THE STAR OF THE NORTH. 1 H . Heaver, Proprietor,] VOLUME 8. THE STAR OF THE NORTH IH PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNIRO BY . w. WEAVER, OFFICE—Op itairi, in the new brick build ing, on the south side of Main Street, third square btlou) Market. TBR MS:—Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six months from the lime of sub- Scribing; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription re ceived for a less period than silt months ; no discontinuance permitted until alt arrearages era paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding onesquase Will be inserted three times fot One Dollar end twenty-five cents for eacb additional in sertion. A liberal discount will be made to (hose who advertise by the year. From the Lady's Book. tub SCHOOL MISTRESS. BY MARY S LADD. She bends bar head at her weary task, And with patient trust she smiles; Her toil grows light as a ray o[ hope Her saddened bean beguiles. She lifts her hair from her broad, fair brow, '** When the summer sun shines warm, Then gently rbiiies her little group, And her words fall like a charm. She moves from her seat, and the scholars 4 smile, As she noiseless treads the floor, A child Jeans forward to touch her dress, While another looks out the door, And longs to be with the birds and flowers, And beautiful things and bright; But a smile from the gentle face hard by Changes his musings quite. * And they mistily pour their eyes on books, And look their lessons through ; [saw Bui they silently dream of llig flowers they Thal morh on the glittering dew. Her task done and she stand* alone in the shade of the school-house door; The little, testless, pattering feet Have passed its threshhold o'er; Aud her heart isou: with lbs beautiful things, Her soul looks through to God; Anil the gives no thoujlit to the morrows task, Nor sighs at the chastening rod. HOPEFUL ANl> IIEVUIIFIIL. • * BY MRS. HARRIET E. FRANCIS. The sun shone down on the earth with a j Sol: hazy light, .and the river flowed with a j dull, monotonous sound as if half a-leep, ior j it drowsy, universal qmet seemed to have j spread over uaiure, arid sunk each etenr.erl j vo rest. But neither the subdued light nor the diowsy river was noticed by Mrs. Sey- ' tnour, as she tut busily sewing by the cradle < of her sleeping infant. There was a look of care oil her lair bfniA, and an anxious, sad , expression in her eyes, as if the light of Iter | life had been dimmed in sorrow, ere age hail I marked her loreln-aJ, or stolen the raven lus tre from her hair She had been the pet idol of a food father and moilier, and no sorrow ; ever crossed Iter patli in childhood's home ; i nnAno one, not even those who always view i ilidfttiture through a dark cloud, prophesied evil lor her as the stood by the side of Clar- 1 mice Seymour on her bridal morning. Very fairaiid beautiful was she, with a look ol clinging tenderness in tier eye, at if she bad tlwayn had and expected a strong arm to uphold her, and lead her through the dowry , piths' p( life; and competent seemed tier chosen one for that task, with his broad, in tellectual brow, and piercing eye, sofieued, j as he gazed on bis bride, lo a look ot almost i woman's tenderness. A handsome mansion, a short distance front her faiMoa, became their home, aud for a few years.she passed through one unclouded ; scene of joy and halipinesk; but a dark cloud 1 hoveredjn the horizon, and soon spread over hor brigm hopes like'l gloomy pall, making her daysTif.darkness sfcein still more cheer less (or the gladness that had preceded them. Her gilted aud iuieliecluai husband bad been ' welcomed everywhere, and at every gather ing the wir.ecup bad awaled bim ; and al most before he was aware, strong coils were around him that he had no strength or reso lution to unloose. Hiches, honor, society, { respectability passed away from them, and a miserable collage, with uo tall, noble trees, or clustering vines, or sweet associations, ! was all tliß*. now they could rail their own. Mrs. Seymour was thinking of these past scenes as she eat sewing; ol the mossy grsves of her father and mother; of the soil, subdu ed light tkat stole in through the honeysuckle and rose that festooned iu the windows of the old borne f ( of the bright lov£glance from her husband's lye that quivered her heart strings; and also of thai hour when the truth crept iulo ber heart that her chosen one loved the winecup—alas, too Weill—of her useless * remonstrances, of bitter words, and bold, a veited eye, aud even of one heavy blow that seat her reeling to the floor; but even that seemed nothing to the thought that her dear, innocent boy, "her darling FRANC/' would be taunted as a drunkard's child, that no fa ther's hand would lead him to a better world! But then the bitterest dreg in her enp were the words, "No drunkard can inherit the kingdom of heaveo." All the night previoas and a pert of that day, that sentence had rung ru her ear* until her mind seemed upon the verge of madness. What could she do?— She had wept, preyed end beteeehed, and he was a drunkard still. But faith whispered "Uod is powerful; seek his aid oncu more;" end auilously she sought her bedroom, end relied her thoughts in prayer. First, low moans and sobs arose, but, as her heart gath ered strength, she pleaded aloud for help from Him who ie mighty to save. She asked not for lets trouble and suffering for herself; bat only lead him from the error of his waye, and win bim for an humble follower of Je sse. Little dreamed site thai her husband bad BLOOMSBURG. COLUMBIA WEDNESDY. NOVEMBER 1A 1856. stolen soberly, quietly in, end wis a lit|pner to her imploring words. Hie heart became pierced and broken ; and tearfully kuelt by her side, and raised bit voice with bare, for strength to break through the bonds that bad . bean a withering curse to bim aa for ber. *•••**• Far away in one of the Western Stetee, where the flower-garden prairie slopes down to the water's edge, stands a cozy collage, half bid beneath the overhanging blanches that form a canopy above it. It is a beautiful quiet spot where nature has been very boun tiful; and was chosen for a home by one who was capable of joining taste and nat ural beauty, and thereby made it the -Eden that it :*. It was the hour for lea, and the mother busily worked away sitting the table, watching the hot oakes, and singing a low, sweet socg, (one of those that only flow from the heart at ease,) while often she paused by the open door to kiss her chubby Allie, who proudly sat in her father's arms. "1 wonder why Frank don't come? It is past four,and 1 atn sure school must be out;" and she listened to hear his merry whistle down the road ; but disappoiuted, she took up the paper, and was busy reading a slory, when Frank's light step struck on her ear, and she started up to enjoy the quiet closing meul of the day. After the first bustle was over, she noticed how sad her boy looked, and that there were teats In his eyes and wonderingly, she asked bim what troubled him. "Oh, I feel sorry for Willie Curler! The hojs plagued him at school, end would ngt play with him, because he was a drunkard's son. lam so glad that my father dees not drink." Ab, little did he dream, as his moth er's check paled, und bis father's face red dened while lie left the table to hide his emotion, why it was, or how it was, that he escaped being a diunkard's son.— Godty's Lady's Book. TO YOUNG MEN. Yonng man I save thai penny—'pick up that pin—let that account be correct to a far thing—find out what that bit of ribbon coats, before you say you will lake it—pay that half dime your friend handed you to make change | wiih—in a word, be economical, be accurate, 1 know what you are doing—be honest, aud ' ihrn be generous, for all you have or acquire i thus belongs to you by every rule ol right, ' and you may put it to any good use you : plea-e. It is not parsimony td be economi cal. It is not miseily to save a pin from loss. 1 Ii is not selfi.-h lo be correct in your dealings. ' It is not small t* know ine price of article* : you are about to purchase, or to remember { (tie Utile debt you owe. What if you do i meet Kill I'ride decked out in a much better ; suit than yours,' (he price of which he bos not yet learned from his tailor, and he laughs at your faded dress, and old fashioned no j lions ol honesty and right, your day will j come. Franklin, who, from a penny-saving 1 boy, walking the streets with a loaf of bread under tin arm, became- a companion for kings. "Take care of the pence, and the pounds ! will lake cure of themselves." T.it Fine, the celebrated French banker, leaving the house to which he had applied for a clerkship, was not too proud or careless ! to pick up a pin. The simple pin laid the | foundation ol his immense wealth. The wise ! banker to whom he applied, saw the act, call ' ed him back, and gave him employments being convinced by the simple act that he would be a valuable clerk and a uaelul man. Be just, 'lie generous. Benevolence is a a greal doty, by which not outy benefit the I object, but feel a sensation of joy in your own 1 soul, worth more than gain. But generosity 1 can never be measured by the amount you - lavish on a fine dress, or (hat you spend to 1 gratify vanity and folly. Let the girls say you are small, rather than spend a dollar for ; useless books. Purchase gooJ books, and : they will tell you that no girl worth having, | ever selected-a ntan for her husband on ac count of his long tailor's bill, any more than j on account of his long ears. —• Be Systematic, A cotemporary Italy says this Will add more to your convenience than you can imagine. It saves time, saves temper, saves patience, and saves money. For a time it may be a tilde troublesome, but )ou will soon find It easier to do right than wrong ; that H is ea sier to act by rule than without one. Besys lemalic in everything ; let it extend to the moFt minute trifles. It is not beneath you. Whitfield could net go lo sleep at night if, alter retiring, he remembered that bis gloves and riding whip were 00l in their usual placet where he could lay his bauds on them in the dark in any emergency, and such men leave their mark Awthe world's history. Syste malic men are the most reliable men ; they ! are those who comply with their engage ments. They are minute men. The mau who has nothing to do is the man who does nothing. The systematic man is soon known to do what be engages to do; lo do it well, and lo do it at the same lime piomised, con sequentiy be has hie hands full. How TO KNOW A FOOL.—A fool, says the Arab proverb, may be known by six things. First, auger without a cause, second, speech whhoot profit, third, change witboat motive, fourth, inquiry without object, fifth, putting | trust in a stranger, and sixth, not knowing 1 his friends from his foes. * t OT Whenever 1 find a great deal of grati tude in a poor man, I take it for granted there would be as mnch generosity, if he i were a rich man. r A PHYSICIAN'S STORY. S . MY riasTCASs; A MALADY OF MIND AND BODY. 1 "It is not all of life to live, I Nor all of death to die." I bad been a resident of M ■ i some throe Or four weeks, but had been detained > attending church on the Sabbath by violent 1 storms; and, to confess the truth, I did not > regret this as muoh as J should from the fact 9 that I dreaded my first meeting, as their sole 1 and newly established physician, with the ' weHiAy aud aristocratio inhabitants of that ' village. I shrank nervously from ' the unavoidable introductions, and the critl ' cistn which I knew must as inevitably fol ' low/Jpfwevßr, ore morning 1 was bereft of mjtffouse of bad weather, and awakened *qjf'#fld the day most obstinateljr clear. not a clond in the h<M —Sift?! I could reasonable persuade MJff self was the signal of a cominjpHfiu ; there fore to church we went, my wife and I—she 1 all aglow with expectation, and looking, as I thought unusually charming in ber pink 1 ribbons, and 1 somewhat oppressed with an indefinable sense of doubt and dismay. . 1 We were early. I seated mysell quietly, ' aud having nothing to occupy my thoughts, ' half uncousciourly I welched the entrance, 9 one by one, of the villagers. Among them > 1 saw a face, which, as 1 beheld it then, has ' haunted me ior years. Ii was that of a mail ' in the prime of his life, handsome, well bred, aud intelligent, but so inexpressibly sad, so indicative of evident stagnation and despair ing dissatisfaction, that 1 turned away in horror that anything made by God should dare to carry a countenance like that. The services began wiih alow, sonorous notes of prelude from the mellow-toned or gan. Throughout the aisle of the little an tique church, up to the very rafters, floated that rare sobbing music, penetrating all hearts, seuea'.ive either to good or evil, wi'.h that deliija'.e sorrow, which Longfellow says is not akin to pain." ' It faded as tho burden changed front sadness to jubilant hope, and ended in sudden sine ' cato chords of triumphant joy. All eyes were then turned towards the pulpit, and all heads ' reverently bowed as the minister, an aged ' one, rose end uttered a brief impressive prayer. It was one of the' most solemn things to which 1 ever listened, lis -fieauly 1 lay in its naturalness, undefiled, as it was, j iby arts of showy rhetoric. It seemed to pass from the venerable clergyman's lips up to heaven, as the sincerest language in which | man could address and adore his Creator.— '■ By ConrraW, the ctrtil Drtltlancy of the 6r- T mon that tollowed, lost all effect; it could ■ not touch me like that simple, honest sup- ! plication for divine mercy. All the alter Services of the day were nothing lo me ; 1 had poured out my whole soul with that ! ■ prayer, and had no further power to desire worship. 1 was satisfied. I discerned no lack of eloquence or minis terinl learning ill that aged divine's exhorts- ! lion, and although, as we left the church, I heard many speak of it with expressions of ' lively pleasure, i felt assured that he himself was discontented with the disooursct. It was | like thin, fitful sunlight, veiling a lowering December sky; or like snow, blinding the 1 the eyes with glitter, yet in its actual self, very cold and uuiubstaniial. 1 perceived that there was thai, beneath all this sparkle ' |of words, which few present understood. — 1 Was it private griel ? Was it some Lidden agony, warning against unnatural restraint 1 I recognized the evidence of fnsincerity, but whether temporary of habitual, I could not discover. When he ceased, I felt merely the silence; there was none of that strange sensation at the cession of impassioned, no- Lie earnest delivery which I had experienced { often before. "Certainly," thought I "that man is either | very heartiesß or very miserable." The congregation was pouring itself qui ' etly out, when, in the usual organ voluntary, came an abrupt but alight pause, followed ' by deep stillness. Immediately a human voice, a full and rare man's voice, commen ced chanting that celebrated solo from Fe lix Mendelssohn BarthoUly's "Messiah," "I > know that my Redeemer liveth." Perfectly • in time end tune, although with no further r accompainment than the few opening chords, A the voice issued from the choir, bearing to T the world—weary listeners cons nation and* / peace. It was not the noble music, it was i- the expression gathered by the fine voice a Irom the two, uniting in one glorious whole, >< till the atmosphere seemed to thrill with its ] wealth of melody. On the last notes of the s solo, as it faded magnificently into silence, " the organ's accompainment recommenced, > proving by the purest unity of the two sounds, > the successful intonation ol the unknown vo calist. Many curious eyes were directed y towards the gallery, but the curtains were - lightly drawn, and the mystery still remained ) mysterious. Some casual movement, bow s ever, momentarily displaced a portion of the a floating screen and revealed to me a glimpse I, of the dark, handsome face 1 had before no i treed, and it was no less dark, handsome, or discontented than when I beheld it then. I asked myself in wonder if that soulful sing e ing and that morose, unhappy countenance, L belonged to one and the same individual, b The close of the Sabbath day was dee i, tiued to reveal lo me a strange fragment of g the life history of Ibis very man. g The night fell dewy and starry, but with - an oppressiveness of atmosphere that was ■ol, ia that pan of the country, an unoom - moo consequence ou long continued rains, d The ground was almost destitute ot mois e tore, and the grass ol that harsh, vivid green, so destructive to vision The air was Trlh and Right—God aaf oar Country. hevy and very stars teemed | lo blink nidify tfniversal drowzinetg. We were just sealM a the plainly furnished tel lable, when (here came a startling peal from the little primitive knocker on the door. "A visitor," said my wife, settling her cap. "A patient," said I, rushing from the room, just ,n time to upset a black boy who ran violently ageinst me. Alternately rub- I bing his bruised sides; and grinning from ear to ear at the adventure, h informed me that "mscsa was took sick in a great hurry," | and fben scampered off, baying just pointed out a large and conspftuous house, quite near to my own, as the residence of the aick i man. I had otien before noticed it for the elaborate arrangement its extensive gar dens. H, .* I In a few moments 1 was' in the chamber ►of the first patient to whom I had been call ed during my residence in M The room was large and brilliantly lighted; bo quets of delicate flowers were scattered over it—evidently illness had beeu.totally uolnok ed for by the master of the dwelling. As 1 entered, the face of my patient was hidden from me by the pillows in which il was bu ried. The wife, a young slight thing, half eat, hall reolined beside him, her head bowed on ber bosom, her pale hands tightly locked one in the other. She raised her eyes as I entered, and on seeing me a sud den gleam of something, which, if it were not hope, bad all its passed over ber features. ■ "Doctor!" she cried wildly, advancing to meet me. /'Doctor, save hih)—save him'.'' Before 1 had time to usmr, a voice from the other side of the bedJterpd in a low, aonoious, but self-possessecMne: "It is too late!" Glancing quickly that way, I ss&tbe gray haired minister. On bis hatuls were great red spots of blood ; the piflßs, the sheets were marked with it; and ontne white dress of the youg wife glittered also freeh crimson stains. "He is dying," said the old man, rever ently kneeling at the bedside; "human aid is of little cousequence now. Again I say it is 100 late. Abner, my sen, my boy, do you bear me—you are .dying." "1 approached the bed, guid as I did so the sick man raised*hia head ; and I saw be fore me the beau'ilul despairing face of the morning. The dark eyes were fiercer and brighter, sad deeply sunken in their sockets, while the heavy masses of hair and beard ; gave the ghastly complexion astili more un , Lujiliy i-uj. LLo.ii&o. sajwdlill attLnl vas- i | sal. At a glance 1 saw tpal the case was | hopeless, and thai the little 1 could do, was i almost aa well undone. Life was ebbing i fast—mortality verging into immortality. I caused his face to be bathed and the clotted | blood to wished Irom his nostrils and beard ! I —that was all. | Meanwhilp.the old man aat there on the t bed's edge, clasping one of those colorless j hands in his own. lfe kissed the almost lifeless forehead, he bent over the dying man with (he anxiety which none but a father could feel at sueb'a moment. "Abner, Abner," he whispered, "do you ; can you hear me? If you can give me some signal." The eyes, gradually assuming a dull, dreamy look, cloaed wearily, and opened again Very slowly. A low wail burst from the wife. The old clejgyman turned upon hertjaiokly, and said, with bitter imperiousness: "Be still, I must speak with him." Then, again bending over the bed: "Abner, have you (bought of DEATH 1— Shall we pray —have you made your peace with God ?" There appeared to be a sort of convulsive effort on the sick man's part to attain a ait ting posture. For a moment he seemed .possessed of perfeet strength. "God !" he ecloed hoarsely ; "father, how dare you name Him? God! You, who made me what I am ; you, who goaded me in sin, "and all lor money, money ! Was il so precious to you that I mutt sell myself, body and soul, marry for it ? Don't speak to me of God. There is none—no God—no God !r' He sank back onhrs pillows exhausted. Blood burst anew from his moutb. He tried - -to move, but the word* Were drowned in the warm tide that bubbled over bis ehest. And she, the wife stood there iu marble calmness, and heard that which was to blast the rest of her young life her hands were clipped again, her eyea fixed unflinchingly on the floor. She neither moved nor spoke. Looking at ber, you would have felt your t very heart melt with compassion, so wild, sp forlornly miserable was the expression ol that sweet girlish face, i "Abner, Abner, my son," was all tbe father spoke with blanched, quivering Hps. The momentary flush faded from the dy ' ing man's feature*. I stood beside him and i wiped the blood fiom hi* moutb, and 1 knew - that in a few momenta all would be over. , There was no straggle, but tbere was that . gathering shadow en bis forehead which is < so terribly understandable. Seeing tbis, the , intense despair on his wife's fsce grow a tri fle more statuesque, and ber hand* locked ■ themselves involuntarilv tighter till blood I gushed from the smooth palm that came in contact with tbe finger nails. Not a word t was spoken, not a sound broke the deep still t ness of tbe chamber, but the indistinct and ' oppressive breathing of the dying men. 1 . thought it grew fainter and slower, and I bent - down to place my finger on the wrist, and to I listen more intently; bnt the otd man waved t me fiercely, jealously a*ay "Touch him not," he said, "for he is dead." And I thought, ineeed that it was so, for even as he spoke, the faint respiration sud denly cTased, ar.d the palor of tn everlasting unconsciousness ciept slowly over the still features. But in another moment I saw that life was not yet extinct. The eyes again partly unclosed in the same powerless,dreamy way as before, and an iridiscribable radiance lor an instant lit up the pale, handsome face; handsome even then, but with an unearthly beauty. "God the colorless lijfs muttered, "God there is a God!" and a smile, whose utter sesanlty I have never seen equafitig, flick , ered atonnd the mouth. Then lliqehadow deepened, fell, and he expired. it' seemed as if the snttl had been half freed, and re turning gave evidence of that eternity which is but partially entered. A woman's voice, sobbing, at last broke the dreary silence. The old man rose, and approaching his dead son's wife said feebly ; "Esther be comforted :.God is over all." She drew liar hand from his clasp with a geiture of unequivocal abhorrence. "Comfort," she echoed, with a great defi ant flash of her eyes : ' comfort ! you preach to me of comfort. Hypocrite!"—she hissed ; the word from between her closed breath, j with startling, indignant energy. 'lt is all clear tn me now. Who was it that plotted and schemed to bring it together ? Who templed bim into marriage where there was no love on his side—none, none, O my soul —jfcul for money? Answer me that." * Never shall I forget the impression crea ted by that indignant appeal, and the tragic, excited beauty of this woman. And the se quel was no less sad. Within a year, an other grave was made for the poor, deceived wife. It U strange that I should recollect so well the day she died. White freshly fallen snow laid on the ground. It had come early that year. The trees were loaded wiih light fleecy snow, among which the brilliantly dyed leaves gleamed out in the sunshine, like blood on a woman's face. Women ol Naples. You have heard bright eyes and ra | vcu tresses, and music like language of the Neapolitans, but I can assure you there is nothing like it here —'that is lo say, among the lower classes. The only difference that I.can detect between them and the Ameri can Indians is, thai, the latter are the more r 4 ia rtje ame, I tne and as to the "soft bastard LRMHBU' speak, it is one ol the 1 ever heard. I ! knowrSprTather shocking to to one's ideas lof I lane" women. lam sure 1 was prepared i lo view them in a favorable—nay, in a po etical light; but amid all the charms and excitements of this romantic land, 1 cannot see otherwise. The old women are hags, and the young women are dirty, slipshod slatterns. Talk about bright-eyed Italian maids!" Among our lower classes there are five beauties to one good looking woman here, population that live in filth, and eat the vilest substances to escape the horrors of starvation. Bui it is otherwise as to form In form the Italians excel us. Larger, ful ler—they naturally acquire a finer gait and bearing. It is astonishing that ladies should persist ih that ridiculous notion, that a small waist is, and per necesssiia, must be beauti ful. Why, many an Italian woman would ory for vexation, if she possessed such a waist as some of our ladies acquire, only by the longest, painfullest process. I have sought the reason of this difference, and can see no o'her thin that the Italians have their glorious statuary continually before them as models; aud hence endeavor to assimilate themselves to them ; whereas our fashiona bles have no models except those French stuffed figures in the windows of the mil liners' shops. Why, if an aitist should pre sume to make a statue with (be shape that seems to be regarded with us as the perfec tion of harmonious proportion, he would be laughed out of the city. It is a standing ob jection against the laeie of our women the ' world over, that we would practically assert that a French milliner understands how they should be made better than nature herself.— 1 fftadley's Letters from Italy. Rev- Dudley A- 1 yog. I At the election held by the congregation 1 of the Church of ihe Epiphany, last nigh', the ' rotes were as follows: For the Vestry, 57; against the Vestry, 44; ' blank, 1. This result involves the immedi i ate resignation of the rector, Rev. Dudley A. I Tyog, the previous action of the Vestry hav ing been sustained by a majority of the legal i voters of the congregation. The difficulty between the reverend gentleman and his . congregation, it will be temembered, results I from a political sermon preached in hii church > in the early part of the present political esn . vase, Mr. Tyng feeling it incumbent on him t to denounce slavery and to commend the i candidates of the party opposing it. Without i venturing to any expression of opinion on the . subject of slavery as a political question, we I can but be gratified at the siugle rebuke I which this congregation has given to the per i melons practice of introducing politics into I the pulpit.— Ledger. 1 THE HUNAN JAWS.—The muscles of the I human jaw produce a power equal to four t hundred and thirty-four pounds. This is ) what science tells ui, but we know the jaw ) of some of, our lawyers is equal (o a good many thousand dollars a year to them An Eloquent Extract. The sea is the largest cemetery, and its slumberers sleep without a monument. All graveyards in all other lands, show some symbol of distiootidn between the great and small, Ihe rich and Ihe poor; bui in that ocean cemetery the king, the clown,the ptinbe,aud the peasant are alike distinguished. The waves roll over the same requiem sung by the minstrels of the ocean lo their honor.— Over their remains the same storm bdats,and the same sun shines ; there unmarked, the weak, the powerful, the plumed, the honored will sleep, until awakened by the same trum pet, when the sea will give op its dead, i thought of sailing over the slumbering but devoted Cookrr.an, who after a brief but brilliant career, perished in the "President" —over Ihe same i'(-fated vessel we have passed. In that cemetery sleeps the accom plished and pious finisher, but where he and thousands of others of the noble spirits of earth lie, no one but God knowelh. No mar b!e slab rises to show w here their ashes are gathered, or where the lovers of the good can go to shed their tears of sympathy. Who can tell where lie the tens of thousands of Africa's sons who perished in the "midJie passage ?" that cemetery hath ornaments of Jehovah. Never can I yet forget my day 6 and nights, as I passed noblest ol cemeteries wiihont a single monument. UNCLE BENJAMIN'S SERMON—Not many years ago I heard Uncle Benjamin discus sing lliis matter to his son, who was com plaining of pressure. "Rely upon it, bam- I my," said the old man, as he leaned on his staff, with his gray locks flowing in the breeze of a May morning, "murmuring pays no bills. I have been an observer many times these filly years, and I never saw a man helped out of a hole by cursing his horses. Be as quiet as you can; for noth ing will grow under a moving hairovi, and discontent harrows the mind. Matters are bad, I acknowledge, but no ulcer is better for being fingered. The more you groan the poorer you grow. Repining at losses is only pulling pepper into a sore eye. Crops will fail in all soils, and we may be thankful that we have no famine. Besides, I always look notice that whenever 1 felt the rod pretty smartly, it was as much as lo say, "there is something which you have got to learn."— Sammy, dont't forget that your schooling is not over yet, though you have a wife and two children." A HINT TO RaroitMEn*. —Ttie irees {must be cut down before the ground can be (Hied, and bounteous harvests reward the husband man's toil. The old structures must be re moved before truth can lay her deep found ation, ar.d build her palace to the skies. In the work of reform, then, we need the wood man whose sturdy blows shall lay the ancient errors low, as well as the ploughman turning up the virgin soil, anil the sower scattering abroad the good seed. We require the pull er down, who needs must make a noise, uo less than the silent builder, skillfully rearing the soul's habitation. Shall the ploughman quarrel with ihe wood chopper, because his vigorous blows and the crashing treesdisturb the forest's quiet ? or shall the chopper blame the sower because he aids him not in making War upon the giant trees? Why Common Sense Is ltare. It ie often said that uo kind of sense ie eo rare ss common sense; and this is true, eithply because common sense is attained by all far more, and as a natural gift far less, than most other traits of uhafaclrr. Com mon sense is the application of thought lo common things, and it is rare because most persons will not exercise thought about common things. If some important aflairs occurs, people try llnyi to think, but to very little purpose; because, not having exer cised their powMflln email things, their powers lack the development necessary for great ones. Hence thoughtless people, when ' forced to act in an affair of importance, blun der through it with uo more chance of doing 1 as they shoulJ, than one would have of hit ting a small or distant mark at a shooliug match, if previous practice had not given ' lbs power of hitting objects that are large and near.— Elements of Character t? General Pierce ia the first President of the United Slates who has uniformly de clined to drink wine with his guests—and he is styled in the Providence Transcript a besotted drunkard. He iathe first President, since Washington, who has closed his house against all visitors on the Sabbath—and he is called a brawler, a ruffian, an enemy of religion, and a murderer. LATER FROM KANSAS—Accounts from Kan sas to the 291h ult., state that Gov. Geary had arrested several of the ringleaders of the ma rauding parties near Ossawatomie. The Grand Jury had found bills against ninety prisoners for murder in the first de gree. The Legislature meets at Lecompton in January. CF" When a powerful and enlightened continental monarch, who reigaed some cen turies ago, saw hi* courtiers smile at sn act of condescension be hsd just performed to wards a greal artist, he rebuked them in some such terms as these "I could easily make a hundred nobles such a* you, but not one painter like him who stauds among us." 0T The worda oi a man's mouth arc as ' deep waters, and the w ell rpring of a wis- I dom PI s flowing btook [Two Dollars per Annum. NUMBER 43. A SCttNE 111 IMS' BT BEN BCRIBBLER. A very pretty, delicate, fashionably dressed young gentleman is seaibd in a drawing' room, working quite desperately at some em broidery, and now and then heaving a gentle sigh. He is atltifcd rather differently from the youths of the last century, for bis hair is parted in the middle, and falls In clustering cnrls to the throat, which la ornamented with a splendid necklace; hia coat, with the tail* reaching almost to the floor, is made low neck end ehoit sleeves; Fhoee are of the softest kid, and pants of fine silk. A ring atthfedoor. Theservantanunonces Miss FaSt. Mr. Manly rises from the sofa, • blushes deeply, and casts down his eyes; not so the lady, who advanoes with a firm Step, wishes the gentleman "good evening," and softly touches his delicate digits. Af'er a lit tle conversation the beauty takes up his lan, saying— ' I saw yon, Miss Fast,this morning, walk ing very rapidly past oar bonse, and 1 ih.uight something dreadful had occurred ; At first I imagined our dwelling was in flames, and was so overcome (for my nerves are very weak,) that I gasped for breath and nearly fainted. Now please do tell me what was i the matter with you, for 1 have hardly yet recovered from my fright." j "Ah, my dear Mr. Manly, I fancied you looked pale when I came in—l missed those beautiful roses on your cheeks, and can 1 forgive myself from being the cause, though i innocently, of so much scAuring?" 1 Oh, no ma'am—pray don't distress your self; lam quite well now. But," he added, with a sweet smile of killing glance, "what made you walk so fast and look so thought ful"' " Why, I was going to court," commenced the lady, pulling her cravat and looking pro fessional, "as I bad a case to plead, and a strange one it was too. A man was such tin outrageous fool as to disobey bis wile, and insisted that he ought to carve and she pour out the tea; but when she informed btm thai no such thing would be allowed in her house, he threw over the tea board and dashed from the room, leaviug his wife and lawful pro lector petrified with astonishment. The lady followed hitn soon, however, and told the man she was grieved to see her husdand act in such a manner, expressing the desire that the offence might not be repeated ; but he . behaved in a most unmanly way, raid ho had borne tyranny long enough, and would have the same rights men possessed in the last century ! Hid you ever hear anything like ill "When he could not be pacified, his wife quietly turned the key of his boudoir, and leaving orders witn the servants at whit hour to have dinner, went out to her business.— On returning home, sho discovered the mis creant had fled, and in a short time he ac tually applied for a divorce. Of course he could not gain it, there was not a shadow of chance." "Oh, deal oh, dea 1 exclaims Mr. Manly, I fear he is deranged ; I hope he will cot be allowed to remain st large; 1 shall not sleep a wink at night until I know he is confined Oh, Miss Fast, will not you see he does not go about unless strictly guarded! Oh, I shall die, I am certain, were I to meet him in the street.'' "My sweet Mr. Manly," replies the Isdy, with a look of inexpressible tenderness, "do' not fear, I shall 6ee that you are not troubled. Mrs. Ilampart, the chief of the police, shall be informed of the matter —1 am sure you can trust me." " Yes ma'am, 1 will rely on you, as ! have al " bete he checks himself, blushkig deeply. "What pleasure I receive on hearing you say so, and those beautiful downoait eyes tell more, I hope, than your rosebud mouth can utter." " Now, Miss Fast," cries the gentleman, at the same lime lapping her With hie fan, ! "you are beginning yonr flatteries. What a bad, naughty, hateful creature you are. Ido ' proles:he adds with an enchanting lisp, | "that you are the most perfect flirt. I know ; how you trifle with us gentlemen." j "Trifle with you, Mr. Mauley," the lady burst forth, going down on her knees. "Is not my whole lift bound up in you—willyou not smile on me with delight, when I confess I adore you with all the power of a strong womanly nature—that 1 will protect you thro' lile's journey, and you shall desire no firmer arm to lean upon and look to for support.— Oh, say, my better jnge l , that you will be mine." " Really, Miss Fasl—l do not—spare me- 3 I am not cslui just now—some other time— I am veiy young—such preference— <th—sb —I am so startled—bow my heart does pal pitate—a g'ass of water"—and the gentleman sinks back on the sofa, nearly swooning.-- He recovers shortly, as the lady fans htm most vigorously, and looking up ifr her CeCe with swimming eyes, says, "go aak my noble mother's consent and then Ibis poor, worth less hand and heart you prize so mnoh will be thine forever," and a flood of tears front those soft, sweet oibs, rains upon the devoted lover, and oxtracta most all the starch from her By ton collar! iy A man of exceedingly contracted mind, was one day complaining to an ac quaintance that he bad a very acuta pfin— a little sharp pain, uot bigger, seemingly, then the point of a pin. "h's amazing strange," he continued, "don't you think itisl" What do you suppose is the cause of it I" "Why reslly, I don't know," replied the other, "what part of you would be liable to so veiy minute pain, uuless tt be yout soul
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