e:l•7v.tra..l
•
tiiil4l)
Id pllblislied in the Borough of Allentown,
Lea& County, Pi.; every Wednesday, by
MINES Et DIEFENDERFER,
At $1 50 Per ennum, payable in advance, and
42 00 if not paid until the end of the year.—
No paper discontinued until all .arrearages are
paid. • '
Og'Ossics in namilton street, two doors west
of the German Reformed Church, directly oppo
site Moser's Drug Store.
(13letters on business must be POST ram,
otherwise they will not be attended to.
JOB PRINTING.
Havingrecently added a large assortment%
fashionable and most modern styles of typo,
are prepared to execute, at short notice, all
kinds of Bookjob, and Fancy Printing.
/63ttiraf.
HAZEL DELL•
A PRETTY SONG
In the hazel dell my Nelly's sleeping—
' Nelly loved so long,
And my_ lonely, lofiely watch I'm keeping—
Nelly lost and gone ;
Here in moonlight often we've wandered,
Through the silent shade,
Now, where leafy branches drooping downward
. . Little Nelly's laid.
;Chorus—All alone my watch I'm keeping sleep
• In the hazel dell, [ins—
For my darling Nelly's near•mo
Nelly, dear, farewell.
In the hazel dell my Nelly's sleeping,
Where the flowers wave :
And the silent stars are nightly weeping,
O'er poor Nelly's grave
Hopes that once my bosom fondly cherished,
Smile no more for me :
Every dream of joy alas is perished,
Nelly, dear, with thee.
•
Chorus—All alone, &c.
Plow I'm weary, friendless and forsaken,
Watching her alone:
thou no more wilt fondly cheer me
With thy loving tone ;
Yet for ever shall thy gentle image
In my memory dwell
And my tears thy lonely grave shall moisten—
Nelly,-dear, farewell.
Chorus—All alone, &c.
TEE. TYPE SETTEE.
A SONG FOR TUE PRESS
Written on hearing a friend called " talented
for a mere type-setter."
" A mere type setter"—still a man
The world may perchance may yet revere ;
Unknown, unnpted, one who can
Have naught to hope and naught to fear,
Yet where's the kingly sceptered hand,
The brow that bears a princely gem,
That wields so well a wide command—
Whose " STICK" may match a diadem 9
" A mere type-setter !"—Let us see.
Who gave the glorious stripes to air,
That mark the banners of the free,
And bound the stars that glimmer there ?
Who turned the bolt of heaven aside,
And conquered its etherial fire ?
Who bade the lightning harmless glide
Along his magic wand of wire ?
" A mere type-setter"—,Search the past,
The records of each battle-field ;
Who nailed our colors to the mast,
And died because they 'would not yield ?
Who taught our band to strike the blow,
Through toil and danger and distress,
That served England's chains of woe—
Who but the masters of the Press ?
" A mere type-setter"—Nnme of fear,
To bid the slave to freedom wake—
That tyranny shall quake to hear,
And old oppression's empire shake !
Is Franklin a forgotten name,
That man no longer may revere ?
Has Prentice lost his soul of fame, -
Or Greely dropped his pen of fear ?
"A mere typesetter!"—Honored name,
That ages yet unborn shall bless,
When empires crumble and their fame
Has sunk in worse than nothingness,
Show rue the THING whose leers deride
The " mere typesetter's" humble school,
And I'll show you an ape of pride,
A brainless, or a dandy fool !
EVEI / YN GRAHAME,
',Unrequited Affection.
It was the beginning of my third year at
boarding school, that—being at the time a
,parlor boarder—l wRs called down one day into
the drawing-room to be introduced to a new
scholar who had just arrived. Upon entering,
I perceived a young girl, of apparently sixteen
or seventeen years of ago, seated upon an otto
man, and weeping bitterly. She did not raise
h,er head until Madame B—, calling me by
name, introduced the stranger to me as Miss
prebuilt). The poor girl, whose parents I
round lutd just left her, merely • removed her
antlkerchief from her face, and bowed slightly
without looking at me.
' Ellen said Madame B— to me, Miss Gra
hame will share your room ; perhaps she would
like to be shown it now.'
I approached, and taking the young girl's
unresiating hand, whispered a few words of
encouragement, and led her up stairs to my
little sanotum et where after having assisted in
removing her bonnet and shawl, I left her,
judging by.my own experience that she would
prefer being alone for a shortlime. About two
hours after, as I was • walking in the garden, I
heard a soft, sweet voice call me by name. I
turned, and saw . my new room-mate, who, ap•
preaching, •extended her hand, and , said, in a
rambling tone. ' You must have thought rue
very rude, when you wero so kind to me ; but,
indeed, I never was so unhappy before. • , I feel
better now, and have come to ask you pardon,
and hope to be taken into fasor:' It was im-
121111 R 2111S11:1R
litiott4 to lorol and antral Igrirulturr, ehration, 3toralitti, scr.,
VOLUME IX.
possible to resist her sad, winning - look, and,
with my usual impetuosity, I . flung my arms
around her, and pressed her to my bosom.—
Prom that moment wo were inseparable friends.
Evelyn was just sixteen ; and never did a
sweeter face, or 14 warmer heart, animate a
lovely form. Her features were not regularly
beautiful, but the expressiol of almost angellic
purity which pervaded her countenance when
in repose, made - her more beautiful than the
most studied regularity of features could have
done.. The extreme gentleness of her manners,
• the half reluctant, half confiding way she had
of speaking of herself, made me think her weak
and timid, until I knew her better. She was
never gay, but always cheerful ; and never did
I see her polished brow ruffled by a frown.—
She was the only child of fond and wealthy
Parents ; and the fame of Madame B—'s
school had induced them to intrust their daugh
ter to her care for a year, in order that she
might finish her education.
In one of her confidences, not long after her
arrival she spoke to me of one very dear to her
—a cousin, a midshipman in the navy. He had
'spent several months with her family, and had
sailed only a few days before she left home ;
but ere they parted, he had won her consent to
an engagement, which was to be kept a secret
from all until her return from school. 'He will
be home just about that time,' said she in con
clusion; he will then tell father all, and we
shall be so happy.'
Oh, how often does her image come before
me, as she stood and blushingly told me of her
joyful hopes ! What a blessed thing it is that
we know not the trials the mysterious future
may have in store for us : We can at least be
happy in anticipation ; and if our bright
dreams are dissipated by a dark and mournful
reality, memory can still lessen the gloom of
many a lonely hour by recalling these pleasant
visions.
Six months, as I have said, passed away,
each day only endearing Evelyn Grahatnc more
to my heart. About this time she received
letters from home, announcing the death of Mrs.
Grahame's only sister, Mrs. Dutton ; and also
that the latter's eldest child, a daughter, one
year older than Evelyn, had been adopted by
her aunt. Mrs. Grahame wrote in the most
flattering manner concerning Sarah Dutton;
and from the letter the young girl herself wrote
to Evelyn, I was led to •entertain ahigh opinion
of her mind and heart. Evelyn had often
visited her Aunt, and therefore knew her cousin
well. She offeff spoke to me in the warmest
manner of Sarah's beauty and amiability.
In the meantime, Arthur Noel, Evelyn's
lover, was still at sea ; but the time was draw
ing near when ho would return. The months
rolled swiftly by ; and as the period approach
ed for her leaving school, Evelyn became more
impatient each day. She expected her father
to come for her, when a letter arrived, telling
her it was impossible for him to leave his busi
ness, and that:she would be obliged to remain
at school for a few weeks longer, until some
'good opportunity offered for her returning
home.
Evelyn was very much distressed at this.—
to felt sure that Arthur would reach home
before her, and she had promised• to meet him
there but she was forced to submit. After
some little persuasion she consented to accent
pany me to my father's summer residence, a
few miles from Vim. She was charmed with
the scenery, and arrived in much better spirits
than I expected at ' Lily Grove,' the fanciful
name my dear mother rad bestowed upon our
dear, beautiful home. The day after our ar--
rival Evelyn received a letter, which hail been
forwarded to her from school, where it was di
rected. It was from Arthur Noel, the first she
had ever received from him. How brightly her
eyes beamed as slie read it! Fourteen months
of separation had failed tet erase iier image from•
his heart. Me had arrived in port, and think
ing she would soon be on her return .home-, de
signed to meet her there. . •
' Oh, Ellen !' she exclaimed, when shehad fin
ished reading the precious missive, 'I never
Mt before how truly, how devotedly I am
his P Poor Evelyn ! she loved with a woman's
first, deep, passionate love—a love that 'either
makes or mars her happiness—a love that rude
neglect may chill, but naught' but death de
stroy.
Tho next week brought my .dear Evelyn
another letter. Arthur had reached home, and
though much disappointed at not meeting her
there, felt obliged, he said, to smother his de
sire to fly to her, as so sudden a move before he
had visited his own family would cause very
unpleasant remarks.' Evelyn was chagrined
at- this, and sow s l I. We had both yet to
learn how little of The world's opinion a man is
willing to sacrifice for the sake of the ono he
pretends to love. My friend, hOwever, said
little upon the subject ; but I saw she anx
iously awaited the coming of tho. s following
week, when she felt sure of hearing again from
her lover. The week came, but brought disap
pointment—there was no letter. Three weeks
more of great anxiety were passed, and still
Q 111'22111 4blialgAl-,...-1 1 12219W11 II 1)21292M3
_ _ - = I.= - - - • -
ALLENTOWN, PA., JANUARY 16, 185 L.
Evelyn heard nothing from home. She was be
ginning to be seriously alarmed, when ono
morning, at the beginning of the fourth week,
I flew to her room with a letter that the ser
vant had just brought from the village post
office. She grasped it eagerly—the superscrip
tion was Arthur's. She broke the seal, but as
if a sudden presentment of evil had come over
her, she laid it down, and sinking into a chair.
burst into tears:
Ellen,' said you must read it first—l
have not courage ; I feel as if it contained bad
news.'
I laughed at licr, but she insisted upon my
reading it first. I took it up, opened it, and
silently read as follows :
DEAREST Evrim;',—You will be surprised
upon receiving this : to find that I am still in
your city instead of being with my own family ;
but you will, I fear, be pained to learn the ob
ject that detains me. Oh. Evelyn. would that
we had never met !—or rather, would that I had
died, ere I strove to win your fond, pure heart
to myself ! But Evelyn, I. knew you well ; be
neath a gentleoess which angels might covet,
you bear a proud, firm spirit : and I know
further, that you would rather learn the truth
now, painful as it may he, than some time
hence, when it would be too late to repair the
evil. I came here with a heart full of love and
joy at the prospect of seeing you again. I was
disappointed, most sincerely so, at not locating
yOu. But another filled your place in the
family circle—our orphan cousin Sarah. I will
not say aught in her praise, for you have seen
and loved her ; but—must I confess it ?—day
after day found me still lingering at her side,
listening to the music of a voice that I have
never heard equalled : and, ere long. I learned
to know how sadly I had mistaken my feelings
towards you, Evelyn ! Condemn me, curse toe,
if you will—l love, madly love Sarah ! Oh,
Evelyn ! what words to write to you, my owl%
noble-hearted cousin : but you may, . perhaps,
thank me for my candor. As yet. I have not
engaged myself to Sarah—all rests with you.—
To you I owe all my duty and my hand; say
but the word, dear Evelyn, and it is yours for
ever. Ido not ask you to release me from the
engagement : but, having told you all, shall
most anxioußly expect your answer. My'heart
is breaking, Evelyn, at the thcught of the pain
this may cause you ; but with your own brave
spirit, cast from you the image of one who is
unworthy of you ; one who has so traitorously
repaid your love.
The letter had evidently been penned in a
state of great agitation. I thought it the wild
est thing I had ever read, but at the moment,
indignation mustered every other feeling. I con
tinued silent for some moments tiller I bad fin
ished reading it—for I was too much di stress
ed to speak. I did not know how to break the
matter to my friend. I knew she had been
watching my face for some seconds, and my feel
ings must have revealed themselves very strong
ly : for when she saw - me standing so long silent,
she said, ' Tell me what that letter contains to
move you thus.' Iler voice trembled as she
spoke, but seeing me still silent, she sprang
towards me, and grasping my hand, exclaimed,
' Have mercy on rne, Ellen ! Tell me what it
is : I can bear all, anything, so that Arthur is
well !'
'He is well, Evelyn,' said I: it would be
better for you. poor girl. if he were dead.'
' Oh,: say not that !' she again exclaimed,
• yott would have me think him false : but that
cannot he. Arthur loved me ? Oh. say that
he loves meatill.' She sank at my feet Its she
said this.-nnd .burying her face in my dress,
sobbed violently. •
• Evelyn,' I said, endeavoring af..the same
time to raise her. ' Evelyn, you,have'' a hard
trial before you. but :one which I know your
woman's pride will enable you•to,bear with for
titude. I will leave you t read that' letter'
yourself, and when I come again in an thour Jet
me find that my frien hag been true to, hersc!f•'.
I gently disengaged my dress: from her clasp,
placed the letter in her hand, kissed her cheek,
and left the roam. • •
I retired to my byrn room. and there wept for
my friend, as I had never wept for myself. I
trembled for the consequence that might ensue.
I knew how deeply Arthur was beloved, and I
could not but fear that even Evelyn's firm
spirit•would not bear the blow with fortitude.
Tn an•hour I knocked at her door, and atilt d
her by name. Do not come in yet,' she said,
but in a voice so hoarse and hollow, that. I
could scarcely believe it hers : ' do not come in
yet ; lam not what you wish to see me.'
Once again that morning I attempted to see
her, but she still refused to admit me, and it
was not until eight o'clock in the evening that
my maid came and told mo that Evelyn wished
to see me.
Never, never shall I forget the look with
which she received me. Her color was more
brilliant than I had ever seen it, but her eyes
were dull and fixed, and a ghastly smile played
round her mouth, as she bade me enter; but
the expression of her forehead, if I may use
such a term, shocked me more than all else.•
It seemed to hiive grown old—twenty years in
advance of the rest of her face. It was wrink.
la and literally old, with the agony of thought
she endured.
Ellen,' said she, in the same hollow tone
with which she had addressed me at the door,
' Ellen, I have sent for you to ask you where is
now all my boasted firmness ; where my pride,
my dignity ? Ah, Ellen ! I was,pevcr tried be
fore. You think me calm—despair makes me
so. I did not arrive at despair even without a
hard struggle ; and now, my heart, full freight
ed as it was with the fondest hopes girl ever
cherished, lies crushed and dying beneath the
waves of that gloom which will henceforth be
my portion in life.' She ceased, and for a mo
ment stood silent; then suddenly looking up,
she said in a calmer voice, lam very silly to
talk in this way to you. Do not weep, dear
Ellen ; you see I can bear my sorrow without
weeping. Read my answer, and tell rue how
you like it.'
Mechanically I took the paper she banded
me ; and through my tears read the following
concise letter:—
• Miss Grahame presents her compliments to
Mr. Noel, and is extremely happy that she has
it in her power to gratify him. Mr. Noel might
have spared himself any anxiety on the occa
sion, as. had he known Miss Grahame better,
he would have felt sure that she would never have
laid a serious claim to a midshipman's prom
ise, made to a thoughtless school girl. He will,
therefore, accept Miss Grahame's congratula
tions on the prospect of felicity before him ;
and believe that no better wishes will follow
him and his bride to the alter than will be of
fered by her.'
And this was the letter. Not oue word of
the breaking heart ; not a word of the anguish
that had so wrung her gentle spirit that day.—
Ali, Evelyn ! I did not mistake you, noble girl.
I have sinceentertainerl a different opinion of
that letter. It was sent, and for a day or two
Evelyn was as cheerful, apparently as usual ;
but I saw the effort with which she concealed
her grief, and anxiously watched her. Gradu
ally, however, hercalmness left her, and she
would sometimesgive way 'to bursts of grief,
I must now hasten to the close of my sad tale.
A friend of her father's called on us a few days
after Evelyn had received the letters urging her
return, and informed her that he would be
pleased to act as her escort home. To my sur
prise, she excused herself by saying she still
hoped her father would come for her, and she
would prefer waiting for him. When the gen
tleman left, she said to me, ' Ellen, I do not
wish to go until all is over—l can then meet
them calmly : but now it would be impossible.
Sarah was marred without her, for Arthur
had his own reasons for urging the matter. It
will be remembered that no one but myself
knew of Evelyn's unfortunate attachment, and
therefore there was no restraint in the letters
she afterwards received, giving a description of
the wedding, and the happiness of the newly
married pair. Alas ! could one of them have
seen the change that had coin° over Evelyn,
happiness must have fled. A few weeks of mis
ery had made sad havoc among the roses of her
cheeks. She was now pale and drooping, her
step had lost its lightness, and she seldom
smiled.
AnTript Nont.'
fearful to behold. This continued until she
received letters from home, urging he ‘ r return,
as Sarah and Arthur were soon for be married.
There was no scorn on her lips as she read Sa
rah's account of her approaching nuptials : but
words were perused again and again: and she
seemed to drink in every syllable as if it were
her last dranght of happiness..
As soon as the news of the marriage reached
her, she made preparations for her return, and
an opportunity offai t ug shortly afterwards, she
111
left 6, promising fo write as soon as she
reached home. I remember looking after her
as ste walked down the lawn, and wondering
if I should ever see her again. Little did T
(lien think how and where I should see her !
never received the promised letter from her,
but one from her mother infortned me of }chat
I am about to,relote, Arthur had e3c
pected to leatyfor his oWn. luime)l few days
after his marriage: but an unex'pected sum
mons to attend as witness en a coUrt•martial
.detained Him'; and he.and his wife were still
nt Mrs. Grahame's when Evelyn arrived. •Sli6
had not been expected until the next day. The
family were all assembleilin the drawing room,
when the door was thrown open, and the ser•
vant exultingly announced ' Miss Evelyn.'
All sprung forward, except Arthur, and he
stood spell bound. Evelyn advanced hastily
into the room : but as soon as her eye felippon
him, her early, her only loved—a shriek, so
wild, so shrill, burst from her lips, that none
present ever forgot it. With ono bound sho
was at his side, and looking into his face with
an expression of woe impossible to describe,
sho faltered out his name, and sunk senseless
on the floor, for Arthur had no power to move.
It was no time now- for Mrs. Grahame and
Sarah to inquire into the meaning of 'this.
Arthur was aroused to lend his, aid in placing
the prostrate girl on a sofa. A physician was
sent for, but she lay insensible for many hours ;
and when she did awake, it was only to make
those more wretched who loved her so fondly.
Reason, which for weeks had been tottering on
her throne, had fled forever ; and Evelyn Gra
hame, the lovely,'the idolised daugber, was a
maniac !
NUMBER 14.
It was in the spring of —, two years after
the events related above,that with a party of
friends, I visited the city of —. The morn
ing after my arrival the servant brought me up
a card, and said a gentleman was waiting in
the drawing room to see me. I read the name,
it was Arthur Noel. I started, and almost
fainted. That name ! how vividly it recalled
the past. Evelyn, my never-forgotten friend,
stood again before me in all her pride of b'eauty,
and then—l shuddered, and dared not end my
reflection. A hope, however, soon rose in my
breast that Arthur might bring cheering news ;
and with a lighter heart I descended the stairs.
I had never seen Mr. Noel, but Evelyn had de
scribed him to me ; and I expected to see a
very handsome man. What was my astonish
ment; therefore, when I entered the room, to
behold a tall, pale, haggard-looking man, with
a countenance so sad, that I almost- trembled
as I looked at tuna!
Miss M--, I presume,' said ho. I bowed,
and requested him to be seated. arrived
here this morning,' said he ; ' and hearing that
you were also in this city, have taken the lib
erty to call and ask a great favor of you.' He
paused, and seemed to be endeavoring to sup
press seine violent emotion ; he then resumed,
in a faltering tone, ' you -were Evelyn Gra
hame's dear friend.'
' 0, yes !' I exclaimed ; ' what of Evelyn ?
how is she ?—whem is she ?'
Ms voice was stern, as ho replied, ' she is
still what my baseness made her. Where she
is, I will show you, if you will go with me ; I.
must go—but I cannot go alone.'
I rang .the bell, sent for
. my bonnet and
shawl, and we went together. I could not help
shuddering, as I saw that my companion led
the way to the lunatic asylum. As we_walked
along, I Ventured to ask after his wife.
She is dead,' said ho ; ' she died in giving
birth to a little girl, whom I have named
Evelyn. Oh ! Miss M—, if Evelyn could
only be restored. It is the harrowing thought
of my conduct towards her that has made me
what •I am—a gloomy, forlorn man. I shun
mankind, and feel unworthy to look my daugh
ter in the face. But the physician who at
tends dear Evelyn ; has given me a hope that
the sight of me might cause a reaction, which
would give a favorable termination to her
malady. Your presence at the same time may
assist this.
Heaven grant it !' I fervently ejaculated ;
and at that moment we entered the court yard
of the as3;lum. The matron met us at the door,
and Arthur, having given her a note from Dr.
—, she intmediately led us to Evelyn's
apartment.
' She is asleep now,' said the good woman,
but you can go in, and wait until she wakes
she is perfectly gentle, and will give you no
trouble.'
We entered the small, but very neat room;
and approached the bed, whereon lay all that
remained of Evelyn Grahame. I felt as if my
heart would burst as I looked upon her. She
lay upon her sick bed, one arm supporting her
head. Mr breathing was soft and gentle as an.
infant's. Her beautiful hair bad long been cut
aWay, and the exquisitely shaped head was
fully exposed. ller beauty had all fled. She
looked at least forty years old: and the con
traction of the muscles about the mouth, pecu
liar to lunatics,. gave her face so stern an ex
pression, that I could scarcely believe she was
the gentle Evelyn of happier days. My tears
flowed fastl , while Arthur stood and gazed in
tently upon her, his arms folded, and a look of
settled misery on his face. We bad stood at
her side about ten minutes, when she suddenly
started up. Mother !—Arthur r—she cried.
' I am here. Evelyn, my own !' exclaimed
Arlbitr, throwing his arm around her. Mi. -
face instantly flu Thed up, her eyes kindled : she
leaned eagerly forward, and gazed upon him ;
it was but for a second—her head fell back and
she ,
Assistance was immediately called, and she
soon opened her eyes, looked round, then closed
them again. But that look was enough. We
saw that reason had again assumed its empire.
The wildness of her eyes was gone, and the
mouth looked natural. Involuntarily Arthur,
and myself fell upon our knees ; my heart was
full of thankfulness, and I prayed ; but ho, bu
rying his face in his hands, sobbed aloud. The
noise roused Evelyn. She again opened her
eyes, passed, her hand across her brows, and
then raising herself with an effort, said faintly,
' Where am I ? where have'l been '1 Arthur,
and you, too, Ellen, what does this mean 'I
Quick, some water Oh, lam dying.!
Arthur sprang to his feet, and let his head
droop upon his arm. She took his hand in
hers, then motioning Me nearer, grasped mine
also :. and for some moments did not move.—
She then looked in my face, and whispered,
• I remember all, now but Arthur—dear Ar
thur ! I do not blame you; I hope you are hap
py—l soon shall .be, I feel that I am dying ;
surely, &milt would not grudge me the happi
ness I•feel in breathing my last in sour arms.'
'Oh Evelyn cried Arthur, while his sobs
almost choked his utterance, ' you must not.
you shall not die—you mustily° to forgive me.
and let Me make some reparation for the wrong.
I have done you ; speak to me, Evelyn, tell me
that you will live.' „
The poor girl made an effort to speak, but it
was in vain--!one grasp of the hand, a short
sigh, and the pure spirit of EvelyniGrahamo
had fled „to a brighter sphere.
Arthur Noel still lives, a poor, broken hearted,
victim of remorse.
Eulogy on Woman..
How can the
leaAw to know them ; t
love them ; and tho more one loves them t
more ono is loved again—for every true love
finds its response, and tbetttghest love is tho
highest wisdom.. What is there in the world of
higher excellence thatt woman ? The tIT the
supportresses of life, the pillars of griv,o, tho
jewels in the crown of happiness. lie who tikes -
part with them is richly dowerer. A kiss
given to the hand of beauty is a better cordial
than the enjoyment of the costliest viands.
Iltvlei; for the New Year.
The following rules are intended, mainly, for
the guidance of young men and women :
1. Get married—ifyou can ; but look before'
you leap. Love matches are romantic—nice
things to read about,—but they have brimstone
in then, now and then ; so says Ike Marvell.
Esq.
2. Unite in overthrowing the fashion which
translates civilty into love.
3. Go to church at least once a week
4. Whenever you seo a lecture advertised..
set the evening upon - which it is to be delivered'
apart for reading fifteen pages of a good book.
5. Circulate no scandal.
• G. Avoid all kindd of spirits—particularly
spirit rappers.
7. If in the theatre, or•other public place of
amusement, do not level your opera glasses at
strangers.
8. Never notice the clothing of persons at
tending divine worship, nor stand in front of
the house of God after the services.
9. Never ask another man what his business
is—where ho is going to—where ho came from
—when he left—when he intends to go back,
or the number of his dollars. You may inquire
as to the state of his health and that of his
parents, sisters and brothers—but venture no
farther.
10. Defend the innocent, help the poor, and
cultivate a spirit of friendship, among all your
acquaintances.
11. Never speak disparagingly of wonV,
and endeavor to conquer all you prejudices.—
Believe all persons to be sincere in the religion
which they profess.
12. Be economical, but not parsimonious nor
niggardly. Make good use of your dollars,lut
not idols. Live within your means, and never
borrow money in anticipation of your salary.
Birds.
A bird is a model ship constructed by the
hand of God, in which the conditions of swift
ness, manageability, and lightness, aro abso
lutely and necessarily the same as in vessels
built by die hand of man. There are 'not two
things in the world which resemble each other
more strongly, both mechanically and physical
ly speaking, than the carcass and framework
of a bird and a ship. The breast-bone exactly
resembles a keel, and the English language has
retained the name. The wings aro the oars,
the tail the rudder. That original observer,
Huber the Genevese, who has carefully noticed
the flight of birds of prey, has•even made use
the Metaphor thus suggested to, establish cha
racteristic distinction .between rowers,and sail
ore. :The rowers arc falcons, who have the
first or second %ring feather the longest, and who•
are able by means of this powerful oar to , dart
right into the wind's eye. The mere sailors aro
the eagle*: the vultures and the buzzards,
whose more rounded wings resemble sails....
Household Words.
The Model Lady.
Puts her children out to nurse and tentTh laps
dogs ; lies in bed till noon ; wears paper-soled
shoes, and pinches her waist ; gives the piano
fits, and forgets to pay her milliner; cuts her
poor relations, and goes to church when she
has a new bonnet; turns the cold shoulderlo •
her husband, and flirts with his " friends;" *
never saw a thimble ; don't know a darning
needle from a crow=bar; wonders where putt;
dings grow ; eats ham and eggs in private, and,
dines on a pigeorOs leg „in public ; runs mad
aft& the last new fashion ; doast on Byron
adores any man who grins behind a moustache ;
and when asked the age of her youngest child.
replies, " Don't know, indeed, ask .Betty 1"
1371 t is chiefly. 3 oung Indies of narrow un•
derstanding who wen* shoes too small for
them.
Mt
e more ono