M I%ON. Home is where there is One to Love Us. BY CHARLES SWAIN Homo's not merely four square walls Though with pictures hung and gilded; Home is where affection calls— Filled with shrines the heart bath buildedl Home- T go watch the faithful dove Sailing.'aeath the heaven above us— Home is where there's one to love I limns is where there's one to love us! Home's not merely root - and room, It needs something to endure It; • Home is where the heart can bloom: Where there's some kind lip to cheer It I What is home with none to meet! None to welcome, none to greet us? Heine is sweet—and only sweet -Where there's one we love to meet us! From Putnam's slonthly. Summer and Autumn. The hot nti !summer, the bright midsummer, Reigns in its glory no‘V ; The enrth is scorched with a golden fire, There are berries, dead-ripe on every briar. And fruits on every bough I But the Autumn (lays, so sober Mid calm, Steeped in a dreamy haze ; When the uplmlils all with harvests shine And we drink the wind like a fine cool wine— Ah, those aro the Lest of (lays! c irltrt (6n Ir. LFrom Dickins's linuseh,ld Words fnr August.] DOCTOR DUBOIS Doctor Dubois had just finished a dinner which, if not served up according to the phi losophical princil les of 13rillat-Savarin; was at any rate both succulent and substantial.— Ile had turned his feet towards the fire—it was in the month of December—and was slowly cracking his nuts and almonds, and oc— casionally moistening them with a glass of genuine Beaune. Evidently he considered that his day had been well employed, and fervently hoped that the goddess Ilygela would watch for that evening nt least over his nu merous patients. A pair of comfortable slip pers, presented by a nervous lady for his as pidu-ous attendance upon a scratch on the little finger of her left hand, adorned his small fat feet. A black velvet skullcap was pulled half ' over his ears, and a brilliant morning gown fell in graceful - folds about his legs. Bobonne had retired to prepare the customary coffee.— The evening paper had arrived. Fraught with interesting, because as yet unknown intelli gence, it was waiting on the edge of the table to be opened. There might be news of a new war or of an unexpected peace; some miracu lous rise or fall of the funds might have taken place. The worthy doctor had already thrice glanced at the damp parallelogram of folded paper; but it was his custom to tantalise him: self agreeably before satisfying his curiosity. Ile dallied with the little stone colored strips that held the journal in a cross and bore his name and address before he liberated it, and was glancing at the first column when he was started by a melancholy shriek of wind that came up the Rue do Sevres, mingled with the crash of falling tiles and ehimneypots, the dashing of shutters, and the loud splashing of rain. , Whewi pester ejaculated Doctor Dubois, in a tone of pleasant wonder; 'what a night!-- row fortunate it is that I am not called out! This weather will protect me. All my friends are going on nicely, bless them! No ono is in danger of a crisis. Madame Favro has pro mised to wait till to-morrow. Nothing but a desperate case could make people disturb me at such a time. Decidedly, I shall have one quiet evening this week.' The words were scarcely out of the doctor's mouth when the boll of the apartment rang violently. A physiognomist would have been delighted with the sudden chanlie from com placent security to peevish despair that took place on the doctor's countenance. He placed both his bands firmly on his knees; and, turn ing round towards the door, waited for the announcement that was to chase Lim from his comfortable fireside: ••.'My poor gentleman,' said Bobonne, bustling in with a platter, on which was the expected coffee; 'you must be off at once. Here in a lad Who will not believe that you aro not, al though I told him you aro from home twice. He says that his mother is dying.' 'Diablo!' exclaimed Dr. Dubois, half in ("im passion, half in anger. 'Give too my coffee; tell hini to come in. Where are my boots? Indeed" if she be dying, really dying, I am scarcely wanted. A priest would have been more suitable. However, duty, duty, duty.' 'We shall be eternally grateful,' said a 'young man who. without waiting to be sum moned, had entered the room, but who had only caught the last words. 'When duty is willingly performed it is doubly worthy.' 'Certainly, sir,' replied the doctor, question ing Bobonno with his eyebrow& to know whether his previous grumbling could_ have been overheard. shall be with you directly, Warm yourself by the fire, my dear young man, whilst I arm myself for combat.' The youth, who was tall and slight, not more than eighteen years of ago, walked im patiently up •and down the room whilst Dr. Dubois pulled on .his boots, swallowed his scalding coffee, wriggled into his groat coat, half strangled himself with his muffler, and received his umbrella from the attentive Bo bonne. 'I have a fincre,' said the youth. 'So much the better,' quoth Dr. Dubois; 'but precautions never do any harm. Now I am ready. You see a man. ma ' still be sprightly at fifty. Go to bed, Bobonne; and take a little tisane—that cough of yours must be careil for—hot, mind.' The. buxom housekeeper followed her master to the door; and an old bachelor who witnes sed the little attentions with which she perse• cuted him—buttoning his coat tighter, pulling his muffler higher over his chin, giving a tug to the brim of his hat, and, most significant of all, stopping him iu the passage to turn up his trousers nearly to the knees lest they might be sp;ired by the mud—no one of the doctor's bachelor friends who witnessed all this (and the occurrence was frequent) failed to envy the doctor his excellent housekeeper. The youth saw nothing. lie had gone down stains three steps at a time, and was in the vehicle and angry with impatience long before 'the man of science bustled out, thinking that he had been extraordinary . ' energetic, and wonder ing how much more 'decision of character was required to make a general of division or an emperor. _ 'Now that we are in full march,' quoth he, as the driver was endeavoring to make his drenched hacks step put briskly, should like to know something of the case; not the par ticular symptoms, but the general facts.— What is your Mother's age?' The youth replied that she was about forty, and had been ill some time lier family had supposed, I 'however, until then, that her dis ease was rather mental than physical. lie said other things; but the doctor felt certain that there was something behind which shame had concealed. , The yehicle continued to roll; but it had left the Rue de Sevres, and was treading some of the sombre streets between that and the Rue do Varennes 'You came a long way to look for me,' said the physician, half inquiringly. The youth muttered some answer that was unintelligible, and was saved from further questioning by the stopping of the cabriolet. On getting out the doctor recoguised the house as one of the largest private hotels inLthat quarter. ;lie had often passed by, and thought it was uninhabited. The porte cochere was opened by an elderly serving man, who looked sad and sorrowful. 'She is not yet,' exclaimed the youth, not Oring to utter the word of the omen. 'No, no! but she has begun to talk reason- ably.' 'Bo frank,' whispered Doctor Dubois, as they crossed the court under the hastily open ed umberelln. 'line your mother's mind been affected? It is necessary that I should know this.' 'Yes, in one particular; in one particular only. I will explain all; but it is very humili ating.' 'Medical men are confessors,' said the doe • tor, sententiously. 'Well, you shall know everything; but first let me entreat you to come in and Bee my poor mother, and tell us whether there there is any immediate danger. I think, yes, lam sure, that if we can prolong her life but just a little, health will return, and we shall have her with us for many happy years.' •Lot us hope so,' Dr. Dubois ejaculated, as, after stamping his feet and shaking his hat, muffler, and coat and depositing his umbrella, ho crossed a scarcely finished hall and entered at men, upon a liirge apartment on the ground floor, preceded by his guide. The inmates of the room were two, besides the sick person, who lay in a bed at the 'further extremity. There „was first an old man—a very old man—sitting in a Chair, with his knees advanced towards the remnant of a fire, which he was watching intently with lack- luster eye. His garments were scanty and threadbare, but it was not difficult for a prac tised eyo to see that he had formerly lived amidst wealth .and ease. Ile rose when the dootor entered, made a graceful bow; and then sank back into his chair almost exhausted with fatigue. A girl of about seventeen sat by the bed side of the sick person, in whose hand her hand was clasped. She was' evidently the sister of the youth who had disturbed Doctor Dubois from his comfortable desert. The in valid was deadly pale and fearfully thin; but but traces both of beauty and intolligende re mained on her countenance; at least so thought the. doctor, whilst at the. same time ho was detaching, as it were, from those sickly tea• tures the expression which. formed their chief characteristic, and which indicated to him the state of her" mind. Combining what ho bad already [heard with what he saw, -he easily came to the oonolusion that one at least of the Waitizart asiersh tii.) , mental faculties of his new patient was in abeyance. He sat down in a chair which the youth had placed for him, felt the lady's pulse, put on his usual wise look, and, after haying received answers to n: variety of questions, seemed to fill the apartment with life and joy by-announcing that there was no immediate danger. The old man near the fire place, - who had been looking eagerly over his shoulder, clasped Lis hati'ds and cast up a rapid glance to heaven; the servant, who still remained in the room, muttered a prayer of thanksgiving; and the two young people absolutely sprang into each other's arms, embracing, laughing and crying. The persrn Who seeriibli least interested iu this good news was the sick lady herself. 'What is the matter?' she inquired at length, in a tone of mingled tenderness and pride.— ' Why are you so pleased with what this good man says? You will make me believe I have really been in danger. But this cannot be, or else the Duchess of Noailles would have come to see me, and the Countess of , Malmont and the dowager of Montsorrel. They would not let me be in danger of dying without paying me one visit. By the way, what cards have been left to-day, Valet ie?' '- These words, most of which were rather murmured than spoken, were greedily caught by the observant doctor, who began dimly to Perceive the true state of the case. He re ceived further enlightenment from the answer of Valerie, who, glancing furtively at him and becoming very red, recited at random a list of names; some of them belonging to persons whom he knew to be in the country or dead. 'I wish to write a prescription,' said Doctor Dubois 'Will you step this way?' replied the young man who had brought him to that place, and who now conducted him to a little room fur nished with only one chair and a table covered with books. Other hooks and a variety of papers were scattered about the floor. 'A student, I see.' Dr. Dubois smiled. He wished to intimate that he attributed the dis order and nudity he could not but perceive to eccentricity rather than to poverty. 'W'o must do what we can,' eagerly replied the youth, as if delighted at the opportunity of a sudden confession. 'We are too poor to be otherwise than you see.' Doctor Dubois tried to look pompous and conceited. 'Madame de—de—' 'Jarante.' 't".ldadame de Jarante,' ho continued, 'has been undermined by a slow fever, the result of —what shall I say?—an insufficient supply of those necessaries of life which humble people - 601 luxuries. l'Ou need not hang your head, my young friend. These things happen every day, and the proudest of us have passed through the same ordeal. How long has this state of things lasted?' • .Two years.' long time. It seems to me that your mother has been kept in a state of delusion as to her position. She believes herself to be still wealthy, still to form part of the world of fashion, in spite of the accident which remov ed her from it.' 'You know our history then 'Ono incident I know, in common with all Paris. Every one rend in the papers the re • port of the trial by which your family lost its immense fortune. It thought you had quitted Paris, and never dreamed that after that disaster'— 'You mean disgrace,' put in the youth, bit erly. 'That after that disaster you continued to inhabit your old hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain. Whenever I pass I see the shutters closed. I see no one come in or go out. I am not inquisitive. Indeed, I have noticed these symptoms without even reflecting upon them. I had forgotten your name. I now understand that you have remained hero ever since, living on the ruins of your fortune, and keeping your poor mother in the illusion that nothing has been changed; that she is still rich, honored, and happy.' 'All this is true,' exclaimed the youth, seiz ing the hand of the Doctor; 'but you do not know all,' " know enough,' was the reply, 'to make me honor and respect you.' The story which the young man, in the fullness of his heart, now told was curious and painful. M. do Chesnol, his grandfather, the old man whom Dr. Dubois had seen in the other room was ono of the nobles who had emigrated during the first French Revolution. lie had gone to America where he married the daughtoy of a Virginia planter quite hope less of ever returning to his native country.— After a time his wife died, and left him with an only daughter, lie came to Pails, whore although his fortune was small, he was able to give his child a complete education. After eighteen hundred and thirty, now cams to him from America that his father•in-law had died, leaving all his property to him. Re again crossed tho Atlatitio with his daughter, then nineteen years of ago. On the voyage out he made the acquaintance of M. de !Tar anto, a young French nobleman of groat wealth, who was going to the West in or: der to spend his superabundant activity in travel. . An affection sprang up between this young man and M. de ChesnePs daughter. The con sequence was, that some time after their arri val in America they wore married. But M. de Jaranto had not entirely lost his wandering propensities. Whilst M. de Chesnel was en gaged in an unexpected lawsuit with the re lations of his father-in-law—which ended in the will being utterly set aside—the young couple travelled together in various directions. This lasted some years. Victor, the youth who related the story to the Doctor, and Val erie were born, and the mother found it ne cessary to remain more stationary than before to look after her children.. Then M. do Jar auto undertook to explore Cordill3gps of the Andes alone, and sent his wife and family back to France. Victor evidently slurred over certain domes- tic quarrels here ; but it came out that M. de Chesnel had reproached his son-in-law with neglecting his daughter, and seemed to think that it was partly because the , fortune which she had expected had been taken from her. M. Jarante afterwards returned in safety, and led a very quiet life in Paris. His wife thought that his restlessness was now quite worn out; but at length ho again started for South America, wrote home—frequently send ing valuable collections which he made by the way—and was last heard of when about to undertake a voyage across the Pacific. .This happened six pears before the period at which Doctor Dubois became licquainted with the story. For some time madame Jarante suf fered no misfortune but separation from her husband ; but at length his relations had rea• son to consider him to be dead. They asked his wife to give an account of his immense fortune. She refused, saying that it devolved upon her children.• Then, to her surprise, they asked for proofs of her marriage. She had none to give. A trial took place, and, although seine cor roborative testimony was brought forward, it did not satisfy Hie law, and ;Madame Jarnnte was not only deprived of her husband's for tune, but was called upon to give an account of many large sums she had,spent. M. de Chesnel sacrificed all that iernained to Lim to protect her. The hotel in which they lived had luckily been taken in his name., They sold the furniture piecemeal to enable them to live. Then it was that Madame de Jarante first showed symptoms of her mental disorder She could not believe in the disaster that had overtaken her: and, to save ger 'from com• plete insanity, her father and cbildreli found it necessary to commence.the'deception which they had over afterwards been compelled to carry on. Victor gave many details of the extraordinary means they took for this pur pose—always successfully. His mother variablykept her room. Only within th 4 last few weeks, however, bad she shown signs of bodily decay. Assistance had not been called in on account of their poverty. 'And what, may I now enquire,' said the Doctor, deeply interrested, 'aro the grounds of hopes of better times which you seem to entertain ?' am certain,' replied Victor, 'that my fa ther is not dead. He will return there is no doubt, and restore us to our former position. All that I ask is that my mother's life shall be preserved until then.' Doctor Dubois did not entertain the same confidence. 'Little stress,' ho said, 'must be laid on presentiments of that kind. Mean- while your mother must not be allowed to want for any thing. You must borrow money of some friend.' •Wo have no friends,' said the young man 'Then I 'shall write a preseriptioo,' mut ered the Doctor, as he- seized pen and pa per What he wrote was as follows 'Monsieur: I an in want of money immedi ately ; please send me three hundred francs by the bearer. „ALPEIONSE DUBOIS. 'There,' said ho getting up, 'take that to its address to-morrow morning, and do not let me hear from you again until you have used what you receive. I will come again tomor row evening.' So saying, the Doctor bustled away to es cape the thanks of Victor, .and crossed the court in so great a hurry that he forgot to put up his umbrella. In the evening Doctor Dubois returned to the hotel, and,felt his heart 'c armed by the evidences of greater comfort ho beheld. Ile now ventured to proscribe medicine, and suc ceeded eventually in restoring his patient's health. There was no change.howeier in her mental condition„ She still believed herself to be surrounded by wealth ; only she thought her children were more attentive than be• fore. The little comforts they now gave her excited nal surprise, hut gratitude. The Doc tor continued his- visits and his loans. 'You shall pay me back, with interest,' ho said when Victor heslsAted to accept. 'Good works are never lost,' remarked be bonne, falling in with her master's humor. Ono evening in the following Bummer, when ho pkysiolan happened again to be making ready for a comfortable evening with his feet in the same slippers; with the usual plate of nuts and almonds before him and an uncgrk ed bottle of Beanue, with which he took alter nate draughts of Seltzer water ; with the same black velvet skullcap thrust to the back of his head, and the same morning -gown thrown babk in graceful folds—Bobonne had just come in with the coffee and the evening paper —the bell rang again.—Doctor Dubois again exclaimed, 'Diable !' and 'pests V It was Vic tor as before. 'Come,' he exclaimed, , to save us from the consequences of excess of joy !' 'They are never very serious,' ryuoth the Doctor without moving. 'What is the mat ter?' .My father has returned.' Bobonne instantly undersaitid the signifi cance of these words, was the first to urge her master to be up and a doing, and lost no time in handing liim his hat. 'As for your coffee my dear Doctor, I will keep that warm for you,' sho said in a tone of affectionate famil iarity which was new to Victor. Doctor Dubois learned, as ho walked to wards the hotel, that Monsieur de Jarante had suddenly appeared without giving any warning whatever. His wife became insensi ble on beholding him, and Victor bad instant ly rushed away for medical assistance. When they reached the hotel all danger seemed to have passed, and the returned traveller was listening with astonishment, anger, and con trition to the story of the sufferings of his family. For his own part, he had met with many perils and fatigues, which had disgusted him at last with a wandering life. lie had been shipwrecked on a remote latent], scalped and escaped with his life only by a miracle. Ile admitted that he had been neglectful:— His future life, however should atone-for-the past. Ile naturally resumed possession of his‘for tune and established the legality of -his. mar riage and the legitimacy of his children. Ma dame de Jarante at length understood all that had happened to her, and might have return ed into the society which had so readily cast her off; but instead of seeking pleasure, she occupies herself in relieving the poor, in which benevolent occupation she was much assisted by Doctor Dubois. Her eon and daughter both married well; and, although M. de Ches nel recently died in the fullness of years, the whole family now enjoys a happiness which it had never before known. It may as well be mentioned that Doctor Dubois went the other day, with Wither n; con fused look, to ask Victor to stnnd godfather to a son and heir which Bobonne—we beg pardon—which Madame Dubois bad present ed him with. Vaccination The learned world is all alive. A physician, a man of the world, published about a foe night ago a book upon a subject which in former times agitated all Europe. The book . is entitled, "Moral and physical degeneration of the human race in consequence of vaccina tion," and in it Jenner is Accused of having helped to thin off the European family. You may well suppose that such a work will scarce ly go unnoticed. Official science has preserv ed a great dose of admiration of the English doctor who found upon a cow's dug the specific which now-a-days is administered to every child that is born. On the other hand a certain school of medicine has lately grown up, whose object is to rid the world of vaccination. Ac cording to these men all modern diseases re sult from inoculation with the cow virus— cholera, gastritis, scrofula, more frequent cases of consumption, and above all typhoid fevero. Thus you see thevquestion may bring on every species of discussion, a war of words, and pamphlets in abundance. Our Imperial Aca demy of Medicine, consisting of the elite of the doctors; has made the subject an order of the day. Experimental Germany and England, so interested in the quarrel, will both doubt less take' parts in these polemics. Heaven grant the victory may be some great aoheive meat of science and some new good to ha =Div.—Paris Car. Independence 1144 A NINAN Matt.—Wo have heard of mean men in our day but a correspondent of the St. Louis Reveille mentions ono to whom most be yielded the palm :—Talk about mean men I why there's that Bill Johnston he's the mean est man I over heard toll on. 'Bill was con stable there. Why don't you think ho had an execution against mo for a little matter of groceries, and be came out and levied at my old womans ducks, and wanted tee to drive 'em up and ketch 'em for him, and f told , to ketch 'em himself; and Co be chased 'em round and round the house, and every time he'd ketch a duck, he'd sot down and, wirll its head off and charge mileage.' 'Oyu Naw BUILT/No Gnonan.'—First woman—'What does the Cminister say to out now burying ground!' Second old woman— .lle don't like it all, he says he never will be buried there, as long as ho lives.' First old woman--;'Well, if the Lord spares me, I will.'
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers