. . . . ... .. ...... , i., :. . •i , +,-...' , ..: -c:•... -;..4f• . i ' . ' . • : -7 ::i'"::41',...-:;:::.:,1.•.::".11.. A, 1t421214:Vt _3Ca7:K_N'AlLataimNk-3Mtt'ao.2o lat IPC3l,l,4l,Uvaci:lak VOLUME X. PRIDE iND POVERTY.I BY IIATTII•. " 0 mother, I have hit upon a plan that I can procure needle-work, and not have it known," said Ellen Grey to her mother, as she threw herself on the sofa, after a fatiguing walk around the city, one sultry day in the middle of August. " I am almost tired to death," she continued, " for I walked as fast as I could, lest some one should recognize me." " Don't rim on so," interrupted Mrs. Grey impatiently ; " pray, tell me what is the result of your morning's rambles, for I leave been thinking while you were out, that we must either find something to do, or sell this house and move into a smaller one." " 0, mother, do not think of such - a thing ! Dow it would sound to have it said that the Greys had to give up their nice house and sill off their furniture. in order to live ! No, moth er, I rather work night and day than this sh:arld be said of us." "I know, Ellen, it is hard ; but what arc we to do ? we certainly cannot live as we are.'! Mrs, Grey was left a widow with two child ren, a son and a daughter. Eden had arrived nt the age of seventeen : she was what ninny would call handsome but she was proud, cold and haughty ; inheriting all the sterner traits of her father's character, she was calculated to to figure in the gay world or shine in a ball room. She had been educated by her father With great care ; and as she grew up was a most agreeable companion for him. Edward, her brother, now fifteen yegrs of age, was the reverse of his sister. Although proud in many things, he had a kind and af fectionaie disposi:ion, and loving everybody he supposed every one loved him in return. They bad been nurtured in the lap of affluence and plenty ; every wish had been gratified that wealth could procure, by an indulgent father. After Mr. Grey's death, it was ascertained that his property amount'ed to only enough to settle his debts. The house they lived in, to gether with the furniture. was all that was lufi' to them ; and, ere their grief for the loss oil their father had subsided. the startling truth I burst upon them that they were henceforth to work for their daily bread. This neatly over whelmed them in sorrow. One evening, about three months after Mr. Grey's death, Ellen and her mother was seated by the window in the old homestead;. sadly mus ing on their changed condition. The spirits of both mother and daughter were much de• pressed. Thedoor bull rang. and they anxiously awaited the appearance of the domestic. Betty_ soon made her appearance. "Mr. Charles Ashton is in the parlor, and wishes to speak with Miss Ellen." "Oh ! .dear me, what shall I do ! here mother, do help me flx," exclaimed Ellen, as n consultation of her mirror showed many defects in her hair and dress. " Betty, go to the parlor and tell Mr. Ashton I will be down in.a few moments. • What shall T do, mother ? I cannot appear like myself, I feel so sad ;" continued Ellen, while she trembled all over like a leaf. " Be composed, my daughter, and on no ac count let Mr. Ashton think we are in embarass- ea circumstances." Ellen waited a few'momcnts until she could compose herself, and then descended to the par. lor. Charles Ashton was a man of noble, gen erous feelings, who would . scorn to use decep tion in the least thing. He had often visited Ellen, and had begun to regard her in the light Of a very dear friend. Ellen had always ap peared, when in his preience, like one who he would like to share the joys and sorrows of a lifetiine with ; but he had never spoken to her on the subject, thinking it best to wait awhile. Since her father's death, and the news that he had died insolvent, ho sometimes thought he would offer himself, and thus. perhaps, save them from the mortification which must neces sarily follow the humble position they must now occupy. But as time passed on, and they still kept their house and furniture, and moved in the same splendor as before, he thought some. thing must be wrong ; therefore he continued his visits, waiting for time to decide the circum. stances. . a This evening he met Ellen Oith the snnw frank courtesy which hod always characterized their former meetings ; kindly inquired after her mother and absent brother, and then intro duced such subjects of conversation as in their nature were not too gay to shock her feelings or too grav9 to depress them. He sat with her an hour and then retired. ".I am heartily sick of trying to keep up, ap pearances," exclaimed Ellen as she threw her self on the sofa, after Mr. Ashton's departure. " I hope you did not betray your feelings in , Mr. Ashton's presence," replied her mother ; " Don't you think," continued Mrs. Grey, ," that Mr. Ashton means something serious in his visits to you r Tho color mounted'to tho neck, cheeks and PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY HAINES & DIEFENDERFER AT ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS PERANNUM. forehead of Ellen ; she cast her eyes to the door in confusion, and remained silent. " Do not, my daughter, feel any delicacy in Speaking your mind to your mother," said Mrs. Grey. "We are dependent on each other for sympathy and advice. Let us be free and con fiding in one another. How we are to struggle through . this world, God only knows." Mrs. Grey's voice trembled as she said this, but she soon resumed. Mr. Ashton is a wealthy man. His family are wealthy. He has been visiting you for a number of months ; and if he would make you his wife, we could again hold,,up our heads in the world. I was thinking of this when I asked you the question. Now answer me, se riously. Ellen." . " He has never alluded to the subject," re= plied Ellen in a low tone of voice, " let his at tentions be what they may." " I wonder if he knows we have lost every thing ? Mile you noticed any change in his manner towards you lately ?" asked Mrs. Grey. " I have not observed any." replied Ellen ; none to speak, of, would have expressed her feelings better, for she had thought his manner toward her was tenderer since her father's death than before. " I don't knots' what to think." replied Mrs. Grey ; "still I cannot help thinking that he loves you, or he would not be so attentive to wards you ; but if he should hear of the change in our circumstances I do not know how this sudden and terrible reverse would of him. Our only hope is in keeping it a secret from him. But how we are to do it, unless we can get something to do, I cannot tell. A fortnight from to morrow Edwar'd will be at holm, and how shall we con rive to keep him at school any longer ? Mr. Ashton knows that we were intending to fit him for college : and if we take him out of school now, he must know it was for the want of means." . " Edward must not leave school ; every thing depends, ns yon say, upon keeping up ap pearance : and I nm determined to do my part," said Ellen, rousing herself from the leth argy she had so long been wrapped in. " To nn.rrow morning I will take a walk down to the widow llolden's. Perhaps Lucy and Clara can assist the in procuring work. You know I can embroider nicely, and might earn a good deal nt that business." " But is it best to go to them," said Mrs. Grey, her conscience smiting her for her former neglect of them after Mr. Holden's death.— They may think we took no notice of them in their distress, and that they will turn the cold shoulder to us in our troubles.'! No danger of that," replied Ellen ; " Lucy thinks too much of Edward, and, for his sake, I know she would assist us." " I fear Limy will not think the child of a penniless widow of half the consideration she did the son of Henry Grey," rejoined Mrs. Grey. " Perhaps she does not feel the same af fection far him she once did." " I think you judge Lucy wrong," said Ellen : I dp not think Lucy loved Edward just for his riches. I had much rather not go to Mrs. Holden's for assistance ; but I know of no other place where they would feel interested for us." After a good deal more conversation, which we will not stop to relate, it was decided that Ellen should go to Mrs. Holden's the next morning, and see if they. would assist her in getting work. Mr. Holden, who was supposed a wealthy merchant, died, leaving a widow and two child ren. As it often happens, with men engaged in mercantile business, the settlement of Mr Holden's effltirs revealed the unexpected fact that he had died insolvent. To the kind con sideration of their creditors they were indebted fly their furniture and plate, which was all they had left them. ' Mrs, Holden. naturally a feeble woman, sank 'beneath the blow. Clara and Lucy, Mr. Holden's two daughters, were noble minded girls : and they resolved to support themselves and their widowed mother by their own in dustry. They sold their furniture and plate, and took tip their residence in a neat cottage. in the sub urbs of the city.' Clara was twenty years of age. and possessed a good education. Her.mu sical talents were superior to any of her ac- gunintonees. . When they sold their furniture, Clara thought it best to keep her piano, think ing it might he serviceable to her in earning a livelihood. She engaged a school of young ladies, to whom she taught music. When not• employed in this way. she, with her sister Lucy, worked on embroidery. In this way they were able to live comfortable. It is true they were obliged to deny themselves many of the luxuries which they had formerly enjoyed ; but, as Clara said to Lucy. one day, " how much better to live as we do, than to worry our liver out trying to live beyond our means." Edward Grey and Lucy Holden were child ren together ; hand in hand had they walked to school, and there existed a friendship between Allentown, Pa., March 5, 1856. them which proved to be lasting. Their affec tion grew with their years ; and when it was announced that Mr. Holden had died, and left his family penniless, Edward was the first to go and speak the words of consolation and sympa thy: Young as they were, the vows of eternal con stancy were interchanged. '• No," replied Edward to the question, whether he could marry a poor portionless girl, " think not it was your riches I loved ; It was your own dear self." 'Some of their summer friends in prosperity deserted thorn now in the hour of adversity.— Among the number was Mr. Grey's family.— Every thing was said to persuade Edward from cherishing the idea of ever marrying poor Lucy Holden, one so much below him in point of riches. But all was in vain ; for love is a way. ward thing ; the more you try to stay its course, the faster it will flow. Seeing that all their efforts were in vain, they sent him off to school, hoping to change the current of his feelings. Mrs. Grey and Ellen continued in every possible way, to show thicr indifference towards Lucy. None of their cold ness was passed unnoticed by her, and many a bitter tear (lid she shed over their neglect ; for, much as she loved Edward, she could not bear the thought of ever marrying into a family where she was not beloved by all. She never ventured to mention their coldness and neglect to Edward. thinking it m ght cause him pain. But their unkindness had not escaped his eye( Ile had seen it all with feelings of pain, and had often r. monstrated with them upon the impropriety of such treatment, telling them they, 1.90 might some day stand in need of a friend ; the truth of which was mined soon er than they expected. The next morning after the call of Mr. Ash ton at Mrs. Grey's, Ellen started to call on the Holden"family with no very pleasant feelinp, as she remembered her ill treatment towards them since their father's death. Clara and Lucy were quietly seated at work by the window, and, on looking up, they saw Ellen coming up the walk. " As true us I live," exclaimed Lucy, " there comes Ellen Grey. It must be true that they have met with some misfortune, if she will con descend to cull on us." In a few moments the door bell rang. Now Clara Lad dismissed all their servants but one'. She had all the work to do, and they did not expect her to leave the kitchen every time the bell rang. Lucy laid down her work and ran gaily down stairs to the door. " Good morning, Ellen. How do you do ? I am very glad to see you," said Lucy, at the same time giving her a cordial shake of the hand. " Walk up stairs, if you please," at the same time leading her into a neatly furnished parlor. Ellen was met l the same cordial recep tion by Clara andvtiti'mother, who wrc reclin ing on a lounge. " llow is'your mother's health ?" kindly •in quired Mrs. Holden. " She is not very well. Father's death nearly overcame her," replied Ellen, in a low tone of voice. " There is nothing so wearing to any one's health as trouble," answered,Mrs. Holden, " I feel to sympathize with her. \I know what it is to have erouble." All this ; and much more, was said in such a kind sympathizing way, that Ellen felt heartily ashamed of herself, and • almost thought she would not mention the object for which she had callep. As she looked around on their neatly furnished room, so free from anything like ostentation, and then upon the smiling happy faces of its inmates, she could not help contrast ing their situation with her own. Clara and Lucy were at work embroidering capes. They made apologies for not laying aside their work during her call, by saying, " that they had promised to have the capes done in an hour from that time, and they must' work busy to accomplish it." " What do you have a piece ?" inquired Ellen. " For these we are at work on we have eight dollars ; and for this kind," taking up some cheaper ones, " we have only four." " Can you earn much working on them ?" asked Ellen. Oh, yes," replied Clnrn, " by working on these, and what I got for teaching music, we support the family. We do not expect to live in splendor; but when wo contrast our situa tion with those poorer than ourselves, wo Ought to be very thankful that wo get along sonicely." "" Who do you work fur 7" asked Ellen. • " Williams & C 0.," replied Lucy. Dave they all the hands they want ?" in quired Ellen, anxiously. " I believe they have," replied Lucy, !‘ for I heard Williams say the other day ho could hardly supply them in work, so great was the demand," " Do you know of any other plaCe, where they give out work,?" inquired Ellen. " There is a store three miles from hero," re plied Clara, " where they give out work." , " Three miles that is a great way," Ellen ! said, " Did you wish to get work ?" Lucy ven tured to ask. " Yes, I should like to," replied Ellen. " If-you will wait until we get these capes done, I will walk down to the store with you," said Play. " I shall have to carry them home, and it will be one mile of the distance" Ellen concluded to wait, and they were soon on air way in search of work. Ellen walked very fast, lest she should recognize some of her old acquaintances. They were successful, and Ellen returned with a bundle of work carefully concealed under her shawl. The result of - her walk she was relating to her mother when we opened this story. Now Ellen had obtained work, she wag at it early and late, notwithstanding such unaccus tomed toil produced incessant weariness. But all was in vain. Site could not earn enougli to meet the demands. Piece after piece of plate had to go, and article after article of jewelry, Until absolute want stared them in the face. Mr. Ashton still continued his visits, but hesitated to offer his hand, in hopes of obtaining a clue to the mystery. Had appearances cor responded with their supposed condition, he would long before this have offered her his hand, and saved her-he so much laved-from sinking' into. obscurity and want. Tenderly would he have clasped her to his boson and called her his wife. But he knew not how to act. When Edward returned from school his moth er told him their true situation. Ile immedi ately advised them to sell off their' things and assume their true position. "Just as I told you, mother," replied Ellen, to his good advice ;" because he is going to marry a poor girl, be wants to have it said that we, too, are poor. " But why not own to what everybody must know to be true," replied Edward. • " I don't believe Mr. Ashton knows," indig nantly replied Ellen. " Well," said Edward, " if he does not know it now, he must sometime." " I shall be his wife then, and shall not care," replied Ellen. " True," said Edward ; " but will ho love you so well ? Will not the knowledge of the deception you have practised cause hint to love you less ? Fur my part," continued he, " I will take no part in such deception ;"- and taking his hat, he went out. " What shall «e do ?" said Ellen to her 1 mother, as the hall door closed en the receding figure of her brother. "If Edward will not help us keep the secret, how is it to be done ?" " Well may we ask, what we are going to do," said her mother.; " all hope is at an end, unless Mr. Ashton makes proposals at his next visit. If he should, you must name the day-- at the earliest time possible ; and we will try to struggle on until you are married." Mrs. Grey and her daughter were seated at an open window with the blinds closed. Their conversation designed for no other ears but their . own, met the ears of a young-man, an intimate friend of Charles Ashton, who was passing in the 'street. This young man, a fun loving, frolicking youth, not always thinking the mis chief ho might do, soon met his friend Charles, and jokingly told him the conversation he had heard while passing Mrs. Grey's. From that hour Mr. Ashton was decided. He saw the deception that had been practised toward hint. and ho resolved to show them that,he did not stoop to such baseness. Week after week passed on : Edward had oh. twined a.situation as clerk in a store. Ellen toiled on day after day. It had been a long time since Mr. Ashton hid called on her, and hope had'almost died in her breast. One morning as she was bending over her ; work, worn out in body• and mind, a note of; invitation was handed her to attend a large party to be held the approaching week at one of the wealthiest in the city. • " I have nothing tit to wear," said Ellen, laying aside the note. • "..But you must go," replied her mother : " Mr. Ashton will be there. How much will it take to fit you to go ? Remember this is your last chance." " It will take fifty dollars ; and if I work all the time I could not earn so much," replied 1 - Ellen despondingly. After a good deal 'of thought. Mrs. Gray sug gested another article that might be sold. Elf ty dollars was soon realized, all of which was expended' for Ellen, to dress for the party. The expected evening arrived, and at an ear ly hour Ellen started, her mind agitated with conflicting emotions. How was she to meet Mr. Ashton ? Should she treat him with the same familkrity as before? or.should she be cold and haughty in his presence ? Guest after guest arrived, until the rooms were nearly filled ; still her anxious eyes had not been cheered by the presence of Mr: Ash ton. • Late. in the evening, as she was trying to converse with a friend, she looked trp and saw Charles Ashton coming into the room, with the lovely Clara Ilolden leaning on his arm ; as he passed her he gave her a cold formal bow, and passed. on. This was too much for Ellen's ex cited nerves. She soon complained of illness, and asked to have the carriage sent for. In this she returned home, heartsick and hopeless. In a week they sold their house, and what furniture they had left, and with the assistance of Edward, moved irito a smaller house. Ellen still continued to earn what she could by sew- Mr. Ashton ofien persuaded Clara to become his wifb, but it was not until after her mother's death that she consented. lie married her—poor as she was—her only dowry, the tithes of her mind and heart. She was elevated to her old position in society, and moved in all the splendor she could wish. Lucy, her sister, went to reside with her, until Edward should claim her for his bride: which he did in the course of a few years, hav ing first entered into partnership with a rich, influential merchant. Ile furnished a hand some housel'installed his young bride the mis• tress, and gave his mother and sister an invi• tation to make their home with him. Prospe . rity has crowned his (Torts. He is now one of the wealthiest men in the large city of B. Ilis mother long since paid the last debt of nature, and has gone to her reward. Ellen still lives with them, wiser, perhaps, than when she tried to win the rich Mr. Ash ton ; and, as Ella sits by her side, she often relates the history of her sad experience, and ends by telling her never think to win a hus band by deception. REQUITED LOVE., Oh. love! if all the wealth of earth Could bo b3stowed on me, I would not talc it, if thereby I were forgot by thea. It would not give Inc any joy To live in bulls of gold, If for that wealth I knew that I Thy precious love had sold! Then say again thou'lt love trio still When many years arc past; • That, come what will, thy love will live As lung as life shall last; That though all other friends may Hee, Thou'lt love mo FLU' Cm same; That adverse winds will only servo To blizlitou up love's flame! Thou necd'st not speak—the beaming light In thy soft hazel eyes, liaised unto mine %rah tender glance ' And earnest tone, replies,— "0, friend, my dourest earthly friend, Think not my love can change; Ito lily spell within my . breast Time never can estrange. "True love is like the clinging vine: The more the keen winds blow, The morn it clings to its support, The stronger it will grow! Such love is mine; though clouds may rise, • And storms.of sorrow fall, My heart will still be true to thee, And cling to thee through all I" Enough! one drop ofplensuro more My cup would overflow ; 'Tin all the•joy I oak, that thou Wilt alutro my weal and ivo; That though my bark bo rudely togged Upon life's raging tide, To cheer as only woman can, Thou wilt be by my nide! And ity my strength of heart within, Patience that naught can hill,— Dy ull the vigor of my soul, A:ld by my daunticus will; Thou Ault not rue the Low• thou pledged Thy lovtiand hand to mot caurtant study shall he this, Tu worthy prove of thee! Stick to ouc Pursuit. There cannot be a greater ,error than to be frequently changing one's business. Ifany man will look around and notice, who got rich and who did not, out of those he started in life with. he will find out that the successful generally stuck to sonic one pursuit. Two lawyers, for example, begin to practice at the same time. One devotes his whole mind to the profession, lays in slowly a stock of legal learning, and waits patiently, it may be for years till he gains an opportunity to show his superfority. The other tired of such slow work, dashes into politics. Generally at the end of twenty years, the latter will not be worth a penny, while the former will have a handsome practide, and counts his tens of thou sands in bank stock or mortgages. ts r Two clerks attain a maj rity simultaneously. Ono remains with his form employers, or at least in the same line of tra e as at first, on a small salary, then on a large, until finally, if he is meritorious, he is taken into partnership.— The other thinks it beneath him to fill a subor dinato position now that he has become a man, and accordingly starts in some other business on his own account, or undertakes for a new firm in the old lino of trade. Where does it end ? Often in insolvency, rarely in riches.— To this every merchant can testify. A young man is bred. a mechanic. He iwt• NUMBER 23. quires a distaste for his trade, however, thinks it is a tedious way to get ahead, and sets out fur the West or California. But in most cases, the samo restless discontented and speculative spirit, which carried him away at first, renders continued application at one place irksome to him ; and so he goes wandering about the world, a sort of semi-civilized Arab, really a vagrant in character, and sure to die insolvent. Mean time his fellow•apprentico who has stayed at home, practicing economy, and working steadi— ly at his trade, has grown comfortable in his circumstances, and is even perhaps a citizen or mark. Asiatic Savages. The savage tribes of Asia aro numerous, and a sufficient idea of their mode of life will be• formed from a description of a few of them. The Alowctians —or rather, the inhabitants of the Alowtian Islands, situated at the North- FAstern extremity of Asia, and neighboring on America—have no government of any kind, yet each community selects some chief, invested with no other authority but that of deciding any dispute they may have with each othefil They generally choose the man that has the largest family, and is most successful in hunting and fishing. They occupy, probably, the lowest place in the scale of savage life, eating wild roots seaweed and fish, frequently half putrifled and cast on shore, and flesh of foxes and birds, of prey, which they dovour raw. They clothe themselves in the skins of sea-calves, foxes and birds, and live in a ditch nine feet deep, eighteen broad. and from, thirty to three hundred long. The ditch has its sides supported by posts, and is covered by a frame on which earth and grass , are laid ; apertures serve for doors, with a ladder fixed to each ; others admit air and light, and some let out smoke, when they hap pen to have fires, which they seldom have, for even without any the heat is insuppOrtable and the smell from putrifying fish horrible. Sometimes 500 persons inhabit the same ditch.. Their disposition brutal ; if they surprise their enemies they exterminate them, pay no atten tion to their children, who leave them when they choose, and marry at pleasure without consent of parents, contracts, portions or festiv ity. The Kamaschatdales are almost as sav age. They feed on bears and other: quad rupeds, but the heads of half putrified fish, re duced to a pap, are their greatest delicacy. They also live in ditches, but less deep and bet ter constructed. There is one good point in their characters—they have a high respect for. woman, and, though permitted, rarely prac tice polygamy. How to Break up a Cold. • Dr. Hall, in his " Medical Journal," gives the . following direction for breaking up a cold : " A bad cold, like measles and mumps, or . other similar ailments, will run its course •in' about ten days, in spite of what may be done for it, unless remedial means aro employed within forty-eight hours of its inception. Many a useful life may be spared to be. increasingly useful, by cutting a cold short off, in the fol.. lowing safe and similar manner, On the first day of taking a cold there is a very unpleasant, sensation' of chillness. The moment you ob— serve this go to your room and stay there ; keep it at such a tetnperaturo as will entirely prevent this chilly feeling, oven if it requires a. hundred degrees Fah. In addition, put your feet in water half leg deep, as hot as you can• bear it, adding hot water from time to time, for a quarter' of an hour, so that the water shall be hotter when you take your feet out than when you put them in, then dry them thorough ly, and put on warm, thick, wollen stockings, even if it be in summer, (when colds aro moat dangerous,) and for twenty-four hours cat not an atom of food, but drink as largely as you desire of warm teas, and at the end of that time, if not sooner, the cold will be effectually broken, without any medicine whatever. This theory is no doubt good for weak constitutions, but for a hale hearty person we would recom mend the substitute of cold water drinks in the. place of hot tea. GUM ARABIC. In. Morocco, about the middle of November, that is, after the rainy season, which begins in July, a gummy juice exudes spontaneously from the trunk and principal branches of the acted& tree. In about fifteen dajt - it thickens in fur• rows, down which it runs, ejtber in o„verrnicti bar (or worm) shape, or commonly assuming
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