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,
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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