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THE OLD TURNHICE.
We hear 110 more the clanging hoof,
An&tbo stage-coach rattling by ;
For the steam king rules the traveled arid,
And the old pike's left to die.
The grass creeps o'er the flinty path,
And the stealthy daisies steal
Where once the stage horse, day by day
Lifted his iron heel
No more the weary ; Mager dreads
The toil of the coming morn;
the hustling landlord runs
sound of tho echoing horn;
hist lies still upon the road,
ight-eyed children ploy
nee the clattering hoof and who
along tho way.
No more we hear the cracking whip,
Or the strong wheel's rumbling sound;
And. ab. the water driven as en,
And an iron horse is found?
The doach stands rustling in the yard,
And the horse has sought the plough ;
We have spanned the earth with an iron :it,
And the steam king rules us now !
The old turnpike is a pike no more,
Wide open stands the gat.:
We have made us a road for our horseto stri
Whitt' we tide at a flying rite; ih
We have 1111'd up the valleys and level's
And tunneled the mountain 5i.1 , .;
And round the rough crag's dizzy verge
onward we ride!
en—with a haughty fronts
puff, a shriek, and a bound;
le the lA_-fly echoes wake too late
To babble hack the sound ;
A rei the obi- pike yet& left gene,
And the stagers seta the plow;
We have circled the earth with an iron rail
And the t+teern-king rules us now.
LILY OF T. VALLEY.
,Ing-1: - --Say rather a Ely of
The speakers were two young gportsmon I
i!to Highlands of Scotland, who, wearied by
mar's shooting, were approaching a bil
spring, famous in that wild district for tie
ettidness and pureness of its waters. They 1r
just reaela.d the brow of the elevation over
looking 0, , rural fountain, when the sight of
onng girl, in the first blush of womanly bean
ty. sitting by the spring, drew tit YT-30 ejaculation
from them in succession. As they spoke
st opped, by a common inpuhle rige on Ur
fair vision a moment before it abottld be disci
patgd, which they knew it woull on their ap
The young girt was sitting on a low IN& that
rose by the side of the fotutt.tin, her dimples)
(dhow resting on the elid; and her head lean
ing on her hand. The etude was one of na
ture's own choosing, and graceful in the ex
treme, as all such -careless postures are. The
figure of the maiden was slight and sylph-like,
vet exquisitely proportioned ; nor could Can ova
have modelled a bust of more undulating out
line, or a rounder and fairer arm.
- , See, was I not right 1" said 'the last of the
t vril speakers, in a whisper to his companion.-
-She hae been gathering lilies; there are some
stilt in her hand, and a bunch nestles in her bo
acP, but only to be outs led by the- purity
"Yes, Duncan, she is more than an angel
she is a peerless Scottish lass --a lily of tilt
v a lley lestead- What, & pity so much beaut,N
was not noble born!"
4 4 Tushl" repti4yl his companion, impatient
`‘y . -Burns says--
The rault,is bat the guinea stamp,
The man's the gowd for a* that;
.11.4, to my thinking, a lovely woman is a bor
countess, at least, if she has graces of min
equal to those of person. Balet ns descend.'
He had been leaning careless on his gun as h
spoke, and now, preparatory to pmeeetlin:o
threw it on his shoulder. UnfortamatelY
trigger had caught in a bramble, and the pie.
went off, lodging its contents in his side. H
stagrird sod fell.
, iGood heavens?" cried his companio
springing 10 his assistance, and lifting th
Aronmded man up. “Are you killed? ''DO yo
hear Die, Donald 1 Merciful Father?" he e
claissed,ashe saw assign of life in his friend,
what shall we do? Be is dead or dying, and
aid 10 be bad for miles I"
The young g id we have described bad
hmied in a profinnuf 'reverie, hut at *i: re ; ;
of the gun she started like Jairightened ;
looking wildly are noul to see whence ft
ceeded. In a moment she caught sight of t
wrginded man lying on the heather shove be
him, he shouted and waved his artu fiat help.
When was woman's ear ever deaf in the call
of suffering ? The timid Scot! i • maiden, n
but a moment before was on the point of ft:, ing,
now turned and began to ascend the hill-side,
fleet and graceful as a young doe.
“Ity poor friend," said the sportsman, po
litely doming his hat as she approached, ''hen
met with an unfortunate accident, and I do not
him* what to do, or where to bear him."
A deep blush dyed the girl's cheek as she
encountered the gaze of a stranger, but it pas
sed oil immediately, and a ith a presence of
mind worthy of ono older, she stooped down 'o
see if the wounded man was dead.
The face she beheld was as handsome a man
ly countenance as the sun ever shone upon;
and perhaps she thought so, for the blush again
came to her cheek. The features were cast in
a lofty, almost heroic mould, and were hatica
tive of a character at once firm and elevated,
a something above the mere tine gentleman,
which was evidently his social rank.
"He breathes still," she said, as she broke
off a delicate leaf from one of her links and
held it to his nostril; and looking at his com
panion she continued, "do you think you
could carry him to the spring r ,
The sportsman answered by carefully lifting
his friend up in his arms and bearing him do
the hill-side, the young girl Hollowing.
"Place him here," she said pointing to the
slightly elevated bank. "and lean his he=ad
against the rock. Everything," she continu
ed, "now depends on you getting a surgeon
soon. If you will follow that path to your
right around the turn of the hill, you will find
our cabin. There is a pony therewhich you
can take, and ride to the little town of Aber
nethy, some live miles otf, where, fortnnately,
a surgeon may be had. At the cabin you will
find a shepherd or two—tell them to bring me
some bed-clothes and a settee, on which to car
ry your friend to the house. It is an humble
place, but better than the hill side. By the
time you get back with the surgeon we shall
have your friend in a comfortable bed, and I
hope doing better."
When be had vanished around the hill tho
young girl took some water in her haul . and
bathed the face of the wounded matt.
ill Lity insensible.
think and fast from her lovely eyi.w
"Alas," she said, "he is dead! What
has a mother, or ono dearer still!
but hal an hour ago he was in the full st r agt h
of health and manhood. It cannot be- 14v e
heard," she continued, eagerly, as if . 'den
thought had strneklier, anti she la_Tan n
I its vest to get at the wound, "that my Iv
are died at Cuiloden from ti, • : , :ood. 4' .L._111.1-
ing in the wound, when, it •-•trzefm had
by, he might have been saved. What if
Lis should be the case here I"
She bad by this time bared sufficient of his
INrson to get at the urine • '', wound. The
disk gore had almost frut, it. She
Wised at it, an instant, the tears falling fa tin
I,v4rnanly sympAthy, as - d. then a sudden idea
souned to fitri!ce ShlY stooped down, a!;t1
toiderly approachin?, the wound, commenced
away the congealed blood. She had
trovarca eugnged in her task of mercy
\Am the wounded man stirred, and opening
hip eyes filed them eirnestly upon her,
Fhe started from her kneeling posture iff
erci with beautiful confusion. rt.r a to
the sense of maidenly shame e h 4A-2rcrime
her isq , at his recovery, and she could not meet
“Wicre am I?” be inquire -4. ror his memo
ry watyet vague. '.W hat spirit from heaven
are yol? Ah t I remember—my gun went off.
But whereas 'Harry ?"
The dung girl had now In a rr. - Asure , rueov
-4 -red film her embarrassment. "if you nteaut
your frbod," she said, half timidly, and in a
a voice hat sounded to the ears of the sufferer
inexpressßy sweet, ""he is gone for a surgeon.
I have cont-nted to watch by you till some
shepherdso to carry you to our cabin.—
“And htere y come, Heaven be blessed!"
she exclaim* clasping her hands, equally
glad to conclud, t ide em b arrtuos i ng iefe _ s _ tete
and to see the w44aded man placed in a situa
tion of more concert„
-Heaven bless YAP?" said the sufferer, with
emphasis, giving hert look which brought the
!dashes again to her alinatena.rice. i , You hare
saved my life. a
In a few moments theti r md e d ht
man was p.
cod upon a settee brough by t h e shepherds,
and the little cavalcade wed ite way toward
the cabin. The maiden w* last, and by her
side stalked sadly the Mod' o f t h e s uff e rer,
' and the dumb aninlate, with * a lmost ha_
man, as if appreciating her k eel to t h e i r
master, looked up alleetionatelyipto her face
every few steps.
The cabin enielihe thew exi 4 leg %erywhere
in the Ifighbmds---ainde lAA cheerth ha bi ta .
don, bet WAS both bigger than wand,ado r n.
with more taste inside. The wou a maill
as he was borne into an Weer chom o f
which the hems) hul apparently at ~-.
noticed, with somersarPrioel,.:.avres the 1 : i
an old faithioned target and brood claymore
In about teA hours the friend of the suffer;
'gas still awake, sitting anxiously by the tire,
it company with a utioltllo-4red. woman, the
fe of one of the shephertis.
~O h, Miss Ilelen," said the old surgeon, an
svering the inquiry of her eyes, "you have
*vet' the life of as braw a lad as ever shot a
'1341 utr-cAlekg stalked a red deer. I know all
t it, yeTee, lassie;" then seeing that lleb n
ready to cry with sheer vexation, he rou
t ued, —but it's in the Muill, it's in the 1,1111;1;
yeeatne of a generous and gallant race," and
ittpatted her hem as a father we that of a
feorite daughter, adding, as if to himself,
"jis a pity the Southron has the broad acres
tlit were once her ancestors; and that she,
ctiting of a chieftain's line, should have noth.
input a cabin and a few bits of hill-side for a
110.1 or two of sheep."
leten did not hear these last remarks, for
th(llohl man spoke in a whisper, and she had
risr, now that she knew the result, to retire.
for•the feared the other young sportsman would
to next day the wounded man was pro
notnced better, but still in a very critical situ
aticu ; and his removal was expressly forbidden
tit; old surgeon.
44 1 e menu keep him here awhile yet lassie,"
he s&d, addressing Helen; "and I'm almost
perstaded ye'el hap to he his nurse. He line
.rs, or mother to send for, it seems; and
and 11 are very rough nurses, ye ken. Mrs.
Colinais here, and will nae doubt help; but ye
realm )e his nurse, maist of the time, yeerself.
Aweel awed, don't look frightened; 'tis what
e..-.n't to lielfwd."
Anti so, !friers, ill!' i.! and emifarrased, was
Ottnildled, front tht• nrgent necessity of the
tttse, to attend on ti:g• wounded man. His
fend indeed remained to assist in nursing
pm; but the invalid, with the white of a sick
*an, soon began to refuse his utedieincs, un
. administorod by the hand of Helen, and
eetened by her smile. :Vioreover, until,the
finger was over, his friend watched every
*lit at his bedside, and in consequence re
<tiring a portion of the day for rest, Helen
u , necessarily left Won.. for hours, with th..
14 , tided man. The -.•-• . in, ler the first two
We 8, came every day to see his pati e nt ; hut,
his, visited him less frequently.
is getting along wool enough now," he
% tlay, when llelen loiif.v.ed him out of
• , I. t., :lilt 11.4 qv:OWD . • • - .1, :1 :. ....:,eds is
.:rii ..+ 'I„ lasfde," ho eo;., i 1 , : : !.,:- .
irchly, nd shaking his grey head, , -i t'...,'•i.
,OySt.'l' we etnOsi V. iliint to be on a sick tel
fur a „night, if I could hue two sue% e• ,
It w • -.ot long after this, for he now til - ,l
ed rapi -, that the invalid began to sit up.
and vet eon he could totter to the window,
and 100 ut. In a day or two more he fOund
his Wa the cottage door, where, sitting in
a chair, inhaled the , 1 lioieus mountaintdr,
for an or so at noon-clay. His fi ic u 'l.
when tl. nvalid was thus far erinvale.-,• 1:: .
t o ok to gun again, awl went out for game;
and so a and her guest were frequently
left alo , )gether.
It is s o be suiiposed that this intimacy
betwee , two congenial spirits could go On
without ,t, on one side at feast.
..sswlies% H I ever th nik you sufficiently,
Helen?' 4 D..;1: 1,, ... .. f:.. .-oking at her
funlify. have ;, •:, r '- ‘ ..: , - allude to it
since, t. II 1 ha., . , , ot it lift) titro •
daily ; b our pr,..0,:0,', ~.. , ~. . ~ 1. hen 1 n !--
(I) ing b •! spring, saved 1•• •
The ii "ag lichen looi;.ed. down, hrwt began
t r .a pick coos a hilly of the valley, her fa
vorite if ; but she enswo r , I softly, " , Don't
talk thc , Mr. Alleys. You would not,
I know, on were aware lio,A much it pained
4-0 a IPonab ," said flit> convalescent;
ftrely ave known cack other long cluing)!
fur you rop.that formal name. Or if you
will no me: Donald, then I shall address
yttii f)S Irearne."
cq , said Helen archly, looking
up, r 7 the curls hack from her thee.
4tl for the word Helen," he said, ta
king Nay, dear one, do not with
draw I—do not look away—for I love
you, as . I love my own life, and if you
will n nine I shall ever be miserable. It
is th that I have been long wishing to
say to WC - never dared."
A net Helen return the lore thus
rested 1 Had she been with him so
much know how immeasurably superior
how other men ? Why did she, in fact
shake sad and persist in withdrawing he ,.
:pie," she said, though with averted
face - tears were falling fastfroin her eyes
she -,er said, Donald--“if you would not
have eep out of your sight for ever—if, in
sit; kave tuky respect for a friendless
girl-•-ot speak in that strain again," and
she r ifto depart.
" for Heaven's sake hear mo," said
her 1. detaining her , 44 , hear me only for one
wo G. Since the hour that you saved my
life I loved yotond overplay I have spent
inyt ieViuts increased that love 0 but if
that yen levelssotimr, I vorear nev-
Mo k on that subject again."
did uotanawer. "You are rich; I am poor," she
said ati Wit, brokenly; "you would some day re
pent of this thing. Even your friends would
I.ragh at your folly."
"Then you love me," said he, eagerly. st Is
it not so ?"
But this time Helen faced Lim, and with a
dignity that quite awed his rapturil.
Mr. Alleyne, will you let me go t" she said.
I am an toiprott etod girl, and you presume on
4. , No, by Heaven, no I" he exclaimed, but let
go her hand ; r there, leave me, cruel one.—
Yon misjudge me, indeed, Miss Greatne, for
your blood is as good as mine; and even if it
were not, Donald Alleyne is not the man to
love for rank or wealth."
Helen, whose pride rather than heart had
spoken. was moved by these words, and she
lingered irresolutely. Her lover saw the change
in her demeanor, and hastened to take advan
tage of it. Nor did Helen long continue to
resist his pleadings. She loved him indeed
only too well, as she had all along confessed
to her own heart. Still, even when brought
to half acknowledge that he had a place in her
heart, she would not promise to be his with
out a condition. Ile argued long and earnest
ly, but her answer was always the same.
o; We must part for a year," she said. "You
think now, with the memory of your illness
fresh upon you that you love mei but lam come
of too bagighty ablood, though poor now, to
marry even whera rmight love ,on so sudden
and questionahle—excnse me for I must speak
plainly—so sudden and questionable an attach
ment. You are rich, fashionable, and with in
fluence; I am the last of a Hoe proscribed ever
since Culloden. Your place is the gay world,
where yon will be surrounded by troops
friends; min- is in the hunibie cabin where a
few poor dependants have been my only com
panions, ever since my father died. If you
really love me, you will retitri at the end of the
ear: and in forget me, "—her lips quiver
ed. but she went 0n.4.-----ifyor forget me, I shall
live here, with tin,. heather and muir-cock, as
I have lived before."
1.14. r lover was therefore coripelled to submit.
But think ) on he IyAntred or adored licr less for
her resolution I No be worshipped her the
mere for it. There was a proud independence
tn her baniehroant. -3—ne
said to himself, the daaileaStm-otainomins wbe
has Am- 6 u. ..e v......;ochturnand'rtadden richt,
and sacrificed_their all at Culloden.
Two weeks fr,,ln time Donald and his
friettd left the Highland cabin, and Helen was
alone. Is ever beroro hatt she known what it
waS to h. early alone. She co=itanually
the itr..•-•.:tee of that manly font., the light of
that eye, the deep tones of that :wilily
tit , vcr knew how much she loved
tiiil her lute r was away.
But, t.:ven a year will pass/ and just a twelve
month from nen Id.s departure Helen salt at
the spring side which she had named for the
trysting spot if her lover proved faithful. She
had been there alreadalready for many hours, watch
ing with an eager timid heart-, half trembling
at her own folly in expecting hint, half ar , • !'y
with la : elf for her doubts; but now, at: '.t•
gloam "o • cattle on, yet no Donald appeared.
:tor he.. swelled nigh to bursting. She rl•:
ire , • • ;:':'y and looked up the bridle path,
nol •.' as in sight. At last the star 4 7 - I'‘
to 4 • . 1 , ' lit; the wind grew chill; and t. I
i,relcen heart she rose to return try tl.o
cabin. Her tears were tailing fast.
might have known this,'" she said ..t.l!y.
' o not all my books tell me the Sault*
ef the old story Or trusting avom:t:i and
At this instant an arm was thrown around her
waist, and a well-retnembered voice whispered,
in her ear----“ Now l,len llear, one of our cruel
sex at least, is falsified. I thought to steal on
you unawares and surprise you; and so went
round by the cottage to leave my horse there.
Ilad you looked behind, instead (xfbet`tyre ;c u,
you would have frustratelittlef.sx.hlito by
seeing rue coming tt p t he gloaming."
What could she say', She said nothing, but
burying her lace on his shoulder, wept glad
tears. I have waited a whole year impatiently
for this day," said he; a thank Heaven I find
you mine at last.
A month from that time Sir Donald Alleyno
introduced his bride to his ample domains in
England; and never had a fairer wife entered
the splended halls of his ancestors.
la the great gallery of the castle is a picture
eta youngSeettish girl, with a half peutive
,:sitting by a ntountain spring; width. old
hottse4weper, as she gees the rounds
ttats, pauses before the protralt #d say, it That
rho lateness of the lard udy Alley)* ; and
lovely alto was, and as good as lovevely. By
her husband, the late baronet, she was always
called the Lilly ortho Valley. Why I have
Bat you WO*, reader; If yen ehenkt over
'OK 41,11eyne Oaatle you - will have no seed to
be told the hde
A nor called a doctor tia visit hitt father,
who bad the dam, tremens; not tiAt ty
tacanberinig the none of the dhalquoe, he called
it to devil'. tombs—matatio bad Latin,
Vet very good Eve.
y, weeping, but
I have seen and heard of people who thought
it beneath them to work—to employ them
selves industriously at some useful labor. Be
neath them to work! Why, work is the great
motto of life; and he who accomplishes the
most by his industry,is the most truly great
nlan—aye, and is the most distinguished man
among his fellows, too. Aml the man who
fogets his duty to himself, his fellow creatures,
and his God—who so far forgets the groat bles
sings of life, as to allow his energies to stag ;
nate in inactivity and uselessness, had better
die; for says Holy Writ, ci He that will not
work, neither shall he eat." An idler is a Cunt
borer of the ground—a weary curse to himself,
as well as to those around him.
Beneath human beings to work! Why,
what but the continued history that brings
forth the improvement that never allows hint
to be contented with any Ittirement he may
have made—of work that he may have effected,
what but this raises man above the brute cre
ation, and, under Providence, surrounds him
with comforts, luxuries and reflnements„pliys
ical, mom] and intelectual blessings? The great
orator, the great peiet, and the great Wiener,
are great working men. Their vocation is in
finitely more laborious than that of the haudi
craft sman ; and the student's life has more anx
iety than that of any other man. And ail,
without the perseverance, the intention to real
industry, cannot thrive. Hence the number
of mere pretensions to scholarship, or those
who have not strength and industry to be real
scholars, but stop half way, and aro amatterers
—a shame to the profession.
Beneath human beings to work! Look in the
artist's studio, the poet's garret, where the
genius of immortality stands ready to seal his
work with an uueff►ceable signet, and then you
will only see industry standing by his side.
Beneath human beings to work! Why, I had
rather that a child of mine should labor regu
larly at the lowest, meanest employment, than
to waste its body, mind and sole, in fully, idle
ness, and uselessness. Better to wear out in
a year, than to rust out in a century.
Beneath human beings to work! Why what
but work hag tilled our fields, clothed our bod
ies, built our houses, raised our churches, prin
ted our books, cultivated our minds and souls ?
“Work out your own salvation/' says the in
spired Apostle to the Gentiles.
*bleb, as you travel on the western banks of
the river, you may see Biting its ancient towers
on the opposite side, above the grove of trees
about, as old as itself.
About forty years ago there lived in that cas
tle a noble gentleman,whom s shall call Baron
—. The Baron had only one son, who was
not only a comfort to his father, but a blessing
to ail who lived on his fathers's land.
It happened on a certain occasion that this
young man being from home, there came a
French gentleman to see the Baron. As soon
as this gentleman came into the castle, he be
gan to talk of his Heavenly Father in terms
that chilled the old man's blood: on which the
Baron reproved him, saying, << Are you not
afraid of offending God, who reigns above, by
speaking in such a maner ?" The gentleman
said he knew nothing about God, for he had
never seen him. The Baron did not notice at
this time what the gentleman said, but the next
morning took him about his castle grounds,
and took occasion first to show him a very beau
tiful picture that hung upon the wall. The
gentleman admired the picture very much, and
said, whoever drew this picture, knows very
well how to use his pencil."
"My son drove that picture," said the Baron.
e•Then your son is a veryselever man," re
plied the gentleman.
The Baron went with his visitor into the gar
den, and showed him many beautiful flowers
and plantations of forest trees.
"Who has the ordering of this garden ?"
asked the gentleman.
4 , 31 y son," replyed the baron, s 4 he knows
evrr plant, I may say, from the cedar ofLebtin
tql to the hyssop on the wall."
4e Indeed," said the gentleman, "I shall think
very highly of him soon."
The baron then took him into the village and
showed him a small, neat cottage, where his
son had established a school,and where he caus
ed all young children who had lost their pa
rents to be received and nourished at his own
expense. The children in the house looked
so innocent and so happy, that the gentleman
was very much pleased, and when he returned
to the castle, he said to the Baron,
cc What a happy man you are to have so good
eg How do you know I have so good a son t,
" .aecauso I have seen his works, and I
that he inuitrozrivve r •
all Mat yotriave sliow me."
fc But yon have never seen him."''
No but I know hint very well, because I
judge of him by flis works."
to True," replied the Baron, of and this is the
way I judge .of the character of our Heavenly
Father. I know from His works, that Ile is a
being of infinite wisdom, and power, and good
The Frencimmn felt the force of the reproof,
and was careful not to offend the good Baron
any more by his remarks.
WORE ! WORK !
party in Washington, which runs thus:—
Ile said that a few weeks since Governor Soy
mour of New York wrote to him, that shim he
had vetoed the Liquor Law Ii had received
various letters from gentleman in different
parts of the state, both approving and disap
proving of his course in the premises. Among
them was one from au honest old deacon, who
resided somewhere in the center of the State,
which commended his action in the strongest
terms. The old gantlevaan alluded to informed
the governor that he was deeply interested in
the debates on both sides of the question, and
did not let one 'jot or tittle' escape him. He
had, too, ho said, 'looked up' his Bible from
Genesis to Revelations, in order to see how the
liquor question was there treated, and after ma
ture delibeat ion he came to the conclusion Mt
all the great and good men, as Noah, Moses,
David, Solomon, and Jesus, not only were par
takers of the , rosy,' but recommended it to
others: in a word, in his researches he only
found one instance where a man called for cold
water, and that ho was in 11-1, where be ought
to be." This cut direct at old Dives, who was
rather wroth at not being allowed to spread his
blanket in company with Lazarus, in the bosom
of Father Abraham,—raised something of a
smile, perhaps we should say rather a broad
grin, among the partakers of Mr. Marcy'wino,
at the convivial set-to in question.
A HAPPY LAND.-A writer from Florence says
that in some respects Italy is the most delight-
ful country in the world. It is a land, for ex,.
ample, where cleaning bootie, washing day and
all other such interesting epochs in the Amer
ican calender, are intolerated and unknown.=
This exemption front the great domestic evil
of cleaning house is owing not so much to a
love of dirt as to the peesuliar construction 01
the hnikiing. Thus, for instance, whore the
ceilings and wall are fre , ;Poed,orthe lattt-r cov
ered wiet-1111. .or paper hangings, there is no
need ofirhitc-washing, and where the panels
and doors are of marble or oak' there is no
necessity for scouring paint. The ceilings
and walls are kept clean by long-handled brush
es. The carpets there are fastened to iron
rings in the floor, by means of large hooks In
the binding, and tic,
down again as no,
covers. -Jin Ili '.,pt
is dime at an early hour in the morning, before
the (amity are awake for the day : and 80 qui
eny is it accomplished that to a stranger It
seems as if the invisible wand of some mighty
magician had changed all in' tho night.
A drunken husband having advertised hfs
wife in the Kosciusko Sun warning the public
not to trust her, she addressed the editor the
WllO 14 RESPoisinix Roy : I find in
your paper an advertisement- over the signa
ture of T. Cottrell, forewarning all persons
from selling mc any thing on - his alcount, and
that ho does not consider himself responsible
for any debt I may contract. It was al together
unnecessary for Mr. Cottrell to insert such en
advertisement in your paper, for no one who
knows anything about his character will credit
him on his own account. I shall not degrade
myself by replying to the scurrilous advortise
ment of a man who has for many years beou a
drunken inmate of a whiskey doggery, and
whose reputation, decency, character, and
credit have left him long since; but in conclu
sion, I will remark, that I forewarn all persons
from letting Mr. Thos. Cottrell have anything
on my account, as I have heretofore paid his
debts and supported him, and cannot consis.
tently with my own feelings and intrest to do
so any more. Martha Ann McCary.
BEAVTIVITh ExraAcT.—The annexed beautiful
lines are taken from Sir Huniphry Davy 's Sal
monia:—l envy no quality of the mind or in
tellect in others, be it genius, power, wit t*
fancy; but if I could choose what would be
most delightful and useful, I should prefer a
firm religiont , belief to eery other blessing, for
it makes life a discipline of goo lness; creates
new hopes when all earthly hopes vanish; and
throws over tho decay, the, destruction of ex
istence, the most gorgeous of all lights; awa
kens life even in death, and
and decay calls up beauty and
an instrument of tOrturie and •
to Paradise; and far above al
earthly hopes calls tip the mot
ions of palms and amaranths, the garden of the
blest, the security of everlasting joys, where
the sensualists and skeptic views only gloom,
decay, annihilation and despair.
1171 n e recent familiar chat between Madam
Ainiz and the celebrated Dr. Hamm, the 'gad;
took,miCaslon to remark that cc the men of the
present age, if forany ono thing above another,
are celebrated for wearing fats hearts 1" "Yes.
my dear madam," pithily rejoined the doctor,
and th© ladies for false bosoms 1" Madam
said a meta i ,
had a brother
his will, faith and he did.