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.