RLI & SLOAN, PUBLISHERS. 014 U 11 E USINESS DIRECTORY ~'L.‘HK & E"rt' ALF, llic•••11k st• Gr :PP/. 1../errot al/own/lug/ ././.1 'l2 it lA/cc •// Sod tJpecic M. ••,, so. 1 I,srld rVarflofoußtht i. sod .Old Collet • V. , 0r.0 , ,i , •1 • 'IA, lo the ChilPd Slater, I , • 1.0011-11.1.1. _ 1 I,L 1..) N ,r. • idrrtti . r. are ; re, tiett w C.outoete t• girt au uther Lrrt's• tt.og Nrid. a. Clertilg to it• quatilly rtt'.te .17 ER.S. KENNEDY N REYNOLDS, r. a. iter.rtel L. I • g• 11•• L. II ././ Lry r4cterwillisa- J L STEW ART, 0! r,0 , 1 ••••.,,,th pirevt• ei t'i I rr. , m.. ,•.,of ra.t of miafr .triht W 13 111 . 11 th 0412/ c4:11. WaLlklvy & Johnson. .u' J . t, ..cu Uoismtolit /try "%tr. I..rt. 41 If R . a VER!..i t 1.1 4.:t....11.1 111 rl4uf , l• J. .0.4 Slcle UI M. %,11 . 1.1. A: CO, 4 r•, 11 1.. i. N, IMMEIMICE cLEMENS (2.IUGHEY, • t,.1 14,:t n 1, K. uo I haywire ; , _ T, YTLIII Flan, ,10. a 'I-'• A , e Nu, 7 Bunsen Block, State r. I Li., a d!z I‘‘ . A iiit EN—. N, 1 %11/er‘Catit . .Orik.. CV , . f.nc t L'•iited eltates •, • • • t•t,n M 1 un Ued It.lnk Notes. •n t ~ I • I • IV..teaut• bought. . J., 1 1 1 f 111u51 ft Wilvl,lt, I,qllll A e ed.; I Hull," B.uct„ fd r r rl rt I. - - - - E (_'ll .‘ N' and .2t1,111.1/ ret , ldellk Val Sixth it P uele arranged ter • A. ‘v.iiSUER ;tit L 11111.4. 1, It H. kpel Houee Tht C.l 11 ar 'li. lug .141 I.cst picture* toe ..s, -o• it..XJ so, up% Int _ L ( • 10 , • fret, Neil sill I .ste rn t••-t 1,1 'hr In oar • .• t• -• 1.1• K 1. So. rurohrr, .4111, 11 ~ .Cllil)'e lOt i p•be)111,1 WalPf k•ir 6.. of ,let I. \V. TODD, With Cartith Terry. & Dow. • Jobber. I 411 f 11, I ...MI Ir. ;in.! Dv A • ~ 1i1• 41.,115.4t 111 %14(16,(1 I 301. Vil.i ,in ':;TON A: HERRON, R• n• 1 II a Itiv• an I ll< al 4. u<e•. taint-. )its i.efV. Fuee lioaln, CM= NM 1 , it L ELLIOTT, .•, ,end awrlufß i.,:sOulto Palk Rpm, LiAi• \L ,' k JUk iDUL •Ik 1 BELL, CM 0 “LWOJI J Vel it I. l L. 4.1.11 . soQth side 44 lII= D F.:11\1.1110S fne, o 4r,T, l'rvre.•./gist ‘‘llA r•-re riPtlopt U NV A - 1.K.1:1t , ..111 r.l el U. .tromiNuats, Yrvot er• MOB l:SON FLA 1L ..L L Pt I •t , . r.rfler t•ti t rrnrli "kaput!. \1 NI . ENI It I \IR( )1 ) A. , H Irt nit( ors.. v•• •I EIMEME II .1 \1.1.1'1:1, 1; I N I \ Hllll () 11=11 I A I,i; ‘N I it;l/ \ I:1 I I LL!. , ~t;I:-‘11mv, !EMI ~1 )1:1;E 11 t I I.F:lt, • dfu! . •s• ,, • I • .1101 di •,..I,CII tl✓ 1 ..1.1•1( 1 .1.1 A :I.It• 1 MIMI t. ,k. 1: ti UT II 1.: ft ,•e, ist.t .1 J 1.1.1 LE .111!IN t..\ II & r s, r 44.1 rr• 04 I, r lon ; r a . y di 1,1. r 1.60, SVealiief• , 1,1 ),;4 r; .1 O1;D ./. •• Ner r:1 int. Public DV( k. _ _ _ HILO 061111.14 • I.i .r Ll.. CC , •dr l.rtbcrf tee. rat liter Hardware N. • . I. Ma .JA( Kus s ON '• t.r,tr, , .. Hardware queens Ware, Ea tr. Pa lII= THORNTON, NO TARY PUBLIC Nlortying.•. l.rares. 4c., seem ..ifice IN la glit'• SIOCL, A 1)' )rtiLASS, • t Up gnat(' ,n IVll‘lllllll'll {a \ ~1 !i• ,as, and -hart irva Ware ..I c B Wrlabt Ea Co s Licbringre 1, iai.ii'C & Cu., iPV'N /11•WP1 .11141:7,11 \ P IN.Plltili• APP.: ~t Pt/C.Pate• ul DepOSit. !WV, p P I Ir• Pi MI, 1 111.1 s, od all i. rl. Mt, r , I t , IIN4M ktuoci. Curatf lall -A. - ille .. aY wi. 7 Ht3 • L.. rr.&u err? y the.crlptiou of • , and tfre fffitof.to.fottlifelowy. • .acct, vll Um I ay/al Krie. ra Il• all '2 \I A GA I.IsHA Alert. upputtate free* Cuurt EiAl'IN. 4 I Liar. to—M ee, bloc It. ,01.1 et , t6n •04 Qv eilimlbt sip 'ffiL r 11.441 readosabis. sad all Ir•rk war- ERIE WEEKLY -OBSERVER ••••Jr. e, Stes If. Al 410 11•celtuil a11k.16, W It Ru•nnsere r. t , 911 A ate, Wt).. le ; F. ilte rtrret Jpi...•llr ' • ,rt.cle ;o ' I= lIITIMIIII=I I=l MCI ic 1.A , 11,. lid t nor 1•,,, • lEEE ...• L. to r, 1 i'• •••, I .1 t .:t /0.4 =I $ ..I %1., 1/OrF , kia / I lire I „ =I IMMIIIII=II 1111,116... fr 41•4 ft, ‘../l Ite, • . ....Dr , i;rureries ~nrr, Iron. rteet. - I=l =I fi 1.1. YuD.if Sql,prr • re,. 111= .Ni.i,ILI:. select Vottrti. El MY LIFE IS LIKE THE BUMMER ROM The poetry of Hun R H. Wilde. or Gevrips, Ire/toning, :if. t, hk. the summer now, - l universal!) admixed and frequeudy found in the periodicals of the day. Hu politics are forgotten. his life ut Taisoeneumbers the shel ver of book.ellers, whilet th.ortn, rreugstsed true poi try oven in fault flndiog England, promises to embalm his name in literary immorality. U. will probably be knows by it in future ages. as Wolfe is by nit burial of Sir John Moore, and Ore, by his Elsity It is not. bows% er, so well know■ that a lady of haitimore, suet the dtsttnguuh• ed advoeste in the Court of the Muses. and replied with mach furee and almost squid beauty As the status* of *soh are not found in oonneeuon. it is propweed to pee thow. of Wild. separately, and in a suniliar way the lady'. an.w.r. in reply 31) lire la like the summer That upend to the inuruthg sky but are the shades ul ersotug close, L scattered nu the ground to dm Yet on that ruses' humble bed, The sweetest' dews of night are shed As it she wept such warts to isea, But none shall weep a ts it fir utl / * Le dews ol &petit tuay 1.11 hum H....i. L'puu tbo wit-bored ro.og' Aud wars of fund rugrot guru To mourn the virtues of the dead. Yet morning's suu the dews will dry, dud tears will fade from sorrow's eye, Affeettou's pangs lulled to sleep, Aud evsu boys forget to weer My life sr Ittt• the autumn leaf That tremble in the mooo's pa/it ray Its hold is us data is brief, heatless, awl auuu to pass awry Yet ere that teat shall fall sad fade, The parent tree shall mourn u s shade, The wiads bewail the heatless tree, Eat norm shall brearAt a ..yA ter see The tree may munru as fallen feat, And autumn ',midi bowaii tta bluum, Audi trial:ids may Isa•e a stilt of griek 0 tr thus. who sloop within th• tutub, Yet ...At will aprlng ren,w the dow , r, And taus will bring inure Luur• lu frlitadehlp. bean alt gr I WIG die, And frau 14.,4 g iurget b., •.y CM 11) life a lice the prints which feet Have lett on Tempe's desert strand— Boon as the rising tide shall boat, All trace will vanish irvaa the sand, Yet, as if gnering to efface AU ~esti ` e of the human race AuJ that lone 'Mae, loud moans the sea, But acne, alas! shall mourn rot' me. 13E3 fbe S. may vu the id,surt ,Lars Lament mat trace 11 bear. Asia?, Pne lonely heart to grief mad your 0 et eneristed friendship's tect decay, Yet when a:I trains is lust and gone, Thu waves dance bright and edify ~n, !Lam suuu afbeetutu's t.itsds arc wrtt, And even line tiricete to (Elnict gliscrilanß. CHANGES i 'l'oli. 1. BY ALICE ( ABLY Ili=l PART' l'1111:1) Aud tvreuly seem art gun!, and tht poor lit tle hull:2v whent we alt. Betty ii pour tittle .u.‘t ban btS U 1,44 11 , kl Laid pocett, but ha, giveu Wil . ) 14 utty pidet.,,, 3. , that At LL , 4t: diCr It is little better than uU the litglit wheu toe Old man and woman counted the h tLr cuiti• tug ',I LLic youug wit, pi ou. A ~:t tad aid W-11114 -144 an the c. , rut.i . AW, htlg Awl mumbling about the watt and the improvidence wuich s he c. 41.1 LAIL Wi,lLh sac 144.5 nu doubt ate going furwaru at a rilluously rapid rate—the night is tailing, Out that matters out to het, it has heeu uigut to her cheat• ten years, aud sue t, nut looking fur any morning, eveu fur the morning of the resurrt,tuw, her thoughts travel nut beyoudthe blaektiess wil,reiti the grave is wade—seldom, indeed so tat as :hat—perhaps it is seltish that, like a mildew, ha- gathered over tier t.)es, till Cue) c441.1.13,vt d.,tc:Li cv, tic light aud the darkness any wore . 1 he last thing she saw was the dead white face tit an old man; and yet Welt: ar” pictures in his wind of the hue 'brow.' and the costly cuthu inure &attract than the pale tiled face The thought that he was aud that expense could nut profit him any, had ueen like 11 1 44 going into her soul, and tixtug there what was to her a terrible memory. Every new dress that has hi.au purchased since the burial, she has rubbed between her bony fin ger, to utility her , ,elt as to the texture, and su arrive at the probable cost, for she remembers wcil the cost of that shroud, aud that, withal, it could nut warm the old man, and many other aiewurtea, to her very dark, have been added to this, tail at length all is dark; and mumbling her wis,rable complaints., sue sits ruultiug horsed to 4141 tru tin the louse stones of the hearth, mind- It ts the sharp teethed rats that gu wand out of the holes beneath her Net. wo or three etuniren are crying about the tire —they have been gathering the corn that day, though it is December, and their faces and hands are J wailing and bleeding because tit the cuts of the sharp winds; yet they Al to tech other, or alone, and come not to the knees of the grand dame fur consolation. She gave thew no caress es in their babyhood, when they were altogeth er helpless, and now that they are big enough co earn so mething, and to take care of thew se4 yes, how can it .e expected that she should give them the love watch their helplessness could nut win! And now there is a light step at the dour, and now it is within the door,land the zu,ther speaks softly sad sweetly as she pieces her pailful of walk on the table, and stoops to a !ire coal to Light the candle. Let us see as it blase„ if it is nut she whom we saw spinning and atterward walking in the line, and yet after that situng by this very tire, her hand in that of her husband who ccond not even then make her perfectly hap py. S &entice is written ou her fvretiesd—you may se e it in the hair growing whije, though she is not yet old—you nee it in all the pale, patient face— in all the gen :le motherly ways of use wo man— .-she only says, "My dear children," and they rise up and conae about her, and Are 'Wi— lt e i 43 if they took from her strength awl power to sin ,tau their weal:ness; and she, needing it so mock , yet gives it willingly And so, indeed, she as done ad the years of her life—Wifehood and motherhood has s been added to her struggle and her sacrifice, anti she is now worn out with toil and hardship ll her lite it has been tier dream to go and visit "Aunt Polly," as she calls her dear sister; but riie bag never St ten her max the day IA her mar riage, and of all. the promises of letters that rho ild tell everything she thought, awl fait, and hop eti, only one or two bay. bees kepi--she has had little but sorrow to feel, and little to hope, mo t kw, in truth th ere has been little to write Es t the love has sever died, never eves grown co 1, aad the akikkaa have been taaght, to say, "A Juts reili a " goat ias sow as mateeri to no.. =I MEI MEI =I gard ite,r, indeed, as little lees than an angel of light. If they could see her, it would lie well with them, so they think, ut that blessed pri vilrge has nut been accorded to them; and coq the two eldest, Polly Merriford and Katy, have grown into womanhood, with the otutight in their leach that the hest thing that could hap pen would be • visit from Aunt Polly Year at. ter year they have beard their mother say, that before another year's end she would go and see Aunt Polly—if it were fall, she would go in the sprtug, when the calves were sold, and the load ur twu of hay that should be left when th e win ter feeding was dour, and then the wouey that was required for the trait might be spared, she thought, but when the spring came round, Lb.: hay was apt to be gone, and as for the apace mo ney there was always more wants than all they had would cover And su one year went after another, and Betty WAS grown to be au old W.). woman, or, at least so she looked with her talon faded hair under a plain cap. But at last the visit has been concluded on. anci tu-m,rrow 31ra. Arwatrung is to go to town and wake the pur chases that will be necessary fur a visit to her titylbh sister All were bu.sy with the prepare ti m for the little excursion, and chi, ,s why the children were left crying in the dark. The world has not prospered with them much, as the reader will have concluded—the father of Kieliard tuts died within the last year, having previously been only a burden on the hands of hut children, and the blind old mother is alive, and a burden still; for It seems that her hard words and hard ways oppress the hands and hearts of her children a thousand times more than the actual substance she has taken from thew—com plaint, and forgetfulness, and petuleuee, and the constant picture of great poverty which she has held up in the distance, have made their hands heavy and their hearts sick many and many a time., and now, in view of the visit, the old wan grumbles and mumbles all the more There cannot be a substance between us and the suu without a shadow; ands', tt is that their lives have beeu darkened, and as it were, because of the darkness misfortunes have b Lulea in one after another, just as bad cattle will nod their way through a gap; and while that remains, all the g.iod fence is lie u° avail Now the crops had faded, and then a great rata swrpt down the bridges and the fences, and At one tune the best cow died, and at another a doten sheep were found mangled in the meadow —the fruit dropped off uncimely une season, and the next the worms gnawed at the routs of the trees, and they died; and evil-visaged thi• ease had been st the door always, and our little boy was lame frutu his birth, and a cut had de prived another of the use of uue hand; levers, and other forms of disease, had, at one tun: And another, laid one and another low, •iu it was uo wonder the mother had grown old u:lote her tune, and that the heart of the father was very brut y "And se, daughter," says the old woman, ' , you are determined on the visit, are you, though it takes all the savings of a year, and though none of us h4Je auylliwg at home to consequeir,!,•!— Well, I tuppuor it a all right; but tt never was wy way to take much for myself. - and the quer ulous woman feels her thin sleeve, as though stir would tutu have a thicker our, and draws up t o the ti re , mumblin g what no our lout poor Wi ry haat.* distinctly. And presses:sit ) the two kris euwe iu—merry, rots) ebeeked Polly. dud siender and thoughtful Katy, and go about the h iu preparatiou of the early breakfast that t , to pre cede the going to towu N ussr, mother, they sh) again tad again, you wust be MINe to buy till. and that; for, Prow two or three pr, 'rut, which Aunt Polly has eeut her sister tr pin tlis) Judge that she is very rich, mud wears i..k• e eedi ugly nice clothes, and the) have flu it a whi tow, and wish their wother to appt Ur az Swart n, possible She d /es not say yes to all their re quests, but she ace. eit to a part if thew, del the father cowes in, having finished the la.,t pre paratiuu, en.l all sit down to supper togetht r, happier than they have been fur a lung twit- It will be a new thing for the mother to De goilt•— ali.l fate y o ung cullureu look to it as I: Of Li ilyd4) , and the young women nave wide pleas of what they will do while she is gone, and ut Low gladly they will surprise her when •he e ,we- back, and the hu,bund and father is pleas ed that at last L can buy Betty the silk &suss, and redrew at least a part of the long-ago pouw ist, fur, alas: she has never had the saddle with the silver stirrups, and the little bag of money the brought fruit home Las been empty a great while •• Well, well," says the old woman, -way lw it's all right; but 1 never was selfish myself, and it is .ieins strange to me that any hod) can be •' Au 1 Betty puts her softly to bed, and wraps the c aver about her tenderly, and wakes her feet warn:, an d leaves her for the night, and pr, seutly a,i is quiet, except that the crickets chirrup iu the hearts, awl the voieea of the young girt, are beard in low and earnest talk, probably about the visit that into be wade at Aunt folly's—happy' autteipations that gild their dreams. The cock crow- for the daybreak, and the logs blaze in the great broad fire-place, and the fami ly are all astir The sun is nut up yet when \lr. , Armstrong climbs into the little wagon, building close the hard earnings of a year She is thought ful, and half-carry she is going—ln truth, •he wishes she had said nothing about the visit; for she feels so unwilling to part from her little ones fur a day, what will she suffer on leaving them fur a month: Over and over she tells thew to be watchful and careful of grandmother, and how to go through all the work of the day She is always the guid ing and regulating head, and she feels afraid they will not do well without her. There were el , Juds about the sunrise; but it will nut rain—it is too cold for that, and it will nut snow, the clould don't look ltke hnow; so say the young girls,' but the old woman says that, to her thinking, the noise of the wind in the woods tore tells a morns. Si , Richard aud Betty, after twenty years of woriing and wading, go to town fur the silk dress. They feel as if a great ftparatiou were coining, for Richard is nut to go with Betty—they eau t afford that, and an tneir thoughts are sombre, and they look long and silently toward where the old homestead used to be; it is gone now, and the mill is gone, and a new house inhabited by new people stands a little further up the bill, and the olsl squire and his excellent wife lie side by side under the maple which they, - the chil dren, eau see as they rule along Changes meet tueir eyes everywhere—here stands anew house, And here young women look out trim the wiu dows, that were children the last time Betty saw them. They talk of the time they were married and began life, and of who beg to with them, and of how many are lost sight of now—some rale into strange t:ountritis this sale of death, and some beyond it, and as they talk, their hearts are drawn n-arer to each other, and they caunut speak of the approaching parting. Cloula have all gone over the sky, and large louse white flake. are drifting aslant, and in the distance melting iu the smoke of the city. And P. ly and Katy kept busy at home, and the younger children worked and played by turtle, and the old woman knitted and complained; toe suu waded divaly tironsh the clouds, and the snow melted as it fell, and was rain. 'The euwa were milked, and the evening chore., all done, and a bright firelight shining trout the wiudowA u• the Lucie huuteaugad; out the ono dren maid sot stag ia*unr--tbAur must tate u kir ski ramble at do Imps UM would 'Wetly $1 50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. ERIE, SATURDAY MORNING, MAY tiring home the mother. The tea-table, was spread, and tie tea mode, and all in readiness. At last the anxiously-waited-for sound was bead, and the faithful horse, that all knew and well, stood at the dear. -0 mother! mother!" was the exclamation re pouted agsiu and spot, with as much gladness though she bad bees gone a mouth. It seem ed m) lung, they all 'mid, "How sandd we do with out you, once you go viititingr' Bet the Lissa ted mother, as she lays Ned* bey wet shawl, and itis.w, one and onother, tell them that she is not trolug to Aunt Polly's at all; that she mw so uy woe things in town, she could Dot bear to the money for herself; and then she undoes cue bundle after another, and shows whet s h e hai brought home for them—mew hats sail dress e4 for Polly and Katy, and 'bees and imam for the little bop—for grandmother a warm flannel dr,aa, and some lace fur cape; for fliehard,a new twckeloth and waistcoat. "But what fur your s -ay they all—"show ua that." ti.,t her has not got sapling for herself, - 3 lid Richard, and he goes to the window, under the pretence of seeing if it is raining still; but in truth it was to brush the rain from his eyes. "0 mother, take my dress, and take mine," say Polly and Katy; and she smiles, and says they wouid nut ik suitable—they are quit too gay; and uld grandame, alarmed for herself, holds tight the warm flannel, and says it would Doh be enough c., mace anybody a dress but herself; and so half glad and 'tallowy, they sit down .to supper to gether. Ab me! they did not know now much they were glad, and how little sorry, till there after. )Irs. Armstr complained of chilliness that uigti t —they could not' make fire enough to warm Alm! nuth►ug ouuld make her warm any mom. The following Jay she could not sit up all the time. and the Jay after not at all; and though Polly and Katy at her direction did all in the power of good children to do, *he grew worse all the rime, and Richard left tb• working and brought a doctor from a great way off; but when he came he shook hi, head mournfully, and said that medicine would be of no use—they must teud her carefully, and be prepared for the wont. It WWI but the coutirmation of all their fears. 0 the trembling, the awful agony that came then to That miserable house: they had known hard ship and toil without much hope to alleviate it, but they had not known death No wonder they were afraid to see his pale shadow coming over the f ice .if their mother All day long, leaving every other wok and every other care, Richard sat by the bedside ut his wife—night was com ing—the, to the frightened children, gloomy, gloomy night, the winds, as they went and came, shook the last dead leaves from the boughs, and the moonlight, as it came to the win dow like the lam of a mourner; the night was falling, and all day the sack woman had lain calm, and now as the candle was lighted, they all beheld in her face a look that had not been there till then—it was the seal of the last ene my She smiled as they raised her pillows, and by name called the little children to her bedside, and look at them fund.) , and long, mat ,hem away with her last kiss ou their lips, but without havino ° taken another farewell than her accus tatnedg•iod night A good mother to the last, .uld not bear to add one pang to what they must necesseuVy entt w. But to Prilly and Katy she said she was going u. die hatthey moat be good, dutiful children, and c irnfort their father, and work fur him when VMS Wipe A. far as she o•uld see in the fieure,,he toil th-m what and how to do, .20.1 had, them briag the Itoeu sheets to her bedside that glie see they were iu readiness for the burial—said they must be good to the children, an .1 t4ll to U 1 Wllt a they asked fur her, that she was g 'tie to th , heavenly Father, why if they w. re w,uld, by cud by, bring them to see Ler She talked of her past life, of what 4hethouzlat had done a 1111,1., anti asked them to think as kitn.ll) it h-r in,ioury as they could--not to for. get her, but to l'..rget. Whitt was evil in her life.-- Sb would nut do .411 y better, to I` Le kuk,w uf, she .at I, it •ii” bad all au dpi again; but "lie hoped they would prf.lit h . ) what she it.ad done that was *rout, and live ti ter and more useful lives than ah h.vi done od when they cried, and on their knees be s nigh t At , sf,are their mother, she said, "Hush, my children, G-id knuweth what is be,t; you must look to him, sod !told closer his hands when you CaUUkot keep mine any longer " She tai. nut afraid vi go; she was willing ti go; awl yet, for the sake of her children and near good Richard, she would like to live longer —they were just coming, she raid, to what she thoudit would be happier dap--she hoped they might prove so to all the rest, and that they must nut make days that might be happy, bitter with tnournitig f n tier ThdnieLt came, and Richard bent low, and n.k.,1 her if he should not call up the children, and in a whisper obis said, No; that it would do no goo I; and when with the day. they came to na y Dnki-worulitg, !wing her smiling from the bed Oh , wale them no answer but by the same tearful yetautitul cowling Aud tlie neighbors came and talked of the go od lite of the mother to the orphans, and said she was better off, and they must not mourn, but try to be like her, and Richard buried his face in sorrow, and would not let the sunshine look upon hint since she «mid not; and they laid her bands together, and veiled her false with the shroud, and she made, so, the first journey and the last. And when the tears were dried a lit tle, there was a gathering of the orphans about the hearth, and a whispering of one to another ot, ...What shall we ay. The father was bro ken•t.arted and sat apart; and the grandmother sae l B..tty was gone, and with her the little thrift which the house had known before—that starva tion must come—that was all; and so she rocked herself to and fro on the loose stones of the heath. The little childreu did not play now, but stood silently skint their elder sisters, and Katy wept and said, "If mother could only tell us what to do," and so all eyes rested on Polly, and she took the children on her knees and kissed them, widow!, almost cheerfully, "I have a plan." Whutsuu'et they du ur due, Whenwee'er they ruasu, Hare then, hither, in thy sore, Guido deem safely bows— LI .use, 0 Father, In the sky, Where nous wander and Doe* di* 'iuelt were her Last words. Mr , Polly Fairfield sits at her worsted (rime its ber own elegant parlor, dressed in the deep est and costliest mourning, for she had always loved poor Betty, or thought she did; and her t)liah daughter Bell tits playing a mournful time ou the piano, as s tribute to the memory of her deer aunt and a consolation to her sweet mo ther, awl • handsome young man sits at the win dow, partly reading and partly listening to the music. Mrir Polly Faafield hati.led a gay and worldly life, awl year by year grown away trots her rel. limes n tnuelt se the has from her early habits. Shells not altogether forgetful, bot her early life, and the wry she lived are thin which she does not lunch like sci talk about. c rue, she has said once ur mite a year, that she must go and see poor Betsy, and has had money appropriated us Aso, the which she has devoted w various little *legion expo:see, wiseh have ooutribused move to mule her polities as a Ise iedy, than the whit te She poor Paw Amid imosiiono. At aso dos, PART FOURTA 9,1855. she mast go to the sea-side, and at another to the mountains; now she mast refurnish the house, and now attend the children to dancing school— there was always something to come between her and her long cherished wishes, she said; awl so John grew to be twenty, and Bell eighteen, with out having seen their isousius at all John is home for the vacation just now; but it is not he that sits at the Window half musing and half listening to the songs the young lady sings. It its winter, and the fire is burning warm, and the frozen snow on the naked branches of the trees that stand in this great wide yard (for Mr Fairfield is a nch wan and has a wide yard) but enhance the indo..r com fort Not many people are passiur along the street, for it is a rough chilly day, and only those whoa necessity sends abroad are to be seen. Abruptly Bells turns on the music s4,ul , and bites the lace of her pocket handkerchief, look ing suddenly toward the young man at the win dow. Re does not heed her, however, but con tintbell to look out into the street. "Why do you not sing for me, my dear!" says the mamma; "you know how soothing your voice always is to me " "I can't sing to persons who wont hear," an swers Bell, glancing at the young man in a way which indicates that he is the person to whom she has reference; he make no reply—indeed, he does not seem to hear her, and Mrs. Fairfield says by way of eliciting kis attention, "Mr. Hui. bert does not hear yon my dear," and as the young man still continuum to look into the street; she explains to him playfully, that he has so much influence upon her daughter, that she cannot es en sing unless be is al] attention. Mr Hulbert politely begs pardon for his rude ness, and claims the young lady's clemency for a moment longer, till he can open the; gate for a young wont= who has been for some minutes vainly attempting to do so. Mrs. Fairfield and her petted and spoiled daugh ter draw near the window, exclaiming, as they do so, "Pray, don't give yourself trouble for that little body—she is not oar visitor, of oourse " But Mr. Hulbert, careless of whom the hale+ body has wine to visit, obeys the first impulse of his heart, and hurries forth, and not only opens the gate, but takes from the young girl the bun dle she is carrying, sad assists her down the walk and into the parlor where Bell and her mother are tittering at his attentions to such a looking body; or rather he assists her to the door, for he has learned as they came down the walk, that she is a cousin from the country, and that she does not know her aunt, but is sure she must be like• bor owe dear mother who is dead. And so Mr. Hulbert leaves her at the door, for the happy meeting is not to be witnessed by al most a stranger as he is And here we may as well say that he is the son of a wealthy and popular resident of a distant city, who has just received his diploma, and whom John Fairfield, whose proclivities toward wealth and statiou'are very great, has prevailed upon to pass a few days with him on his way home. That there has been every effort to please him on the pan of the elder Fat fields the reader may be assur ed: as for John he lass reit that he conferred as much honor as he received, and that there was anything for Bell to do, except to sitatill and be admired, bad never entered into her thoughts. Beautiful, and baring all the attractions which the most comely expenditure could give her, she had been used to homage all her life, and was more tom, rc * i;_,iti s betnived of indiff4r ems,. on the part of Mr. Culbert Mr4.ld had spoken to h:m of the deep affliction in which they were all plunged by the d ath of her dear sister; and had m ire than in timated that she should send immediately for the plor orphans—not that they needed -her assis tance, bat that change of scene might relieve their grief in part. Thew mourning bad also been an apology for the suyension of gayeties, audio eonsetinenee ,, f their i,olation—much to the general regret—Mr Hulbert h&4 been thrown for entertainment on the hand:, of the beautiful Aud to say the truth be had been fur the most part ebarmiugly entertained; ho bad read for 11._d1 and she had listened delightfully; they had rode in the country together—Bell was fund of horses and rude admirably---and Mr. Hulbert had been pleased. Bell sang finely, and Mr. Huh bert hod listened,, for what young man cannot listen to the song_of a fair woman! But the day we have written of he had been thinking seriow ly, and for the first time in his life, on what per +nit or railing his powers were best fitted f.,r Ills college course was ended, his pre.ent earele.s idling should soon be finished, and thou how should he employ himself usefully and honorably: Was it Bell that so seriously pressed upon him the necessity of a permanent settlement in life? perhaps so; I cannot say. Certain it is he had spoken some things which young ladies are apt eoustrue as indications of the warmest admi rition, though anything amounting to a propo sal had not been made. Thus matters stood on the arrival in town of the modest, loving, trusting Polly Merriford. 1 e.inuot do justice to the meeting between the gen erous, impulsive, and almost broken-hearted Pol ly, and the proud, formal and ungrieving rela tives. True, Mn'. Frirfield said, "I am glad you are want', my dear, though you are nut a bit tike Betty; we will do all we can to make your stay agreeable," and Bell took the chubby hard hand for a moment in her delicate fingers, and said she was very glad to know her cousi n - Poll ) ; but the young girl felt as she had never till then---she e,)uld not at first tell why, but tried to think she would feel better presently, when she should know her aunt and cousin better—they were in every respect so above her, she could not expect to be much at home with them at first They had said they were glad of her coming, and it was surely her own fault that she was AO ill at ease-90 wretched at heart. All h.r sorrow, and all her hopes she had brought to pour out on the bosom of her dear aunt, and now she sat restrained and silent—the hopes were gone, and the sorrow was choking her Naturally enough she had thought that if she were only once at aunt Polly's all would be well; she could suggest something or help them in some way, she did not know how—hut she was rich aud so good andso the cow bad been sold and the money gathered together in one way and another to defray the expenses of the journey, and Polly, with the new dress in her budget, and a determination to do something for her brothers and sisters in her heart, left home, and after various sad experience found her way to her aunt's house. "If it had happened at any other time," mid the mother, when Polly was gut into her own chamber, "it would not have been so bad; but ju.t now, when Mr. Hulbert is with us! how shall we manage w conceal the relationship from him?" i 4 -She is so rustic, isn't she, mar' said Bell. There was a whispered eonveriatlon at the fir a side, and it was concluded that Polly should dine in her own room, her tearful eyes and supposed weariness being a sugtaient excuse. So Polly remained alone; but she bad no appetite for the delicacies that wore spread on the silver Salver that was brought her—the coarse food on the pine table at home would have been eaten with relish; and as she sat wiping her eyes, she could not help half believing that she was &laded, sad not it the house of alma Polly after ail. The leaps were being lighted in the eases I and the parks was dim, bs cal tha I • • ne 10 .1177 r" who had been burying himself in his own way, till the joy and sorruw of the interview of the relatives should a little have passed, entered, ex pecting to join the circle, and finding the room deserted, took his Itati.ln at the window to wateti for the ~.onsing ofJunn, who Dad been from home all (lei He hal not tel,•o luny to ereLe, Mrs. Psirtiela canto in. saying to 8...11, who pulled Fier. prispecu with Mr Flultiort wit; be ruined, if be foie that rustics girl us suy ni ter', child " Those words revealed to the youag many ca!- ••ulation and a selfishness that till then he had not dreamed of What ouuld be do? He had not willingly been an eavesdropper; his first thought was to open the window and atop out. Down the walk he went hastily, turned back, scarcely knowing what he was doing, so strange he felt to find the respect he had had for his entertainers all fallen from beneath him Glancing up a the house, he saw through the window, Polly alone aud crying; and Its heart was drawn toward her as it would not have been if hr had wet her as he expected to Jo, an hour previously, io parlor When Mr Fairfield retured home that cizht thepositiouot affain was made known to hitu be his wife mad daughter. "I am astonished and grieved," he said, -that you should not have found in your own heart the love and the wisdom to direct yott" And without,more words he went at vacs to the cbam ber of Polly, who sat alone trying, in vain, is) still the eouflict of her bosom The real kind ness of her uncle was very ( grateful to the girl; but it was too late; there had beeti a wound in flicted, which he was only able to staunch, not to heal; she would not, howevor, be ungrateful for the attempt to heal, and drying her eyes and or namenting herself by the winding smooth of her long tresses, and the assuming of a bright sinile. she joined the circle below stairs. Mr Hulbert, partly from the natural kindness of his disposi tion, and partly, perhaps, to retaliate on the haughty and designing Bell, soon found means of joining the modest Polly- in the quiet nook she had chosen; but iu the true noli'dity of the soul with which he came in contact, he forget that it was pity which had drawn him toward her, and the sweet light of her eyes made a luminous cir cle in which he quite forgot the existence of the sp , iled beauty. The following morning, when Polly said abe did not like the town and was home-sick, and could not stay any longer, Mrs. Fairfield was heartily ashamed, and would gladly have had her remain, and especially since she found that Mr. Hulbert was not to he shocked And even the proud Bell said she believed her cousin might be made quite attractive if she'could only have the advantage of her training a little while. Many presents were bought for Katy and the little children at home; but Polly satd.no, she was oblird to them, but she could not carry anything more than she hnd brought, and so holding fast the bundle containing the new dress her mother had bought her, she was about to depart, when Mr. Hulbert presented himself, saying, he had received news the previous evening, (though he had not till then spoken of it,j which. hastened his movements beyond his expectations. Great ly surprised and pleased was Polly when she found that his journey led him in the way she was go ing. We need not prolong the story: let it suffice that Polly never repeated her visit, but never nt ,:.-1.e.4 both for that it brought her wisdom , . and love at once; for an sot.- .. of Mr. Rulburt, when, and thereaiter, the Fair tieldh took frequent occasion to mention her as their sweet con..in. Months pass, ye., and a few hippy year , . when, on a pleasant evening. a merry-making group is gathered at the hearth of Mr. ifulburt The grandame of the old rustic home has twee dead some tiwo, but the father of Polly is then.. fed the rest .if hi- Qhildreu, better fortunes have at last *mil, d urine them. chiefly thriugh the oonnat ds an d assurance of her noble husband Amid the erour g.u4b)ls about a b autiful child —his tree (brimmine with healthiael happiness reveals the t'eataresot Hulbert ..Luc' hi- L.r youtig wife The sunshine of a true blessednesa beim ut,on the whole seque They talk of the old times—the old farrn•house now renovated and prosper-us—the joyful aatieTated of the wh ohe group there he eiou.ng sthauter—auu many ether thvute6 it;:t -arri of the Lit ar, .11.ar mother. who. deprived of this hap7lo,..ss ou earth, witnesses it now from tv.r Brea e- happi sem in heaven. The night nad gone—lie mor ning had come The Jews of Jerusalem. Centuries dovoted to the lowest atd .nost de basing form of traffic, with the endnrance of perbecuti , in an i have greatly Ltiang ed and vulgarized the tprurune, ,if . But the Jews of th.• H oitv still retain a ble beauty, which proved to my mind their dP cent from the ancient princely house The forehead is loftier, the eye larger and more frank in it e.xpreskiit , u, the n.,so cer , rc del icate in its prominence and the face f, purer oval. I have remarked the same distinction , in the contenance of those Jewi.h families .t Europe whose members have devoted th..w selves to art or literatitre. Mendelssehu's was a face that might a eve belonzed to the house of David. On the evening of lay arrival in the city, as I set out to walk through the bazaars, I encoun tered a native Jew, whose face will haunt tue for the rest of my life. 1 was sauntering slowly along, asking myself, "Is that Jerusalem?" when lifting my eyes, they met those of Ctirtst. It was the very face, winch Raphael had paint ed—the traditional feratures of the Saviour a-, they ere recognized and actepted by all Chris tendo m. The waving brown hair, partly hid den b y the Jewish cap, fell clustering about the ears; the face was the mint perfect oval, and al most feminine in th; purity of its outline, the sereo e, child-like mouth wt. •had,d with a mots tache, and a inlay brown beard clothed the chin; but the eyes, t ball I ever look tutu such , orbs again! Large, d ark, unfathomable, they bea med with an expres stun of divine sorrow, such as ' Ine Ter saw in km tan face The man had just tine rged from a dii rk hatchway, and the gulden , glov r of the sunset, reflecting from a white wall abo re, fell u pool! is face. Perhaps it was this tram isticuration wilieh made his beauty so Lin ear :hl';; but, during the moment that I saw him, he wa 3 to ni e a revelation of the Saviour. There ar eet tli mit: tcles in the land of Judea. As the d ark gather , td in the deep streets, I could see r ioth . ing but the ineffable sweetness and benig nity of that countenance, and my friend was a littl e astoni shed if, not shocked, when I said to hits with the earnestness of belief, on my re tur a, "I hare just seen the Christ " '—Bayard re yiee BOUND FOR THE PILNITENTIANY —We see it v 4 sted that. the good people of Walden, Vermont - -not aativfted with having voted down the ;now Nothuigs at the recent election—have ar t ested the leader of the order iu that town, and lave had him boned over for violating the sta y Ate of the State, against the administration of extra judicial oaths. Ile is to be tried in Jane. PROVIIIIIIT i is oho only tea that a 'dip non man wet pan I tiumgh. If a Inom Iwo mirk* amp is *di iiwaskikk a Lisa% oat bipirogairs ~... -- - B. F. SLOAN, EDITOR. Gold lines on the Arkansas River. The St Louis haelti , jcaner dies not sue lay rt ... jou to td,,b t th e arws that bag just been 10:- ,N•ltord in Missourt, of the diseovery of rick gela tuiuea un the head water of th,.: Arkansas riser. It otll oe r, membered that on several fornseioa elt.iool :here bate been rumors of the gold die e..ccries in that locality, and several nnseesms : 4.-tempts Lave been made to explore and tali matter The intmlligencer speaks of the pre 4.•Lk report us balults: We /behove tirmly in the account of risk da p of Gold on the Arkansas, as rich, per- Laps its Any in Csiifotoa; and we look to/tarsis Kuir.,ab sod up the Arksaaas,_ rsa ter than over roll , d onward toward tlalifor• Il la In the marvellous year of 1848, '49 and 10. The eontewptible border quarrcl that hap s up te•tween the people of Western Miami= Kanuts, that threatened to hiuder the settlemaat and impr, ! v.!rut•nt of both States, will, we think, snricien'y "wall iwed np in the glitter of dig and the intliaoritaisate nab of free-soders and tire-eaten to a hind that pro miaea better than political 0011001 MT strut hiarery Grant thi.t the div•ivery of Gold has bees truly wade on the Arkansas river—and ask whether there anything surprising in it? Is it not, indeed, just what could surely have bee* on? Take the wo.ile ranges of moun tains that extends fries the Straits of Magellan t) the Straw of liiiering—from the, southern point of s , ,utli America to the northwest point of North America—the Andes o f S ou th Ameri ca and the Sierra Nevada and Rocky Moun tains N Ainerie.i—take that whole range, and it is found aurifer ills and srgentiferous front on.. extreme to the (Ahoy It is full of gold and silver in Bolivia, Brazil, Peru, Chili and Grenada, iu f'eutral Auieriea and Mexico, and in Califor nia and Oregon And, what is more striking and rots resting f all, the richest mines of this ex:rain-dinary rams; have so far been found nu tik east'ro or Atlantic :'1 , 1:00. of the mountains. This has proved to be the case in South Amer ica invariably, it has been the ease in MeZilan and are we iAs suppose that the rule is served, and that all the gold and ',liver in North Amer ica is on the California Ride, and none on the eas tern aide of the mountains at alk? Not many months ago we mentioned in. the Intelligencer that a company of gold diggers bad been fuuad, working with great success is the head streams of the Sweet 'Water river, a tribu tary of the Platie The discovery of thattl on the Arkansas river extends the proofthe eastern slope of the western mountains is rich with gold dust—we hardly doubt that it will prove quite as rich as the California aide. It is quite interesting, in view of these facts, to recur to the circumstance that the eastern slope of the great Cordilleras range of mous tains in South America and Mexico have yield ed the richest treasures of precious metal. The celebrated silver mine of Potosi, in Bolivia, that has yielded, to this date, 81,600,000,000 of silver metal, is on the bead waters of the Piloomayo, a tributary of the La Plata, a river that pours into the Atlantic, as does our Mississippi. "IT CAteT BR /IELPED."—"Can't be helped" is one of the thousand convenient phrases with which men cheat and deceive themselves. It is one in which the helpieee and the idle take refuge as their last and only comfort—it can't be `r "`• " thing. If he sees an evil, and clearly &MX d, cause, he is for taking steps forthwith to re in ve it fie liu4ies himself will ways and meats, ractical pl.ru. ant tu.. thuds and will not let the w .r; I res' unt'i he had dine something 'n a r-tnedial wsv The ii. I,.lint man spares li;mvelf all his !roubic He Irt'l not budge. Ile •ois with hie ann., t. , 1.1t.. , 1, anti is ready, with his utivayr,ug obecrvati ,ti, "It L.- he helped:" as much a , ya —••If it is. it ought to be. and we u. el riot b"-tir 0ur.t. , 1e. , to alter it " Wash your face. v , u dirty litt:e ,oeial b.y; you are vile, and repulsive, and vicious by reason of your neglect cleanliti,ss. tt cttn't ty; :161,1 Cleat away your re t.u4^. y , ur area , leause y .ur drains and gutter.. purity your n'in , -oherr. yon indolent c rporatr.kn., f ar oholera c.. , nlng "It can't 13(. 1 ;.•!'" clii,dr.D, train them %lit , / tiQ th.ul c.) be ..t.tr,„.', u,:ta(.ll:,;l4tfuLyputhought• :c-- -, ;et y u.,cr growing up 101 - r •Irpl ^r a surer. of future, rwril h.; the F.th. n "It can't I ,e helped!" But it be h. tu. i. Ever) evil eau be abated, e-• ry nuoaueu g. t every abomination ;w. pt anar. tb)ugh tbii w:,,1 be done by t h t eat t t ) , !p e e p•' pie MAti is not help- Loth help hiui.lelf and help others. li' (...1 act and unitedly against wreni. and eventus,ly urn them. But thug nit greatos.t di; in the way of such pen t;on, 1- tip- f. ;Hug and disposition wityli I - • pulling, and illr ci. , eu;at;;;ti f "it on'? to htlped." Tun Scruggs and his Dog TI M was a wan remarkable for his simplicity ..f character, and equally remarkable for hie at. ciou for ins d,g • Selz, :L+ they had both been etigagcl in many Id contests in the sa•auip. of :he whsre abounded in it hi.tnr•., a great number of bean, wolves and other "varmints." It happened that Oa tire complotion of tee Railroad to B. depot, that a Bart .cue and grand dance was given, and as rue. bad t,_‘er seen the steam wagon, after consult ing Betsey. be concluded to take a ride on it so tli.• place of operations. As be MIS going as bz,arti, be was accosted by the_ coeductot and ia fwalle.i that "Seize" could not travel on that arrangement viitli,ut a tiek..t fur half 11606. T ui Oct pg .liort of Rinds, told him to tie him to the back part ~r the wagon, and he would lead, which was accordingly done. OD srriviag ea the ground whers, thuoelebration was to eame off, I t in walked leisurely to the back part of the cu to untie "Seize," when lu and behold! nothing remained of the poor dog but his head and one i fore leg dragging by the rope, when bdrstiag in to tears at the melancholy spectacle, be exclaim in the agony of woe—" Poor Seize'. I've kno'd him these fifteen years and he never refused 'to :ead before?' From that day to this, TIN has been death on railroads. WHO ARE i 451. COMPANION , . — "He that wriketh with wide men shell he wile; but a 0001- panion of fools shall be destroyed." It id said to be a property of the.teeefraig that it acquires the color of whatever it adheres to for a short time. But when found on growing corn, it is commonly a very dark grecs. If found on the white oak, it has the color panther to that tree. Jirt so tt is with she tam Tell me whom you choose and prefer as companies., and I certalui can telt you who you are. Do you seek to be with the profane ? In your heart you are jibe theta. Are jestims sad het foous your choicest friends? .: He who loves to laugh at folly is himself a fool, and plebe* a very stupid ono, too. Do you love sad seek iM society of the wise and good? Is this your habit? Would you rather take the loweet,mat among ()theta: Then you have already iciskteed t o b e w i se and . You may not have mud* ;lunchrogreiu, .nt even a good begliming is not to p be despised. Hold on your weioesd seek to be a eetopaniou of all - that fur Gad 8a yos . skall be wise foe seessit "r"Wri# NUMBER 1.
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