THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
B, f, Weaver Proprietor.]
VOLUME 7.
THEStAROF THE NORTH
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From the Cincinnati Catholic Telegraph.
mtevevtliia CorrespoaAeaoe.
Between a Protestant Voting Man and a Cath
che Young Lady who Here engaged to be
Married, but Quarrelled about their Religion.
Ths Catholio Telegraph is perm medio pub
fish the following letters, "with the consent
of the young lady interested." The lady was
educated at the Ursuline Convent, and the
marriage edjourned by the annexed'docu
ments, waa to have taken place on New
• Year'* Day.
Dearest ———; The mutual regard which
1 am ao happy to know exists between us,
and tbe exchange of sacred vows which 1 ar
dently expect will be the result before long,
give me courage to consult you on a subject
whioh is of Ibe first importance, and ooe
which my relatives are pressing on my atten
tion. Amongst the obstacles to happiness,
there ere none so likely to produce discon
tent asa wantofuniouin religious sentiments.
If we offer our dovotions at the same altar in
religion, aa well as love, you must be aware
dar , tbe'. it will cement in a won
derful degree our hearts. Do you tbiok, then,
that you could worship with me in the Pres
byterian or any Protestant Church! In our
happy country, all religions ere alike, end
your good sense must assure you that forms
of faith are of small importance, provided our
lives be virtuous. Moreover, dearest, we
must not overlook, iu masriage, those less
sentimental but more solid consideration*
which have relerence to the prosperous con
dition ol worldly comfort and respectability.
There is, as you are aware, a very deep-root
ed antipathy to the faith in which, without
any fault of yours, you have been educated,
and it would seriously interfere with my suc
cessful pursuit of business, were I to contract
so close an intimacy with a person profess
ing Roman Catholicism.
Should you resolve, however, as I have no
doubt you will, to worship the same God on
ly in another church, we will both acquire a
sympathy and regard, the consequences of
which will be truly desirable and most pro
pitious to pur welfare. I know that, in a
matter like this, you will wieh to consult your
frieodSjthoiigh their consent, you know, is not
at all imperative ; yet, in order that you may
do to with freedon, 1 give you my fall con
sent to make known my sentiments private
ly or publicly, as you may think proper.—
Though you may call this a business letters
it is so different from our usual correspond
ence—and laugh at my seriousness, yet I
shall expect your answer with great anxiety.
In the mean time my heart is ever yours, and
your image is upon it indel
ibly by love's own warm amilea, and with
hia fidelity to the original.
Believe me, dearest j , to be ever
yours, in life end death. ■ ■* ■
■ ■ ■ ', Dec. 3, 1854.
Dear .1 received your letter just ten
minutes since, and my judgment tells me to
answer at ouce, without any consultation, be
cause none is needed. When yon asked
me to give you my heart and its affections, I
consented, because I admired and respected
and loved you; but I did not at tbe same time
agree to surrender to you my soul and ita
eternal hopes. Had you aaked me to make
such a sacrifice as (bat, I would have refused
not only to you but an archangel, could any
•ucb bright spirit propound a like question
to me. Remember, dear*——, that reli
gion with us Catholics is not an opinion at
all—it is far mora, even, than'a logical con
viction—it is faith, which is grand and pow
erful in proportion to the divinity in which
h trusts. Such is ray idea of faith, but Ido
not pretend to be a theologian. Now dearest
1 1,1 oould r.ot, without a horrible con
tempt* for myself, surrender God to wiu a hus
band even as accomplished as you, and the
only ooe to whom 1 have plighted vows of
love. I would be guilty of an enormous
crime, if I were even to pretend to a conver
sion in Which my understanding and heart
had no part. Every idea of honor which 1
have learned forbid such a prostration of my
cbaraoter. Yon could not even respect me
yourself could I be so easily induced to de
sert my hope* of heaven. Could Ibo faith
less to God and frithless to man! I knew,
dear —, that you did not agree with me
io my religious sentiments, but I never
thought of requiring from you such a heavy
obligation as you would impose on me.
But I must argue the question with you ;
for tliongb you are a lawyer, I am not afraid
of entering into a little controversy with yon,
ao now look grave, for I am going to leotura
you. You say, dear ——, that "in our
happy country all religions are alike." Well,
granted; why tben can't you relinquish yours
and join mice! Wouldn't that bo ae reason
able aa for me to relinquish mine and profess
yours! But yon place it on the ground of
expediency—on the unpopularity of our
chumh. Well, you need not change yours;
you would do wrong to abandon your creed
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. APRIL 12, 1855.
and unite with mine, unleu you firmly be'
lieved in it, A for tbe smiles of worldly
prosperity, though I would not uselessly dis
regsid them, yet a true-bom American, with
a proper estimate of ber honor, would prefer
tbe rags of poverty, sooner than olotbe with
silks a dishonored and violated conscience.
Your own good sense and enlightened mind
will convince you dear———, that lam right;
and I am confident that your reply, which I
will expect with anxiety, as you do this, will
remove this thin mist from the bright eyes of
love, whose light I hope will ever beam gra
cious in our lives.
Yours truly, ■
—, Dec. 9, 1854.
Dear Miss —: I most candidly acknowl
edge that your letter has greatly disappoint'
ed me. I thought that yeur superior intelli
gence had risen above all those antique and
musty opinions, whose proper period was the
middle ages and their ptoperlocality in Spain.
I have now and tben observed among Cath
olics, educated like yourself, a strange fash
ion of ascending above the realities of life
on the airy pinions of what you call faith.—
But such theories do not advance a profes
sional man—do not roof a houso, or supply
the necessities, much less the elegancies, of
a home. 1 thought on this account you would
readily enter into my views,but jrourefuse to
doao. Well, I will abandon my'request. 1
am too much devoted to allow even a differ
ence like this, serious and most important as
it is, to weaken the love which unites our
hearts. You ladies, and you are the very
first amongst them all, dear ——, contrive
occasionally to introduoe such exalted notions
into your beautiful heads, that to remove
them would be as easy asto attempt to chain
the zephyrs, or to rob the violet of its per
fume. Well then, in conclusion 1 must in
form you that I have read your letter to the
family. It would be improper to deceive you
on the subject of my parents' opinions. Their
attachment to the Presbyterian faith is great;
and the idea of union with a Catholio, even
with you, whom they know so well, and
highly respect, darkens their countenances,
and distresses mo very much. They have,
however, renewed their consent, butthey re
quire us to be matried by a Presbyterian
clergyman. This dear ——, I agree with
th-vn in asking as a right, because it is duty
I Ave them not to distress their hearts nor
do violence to their religious principles, by
permitting the ministry of a Catholic clergy
man. As your church, dear —, does not
consider such marriages invalid, you can
have no objection to this arrangement, which
will unite us never again to part in life. Un
derstand, dearest, that I am compelled to
consider the ministry of • Protestant clergy
man only indispensable to our union.
Your devoted ■ .
Dear Sir l shall not ask you to "do any
violence to the religious principles of your
parents," nor will I consent to have any of- i
fered to mine. When I consented to marry
yoa, I was not aware that your father and
mother, witb-'lbeirreligious principles,"were
included io the agreement. The care which
yon have not to offend your parents, cannot
bo greater than that which I mutt observe
not to offend God.
The tone of your letter betrays the spirit
of your love. It is not • rosy spirit, as poets
and lovers have described It, but a spirit
hedged round with thorns. 1 think sir, as I
am still free, I had better remain so. Yon
will find some one who will readily consent
not to "do violence to tbe religious principles
oi your parents." If I consented, sir, to be
a slave before marriage, by surrendering my
rights of conscience, 1 feel quite satisfied
that I would deserve to be something worse
than a slave after marriage. I had little
thought that this would be tbe finale of so
maoy pleasant da)s, words and letters. If
you should feel it as much as I do, (for 1 caro
not to oonceat my emotions,) you can have
resource to that world which you fear so
muoh for consolation. A* tor me, I will try
to forget a lave which was so unworthy that
it refused to be appeased except by the sac
rifice of honor and conscience. No more
from, Yours, &c., ——.
HTSILENT INFLUENCE —lt is the bubbling
spring Ibat ffows gently, the little rivulet
that glides through the meadows, and whioh
runs along, day and night, by the farm
house, that is useful, rather than the war
ring cataract. Niagara exeites your won
der, and we stand amazed at lha power of
God, as he pours it from hia "hollow band."
But one Niagara is enough for the conti
nent or world, while the aenqp world re
quires thousands of silver fountains and
gently flowing rivulets, that water every
farm and meadow and every garden; and
that shall flow on every day and night, with
their quiet, gentle beauty. So with the act
of our live*. It is not by great deeds, like
those martyrs, that good is to be done; it la
by the daily quiet virtues of life—the chris
tian temper, the meek forbearance, the spir
it of forgiveness, in the husband, the wile,
the lather, the brother, the friend and the
neighbor; that good i* to be done.— Rev Al
bert Barnes.
t3T IN any great work do not fail in confi
dence, else it will not be executed. Iu any
important struggle or oooflict do not lose
heart; maintain that whioh all your ener
gies. If you do not feel and ad in this way,
failure and retreat are inevitable.
17* Inquisitive people are tbe funnels of
conversation, they do not take in anything
for their own use, bnt merely to pass it to
another.
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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION.
JAMXS SMITHSON claimed to be of noble
desoent; and in his will declares himself the
son of Hugh, first Duke of Northumberland,
ar.d of Elizabeth, niece of Charier the Proud,
Duke o( Somerset. He was educated at
Oxford, and paid particular attention to the
study of the physical sciences; was reputed
to be the best chemir t in the nniverrity, and
was one of Ihe first to adopt the method of
minute anal) sis. As an example of his ex
pertness in this line, it is mentioned that on
one oocasion he caught a tear as it was trick
ling down the face of a lady, lost half, exam
ined tbe remainder, and discovered in it sev
eral salts. He made about thirty scientific
communications to different societies, prin
cipally on chemistry, mineralogy, and geol
ogy- His scientific reputation was founded
on these branches, though, from his writings,
he appears to have studied and reflected
upon almost every department of knowledge.
He was of a sensitive, retiring disposition
passed most of his life on the Continent
was never marriei| —appeared ambitious of
making a name for himself, either by his
own researches or by founding an institution
for the promotion of science. He declares,
io writing, that though the best btooJ of
England flows ill his veins, this avails him
not, for hia name would live in the memory
of men vrhen the lilies ef the Nerthumber
lands and the Pcrcies are extinct or forgot
ten. He was cosmopolitan in his views,
and declares that the man of acienoe is of no
country—the world is his country, and all
men his countrymen. He proposed at one
time to leave his money to the Royal Socie
ty of London for the promotion of science,
but on account of a misunderstanding with
the council of the society, he changed his
mind and left it to hia nephew; aud, in esse
of the death of thia relative, to the United
States of America, to found the Institution
which now bears his rame.
The whole amount of money received
from the bequest was $515,169; and besides
this, $25,000 was left in England, ns tbe
principal of an annuity given to tbe mother
of the nephew of Smithson. This sum will
also come to the Institution at the death of
this person.
The government of the United States ac-'
cepted the bequest, or, in other words, ac
cepted the office of trustee, and Mr. Rush,
of Pennsylvania, a gentleman who i* still an
aotive and efficient member of the Board of
Regents, and one of the most ardent suppor
lers of tbe Institution, was charged witb tho
duly of prosecuting the claim. He remain
ed in attendance on the English courts until
the money was awarded to him. He brought
it over in sovereigns—deposited it in the
mint of the United States, where it was re
coined into American eagles—thns becom
ing a part ot the currency of the county.
This money was afterwards lent to some of
the new States, and a portion of it was lost;
l but it did not belong to the United States
it was the properly of the Smithsonian In
stitution—and the government was bound in
honor to restore it. Congress has acknowl
edged this by declaring that the money is
stilt in the treasury of the nation, beating in
terest at the rate of six per cent., annually
producing a revenue of about thirty thou
sand dollars.
lt may be stated, in this place, that the
principal remains perpetually in the treasury
of the United States, and that nothing but
the interest can be expended; not only has.
the original bequest been preserved, bnt a
considerable addition has been made to tbe
principal. At the time of the passing of the
act establishing the Institution in 1846, Ihe
sum of 8242,000 had accrued in interest,
and this ihe Regents were authorized to ex
pend on a building ; but instead of appro
priatingthis sum immediately to this purpose,
' they put it at interest, and deferred the com
pletion of the building for several years, un
til 8150,000 should be accumulated, the in
come of rabich might defray the expense of
keeping the building, end tbe greater por
i tion ol the income of the original bequest be
devoted to the objects for which it was de
signed. This policy has been rigidly adher
ed to, and the result ia, that besides the ori
ginal aum, and after all that has been devo
ted to tbe building, the grounds, and all
other oporations, there ia now on hand
$200,000 of accumulated interest. Of this
sum, $50,000 are to be appropriated to fin
ishing tbe .building, and the remainder is to
be added to the principal. The funds have
therefore been carefully husbanded.
Tratfe w* Kifffc* —CvfftX'ter ('onatry.
The bequest, in ths language of tbe testa-!
tor, wa'b " to found at Washington an estab
lishment, under the name of the Smithsonian In
stitution, for the increase and diffusion of
knowledge among men."
According to this, ihe. government of the
United States is merely a trustee. The be
quest is for ihe benefit of mankind, and any
plan which does not recognise thia provi
sion of the will would be wberal and un
just.
The institution must boar and perpetuate
the name of its founder; and hence its oper
atious ought to be kept distinct from those
of the government, and all the good which
results from the expenditure of the fund
should be accredited to the name of Smith
son.
The object of the bequest is twofold :
first, to increase; and second, to diffuse
knowledge among men. These two objects
are entirely distinct, and ought not to be
confounded with one another. The first is
to enlarge the existing stock ct knowl
edge by the addition of new truths; and
the second to disseminate knowledge,
thus enlarged, among men. The distinc
ion is generally recognized by men of sci
ence, and different classes of sci
entific and other Societies are founded upon
it. A
Again: the win makes 4:, restriction in
favor of any particular kind of knowledge,
aud betice all branches are entitled to a
share of attention. Smithson was well
aware that knowledge should not be'viewed
as existing in isolated parts, but as a whol%
each portion of which throws light on ail the
other, and that the tendency of all is to im
prove the human mind, and to give it new
sources of powet and enjoyment. Ths most
prevalent idea, however, in relation to the
will, is that the money was intended exclu
sively lor the diffusion of useful or immedi
ately practical knowledge among the inhabi
tants of this country, but it contains noth ing
from which such an inference can be drawn.
All knowledgo is useful, and the higher the
more important. From the enunciation of a
single scientific truth may flow a hundred
inventions, and the higher the truth the more
important the deduction'. - -
To effect the greatest good, the organiza
tion of the Institution aliould be sucb as to
produce result* which could not be attained
by other means, and inasmuch as the be
quest is for men in general, nil merely local
expenditures are violations of the will.
These views were not entertained at first,
and great difficulties have been encounter
ed in carrying them out. A number of lit
erary man thought that a great library should
be founded at Washington, and all the mon
ey expended on it. Others considered a mu
seum tbe proper object; and another class
thought the income should be devoted to
tbe delivery of lectures throughout the coun
try; while still another was of opinion that
popular tracts should published and dis
tributed among tbe million. But all these
were advanced without a proper examina
tion of tbo will, or a due consideration of
the smallnese of the income. The diffusion
of tracts has been a favorite idea; but it
must be recollected that a single report of
tbe Patent Office costs the government three
times as fftpcb as the whole income of tbe
Smithsonian fund. A single pamphlet of
ten pages could not annually be printed by
tbe Institution, and distributed to all who
would hare a claim to it.
The act of Congress directed the forma
tion of ? library, a museum, a gallery of
arts, lecteres, and a building on a liberal
scale to accommodate these objects. One
clause, however, gave the Regents the pow
er, after lie foregoing objects are provided
for, to expend the remainder of the income
in any way they may think fit for carrying
out the design of the testator.
The objects specified io tbe act of Con
gress evidently do not come up to the idea
of the testator, as deduced from a critical ex
amination of his will. A library, a museum,
a gallery of arts, though iu them
selves, are local in their influence. I have
from the beginning advocated this opinion
on all occasions, and shall oontinue to advo
cate it whenever a eoitable opportunity oc
curs.
The question, therefore, again recurs: what
plan can be adopted in conformity with the
terms of the bequest?
There are two : First, a number of men
may be appointed by the institution to make
researches in the different branches of sci
ence, and to send accounts of their discov
eries to all parts of the world, fa this way,
in the strictest sense of the terms, knowl
edge would be increased and diffused. But
this plan is not compatible with the limited
income of tbe Institution, and would offer
many practical difficulties.
The other plan, and tbe one adopted, is to
stimulate all persons in this country capable
of advancing knowledge by original relearoh,
to labor in this line—to induce them to send
the results to the institution for .examination
and publication, end to assist all persons
engagod in original investigations as far as
the means of the Institution will allow ; also
to institute, at the expense and under the
direction of the Institution, particular resear
ches. The plan has been found eminently
practicable, and by no means of it the insti
tut ion has been enabled to produce results
which have made it favorably known in ev
ery part ol the civilized world. The com
munications are submitted to competent
judges, who vouch for the value and truth of
the discoveries. The publications which re
sult from this plan are presented to all the
first-class libraries in the world, aa well as to
all colleges aud well-established public insti
tutions in this country. The intention is to
place tbe publications io such positions es
will enable them to be te'en by the greatest
' number Of persona, fn this way a knowl
edge of the discoveries are diffused among
men as widely as the income will allow.
No copyright is taken for the memoirs,
and the writers of popular books are at liber
ty to use them in the compilation of their
works. Tlio knowledge which they contain
is thus, in time, still more generally diffu
sed. Iu other countries, institutions for tbe
promotion of the discovery of new truths, and
the publication of the results, are endowed
by tbo goveinmant; but there are no institu
tions for this purpose here, and hence men
of science labor under great disadvantages.
Tbe higher tbe value of a wotk of science,
tbe fewer do it* readers become. If writers
wish to make money by their labors, they
must publish novels.
The Principia of Newton did not pay for
itself, and yet in the present day every one
shares in the benefits accruing from it.
Another part of tbe plan is to publish re
ports on scientific subjects, sod to spread
them as widely as the'state of tbe funds will
allow.
SELF*CONTHOL,
It seems to mo that all times are alike
adapted for happiness, and that if we grow
old, as one should grow old, the last days of
life must be the happiest of all Every stage
of life is but the preparation for the next
one. ft is the treasure-house in which are
collected all the pleasures thai are to (hake
the future time happy. The child baa indeed
but few troubles, but they are aa great to
hits at larger opes prove to his parents. I
asked a friend once, speaking of the happy,
cloudless days of bis childhood, if be would
like to be always a child. He stopped for a
moment, and then said, No. I think be was
right. There is progress in every thing—in
our means of happiness, and io our capacity
for enjoyment. Then let us not look back
upon Ihe time-wrinkled face of the past only
with feelings of regret. Give me tbe present
flowing and full of life, and tbe future glori
ous with bright visions. I would rather
look forward than look back; rather spend
the golden hours in working out present hap
piness, than in valu regret* fot the past. It
i* but the helm lotteer our onward course.—
The future lie* before. It is the sleep and
rugged mountain, up which lies our way.—
It 1* not genius, nor fortune that pate* tbe
way of eminence, but earnestness, self-con
trol and wisdom. These are in our hands;
let us use them, and wheo at (he sunset of
life we turn to look back on our path and
see it sfreacbing far down before us peace
fully, happily we in ay lay ourselves down to
rest.
•
Conscience is a clock, which in one man
strikes aloud and gives warning : in another
the hand points silently to the figure, but
strikes not; meantime, bours pass away, and
death hastens, and after death comes judg
ment ! There is something unspeakably sol
emn in Ibis image.— Taylor.
Mrs. Hollyhock thinks it "rather queer"
that tbe felling of e little qnicksilver in a glass
tube should make the weathet so awful cold.
SCIENCE OP REVELATION.
Lt. Maury of the Uuited Slate* New, has
favored the public with hie opinions on sci
ence and revelation from which we make
the following beautiful extract:—
"lt is a curious fact that the revelations of
science have led astronomers of our own day
to the discovery that the sun is not the dead
center of motion, around which comets
sweep and planets whirl; but that it, with
its splendid retinae of worlds and eatelites,
is revolving through the realms of space, at
the rato of millions of miles in a year, and
ih obedience to some influence situated pre
cisely in the direction of tbe star of Alcyon,
one of the Pleiades. We do not know how
far off in the immensities of space that re
volving cycles and epicycles may be; nor
have our oldest observers or nicest instru
ments been able to tell us how far off in the
skies that beautiful cluster of stars is hung,
whose influence man can never bind. In
this question alone, and the answer to it is
involved both the recognition and exposition
ol the whole theory of gravitation.
Science taught that tbe world was round;
but potentates pronounced the belief hereti
cal, notwithstanding the Psalm'st, while a
poslrophizing the works of creation in one
of his sublime moods of aspiration, when
prophet* spake as tbey were moved, had
called the world the "rnnad world," and
bade it rejoice.
You recollect wheuGallileo was in prison,
a pump maker came to bim with his diffi
culties because his pump would not lift wa
ter higher than 32 feet. The old philoso
pher thought it was because the atrhosphere
would not press the water up any higher;!
but the hand of prosecution was upon him; I
aud be was afraid to say the air bad weight.
Now had he looked to the science of the
Bible, be would have discovered that the
"pertect" man of Uz, moved by revelation,
had proclaimed tbe fact thousands of years
before. "He maketh tbe woight for tbe
wind." Job is very learned, and his speech
es abound in scientifio love. The persecu
tors of the old asttonomer would have been
wiser, and far more just, had they paid more
attention to this wonderful Book, for there
they would have learned that "He stretcb
eth the North over the empty place, aud
hangei.h the eaith opon nothing."
Here is another proof that Job was famil
iar with the laws of gravitation, for he knew
how the world was held in its place: and for
"tbe empty place" it the Bky,Sir John Her
schel has been scouring the heaven* with
his powerful telescope, and guaging the stars
and where do you think be finds the most
barren part —the empty place—of the sky!
In the North; precisely where Job told Bil
dad, the Shuhite, tbe empty place was
stretched out. It is there where comets
most delight to roam, and hide themselves
in emptiness.
I pass by the history of creation as it is
written on the tablet of the rock and in the
Book of Revelation, because the question
has been discussed so much and eo often
that yon, no doubt, are familiar with the
whole subject. In both the order of creation
is the same ; first the plants to afford sus
tenance. and then Ihe animals, the chief point
of apparent difference being as to the dura
tion of the period between the "svhoing and
the morning." "A thousand yenrs is ns one
day," and the Mosaic account affords evi
dence itself that the term day, as there tired,
is not that which comprehends cur twenty
four hours, h was a day that had its even
ing and morning before the sun was made.
I will, however, before proceeding farther,
ask pardon for mentioning a rule of conduot
which I have adopted, in order to make pro
gress with these physical researches which
have occupied eo muoh of my time and so
many of my thoughts, and that rule is, nA
er to forget who is the Author of the great
volume which nature spreads out before us,
and always to remember that the same Be'
ing is also the Author of the Book which
Revelation holds up to us ; and though the
two works are entirely different,their records
are equally true, and when they bear upon
tho same point, aa now and then they do, it
is impossible (hat they should Contradict
each other, as it is that either should contra
dict itself. If the two cannot be reconciled,
the fault is ours, is because in our blind
ness and weakness we have not been able
to interpret aright either the one or the oth
er, or both.
Solomon, in a single verse, describes the
circulation of Ihe atmosphere as actual ob
servation is now showing it to be. That it
has its laws, and is obedient to ordet aa the
heavenly host in Ibeir movement, we infer
from the fact announced by him, and whioh
contains the essence of Volumes written by
other men, "Alt the rivers run Into tbe sea;
yet the sea is-uot full; unto the place from
whence ihe rivers come, thither they return
again."
To investigate the laws which govern the
wild winds and rule the sea, is one of tbe
most profitable and beautiful occupations
that a man, an improving, progressive man,
oan have. Decked with stars as Ihe sky is,
the field of astronomy affords no subjects of
contemplation more ennobling, more sub
lime; or more profitablo tban those which
we may find in the air and in the sea. When
we regard them from certain points of view
tbey present the appeatance of wayward
things, obedient to no law, but fickle in their
movements, and subject only to chance. .
Yet when we go as truth-loving knowl
edge-seek ing explorers, and knock at their
secret chambers, and devoutly ask what are
the laws whioh govern them, we are taught
in lorms tbe most impressive, that when the
morning star* sang together, the waves elso
[Two Dollars per Ann ■
NUMBER 12.
lifted np their voice, and the winds, too,
Joined in the almighty anthem. And as
diacovory advances, we finj the hiarks of
odor in the sea and in the air, that.is in tune
with the mnsio of the spheres, and the con*
viotion is forced npon ns that the laws of all
are nothing else but perfect harmony.
LAZY BUYS,
A lazy boy makes a lazy man, Just as sura
as a crooked twig makes a crooked tree
Who ever yet saw a boy grow up in idle
ness; that did not make a shiftless vagabond
when he became a man, unless he had a
fortune left him to keep up appearances*
The great mass of thieves, paupers anJ
criminals that fill our penitentiaries and alms
houses, have come ugjo they
being brought up in idleness. Those who
constitute the business portion of the com
munity, those who make onr great and use
ful men, were trained up in their boyhood
to be industrious.
When a boy is old enough to begin to
play in the street, then he is old enough to
be tsugbt how to work. Of course, we would
not deprive children of healthful, playful ex
ercise, or the time they should spend in
study, but teach him to work little by little
as a child is taftght at school. In Ibis way
he will acquire habits of industry which will
not forsake him when he grows up.
Many persons who are poor let their chil
dren grow np to fourteen or sixteen yeara of
age, or till they can support them no longer,
before they put them to labor. Such chil
dren, hot having any idea of what work is,
and having acquired habits of idlbnbts, g 1 *
forth to impose upon their employers, with
laziness. There is a repuUiveness in ell la
bor set before them, and to get it done, no
matter how, is their only aim. Tbey are
ambitious at play but dull at work. The
consequence is,tbey stick to one thing but
a short lime; tbey rovo about the world, get
into mischief, and finally find their way to
the prison or to the almshouse.
With the habit of idleness, vice may gen
erally, if not invariably, be found. Where
the blind and hands are not occupied in
. some useful employment; en evil genius
finds tbem enough to do. They are found
in the street till late in the evening, learning
the vulgar and profane habits of the elder in
vice. They may be seen hanging around
groceries, bar-rooms, and stores, where
crowds gather; but they are selJom found
encaged in study*
A lazy boy is not only a bad bay, but a
disgrace to his parents, for it is through their
neglect that he becomes thus. No parents,
bowevet poor, in these times of cheap books
and newspapers, need let their childred
grow up in idleness. If they cannot be kept
at manual labor, let their minds be kept at
work, make them industrious scholars, and
they will be industrious at any business they
may undertake in after life.
CIIILDKEN, ATTENTION.
You were made to be clean and neat in
your person and in your dress, and gentle
manly end lady-like in your manners. If
yon bsve not been bitten by a mad dog;
don't bb afraid of fresh water - There ia
enough water in the world to keep every
body clean; but there is a great deal of it
never finds its tight place. -fn regard to
this article there is no danger of being
selfi-h. Take us much as you need. The
people nut Weot boast of their great rivers (
11 would bosst of uting a large tub of their
water ov#y dtty
You Were made io be kind, and generous,
and magnanimous. If there is a bey in the
school who has a club-foot, don't let him
know tbal you ever saw it. If there is •
poor boy with ragged clothes, don't tslk
about rdgs when he is in hearing. If there
is a lame boy, assign liirn some part of the
game which does not require running. If
there is a hungry one, give him p4tof your
dinner. If there is a bright one, be not en
vious of him; for if one boy is proud of his
talents, and another is envious of them,
there are two great wrongs snd no more
talent than before. If a larger or a stronger
boy has injured yon, and Is sorry for it, for
give him, request the teacher not to punish
him. All the school will show by their
countenances how much better it is to have
a great soul than a great fist;
You were made to iearn. Re sure yon
learn something every day. When you go
to bed at night, if you can not think of
something new whicfi you have learned du
ring the day, spring up and find a book, and
get an idea before you sleep. If you were
to stop eating, would not your bodiea pine
and tarnish? If yoo stnp learning, your
minds will pine and famish too. You all
desire that your bodies abobld thrive and
grow, until yoo become as tall and large as
your fathers of mothers, or other people.—
you would not like to stop growing where
you are now, at three feet high, or four feat,
or even at five. But if you do not feedyonf
minds as well as your bodies, tbey will stop
growing ; and one bl the poorest, meanest;
most despioable things I have ever seen in
the world is a little mind in a great body.
Suppose there was a mflsettm in your
neighborhood, full of rare and splendid curi
osities—should you not like to go and see
it? Would you think it unkind if you were
forbidden to visit it ? The creation ie a mu
seum, all full and crowded with wonders,
and beauties, and gloriee. One door, and
one only, is open, by which you may enter
this magnificent temple. It is the door of
knowledge. The learned laborer, the learn
ed peasant, ot slare, are made welcome at
this door, while the ignorant, though kings,
sre shut ont.