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( I) lion A. t i.tith. •• h i , nt.d .ueu 1.. 1, , I• 1. *I J.lll‘ 11. Ith.• \ , .1 kr, II 1 . .1%10.1111.1 1,, ‘N , 111 IP ., A. ( U . r ..r 414.: ❑.. n EM=I J I. It Lit!: 1 •II , u I 10 ,, k1,11 at hue too; and I could see by the, weary twinkle of his eyes, li)w much be fell awwwd. But I wanted to escape She went on ntw.. am,k4Lg to say, 'notating my wanner • "And / presume, the Docti,r will be detained tone rime ; siv)ou'd better take 'em off; you'll tee; theiro v d on 'em wore when you d 0 0; and she ponce.' upon we such as my childish fancy used to picture the wolf doitig to the foolish lamb in the fable. I The comparison doesn't end here; fur like the •••• /rr, , ‘./I lamb, I wished I'd staid at home. ail "Sakes alive ! why Mr. Gonling ! She ain't bigger nor a pint of cider !" she exclaimed, when she had taken off my cloak and bonnet and„liid them—only to think of it, my love of a white satin boouet, and my pet white tbibet scarf— epos that ! pew, woolen quilt—aft dear I' But I never was so impressed with my owe I littleness before ; especially mien the 4d Ina I 11: h. 11%1 I I I 1. .\ ISJ:11 11 I U. \ I • k .g.• • I • •I %It h Is: Alti17111.11`.: el , >. 1. a 1/ hal, 1 In LAl> > 1.1/ 11 .1. 1 11(1/. 1 / 1 1 / If 114'•1.tt II J. N h. 1...Jv and llerlatl la , and kinerwast I lei ••11:1*.TI•ree1 11.•••••,••:•• Hamu..r., \ • `tale SE 4 1 I '',.. ' itc.r . 111 11 1,41r.r., 11. t it ,4.1 Car., kr , Ent.. Na THE MOM EAU The I•rmes'a heart was mad, Me toil was rail, Mslmbibed crops were crimping La the lkdd, For not one drop of life-asetalaing MAD Did the red Clouds of summer deign to 3101 d. The (little 'mouth the trees, with lolllog league Gaye up the marsh for herbage la &spar, /Lod hedges ID the shade their Wads tbay hang A :ad a heara4 ttpqr cud with moat cleepeadiag slr The brook was dry, or stood, a muddy pool, Whoa. stagnant waters now might dart to drink, Which late, In crystal brightness, pure and tool, Woad with lt• song Ow thirsty to its bunk. The burning sun drank op the pearly dew That evening, pitying, on ereaUon shed, Ind o er the perched earth his hot berms throw— ne herbage shinnied, and the dowers lay dead The mar alutnasered In Ids land rays, Ile corn grew dry and orlthsrad as It stood, fLe taaltusg 134 'came canoed Owit tuneful lays In .1111, recew.s of the ancient Wood Then man anti vegetation prayed for ratta— ils witherril stalks like farniebed hands, weer raised Ito. flay by de ' was roan v petition relit. TLe rinudo aro. sod vanished •e be gazed t length the blessed boon, so long withheld, eme like Inn angel down In men's dlamay, ch.erlng the beast that well nigh had rebelled, oti guring ley where grief ereiehile hall away T. thilmty .►r•h drank to with greed) tongue The enolinx Ti and that trickled o'er Its breast : I .1e their knee earaptared tad ere.. sect dower one* more narrated their civet 1 trt t cvlan resumed their gladsome own, Ani thron,Ah the meadows took their ebserfel •ay, , tee more the core Its t erdant pennons Ahem duce more the bird. inside merry ou the spray rh• f saner'• hart glow . glash, and, on Ws luxes, flaw ruses attuned with warn] dovotton'• strain Ilrlssurod hL soul•-sn (ratan& to sow isso isSeaord comsat of the summer rasa luch falls, kite God'• owu spLelt, uu the dust ,if man s faileu suture, dead to eta and pats, watt a issuer hope and bolter trust It Ilrilk• rt.. 111 tO Ida nod joy airciu A LIFE SCENE. tvr FltliAl TIM MARI OM A COANTILV Ass— r tief- the shove title we have noticed •eve rat spirited Sketchesof humble life in the State of Blaine, in the Portland Transcript, from which , we copy the following. I►ec '2l..st --To day, I have bad my first. ,I t o g b ride We bad, last night, a alight fall of rsiu, •thoough not enough to injure the sleighing, wbieb bay bteu vt ry flue for several days This nwrnitig tt wai clear and cold, and the sun Des , . er ;11,me s upon lovelier landscapes than met our ' vt-ion a tr we glided al. mg upon the very border 61 the !.e•e, by the side of tue mountain or out {l n ill.. open country—all was pare, and calm and oparklmg, in the blessed sunlight several sleighing parties, with ME =ME shmni tuttitd off from the main road into .what mtght bar.. a wood road, but which l.n...t.ted two. 4 pure unbroken surf:et. daz i ; d ine, whiten• ss, upon which the horses' Qt fell s-ftly up , ti velvet It took us through still paw woo&, 1.011 I•vvry brauch and twig above us • ws- 17,11-teuing with gems—very cold, but won. ME llt , •u•tj ti , .out ll'o , th.• rode a d i g na 1 " kruiT, Tr„m his rev ere•, dot•tur Au_ ettly r‘ , 4l erie, SlLyitigs "I Lave n.., vibt•re law carrying you, N 'lnce )n no womanly curiosity about "lint I know," 1 replied, laughingly ; t.I am Toysician-sister elect,' as your shaker friebd. say, t.. consult with Charley Gordon about a pivient of Ins—but tell me all about it," for I •aw l , ) his I ks there was something to tell "I IV I I but I vti tiot poi, for we are J ut there. Theis t• my time to say that they are wretch.thy 'Nor, and wretched in a worse sen , c than that They are tot such people as you would wish to cultivate, aloofly, but it does one good sometimes to enter 'tech a home " It was indeed a miserable hovel—such as even Lakeside could not show—and the very sunshine which fell here aril there through the pines upon it, 2.,-emed only to put a few more patches upon the dilapidated r“iif, making it only the more di-nisl Within, it was uo better An old pine table, a bed with dirty wooien coverings, three or fair ebairs, a floor bare and unpainted, four dingy walls innocent of paper or whitewash ' That wan all, except that there was a bright fire burning in the huge &replace; the only cheerful thing about the place Ao old man came to the door, and after a surly "how fare ye," he went back to his seat in the chimney corner, and took up again the btu , ket he was weaving. As I think of him now, sitting there, his grey hair_ hanging about .his withered face, be seems the picture of sullen, bard, disnatinfied endurance. And Ido not be: here the wrinkles on his pale face or the silver in his hair came there by age alone. And the massive forehead and the eagle eye, whose bright uess I have seldom seen equalled—do they not say be might have been all that eas - manly and nobler Well, indeed, has somebody said, , 11. el I. I I ! aly 11 • rigt "tn. r on "Of an sad words from tongue or pea, The saddest are these—it might hare berm t" Something of this passed through my mind then, but whep his wife came io which she did directly followed by their 'laughter, all segti• mental cogitation• were put to flight I could make no r.mance out of her I wish I could de+eribe her She was a sharp featured, freckle faced woman, unkempt and slatternly, with eyes biaelt pight, and a loud, harsh voice, which sounded as if it was used in saying harsh things. But noir her words were "smoother than oil," and it must b. confessed, iu free and easy deft. ante of Lindley Murray o.rt, Is. a, t I ur. 1 • 114 I ike ..I'm desprit glad ye'r come sod bring ye'r wife to see poor folks, Dr Gording I should ha' been hoppin' mad and you hadn't come.— But take off your things Miss Gordiog imd set ' up to the fire " I tbanked her, but preferred keeping them on, for we should go directly. 111§ I presumed the ' Doctor vouldu't be detaised long. oi "Proud, aiut she? Stuck up, like: Can't take off her bonnet to buck' a poor place ?" and .Lo save my husband a look which was meant ,•• to he very arch--I wouldn't dare to say artist it u fix . _ =MED MEITI =III I=l DOt'TOR'S WI RE =I 111ie.1 614 tjes tk look st me and E k, i,-*1 EIMMI "Graciousgood' new: She 'Litt% hiskr than a piece of ohalk ; but efod things cane done up in little bunehes." This eloquent quotation was addressed to my husband as a sort of souse' ling remainder, on act. , count of so dfininutive a help meet, though I am quite up to his shoulders, and sceigA a AA/tared pounds. "Now, Di. Gardiug;' Mrs. Ryan resumed, "I do hope you've got some 'potheo h m ee stuff 'twill help our Eleanor ; as for Om k cloister's little drips she brungirom Boating, I woukrat snap my Gager for the whole met." "She has bees oat of health some time then;" remarked my husband, very much with the air of a person who felt he was in for it, and must say something. "Massy sates I yes !" said the old woman, "she's had a powerful sight of sickness, one way and t'other, sod now she's mimed home, worser'n ever, and /tient to know what airs her, for I Wheys she's 'got the gallopin' consumption That t'other doctor said 'twee a spine she had in her bath, bus /know better, for her back always WWI the strongest part of her." And she Owe the fire a vigorous poke which sent the sparks flying up the chimney as if par taking of be indignation, at such a diagonosis My husband came to my aide of the room for the only uoooeupied chair, and oh ! what a look I met from those two blue eyes of his ! It was really too bad of him, when he knows bow easily I laugh ; especially as he went and took him seat by the girl', side as sober as a judge. I noticed Eleanor's face instml and her eyes drooped under my husband's grave glance; but in a moment they were raised with the old de fiant look, and the bitter mocking smile came back to the pale lips I heartily wished myself nut of the way, while my husband was talking with his patient; and as I ooldd not vanish Into the sir, 1 became very much absorbed in a bit of torn tielispaier, the only readable thing to b. seen—not 4o much, however, as not to east now sad then a glance upon the miserable girl, for whom imspite of her wretched surroundings I felt a sort , of pitiful in tercet She must have been very beantifol once, far ber dark hair was soft and glossy, her features regular, and her large bleak eyes flashed with in tellect. Thera was no other , vestige of beauty remaining. Her hoe was emaciated and sallow, her teeth blackened and 'decaying She W 1124 dre,ned in what was onoe-sso expensive silk, so befloukoed andudeeked oft with ribbons sod hut. ton., that the faded oolors and grease spur• stood out in• bold relief / It was plain to eee'tbat the tempter had been there, sod it wanted only the bold defiance of her manner to tell that the vice had done its work—that selleespeet was gone, and that all of happiness and beauty bad faded away from her life forever—and she an young After the Dootor bad talked with her a tow moments be spoke to the old man bbd they left the room together We could hear them talk. log in the next room, and pretty soon his wife followed them. Then came the sound of loud sod angry voices. and I found I was not mistaken in thinking she eoald say harsh things. At length, provoked, it would seem, beyond endu rance, we beard the old man rush from the house, swearing a great oath and sealing it by a profane "so help me God !" him "There's nu Gad hero, father'" I thought it was true in deed; tor if there is to this sin stricken earth, a God forsaken home it is this, and glad enough was I too find myself seated beside my husband, in the sleigh, and every moment itioreaaing our distance from it "I ought to ask yam pardon, Nina," said Ile, "for taking you to such a wretched place. I bad no idea it was so bad I made some iegu4 ries about tbein yesterday, of an old mao who has known them from their youth, and from the history be gave me, I was not prepared for such pesos." 6.f am gad I went," I replied. "I never saw snob a phase of human lite, and it does one good to see something of its rtiugh places—but if you please, tell me their history." It was only the old story. "Long years ago Paul Ryan, then a promising young man, the only son of a well-tondo farmer, loved with all the streogth of his proud passionate heart, a yoaog girl, rich and beautiful. She was false to him, and though his grief was unspoken—for no one ever beard him mention her name—yet it consumed his spirit., and made the gay, light. hearted youth, a morose and gloomy misaotrope. The country people used to shake their beads and say, "poor Paul Ryan is going mad " But 'the maddest thing he ever did was his marrying Nancy Trowbride, the woman you saw to-day. She led him a terrible life, and by and by Paul took to drink, and soon lost all the property his father left him Six children were born to them, of whom Ave died in infanoy. Eleanor was the child of their old age, and strikingly lovely Poor thiog ! ber childhood was wretched and lonely enough. At home, she was by turns pet ted and abused, and slighted and scorned, amid gazed upon with suspicion at Khoo!. Such treatment to a child of spirit and sensitive nature like her was uneadarabhi; and one day she brought home the tagged spelling book and_ de. clared she would go there no more And so she grew up in the old but among the pines in idleness, and as ignorant of all the ac compliahments of civilized life as a young savage; though not destitute of grace of manner awl some natural tea/lenient. Small opportunities indeed she bad for any ex bibition of refioement or taste, but sometimes when she went after the cow she would stop and weave a,wreath of evergreens and the bright sea/let berries that grew •by the brook ; or with white plover blossoms twisted among the hoiavy braids of glossy black hair, she would go-dan cing home, with the wild grace of a young fawn, forgetting for a brief half hour her wretch. ed lot. Four years ago, when idle was just sixteen, she went oat to service ist the city But such work, indeed, any work at all, :did not suit her tuts, and besides her haughty temper could illy brook control, and one day after giving her mis tress some impadest reply, she sou told to leave the house. Puor'Eleanor 1 an sails from ell kindness and all pity, wearily she wandered through the crowd ed streets of the city all that cold winter's day, vainly seeking employment. At length, ca hawked sod dimmarapsdi she at down upon a door step, drew her scanty shawl about her, sad wept as if her heart would break. It was sight, and the limps from a hundred windows sham al/around her , revealing the pov tw and depravity °olympiad there—for she badstrolled to that miserable part of the city commonly. eailed "The Black Sea"--but she saw it not, or heard the dial:ardent noises which make night hideous in that wretched Babel. She only sat there and sobbed as if soul and body would part cowpony in her imoostrolbible sorrow Suddenly a jeweled dead was laid lightly upon her shoulder, and a soft wow said kindly : "What is the matter, soy poor child ?" . Ab ! the magi* of a /dud • word! how smith.. lug it came to that poor bewildered heart ! And yet, it had bees better for Bleaser Syso bed she one listened to 0.-4mtta, Webs slept there sad five she dessallese skip. g 1 50 - A YEAR,. IN ADTANCL ERIE, SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 10,1858. a. a a wine rrielte l.t Lur ; roatig, gaily dreseed and beawitni—benusifel stet en ticing seek* Serpent in Men l Eleanor told her simple story with many tear*, and the sympathising listener took her by the band and said: "I will be your friend; come to my home, and you shall want for nothing that gold can purchase " And she wont with her to one of thee° splendid houses, whose doori Mote Gut once upon the innocent and pure. She has remained there ever since; till now, with health ruined, •beauty lust, and the plague spot deep in her soul she is thr ust out to die You saw I gave no prow:6000-1 sawher case was hopeless, and I told her so When I gave my opinion of her condition to her parent, he buried his face in his heads and groaned. Re , merge is already gnawing at his heart strings, for be knows his own hand has driven his child to sin, and death. She mourned over the loss of the money which would come no more—unhalt lowed gains, the price of s daughter's shame mid sin I believe if ever a fiend walked the earth in female form, it in the form of Nancy Ryan, in the hovel timing the pines." Poor Eleanoil The world is the same as when a laughing, ditnOisg girl she gathered clover Woe some and *Het berries fur her hair, but it shines and,blostiontein vain for her now! The stars are 'Wept from Heaven, and hope and love beaten down till there is no life for them in her despairing heart. Ever between her and happi tiers onmes the shadow of her sin; the ruins of Life's beauty lying all along the rugged path her weary feet have trodden! Gol fvaut a moment of repentance may some, sod bring from infinite merry to ber penitent heart the sweet assurance, "thy sins be forgives thee!" Thank Cilia, that id Heaven, if not on earth, there is joy over the repenting sinner, and to such a SO& death comes a gentle angel, through whom "He givetb his beloved sleep!" Ton fellow traveler along life's dusty highway has filler, just where, perhaps our feet have fal teringly/passed; or weary and toilworn, has turned aside into what seamed some 000 l refresh• ing shelter, and has been lost forever! while we, perchance' warned by his error of the hideous darkness beyond, have resisted the beckoning arms of the tempting rest, and been saved! Shall we, then—frail, feeble wayfarers that we are— gather our robes about us, and with scornful looks and reproachful words pass by the wander er from right, and mingle with our abhorrence of the sin, no pity for the sinning? Is not their retribution terrible enough-the accusing of conscience, the loss of self respect and the confidence of others, the great impasse able gulf which has come between them and hap piness? I have burlittle frith in those self righteous people who always breathe their fierce deouneia. tions against the wicked; and as for me, I hope I shall ever have much in my heart the prayer Re taught us—" Lead us not into temptation " The Old laid and Old Baheelor The author of "A Woman's Thoughts about Women" says the old maid: "She has not married. Under Heaven, her home, her life, her lot, are all of her own make mg Bitter or sweet they have Aces--it is not ours to meddle with them, but we can toy d a y see their results. Wide or narrow as her circle of influence appears, she bu exercised her pow/ er Lu the utmost, and- for good. Whether great or small her talents, she hat not let one of them WWI , I 11... Y. • existence way have been, om in wtnitever 0. cir cumstances it may 'have it placed her, she bats vole untarily wasted no portion of it—not a year, not a month, no not a day Published or unpublish. thy.. woman's lire is goodly chronicle, the ti tle page A' which you may read in her counte• niece; her manner, settled, cheerful and at ease; unfailing int,rest in alt things and all people. V.iu will rarely find she thinks much ~bout her , golf; she has never had time for it. And this her life chronicle, which, out of its very fullness, has taught her that the more one does, the wore one ULI , iS to do—she will never flourish io your face, or the face of Heaven, s as something uncommon. ly virtuous or extraordinary._ She knows that, after all, she has simply done what it was her duty to do "But—and when her plane is vacant on earth, this will be said of her assuredly, both here and otherwhere—'She hash done eohcss she could.'" FAsewher she sketches sketches the old baehe. for in manner and form following: " Scarcely any eight is more pitiable than a young man who has drifted on to past. thirty, without home or near kindred; with just income enough to keep him tcspeotably in the position which he supposes himself bound to maintain, and supply him with the various small luxuries, such as thirty guineas per annum in cigars etc., which have been habitual to him. Like his fel low mortals, he is liable enough to the unlucky weaknese of falling in love, now and then, but be somehow manages to extinguish the passion before it gets fairly alight, kuowing he can no more venture to ask a girl iu his own sphere to marry him, or be engaged to him, than he elan coax the planet Venus out of the golden wes t iuto the dirty, gloomy two pair back where his laundress cheats him, and his landlady abuses him; whence, perhaps, he occasionally emerges I gloriously, all studs and white necktie, to assist at at some yang beauty's wedding, where he feels I in his heart he might once have been the happy bridegroom—if from his silence she bad not been driven to go desperately and sell herself to the old fool opposite, and is fast becoming, nay, is already become, a fool's clever mate, a mer 6 woman oft the world. And he—what a noble idea he has gained of our sex from this and other similar experience;—irwith what truth of emotion will be repeat, as he gives the toast of 'The bridetimaidi, the hackneyed quotation about pain and sorrow wringing the brow, and smile half adoringly, half pathetically, at the 'ministering angels who titter around hint. Tu the slow pro. seas of deterioration, by forty he learns to think matrimony a decided humbug; and hugs himself in the conclusion that a virtuous high-minded_ and disinterested woman, if existing at all, exists as a mere /tuns nature not to be met with by mortal man now a days Relieving his feelings with a grunt—half sigh, half sneer—he dresses and goes to the opera, or the ballet, at all events —or settles himself on kite sofa to a French nor. el, and ends by firmly believing us women to be —what we are painted there." sm. At a negro celebration lately, an Irish. man stood listening to the colored speaker expo. elating upon government, and freedom; and as the orator came to a "period," from the highest and .most poetical flights, the IrWoan "Bedad, be spakes well fors us; didn't he?" Somebody said, "He islet a negro, he is only a half negro." "Only a halts nagnr, is it! well, if a half sager can talk in that style, I'm think. ing a whole nagur might bate the prophet flare' air A person on whom the temperance refor. mation had produced no effect, entered in a state of exhileration, a temperance grocery, in a neigki boring town ig Mr. Blank," exclaimed he, "do you keep anything (hic) good to take here"— “Yee,” replied the merchant, "we bare some ei• collect cold water—the best this; in the world to take." "Well, I kilo: it," rephed Base ante, "there's no owe thing hits) that's dose so amok for naviistion M that. THE GERMS OF THE BEAUTIFUL, Sootfoo dorms of law boonalf4l, - - Dr tbo wayside IN Ibook fa+ •Of not tbo roes soy Igning by A* cottag• And the vine on the garden oar ; Covet the might sad the Me of earth With • veil of leaves sad dewerav MA unit with the opening bid sad sup The swab or summer sheveln Beadier the wail of theisrautltul I a the holy shrine of blew/ : Let the pan, sad the far, sad the marled there la their loveliest luster mow Leave not a User of deformity la the temple of the heart, But gather about Ito hearth its gems Of Nature arid of ♦rt. Hastier lb. tonne of the bowl:Mil to the templee or our God— . The God who starr'd the apUtt.d ak) Asd dowered the trampled sod , When he bait a temple for WIWI% Asd . home for his priestly rec., Flestsed stela area Is symmetry, And curved each Has to grime. tbuitter the forma of the beautiful lb the depth. of the human mut : They 'hail bad, and idoesom,and bear the fruit While the endless apes roll ; Plant with the flowerp ‘ st charity The portals of the tomb, k And the fair and the pure about the patio In Paradise shall bloom THE FOUNTAIN VERY FAR DOWN " I don't believe it," said my cousin Ned who was passing his college vacation at our house, and there was a world of unwritteu skepticism iu the air with which he dashed down the paper over whose damp columns his eyes had been travelling for the previous half hour " You see cousin Nelly," continued Ned, get ting up and pacing the long old fashioned parlor with quick, nervous strides, "it's all sheer non' sense to talk about these doors in every human heart. It sounds very pretty and pathetic iu a story, I'll admit;' and so do a great many other things which reason and actual experience entire• ly repudiates- There are heart•—alas' that. their names should be legion—when , 'far away up' there is no door to be opened, and 'far away down' no deeps to be fathomed. Now doe'i. cousin Nally, level another such a rebuking glance at me from those brown eye., for T have jeut thought of I. ease illustrative of my theory -- Don't you remember Miss Stebbens, the old maid, who lived at the foot of the bill, and lion I Stilted a rose for you one morning which had climbed over the fende into the road? Pangh! I obeli never forget the tones of the virago's voice, or the scowl of the forehead as she sailed out of the front door and shook her hand at me A woman who e mid refuse a half withered flower to a little child, I wonder that rose* could blossom on her soil? At the 'smiting of The rod,' no waters could flow out of arab a granite heart. In the moral desert of such a charier, r, no fertilizing stream can make its way " I did not answer oonsin Ned's earnest eloquent tones, for just then there was a low rap - nt vi-i -t...rs at the parlor door, but I have always thought there was a good angel in the room while he wss speaking and looking down, down very far d„ v p,, in his heart, he saw a fountain there, rank weeds grew all round it, the seal of year. w tri its lip, And the.dust of time deep on the %ca!; hu t the angel smiled as it floated upward, and tnnr• Inured, "I shall return and remove the %eal, and the waters will flow." • '••• • - • • . 'WI • • 1, one hummer afternoon The golde n Ale:6a( slept and danced io is playsplave in the corner, and, broke into a broad laugh ulony. , , the ceiling, and a single beam, bolder than the re't, crept to the hem of Miss Stebbin't, gr two, and looked up with a timid loving smile iu her face, Suel a. 11,, human being ever wore when loulung there Poor Miss Stebbin's: those stern, harsh lea- tures only dagtierreotyped to faithfully the de., boleti., arid heart beneath them; and that heart, with its dry fonntaia, was a true type of her life, with the only flower of human affection which had blossomed many years before, along its bleak, barren highway. She never seemed to love anybody, unless it was ber brother William, who wag a favorite with everybody; but he went to sea, and had never been heard of sinee Silly bad alway, been a stray sheep among the family; but dark hours, and at last death, came upon all the rrid, and so the homestead fell into her hands. Such was the brief verbal history of Midi-Stebbin's life, which I received from Aunt Mary, who closed it there in rigid adheret.ce to r furonte maxim, never to srak evil of her neighbors But, that summer afternoon, there same the patter of children's feet, along the walk which led to Miss Stebbin'a front, door; and, at the same moment, the angel with golden edged wings came down from its blue sky home into Nlias Stebbin's parlor. She raistid her head and saw theui, two weary looking little obildren, with golden hair and blue eyes, standing hand in hand under the little per• tiro, and then that old termagant scowl darken ed her forehead, she asked with a sharp, dis agreeable note in her voice, like the raw breath in the north east wind: 4. Well I should like to know what you waot standing here? " Pleuse, ma'am," ssid thy' boy, in a titn.d entreating voice, which ought to have foun•l it4l way straight into any heart, "linl.• iißtcr and I feel very tired, for we have walked a lou.g way. Will you let us sit down on the at•p an.l reAt ourselves a little while?" "No, I can't have children loaliog round ou wy premises," said Miss Stebbins, with the same vinegar sharpness of tone which bail characteri sed her preeeding reply. Moreover, the sight of any of the miniature epecimens of her race seemed always fated to arouse her belligerent propensities. just take yourselves off; and the quicker the better 'twill be for you " " Don't stay any Longer, Willie, I am atratil,•' whispered the little girl, with a tremor rippling through her voice, as she pilled significantly at ber brother's coat sleeve. " Willie! Willie! That was your brother's name; don't you remember?" the angel bent down sod whispered very softly in the harsh womau'e ear; and all the tune his hand was &id , log down in her heart, searching for the bidden fountain. "Yon mast have been about that little girl's age when you and he used to go trudging down into the medows together to that sweat flag root. And you used,to keep tight' bold of his hand, just as she does. Oh! how tired you used to get ! Don't you remember the ' old brown house, where nobody lived but star,. ins rats and swarms of wasps, who made their mete there is the summer titue?—And you used , to sit down on the step that the worms had eat in so many planes, and rest there. How be lov- ; ed you, and how careful he was always to give ; you.the best seat, and then, he never spolte one mom word to you, if everybody else did. Now, if you should let those children sit down and rest, joss as you and Willie did on the brown seep, you could keep a sharp eye on - them; and, this. time, that spiteful little note in her voice was sot quite so prominent: " Hem, you may it down on that coiner a little while; but mind you don't stir, for, if you do, you'll have to . 119 " Little sister," the boy, in a low tone after they were es* "lay your bead here and 0 7 to to 1100 1 0 Tha little girl laid her head, with its shower of guoJoi, bright curls on tier brother's breast; but rbe next moment she raised it saying: - " I can't sleep, brother,l'm so thirsty." " Don't you remember that day yotrand Willie went into the woods after blackberries, and how son lost your way groping in the twilight of the forrest?" again whispered the angel, with his band all the time feeling for the fountain. "You found an old lightning blasted tree, and you sat down on it, and be put his arm around you just so, sod saidr"Try and go to sleep, little sister." "And you could'ut, you was so thirsty; for you bad walked fall three miles. Who knows but what these children have, too?" There was a little pause after the angel had said this,' and then Miss Stebbins rose op and went into her pintry, where the shelves were .11 of- immaculate whiteness, and she could see her face in the brightly scoured tin. She brought out a white pitcher, and going into the garden, filled it at the spring. Returning, she poured some of the contents into a cup that stood on the table, and carried it to the children; and she re ally held it to the little girl's lip all the time she was drinking Farther and farther down in the heart of the woman crept the band of the angel; nearer to the fountain it drew Miss Stebins went back to her sewing, but somehow, her fingers did not fly as nimbly as usual The memories of by g one years were rising out iif their mouldy sepulchres; but all freshly they came before her, with none of the grace's rust and dampness upon them. That little boy's eyeti when be thanked you for the water, !coded just like Willie's used to," °nee more arbispercil the angel, bending down close to Miss Stehhie's ear. ..And his hair looks like Willie's too, to be site there with the suns beam brightening its glld,-aud his arm thrown so lovinglyly around his sister's waist. There! did, you see how wistfully he looked at the grapes, whose purple B are turu'd toward him as they hang over the portico?" How Willie u-e.I to love grapes! and bow sweet your bowl'' ~1 t,r .3.1 and wilk used to taste, after one of your ranibiel torn the woods! If the children hive walked as fir as you did— and don't you see iittle boy's coat and the little girl's faded dr..4 all covered with dust? they must be vr , y hun7r), its well ea tired and shinty Don't you remember that apple pie you ballot( this morning' 1 never saw a pie done to a fintr brown in my life. How sweet it would taste t.) those little tired things, if they could only eat a piece here in the parlor, where the thew and the sun would not keep tormenting them ell the time?" A in)tnent after, Mi Stebbins bad stolen with noisksi steps to her pantry, and cutting two /4 , ne.rous slices from her apple pie, she placed thew in saucers, returned to the front donr, and Maid to the children: " l'ou may come in here, and sit down on the stuu:s by the fire place and eat some pie; but you must wind and not drop soy crumbs on the 11, or " It wa, vex) etrtnge, but the old harsh tone had almost left her voice The large, tempting slices were placed in the little halal eagerly lafte•l up to reoLive them; and at that moment, ,itt from tit• lip of the fountain, out from the •11/. , lAy heavy upon its zeal, there came 1 Niiig:e drop, and it fell down upon Mies Steb bins' heart It waffl the first which bad fallen there for years Ah, the angel had found the tionta!o there! Th.. g.,ftened woman went back to her seat, i k4 l yip del , did not bend down and whisper in • hnsaw at its work •• Where is rut- home children?" inquired Mi-r Stebbins, after she had watobed for a while, with a new, pleasant enjoyment the children, tiq they dispatched with hungry avidity their pie " Mary awl 1 haven't any home now. We had .0 before papa died a great way over the sea," answered the boy " Awl whore are going now? and what I,cought you and your little aniter over the 10 " tnther queried the now interested woman Why, you se.., ma'am, just before papa died, he called old Tony to him—now Tony was black, and hail always lived with us—'Tony,' said be, 'I am going to die, and you know I have lost everything, and the children will be - alone in the w )rld But, Tony, I had a sister once that I loved, nod she loved me; and though I havn't .een h”r fir a great many years, still I know she lov,, me if she's living just as well as she did when .411,. and I used to go hand in hand through • apple orehard to school; and Tony, when run dead and buried I want you to sell the fur and take the money it brings you, and etrry the children back to England. You'll find her name and place she used to live, in a piper—which anybody will read for you—in the drawer there. And Tony, when you find her just take Willie and Mary to her, and tell her that I was their father, and that I sent them to her on my death bed, and auk her to be a mother t.i them fur my sake It'll be enough, Tony, to tell her that.' And Tony cried real loud, and he said, 'Nlassa if I forget one word of what you have said, may God forgive me.'" Well, papa died, and after be was buried Tony brought little sister and me over the wat, era But before we gut here Tony was Rke n with the fever, and he died a little while after the ship reached the land and they carried him on shore Bat, just before he died, he called ins to him and put a piece df paper in my hand. "Don't lose it, Willie, said he, 'for poor Tony's going and you'll have to find the way to your ! aunt's all alone. The money's all spent, too, and they say its a good hundred miles to the - place where she lives. But keep up a good heart, and ask the folks the way, and for something to i•at when you are hungry; and don't walk too many wiles a day, 'cause little sister ain't strong, Perhaps soniebody'll help you on with a ride, or let y.,u sleep in their houses at nights. Now ilou•t forget Willie; and shake hands for the last time with poor Tony " " After that, we stayed at the inn till the neat day, when they turfed Tony, and when they ask •ed us what we were going to do, we told them we were going to our aunt's for papa bad sent as to her, and they then let us go. When we asked folks the way they told* us, though they always stared, and sometimes ¶hook their hoods. 'We got two rides and always got a place to sleep. They said our aunt lived round here; but we got sn tired wilting we had to stop." " And what was your father's ttamer' asked Miss Stebbins, and somehow there was a chok ing in her throat, and the hand of the angel was placed on the fountain as she spoke. " William Stebbins; and out aunt's name is Sally Stebbins Please, ma'am, do you know her?" Off,'at that moment, came the Beal, and out leaped a fresh blessed tide of human affection, and fell down upon the barren heart soil, that grow fertile in a moment. " William! my brother William!" cried Min Stebbins, as she sprang towards the children with outstretched arms, and tears rainingleet down her cheeks. "Oh, for your sake I *La be a mother to them!" A year had passed away; college had come again, and once more Ned was at our house. In the summer gicardog be went to walk, and our way lay putMbulheiddme eat tage. As we drew near the wicket, the mood of merry child laughter rippled gielhdly imuur I= B. F. SLOAN, ED OR. ears, and a tuous4 t.t at uQ , frcni •v , ry rose tree so disagresbly assoetart i w,th its i•b• r, in Cousin Ned's mita& bouu(teit twu e olden hatr ed ebikiren. " Come, Willie! Diary: you have wade wrcattie of my roses uotit they are well nigh gone. You Mud gather violets atter this!" " Mira&le dicta!" ejaeulit,d 'lJou.iu "Is that tbo woman who gave m« „nob a blessiog a long time ago for plucking a half withered rose from that, very tree?" "The very same, Cousin Ned," I "answered; and then I told him of the change which had come over the harsh woman, of her love and her gentleness, and patience for the orphan children of her brother; and that, after all there was a fountain very far down in her heart, as there was in everybody's, if ae conlil only find " Weil, Cousin ''l'll egr.-e to become a convert to your the ry without further demurring. 4f you'll procui,e t tell m, where to find a bidden fountain that ry far down in a dear little somebody's heart, 31,.i whose preciqw, waters are gushing only fur up- ' There was a glance, L,.1 ~rei4, half loving, from those dark, handsomo eye., which male me think Cousin Ned knew he wont 1 not have to go very far to find it. A Goon SUGGILsTION.--The "Little Jubi,,r" of the Boston Gazette nuggets that those who are disposed to indulge in toe luxury of profane Swearing, should fins tuquire if it will be dis agreeable to the company—just pa any gentle man does before lighting a cigar in the pre:4,l34as of others. Profanity is mush awe,• disagreeable an d disgustin g to most people than ttiloicco smoke. The latter off.mils but a tingle sense of propriety, while the other off.nds r he commit nee It is an ,insult to the to srbom a Chris tian renders the high, st rever , nee, and falls upon his ear much like abuse of tips name of a bolo., ed and honored friend There is no more offen sive act than to abuse a man's friend in his pre settee, and nu polite or cultivated man will do it On the same principle ezaet.. if no higher motive is sufficient, a gentlem in should suppress his profanity in the presen;..7 others If u gentleman can swear auywboro without a breach of courtesy, when he feeli m re.' to swear, let him first ask if profanit) i, uff,lisive to at,y A the company, and having us:err:lined that they can all stand it withorr flinching, then, if :ifter such deliberate preparation, like it, let him "rip." As there aro u vr. at many men who smoke and chew, but don't -wear, it might be well for landlords to fit up .1 "• , wertring room," convenient to the smokaig r ion, where time who can't hold in, may relieve th , mselves with out annoying other visitor., and itnprepating the whole house with suiphurilt• a shalatibris It will sound rather odd, won t it, to bears well dr:liscd and decent looking gcnt;,:man ask, "I. swearing uffenaive to you?—if not, I'lij a et off a to hear a land;ord directing his guests to the common swearing r.14)L11 How THURLOW WEED 4.luT TITS EKUIT TnousaND.—A correspondent of The Philactel. phis Mercury tells the following story : Two or three years ago the railway lines between Al , bany and Buffalo were ( onsohilated, under the title of the New York Oentral Thurlow Weed, of The Albany Erening Journal, engineered the matter through the Legislature, and for this set., vice was to receive the handsome am of 0,000 of which Enfant; Corning was to furnish $4,000 and Dean Richmond $4,000. The plan succeed. eviatad the money was paid over. But as Mr the stock stand in his own came, he rall'adienver to an old and particular friend of his—Mr. Mr Intosh—who had made money as a railroad eon tractor. It was understeo.l betwoen the' parties that Mclntosh was to hold the stock, and then quietly make it over to Weed But, unluckily, Mclntosh died and forgot to leave a will So the administrators, in making up the account of the assets, stumbled up,o the eerificaten for this $B,OOO, and put them d. wn to M4ntosh's credit, supposing, ofourte, they were his. The debts were paid and a handsome balance was left for the widow, the attractiv. , Mrs Mclntosh, wild w a s married a few wpf•lt4 ago tq, Mr ex Ph dent Fillmote. Thurlow's 3'3,000 went along with the widow,.ioto the arm: of the man whom Thurlow hates probably as badly as one man can hate another. For a politico scandalous yarn it is not bad, and makes fun How mg DID IT.—A ntleman feeling u strong partially for a young lady whose name was Noyes, wu 4esirons without the ceremony of a formal courtship, to Ist. rt iu her sentimencp For this purpose he said to L. r one day, with that kind of air and mann. r whit•ti means cithrr jest or earnest, as you in ay ,• 1 10...tt to fake it: " If I were to ask you w (to ta,r yon were under matrimonial eugageruciit. •Iny ,ne, what part of your tonne yei) wtjii I take for an unmet?" " The first, - said she to the same tone " And were Ito ask ) if ) war. , inc:in,ql to form such so eugagem ut,sii , ul.l such person offer who loved you. ills was hot iudifferent as to yourself, what part of )eur uatne mig!lt be then taken as an answto" " The last " " And it I were t., telt that 1 juu, and ask 3ou t (oral •uch .in engagement with 91114, then 1,,n t ).. r name May taker" "0, then, repii..l the oiu—ing girl, "talie the whole name, aq to sub !as , I lownld chi er fully resign it tor your,." It to aluno.t needle-i to toll that they NZ e r soon afterw.sr,l+ rnarrio,l " A Tete:lmmix° .Jot.r "—Thy other tta . v as a tratu t.f GUN MI the Oen( Ige and Alezandrla Rail road was at the bridge opposite the residence of Mr Wallach, near Culpeper, C kl., the engine driver discovered a man totting on the track with his head hanging down a+ .t Wong a nap. All efforts were made to stop int , train; though it be • itig near the end of a curve it was impossible t.. dose in title When the . ogee struck the man, it lifted him eight or ten feet in the air, and ho fell flat on his back in the ditch, apparently life less The conductor ran the train back and took him on board the cars, and then started back to procure for him medical aid While on the way back the man commenced talking, remarking that they were carrying him the wrong way He soon after raised np his head and said he was not hurt He then rose to his feet, remarking at the same time "Stranger, you gave me a thundering jolt! Hallo! let me get ofil - The train stopped. As he alighted on the ground, be jumped up and cracked his heels and bid adieu. He called him. self Jack Brown of Culpeper.— Washington States. AN INVINTION FOR 'ME 11118.--The New York Sum announces s wonderful intention in the shape of a churn of marvelous pryers. - It is represented as having, after an operation of a few minutes, produced two gallons of whisky from eve gallons of Now Yore City stile! That will do. GOOD ItIONLI. —A line in one of Moore's songs wads the "Oor much shall be roses beeping% WI with _ 4wW." To whit& s sensi ble _ glii t swot slug toWor, replied: 40 TwouM gave me rbessmitit, sad so it mould rone NUMBER 9: 1:311 a
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers