The Democratic herald. (Butler, Pa.) 1842-1861, September 14, 1850, Image 1

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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. ‘ -
- 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. ‘ -
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
_ l
' ‘ , E
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 ' \
Jenny Lind.
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
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! "
r ;-- --‘
, •
) .',
i ;..
" f 4
t .
Thoughts and Sentiments.
_,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. ‘ " " ,