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FREE AS THE WIND. AND AMERICAN TO THE CORE.
BY E BUCHER SWOOPE.
CLEARFIELD, WEDNESDAY, OCT. 17, 1855:
VOL. 2.-N0. 12.-T0TAL, 64.
I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS.
Br WILLIS C. CLARKE.
When with a calm, observant eye
We gaze on all this earth can give.
And mark iU sweetest blossoms die,
And feel its rapture fugitive;
Oh. who can long desire to stay
Where all is change from joy.to grief
Where lore, and woalth, and power decay
Like Autumn's melancholy leaf t
Who, When the gorgeous spell is gone.
That made his young existence dear
When Hope's beguiling wing hath flown,
And darkness blots the atmosphere
Who then would journey dimly on
Amidst a dull and plodding throng.
Which like a stream from tempest grown.
Rolls thick and turbidly along?
What recks it upon vanish M years
That sweeps like eagle's pinions by.
With changeful round of vmiles and tears,
To cant pale memory's mournful eye ?
Oh. can it bring again the bloom
To youth's res(ilendant coronal,
Or can it rend the clouded tomb.
And wako the slumberer "neath its pall?
It is in rain! it is iu Tain.
For earth's ephemeral joys to live;
Its transports daikeu into pain
And flowers, once dead. can ne'er revive!
And from the sad and varied past
One lesson only may we glean
That joy is far to dear to last
That sorrow clouds its brigtest scene !
Life! 'tis a waste, where storm and gloom
Are gathering up from memory's cell
Where gapes the wide insatiate tomb,
And fierce diseases daikly dwell.
Ob. then, why should the spirit cling
Unto the dull and cold domain;
Since life hath but one golden spring
Uno mora that ne'er returns again I
Why should wc love to linger here.
Where baseless dreams are only known
When Faith, with visions calm and clear,
Can glance to God's eternal throne?
Far rather, let the fetters break
Which keep us from that brighter shore
Where saints their endless anthems wake
And cankering cares are felt no more!
THE FATHER.
AN INSTRUCTIVE SKETCIT.
BT MRS- SIGOUBSET.
It is the duty of mothers to sustain the re
verses of fortune. Frequent and sudden as
they hare been to our own country, it is im
portant that young females should possess
some employment, by which they might ob
tain a livelihood in case they should be redu
ced to the necessity of supporting themselves.
When the families are unexpectedly reduced
from affluence to poverty, how pitiful and con
temptible it is to see the mother desponding
or helpless, and permitting her daughters to
embarrass those whom it is their duty to assist
and cheer.
"I have lost my whole fortune," said a mer
chant, as he returned one evening to hit home,
"we can no longer keep our carriage. We
must leave this large house. The children
caa no longer go to expensive school. Yes
teiday I was a rich man. To-day there is noth
ing 1 can call my own."
"Dear husband, we are still rich in each oth
er and our children. Moneymay pass away,
but Go 1 has given ns a better treasure in those
active hands and loving hearts."
"Dear father," said the children, "do not
look so sober. We will help you to gvt a liv
ing." "What can you do, poor things;" said he.
"Von shall see, you shall see," answered
several cheerful voices. "It is a pity if we
have been to school for nothing. IIow can the
father of eight children be poor. We shall
work and make you rich again."
"I shall help," said the youngest girl, hard
ly four years old, "I will not have any new
things bought and I shall sell my great doll.
The heart of the husband and father, which
had tuuk within his bosom like a stone was
lifted up. The sweet enthusiasm of the scene
cheered him and his prayer was like a song of
praise.
lie left his stately house. The sen-ants
were dismissed. Pictures and plate, rich car
pet and furniture were sold, and she who had
so long been the mistress of the mansion shed
no tear. "Pay every debt," said she, "let no
one suffer through us, and we may yet be hap
py." He rented a neat cottage and a small piece
of ground, a few miles from the city. With
the aid of his sons he cultivated vegetables for
the market. He viewed with delight and as
tonishment the economy of his wife, nurtured
as she had been in wealth and efficiency which
hii daughters soon acquired under her train
ing. The eldest one assisted her in the work of
the household and also assisted the younger
children. Besides, they execute various works
Which they had learned as accomplishments
but which they found could be disposed of to
advantage. They embroidered with taste
om) of the ornamental parts of female appar
el which were readily sold to merchants in the
city.
They cultivated flowers and sent boquets to
market, in the cart that conveyed the vegeta
bles they plattedstraw, they painted maps,
they executed needle-work. Every one was
at her post busy and cheerful. The cottage
was like a bee-hive.
"I never enjoyed such health before," said
the father.
And I never was so happy before," said
the mother.
"We never knew how many things we could
do when we lived, in the great house," said
the children, "and we love each other a great
deal better here. Tou call ns your little bees."
"Yei, replied the father, "and you make
jut suet honey M the heart IwTes to feed en.
Ecouomy as well as industry was strictly ob
served nothing was wasted. Nothing un
necessary was purchased. The eldest daught
er became assistant teacher in a distinguished
female seminary, and the second took her
place as instructress to the family.
The little dwelling which had always leen
kept neat, they were soon able to beautify.
Its construction was improved, and the vines
and flowering trees were replanted around it.
The merchant was happier under the wood
bine covered poarch, in a summer's evening,
than he had been in his showy drawir.g-room.
"We ara now thriviug and prosperous," said
he, '-shall we mow return to the city ?"
'Oh, no, no, no," was the unanimous reply.
"Let us remain," said the wife, "where we
have found health and contentment."
"Fsither said the youngest, "all we children
hope you are not going to be rich again; for
then," she added, "we little ones were shut
up in the nursery, and did not see much of
you or mother. Now we all live together,
and sister who loves us, teaches us, and we
learn to be industrious and useful. We were
none of us happy when w were rich, and did
not work. So, father, please not be a rich
man anv more.
My Husband.
My husband Is a very strange man. To think
how he should have grown so provoked about
such a little matter as that scarlet sc;irf. Well,
there's no use tryiug to drive him. I'v sot
tied that on my mind. But he can be coaxed
can't he though? and from this time hence
forth shan't I know how to manage him ?
Still there's no denying Mr. Adams is a very
strange man.
You see it was this morning at breakfast, I
said to him, "Henry I must have one of
those ten dollar scarfs at Stuart's. They are
perfectly charming and will correspond so
nicelv with mv maroon velvet cloak. 1 want
to go out this morning and get one before they
are all gone.'
"Ten dollars don't grow on every bush, Ad-
eliue, and just now times are pretty hard, you
know," he answered, in a dry careless kind of
tone, which irritated me greatly. Besides
that I knew he could afford to get me the scarf
just as well as not. Only, perhaps, my in in
ner of requesting it did not quite suit his lord
ship. "Gentlemen who can afford to buy satin
vests at ten dollars a piece, can have no mo
tive but penuriousness for objecting to give
their wives as much for a scarf," I retorted,
as I glanced at the money which a few mo
ments before he had laid by the side of my
plate, requesting me to procure one for him ;
he always trusts to my taste in these matters.
I spoke angrily. I should have been soirry
lor it the next moment, if he had not answer
ed
"You will then attribute it to my penurious
ness, I suppose, when I tell you I caunot let
you have another ten dollars to day!"
"Well, then, I will take this and get me the
scarf. You can do without your vest this fall"
and I took up the bills and left the room for
he did not answer me.
"I need it, and I must have it," I soliloqui
zed, as I washed my tear swollen eyes, and
adjusted my hair for a walk down Broadway,
bnt all the while there was a still small voice
n my heart whispering, "Don't do it, go and
buy the vest for your husband," and at last
would you believe it ? that inner voice tri
umphed. I went down to the tailor's, select
ed the vest, and brought it home.
"Here it is, Henry ; I selected the color
which I thought would suit you the best. Isn't
it rich?" I said, as I unfolded the vest after
dinner, for somehow my pride was all gone.
I had felt so much happier ever since I had
resolved to forego the scarf.
He did not answer me, but there was such a
look of tenderness filling his dark and hand
some eyes, as his lips dropped to my forehead,
that it was as much as I could do to keep from
crying outright.
But I havn't told the cream of the story yet.
To-night when he came home to supper he
threw a little bundle into my lap. Wondering
greatly what it could be, I opened it, and there,
would you believe it, was the scarlet scarf, the
very one I had set my heart on at Stuart's yes
terday. "O! Henry," I said, looking up and trying
to thank him, but my lips trembled, and then
the tears dashed over my eyelashes, and he
drew my head to his heart, and smoothed
down my curls, and murmured the old loving
words in my ear, while I cryed a long time,
but O, my tears were such sweet ones.
He is a strange man, my husband, but he is
a noble one too, and his heart is in the right
place, after all, only it is a little hard to find
it sometimes, and it seems to me my heart
never said so deeply as it does to-night,
'God bless him.'
1I An exchange savs. the man that would
systematically and wilfully set about cheating
the printer, would commit highway robbery on
a crying baby and rob it of its gingerbread
rob a church of its counterfeit pennies lick
the butter off a blind niffeer's last 'flitter'
pawn his grandmother's specks for a drink of
whiskey steal acorns from a blind sow, and
clothes from a scare-crow to make a respecta
ble appearance in society.
An Angel in every House.
There is an angel in every house ! No mat
ter how fallen the inmates, how depressing the
circumstances, there is an angel to pity or to
cheer. It may be in the person of a little
child ; or it may be enclosed in a stooping
or wrinkled body, treading the downward path
to the grave. Or, perhaps in a cheerful spirit,
looking upon the ills of life as so many steps
toward heaven, if only bravely overcome and
mounted with sinless feet.
We knew such an angel once, and it was
drunkard's child. On every side, wherever
she moved she saw only misery and degreda
tion. and she did not fall. Her father was bru
tal and her mother discouraged, and her home
thoroughly comfortless. But she struggled
along with anel endurence, benring with an
almost saintly patience, the infirmaties of
him who gave her existence, and then hourly
embittered it. Nisrht after nieht, at the hours
of ten, twelve, and even one, barefoot, ragged
shawless and bonnetless, has she been to the
den of the drunkard, and gone staggering
home with her arm around her father. Manv
a time hn her flesh been blue with the mark
of his hand, when she his stepped in between
her helpless mother and violence. Manv a
time has she sat upon the cold curbstone with
his head in her lap : many a time how bitter
it was to cry for hunger when the money Hint
should have bought bread was spent for rum
And the patience that angel wrought with.
made her young face shine, so that though
never acknowledged in the courts of this
world, in the kingdom of heaven, she was a-
waited for by assembled hosts of spirits, and
the crown of martyrdom ready, lay awaiting
her fair young brow-
And she was a martyr. Her gentle spirit
went up from a couch of anguish; anguish
brought on by ill-usage and neglect. And till
then did the father recognize the angel in the
child; never till then did his manhood arise
from the dust of dishonor. From her humble
grave, he went away to steep his resolves for
the better in bitter tears; and he will tell you
to-day, how the memory of her much enduring
life, keeps him from the bowl ; how he goes
sointimes and stands where her patient hands
held him, while her cheek crimsoned at the
sneers of those who scofi at the drunkards
child.
Search for the angels in your household's
aud cherish them while they are among 3-ou.
It may be that all unconsciously you frown
upon tiiem, when a smile would lead you to
a knowledge of their exceeding worth. They
may be among the least cared for, most de
spised but when they are gone with silent
influence, then will yon mourn for them as a
jewel of great worth. Mrs. Denison.
Tne Power of Truth.
Wealth, we are told, is power ; talent is pow
er, and knowledge is power. But there is a
mightier force in the world than either of these
a power which is not rich enough to ovei
reach, nor authority imposing enough to si
lence. They all tremble in its presence. It is
truth the really most potent clement of in
dividual life. Though tossed upon the billows
of popular commotion, or cast into the seven
fold furnace of persecution, or trampled into
the dust by the iron heel of power, truth is the
one indestructible thing in this world that
loses in no conflict, suffers from no misusage
or abuse, and maintains it? vitality and com
pleteness after every assault. All kinds of
conspiracies have been undertaken to destroy
and drive it from the earth ; all sources of pow
er have been used to crush it, and all kinds of
seduction employed to vitiate and poison it;
but none has succdeded, and none ever will.
We can be confident of nothing else in this
world but the safety aud imperishability of
truth for it is a part of divine nature and in
vested with the eternity and omnipotence of
its author and source. It may often seem to
be in danger : it is as much set upon and as
saulted now, alter eighteen hundred years of
successful resistance, but history and experi
ance ought to reassure our faith. It never yet
failed and it never will. We niay rest secure
ly on it and feel no alarm ; we may anticipate
its virtues, and enjoy its triumphs. In this
struggling life, what encouragement and com
fort is there in this thought the man of truth
and the cause of truth, are connected with the
most potent element in the world, and have
all the certainty of succeeding which God's
immutable nature and decree affords.
Thus is Life. If we die today, the sun will
shine as brightly, and the birds sing as sweet
to-morrow. Business will not be suspended a
moment, and all is forgotten. "Is he dead ?"
will be the solemn inquiry of a few as they
pass to their work. But no one will miss us
except our immediate connections, and in a
short time they will forget us, and laugh as
merily as when we sat beside them. Thus
shall we all, now active in life, pass away.
Our children crowd close behind ns, and they
will soon be gone. In a few years, not a living
being can say." I remember him ?" We liv
ed in another age, and did business with those
who slumber in the tomb. Thus is life. IIow
rapidly it paases.
E7"Tf you observe a gentleman with his
arm around a young lady, it is morally certain
that they are not married, neither is it certain
they eTer will be. ..
"Behind Time." A railroad train was rush
mg along at an ngntning speca. A. curre
was just ahead, beyond which was a station at
which the cars usually passed each other. The
conductor was late, so late that the period
during which the down train was to wait had
nearly elapsed ; but he hoped yet to pass the
curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed
into sight right ahead. In an instant there
was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty
souls were in eternity ; and all because an
engineer had been behind time.
A great battle was being fought. Column
after column was being precipitated for eight
mortal hours on an enemy posted along a
ridge of a hill. The winter sun was sinking
in the west; reinforcements for the obstinate
defenders are already in night ; it was neces
sary to carry the position by one final charge
or all would be lost. A powerful corps had
been summoned from across the country, and
if it came up iu season all would be right.
The great conqueror, confident in its arrival,
formed a reserve into an attacking column,
and led them down the hill. The whole world
knows the result. Grouchy failed to appear;
the imperial guard was beaten back ; Water
loo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St.
Helena because one of his marshals was behind
time.
A leading firm in a commercial circle Lad
long struggled against bankruptcy. As it had
enormous assets in California, it expected re
mittances by a certain day, and if the sums
promised arrived, its credit, its honor, and its
future prosperity would be preserved. But
week after week elapsed without bringing the
gold. At last came the fatal day on which
the firm had bills maturing to enormous
amounts. The steamer was telegraphed at
day-break ; but it was found on inquiry that
she brought no funds ; and the house failed.
The next arrival brought nearly half a million
to the insolvents, but it was too late ; they
were ruined becausehcir agent, in remitting,
hnd been behind time.
A condemned man was being led out for ex
ecution. He had taken human lifo, but un
der circumstances of the greatest provocation,
and public sympathy was active in his behalf.
Thousands had signed lhe petition for a re
prieve, a favorable answer had been expected
the night before, and though it had not come,
even the sheriff felt confident that it would
yet arrive in season. Thus the morning pass
ed without the appearance of the messenger.
The last moment was up. The prisoner took
his place on the drop, the cap was drawn over
his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless
body swung revolving in the wind. Just at
that moment a horseman came into sight, gal
loping downhill, his steed covered with foam.
He carried a packet in his right hand, which
he waived to the crowd. He was the express
rider with the reprieve. But he had come too
late. A comparatively innocent man had di
elan ignominious death because a watch had
been five minutes too slow, making its bearer
arrive behind time.
It is continually so in life. The best laid
plans, the most important affairs, the fortunes
of individuals, the weal of nations, honor,
happiness, life itself are daily sacrificed be
cause somebody is "behind time." There are
men who always fail in whatever they under
take, simply because they are "behind time."
There are others who put off reformation year
by year, till death seizes them, and they per
ish unrepentar.tjbecause 'forever behind time.'
The Allies have lost a year at Sebastopol
because they delayed a superfluous day after
the battle of Alma, and came up too late for a
coup de main just twenty four hours "behind
time." Five minutes in a crisis is worth years.
It is but a little period, yet it has often saved
a fortune or redeemed a people. If there is
one virtue that would succeed in life it is punc
tuality ; if there is one error that should be
avoided it is being behind time. Bait. Sun.
tE?"The habit of calling young men with fhe
dubious title of "Mr." is in many iastances,
a peice of formality which does. harm. With
those who have known the child and the boy,
and have familiarly and affectionately called
him by his first name, it is hard to change the
pleasant John, or George, or William into Mr.
Jones, Mr. Smith, Mr. Wise, and is only de
manded at the instance of a false idea of pro
priety, r or a young or middle-aged person
to be called by his given name by his old and
ong-known friends is indicative of the kindly
regard they feel for him, and shows that their
hearts are as ever open to the olden and bless
ed influences of the time agone. The young
person male or female, who takes offense when
old friends address them by their best and
long-known appellation, is one unworthy of
kindly and heart felt consideration, and will
pass through the world as a peice of formality
and etiquette that knows little of the warm
glow of kindly remembrances. But he or she
who love to be called simply as their first
names are,is true to that simplicity which is a
great beauty in any character. As in the
household, so let us be to all who loves us,
anxious to be friends and brothers , and then
many hearts will be lighter, many a eold for
mality avoided. A little sermon, but one
which will bear remembrance.
rrp- He is happy, whose circumstances suit
his temper; but be is more excellent, who can
rult hie temper to any eireumstee.
I WILL.
Yes, I know you will. The energetic ex
pression and determined tone show that you
will.
"I will try ." said the gallant Miller, as he
marched his undisciplined but determined
troops, up the hill whose summit was crowned
with a battery that poured death in all direc
tions, and that battery, guarded by British reg
ulars, was silenced, and its brave defenders
sent to the long sleep that knows no waking.
'I will be President of the United States,"
said John C. Calhoun, on the day he left col
lege. Through along life, with his eye steadi
ly fixed on that as the end of hi career, he ob
tained a wide renown, and died but one step
short of the Presidency.
"I will discard the title of Emperor of all
the Russians, and take that of Emperor of all
the Slavones," said the young Emperor of
Russia ; and whoever lives to see !ten years
more will sec his threat accomplished- His
energetic determination, is a sure guarentee
of its fulfilment.
Set your mark high, young reader determine
to reach it, never swerve from your purpoe
and yoa will accomplish your object. The ea
gle, with his eye on the sun, and a determi
nation to reach it, ma' never get quite there,
but he will soar higher than a three foot bush.
One of the finest passages in the play of
"Richelieu," is this.
Richelieu "Young man, Ik? blithe, ! for
note me ; lrom the hour you grasped that pack
et, think your guardian stars rain fortune on
you."
Francois fif I fail ?"
Richlieu "Fail! Fail! In that bright lexi
con youth, which fate reserves for a glorious
manhood, there is no such word as fail !
Why should a young man fail? If he be
honorable, if he be ardent, if he be energetic,
if he be gifted with mental powers, if he be
right in soul and strength, he should never
fail ; and if any alluring temptation whispers
in his ear, words that would turn him aside,
let him revert to that "bright lexicon," and
never fail.
Mysteries on EveitT side. The world is
full of mysteries. The chamber in which the
infant opens its eye is a universe of mysteries.
The father's voice, the mother's smile, reveal
to it slowly the mysterious world of affections.
The clild solves many of these mysteries; but
as the circic of knowledge is enlarged, its vi
sion is always bounded by a veil of mystery.
The sun that wakens it at morning, and again
looks in at its window to bid it farewell ; the
tree that shades, and in whose branches the
birds come and sing before the dews are dry,
the clouds with shining edges that move
across the sky, calm and stately like the chai
iot of au angel, all are mysteries. Nay, to
grown up man there :s not a thing which the
hand touches, or on which the eye rests, which
is not enveloped in mystery. The flower
which springs at your feet who has revealed
the wonderful secret of its organization ? Its
roots shoot down, and leaf and flower rise up
and expand into the infinite abyss of mystery.
We are like emigrants traveling through an
unknown Wilderness; they stop at night by a
flowing stream, they feed their horses, set up
a tent and build a fire ; and as the flames rise
up, all within the circle of a few rods around
is distinct and clear in its light. But beyond
and bounding this are rocks dimly seen, and
trees with vague outline dimly stoop forward
to a blaze ; and beyond the branches creak
and the waters murmur over their beds ; and
wild unknown animals howl in the dark
realms of night and silence. Such is the light
of man's knowledge, and so U is bounded by
the infinite realms of mystery.
Fkankness. Be frank with the world. Frank
ness is the child of honesty and courage. Say
just what you mean to do on every occasion,
and take it for granted you mean to do what
is right. If a friend ask a favor you should
grant it, if it is reasonable ; if it is not, tell
him plainly why' you cannot. You will wrong
him and wrong yourself by equivocation of
any kind. Never do a wrong thing to make
a friend or to keep one ; the man who re
quires you to do so is dearly purchased at a sa
crifice, Deal kindly and firmly with all men ;
you will find it the policy which wears best.
Above all, do not appear to others what you
are not. If you have any fault to find with
anyone, tell him, not others, of what you
complain. There is no more dangerous ex
periment than that of undertaking to bo one
thing to a man's face, and another behind his
back. We should live, speak and act out of
doors, as the saying is, and say and do what
we are willing should be known and read by
men. It is not only best as a matter of princi
ple but as a matter of policy.
Look Upward. Hope on. frail mortal!
What, though thy path be rugged, and strew
ed with thorns ? thou hast on!y to persevere,
and thy reward awaits thee. Many days and
nights, perhaps years, hast thou struggled
with adversity. What, though thou art poor,
despised by those, it may be, who are thy in
feriors in all save wealth ? What matters it,
that thy short life is exposed to the rude blasts
of adverse fortune, if at last thou art crowned
with immortality, which those who rudely
push thee from them think not of. Hope on,
then, in thy poverty ; aspire to be great by be
ing troly rood.
The SoiTn or Olden Time. In Mr. Ben
ton's forth coming volume of his thii ty years
; in the Senate, occurs the following passago,
in allusion to the decline of the commerce of
the Southern States :
"It is a tradition of the Colonies that the
South had leen the seat of wealth aud happi
ness, of power and oppulence ; that a rich
population corercd the land, dispensing baro
nial hospitality, and diffusing the felicity
which themselves eujoyed ; that all was life,
and joy, and affluence then. And this tradi
tion was not without similitude to the reality,
as this writer can testify; for he was old
enough to have seen (after the Revolution)
the fetill surviving state of southern colonial
manners, when no traveler was allowed to go
to a tavern, and was handed over from family
to family through entire States when holi
days were days of festivity and expectation,
long prepared for, and celebrated by master
and slave with music and feasting, and great
concourse of friends aud relatives ; when gold
was kept in chests or desks, (after tho down
fall of paper) and weighed in scales, and lent
to neighbors for short terms without note, in
terest, witness or security and on bond or
land security for long years and l.-rful usance ;
and when petty litigation was at so low an ebb
that it required a fine of forty pounds of to
bacco to make a man serve as constable."
Right Talk. A straight out wrtter givea
the following cxcclleut advice to those young
men who depend on fathers for their support,
and take no interest whatever in business, bnt
arc regular drones in the hive, subsisting on
that which is earned by others : "Come, off
with your coat, clinch thtfl saw, the plough
handles, the axe, pickaxe, spade anything
that will enable you to stir your blood ! Fly
around and tear your shirt, rather than be a
passive recipient of the old man's bounty !
Sooner than play the dandy atMad's expense,
hire yourself out to some potato patch let
yourself to stop hog-holes or watch the bars ;
and when you think yourself entitled to a rest
ing spell, do it on your own hook. Get up in
the morning-turn around at least twice be
fore breakfast help the old gentlemau give
him now and then a generous lift in business
learnjiow to take the lead, and not depend
forever on Joeing led, and you have no idea
how the discipline will benefit you. Do this,
and our word for it, you will seem to breath a
new atmosphere, possess a newiframe, tread a
new earth, wake to a now destiny, and yoa
may then begin to aspire to manhood. Take
off, then, that ring from yuu lily doper. hr.t
your cane, shave your Mpcr lip, wipe vour
nose, hold up your head, and, by all means,
never again eat the bread of idleness, nor de
pend on father.
AWonderfil Blind Max. The Journal
deChartres gives an account of a water-mill,
in the hamlet of Oisiem, near Chartres, built
entirely by a blind man, without either assis
tance or advice from any one. The masonry,
carpenter's work, roofing, stairs, paddle
wheel, cogs, in a word, all the machinery
pertaining to the mill, has been made, put up,
and set in motion by him alone. He has al
so, the above journal asserts, made his own
furniture. When the water is low and the
mill does not work, our blind miller become
a joiner, and also a turner, on a lathe of his
own invention, and so lie makes all mauner of
utensils, and pretty toy wind-mills for the ju
veniles. He lives quite alone, sweeps his
own room, and cooks his own dinner ; his mo
ther, who has fifteen children to care for, Uvea
a mile off, and does not trouble her head'about
'her blind boy,' for 'he earns his bread now,
she says, 'and does not want hcr. In 1852
this blind miller was rewarded with a medal
by the agricultural society of the arrondisse
ment for a machine serving the double pur
pose of winnowing corn and separating the
best grains from the common.
The F aithfil Wife. A true-hearted wo
man always walks by faith and not by tight; '
no matter that the world deserts the object of
her affections, that he stumbles and falls, ajd
repeats his error, or that adversity over
whelms him in his career, she is always in the
right place, her heart ever glowing with hope,
and pointing to the future when all shall be
bright and cheering.
She never assails the heart of her friend,
rudely, but oharms it by those delicate touch,
es of silent eloquence, that speak without a
voice and find their way to the heart's best
fountain, as heat penetrates and vivifies the
world of beauty and life. . ' . ... -
The Mind. What an emanation from God, 1
is the human aUnd ! Though it dwells in a, -frail
cottage, yet it can look out of the win
dows of its clayey tenement and soar among
the stars, and fly with them around the migh
ty orbit in which they move with inconceiva
ble velocity.
Truly, we may aay, how sublime Is the Ira
nian mind standing forth in its God given re
galia. With what mingled awe and joy are
we possessed, when we see it unfolding fte't
lofty faculties with such gigantic yet calm
power, and pressing upward on its shining !
track into the heavens !
fjy The good, heart; 'the tender feelings
and the pleasant disposition, make smiles,
lore and sunshine rrrwher.
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