THE DEMOCRATIC HERALD, IS publiahed every Salu'rfiflf' 'morninéfa} Butler, Pénn’a., by cthNpL Us COLL‘S': ANDREW E. MARSHALL, gupon the follow; ingvuonglitionsbviz: , i I ~ TERMS—OE“: Baum :mjnrmv CEN'rs‘ a yeaxj, 1t paid in advancelor Within the first six momhs; or~m'o dollzgngJ 11f no; paid until after. therexpimuqn 9f that time. 1 , No paper-myths ‘discomifitied until all air; ”wages are pmd, except at the option of the publishers. ‘ ‘ . . , 1 Allqommunications must§be post mmfio receive attention. ‘ - RATES OF ADVERTISING - One square, lhrea insertions, ‘ $1 00 "sEver)'subsequenlinserfion,=persqunre, 25 ~ 'A liberal discount will be made totbose who advertise by the year, .or for’lhr‘ee or six manuis. 01-‘FICB.—The office of the “Dnmocaific HERALD” is in the north wing of the Court House, immediately abovglhe Commissioner’s Office. ‘ - ‘ POE’I‘ICAL. j'DFliuTgh’Ab’l3637bfi7l3onlight. ’ ’Twas mom—but nol the ray‘ which falls 1118 summer boughs among, - F 5 l 1 When beauty walks in gladnes‘s forth with all .heLlight and- song; . f ’Twzis mom—.but mist‘and éloud' hung deep upon the lonely vale, : And shadows like the wings‘ of death, were ‘ cast upon the gale. . ‘ ‘ For he whose spirit wake the dust of nations into life, That o’er the waste and barren earth spread flowers and fruitage rife; Whose gelling, like the sun, illpmined the mighxy reaims of mind-4 " ‘ Had fled forever from the‘fame, love, friend. ship of mankmd. . . To wear a wremha in glory wrbught, his spirit sweptafar, ' ' , ~ Beyond the soaring wing of thought, the light of moon or star; . r ' To drink ‘r‘mmorlal waters, free from :every taint of earth, ' ‘ ' To breathe, before the slrrine of life, the source: whence worlds had birth) , ‘ ‘ There was wailing on the eddy breeze, and darkness in the sky, . ; ‘ When, wxlh sable plums, and glonk, nud' pa”, :1 inneral train swept by; ‘ Methoughi—St. Mary shield is Salli—that oth er torms moved there, I ‘ Thanihose of menu] broiherh‘qod—the noble, young, and fair! ‘ Was it a dream?——lr’ow oft in fileep we ask can this be irue? ; | Whim warm imagination points her marvels ‘ to our View! 2‘ Eanh’s glory éegms a tarnished crown to that which We behold When dreams enchant our sight «with things wbqse meanest garb is gold! Was it a dgeam?—Methought the “dauulless Harold” passed me by—v“ The proud ‘Fnz James’ with martial step, and dnark, imrepid eye; _ 7 ‘ That ‘Marmion’s’ haughty crest was there, a mouruer for his séke; " And she, the bold, the beautjful sweet ‘Lady of the Lake.’ ‘ The ‘Minstrel’ whose las Hay was o’er—whose broken harp lay low, ‘ And neixr him glorious ‘Waver’by’ with glance add map 0! woe. 2 ‘ And lSmarfs’ voice rose there as when, ’mid fate’s disastrous war, ' - 1 He led the wild, ambitious, proud, and brave ‘Vich 12m Vohr.’ , Next, marvelliug at his sable §uit, the ‘Domi nie’ stalked pant, , , With ‘b‘enram,’ ‘Julia,’ by his side, whose leaxs were flowing fast; 1' ‘Guy Maanuriug’ moved there, o’erpowered , by that aiflicting sight; . 1 And ‘Mexriliea’ as when ch‘e swept o’er Ellau gowau’e heigm. ‘ Solemn and grave ‘Monkbaxgns’ appealed, in midst that burial line; And ‘Uch‘iltreé’ lean: o’er his exafi, and mourn? ed ‘for ‘Auhi Lang Syne !’ ‘ Slow marched the gallant ‘lM’lmyre,’ whilst Laval mused alone; , 3 5 (For once 31155 Wardoufe image leleth’at bo som’s laimful throne.)< - With‘coronach and arms reversed icame forth ‘McGregger’s’ clan— ‘ ‘ Red _‘Dougal’s’ cry pealed $1111“ and wild— ‘Rob Roy’a’ bbld brow lbok’d wan; The fair ‘Diana’ kiss’d her cross, and bless’d .its sainted ray, . And ‘Wae is me,’ the ‘Baillie’ cried, ‘that I should s_ee this day !’ ;.‘ ' Next rode-in méiancholy guise, with sbmbre vest, and .scarf, Z 1 Sir Edward, Land of Eilielzxw, the far-renown: ~ ed ‘Black Dwarf} : . ‘ 1 ,‘ Upon his lefl, in bonnet We, and white locks? flowing free— r ‘ 1' The pmus sculptor of theé 'gmvee-stood ‘Oldj Mommy! .1 ‘ Z ‘Balfonr of’Buxly,’ ‘Claverhpuse,’ the ‘Lpld of ,Evaudzfle,’ , ; ‘ . And stately ‘Lady Margaret} whose woe‘migh‘! nought avaifl ; ‘ I Fierce ‘Boxhweil,’ on his chgrger black, 3,5 hom’ the conflict won; ; . ' u 7 And pale Habbakuk, ‘Muckiemath,’ who cried -‘God’s will be done !’ é ‘ ~ . . ‘ And like a rose, a young white ‘rose', that blooqs’mid wildean‘enea, " " ‘ Passed she, me Inodcfi‘, elegant and'i'inhous ; 'Jeamue Deans.’ _ j ’ Add fDumbiedjkes? that silent kind, with love too deep to smiie,’ s 4 , And EEfiie’ with her noble frie'nd, the-300d ‘Duke 151' Argyge.’ ; - 1“: With lofty brow, and bearing high‘2 dank} j-‘Ra venswocd’ advanced, L 3e 15 Who on the false ‘Lord Keeper’s’ gnienhvilh eye indignant glanced; ,: While: graceful as a lovely; tawn‘, ’nealh cbven close and sure, ‘ f ‘li Approached the beauty of ‘all hearts-ir’l‘he ‘b’ride of Lammermyg’r!’ 1:: Then ‘Annot Lyle,’ the fair? queen oflighl’ and .‘song, stepped near 3~ 4‘ , " - ‘z The .‘Kpight o! Agdenvohri’ and he, :he gifted (Highland sc 1'; ] ‘E . ‘ -. :‘u i _ l ' ‘ , E i Volume 91 ‘Dalgetty,’ ‘Duncan,’ Lord Monteilh, and ‘Ran ald,’ met my viewf— The hapless “Children of the Mist,’ alid bold ‘Alrich Connel Dhu !’ ' ' * On swept ‘Bois Gilbert,’ ‘Front de Bazuf,’ ‘De } Bxacy’a’ plume of woe; f And ‘Ccaur de Lion’a’ cre=t shone-near thexval ; inn: ‘lvanhoe ;’ 1 While; salt gs glides a summer cloud, ‘Rowe nai'clqsér drew, With beautiful ‘Rebecca,’ peerless daughter of ' the Jew. Still onward, likeflxe gathering night, advanced that funeral train, . Like billows, when the tempest sWeeps across ‘ the shadowy main; Where’ervthe eager gaze mightreach, in noble ranks were seen Dark plume, and glittering mail, and crest, and beauteous womanls mien. - A 50'qu thxill’d lbro’ that lgmglhening host ! Melbought the vault was closed, Where, in his gloryand renown, fan“ Scotia’s bard reposed. ’ A sound thnll’d thro’ that lengthenina host!— and £oth my vision fled; - But ah! that mournlnl‘drear'n proved true—l7m immortal Scott was dmd .' The vision and the voice are o’er! their influ ence waned away, ' ‘ Like music o’er a summer laké at the golden close of day. ‘ - The vision and line voice are o’er !—but when will be lorgnl \ , The buried Genius of Romance—the imperish able Scott! . ‘ \' 1 ~ 7 ' \ MibLhLLAIV EOO5. Jenny Lind. BY FREDERXKA BREMERW There was once a poor and plain little girl, dwelling in a little room in Stockholm, the capital of Sweden. She was a poor little girl indeed then; she was neglected, and would have been very unhappy, deprived of the kind ness and care so necessary to a. child, if it had not been lor a peculiar gift.‘ The little girl had a fine voice, and in her loneliness, in 'ironble or in' sorrow. ehe‘ consoled herself by singing. In fact she sung to all she did; at her work, at her play, running or resting, she always sang. The woman who had her in care went out I to work during the day, and used toiloclr in the little girl, who had nothing to enliven her Solitude but the company of a cat. The little girl played with her cat and sang. Once she sat by the open window and stroked her cat 51nd sang, when a lady passed by. She heard ’ a voice, and looked up and saw the little sing er. She asked the child several questions, I went away, and came back Eeverat days after, I followed by an old music master, whom: name i was Crelius. He tried the little gizl‘sinueicul ear and voice, and he was astonished. He took her to—thc director of the Royal Opera of Stockholm, then a Count l’une, whose truly generous and kind heart was concealéd by a rough speech and morbid temper. Creliusiu troduccd his little pupil to the Count, and as— lked him to engage her as “elve” for the Opera. i“&’ou ask a footish thing!” said the Count .grufily, looking disdainlully down on the poor little girl. “What shall we do with that ugly thing? See what feet she has! And thenher lace! She will never be presentable. No, we cannot take her! Away with her !” i The music master insisted almost indignant {jlgn “Well,” excleimed he at last, “if you will not take her, poor as I am, I will take her myself, and have her educated for the scene; then such {mother ear as she has for {music is not to .be found in the whole world.” The Count relented. The liule girl was at last admilted into the school for elves a! the opera, and with some difiicuhy a simplagown 01 black bombasin was procured for her. The care bf her musical education~ was left to an able mastgr, Mr. AJben Berg, director of the song school 01 the opera. Some years later, at a comedy given by the elves of ,the theatre, several persons were struck by the spirit and life mxh which a young ‘elve acted the part of abeggar girl in the play. Lovers of genial nature were charmed, pe dants almost frightened. It was our poor little girl, who had made her first appearance, now about loorleen years of age, frolicsome and full oi hm as a child. \ ‘ A low years still later, a young debutante was to Sing for thefirst time before the public in Weber’s Frieschutz. At the rehearsal pre. ceding the representation of the evening, she sangjin a manner which made the members of the orchestra at once, as by eommon accord, lay down their instruments to clap their hands in rapturone applause. It was our poor, plain little girl‘h‘ere again, 15th had now grown up and was to appear before the public in the role of Agatha. leaw her at the evening repre sentation. ' She was then in the prime of youth, lresh, bright and serene, as a morning in May, pbtfeu in term—her hands and arms peculiar ly graceful—and lovely in her whole" appear ance through the expreesion of her countenance and the noble simplicity and calmness of her manners—tn fact she was charming. We saw not an actress, but a young girl hill of natural geniality and grace. She .seetned to move, speak and sing, without effort of art. All was BUTLER; PA., SATURDAiY;?—~SEPTEMBER‘ 14,‘850. nature and harmony: Her song was distin guished especially by its purity, and_the pow; er ol soul which seemed to swell her tones. Her “mezzo voce” was delightlul. la the night scene where. Agatha, seeing her lover come, breathes out her‘joy in a rapturous song, our young singer, oniturning from the window, ‘at the back of the theatre to tilt? spectatorsagain', was palejbrjoy. And in that pale joyousness she sang with a burst of overflowing love and life that called forth not the mirth but the tears‘ of the auditors. I _ p ‘ From that time she was the declared lavor its or" the Swedish public, whose musical taste 1 and knowledge are said to be surpassed I 100! 1 where. And year after year she continued so, 1 though after a time her voice being overstrain- 3 ed lost somethingzof its freshness, and the pub- l he being‘satiatedg no more crowded the house { when she was singing. Still, at that time, she ‘ could be heard singing and playing more den 1 lightful than ever in Panamia (in Zauberflote) ‘ or in-Anna Boleria', though the opera was al most deserted. (lt was then late in the spring, l and the beautiful weather called the people out i to nature’s plays.) She evidently sang for the' pleasure at the song. : j By that ~time sh’g went to take lessons of Garcia in Paris, and so gave the finishmg touch to her musical education. There she acquired that warlile in which she is said to be equalled by no singer, and which could be compared only to the soaring and warbling lark, it" the [ark ha’da soul. And then the young girl went abroad and sang on foreign shores and to loreign people. ! She charmed Denmark and charmed Germany; she charmed England. She was caressed and i c'ourted every w here'even to adulation. At that courts of the kings, at the housesof the group] and noble, she wad feasted as one of the gran- ‘ dees of nature and art. She was covered 1 with laurels and jewels; But friends wrote of : her, “ In the midst of these splendors she only thinks of her Sweden, and yearns for her t'riends and her peeple.” ’ . 7 ‘ One dusky October night, crowds of people (the most part, by their dress, seeming to be long to the upper classes of society) thronged on the shore of the Baltic harbor at Stockholm. All looked towards the sea There was a rumor of expectance and pleasure. Hours passed away and the crowds stilhgathered and waited and looked out eagerly towards the sea. At length a brilliant rocket rosejoy fully, far out on the entrance of the harbor and was greeted with a general buzz. on shore: “There she comes! there ’she is!” A large steamer now came thundering on, making its triumu phant way through the flocks of ships and boatsiying in the harbor, towards the shor‘e oi the “ Skeppsbro.” Flashing rockets marked its way in the dark as it advanced. The crowd on the shore pressed forward as if to meet it. Now the leviathan ol the waters was heard thundering nearer, now it retreated, now again pushed on, looming and splashing; now it lay ‘ still. And there on .the from of the deck, 3 was Seen by the light of the lamps and roolsete, a. pale, gracelul young woman, with eyes ”brrlliant with tears, and lrps radiant with smiles, wavrng her handkerchtel to her friends ‘ and countrymen on the shore. It was she agaim—OUK poor plain neglected little grrlof lormer days, who came back in Lrlumrrlr to her fatherlaud. But no more poor, _no more plain, no more neglected. She had become rich ; she had become celebrated; and ‘ she had in her slender person the power to im spire and charm mulutudee. ' Some days later we read, in the papers of Stockholm, an address to the public, written by 1 the beloved singer, stating «with noble simplh l city that, “as she once more had the happiness to be in her native_laud_. she would be glad to l sing again to her countrymen, and that the in come at the operas iu‘which she was this sea son to appear, would be devoted to raisega fund for‘a'echool where elves for the theatre would be educated in virtue: and knowledge.” [The intelligence was received as~it deserved, and of course the opera house was crowded every time the beloved singer sang lhere.-—-_ The first time she again appeared in the ‘ “Somnambnla” (one 0! her favorite roles,) the public, after the curtain was dropped, called be: back with great enthusiasm, and received her, when she appeared, with a roar of “hur rahs." In the midst ol the burst of applause, } a clear, melodious warbling' washeard. The , hurrahs were hushed instantly. And we saw 3 the lovely singer standing with her arms 1 slightly extended, somewhat bowingforward‘, ; graceful'as abird on its branch, warhling, war- 1 bling as’no bird ever did, from note to-nqte— and on every one a clear, strong, soaring wars, ble—until she fell. into the retournelle ol her last song, and again sang that Joyful and ‘ touching strain: _ _ ‘ , . . l “No thought can conceive how Heel alm‘y ‘ hem" H She has now accpmplished Ihe good work to which her l'atesl songs in Sweden have been devaled, and she is again toleaveher native land to sing lo a tar remote people.— She is expected this year in the Umted States of Amenca, and herarrival is wecomed with ‘ general feeling of joy. All have heard of 1 her whose history five have now slightly sliad~ owed out: the expected guest, the poor little‘ gill of former daysrthe celebrated singegof now-a-daye, the genial child of nature’and mt iS—JENNY Lmn! A Goon Spscumrrok.—A youth from ‘away down east,’ just landed from the coaster in ivhich he had worked his‘passega to our good city, dropped into a cheap vi‘ciualling cellar and called for at bowl of fish chowder. The savory dish was forrhwith set before our hun gry adventurer, who dipped into it with a will. The Stripliug, however, had not got half wa‘y through with his mess, when, to his surprise, he fished up an ivory comb! ‘Gracious golly !’ whispered the young Kennebeckerto himself, ‘wal, ifhere aren’t a streak o’ luck, any how, to begin, with: six cents fora bowl of chowder and a fine tooth comb—real ivory, and worth a good ninepence anybody’o money—thrown in !’ , Our thrifty but not over-squeamish young ster, pocketed the prize, finished his chowder, paid six cents from his wallet—all ii} cents, then went on his way refreshed and rejoicing. _ Boston Post. TRUE mesomm—A couulr oel alter , Y P , loqking about over life, has come to the foll‘ow lug rhyming conctusiou 2—_ ~ “Oh, I wouldn’t live forever; I wcuhlu’l if I could, ‘ . But 1 needn’t fret about it, For I couldn’! I” would.” ‘ To err on the ‘side of [celing uhd human ity, is neVer a disgrace. 'Bcnjumin Franklin v‘ery quainlly remark- Cd lhu!,"1l was Utuvr PUUPIU‘S rye: tum ruined us.” v ‘ Ono victory over one’s self is worfz‘h ten thousand over others. Envy and Cuvnllmg are powerlu‘ss against lluc vmuc. A mahlxghl may be blown out but not asun. ‘ The world. now-a-days, never believes praise lo be sincere; men are so accustom- Ld (o hum for (hulls, lhal they “ill ,not think any person can [lollBsll] express unnfinglcd admiration. ' - My notions about life (says Soufizey.) are much ihe same as they me about travelling. —iherc is a good deal ofamusemem on the road. but, after an, ‘oue wanls to be at test. The mass 01 mankind hale innovation: they bane. lo unlearn what lfiey have learned wrong. and they ham to confess lheir ignor. nnce by submiuing l 0 learn anything right. It is a fearful, it u delighll‘ul thing. to look on the fgce ofn new-bum infant. and feel that smrow must mark those innocent lin eumenls. \ We“ has it been sand, mm “(3 be born is more awful lhan lo die!” . Truth is always consistent with itself} and 3 needs nothing to help it out; it is always! near at hand, and fills upon our lips, and is‘ ready to drop out bst'me we are aware“ whereas. a he is troublesome, and sets at man’s invention an the rack, and one trick! needs a great many more to make it good. 1 They who tell me that men grow hind hemted as theygrow older. have had a very limited View of this world of oursr. It Is true with those whose views and hopes are merely and x‘ulgarly worldly; but when hu man nature is not perverted. lime strength ens our kindly feelings and aba’tcs our gm? gry one's. ~ A nameless French author truly says:— “Thc modest department of those who are truly wise, when contrasted with the assum ing nir ot'tho ignorant. gray be compared to the different appearances of wheat, which. while its car is empty, holds up its head proudly'. butras soon as it is filled with grain bends modestly down, and withdraws from observation.” 5 l IDLENtzss.—Nine~tenths ’ ofthe miseries and meets ol'manhood proceed from idleness with men of qurck minds. to whom it is es pecially pernicious, this habit is commonly the fruit of many disappointments and schemes oft baffled; and men fail in their schemes. not so much for ‘want ofstrength as for their 11l direction ofit. The weakest living'c‘reatur‘e, by concentrating his powers nn'a single object, can accomplish anything. The drop, by continued falling. bores its passage through the hardest rock; the hasty torrent rushes met it With hideous roar, and leaves no trace behind.—[’l‘homas Carlyle. PREVENTION -—“ Madame," said Jere my Taylor to a lady of his acquaintance. who had been very negleclful of her son's education, ” Madame, if you do not choose to fill your boy’s head with something. the devil will.” The princii ple of the remark is of universal appli cation. The best antidote to evils of irreligion and infidelity. is sound religious instruction. Fill the youthful mind with truth, and it Is fortiliedlngainst the as» saults ol erior. Impress it with the lear of God and it will reject with horror the‘sophislry of impihy. imbue it with sound principles, teach it to cherish holy feelings! and it will turn from (he pollu tion of sin.. . , “You viliidn! Did you no! say that (be chocolnle was cold? ” . - ‘ ' A“ch. sir.” said the boy.‘"[ ihought so: I spit in il, and it did no! bias! " i r ;-- --‘ , • ~ ) .', :. K" : i i ;.. " f 4 t . i Thoughts and Sentiments. ELEMENTS 01’ POETRY 1N MODERN TIMES. _,Such persons see little that is poetical in the American struggle—no mighty romance in tumbling a few chests of tea into the, At lantic. Washington they think insipid; and because America has produced hitherto no great poet,’i‘ts-whole history they regard as a gigantic comnionplaceAthus ignoring the innumerable deeds of derring-do which dis. tingttished that immortal contest—blinding their eyes to the f‘lines,.of empire” in the “infant time of that cradled Hercules,:’ and the tremendous sprawling of his nascent seeking to degrade those forests into whose depths a path for the sunbearris must he hewn. and where lightning appears to enter trembling, and to withdraw in‘ha‘ste; forests ivh‘ie'h must one day drop down a poet, whose genius shall be worthy of their agehtheir vastitude, the beauty which they enclose; and the load of grandeur below which they bend. . l Nor, to the vulgar eye, does there seem much poetry‘ir‘i the French Revolution} though it was the mightiest tide of human bassion which ever boiled and raved; a great deal. doubtless, in Burke’s “Reflec tions”——but none in the cry of a liberated people. which was heard in heaven-Some in the full of‘lhe Busiilc—‘none in Damon’s giant figure, nor in CharlotteCorday’s hom icide—nor in Madam Roland’s scaffold speeches, immortal though they be as the slurs of henven—norJu the wild song 01, the six huudred Marseillese, marchingnorthé ward“to die.” The age of thelgji‘rench Revolution was proved to be {i gland and spiritétining age by its after results—by bringing faith its genuine poet-children—ité Byrons and Shelicys—but needed not this late demonstration of all its power and tend~ -he..- (1;-r-.‘-:_.n_.;-._- ,7 A -1, l GOLDEN Runes or Ltre.—All the air and the exercise in the universe. and the rrtost generqus and liberal table, but poorly suffice to maintain human stamina it'w ne-’ ‘ gleet other cooperatives—namely, thgobe dience to the laws ot abstinence, and these of Ordinary gratification. We rise with the headache. and we set_ about puzzlingwur» selves to know the cause. We then recol lect that we had a hard day’s tag, or that we feasted over buuuteously, or that we stayed up very late; at all events, we incline to find out the fault. and then we call ourselves fools for falling into it. Now, this is an oc currence happening almost every day; and these are the points that run away wrth the best portion of our me, before we find out what rs good or evil- Let any single indi .vidual review his past life; how instantane ously the blush wrll cover his cheek. when he thinks ol‘the egregious errors he has un knowingly committed—say unknowingly, because it never occurred to him 'lhat they tr ere errors until the effects followed that betrayed the cause. All our sickness and ailments, and a brieflife, mainly depend up ”on ourselves. There are thousands who practiee errors day after day, and whose‘pen vnding thought is. that everything which is agreeable and pleasing cannot be hurtful.— ’l'lte slothful man loves his bed; the toper histdrink, because it throws him into an ex hilirative and exquisite mood; thegoutn‘rartil Fnakes his stomach his god; and the sensu alist thinks his delights imperishable. ‘So we go on. and at last we stumble and break dawn. We then begin to reflect: and the truth stares us in the time how‘much we are to blame. ’ - ' ~ 'DELLYDIRD.4One meeism ineroresrs or Guiana a bird much celebrated with the Spaniards, called campaign) or bell-bud.— Its voice is loud and clear as the sound ofn bell; it may be heard at the distancg’lrof a league. ‘l‘to song, no sound can occasion the astonishment produced by the tickling of' the campancro. He sings morning and eve ning like most other birds; at ‘rnid-day he sings also. A stroke of the bell is heard, a pause of a minute ensues: second tiultling, and a pause ot'lhe same dui‘ation is repeated; finally a third ringing, followed by n silence ‘ ol'six or eight minutes. ‘Actreon,’ says an enthusiastic traveller, ‘would bolt mthc heat ofchase; Orpheus would let fall his lute to listen; so novel. sweet, and romantic is the" silver tinkling ot'the snow-white campargero.’ This bird‘isnbout the size of a jay; from its head arises a conical tube of about three inches long, ol'n brilliu’nt black, spotted with small white (bothers, which communicates with the palate. and which, ' when inflated with air, resembles an ear ofgcorn. A Smsmno *0: Wlsoou.-—-Wc did no! make Ihe world—we may- mend it and we must live in it. We-shall find tho! it abounds in fools who a're 100 him. to be employed, and knavcs who are 100 smtu'. Bug lhe compound character is the most common. ‘and it is Ilia! with which we shall have lhéjnosl‘lo do. —As he who "knows how to put proper Words in proper‘places evince ihe trues: knowledge of books, so he lhn'l knows how to put lilgpersous in fit slafions. evincea the tr‘ucgt knowledge of men. It was obsé‘rvcd ol' Elizabevlh,‘\hutshe was weak herself. bul'chosc wisecoun sellers; to which it was replied, that to choose wise oounsellorswus. in a prince, he highest wisdomn-Laco'n.” ' "' Number 36. .. ‘Fléfig'rsq agz J 37’ "153 3:. '2. minim;- . 4;; 1; . V Flowers may. be justly Consideredjlteé’ g most beautiful porter-creationn They, ; exhibit to“ us the wonderful love orathei 1 Creator, ttilto hasjbestOwed-them upon». man to ~cortt‘ribute‘to his happiness he}, this life, 31nd they prove the egisteneepoi‘ a‘Supreme' Being. who has mouldedJ themnévitlt his own'hand. What'e3q'uiéi" site workmanshipzis’there'manifested in i the formation of a Flower; The lollie'st‘ Intellect and the mostskill‘l'ulclttlisls may labor for years, nnd‘stillneverbenble to produce that beautiful blending of i color so visible in the smallest Flower that blooms. Who can .create perfume so sweet, or execute any thing so perfect. as the “queen of floivers,” the lily, or the modest violet ’l. Far above the . reach of tlfgzhumnn mind is‘the fillfilfl-j ment of thisnrt, yetsome even dare cult the variegated flowers of nature‘us‘eless: things which serve only to encumber thaws ground. Flowers are styled. the poetry , .of earth, -nnd the experience of man proves the appellation —'to be truer A , love for flowers is'a mark of a'féfinedxx mindnnd an‘innatetaste for'theibeautis i ful.. The man plunged incrimo andyiee i 3 heeds them not; their. variousjhues out? 4' rich perfumes‘are alike unnoticed by ME him. Flowers are the Companions of the virtuous and refined from the cradle ‘ to the tomb. The happy child, with its loving laughter, clasps them in'its hand. ' and "will; wild delight—scatters their- in bright petals to the "wind-‘nnd .lf‘ite should come down to‘an early grave. ' the hand of affection spreads flowers . over its narrow restingplece, afterithe’ i spirit has taken its final flight. and serve it 'to perpetuate the love and remembrance i of those‘loved ones. Flowers are em: 3 blems of joy, anthey are also suidtOj' ' be the smiles of the Deity. They are“ ‘ found at the bridul as well’ ‘as‘ut the tomb, and-they cluster aroundthe path». way of our life, cheering us with their sngsepeeeegewummW~ ‘ 'Some, perhaps. will ask.“fot"what g were fioWers made 1" ' Weunswer \ “To comlort man—to whisper hopo‘ .. i ‘ When’ex his faith is dim; .F__ . e 2. For who so careth for the flowers Will much more care for him." - . They were made to beautify the earth, to make it not only‘a convenient butti lovely residence for man. They Were given_‘as tokens of the Almighty’s love to show that though infinitely holy, be ’yet loves man, and delights‘to minister to his pleasure and comfort. ’The very nature of flowers is calculated to elevate and refine the leelings-of man, to furnish him with new and interesting subjects for contemplation. Who would not. adore that Almighty Being who he‘s 86 beautifully given him 8” these sources of happiness. ~When man looks around him, his heart should overflow with thanlatulness to the giver of all things; he should love and admire the works of his Creator, and especially those beauii ful flowers Which adorn and beautify this earth, the habitation-oi man.‘ i “ Go'd might have made the path bring fqnb Enough for great and small, ' . g , The oak tree, and the cedar tree, .‘ Without a flqwer at all, We might haw; hadenough, enough,- For every wgnt of ours, For luxury, medicine and toil, ‘ And yet have} had no flowers.” 1 : lawman—Every young man should rememberthat the world'always did and always will’honor industry. gThe gal-J gar and useless idler—whose energies 01 mint} am you, an: rusting‘ror me? want of exercise,,the mistaken being; who pursues amusement as relief for his‘ enervated muscles, or engages in ex’era cises, that produce‘no useful end—may look withzsLaoru ontha laborer; engaged in his toil .wbt’it his scorn'is praise; his. contempt is an honor.- Honesl industry~ will secure the respect of thalwise‘aud lhe.good among men, and yield the rich fruit of an easy. Conscience; and give that hearty self respectwhich is above, all price. "Poll on‘, then,ty‘c’iung man' and young woman. Bevdiligeiut in busi ness.‘ Improve the heartaiui Ilhe‘mind. and you will find “ the well spring of enjoyment in your. own soulsy‘,"svaud se- Cure the‘ confidence and respect of all those whose respect is‘worth an effort to obtain. ‘ , 3' ‘ 3‘ ‘ .4 Few. Things to Ami—A bottle ‘of' wine nt‘fa pubtic‘ dinner. A? shortcut when you are in a'hurry. Walking beg ‘twcen ~lwo “Umbrellas 9n al‘pb'uring W 9: gay.» ‘f‘lus! nnolhenglaésbefoi-e you go‘.'{ Going to church wilhbut' q shilling-1 Being themediator‘of a’ quarrel belwgen man and wifer Bo’wihg to njlady' from the top of an nmnibus. And lastly,fln king 1; new-hut to an evening’party; ‘ ~ 3 The Albany Dutchmhn says than high Dutch debating society up Wash». ington street, ureéno‘w chtlwing on the following Subject: 9 Which {gis'dermost diflerenwn black horsemitouta-leggor 'a black leg mizout a horse." -,Although they, have been-hammering at the sub, ject fur more than t; fortnightytheyhi'g no mama»: its_; solution. ,thnnthey were two weeks ago. ‘ " " , 1 fl 3. I g g]