u u
- . I .. "
COME AND TAKE ME. Duvivicu.
YOLrl.
CLEARFIELD, WEDNESDAY, JULY 11,1855.
T0. 49.
"THE OLD MOUNTAIN TREE."
i- ' BT JAXE9 G. CLARK-
Oh, the home we loved by the bounding deep
Where the hills in glory stood; ,
..And the moas-grogu graves where oar fathers sleep,
-! Neath the boughs of the waving wood;
: . We remember yet, with fond regret
." The rock and the flowery lea, j
Where we once naed to play through the long,
--.j. lng day,
In the shade of the old mohntain tree !
We are pilgrims now in a stranger land, .
Aad the joys of youth are past; .
ivand friends are gone, hat the old trees stand,
; Ltaaanned by the warring blast;
H. the larks may sig in the lands of eprinjr
V-. he swans on the eilvery sea,
Butwemoat'Tf0rth,8haJ,5wheroti hltd
made - "n t
Her nest in the old monn. ' a'8'.
Oh the time went by like a tale that's toid,
, In the land of song and mirth.
And many a form, in the ehnrehyard cold,
Finds rest from the enres of earth ;
And many a day we will wander away,
O'er the waves of the Western sea.
And the heart will pine and vainly pray
For a grave by the eld mountain tree '.
iisttllmnm.
,. STKEET ROMANCES.
A great writ.er has said that you cannot walk
the; streets without encountering a romance,
and the remark has more truth in it than is
generally believed- The saddest and gayest
' volumes, tho most dramatic histories, the
most extravagant vaudevilles, the most singu
lar tales, pass by you every day under silk and
broadcloth ; but, the volume is closed, the his
tory is mute, yet its presence may be recog
nized; there may be only a rough sketch, but
the sketch is visible.
Shall we take one amid a thousand ? Fol
low us into the labyrinth of streets, and we
have only to choose.
Do you know the Lady of the Hat ? She
has never been produced upon the stage, but
she drives every day in the Camps Elysees, or
the Bois de Boulogne. The frequenters of these
places have remarked her for a long time.
She is always 'alone, half-reclining in her car
riage, with a little dog lying upon the chush
ions opposite to her. No one accosts her,
and she recognizes no one.
Her application is derived from the hats
which she wears, and which she changes every
day. She has seven, one for each day of the
week, and the color of one day never encroach- I
eB upon that of the next. Monday is devoted
to white, Tuesday to blue, Wednesday to straw
color, Thursday to pink, Friday to brown,
Saturday to grey, Sunday to green.
What does this regularity amid variety
mean ? Why all these hats, and what mystery
Is concealed under their tints? I the lady a
Parisian or provincial, or a foreigner ? 'Is she J
a widow or wife? Does she desire an' "ex
change of souls," as the romances say, and
does she seek in the Camps Elysees the blue
bird of her dreams ; or, like the Calypso of
the fables, is she consoling herself for the dis
appearance of her illusions.
Seven illusions; it is quite enough.
S5SIJ
II chance had led you to the line Pigale, at
the corner of the Z de la Rugere, a week
or two since, you might have seen a coupe
with two horses, standing every day at the
angle of the sidewalk. The coachman was on
his seat, reins in hand, a footman walked back
and forth by its side. This empty coupe serv
ed as a clock to all the street. At the first
sound of its wheels the neighbor's said, " It is
ten o'clock ; there is the coupe.'.'
But if is arrived at a fixed moment, it was
by no means so regular in its departure. Some
times it remained but a few moments, at oth
crs it might be seen in tho same place at three
or four in the afternoon. If any idler asked
the coachman what he was doing there, he re
plied invariably : " I do not know."
Tho departure of the coupe always coin
cided with the passing of a nursery-maid, who
trotted along the house in a white apron and a
little bonnet, with the most innocent air in
the world. She held in her hand a book or a
work-basket, and sometimes, but rarely a
flower.
If the little nursery-maid, who never srlbke
either to coachman or footman, came by the
Rut Pigale, the coupe drove away by the Rue
M la Bruyere ; If, on the contrary, she came
by the Rue de la Bruyere, the coupe departed
by the Rue Pigale
Eight days since, the coupe did not make
its appearance at its accustomed corner, nor
has the little nursery-maid since been seen.
The neighbors remembered only, that the last
time she appeared, she had neither book, nor
work-basket, nor flower in her hand.
The romance has broken off at its first vol
ume.
A. little mystery, three or four years old,
bad for its theater the Rue des Trois-Freres.
This street was bordered on the right bv the
wall of a large garden, which communicated
with the street by a small door, with a poor
fastening, and which appeared very old. It
was of the same color as the wall, end would
not be readily noticed.
No one had ever seen it open during the
day, but often at night, betweeutwo and three
in lb morning, it opened suddenly, a bright
lieht was thrown across the 6treet, and a man
leaped from the garden upon th sidewalk
The gate was instantly closed, the light extin
guished, and the man disappeared?
He was always alone, and enveloped in a
cloak. lie appeared tall and thin, but it was
impossible to distinguish his features.
It was remarked that the door never opened
until a small light like a star appeared at the
upper window of a house opposite the garden.
It Ehone only for a moment, but during this
moment, the door always opened, and the man
of the cloak appeared. As soon as the feet of
the unknown touched the pavement, two shad
ows detached themselves from the extremities
of the street ; one from the direction of the
Itue St. Lazare, the other from that of the Rue
de la Fictorie, and accompanied him in his
rapid walk. One might have imagined them
two sbtrri of ancient Venice, follpwing a mem
ber of the Council of Ten.
A neighbor, one night, took a fancy topene-
i trite tL-'3 mJsteT. He watched for the man
of the cioak, nl followed him, regulating his
own step by step. But as he turned the cor
ner of the street, ont of the shadows turned
and barred his passage. lie attempted to pass
him, but was repulsed, and a war of woih en
sued. While they were quarrelling the second
shadow came up and interposed, saying :
" 1 beg your pardon, sir. I know this man ;
he is my comrade, but he is intoxicated. Fay
no attention to him, but pass on. He is very
strong, and at such times very violent. If I
do not succeed in restraining him, he might
injure you.
In the meanwhile, the man of the cloak had
disappeared.
- z
About a month since, a horseman arrived
every day at the Bois de Boulogne about noon,
and galloped around it twice or three times ;
he then darted down a narrow lane, stopped
near a thicket, fastened his horse to a tree,
and sat down upon the grass. He next drew
a knife from his pocket, and, like a shepherd
upon the banks of the Ligon, he began tracing
figures and letters upon the silvery bark of
the birches. Nothing could divert him from
this occupation. As soon as the work was
completed, he detached tho bark from the
tree.
I said that nothing could distract him ; the
gallop of a negro, however, had the power of
drawing him from his reverie. As soon as he
made his appearance, the man with the pen-
knife leaped upon his black horse, and do-
parted in pursuit of him.
The two horsemen left the Bois dc Boulogne,
and soon arrived before a small house, situa-
ted on the road to Neully, and entered the
garden, at a single bound, leaping the hedge
which surrounded it, after which they could
no longer be seen.
A looker on, one day, after the passage of
the negro, collected tho remnants of bark left
under the birches by tho dreamer. One of
them had tho letter C, upon it, the other the
figure 1G.
Was it an initial and a date ?
i Z
At the extremity of the Faubourg iu Boule
a Spaniaid resided last year who had the su
perb, haughty mien of a descendant of the
Cid. He was still young, had no acquaintan
n and nonmifcd a handsome houss wiln a
court and garden.
This Spaniard, who only wanted a rapier
and a pourpoint of velvet to represent an hi
dalgo of the time of Philip 2d, remained often
a week without leavinc his house. When he
went out, it was on horseback, and always
alone. He was never seen to smile
Twice every year, since he hai inhabited
the mansion, on tho 17th of Decembor, and
the loth of March, the windows were brilliant
ly illuminated, the doors thrown open, vases
and baskets of flowers filled the apartmants,
and long files of carriages entered the court
yard; but if any curious person had looked
into the court, he would have seen that no one
alighted from these carriages. They stopped
a moment at the door, then drove away, and
others followed them.
An inquisitive stranger one night glided
into the door, ascended rapidly the broad
staircase, and, concealing himself behind some
hangings at the entrance of an apartment bril
liantly illuminated, gazed around him.
He saw the Spaniard standing at the extemi-
ty of this empty room, by the' side of a full
length portrait of a lady, which wa3 placed in
the arm-chair. The picture was singularly
beautiful
Whenever a carriage stopped, a servant in
livery announced with a loud voice the name of
some imaginary personage. The Spaniard ad
vanced to meet his invisible guest, saluted
him, and, making a gesture as if to take him
by the hand, conducted him before the por
trait. The orchestra mean while was playing
waltzes and polkas
An hour after midnight, the Spaniard , en-
tercd a neighboring apartment in which a
splendid supper was prepared ; he sat down
at the table, and a servant placed the portrait
opposite him. He took a glass, tilled it, ana
turning to his immaginary guests said Gen
tlemen we will drink to the' health oi iiaaame
the Marchioness."'
Beneath the portrait a date was written, the
t ....
15th of March; above it, another, the 17th of
December.
1 The concealed looker-on afterwards learned
from a servant, that the Spaniard was married
on the 15th of March to one cf his cousins,
whose birth-day was the 17th of December.
She died three years after her marriage.
Duriug the life-time of his wife, he used to
give two balls in memory of these two anni
versaries, and since her death he had celebra
ted them in this strange fashion. As soon as
the day dawned, after these imaginary festivi
ties, he entered his own apartment, preceded
by the portrait of his wife, shut himself up,
and received no one. The, orchestra departed,
the candles were extinguishedj the flowers re
moved, and the deserted mansion became som
bre and silent as a tomb-
This would do for the commencement of a
first volume or the termination of a second.
From tho Cincinnati Columbian.
GEOLOGICAL DISCOVERIES.
A gentleman who recently arrived in this
I city from Tciiango county, Pennsylvania, had
in his possession, and has had on exhibition
for several days past, some very curious petri
fied human bodies, which were found by him
in the bed of a stream which is one of the
principal branches of the Allegheny river.
These remains are supposed to be those of
a man and woman, who, by the wonderful pet
rifactive powers of nature, have been turned
into solid stone, which, on being struck, gives
out a clear ring, and is very hard. As petri
factions, thcs stones are objects of great in
terest ; but as much of the appearance of hu
manity has been lost by the attrition from the
running water of tho stream, in which they
had probably lai.n for ages, they might, after
attracting .brief attention, have been classed
with ordinary petrifactions nd been forgotten,
had not their close examination Ly one of our
savans led to the discovery that they are irre
fragible proofs of the existence of man upon
this revolving globe long before the period ;
when corals, crinoidea and tribolites, first
made their appearance.
Heretofore no fossils have been found in
primitive rocks, and hence geologists have in
ferred that for vast periods in the world's his
tory, nothing but plants and the lower types
of animal life, were in existence, and that for
ages the earth was inhabited by saurians and
other creatures now found only as fossils.
The petrifactions to which we refer above,
and which overturn this theory, may have
bjeu carried a considerable distance by the
stream ; but we do not need to know the locali
ty in whieh they were originally placed. They
show by their constituent character that they
belong to the very earliest period of the
world's history. The remains supposed to be
a female are evidently of the sandstone strata,
and have nothing peculiar about them except
their inde-finiteness and wanting feet.
The petrifaction supposed to be that of a
man is the great curiosity. Its feet are now
wanting, its body and legs are composed of
sandstone, and its head of quartz and gneiss.
From this single fact science has evolved coil
elusions which overturn the speculative hy
pothesis of Agassiz, Lyell, Dana, and the
whole host of modern geologists. It is well
known that quartz and gneiss are primitive
rocks, which underlie the sandstone rocks.
It is assumed that when first found the feet
were on this male petrifaction, but as they
seemed slaty, and of a coal-like texture, they
were binned by the women, who prefer utility
to scientific discovery.
If this was so, then probably the body was
originally so buried that the feet extended
upwards into the carboniferous strata, and
were petrified into coal. As the feet are now
gone, it is, perhaps, improper to speculate
upon their character, but luckily science has
this wonderful body and head. The body be
ing a sandstone proves that the petrifaction
must have been done in the sandstone strata,
and the head being of gneis3 and quartz,
proves that it must have been petrified into
gneiss and quartz in the gneiss formation.
We may bo asked how this could happen, and
the answer is obvious.
It is certain that the man when alive must
have inhabited the sandstone for a period, and
if, as we think is evident, he was buried head
downwards, and at just such a depth that his
head came in the gneiss and his body in the
sandstone formation, then it is easy to con
elude that his body petrified into sandstone,
and his head into quartz and gneiss. Upon
no other hypothesis can the quartz and gneiss
head of this petrifaction be accounted for.
It is hardly likely that the man was buried in
the sandstone strata, where all but the head
petrified, and that then, by some convulsion
of nature, he was jammed into the lower primi
tive rocks, where he lay for ages, until by
some other convulsion of nature, he was
thrown out into the stream, where found.
Whichever of these theories is adopted, the
old theory about man not being found in the
primitive rocks, is completely overturned, and
geologists will have to acknowledge that there
" are more things in heaven and earth than
are dreamed of in their philosophy."
u7""A midshipman asked a priest to tell the
difference between a priest and a jackass.
The priest gave it up. "One wears a cross on
his back and the other on his breast;" said the
midshipman. Now," said the priest, "tell me
fh HiflWrnf p. between a midshinman and a
jackass." Tho midshipman gave it up, and
asked what it was. The priest said he aia not
know of any.
THE LITTLE PEDDLER.
BT MRS. C. n. GILDEK3LEEVE.
Ono rainy afternoon in the early part of Au
tumn, I heard a low knock at my back door,
and upon opening it I found a peddler. Xow
peddlers are a great Vexation to me, they leave
the gates open, they never have anything I
want, and I don't like the faces that belong to
most of them, especially those of the strong
men who go about with little package of
course goods, and I always close the door up
on them, saying to myself lazy.
This was a little boy, and ho was pale and
wet, and looked so cold that I forgot he was
a peddler, and asked him to come In by the
fire. I thought he appeared as though he ex
pected I M as going to buy something, for he
commenced opening his tin box, but I had no
such intention. Jle looked up in my face very
"arnestly and sadly, when I told him to warm
himself by the fire, and did not wish to pur
chase anything. He rose slowly from his seat,
and there was something in his air which re
proached me, and I detained him to inquire
why he was out in the rain. He replied:
"I am out every day, and can't stay in for a
little rain; besides, most peddlers stay at home
then, and I can sell more on rainy days."
"How much do you earn in a day?"
"Sometimes two shillings, and sometimes
one, and once in a while I get nothing all day,
and then, ma'am, I am very tired."
Here he gave a quick, dry cough, which
startled me.
"How long have you had that cough?
"I don't know ma'am."
"Does it hurt you?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Where does your mother live ?
"In heaven, ma'am," said he, unmoved.
"Have you a father ?"
''Yes, ma'am, he is with mother," he re
plied in the same tone.
"Have you any brothers or sisters?"
"I have a little sister, but she went to moth
er about a month ago."
What ailed her?"
"She wanted to see mother, and so do I,
and I guess that's why I cough so."
"Where do you live ?"
"With Mrs. Brown on X. Street."
"Does she give you rnedicinefor your
cough?"
"Not Doctor's medicine, she is too poor;
but she makes something forme to take."
"Will ou take something, if I give it to
you?"
lNo rna'am, I thank you; mother tookuued-
icine, and it didn't help her, though she wan
ted to stay, and you see I want to go; it wouldn't
stop my cough. Good day, ma'am."
"Wait a minute," I said, "I want to see
what you carry."
He opened his box, Rnd for once I found
what I wanted. Indeed, I didn't think it
would have mattered what he had. I should
have wanted it, for the little peddler had
changed in my eyes he had a father and
mother in heaven, and so had I. How strange
that peddlers had never seemed like people
human, soul-filled beings, before. How thank
ful he was, and how his great sunken blue eyes
looked into mine; when I paid him.
"You don't ask me to take a cent less," said
he, after hesitating a minute;" "I think you
must be rich."
"Oh, no," I replied. "I am very far from
that; and these things are Worth more to me
now than I gave for them. Will you come
again ?"
"Yes, rna'am, if I don't go to mother soon."
"Are you hungry ?"
"No, ma'am, I am never hungry now, I
sometimes think mother feeds me when I sleep,
though I don't remember it when I am awake.
I only know I don't wish to eat now, since my
sister died."
"Did you feel very sad then?"
"I felt very big in my throat, and thought I
was choked, but I didn't cry a bit, though I
felt very lonely at night for a while; but I am
glad she's up there now."
"Who told you you were going to die ?"
"Nobodv, but I know I am. Perhaps I'll
go before Christmas."
I could not endure that, and tried to make
him stay, but he would run and tell Mrs.
Brown what good luck he had met with, ne
bade me good-day again cheerfully, and went
out into the cold rain, while I could only say,
"God be with you, my child I"
He never came again, though I looked for
him everyday. At length, about JSew lear s,
I went to the place he called home. Mrs.
Brown was there, but the little pilgrim! his
weary feet were at rest, and never more would
his gentle knock be heard at the door of those,
who, like myself, forgot that necessity and
stern want often sent about these wanderers
from house to house, and that their employ
ment might be far more unseemly to them
than annoying to us. I have learned a lesson,
and I never see a peddler bending with his
load, but my heart softens to them, and I won
der if they too do not wish to lay aside their
burden and 'be at rest.
A Clergyman, catechising the youths
of his church, put the first question from the
catechism to a girl: What is your consola
tion in life and death?" The poor girl smiled
but did not answer. The priest insisted. "Well
then," said she, "since I must tell, it is the
young printer on Third street'
WASHINGTON'3 SIYLS OF LIVING.
Washington, by his marriage, had added
abovo $ 100,000 to his already considerable :
fortune, and was enabled to live la ample and J
dignified style. His intiniacv with the Fair- !
faxes, and his Intercourse with brother officers j
. . . i
oi raus, iiau pernps, aa laeir inuntnce tn . y0 II tra.o out their nitines in the oil Kirk ri
hle mode of living. He had his chariot and j 0 mo,irn not for them; their grijf is o'er;
four, with black postilions in livery, for the ! O, weep not fr them; they weop no mora;
use of Mrs. Washington and her lady vieiter.. ' ?r.de,s v."4
As for himself, he always appeared on horse
back. His stable was well filled, and admira
bly regulated. Ilii stud was thorough bred
and in excellent order. His household books
contain registers of the names, ages and marks
of his favorite horses such as djax, flfaexki.
Valiant, Magnolia, (an Arab) 5"C Alao his
dogs, chiefly fox-hounds Vulcan, Singer,
Ringuood, Sweellips, Forrester, Music, Rock
wood, Trm clove, 4c?
He was an early risen, often before daybreak
in the winter, when the nights were long. On
such occasions he lit his own fire, and wrote
or read by candle-light. U breakfasted at
seven In summer, at eight in winter. Two
small cups of tea and three r four cakes of
Indian meal (called hoe-cakes,) formed hi
frugal repast. Immediately after breakfast,
be mounted his horse and visited those parts
of the estate where any work was going on,
seeing to everything with his own eyes, and
often aiding with bis own hands.
Dinner. was served at 2 o'clce-k. lie ate
heartily, but was no epicure, ror critical about
his food. His beverage was small beor or el
der, and two glasses of old Maderia. He took
tea, of which he was very foud, early In tho
evening, and retired for the night about 9
o'clock.
If confined to the house by bad weather, he
took that occasion to arrange his papers, post
up his accounts, or write letters passing part
of the time in reading, and occasionally rea
ding aloud to the family.
Ho treated his negroes with kindness, at
tended to their comforts, was particularly
carcful of them in Bickness, but never tolerated
idleness, end exacted a faithful performance
of allotted tasks.
Washington delighted in tho chase. In tho
hnuting season, when he rode out early in the
morning to visit distant parts of his estate,
where work was going on, he often took some
of the dogs with him for the chance of starting
a fox, which he often did, though ho was not
always successful in killing them. He was a
bold rider and an admirable horseman, though
he never claimed the merit of being an ac
complished fox-hunter. Irring's Life of Wash-
'nston.
The Origin of the White, Eed and Black Kan.
From Washington Irving's new work,4' Wool-
fret Koost," we take the following pleasant
legend :
When the Great Spirit had made the three
, , i . . , j ..v i
men, he eauea mem logemer aim buuncu
them three boxes. The first was filled with
books and maps and papers. The second with
bows and arrows, knives and tomahawks. The
third with gpades, axes, hoes and hammers.
'These, my sons," said he, "are the means
by which you are to live; choose among them
according to your fancy.
The white man, being the favorite, had the
first choice. He passed by the box of, work
ing tools without notice; but when he came
to the weapons for war-hunting, he stopped
and looked hard at them. The red man trem
bled, for he had set his heart upon that box.
The white man, however, after looking hard
upon it for a moment, passed on, and chose
the box of booKs and papers. The red man's
turn came next, and you may be sure he seized
with joy upon the bows and arrows, and toma
hawks. As to the black man, he had no choice
left but to put up with the tools.
From this it is clear that the Grat Spirit
intended the white man should learn to read
and write; to understand all about the moon
and stars, and to make everything, even rum
and whiskey. That the red man should be a
first rate hunter, and a mighty warrior, but he
was not to learn anything from books, as the
Great Spirit had not given him any; nor was
he to make rum or whiskey, lest he should
kill himself with drinking. As to the black
man, as he had nothing but working tools, it
was clear he was to work for the white and
red men, which he has continued to do.
As Evidence of III Breeding. There is
, , i i
no greater Dreecu vi guuu mauueu vi uiuu,
no better evidence of ill-breeding than that
of interrupting anotho: iu conversation while !
speaking or commencing a remark before an
other has fully closed. No well-bred person
ever does it, or continues a conversation long
with any person that does. The latter often
finds an interesting conversation abruptly wai
ved, closed or declined, by the former, with
out even suspecting the cause. It is a criteri
on which never fails to show the breeding of
the individual. A well-bred person will not
interrupt one who is in all respects greatly
his inferior. If you wish to judge the good
breeding of a person with whom you are
but slightly acquainted, mark such persons
strictly in this respect, and you will assuredly
not be deceived. However intelligent, fluent,
easy, or even graceful, a person may appear,
for a short time, you will find him or her soon
prove uninteresting, isipid, and coarse.
n .! ( .-.t! jl i .Nv .
THE OLD KIUK YARD.
O, come, come with m to the old Kirk Yard,
I well know the path through the oft green sward;
Friends elnmber there we were wont to roara
' J'-"" " "J :
I kiiow 'tis in vain, when friends depart,
Tobredthc kind words to a broken heart:
I know that tho joy of life seems marred.
When we follow them home to the old Kirk Yard.
Btit were I at rert beneath yon tree.
Why shonld'st thou weep, dear love for me?
I'm wey worn and sad, ah ! why then retard.
The roe! that I euk in the old Kirk Yard?
Hehgioa aal Holiness net Dig'.mct Things.
It has been a mighty mischief, that religion
has so often been divorced from the other
modes aud ways of men. Men have looked at
it, as something distinct and peculiar, having
Its own sphere and its own powers, and not as
the father of goodness and truth. The man of
God has been separated from the man of sci
ence, tho man of literature, the man of poli
tics, the man of business. The world has
helped the separation, and so has the chcrch.
An ignorant piety, a strong and shrewd im
piety, have done the same work. The general
exercises of the intellect; the common chari
ties of the heart, the familiar proceeding of
the life, Lave been too frequently regarded as
provinces Into which religion has no right to
penetrate, or should only come when invited,
and be thankful to be treated as a guest, and
expect to be honored as a sovereign.
nence literature, art, social life, worldly en
gagements, have been treated as things apart
from godliness, and not as things which god
lines is to possess, and through which it is to
act and bo seen. To borrow an expressive
illustration, the partnership has been dissolved
between religion and other business, and thus
it has come to a disastrous bankruptcy. That
It is so, la apparent from the fact, that there is
a general disposition to regard immoralities
connected with money matters in a different
light from other immoralities. The same stan
dard is not applied, the same measure is not
meted owt. There is more gentle treatment
of the pecuniary sinner than of any other sin
ner. " It is the only way of business," cov
ors a multitude of sins. A man, in many cir
cles, had better defraud his creditors than
deny a single article of the popular creed, or
violate a single conventionalism of respectablo
society.
Vanity in KinisierB.
Vanity is bad enough in anybody. But iu
young ministers it is fatal. It shows itself iu
a want of deference for age, which makes
them odious to their older brethren. It gives
them a pompous manner which exposes them
to ridicule. When an unfledged stripling rises
in the pulpit, and gravely announces some
new metaphysical theory which is to throw
light through the whole realm of theology, we
can hardly keep our countenances at his self
complacent air and the presumption which
would thus teach wisdom to gray hairs. In
truth we have had enough of these young
peacocks fluttering in our desks. It is time
that the whole tribe was exterminated.
Unfortunately, young ministers are less
likely to be cured of this infirmity than other
men. Lawyers are so knocked against each
other that they soon find their level. But
black coats throw around their wearer a charm
ed circle. In his own parish, a young preach
cr is exalted on a pedestal. " He is monarch
of all he turveys." His congregation flatter
him. "Ho is such a dear man" "such a
sweet preacher!" All this creates an illusion
about him, which he never 6ees through.
Vanity covers him from head to foot. It
oozes out of every pore in his body.
'Tis like the choice ointment,
Down Aaron's beard did go,
Down Aaron's board that downward went,
Ilis garment's skirts unto."
And so he goes through life, the same prim
and pompous little person as when he deliver
ed to an awe-struck assembly his first pulpit
oration! The great evil of this inordinate
self-estimation is that it prevents a real prog
ress. The most hopeful state of mind is a
painful sense of one's defects with an earnest
desire for improvement. The Presbyterian.
TJJrrUTOEED ELOQUENCE.
A Catawba warrior in 1812, named Peter
uarns, mane Knun m uw .
I nf South Carolina in the following lan-
- - -
guage:
"I am one of tho lingering survivors of an
almost extinguished race. Our graves will
soon be our only habitation. I am one of the
few stocks that still remain in the field where
the tempest of revolution passed.: I have
fought against the British for your sake. The
British have disappeared and you are free; yet
from me have the British taken nothing, nor
have I gained any thing by their defeat. I
pursued the deer for subsistence the deer
are disappearing, I must starve. God ordain
ed me for the forest, and my ambition is the
shade. But the strength of my arm decays
and my feet fail me in the chase. The hand
which fought for your liberties is now open
for your relief. In my youth I bled In battle
that yoa might have independence let not
my heart in ray old age bleed for want of your
commiseration."
life
hi
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