Newspaper Page Text
Scrofula, or King's Evil,
le a constitutional disease, a corruption of the
blood, by which this fluid becomes Vitiated,
weak, and poor, -Being in the circulation, it
pervades the whole body, and may burst out
diseasson any part of it. No organ is free
from its attacks, nor is there one which it may
not destroy. The scrofulous taint is variously
mused by mercurial dizease, low living, dis
ordered or unhealthy food, impure air, filth
and filthy habits, the depressing vices, and,
above all, by the venereal infection. What
ever be its origin, it is hereditary in the con
stitution, deeeending "from parents to children
unto the third and fourth generation ;" indeed,
it noms to bb the rod of Him who says, "I
will visit the iniquities of the fathers upon
Its effects commence by deposition from the
blood of corrupt or ulcerous matter, which, in
the lungs, liver, and internal organs, is termed
tubercles; in the glands, swellings; and on
the surface, eruptions or sores. This foul cor
ruption, which genders in the blood, depresses
the energies of life, to that scrofulous constitu
tions not only suffer from scrofulous com
plaints, but they have far less power to with
stand tho attack's of other diseases; conse
quently, vast numbers perish by disorders
which, although not scrofulous in their estates,
are still rendered fatal by this taint in the
system. Mist of the consumption which de
ennates the )ninsan fancily has its origin directly
in this !scrofulous contamination ; and many
destructive diseases of the liver, kidneys, brain,
and, indeed, of all the organs, arise from or
are aggravated by the same cause.
One quarter of nil our people aro scrofulous;
their persons are invaded by this lurking in
fection, and-their health is undermined by it.
To cleanse it front the system we must renovate
the blood by an alters tive medicine, and in
vigorate it by ( healthy food and exercise.
font a medicine we supply in
Compound Extract of Sarsaparilla,
the meet effectual remedy which the medical
skill of our times can devise for this every
where preiailins and fatal malady. It is com
bined front the most active remedials that have
been dimoyered for the expurgation of this foul
disorder from the blond, and the rescue of the
system from its destructive consequences.
Hence it should he employed for the cure of
not only 'screftila, hut also those other affec
tions which arise from it, such as %terms
Ind S,,e Thatnacit, fur. Arernosy's Pnts,
Ross, or %%num.., PIMPLIIII, PUSTULE.,
BLOTOHREI, BLAIBB and Bona, TUMOR% Ttvua
and S.etr Enrol, SCALD DRAT, Rtsavronst,
SYETTIBITIC And MERCUAILL DM.
AAR., Dnorm Bversesis, DEBILITY, and,
indeed, ALL CONIPLAINTII ARISING PROM VITIE.
TED on Ittrunn BLOOD. The popular belief
in %, impurity of die Mood" is founded in truth,
ter semfula is a degeneration of the blood. The
particular punxiso and virtue of this Sarsapa
rilla is to purify and regenerate this vital fluid,
without wisielt mend health it impossible in
Ayer's Cathartic Pills,
FOR ALL THE PURPOSES OF A FAMILY PHYSIC,
are eo composed that dime* within the range of
their action min rarely withstand or evade them
Their penetrating properties search, and cleanse,
and invigorate every portion of the human organ
ism, correcting its dimmed action, and restoring
it. healthy vitalities. As a consequence of three
properties, the invalid who in bowed down with
pain or physical debility is astonished to find his
health or energy restored by a remedy at once to
simple and inviting.
Not only do they cure the every-day complaint.
of every body, but also many formidable and
dangerous diseases. Tho agent below named is
pleased to furnish gratis my American Almanac,
containing certificates of their cures and direction.
fit their use in the following ooniplaints: Casters-
nets, Heartburn, Headache arising from disordered
Ntomach, Nausea, Indigestion, Pam in and Morbid
inrwtion of Ode Bowels, flatulency, Loss of Appe
tite, Jatmdiee, and other kindred complaints,
arising from a low state of the body or obstruction
of its function..
Ayer's Cherry Pectoral,
ron Tus RAPID CUTE OP
Coughs, Colds, influenza, Hoarseness,
' Croup,Hronchitis, Incipient Consump.
lion, and for the relief of Consumptive
• Patients in advanced stages of the
So wide is the field of its usefulness and eo nu
merous aro the eases of its cures, that almost
every sec w tion w lCi
o coli v n e try abounds in persons
licly known, "cies", desperate ilt e e e m n c r a " o of restored
use. When once tried, its superiority over every
other medicine of its kind is too apparent to maple
°beer, ation, and where its virtues aro known, the
public no longer hesitsto what antidote to employ
for the distressing and dangerous affections of the
riulmonary organs that are incident to our climate.
ile tunny inferior remedies thrust upon the
community have failed and been discarded, this
has gained friends by every trial, conferred benefit.
en the afflicted they can never forget, and pro
duced cures too numerous and too remarkable to
DR. J. C. AYER & CO.
dolts READ, Agent Huntingdon, Pa.
Nov. 10, 1858.—1 y.
PRICES TO SOT THE TIMES.
FALL AND WINTER GOODS,
n. Gutman & Co.,
Infurtu the public generally, that they have just
received a large stock of
Fall and Winter Goods,
PANTS, &c., &c.
Ens stock of Clothing is of the latest rash
ions, and manufactured of the best materials
and as they are determined to sell as cheap as
the cheapest, the public will do well to give
them a call and examine their stock.
16rDen't forget the place—Longs brick
building, on the corner, Market square, Hun•
Ica - S. It. PETTENOILL & CO.'S Advor•
tisiug Agency, 119 Nassau St., New York, &
10 State St., Boston. 'S. B. Pettengill & CO.
are the Agents for the "Jon RNal." and the most
influential and largest circulating Newspapers
in the United States and the Canadas. 'they
are authorized to contract for us at our lower
elect god v.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
The drums are all muffled, the bugles are still;
There's a pause in the valley—a halt on the bill;
And hearers of standards swerve back with a
Where sheaves of the dead bar the way. [thrill
For a great field is reaped, Heaven's guraers to
And stern Death holds his harvest to•day. [fill
There's a voice ou the winds like a spirit's low
'Tie the mustenroll sounding- 7 mM who shall
Not those.whuse wan faces glare white to the shy
With eyes fixed so steadfast and dimly,
Ac they wait that last trump which they may
Whose hands clutch the eword•hill so grimly.
The brave heads late lilted, are solemnly bowed.
And riderless chargers stand quivering and
As thu burial requiem is chanted aloud,
The groans of the death•stricken drowning;
While V ict'ry looks on like a queen pale it proud
Wtto awaits till the morrow her crowning.
There is uo mocking blazon as clay sinks to clay
The Pain pumps of the peace-times aro all
Jo the terrible thee of the dread battle day ;
Nor coffins nor shroudings are here ;
Only relics that Iv where thieltt the fray—
A rent moque and a headless sprit,
Far away, tramp on tramp, peals tho lama of
liken storm wave's retreating—spent, fitful
With sounds like their spirits that faint as they
By yon red•glowing river whose waters
Shall darken with sorrow the laud where they
To the eyes of her desolate daughters.
They are fled—they arc gone ; but oh ! not as
In the pride of those numbers they staked on
Never more shall they stand in the vanguard of
Never lift the stained sword which they drew;
Never more shall they heost of a glorious name.
Never march with the teal and the true,
Where the wreck of our legions lay stranded
They stole on nor ranks in the mists (tithe morn,
Like the giant of Gnan, their strength it was
Ere those mists had rolled op to the sky ;
From the flash of our steel a new day-break
As we sprang up—to conquer or die.
The tumult is silenced : the death lots ace ea,':
And the heroes of battle are alumlfring at last.
Do ye dreampryou pale form that rude on the
Would yo tree it once more, 0 ye bravo ?
Yes ! the broad road to Honor is red where ye
And of Glory ye asked bat—a grave !
- *tictt *torß.
Norah Clary's Wise Thought
AN IRIS!! LOVE STOEV
My Minnie does constantly leuve me,
And bids me beware of young met.;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me--
But who can tiiiiik so of Tam Glen ?
" We way as well give it up, Morr:s
Dunovon; look, 'twouid be as easy to twist
the top off the great bill of Mouth as make
father sad mother agree about one thing.
They've been playing the rule of contrary
these twenty years, and A's not likely
they'll take a turn now."
It's mighty hard, so it in," replied
Morris, 46 that married people can't draw
together.— Norah, duelist, that wouldn't
be the way wtth us. Sure it's one we'd
be in henrt and sowl, and an example of
'Folly," interrupted the maiden, laugh•
ing. "Morris, Morris, we've quarreled a
score of times already; and, to my think•
ing, a bit of a breeze makes life all the
pleasanter. Shall I talk about the merry
jig I danced with Phil Kennedy, or repeat
what Mark Doolen said of me to Mary
Grey—eh Morris I"
The long black lashes of Norah Clary's
bright brown eyes almost touched her low
but delicately peneled brows, as she looked
archly at her lover; her lip curled with a
half-playful, half malicious smile, but the
glance was soon withdrawn, and the mai
den's cheek glowed with a deep and elo
quent blush. when the youngman passed
his arm around her waist, and pushing the
clustering curls from her forehead, gazed
upon her with a loving but mournful look.
"Leave joking, now, Norry; God only
knows how I love you,' he said in a voice
deep and broken by emotion; "I'm y'er
equal as far as money goes, and no young
farmer in the country can tell a better stock
to his share than mine; yet I don't pretend
to deserve you fur all that; only, I can't
help saying that we love each other (note,
don't go to contradict me, Norry, because
ye've as good as owned it over and over
and yer father's agreeable, and A 11 •
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8, 1859.
to think that ye'r mother, just out of divil
ment, should be putting betwixt us; for no
reason upon earth, only to spite, her law
ful husband, is what set mu mad entirely,
and shows her to be a good-for—"
"Stop, Minter Morris," exclaimed No
rah, laying her hand upon his mouth, ro
as effectually to prevent sounds from escap
ing; 44 it's my mother ye'r talking about,
and it would be ill blood, as well as
bred, to hear a word said against an own
parent. Is that the pattern of ye'r rnan
ners, sir, or did ye ever hear me turn my
tongue against one belonging to you I"
4 .1 ex ye'r pardon, my own Norah." he
replied meekly, as in duty bound: ..for the
sake of the lamb we spare the sheep.—
Why not h—aud I'm not going to gainsay
but ye'r mother—"
least said's the soonest mended !"
again interrupted the impatient girl.—
..Good even, Morris, and God bless ye;
they'll be after missing me within, and it's
little mother thinks where I am."
'Noruh, 'bove all the girls at wake or
pattern, I've been true to you. We have
grown together,and since we were the
height of a rose-bush, ye have been dear
er to me than anything else on earth. Do
Moral], for the sake of our young hearts'
love, do think if there is no way to win
ye'r mother over. If ye'd take me with
out her leave, sure it's nothing I'd care for
the loss of thousands, let alone what you've
got. Dearest Norah, think, since you'll
do nothing without her consent, do think
—for once be serious, and don't laugh," '
It is a fact, equally known and credited
in the good barony of Bargy, that Morris
Donovon really possessed an honest, sin
cere and affectionate heart—brave as it
lion and gentle as a dove. 11e was more
over, the priest's nephew, understood Lat
in as well us the priest himself; and, better
t! an even that, he was the beau, the Nlag•
nun Apollo of the parish; n fine noble look
ing fellow, that all the girls (from the
housekeeper's lovely English niece at
Lord Gort's, down to the little deaf Hess
Mortican, the lame dress timber,) swore
regularly and desperately in love with !
still, I must confess (perfection certainly
was never found to man,) Morris was nt
times a little—the least bit in the world—
stupid; not exactly stupid either, but slow
of invention, would fight his way out of
!a thousand scrapes, but could never get
p, ccab y out of one. No wonder, then,
that where fighting was out of the clues
, lion, he was puzzled, and looked to the
ready wit of the merry Norah for essis.
tance. ft was not very extraordinary that
he loved the fairy creature—the sweetest,
gayest of all Irish girls; light of heart. light
of foot, light of eye, now weeping like a
child oeer a dead chicken, or a plundered
1 nest, then dancing on the !op of a hay-rick
to the music of her own cheering voice,
now coaxing her termagant wailer, and
anon comforting h r henpecked father.
1 Du not let my respected readers imag
ine that Mr. and Mrs. Clary were cen.
teitiptible Irish bog-trotters, with only a
plot of peaces, a pig, and a one rootn cab
! in. Nosuch thing, their rented an lieu
; dyed good acres of bright meadow land,
and their comfortable, though somewhat
slovenly, farm-yard told of an abundance
; and to spare. Norah was their 'Only child
and, had it not been fer the twist ungentle
temperament of Mistress Clary, they would
have been the happiest, as well as the
richest lamily in the district.
"I ant net going to laugh, Morris," re.
plied the little maid, at last, after a very
long pause; "I've got a wise thought in
my head for once. His reverence, your
uncle, you say, spoke to father—to speak
to mother about it. I wonder (and he a
e.prtest) that he hadn't more sense. Sure,
mother tees the men; but I've got a wise
thought. Good night, dear Morris; good
•the lass sprang lightly over the fence
into her own garden, leaving her loverptr.
tlu at the other side without possessing
any idea of what her "wise thought',might
be. When she entered the kitchen, mat
tern were going on as usual—her another
bust ing in glorious style, and as cross
(her husband muttered) "as a bag of wea
1 . Ye'r a pair of lazy hussies I" she ex
claimed to two fat, red-armed, stocking
less hand-maids; "d'yc think I can keep ye
in idleness? Ten cuts to the dozen !
Why 'hat wouldn't keep you in pratees
!et alone salt—and suoh illegant flax. too!
Barney Leary, ye dirty, ne'r o-good, can
ye find no better emphyment this blessed
night than kicking the iurf-athes in the
cat's lace? Oh, ye'll be mate for the ra
ven yet, that's one comfort ! Jack Clary,"
addressine herself to her husband, who
sat quietly in the chimney corner, smok-
I ing his doodeen, , "it's well you've got a
wife who knows what's what ! God help
me, I've little good of a huaano, barring
LIDZRTe AND UNION, New AND FORME, ONE AND UOINPARABLE. "
! the name I—Are you sure Black Nell'a in
the stable?''--the spouse added. ~ T he
cow and;calf--had thee?". Another nod.
Bad cess to ye, man alive, can't ye use
your tongue, and answer a civil question?"
continued the lady.
'My dear," he replied, "sure roe like
you has enough talk for ten."
Th;s very just observation was like the
most truths. so disagreeable that a vary
severe storm would have followed, had
not Norah stepped up to her father and
whispered in his ear—
“l don't think the •table door is fas
Mrs. Clary caught the sound, and in no
gentle terms ordered her husband to attend
to the comforts of Black Nell.
go with lather myself, and see,"
"That's like my owe child, always care
ful," observed her mother, as the father
and daughter closed the door.
"Dear father," began Norah, "it isn't
altogether about the stable I wanted yer—
but--but--the priest said something to
day about Morris Donovm."
"Yes, darling, and about . yerself, my
"Did you speak to mother about
"No, darling she's been so Cross all day.
Sure I go through a dale pace and quiet.
ness. If I was like other men, and got
drunk and wasted, it might be in resin—
but that's neither here nor there. As to
Morris, she was very fond of the boy till
she found that t liked him; : and then, my
jewel, she turned like sour milk, all in a
minute; I'm afraid even the priest'll get
no goy d of her."
"Father, dear !littler,' said Nandi, "sup
pose ye were to say nothing about it, good
or bed, and just pretend to take a suaden
dislike to Morris, and let the priest speak
to her, she'll soon come round."
"Out of opposition to me, eh?"
"And let•her gain the day, then? That
would b i cowardly," raplied- tie farmer,
drawing himself up— , No I won't."
'Tether, deer, you don't understand,"
said the cunning lass. "Sure, ye're for
Morrie, and when we are-- that in, if—l
mean—suppose—father, you know what
1 menn," she continued, as luckily the
deepening twilight concealed her blushes
if that took place, ,t'a you that would
have y e'r own way.!
'True for ye, Norry, my girl---true for
ye; I never thought of that before !' And
pleased ii ith the idea of tricking his wife,
the old Inuit fairly capered for joy. 'But
stay awhile—stay, nsy, rtsy!' he recom
menced : glow am I to manage? Sure
the priest himself will be here to-morrow
morning early; and he's out upon n station
now, and there's en speaking with hint ;
lie's no may quick, neither-- we'll be both
ered entirely if he comes in on a sadden?.'
e Leave it to me, dear father; leave it
all to me," exclaimed the animated girl ;
it only pluck up a spirit, and whenever
Nlarris' mime is mentioned, abuse bun,
but not .with all yet• heart, father—only
from the teeth out."
When they ro-entered, the fresh boiled
potatoes sent a curling steam to the rafters
of the lofty kitchen; they were poured out
onto a large wicker dish, and on the top of
the pile rested a plate of coarse white salt;
noggins of buttermilk were full on the dyes•
ser, and on a small table a cloth was
spread, and some dell plates awaited the
more delicate repast, which the farmer's
,s•ifu was herself preparing.
•'l4'hut's for supper, mother!" inqui
red Norah, us she drew her wheel towards
her, and employed her Coley foot in tvhirl
iug it round.
" Plaguey snipeetis," she replied, r• bits
o' bog chickens, rent you're-always such
fancy for ,'Barney Leary hilt them
.So I did," said Bartley grinning; "and
that stick with a hood of Morris Donovon's
is the finest thing in the world for knock
ing 'ens down."
" It Norris Dcmovon's stick touched
them they shan't come here," said the far
mer, striking the poor little table such a
blow with his elencued hand, as made not
only this, but Mrs. Clary jump.
And why so, pray ?" asked the
" Because nothing belonging to Morris,
let aigne Morris himself, shall comb into
the frouse," replied Clary; "he's not my
liking, anyhow, and there's no good in his
bothering here after what he won't get."
"Excellent !" thought Norali.
" Lord save as!" ejaculated Mrs. Cla
ry, as she placed the grilled snipes on the
table, "what's come to the man 1" without
heeding his resolution, she was proceeding
to distribute the savory birdeen, when, to
her astonishment, her usually tame bus
eland threw the dish wed its contents into
the flames. The good woman absolutely
stood for a moment aghast. The calm,
however, was not of long duration. She
soon rallied, and, with a blazing face and
fiery tongue, thus commenced hostilities; From the Gleaner, 1811.
glow dare ye, ye spalpeen, throw away Essays from the Desk of Poor Robert
any of God's mato after fashion and I, to, the Scribe.
the fore ? What do you mane—say ?" THAT'S MII810."
si r mane that aothing touched by Morris " Music is the science of sounds, we
Donovon shall come under this roof; and are told by that crabbed looking old fellow
if I catch that girl of mine looking at the whose conversation was music to Boswell
same side o' the road he walks on. by the and Mrs. Thrale; but what sort el sounds
powers I'll tear the eyes out o' her head, he does not tell us. It is no matter—there
and send her to the nunnery'" is no disputing about taste, and the sound
" You w:Il ! And dare you say that to I that would be music to one ear, perhaps to
my face, to a child of mine ! You will, another, would be more grating than the
will ye. We'il see, my boy! I tell you what, creaking of a wagon wheel.
if I like Morris Donovan shall come into The sportsman thinks no music equals
this house nnd, what's you never had the that of his hounds, whets they open in full
heart in be yet ye poor ould snail ! " cry. The citizens think that no music
So saying, Mistress Clary endeavored can excel the harmony of a band. A
to rescue from the fire the hissing sn i pes. huntsinari invited a city friend out to his
Norish attempted to assist her mother, but country residence, to a fox hunt. The
Clary, lifting her up somewhat af.er the • morning came, and the friends rode out to
fashion of an eagle raising a goblets wren gether. As they ascended a little hill, the
with its claw, fairly put her out of the voice of the dogs broke on the ear. The
kitchen door. This was the signal for huntsman in an ecstaey of delight, ex.
fresh hostilities. Mrs. Clary stormed and claimed—" Hark !sny dear fellow, do you
stamped, and Mr. Clary presisted in tiba- hear that music ?" The citizen listened:
sing, not only Morris, but Morris' uncle, 'Music," cried he, " no—l don't hear a
Father Donotan, until at last the farmer's note of it, the cursed dogs raise such a
helpmate swore, aye nnd roundly, too, by yell "
cross and satnt, that before the next sunset ; I In return for the visit, the dolintryinan
'Notch Clary should be Norah Donavan. I waited on his frldnd in the city, who took
I wish you could have seen Norah's eye, him to the themre ;—the curtain bad not
dancing with joy and exultation as it pee.' risen, and the band from the orchestra
ped through the latch-hole; it sparkled I struck up .The battle of Prague:" 'Lis
more brightly than the richest diamond ten my fiend" raid ctt, "did you ever
a monarch's crown, for it was filled with hear such heavenly strains?" I can't hear
hope and love. them for my life," cried the countryman,
The next morning was clear lad frosty; those noisy fellows in the cellar snake
long, slender icicles hung from the branch. I such a horrid racket."
es of the wild hawthorn and holly, and To our bucks, the violin as the best mu•
even under the light foot of Norah, the sic To our merchants, it is music to
glazed herbage crackled like feilthery hear the purse chink on the collator with
glass. The Mountain rill murmured —"I'll take a couple of patterns, if you
antler s frost-bound covering; and the i please." A just cause and a good fee,
poor sheep, in their warm fleeces gazed make excellent music to our lawyers.—
iimurnfully ou the landscape, beautiful as "Will you take a sleighride to Colt's Mina"
it was in the morning light, for neither on I is music to our. young ladies;. btt—
hill or dale could they discover a mouth. I "Will you marry me, my pretty maid?"
ful of grass. The chill December breeze . when the question comes from the favctite
rushed unheeded o'er the glowing cheek ofl, lad, possesses all the charms of harmony
Norah Clary, for her wise thought" had and melody combined. And to the printer
prospered, and she was hastening to the it is music to be told. have brought you
trysting•tree, whore," by chance," either a half dozen new patrons."
morning or evening, she generally met But to old Robert : I will tell you what
Morris Donovan. I don't know how it is, is music. To rise as the moaning" peers
but the moment thai the course of true through the golden windows of the east,"
love runs smooth, it becomes very unit , - I and to bear the hamm , r of industry region
teresting, except to the parties concerned, ding through the village.
Su it is now only left for me to nay that To walk up the bank to the cabin of the
the maiden, after a true and proper time I old blind soldier, and to hear him say, "I
consumed in teazing and taailzing her in- fought for my country when I was young,
tended, a practice, by the way, which I and now, though lam old and blind, I am
strongly recommend, as the best mode of comfortable, for my countrym• n are not
discovering the temper, &c., of the gentle. ungratetul--they remember me this cold
men,)told him her saucy plan and its re• and inclement season "--that would be
salt. And the lover bast.' upon the music.
wings of love (which I beg my readers to Ye, who are favored with plenty--Ye,
'understand ore swifter mid stronger in Ire.l who are blest to your , bask.it mid your
land than in any other country) to apprise I store,' now, while the cold winds of win•
the priest of the arrangement, troll know- ter blow so cheerlessly around us, forget
leg that his reverence loved his rephew, not the Poor; but by your charities, light
and niece that was to be, too well not to up the smiles of joy and gratitude in the
aid their merry jest. !rases of the children of want. Then
What bustle, - what preparation, what will your consciences tell you well done—
feasting, whet danding, game the country and oh ! that will be delightful music
folks enough to talk about during the hap
py Christmas holidays, 1 cannot now de
scribe. The bride, of course. looked lovely
and sheepish ; and the bridegroom—
pshaw l—bridegrooms are always ;minter
esting, One fact, however, is worth re.
cording. When Father Donovan conclu•
dod the ceremony, before the bridal kiss
•liid pained, Farmer Clary, without any
reason that his wife could discover, most
indecorously sprang up, seized a st illelali
of biota oak, and whirling it rapidly over
his head, shouted
Cnrr, the out by the powers, she's
bet !wu'vo won the day !Ould Ireland for•
ever,—success; boys ! she's bet !—she's
The priest, too seemed vastly to enjoy
this extemporaneous effusion. and even
the bride laughed outright.
Whether the wife discovered the plot
or not, I never heard : but of this I am ce r .
tam, that the joyous Norah never had roe.
eon to repent her ,‘ Wise Thought,"
ggrA neighbor of mine wits fairly or
otherwise accused of sheep stealing, and the
day was set when he was to answer the
charge before a court of justice. But, 1.19
it happened, before the day of trial he sick-
oned and died. Hie old mother over•
wheluted with grief, had sat long by the
corpse, filling the house with wailing and
Lamentation. At last a thought seemed to
atiike her : she brightened up, and, throw
ing up het hands, she piously ejaculated;
•Well, thank God, he is out of tho sheep
scrape any how !"
@sr Posts made from the limbs and up
per parts of the tree always last the long,
Despise no Man
A beautiful story is somewhere related
of Abou Ben Adem an Arabian sage, who
awoke one night from a peaceful sleep,
such as the good only enjoy, and saw an
angel standing in his room, within the
pile moonlight, writing in a golden book.
Ber. Adem interrogated the vision as to the.
contour of the book. I am writing,, re
plied the angel, the names of those who
love the Lord. Is mine one? asked Abou.
The angel replied that it was not written
in the little book. If not, returned the
sago, write me as one who loves his fellow
men. The vision •wrote and vanished,
but returned the following night, radiant
with the glory of the upper world, and
showed Ben Adem his own name, regis
tered in letters of gold, assuring him that
he was the happy recipient of God's spe:
Despise no man—no not the most aban
doned wiatched creature that inhabits
Gud's footstool, or breathes the same atmos
phere with you ; despise him nut. Ito
may be truly miserable and yet be as truly
deserving. How little do you know of
the peculiar circumstance or temptations,
which have dragged him down ? Think
you, dear reader, you would have been
really better than he had you passed the
name ordeal 1 God spares him, and does
not cut hint off, so may he not you.
Hate the sin, despise not the man. He
is a living soul possibly destined to shine
in eternal glory, as the stare now do in the
firmament. On, and on that soul will con
tinue to shine and sing amid the beauties
of the heavenly world, long after the sun
and moon have refused their light, and
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the world with all its glory has passed into
eternal oblivion. Love all men. Let that
abandoned, wretched man know that you
love him, and wish him well, and you may
win his heart, and thereby turn him from
his evil way, and be instrumental in net
ting hip feet in that narrow path which
leadeth up to life.
To you the past may appear as a fair
bright page upon which you may love to
look. With that wretched drunkard who
lies at your feet, the past has in it nothing
but sorrow, upon which his memory can
not linger without pain and reatorse.
Scatter the flower-seeds of charity, along
the track of life as you pass on, they will
wing up and become sweet-scented blos
soms, delighting those who follow. Let
your good deeds be frequent as April
showers, that you may reap a rich re ,veld
at the end of life, It is not your preroga
tive to sit in judgment against your fel
low-men. The Reapers," gather the
wheat and tares, at the end of the world.
A harvest in which, man, as a laborer,
cannot participate. Dispirits no men.••-
The homeless, tare worn, wenry, and
disconsolate are entitled to your warmest
sympathies, Comfort them. They wear
the common garb of humanity, with you,
and the land of promise is divided from
the present, by the same dark narrow sea.'
"Upon my lute—there is one string
Brakes ; the chords were drawn too fast ;
The heart is like that string ; if tried
Too touch, is eaapt in twain at lest."
The Empty Cradle.
..The mother gate, in tears and pain,
The flowers sho most did love,
She knew she'd find them all again,
In fields of light above."
The death of a little child is to the moth
er's heart like dew on a plant from which
and has perished. The plant lifts up its
head in freshened greenness to the nu-ru
ing light, so the mother's soul gathers from
the dark sorrow through which she has
passed, a fresh brightening of her heaven.
ly hopes. As she bends over the empty
cradle, and in fancy brings the sweet in.
tarn before her, a ray of divine light is on
the cherub's face. It Is her son still, but
with the seal of immortality oil his brow,
She feels that heaven was the only atmos
phere where her precious flower could
unfold without spot or blemish and she
would not recall the lost. But the anal
versary of its departure seems to bring its
spiritual presence near her. She indulges
, in that tender grief which soothes like an
opiate to pain all her passions and cares
of life. The world is no longer filled with
human love and hope---in the future, so
glorious with heavenly love and joy, site
has treasures of happiness which the world
ly, unehastened heart never conceived.
The bright fresh flowers with which she
had decorated her room, tho apartment
where her infant died, are emblems of the
far and brighter hopes now dawning on
her day dream. She thinks of the glory
and beauty of the New Jerusalem, where
the little foot will never find a thorn among
the flowers to render a shoe necessary.--
Nor will a pillow be wanting for the dear
head reposing on the breast of the kind
Savior. And she knows her infant is there
in that world of eternal bliss. She has
marked one passage in that Book---.to her
emphatically the Word of Life----now lay
ing close on the toilet table, which she
reads daily. • Suffer little children, sad
forbid them not to come into the ; for of
such is the kingdom of Heaven.'
THE VOICE OF rut WizANo-Downs.—
A 6 whang-doodle" preacher wound up a
flaming sermon with this magnificent per
" Aly brethering and sistern ! et a
man's full of religion, you can't hurt him !
There was the three arabian children;
they put 'em in a firey furnace, heeted
seven times hotter than it could be het, and
it didn't singe a har on their heads ! And
there was John the Evangeler ; they put
him and where do you think brethring and
sisters, they put him? Why they put
him in a caladronie of biltn' ile, and Heti
him al/ night, and it didn't faze his shell !
And there was Daniel; they put hint into
a lion's den and what my fellow travellers
and respected nuditories, do you think ha
was put into a lion's den for? Why, ter
praying, three times a day. Don't bs al
armed, brethering and sistern ; I don't
think any of you will ever get into a lion's
den for a like offence.
THE BLOOM OP Aos.—lt has been beeu•
tifully remarked that a good woman never
grows old. Years may pees over her head,
but if benevolence and virtue dwell in her
heart, she is as cheerful as when the
spring of life opened to her view. 'When
we look at a good woman, we never . thick
of her age ; she looks as charming as
when the rose of health first bloomed on
her cheek. That mac has not faded yet,
it never will fade. In her neighborhood
she is the friend and benefactor. Who
does not respect and love thelwoman who
has passed her days acts of kindness
and mercy ? We repeat, snob a women
can never grow old. She will elways
fresh and buoyant iu virile, and active in
humble deeds of mercrand believe lens*.