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From fiartain's Union Magazine.
BV FUEULKIKA BUt:MER.
There was mice n poor and plain Utile
girl.dwclling in a iit'ie room.in Stockholm,
ihe capital of Sweden- She was a poor
little girl indeed tliTn : situ was lonely and
neglected, and would have been very ua
happy, deprived of the kindness and cnte
go necessary to a ciiiM, if it ha J not been
fcra peculiar gSx. The little girl had a fine
voice, and in her loneliness, in trouble and
in sorrow, she consoled her If by sbging
In fact, she sung to ail she did : at her
work, at her play, running or resting, she
The woman who h;.d her in care went
tut to work during the day, and used to
luck in the little girl, wbo-had nothing to
enliven her solitude hut the company of a
c;it. The little girl played with her cat
end sang. Once she sat by the open w in
dew and stroked her cat and sang, when ;
a lady passed by. She heard the voice,
and looked up and saw the little singer,
she asked the child several questions, went
awav. and came back several days later,
louowea uyan otu niustcmaster, aw
name was Brelius. lie tried the little girl I
musical ear and voice, and was astonished.
He took her to the director of the Boyal
Opera at Stockholm, then a Cc'jnt Puhe,
w hose truly generous and kind heart was
concealed by a rough speech and a morbid
temper. Brelius introduced his little pupil
to the Count, and asked him to e ngage her j
as " elevc" for the oncra. ' ou as a
foolish thing !" said the Count, gruffly,
looking dlsJaiufully duwn ou the poor lit
tle girl. " What shall we do with that
ugly thing? See what feet she has! She
will never be presentable. Nt, we can not
take her. Away with her!''
The music-master insisted, almost indig
nantly. Well," exclaimed he at last,
"ii you will not lake her, poor as 1 am, 1 w,an wi)h eycg )r:nian. wjt, tears, and
will take her myself, and have her educated ! radianl ,1, 8m;ies, waving her hand
for the scene; then such another ear as j kerch;t.r l0 hcr fr;c.utis Bnd countrymen on
she has for music is not to be found in the ' jC s;,ore.
Tho Count relented. The little girl was
at lastjjdmilted into the school for eleves
at the opera, and w ith some difficulty a
simple gown of black bombas'n was pro
cured for fter. The care of her musical
education was left to an ahle master, Mr.
Albert Berg, director of ihe song-school of
Some years later, at a comedy given by
the elcves of the theatre, several persons
were struck by the spiiit and life with
which a very young eleve acted the part
of a beiraar irl in the play. Lovers of
genial nature wcro charmed, pedants al
most frightened. It was our poor 1'ttle
girl, who had made her first appearance,
now about fourteen yearsjof age.frolicsonne
and full of fun as a child.
A few years still later, a young debu
tante was to sing for the first time before
the public in Weber's Freyschutz. At the
rehearsal preceding the representation ol
the evening, she sang in a manner which
made the members ot the orchestra once,
as by common accord, lay down their in
struments to clap their hands in rapturous
applause. It was our poor, plain little
girl here again, who now had grown up
and was to appear before the public in the
role of Agatha. I saw her at the evening
representation. Sho was then in the prime
of youth, fresh, bright and serene as a
morning in May, perfect in form her
hands and arms peculiarly graceful and
lovely in her w hole appearance through
the expression of her countenance, and
the noble simplicity and calmness o( hcr
manners. In fact she was charming. We
saw not an actress, but a young girl full of
natural geniality and grace. She seemed
to move, speak, and sing without effort or
art. AU was nature and harmony. Her
song was distinguished especially by its
purity, and the power of lone which
seemed to swell her tones. Her " mezzo
voce' was delightful. la the night scene
where Agatha, seeing her lover come,
breathes out hcr joy in a rapturous song,
our young singer, on turning from the
window, at the back of the theatre to the
spectators again, was pale for joy. And
w mat paie joyousncss sho sans with a
t.nrttt nf i)ti!tliitvinr love &n 1 life that called
forth not the mirth but the tears ol the au
! rnrn that time she was ihe declared
favorite of the Swedish public, whose mu
sical taste and knowledge are said to be
surpassed nowhere. And ear after ear
slie continued so, though after a time, her
voice, being overstrained, lost somewhat
of its freshness, and the public, being sa
tiated, no more crowded the house wtn ii
she was singing. Still, at that time she
could be heard singing and playing more
delightfully than ever in Pamna (in Ziu-
lerflote) or in Ann Helena, though the
opera was almost deserted. (It was then
late in the spring, and the beautilul weather
called the people out to nature's plays.
She evidently sang for the pleasure of llie
Uv that time she went to take lessons ol
Garcia, in Puris, and so give the finishing
touch to her muicral education. There
she acquired that warble iu which Site is
said to h-ive been equaled by no singer,
and which could bis computed only to that
of the soaring and warbling lark, if the
lark had a soul.
And then the young girl went abroad
and sang on foreign shores and to foreign
people. She charmed Denmark, she
charmed ifermany, she charmed England.
She was caressed and courted everywhere,
even to adulation. At the the courts ol
kings, at the houses of the great and tioble,
she was fei.-td as tine of the grandees ol
nature and art. She was covered with
laurels and jowels. Bui Iriends wrote ol
her, " In the midst of these splendors she
only thinks of her Sweden, and yearns for
her friend.-) and her people.''
One dusky October night crowds of peo
ple (the most part, by their dress, seeming
to belong to the upper classes ol ocie'y)
thronged on the shores of the Baltic har-
bor, at Stockholm. All looked towards the
sea. There was a rumor of expectance
and pleasure. Hours passed away, and
the crowds still gathered and waited and
. , , , ,ottafds ,he sea At
a LriIjarit rock(?t ros(J iay(uUyt far
. pnIrfl ,.. harbor, and was
greeted by a general buzz on the shore.
"There she comes ! there she is!" A large
steamer now camo thundering on, making
its triumphant way through the flocks of
ships and boats lying in tha harbor, tow
ards lh(J shor(J of ,ie Skeppsbro." Flash-
mg rockets marKCd us way in me aarK as
it advanced. The crowds on the shore
pressed forward as if to meet it. Now the
leviathan of the waters was heard thunder
ing nearer and nearer, now it relented, now
aain pushed on, foaming and splashing,
now it lay still. And there, on the front
of the deck, was seen by the light o( lamps
and rockets, a pale, graceful young wo-
It was she again our poor, plain, rirtd
neglected little gill of former days who
now came back in triumph to her father
land. But no more poor, no more plain,
no more neglected. She had become rich;
j she had become celebrated ; and she had
in her slender person the power to charm
and inspire multitudes.
Some days later, we read in the papers
of Stockholm.an address to the public w rit
ten by the beloved singer, stating with no
ble simplicity that, "as she once more hud
the happiness to be in her native land, she
would be glad to sing again to her country
men, and that, the income of the operas in
which she was this season to appear,
would be devoted to raise a fund for a school
where clevca for the theatre would be edu
cated to virtue and knowledge." The
intelligence was received as it deserved,
and ol course the opera house was crowd
ed every time the beloved singer sang there.
The first time she again appeared in the
"Sonnambula" (one of her favorite roles),
the public, after the curtain was dropped,
called her back with great enthusiam, and
received her, when the appeared, with a
roar of "hurrahs." In the midst of the
burst of applause a clear melodious warb
lin" was heard. The hurrahs were hushed
instantly. And vve saw the lovely singer
ktanding w ith her arms Slightly extended,
somewhat bowing forward, graceful as a
bird on its branch.warbling, warbling as no
bird ever did, from note to note and on
every one a clear, strong, and soaring
warble until she fell into the retournrlle
of her last song, and ngdn sang that joy
ful and touching strain
MXo thought can conceive how I teel at my heart."
She has now accomplished the good
work to which her latest songs in Sweden
have been devoted, and she is again to
leave her native laud to sing to a far re
mote people. She is expected this year in
the United States of America, and ber ar
rival is welcomed with a general feeling of
joy. All bave heard ot ber wiiose nisiory
wo have now slightly shadowed out
the expected guest, s the poor little girl, of
former days, the celebrated singer of now
a-day, the genial child of Nature and Art,
is Jennt Lind.
LEWISBUKG, UNION CO., PA., JUNE 12, 1850.
The Lonely Auld Yifs.
BY JfUAV CliAMiiR.
fit wan f.rnrly Cnnil I ! livr.- still Wrurtomwy m-n?
tin.' unlives i,t .Hiilliili'l.w hi-Ti otiuof :iu at? tl ii'iip:! ities.tn
It-am llH- -iu,r. hirb th,- iltivnM 1 ii-u i!ly u. u,i, J. in
il .KTU-tnini'.l eru.T. until tin.- miriivor alw. i.u.. t
rail, ! tu j.iu iu former wi-upunt iu tlu or.d ol . j.mi.-J
H. :t- th.' olil Iwnrtli tin- fcatli r!u-rih'il fur IX',
MK iit pud fiiU Uk- ijui.! Aulil V, Jo :
Time h;it!i Ivft many a tr:v .n I..-r l-.x,
Kut ;riprhiitli m.t trr.iiUid h r f.irit till new.
There ape u.irs in her ryi tliat an diiu ilU a,
Autl Pitt' loiikcth in rain on the holy ui?e
l-'or jho can not eoe &u:;it !nt an '-.'It chair,
Th.it vacant and loin ty nt taud:i:g there.
a;.-o, wli.-n h-r luiai wa tw.ttin iTt 1-rf-le,
The Lonely Aula if; was a pay young l-ri.lc
Aii-1 the ro.e on her iheek wore iL rielt Mimia,
A le-n htie puve lux hand to the juyoui t;rj.iii.
Failed and w-rn itf her beauty now
Cray aie ttie hairs on lier wriokled brow
Silent fhe f'.U liy the old h arlh-t"U
Sad are her thoutitu she i ti.LPe alone.
Her irud man is j-onf to Lis (ireauitefS r-'it,
And the Tw-ely Anl J Wife hath trouMe.l tirt ast
Yet not for tho world wouid she hanieh away
The cu'r he btll t-'at iu f'.r niauy a day.
&'m njieaVeth not, rave with a trembling I rea'h,
Hut kopetli, and waitetli, and j rayeth for death
FT joyless and dark are the days of her life,
When the gud man is gone from the Lonely Auld Wife.
THE LOXKI.Y AVI.D UUPEMAX.
A Counterpart of the rpeeedin; lly tue fame Author.
Treuibliup and slowly the ftudeman goea
To lay liw auid Wile iu her lat repow,
And the cold clod are heuiud ou her a;red l'reaft
With a sound that is breaking his neareful rest,
lie hath laid her down where no eye can come,
-4ud !oui.Iy and cheerier u now his home :
For ffty years rhe hath ."o.ithed his cap-,
ADd cheerily 1-orue of Lis woes her share.
He had wou her lure hen his step was gay,
And his voice was clear as a child's at play,
And his Lianty form was a I:-a5ant sight
When Iv led her forth on their bridal night.
He leanetb nuw on his stalwart cane,
And his voice is that of a child again,
And it seems not true that the once gay grrnm
Is the trembling form at the auld Wile's tooth.
Sadly Tie poen to his home again,
And lie triei to sn,ile, but he tries in Tain
For a tear creeps up in his -i;heo-dere,
And his auld heart breaks with a mournful .-ig!i.
His life is now as a trouMcd dn-am
Yet pearct-ty of life do his actions seem :
And happy, thr:y happy, that h.ur l all !,
AVhcu the (iudcnian s"ul at last fhall he free.
Truth, well said.
Christianity has doctrines and dutie-t
which relato particularly to our fellow J
being?, which form its moral and social
side ; and it has doctrines and duties
which relate particularly to God, which
form its spiritual tide, and comprehend
directly whatever relates to our personal
salvation. These together form its com
pleteness. It can not be truly embraced
without embracing both. It is possible',
however, to embrace its social and moral
side alone, and to exhibit herein great
beauty of character ; like the young ruler
who propounded to our Savior the impor
tant question, " Good Master, what good
thing shall I do that I may inherit eterni.l
life?" It is possible, also, to embrace its i
spiritual side alone, as far as the profession
of a creed is concerned.
Now thcie sre many rnen,who,owing to
the fortunate circumstances e f th -r c-J'icn-tion,
are the stern believers in an orthodux
creed, while violating every beautiful cha
rity of life. And these men claim to
themselves great merit for their dogmatic
faith, although it be a " failh without
There are other men, who, owing, per
haps, to the equally unfortunate circum
stances of their education, are building on a
false foundation their hopes of eternal life,
whiledistinguished for amiable tempers.and
generous and efficient morality in the
ordinary walks of life.
It would be an unwise preference which
should attach us in kinder bonds to the
former than to the latter. The one has !
faith without virtue. The other has virtue
without faith. The one professes to believe
according to the most orthodox standard,
but breathes no atmosphere of holiness.
The other believes at least in social virtue,
and is true to his belief. The last is the
finer and nobler character. Both are
Christian Charity will estimato their
defects impartially ; and will neither allow
herself to be imposed upon by the proud
assumption of unproductive orthodoxy, nor
to be led away from the just proportion
and momentous value of the spiritual
side of religion, by those kindly virtues
which she prizes, but which, nevertheless,
when they stancrwonp, show that one thing
still is wanting. N.Y. Evangelis'.
Tis folly in the eitrrme to till
Extensive field and till them ill.
The farmer pleased, ma; boast aloud
Hia bushel sown, hit acres plowed.
And, pleased, indulge the cheering hope
That time will bring a plenteous crop.
Shrewd common sense sits laughing by,
Anj sees bis hopes abortive die;
For, when maturing seasons smile.
Their sheave shall disappoint hi toil.
Advisrd, this empty pride expel
Till little and that little well ;
Of taxing, fencing, toil, no more
Your ground requires when rich than poor ;
And more one fertile acre yields,
Than the huge breadth of barren Eelds."
Nothing so tyrannizes one as the hnbil
of jesting and contempt, real or assumed
Success in the use of sarcasm and ridicule
rarely fails to make it practice more fre
quent and its application more wide' than
is either jutiiiable in itself or agreeable to
listeners. " -
To love one that is great is almost lo be
areat one's self. Madame Neckcr.
Die mi of a Stir.
There was once n child, and h"? strolled
about n good d-i, uu i thought of a num
!i r of things. If-; had it sister, who was
i child ton, and his constant companion.
I'liese two used to waller all the day long.
They wondered l the beauty ol'the lhtwers;
ihey wonJ'-red at the hoight and bljeness
nf the t-ky ; they wondered at ihe bright
water ; they wondered at the goodness and
and the power oi'G.iJ, w ho made the love
They used to say to one another, some
times : Supposing nil children upon earth
were to die, would the flower?, and the w a
ter, and the slty, be sorry ? They believed
they would be sorry. For, said they, the
buds are the children of the tlowc rs.and the
little nlavful streams that gambol down the
hill-sides are the children of the water ;
and the small. st bright Ej eeks, playing at
hide-and-seek in the sky all nigh', must
surely be the ch llren of the stars; and
they would all be grieved to see their phiy
mates, the cbildien of n.eii, no more.
There was one clear shining strr that
used to come cut in the sky before the rest,
near the church spire, above the graves. It
was larger and more beautiful.they thought,
than all tho others, and every night they
watched for i', standing h:ind in hand at a
window. Whoever saw it first, cried out,
"I see tho star ! ' And ofte n they cried out
I both together, knowing f-o well when it
wji-ld rise, and wher". So they grew to
he such friends with it, (hut, before lying
down in their beds, they always looked out
once mori?, to bid it good night ; and when
they were turning round to slepjthey used
to say, "God bless the star 1"
But while she was still very young, oh,
very, very young, the sis'cr drooped, and
came to be so weak that fche could no lon
ger stand in the window at night ; and her
brother looked sadly out by himself, and
whi n he saw the star, turned round, nr.d
sal J to the patient, pale face on the brd,"l
sle the star!"' and then a sile would
come upon tha face, and a little weak
voice used to say, "God bless my brother.
and the star 1"
And so the time came ail too soon! w hen
tho child looked out alone, and when there
was no face on tha lx:d ; and when there
was a little grave among the grave?, not
there before ; and w hen the star made long
rays down towards him, at he saw it thro'
Now.thcse rays were so bright.and they
seemed to.make such a shining way from
earth to Heaven, that when the child went
to his solitary bed, hj dreamed about the
star ; and dreamed th tt, lying where he
was he saw a trtiin of people taken up that
sparkling road by angel. And the star,
ipiMiing, show eel in i ri a great woria oi
llht, where many more such angels w si
ted to receive them.
All these angels, who were waiting,
turned their beaming eyes upon the people
who were carried up into the star ; and
some came out from the long rows in which
they stood, and fell upon the people's neck
and kissed them tenderly, and went away
wiiii them dow n avenues of light, and w ere
so hapiy in their company, that, lying in
his bed he wept for joy.
But there were many angels who did not
go with them, and amoug them cno he
knew. The patient face that once had
lain upon the Led was glorified and radiant,
but his heart found cut his sister among a. I
His sixer's angel lingered rear the en
trance of the star, and sard to the K-tder
niong those who brought the people thith
r : 'Is my bro'hef come 1"
And he said, "No."
She was turning hopefully away, when
the child stretched out his arnu, and cried,
0, sUter, I am here! Take me!-' and
then sheturneJ her beaming eyes upon him,
and it was night ; and tho star wag shiniii;
into tho room, making long rays down low
ards him as he saw it through his tears.
From that hour forth, the child looked
out upon the star as on the Home he was
to go to, when his time should come ; and
he thought that h'i did not belong to the
earth alone, but to the star too, because of
his srster's ancl gone before.
There was a baby born to be a brother
to tho child ; and n hile he was so little that
he never yet had spoke a word.h'i stretched
his tinv form out on his bed, and died
Again lite child dreamed of the opened
star, and of the company of angels, and the
train of people, and the rows of angels
with their beaming eyes all turned upon
those people's faces-
Said his sister s angel to the leader :
"Is my brother come V
And he said," Not that one.but another.'
A the child beheld his brother's angel in
hcr arms, he cried, "O, sister I am here
Tcku me !" And she turned and smiled
upon him, and the star was shin'ng.
He grew to be a young man, and was
busy at hi book 37 when an' d! servant
came to him and said : ...
'Thy motricr is no more.' . 'f'fcg her
blessing on hcr darling son:"
Again at night he saw the star, end all
that former company, b ud his siMcr s an
i;el to the leader :
"Is my brother come V
And he said, "Thy mother!"
A mighty cry of joy went forth through
all the star, because the mother was re-tin
ted to her two children. And ho stretched
out his arms and cried, "O, mother, sister,
and brother. 1 am here! Take me !" And
thpu nrwuered him. "Not vet," and the
star was shining.
lie ircw lo be a man whae hair was
Itirninrr nrPt' find he was sitting in his
o v -
chair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and
with his face bedewed with tears, when the
the star opened once agam.
Said his sister's angel to the leader :
"Is my brother come V
"And he said, "Nay, but his maiden
And the man who had been the child,
saw his daughter, ne.vly lost to him ce
leatinl creature, among' those three, and he
said, "My daughter's hea l is on my sis
ter's bosom, and hrr arm is 'round my mo
ther's neck, and at her feet there is the ba
by of old tim", and I can bca'r the parting
from her. God be praised !"
And the star was shining.
Thus the child came to be an old man,
and his once smooth face was wrinkled,
and his steps were slow and fe.b!e, and his
back was bent. And one night as he lay
upon his bed, his children standing 'round.
ho cried, as he had cried so long ago :
' I see the star !"
They whispered one cnclher, "lie is dy
ing." Ai.d he said, "I am. My age is failing
from me like a garment, and I move tow
ards the star as a child. And O, my Fath
er, now I thank thee that it has so often
opened to receive those dear ones who
a'.vait me !"
And the star was shining ; and itshir.es
upon his grave. Dickens.
Parents and Children.
It is said that when the mother of Wash
ington was asked how she had formed the
character of her son, she replicj that she
had early endeavored to teach him three
things : obedience, -diligence and truth.
No letter advice can be given by any pa
rents. Teach your children to obey. Let
it be tho first lesson. You can hardly be
g'n to soon. It requires constant care to
keep up the habit of obedience, and especi
ally to do it in such a way as not to break
down the strength of the child's character.
Teach your children to be diligent. The
habit of being always employed, is a great
safe-guard through life, a3 well as essential
to the culture of almos-t every virtue.
Nothing can be nioro foolish then an idea
which parants have, that it is not respec
table to set their children to work. Play
is a good thing ; innocent recreation is an
employment, and the child may Icarn early
to be useful. As to truth, it is the one
essential thing. Let everything else le
sacrificed rather than that. Without it,
w hat dependence can you place in your
child? And be sure to do nothing your
self which may countenance any species
f'f prevarication or falsehood. Ytt how
many parents da teach their children the
first lesson of deception.
The Liverpool Mail indulges in the most
sombre views as to the stato of England.
It says "We are sorry to say that we
continue on the sliding scale downicards!
We wish we could, but in honesty we can
not, hold out any hopes to those whose for
tunes are embarked, and their families de
pcndent,upon tho profits of native industry.
All is gloom, uncertainty, and dismay. In
every part ol the country the generous im
pulses of charity arc chilled, and, if things
remain as they arc many months longer,
many of our long cherished institutions
must be closed -for lack of funds. The
foreigner is robbing England as a privi
leged pirate ; and, although we have sev
enteen millions of bullion in the Dank of
England, it is of no more use to the na
tion than seventeen millions of bushels of
Tliink of It!
Little Things go a great way lo r.iake
life what it is. We ought to study them
more. If a kind word that costs nothing,
will give pleasure, especially to thofo who
have but little pleasure, why is it not well
to have a kind word always ready to be
given f II an act of friendship will make
a sad heart light for an hour, why not be
ready, when it is so easy, to scatter pleas
ure in the path ol life ? This is called a
"vale of tears," and" so it is, for sin has
blighted flowers and planted thorns;' but the
vale would be brighter, and there would be
fewer tears, if those who have it in their
power to mik9 others happy, without de
priving themselves of a single joy, would
try to shed blessings about them as they
journey towards heaven.
Tha meanest man we ever heard of, was
ono who wis too stingy to put" bait on his
Life In California. .
I A letter from Mr. denrgc Holmes, a
member of the Mallory California Compa
ny, of Fall Uiver, Mat.s.,to Mr. J.F.R-iyns-ford,
of that pluce, puMiihr-'i in the 'Tail
River Weekly News," of May 10, contain
ing among other things, the following pain
fully interesting particulars of the death of
Arthur W. Fkick, Ki., son of Ceorg
Frick,Esq.,of Danville. Mr. Holmes says :
"One other occurience I will nr;r.'ien,
an I I have done. About tin: middle of last
November I took a walk otic Sunday down
the main stream about two miles, I know
not for what. 1 came to an old Mexican
bush tenl, with the top covered with raw
hides, and open in front. I fount! a man
there sick, evidently in the last stage of
consumption. I asked nun how long ne
had been there, but he could not tell ; lie
had teen left alone but a few days. The
Mexicans had tnk'jri care of him while they
stayed, but had left for homd. I cut him
some wooJs, and helped cook some rice,
and promised him I would visit him the
next day, which 1 did every day for two
weeks. We had two men sick at our tent,
or I should have moved him right there.
When Capt. Sherman and J. ISnflington
left for the ship, I hired a man to move him
to my lent, much to the annr.yance of
Goodrum. He rode on a horse and did
not bring all of his thing, and before I
went after them they were stolen. He
charged eight dollars to move him. The
removal overcame him very much. I made
him as comfortable as the situation would
adrr.it. He seemed to fail very fast the
second night. I thought him dying. I told
him what I thought of his case ; that if he
had anything to communicate, I would try
to fulfil his order, lie said his nnire was A.
W.FciCK.nf Danvdle, I'a. He gave me his
purse, which contained ISO dollars in gold
dust, with which he wanted to pay his ex
penses. He had a gold fever watch left
with Wm. Iiigging, in Puebl?, which he
wished to 20 to his father. He had provi
sions stored in Stockton, which he wished
to his brother, who w r:s in this country at
some of the mines. He requested me to
write to him and direct to San Francisco,
which I did, but have never received any
answer from him. He seemed to revive,
and the next morning I procured a Doctor,
but all to no purpose. I watched over him
and did all I could to make him comforta
ble, but ha lingered until the fnurth day,
when at 9 o'clock, A. M , on the 2d;h of
November, 184D, he departed this life
without a groan or struggle. I procured
boards, after mnch trouble, at one dollar a
foci, to make him a ceffir. I paid a car
penter one ounce to make it, and a cent a
piece for the nails. paid the Doctor one
ounce for his visit. 1 gave him a decent
burial. It was all that I could do. His
remains sleep at ihe foot of a large pine
tree, on the side of a mountain in Maripo
sa valley, about half a miie below Col.Fre-
moril'i camp. Peace to his ashes !"
Makins Hasto to ret Rich.
One great and growing sin of our natio
nal character is an inordinate desi.-a to
get rich in a hvmj. As wealth is the
only aristocracy in America, every man
seems bent on attaining to that important
distinction. Competency is not enough
with the majority ; every ene seems am
bitious of being a Crcssus. Tho "hasto to
get rich," fosters a speculative spirit, than
which nothing can be more generally fatal
to the individual, or demoralizing to tho
Slate. Tired cf slow giins, dVjpising the
laborious ascent up the steop cf fortune,
men rushhap-hazard into the fchemcs for
the sudden acejtiisition cf wealth. Bubbles
are blown, consequently, all around us.
To-day there is a great speculation in this
thing, as yesterday it was in that, and as
! to-morrow it will be in something else. A
few, by a lucky turn of the card, make
fortunes, but the great mass of the players
stake and lese their all. What can be
more fatal to society than such practices ?
The man who amasses wealth thus sudden
ly rarely retains it, while his momentary
success lures thousands to the sime delu
sive pursuits. Honorable labor is, there
fore, almost despised ; a man of parts is
expected to be above hard labor.
The Gold Hirtes vs. Lead Hines.
A writer in the Nutiemal Intelligencer
makes the following statement :
"Whether these gold mines will prove
orofitablo to the country. is a doubtful ques.
tian. Already are the iead mines of tho
West neglected : the miners having run eff
in search of a more tempting metal, which
has caused advance in lead, and it is now
imported from Spain in large quantities.
Sperm candles have advanced materially,
because a great many ships have been
withdrawn Irom tho whaling business to
enn&ce in the California trade, to say no-
thine of the neglect of other brancnc3
business consequent upon the immense em
igration to the shores of the Facihc.
Great works are performed, not by
jtrc'pgtri; tut by perseverance.
Volume VII, Ntwiter 11.
Whole Nuater 323.
" Content consis'eth not in adding more
fuel, but taking awiy rrore fire."
Who Slid that ? r'r whoever sa d if'
we should be glad to take him by the hanrl
of good-fell twship. Yes, it is the grand
secret of being con'ented and happy, not to
add more fuel to the f.re of your wishes-
and desires not to ir.creass the :n:snsity
1 of your outlays and extravagances but to
take nway the superfluities of the fire and
to contract the circle. More than one half
of the miseries unspoken pechanc?, tuf
the most bitter of mkcries which affect
th3 social family, arise from .nglcit of
the advice conveyed nbove. Learn to live'
upon little ay, learu to I'wj upon les--, if
the larg'i expenditure constricts you witf
cramps and with sorrows. Ce not goadeT
beyond the reach of contentment by a'
fearorthe world's rye let not a dread of
others spur you into a pace that goes be
yond your strength and compass, H"t
move onward iu a way that is really r.grea-'
able and plt-asant to yourself; for of all
the cares that gnaw away the life, prcun:-'
ary cares eat the deepest into the setul, in
their sad rea'ity ; and in all the show,
parade, foppery and display that we can
indulge, there is no compensation for the
miseries they may engender. Never t9
ashamed of br ing poor nay, make it a
matter of pride to utter the avowal that yorj
are so whenever a reason may be required
why you can not move side by side with
the more fortunate. " I can not afford it,
is a declaration that commands respect I'
the most silly will not dare to sneer at it
and if thy do thus sner, who cares for
such sneering? A'rafs Gazette.
A Word to Young Plea.
Wishing and sighiog.imagiuing and drea
ming of greatness(said Wiilicra Wir) will
not mako you great. But can not a ycung
man command his energies ? Read Foster
on Decision r.f Character, ihat book
will tell you what il is in your power to
accomplish. You must gird up ycur loina
Vand co to work w'nh all the indomitable!
energy of Napoleon scaling the Alps. It is
your duty to make the most of time, talent,
Alfred, king of lingland, though 3 per
formed more business than any of Lis sub
jects, alve tys fo'.'pd time to study.
Fran.' n, in the midst of his labors, had
time to dive into the dcpihs of philosophy,
andexpitire an untrodden path of science.
Frederick the Great with ca empire a;,
his direction, in the midst of war, and on
the eve of battle, found time to revel in 'h
charms cf philosophy zod feast on the lux
uries of science. .
Napolt-on, wiihEurr.pa at hia disposal
with kings at his ante-chamber, and at the
head of thousands of men, whose destinies
were suspended on his nrbitary pleasure,
found time to convers3 wiih books.
And young men who are confined to la
bor cr business even twelve bouts a day.
may t ike an hour and a half cf what ia
left, for study, and which will amount tc
two months in the course of a year.
Tie Coffee Trade.
A memori'il signed by nearly eighty of
the principal houses in Loudon engaged in
the cotlce trade, has been presented to the
Lords of tha Treasury, stating the great
abuses which exist ia tha adulteration of
coffee, which is nt only mixed with chi-.
cory, but also with a Jeleterious mixture of
roasted noorn.', chesnuts, peas, and beans,
red pottery tarih, sand, Biahcgany
dust, coloring matters and filling, to the
great injury of the fair deulers, the health
of the consumer, and the !;ss of the reve
nue. This latter :i estimated to bevwhen
compared with 1840, no less than 162,
000, a:il with the year of maximum con-
umption 1817, -.200,000. Chicory was,'
until these last few years, caiy an article
of import ; it is now largely grown in tho
country, and being so j,rownt 13 nolsub'2CS
... 1 ." t - . i
to any tluty. u nai tne memorialists ass
that coffee adulterated with chicory
shall no longer ba sold a colTec ; they do
not wi.th to interiere with the b na nao
n'eof chicorv . but they wish the consu-
mer t purchase coffee and his chicory
separately, that he nny know exactly what
he is using.
All for Unioa.
The Washington correspondent of tho
New York Express, under the date of M iy
23 1, ays : Theri waa s. pswge at arm
in the Senate to day brtceen Mr. Soulc of
Louisiana and Mr. Clay, which partook of
the sublime. Mr. Clay spoke as if under
standing Mr. Souls as specking of disunion
as a consequence cf defeat upon these sub
jects. 91 r. Soute sprang to ms mi, nuu
in a voice and altituda wnici siariica
the Senate, proclaimed ,
"That he had never uttered such an
- . . aVT . i .1 O... Ik
opinior. isever: iho, noi u iaa auun.
were beaten at every point, epd the North
triumphed completely, in this legislative
contest : 1 would not men oegm '
of disunion. The peop- do not think of
The r-allcries rang with applause at ths
elcctric outburst. Mr. Clay paused and
'sat down, auJ the Stcatc aJjournee!. -