, 4 • . .• „ 111 1:1k: A • 11/ t. ,• • WILLIAM BREWSTER, 1 EDITORS. SAM. G. WHITTAKER, J cseltd Voctrg. Years to Come. ar CHARLES SWAIN. A day will dawn I ne . er shall see, A night shall set I ne'er shall know, The wave•tide of humanity Thus ever circle, to and fro. The dea with gems chit bendlhe flower, The bird make rich and morn with song, And Mind, still climbing hour by hour, Find worlds beyond the starry throng. Years shall return to future years What ages unto them have given, And that high power which Faith reveals, (imps the faxed hopes of earthaud Heal , en. What younger ffowatd then might feel— What other Wilbertbree arise— What Burke assert the general weal— What Ross or Newton span the skies? The joys, the hopes, the interest, That animate the booms now, Shall lend their glow to other breasts— And Hush the young enthusiast's brow. The majesty of manhood then May aim at some diviner worth, And Progress grant to future men A wider brotherhood on earth. What theory shall then succeed ? What deeper power—what newer theme— What fresh discovery supersede The electric flash—the steam 1 Who'll he the bard of England dear. When centuries have ailed and fled ? Or who the statesman crowds will cheer, Worthy the Peels or Chatham dead? The Tr:lesions thnt distract mankind— The pride—the envy—the mistrust— Shall they be scattered on the wind That lifts the bitterer of the just? Shall Christina 53115 C e'er sheath the sword, Shall simple Justice rule the land, Shall Law its shield of right afford, A right that all may understand ? RiisctClang. LIFE OR DEATH BY EI,IIIU EVERITT The scene opens with a view of the great Natural Bridge of Virginia. There are three or four lads standing in the chan nel below, looking up with owe to the vast arch of unhewn tocka with the almighty bridge over their everlasting abutments, when the morning stars song together - The little piece of sky, spanning h tse measureless piers, is full of stars thutigh it is midday. It is almost five hundred feet from where they stand, up these per• pendicular bulwarks of limestone, to the vast arch, which appears to them only the size of a man's hand. The silence of death is rendered more impressive by the little stream that runs from rock to rock, down the channel. The sun is darkened and the bays have unconsciously uncover ed their heads, as standing to tho pros. ence chamber of the Majesty of the whole earth. At lust, this feeling begins to wear away.-.they begin to look around them.— They see the names of hundreds cut in the limestone abutments. A netv feeling, come over; their knives are in hand in an instant. , 'What titan has done, man can do," is the watchword, while they draw themselves up, and carve their names a foot above those of a hundred full grown men who had been there before them. They are all satisfied with this feat of physical exertion except one, whose exam. pie illustrates perfectly the forgotten truth that there is no royal road to intellectual eminence. This ambitious youth sees a name just above hie reach--•a name that shall be green in the memory of the world when those of Alexander, Cassar and Bonaparte, shall rot in oblivion. It was the name of Washington. Before he marched with Braddock to the fatal field, he liad been there and lett his name a foot above all his predecessors. It was a glo rious thought of a boy to write his name aide and side with that of the great father of his country. He grasps his knife with a firmer hand--•and clinging to a little jut ting crag, he cuts into the limestone, about a foot above where he stands; but as he puts feet and hands Into these gains, and draws himself carefully to his full length, he finds himself a foot above every name chronicled on that mighty wall. While his companions are regarding him with concern and admiration, he cuts his natne in huge capitals, large and deep, into the flinty album. His knife is still in his hand, and strength in his sinews, end a new oreated aspiration in his heart. Again he cuts another niche, and again he carves hie natne in large capitals. This is not enough. Heedless of the entree ties of his companions, he cut and climbs again. The graduation of his ascending scale grew wider apart. He measures his length at every gain he cuts. The voice of his friends grow weaker, till their words are finally lost on his ear. He now, for the first time, casts a look beneath him.-- Had that glance listened a moment, that moment would have been his last. He clings, with a convulsive shudder. to his little niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits his almost certain fall. He is faint from severe exertion, and trembling from the sudden view of the dreadful destina tion to which he is exposed. His knife is worn half way to the haft. He can hear the voices, but not the cries of his terror stricken companions below What a mea gre change to escape destruction. There is no retracing his steps. It is impoisible to put his hands in the same niche with his feet, and retain his hold a moment.-- pis companions instantly perceived this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall, with emotions that “freeze their young blood." He is too high, too faint, to ask for his father and mother,-his brothers and sisters, to come and witness or avert his destruction. But one of his compan ions anticipated his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds down the channel and the fearful situation is told upon his fa ther's hearthstone. Minutes of almost eternal length roll on and there were hundreds standing in the rocky channel and hundreds on the bridge above, all holding their breath, and awai ting that fearful catastrophe. The poor boy hears the hum of new and numerous voices both above and below. He can just distinguish the tones of his father's voice who is shouting with all the energy of despair: •'W ! William ! don't look down-- your mother, and Henry, and H-tr rict, are all here praying for you. Keep your eyes towards the top." The boy didn't look down—his eyes are fixed like a flint toward heaven; and his young heart on him who reigns there ..... He grasps again his knife. He cuts an other niche is added to the hundreds that removed him from human help below.— How carefully he uses his wasting blade. How anxiously he selects the softest place in that pier. How he avoids every flinty grain How he economises his physical powers—resting a moment at each grain he cuts. How every motion is watched Ir,m below. There stand his huller. and mother brother and on the very spot where if he fol. he will not fall alone. The sun is 'mildew!' in the West. The Lid had mode fifty additional inches in the mighty wall, and now finds himself direct. ly the middle of the vast arch of rocks, earth and trees. He must cut his way in a new direction to get over this over hanging mountain. This inscription of hope is dying, in his bosom. its vital feeling is fed by the in creased shouts of hundreds perched upon cliffs and trees, and others who stand with ropes in their bands, on the bridge above or with the bidder below. Fifty grains more rtoi,t be cut, before the longest rope can reach him. jibs wasting blade again strikes into the limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot, from under the lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready in the hands of those who are leaning over the other edge of the bridge. Two minutes more and all will be over. The hlade is worn to the last half inch. The boy's head reels, and his eyes are staring from their sockets. His last hope is dying in his heart. That niche is his last. At the last feint gash he makes, his knife---his faithful knife— falls from his hand and ringing along the precipice, fell at his mother's feet. An involuntary groan of despair runs a death•kneli through the channel below, and all is as still as the grave. At the great height of near three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts his hopeli-ss heart closing eyes, to commend his soul to God. 'Tis a moment---there!—One foot swings off--he is reeling—trembling—toppling over into eternity ! Hark ! a shout falls on his ear from above ! The men who is lying with half his length over the bridge has a glimpse of the boy's head and shoul ders. Quick as thought. the noosed rope is within reach of the sinking youth. No one breathes. With a faint covulsive ef fort the swooning boy drops his arms Into the noose. Darkness came over him with the words, God ! Mother ! whispered on his lips, just loud enough to be heard in heaven, the tightening rope lifts him out of his last shallow niche. Not a lip moves while he is dangling over the fear. ful abyss; but when a :Purdy Virginian reaches down, and draws the lad up, and holds him in his arms before the fearful breathless multitude, such leaping and weeping for joy, never greeted the ear of human being so recovered frost the yaw ning gulf of eternity. Tim Two Plertntes have subdued the nations of the earth; is there other world to conquer ?"—.4l,rand , r the Grp at. ‘ , l have fought the good fight—l have finished my course, henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness."—Sl. Paul. " LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE. " HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNEsDAY, JUNE 4, 1856. A PRIVATE ROOTI; -OR THE EFFECTS OF PUNCH DRINKING, One particular dark. damp, dull, driz zly and disagreeable day, in the latter part of Novemher, a tall, gaunt, queer-looking customer. dri-s.ed in a blue coat with yel. low buttons, with "valler" striped pants loons, and calf skin terminate ins, sat "sol itary and alone" in a little room, situated in a certain little tavern, in street, Philadelphia. Before him was a little round table, on whose marble top was -not a little,' pitch er of smoking punch, .screechen hot,' and a wine glass. The solitary individual was York—nothin' else, dear child—and that was his second pitcher full—nigh his sec ond empty. One minute after and you couldn't—fact you see—have squeezed a drop out of either pitcher or glass by a forty-two power hydraulic press. York rang the bell. 'T he waiter pop ped his head in the door. sa ?' 'Of course I did.' Is it clearing off ?' 'No,sa—damp, sa—fog so thick, sa. you could ladle it out 'II a spoon, sa. Have anything, sa 1' 'More punch, and strong.' 'Yes, sa—imine,liately, so.' The waiter withdrew, and in a few sec onds returned with a third pitcher of punch and York was beginning to feel glorious, when, on raising up his eyes, he saw his Own figure in a pier glass, directly o, posit, He rubbed his eyes again. 'By thunder!' said he. here's sent- fel low sitting right before net I'll swear th , re is impudence fur you! This is a partite room, for my sole accommodation ' He waited a minute, expecting an an swer, but his reflectioi. only stared at him and held its peace. .1 was saying, sir, that this is my privitie room—none, sir cried York, fetching his voice an o,lltre higher than it so, be fore. No answer was roil :o. and he rubs the lull Cu e, appearance again. s., ?' , Yes, I did ring, Didn't lack for a pr, vale room r •Yes, Sa, this is a privaie room, sa.' •ft is? Why there's n fellow sitting right opposite me now, on the other side of he table. Rot his impudence. 'ruble. sa—fellow, sa ?' 'Yes, there is • Well. just never mind Bring on some more punch nod a couple of glasses.' In a very short time, the fourth pitcher with two glasses, mode ill] appearance. York filled one of the glasses, and then shoved it over the table. .Will you drink ?' said he, addressing the figure in th.. glass. 'Oh, you won't eh 1 Well, I—l will." And so he did• 'Better drink, old fellow,' continued he, 'Your liquor is getting cold, and you look as if you was fond of the thing.' No answer boing returned. York fin ished the pitcher. and rang the bell again. In popped the waiter. sa be sure I did. Didn't you hear the b-b.bell I' did' Didn't I order a p p private room, eh I' 'Yes, so, this is a private room, sa ' .A pretty private this is, " ith a 1-t fel• low sitting right op, osite that won't Luke a glass of punch when it's offered him, and ar r red nosed man at that. 0, well never mind, bring more punch, and t•t•tumblers. t'll try him again.' Presently pitcher number five with glas. sea to snatch, was borne in with duo state. 'Better try some, old boy,' said York, coaxingly, to his double. The reflex mi•rely booked good natured but said nu. thing. Well,' continued York, with a sigh, •if this isn't the most infamous. Never mind, I'll drink the punch. And so he did, every bit of it About five minutes sufficed to end the , itcher.— York rang the bell superluriously. The waiter clone tigain. , Iting, sit 1' 'Why certain. Why Fhould ' nt Il— —here's the 11111 n-w ho ku ups the—place?' .11oss, ea 1 I 11 see 'its, au.' Shortly alter (nine host, a quiet-looking little titan, with a mottled, calico pattern face and a shining bald head, made his ap pears nee. 'W-w-what's to pay V demanded York, rising and assuming no air of dignity. 'rive punches—five levies, sir iThere a the money, air,' said York, fur king over the coin. 'And now I want to know why, when I call In a private room, you should put me in with s•s somebody else" 'There's nobody bare but you and I, sir?' 'Nobody ! Do you s-s spore I can't see ? Do you think I'm drunk ? There, look there ! two of 'em, by jingo !' 'Well, sir, I must confess, I can't see but us two.' .You can't, eh And York driirrred the landlord to the table. 'Look there.' continued he, pointing to the gloss Th. th there's the rascals now One of "ms enough like you to be your brother, and the other is the most Lord forsaken, mean est looking white man ever I saw.' Punctuation. A country schoolmaster, who found it rather difficult to make his pupils observe the difference in reading between a corn ma and a full point, adopted a plan of his own, which, he flattered himself, would make them proficient in the art of punct uation; thus, in reading, when they came to a comma, they were to my tick, and read on to a colon or semicolon, lick, tick, and when a full point. tick, tick. tick.— Now it so happened that the worthy Do mime received notice that the parish min• ister wits to pny a visit of examination to his school, and as he was desirous that his pupils should show to the hest ndvantazo, he gave them an extra drill the day before the examination. Now,' en d he, addri,s- lug his pupils when von recd before the minister tomorrow you leave out the licks though you must think than as von go a long, for the tot ko of elocution.' So fur on good. Nest day cams and with it the min inter, ushered into the scholi loom by the Domain te, who with smiles and bows. ho• pod that the training of the scholars would meet his approval. Now it so .happened that the first boy called up by the minis ter had been absent the day previous, and in a hurry, the roaster had forgotten to give him instructions how to act The minister asked the boy to rend n chapter in the Old ' etrnment, Which he pointed out The boy complied. nod in .bin best no ceet bz , gan to reail OW Lord sdal, unto Moses saying fir*. speak unto the 'Children of Israel. saying lick, irk. am! o , as shalt thou soy unto theta 'irk. /irk. lick' The unfortunate sally. in his own style, acted like tr showerlatth on the poor whit,' the minister mid his friend., almost died of laughter —Conn Scbool Journal. BARNUM'S MASTERPIECE. Ramuto lots performed many wonders, but the greatest of all is the following:—lt consists in nothing less than passing down the Niagara cataract ie a vessel construct ed for this purpose. The vessel is a ball of gotta percha, thirty feet in diameter, supported in its interior by hoops, riegs of steel, and wood. Strings of gum, percha coining from four points of the rinse, meet in the centre of the sphere, where they are fixed to a seat of mail of the seine nia traria! This is so fixed that a m u m buck led in It hangs, supported by four strings, safe in the middle of the ball At the low• er end of the ball, where the lower part of the mail is directed, some lead is put, so that swimming in the water the head side will be turned upwards. In this up. per part there is a hole which may be op erred by the person in the interior The ball is so strong as to sustain, without dan ger, the shock of the fall. On account of its size it cannot sink, nor can the person buckled in the coat of mail suffer any harm from the violence of the fall. As soon us the ball, after its fall. has found its centre of gravity, its inhabitant unbuckles him self, opens the flap, and gets out of the hold, swaying the United States colors tin der the applause of some 50.000 or 100,- 000 spectittors, whom liart,um lotends to assemble, one dollar each, upon the occa sion of his first perfortnamm From eve ry such performance a gain of 820.000 or 1130.000 is to 6 counted on, since from till parts of the Union spectators will flock to the caiaract of Ni agora Barnum is about to stake an experiment with a dog. If that animal arrives till right below a nigger will be engaged for the next experiment. If that one arrives equally safe, the Yankee undertakes the serious passage himself. CORN STALKS FOR lls:AvEs gen. tlentan, in the American Agriculturist, states that he thoroughly cured a fine young mare afflicted with the heaves, by feeding her on corn stalks and that the dis ease never returned. The writer quotes Judge litters opinion as to corn stalks be ing a remedy, that distingui.•ltrd itgricul tu riot having a horse afflicted with that disorder, which disappeared after being so fed. wag proposes to publish a new paper to bo called the Comet, with an ori ginal talc every weak. SPEECH OF MR. SUM R. Tile offensive Us rda and aileged cam of the attack of AB. Brooks. There is no doubt that the lang:ne,e of Mr. Sumner was severe—bold and per. hops, offensive. But that is a mere mitt. ter of- opinion, and no justification what ever for the brutal outrage perpetrated not only upon hitn, bat upon the whole coun try. The following is on extract from the speech, showing precisely what he did say : « * * With regret, I come again upon the Senator front South Carolina (Mr. Butler) who. omnipresent in this debate, overflow ed with rage at the simple suggestion that Kansas had applied for admission as a 2:ate; and with incoherent phrases, dis charged the ; 'uose expectoration of his speech now upon her Representative, end then upon her people. There was no ex travagance of the ancient parliamentary debate which he did not repeat ; nor was there any pocsible deviation from truth which he did not make, with so much of passion, I sin glad to add, as to save him from the suspicion of intentional aberra tion. But the Senator touches nothing which - 1 he does not disfigure—with error, some times of principle; sometimes of few. Ho blsows an incapacity of accuracy, whether in slating the Constitution or in stating the City, whether in the details of statistioa or he diversions of scholarship. He cennot aspen his mouth but out the e flies a blun der. Surely he ought to be fornitiar with the lute mil Franklin ; nod yet he ttdurred to this; household character, while acting tof our fathers in England a.- above susiamon ; and this wan drone that he might girt point ton false conthast with the agent Of Kar,sas—mist knowing that, however, they may difler in genius and fame, in this experience they are alike ; that Franklin, when entrusted with the petition of Massa. olturcu, Bay, was ai:suttlted by a foul-mouth ea speaker. where he could not be heard ;•.nd denouncd as a utLief," ,r,i as tho agent of Kansas has been as on this flour, arid denounced as a Anal let not the vanity of the Senator be inspired hy the parallel with the British statesmen of that dsy ; for it is only in hostility to Freedom that any par idlel cull be recognised. But it is against the people of Kansas that the scoot bilines of the Senator are par ticularly aroused. Comiug, ns he announ. ces,"lrcan a :state"—aye, Sir, front South Carolina—he turns with lordly disgust front this newly formed coin:nattily, which will not recognize even as ~ a body pol itic " Pray, Sir, by what title does he indulge in this egotism ? Has ht. read the history of "the State" which he repre sents ? flu cannot surely have forgotten its shameful imbecility from Slavery. con fessed throughout the Revolution, followed by its shameful assumptions for slavery since. He cannot have forgotten its caret• cited persistence to the slave trade as the very apple of it, eye, and the condition of its participation in the Union. He enema have forgotten its Constitution, which is re publican only in name, confirming power to the hands of the few, and founding the qualifications of voters on "a settled free- • bold estate and ten negroes." And yet the Senator, to whom that "State" . ltas in part committed the guardianship of its good name, instead of moving, with back. ward treading steps, to cover its nakedness, rushes forward in the very ecstasy of triad , stens, to expose it by provoking a contpari• son with Kansas. South Carolina is old ; Kansas is young. South Carolina counts by centuries where Kansas counts by years. Hut a beneficent example may be born in a day ; and I venture to say that against the two centuries of the older "State," may be already set the two years nt the younger community. liitt,the one is the long of Slavery; in the other hymn's of freedom. And if we glance at special aehi.•ventnts, it will be difficult to find anything in the history of South Carolina which presents on much of heroic spirit in a heroic cause as rep ears in that repulse of the Vlissouri invaders by the belengured town of Lawrence, where even the women gave their effective efforts to freedom. The matrons of Mane, who poured their jewels into the treasury for the public defence— the wives of Prussia, who, with delicate fingers, cl thed their defenders against b'rench invasion—the mothers of our ow•n Revolution, who sent forth their sons, cov ered wick prayers and blessings, to c imbat for Human Rights (lid nothing of self sac rifice truer than did these women on this occasion. Were the whole history or South Carolina blotted out of existence, from its very beginning down to the day of its last election of the Senator to his present seat on this floor, civilisation might lose-1 do „ ra ,. r not ray how little ; but surely less than it has already gained by the example cf Kan sas. in it valiant struggle against oppres. sins, and in !he development of a new set- ence of emigration. Already, in Lawrence alone, there are newspapers and schools, including a high school, and throughout the Territory there is more academic edu- ! cation than in all Missouri outside of St. Louts, and far more, in proportion to its inhabitants, than in all South Carolina. Ah ! air, I tell the Senator that Kansas, welcomed as a free State, will be a ',min istering angel" to the Republic when South Carolina, in the croak of darkness which she hugs, "lies howling." The Senator I from Illinois ( %Ir. Douglass) naturally joins' the Senator from south Carolina in this warfare and gives to it the superior inten• sity of his nature. Ile thinks that the Na tional Government has not completely pro ved its power, as it has never hanged a i traitor ; but if the occasion requires, he hopes there will be no hesitation ; and this threat is directed to Kansas, and even at the friends of Kansas throughout the coun try Again occurs the parallel with the struggle of our fathers, and I borrow the language of Patrick Henry. when, to the cry from the Senator of treason," "trea son," I reply, "if this be treason, make the most of it." Sir, it is easy to call nurses ; but I beg to tell the Senator that , if the word ' , traitor" is in any way appli cable to those who refuse submission to a tyrannical usurpation, whether in Kansas or elsewhere, then must some new word, of deeper color be invented, to desigoste those tried spirits who would endanger and degrade the Republic, while they betray all the cherished sentiments of the Fathers and the spirit of the Constitution. in order to give new spread to Slavery. Let the I Senator pruceed. It will not be the first I time in history that a scaffold erected for punishment has become a pedestal of hon or. Out of death conies life, and the ' , lnd. tar" whom he blindly executes, will live immortal in the cause Ifow to Put off tits Old Mau—A Fact. Pars your hand over Deacon ?Xs head, and about an inch and a hit above, and a little forward of the ears, you find a protu berance which phrenologists call the bump of acquis ilivenca. By nature the Deacon loved Mammon ; by grace he loved God Between them there was continual war. Both fought— one like Michael the other like the Devil. As there was long war between the house of David and the house of Saul, su there was long war in the earthly house of the Deacon. As with Giar so with the Deacon; a troop overcame him, but he overcame at last, as appears by the following circam- In the same church with Deacon M. was a poor brother. The poor gnat] had the misfortune to lose his cow. She died. To get him another, the good Deacon hea ded a subscription with five dollars, and paid it. This net disquieted Mammon.— Nlamtnon, with true Inariw zeal, began to rant and rave : , -Why this waste ? cha rity begins at home ; the more you give the more you may ; let people learn to inks care of themselves." The Deacon was a Baptist; but he found that the baptismal water did neither drown wash away, or wash clean the old man.— The tempter backed Mammon and putting a glass to the Deacon's eye, showed him, not the kingdoms and glories of this world, but the poor-house, wretchedness, poverty and rags, and said : "All these things will your master give you in your old age as a reward of your charity." To still these clamors, Deacon M. went to the destitute mon, and told him he must give back the five dollars. The poor man returned it. This last act aroused the NEW MAN, an 4 now nature and grace stood face to face. To give, or not to give, that was the question. Thus stood the Deacon, poising and bal ancing and !Ailing between two opinions. The t .eacon spoke : "My brother, noise men ara troubled with their old women ; I am troubled with sty ob 1 nzan. I must put off my old man, as the Jews put oil their new man—crucify crucify him.' Then unstrapping his pocket-book, he took out a lea dollar bill and gave the poor man. "There," said the Deacon, “my old man ; say another word, and give him twenty dellars.—Christian c' y. A STUMP PULLER Mr. Luther Hamp ton, of Woodbridge. N J., says that the cheapest and best "stump puller" is to cut down the tree, remove the limbs, chain . the butt end to the stump, and then hitch a team to tho top of the tree and drive them round. The log lever thus obtained will "yank" out any stump that does not hang worse than a four pronged double toe .h. strong chain will be needed. VOL. XXL NO. 23. Sinular Instance of Sagacity in alien. MT. Philander Pierce, of Marquette ; Wisconsin, communicates the following to the Country Gentleman, Albany New York. 'A few day, since I purchased a hen of Mr. Odell, now a resident of our 'village, who informed me that she was one of the first settlers of Wisconsin, and having a particular regard for old age, I concluded to keep Mrs. Biddy, and witness the ef fects of age in her declining years. Whether there is a natural respect for age among certain animals. I will not at tempt to decide ; but certain it is that not a biped upon the farm ever attempted to , cross her inclination, or dispute her author ity ; and if there was a fowl of whose or gan of self esteem was prominently devel oped, it was her. Nothing remarkable occurred aside from her haughty deportment, till the last year of her life, which was in 1851, when she became extremely decrepit, and was able to walk but a few steps without stop ping to rest; and it by any mishap she was thrown on her side, she was unable to regain her feet until some one come to her assistance. Decrepit as she %vas, howev er, she had a litter of eggs, and commen ced the process of ineuhatlisn. Her health failing rapidly, it soon became evident that she could not survive long enough to fin ish her tack. One morning I observed her leaving her nest, anti directing her course toward the place where she received her daily food. She proceeded a little ways distant where she came in company with another hen who teas walking, leisurely through the yard. Both stopped, and putting their heads together, as ii in close and confi dential conversation. Having arrived at the neat. a long conversation apparent ly ensued, after which the young lien, carefully placing herself on the nest, took charge of the eggs as if they were her own, while the old hen, as if conscious of her inability to proceed with her task, had provided a mother for the expected offsprings, and bidding a final adieu to the place where the ties of nature had bound bur affection, she left the scene. She nev er afterward took any notice of her cost or exhibited any regard for her eggs. She appeared conscious of her approach ing end and taking her station near where she received her food, she never left the spot, but expired. The step-mother reared the chickens with all the attention and affection of an own moth r.' The Pitifulness of Pretence. All men should guard against preferen ces as they would guard against sudden death. All culture is limited, and though many aim at perfection nobody but a a fool will profess to ham attained it. It is best to make no secret of one's little attain ments ; the keen eye of society will guage them sooner or later. Nothing in this world is mere ridiculous than a butterfly man of taste, mincing phrases, out of whose mouth perpetually flows a week dribble of critical slaver; who says with great pomp nothing at all; who has al ways read the last poem, and has been en. chanted by the admiration of others for it ; who can tell a Titian from a Leonardo de Vinci by the cracks in the canvas ; who knows Just what gospell3eethoven puts in to the vibrations of the catgut, what truth he growls in the bassoons, or squeaks in hautboys ; who knows more of Dante than of Shakespeare, and not much of either. Into this fiddle faddle may no earnest p.rtisan, oi;.eking for the compensations e. ven in the sincerity of confessed ignorance of life, fall. There is something bettor for him oven in the sincerity of confessed ignorance.... There is something better far in agenuine effort to make his daily life well balanced and beautiful. The first lesson which a contemplation truly philocophic, will teach him, will be the folly of discoiltent. Bread and beef may be dear ; his toil, from sun rise to sunset hard landlord avaricious and taxes high; but there are great enjoy ments which nothing can take from him. His are the brave overarching skies, his the broad landscape, his the first gentle breath of spring his the luxurious deliquim of autumn. Men of imagination have sung. men of science have catechised the earth and wrested from her ameliorating secrets, men of research have written the experiences of the race, MCI) of specula tion have classified the powers of the mind, end all for him ! And ewe all, is this rich land to hint and his fellow crafts men hes been confided power to divert the treasuries of the State into fertilizing chan... eels. At his call great galleries of art may rise, fine gardens, bloom, and fibre. ries grow a pace, for the people; only let hi,iii know his chance, feel the power of cultivated,character, and appreciate .his responsibiities. if not to lfilskind, at Wei to him e 1f,... To ,ton .Ithrs.
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