THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
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VOLUME 7.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
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TO HIS DAUGHTER.
B V HORACE SMITH
Oh, daughter, dear, my darling chi'd,
Prop ol my morial pilgrimage,
Thou who hast care and pain beguiled,
And wreathed with spring my wintry age! j
Through then a second prospect opes
01 life, when but to live is glee ;
And jocund jnys and youthful hopes
Come thronging to my heart through thee. :
Backward thou tead'et rr.e to the bowers
When love and youth their transports ga<e; j
While forward still thou strewest flowers,
And bid'sl me live beyond the grave;
For still my blood in thee shall flow,
Perhaps to warm a distant line;
Thy face my lineaments shall show,
And e'en my thoughts survive iu thine. j
Yes, daughter, hen this tongue is mute, |
This heart is dust, these eyes are closed— l
And thou art singing to thy lute
Some stanza by thy sire composed— |
To friends around thou may's! impart j
A thought of him who wrote the lays, j
And from the grave my form shall start, I
Embodied forth to fancy's gaze.
Then to their memories will throng
-scenesshared with him who lies in eartn — t
The cheerful page the lively song,
The woodland walk, or lestive mirth ; |
Then may tliey have the pensive sigh,
That friendship seeks not to conirol,
And trom the fix d and thoughtful eye,
The half unconscious tears may roll:
Such now below my cheek—but mine
Are diops nf gratitude and love,
That mingle human with divine,
The gift below, the source above.
How exquisitely dear thou art
Can only be by tears express'd,
And the fond thriliingsof my heart,
White thus I clasp thee to my breast.
THE FATAL CONCEALMENT i
A THRILLING STORY.
BY At; ENCLKII BARRISTER.
Some years after I had commenced prac- '
lice—but the date I shall, for obvious rea- j
sons, avoid mentioning—l had a friend at
whose house 1 was a pretty constant visiter |
He had a wife who was the magnet that j
drew me there. She was beautiful—but I
shall not attempt to describe her—she was j
more than beautiful—she was fascinating,
she w.s captivating. Her presence was to 1
mo like the intoxicating opium. I was only j
happy under its influence ; and yet after in- :
dulgence in Ihe fatal pleasure, 1 sank down I
into (he deepest despondency. In my own |
justification I must say that I never in s word j
or look betrayed my feelings, though I had I
some reason to suspect they were reciproca- 1
ted; for while in my company, she was al- j
ways gay, brilliant and witty; yet as I learn
ed from others all limes she was often sad
arid melancholy. Powerful, most powerful j
was the temptation to muko an unreserved
disclosure of my heart, but I resisted it.— J
That I had firmness so to do, has bern for j
many years my only consolation.
One morning I sal alone in rny chamber.
My clerk was absent. A gentle knock was i
just audible at Ihe outer door. 1 shouied
"come in !" in no very amiable humor, for I
was indulging in a delicious reverie upon
the subject of the lady of my heart, and the
presence of an ordinary morial was hateful.
The door opened and Mrs. entered ;
I do not know exacily what I did but it
seemed (o be a longtime before I had power J
to rise and welcome her while she stood
ihata wiih a timid blush upon her lips which
made her feel that it would ne too grr-ttt n I
happine-s to die for.
"I don't wonder that you are surprised to
see n.e here," she began, with a provoking
little laugh ; "but is your astonishment too
great to allow you to say how do you do ?"
The spell was broken. I started and look
her hand ; 1 fear 1 pressed it more warmly
and held it longer than was absolutely neces
sary.
"Perhaps your surprise will be inoreased,"
•he continued, when I inform you 1 have
come on business."
I muttered something about not being so
ambitious as to hope that she would visit
me from any other motive. She took no no
tice of what I said, but I perceived that her
face turned deadly pale, and that her hand
trembled as she placed before me a bundle
of papers.
"You will see by these," she said, in a
low hurried voice, "that some property was
left to me by my uncle and by my grandfath
er, but so strictly settled that even I can touch
nothing bnt the interest. Now my husband
is in want of a large sum of money at this
moment,and I wish you to examine the af
fair well and see whether, by any twisting of
the law, I can place any part of my capital
at his disposal. Unintentionaiy I have done
hiini a great wrong," said she, in a lone so
low, that no ears less jealously alive than
nfina could have understood their meaning,
"and poor as this reparation is, it is all that I
can make and I must do it if possible."
I pretended to study the papeis before me,
bat the lights danced and mingled ; and if,
by great effort, I forced my eyes to distin
guish a word, it conveyed not the slightest
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. DECEMBER 6. 1855.
meaning to my whirling brain. Every drop!
of blond seemed imbued with a separate j
consciousness, and to be tingling and rush
i ing to the side next to her, whose presence, I
I within a short distance of mo, was lire only
' thing of which I had a distinct perception,
f hung my head, ro hide from her the erao
| (ion of which 1 was thoroughly ashamed.
! I 1 may well be believed that I was in no
condition to give a professional opinion ; bu l
j I got over the difficulty by telling her 1 must
have time to study the case, and promising
! to let her know the result.
"You are a tiresome creature," she said
with a little coquetlish air. "I really expect
ed tliat for once in your file, and for a friend,
| too, you might have gotten rid of the law's
! delays, and gave mo your opinion in half an
hour; so far al least as to tell me whether
there is any probability of my being able to
|doas I desire. But I see you are like the
rest of ihe lawyers—lime! lime ! time! 1
suppose you will keep thinking about it till
I am dead, and then it will go to my husband
1 in due course of law."
"It may require not moro than half an
hour to ascertain so much, when lean direct
my thoughts to do it for that space of time,"
I replied, and I know that the words rattled
like shot out of my mouth. "But, would
you be so unreasonable as to require an ar
list to draw a straight line when he was un
der a fit ofdeiirum tremens!"
"You are an incomprehensible person,"
she replied, rather coldly ; "so I shall leave
you to your legal studies. But if you are go
ing to have an attack of the delirum tremens,
I had better send in a doctor—shall I."
"Well, I don't anticipate an attack this
morning," I answered with a forced laugh;
"so I will not give you the trouble. The
fact is, I have been violently agitated a short
time since, and my mind has not quite re
covered its equilbrium."
We talked a few minutes longer, she quiz
zing me in her light, playful manner, and I
delighted to be so teased, standing stupid
and dumb, scarcely able to say a word,
though very anxious to prolong the delight
ful interview by keeping up the war of bad
iage. At length she went to the door, and I
was about to escort her down stairs, when
wa heard some one speaking below.
"Good God !" she exclaimed, clinging to
my arm, that is my husband's voice, if ho
finds rne here 1 am ruined."
"Don't be alarmed," I replied, endeavor
ing to re-assure her; "you cama here on
business, too ! lie could only love you the
more for it."
"You do not understand so well aboot this
as I do," she said, shuddering convulsively.
"He is jealous, exceedingly, of you; and, oh!
1 fear not without some cause. Hide me
somewhere for mercy's sake."
1 don't know f.ow it happened, bul my
arm was around her, and I half carried her
across the room to a closet.
"No ; shut ii ; lock it; tako away the key,
or 1 shall not feel safe. There is plenty of
air," and she sprang into the recess.
Fr one momen: her eyes met mine, and
I thought they beamed with impassioned
love. The next, 1 had locked the door upon
my treasure, thrown the papers she had j
brought into a drawer, and was apparently
busy with my pen when my friend entered, j
He commenced in a roundabout way to j
question me upon certain points of law re
specting marriage settlements, &c., and af- '
> tcr a tedious amount of circumlocution, he
| gave me to understand that all this regarded
| a desired transfer of some property of his
I wile's into his own hands. He had come
' upon the same errand as that generous crea
ture. He had also a copy of ihe relatives'
wills, and these 1 was compelled to examine
closely, for he was desperately pertinacious,
and would not be put off. 1 was angry at
the thought of what his poor wife must be
suffering, penned up in that narrow prison.—
I felt that I could have kicked her husband
j out of doors for keeping her there. Al last i
he made a move as if to go. 1 started up, !
and stood ready to bow him out.
"So." said he, tying up his papers with
provoking deliberation, " nothing bui my j
wife's death, you say, can put me in posses- ;
sion of this money. I want it very much, |
bul nobody will suspect me ol desiring her
death for the sake of having it a little soon-:
er."
He laughed at his own poor jest, and mado
a sort of hyena chorus to it, that sounded i
strange and hysterical, even in my own ears. :
He went at last, but stopped a;,ain on the |
stairs and detained me there talking for full 1
five minutes longer. I (elt by sympathy all '
the pangs of suffocation. My throat seemed
swollen—my forehead bursting. Great God!
will he never begone? Will he stand here
gossipping about the weather and of the law,
whilst his lovely wife, who came here to
sacrifice her individual interests for Iris sake,
dies a terrible and lingering death. I rushed
back to my room. A step behind me makes
me turn around. It is my clerk—curses on
him. I ground my teeth in unavailing rage.
I could have stabbed him—shot him —beat
out his brains—hauled him headlong down
stairs. But my violence would have corn
promised her. In a few minutes my brain
was clear again.
"Watson," cried I, "Mr. has just left
me. He is gone up Feet Street, I think ; run
after htm, and request him to leave those pa
pers with me. Say to him I would like to
examine them mora at my leisure. .Run
quickly, and you'll overtake bim."
Watson disappeared. I turned the key of
the outer door, and sprang towards the clos
et. As I unlocked it, I remembered the look
| she gave me when 1 shut it; I wondered,
I with a beating heart, whether the same ex
'pressiou would meet my enraptured gaze
when I opened it. Thero she Hood with her
eyes calmly fixed on mine.
''You are safe, dearest," I murmured.
She did not rebuke me for calling her so;
and, emboldened by her silence, I took her
hand to lead her from her narrow prison.—
She moved forward, and fell into my arms a
corpse.
I cannot recall what followed. I only
know that every means was ttied for her res
toration to life ; but, alas ! without success.
01 one thing I was firmly convinced—she
had not died from suffocation. She was pale,
rigid, cold. The tumult of her own emotions
1 must have killed her at the moment the door
was shut upon her. By some means I kept
my secret from the knowledgo of Watson j
and every one else. All that night I was try
ing to recover her. Then I formed the pro- I
ject of shotting he: up in the closet, locking j
up the chambers, and going abroad for twen
ty years. But the idea was rejected as soon j
as formed; for it would be hardly possible
that the presence of a dead body in the house
should not be discovered before that time.
Next a thought of setting fire to the place,
burning all my books and papers, making a
funeral pile of them, and thus ruining my
self to preserve the secret. But that thought,
too, was dismissed. It might cause loss of
life and property to many innocent people, j
and would bo bungling proceedings after all ; J
and if this fire was discovered eaily, police
men, firemen, mob, all, would break in, and,
finding the body there, all would ba lost—
for it was more to save her reputation than
my life, that I was striving and plotting.
In the meantime I wes a prey to the rr.ost
fearful anxiety. I was sure she must have
been missed and sought for. Perhaps she
bad been seen to enter my chambers. Ev
ery step that I heard I feared might be that
of a policemen. In the morning a stranger
called on business. This, of course, was
nothing unusual; but when he was gone 1 {
felt that he was a detective officer, and had j
come as a spy. I thrust a few clothes into a j
c..;ps! bsg, ir.iertdrng to escape for France. [
1 caught up a box of matches to set the place ;
on fire. I grasped a-razor, and looked ear- j
neatly at its edge, and as the surest and swift- ,
est way of ending my misery. But then ail |
these would leave het to the jests of the j
World, and my own sufferings were nothing '
in comparison. At this distance of time f
can look back impartially and coolly upon |
that dreadful day; and lean solemnly de- j
clare that 1 would rattier be hanged r.iur- |
tiering her, than to have allowed a breath to j
sully her fair name.
I had just laid down the tazor, when ahur- j
ried step crossed the ante-room. It was her I
husband's. Now, I thought, all is lost; she
was seen to enter here, and he has come to ,
claim Iter.
"My dear he began in a netvous j
unsettled way, "you remember the business I
that brought me here yestereay ?"
"Perfectly." j
"And do you remember the words used by j
me as I was going? I mean in answer to ,
what you said about my not being able to !
touch this money until after the death of my :
wife?"
"Yes, I remember them distinctly."
"My wife has disappeared since yesterday |
morning," he continued, turning more pale \
than before; "and if anything serious should i
hare happened, you know, and you should j
repeat these expressions, they might be laid
hold of, and I don't know what might be the j
consequence. I might be suspected of mur
dering her."
Poor fellow! If I had not known the truth, j
I should have suspected it myself, from his
excessive fear and terror. He wiped the
prespiration from his face, and sank into a
chair. The sight of a person frightened
. more than myself re-assured me. I was
i calmer than I was since the proceeding tnorri-
I ing
"Where did she go? How was she dress
! Ed?" I enquired, anxious to know all I could
j on the subject.
1 "I don't know. She told me she was go
| ing out shopping and visiting; but no one
saw tier leave the house, and none of the ser
i vants knew exactly how she wa9 dressed.—
| When I went home to dinner the first thing
. I heard was that she had not returned."
j "What have you done ? Have you sent to
the police, and to the hospitals?"
I "Yes, and to every friend and tradesman
where she would be likely '.o call."
"You may depend upon it," 1 replied very
' impressively, "that I will not repeat what
1 you said yesterday. You are right in sup
-1 posing that it might tell against you very much
if she should be lound dead under suspicious
circumstances."
He talked a little longer, and then went to
renew the search of his wife. How I pre
! served my self-possession during this inter
view, I do not know ; so far from being re
ally calm, I could have gnawed the flesh off
my bones in agony.
That night, when the doors were fastened,
and I was alone, I shut myself up in the clos
et for two hours, to ascertain whether she
died from want of air; for I distrusted my
own knowledge of the appearance of suffo
cated persons. The place was well supplied
with air from a couple of crevices. My first ]
idea was correct; she died from some other
cause.
When I emerged from the closet, I found
that the night was intensely dark, and rain
ing in torrents, and the thunder and wind
roared a terifflo chorus, passed by the sullen
booming of the river, then at high tide, and
already swelled by the rain. I sat there in
the dark upon the floor, holding the cold, stiff
hand of death within my own. I thought
dreamingly how olten it had welcomed me
with its soft pressure, while the sweet eyes
beamed brightly into mine, aoAiliefoil, pout
ing lips had wreathed into dimplef of delight.
Now, that hand, that need to brfso plump,
so full of warmth and life, was cold! Those
lips were clammy and hard ! Tears came to
my relief. I wppt as grown men seldom
weep, and with that heart-ceasing gush came
a new idea (or her and me. TttSi to believe
at that moment that her spirit res'ed opon
mine, and inspired the thought, for it burst
upon me suddenly, with the conviojion, that,
if executed at the instant, crowned ;
with success. How could 1 otherwise have
the temerity to snatch her up iA my arms,
carry her down stairs, at the being en
countered by sag - f :
of the house, bear hei lurouga Aie courts, j
and, by a way I knew, into the garden ?
The river was running strong and deep,
against the wall. I pressed one kiss upon
her cold forehead, and threw her into lo the
stream. Gladly would I have gone with her,
and held her to my heart till death; bul the
impulse was still on me, and the beating rain
effaced my foot-prinls.
A few days after, I saw by the papers that
her boJy had been found far down the river.
The medical evidence, after a post mortem
examination, was that she had died from a
rupture of the heart, and that her death had
taken place before her immersion in the wa
ter. So they conjectured that 6he had been
standing by the river, when the fatal attack
siezed her, and she had fallen in unpreceiv
ed; and they returned a verdict of accident
al death, and buried her in a prett- church
yard near where iliey fotrr.il her.
I shall die and old bachelor. 1 am lean
and pale, and bowed down and gray-haired,
and the sound of my laugh is strange to me.
The following libellous article is un
doubtedly from tho pen of a bachelor who is
evidently not familiar with the subject under
consideration
SKIRTS —Oh ! Venus de Medicis ! such
skirts and waists! How can we embrace
ihematall! Positively, there is AG "etfifff
thitig as getting round thorn in one effort !
Skirls have swollen to tire extant of fashion,
that no door is wide enough for them lo pass
through without considerable squeezing.—
Real ''belles" of tho fashion now seem like
moving belles, literally, so that mullets and
men have lo steer well in the streets, else
they will run against ropes, horps, hag-mat
iiag, oiiuolii.o' rtn'i liaw knolls tahai,'*
which now inhabit the ladies dress, and com
pletely take up the sidewalks. As for the
girl—by Jove/ She seems no where ! The
other day we happened to see two of the
"dumpy" kind of moving belles of fashion,
sailing along the street a la "pointer" style
hands close and skirls out. At forty paces
distant they seemed like miniature pyramids
of silk ; at twenty paces a strong smell ol
cologne water and other essences; at ten
paces a little lump like a bonnet was discern
ible at the top of the skirt pyramid; at three
paces distant the imbedded voice of a female
in the dress could be heard ; at two paces,
four ringlets cf slim appearance, resembling
cat-tails dipped in molasses were discovered
two eyes of weak and consumptive expres
sion resembling boiled onions—lips like unto
thin sandwiches with a bit ofdiscolered beef
steak sticking out, tl.in nub dry—and cheeks ,
"rouged" with mien-fun, (Chinese coloring.) i
This was all that could create in us the im-!
pression of imagination, that the above
things, dry goods, etc., formed— a woman ?
We moved aside to allow canvas, ropes and
hoops to pass, and went on our way rejoicing
that such was not our share of what happy
husbauda like lo term, "0! my honey !''
HOARDING AND ENJOYING. —An old man was
toiling through the burden and heat of tho
day in cultivating his field with his own
hand and depositing the promising seed into
the fruitful lap of the yielding earth
Suddenly there stood before him under
the shade of the huge lir.den tree, a divine
vision. The old (nan was struck with amaze
ment.
"I am Solomon," spoke the phantom, in a
friendly voice. "What are doing here
! old man ?"
' "If you are Solomon," replied the venera
ble laborer,"how can you ask this? In my j
j youth ynu6ent me to the ant; I saw its oo
| cupation, and learned from that insect to be
industrious and lo gather. What I then
learned I have followed to this hour."
"You have only learned half of your les
son," resumed the spirit. "Go again to the
ant, and you will learn from that insect to
rest in the winter of your life, and to enjoy
what you have gathered up."— German Alle
&°ry-
WAYS TO COMMIT SUlClDE.— Wearing thin
shoes on damp nights in rainy weather.
Building on the "nir tight" principles.
Surleiting on hot and very stimulating din
ners.
Beginning in childhood on tea, and going
on from step to another, through coffe, chew
ing tobacco, smoking and drinking.
Marrying in
companion, and living the rest ot his life in
mental dissatisfaction.
Following an unhealthy occupation because
money can be made by it.
Tempting the appetite with niceties when
the stomach says no.
Contriving to keep in a constant worry
about something or nothing.
Retiring at midnight and rising at noon.
Gormandizing between meals.
Giving way to'fits of auger.
E3" Brave actioos are the substanoe of
life, and the sayings the ornament of it.
A RACY STUM I' SPEECH.
The following eloquent, grand, lofty and
stupendous effort was recently made by a
promiscuous genius, who had announced
i himself as a candidate for Congress:
| Friends and fellow-citizens of this conflic
! tuous community:
Now, I'd like to have you pay particular
i attention, as the preacher says when the boys
is pilchin' beans al his nose. I say a crisis
has arriv', the wheels of government is stop
ped, the machinery needs greasin', the rud
der's unshipped, the biler busied, and we're
afloat and (he river risin'. Our glorious Ship
of Slate, that, like a bob-tailed gander, is
floaled down the current of time, has had its
j harmony disturbed, and is now drifiin' with
fearful rapidity towards lire shoals and quick
sands of disunion, threatenin' to dash every
thing into flinters, and pick itself up in the
end a gone gosling. Hurken no longer ye
worthy denizens of Hog Hole, Terrapin Neck
and adjacent regions, to the siren voice that
whispers in your ears the too delusive sound,
( peace, peace, for peace has sloped and flowed
to other lands, or driv to the depth of tho
mighty deep, or in the emphatic language of
Techumserom' gone flickerm' through the
frogs of other climes; leu aid the miser watch
er in his dimes. Or the great Alexander at
the battle of Hunker's Bill, who, in the ag
ony ol despair, frantically shrieked, O, gravy !
peace has gone like my tkeule-boy days, and
I don't care a darn. Jlo was a whole hosa
and a team, sbttre.
Fellow-citizens and gals, too—in our hall j
of legislation confusion runs riot and anarchy
reigns supreme. Rise up, then, like porkers
in a later patch and shake tho deu-drops off
ver hunting-shirts arid fail into ranks. Sound
the tocsin ! beat the drum ! and blow the
tin horn ! till the startled echoes rever-bcra
ting from hill top, and from gopher hitl to
gopher hill, shall reach Ihe adamantine hills
of New England, the ferruginous disposition
of Ihe Missouri, and the auriforous particles
of Californy to pick up their otrs, and in
whispered accents, inquire of her valors— j
" What's out ?"
Fe I lo w-ci iTzeTtTS fid-1 i-ff> m i u —i
it, to your posts, and from tho topmost pealc I
of the Ozark mountains, bid defiance to the )
hull earth by hollerin'—" Who's afeeid ?" in
6uch thunderin' tones lira', qnakin' wiih ter
ror, you'll forget what nigger is. Down with
your rutty regimentals, aud grease the locks
of your guns and put in new flints; grind your
.ol.| sytha rashd. n 'em,
mount your hosses and save your nation—or
bust!
Ladies and gentlemen—the great bird of
American liberty's Hewed aloft and eorn up
on the wings of the wind, and now hoverirr'
high over the cloud-clapped summits of the
Rock Mountains, and when lie shall have
penetrated into (he unknown regions of un
limited space, and then shall hav div down
and lit on daddy's wood-pile, 1 shall be led to
exclaim, in the language of l'aul, tiro ostler,
" Root, pork, or die f'
Time is critical; blood's goin' to bo poured
out lika soap-suds out in a wasb tub, and ev
ery man that's got a soul as big as the while
of a nigger's eye, 'II fite, bleed and die fur
his country. Them's the times-you want men
in the councils of the nation that you can de
pend on—that's me ! 'Lect me to Congress
and I'll stick to you through thick and thin,
kke a lean tick to a nigger's shin! I'm not
goin' to make an eleclionoeriu' speech. I'd
scorn the act. You know me. I've been
fotcbcd up Bmong ye: already upon the
wings of top-lifted imagination I fancy I see
you march in' up lo the polls in solid phalanx,
and with shouts that make the earth ring, I
"Hurrah for Jim Smith corre down on my
opponent like a thousand o' brick on a rotten
punkin.
Nature's Lesson of Religion.
The following, by J. G. Whittier, is instinct
with lessons of religion, apparent to every
eye in Nature's scenery, and aOdible to every
reader:
There is a religion in everything around j
us; a calm and holy religion in the unbreath- j
ing things of nalnre, which man would do |
well to imitate. It is a meek and blessed in
fluence, smiling, as it were, unawares upon
the heart. It comes—it has no terror or
I gloom in its approaches. It ha 3 nothing to
I rouse up Ihe passions, it is untrammeled by
tho creeds, and unshadowed by the supersti
tions of men. ft is fresh from the hands of
the Author, and glowing from the immediate j
presence of the great spirit which pervades
and quickens it. It is written on the arched
sky. It looks out from every star; it is among
the hills and valleys of the earth, where the
shrubless mountain top pierces the thin at
mosphere of eternal winter, or where the
mighty forest 'fluctuates before the strong
winds, with his dark waves of green foliage.
It is spread nut like a legible language upon
the broad bosom of the unsleeping ocean.—
It is this that uplifts the spirit within us, un
til it is tall enough lo overlook the shadows
of our probation; which breaks, link after
link, the chain that binds us lo mortality,
and which opens to the imagination a world
of spiritual beauty and boliuess.
E7* The way to secure a good character!
is always to do right.
The way lo succeed in business is to slick
to it.
Or.e way to gain a business is lo adver
tise. To keep it, deal justly.
The way to secure confidence is never to
deceive.
The reputation of many men depends on
the number of their friends.
Friends can say for us what modesty would
koep us from saying.
GOOD SCHOOL lIOU.SEN.
The close connection of good houses with
good schools, is now conceded by every in
telligent friend of popular education.
Indeed, it is hardly possible to have a good
school with a good school house ; and the
ultimate success of our whole system of Com
mon Schools depends as much on a thorough
reform in the construction; furniture nndcare
of school houses, as upon any other single
circumstance whatever.
The pbople should bear in mind, and be
encouraged by the fact, that when each dis
trict shall be provided with a suitable school
house, the expense will not recur for a gen
eration. Parents should also remember that
the interest which their children take in their
, studies, and the progress which they make
' in the acquisition of learning, most material
■ ly depend upon the condition, location and
J general arrangement of the school house
which they occupy. If it is located without
I reference to ihe taste, health, or comfort of
the teacher or pupil; if it stands on the pub
! lio highway, on the border of a swampy moor,
I on the top of a barren knoll, in the middle of
j a bleak plain, or in any other exposed, un
; pleasant, uncomfortable spot; if it is destitute
ot play-ground, enclosure, shrub, or shade
tree, an ! everything else calculated to render
it pleasing and attractive; if its ceiling is on
ly eight or ten feet high, instead of twelve or
i fourteen; if its dimensions are so contracted
j as to afford, on an average, only forty or fifty
feet of cubic air to each pupil, instead of one
hundred and fifty or two hundred; if tin pro
! vision is made for a constant supply of that
indispensable element ol health and life, pure
air, except tire rents and crevices which time
and wanion mischief have made; if it is so
utterly destitute of internal conveniences and
external attractions, as to resemble a gloomy
prison or an Indian wigwam ; if it stands in
disgraceful contrast with all fhe other edifi
ces in the neighborhood, public or private; if
the only plan or principle which determined
its size and furniture, was the minimum
scale of expenditure; if the pupils, while at
tending school in it, should sufler from heat
or cold, 100 much or too little light; if the
"quilftfi+w qj_air contained in it is so small as
to be soon exhausleibof .'! oxygen, and to
cause the pupils to suffer from duffpess, de
pression and headache; if, in short,'J' is so
badly constructed, so imperfectly veniiilated,
so replete wiih vulgar ideas and so ufferly
repugnant to al! habits of neatness, thougNi
lA.tOjCi purity, as lucuusu liivpupu luregardf B
it as the most comfortless und wretched ten-,
merit which he ever entered, to think of it
with utter repugnance, to dread instinctively
the tasks which it imposes, and, finally, to
lake his leave of it as a prison, from which
ho is bnt too happy to escape , it such is the
condition of their school house, then, surely,
parents ought lo remember that if their chil
dren attend school in such an inconvenient,
repulsive, disparaging, unhealthy tenement,
their lives will be endangered, their physical
powers injured, their intellects impaired, their
love of learning deadened, their moral sensi
bilities blunted, their manners become vul
gar, and every impression connected with the
school deepened into Ihe most irrepressible
antipathy.— Muh Jour.of Education.
HONORING PARENTS.
As a stranger went into tire churchyard of
a pretty village, he beheld three children at
a r.ewly made grava. A boy, about ten years
of age, was busily engaged in placing plants
of turf about it, while a girl who appeared a
year or two younger, was silting on the grassi I
watching wiih thoughtful look the move- J
ments of Ihe othor two. The girl soon began
planting some of her wild flowers around the
head of the prave.whon the stranger address
ed them
'Whose grave is this,children, about which
you are so busily engaged ?'
'Mother's grave, sir,' 6aid the boy.
'And did your father send you to place
those flowers around your mother's grave?'
'No sir, father lies here too, and little Wil
lie and sister Jane.'
j 'When did they die?'
'Mother was buried a fortnight yesterday,
I sir, but father died last winter; they all lie
I here.' .
! 'Then who told you to do this?'
I 'Nobody, sir,' replied the girl,
i 'Then why do you do it?'
j Tncy appeared at a loss for an answer, but
the stranger looked so k ink ly at them that at
length the eldest replied, as the tears startled
in his eyes;
'Oh we do love them, sir!'
'Then you put these grass turfs and w.ld
flowers where your parents are laid, because
you love them?'
'Yes, sir,' they ail eagerly replied.
What can be more beauti'ul than such an
exhibition as children honoring deceased pa
rents? Never forget the dear parents who
loved and cherished you in your infant days.
Ever remember their parental kindness.—
Honor tiieir memory, by doing those things
which you know would please them were
they now alive by a particular regard to their
dying commands, and carrying on their plans
ol usefulness.
FACT. — A man might as well try to pull
feathers from a tailor's goose, or try to wheel
himself to glory in a wheelbarrow, as to con
vince a fashionable woman that economy
consists in staying at home and taking care
of the babies and other chicken fixens, and
in figuring up the grocers bill. Folks who
are afflicted with a domestic dimity that
wears thousand dollar shawls and super extra
kids—make a mem.
NUMBER 46.
HIGHER.
1 Higher! ii a word of nobla meaning—the
• • inspiration of all great deeds—the sympa
thetic chain that leads, link by link, the im-
I passioned soul to its zenith of glory, and
; still holds its mysterious object standing and
- glittering among the stars,
i Higher! lisps the infant on its parent's
i knees and makes its feeble essay to rise from
i thejfloor—it is the first aspiration of child
hood to burnt the narrow confines of the cra
dle in which its sweet moments hare been
passed, fa/ever.
Higher! laughs tbo proud schoolboy on his
awing; or, as he climbs the highest tree of
the forest, that he may look down on his leas
adventurous companions with a flush ef ex
ultation, and over the fields of his native vil
lage. He never saw so extended a prospect
belore
Higher! earnestly breathes the student of
philosophy and nature; he lias a host of ri
vals, but ho must eclipse them all. The
midnight oil in his lamp burns dim, but he
finds a knowledge in the lamps of Heaven,
and his soul is never weary when the last of
them is hid beneath the curtains of tho
morning.
And Higher! his voice thunders forth
when the dignity of manhood has invested
his form, and the multitude is listening with
delight to his oracles burning with eloquence
and tinging like true steel in the cause of el
oquence and right.
And when lime has changed his locks to
silver, and when a world wide renown ts
his; when the maiden, gatherng flowers by
the way side as he passes,, and the peasant
looks to him with honor—can he breathe
forth from his heart the fonj wish of tbx
past.
Higher yet! he has reached the apex of all
earthly honor, yet his spirit burns as warm as
in youth, though with steadier and paler
light, and it would borrow wings and soar
up to high heaven, leaving its tenement to
moulder among the laurels be has wound
around it, for the never ending glory to ba
reached only in the presence of the Most
High!
Home Life.
Wo cut the following paragraph IromGov.
IVright's address, before the New York State
Agricultural Society.
"At the base of the prosperity of any
jveople lies this great principle— Hake laixtr
fashionable at fiome. Educate, instruct, en
courage , and offer all the incentives you can
offer, to give interest and dignity to labor at
home. Enlist the heart and the intellect of
the family in the support of a domestic sys
tem that will make labor attractive at the
homestead. By means of the powerful in
fluences of early home education, endeavor
to invest practical labor with an interest that
will cheer the heart of each member of the
family ; and thereby you will give to your
household the grace, peace, refinement, and
attraction which God designed a home should
possess.
The truth is, we must talk more, think
more, work more, and act more in relerence
to questions relating to home
The training and improving of the physi*
cal, intellectual, social and moral powers and
sentiments of the youth of our country, re
quires something more than theschool house,
j academy, college and university. The young
mind should receive judicious training in the
i field, in the garden, in the barn, in '.be work
, shop, in the parlor, ic the kitchen—in a word,
around the hearthstone, at home.
Whatever inteliectnat attainments your
I BOH may bave acquired, ho is unfit to go
. forth into society if he has not thrown around
him the genial and purifying influences of
parents, sisters, brothers, and the man saving
influence of the family government. The
nation must look for virtue, wisdom, and
strength, to the education that coatrols and
shapes the home-policy of ths family circle.—.
There can bq no love of country where there
is no love of home. Patriotism, true and
| genuine, the or.ly kicd worthy of the name,
derives its. mighty strength from fountains
that gush out around the hearthstone; and
those who forget to cherish the household
interests, will soon learn to look with indif
ference upon the interests of their common
country.
IV A man who does not claim to be a
judge of swine, says : —" Last spring I bought
a If tie pig out of a drove, and he was good
for eating, but wouldn't grow much. He got
so after a weak or two that ha would eat a
large bucket full at a time, and then like Ol
iver Twist, called for more. Well, one morn
ing I carried out a bucket full of dough, and
after he had swallowed it all, I picked up
the pig and put him in the same backet I
bad fad him from, and tbe little cuss didn't
fill it half full!"
A COMPARISON. —War and Love are strange
compeers-
War sheds blood, and Love sheda tears,
War has spears, and Love has darts;
War breaks heads, and Love breaks beano
BT Why is a cricket on the hearth like a
soldier in the Crimea? Because he often
ad vanees under a brisk fire.
At a meeting of the friends of the Lewis
burg, Centre, and Spruce Creek railroad,
held recently at Boalsburg, <73,000 were
subscribed.
EF" A Western Editor declares that some
ol the young women who pats bis village tu
the arks, on tbe river, are perfect divinities.
" He meaus," says a eoutbern cotaroporary,
" ark angels.'^