,
his going to the theatre the night he was
assassinated. It has been a matter of re
gret to many good•men that he came to
his tragic end in such a place. But if
-the-ciretimstances_of_his_going_there_w_ere_
fully known, it might relieve their minds
somewhat. It has been said that Mrs.
Lincoln Urged, her husband -to go to the
theatre against his will. This is not SC,:
On the contrary, she tried to ,persuade_
him not to go, but he insisted.
I have this statement from Mrs. Lin
coln herself. lie said: "I must have a
little rest. A large procession of excited
and overjoyed 'people will visit me to
night. My arms are now lame by shak
ing hands with the multitude, and the
_People will pill nte_4o_pieees
to the theatre, not because he was inter
ested in the play, but because he lifts
- careworn and weary, and needed quiet
I . repellSC - 41 - 1 . ••• •• 4 - • •• - -- 4
that he seemed to take no notice of what
was going on in the theatre from the time
he entered till the discharge of the fatal
pisile, He was overjoyed at the thought
that the war was over, and that these
would be no further destruction of life.
She said the last day he lived was the
happiest of his life. The very last mo
meats of his conscious life were spent in
conversation with his wife about his fu
ture plans, and what he wanted to do
when his term of office expired. He said
he wanted to visit the Holy Land, and
see those places hallowed by the footprints
of the saviour. He was saying there was
no city he so much desired to see as Jeru
salem, and '.'. ith that word half spoken en
his tongue, the bullet from the pistol of
of the assassin entered his brain, and the
soul of the great and good President was
carried by the angels to the New Jerusa
lem above.
Leap Year Incident.
A very ludicrous-leap year incident
occurred near Connersville, Ind., a few
nights since. h seems that a young bach
elor on retiring at night without first mak
ing an examination of his surroundings,
put out the light and crawled into be.!,
but to his surprise soon found that he had
a bed-fellow. He quietly arose, lighted
his lamp, and proceeded to explore the
situation. The first thilig that caught
his eye was a snowy night-cap, cozily rest
ing upon the pillow at the back of the
bed. He looked no further, but extin
guishing the light, he seized his clothes
mid beat a hasty retreat. Dressing him
self hastily, after getting a safe distance
froM the room, he called up the wan of
the housa to make inquiry in regard to
the strange occupant of his room. He
could give no information about it; and
called his wife into council. It was, how
ever, all a mystery to her, and the land
lord in company with his discomlitted
boaider, concluded to make a tour of ob
servation. Cautiously they entered the
apartment and approached the bed. The
sleeping beauty was undisturbed. In filet
she was resting as quietly as though ,one
half of the bed was her legitimate pro
perty. The old gentleman in no very
amiable mood reached over, caught her
by .the si i pulder and rudely dragged her
forth, Jirst then a wild scream of laugh,
ter from•the adjoining room startled the
ears of the two gentlemen, and in fact,
the old gentleman most heartily joined in
it. The seeming woman was only a bol
sters and sonic pillows, 'cunningly arrang
ed an d*placed there by some of the young
ladies who were staying at the house. The
young, gentleman has concluded that the
only way to avoid such accidents in fu
thre, to give some one the right to occupy
the vacant place.
MAN AND rns Wonx.,—Agrieulture is
the natural occupation of man. Eden
was an estate devoted to horticulture.—
God commanded the fathers of our TUC.?
to cultivate the ground. The nations 'of
the earth would starve, were they to de
pend upon the .spontaneous productions
for support. It is agriculture, hardfist
ed, broad shouldered, rosy-thccd and sun
crowned, that spreads the broad table at
which the world is fed. Seven years' fit
mine would nearly, if not entirely, Flis
people the nations of the "old world,"
and reven years of universal indolence
would be followed by a Calamity almost
as great and disastrous as famine Wealth
talent, learning and genious do not ex
cuse men from the responsibilities of la
bor. Laziness is a crime . It is a sin to
be idle. Vice and indolence arc as
closely allied as the Siamese twins.
Drinking, water wither makes a man
riok, nor in debt, nor lik= wit a v,:itiew.
Truly, yours,
N. W. MINER.
Au Arkansas Love Story.
Twelve years ago a pretty coquette of
Calloway, County Ky., found her court re
duced to two persevering suitors named,
respectively, Eldridge Miller and Will
iam Schrader, who, having out-stayed half
a score or less pertinacious rivals, now
competed vigorously with each other for
the last flirtation. Wisely concluding that
her opportunities for a, settlement in life
were not likely to be so frequent as they
bad been, and that it was time to choose
between the two last admirers for her fu
ture lot, the lively lass, after due study of
the subject, told Sch ceder, who was a wid
ower, that she should always esteem -him
as a very dear friend, and placed her hand
in that of Mr. Miller fbr life. As is quite
common in such cases the gentleman se
lected for friendship accepted his fate
with very bad grace, and refused unequiv
ocally to forgive his success: Thence
ensued between his family and the fami
lies of Miller and his bride much hard
feelings, which had for one of its final ef- -
fects a determidation of the young hus
band and wife to leave their native State
and make a new home somewhere in the
wilds-of-Ark-ansas,lt-was-Millerls-inten
tion to turn Ipraaire farmer in the South
west, and found a homestead there fcr
the two little ones multiplying his house
hold cares in due succession ; but the soil
-of-A=rkansa-s-provcd=stubb-ornTthe—times
hard, and, as the war of secession began
about the time,he_suddenLy-sol-ved-the
problem of married_ life by joining. the
Southern arm Marchin_ -to battle he
etwle an s lies in a most embarrassing
condition of poverty, whick,however,they
endured patiently until the news of a great
battle involved in its list of fatalities the
sad tidings that they were widowedand
littherless. Upon recovering from the first
shock of her bereavement,Mrs. Miller took
refu • e with her helpless charges
tospitality proffered by certain sympathiz
ing relatives in Henry County, Tens.,
where, to her great - astonishment, she was
zesentl reeted b - her old lover, Schra-
der. he atter ex ame tto troug
continued regarded for her, having final
ly resolved to seek a reconciliation with
her husband, he had reached Arkansas
only in time to hear of poor Miller's death
in battle and her own departure. As an
old friend he felt impelled to follow her,
in the hope that he might be able to ren
der some friendly office to her possible
needs ; and hoped that, for the sake of old
times, she would call upon him as on a
brother. All this was naturally greatful
to the feelings of the penniless widow, a
way from all the associations of her early
home and a dependent upon comparative
strangers, and she showed her gratitude
so plainly that its object took courage to
say more. Kentuckian days were recal
led, old sympathies revived, the patriot
dead mourned in concert, and a new union
proposed. The end of it all was that Mrs.
Miller became Mrs. Schrader, and went
with her second husband to a new home
at Crossland, in the State of her birth.—
There, after a lapse of nearly nine years,
'the Murray Gazette described the house
hold as wildly agitated by the unannounc
ed arrival of a wonderfully ragged, beard
ed, and gruff' intruder, who introduced
himself as the late Eldridge Miller, other
wise known to the poets as a species. of
Enoch Arden, and informed the aghast
Schraders that he would trouble theta for
a couple of children beldnging to him.—
Mrs. Schrader having fainted and been
removed. Mr. Schrader solicited some ex
planation of his guest's perplexing escape
from the tomb; upon which that comic
ghost related that he had been captured
instead of killed by the Yankees ; vas ta
ken
a prisoner to Chicago, and there lib
erated upon condition of going to the fron
tier and fighting the indians ; had been
captured by the Indians, and by them held
in captivity until the very recent date of
his escape. In his old Arkansas home he
was told of his wife's journey to Tennes-.
see with the • children, and remarriage
there'; and had at last traced her to Cross
land, to reclaim only his otnpring if she
chose to remain with her second husband.
The latter personage listened,to this ro
mance with reprehensible sign of incre
dulity, observing, in reply, that the story
of the captives was too attenuated, and
that Mrs. Schrader would surrender nei
ther herself nor her children. "Then," re
marked Enoch Arden, gruffly, "I'll see
what the law can do for an old soldier."
Mr. Schrader invited him to do his worst,
and a suit was actually begun ; but on
the evening previous to tae day appoin
ted for the trial a private interview be—
tween the wife and her first love ended in
their elopment"together, children and all;
and they are probably back in Arkansas
by this time, not troubling themselves a
bout the lamentably deserted "Phillip
Ray."
Rather a novel device to illustrate the
danger of intemperance was resorted
in :New York on last Sunday night week.
It was announced that "Ned. Buntline,"
the popular manufacturer of startling ro
mance and fiction, would lecture ontem
perance at t h e Bowery theatre. At the
appointed hour, the lecturer stepped up
on the stage, and at the same instant
the scenes shifted, and disclosed a series
of tableaux. One represented an unsight.
lv group of beings in a low den, with a
;lass of liquor in their hands. Another
showed two young men in the act of en
ticing a younger man to drink, and the
third was a living picture of a woman ly
drunk in the street with a dead iilfhut in
her arms. Those tableaux were success
fully explained by the lecturer, who then
proceeded to enlarge upon the ruinous
consequence that flow from inteixicating
liquors. But this was very much like a
dramatic spectacle, and it took place at
a theatre on Sunday night.
The late :4 lumic cut—Cat coAcerts
THE COMING SPRING
A leafless tree,
Sighs mournfully;
And, while its lone heart grieves,
In tender tones,
And sad, IoW moans,
It' tells of its loved, lost leaves.
Oh! stricken tree,
I would . comfort thee
Could I reach thee with my voice;
Though hope has fled,
And joys are dead,
Still bid thy heart rejoice.
Because I know
After the snow
The spring shall come, and then
Shall bring to thee
Glad bird and bee •
And dancing leaves again.
Sad human heart !
'Where'er thou•art, •
'Though life's leaves have flown,
• Some coining spring
o_thee_simlli)ring
New hope and joys unknown.
A Story for Boys."
Lads let me tell •ou - a story. Once u
on a time a youth left his
years of age to learn a trail
irty mi dis
agreeable trade, but one that his parents
thought 114 . 00 , il one in a -pecuniary point-
• few. e wen in o a strange neigh
-borhood, where his-name was - not - known.
Around his own home he was somebody's
son ; in his new home he was somebody
else's a »rentim. Around his own home
the doors of respectability were opener to
somebody's son ; in his new home•the doors
of respectability were closed tightly against
someldy's apprentiW: This was a new
order of things, and surprised him very
-yetovhen- he reflected cool
ly, lie did mot much blvne respectability
b r _i • • • • . ere . ara doors
that open ,easily to every corner. These
he shunned. - There are apprentices in
every - villa ge that will hear shunning—he
did it.
The important question was, "What
should he do ?" After discussing this a
mid the din and dirt, he said to himself,
"Well, if can't go where I ought, I will
not go at all." Easy to' say—hard to do;
becausehe was just like you—he liked
fun just as well as you do, and a spice of
mischief too. He must do something. In
self-defence he began to •read.'
The old system of apprenticeship in the
country used to require the boys.aud jour
neymen to work until S o'clock in the
evening, in wintertime,aud after this was
done, it wo s customary to loaf about the
corners, st4ires and taverns until 9, 10, or
11 o'clock. Tom (the bov) went to bed.
In the morning it was difficult to get boys
and jourmiyruenn up to breakfast at 6.30
or 7. Tom got up at 4 o'clock, sometimes
at 3, somet lines even early as 2, in mis
take, forlius rule was to get up as 50313 as
he got awl/ ke, and from that time until
the others got up he read and studied.—
His morning candle came in time for a
signal for the villagers who had occasion
to start se rnewhere early. He borrowed
money to buy boOks with, and borrowed
others, took a leading ueWspaper, and in
the quiet morning hours, took in food for
a day's Teilectioa. •
This of course bore its legitimate fruit;
he went to his level, or rather put himself
there, said he now lives in the neighbor
hood of the old shop, 'as much respected
as any one. I believe he has written two
or three books which in every respect would
be considered up to the "Mediocrity."
I leave you to imagine all the hardships,
if you can, of the situation, and would ask
you what you do from 4 to 6 o'clobk in
the morning ? Those two hours, rightly
used, will be worth more to you than you
can possibly conceive. Wheu you awake,
get up instantly. You may bring excuses
for the other twenty-four hours, but those
two you waste if you sleep them. "Mid
night oil !" is a humbug. You go to bed
in the evening when you are tired, and
set your mind to work in the morning,
when you are rested. Guard your char
acter in the beginning, and in the end it
will , ruard you.
To tell you the fate of other apprenti
ces, who loafed in the evenings and slept
the mornings away, is not my intention.
Try Tom's course for one year, and you
will 'find your pay in genuine happiness.
Your usefulness will increase, your self
respect will strenghten, your mind will
develop in harmony with your bodily
growth, and your whole being will march
along the upward path rejoienig.—N. Y.
Tribune.
NIGHT INTATcHms.—A person who is sick
enough to need night watchers needs rest
and quiet, and all the undisturbed rest he
can get. If one or more persons are in
the room _reading, talking or whispering,
as is often the case, this is impossible.
There should be no light burning in the
room unless it be a very dim one, so plac
ed as to be out of sight of the patient. Ker
osene oil should never be used in the sick
room The attendant should quietly sit
or lie in the same room, qr what is usual
ly letter, in an adjoining room so as to be
within call of anything that is wanted. In
extreme cases the attendant can step qui
etly to the bedside to see if the patient is
doing well, but all noise and the light
should be carefully excluded. It is a com
mon practice to waken patients occasion
ally, for fear they will sleep too soundly.
ThiS should never be done. .:1 4 .1eep is one
of the greatest needs of the sick. aud these
is no danger of their getting too much of
it. 44 evacuations shpuld:be removed at
once,. and the air in the room kept pure
and :;weet by thoroiiell veotilatlon.
Ilci\vF, that bear mo=t bang
Proverbial Phylosophy.
Young man, when thou goest forth in
the pride of thy manhood to seek a wife,
see that thou go not in homely harness,
but rather array thyself in gorgeous gar
ments. For the eyes of this generation
see only the surface, and the man is judg
ed by his raiment. There . was a young
man, rich•in learning and affluent in mor
al purity. He had given his youth to
study,-until-his-mind-was storedwith_use
ful .knowledge. He had walked in the
ways of virtue, and had kept himself re
mote from the seat of the scornful. He
was the idol of his honored parents; and
• 1 . cr - n
him the )rom-
ise of future greatness, And there carne
a time in the life of this young man—as
comes to all—when his heart said, "It is
not good for me to abide alone." Yet lie
took no counsel of parental wisdom, and
sought not the advice of brother or sister;
but in rustic garb he vent fbrth to seek a
mate among the . fair daughters of men.
And as he journeyed, he came at length
to a beautiful city, where he was known
only to for men of learning, while his
name was all familiar to the ears of the
unscientiffe thousands._ In the palaces of
the proud he patiently sought the object
of his mission; but worth, learning and
integrity, disguised in common clothing,
were as if they had not been; their exis
tenee-was-unsuspeeted—Many_rebuifs_he_
encountered; cut was his heart b the con_,
iolue at sixteen
tempt of te coldly indifferent. And at
_length, his honest
_proposal of marriage
wits — received as an insult, and the pater
nal_boot expedited__his
mournfully got him back to his distant
home, and said, "I vill live hereafter fbr
Science, and in my bright lexicon there
-shall-be-no-such -word-as-Arife_"
There was a youth, way Ward and wick
ed. His days were given to idleness and
vice. He — kepi, aloof Amu bcruks—aud
schools, and shunned the society of the
wise and good. Th., honest people of the
village N ' varned their sons and daughters
that his intercourse would contaminate.—
TIF rre—hr- . Trance. I erty than a sta
e grew o mt.
but inherited houses and lam% and stocks;
and the income of these he squandered on
harness. He made him friends of tailors,
far and.near, and poured his shekels into
their strong boxes, that his form might
be royally appareled. And in time 'he,
also, journeyed to seek a wife, and his feet
trod the streets of the same city. Need
it be said that the doors of the rich were
thrown open? Need it be said that high
bred damsels, by the dozen fluttered a
round his pathway? 'Who does not know
that the magnificent stranger married his
leisurely made choice, and that the pious
parent of the proudest prude in the city
was as "pleased as a boy with a bran new
top" to get the situation of fatherdn-law
to a handsome young luau so splendidly
harnessed!
Therefore, young man be admonished.
If you would win the smiles rather than
the frowns of the lair; if you would have
benedictions on your head,- rather than
hoots on the skirts of your outer garment,
go not forth to seek a wife among the mai
dens of this generation, unless you go in
handsome harness.
The late celebrated John Trumbull,
when a boy, resided with his father, Gov.
Trumbull, at his residence in Lebanon,
Connecticut, in the neighborhood of the
Mohegans. The govermuent of this tribe
was hereditary in the family of the cele
brated Uneas. Among the heirs of the
chieftainship was an Indian named Zach
ary, who though a brave man and an 'ex
cellent hunter, was as drunken and worth
less an Indian as could well be found. By
the death of intervening heirs, Zachary
fbund himself entitled to the royal power.
In this moment the better genius of Zach
ary assumed away, 'and he reflected seri
ously. "How can such a drunken wretch
as I am aspire to the chief of this noble
tribe? How shall the shades of my glori
ous ancestors look down indignant upon
such a successor? Can I succeed to the
great Uncas lam. DRINK NO
MORE!" And he solemnly resolved that
henceforth be would drink nothing stron
ger than water! and he kept his resolu
tion.
Zachary succeeded to the rule of his
tribe. It was usual for the Governor to
attend at the annual election iu Hartford,
and it was customary for the Mohegan
chief also to attend, and on his way was
to stop and dine with the Governor. John,
the Governor's son, w.is but a boy, and on
one of these occasions, at the festive board
occured a scene which I will give in Trum
bull's own words :
"One day the mischievous thought struck
me to try the sincerity of the old man's
temperance. The fiumly were seated at
dinner,and there was excellent home brew
ed ale on the table. I thus addressed the
old chief : "Zachary, this beer is very fine;
will you not taste it ?" The old man deop
ped his knifb, and leaned ibrward with a
stern intensity of expression, and his fer
vid eye's sparkling with angry indignation,
were fixed upon inc. "John,:' said he, you
dent know what you are doing. You are
serving the devil, boy ! .Do you know that
1 ant an Indian ? snould taste your
beer, I should never stop till 1 got 1,0 rum,
and I should become again the bailie drun
ken, contemptiule. wretch your father re
members me to have been'. John, ncrer a
gain while you lire tempt a maa, to tree!: a
good resolution."
Socrates never uttered a more valuable
precept. Demosthenes could not have giv
en it with more solemn eloquence. I was
thunderstruck. My parents Were deeply
affected. They looked at me and then
turned their gaze upon the venerable chief
tain with 'awe and respect, They after
wards frequently reminded me of tuescene,
and charged me never to liwget it. He lies
buried in the royal bu;iai place o 1 his
tribe, near the beautiful fall of the Yan
Never Tempt a Man.
82,00 PER YEAR
tic, in Norwich, on lands now owned by
my friend, Calvin Foddard, Esq. I vis•;-
ited the old chief lately, and above his
Mouldering remains repeated to myself
the inestimable lesson.
SUCCESSFUL BDITORS.-All English wri
ter says : A good editor, or competent
newspaper conductor, is like a general or
a poet, born, not made. Exercise and ex
perience give facility, but the qualifica
tion is innate, or it is never manifested.—
On the London daily papers all the great
historians, novelists, poets, essayists, and
writers of travels, have been tried and
nearly every one has failed. "I can," said
t e ate e ltor o t e one on Times, "fin - d
any number 'of men of genius to-write-for
me, but very seldom one man of common
sense." Nearly all successful editors are
of this discription. A good editor seldom
writes much for his paper ; he reads, judg
es, selects, dictates, alters and combines,
and to do all this well he has but little
time for composition. • To write fbr a pa
per is one thing, to edit a paper is another.
It cannot be too deeply impressed upon
the mind that application is the price to
be paid or mental-acqiii-situil-ii,--iiird-t
-it is as absurd to expect them without it
as it is to hope for a harvest where we
have not sown the seed.
If n seaman L-turned—bark—every—tim e
le-en-counter:, a '7l-wiWThe woul nev
er make a voyage. SD he
. who permits
hirnselfito—he-badied—by-a-dverse-circtim
stances, will never make headway in the
voyage of life.
He who 'betrays another's secret, because
he has quarreled with him, was never wor
thy of the sacred mime of friend; a breach
of kindness at one side 'will not justify a
breach of trust on the other.
Gifts from the hand are silver and gold,
but the heart gives that which neither sil
ver nor gold can buy.
Education is a better safeguard of lib
..anding_s3 rrriY
As it takes 65,000 cochineal insects to
make a pound, and as 1,849,842 pounds
were brought into this country last year,
120,239,730,000 must have given up their
lives to color the dresses and cheeks of
American la. 'es. =
Tait and alitmor.
Ho v is it possible to pick your teeth,
when you have to take them as they come?
"Utah may have its plural wives," ob
serves Mr. Quilp; "but other parts of the
country have very singular ones."
The Great Falls Journal hears of one
gentleman who gave up tobacco New
Year's day, chewed gum for. two weeks,
candy fc r one month, and still fights the
world, the flesh and the devil with a stick
of liquorice.
A man carried a challauge to martl
combat to a Jacksonville brewer, who, as
soon as he read the message, turned to and
whipped the bearer in a rough and tuir.
ble fight, and said: 'Maybe same more of
dem vauts to make droub l es mit me.'
An Irishman, traveling in a street that
was paved, and accosted by a dog with a
threatening growl. The traveler attempt
ed to pull up one of the paving-stones to
throw at him, but it was fast. "Arrah !"
said Paddy, "what a country is this where
stones are tied and dogs let loose !"
In a small town in Pennsylvania, there
lived a Teutonic tailor mimed Charlie M.
Charlie's wife took sick end died, and he
mourned her loss with much grief for a
time, but at the end of six weeks he led
another blushing bride to the alter. Dur
ing the wedding festivities a noisy "Cali
thumpian" party appeared outside of the
house, and began a shameful serenade
with tin-horns and kettles. After a few
minutes the din and confusion became so
great, that Charlie left his guests and ap
peared at the door with a very piteous ex
pression of grief on his fitce, and address
ed the crowd as follows : "I say, pops, you
ought to be ashamed of yourself to be
making all dis nois yen der vas a funer
al here so soon."
A Kentuckian and a Yankee were
once riding through the woods, the form
er on a fine black horse, and the Yvn
kee on an inferior animal. The lat:er
wanted to make a "swap," bat he did
not see how he was to do it. At last he
thought of a plan. His horse bad been
taught to sit down like a dog whenever
he was touched by the spurs. Seeing a
wild turk . ey, the Yankee macho his horse
perform his trick, and asserted that he
was pointim , game, as his usual custom.—
The Kentueliian rode ill that, direction
indicated by the horse's nose, and up
j rase a turkey. That settled the natter ;
"
tile traria wasmade, and saddles and
horses were chamred. After a time they
came to a deep and .rapTAI stream, over
which the black horse carried his ridnr
wit It ease. But the Kent tickian, on the
I Yankee's old beast, il)1111a great difficulty
in getting over, and when he reached the
middle of the stream he was afraid the
horse would allow himself to be carried a
way, and so endeavored to spur him up,
to more vigorous action. Down sat the
old horse on his hatmhes. "Look a here;"
shouted the enraged and partially st:l3 , .
merged Kentuckian, to the
the alter side of the stream, "Wh it does
all this mean?" ".f want you- to know,
stranger," cried the Yankee, preparing to
ride away, "ihut that there ;tom will pia
fixh j.id.a,s well ao, be wit jowl."
• Bout nut. trutivrtake w Kvis ikiimtis
Woman, risk imt t :muck in the storm.