fit
i jyj aa Aynj-
r
WE GO WHERE DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES POINT THE WAV JvWHEN THEY CEASE TO LEAD, WE CEASE TO FOLLOW
X
BY JOHN G. GIVEN.
EBENSBURG, THURSDAY AUGUST 91819:
VOL. 5. ISO. 44.
ifl V
m. m w m
r.
I Lotc J!ot Novr.
Take Tram me all t!iou onca did give
Thy tunica and leara ihj sighs that vow
Itor longer la ray bosom live;
X loved the once I lovo not now;
Ti better, ia this wretched hour.
To Cinj frviu memory every trace
Each shadow of thy broken power,
And all memorials fond erase!
Ilaply, in after limes, the wrong
'J by Cckly speech hth done to in 9
May strike tliy ttoul, as, borne aloof,
Thou gaily ta ileal o'er life's sea;
And then, ainiJst the wreck of love,
That will thy sinking hope surround,
Soma long'forgtttea thought may move
Thy fluttering heart with grief profound!
Dublin Univtrity Magazine.
MISOEL LA N E O U S
THE ADOPTED SON;
OS, CHARITY'S REWARD.
BY PAUL CREYTON.
CHAPTER I.
One cold, windy, dreary day, in the
month of November, 1813, a tall, dark in
dividual might have been observed passing
to and fro, in a mysterious manner, in one
of. the most retired streets in the eity of
Boston. Ilia finely made form and hand
some features were disguised bv the folds
of a spacious cloak and scarf, which he
had assumed for the douole purpose of
concealment and defence against the cold.
Several times had the strange individ
ual walked up and down the street, like
one abstracted. But, although he seemed
to have no object in view, a keen obser
ver would have remarked at once that he
was deeply interested in some object he
saw, or wished to see, in a. cottage over
the way; for, his dark piercing eye was
turned in that direction continually.
At last, as the stranger was approaching
the house of one of his rounds, a lad of
about twelve summers pale and poorly
clad, came out of the door, and ran lightly
down the steps into the street. The
stranger paused -out as me ooy ran on
before him, he followed, quickening his
pace, and was soon led by the unconscious
youth into a more busy quarter of the
town.
The two kept on at a rapid pace, the
stranger gradually nearing the boy, until
the latter suddenly turned into a large,
crowded building, composed of offices de
voted to the use of lawyers,, brokers and
other business men. The lad mounted a
broad flight of stairs, and entered a side
door, which he had scarcely closed when
the stranger entered and followed him in.
There was but one man in the offiee, and
he sat at the desk with a newspaper m j
his hand. He looked up as the two en-
tered. and after dancing at the stranger,
who coolly look a seat near the stove,
motioned the boy to approach him.
The lad was embarrassed, and seemed
afraid to speak. With his cold, numb
fingers, he played with the buttons of his
coat while his eye turned alternately from
the stranger to the man at the desk. The
latter was a middle-aged man, with a cold
hard, calculating look, such as chills the
heart unused to the selfishness of the world.
Well, William,' said he, turning to the
boy, with the mockery of a smile it was
so cold and heartless 'well, William, has
' vrvir father sent me the money for the rent,
as be promised my clerk, when he called
on him the other day? Speak out, Wil
liam. ' ' '
He sent me, said the boy, after some
, hesitation, Ho tell you that he could'nt pos
sibly raise the money for you to-day; but
- that he hopes to be able to get it for you
. .a. . I.-, , 1 , j-- .-. . ...
The man ai the desk scowled darkly.
Tell your father, said he, in tones of
' (.il.k.cn. tV.at I can put up with this
, treatment no longer. I have been put off
jiow day after day with promises ana pro-
testations, until I am tired of the same
, eternal lingo. However, I will let things
remain until Saturday, when, if the rent
.is sot paid, I hall be under the necessity
of adopting measures that would be un
. pleasant both to him and me.
- But.father. is very, sick, ' began the lad,
1 his eyes, glistening with tears. .
He would, have said more, but sobs
choked his utterance, and he hurried from
the office into the street.
r 1 said the man at the desk scowled dark
. ly but when, the boy was gone, and his
;-ye fell upon the stranger seated at the lire,
rat,the-s"ifiht of the dignified bearing of the
latter, and his rich but simple dress, his
, "woxloly Heart was pleased, and his brow
i 1 ".1
Dfigruenea wun a. smile. . .
- ai j - -
, excuse me, said, the stranger, ap
proaching tne aoor; i perceive I have en
tered the wrong place. But will you tell
me whether or not that lad is the son of
Mr. Jonathan Harding?
Aye; that s his father s name,' replied
the other, politely.
What a reverse of fortune that man
must have met with!' pursued the stranger,
with a sigh. 'If I remember aright,he
was once one of the richest and most influ
ential merchants in Boston.'
True,' replied the man at the desk?
'but he has lost all his pwperty -by mis
management. I knew him ti ve years ago,
when he was in the height of his prosper
ity. His failure was quite unexpected,
and very unfortunate; for, by some strange
mismanagement on his part, his creditors
got everything, and left him poor. Of
late he has been sick, and he has even
been brought so low as to be unable to
pay the rent of one of my cheapest houses.'
Low, indeed!' sighed the stranger; 'but
his family?'
'That is fortunately small. He has, but
two children agirl of twenty or upwards,
and the boy you saw here. The girl, I
am told, supports the family be teaching;
for she has rare accomplishments.'
'And no suitors?'
'No accepted ones. Many of the first
class, however, young men of fortune and
family, have offered themselves. But it
seems she prefers a life of labor and pov
erty to a good match.
Indeed!'
Strange, you may think; but there is
reason for her foolish conduct. You see
she is young and romantic, like other silly
girls at her age, and prides herself on
scorning wealth. The truth is, she is
living for a young man who, if he is like
other young men,
thinks no more about '
ner now man it he Had never seen her:
Who is he?'
'I will tell you. Many years ago, Mr.
Harding, who is a kind hearted man
enough, picked up a little orphan boy in
streets, and took him home, and warmed
and fed, and clothed him, as if he had
been his own son. And so the boy grew
up like one of the family, until he was
eighteen. At that time this was five or !
six years ajpo Harding s daughter, Julia,
was about fifteen, and a very pretty girl, I
assure you. -r
- Well, things turned out as might have
been expeeted. The youth was warm
hearted and full of spirit, and the girl was
a delicious bewitching creature, and alto
gether too rich for him to withstand. In
short, the poor orphan and the rich heiress
loved each other, and became engaged be
fore the old man knew anything about the
matter. He found it out, however, and of ;
course took measures to break off the un
equal connection, by putting the boy in
the way of making his fortune abroad, that
the two might forget each other. The
thing must have had the desired effect on
one side, for the boy has never been heard
from since, but, on the other hand, Julia
seems to cherish the hope that he will re-
wiusumcudj, wwuga.u..
.. 1 1
s ioousn mere: ur uie uuy u
something of the world by thi3 time, and
lost some of the romance by which youths
ar$ mlected now a days, it he snouia
etrme back, it isn't probable he would
think of marrying the daughter of a poor
broken down merchant.'
Thus the worldling run on, talking from
the coldness of a heart that was a stran
ger to all the kinder feelings of man's na
ture, and flattering himself that he was
speaking the sentiments of a philosopher
and a man.
The stt anger heard him out, then ma
king inquiries concerning the amount of
1 t 111
rent due Irom M r. Harding, abruptly took
the sum from his purse, laid it upon the
desk, and requested, or rather ordered the
other to make out a receipt which he could
forward to the merchant.
The worldly man looked at the stranger
in surprise, but seeing how stern and for
bidding he appeared, simply asked his
1 '
jiama. mafia A" u)uim4 r-i7xci, aim
passed it to the stranger. I he latter
placed it in his packet-book, turned his
back haughtily upon the astonished land
lord, and hurried from the office.
CHAPTER II.
When the boy, whom the worldly man
dismissed so harshly from his presence,
had reached the street, he brushed away
the tears that gushed so freely from his
heart, aud hastened back, to carry the
message to his father. . Having reached
home, he hesitated before entering, fearing
in the goodness of his young and untried
heart, the effect his errand might have
have upon his invalid parent; but at length,
summoning his resolution, he passed
quieKly in, and stood, pale and shivering
in the presence of his family.
He was in a small, but neat and com
fortable apartment, scantily furnished, yet
not without some manifestations of taste.
Near the fire sat an elderly man in a chair,
his eves closed as if in sleep. He was
paler than even the boy himself, and his
- ... m 1 1 111
emaciated limbs ana sunicen cneess snow
ed the unmistakeable traces of disease and
care.
This vas the
father of the boy. His
mother sat near a patient, care-worn
woman, m humble but neat attire, who oc4
casionly raised her eyes from her work to
her husband's face, as if her joy and sor
row were centered in him. At Mr3. Har
ding's side sat her daughter, Julia, of
whom the reader already knawssom"
liMry through rfr-con versa tion of the?
worldly man with the stranger in his
office. Although the landlord's account"
has been colored by his own views of the
world, it has been in the main correct.
Possessed of rare intelligence, a fair form,
and such a countenance as rivets our gaze
as if by some magic influence, she was in
every respect a lovely andlovable woman.
I said the old man's eyes were closed as
if in sleep; but the moment the boy's light
footstep was heard upon the threshold, he
turned his head quickly, and "cast a hur
ried, enquiring glance at his son.
'William!'
The boy stepped forward and stood be
fore his father.
What did Mr. Maxwell say?'
In a few words the boy delivered his
message, softening as well as he might
the harshness of its import. His parents
and sister listened eagerly, their counte
nances changing as if in disappointment
and despair.
Saturday,' said the old man, musingly,
when the boy had ended. 'Saturday
and to-day is Tuesday.'
Thursday, father,' said Julia.
'Thursday! Is it possible? How time
rolls bv, unconsciously to the invalid!
Thursday! Heaven help
3! We can
not raise the money this week.'
'But will Mr. Maxwell carry his threat
into execution?' asked Julia.
'He is a hard man!' murmured Mr.
Harding.
'But Henry, his son ' began the boy's
mother.
'Do not mention his name!' said the
old man, somewhat
impatiently,
expect from
His
him?
son! What can we
True, he professed, and still professes, to
have an attachment for Julia; but when
h OiTolt'd h'to tranrirtyf-Tr-veltljsClJ hi1 -
'Do not speak so bitterly father,' inter
rupted Julia. 'You know I could never
love Henry Maxwell, and that i would
scorn to marry him for his riches.'
'You are right,' murmured the old man,
more kindly 'quite right. I would not
have you wed him against your will, to
save us from the lowest stage of poverty.
No no! Let fate do its worst!'
The old man paused, for there was a
ringing at the outer door, and William
hastened to admit the visitor. Henry
Maxwell entered, a young man possess
ing all the selfishness of his father, but
less of his calculating coldness. When
Mr. Harding saw him approach, feeble as
he was, he stretched forth his emaciated
hand, and with a flashing eye told him of
the message sent by his relentless father.
The vounr man made no attempt to
I excuse his parent, but protested he had
known nothing 01 the anair 01 the rent
until half an hour before, when he hap
pened into his father's office directly after
William had left it.
'And he hastened, he said, with much
apparent feeling, 'to pu; the old man's
mind at rest; assuring him that no de
mands should be made on him for rent due
heretofore.'
This is generous!' exclaimed the old
man, grasping his hand feebly. 'You are
not like your father I am glad of it. You
have, then, paid the rent yourself trusting
to my ability to repay you at some future
time?'
Mr. Harding said more; but Henry
eeemed not to hear him; for, without ma
king any reply, ie turned to speak with
Julia. Half an hour after, the young man
left, havins" made a mote favorable im-
impression on tne minus ur -mc-rannxy
than he had ever done before.
About the same time, the postman ran-&
dropped a letter, for Julia, who hastened
tj her room, & read iteaeerly. Twice she
glanced her eye over its contents, which
produced a confusion in her brain, I will
not attempt to describe: then she wont:
she laughed; then she wept and laughed
together, as if the epistle had been a strange
mixture 01 good evil & intelligence, that in
spired her with alternate joy and sorrow.
Poor Julia was very nervous during the
succeeding half hour, and could neither
work, nor talk nor think. Her mind was
on the contents of that mysterious letter,
which she read and re-read half a dozen
times before the half hour -expired. Then
hastily but stealthily she attired herself to
encounter the roughness of the weather:
and with a beating heart stole from her
father's house.
We will now follow her; but simply
state that on her return, she appeared
more gay than she had been for months.
Her parents saw the change;- and ques
tioned her; but she answered them eva
sively. What could have happened to
produce the alteration, that she should
hesitate to unfold at once to them?
J Days passed, and the Harding family
were' provided for nnnx-nRctedlv and
WtrangeftT - Julia would go out and make
purchases of such articles as most her
ither needed, and have them sent to the
toor. that she mio-ht eniov her narents and
j fJit-JJK-"i"J f" " True rietms-xf
fcae.iTt?!f4cr were -filled with" gratitude to
JuH,;ad their love for her increased, if
that'vvere possible, when they saw how
she denied herself to comfort them.
By'what means was Julia enabled to
matethe purchases she did? How got
shesu mueh money? When asked these
questions by her friends, she would reply
thaj sie was paid more for the lessons she
gap on the piano than she was before
thai htr French pupils were increasing;
and that the funds she procured in various
waVs,! when put together, amounted to no
despicable sum. But still there was a
myfetefy, which, if she understood it her
self, se did not choose to clear up for
ther satisfaction.
Ones day, after Henry Maxwell had
beei ai the house, where he exerted him
splinot a little to please Julia and her pa
rens, Mr. Harding, who was slowly re
covering from his sickness, asked his
daughter why she was so prejudiced
agnlnst the young man, and inquired if
there was any other that she preferred.
Vou-forget,' said Julia, timidly, 'that
Theodore Mliston pleased me more than
any other.'
The old roan sighed.
'Theodore Allston! he murmured the
lad Ibroughtup after snatching him from
a pit of ; degradation, into which he had
been tlrust for he was too young to
choose br struggle against fortune the
boy whi grew up under my roof, and re
paired me for my cares and kindness by
aspiring to win your hand.'
'But hjL-was- worthy,' interrupted Julia.
'Wpll, there was nothing bad about him,
I cor.fes3. Perhaps I treated him too
harshly, in banishing him from my house;
but in doing so, I gave him an excellent
oppurt&ii of making .hi? fortune abroad,
which 1 hope her-has profited by, fori
really had a preference for the boy. But
what was I going to say '
'Well?'
You loved him, and I doubt not that he
loved you. Yet it is foolish in you to
cherish his image as you do, as if he re
membered you the sare. It is not at all
probable that he has any affection left for
his old companion, nor do I believe he
would think of renewing his engagement
with you, should he ever see you again.
You must reflect that we are poor now.'
And would that make any difference
with him?' asked Julia, fixing her lanre.
dark eyes with an expression of mournful such as brings a tear of sympathetic joy.
reproach upon her father's face. Strang contrast! There was a smile on
The old man sighed again, but answer- every lip and a tear in every eye.
ed not. Throwing his head back upon a For Theodore, the noble, the spirited,
pillow, Julia arranged for his comfort, he the generous and true Theodore had re
closed his outward eyes, looking with turned! Not with all the riches of the In
those within the spiritual sight back dies in his possession; but with a compe
upon the past, all shadowed as it was by tency procured as much through industry
sorrows and vain regrets, and forward to and probity as the favors of fortune, and
the future, which appeared more, dark to with the same true heart and noble soul
him than either the oast or the present.
1
More than a week had passed, dating:
from the opening of our story, and still
Julia continued to supyly the family with
comforts, which seemed procured through
the influence of a mysterious prov idence,
for none could divine how the girl became
possessed of the means to make the pur-
chases she did.
'I am convinced, then,' said the old man
to her, that you procure money from some
source which you keep concealed from us.
Answer me now plainly: Do you get all
your money by teaching;
'No.'jfcoUed Julia, blushing aud smiling
as she blushed,'! do not.
'How then, is it obtained? Soeak: for I
can enuure mis rm-stery no longer.
.1 . w "...
liut l am not at liberty to tell you now.
father. Wait, patiently, and I assure that
all shall lt explained to your entire satis
faction, 1 hope bv four o clock to mor
row. Wait till then.'
1 he old man regarded her with an ex
pression of perplexity and wonder, but did
not urge .her more.
CHAPTElt III.
At the hour appointed on the following
day, the little famuy of Mr. Harding were
gathered . together at their humble abode,
Julia was there, .ready to explain the mys
tery, and her parents and little William
wero anxiously waiting for the moment
to arrive when their curiosity was to be
gratified.
'ou are expecting someone, Julia,'
said the old man.
Yes, sir.'
Who!'
You will soon Jearn. I can only tell
you that it is one to whom we all owe
much '
'He who has helped to provide us with
the comforts we have enjoyed of late:
'The same.'
At that moment the door bell ran, and
Julia, very much agitated, hastened to ad
mit the visitor. Butlitde William was at
the door before her, and to the surprise of
her parents, he returned almost immediate
ly, accompanied by Henry Maxwell! 4i
FUlo--ao Ir.-llardinsf was, he sprang
to his feet, qhd grasped Henry's hand
warmly.
It is you, then!' he cried with emotion
'it is you that have been a friend to us
in our misfortunes. As soon as you knew
of our extremity, you nobly came to our
assistance paid our rent '
Do not mention it,' interrupted Henry,
with an air of modesty.
'You do not deny it,' pursued Mr. Har
ding. 'No, you admit it. And you have
6ince done more for us than I could have
expected from a son!'
Henry Maxwell was bowing and stam
mering, scarcely audacious enough to ad
mit all the old man said, and unwilling to
undeceive him, when he was startled by
a soft voice beside him.
'Father!'
They all looked up Mr. Harding, his
wife, little William, and the rejected suit
or, Henry Maxwell.
Julia stood before them; her features
surpassingly lovely, covered as they were
with blushes, smiles and tears; and in her j
tremoiing nanu sne neia tne nana or a tan,
dark, manly stranger, who cast a serene
yet anxious look about him as he entered.
lias not tae reader recognized tne young ;
man introduced at the opening of cur sto- j
ry? It was, tle same!
'Father,' repeated Julia, 'this is the man
to whose generosity you are indebted!
This is he who first paid your rent, un
known even to me, and Efierwards, hav
ing sought an interview with mc, provided
me with the means to supply us with the
necessaries and comforts of life. Do you
not know him, father? It is Theodore
Allston!'
The old man looked at him for a mo
ment, while the tears ran down his cheeks,
but uttered not a word, until Theodore:
and Julia asked his benediction.
Theodore! Julia! my children?' he
sobbed and drew them together to his bo
som. When the excess of emotion had subsi
ded, and the young and happy pair had
received the mother's blessing, IIenryr
Maxwell, beginning to feel exceedingly
uneasy, slunk from the house, never to en
ter the presence of Julia or her family a-
gain.
1 hen was there a scene of a nature it
seldom falls to the lot of man to witness;
such as never fails to improve the heart
by the holy influence it sheds around;
which lonsr before had won the love of
ITl -
Julia.
When we hear of two such hearts as
Theodore's and Julia's hearts that have
stood the test of absence; that have been
tried by the world and changed not; that
have loved each other notwithstanding the
opposition of friends and the allurements
of newer objects; and that have at leng:h,
after years of separation, returned to each
ether with all the purity and freshness of
earlier aue; when we hear of two such
hearts, I say, we need not be told that
there is truth, and depth, and endurance
to their affection, never to be destroyed.
Xnd Julia became the bride of her owl
Theodore, who took her, with her parents,
to a home he had provided for them, and
devoted himself henceforward to prove
his srratitude to Mr. Hardin?, for what he
had done for him in his boyhood, when
he was a friendless orphan, and to pro
mote the happiness of his young and love
ly wife.
.2 Spunky JVoman. Gabrielij, the fa
mous ca?itatrice, was very self-willed and
fantastical, and like a froward child who
was "petted" too much, would only sing
when she pleased. Having refused one
day to sing b.fo e .he king of Sardinia and
his court, his Majesty commissioned one
- of his officers to threaten her with impns
onment in case of her being recusant.
Gabriella burst into tears, yet, interrupted
by her sobs, possessed spirit enough to re
ply, "Go and tell the king that he may
make me cry but he cannot make .me
sing;
I am ready to go to to prison,"
'Now, tell me if the debbil was to
have him tail cut off where would a get
anuder?'
I gibs dat up.'
VclI,(p course he'd go where bad
rits are re-TAiLED.
Just so, niggar now I sees vy I he
debbil like to stay round dis place so.'
More of the Old Bgar Wuman.
The Cincinnati Commercial gives the
following additional particulars respecting
he old beggar . woman, who died in that
city some days since. The account of
her death appeared in ourv paper of Mon
day. 'Officer J. Lixifgave us yesterday some
more singular facts connected with the cH
beggar woman, Elizabeth Morelock.
whose death we mentioned yesterday.-
She died in the night, and in the evening
a lighted candle was placed upon a stand
beside the bed, her idiotic daughter, the
hunchback, being the only attendant
though, for part of the time, the physician
was present. The old woman opened
her eyes, and perceiving the burning can
dle, ordered it to be blown out, saying
that she could not afford to pay for it.
'When first taken sick, she ordered the
chest which was, after her death, found to
contain money, to be placed beside her
bed, and she kept it within reach of her
arms during the whole of her sickness;
and when the death struggle came on, she
was told that she must die, she flung her
self upon the chest, and clawed at it, in
her wild avaricious phrenzy, until she.
store the verv nails from her finerers. and
thus, embracing the ill-gotten treasure, her
spirit took its flight where?
"One fact we overlooked in our notice
yesterday. An old stove in the room
was found, after her death, to contain a
considerable amount of silver and copper
coin, carelully stowed away. 1 he mon
ey and effects have been placed in the
hands of an executor appointed by the
Court.
"Mr. Link informs us that in 1810,
when small change was so scarce, this wo
man made a handsome speculation by sel
ling five hundred dollars' worth at one
time to a single individual! Thii money
was accumulated by beggary by herself
and her idiotic daughter. The latter was
! generally flogged,, upon her return borne
at night, when she did not mae a gooa
day's wcrk of it, and was always whip
ped before she was sent out in the morn
ing! The cries of the poor creature,
while under the lash of her avaricious
mother, have frequently excited the indig
nation of the neighborhood. The poor
idiot herself was yesterday under an at
tack from cholera, and is probably num
bered with the dead!
"Thus closes the struggles of a career
cf misery that has its soothing balm in
the incitement penury and a grasping ava
rice that in life was a monomania, and in
death stands but as a monument oi vain
folly! What is left of all that lor which
they struggled will be scattered no one
knows whire, but not a jot of it will soften
the pillows upon which they take their
eternal sleep. It will not even tu a tear
drop to moisten the sprouting grass blade
upon their graves for living to themselves,
aloof from society, and knowing no friends
and no friends knowing them, they depart
only with the sigh that pity awakens
that pity which sorrows that humanity can
fall so low!"
An Honorable Man.
We take the following sketch of anhou
orable man from Hunt's Merchants
Magazine:
Although a man cannot be an honora
ble man without being an honest man, yet
he may be strictly honest witjiont being
honorable. Honesty refer to pecuniary
affairs honor refers to principles and fee
lings. He may pay his debts punctually,
he may defraud no man, aud yet he may
act dishonorably. He acts dishonorably'
when he gives his correspondents a worse
. . -i - , .
opinion ot ms nvais m iraue man ne
knaws they deserve. He acts dishonor?.,
bly when he sells his commodities at Je3s
than their real value, in order to get away
his neighbor's customers. He acts dis
honorably when he purchases at higher
than the market price, in order that he may
raise the market upon another buyer.
He acts dishonorably when he draws ac
commodation bills, and passes them to his
banker for discount, as if they arose out of
real transactions. - He acts dishonorably
in every case wherein his external con
duct is at variance with his real opinion.
He acts dishonorably, if, when carrying
on a prosperous trade, he does not a low
his servants and assistants, through whose
exertions he obtains his success, to snare
Lis property. In all these cases, there
may be no intentional fraud. It may not
be dishonc s but it may be dishonorably
conduct.
Superiority pf WomeiL
According to Haller, women bearhuu
ger longer than men; according to Plutarch,
they can resist the effects of wine better;
according to Unger, the grow older, and
nevergrow bald; according to Pliny, they
are seldom attacked by lions, (on the con
trary they will run after lions,) and accor
ding to Gunter thevcau talk a few.