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WILLIAM BREWSTER, 1 EDITORS,
SAM. G. WHITTAKER,
Prom the Christian ,Spiritualist.
Tell me not, poetic fancy
Is hut sophistry refined ;
The delusive necromancy
Of a visionary mind.
Don't 1 list with dreamy wonder
To the music on the hills,
A. I tit alone, and ponder,
By the bubbling woodland rills.
Tell me not. imagination
Grasps the shadow as it flies,
Clothing fanciful creation,
In the drapery of the skies.
Don't I breathe a fiagrance given
To the lilach and the rose
Don't I see the hues of heaven
On the palest flower that grows ?
Tell me not, the gush of feeling
Is unstable, weak and vain—
But the Hash of passion stealing
O'er a transitory brain.
Don't my bosom thrill and tremble
When it meets a genial soul ?
Vain the effort to dissemble,
Nature ever spurns control.
Tell inn not that Spirit voices
Never give my soul delight ;
de it (beamingly rejoices,
In the visions of the night.
Don't our angels hover o'er us
Now as in the olden time ;
Watching to display before us
Glories of u higher clime.
Tell me nut to worship money,
Garnered up in golden store ;
I ran live 011 mental honey,
And I ask for nothing more.
From the selfish world retiring,
To the silent, sylvan shade ;
Loving still, nod still admiring
Everything that God has made.
CIS the business I spoke of yesterday at
tended to?' asked Mr. Lambert, a weal
thy owner of real estate, addressing an in
telligent, fair looking young man, who sat
at a desk, as the above named gentleman
entered his office.
Charles Buchand collored with 'embar
rassment. For a moment his hand moved
nervously across his brow, then raising his
handsome eyes to his employer's face, he
answered in a frank, steady tone.
have neglected to follow your instruc
.1 am very sorry !'
.Sorry !' cried Mr. Lambert, angrily,
'sorry indeed ! and this is the way you at•
tend to my affairs ! Young man, if you
Ciink I will pass over this carelessness—'
beg your pardon,' said Charles, with
a face like marble, but speaking in a calm
tone, 'I atn guilty of carelessness. I have
endeavored to do my duty—'
'Your duty was to follow my instruc
tion. Number twenty-three has been a lo
sing business for me lung enough. The
family have had warning. You should
not have disappointed MO. I told you that
if the rent was not paid beilire 12 o'clock
'I visited the family,' rejoined Charles,
'and It seemed to me that had you seen
what I saw, you would not bare me up.
ply the extremity of the law to their mis
arable case. *They are very poor—they
are sick—they are suffering. You would
not have the heart to—'
'Charles Buchard,' exclaimed Mr. Lam
bert angrily, 'you have been in my employ
two years. I have found you faithful, hon
est, capable—and I would not willingly
part with you ; but since you prefer your
way of doing business to mine, and pre
sume to dictate, it is not proper that we
should work together any longer.'
have thought myself,' said Charles,
'that since I cannot conscientiously pursue
the extremes you deem necessary, it will
be best for me to quit your service. lam
ready,' he added, fixing his mild eye upon
Mr. Lambert's face, am ready to go.'
'Well sir, we will have a settlement at
once. How much am I indebted to you ?
What is your due I -
'Nothing ! How—how is this
'You will eee. Cast your eye over this
'Yes—l perceive—you have taken up
your wages lately, as soon as due,' said
Mr. Lambe•t, who remembering his clerk's
fidelity and capacity, was becoming soften
ed. 'This is a new thing, however. But
I presume that you have invested your mo
ney advantageously 1'
have tried to make Christian use of
answered Charles, coldly.
'Have you been dealing in stocks?'
'Ah, you have lost confidence in me and
thought proper to put your money into
ether hand, ?'
'I have neither made investments nor
loans,' said Charles with a peculiar smile.
'What small funds I could command, I
'Bless me, Charles ! I thought you a
steady young man; and how you can have
consumed your entire salary, I am unable
'And I presume I should be unable to
explain it to your nitration, sir. It b a
subject which I can avail nothing to con
verse upon. If you get a man in my place
immediately, I shall' be willing to save you
the trouble of instructing him in the state
of your business.'
'Cerainly—if you please; and you shall
'I did not make the offer, expecting re
muneration. I trust that If have kept my
accounts in such a manner that it will not
require half an hour to make an intelligent
man understand the whole business.'
'Charles,' said Mr. Lambert, dislike
to part•tvith you so. We have always a
greed until this time.'
'Six months ago,' replied Charles Rue
hard, 'the family in No. 23 could not pay
their quarter's rent. I had orders to turn
them into the street. I did not do it,'
'But—but the rent was paid.'
'You permitted me to give them a felt
days grace; you permitted this, on my pro
raise to see that the rent was paid. You
are right sir—it was paid ; the next quar
ter's rent was also paid. At present they
cannot puy. Knowing the condition of the
family I cannot follow your instructions.'
'Well,' said Mr. Lambert hardening him•
self, 'l've rules which regard tenants which
cannot be broken. I have ruses with re
gard to persons in my employ, which no
thing can induce me to break. Justice is
my motto. It's a good one ; I shall stand
'Mercy is a better one, sometimes,' re
plied Charles, softly. 'Justice is admira
ble in all—but, mercy, in the powerful is
Thus Mr. Lambert parted with his faith•
ful clerk. Another took the place of Chas.
Buchard, and the latter was without a sit
About the first business Sr. Carrel, the
new clerk attended to, concerned the poor
family in No. '23.
'They vacate the premises immediately,'
he said to Mr. Lambert. .But there is
some mystery about the family; they made
allusion to yourself, which I was unable to
.To me ?'
'Yes sir ; they spoke of your kindness
'My kindness !' Mr. Lambert colored.
.The woman is nn invalid,' raid Mr. Car
rel. 'The man is a fine-looking, intelligent
person with thin cheeks, a broad pale fore
head, and bright, expressive eyes. He has
been a year at work on some mechanical
invention, which ho believes is going to be
a vast benefit to manufacturers.'
.1 have heard Mr. Buchard speak of it,
replied Mr. Lambert. 'But what did these
people say of me.
'That they have been indebted to you
for numerous favors--'
'Yea sir—at work at his invention which
of course, can afford him no income until
completed. Mr. Ward has not been able
to do much toward the support of his fa
mily. Mrs. Ward, as I said is an invalid.
Their only child—a daughter of about
'eighteen, and a girl of seine accomplish
ments, has done considerable towards their
have heard all this from Mr. Buohard.
What did they say of me IP
'That in these circumstances they had
received benefits from you, for which they
aro very grateful.'
'lt is a mere taunt—insolent irony,' mut
tered Mr. Lambert.
assure you, there were tears in the
poor woman's eyes, when she said it i site
~ T hey appreciated these favors so much
the more,' said Mr. Carrel, 'from the fact
that as Mr, Ward's invention is a secret,
dad all his instruments and contrivances
have been in the house, it would have been
a sore disadvantage to be obliged to move.
His invention is now on the eve of comple
tion, and he is firm in the hope of being a
ble to pay with interest all your benefits.'
Mr, Lambert was greatly perplexed by
this inexplicable conversation of his clerk
but he concealed his feelings, and leaving
Mr. Cerrol to believe that he was a man
who did a great deal of good in a quiet
way, wont to explore the mystery, by vis
iting No. 28.
Ile found the Wards making prepara
tions to vacate the premises. To n beau
" LIBERTY AND UNION, NOw AND POREYER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE."
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 1856.
urn! girl with a handkerchief over her head
who was carrying small articles of furni•
lure to the hall, he made known his wish
to reo Mr. Ward.
This gentleman was engaged in packing
up his machinery ; but soon coining out
of hie secret room and locking the door be
hind him, he appeared before Mr. Lambert,
As these two individuals had never met,
the landlord was obliged to introduce him•
feel highly honored—l am thankful
for this new indication of kindness,' said
Mr. Ward with emotion,'
understand,' said Mr. Lambert, 'that
you have been at work on an important me
'Yes sir, and I am happy to inform you
it is completed ; the model has gone to
Washington. I have used all the money
I could serape together to pay the expens
es of the patent right; but, sir, a manufac
turing company are ready to negotiate with
me for my machine, and irt a very short
time I shall be able to pay all my debts.'
Mr. Lambert had hitherto regarded hint
as a visionary. lie did not look like one;
lie did not speak like one. The thought
struck Mr. Lambert that he might alter all
be able to pay his rent.
have concluded that I might as well
permit you to remain here a short time
longer—although I am myself pressed for
money,' ho said, with a thoughtful air.
'My dear sir,' exclaimed Mr. Ward,
'this is a tam I had no right to expect, not
withstanding all you have done fur us; but
lam sincerely grateful. We are going in
to a miserable house, where we did not
anticipate residing more than three or four
weeks, or until I find my funds coining in;
and if we can remain here, you shall be
no loser by the operation. Your debt I
consider sncred ; those benefits snail never
'Benefits I I am not aware that you are
much indebted to me—,'
'You are pleased to say so—but for two
quarters rent you gave me receipts in full,
relying upon my honor at souse future time.
I have also received sums to ail me in pro•
seeming my invention. I have at no time
doubted but that they came from you.'
'Mr, Lambert pressed his furehetd with
his hand. And after a pause he said.
'And why, may I asl:.•.why did you
give me credit—?'
'Excuse me for mentioning the subject,'
said Mr. Ward, with emotion, •but although
you parted in anger from your sister—'
'Sul' exclaimed Mr, Lambert, starting
and changing color.
'!let's was a pardonable offence,' said
Mr. Ward. "She deelind uxurytng the
man whom you choose for a husband. You
disowned her; you have never met her
since. But this was years ago, and I knew
you could not cherish resentment so long."
~ My God," cried Mr. Lambert, "what do
you mean! I have heard nothing of her for
twenty years. I know not what has be.
come of her..
Mr. Ward fixed his eyes upon the
landlord in speechless astonishment.
, js it possible !" he murmured; 'are you
'Upon my soul ! I have made inquiries
for Mary, without success. I have sup
pdtbd her dead !'
'Then these benefits have not been be•
'Sir, 1 know nothing of what you say.
I die with suspense ! If you know any
thing of Mary, tell me what has become of
The tenant's eye looked searchingly
and earnestly into the landlord's face; then
taking him by the arm, he led him softly
and deliberately into another room.
There was a pale thin woman skiing in
an arm chair. She started on seeing twn
men enter ; and uttered a faint cry of sur-
'My brother !'
'Mary !' gasped Mr. Lambert, •can it be
'Your sister and my wife.'
• * • • •
An hour later, Mr. Lambert might have
been seen entering Charles Suchard's lodg,
ings. The young man was at home.--
With surprise he greeted his late employ.
or. The latter was apparently excited by
the occurrence of some recent event.
'Young man,' said he, 'I have learned
in what way you have spent your salary
the last year.'
'You have compromised me. I do not
wish to blame you but you should not have
left the Ward family to suppose the money
they received came Irons me. YOU paid
their rent and gave them receipts in my
'And do they know it ?' cried Charles.
'Why should they not? Why did you
not act openly with them ?`
hail no thought that you would be in
jured by being suspected of helping them,
and I had my reasons for not wishing
n as the author of their benefits,' said
demand your reasons.'
'The truth is, if I must confess it, I
hope some day to marry Mary Ward--
'She is a worthy girl, sir--'
'But this is no reason !' exclaimed Mr,
'Well, then, you must know, sir, had I
advanced money the faintly openly,' said
Charles recovering his self possession, and
his face beaming with frankness, .there
was a possibility that I might be suspected
of unworthy motives, And again, even
had it been otherwise, and I could have
won Miss Ward, as I would have wished
to win her, she might have loved me more
from a sense of gratitude than for myself;
and I would not have bought her love. As
it is, I—l hope she loves the for what I
am, and that she will accept my hand,
when I am in a position to support a wife.
'Charles, s aid Mr. Lambert, pressing
the young man's hand, honor you!—
You have . acted nobly. Return to your
situation ; you shall have the entrre con
trol of my business; your salary shall be
'But Mr. Carrol—'
.lle is not permanently engaged. I will
procure a place for him. Charles, you
toast come bank ! I confess I have acted
wrong in this matter. To tell you ase
cret, Charles, Mrs. Ward is toy own sis
'Four sister I'
do not wonder at your astonishment,
but it cannot equal mine, when I learned
the fact this morning. I disclaimed all
connection with her twenty years ago, be
cause she refused to marry a roan who
was my friend, I was unjust. Afterward
she married Mr. Ward of whom I knew
nothing. She supposed, however, that I
might have learned the fats, and all the
favors they have received from you have
thus been - rsedited to me. ,i...13e.! it shall all
be made right. I thank heaven that I now
have an opportunity to atone for my iujus•
Lice to en only sister, and to thank you for
the lessons of humanity you have taught
me. Wealthy as lam 1 shall never again
distress a tenant for rents, without ascer
taining whether he is deserving of any fa
Mr. Lambert was not permitted to do all
the good he proposed to his si , ter's family.
In a few days Mr, Ward's patent was de.
creed and his fortune made. Thanks to
his noble invention, his family were raised
to affluence; but Mrs. Ward did riot dis.
drain the kindness of a restored brother.
Mr. Lambert had lost no time in ac
quainting his relative with the nature of
their indebtedness to Charles Buchard. If
they esteemed and loved this generous
hearted young man before, what was now
their admiration of his noble qualities!--
None however felt their influence like
Miss Ward. The only way in which she
could express her joy, gratitude and love
was by becoming his wife, with a dowry
which relieved him of the care of providing
for the comforts of life. Prosperous in bu
siness, happy in his domestic relations,
Charles Buchard often had occasion to look
back to the time whin he left the service
of Mr. Lambert 'for conscience sake.'
The burial of the dead has not its sectari•
an, but its national forms, all of which
need correction and simplification. There
are, however, many beautiful associations
connected therewith, which in a manlier
offset the moot absurd form, and therefore
should not be lost sight of. The follow
ing form the Sun 11-axeise o Herald, gives
one phrase of tho buryal service among
the Chines e, and may interest, if it should
not instruct the reader.
"Yesterday was a great day in China
dom. A rich man heti died. Ile had, du
ring life, been a prominent merchant, and
occupied a position of influence among his
countrymen. His death was, therefore.
considered to be an event. if he had been
a poor man, he might have been carried
out folded up in a winding sheet, on the
back of his son, or seine faithful friond, and
tumbled into a nastily constructed grave,
and with the last sod laid over him would
have perished aff 'reonffections of his vir
tues or his faults. With the rich man it .
is different. 4is good qualities are enhan.
cod in the public estimation by n knowl
edge of his wealth. Virtue, when associ
ated with large possessions, shines out
with a pure refulgence, while poverty ob
scures the brightest rays. ft is so in civ-
lined communities, and tho Chinese have
not been bad imitators. The Chinese mer
chant at whose grave a most curious cere
mony was performed yesterday, died about
three weeks ago. He was interred in the
lone Mountain Cernetry without any pomp.
Yesterday, however, a large number of re•
lotions and friends proceeded to his grave
for the purpose of making offerings to his
manes. A reverence for the dead is one of
the meat striking characteristics of the
Chinese race. It is, i n tact, the corner
stone of their religious belief. On arriving
at the grave, the whole company alighted
from the carriages in which they had been
conveyed; and commenced the ceremony
by spreading meats all around it, A roast
pig was placed at the foot, something else
at the head, while all over it were s. rowed
apple dumplings, fruits and flowers. To !
an outside barbarian it looked Very like a
well gotten up pie•nic, and to all appear-
once, all that the Chinese present requi- !
red in order to make a very good meal,
which would certainly be a very sensible
way of testifying their respect for the
memory of their deceased friends, were the
chopsticks, The delicacies were, howcv- I
er, all intended for the hungry soul of the
merchant, which had not tasted food for
three weeks (a privation that would no
doubt have been seriously felt if it had
been in the flesh,) and which it was sup
posed was hovering around, smacking its
lips over the dainty food they had provided
for it. As soon as all the eatables were
laid on the grave, the widow of the decea
sed hobbled up and took her stand at the
foot. Around her head several yards of
white cloth were rolled. A priest, with a
very curly pig tail, a very long blue gown
reaching to his feet, and a very long face,
stood at the head. The friends and rela
tires stood around. As soon as the wo
man commenced wail, all the clothes ,
of the deceased were taken out of a trunk
and set on fire.
Among the clothes were several pieces
of tine silk, which had apparently never
been worn. Four canary birds were let
loose, in order to help the soul of the de-
Iceased in its flight to another world, and
when the clothes were renowned, and the
canary birds had taken shelter in the neigh
boring shrubs, the priest with the long face
rang a bell which he had in his hand, at
the same time muttering a prayer or in
cantation, A general howl. Theceremcny
was concluded by the whole company
marching around the grave headed by the
priest, who rang .t bell at every step, and
looked solemn indeed. The pig and ap
ple dumplings, and the fruits and flowers
and the matting were all carefully packed
up and placed in the carriages, and the
whole party then returned to town, where,
we are informed, the eatables exposed on
the grove will be sold in small pieces at
exhorbitant prices to those who are reli
Ancient and Modern Times.
We live in better times than did our fore
fathers ; times of more enlightment and
public candor in examinating into the claims
of discoveries and inventions, and in awn
ding their out hors that honor and remu
neration which they so justly deserve.—
It is sorrowful to reflect upon the suffer
ings which ancient inventors endured for
those heaven-born gifts which now cum•
mend so much admiration. Roger Bacon
was forbiden to lecture, and when sixty
four years of age was imprisoned in his
cell for ten years, for the offence of ma
king concave end convex glasses, the cam
era obscure, and burying glasses. Galil
eo was also imprisoned for his discoveries I
in anatomy, and good evidence of his be
ing put to the torture aecretely for publish
ing his opinions, is not wanting. Gut-
Lemberg and Faust, the inventors of prin.
sing, were looked upon as having sold I
themselves to Satan, and were regarded
We might present a long list of mar
tyrs to science, discovery and invention,
but time and space . would fail us. 'We
rejoice that the days of such persecutions
and trials are gone past forever. Still there
may be many pergons living in our day,
who are imbued with prejudices against
new projects and new discoveries, and
may be given to the habit of sneering at
new improvements in machinery, especial
ly if made by inventors not engaged in the
line of business which the machinery is
deslgned to improve and advance. It is
our opinion that such prejudices are not
uncommon in factory or workship—but
they are wrong, very wrong. A machin
ist is liable to sneer at an invention made
by a weaver, if it relates to a tool ; and a
weaver to sneer at that of an engineer, if
it relates to a loom. These trade prejudi.
ces are perfectly natural, for the machinist
may well consider that a weever cannot
be very conversant with lathes and drills; I Stuck up Folks.
and the weaver may well exclaim, . 4 what 1 "I don't like these people, they are so
does an engineer know about a loom?"—! dreadfully stuck up,' was the remark we
This is natural we say, but not always cor-; overheard the other day. What are stuck
rect. The man who is accustomed to up' people, thought we. and we have been
work at one branch of business becomes looking about to see if we could find any.
habituated to its very defects, and, in a ; Do you see that young man over pa
measure, insensible or blind to them. On der, leaning against the post of that hotel
the other hand, a stranger to that business, j piazza, twirling a shadow walking stick
Horan ingenious turn of mind, is more j now and then, touting the hair on his up
ready to notice such defects, and to plan per-bp, and watching every lady that pass
and labor to make improvements.. This es, net that he cares to see them, but is
is perhaps not a general rule, but it has leanxious to know whether they see him ;
happened in very many instances. jhe belongs to the 'stuck up folks.' What
Arkwright was a barber, yet he inven.l is the occasion f Well, he happens to
ted a most valuable improvement in cotton ; have a rich father, and a foolish vain moth.
spinning machinery. Whitney was not er, who have taught him that he isn't com
a maker of cotton machines when ho in. mon folks ai ail, and that poverty is almost
vented the saw-gig. Cartwright, the in- the same as vulgarity and meanness, and
venter of the power-loom, was an Episco- so he hits become 'stuck up,' he does not
palian clergyman. Forsyth, the inventor I take pains to learn nnything, for he does
of the precussion lock for fire-arms, was a I not feel this need of knowing any more, he
Presbyterian minister, and the !lee. E. I does not work for he was never required
Burt, of Manchester, Conn. was the in- to, and is extensively "stuck up" that he
vector of the first American checklOom. i has net the least idea that he will ever
We could present a long list of inventors come down—he does not know, !lowest
who have made valuable improvements on
machines entirely out of their own line of
business. In view of these facts, let us
say to every man, banish every thought
of prejudice against any new intention
that may be brought under your consider
ation, no matter who its author may be.—
Examine the invention; do so carefully,
and then candidly judge of its merits and
demerits,—judge it on its own account a
lone, for many good improvements have
been prevented for years, from finding
their ivay into general use, simply bCcause
of prejudice in examining Into their me
Fighting Indians with Blood Hounds.
A correspondent of the N. 0. l'icay. •
une gives an account of a fight between
Sam Jones, a notorious despera.lo o.` Texas
and fifteen of the Lipan Indians. Ha was
in his cornfield when they made their ap
pearance. but managed to escape, with as
old German into his cabin.
The Indians surrounded the house with
hideous yells. The old man had but little
autunition, and was, of coarse, comcious
that every shot should teil. When the
Indians would attempt to break in the slight
door, lie would shoot, and while he was
loading, the German would keep them
at bay, by pointing un unfunded gun at
them through the crevices of the house.
They managed in this way till the outside
was bristling with arrows, aimed at them
between the logs, and the old man's pow
der had given out. At this moment the
Indians retreated a short distance to hold a
council Thv besieged availed themselves
of the chance to get the assistance of a
dozen blood-hounds that. were confined in
an out-building. Under cover of the two
unloaded guns, INlrs. Jones liberated the
dogs. Hero was a reinforcement the red
scamps bad not calculated upon, and in
the twinkling of an oye five of the Indians
were her u combat. The balance came
to the rescue, and soon shot all the remain.
der of their arrows into the dogs, and beat
a retreat, bearing their wounded, beating
off the dogs with their bows, their buck
skins in tatter, and blood streaming from
every one of them.
After the fight the field exhibited one
dead Indian, three dead dogs. sundry pie
ces of buckskin, mingled with clotted
masses of Indian flesh. hundreds. of ar.
rows and pieces of arrows.
God Pity the Drunkard.
For from appearances generally, his fel
low man has decided not to do so. He is
on the downward track— give him a push.
He has no feeling, they all were gone long
ago; give hits a 164, hurry hint along
Hell's road, he is cf no account.
God pity tht drunkard's wife, for the
Rumseller has no compassion on her.-•-
What right has she to live—poor miserable
creature that alto is. She no longer wears
fine silks and her rich furs•--she is, a rag
ged nuisance, let her be sent to work
house,or somewhere else.
God pity the drunkard's child, for the
neighbors do not allow their children to as
sociate with a drunkard's son. Oh, no !
God pity the drunkard and his family, we
say, and enlighten mankind so as to make
them enlist in the cause of humanity, fur
verily the drunkard has a soul,
The drunkard's wife quite often is a
woman of refinement, and beneath the
rough garments of yon son of an out-cast
lies a jewel--a diamond and an intellect
of uncommon brilliancy. Pity the poor
drunkard, oh ye of little charity, and you
will be pitied by your Father in Heaven.
tom. The eyes of a pretty woman are
the interpreters of the language of her heart.
They translate what her tongue has a gte.tt
difficulty in expressing.
VOL. XXI. NO. 9
There goes a young woman—lady, she
calls herself—with the most condescend
ing air to nobody in particular, and nn all
prevading consciousness that ' , all creation
the rest of mankind" are looking at
and admiring her ; she never earned the
It she eats, knows a little very little of
ved many things, and nothing thorough•
ly of anything ; is most anxious lost she
Inlaid be troubled to make a selection out
fifty young men, all of whom aro dying
f her, she supposes ; she is ono of the
~ s tuck up," folks and that is about all she
The oddish gentleman over the way,
barricaded with half a yard of shirt collar
guarded by gold headed cane, with a pom
pous patronizing air— do you see him 1—
Well, ho is one of the "stuck up" too.—
Ile has been so about ten years, since he
got off his leather apron, and began to spec
ulate successfully in real estate. There
are other fools of this class, some "stuck
up" by ha
ble. justice of the peace, an alderman. and
in various other trays, they got 'stuck up'
uoti.ms. They are not proud people, for
they do not rise to the dignity .! pride;
they are not distinguished folks for they
have nut ability or character enough to
make them so--they are just what they
appear to be "stuck up ;" let theta stick.
It Beautiful Figure
Life is beautifully compared to a foun•
tain fed by a thousand streams that perish
if ono be dried. It is a silver cord twisted
with a thousand strings that part mul der
if one be brolien. Frail and thoughtless
mortals arc surrounded by innumerable
dangers which stake it much more strange
that they escape so lon, than that they al•
most all perish suddenly at last. We are
encompassed with accidents every day to
crush the mouldering tenements we inhab
it, TM; seeds of disease are planted in
our coustitutions by nature. The earth
and atmosphere whence we draw the
breath of life are impregnated with death;
health is wade to operate its own dee ruc•
tkon ; the food that noui ishes cont..ining
the elements of decay ; the soul that ant•
tastes by vivilying first, tends to Wear it
out by its own action ; death lurks in am.
bush along every path. Notwithstanding
this is the truth, so palpably confirmed by
the daily example before Liar eyes, how lit
tle do we lay it to heart ! sue our
friends and neighbors among us, but how
seldom does it occur to our thought, that
our knell shall perhaps give the next (ruit
less warning to the world !
Be not Proud
I never could count how many causes
went to produce any given effect or action,
and have been for my own part, many a
time quite misled in my own case, fancy
some grand, some magnanimous, some vir
tuous reason for an action of which I was
rood—wlren, 10, some pert little satirical
monitor springs up inwardly, upsetting the
fond humbug which I was cherishing—
the peacock's tail wherein my absurd van.
ity had clad itself—and says, "Away with
boasting : /am the cause of your virtue,
my lad. You ore pleased that yesterday
ut dinner you refrained front the dry cham
pagne ; my name is Worldly Prurience,
not Self-Denial, and 1 caused you to re
frain. You are pleased because you gave
a guinea to Diddles; I am Laziness. not
Generosity, which inspired you. You
hug yourselfyou resisted other temptations.
Coward ! it was because you dared not run
the risk of the wrong ! Out with your pea.
cock's plumage ! Walk off in the feath•
ers which Nature gave you, and thank
Heaven they are not altogether black'