a r. t, 11)144 illegto.ter
then IDiorough Of i Allentown.
Lehigh County, Pa., every Wednesday, by
& DIEFFADERVERr
- 1141 ; `60`ii 6 i annum, payable in advance, an&
$2 00 if not paid until the end of the year.—
discontinued until all arretujies are
?aid.
•''? IIbwb:FFICE in Hamilton street, two doors west
Reformed Church, directly oppo
site Moser's Drug Store.
IrT'Letters on business mist be POST PAID,
othefarifie they will not be attended to.
• JOB PRINTING.
Having roently added' a large assortment
fasihionable and most modern styles of type, we
ara twepared to execute, at short notice, all
_kinds of Book, Job, and Fancy Printing.
pottit
LOVE.
EY MRS. R. T. ELDREDGE
It is.et'siroet and beauteous flower,
Theln.° heart is its native bower ;
The lovely flower•gem cannot rest
Witbinn.cold, unfeeling breast.
Ali it needs the purest soil
It heeds not care, nor pain, nor toil ;
But.'watered by affection's hand,
Its beauteous petals will expand.
Tie loveliest in sorrow's hour . ;
Neglect cannot destroy the flower
Though it may droop bligath the
The germ from whence Wsprings
Trim, fervent love can never die !
'Tiu•tinged with ardor from on high ;
None but the virtuous, good and pure, aiL
E'er dream of love that will endure! .Alr
HAS SHE ANY TIN
o.do not paint her charms 40 one,
I know that she is fair !
Lknow her lips might tempt the bee,
Her eyes with stars compare.
Such transient gifts I ne'er could prize ;
My heart they could not win ;
I do not scorn my Mary's eyes,
But—" has she any tin ?"
The fairest cheek, alas, may fade,
Beneath the touch of years !
The eyes that light and gladness played,
May soon grow dim with tears ;
I would love's fires should at the last
Still burn as they begin ;
But beauty's reigp4o soon is past,
So--" has she tin ?"
51, Capital, torii.
THE
BANDIT'S REVENGE.
CONCLUDED
_ mo
ment Francois found himself so near them, but
in so low a tone that the youth could not catch
his words ; the rejoinder to it. however, fell dis
tinctly on his (Ili. It was the butcher who
spoke.
" Yes !" he exclaimed, fixing his eyes full on
Roberto, and bringing his fist to the table with
such force that the wino bottles toppled :
"yes, remember what your affairs have
brought us to ! When a boy of sixteen years,
your proud words—it is something to know
you had pride once—caused the suffering and
death of your mother and her babe, and 'the
beggary of your father and brothers. Yes, ab
solute beggary ! for when I could not procure
work, I wandered through the streets of Paris,
a - beggar ; think of that,—and I a boy of four
teen ! and when too old to beg, we heconie
highwaymen. But it was not to keep myself or
my brother from starving, that I was the one or
the other ; it was to obtain means to give you
an education—to place you where you could be
revenged on him who had ruined our family.—
And when he a second time triumphed over
you, hurled you from the enviable position in
in which you had placed yourself—by the cir
culation of an infamous libel—tore your wife
from you, thereby causing her death, and he
hoped, that of her babo,—we met your five
brothers and their cousins, and swore to be re
venged on your enemy, and make your son, if
he.lived, heir to the title of his mother's fami
ly ! • You drew up the terrible contract, and
wo signed it A brother and a cousin have
died on the scaffold for your sake. I have done
more ! I stole his heir, called him my own
son, and nought him up in ignorance and
crime. He fell by the hand of the executioner !
He died bravely,And--"
The speaker interrupted himself by swallow
ing a large.goblet of wino at a single draught,
and as he sat down the glass, he glared around
him, without speaking, for a moment ; but as
the countenances which met his gaze were un
changed—the face of the host was resting on
his hand—he continued, though now in so low
-a tone that the secret listener could catch only
a part of his words,
Atid now perform your part of the con
tractre• will grant no longer delay. Give
us Francois for our leader ! wo must explain to
him to -night the part he is to perform in this
enterprise." The rest was unintelligible to the
youth, as Was the reply of Ruberto, but his
tones were low and full of entreaty.
They., were-interrupted, however, by Merle,
who rose; as did the three men so strongly
resemblinehim, (rpm the table ; and with an
oath too horrible to be repeated, swore that
unless. Francois was given into their oharge,
they would the nett day dellier themselves - up
to - nsitiCe;"and inforin againit their compail
long? ,
Tlio ly offluberto was not heard by Fran
cois,' ihe, old wonuin seizing 1!4131 by the arms
dreW him i ;noi unwillingly, from the spot. •
" One word, Lunette !!' whiiipered the youth
'.. - .l . '*'l - 4 1.:11:'::'.1',.n.' - '...: - ' --. ...... - 1L:..1',.:: - '4'.''''1:(..:U.2.1 . :,':...
ifhuotett to lota' nub antral 31rids", ,!clatirulture, (Fisburation, Rinratitti, Initiormrtit, 311.arktte, &r.,
VOLUME IX.
as they again found themselves above ground ;
" what relation do I bear those men ? Is my
father among them ?"
But the woman only answered him by put
ting a purse of gold in his hand, and then open
ing the cabin door, pushed him from it. ..
By the window of a chateau overlooking the
Rhone, sat, on a sweet evening in June, two
individuals, the one a tall, handsome, fair
browed youth of twenty, and the other a beau
tiful, bright-eyed brunette, apparently about
the same age. The young man, with his cheek
att lit
resting on his hand, was gazin stractedly on
the sheet of w ter that was s' far out be
yond the gra of the chate nd now sil
vered with th ms of the risinemorn. The
la iy was tti,g with the strings other guitar,
Affnow . and then humiiiing stlittettf some
lively air ; but the dark eyes that o turned
furtively to her companion, had in thili*ex
pression which told that her thoyghts; NV not
altogetili so carefree as the m she was
brcathin might have led one to su
The apparetitly unconscious o Oxer re
gard at length turned toetids NM " Lady
ghriStabelle seems not inclined to practise her
lesson to-night," hersaid ; " if she has no far-
Cher commands for one, I will retire from her
presence." ,'• .
A shadow flitted over the countenance of the
lady, and the lifting of those little hands to her
face was not sudden enough to prevent the
young man from „pbserving it, for the moon
light fell Lull on tbat round rosy cheek.
" What would the Marquis of D--, or the
Count, who will be at the chateau to-morrow,
not give to pass this sweet moonlight evening
beside the daughter of d'Enghein ?" and she
laughed gaily : "but Monsieur le Professeur,
whose company she might prefer to either, begs
leave to retire, though Bella must, consequent
ly, wile away this long evening alone." And
then, pushing the guitar towards him, she ad
ded, in a changed tone, " Please run over my
last lesson once, and then I would be left
a1 ( 19,61 - Ine gayety and seriousness, the young
man very plainly saw, were both affected ; and
instead of complying with her request, lie was
kneeling at her feet, and pouring into her car
words, the import of which, neither himself nor
his companion seemed fully to comprehend.—
They were, however, perfectly r.nderstood by
an individual, who, unknown to them, stood in
the embrasure of a window ; and as the words
of the young man fell on his car, lie laid his
1 hand on his sword, and started as if lie would
spring towards them ; but he restrained him
self to catch the lady's reply.
" May I believe what you are saying, Fran
cois ?" she asked, timidly. " Nay, your word
is enough ; but we will talk of that, hereafter.
Now," and she laid her hand on his arm, and
spoke in an earnest, rapid tone, " now I must
think only of the safety of my cousin—Francois
d'Enghein —the son of my father's sister, so
Louise,• your foster-mother, has told me you
are ; and your father is the great musician do
1 Maestro, of whom nothing has been heard for
so 'many years, but whom you have known as
Ruberto ! My father learned, three days since,
who you are ; but I have not dared to say to
you, before, what I wished. Francois, your
' liberty, and I fear, life too, is in danger ! Holy
Mary—my father I" •
But before the Count d'Enghein, who had
stolen out from his hiding 'place, let fall the
hand which was raised above the head of Fran
cois, his arm was seized in the powerful grasp
of one, who, secretly as himself,-'had found his
way into the apartment ; and at the 'furious
call of the count, instead of his servants, a
number of armed men rushed into the room.—
They were all masked, but their leader, as ho
seemed to be, the individual who was grappling
with the count, the young man instantly re
cognized, by the ejaculations which escaped
his lips, as his old friend—Merle, the butcher.
Francois fancied that the recognition was mu
tual ; but most likely it was the figure of the
hyang d'Enghein • whose ignominious death he
caused, which was presented to Merle's
mtal vision ; for the ruffian was very super
stitious, and the form and features of Francois
were strikingly similar to those of his cousin.
For an instant ho gazed on the youth, and then
uttering a cry of agony, the butcher relaxed
his hold on the count, and reeling backward,
fell to the floor with the sword of d'Enghein in
his breast. . .
The count was now defenceless and sur
rounded by half a dozen ruffians whose bright
arms were glittering in the moonbeams ; and a
whisper in his ear had trinfixed Francois' to
the spot where ho was standing, supporting the
fainting Christabelle in his arms.
" Count d'Enghein, do you know - who we
'are?" asked the individual, who had addressed
Francois, " and wherefore we arc hero ?"
"I have cause to know!" answered the
count. •
"4 Truly you have!" said tho mask ; and
lioW soon shall it be before, you will comply
Pith oui• demands 1'
12HILIT 411101128i11v-YERVII4II 30 IPallnalla.
ALLENTOWN, PA., MARCH 21, 1855.
" Never! stay, does the father of the boy
ye?"
" He is addressing you!"
"De Maestro—villain !" exclaimed d'Eng
hein, " - I will die before your terms shall be
complied with?"
" Count; we will not bandy words now,"
said the other, calmly : " you are aware, and so
am I, that we aro quits, though injuries have
been done you by those who had sworn to be
my avengers, which I would have prevented,
had I been able. I would have given my life
to save that of your boy, though you would
gladly bereft me of mine. My companions are
witnesses, that I am with them to-night to pre
vent bloodshed, though alas, I have not been
able to do so. My thirst for revenge is
quenched, and I ask now but justice for my
son. Place in my hand the certificate of my
marriage with the Lady Emilie—l know it to be
in your possession—and swear 'to me that jus
tice shall be done him and yon shall never more
be molested. We have always performed what
we have promised you. Pause, before you de
cide ; we'can give you time, for your servants
though unharmed, aro all secured."
The count did pause, and he glanced towards
Francois, in whom ho had, previous to his dis
covery of the relationship the youth bore him
self, felt a strong interest from the remarkable
resemblancehe perceived in him to his lost boy ;
the hope had been cherished that he was his
Atii soil, and the discovery of what he really
was, was the result of his efforts to prove him
to be so.
It was very likely much more, because ho
saw no other way of escaping the fury of the
ruffians before him, who it was evident, liked
not the dispassionate manner of their spokes
man, than from anf other reason, that he was
induced to accede to the terms of de Maestro ;
though the thought did pass through his mind
that lie could regard the noble manly youth,
whose year's residence in the chateau had so
endeared him to the hearts of the inmates that
ho was treated more like a near relative, than
the simple music teacher that he was, as his
" I will comply with your request," he said,
" but only on this condition ! Deliver up to
justice those who caused the death of my son :
or hand me my sword, and let the murderers
stand forth one by one !"
" The matter has been already settled !"
said de Maestro ; " the only man among us who
knew, until after his death, that the noble boy
was your son, lies there !" and be pointed to
the prostrate figure of Merle, now cold and life-
less.
The paper which, twice before, that band
had searched the chateau to find, was placed in
the hand of do Maestro, and the robbers disap
peared, carrying their dead companion with
them.. They were never heard of after.
De Maestro, under his assumed name of nu
berto resided, for several years longer, in his
cabin, with the old Lunette who was a relative
of his family ; but after the death of her father,
whose lifo was undoubtedly shortened by the
certainty of the fate of his boy,the lady Chris
tabelle, now the happy wife of Francois—
Count d'Enghein—persuaded him to. take up
his residence at the chateau ; and her hus
band's kind foster-mother, the good Louise!
who was now a widow, the countess also made
a member of her family.
Clock Making.
Of all the inventions which conduce to house
hold comfort and convenience, those must be
considered the best which are adapted to the
means, not of the rich alone, but of all sorts of
people, and hence we cannot too much com
mend the ingenuity of those who have made
that useful machine, the clock, attainable by
all. Go where we may, whether into the log
cabin of the far West, or into the neat farm
house of Now England, we are sure to hear
the music of the bell of the Yankee Clock.
, It is a matter of wonder what men did, in an
cient times, without clocks or watches. They
had, it is true, some defective method of ascer
taining the time. The sun dial, for instance,
appears to have been the most ancient. It was
invented about one thousand years before the
Christian era, and would have been a tolera
ble substitute for a clock if the sun would have
had the goodness to abide twenty-four hours a
day, and if the clouds would have been kind
enough to keep out of the way. But, as men
want to know the time at night and in cloudy
weather these contrivances were much of the
time useless.
The hour glass, the water clock, and other
similar instruments, were very defective and
inconvenient. The invention of machinery for
measuring time, is ascribed to Pacificus, Arch
deacon of Venice, in the ninth century, if we
may trust the testimony of Uginilli. Others
attribute the invention to Boethius, about the
year 510 ; and some go back as far as Archi
mides, to whom. they give the credit of the
discovery. But we know for certain, that Ed
ward the Third, of England, gave permission
to three artists to come over from Holland and
settle in England, to practice the art of clock
making.• This must have been about the year
1360. Their ccinstructions, however defective
compared with modern clocks, entirely super
ceded the instruments first named. They were
regulated by a small fly-wheel ; but this was
soon abandored for the pendulum, which has
ever since been used, except in spring clocks.
They were called nocturnal dials, to distinguish
them from sun dials. These ancient machines
did not strike the hour. The striking part was
a much later invention.
Before we proceed to describe the improved
mode of clock making at present in use, we
would remark that a very ingenious machine
was invented by 11ir. G. Dyer, of Vermont,
which differed in every respect from the com
mon clock. So simple was it in its construc
tion, that only two wheels were required to
continue the operation for eight days without
winding up ; and three wheels would do this
for a year. With all its apparent advantages,
however, it has never been in general use.
The Dutch, many years ago, manufactured
large quantities of wooden clockS, which were
sold all over the continent of Europe, and in
England. They varied in price from four to
twenty and thirty . dollars. But it remained
for the present age, and the ingenuity of our
country to bring this useful machine within the
reach of every one, in an elegant form, which
renders it.as ornamental as it is useful. .
We have often heard the question—How is it
possible that such handsome clocks can be
made at such a low: price ? We will describe
the process in one of the principal manufacto
ries in Connecticut, which may, we presume,
be taken as a specimen of the whole. The
manufactory in , Forrestville employs about
eighty men, each of them engaged in a distinct
part of the work: This manufactory alone
sends out about sixty thousand clocks every
year, varying in price from fifty cents to six
dollars. None are now made of wood, brass
being found quite as economical. The ma
chinery consisting of cutting-presses, rolling
mills, lathes, draw benches, stamps, &c, is
orked by water, or by steam. The brass for
Cw
iro frame Lou mom:, aim tbr the various
wheels, is rolled in the flattening mill to a prop
er thickness. This operation renders it hard
and more durable. It is then cut by the press
into the various sizes required for the wheels
and other parts—the cutting of the teeth of the
wheels being performed afterwards, by a dif
ferent machine. The parts, thus roughly pre
pared, and then passed to the hands who dress
them perfectly smooth. The wire for axles,
pendulums, pints, &c, is drawn at the draw
bench. Nothing now remains but to put the
parts together. The number of wheels varies
in different clocks, from four to ten.
'When we consider the immense number of
clocks made by the establishment alluded to,
and consider further that there are in the coun
try about 10 more rnanufactorieS on an exten
sive scale, the total number made, cannot, we
estimate, fall stort of four hundred thousand
annually. The weight of brass in each, is about
two pounds, which makes a total of 800,000
pounds. But in order to obtain this in a fin
ished state, at least 1,500;000 lbs or seven hun
dred and fifty tons of gross metal is required.—
The result, is, we have clocks which may be sold
at a very low price, and yet yield a fair profit
to the manufacturer, while in distant lands,
and in our own frontier settlements, the rich
and the poor alike are in the enjoyment of the
cheap and democratic luxury of a Yankee clock.
FEMALE IBEVUTY
People differ very much in the matter of
taste, and what one nation considers a beauty
in personal appearance, another would set
down as a deformity. It is so in relation to
other matters, manners and customs, style of
dress, etc. It is not alone the " human form
divine" that exhibits food for this great diversi
ty of taste. Probably, however, there is no
subject on which there is so much difference of
opinion, " among the nations of the earth," as
there is in the matter of what constitutes female
beauty. A Broadway or Washington street
belle •would make a sorry appearance in the
bazaars of Constantinople ; and the prettiest
Yankee girl in all. New England would be
thought hideous by the ladies who bow before
the throne of the emperor of Japan.
Let us consider some of the customs of the
women of various nations. The ladies of Ara
bia stain their fingers and toes. red, their eye
brows black, and their lips blue. In Persia,
they paint a black streak around the oyes, and
ornament their faces with various figures. The
Japanese woman gild their teeth, and those of
the Indies paint them red. The row of teeth
must be dyed black to be beautiful in Guzurat.
'The Hottentot women paint the entire body in
compartments of red and black. In Greenland
the women color their faces with blue and yel
low, and they frequently tattoo their bodies by
saturating threads in Foot, inserting them be
peath the skin, and then drawing them through.
Hindoo females, when they wish to appear par
ticularly, lovely, smear themselves with.a
mix
ture of saffron, tumeric and gi;ease.. In nearly
tiUthe islands of the Paine andlndian oceans,
NUMBER 24.
the women, as well as the men, tattoo agreat
variety of figures on the face, Bpi and tongue,
and the whole body.
In New Holland the females cut themselves
with shells, and by keeping open the wounds
long time, form deep scars in the flesh, which
they deem highly ornamental. And another
singular addition is made to their beauty by
taking off, in infancy, the little finger of the
left hand, at second joint. In ancient Persia,
an aquiline nose was often thought worthy of
the crown ; but the Sumatran mother carefully
flattened tho nose of her daughter. Among
some of the savage tribes of Oregon, and also
in Sumatra and Arracan, continual pressure is
applied to the skull, in order to flatten it and
thus give it a new beauty. The modern Per
sians have a strong aversion to hed hair ; the
Turks, on the contrary, are very warm admi
rers of it.
In China small round eyes are liked ; and
the girls aro continually plucking their eye
brows that they may be thin apd long. But
the great beauty of a Chinese lady is in her feet,
which in childhood are so compressed by banda
ges as effectually to prevent any further in
crease in size. The four smaller toes are turned
under the foot, to the sole of which they firmly
adhere ; arid the poor girl, not only --endures .
much, but becomes a cripple for life. Another
mark of beauty consists in having finger nails
so long that the castings of bamboo are neces
sary to preserve them from injury: An African
beauty must have small eyes, thick lips, a
forge, flat nose, and a skin beautifully black.—
In New Guinea, the nose is perforated, and a
large piece of wood or bone inserted. On the
northwest coast of America, an incision more
than two inches in length is made in the• lower
lip, and then filled with a wooden plug. In
Guiana, the lips are pierced with thorns, the
heads being inside the mouth, and the point
resting on the chin. The Tunisian woman, of
moderate pretensions to beauty, needs a slave
under each arm to support her when she walks,
and a perfect belle carries flesh enough to load
down a camel. And thus we might go on in
stancing until-we wearied the reader's patience ;
but we have said enough to show how vastly
people differ in their estimate of what consti
tutes female beauty.
The Ocean and its Depth.
Professor Olmstead, of New Haven, has ton
tributcd to the last number of the New Eng
lander (a quarterly publication) an article enti
tled " a Philosophical Survey of the Ocean,"
from which we extract the following paragraph.
The author commends highly the labors of
Lieut. Maury.
The waters of the ocean cover nearly three
fourths (or more exactly, five-sevenths) of the
surface of the globe ; and of the the thirty-eight
millions of miles of dry land in existence, twen-.
ty-cight belong to the northern hemisphere.—
The mean depth of the ocean has been various
ly stated, but may for the present be taken at
four miles ; the numerous soundings now in
progress will soon enable us to speak with
more definiteness on this point. Enough has
already been done to rove that the depth is ex
ceedingly unequal; that like the surface of the
earth the bottom of the ocean • hero rises in
mountain peaks, and there sinks in deep val
leys. Until recently the deepest sounding ever
made was that by Captain Scoresby in the po
lar seas, which was short of a mile and a half.
As late as 1848, the maximum sounding was
that of Captain Ross, in the south Atlantic,
and gave 27,600 feet or a little over five miles,
without, finding bottom. But more recently, at
a point of the Atlantic farther north, Lieut,.
Walsh, of the U. S. schooner Taney, without
reaching bottom, to the depth of 34,200 feet, or
nearly 6 miles. Within a short time Capt.
Dinham communicated to. the Royal Society a
report of having reached the bottom of the At:
lantic, in a passage from Rio Janeiro to the
Cape of Good Hope, at the astonishing depth of
7,706 fathoms, or 81 miles ; a depth so pro
fund, that the plummet occupied in its decent
from the reel nearly 9i hours. From these re
sults it appears that the depth of tho.ocean ex
ceed the heights of the mountains, since the
loftiest summits of the Himmalaya aro a little
mord - than 28,000 feet, or 51 miles. Notwith
standing these in the immediate vicinity of
places where no bottom could be found, were
spots of no uncommon depths. These facts in-'
dicato that the bed of the .ocean is diversified
like the surface of the earth . The, Gulf of
Mexico is thought notl.4.exceed on an average
ono mile ; and. tho Greenland seas are of such
moderate depth, that whales, when harpooned,
often run.to the bottom, as is indicated by ap.
pentane° when they rise again. to the surface.
Whales are even supposed to seek a part of
their food at the bottom of the sett/
The Love of Nature.
How many are there to whom the 'lustre of
the rising or setting sun, the sparkling eon
caVe of the midnight sky, the mountain forest
tossing and 'roaring to the AY, or warbling
with nll the melodies of a summer evening ; the.
sweet interchange of hill and dale, shadmand
sunshine, grove, fawn, and• water, which •anr
extensive landscape offers to the View ; the• .
scenery of the ocean, so lbveiy, so majestic, and
so tremendous ; and the many pleasing varie
ties of the animal and vegetable kingdom—
could nevcr•aflbrd so much real satisfaction as.
he steams and noise of a ball-roetn, the insi
pid fiddling and squeaking of an opera, or the•
vexations and wrangling° of a .card fable !L.-
But some minds there are of a different make,
who, even in the early part of life receive from
the contemplation of nature a species of delight,
which they would hardly exchange for any
other ; and who, as avarice and ambition are
not the infirmities of that period, would, with,
equal sincerity and rapture, exclaim -7
i •
I " I care not, Fortune, what you me deny ;•
You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ;
You cannot shut the windows of the sky,
Thro' which Aurora shows her brightening face;
You cannot bar my constant feet to trace
The woods and lawns by living streams at eve."
To a mind thus disposed, no part of creation
is indifferent. In the crowded city and howling
wilderness, in the cultivated province and soli
tary isle, in the flowery lawn and craggy
mountain, in the murmur of the rivulet and in
the uproar of the ocean, in the radiance of sum
mer and gloom of winter, in the thunder of
heaven and in the whisper of the breeze, ho
still finds something to rouse or to soothe his
imagination, to draw forth his affections, or to.
employ his understanding. This happy sensi
bility to the beauties of nature should be cher
ished in young persons. It engages them to
contemplate the Creator in his wonderful
works ; it purifies and harmonizes the soul, and
prepares it for moral and intellectual discipline
it supplies a never failing sources of amusement
it contribules even to bodily health ; and, as a
strict analogy subsists between material and
moral batty, it leads the heart by an easy
transition from one to the other, and thus re
commends virtue for its transcendent loveliness,
and makes vice appear the object of contempt
and abomination. An intima to acquaintance
with the best descriptive poets—Spenser, Mil
ton, and Thomson, but above all with the di-•
vine Georgic joined to some practice in the art
of drawing, will promote this amiable sensibili
ty in early years ; for then the face of nature
has novelty superadded to its other charms, the
passions are not pro•engeged, the heart is free
from care, and the imagination warm and ro
mantic.
BLOSSOMS OF THOIMBIT.
He has good sense, the rest follows.—Lu•
Fon!aine.
Do not allow grass to grow on tho road of
friendship.—Madame Gcoffria.
Cheerful looks make every dish a feast, and
'tis that crowns a welcome.—Massinger.
Persons without energy, allow things to go
as they come, always hoping that everything
will go well.—Madame Riccoloni.
It is heaven upon earth to have a man's mind
move in charity, rich in providence, stern upon
the poles of truth.—Lard Bacon.
A vacant mind invites dangerous inmates, as
a deserted mansion tempts wandering outcasts
to enter and take tp their abode in its desolate
apartments.—lfillard..
They that arc against superstition, often
times run into it of the wrong side. If I wear
all colors but black, then I am superstitious in
not wearing black.—Selden. •
Mere ballthilness without merit is awkward;;
and merit without modesty is insolent. But
modest merit has a double claim to acceptance.
—h uglirs.
If strict justice be not the rudder of all our
other virtues, the faster we sail, the further we
shall find ourselves from that haven where we
would be.—Colton.
Sunsets in themselves are generally superior
to sunrises ; but with the sunset we appreciate
images drawn from departed peace and faded
glory.— Hillard.
Americans Kneel 'only lo God.
The following incident is said to have occur
red, during the revolutionary struggle, in a
conversation between a British officer and a
young lady, at the house of her uncle who Was
suspected of favoring the Tory cause.
e conversation turned on the subject of
liberty, and the success of the American arms,
both of which the officer treated with leveity and
contempt, adding, " Wait a few months more
and you will see the whole party with the much
glorified Washington at their heads, humbly
begging for his majesty's forgiveness before the
royal governor., They won't think of liberty
when on their knees. I warrant you."—
" Americans kneel !" exclaimed Aurora, end
. only ris Hash
ing like inns.
kneel ! me is
left unturned by rain's ploughshare, while an
American forest clothes.a hill iu leaflY verdure,
while ono tllliundation of an American church.
tends unshaken by the kings' artillery, While
heaven lends Americans life, and, you oppressors•
aro but hunian flesh—so long, sir, you will never
.eo our gallant Washington, and his brave
troops kneel before the minions of your mon
' rchs ! N?, sir'! Americans kneel only to
God !"
The Mother.
It has been truly said : The first being that,.
rushes to the recollection of a soldier or a sailor'
in his heart's• difficulty, is his mothers • She:
clings to his memory and his affections,-in the:;
midst of all the forgetfulness and hardihood in•
duced by a roving life. The last message he:
lea ea is for her, his last whisper breathes • her
nes e. The mother, as she instils the lesson of
pie y and filial obligation into the heart•of her
lea e a
vain. They may drop into the grave—.
is sped and will do its office.
y h s er fo i e n i fl t u h e a nces her tt: lx) tw r ill is.
: O ld : is broken, but the soe•
i n a t hfoe s
r o h n haa , sr ei l h e o ft u T l bh d eeh a
bil
not I
but
Ivor