BEA.IPTY Propriercir.
port%
Thifollowing lines. from the inimitable pen
Of JOHN G. SAXE, aro copied from the April
1 ,..
number Graham's Magazine :
T IEI HEAD AND HEART.
- '
The Head is stately, calm end wise
And bears a princely part;
And down below, in secret lies,
The warm, impulsive Heart.•
The lordly Heed that site above,
The Heart that site below;
Their aeveral offices plainly prove,
Their true relation show.
The fiend erect, serene and cool,
Endowed with Reason's art,
Was set aloft to guide and rule
The throbbing, wayward Heart
And from the Head, as from the higher
• Comes all-directing thought;
And in the Heart's transforming fire, •
All noble deeds are wrought.
Yet each is hest when both unite
To make the man complete—
What were the heat without the ligh
The light without the heat
Simtrurtiut gtorti.
SAW DP AND SAW DOWN
'We must have some new furniture, and that
soon,' said a gentleman, taking a leisurely eur
vey of the parlors, one.morning, tooth -pick in
Land. 4.1 have been looking at our cousin
Madison's, very fine theirs; really ours begin
•
to look shabby; arkish !'
'How, father 1' asked one of the three bogs,
who followed hlui in the survey. 2'
'Arkish, my San, it looks as if it were from
the ark; quito out of date; we must have
new.'
'Not for the. present, my dear,' observed a
lady, rising from the breakfast table, and fol
lowing on; 'this will answer for some time to
come; it is hardly ten years old; and you
know hold very handsome it was considered
then
'Yes, And' do you remember how chicken.
hearted you were,—afraid it was beyond our
means, said the gentleman, chuckling; 'but
it looks now out of date, at least besides our
cousin Madison's.'
'Why, make any one our standard V asked
the• wife: look at these three boys to provide
for,' as she patted Philip's curly pate. .
'Ah, we'll look out for them, time enough
.fof that,' he replied, as he complacently sur
veyed, thins ; 'hut •we ,inuet not be too close;
something-is due to our station :' upon which
he drew himself up a little pompously, per
haps.
'Yee, to support it with sufficient economy;
to lay up something for rainy days e f.
'Your rainy days, Jane !,the weather will
take care of itself;' he said, good naturedly,
going out of the room ; then thrusting his
head' into the door, added, will bend the
porter up with these. things, if he is not too
busy.'
'Let the boys go, my dear,' besought the
lady; 'hero are Madison and Philip, who
_would give the_whole_worldfor eomething.to
do.
:Yes; mother! yes, mother! let me go!
shouted, the two.
!No, no, lot the porter do these! things;
cousin Madison's boys—'
‘Mtist be patterns for ours,' playfully inter
rupted the_ wife, placing her hand, op his
mouth.
'But do you think it,best. for the boys to go ?
they can't bring it.'
'Yes, father, yes! let us try; there's noth
ing like trying, mother says,' eagerly declared
'I see .mother is for your working; well,
...perhaps It Is the best under all eiroul4tances.
'Come with me ; and from this handsonie par
lore Mr. Philip L., my father, a riolt
merchant antho world reputed him, with his
two eldest,, - ,Madis . on and Philip ;. pale, slender
boys, of 'eight and ten years.
Some time passed away; and although tho
subject of - :new.,,furnituro }vas frequently
brought up, and cousin Madison Jones' suffic
iently commented upon, yet my motlier never
cordially assented 'to its being bought; not
needing it, to.-her, was synonymous to not
buying i . t.
At length, a few days before Thanksgiving,
a rocking chair, in the newest and easiest style
tof • twenty.five years ago, entered the door,
the precursor of a handsome set of furniture
for the parlor: Our mother looked at it us
, graciously, and drowned our exclamations by
:frfr silence. At dinner when our, father ap
peared, he threw himself into it, saYing, ..Ah
Jane, this is just What I want this minute. I
am stMckingly tired.' We looked at him; and
"there was a strange paleness about his , mouth.
'ls It not caul . ' he faked, resting hie head
bank and looking into my . mother's taco as if
,her full coincidence of opinion mere only need
ed to complete his enjoyment. She smiled
pleasantly, then pressed her hand :upon his
forehead. 'I fear you are not well,' she said
tenderly; 'your head is very, very hot.' my
father was not well; be soon entered Me clam.
bet, and the next day, and the next, he gt l ow
more Dick. Tim three weeks which aucceeded
I shall never forget; dretiry, dreary, dreary
to me, the invalid tiny, for r was dreprived of
toy 'mother's care and preoenoe, alwaye Bonen-
Emmy. to me before, llo,.keenly did I fee
- that nobody was like my mother; never hay
lag been . able to engage in the native pursuits
of my brothere. To sit by her side with my
little shite or picture 'book,"was my ohief de
light. Sometimes threaded her needle, pr
tint off, an end, or sewed onpatchirork. thank
ful for.thelittle 'helps I might afford
. ,
,
Noss! I was in the' nureery, , almoet• alone; my
brothere peOasieueily'Utimer ; tO:'imitme'mo. but
child .ao lioarte..l4,!a
loot; there; they were .Ihtuklog„ of .elett mid
000rpballe,• 'Notry . Wae IClDay , bat someboir
.t0.,40; whoit I be4ged
otory,
„or my equfitivoyoio b00t:41,-7104:
see I,have not forgotten the tiot;tifeatith;e of
Bening ileepite ihe lore of the mnetg leiv booke
°Mee. • ' •,
- Three weary weekee—weeke of d anxiety, and'
lialaful eolioitude,'And faithful devotion-inrin;
11)911”:ir's . jisilc;bati,•: 7 -but=m,i fit&
slaking l„ _ #etihsen end Philip were
It ; -14ii,ig gettniintor,.----:Beitutih: ..iti ritti4firt, - Chtifinn, ,i, ,
THERE ARE TWO THINGS, sArm LORD BACON, WHICH MAKE A NATION GREAT AND pftospEßous—A FERTILE SOIL AND BIIHY LET : ME ADD KNOWLEDGE AND FREEDOAL—Bishop Halt.
•
bunerea to ruutu nt lunge, a linetlum Which
they enjoyed to the fullest extent. The ser
vants went about on tiptoe, and whispered to
one another. The doctor came oftener. Now
faces appeared nbW arid then in the entry. I
was left to take core of myself, until Nanoy
put me into the parlor and bade me be a good
boy. Soon a gentleman came in and kindly
taking me' from the carpet where I had sor
rowfully laid down, placed me upon his knee,
calling me 'his poor little boy.' Cousin Mad
ison Jones entered, and he so tall and big,
who never spoke to hill little - children, patted
me on the arm, saying, 'Ah I the poor little
fellow; can't realize it, no, no! and then he
suffered-ate to take - in my own hand his - cane,
his Bruzilian cane, wills a dog's head carved
upon the top; the cane which he had ever for
bidden me to touch. The cane pleased me but
a moment, then I looked up into their faces
to learn wherefore this tenderness. I felt it
meant something, a sad something, and instinc
tively called for my mother.
'Poor little fellow, your mother can't come
to you,' said the gentleman, gently laying my
hood upon his bosom.
'I wish I could see my mother,' I whispered,
with a choking in my throat.
'Your mother, child ! no ! don't ask for your,
mother, she don't want to see yok,' declared
_
Mr. Madison Jones, stopping in his walk
across the room, with a still and chiding look.
'N'ii'Withstanding the choking in the throat and
a blur on the eyes, I resolutely rubbed my
little thin bands across my eyes, find said to
myself, must try to be a man mother says ;
must not cry ;' it was a hard struggle, but
Johnny did not cry ; he lay patiently and sor
iowfully in the gentleman's arms.
That night Nancy undressed the and put me
in my trundle bed, seemly speniti,pg, nor did
she stop to hear my prayer; nortlidmy moth
er come in and give me her good night, as S he
always had. What tears filled my little bos
om. I was awed and frightened by the strange
stillness of everybody and everything. I tos
sed restlessly about. I talked aloud to keep
myself company. I said my prayers, over and
over again to comfort my heart and keep up
my cow age. When of last, it seemed as if my
mother even had forsaken me, I kept up a
stout hoart„by whispering; :Jesus' Itrves little
children, he does, m read It to me.'
What,a world of jllllWority in 'mother says
so l' Oh ! mother;, say careful and judicious
thing; for your words never dim'
' Falling asleep, I dreamed of falling off my
bed, 4100 was tied 'up in a leg di- my draw
ors, and somebody was going to th me to
pieces: With my heart beating an: ready to
break, I awoke. Silent, everything silent. :I.
will find my mother,' was the heroic, half wa
king resolution, as I tumbled out of bed with
my poor lame focit. - Illy father's
. door was
reached, beyond the long dark entry, and I
crept in at the half open, door. By the pale
lamp-light I could see no one but a strange man
at the bedside. My heart fell; then I pushed '
a little farther in; on the other side of the I
bed sat the dear object of my nights search.—
'My mother I my mother l' I did net cry it out
but my heart beat with delight. Softly I 'crept
towards her. She eat down, with her 'face
bent over the pillow; there was wfiiteall abOut
and her fuse was very white too.' She never
beard or heeded tffe, but Iliad found her, and
was actually holding on to her chair, when I
heard a strifige noise, a,,gronn; a deep, :hard
breathing, which frightened me.
'lt's all over,' whispered the man,
My mother's head dropped upon the pillow,
and she sobbed in agony It was the chamber
of death. I clung to her knee. 'Mother,
dear mother I' I whispered, something between
joy, and sorrow, and terror; 'do let me stay
with., you.' She looked around, then taking
me'fip, clasped me oonvalsively to her bosom,
while her tears scalded my cheek. 'My poor,
fatheilese boy! , : 9h, god! thy will be done!
she exclaimed, as she laid her cold wet cheek
upon my forehead. 'Dear, dear mother, I love
you!' was all that I knew of the language of
comfort. Then, when exhausted and sinking
under the weight of grief and weariness, they
put her to bed and would take me awaS , from
her, I prayed them to let me lie . by her side;
I would bo still, I would not breathe.' Let
the child' come,' said she to those who would
have thrust me kook into the trundle bed.—
Sho' opened her arms, and I nestled close into
heir !)0800 . 3, showing my sympathy by kissing
her nightgown, when I could not approach her
face 'without disturbing her, and then grasping
her arm and ejaculating, .mother,dear moth
er l' Amid tears and broken prayers I fell
asleep. I have always thought, since that
painful dad dreadful night, a tic seemed to link
me to my mother unlike my brothers, nearer
and dearer. My heart, little though it was,
.had beat close to hers in its llhrkest hour.
Sad days followed ; sad to my Motler, sad
to ray brothers, as they brgan,to realize in the
funeral • pomp and procession, the affliction
which had befallen them ;not sadder to me
than the days when I lived alone in the nur
sery. Now I could Bit by her side and look,
up into her sad face.
.You havia great responsibility, certainly,
the bringing up of your three boys,' said a
friend who mime to pay my mother a vitt of
sympathy, 'but it is nouns though you had
riot enough to do with,'contrcisting the luxu
ries about us - with her own narrow holm°.
'I dcon'Ot. know how. that will be,' aneivered
My..motber with a sigh; a prophetio sigh it
proved to be.. '% •
. .
. . .
Tho next painful seen° hastened on, anex
e
it
ntnination or ray father's
.affairs nd nettling
his estate. , ' No vita , was • disco* ied, nor yule
his reason granted long 'enough to soy any
thing regarding i toturnprovielon for his lam-
• • • ••
ily. On tho inOt night, It wan sald, bo'nteetup
ked to spoilt 7ith'u'tAtterablo 8 . or'
, .
row upon iny'mother;" but winitiny uPeo . his
bind; his ltpa . 'iti ''valn tried Mrei , eal. It'wait
not Meg before Mr.: Madison who ad'.
ministered 'on tho'estote, began to„Utter'abori
.apd algoiticinnt growle;.that 'things 'i . tern no
better than ttei ilmuld'he.'thet it Was juirsit
be aiWayt3 said; Philip liieCteo fasel'ses f hp
knew from the first boy it. Would bet' hiti'faml
ily . would be left poor, left to comp oliO'n their
frimiao "Cousin hrodieMi ;vie' famous foi•
. ,
seeing results they appiatedi I , tle'not
every one who I,o'tkna gifted., ;; .„
At list It eame:ent naked iinotnik, that my
lather was a baukrupt. We were peor,.absu
tutely poor, but'for a small sum 'belonging to
my mothei., and secured to her in a marriage .
contract. Its interest had never been touched
and• 50 it amounted to something, but little
enough, upon which to-bring' up three boys.—
Rich relations we had but one, Mr. Madison
Jones, and ho only a cousin of my father; a
rich cousin, who prided himself upon his mo- .
ey, and valued other people by the same stan
dard.
And now what was my mother to do? The
moment she ascertained the actual state of
things, she began to act. Would she open a
boarding house, that genteel and uncertain nl
-tornotive for poor gentle-women l If possible,
no ; her time must be given to her boys.
Must she move into the quarter of that small
tenement in s bock street, behind Cousin Mad
ison's nnd take in sowing, letting her eldest
live half his time at his namesakes, and send
ing the youngest to his irantlfather'a; or
could she not manage so as to keep them all
with her?
,'That neighborhood * is so bad for the boys;
and besides, there is no yard for them to work
in,' argued my mother.
'A yard! what do you want a yard for?'
asked•cousin Madison, testily.
"'Then they can't play a great deal with our
boys, and often take their meals with us. Ev
ery little helps,' added Mrs. Cousin Madison.
My mother thanked her,but inwardly begged
to be excused from to great nu amalgamation
of the boys. She said she.would take time to
think, and endeavour to pike herself in a sit
uation for the best good of her 8013(1.
Behold, us, then, in four months time, at
home, in a village, .five miles from-; a
village of which.my mother knew' very little,
except its neat well ordered appearance, and
its excellent clergyman. A 'cottage' presents
too many poetical associations to indicate tru
ly our new dwelling. It was wash simple one
story house , that had been yellow ; somewhat
unprepossessing.without, perhaps, but within,
it had two nice chambers in the attic, a*pleas
ent sitting-room, bed-room, and kitchen. Its
chief attraction to my mother was a atrial' barn
and a large yard, a part of which behind the
house, seemed to have been the remains of a
girden by 'some early occupant; straggling
currant bushes were difidoWered among - the
'grass, and some stinted gooseberries in the cot
oem. A s small farm on ono side, and Mr. Gile's
great bay field on the other; the sparks and
coats ota blackstnitg's shop oppolite, the blue
sky above us, with the sun-rising and the sun
setting all in sight, and pastures almost with
in :.!..M.one's throw.
We were Scarcely 'settled, when- Mr. Iteadi
son Jones and a gentlemen rodb obt to see us.
My mother was absent; but soon to return.
Meanwhile - they surveyed the premises ; then
coming in, they sat down. I was in my little
chair, surrounded with playthings. Regard
ing me as nothing but a plaything they talked
freely,
'This big yard !.what is it for? said Mr.
Madison, 'I slicifild like to know what Jane
wanted it for!'
'Better take snug little, rooms in town,' ro-
' joined his cbmpanion.
'She wants it for the boys. What do - they
want of a big yard ? , They , tallo care of it !
They work. "never found boys good for any
thing yet. There are my four great boys ;of
what use are'they to me? All they want is to
be waited upon. She has missed it, or! am
mistaken; but womenzmust have their own
way! Women have no judgment—so ootornh,
ted our cousin Madison Jones, unhesding the
little lame boy, who devoured every word they
said,
By and by, my mother appeared. Cousin
Madison's opinions were not long concealed.,
That big yard, c.Tano !. that's going to be a
trouble to you. What in the name of common
sense is it for ?'
'For the boys,' she answered, as undisturb
edits possible. 'You see that part which runs
behind the house was a garden onco. I hope
to see it a garden again, as it will employ.tho
boys.'
'Employ the money, Jane! It will be noth
ing but an expense; garden cost, Jane. Who
can boys do?
_Depend upon it, you won't go
muoh work out of them. Look nt mine!'
dare ssy she did, no I venture to say she had
many times, before, — which fortified her In her
present position. '
We had bean at our now home quite a-fort
night, when our oldest came to us. Ho had
been at Mr. Madison Jones nearly ever since
our father's death,, oomewhat against my
mother's better ,judgment, which, unavoidable
circumstances seemed to - control. It was a
chilly, April twilight' when ho arrived.. My
mother ran to welooMe him, and 'oh Maddy
ehouted forth my lips; but Muddy
walked unmovedly in, and, plithting o llimeelf
with hie; back to the fire, and hie onp ih hand,
took Lis flret impressiou. Our little sitting
rciont certalulfloollecrthe picture of comfort;
a neat book oboe yellooted a bright blaze from
the opposite Side of the room, a tat& with a
green cloth occupied the centre, and a. few
valuables rescued from the tale, adorned the
room. Madison did not seem to know whoth
onto be pleased or not.' '
.Where is Philip 1' ho at length , asked. A
stirring Mop Seas heard in the back entry,
Upon which Philip opened the door, with a
log in his hand. .Finished,,mother I firlialiOd
he pile. Oh Maddy li ho eioloimed, will
.unexpeoted delight
'Finished .what?' asked the. eldest, with
Someindidations of interest. .•
: !Finished splitting and piling tiny yrood, an
mescal Phil.
.Do you split nod piio
.Yes, I hobo_ so,' "orisworeil Ph% Mir he hod
always fine . it
•t ohnn!t,' deohirpt lgodioon with an ungr&-
olotionisialtotother uncalled for:
'TI on you don'ebelcing sal4
0)11, tito9tly, .
Tai4 ou ,Y64,rnay.
go beck to.Mr,, , Jones.',.
.11.fy,tnother was pre-.
poring ters:'. shan't like It bore, r know
'nhatt'i,' said. Mndition again, nfter a pause;'
tl rint.nLit.iliteeneein Medittee'n pr.'.pur 01114,
4 1 grdae• Peueln,Medifiontion'oll . 9l4lloier! .
'1 like it, enid.Philip, , iheleauee It hob a herni .
and yard;' pethepe" we. shall
'have a cow some time or other/
..Yee, hettiltirul 'hooey! ealAkr,tittet'hkO i
Mr , - :
CARLISLE, PA., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7, 1854.
take care of it V..uskeuitlatlison.
'You or said Phil 'one of vs.'
'I shan't,' declared Madison.
boys don't have to work., Mr. Jones says
is high time to work when we are men;. that
we must take alLthe pleasure we can, when, we
are young; frolic and have good times' My
mother looked anxiously, but said nothing.—
Pbilip I were conscious of being damped,
decidedly so. At supper.,Madison wished he
he had a taste of bread and milk; he thought
people in the country always had bread and
milk.
Then we have a cow, we can have a plan
ty,' said Phil.
petulantly
'Just as soon as my sons Can earn one,' an
swered my mother. 'You know that whatever
we got, we must get with : our own hands now.
When shall you earn a e:itv, boys?' she ask
ed, in an inspiring tone, just as if we onhld if
,we tried.
'Ask Mr. Jones to give us one,' said Madi
son.
'We don't want any !t;>3 ato help lm, when
we can belvotirselves, mother says,' cried
'and'lnother, we will try and earn a
cow, get Pour very,selvene upon which his
black eyes sparkled with interest, in contem
plation of the effort, . "
That evening for the first time sinee my
father's death, did she collect her family talent
her without the absence of one member, or the
intrusion of a visitor. , She began to speak of
it, but her voice greviliesky, and I saw a glis•
toning in her.eye. Ifietinctlvely my hand was
within hers. ,Then shit24l4ced over the leaves
of the great Bible, and arose to go to another
part of the room. : _ She slime back calmed.—
'My eons,' she said, c;hesyttilly, 'we have &dear
little homeltere. and ho a very happy
home if you all strive trttle you'r part to make
it so; yes, and you musi • help to support it
too; You have all . something to do, little by
little, day by day; use your hands to work out
some good and'useful end, for your mother and
for each other; are yoti ieady . to ?' she asked,
Inspiringly, and looking at each of us with her
largo earnest eyes.
'Yes mother,' responded Philip, quickly,
'yes mother and we have got to do it, haven't
we ?' -
:To do and never tlincil,' said our mother,
with great emphasis; "Uaver fall back, never
grumbiu, nok , er regret, whop your dii - ty is Plain
befonryou, boys.'
'i3nt when it is hard-I' said Madison, look
ing down at hisfeet,
'Flare mare , ;(d0i0.,.:: :bmi, must we tin , .
tnothe I always re, :Aber you told mo so
a greadWhile ago, when went to school in a
~s now-storm,'w -storm,' said Philip, looking up, with fire
in his eye; 'yoa said, 'courage, Philip! brave
it out! don't be afraid of a snow-storm P •
Although it (toes my- heart good to reour to
these teaohings of my mother; yet I will not
now linger longer upon this evening, when eh e
first assembled us around the family altar, and
dedicated us all to the Father of Meroy. I
remember how she named each-name, find
commended u to the restraining providence
and the gracious love of our Lord and Saviour.
We Boomed to feel that something now had
happened to us,.and that we were standing
upon higher and more responsible ground than
we had done beforO.' And then, with what pa
tience did she carry out her principles!. 'Ah,'
said Madison the other day, 'lt was sawing
wood that made me.' NoW Madison's -ditty,
one time, consisted in eaten eleven etiaks of
wood every morning, vitiotiltity he thorough
ly bated; not that sawiiig was so very bad,'liut
working was; he Would *her lounge upon
the green. It.wati very apt to be, in his eiiti
mation, either too: warm or too cold, or 100
pleasant to work, too bad some way or other,
unless a troop of boys were around to inspire
him. Tho presence of Philip. or James Giles,
was quite indispensable to a otoatly sawing; to
help him or udmire_ him, or to urge him some
ivay or other. It happened one morning, that
Philip was gone upon some errand, and Valli
son went forth to his morning's worli l pone.
It was not long before he appeared befoir our
mother, bogging her to come and see how well
ho could work, but she could not; just
then. He soon appeared- again, complaining
that the wood was too4tnotty; eh begged him
not to bo daunted by-a knot. A third timedie.
came and. it was too Warm to work. 'too warm
by half;!. a fourth, and his foot. was lame,
'dreadfully lame; he must give his . worl up
that morning, he was cortalu.' Upon thiSclid
-flung himself with an air:of satisfaction in, 1
chair. Madison was fruitful t in exoutes, Our
mother quietly arohie. mitt:taking him by .the
band, led him bask to the wood.bouse . Point
ing to the wood,,she said. With that'firmnesa,
which means sometiiink:: l Thereys your duty,
my son, dO it;.-one stick at n. time, and it is
done; it is only saw,up and saw down, patient.
-ly and courageously .
. Now do it,—conquer
It,—or you are not fit to be a mac.' Madison
well knew there was no gainsaying her, anti
that it must be done; besides, was only sow
up and saw down,' and,what was there so for
midable in all that? Ile began to consider af
ter all, that it did not .apPeat , to by much, or
,
a very difficult work; and it le not formidable;
614 if we patiently and couragebuilige' at it;
It is the only the .eiwup and saw down' which
lessens,. 'conivere and 'finishes, and ,wo are
surprised to find what,a shn'ple:,businees it is,
3ladis'on look' up his saw and went to work;
littim by little, saw up and'saw doWn:.patfent
ly and ciouragouSly, : and
,It Was done. „Madi
son declared it was Ihe hardest struggle. lie
ever had; the first'Thing Lo . over persei , ered
In, but it was done! The pile" disappeared
before his own resoluteness. • •
• 'Yee It -was gio.first tinsel ever felt mYself
Worth: anything,' he sage laughing; "theb I
knew I was greater than a woodpile.' ,
• • • My toolbar 'neither. praisedpit.' paid ,him
','when the,werk was . done; she left , hittito the
Bret coneoloni dnjoyment of hie,ability .tti do,
•
.an<'wae 441p1y visible In the firm; intlepon: .
'dent etep, with:Which he' entered the iltehen;
But a cow, a eow would add 'greatly. tO
stook. of , ocnforte , .hql.a : coW,:lxtY_lother , was
Atnxlotts . il posset.eing. • Att for the .boys, It
formed • a Sum 'total to tluilr-wleheen :the cionT'
eunimotibn Most : devOutly to 'beWiished
•It wup neoortainfA• that Mr. alias"; Would'aell
:'But there, ie go, otlier* , i , ay e
• but fox', utfto earn her,' add F 1111; for ttio
'And when will that bo ?, asked Madison
ulititg; ..,..'agiiiiiiiitrt.; - Dasiitptig , ituir.,... da.t4fTtil.' ' .Itit,irnititiO
Broth tune, as wo were talking over the mat
ter ono afternoon in the empty burn; - mud earn
her we must—where there is a will, there is a
'Mr. Jones's
way, mother says.'
'Yes, I suppose so,' added Madison, reloo
tantly; 'but if somebody would only • give-us
one,'—he bad ceased speaking. of Mr. Madi
son Jones in that light, for Mr. Madison 001 7
doin . came to see us. ,
'But we must not depend upon people's giv
ing us; or any such chance-like sort of ways
mother says. We meat look to oureolves
that's the true.way,' said' Phil.
'1 suppose it is,' slowly admitted poor Mad
Behold three boys in Mr. Giles's mowing
field; tho smallest, a pale ohild, sitting under
and apple tree, with a little tin pail beside him,
and rratoking, with delight, the movements of
his two brothers, as they tossed about 'the
new mown hay, and longed to be with them.
Alas! his lesson was patient waiting. They
worked as the sun rose higher and higher, and
the last dew drop dried on the grass.
'I am i3ioleof it, that's a fact,' at last said
the tallest, as he tumbled upon a new mown
swathe.
*Up and bo doing!' said his companion;
'lot's hot dinoh. We must go through with
undertake,'!mother says,' as ho put
et rakeful on the cook.
'But I don't want to. I wculd rather never
have n cow than work for it,' he deolared, la
zily swinging his feet much higher than hie
head.
'But anything that is worth having is worth
working for, mother says,' answered Philip;
'and you know what good things a cow will
bring us!'
'Well, I don't oars, Come, let's eat our
lunch,' and he approached the tin pail under
the apple ° tree, 'Come, Phil, Some!'
~ N o, not ,until I have done more; It is not
cloven yet, not until the sun gets over the tip
per branch of that elm,' said Phil, as ho kept
steadily on with his'work. Meanwhile, Madi
son peered into the pail, and not.only devour
ed his own part, but - made ample encroach
ments upon his brother's. Ho then laid him.:
•
self down upon the grass.
'Come, Madison, come! don't give up the
first day; persevere, boy,' cried Phil, coura
geously: but no, it was too hot to work; he
- Could not work such hot days for all kite cows
in the world; he was too tired to work o and
presently he fell asleep.
Alas! that this should be a specimen for the
rept ()LAM) week. On Saturlay night, Giles
paid off his workmen. Two men were sitting
in the barn talking over the week's work; two
Arai:Were-loaning; is their shirt sleeves; over
the fence, digs:sussing -the merits of Mr.'Giles'
cabbages; Philip, Madison and myself, for my
brothers were always anxious and willing to
help me along with them—with James Giles,
wore standing with the (sows, patting one, pul
ling the oars of another, and admiring them
all, especially the heifer, which we wanted to
buy. Meanwhile"Mr.' Giles came.oid with his
wallet, settled with the men, and laid out their
plans for the next week. 'Where are the
boys I"- ho asked, not seeing us. Philip and
Madison issued forth from behind the cows;
somewhat hesitatingly into the presence of
their. moister. Ile was a talk Stern. ',Coking"
man, and not of gentle speech.' l l'he boys all
aboUt were afraid of him, especially of invad
ing his peach and apple orchard, for he was
always sure to find them out. Mr. Giles had
wonderful Übiquity about the premises, and
those who did well for him, he was sure to be
friend. eyed the boys keenly. ..Do you
mean to go' through the world as you : have'
worked for me?' he asked,' abruptly, nodding
to Maddison. Modifies!' looked downabashed;
and you,' he continued, 'you Philip, I know
your name, 'for I buried a little one by tha t
name,'—upon'which the strong man's voice
grew tremulous,—'if you go through the world
as you have worked for me, you will be a man,
a rich man, an influential man,,and a - good
man; I hope; and that 's because you are wil
ling to work for it.' . I looked out from behind
otsiv to Jiear the conversation. 'And depend
upon it, boys,;-as is the 40. y eo is she man;" con
tinued Mr. Giles; 'what you are a boy, you
will bo i l a 'man, Philip 'I will give you'tvio
a a day. aid your brothers shall !were
•
just what he has earned,'nsimely, four pa he
a .daYe upon which he began to make the
change. There was a solemn pause, broken
atlast by low sobs. Madison was crying thro'
sheer niortifichtiont I remealiber I wanted to
some to the rescue; and getting . up to poor
Madison's side ; I looked itsidly up -into Mr.
fadoOnd said, pulling Madiiion's sleeve,
La can saw wood, sir, he can nark.' - flow I
got the courage, I am at a loss to inangioe.—
•Can he!' said Mr. Giles, pleasantly turning
over the money in his hand, am glad to hear
that 'ln.'s good for something.'
,As he gave
their wages into their hands, ho saidAin a
marked manner to-Philip, shall be glad of
your work next week, PhiliP;' , upori which bee
went back into the house:leaving us standing,
and for a tittle, speechless.: Philip andl. look
ed at each other. .1 won't have any of his
money l' at length said Madison, flinging his
quarter upon the ground. „Philip quietly pick
ed it up and we walked home.: Nothing was'
said. Mother was waiting for usr,with our
frugal meal. 'And now I suppose you come
'with your first Saturday's' earnings,' she said.
smiling •at I's, through' the open window.—
Philip'soberly laid in her lap, when ho entered,
the money, his own, and Madison's'. She
looked nt it and asked how it thus happened.
'lt is tooted! I'll never work ngiiinr said
Madison, after we bad given her all the explii
nation we Could, his handkerchief still In cam
'Munication with his eyes, • • :,
.And mother, told Mr. Giles ho could saw,'
said I,ns if at important extenuationbadbeen:
There wait do mistaking our mother's
looh, though she t♦aid - -- Stia : was
grieved: and an pus; t or. pitys or oott o
!elm,. or blame mime 'km 'her lips.
:On the;'neXt 'evening, , f3tiiibatti'evititillig; *Ei I
Wi;' all sat on i I ii* tieithh,`Philieihiandi!
„
work,'at; the baokside'or the house, with the
western ekY fir - a.preldie,'Myroother reourred
to the eubjecC` Madigan' held imen 'Fiattlenlar.
meek and otiligieg'ail day, and' hie mind,
now tdni,'Wairopeti to reason and inatruotion:
41tty'eOn,' said elle, Mirk* hie hand, 'end look
ing In hie fate; .io'you'not "know that your
cluetrilue habits must-lie your.” noin 'deptin-
deuce in this world; that any Character Lbw, is
worth having must be earned by effort? Do
you not know that it is only by patient cour
age, that any good ie gotten She paused.
'Madison, what you undertake, you must go
through with it manfully. Will you lag and.
dolly by the way, a burden to yourself and to
your friends?' •
'I con.sow,' murmured he, looking pitifully
down, like to saw.'
'And do you know why?' she asked earnest
ly; 'it,is because you have mastered the saw;
you have actually conquered the wood pile;
and so conquer ell difficulties;' work`at them
until they disappear before you; then you will
.feel manly; then you will litiow how great ill
your power to do; then you will love to. do.'
'I can't rake; I o dop't like to,' muttered
Madison.
'Can't l' said oho with spirit ; 'will my son
be conquered by a rake? What the saw could
not do, shall the rake do?'
'No, mother,' ho ansive'red, with trdeoision
uncommon to him, as he caught her spirit,
then ho added, looking down, 'but I don't want
to rake with Mr. Giles's take.'
'Then we shall never ket our heifer, for'no
body will have Madison now Mr, Giles turns
him away,'. said Philip dolorously, as his hoif
er prospect seemed darkened.
'Not have the heifer" eolibed I, ready to
ory; there was a long pause,. Madison look
ed as if he felt good for nothing, as if ho would
give all the world to getout of this responsi
.ble corner. Heifer or no heifer, was the ques-
tion, and it seemed to depend upon him, etill
more upon his work. He looked around for
relief, but in the faces at neither mother or
brother Aid relief appear. His mother had
not the money to advance, and Philip was do
ing all he could.•
'Make up your imind to go back and ask Mr.
Giles to let you try again,' said our .mother;
'and then, Madison, take hold, with a Stout
heart, of what is before you,, and do it; and
never flinch;' and then ehe told us how every
thing truly valuable was to be earned by strug
gling and effort, and long striving, which alone
could open a heaven to us.
In the morning, Madison appeared with a
sorry air. He was undecided and therefore
unhappy. How many inefficient boys of elder
growth can sympathize with him! Coveting
the fruit of industry, yet incapable and un
willing to Rut shoulder to shoulder and hand
to hand in the - great battle of life.
`At an early hour he went to his saw. Lit-
tle by little, one stick at a time, ho finished
the wood necessary for the day. have clone
this,' said ho to himself; have done it,—it
is only saw up and inaw down; what we want
is to come'to the point and then act, mother
says.' He stopped and surveyed his position,
the heifer, Philip, his mother, and last, tho'.
not least, his reputation. must,' be declar=
ed, stamping his foot firmly on a slick, rI must
make up my mind, mother says, and then do
it.' Upon this, ho turned and walked into the
house.
'Mother, I will go to Mr. Giles's,' ho said,
entering the kitchen, and planting himself be.
fore .her' at hie full.height; tkcvstoop in .his
back actually disappeared. She looked at
him, and her countenance expressed all 'he
could wish. — I do not know what , passed be
tween him and Mr. Giles,' but Madison came
home that evening in the highest spirits—
, Mother!' he exclaimed, , d Should like to be a
farmer. I like farming, first rate. It was
easy enough to see that his habits went with
his will, and - they both went right. He felt
the genuine joy of conquering himself, and
achieving a work.• Madison has 'sine° seen
thiit wfieit'Vvelviikkh o r 'when he
gmi'tolag - by - the ' way, lie cried aloud. to his
lagging energies, 'Do'let .4.01 t! a iitOut heart
mother says.' If I can saw, roan rake; 'and
after all it is only /au; up and sate down: l
must do it myself. or nobody and away
flow his rake over the hay, 1 1 -
It web the third year of residence in the
one story house, on a pleasant'SOptember at.
ternoon, that Bossy entered the yard. Philip
beheld her. Madison by her side, now and
then patting her affectionately; mother and I
went_to . tho barn door to await her arrival.
•It 18 ours, our cowl' I exclaimed in costa
'ls she not a beauty, mother?' exclaimed
Madison, driving her so as to display her broad
side to the best advantage: : 'One of the best
heifers that . 111r..1311es bad,' "ho says: 'Oh,
mother, Where's the now pail? I learned all
about milking over to Mr. 'Giles's.' See her
bag; Is it not a beauty, mother?' ' . As Philip
throw batik his hat; showing his sun-burnt
features, lighted up wiiti interest, he looked
the imierionation of a bright, elastic, healthy
. -
boyhood.
Need I say, that never , inventor,
nicer, richer,,whiter than was that. Need I
say, that never ticow existed like Sessy, nev
er_one so fat so amiable so excellent: Never
was a cow like that cow, and. why t because
we hadearnpe her. She was tke product of
our toil, resolute, unflinching toil. In her my
brothers tasted sweets of opinefoment, as well
as the milk. FrOM that; time, Madison
never gvinbled; a change htid been gr'adual-,
lywreueht in his ohareoter. fie understood
what a power 'he possessed of doing, ind 'he
flung his lounging, indolent, complaining
Ah, our wither understood agreat Secret,
the importance of givingboys something to do,
and make them . work it retiointry t°4 tho end; the,
activities of the boYhond need in,blMiseiplined,
and, directed. Iloys , tvottry,nf continued play,
and wlett for something to .accomplish.
it to them, and then ..aemPol steady, persever
ing effort till it ho Welted. - In the end they
are .better.and happier. boys for, it. . •It lathe
only, preparitory, training
,to 8t them for,euc
oyes in businese, and for 8 40.7 dircated
effort lemature, , life. , this {s one.reason,
why' the country posseases, advautages.ov,er
the city, in the training of boys: • In the coati
:tryAliere Is something for them ,to do; and -
apaeelor them to do it' in; in teachingchil
dren to become tiseful,Tarents need much fin- •
bearence; and great resolution; Thoawkward
blingling;:or , relnetant attempts are.disconia
king and verxeciouivanda fatherwill.often an
grily send off his boy and do the thing himself
in , Ittr better. .tityle,..rather.tban to take 'the
trouble teteach and encourage 'tbe son Wale
cute It:' It Was noise withlout
gardeo th 4 barn, ' , end 'the , woorpOilviiptei,
'VOL. LIV NO '4O
looks and words of encouragement evetyilliiire
presided. She gradually accustomed us
to ac
tive duty, assigned to each some work to
do, and following it up' until it was done, and
well done. She inspired us with energy, and
cheerfulness, and made 'us relish the work,
and bade us witness the geed results flowing
from industrious habits. Ali, it is ourmother i .
who made us what we are,,
And now we have just `returned, returned
from this dear home of our boyhood, no lon
ger the dingy yellow one story Imam, but a
commodious dwelling of two storieb;'with am
ple portico in front, iind. s tlie shadows of honey.
-suckle - and - accede, invting us - to linger there.
It belongs to Philip, the •indefagitable fruit'
grower. Look into his nurseries and gardeni
they are young yet, but is it not enough to
delight one's eyes, to say nothing of the taste?
They are the work of his own bonds. His vi
cinity to the city affords him an extenaivezaar
ket, and ho has already exceeded his most San
guine expectations. Look at his house and the
young shAibbery growing so luxuriantly in ev
ery directio'n. There is a little bed room, in
that house,' which is'a more interesting object
still. It is 'nearly on the site of the old bed-:
room. It commands a beautiful view of the
gar. en and of the western aky,'.and of the dis
tant pasture, where Bossy's descendants are
quietly grazing, and therelaf the window is
our beloved mother in the 'rocking chair. She
is old and infirm now; but though her eyes is
dim, her heart waxes not old. It is full of
love and gratitude and she blesses God for her
boys. 'Sail] eons I she says. And who un
der God, has made us what we are? Our bro.
tiler Phillip still seeks her direction, and adr
vice, about everything concerning him; and
his Mary regards her with 'reverential love,
while in littlelane,—Jenny, we pet hei'l c -She
seems to perpetuate her youth. Her last days
seemed her hest days--How de Madition and
I rejdiee to leave the dry, diiiity city, for a
Sabbath at Phillip's. The Sabbath is truly, a
Sabbath there, so peace-making, and full of
love.
:Madison holds an important post in the ex- .
tonsive firm of 'Giles & eo.' He is a younger
brother of old Giles, the farmer Madison's first
master, who now gives him as warm a welcome
as any une in the village. Do you reme*ber
the morning that you came back to work ? But
thank your mother for that said the old gen
tleman chuckling and shaking his hand. Mad.
bon earned the character w . " hioh Mr. Giles
gave of hiai to his brother- Behold what it
has gained for him.
It is Monday morning, and we have just re
turned to Own, I-never enter the city -:and
my office, after leaving Philip's 'without feel=
lug myself a better man ; a more tranquil,'
sober, home loving, God-fearing man; and
'shall I !via it, a greater shrinking from the
toils and perplexities of city life. 'But never
flinoh,' sounds in my ear.—.take hold with •
stout heart, my eon, of what ever lies before ;'
and the well remembered aooent of my mother's
voice prompts me to duty.: . 4
But sad news awaits me. Cousin Madison
Jones is doad: • Ho died poor, and a broken
hearted desolate old man.: His bons have ru
ined him. Ungoverned, idle and dissolute,
they have brought his grey hairs in sorrow to
the grave. Tho last time I saw him, I bad
the happiness , to• befriend him.. 'Thank ye!
,thank ye l 'he exolaimod, kindly and grate
fully. I could not realize the proud man
who was the terror of my boy-hood. Yon are
a dear boy— a dear boy I see your mothorhad
the right -of it ;—Jano was right; she taugb
you not to be afraid of work. That big yard
and barn - Wasn't foi: nothing ;=if I oonld live
my life oVer agai . O - I' upon which ho drew a deep
sigh, and arose to g o.
POWOonain . 'Madison yes I would say
to all oouain Madlsons, that we were•eOrly'in
dootrinated, pationtly and oourageousfyi to . saw
up and caw dowse that was the secret of moth
er's managtiotent, and of overcoming 'the thou
: sand. obstio'les to advancement
. and suedes%
whioh young men without.piiiperty or hatinea.
tial friends, must necessarily meet with, in the
great world of business; and if necessary for
N the btisiness of the outward, how, much filr
tikL3 inward life, is this rpatient.,oourageous,
paint-taking course? Does it not' constitute
that striving which the Saviour speak's of, by
which we ourt teens secure incise and purgy,
God's blessing; anal, heaven at last? ..
TOBIATOEM . IIICO ;MIA -111:6A1F8;
During' the early part of the growth of.ei
ther of these crops,: the. surface-of ,the-Soil
.should be frequiently disturbed. When toms.
toes have net their fruit,they should:l)6' , 4;l6ft- c.
. cued in, And it may be deferred , until:6oer
gest.of the fruit is of half size, when. It mai
be. readily observed "that-90 per cent of the
fruitis within 18 inches do ground, While
80' per contra the vine or bush is beyond that
distance. The vine, therefore, should be trim
med in tilthin half an inch of the tomato near- . -
est, the end of coat; this will"admi4 sun' ptd
air feeely,.Ond olthough ,10:Persont,oLtbe
tomatoes that might have grown will be taken '
' l na- the portion will be ' „
greater; in weight and:meaeure,', than if the
vine bad not , been • shortened'
this
are also several daya earlier by this trbaiinent,
and therefore, bring a'much: higher Prietkln
the-market. -
• . Lima .Bean vines are •usuhlly - •Sutfered 'to
wind. themselves around a pole - 12 ar'.ls . feet
high, and before - the, vine • reaches the :6p of
the, : polo,,bomo beans are already,of a sixe.to
lapulted e near its bottom, limo beane,lthoeld
be pinched off when fi feat high, and they
' will readily throw out side:shoots well filled
with' pods, which 'Will 'ripen *before • frist,
whereas; *hod hot, bbortuned in; the •hatioi`on •
the "upper ends o f the vices cannot perfect
themselves in time . to be 'saved: Ti is'unfair
to expect a gill of sap to trevel thrmigh"4o
feet of vine'wrapped aroundpole, inidOehe
a perfeetteet,at the extreciie end of It. 'The
immense amount of Imperfect and hhlf prated
vine through which it line' to - treVOl;midies
too great an, evatiorhtleit - olrtgOisture . ,bitfere
arriving at ite point of i dtistipetichi. ,The'Lltna -
bean' with Us 'ld eti'exotia,'Stid itti'VehiCtoor -
during'kevii!tiii,hrir"Orrerebt, foam`it 4 habit
where native , rind therefore 14'mi:004'64th -
vation;ati with' the' tomato
oomPetetlite• for 'tlitisti . differeneetit4.
.#4 . 19 •
odor of.44ipSt.'l!oubV.NeowilllWl,._.,
tralirf?f;.ten vragtonsi fro& llgpoisi.bookidlor
Nebraska, on theatitiiihst. •
ME