The star of the north. (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, December 06, 1855, Image 1
THE STAR OF THE NORTH. B. H. Heaver Proprietor.] Troth and Bight Cohort onrfoflplry. * £ Two |> o n ars pfr Annua. VOLUME 7. THE STAR OF THE NORTH IS PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORN!NO BY K. W. WEAVER, OFFICE— Up stairs, iti the new brick luild iing, on lite south side of Main Steert, third square below Market. j TE RMS: —Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six months from ihe lime of sub scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not j paid within (he year. No subscription re- I ceived for a less period than six months ; no 1 discontinuance permitted until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the editor. 1 ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding onesqnare will be inserted three times for One Dollar! and twenty five cents for each additional in- ' sertion. A liberal discount will be made to .those who advertise by the year. 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.'^