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BY W. LEWIS.
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From thuFhig of our Union.
BY ALBERT 0. CLOUGII
U the joy when,night.its mantle
Weaves along the silent Sky,
And the "starry hosts of heaven"
Peep from out their homes on high ;
When the moon's soft light is lending
Newer beauty to the earth,
And all nature seems to mirror
Forth the peace that hailed its birth—
4 VViien - s - oMe genflezephyr bringeth
Lulling music to the ear.,
Like some loving, seraph whispering
To us from the'angel sphere.;
Then to give the, sou l's deep feeling
To the, magie'of, the hour,
And to shrine within our spirit,
All its beauty, all its power. -
Earth can give no higher pleasure,
None mi)re'holy, - Pure; than this ;
For the k ~ crjr"heart seems laden "
With a calm angelic bliss.
Give me, then-, the peaceful feeling
That belongeth to_this hour,
For ray spirit ilienmUst 'worship
The Creator of ids power.
THE EROTHEE. HUNTERS
POOR TOM'S FATE.-
At the foot of the OzarlCMountains, where
the rocky.siolies extended, far l into,the
vated settlements, and at no,gr,eat distance
from the,bank of. the Mulberry, which foam
ed and roared against the eharp ridges of ice
with which the extraordinary severe win-
ter threatened to imprison it, two white
hunters walked wrapped in their blankets,
along the stream, and seemed to be•looking
for a place, where they could cross to the oth
er. side. - • •
They were two-powerful looking:fellows,
tts they , "tvalked on with theicrifies on :heir
shotilder r s, and the elegant fringed leg.gins,
the closely fitting and carefully soled tnoCca
sins showed that they had' assumed the hab- -
its of the woods and not of those "land• bun
ters"_ who especially ;IC th'at day,:bad began
traversin'gqhe .western part of ,the State in
order:to fintleut the most favorably situated
districts, and purchase, or at Cast lay claim
lo them. •
.
""Bill," one of therri ,"cit. last 'said, ;IS he strip
ped, "our - searching is of no use—you' see I
n,•_as'right; the tream'liete too wide. ior
to find a tree.lying ,across,n, and if I really
went to• Work with •ni'y; little'tornahaWk and
'felled one the nearest plane trees, it would
not belong enough„ Besides a heavy storm
is gathering behincl'us and I think we should
not do wrong were we-to matte arrangements
.for ipassiog ,this night' better than the:last.; it
will be bitterly : , r
"It's very annoying, though," Bill -an
swered,his brother crossly,"that we should
not reach the ravine over tere to-night, for
in the first place, " w,e . should find - famous
guartere,in mie of the numerous caves, and
then,
_besides, I should have , liked to looked
for bears:; there are sore to he some there.—
The water's,teo,eoid, for -us to swim across,
and.the: storm-will not be a trifling, one.; so
16 work ;.••:here are old trees enough
lying about, and 6 - bark - roof' can be easily
made." • '
"There are 'almost too many trees lying
about," Torn replied, looking all around
him "and those still standing 'seem 'rotten
and ready to fall, I do not much like the
theught of camping here, for you •know
-the story father told. , 'once about such a
.place." • . ,
"Nonsense l'? -Bill • said, laughingly.—
"Can we find a better caniping The little
• stream runs along at our feet, there's plenty
of wood close and'• handy, the young-trees
will' furnish•famous poles, an'd' the bark there
is first rate for'roof.U• ' '
Torn made no' further'• objection ; the spot
loOkett too- in iiiting,'anci they were both soon
"engaged in raising' a rough shelter for that
-night at lea.st,' which'coald''afford the teffuge
against the collecting•, storm.' 'Crider such
'good hands the work was easily accomplish
ed, and the next half hOur found both under
quickly erected toot - , watching 'the
piece of meat broiling in the fire.
-
• -"lt's strange how cold' it has suddenly tur
ned," Torn'at length broke the silence, "on
-ly look, the' water in the tin pan is frozen
quite hard, and the . wind has chopped round
to the 'north east; it blows confoundedly sharp
too. 1.! ' •
"Let it llow;" 'Bill yawned,: as be *rap
ped himself closely in the folds of his blank
et; am tired and want to sleep, Torn lay a
couple of boughts on the.fire before you turn
in ,'-arid the one first .awake to-morrow must
arouse the other." _
Midnight was•past, and the fire had near
br expired, but the two brotherk slept firmly,
and the icy north wind That howled over the
snow-clad hills into the valley, could not
disturb their• slumber. Heavy masses of
clouds had, however, collected together from
various quarters; ilark,lv threatening they
brooded over the•rustling forest, and the state
ly trees shook and bowed their leafless bran
ches as if in timid forebodings. of the ap
proaching storm. A. , bright flash of light
ning suddenly burst from the black heavens,
and a terrific peal of thunder almost instan
taneously followed the messenger of destruc
tion. One of the terrible winter storms was
impending, and the unchained hurrican howl
ed and tore through the narrow mountain ra
vines.
L 6 Bill'." cried Torn, springirr , up,in bOrror,
"Bill, get up; rwe dare not lie down; see how
the old trees,quiver; and you hear there's one
Of them cracking !"
"Hello !" Bill replied as he quickly threw
oft his blanket, "has it caught us '1 Hi !
Torn, lay hold of the roof; I'm blessed if the
confounded northwester . ' won't take it along
with it."
His fear was not entirely unfounded; for at
the same instant such a furftius blast buist
frOm the oppoSite valley that it half uncover
ed their resting-place in a second, and burn
ing ashes and. sparks were carried far away
into the gloom of the night. A lightning
flaSh again burst forth from the clouds and
the thunder deadened the sound of the how
ling storm. .Then it suddenly seemed as if
the whole earth was torn 'front its founda
tion; far, far away on, it. carne,_ like the
crash of a thousand Cannons; then 'nearer
and nearer it roared, spreading Wild and ter
rible overthrow and harrowing desolation
around.
,','Almighty God, a hurrican!" Tom dried,
starting up in. terror, for at the same moment
the storm reached them. The giant trunks,
Which had withstood cenfurieS, bowed like
thin twigs, and with 'one blew, that struck
terror to the hearts *eift he !isteners, the whole
forest was mowed level with the earth by the
hand of the Almighty;
The hurricane raged further and further
with frightful velocity; for miles around it
overthrew the tall oaks, and hiirlecithem
like• reeds to the ;round; for miles around
Maiked its path with desolation and destruc
tion; but silence, grave-like silence, folloWed
in ,its track, and rested over the'widely-scat
ered trees ; not: a breath Was stirring, and the
calinness of death, after this horrifying out
brea,k of the elements, affected the poor heart
of ,a, mortal with a more agrinfzing shudder
thari it had felt even in the most terrible fury
Of the storm.
, :Bill had miraculonsly escaped, without
even the slightest injury; clinging tightly to
in immense tree that had previously fallen ;
another oak that had fell across it only ser
ved to save him, as it guarder him from the
Either continually falling branches and Smal
ler trees; but Unix, as soon as the first most
pressing danger passed he jrimpeclup and
cried, filled with terror, to his brother.
'iTom—brother Tom—do answer Tom.
Great God ! has such a terrible end fallen to
your share."
No ! it would have been well for him if
that had been his lot, he still lived, and his
weak voice, at no great distance struck the
hunters attentive ear.
merciful Heavens !" ,the *latter cried
When he had quickly leaped oyer,a couple
of frees lying ; in his way, and with a blazing
pine torch in his hand, stood before him he
sotight.
"All-merciful Heaven's P' he repeated in
almost maddening agony; and covered
,his
face with his hands, for 'closeJO. him pale as
a corpse, with bot his
which
burned be
neath au immense oak, - was shattered
front top to bottom, lay his. Torn his brother,
the.playmate.of his youth; the darling of his
heart.
"it's very coil," the unhappy man whis
'pered, and lotiked up imploringly to the hun
ter, who apparently incapable of anylurther
movement, stood near him as if hewn out of
storie—"it's very cold ; Bill; can't you bring
me a little fire
. These words broke the charm which seem
. • •
ed to possess his half unconscious. brother.
"Torn, Tom ;!" he cried, as he threw him
, self with groans on the mutilated' body . ' of
.his-dearest companion.
"You hurt me, Bill, the latter entreated ;
my.-arm pains me, and it is so cold."
4.Wait, you, shall have fire—in •a fevii„sec
onds," Bill now cried, ;IS he Sprung hastily
.up,' lie there 'a minute longer, and fetch
you some ashes, and then help you up—only
a moment's patience ;" and in haste he flew
back to the still burning camp fire. • Ah ! he
'did:not notice the features of the unhappy
man, as he begged him to have patience.—
He hurriedly collected all the ashes and burn
ing-Wood his arms could hold4he. flarries
,Scorching his' hunting shirt and hands—lie
did' not notice it, and flew baCk to hiSbroth
er"s side; plenty of drift wood lay around,
and in a few moments a bright, cheering pre
flared by the Side of the tree, under Whose
giant weight the poor' fellow lay buried
Bill now regarded with a shudder the ter
rible: scene, and madly threw himself on the
tree, which a hundred—men could not have
raised, and tried his utmost strength on an
impossibility.
"Bill !" Tom gently begged •him; "come
here, come—give me your hand—that's
right. And now, Bill—do you really love
me ?"
A convulsive grasp•of his brother's hand
answered the question ; speak 'he could not,
for the tears he had suppressed with difficul
ty suffocatod every soulid.
"Will you do me a service ?” Tom _im
plored, drawing the unresisting man closer
to him.”
"A. service !" Bill whispered"---"a ser
vice ! What
_can you ask that I would not
do for you if it was in my power 1"
"You promise to do it ?"
"What is it ?" the . hunter asked in ter-
lOC.
"Take your rifle," Torn begged "and put
.an end to my sufferings."
"Torn !" the brother cried, .as' he sprung
:up in horror. '
"Put an end to my sufferings," thounhap-
HUNTINGDON, JUNE 6, 1855.
py man entreated. Bill ! brother ! ; if you
ever loved me prove, it now. Do not let me
perish here, slowly and horribly."
"1 will save you if it
. cost me my life,"
Bill ,cried. "I will return with assistance
this very night."
"That is not possiple," the poor fellow re
plied, sorrowfully shaking his head. "The':
next settlement is by , the nearest road ; at
leost•fifteen miles from here •„, but the : road]
your would have to take to go ouncrthe rocks '
and ravines, is twenty - and if you come
back, if you brought fifty, men with you
,what, help could they give me 1", Both my
thighs are shattered, and the nearest doctor 1
lives at Little Rock, hunclrels of miles from
here, and whither we scarce know the direc
;Bill will you let me lie here for days,l
and afterwards see me perish miserably ?)'-
"Ask my own life, and .
,you shall have it
with pleasure ; but don't require such a, ter
rible thing from me ; it Must be possible to
save you—l have my tomahawk—l. ,can cpt
this tree throughl can— '
"Can you cure wounds like these,?P . Torn
interrupted him; and'pointed with rhis.hand
to hits thigh. It was a terrible sight ;. and the
brother. fell upon his knees with a groan.
"I • cannot murder you," he gently said.
"And do you call that murder Oh, Bill I
he continued, "could you only fancy the . pain
I am now sufferina,.you (would take compas
sion—would not let me beg in vain."
- "I will give you'a, rifle—don't make me
my brother's murderer," Bill groaned.
"My right arm is also broken ; I cannot
even if I would."
"Tom I." the powerful man sobbed, as he
threw himself by his brother's side, what is
it you want of me?"
"What did you lately do, to Nestor when
the bear had torn_him so terribly ?",
shot him."
"He was your favorite dog."
"And : you loved him more than me?"—
Tom now asked almost reproachfully., •
"Oh ! L why did I not heed your warning
when NVe last night
,reached :this unhappy
spot? why did I not avoid - the decayed trees
that threatened us,oit all sides ?' why- 77 "
'P' the unhappy man interrupted : him,
;,cdo ,you mean to free me. from -my• tor
tures „
"I will !" the pOor fellow sobbed on his
brother's neck. They held' one another in
F.Cold.embrace for a long while, but when Tom
tried to unloose his hold, his brother only
' held him the tighter.' .Day at length broke
in the east, and the sun shone on the chaos
Of wildly scattered trees around. -
"Let us part," Tarn :whispered, be a
- man." , - •
He quickly pushed his brother back, and
he at length stood up.
"Well then, be it so ! I See you are right.
It is impossible to save you. I know, too,
that I should have asked the same of you in
a similar case, and you would - not have re
fused me; Pray to God for the last time,
and pray too for me, that he may forgive me
the murder of mybrother."
Bill tottered away to fetch his rifle, but he
returned in a few moments with a• firm and
certain step. With his gun in his hand ; he
_swung himself with his right hand - over the
scattered trunks, and soon stood agsin‘by the
side of.his brother, who looked. affectionately
in his face. .
"lam..ready ;P said the latter with a smile,
"do' not tremble.:and God - reward you for your
kindness.—good-bye ! He offered - him his
hand as-he turned his.face away. •
"Brother !" the tortured, hunter cried, in
agony;and he threw himself •again on his
breast. Once again they held' each other in
.a cold embrace, till Tom entreated gently, - . "do
not delay any longer." With' a hasty bound
the hunter-stood- on :his feet, raised his rifle
to his cheek,.and layl the next moment un
conScicius. by the side" .of the brother he had
shot.
What more have I to-tell I.Sha S ll I describe
how he awoke and piled branch upon branch
on his brothers corpse, so that wolf and pan
thermight not fasten their greedy teeth in
•the beloved remains—hm,v he tottered away,
and wrestled with death- for many months in
the wild dreams of fever, carefully nursed by
friends 1 No ! - enough of this sorrowful
tale. His brother's- blood-covered face did
not long trouble him in'his nightly dreams,
or cause him to spring in terror from his bed,
and try to fly—on an expedition -against
some plundering Creeks a cpmpassionate ,bul
let put an end to his life , and friends buried
him. where he
_fell I 'Bilt his memory 'is still
retained in that neighborhood.,'.and when a
huiiter camps at 'night, and turns an 'enqui
ring glaride towards the' giant trunks . ,which
menacingly surround him, theft a geritle
prayer Of even the roughest and wildest of
the, band arises, and whispers, "God Preserve
Me - fro : in poor Tom's fate:"
Dobbs in the Legislatuie
Owing to a new'phase .in politics, Dobbs
was elected to the
,Legislature. Though
gratified; he . W n
as also _little intimidated by
the honor, and but for the thought that he
was not necessarily 'obli g ed to speak, would
have declined serving.' • As it was, -be accep
ted.
All things went on smoothly for a time.
Mr. Dobbs could vote on'otherpeople's mo
tions though he could'Ut_make any himself.
One itoltic.ky day, however,' the proceddinas
being' rather . ' dull, and r. Dobbs rather
thirsty', he e.onclUded to 'go down to Cover
ley'S and get.a. 'glass 'of lemonade. As he
rose to leave the hall, he caught the Speaker's
eye. The Speaker supposed he intended 'to
address the House, and accordingly announ
ced in a loud voice—" Mr. Dobbs." Dobbs
started .as if he had been shot. The assem
bled wisdOm of the State had their eyes fixed
upon hini. He pulled but his pocket hand
kerchief to wipe away 'the perspiration, and
feeling it 'necessary to say something, blun
dered out—" Second the motion" "There is
no motion before the HOuse," said the Spea
ker- "Then I-I"—'be silence was breath
less. "I—I—" Dobbs could'nt think of any
thing to say. But a bright idea came to him,
and he finished the sentence—"l move we
adjourn." The motion . didn't go, but Dobbs
did, and nothing more was seen of him fur
that day.
From the Waverly Magazine.
TEARS. •
By 3. J. WIGGENS
"The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ;
The rose is sweetest washed With morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears."
Tears are the crystal drops which are the
emblems of man's weakness, of man's affec
tion, and of man's misery. They, distilled
with curious art, by some passion or emo
tion,of the mind, at last burst the barriers of
their receptacle, and pour themselvs forth in
one uncontrolable flood. They are the
heart's impulses, which, excited by some
thought or external object, and which, una
ble to find relief in words, declare themselves
by this unuttered language.
There is the tear of the child, who pursues
the gaudily colored butterfly over fields and
hedges, through bramble& and mire, and
when at last he reaches the object of his chase,
by his. impatient ,and unskillful grasp de
stroys atonce its frail beauties and the re
ward of .his labors; and from his little
bosom, heaving with emotion, the • tear of
Mingled disappointment and passion springs
to his eye, and he casts the remains_ of the
quivering insect beneath his fet.
There is the tear of the maiden, as she
waits, expecting her lover, at the trysting
place, and with eager eye she pierces the
thick shade around her, or gazes down the
-moonlit path—but he comes not—or as in
her solitude she reads the cold words of his
short missive, the tear of blighted affections
stole down her cheek.
There, too, are the tears of the mourner as
she kneels beside the clay-cold corpse of a
beloved husband, or an idolized child, whom
the gloomy precincts of the grave Will soon
shut out from her view, and she bedews the
outpourings of a grief-stricken heart.
And there too, is the tear of sympathy
which denotes a heart that mingles in our
sorrows and has a fellow feeling for our in
firmities. - •
There is the tear of the prisoner, as he pt.-
zeSthrough *the narrow grating of the gloomy
cell 'Which has been his living tomb for years,
upon the light-hearted crowd thronging past,
totally unconscious of his misery, and sighs
as he thinks'of his own happy home, from
'Which a tyrant's commands rudely tore him ;
and there is the tear of the exile, as standing
on the 'shores of some distant country, he
pictures to hirriself the green fields, the lof
ty hills, and the azure skies of his own ; his
native land.
There is the - tear of joy which comes from
a heart too fell to-relieve itself by a smile or
a laugh, but , Bice the rainbow, the promise
'of a pleasant day, which needs a moist sky
to display its briliant hues, as the eye, bright
ened by joy, shines with a clearer lustre
through its covering of pearly dew. '
And there -too is the hypocritical tear,
which so well simulates the appearance of
friendship or the gush of remorse or inno
cence, or serves, by its being the oozing from
the muddy pool of a deceitful mind, to con
ceal the foul intention.
There is the tear of rage, which is not the
kindly flood that relieves the c'ereharged
heart, but it-is distilled drop by drop from the
furnace:of paision ;. and there is the tear of
vengeance, the drops of liquid fire, which is
like the weeping of marble in a quarry, sur
rounded- by flames, or the hissing of the
moist oak amid the crackling blaze.
There.is the tear of the patriot as driven
by the enemy to the mountain fastnesses, he
gazes from: thence on hie , native valley, and
sees the smoking ruins of his own fireside
and the corpses of his kinsman, and perhaps
of his own family, lying in their own fields.
Irving relates n touching incident in his con
quest'of Grenada, that, Baabdil, the unfortu
nate Monarch with his small band of followers
when leavin. Grenada, paused on' the.sum
mit. of a lofty hill; and as they gazed on the
shining minarets and battlements of the Al
-ham'ra,. and the -valley blooming with ver
dure, with the silver stream of' the Xenil
winding through its midst, the heart of the
monarch, softened by misfortune, could no
longer contain itself—" Allah Achbar 1 God
is ,great ;''said he, but the word's of resigna
tion died on his lips, and he burst into tears.
Some would say it is unmanly to weep,
that tears are the refuge of woman and chil
dren, but we are not yet sunk so low that we
have not a spark of feeling' left' in our hearts.
-Our SaViour was - the noblest of men, of un
daunted courage, yet he was "a man of sor
rows and acquainted with grief ;" he wept
at the grave of Lazarus, lamented over Jerusa
lem, and shed:tears of blood in the garden of
Gethsemane. Alexander the Great wept
when he' had no more worlds to conquer ;
and that, too, when excited by the martial
_tones of Homer's Iliad, he rested not in his
conquering career until he .had
,reached the
banks of the Ganges. And doubtless nu
merens other instances might be cited, of
men who great in courage or in mind, have
condesCended to 'tears, when the chord of
their sympathies or their affections bad been
stricken: •
There are some who, rendered callous by
long commingling with the world, listen in
stolid apathy • tolhe recital - of distress, and
others. whose heaits. are 'hardened to' such a
degree of emotionless inflexibility, that noth
ing less than some mighty influence can sof
ten their stony obduracy.
There are, also, afflictions and sorrows
which cannot find a vent in tears, and there
is an agony of the spirit, and a tgrment of
the soul, which dry up a fountain of grief.—
It would seem as if the emotions and sympa
thies of the heart had been paralized by some
powerful shock ; and with what pain do we
behold one, who, having received some se
vere blow to the mind, yet whose glazed eye
is unmoistened., whose form is unbowed, and
whose heart, apparently, emotionless. By
wel I expresses it in his Giaour—
• "I wished but for a single tear,
At something welcome, new, and dear :
I wished itthen, 1 wish it still, •
Despair is stronger than my will."
[1:7" Honesty and industry combined will
insure you a fortune. Try then, to obtain
these two important virtues.
.A Good Recommendation.
"Please,_sir, don't you want a cabin boy?"
"I do want a cabin boy, my lad, but what's
that to you? A little chap like you ain't fit
for the berth."
"Oh, sir, I'm real strong. I can do a great
deal of work, if I ain't so very old.
"But what are you here for? You don't
look like a city boy. Rnn away from home,
hey ?"
"Oh no indeed, sir; my father died, and
mother is very poor, and I want to do some
thing to help her. She let Tne come.
"Well, sonny, where are your letters of re
commendation? Con't take any boy without
these."
Here was a damper. Willie had never
thought of its being necessary to have letters
from his minister, or his teachers, or from
some proper person to prove to strangers
that he was an honest and good boy. Now
what should he do. He stood in deep thought,
the captain'• meanwhile curiously watching
the working of his expressive face. At length
he put his hand into his bosom and Crew
out his little Bible, and without one word
put it into the captain's hand. The captain
opened to the blank page and read :
"Willie Graham, presented as a reward for
regular and punctual attendance at Sabbath
School, and for his blameless conduct there
and elsewhere. From his Sunday School
tacker.
Captain McLeod was not a pious man,
but he could not consider the case before him
with a heart unmoved. The little father
less child, humbly before him, referring hini
to the testimony of his Sunday School Teach
er as it was given in his little Bible. touched
a tender spot in the breast of the noble sea
rriaD, and, clapping. Willie heartily on the
shoulder he said :—"You are the boy forme;
you shall sail with me; and, if you are as
good a lad as I think you are, your pockets
shan't be empty when you go back to your
good mother." ,
A TOUCHING CITSTOM.-A common cus
tom in Paris, which impresses a stranger fa
vorably, is that of the lifting or taking off
the hat when a funeral passes. A writer on
this subject relates the following :
"Some years since, we were one of that
rushing crowd ever pouring up and down
Broadway. When iu front of old St. Paul's,
all eyes were attracted by the appearance of
the crew of the French war vessel La Belle
POule, which then visited the United States
under the command of the - Prince de Join-
The crew were in their naval dress
uniform, bright and beautiful, and were'saun
tering along seeing sights.
"All at once they stopped, and formed a
line, faced inward, and'uncovered. How ex
quisite and touching was the scene when we
discovered in that thoughtless, busy, hUrry
ing crowd, a man of foreign birth, evidently
poor and friendless, under whose arm was a
tiny coffin, and by his side the stricken moth
er.. They were in search for a burial place
for their babe, and were jostled and unheed
ed in that gay torrent of humanity, until they
met these hardy tempest-tossed mariners,
Who,,on the instant with bared heads, stood
in silent respect, while the sacred ashes of
the unknown infant were passing. Such are
wrench manners."
.9. Word for Young Men
Extract from an address delivered before
the graduating class of Burger's College, by
the Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen :
"Resolve to do something useful, honora
ble; itutiful, and do it heartily. Repel the
thought that you can, and therefore you may,
live above work and without it. Among the
most pitiable objects in society is the man
whose mind has not been trained by the dis
cipline of - education'; who has learned how
to think of the value of his immortal pow
ers, and with all these noble faculties cultiva
ted and prepared for an honorable activity,
ignobly sits down 'to do nothing; with no in
fluence over the public mind; with no inter
est in the concerns of his country, or even
his neighborhood ; to be regarded as a drone,
without object or character, with no hand to
lift and no effort to pnt forth tu help' the
right or defeat the wrong. Who can think
,with-any calmness of such a miserable en
terprise Never permit your influence to
go into hostility to the cause of truth . and
virtue. So live that,' with the Cristian poet,
you Inez truthfully say' that
"If y our country stand not
.by your shill,
At least your follies have not wrought her 11111."
Marriage
Marriage should' lie emblematic of the
union of mind, and heart to heart. It is well
to build matrimonial happiness on physibal
sympathy of heart responding to heart; but
the mental adaption, and a similarity of
views relative to the grand principle of ac
tion and events'of society, should also be ta
ken into consideration ; for the bodily per
fection. must fade, the ardor Of affection may
cool or be diverted into another channel, bu:
the minds fixity of purpose is more to be de
pended upon, its energies diminishing but
slowly with.increasing years. A marriage
founded upon this mutual understanding has
but little• chance of being wrecked. Both
parties- finding the self-same mental beauty
they once admired, and constantly deriving
from each other benefit of mutual interchange
of thought, they lire together as monitors ;
their two beings have become insidiously
chained by habit,'and they really form but
one personality, though having, it is true, a
masculine and feminine side.
THE LIST DODGE—A novel mode of eva
ding the Sunday law has just been discover
ed in New-York. The Courier states that a
keeper of a Lager Beer teller in the Bowery,
for the purpose of evading the law requiring
him to close his place on Sunday, has been
in the hibit of holding pretended religious
services therein, officiating himself as the
leader of ceremonies. He takes the Bible,
reads a chapter or two, serves each of his
hearers with a glass of beer, and takes up a
collection. As the Constitution probably
did not contemplate so much liberty of con
science; the-arrangement was interfered with
by the pollee.
A 7 OL. 10, NO. 51.
The Female Mind.
The influence of the female mind over the
stronger mind of man, is greater, perhaps,
than many are willing to acknowledge. Its
operations are various, and some men strug
gle fearfully to disengage themselves from
it. But this we believe, that more or less,
all men have felt its power ; and those per
haps have experienced it to the greatest ex
tent who would have it Supposed they de
spised it most, A woman loses many of her
charms, and consequently, much of her pow
er in the opinion of many, when she ranges
herself on the side of that, which is wrong;
while it is impossible to calculate the influ
ence of virtuous woman, when that influ
ence is exercised with tenderness- and mod
esty. The ruin produced by a had woman
may be sudden and violent, and compared
to the bursting of a volcano, or the overflovi
lags of the ocean ; but - the influence of a vir
tuous woman are like the gentle dew and
morning showers, which deceno silently. and
softly and are known only by their effects in
the smiling aspect of the valleys and the
of the autumnal branches.
Truth in Conversation
The love of truth is the stimulous of all
noble conversation. This is the root of all
the charities. The tree which springs from
it may have a thousand branches, but they
will all bear a golden and generous fruitage.
It is the loftiest impulse to inquire—willing
to communicate, and more willing to receive
—contemptuous of petty curiosity, but pas
sionate for glorious know_ ledge. Speech
without it is but a babble; rhetoric is more
noisy but less useful than the tinman's trade.
When the love of truth fires up the passions,
puts its lightning into the brain, then men
may know that a prophet is among them.—
, This is the spring of all heroism, and clothes
the martyr with a flame that outshines the
flame that kills him. Compared with this,
the emulations of argument, .the pungenciss
of sarcasm, the pride of logic, the pomp of
declamation, are as the sounds of automata
to the voice of man.
Profits - on Pc:alit:U..
Few farmers expect to realize anything of
any amount from their poultry. Heris are
left to take care of themselves, es a general
thing, while sheep and other animals, from
which they cannot possibly realize so large
per cent on the cost, occupy the whole of the
breeders time and attention. Now let us
suppose that a man owns 300 hens, and takes
care of 'them as he ought. He selects six
acres of respectable land; makes a good fence
around it, and divides it in the middle. He
puts up a good warm building, 12 feet by 40.
In one of these three acre yards he keeps
his hens during the summer, ploughing 'it
once in two or three 'seeks for their bene
fit. The other yard he plants to corn ;
the crop being sufficient to keep his hens
through the winter. They lay, on an aver
age, two hundred eggs each per annul, or 6,-
000 a year, in all, which worth, at a low es
timate $6OO. The hens should be changed
from one yard to the other every year.— Dol.
Newspaper.
AN OBEDIENT CHILD.—NQ 'object is more
pleasing. than a meek and obedient Child.—
He reflects honor Upon his parents,' fin= their
wise management. He enjoys much ease
and pleasure to the utmost limit of 'what is fit.
He promises excellency and usefulness; to
be, when age has matured the understand
ing, a willing subject in all things to the gov
ernment of God. No object, on the'contra
ry, is more•shocking than
. a child under no
management.. We pity orphans,- who' have
neither father or mother - to care for theni. A
child indulged 'is more to be•pitied ; it - has no
parentit is its own master—peevish: for
ward, headstrong, blind; born to a' double
portion of tronble and sorrow, above what
fallen man is' heir to
,; not only miserable
himself, but' wtirthlesS ; and a plague to all
who in•future will be.connected with him.
ANTI-SCRATCIAING MACHINE.—The Yan
kee who .invented the '"Patent Hen Persua
der" has found his matoh in another who has
brought ont ea invention called the "Patent
Never-Failing Garden. Preserver, or Hen
Walker." It consists of a small instrument,
something like a spur, only considerably lon
ger, whic is attached to the hind part of the
hen's leg, pointing at an angle _of forty-five
degrees toward the ground. When the hen
w i t h thi s instrument en- her legs enters the
g arden in the spring after seeds, she puts - her
foot fot ward to scratch, the "walker" catch
es in the ground and'forces her forward ; and
thus she is walked, in her efforts to' scratch ;
entirely out of the garden:. The Oswego
Palladium says an agency', has been opened
in Oswego for the sale of these machines.—
It must be,"hard scratching' about Oswego,
even for hens without fetters.
13:7",..A. fellow at a race course was stag
gering about the track. with more liquor than
he could carry. "Hallo !, what's the matter
now?" said a chap whom the inebriated in
dividual had just run against. "Why—hic
—why," said the fellow, so clrnnk- he,was
hardly able to articulate; "the fact is, a lot
of my friends have been betting liquor on
the race to-day, and they've got me to held
the stakes!"
Qom' 'Let no man be too - proud to work,—
Let no man be ashamed of a hard fist or a
sunburnt countenance. Let him be ashamed
only of ignorance and sloth. Let no man be
ashamed of poverty. Let him only be asha
med of idleness and dishonesty: •
WHEN WE ARE DEAD.-1. There will be
some honest sorrow. A few will be really
sad, a 6 we are robed for the grave—few
er, probably, than we now suppose. Out of
a small circle, how soon we shall be forgot
ten! A single leaf from a boundless forest
fallen! That is all.
Ty- Humility ever dwells with men of no
ble minds. It is a flower that prospers not
in lean and barren soils; but in ground that
is rich, it flourishes and is beautiful. '
13:7 Save your dimes and the dollars will
save themselves.
=I