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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