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For the Journal.
MUSINGS.
They tell inn there's a fairer land
A brighter world than ours
A land of smiles and sunny dreams,
Of sunshine and of flowers.
They say that holy angels dwell
in that bright land of bliss,
That choral songs of praises swell,
That ne'er are known in this.
They say the heart will never mourn—
height hopes will never die—
And friendship more than empty name,
In the land of God, on high.
That Christ is there and he has said
Mortal shall weep no more—
That with him dwell our sainted dead,
Not lust—but "gone before."
Fee longed to view the golden gates
Brighter than sunlit sky—
I've longed to quit this scene of strife—
I've only wished to die.
But like a child in ocean's arms,
We strive against the stream.
Each moment further from the shore.
Where lite's young fountain's gleam.
Each moment fainter wave the fields,
:Ind wider rolls the sea ;
The sky grows dark—the sun goes down ;
Day breaks—and where aro we?
I;,celten Glen, Hy. 8. '55. I: ATE.
`'*allfiful*toto.
Pubad.! sr.
THE LEPER :
OR TRH
LOVERS OF CMPERNAVM.
BY EUGENE ST. CLAIR.
CHAPTER L
"Thou a•t uow in thy dreaming thou
Tito green leaves on the hough,
The sunshine turning these to gold
Are pleasures to thee now."
It was evening in Capernaum. Noise
lessly as the breath of time— softly as the
mother lulls to golden dreams her precious
child—had the sainted twilight stolen on
—deepening and deepening until the stars
came out in myriads, and stood with flash
ing, helmets on, bright sentinels guarding
the frontiers of heaven. Like a diamond
dancing on a sapphire sea burned the na
tal star of the First-born, and many an eye
in the land of Judea, on that glorious night,
gazed thereon with feelings of halos
and love.
I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT THE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIG PARTY OP THE UNITED STATES.".
Moonlight, too, lent its magic influence
in rendering thescene one of almost unear
thly beauty, as its radiance slept upon the
domes, and towers, and snowy walls of
fair Capernaum, paving so golden a path
along the sea that the dream could glide
across and fade in the paradise of Gennes
sareth—painting the lofty emerald-headed
palms, the smiling vineyards clustering
upon the hills and creeping amid the in
terstices of each garden bower where en
amored flowers, in the parterres of Galile
an maidens, bent their coquettish heads to
inert the soundless kiss from those silver
lips.
But who sits dreaming away the gliding
hours of eventide in yon high balcony of
one of Capernaum's most regal piles ?
A h, who but Miriam, the child of Bemßa
ma ; Miriam—peerless—from the plains
of Idumia to snow crowned Lebanon; Mi
riam—the pride and the boast of the holy
Land ?
Come, lover of beauty, and feast thine
eyes on loveliness greater than that which
forms the paradise of the followers of Ma
hornet ! Ay, gaze awl worship I Was
there ever ebon tresses more gloriously
luxuriant ? Did the Orient's olive hue
e'er lay upon a cheek of more harmonious
mould, or the deep vermillion upon more
velvet lips ? IVas ever form more fault
less since beauteous Eve reigned queen of
Eden's floral halls ?
Si 25
1 50
2 50
Tell ine, 0, wrapt worshipper—sawest
thou ever in human eyes—thuse brilliant
mirrors of the soul—a finer blending of
earth and heaven, save iu the eyes of that
sainted one whose son has ,inco been seen
bearing his cross up rueful Calvary ?
Never.
Was it for the song of the belated fisher
man, as his bark sped shoreward from the
scene of his daily toil, that she was wait
ing ? Was it the beauty of the night—
the dirt: nt Jordan sweeping toward the
sea—the snowy, phantom sails, twin-wing
ed in air and water, far out upon Tiberias,
she watched
Nay ; but for sweeter sounds—for a
dearer sight,—the coming of her lover—
the music of his voice I Nor long must
she watch and wait. No laggard is Ito
who has won the love of Palestine's fair
est ; for yonder he comes—past the foun
tain that sings below in the garden among
the roses—with a step as free as that of
his proud Arabian barb.
A moment, and his step sounds in the
stately vestibule ; another it glides along
the tesselatvd marble of the lofty balcony ;
and Judalt's pahniegt noble kneels at the
lc'et of his mistress—there in the chequer
ed moonlight.
And well might she love him, with the
best and holiest love known to the heart of
woman ;
"Ire was young
And eminently beautiful, and life
Mantled in eloquent fullness on his lip,
And sparkled in his glance ; and in his mien
There was a gracious pride that every eye
Followed witltbenisons."
"Welcome, Helen ! thrice welcome !"
"Welcome, sayest thou sweet Miriam ?
Flow knowest thou but I bringtidings that
will sorrow thy heart, and dim with tears
the radiant eyes ? I have spoken with
Ben:Rarna !"
! host seen my father ?" exolaimed
the maiden quickly, and the crimson
deepened on her oval cheek.
"Yes. within the hour I met him in
the marketplace, and taking him apart
from the multitude, told him my love for
and besought him that ho would give mo
thee to wife."
'And he said—what said he, Helon ?"
' , He answered not , but gravely stroked
his beard, looking down, and toyed with a
pebble 'neath his sandal."
"Oh, Melon !"
'And then a cloud came over my spit ,
it ; hope seemed fleeing afar off. But I
repeated more eloquently my tale of love,
and earnestly implored him thnt he would
look benignly on my request. I bade him
to remember how we had lived in closest
union from our infancy—how morn and
noon and eve found us playing away the
golden hours beneath the palm•trces shade
and told hini that the fibres of our hearts
wore so twined together, that now to sever
them would be to snap the chords of life.
"And then, Union ? He could not re
fuse thee thy blood ? He turned not away
from the persuasive music of thy voice
unmoved ?"
Aud the beautiful Jewess bathed her
jewelled fingers fondly in her lover's clus
tering hair, as she questioned him with iin
passioned utterance.
then Ben-Rama lifted up his
eyes to mine, and tears fell down bis sil
ver beard us he answered—
"Thou halt asked of me a priceless
treasure—greater than all the gold of Ophir
or the riches of Solomon.. Marvel not at
my tears ; for ago sits heavily upon sue,
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1855.
and I weep at thoughts of separati on from
my child. Nevertheless, I say unto thee
fear not; I have looked upon then long—
yea, even from thy boyhood, with an eye
of love, and sho whom thou Invest give I
unto thee. But I charge thee remain
worthy of thy trust There is not another
in all Capernaum could rob Ben-llama of
his child !"
"Heaven bless my father !" said the
girl, tearfully, and the young noble echoed
her petition—"yea, heaven bless thee, oh,
Ben-Rama!"
"And now, star of my life, tell mo I be
seech thee, how long I must wait ere I can
call thee mine ? Let it be soon, I pray
thee, for the loneliness of thy lover is
great ; his palace halls are all desolate, for
woman's voice wakes not their echoes !"
And the maiden answered--
4 lt. is the Springtime now ; but when
the Summer bath fled, and the Autumnal
vintage is trodden on the hillsides of Gall
lee, then Helen, will the daughter of Ben
llama go to dwell in the home of thy fa
thers !"
The youth rose up, the glow of happi
ness burning upon his noble countenance,
and exclaimed—
"It is enough ! Thy words have filled
me with exceeding great joy, and my heart.
exulteth in the fulness thereof."
The sound of his voice had not died
away upon the whispering breeze, when
another voice, in which was mingled an
unearthly power and sweetness arose from
the street below, saying--
"Joy fleeth like the breath of summer ;
in the midst of life we are in death 1"
The lovers started. The voice thrilled
their inmost being, even as the voice of an
angel.
"Knowest thou' who spoke 1" said the
trembling Miriam, as Helen, with a cloud
ed brow, watched the receding form of
him, who had spoken the solemn words.
Her companion answered not. fie seem
ed troubled. To him it was a prophetic
voice, and he felt ah•eady an invisible but
mighty hand plucking him down from the
high pinnael o of happiness he had gained.
"Helen, knowest thou who spike '"
"Yea, it was Jesus of Nazareji, he who
siyleth himself the Son of the Most High
God !"
CHAPTER 11,
"Yen, be went his way,
Sick and lu:nrt•broken, alone—to die I
For God bad cursed the leper l"
Spring, with its glorious freight of flow
ers, and sultry summer, with its burning
suns bad passed away, dreamlike, and
were forgotten ; and now the mellow days
of Autumn had dawned in all their resplen.
dent beauty, upon the hills and vales of
• pleasant Galilee.
The waving grain on the rich fields of
•Zebulon leaned gracefully to the reaper's
practised hand ; the date tree, and the
olive, and the fig bent earthward with the
richness of their store ; while along the
slope of every bill gleamed tha purple vin
tage, more gorgeous in its hue than the
fie•-famed Tyrian dye.
It was in that golden time, when the
pulses of the human heart beat high--
when the bright world is dearer than ever
before to man•--when life and health are
more precious than jewels or fine gold.
But there was one who looked not forth
upon the pleasant scene with the same
beaming of the eye—the same expanding
joyousness of the heart ns had been his
wont ; and this was Melon, the young no
ble of Capernaum.
There had come a deep and melancholy
change upon him. As the gentle Spring
yielded to the fiery sway of Summer, there
had crept an unnatural sluggishness upon
his limbs ; the blood coursed ftA , bly in its
channels ; fever parched his tongue ; and
pain like a fierce lava stream swept ever
across his throbbing brow.
All day long, and through the still lon
ger nights, he tossed wearily upon his
couch, but the returning morn brought no
alleviation to his pain -racked form.
Oh, it was sad to see him prostrate thus,
and hear the languid moan from his fever.
stricken lips, and at times his wild and
earnest cry for "Miriam ! Miriam !--tho
dream of his troubled brain !
Illness to him fron infancy, had been
a strrnger. But now, in his pride, and
his strength, and his beauty, the unwel
corned and unbidden guest had come.
For a long time, not ho nor those who
ministered unto guessed the secret mala
dy that oppressed hint. But when
"llis skin grew dry and bloodless, and white
scales '
Cireled.with livid purple, covered him '
And from their edges grew the rook white
hair"—
then those who loved him covered up their
faces in their mantles, wept tutu, fled away.
Fa they knew that the curse of Israel was
on him—he was a leper !
Morning, boautiful as ever stolo from out
the portals of high hPaven, dawned upon
Ca pernnum. Many people were abroad I
for it was mann hour for indolent repose.
Joy and animation sat on every counte- I
mince and from smiling lips that spoko the
feelings of the heart, were heard the salu• i
tations of the morn.
_
All was life, bustle, happiness. But all
at once the busy murmur ceased, and si
knee Jibe a pall settled upon the multi
tude, for the warning cry come wafted
down the streets.—
'Room for the leper ! Room for the
leper !"
Oh, it was a pittiful sight to see--that
wreck of beauty ! The swiftest font in
Galilee moved as it were manacled ! The
once noble eye—bright ns that of the sky
staring eagle—was cast down like the eye
of a felon; and a form that had been the
most princely in the land now stooped
as with the burden of an hundred years !
No costly raiment hid his shruken frame
nac•ght save the leper's garment, the foul ,
sackcloth, twined about his loins; the soft
brown curling beard and the luxuriant hair
were'shbrn and on his lip rest2d a loath
some covering, and ashes were on his brow!
And on ho passed. Tho throng shrunk
back from him as though it ices a passing,
by of death.
All spurned him, even those whom he
had feasted and honored in his palmy days
and those who loved hint well have freely
given all that he might be restored. On,
on, each step eliciting a moan of anguish
as his leprous feet passed the sharp stones'
along the crying—
"Unclean ! Unclean.'
•By all forsaken ? Was thole not in all
that mighty city one heart to speak a word
of consolation to the cursed of God ! Must
he go forth in his stupendous grief—with
that gigantic mountain of fierce agony
resting on his soul—and not a word of j
comfort reach him—not one sympathising
voice givo him a God-speed its his ctesola.
tion
No! by the divinity of love! for lo! as
a bird darts forth, (Flick, as a yam of I;glit
from out of the palace gates of Ben-ltama
bounds the dark eyed daughter of his love!
and though dishonor, pestilence, or death
were in the touch, she would have pressed
the ghastly wanderer, plague laden as he
was, before Capernaum's thousands, to her
snowy breast !
Oh, the deep, fervent, holy love of wo.
man ? Show me a diviner attribute of the
human heart, and I will show you tow
thing implanted there by a mightier bond
than that of Clod.
Yen, she would hare alas ped him to
her bosom, but strong men dashed in and
plucked her buck, and bore her struggling
to her home again.
But ho had seen her, almost felt her white
arms around his neck—und he had heard
the wild prayer she uttered—
,4llelon, oh, my beloved ! May the
God of Israel be nigh unto the in thine
hour of trial !
The dime that - though all his agony had
bmrayed no weakness, now felt the relief
of bursting tears. Such proof of love to
tho broken-hearted man, was as balm to his
crushed spirit—as a staff to his weary feet.
He could go forth, now, in all his misery,
out into the the bleak wilderness, fur from
the haunts of men, where the hen made
her fair among the reeds of Jordan—he
could go out and die, and tha arrow of
death would be left to its sting. And so
with rent garments and the ashes sprink
led on his brow, and the loaths'ome cover
ing upon his lip, the leper went his way.
to to . 41
Before the low portal of an humble tene
ment, craving admittance, stood the daugh
ter of Ben Rama. A low veins bade her
enter; and she passed in. It was the hab•
itation wherein the Saviour dwelt, during
his ministry, and now it chanced that its
only occupant was he—the meek Naza
rine .
A mild, benignant smile rosted upon
his face, detracting none from its majesty,
but which seemed to fill the plain, ungarn
ished room as with sunshine,
"What would'st thou maiden ?"
"Rabbi, behold I come unto theo in
tears—in great tribulation of heart. He
whom I love is stricken with the curse of
Israel—even the grievous plague of the
leprosy." .
And Christ asked her saying—.
"Art thou not she whom they call Miri.
am, the daughter of I3en-llama ?"
"Yen Lord."
“Itemembcrest thou once, in the Spring
time, when the even was come, that thou
spakest with a lover in the balcony of thy
father's dwelling?”
"Master, I have not forgotten." •
„ said 1 not unto thee then that joy
fleeth like the breath of Smuttier ?”
1
J,.. , ,
T
, „A
‘ -
"Even so, lord, and the words of thy
mouth are verified; for 10, my beloved
walketh in the valley of desolation, nod
the joy of mine heart is turned into mourn•
iug?"
'filen said Jesus—
"What w•ould'st thou have me to: do—
me, the despised, reviled, and persecuted
of thy race 1"
And she replied—
" Thou art mighty, oven unto salva
tion, for thou art the son of the living
God. Lay hut the hand upon then leper,
and he liveth !"
"Maiden, be thou of comfort ; thy faith
shall surely hare its reward."
And kneeling there, with tearful eyes,
but a joyous heart, she kissed the hem of
his mantle and worshiped Lim.
CHAPTER
"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall
be comforted."
It was a wild and desolate spot upon the
banks of Jordan. The cypress, aloe,
and the hr cast their sombre shade far out
upon the water, for the sun was going
down behind Lidanus, and the shadows
lengthened in its departing glow. Sound
was inaudible, save the occasional growl
of some wild beast from its gloomy lair,
and the gentle flowing river, making.
Sweet music over the enamelled :Acmes.
And there, kneeliw7, with,his ghastly
face upraised to heaven, a haggard and life
wearied man besought his God that he
inight die. It was but a more wreck—
Larely the semblance of a man—and the
voice was small and plaintive as as infant's
in which he pmyed—and this was Helen!
Oh ! how unlike the youth who had
passed with lordly pride the streets and
places of his native city ! who had been
the gayest where the sound of dance and
music fell—the boldest and the first.
Where the hunter of deer, and the warror trod.
To his hills that encircle the seal
But hark ! the sound of approaching
footsteps disturbs the solitude; the leper,
with a quick shudder, muffles up his faCe
within his garments giving the warning
cry which tells the wayfarer that pestilence
is in his paih:
"Unclean ! Unclean !"
Horror? no heed is given—steadily ad
vance the footsteps ! lle ivolild not for
the boon of life--life that seems gliding
froin him like a dream----that another
should feel the curse that his has felt•---that
another should bear the agony thai ho has
borne !
‘ , ll elon !"
Oh ? he had heard that voice before-•--
on that starry night when the moonbeam 3
danced on the Sea of GaHee, and he had
drank deep draughts of love from a mai
den's eye ! But not now as then did it
thrill his soul with dread, for love, and pity,
and redemption w ere blended in its tortes !
"Melon arise ! Be thou made whole !
Great God ! could it be so ? Had ho
heard aright? Whole? Cleansed from
the leper's damning curse ? The plague
of Israel that had brought him within the
hour to pray for death- —was it indeed to
be removed ? Or was but another of those
dreams that he Ile had often dreamed there
in the gloom of the dark firs—those gol
den dreams that had well 'nigh crushed
him at the wakening?
No ! none of those•---no idle dream--
no creature of tho fevered brain, but a
bright, joyous, heavenly reality ! 011, hea
venly was that restoring thrill of health to
the noble's wasted form ! Down. to the
dust, fell the foul scales that covered him;
the awakened blood, like electric currents,
bounded along his veins with all its pris
tine vigor; each unstrung nerve resumed
wonted functions, and in an instant the
leper was restored ! And as the peerless
girl had done whose love had plead with
Christ for his recovery. so did the grate
ful Helen !---41e bowed dowri in admira
tion and owned him there the Son of the
ever living God.
* *
Again the gem spangled veil of night
covered Capernaum. Again we ask, thee
gentle render, to visit with us the palace
of Ben-Rama. Silence on this night broods
not within its stately halls. You can hoar
the enlivening sounds of merriment, the
dance, the song, the crash of harping min
gling with the mellow pipos----the twink
ling cymbal and the viol's pleasant strains
--all telling of the joy that reigns with
in.
Ay, pray, for tomight is the bridal eve
of Miriam and Helen ! With a thankful
heart to Him from whom our blessings
flow hail the young bridegroom laid upon
the holy alter in the tabernacle of the
Most High those ofFerings commanded by
Moses for the leper's cleansing, and they
with priestly rites hail reinstated him
among his fellow men !
Though we Mig,lit gaze opus the wcalth
[WEnsTEn.
the youth and beauty or Capernaum, yet
will we not enter where the festive scene
goes on, but tarry without here in the bal.
cony, where first we meet l3en•Ranut's
beauteous daughter on that starry night.
But .ve are not alone; there is a tall form
wrapped in a dark mantle gazing with sad
dened face over the city; It must be some
guest of the evening—now he turns his
head,----ha I it is Jesus !
The sound of the song, the dance, the
music fall not upon his car. His thoughts
were of his Father's mission, and the un
thankfulness and unrepentance of those to
whom he ministered.
4.1 , 1r0 unto thee Chornzen I wo unto
thee, Bethsadia ! And thou, Capernaum,
which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be
brought down to hell !"
Thus he spoke to himself, even as he
had spoken before the multitude.
But his reverie was broken; fur steps
came gliding along the marble floor, and
the briegroom and the bride knelt there
before him, and besought him saying.—
_
"Lord, pur hearts 'admit but one thing
to overflow with joy ---•even thy blessing."
And he strtt;bed forth his hands and pla
ced them on the heads of those who knelt
before him, and blessed them !
liscellancons.
Natures Lessons of Religion.
The following, by J. G. Whittier, is
instinct with lessons of Religion, appear
ent to every eye in Nature's scenery, audi
ble to every reader ; There is a religion
in everything around us; a balm and holy
religion in the unbreathing things of
na
ture, which man would do well to imita'e.
It is a meek nod blessed influence, steal
ing as it were, unawarfs upon the heart.
It comes---•it has no terror, or gloom in its
approaches. It has nothing to rouse up
the passions ; it is untrammeled by the
croed and unshadowed by the supersti
tions of mon. It is fresh from the hand of
the author, and glowing from the immedi•
ate presence of the great spirit which
prevodes and quickness it. It is written on
the.arched sky. It looks out from every
star, it is among the hills and valleys of
the earth, where the khrubl,ss mountain
top pierces the thin atmosphere 'of eter
nal winter, or where the mighty forest
fluctuates before the strong winds with its
dark waves of green foliage. It is spread
out like a legible language upon broad bo.
som of the unsleeping ocean. It is this
that uplifts the spirit within us, until it
is tall enough to overlook the shadows of
our place of probation ; which breaks link
after link the chain that binds us to mor•
tality and which opens to imagination a
world of spiritual beauty and holiness.
-••••••-
Nen of Thought and Action.
The employments of civilized life may
be divided into two classes, corresponding
to the body and mind in man. Trade and
commerce minister to mater ial wants, nat
ural
or artificial ; science and literature,
to intellectual growth. Thus, the mer
chant may be taken as the representative
of outward practical life, and the scholar
of inward or intellectual life. In this di
vision, no disparaging comparison is in
volved. Each class of employments has
its peculiar advantages and its peculiar dan
gers. The ideal merchant is in say judge
meat, nowise inferior to the ideal scholar.
Indeed as each approaches the highest
point of developement, they draw nearer
and near towards ono another, as the op
posite sides of a pyramid, far apart at the
base, meet at the top. By an ideal mer
chant, I mean a man acting, but capable of
acting. Politics, or the art of Govern
ment, in this age of the world, includes
both elements. The merchant and the
scholar each contributes something to the
composition of the statesman. He must
be able to ascend to the highiest generali
zations from the solid basis of carefully
selected facts.
The homely details of business, as well
as the laws which regulate and control its
great movements, must be familiar to him.
Speculation must suggest experiment, and
exFeriment must confirm speculation. No
man can be said to be a finished man who
has not both the power of acting and the
power of thinking. So, no community is
truly powerful and prosperous which has
not a fair proportion of men of action
and men of thought.
pgr"ls it very sickly hero'?" said a
son of the Enteral,' Isle the other day, to
another. "Yes," replied his companion,
"a gteat many havu died this year who
never died before."
VOL. 20. NO. 37.
Foreign Infidels.
It is most earnestly to be deplored, says
the N. Y. dermal of Commerce, Unit 80
few who are born in this land and love
American translations are aware of the
rapid hatred of Christianity and its con
comitants, yearly increasing in our popu-
Judos' from the continent of Europe. We
do not speak of the convicts and paupers
that are smuggled into our ports from
Genoa, Ilainburg, and Treiste ; but of the
tens of thousands of Germans who from
year . to year conic from provinces of Eu
roro completely pantherized, pnd with
whom freedom is synonymous with the
downfall of the Kingdom of the Redeem
er. We called attention some months
ago to the fact, that a large number of
Germans who have come of late years to
this country, disciples of the anarchist
school of Heine, according to whose
creed, there can be no true freedom un
til christianity is bloodily abolished," viz.
until a persecution by infidel Christians
is instituted, with ends similar to those of
Diocletin or Super. We showed that
elections had been made to turn upon the
single point, whether prayers should be
' offered in Legislatures : whether the Lord's
day should be kept, and religious oaths be
mantained. One of the most influential
I German papers in this city published sim
ultaneously articles warning this better
class of Germans, of whom there are so
many in our city .against encouraging
these excesses. Our remarks were repub-
I halted in various parts of the United
States, and we trusted that a good re
sult might be produced. Since then,
however,another anniversary has recur
red of the birth-day of Thomai Paine,
and it has filled our hearts with shame to
learn how the natal day of that enemy of
God, Isis Saviour, and of his country, has
been celebrated. The German language
constitutes a barrier which prevents the
most of our people from imagining what
takes place behind the screen of that un•
I known tongue. The Teutonic dialect en
isures the existence of the anti-Christian
I Legions, whose numbers are reinforced
! continually from abroad, a vast secret So•
cis ty to whom none can have access who
do not go through an arduous and pains
taking apprenticeship of study, which in
the end leaves them when initiated, only
among the first class of novices. Yet its
members are easily naturalized, become
as speedily as possible citizens of these
states , carrying Atheism to the polls, and
receiving the homage of demagogue poli
ticians to obtain n few miserable sutlers.
ges. A few of the ' , reforms" demanded
by the 4, Freitimenuer," so they call them-
selves, who have set up Thomas Paine
as their apostle, and who strive to gain
strength to revolutionize our government
by the establishment of the tyranny of at,
archy, are—abolition of the laws for the
observances of the Sabbath; abolition of
oaths in Congress; abolition of oaths up
on the Bible ; no more prayers in our
Legislatures ; abolition of the Christian
system of punishment; abolition of the
Presidency, of till lawsuits involving ex
pense ; the right of people to change the
constitution when they like; n reduced
term in acquiring citizenship, etc. These
things aro not sought after as mere shad.
ows, nor are they dreams with which vise
ovaries amuse themselves, but which do
no harm. They are seriously inculcated
principles, instilled, for the propagation of
which there exist several chief and many
minor Societies, to which hundreds of
thousands of foreigners are affiliated, who
are in constant communication with each
other, and act in concert, who are begin.
ing to be fo's in every corner of the. land,
but particularly in the West, where their
effort is greatly aided by tine growing li
centiousness of abolitionism.
DD — There is, (says the Boston Trull.
script,) a sign projecting from the door of a
mantua-maker's shop, in Troy, the conch
ding portion of which reads thus: N. B.
"Dresses made lower than ever."
Cietr - The Journal of the Academy ok'
Medicine nt Turin, states, among (Alter
things, that tall men live longer than those
of small stature. Of course they do, and
lie longer in bed.
ffE'Down East somewhere, a pious old
lady was summoned as a witness loan int
pertnat case. Being told that she must
"swear," the poor woman was filled with
horror at the thought. After much per
suasion she yielded, and exclaimed, "If
must, I mitst•--Dam ," The Court ad
journed immediately.
ger Death is the grand, final senile of
life. tVe :should so live that when the eu, •
taut drop, tto. shall hear "Well dune—."