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THE OLD Trn N PIKE.
We hear no more the clanging hoof,
AndUbe etage-eoftelt rattling by
For the steam king rules the traveled mid,
And the old pike's left to die_
The gram creeps o'er the flinty path,
And the stealthy daisies steal
Where once the stage horse, day by day
Lifted his iron heel.
No mom the weary stager
The toil of the coming morn ,
No more the bustling landlord rune
At the sound of the echoing horn ;
For theilust lies still upon the road,
And bright eyed children play
Where once the clattering hoof end who(
Rit.tued. along the way.
No more we hear the crackling whip,
Or the strong wheel's rumbling sound;
And. eh, the water drives ms on,
And an iron horse is found?
The eoseh stands rustling in the yard,
And the horse has sought the plough ;
We hare spanned the earth with en irou
And the steam king rules us now !
The old turnpike is a pike net more,
Wide open stands the gate
We have made us a road for our horse to strie
Which we ride at a flying rate; ib 1
We have up the valleys and !event b
And tunneled the mountain side;
And round the rough erag's dizzy verge
Fearlessly onward we ride!
On —on—with a haughty front
A pull, a shriek, and a grand;
Whihi the tardy echoes wake too late
To babble back the 54.1E11141 ;
n 4 411,6 4014, pike reed +Heft alone,
And the stagers seek the plow;
W. , have circled the earth with an iron Tait,
And the stenro-kirg, rules us now.
TICS LILY OF YRS VALLEY
W hat an angcl!"-- , Say rather a lily of t
The speakers were two young sportsmen in
tine flighlands of Scotland, who, wearied by a
lon7 day's shooting, were approaching a hill
spring . , famous irt that wild district for the
coi~in.-ss and pureness of its waters. They had
just reached the brow of the elevation over
looking the rural fountain, when the sight of a
}:rung girl, in the first blush of womanly beau
ty. sitting by the spring, drew tb,- I c i ej4eulations
from them in succession. As they s - i oke tit ,
stepped, by a COIIIIIIOII inpUlso to gaze on the
fair vision a moment before it sho.tld be dissi
pated, which they knew it wen', on their ap
The young girl was sitting on a low reek tha
rose by the side of the fountain, her dimple
elbow resting on the elitkand her head lean
lag on her hand. Theatilltude was one of na
tare's own choosing, and graceful in the ax
treme, as all such -careless postures are. Th
figure of the maiden was slight and sylph-like
vet exquisitely proportioned; nor could Caney ,
have modelled a bust of more undulating on
line, or a rounder and faker arm.
"See, was I not right 1" said 'the last of t
two speakers, in a whisper to his companion.
has been gathering Mlles; there are sore
still in her hand, and a bunch nestles in her he
Win, but only to be outvied by the, purit
"Yes, Duncan, she is more than an angel—
she is a peerless Scottish lass—a lily of the
ied.oo4l- virkumb. puff so , much beauty
Oa not noble lawn!"
d 4 MA!" replied his companion:lmpatient
; "Barns says--
The rank its but the guinea stamp,
The man's the gold for a' that;
to my thinking, a lovely woman is a born
countess, at least, if she has graces of mind
equal to those of person. DUI let us descend."
Re had been leaning careless on his gun as he
spoke, and now, preparatory to prootteding,
threw it on his shoulder. VnfortimatelY the
trigger had caught in a bramble, and the pi •
went off, lodging its contents in his side. He
staggard and fell.
„ Good "heavens!” cried his entriptuuo
swinging le his assistance, and lifting
wounded man lip. “Are you killed ? 4 1)o y
hear use, Deusid? Merciful Father'!" he e
claimed, as he saw nosier of life in his friend
what shall we do? He is dead or dying, and
aid to be had for miles!"
The 'young girl we have described bid - •
buried in a profound reverie, hat at tom::
of the gun she stated like A frightened ,
looking wound tot viavoce
ceeded. In • moment she caught eight of
weinided man lying on the heather above
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while his friend, kneeling. on one knee, sup
ported the head of the offerer. Immediately
that the sportsman saw the girl was matching
him, he shouted find waved his arm Co help.
When was woman's ear cver.dearte the call
of suffering? The timid Scottish maiden, who
but a moment. before was on the point of flying,
now turned and began to ascend the hill-side,
fleet and graceful as a young doe.
~ .My poor friend," said the sportsman, po-c.
doffing his hat as she approached, “has
met with an unfortunate accident, and I do not
know' 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
led off immediately, and with a presence of
mind worthy of one older, she stooped down to
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
come to her cheek. The features were cast in
lofty, almost heroic mould, and were indica
tive of a character at once firm and elevated,
a something above the mere fine gentleman,
which was evidently his social rank.
"He breathes still," she said, as she broke
off a delicate leaf from one of her tithes and
held it to his nostril; anti looking at his com
panion she continued, "do you think you
could carry him to the spring ?"
The sportsman answered by carefully lifting
his friend up in his arms and bearing him down
the hill-side, the young girl hollowing.
“Place him here," she said pointing to the
slightly elevated bank. “and lean his head
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 bill, yon w ill find
our cabin. There is a pony there %%Web you
can take, and ride to the little town of Aher-
net y, some five miles off, where, fortunately,
a surgeon may be had. At the cabin you will
find a shepherd or two—tell them to bring the
some bed-clothes and a settee, on which to car
ry your friend to the house. It is ,41) bumble
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 he had vanished around the hill the
young girl took sonle water in her hands, and
bathed the face of the wounded man. But he
still lay insensible. After having persistei.itt
it,„ *waft "or 1,1111124.1410 any - .
lifb be perceptible, the tears be.: to fail
thick and fast from her lovely cy.P.t-
"Alas," she said, “he is dead! What it . he
a mother, or one dearer still! And yet
t half an hour ago he was in the full str , trigth
health and manhood.. It cannot be--I have
ard," she continued, eagerly, as if 1 .1
ought had struck'ber, and she beg . open
s vest to get at the wound, "that I!!y
ire died at Culloden ftvni the blood coagula
ing in the wound, when, if a surgeon had
leen by, he might have been saved. What if
is should be the case here !"
She had by this time tared sufficient of his
praon to get at the orifice a the wound. The
dtrk gore had almost statned about*. She
g.T:ed at it an instant, t ',lra falling fast in
Nrt •nanly fiympnthy. a sudden idea
sofTiled to strike her. S;ie s •Qtyped. down, a:d
toLlerly approaching the wound, eon - me s,
wiling away the congealed Mood. She h:
/DIV OM a 2,11.15 . untsni,t,vd in her task c,r mercy
feu the wounded man stirred, intil
hit eyes fixell, them earnestly upon her.
fte started from her kneeling posture or
erdt with beautiful confusion. For a MIA
the sense of maidenly sham even ov,?renta
ber at his recovery, 41.11 d SLt could not wee
" Vetere ara 1?" he impart 1. for his memo
-3p wayet vague. "What Eq , ir:t from heaven
are 3 . 0 1 % Ahl I remembl•r—lOy 71111 went or.
But Wier() Harry ?"
The.;oung girl had now In a raz:a.gze recov
ered frtn her emharraystuent. "If you meant
your friend," she said, half timidly, and in a
voice tiat sounded to the ears of the safibrer
ines.Prestigy sweet, “he is gone for a surgeon.
I have caritmted to watch by you till some
shepherds Arne to carry you to our cabin.—
"And hen My come, Heaven be blessed r
she exclaim*, clasping her hands, equally
glad to coneludk this embarrlssing tdl64-tete
and to see the likknoied man placed in a Enna-
Wm of more nom
, -Heaven bless Yt , f said the sufferer. with
emphasis, giving her, l ook which brought the
Mashes again to her ct.iitenance. “You have
saved my life.
In a few moments the minded man was pla
ced upon a settee brengh by the shepherds,
and the little cavalcade welled its way toward
the cabin. The maiden wlast,
atx last, and by her
side stalked sadly the tWOdd o f th e su gb r e r;
and the dumb animals, with a & mos t hu
man, as if appreciating her k to their
master, looked up affectlo her face
every few steps-
The cabin was like those existing ik eryw h ere
in the Iliglibuids---4 - :ittde it cheer?* babita.
t ion, bat was both btrger than use, / w orn _
ed.with more taste inside. The iv , , sma,
as he was borne into an inner ebani , of
which the:: bogie had apparently at leanalvro f
noticed, withlOntrita over the . ; , -
an old fitidOned targatailtirroad elayn
In about tit. hours the friend et thin rifler •
CLEARFIELD, TRURSDAY, JUNE 15, 1854.
leturned, bringing with him the surgeon, 'who
!'as ektseted with his patient for more than an
..en he came forth the young girl
sa4,,still awake, sitting anxiously by the tire,
i company with a mithlle-aged woman, the
4fe of one of tho- shepherds.
"Oh, Miss Helen," said the old surgeon, an-
srering the inquiry of her eyes, "you have
*ved the life of as brave a lad as ever shot a
uir-cocka stalked a red deer. 7 know all
t it, yeree, lassie;" then seeing that Het , n
ready to cry with sheer vexation, he con
* led. —hut it's in the bluid, it's in the Witt;
yOatne of a generous Ind gallant race," and
hfpatted her head as •a father would that of a
farorite daughter. adding, as if to himself,
.14.19 a pity the Sonthron has the broad acres
'At were once her ancestors; and that she,
raining of a chic ftain's line, should have noth
-I'4 but a cabin and a few bits of hill-side for a
tIOOE or two of sheep."
lelen did not bear these last remarks, for
thaohl man spoke in a whisper, and she hl
rissa, now that .lie knew the result, to retire,
for An! feared tho other young sportsman would
`fie nest day the wounded man was pro
notheed better, but still in a very critical situ
atio; and his removal was expressly forbidden
by tie old surgeon.
noun keep hint here awhile yet lassie,"
he sad, addressing Helen; "and I'm almost
perstilded ye'cl hae to be his nurse. lie inn'
use +era, or mother to send for, it seems; and
and nkat are very rough nurses, ye ken. Airs.
Colin is here, and will nae doubt help; but ye
mann je his nurse, maist, of the time, yeersolf.
Aweel awed!, don't look frightened; 'tis what
can't le helped."
Am's°, Helen, timid end emharra-4 , 1,, was
Oltnpeled, from the urgent necessity of the
tse, to attend on the wounded man. ills
i2nd helee.i remained to assist in nursing
on; u t the invalid, with the whim of a sick
an, soon began to refuse his tuedieines,
s adntinistered by the hand of Hel e n, anal
teetened by her smile. Moreover, wttil the
tgoT was over, Ids friend watela-1 every
lit at Itis bedside, and in eonsolueit..• re
(-tiring a portion of the day - for rest, 1l• len
wi necessarily left alone, for hours, w ith the
wti,nded man. The surgeon, for tl u fast two
ws, t am e every clay to see his patient, but.
aft hi,a, V iti itc d him less frequently
, is getting along wed. enough now," be
1 klay, when Helen followed him out of
I, to ask his winiort. "All ht nt izi
_ ,-.._.., - ;;;LA .oCt ril.,_ ki ,,, n Nen4.l , i • '• .
gie hi l Ab, lassie," ho continued, st,.: ; •• -
archlynd shaking his grey h. .1, 6 , 1 would,
mysell almost w Ming to be ..--, -, -.`.;1; bed
fors night, if I could Lae t'.% 1 ._..eli t:C I/
f t .
wat ehi me,
It Nv , , - ot long after this, for L..: now mend
ed rani` that the invalid began to sit up,
and rei .00n he could totter to the window,
and 100 ut. In a day or two snore he found
his wa: the cottage door, where, sitting in
a chair, inhaled the d._licious monntairr,
for an • or so :at noun-day. Ilia friend;
when t uvalid was thus far conveys.- ;.
took to gun again, and went out for g-o:1- -
and so '.n and her guest were frequeraly
left ale )gether.
It is * ohe suppr .: this intimacy
hetweo two • could go on
without 1, ou • “i i. AIL
lioN% y‘• . stadentiy,
n . 'ay, looking I , er
c o ntliy. ; dare),l to allude, it,
ince,t •ught of b fifty the. -
daily; Apir prc'stuce I w 1.-
cb lug °spring, saved my' The."
Th e j og Helen looked down, and bogan
to pick ices a !illy of the her fa
vorite dori but she answered softly, ' , Don't
talk that Mr. Alleyne. You would not,
I know, idti were aware how much it painca
t (maid," said th' convalescent;
.4snrely ave known crack other long enougi
Pti. you ,14 that lot mai name. Or ir you
will Fit e me Donald, then I shall addrels
yen , Greame."
"Do then," said Helen archly, looliAng
up, an I rig the curls hack from her nee.
‘ , lll $ for the word Helen," he said, ta
king h. , d. Nay, dear one, do not with
draw y (I—do not look away—for I love
you, I as I love my own life, and if you
will n mine I shall ever be miscrable. It
is this that I have been long wishing to
say ' * Nut never dared."
n4;d. Helen return the love thus
38/104 Had she been with him so
know how immeasurably superior
:her men ? Why did she, in fact
land persist in withdrawing her
.gtie,” she said, though with averted
hies - tears were falling fastfrom her eyes
she _ said, Donald- 4 4f you would not
have out of your sight for ever—if, in
short Irma auy respect for a friendless
gi of speak in tluVtrain again," and
she ff to depart.
" , for "leaven's sake hear ino, l * said
, taining bee ;," heat e only for one
Since the ho that you saved-may
)ved yortondoverydati have sportit
yty has increased that love; but
that vitt love another, I swear *ay..:
u that subject Again."
COME AND TAKE vr.r.---DuvivtEn'
At this instant arts arm was thrown around her
waist, and a well-remembered voice whispered,
in her ear-----“ Now Helen dear, one of our cruel
sex at least, is falsified. I thought to steal on
you unawares and stirr. i-4 you ; and so went
round by the cottage to leave my !terse there.
Had you looked behind, instead of before you,
you would bare frustrated my little scheme by
seeing me coming up the gloaming."
What could sho say a' She said nothing, but
burying her face on his shoulder, wept glad
tears. I have waited a whole year impatiently
for this day," said he; thank Heaven I find
you mine at last.
A month from that time Sir Donald Alle,ytte
introduced his bride to his ample domains in
England; and never had a fairer wife entered
the spleuded halls MIAs aweestm.
In the great gallery of the castle is a picture
of a young Scottish girl, with a half pensive
face, sitting by a mountain spring; and the old
house-keeper, as she goes the rounds with visi
tors, pauses before the protract le say, tv That
is tho likeness of the last Lady Allwytte; and
lovely was, and as good as lovevely. By
her husband, the late baronet, she was atisso
called the Lilly of - the Valley. Why I have
But you. have * reader; and if you shonkl ever
11/1444diell*Oastle you will have no needle
NUM the tole sgain.
A nor called a doctor to vift his father,
who had the damn tremesaLnet rightly re
nueitheriug the woo or the disease, he called
it the oevire trerolt:4—mokins bad WA ,
tri4 very good lioglAteh.
She endeavortid to detach her hand, which he
had caught a second time, but he held it too
Sbe still looked away, we. ping, but
did notentower. "You are rich; I am poor," she.
said at bot i brokenly ; "you would some day re
pent 0141ds thing. Even your friends would
laugh at your folly."
“Theit yon love me," said he, eagerly. Is
it net so?"
But this time Helen &cot him, and with a
dignity that quite awed his rapt
Mr. Alleyne, will you let me go ?" she said.
I am an unprotected girl, and you presume on
4 , No, by Heaven, no !" he exclaimed, but let
g her hand; .4 there, leave me, cruel one.—
You misjudge me, indeed, Miss Greanie, 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. lie argued long and earnest
ly, but her answer was always the same.
t 4 We must part for a year," she said. 44 You
think now, with the memory of your illness
resh upon you that you love me; but lam come
of too haughty a blood, though poor now, to
marry evairitera fraight love ,on so sudden
and questionable—excnse me fbr I must speak
plainly—so sudden anti questionable an attach
ment. You are rich, fashionable, and with in
fluence; I cm the last of a line proscribed ever
since Culloden. Your place is the gay world,
where you will be surrounded by troops of
friends; mine is in the humble cabin where a
tew poor dependants have been my only com
panions, ever since my father died. If you
really love me, you will return at the owl of the
year; and it you forget me, "—her lips quiver
ed, but slie went on.‘.--if yon forget me, I shall
live here, with the heather and fouir-cock, as
I have lived before,"
filer lover waslherefore compelled to sulonit.
But think ou he honored or adored her less for
her resolution ? No he worshipped her the
mere for it. There was a proud independence
ire her ii=4lliimertt
said to himself, the damis. or--as!ksiftativs who
tiad <1.4. za....,,,,00kburn and Flodden Field,
and sacrificed their all at Culloden.
Two weeks from ti,:q Dunald and big
friend left the Highland c thin, and Helen was
alone. Never before had. she known what it
was to be real} alone. She continually missed
the presence of tit, tit ;Jay form, the light of
that manly eye, tl,.‘ d •ip tones of that manly
voice. Shenever knew how much she loved
till her lover was away.
But even a year will pastOnd just a twelve
mouth from Donal4l,s d,parture Helen sat at
the spring side which she had named for the
trysting spot if her lover proved faithful. She
had been there already for !-uirs, watch
ing with an eager timid heat:,f trembling
at her own fully in txpi...eting l.;or, half angry
with herself for her doubts; but now, as the
gloaming came on, yet no Donald app e art.
her bosom swelled nigh to bursting. She rose
frequently and looked up the bridle path, but
nobody NV,9.fi in sight. At last the stars began
to conic out; the wind grew chill; and with an
Ir t broken heart she rose to return to the
tears were tailing fast.
" I might have known this, "she said sadly.
...110 not all my books tell mi) the same "I—
er the old story Of trusting woman and
find Been in an His Works.
In flint beautiful part of °enmity- whleh
borders on the Rhine, there is a noble castle,
which, Its you travel on the wester)) tanks of
the river, you may see lifting 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 gent lematt,whom wie shall can:won
The Baron had only one son s who was
not only a comfort to his father, buts blessirig
to ail who lived on his fitthers'alind.
It happened on a certain occasion that this
yormg man being (tom 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 miner?" 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, hat 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 mink, and
said, whoever drew this picture, knows very
well how to use his pencil."
"My son drew that picture," said the Baron.
"Then your son is a very 'clever man," re
plied the gentleman.
The Beret' went with bis 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, he knows
eery plant, I May say, from the cedar of Le&an
on to the hyssop on the wall."
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 wherehe cp
ed all young children who had lost their pM
rents to be received and nourished at his own
expense. The children in the bons° 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,
or What a happy man you are to have so good
a son !,"
"low do you klocv I have so good a son?'
4.ltecaultie I have seen his works, ad I knit*r,
that he iriwpc- 05 w9.
airthat yotiTaVeWoilrett ste
44 But you have never seen him."
4 . No but I know him very well, because I
judge of hint by Ms works."
<4 True," replied the Baron, and this is Vie
way J judge of the character ( f oar Heavenly
Father. I knew from His works, that He is a
being of inlhiite wisdom, and power, and good
The Frenchman felt the farce of the reproof,
and was careful not to offend the good Baron
any more by his remarks.
WORK ! WORK :
I have seen and heard of people who thonght
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
man—aye, and is the most distinguished man
ainong his fellows, too. And the man who
Copts his duty to himself, his fellow crtatnres,
and his God—who so far forgets the great bles
sings of life, as to allow his energies to staff„
nate in inactivity and uselessness, had better
die ; for says Holy Writ, " He that will not
work, neither shall he eat." An idler is a caul
herer 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 him
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 ..omforts, luxuries and reflnements,phys
ical, moral and inteloctual blessings? The great
orator, the great poet, and the great schollar,
are great working men. Their vocation is in
finitely more laborious than that of the handi
craftsman; zrnd the student's life Immure anx
iety than that of any other man. And all,
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 are smatterers
—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 uneffaceable 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 folly, 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 hall 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.
A DEACON'S QE(VPATION OP SCRTPTURE ON THE
USE OF WINE AND COLD FATE U. -Mr. Secreta
ry Marcy recently told an anecdote at a dinner
patty in Washington, which runs thus:—
He said that a few weeks since Governor Sey •
mour of New York wrote to him, that since he
had vetoed the Liquor Law he had received
various letters from gentleman in different
parts of the state, both approving and disap
proving of his course in the promises. Among
them was one from an honest old deacon, who
resided somewhere in the center of the State,
which connuendod his action in the strongest
terms. The old witleman 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. Ile
had, too, he said, 'looked up' his Bible from
Genesis to Revelations, in order to see bow the
liquor question was there treated, and after rna
t aro delibeat ion he came to the conclusiontlikt
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 be only
found one instance where amen called for cold
water, and that ho was in h—l, where ho 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
smile, perhaps we should say rather a broad
grin, among the partakers of Mr. Marcy'srine,
at the convivial set-to in question.
A liaPpr 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 house, washing day' and
all other such interesting eLochs in the Amer
ican calender, are intolerated and unkriown.--
This exemption from the great dontestiCevil
of cleaning house is owing not so muChiOil
love of dirt as to the pecliliar construction 01
the building. Thus, for instance, where the
ceilings and wall arefrescotal, or the latter cov
ered wids--SITk .or paper hangings, there is no
need of-ivhite-washing, and where the pails
and doors are of marble or oak' there is no
ntce3sity for scouring paint. The ceilings
and walls arc kept clean by long-handled brush
es. The carpets there are fastened to ken
rings in the floor, by means of large hooks in
the binding, and thus can be raised aad laid
down again as noiselessly and easitY sot
t-h° TrlV . isn
Covers. Inli ly a lairr . j j 7 ; A
',.Shahlrrly: wabing, cot. I, * _ ; “it.a.r.vesw
is done at an early hour in the morning, before
the family are awake for the day : and so qui
etly is it accomplished that to a stranger it
seems as if stir.. invisible wand of some mighty
magician had changed all in the night.
A drunken husband having advertised Ids
wig in the Kosciusko Sun warning tiro public
not to trust her, she addressed the editor the
WHO is RESPONSIBLE /—Mr. Roy : I find lu
your paper an advertisement over the signs
turo of T. Cottrell, forewarning all persons
from selling sie any thing on - his account, and
that he does not consider himself responsible
for any debt I may contract. It was altogether
unnecessary foe Mr. Cottrell to insert such an
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 adverfis...,-
ment of a man who has for many years been a
drunken ittmate of a whiskey doggery, and
whose reputation, decency, character, and
credit Wive left him long since; but in 41a:meits
sion, I will remark, that I forewarn all pentads
from letting Mr. Thos. Cottrell have allyildlii
on my account, as have heretofore paid his
debts and supported him, and carmot conga
featly with my own feelings and into* to do
SO any more. Martha Ann McOary.
BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT.—The annexed beautiful
lines are taken from Sir lituophry Davy's Sat
raonia:-1 envy no quality of the mind or in
tellect in others, be it genies, power, wit or
fancy; but If I could choose what would be
most delightful and useful, I should prefer a
Giro religions belief to evry other blessing, for
it makes life a discipline of goodness; creates
new hopes when all earthly hopes vanish; and
throws over the decay, the destruction of ex
istence, the most gorgeous of all lights; awa
kens life even in death, a;
and decay calls up beauty
an instrument of fortune
to Paradise; and far ahoy',
earthly hopes calls up the most delightfUl vis
ions of palms and amaranths, the garden of the
blest, the security of everlasting joys, where
the sensualists :mil skeptic iews only gloom,
decay, annihilation and despair.