Nonfat.
LIFE'S INCONGRUITY.
Green grows the laurel on the bank, •
Dark waves tha pine upon Cho hill,
Green hangs the lichen, cold And damp,
Dark springs the heart's eafie'by the,rlll;
Old mosses climber evor
Palo in the sraterlay's bloom;
Thus Ilfo still courts the shades of night,
And beauty hoterso'or the tomb
So, all through life, incongruous hue
Each objeCt wears from childhood down,
Theovaneseent heaven's blue,
The all enduring—sober brown;
Our brightest droams too quickly die,
And griefs are green that should be old,
And Joys that sparkle to the eye
Aro liku a tale that's quickly told.
And yot Ifs but the golden mean
That cheeks our lives' unstesay sow,
pod's counterbalance thrown between,
To poise the scale Iwixt Joy and wool
And better so, for wore the bowl
Too freely to the parched lips given,
Too much of grief would crush the soul,
Too much of Joy would weep from heaven
AT THE CHURGrEfGATE
Although I enter not,
Yet, round about the spot
Bornetimes I hover ;
And at the sacred gate .
With longing eyes I welt,
Expectant of her. wi.ll,
The minhder bells toll out
Above the clty'e rout,
And noise bud bumming;
They've stopped the chiming bell,
I heaethe organ's
eweti—
She's coming—she's coming
Igy lady comes at last,
Wimid and stepping tact,
And hastening thither,
With modest eyes downcast,
She cowes—abo's hors-she's past,
May "leaven go with her I
Kneel undisturbed, fair saint,
Your out your praise or plaint
Meekly and duly.
I will not enter there
To sully your pure prayer
With thoughts unruly.
But suffer me to plea
ltouod tho I rbiddon placo,
Lingering a Ink ute.
Like outcast spirits who watt
And see through [ leaven's gate
Angels within it.
ioregautouo.
THE ARCTIC PRISON
A Thrilling Story of a Child and a Dog
The ship swung heavily to and fro—
)(Nig yards creaking and shivering upon
the masts.
The wind whistled with a shrill, weird
sound among the shrouds; and the shrouds
,bent inward as though unseen bands of
heavy footed men were ascending them,
It was a dark night, yet not so dark but
that they could see the lofty icebergs by
;which we were surrounded, looming up
like spectres through the gloo•au. We
were tossing about on the waters of the
Arctic ocean ; and—subjected to heavy_
,set and gale of wind—our position was a
I angerous one. -- SV Chad — iliatid - y - 'begun
to prepare rafts, and to hoist our chest's
on deck—expecting every moment that
othe ship would be stove by the ice.—
Heavy masses were continually crushing
against the bows, and thundering under
the counter, causing the vessel to shake
.and quiver from stem to stern, as though
every timber was about to give way. At
times the concussion would be so violent
that all hands would be thrown off their
feet, and tumble on top of each other, in
a. manner that was far from agreeable.—
Suddenly a white face with wild glaring
eyes and quivering lips appeared aihong
us. It was that of the captain's wife.—
,She had her hand upon her husband's
arm, as she stood near the bow.
"Lillian ! Lillian!" shegasped, "where
is our Lillian ?"
"Lillian ! Good heavens ! wife, what
.do you mean ? I left her with you in the
cabin !"
"She is not there now—l have looked
in all the rooms. Oh, God Imy child !
my child'." and the mother wrung her
hands in anguish, while her white face
grew still whiter.
"Wife ! wife ! exclaimed the captain
half sternly, "Lilli!n was with you when
I left the cabin; surely you did not let
her leave your side at such a time as
this ?" •
"Yes, yes !" cried his wife, in accents
of the most piercing grief. "It is all my
fault—she is lost! My. little Lillian is
lost ! and I am the cause!"
, "For God's sake, explain yourself,"
,gasped the captain.
"I left her down in the cabin," faltered
,the agonized mother, "and came on deck,
as I wanted to speak to you. I thought
you were in the waist, so I groped my
way there and tried to find you. Not
.seeing you, I started on my return, fear
ing to leave Lillian so long alone. But
when I reached the cabin again, she was
not there--gone 1 gone I God only knows
:whom" •
"Lillian ! Lillian ! has any one seen
Lillian ?"
Fore and aft, from every lip, in start.
ling accents, tho cry went up amid the
storm.
But the loud wind only answered with
a deep howl. The heavy icebergs
groaned and shook as they had donee be.
fore. The silvery.accents of little Lill.
,iarl's voice came not to our ears, and we
felt as if it were hushed forever. But the
wailing tones of the poor mother and the
.desparing shouts of,the father—both of
,whom could not bear to give up their
child—continued long after our own
voices bad ceased. Then we—rough
i llearted,,c3hildless moo ,though we were—
forgettmg bar own danger, gathered a•
bout the afflicted pair, and tried to con
sole them. I don't think we succeeded
very Well, for our voices trembled agreat
.deal; and the tears would (maw to our
eyes, though we kept wiping- them away
with the cuffs of our heavy jackets. No
_
one of us but had loved little al
post as well as the parents themselyes - .— .
She was but' seven years of age ; yet the
earnest glance of her large blue eyes
would go straight to our hearts, and make
; us feel kind sad good towards each other.
'To utter an oittli when be was near
would have seerried Jibs sacrilege. Like
a, lily, she bad bloomed in our midst,
shedding a . heavenly'influenoe about us.
Strong—ah I strong is' the power of in.
,nocent, childhood over a einful heart.!,
It WAS while we thus steed clustered
near the binnacle, offering ivbat .little
*VOL. 64.
A. K. RHEEM, Editor & Propr
consolation we could to the captain and
his wife, that one of the ship's crew—an
old tar, by the name of Biltßutier—carne
towards us, holding a few little torn
shreds of cloth in his hand.
"I found these ere hanging on ahook
on the outside of the bulwark," sfadißill
in a mournful voice.
The captain buried his fan in hishlids
with a groan, and we looked to one a
nother in a sad silence. There could no
lon•.:er be any doubt s.bout the matter—
Lillian had fallen overborad.
The fow remaining boars of the night
wore away. The gale subsided. Mira
culously, as it seemed to us, the ship had
escaped being stove; and as the pa lad
gone down with the gale, there was no
more danger. Overwhelmed with grief,
yet feeling it•his duty to try and console
his wile, the captain deseendt.d into the
cabin, leaving the management of the
ship's affairs in the hands of the mate.—
Presently the steward came on deck':—
Ile wished to know if any of the hands
had seen Bluseo that morning. This was
the name of a large Newfoundlond dog,
which=„ had been a great favorite with
Lillian, and she had taken especial de
light in feeding him. The dog had grown
exceedingly fond of his young mistress,
and would show his attachment in many
ways peculiar to his kind. Now that
;heir darling was lost, tho captain had or
dered the steward to bring lilusco to
them, thinking that the sight of him
might afford a melancholy consolation to
his wif . e.o-laving searched the cabin
through vathout being able to find the
animal, the, steward cane on deck, as we
have said, to inquire if he had been no
ticed by any of the hands. We all an-
swered in the negative. None of us had
seen the dog since the previous night.—
Thereupon the ship was ransacked fore
and aft, for the missin! , animal ; and al•
though we searched in every nook and
corner he was not to-be found.
While we were all wondering what had
become of him, the man at the mast-head
sung-out that there Were Whales astern.
The mate instantly ordered the boats to
be lowered, and before we had scarcely
time to divest ourselves of the idea that
we were looking for tile dog, we were pad,
dling swiftly in the wake of a great fat
bowhead. The whale made straight for
a field of ice in the distance, and went
down when he got in the midst of it.—
We followed him almost to the spot
where he had disappeared, and t} en lay
motionless and Ow., waitilig, for the
next rising: Largo masses of the ice, flash
inr, gloriously in the early rays of thesun,
and moulded into a thousand differeiit
shapes, surrounded our little, craft on every
hand, floating
by with majestic slowness,
and now and then crashing against each
other with a 'force that caused some of
them to be rent asunder. Strange, beau-
iful monuments are these, fashioned by
he hand of mature—monuments of the
'rozen mariners that sleep below. .
"There it goes again," said old Ben
3ut.ler, in a whisper.
"What?" asked the mate.
"That barking noise," replied Bill ;
"I've been hearing it ever since we left
the ship, sir."
The mate leaned upon his steering oar
and listened.
"It is a seal," he said
"Beg your pardon, sire;',!..replied. Bill ;
"but I never heard a seal bark like that."
"Good heavens !" exclaimed a Portu
guese, so loud that tbe mate was obliged
to rap hire op the head With his knuelcles
"Good heavens 1" he added, in a lower
tone, "me think that ono dog."
"Good heavens! Mikeh, me think'e
same," remarked another Portuguese—a
little fat fellow by the name of Pat Plun
ket.
"It does sound mighty like a dog,"
said the mate, as the barking became
more distinct, "Perhaps it is Blusco on
ti a ice cake."
Turning the boat ,mund with his steer
oar, until her bows pointed in the direo-
tion of the .noise, the mate now ordered
us to paddle ahead. We obeyed, and the
boat shot furward with an
.easy speed.
The barking sounded nearer every mo•
ment, until at last we were convinced, by
its peculiarity, that it emanated from no
other throat than that of 13Iusoo.
"But where was he F"
This was the question that now rose to
our lips. We could hear him plainly,
but see nothing of him. By the sound
of his bark, we should hiLVO judged that
he stood on the surnmit,of an iceberg we
wore then approaching, and was but a few
fathoms distant. Yet, notwithstanding
this, no Blasco was.Oop visible. What
could it mean ? !lad some mermaid charm
ed the dog into invisibility ?
We continued to approach. The bark
ing became inu,ch londer, and was now,
full of frantic joy. The ioeberg---a rath
er large one—trembled as though under
the influence of an epileptic fit. Still
there was no'Blusoo in sight.
Our boat struck against the iceberg.'
A pair of bright eyes gleamed at us
through a chink in the crystal wall—they
were the eyes of Blum ! The mystery
was explained. This monument of ice
was hollow, forming a. rude litMe cham
ber, in which, the dog- was snugly en
sconced.
"My God I oh, heaven be praised I just
look there," exolaimed the mate, turning
to Bill, and motioning him to look through
the crevice, from which he had just drawn
his own eyes.
Bill did as requested, and beheld a
sight which ailed him with as much joy
as it did with amazement. Reclining in
one corner of the ice-bound apartment--;
her long g olden heir falling upon her,pale
face, and the silken, lashes veiling; her
beautiful eyes—he saw the unmistakable
figure of Lillian.
With a few blows of our hatchets we
EMI
etor.
soon succeeded in effecting an opening in
the ice-wall. The little girl and Muse°
were taken out and putin the boat. We
laid back upon our earswith all the s.rength
we possessed, while the mate, drawing a
brandy flask from his pocket, poured a
few drops' of the liquor down Lillian's
throat. By the faint pulsations of her
heart, he knew that the currents of life
were net yet frozen—that she had only
sunk into that cold,stupid kind of a doze
from which there in no awakening.
The ship was reached at last. The
mate ascended to the deck, and took the
insensible burden which Bill passed up
to him.
"Captain 1" he exclaimed as he de
scended the companion-way, "I have
brought you no whale, but something
that I think will be still more accepta
ble!"
The captain and his wife both caught
sight of their chilJ, at once and at the
saw moment.
"My child ! My Lillian !" screamed
the mother, rushing forward to clasp her
in her arms. Then noticing her pale face
and drooping Tread, she sank into a seat,
overcome by her feelings, and stretched
forth her arms, faintingly murmuring :
"Dead I dead : she is dead Clive me
my poor little dead girl!"
"No—no ! she is not dead I" replied
the mate "if the proper measures can be
taken, she cin be restored in a few mo
ments." So saying, he laid - her upon the
bed, and assisted the anxious fattier in
his efforts to roster() the circulation of the
blood.
In a few moments they had the satis
faction of seeing Lillian open her blue
eyes, and of hearing her speak the -word
"mother." The next iustantshe waspres
aed the latter's bosom, and covered with
tears and kisses. This probably helped
nearly as n:uch as the other operations
had done to restore the circulation of
blood, for there was a deep ca.rnation Clot
upon her cheek and lip.
The excitement havicg - in some degree
subsided, an explanation followed.
Lillian stated that after her mother
I had left her to go on deck, she thought
she would just go up to get a little peep
over rho rail at the ice-bergs. This idea
had no sootier entered her head than, she
canied it into execution. In leaning too
far over the rail, however—the ship hap
pened to - give a lurch at the stone time—
she lost her balance and was precipitated
into the waters. On rising to the su -
rico she felt herself st ized by the neck of
the dress, and the next moment wasdrag
ged sufelpon to a large piece of ice. Then
she perceived that her deliverer wns the
noble Jilusco. She felt terribly fright
ened, and clung close to the dog. She
remembered they were half shut in by
three walls of ice, which partly prevented
,the waves front dashing in upon thew.
Suddenly the cake upon which thcy were
standing came in contact with another
one which towered up like a lofty column.
When the concession took place, the
lofty mass tottered over, and fell upon the
three walls of ice, by which the little girl
and her dog were encompassed, in such a
curious manner as to completely close
them up as though they were in prison.
In this position she remained a long time,
praying and hugging the dog by turns,
until at last, fcelipg cold an.O. benumbed,
she began to grow drowsy, itud fejl intoa
doze. Had her rescue front this situa•
thin been delayed a few minutes longer,
we would have Asves, in all probability,
succeeded in bringing her to life. As it
was, a long time elapsed ere the natural
freedom of circulation could be restored
to one or her arms.
Many were the praises lavished on
Blusco for his noble conduct, and although
he shakes his head and turns up his broad
nose when any person speaks to him a
bout it, as much as to say ; "pshaw, it's
nothing"—still we believe that his heart
he is proud of his exploit.
OLD TUINOS.—Give me the old songs,
those exquisite bursts of melody which
thrilled the lyres of the inspired poets
and Iminstrels of long ago. Every cdte
has borne upan the air a tale of joy and
rapture—of sorrow and sadness) They
tell of days gone by, and time bath given
them a voice which speaks to us of those
who once breathed these melodies—of
what they now are, and what we seen
shall be. My heart loves those melodies;
may they be Mine to hear till life shall
end, and as I launch my boat' upon the
sea of eternity, may their echoes be waf
ted to my ear, to cheer me on my passage
from the scenes of earth and carthland I
Give me the old paths, where we have
wandered and culled the flowers of love
aryl friendship, in the days of 'Auld Lang
Syne; sweeter, far, .the dells whose echoes
have answered to our voices; whose turf
is not a stranger to our footsteps, and
whose rills have in childhood's days re
flected back our forms, and those of our
merry play-fellows, from wheti — viift have
parted; and meet no more in the old ntiolts.
we idved so well.
Give me the old hosts, !limn - T A Imo
stairs vie seem , to hear light, footsteps, and
under whose porch a merry laugh seems
to mingle with the winds that whistle
through old trees, beneath whose branches
lie the graves pf Abose.who onoe trod the
halls, and made the chambers ring with
glee. And 0 ! above all, give me the old
friends—hearts bound tp
sunshiny hours, and a link so strong,that
all the storms of earth might not break
it asunder, spirits congenial, whpselcarts
through life have throbbed iauntson with
our own 10, when death shall still this
heart, 1 would not ask for aught more sa-
Clred to hallow my dust, than the tear of
' -
an old friend, Nay my funeral dirge be
ohanted by the old friends 1 loved so fond
ly, who have not yet passed away to the
spiritto bright home ,l
CARLISLE, PA., FRIIAY, JUNE 24, 1864.
FLORENCE VANE.
I loved thee long and dearly,
Florence Vane;
My life's bright dream and early
flab come again ;
I..elmew In my fond vlalmr.
' My heart's dear pain.
My hopes and thy derision,
Vldrenie Vane.
The ruin, lone and hoary,
The ruin old,
Where thou Bidet hark my duty,
At oven told—
That spot—the hues Flytt'an
Of sky aed plain--
I treasure In my vision,
Florence Vane.
Thou want lovelier than the romps
In their prime;
Thy yoke excelled the clone
Of aweeteet rhyme , : "
Thy heart wee as a river
Without a main ;
Would I had loved then neVor,
Florence - Vane I
But Barest, coldest, wonder I
Tx. ) , gloriatis'elny
Lyeth the green eod upeor...
Alas, that day t
And It boots not to reMetnber
Thy disdain--
To quicken love's pale ember,
Florence Vane.
The 1111 ea of the valley
13y young graves Weep
The panslee love to dully,
Whore fbo maldene sleep;
play their bloom, lu beauty vylug,
Never Wane
Where thlwe
WIFE
BY AN
The carelessness with . 4tich some men
choose their wives is wot4lerful to me ;
they scent to bestow more trouble and
pains upon the choice a coat. One or
two instances which brliAlately come to
toy notice will account for , , the charge I
have brought against the lords of the
creation ; but only some of them, fur oth
ers, finding no one good enough, re
main old bachelors; uric] it is best
they should, fu, x,nen of tbat sort, would
have worricd angels, had 'they happened
to marry them.
One friend of mine came to me some
little time tigo, and told me that he pas
going back to India ip three months, and
tiescribed withgreat fee)iog his lonely life
there at some small up-country station,
never seeing a European fur weeks at a
time. I retuember taking off my specta
cles, and wiping them, and leisurely put.
dog thew into the case, -before I could
quite make up rny,,tp . say „what
wanted. At last I said: '
'Allred, why don't you marry ?'
'Nly dear old soul, that -is just what I
ain thinking of,' said he.
'Very well, tren, what's to hinder you ?'
I replied.
'lVell, you s'e, grouse shooting begins
next week ; of course I can't miss that;
and in three months I sail: But I tell you
what I have been thinking you could do
for we—would you mind giving a party,
and asking a few eligibles?'
‘.11), dear Allred, you shock me," I re
plied ; 'I was never used to things of tha
sort in my youth."
'Well, but I assure you it is often done
now; there's Jones of the 10th, and Wig
gins of the 19th maried just in that sort
of a way, and both having been as fortu
nate as if they had been months at it.'
So 1 gave my party, for my young friend
was a great favorite. lie would not let
me introduce him to any one, but looked
en, making himself generally agreeable,
and askingotherfriends to introduce him,
not•me; I think he was afraid I should
look sly.
But towards the end of the evening,he
came quietly up to rne.and sail :
`Goody,' [that is always my name with
young people], .who is that with the pink
dress un, with her back tow•trds us ?"
'That,' said I, 'is Miss Marian Browne,
and a very nice girl too."
'That's my wife; I like her baek,' said
he.
And true enough, two months after
he married her, and both sailed for India
together. I often hear from thorn, and
nothing can have turned out .better than
that hasty marriage.
Then there's young Balmayno; I am
sure I never thought he would have done
so well as he bus, after that imprudent,
huxriel marriage of his, rod 'heir ,to so
much. But it's all rig:fit, now, and I'll
toll you how it cube to:paSs,
You must know BaliAOyao hadn't:linch
to do last winter in tall, Whenlie was up
with his father, whO4W c as,ili of the•gout ;
so he used to spend'..kgei)d deal of his
time looking out of thii4itiiag-XPoal
dow ; and as his father ,htis one of those
houses in Piccadilly ..not far from Mr.
Beresford's of course he saw a good many
people go by in the course of ,th.e day "
Qpe morning n it rained very,hard—quite
a pelt; and asPhe was at his post, lie saw
a pretty girl,run.across theroad 'from the
'Pliflf;"Straight to the shelter of, the porch,
which was the front door of hie father's
,h0n,,5,0. She had no umbrella; so, of
course, Balmayne's first 'impulse was to
lend her one. Be put on his hat, ind
coat, just as if he was going for a walk
himself, and opened the door. .
She really was very pretty, and very
'wet. She wouldn't come In to' be dried,
forge Was in a hurry to by home; so, as
the offered umbrella was ' ts heavy one,
Balmayne carried it for hers himself, She
was a girl of good family, but very poor
—the evil worse than sin, in the eyes of
some' people. Bowever, to make 'a long
story short, Balmayne married her before
the season trap over; and more than that,
he told his father that such was his inton•
'ion. This brought on another fit of the
gout; and.the old gentleman vowed and
deolarlikhat he never wouldsee her; and
BO mattera Were in this fig, till it / was time
TERMS:—SI,SO in Advance,'or $2 within the year
to go down for the 12th; and asthomoors
were in capital order, and a large party
coming to the old gentleman's Highland
box, Balmayne must come with him, and
leave his beautiful young wife behind.—
This grieves him sadly , hut at last a
brigh idea enured to him, which he oar.
tied out, as we shall relate; for all these
are true stories.
At the Euson Square railway station,
when Balmayne arrived with his father,
there was such a rush for seats, that they
had some difficulty in finding one ; and as
to a carriage to themselves, that was out
of the question; butt they secured a com
partment which, as we all know, contains
only four. One lady was already in this ;
but with the old
gentlemen's inmate po
liteness, he would not hear of her mov
ing, though, as his gouty foot was obliged
to beplated on the opposite seat, there
was only just room for them.
The lady sat by tlfe old gentlemen, and
the son opposite to her. - The lady was
very pretty, and seemed 4 1 4kry and sym
pathizing, whenever a tviibge . of the gout
forced a strong expression from,the old
I gentleman, that at last be begaifto take
some notice of ber. Balinsyne, bored
in his newspaper, left them entirely to
themselves; and before they had reached
York, they were quite' gold friends It
so happened' that the youri,g lady, tot ,' - was
going to spend the night at York; and as
she was quite alone, the old gentleman
told he she had better come to the same
hotel as they did, and his servant should
look after her things, for evidently Bal•
mayne did not intend to take the small
est notice of her; and seeing his son's
want of proper politeness, perhaps made
the good old man more attentive.
Next morning they again set out on
their northern journey, and altogether, as
before, for the lady seemed quite to be
long to them now. Having ascertained
that she was going . down to a place with
in a few miles of his own shooting.box,
the old man promised he would see her
safe to the end of her journey, whieh was
rather a long one, as she traveled slowly,
being; in delicate health; and owing to
his gout, the old gentleman did the same;
so, as it turned out, they remained togeth.
er the whole way. When they got to the
last Station, before leaving the railway
for country roads, the two gentleman -got
out, the fatheTdering the lady to remain
were she was it? the waiting room till be
had found her carriage, and :had her lug
gare put on to it. She obeyed with a
very sweet smile, but looked uncommon,
ly nervous. nalturtyne also looked net , .
vans, which was cdd. Ile followed his
father, who was looking for a fly for his
pretty portege.
'Upon my word, as nice a girl as ever
I met,' said the old gentleman. 'Really,
I'm quite sorry to lose sight of her.--
flow she would enliven us at the moors;
wouldn't she, Baltnasne ?'
But 13almayne was as white as a sheet,
and could hardly speak. At last, how
ever, he did say:
'You needn't lose her unless you like r ,
father.'
Now t now, young gentleman, what do
you mean ?' said his father bristling up.
mean that she's my wife!' gasped
out the unfo tunate 13alinayne.
'By Jove'.' said the old gentleman,
turning as purple as a turkey-cook 'who
omit] have thought it .! You impudent
young rascal :"
For some moments it seemed doubtful
whether anger at being taken in, or the
real pleasure a,t his son's unknown wife
being so much better than he had expect
ed, would gain the mastery; at last, how
ever, his natural geed humor .triumplied,
and his son led him back to the little,
waiting.rooro, Where was the poor young
wife, mote dead than alive with fright,
not knowing how her husband's ruse
would succeed.
Nothing could be better. The old gen
tleman embraced her with real parental
affection; and one carriage took them all
to his shootim , -box ; anefrom that day to
this, the good father has never". Relived, to
bless the day when his son gairs higiaueh
a daughter-in-law.
Before I've done, I'll just t;el),}Yoti one
more, which didn't turn 'out..eo , :*ll,l.
Captain Williams—l forgetTS'f6vhat
regiment—was quartered at the
small statiOiw,in a 13ombay
many miles from any large towt - 0 4,, ' , '1A. few
others were with him, and the4liiiplain
of the regiment. Any one who ] hair.been
quartered anywhere abroad under these
circumstances grill know how we' ll aotivain
tod people get with each other:
Alter a time, Captain Williams and the
young chaplain used to read over. their
home-letters together, and .talk over ab-
Rent friends, for the arrival of the mail
was the great event of ,the time. - Cap
tain Williams has two sisters, who lived
with their widowed mother.at home,—
There, had been a much larger family,
but all bad died except •the eldest and
youngest - daughter, the - , brother being
tn
poewhere about half Way .bety , mn.
There was nearly twenty Spark -between
the sisters; indeed, Captain Williams
hardly looked upon the eldest as a . sister,
being born of g former marriage, and
more like an aunt than anything_olse
This chaplain was rather gpataby-patn
by sort of fellow, glya,ys complaining of
his lonely life and all that sort of thing;
and Captain Williams , was often hie con
fidant.
Whenever the pail tame in, -be would
always stroll to the captain's \ bungalow
and at last was allowed to read some of
his sibter's letters, for ho kept up .a very
close correspondence with that dear little
own sister of his ;
and as he talked with
groat delight of her, and read pti'ssages Of
her letters to the lowrspirited youngohap
lain, it is no wonder if at last this young
man begat to wish she would write to
him. •
He had seen her picture ; her brother
had it , painted just before he left, England;
and it was quitepretty enough to make a
romantic young man with nothing to do
fancy himself in love with it ; so, after a
little, he went to the captain, and pro
posed seriously for his sister, only the
lady must put her pride in her pocket,
and consent to come out to him, as he
could not possibly get leave , besides the
expenses of the journey to England and
back would be more than his slender
finances could stand.
So Captain Williams wrote the letter;
and in due time the answer name that his
sister would come, and consented to be
the wife of his friend, the chaplain. The
letter was written by the elder sister, but
neither of them thought anything of that,
as very likely the bride elect was shy, and
kid deputed herto write. The next mail
was the time mentioned, as after that the
regiment mighp soon Je e - cpected to move
up the county A t trther up from Bombay,
and leave would.then be still more diffi
cult, and the journey longer and more ex
pensive.' 8,0, ahout the time expected
our two friends, so soon to be brothers
got a fortnight's leave, and came down to
Boni bay.
You may imagine how anxiously they
watched on the pier the gradual nearing
of the steamer, and how nervously they
watched all the passengers as they appear
ed. A sigh of disappointment was rising
to the heart of the young chaplain—he
could not see the original of the picture—
when he was startled by a horror-struck
exclamation of his friend : "By Heavens,
Arabellal"—and at the same moment an
elederly female rushed at the poor cap
tain and folded him in a sisterly embrace.
'Where is Alice ?' exclaimed Captain
Williams in desperation.
'At home with mamma, dear brother."
said the bride-expectant, glancing at his
companion. The chaplain looked at her,
and then at his friend. Some say his
hair turned white then and there ; at any
rate, it did sonic months alter.
Well, you know I said he was anamby
pamby sort of a fellow ; so, instead of say
ing, "This is not the article 1. sent for,"
and shipping off the lady by the next
steamer, be quietly accepted- -his-destiny-
But either it was too much fur him, or
the climate did not agree with him; some•
how or other, in a year or two he died,
leaving a strong, hearty widow, who re
turned next [nail to England, and is now,
as far as I. knew, the oracle of some of
the small Cheltdafila lea-prthies, and,
,tells uf — rtrrotturritic attachment of her
dear husband, and of all the wonders she
has seen in India.
This also, I am sorry to say, is a true
story, and often have I been very sorry for
the poor, low spirited chaplain. I only
wish his little experience may teach young
wen took well before they leap. India
sad the colonies are full of such histories
lf, when quartered at those out-of-the
way stations, instead of flirting with those
they would not speak to at home, sons
and brothers would only remember, 'be
fore marrying, the misery they bring
upon their food, proud mothers and s •
tors, I'd() think such catastrophes would
less frequently occur.
Thank goodness I have neither eon nor
brother to be anxious about. 1 heard of one
young man the other day, who as near as
possible engaged himself to a handsome Hot
tentot. What in the world would the count
ess, his mother, and hie sisters, the Ladies
Anne and Louisa, have said to such a sister
in law! And yet they would have bad her
if tho marriage had not been prevented by
the'preseve of mind of a friend of mine, a
young brother ogiiceti of his owe.
It is really a serious question, now that
our young men are sent till over the world
when hardly out of school room discipline,
whether they ought not to marry before they
go. This anxious mothers and sisters gener
tidy tty to prevent, and with some show of
reason, for at that ago a man can scarcely
know his own mind. Then, again, if he
waits till he comes home "for good," he is
what is commonly oohed an old fogy whom
no pretty girls would really care for. Both
ere evils, but the worst evil of all is picking
up no one knows whom, in those far off lands
and then finding, when you come home, aud
take your place amongst your family and
friends, that though your wile might do very
well iu the bush, or at smell country stations,
she is neither an ornament to your father's
halls or your mother's drawing room. So
young men beware l The old woman has
had her say.
IMO
WASHINGTON'S GREAT VICTORY.-
Wh,on George Washington was a boy be
wanted to enter the army. Liko many
other boys, he was anxions to go to sea
His mother gave her consent; and yet it
was plain she was not willing to 4ave him
go. A in,idshi i ppyin's commission had
been got for him and the vessel was a
bout to sail.. The ' servant was at the door
with his trunk. He Went in to say good
bye to his mother. He found her in
tears. lie saw the look of distress that
was in her.fice • but she said not a word.
That was enough for him. He went out
and said to his servant, "Carry beck my
trunk to my room. I yvi)l not break my
motlier!p 4e F tyt to please ;myself." Ho
gave up his commission 'and stayed at
home.
When his mother heard what he had
done, "George," she said, "God has
promised to bless those who honor their
pare, ts,andhe will bless you." How true.,
'her words were.
God did bless George Washington, and
wade him a blessing to his . country and
,the world. Washington-gained many
victories afterwards, but this was perhaps
the most important victory ho ever
gained. Ho conquered the British at,
Trenton, and 'Monmouth and at Yorktown;
but when to gave up:his own will to
'please his mother, he con4uered hinzseY.
The Bible telle.us, "Ho that tuleth his
spi!it labetteT than he that telr,otb a;city:"
.Whenever -any general or peblic. °Moa t ;
springs suddenly into public favor. a set of sensation scribblers and peany.rOlinsle-reili
into print with not only exciting_panegyrics
upon the pew _hero, but tv,ith also a lot of ea
'cy reminiscences of h ire- former taieer and
anecdotes illustrating pertain • charictekstics.
which the aforesaid Alcibiades iiatipposed
to possess c lo.,their haste to be first bilks
.the admiring gaze of the worth:) , pope/AO.
these caehexics jumble up, , facts'‘in s•niciett.
ridiculeits manner, forgetting the old priii , eibi
'Lest men eloped your tale untrue,
Keep probabllityln
NO. '26.
The Cincinnati Commerciae is•responsible
for the following, published some Month!
ago:
'General Grant, yesterday morning, asked
a hackman at the Spencer Rouse. 'hat he
would charge to take him across the-river to
Covington. The reply was, three dollar*.
General Grant said that-it was too much—•
he would rather walk:--and walk he:did.
Now that is rather steep. In days gone
by, a famous Indian chief, named, 'Welkin
the-water,' used to make frequent 'visite to
his Great Father at Washington; and indite
of his accustomed forays be mysteriously
disappeared. Can it 12e that the Egyptian
theory of transmigration of souls is - true,
and that the spirit of 'Walk-in-the-water'
has entered the body of our noble General I'
If so, he is a bigger brave than ever, tdia
could walk across the Ohio without ever
wetting his galoshes, as it appears "walk he
did," for there is yet no bridgc gt the place
mentioned.
We are scrry to see that Mrs. Harriet
Beecher Stowe has fallen into this evithabit
of cachexey: and in her late hrilliantpen
egyrie on President Lincoln, she has oettgis
to elevate her hero at the expense OttSure
own credulity. In her elaborate ediateh , of
the ' Defender of the Faith,' she treats us
to the following morceau:
183 G our backwoodsman, Itat-boat
hand, captain, surveyor, obtained a license
to practice law, and, as might be expected,
rose rapidly. One anecdote will show the
esteem in which he was held in his .neigh
borhood. A client came to him in a eaep
relating to a certain land claim, and Lincoln
said to him:
'Your first step must be to lake thirty
thousand dollars and go and make a legal'
tender; of course it will be refused, but it is
a necessary step.
'Hut,' said the man, haven't the thirty
thousand to make it with,'
'Oh, that's it. Just step over to the bank
with me, and 1 . 11 get it.'
So inio the bank they went, and Lincoln
says to the cashier: 'We just want.to take
thirty thousand dollars to make a legal tell•
q.eF N%;ith. bring it back in an hour ck;
two.'
The cashier handed across the money to
'Honest Abe,' and without a scratch of the
pen in acknowledgment, he strode hie way
with the specie, all in the most sacred aim.
plicity, made the tender, and brought it back
with as much nonchalance as if he had been
borrowing a silver spoon of his grandmother.
In the days in which the above incident
was supp , sed to hare transpired, no bank
in the northwestern country, except the batik
of the State 01 Missouri, ever saw or imag
ined thee saw any such HMI/ of specie. In
those times g Id, too, was a scarce Commo
dity, and not to be had, even in the Atlantic)
cities, except at a premium of one per cent.
over silver; and our own experience and
recollection leaves no shade of doubt but that
any coin held by a , .y such
. hatik must have .
been silver (Tellers. N.,w, $30,000 in aver
weighs just 2500
,pounds troy—twenty-five
hundred pounds is a pretty good burden for
even 'Old Abe' to trot off with, and we think
Mrs. Stowe drew the arrow to the head teth
er tight that time.
It is almost equal to the narrative of the
graceful and wail-known writer of household
stories, wherei', a thoughtful and prudent
wi'e saved up the odd change from her mar
ket n oney, and when her husband, in 1837,
was lust toppling 01 the precipice of rui#
for the want 01 $7OOO to pay the last note
with (it's always the last note )-this charming
helpmate trips gayly up stairs and brings
down $B5OO, all in ten dud f.ve cepypij,e . ooo k
in /ter apron, to the delight and astonishment
of hrr spouse.
This story ran the rounds of the papers,
until some growling nld bachelor of an call
tor discovered that the little pile weighed
about ceven hundred pounds, and remarked
that he would like to know SOUltitb.in about
'them ere apron strings.'
It is to be earnestly hoped that the fair
record • f General Hancock, and the new
heroes who are Melting themselves into Fame,
will not be smooched by any such gauzy
adulation.
NEWSPAPERS.—SniaII is the sum that
is required to patronize a newspaper, and
must amply remunerated is the patron.
J care not how humble and unpretending
the gazette which he takes, it is next to
impossible to fill a sheet fifty-two timeff
a year willout putting into it something
that is worth the subscription price.
Every parent whosesen is away from him
at schoQJ tbould be supplied with anews
paper. I well remember what a differ
ence there was between those of my
schoolmates who had and those who had
not access Lo newspapers. Other things
being equal, the first were decidedly supe
rior to the last, in debateand composition;
at least. The reason is plain ; they had
command of more facts. Youth will
peruse a newspaper with delight whet
they will read nothing else.
FACTS ABOUT THE BODY.—.Thentu;
ber of bones in the frame work of the
human body is 260, 108 of which are in
the feet and hands, there, being in °soh
27.
The quantity of blood in adtdts is on
au average about 80 pounds, w.hich passes
through the boart once in four minutes.
Only one-tenth of the human body is
solid matter. A dead body weighing 120
pounds was dried in the, oven till all moil'l,
turo was expelled, and its weight was re
duced to 12 pounds. Egyptian ulutUrnies
are bodies thoroughly dried; theyVettaili
weigh about 7 rounds.
The lungs of an adult ordinarily inhale
20 cubic inches of air at once, and if - we
breathe 20 times in a minute, the tpiatil
tity of air consumed in that tine . rtko
800 oubo inches, or '4B.ooo'inchee iffatt
hour, and 1,162,000 inehisisin a .d9r ,)
which is equal to 86 hcgth es 4 '
Some men are kind because they, are
dull, as common horses are easily. broket)
to harness. • Some are orderly beettutee
they are timid, like cattle driven' :bre
boy with a wand. .And some arei;soels,l
because they are greedy, like barn•yarrV
fowls that mind each other's
.
Talent is a very common familY trait;
genius belongs rather to individuale;'siist
as you find. ono giant or one dwarf .- AU*
family, but rarely a wholo„brpeci "044 r.
It is asserted that in Mayenee, ' where
the annual consumption of wine is threp
hundred and sixty bottles peraitilt, ‘ "igA
delirium tremens and liver compitultt
are quite unknown." We .
are-not tali
what bind it is 410 is drenifin ligayeitqe,
, .
iteedtneti : i . ;2 the Olou4.