D. A. & C. A. BUEHLER 'VOLUME XXIV. FRESH ARRIVAL. One of the largest and prettiest stocks of Salim Atapit 00011, Evei. o,ferefl in this place, J L. SCHICK has just returned from the eastern cities with his Spring 'smote of 141INCY& STAPLE GOODS, 4ehichilte , invites the public to examine, at his new location, South-West corner of the Diatuimd. Ile feels, confident that he can plintee every taste, in,etyle, quality Anintii 4 *aid price. His assorttnentiom -441, ", Black . and Flinty Silks .liersge de fairies, nous. de ;Awes Imams. Swiss. Jackanat sad Cambric Mrsbah Giagitams.Calicaes. 'Ciataa Crape Shawls, Ak. tittle , matte, Ribbons & Pio'ivert,;:-IllOves. !lottery. Irish Lines'. Outlirts.'. ,hundred* of other articles. Est this'll's*. • Alto.. Clo'Llks CasstmereS Cashmeretts, .Tweeda. Codneetiee. en Obeeka, plain and fancy Veathiga. Ste. and exastiitte far yourselves. at the Soutioweat renter of .the public square. and if you dont say that any stack 4.1 gooda is one of the moat demirahle that you ever 4.1. w, the fault will ,tn be a l ine. 'Thankful hor the very liberal patronage fiered.fore extended to vine by a. Reitman. public. I ask a entitittuanee of the same, promising ilt,vt najiiiuK at.all be 101 l un done 011 lily part aaloulated pe please and acenn ttttt Want. 3: L. SCHIOK Gettysburg, April*. 1852. iqua , .] WILT 11111011111 STORE, 191"41P. Subscribers would cespeetfully a anuottnes to their friettits anti the public. that they have opened at NEW 114441.16114 1 41414-141'ORE in Weltimnre at,. ailjnining the residence of Ama i n Zino:m.lm peitystiiirg, in whirl% 4hey are opening urge and general assortinent - 11141110 WARE, IRON, STEEL, GROCERIES CUTLERY, COACH 11UMMINGS, Springs, Axles, Saddlery, 4, p. Cedar - Ware, Shoe •Findieje; euints, Oils, & llyestkagy n general. ittending every deetwiptioJ of .-ariteles in the above line of husinese—to • vrhieli they invite the attention of Unut•h• • 'oaken.. illaekamithe. rpentPre, Cabinet •makers, Shoemakers, Saddlers, and ithe generally. , -.0 tar etoek having been tieleetell with great ..hare and pureliaaloni for Gaol', we guars aatittie.(for the Heady Money,) to •dispose • of any part of it on as reasonable terms ae they, can he littrellAßell any where. We partietilarly request a call from oue friends, Joni earnestly solicit a sliaee ru blie favor. as lee are determined 4o es tiblisit a character for stiffing Goods at tow prices and doitig business on fair prin. JOEI. T!. DANNER, DAVID ZIEUI.ER. Dettyaburg, June 134851.-14 MORE NEW GOODS. Theo richest ►ad: belt lessoritaect FALL & :WINTER GOODS FOR GENTLEMENII WEAR,'EVEII OPENED IN GETIYSBUMU. SKELLY & lIOLLEBAUGH rir • IAKU pletwOns„ .Cll the 'mutton of their inieuilvand thepublic w iheic exteinsive'sutek‘of Fashionable Goods fix getitlernerils'weari just received loom die city, "which; file. variety of style. beauty and finish. and superior quality, cher/tenger cenropaiisan .. ; ! 144 ,ally : other 'tuck in the place. Our assUrtinaul of elothi. plain and fancy Tweeds and Cat: ' ' inneres, rulings, Satinet's. Overcoathign, &c. N'T BE BEAT ! Give us a call and easmine for yourselves. We have pur chased our smelt carefully and with a de ,to please the tastes of all, from the dinst`practical•to 'the' most fastidious. 111(7"'rACLQBING, in all its branches, attended' as heretofore, with the aegis tancerof good workmen. liCrfinle :FA Sll lONS for FALL and WINTER have been received. 'Getty/burg, Dec. 10, 1852 DAGIAIER, WU, HARNESS, & TRUNK 11111.41 1 16.1rAcTuit Eli. 3 demki Baat.qf White lid!, Fork, Pa THE Subscriber continues to carry on the above businessa, in all its various Branches, in Market street, York, 3 doors East. of White Hall, where he intends keeping on hand a general assortment in MOWS, consisting of all kinds of fashion - I, able SADDLES, Bridles Martingalea, Girths, Cir , einglea and Halters, also R Li N K S, • traveling andl# sidille"bags. Those wishing 4 Rillia3ll a, handsome, durable and pleasant saddle well, do well to call and see thein. He also manefacturrs Harness, Bridles, Collars and Whips in all their varieties, and confi depth, believes from the general approba liOn.cif his 'customers, that he makes the neauel and best gears, in all their variety o breadth, that is made in the country. All We above articles will be made of the hest .material and workmanship, and with the utmost despatch 'York, August 5, 1853, THE BLEST ONES AT HOBE. Away on the beam of life's bright river, Far, far away— There will my heart be tinning ever, There's where the blest ones ■tsy ; All through this world of sin and sorrow, Sadly I roam, Still longing for the dawn of the morrow, And for the blest ones at home. All without I. dark and dreary, Every where I roam, 0, brothers, how the heart grows weal'. Sighing for the blest one. at bane. Through all north's runny scenes I wondered, In youth's gay morn : How many unwiring hoots l've squandensi, How many malt lea scorned When seeking sin's d elusive plenums, Wretched was L. , • . But viol" my heart has found Measure, , . There with the blest One on hi&b. ! . , All without is dark; dcc. . ' One hour is f bringing Memories of lows ' • "rws• when my sighs w e re chongnd to singing, or the bleat ones ibMve ; When shall I see my Saviour reigning On hie white throne t . Witch W ill be MAIM .my beert's complaining, There with the blast ones hornet.. All till then is dark end dreary Every where 1 roam 0, brothers, hbw the heart grows weer, Longing for the bleat ones at boom A MOTHER'S LAST PRAIMIL By MRB. ANN R. o First oar dowers die—and then Our haulms, sad then our Csars—sud when Thaw stet desd - tiorrisbt is duo; bust•olabuo dust- r and we die too:' • I was very young, scarcely beyond the. verge of infancy ; the last and most help less_of the three little girlawho were gath ered around my poor mother's death-bed. When 1 look on the chain of my varied ezieteneethat woof of gold and iron wii von se strangely together—the remem brauce of that young being whii perished so early and so gently from the hosom of her family, forms the first sad link which over gives forth a thrill of Amend male when My heart turns to it—trufato which becomes more seep-toned and solemn as that chaih is strengthened by thought, and bound together by the events of sae ccesive yearri. The first human being that I can remember was my invalid mother, moving languidly about her home, with the paleness of disease sitting on her bean- 1 thorn features, and a deep crimson spot burning with painful brightness on either cheek.' I remember that her step became unsteady, and her robe* fainter and more gentle day by day, till at lam she sunk to : her bed and we were called upon to wit ness her spirit go forth into the presence of Jehovah. They took me to her couch, and told me to look upon my mother be fore ebe died. Their words had no mean ing to me then, but the whisper in-which they were spoken thrilled painfully through lay iefaut heart, and I felt that something terrible was about to happen. Pale, trou bled faces were around that deatlepillow— stern men, with sad, heavy eyes—women I.overwhelmed with tears and sympathy, and ehildren that huddled together shud dering and weeping, they knew not where fore. Filled with-wonder and awe, I crept to my mother, and burying my brow in the mass of rich brown bar , that floated over her pillow., heavy with the damp of death, but still lustrous in spite ofdisease, I trembled and sobbed without knowing why, lave that all around me was full of grief, and lamentation. She marMuntel l and placed her pale hand- en my head.-- `My little heart welled, Jrut I lay motion I less and filled with awe. Tier lips moved, and a voice treartdowi and vim low, climb faintly over them. Those words, bteken and sweet as they"were, left the first dear impression that ever remained on my, me mory—“ Lend her not into temptetion,,but deliver her from evil." Thiewas my .mo ther's last prayer. In fiat imperfect sen tence,' her gentle voice went out forever. Young as I was, that prayer had entered my heart with a solemn strength. I rais ed my head fmm its beautiful resting place, and gazed awe-stricken upon the face of my mother. Oh, how an hour bad chang ed I The crimson flush was quenched on her cheeks, a moisture lay upon her fore heads, and the grey, mysterious shadows of death were stealing over each thin feature, yet her lips still moved, and her deep blue eyes were bent on me, surcharged with spiritual brightness, as if they would have left OW of their vivid, unearthly rays, as the seal of her death-bed covenant. Slow ly as the sunbeams pale at night-fall from the leaves of a flower, went out the star like fire of her eyes; a mist came over them, softly as the dews might full upon that flower, and she was dead. Even then 1 knew not the meaning of the solemn change I had witnessed, but when they bore me forth from my mother's death-bed, nay heart was filled with fear and misgiv ing. All were overwhelmed with tho weight. of their own sorrow, and I was permitted. to wander around my desolated home un checked and forgotten. I stood wonder ing by as they shrouded any mother, and smoothed the long hair over her pale fore head. Silently I watched them spread the winding sheet, and fold those small, pale hands over her bosom; but when they closed the blinds, and went forth, my littlo heart swelled with a sense of unkindness in shutting out the sunshine, and the sweet summer air which had so eftcu called E. DANNER GETTYSBURG, PA., FRIDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 16,1853. a smile to her pale lips, when it came to I - --- her bed fragrant from the roso-thiekets, THE TWO-PENNY MARRIAGE. and the white clover-field which lay be- "Mr. Pease, we want to be married." we together thinnik it is ge n t ' t t le h ."Want to be married—what for ?" neath the windows they so cruelly darken ed. The gloom of that death-chamber right toft,7uysou see tsmli do vit made me very sorrowful, but I went to 1 any longer, and We have o been talkingover way the bed, turned down the linen, and laid I the matter to-day and you see—" "Yes, yes, I see you have been Ty band carressingly on the pale face 1 talk inghav overhave come the t matter over f the , bottle and ron ken con which lay so white and motionless in the dim light. It was cold as ice. I drew W he n. you get elusion m to et marr o a oietd back afrighted, and stealing from the room !sober you g w ill both . repent of it, proba- Aat down alone, wondering and full of ' hlY•" &tied."No, sir, we are not very drunk now. not so drunk but what we can think, and TINY buried her beneath a lofty tree on we don't think we aredoing right—we are the . high bank of a river . A waterfall rai- d • . ~ not doing as we were brought up to do by see its eternal anthem dear , by, and the Pitius parents. We have been reading sunset flings i iis his i st ; l a en shadow . among about the good things you have none for just such poor outcasts as we are, and the long grass that shelters her. I ye- we wool you to try and do something for member it s.ll—the with its newly grave us " , , , , , • broken sod-the coffin placed on its brink. "Read I • Can you read ?Do you read The clergyman with his black wirplioe the Bible " "Well. not much lately, but we read the sweeping the earth, and the concourse of newspaper, and sometimes we read neighbors g athered , around that grave, something good in them. How can we each lifting his hat reverently as the sol- read the Bible when we are drunk 1" i emn hymn swelled on the air, answered by "DO you 'Link getting married will ou from getting in dunk r , the lofty anthem surging up, from'' the , wa- kee yea", eeP I for we are gog rtol'ePeed upon take the pledge terfall, sod the breeze rustling- through too, 'an d we shall keep it, d the dense boughs of that gloomy tree.—, tint." Then came, the grating of the coffin as 4 , , "Suppose you take the pledge and try was lowered into rte .narrow 1:x4,, the .dull lbet,,first, told. if - you keep it till you wash. some of the :dirt away, and hollow sound of the falling earth, and those e !": • sguie , clothes on t ,theit I will . marry . most solemn words of "dust to' dust;" and g y • ou , , as ashes. With mournful utinet- "No : that Won't do.l I shall to nese were all those things 'impressed o n thinking, whet.,..poor, alirty,..mitierable s ast my young mind, but my mother' l wretch.. /. PP. and ..how l i eat l i vings with • - this woman, who' is not e..bad woman by prayer is written. more forcibly- then ,till in istute,and'theh I Will &lilt; eitethen eke characters that . but deepen with maturity. WilV -. tleittkaln curbed- Pitii n'!• , -and' what l It has lingered about my intait a blessing haataloweill Us 1 , lits2ifvie were married, and a ode-gnitil, PeAtidingit•with a mu. Pf al i ht Yea; Mil': Pia .'my wife would itio that cannot die.. bleep times, viten lai.‘ hoinas'---she Is? if Dot say •Tom, you dirty brute don' ief tempieel ; ' d the heedlessiete of youth would ' have led ;:ic o .k k• - ' 2.1 . + • knows 91+ what W ',Might he some me into error, :has that sweet voice, now body yei--soppbody t it,ottr own Mott)• hushed' for ever, intermingled With' My era would*Critie Milts let"' thoughts, and like tlM•reay link of a fifty He*. ill ' ' woman *I ''18" been silent Chain, drawn mOft flood of,teae from my purpos e . endilelher moody,; 'be re eryieg. er ' idle a violent ' . n i " mother, when :any bto* hie been wreathed with kupw,py whether she tee or not, 1 and flowers for the festival, when: my cheek dare nut inquire; butt are:were Married I — es - been, flushed, and'my` eyee'llave spar-. "' ilr 'ielsiicuek i'wauM'' ikeli6r. kl ' a POi tried with anticipated pleasure; have I °I I al4We." 44- caught the reflection of those eyes 3p flue said, ettio longer 4 ital...the •appeal," I Mr, P., .•and ;de gamed to give I, mirror, and thought of the look whiOh them a trial. I' havem itleil a good many !rested upon me *hen nip Mother 'died— Poor, wretched-looking Ailleb, but none that broken suplieation to Heaven has that looked . quite e 'lnt is this. The , less ' ilwith without come back to my'memory, the cltietering 'Tn e n e t ~ „w i e ev et e t : te t i ” ti ” ' . lr „d bea rd " Ilea .ha ve leen torn ham na head,. sad, grimed with diit.' ' d ' 'by Arsde a gentle memories havesirank the unnatural briekfarer: oneiViliee - iditheeitle-- 4 .' glow from my cheeks, and my thoughts s ll . ,°' were the lastinitudo°FLedlitboanett have been carried back to my lost parent, an d "Welliillg, that ini P t P RI* f.•W shoes, . n. s m lid an 01d,.1 very old dross, once a rich tind, , from her, up to the heaven shel erino, apparently without 101+1 under gar. habits. . . •• . ,' • manta:" . ' -0.: .J..• • . . The festival , with all its attractions, "And nut name is . Tlmthas---Themas whail" . ' • ' ' ' . . . has been lost in gentle reflection, and I have been "delivered from temptations."— Again, when the sparkling wine.oup has almost bathed my lips, amid „merriment and smiles nod music, buss the .last- sad prayer of my., mother seemed to mingle with its ruby, contents, mid I have put :a way, the goblet. that "I, might riot baled into temptation." When my hand him rested in that of the dishonorable, and trembled trAho tench of him Who say" in - his heart, there is no God, as 'that vol( seemed to flow with his lining ''tecetits, have listened. to it and fled alarm theiter pent of my native fotests. Againlnd again, when the tbrobbiUgs ofmnbitiint hive almost-filled my soul, and tbe prelims of my %noir-DAL have leooihe a lirecions incense, the .till small voice of my mothir'Sprayer bait treMbled over each illorteorhigt sad kindled it to 'ft more healthy *oak). In infancy, youth, and womanhood, that prayer has been to 1110 a holy remembrane sweet thought full of melody net the, leas ,bdautiful that there is sadness in it. I Believe. n 1 believe in God the Father, .11rnighly Maker of heaven and of earth." So says a beatitilul child as with dark, holy eyes uplifted, she 'repeats the Apos tle's Creed. Oh, what would many a sin-hardened criminal give, could he but say with ear nest purpose, ''l believe !" But darkness shrouds soul and spirit. He has lost the childish faith taught him at his mother's knee. Ile can faintly remember the far olf home—the calm hour when he thought every star the presence of angels—when the melody of a bird, the curious folding of a flower, the argosies of white cloud. mercy freighted, sailing in fleets of the upper deep, wafted h is little thoughts to the great mystery which, while he felt, he comprohened not. I believe. Can you say it, widow, clinging to the clay cold form, all of you loved on earth? Can you say it, orphan, looking down into a dark grave 1 Can you say it mourner over the first born—clasping, between sobs, waxy flowers in the deardeati baby's hand ? Cum you say it, father, gazing in stern anguish on the icy form of what was to be the staff and glory of your old age? Can you say it, mother, by the couch of the beautiful one, on whose brow the b.alo of womanhood paled under the' whiw! flag of death ? you can, pence, such as the world giveth not, is given unto you—visions of angels ascending and descending—and lightening up the darkness of your “valley of the :shadow," will come the thought, vvait for me on the other side."— And the great triumph of belief shall go hand in band with the victory over deal h. fi.n exchange designates "Fanny Fern" alai- Young America" in petticoats. That's it 'to a T. "FEARLESS AND FREE." From the New York nibune €•Elting, 'pod tnie‘namu and be if you imurry , - W ell, well. I sult,, joint • 1 9 martrY you." ,"• 4 41 1 •1 0 4; Them. Meet I , told you so" Dont cal' me Met:, IllaM going to he Mairied;' is, iti'be .My tight name,t Mg one ety Wittier ta we me." .14Yelloi 'neater knew Id a "Now, Thomas, 6140ur ton g ue, What talk 100 Much. is your name?" t • Matilda. ,Must,l tell the other 1 Yes, I wily, and I never will' disgrace it. I dantthink 'I shot& ever !rive' been inibad if I had kept it. That bad woman who first tempted me to runt, made me take a lelse name. It is a bad thing for a girl to give up her name, unless for that of a good husband. Matilda Fraley. No body' knows one by that Caine in this bad ody." “Very well, Matilda and Thomas, take each other by the right hand, and look at me, for 1 am now going to unite you in the holy bonds of marriage by God'e ordi nance. Do you think you are suffi ciently sober to cumpreheud its solem nity r eriff e 9, sir." d oM a rri t i'ge being one of Gods holy or dinances, cannot be kept in ein, misery, filth and drunkenness. Thomas, will you take Matilda to be your true, only, wedded wife ?" "Yea sir.' "You promise that you will live with her, in sickness as well as health, and nourish, protect and comfort her as your true and faithful wife ; :hat you will be to her a true and faithful husband ; that you will not get drunk, and will clothe yourself and keep clean." "So I Will." "Never mind answering until! I get through. You promise to abstain totally froin every kind of drink that intoxicates, and treat this woman kindly, affectionate ly, and love her as a husband should love his wedded wile. No•.v all of this, will you, here before ine as the servant of the Most High—herein the sight of God in Heaven. most faithfully prmnise, if give you this woman to be your wedded wife?" "Yes, I will." "And you, Matilda, on your part, will you promise the saute and be a true wile to this man ?" will try, sir." "Hut do you promise all this faithful- ly ?" "Yes, sir, I will." "Then 1 pronounce you man and wife." "Now, Thomas," says the new wife, after I had made out the certificioes and given it to her, with an injunction to keep it safely—"now pay Mr. Pease, and let us go home and break the bottle." Thom as felt first in the right hand pocket. men the left, than back to the right, then be ex amined the watch-fob. Why, where is it I" says she, •you had two dollars this morning!" "Yes, I know it, but I have only got two cents this evening. There, Mr. Pease, take them, it is all I have got in the world ; what more can I give I" Sure enough, what could he do more I took them and prayed over them, that in parting with the laic penny, this couple might have parted with a vice, a wicked, foolish practice which had reduced them to such a degree of poverty and wretched ness, that the monster power of ruin could hardly send its victims lower. So Tom and Mag were transformed in to Mr. and Mrs. Elting and having grown somewhat more so her while in the house, seemed to fully understand their new posi tion, and all the obligations they hail taken upon themselves. For a few days I thought occasionally of this two-penny marriage, and then it be• came absorbed with a thousand other scenes of wretchothoss which I have wit nessed since I have lived in this centre of city misery. Time wore on and I mar ried many oilier couples—olteu those who came ill their carriege and left a golden marriage fee—a delicate way of giving to the needy—but among all I had never per formed the rite of a couple quite so low ae that of this two-penny lee, and I resolved hem would again. At length, however, I had a call for a full match to them, which I refused. "Why do you come to me to be married, ,my friend," said I to the man. Yin] are both moo poor to live separate, and besides you are both terrible drunkards, I know you ire." ••That is just what we want to get mar ried.for. sod take the pledge." . "Take that first." "No, we must take all together, nothing elle will save us." that 1" "It did one of my friends." ," Well, then, go and bring that friend hero; let lire see and hear how touch it saved him, and then I' will wake up my mind what to (10; If I can do you any good twain' to do it." "My friend is at work—he has got a good juts and several , hands working for him and is making money, and won't quit till night:' Shill" I come this even ing?" "Yes, I will stay at borne and wait for . little; expected .Ig,eee him again, but about f 3. said that a man arid'hiegirl, With arid lady, were waiting in' the. reception room. I told him 10 ask the , !kady ,end 'gentleman to walk.up to, the,pKtor and sit I' moment while.) sent the,canditlates ;for marriage dwai", being determined never to unite an other drunken ilSiiipte,'not tireerning that thereweiraick syinpati,ty between the par r, thse. .litat sissty, would. not count tap ; shay wiltl lll 4.lP Rea that couple married. So I Win% down,and 14unit the 'squalidly wretch• idiot& in" eisinnishy witli a well dressed • laboring man,' or be wore a fine black roet e silk great, gold watch chain, clean white, shirt end cravat, polished call•skin hoots; and hit wife was just as neat and I .litilly""dreised es anybody's wife, arid tier face beamed with intellgenee, and the way ba'Which she , clung to the arm of tier illis• band, as she seemed to altrink from told that she was a loving as well sea pier. ty wife. "This couple," says the gentleman, 'have come to be married." "Yes, I know it, bin I have refused.— Look at them; do they leek like tit jade for such a holy ordinance? God never intended those whom he created ill his own image should live in matrimony' like this man and woman. I cannot mar. ry them." "Cannot! Why not? You married us when we were worse off—inure dir ty—worse clothed, and inure intoxica ted." The woman shrunk hack a little more nut of sight. I saw she trinubled viidently, and put her clean cambric handkerchief up to her eyes. What could it mean ! Married them when worse off? Who were they ! “Have you forgotten us ?” said the wo men, taking toy hands in hers, end drop ping on her knees ; "have you forgotten drunken Tom and Mag ? We have never forgotten you, but pray for you every day !" "If you have forgotten them, you have not forgotten the twopenny marriage.— No wonder von did not know us. I toad Matilda she need not be afraid, or ashamed, if you did know her. But I knew you would not. flow could you I We were in rags and dirt then. Look at us now.— All your work, sir. All the blessing of that pledge and that marriage, and that good advice you gave us. Look at this suit of clothes, and her dress—all Matil da's work, every stitch of it. tCoine and Zook at our house, as nest as she is.— Everything in it to make a comfortable home; and oh, Sir, there is a cradle in our bedroom. Five hundred dollars al ready i❑ bank, and I shall add as much more next week when I finish my job. So much for one year of a sober hie, and a faithful, honest, good w ife.— Now, this man is as good a workman as I am, only he is bound down with the gal ling fetters of drunkenness, and living with this woman just as I did. Now, he thinks that he can reform just as well as toe; but he thinks he must take the pledge of the same man, and have his first effort sanctified with the same blessing, and then, with good resolution, and Matilda and foe tip watch over them, I do believe they will succeed." So they did. So may others by the same means. I married them, and as I shook hands with Mr. Elting, at parting, he left two coins in my hand, wi:h the simple remark that there was another two• penny marriage tee. 1 was in hopes that it might have been a couple of dollars this time, but I said nothing, and we paned with a mutual God bless you. When I went up stairs I tossed the coins into my wile's lap, with the remark, "twopennies again. my dear." , ••Two pennies ! Why, hitsband, they are eagles—real golden eagles. What a deal of good they do. What blessings have followed trim set." ll= "And will follow the present, if the) pledge is faithfully kept. Truly this is a good result of a Two• Penny Marriage." The editor of ihe Alhany.Register com ments thus upon this simple word. so corn• mon yet so full of solemn stud tender meaning : ‘.flow many emotions cluster around that word. How full of sadness, and to us, how full of sorrow it sounds. It ie with us a consecrated word. We heard it once within the year as we hope never to hear it again. We spoke it on an oc casion, such as we hope never to speak it again. It was in the Another oldest!, at the still hour of night's noon. The cur tains to the windows were all (dosed, the lights were shaded, and we stood in the dim and solemn twilight, with others, n rimed the bed of the dying. The damps of death were on her pale young brow. and coldness was on her lips, as t kissed her for the last time while living. "Gond bye, my daughter?' we whispered. and “Good hye, father," came faintly from her dying lips. We keow not it she ever spoke more. lint "Good-bye . ' was the last we ever heard of her sweet voice. We hear that sorrowful word of sit, and often as we sit alone. busy with the memories of the past. We hear it in the silence of the night, in the hours of nervous wake fulness, as we lay upon our bed thinking of the loved and the lost to us. We hear it in our dreams, when her sweet tare comes back to tie, as it was in its loveliness and beauty. We hear it when we sit be side her grave in the eemetry where she sleeps, alone. with no kindred as yet by her side. She was the hope of ourlik the prop upon which to lean when age should come upon us, and life should he miming to its dregs. The hope and the prop is gone. and we care not how soon we go down to sleep beside our darling, beneath the shadow of the trees in the coy of the dead. Moral Character. Them is nothing which adds so 11)11011 to the hia l uty Mid power of man :IS a good diameter. It dignities hint in every sta tion, exalts hint in every period of lite.— Sueh a character is inure to be desired than everything else on earth. No ser• vile tool, no crimehing sycophant, no treacherous, Itonor•seeker ever bore such a character; the pure joys of righteous• !MIS never spring in Hurl a p'-rein. It young men but knew how nitwit a good charsetur would dignity and exalt them, how glorious it would make their pros pects even in this life. never should we find them yielding to the grovelling and baseborn parpoges of 1111.1411 nature. DIRTANCE OF TRH SPIRIT LAND FROM VIP EARTll.—Aecortlitug to a vision of A. .1. Davis, "between the spirit home and the earth. there are strewn along and throughout the intervening distance, like 111110•SlolleS Marking' Ole length of the 11111/• rends—thus making space an limed and reliable fart in infinity—more than four hundred thousand planets aud fifteen thou sand solar bodies of lesser inagnitude."— Ile professed to see the eontoittieut parti c'ea of our atmospherie globules us ttis tinctly as the natural eye call see the shot in a gigs*. Imitle. A young buck, of the soap•lock order, who wore an unshaven fa v,. bocause, as he said., it -looked furreign," lately accoa ted a Yankee as follows ; "I say. fellow, some individuals think I am a Frenchman, mid some take nm for an Eialycan,llll%V. what do you think I am ?" "I think you are a darned f 00l !" replied Jonathan. We (Mes heard of a darker, who was hoeing corn hare-footed. and seeing his big toe protruding through the thrt, mistook it for the head of a mail, and hiniog it a smart blow with his hoe chopped it completely off. Alice Carey in, a kite poem, uses this very beautiful figure : • "Even for the (lend I will not bind My soul to grief—denth e.,nuot long Jivide ; For is it riot aa if the ru+r had climbed My garden wall and bluitmonted on the other aide r Mrs. Partington is of the opinion that Mount Vesuvius should take old Towns end's sarsaparilla, to cure itself of erup• lions. The old lady Minks it has been vomiting so long, that nothing else would stay on its sunned'. ADVICK GI:AM.—III walking, always turn your toes out, and your thoughts in ward. he former will prevent yOu from falling into cellars, the latter from falling in.o NV hen you are adttressing4 blockheads he as grandiloquent hP possible-1m the less such people understand, the inure pro found Bitty think you are. In 'scum, recollect feathers fall as fast as guineas• There are no hands upon the clock of eternity ; there is no shadow upon its dial. The very hours bf heaven will he measured by the sunshine—not by the shadow. EXTRAORDINARY Damaou RY LIGHT NING.—Oit Saturday evening last the house of Mr. Needham Nichols, in Heading, Mass., was struck by a thunderluilt and nearly tinned. Half a dozen bolts descend ed upon the house simultaneously. A hole was made in the side olthe chimney, and a large hole some six feet square was torn in the roof. The lightning spread to all parts of the house, completely shatter ing it, so that it will have to be rebuilt.— Doors were torn from their hinge!.. Win dows smashed, timbers eharred,nta a gen eral wreck prevailed everywhere. No person was injured. Henry Ward Beecher says "there is • great deal more Gospel in a loaf of bread sometimes. than in an old dry sermon." It is said that a boy or girl fifteen years of age may, be bought. the interior,of Africa, for four yard* of Manclosiesooteellet —value, sixpence. Good-bye TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM NUMBEIt 15. "I' j For the Star mid Demur NOTES OF A' TRIP TO EUROPE. No. 5. MESSRS. Editors :—The traveller loaves Scotland, fascinated by the grandeur unit beauty of her scenery ; by the most inter estiug historical associations and tradition ary legends of her Bucket castles and pal aces; and by the many virtues of her peo ple. The reverence which the Scotch pay to religion, their high-toned morality, in- flexible integrity, suavity, hearty spirit of . hospitality, valor and patriotism, have won for them an enviable name, and given to Suotland the prowl title of "The nurse of men." The el being rough, the nigh t dark, and the passengers on board the bus few, the party in the cabin became renew kably sociable. Could you have seen us, you would have thought we were old Minn's' met after a long separation. The sympathy which I always bad for Ireland was only equalled by my desire to see it. We arm Irish at Belfast in the merM! big, after enjoying the sight Of the highly rich and beautiful country along the mem t.; Having reached my hotel through the its- sistauee of a hull-starved 'looking man, M. most emaciated horse, and a wore-Out If rise jaunting cur, I started out to see the city. It was early in the morning—the streets were very quiet, and the only pitta' suns to be seen were the watchmen going' their rounds and numerous miserable 111-i thy, ragged awl must abandoned looking creatures skulkitig, and reeling aloug the courts and alleys from hum door of vice to another. Here, among the lowest class; you see poverty, ignorance mud vice grang 1 hand in hand. Belffist presents a very ell' appearance, contains many elegant dwel ! hugs, diuretics, and public building, is tltst increasing itt size, and is beautifully situ.' ! sued and surrounded by a very rich cowl try. It would be n much more prosporout seaport town, were it not that the eptratiessi to the harbor was so very narrow and iti-; convenient. The reputation of it's litera ry institutions and its many extensive lin en factories, have brought it into general. notice. Walking out several miles into the country, I rutted the farms as well Cul tivated us any I have ever seen. But the elegant farm-houses and the lowly mud hut , contrasted too strongly. The beautiful ' dark green fields, well drained, and the hifw thorn° hedge, well trimmed, gave it the garden-like appearance. The greed soil fit' "Auld Ireland" possesses a richness of color peculiar to itself. It is the bright= est and liveliest green I ever saw. After spending several days iii Belfast and the surrounding country, I started for Dublin. There is a pleasure in travelling through' lrelirad, everywhere you are treated in ditt most kind and friendly ifinuilief,lind every thing is done to add to your pleasnre aid comtort. The more you see of the Irish' the more you like them. They love their (toiletry and kindred supremely and hate England most piously, and not without a cause. They love to talk of America, be,' cause it is the adopted hum: of so, many of their kindred. On entering every town, when travelling in Ireland, you pass' through a long line of most despicable looking hovels and see a most fearful array of poverty and filth. Throughout the whole Island the poor are extremely deal ., tuts, and the rich live in the greatest isf 7 !humeri. After travelling the greater part of s day we arrived at I)(iblin and ! found that the all absorbing Nide of vetivers:diets was, tile I.; rout Dublin Exhibition, which would be Open to the public in the course of ten days. None of the califs which I visited mile as favorable an impression upon tey mind as 1 hiblin. Some of the ethers were larger aud contained many inure elegant and magnificent build ings, but to me ;here was something in the appearance of Dublin and the manners cud customs of its citizens which was peculiar ly fascinating. Here you art' not watched with a suspicious eye and treated as a' ro g ue untill yell prove yourself the con trary, us in Eughind ; neither are you charged most exorbitant prices for ineon oeivably nonsensical les) -be!ti, an at their Hotels, nor surrounded on all sides by Ira eau vampires who would draw the last drop of blood if they knew it contained gold--,as many English business men ; but by an honorable and honest people.-- , - i The Quays of Dublin are among its princi ple beauties ; they lie on each side' of the river Lithe which is banked and walled the entire length of the city in the most dime.' ble mummer. Tho river is sprained by numerous bridges, which add greatly to tint beauty of the city. Among the buicdings of greatest note is the flank of Ireland,' formerly the old Parliament House, the scene of many interesting historical events ; the University of Dublin which ranks high and compares favorably with 'any in the world ; the Royal College of Surgente, with its extensive and eloquently arrange 4 museum ; the Exchange a most magnitb cent building which dues great honor to the energy and zeal of the merchants by whom. it was erected ; and Dublin Castle, which : containti numerous large and elegaut.apart ' meats mud well arranged chapels, decorates with beautiful curving on oak. To give you an idea of the feelings of the Irish in • regard to their present form of Govern- meat, I will ram, whit I saw oue night at the Theatre Royal Dublin. The per formalities were try the particular request of Sir Edward Blakney and Lady. The Theatre was crowded and there waspresent a most brilliant display of the beauty, wealth and style of Dublin. Curiosity was On ILO tip-ton to tiee Sir E. Blaney. Af -1 ter a few moments he made his appearance, attended by about fifty officers in uniform from the Garrisou. The audience gave' three cheers which he acknowledged in a most respectful manner. After a silence of a few memeuts a young man in the pars 1 quet, ram up, and looking all around in the most calm and deliberate wanner, pro potted " three , ,cheers to Mimbell and the other Irish exiles ;" this Was answered =by three as loud and hearty cheat* as wee r rang through the Rf la, Theatre of Dublis- I My time being limited I was unable, tow main in Dublin long ruotaglC to wits«. ,- sba opening of her arms &fah kw Be , IS vary drairaua ut mins the isierior. itus eaorreetut hal Itlios, AO i milk vs; .
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