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cb c. deice
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4ln 13 OLI M.. ai GI EU ID
With sweetest floworsenrich'd
From various gartleus cull'd with cure."
IDLE WORDS.
DT WILLIAM cuvrtn
uMy God !" the henuly oft exclaimed,
With deep impassioned tone—
But not in humble prayer aho named
Thu High and Holy One.
Two, not is heavenly ■lreins to raise
To the Groot Source of Good,
Her doily offerings of plaice,
Her sung of gratitude.
But in the gny and thonchtlese crowd,
And in the festive hull,
'Mid lICCIIOI of mirth end mockery proud,
She named the Lord of All!
f3ho culled upon that awful IMMO.
When laughter loudest. rang—
Or ,wlrou the Hugh of triumph Came—
Or dirrappointniont'a
The idlest thing that flattery knew,
The moat unmeaning jest,
From those awect lips profanely dross
Names of the Holiest
I thought how sweet that voico would be,
Breathing this prayer to Hoaven—
ieMy God! I worship only Thoo,
..Oh! be my sine forgiven !"
LOVE'S COMPLAINT
Oh, mother dear, the sun shines bright,
But, sh, for me, its light ie shrouded;
Tho moon with radio fills the night.
From mei her redisni - flicelv shrouded.
Around mu flowerets thickly/bloom,
Birds fill the air with notes o f O l dn e ss,
But, oh ! partake the gloom
Of my too sore prevailing sadness.
I sit me down. and try to rouse
Goy dreami,o . f pleasures fondly cherished,
The hawthorn tree, the whispered vows,
That with to evening zephyrs perished;
And hours come heck, when hope and lovo
Made life one long and glorious vision,
When all was fair and calm above,
And all below was bliss Elysian.
A numbness and a sense of pain—
A drowsy unimpassioned feeling—
A Gra that smoulders in the brain,
Through all the listless pulses stealing;—
Preys on me through the live-long day,
Like a grim phantom haunts me nightly,
Takes feeling, thought, and power sway,
'fill all looks ghastly—all unsightly I
Life is a leafless blighted bough,—
This stifling pang, how moy I smother?
Whet eau I love, cr livo for now?
Oh, comfort me, my own dear mother!
day, say what mean these fancies drear,
That on despair and frenzy border;
.PshaW! tako this doso of salts, my dear,
'Tie but your stomach's out of order I'
MU3.).W.L 61'21 F.:VD ra Ca 0
From the Philadelphia Saturdey Courier.
GERTATSDE;
OR, BENEVOLENCE ILLUSTRATED
A TALE OF TRUTH
DT A LADY OF HARTLAND.
It was in the sweetest month of summer
that I spent a week with my friend Mr.
Vernon at his country house, near one a
the largest of the commercial cities. The
neighborho o d in which ho resided was pop•
ulnas, and the society polislied and excel
lent. Ooe evenin g , when n large party was
assembled, the 'conversation Turned upon
sensibility, and the question arose in what
degree its p”ssession watt calculated to con
ler happioei.s.
41 11 my opinion," maid Edward Gray, (a
young man angle what distinguibbed fur
i n i on i, but more air eccentricity,) "all
mankind are born with no equal capability
of feeling, but to some the feelings embrace
ttn mmy nhjiirits that they are weakened
and rendi:rel incapable of cawing nny
great degree either of pain or pleasure; just
es a large I state, divided among a great
number of heirs, fails to enrich any of them.
These are your universally benevolent peo
ple.. There are others again, whose feel.
trigs, though not so widely diffused, yet
embrace a large circle of friends and rein.
fives; such people are kind and nffeetionate,
but utterl!. , incapable of a warm or exclu•
sive attachment, or of any intense degree
either of happiness or misery. Those only
whose feelings are concentrated, are capa
ble of loving deeply, or of enjoying or
suffering exquisitely."
"f3ut, " said Mr. Vernon, "what do you
menu by the feelings being concentrated?
You surely do not speak of those whose
feelings are all concentrated in sell?"
''Not exactly; yet the character I would
describe is one that would be called selfish.
It is that of a person,who while ho entertains
n gene tal sentiment of good will to all man
kind, yet reserves all active feelings to be
expended upon those immediately connec
ted with him. Should I ever marry I
should like my wife, though gentle and
courteous to all, to have no feeling strong
er than mere good will to any other human
being than myself."
"Then her feelings towards her parents,
brothers and sisters should not exceed the
bounds of mere civility, I suppose?"
"1 would select a wife who has no such
near connections, in order that her affbc•
Lions, not being at all divided, may be cx
elusively my own, and may thus be enabled
to withstand all the trials under which n
more diluted affection (if I trey use the
expression,) would utterly fail."
"My dear Edward," said Mr. Vernon,
"your theory is a very plausible one, yet
I would not advise you to act upon it. I
think that you would find that a female who
had grown to womanhood without any at
tachment stronger then mere good will,
was not capable of a very devoted affection,
even for her husband. Believe me. the
effections of the heart, like the faculties of
the mind, are strengthened by cultivation."
"But do you not think that persons
whose alThetions are limited to few objects,
regard those few with a more intense do
votion, than those whose affections Luke a
wider range?"
"Indeed I do not, nod I could adduce
many instances in support of my opinion.
The most remarkable example I have ever
att.,wp or perfect, devoted, mimic:7, et:feel
fin, el a love which neither Inoo nor
urra ntsly dose could' chili or change, was
exhibited by two persons who were entire
ly free from the selfishness which you con
sider characteristic ofthose who nro capa
ble of feeling deeply, or loving devo
tedly."
My interest was excited by the earnest
manner of my friend, and I begged to be
informed of the particulars of the circum
stances to which lie had alluded. The com
pany joined in my request, end Mr. Ver
non, yielding to our entreaties, commenced
the following recital:
"It was in the year 19—, that Charles
Gordon came to reside in Baltimore. Ile
wns a Virginian, young and talented, and
possessing a heart that overflowed with
generous feelings and noble impulses. Ho
engaged in mercantile pursuits, in the
course of which he became intimately ac
quainted with the family of Mr. Seaton,
who was then at the head done of the first
conamercial houses in Baltimore. This
gentleman was a widower, and hie family
consisted of one unmarried son, and an or
phan niece. He had other children, but
they wore married, and settled at a die.
tance, Gertrude Rivers had lost both her
parents in infancy, and since then she had
been an inmate of her uncle's family: She
was the darling of the old man's heart,
and well did she merit his affection, nod
richly did she repay him for the tender
carp with which he supplied the place of
hor deceased parents. Beautiful as she
was, her personal charms wore hor least
attraction. ft was the gentleness of her
manners, the benevolence of her disposi
tion, above all the entire absence of selfish-
Less in her character, which rendered her
dear to all with whom she was connected,
or who had an opportunity of becoming ac
quainted with her virtues. She was in the
earliest bloom of youth when she first be.
came known to Gordon, and the heart of
the young and ardent Virginian was soon
captivated by her attractions. She was not
insensible to his regard and a few months
after their acquaintance I commenced, on
engagement was entered into, with the
consent of Mr. Seaton, who fully apprecla
ted the character of Gordon and rejoiced
that his beloved neiee was about to bestow
her hand on one who was every way worthy
so inestimable a treasure• At this nme,
owing to one of those vicissitndes to which
mercantile pursuits are liable, the house in
which Gordon was a partner beeame un-
able to meet its engagements. The other
partners, satisfied that that they could not
resist the pressure of circumstances, gave
up the property, nvatled themselves of tho
nsolvent kw, and commenced the world
anew. But this course of proceeding; did
not comport with the lolly spirit of Charles
Gordon. tiv could not endure to teel that
d i ngo who had confided in him should nus•
Lair. the Plightest loss, though that 10.9 a %vas
not caused by any imprudencn on hia part,
but was occasioned by circumstances which
ho could neither have forseen nor prevent
ed. lie therefore postponed his marria,2o,
and having no difTiruhv in obtaining em-
ployment, devoted the next two or three
Otirti to laborieug efforts to liquidate every
claim ngeinßt the firm to which he Imd
WA0.7.1110T 011 MOWZIII, :Iv: 77.0 7.7.:Zi `..7 OP..
"The liberty to know, .to utter, and to arFue, freely, fa above all other liberties."--,1111.T0n.
o2,4 , ‘.efltzaznypaccA. tewmaa)arto ZOMt?" ear 27 aatts.
longed. Gertrude entered warmly into his
feelings, and her smiles cheered him in his
arduous undertaking. At length he suc
ceeded; every debt was paid, and he was
once more established in a prosperous
business. In the mean time, Mr. Seaton's
son had married, and become the father of
a family, and Gertrude was left the sole
companion of her uncle. Nevertheless the
good old gentleman rejoiced when the
success of Gordon's efforts enabled the
lovers to name a second day for their mar
riage, and in anticipating the happiness of
his niece, he almost forgot, the loneliness to
which he would be condemed when she
left him. Long before the appointed pe.
riod arrived, he was stricken down the vic
tim of paralysis. When this melancholly
event first occurred, Gertrude thought not
of herself. To soothe the sufferings of her
uncle, to minister to his wants, to endeavor
by every means to prolong his life,—all
this fully occupied her mind, and loft no
room for any other considerations. But
when days lengthened into Weeks, and
weeks into months, her thoughts naturally
reverted to her own situation. The time
fixed for her marriage had nearly arrived;
but how could she leave the aged relative
whose situation rendered him so utterly do
pendent on her kindness? His son, it is
true, was kind and affectionate, but the ill
health of his wile, and her inability to take
charge of her household, or of a large fam
ily of children, imposed duties on him
which occupied every moment that could
he spared from his professional pursuits.—
As Gertrude watched day after day by the
bedside of her uncle, as she marked the
brightening of his dull eye as It met hers,
us she felt the feeble grasp with which he
endeavored to detain her hand in his, and
remembered that he had been a father to
her in the days of her helpless childhood,
she could not tesolve to leave Wm. Ste
knew the generous heart of her lover, and
she believed that he would cheerfully make
any sacrifice for the sake of one to whom
she was bound alike by duly and affection.
She Judged rightly. Gordon was of too
kindly a nature to wish to deprive an al
most dying man of his sole earthly cowfor t,
for tha'grutification of his own feelings.—
The atarringo of the lovere was twain post
e.
poried.'
"Thus months and years rolled by. Mr.
Seaton still lived, though perfectly help
loss, _end Ilia-- britutitul—nieco mannt 11.tT
springtime of her life in the confinement of
hie tack chamber, soothing his sufferings,
ministering to his wants, and endeavouring
by every means to:cherish the feeble spark
of lifo which still remained. Mennwhile,
the stPction of the lovers continued un-
changed. Gordon spent much of his time
with the invalid, and his lovo for Gertrude
became more and more fervent as he no-
ted the unvarying gentleness of ber
and the unrepining spirit with which
she sacrificed all the pleasures of youth to
the duty of attending her suffering relative.
And when at length death claimed his vic
tim, when the aged pilgrim was permitted
to Icy down the burthen of existence, her
trials were not over. Scarcely wore the
remains of her uncle consigned to the
tomb, when she was summoned to another
scene of woe. The wife of her cousin was
dying, and in her last moments she begged
to see Gertrude, that she might consign
her infant children to her protection. And
in that solemn hour, with those weeping
babes around her, did our heroine promise
to be a mother to them, to watch over
their helpless infancy, to guide their child
ish footsteps, and never to leave them
while they needed her maternal care. And
amply did she redeem hor pledge. No
mothor ever bestowed more care and
tenderness. or evinced a more self-sacrifi•
cmg spirit than she displayed towards these
children oiler adoption. To train them in
the way they should go, to instruct them in
their duty to God and to each other, to fit
them for the discharge of all their duties in
this world, and for the enjoyment of eternal
blessedness in that which is to come, was
the object of her unceasing endeavors. In
this labor of love Gordon participated. Ho
was much attached to the children, and
they warmly returned his affeciim.
oyes brightened at his approach, and both
they and their hind friend regarded his
regular evening visit as an ample compen
sation for a day passed in the toil of receiv•
ing and impacting instruction. Nor was
the benevolence of Gertrude limited to her
own inunedinto circle. The poor and
destitute were relieved and comforted, the
sick and infirm visited, and all who suffered
found in her ready sympathy and active
kindness, an unfailing source of consolation.
Her lover too was animated by the same
unselfish spirit. Believing that the diflii
sion of knowledge would increase the
amount of human happiness, ho interested
himself in the establishment and support of
public schools, and the youth of both sexes
will long bless the benevolent heart and
active mind which prompted his exertions
in their behalf.
"Years rolled by. The children who
were cominitted to the charge of Gertruda,
attained the years ot mattuity, and became
all thin the linidest parents could desire.—
Amiable, virtuous, mid pious. they bid fair
to repay their adopted mother for all the
sacrifices she had made, and to become
bright jewels in the crown of glory which
is reserved for such us her in a future state
of existence. And now having faithfully
dischat gad every duty, having devoted the
morning at the:r lives to the service of
their leilew creuturus, having proved the
chaug• Ivss nutuio of their qiiii:ction tor
each other, our lovers were at length uni
ted. The bloom of youth is past, yet Ger
trude is still lovely. The symmetry of her
fine form is unimpaired, and the mild light
of piety and benevolence illumines her
countenance, and lends animation to her
still beautiful features. The manly form
of Gordon is yet unbent by ago, though
time has thinned his flowing locks, and
tempered his somewhat impetuous charac
ter. They are very happy; happy in each
other's love; happy in the esteem and re
spect of all who know them; most happy in
the approbation of their own consciences,
and in the assured hope of a blessed im•
mortality. Long, very long may they'
live a bright example of disinterested
benevolence, in this dark and selfish world,
a blessing to all with whom they are con
fleeted, and to all who ure privileged to
call them friends."
As Mr. Vernon closed his recital, his
little bright Dyed daughter approached.me,
and remarked:
"Why, Gertrude is mother's name."
"Well, my dear," I replied, "may not
your mother have been t be Gertrude of hie
story?"
...Ha 0 sm..
A HUSBAND'S LOVE
Incidents of life occurring from day to
day, and we suspect, some not altogether
divested of fiction, are not untrequently to
be met with in the public prints, in which
they are heralded as instances of the all.
absorbing and ever•enduring affection
which burns with eternal brightness in the
bosoms of wives, mothers and sisters.—
But who has ever before seen, in the col•
limns of our public journals, a record ex•
Wilting to the world the equally intense
and not less abiding devotion of husbands,
fathers, and brothers? Such records are
rare indeed—not, as' we believe, that the
latter instances are less frequent than the
former, but hem's° there is in them less to
express the amiable feelings of our nature,-
and excite that peculiar interest which sur
rounds every thing hallowed by female vir•
tue or heroism•
The Lowell Journal relates a case in
point, which, through succeeding years,
had firiled to interest the pen of the chroni
cler. - In a gravo yard, sitwifed in a wild,
rural'; Ir47e, about a mile from a little vil
Inge i.; that vicinity, stands a very neat
.
arrill!-- - :4nnninnont. it is the only menu
meat in the yard, and stands by itself, over
n solitary grave, apart from all other graves.
The history of that monment is interest
ing and melancholy in the extreme. It
marks the spot where lies buried the young
wife of one of the young men of the village.
lie was married a few years since to one
who seemed in every way calculated to
render him happy. At that time the pros•
pects of the young couple' bid fair for a
long life of happiness and usefulness. In
a year or two after their marriage, the
small pox broke out and raged in the neigh•
borhood. The young wi(e was attacked
with this dreadful disease, and became its
victim.
The fears of the community prevented
her friends from attending her during her
sickness. Her husband, the physician,
and one or two attendants were the only
persons who were present to smooth down
her dying pillow. The same fears took
away the accustomed forms of a Christian
burial. A spot for her grave was appoint.
ed out in the graveyard, remote from other
graves, by the proper authorities, and at
the dark hour of night, with none present
but the Osband, the physician, and one or
two fearless friends, the burial took place.
There was no long train of kindred to wit-
ness the ceremony; the afflicted husband
was the only relative, who, at the burial,
ventured to shed the last tear over the grave
of the loved and the departed.
Months rolled on, and black melancholy
still brooded over the young man, but soon
loosened its hold, somewhat. Sorrow still
remained, but it was soon mingled with
resignation. He resumed his accustomed
occupatiiin, and seemed to forgot the past.
The past was riot forgotten, however, nor
the object which the past had endeared to
him. The grave of his wife was solitary
and alone. Over that grave ho resolved to
erect a monument to her memory. That
monument, although a blacksmith by trade,
he chose to plan and .work with his own
hands. He procured the rough blocks of
granite and commenced his pleasing task.
Every leisure hour he could find was spent
on his favorite work. No other hand plan
ned, and no other hand, than his own exe
cuted. Month after month, alone and
unaided, with no 'knowledge of the art
except what nature had taught him, some•
times at noonday; and sometimes at /light,
when others had lett their tasks, he toiled
on% until his work was completed. That
monument, which, as a specimen of art is
exceedingly fine, and would be an ornament
even in Mount Auburn, now marks out' the
grave of his wife. While-at serves to call
to mind the memory of the dead, it speaks
also of the constancy'rind purity °lnflections
which death and time could not destroy.
ATTEMPT TO 13REAK A BANIL—An
attempt was made on Monday night last to
enter the Monongahela Bank of Brownville,
by displacing bricks immediately over the
side clone of the outer doors; but finding
the operation rather difficult of accomplish
tnent, the rogues cave it up as tt . bad jib.
linutirs4 lens been aptly described as
"the cushion upon the devil tepo•
The editor of the Savannah Georgian flantruL NOTICER.—When ivory han
has embodied in the following short tiara- , Wed Leaves turn yellow, lob them with
graph a large mass of statistical inform. i nice sand piper, or emery; it.will take ofE
lion concerning industry, as exhibited in the spots and restor e th e i r whiteness.
the Russian empire. He says: I When a carpet is faded, I have been
The Russians are the largest landholdtold, that it may be restored in a great
era in the world. Their country covers , measure, (provided there be be nn greases
one fifth of the surface of the globe. Their ;on it,) by being dipped into strong salt and
forests spread over nearly five hundred water. I never tried this, but I know
millions of acres, and their, plains, or atop ! that silk pocket handkerchiefs, and deep
pea, are almost unbounded in extent. The blue factory cotton, will not fade if dipped
Russians, hOwever, have turned much of into salt and water while new.
their attention of late to manufactures.— Tortoise shell and horn combs last much
They have now nearly 7,000 workshop>, or
manufactories, emplo)ing 412,931 masters
and workmen; of these establishments, 606
are for woolen goods, 227 for silks, 446
for wens ing, 1,918 for leather dressing,
444 for candle making, 486 tor metallic
hardware and the rest for saltpetre, sugar,
potash, chemical, color, tobacco and paper
works. The internal trade circulates
through the means of such busy and crowd
ed fairs as are held at Novogorod, whither
goods aro often brought to the value of
nearly E 8,000,600, of which, at least one•
tenth comes from China. The five other
lairs of Coronnaja, Irbit, Rostow, Kretch
onsk, and Romny, in the governments ro
spectively of Carsk, Perm, Paltawa, and .
Jakutzlt presented wares, taken altogether,
in 1839, to the estimated amount of 0,2,-
500,000. The total of Russian imports
from foreign countries, for 1838, came to
something under £44,000,000, of which
one-twelfth carno by land; one fourth con
sisted .of consumables; one half was for
the use of !manufactories, and one-fourth
was manufilcluied goods. The gross ex
ports. for the year 18:39, came to nearly
£14,000,000, of which a fifth passed
through Riga, a tenth through Odessa, a
twentieth through Archangel and Tagan-
TIM WAY TO RISE IN LIFE. —No young
man can hops to rise in society, or act
worthily his part in He, within!' a fair
moral character. The basis of surh
character is a virtuous, fixed principle; or
deep, fixed sense of moral obligation,
sustained and invigorated by the fear and
l o ve o f God. The youth who possesses
such a character can be trusted. Integri
ty, troth, benevolence, justice, are not with
him words without meaning; he knows end
he feels their sacred import, and aims in
the tenor of hie life, to exemplify tlie vir.
tiles they express. Such a man
.fins
. cleCision of character; he knows what is
right and is firm in doing it. Such a man
has independence of Character; he thinks
and acts for himself, and is not to be made
a tool onto serve the purposes of party.--
Such a roan has a true worth of character;
and his life is a blessing to himself, to his
family, to society, to the World.
Aim, then, my friends, to attain this
character; airn at 'virtue and moral excel
lence. This is the first, the indispensable
qualification of a good citizen. It imparts
life, strength, and beauty, not only to
individual character, but to all the institu
tions and interests in society. It is indeed
the dew and ram that nourish the vine and
fig tree, by which we are shaded and re
freshed.
The Louisville Journal furnishes the
following sketch of a rather daring movo•
merit of a young lady.
A LoursviLui BELLn.—A few nights
ago, one of the most accomplished belles of
this city, while sleeping in the same apart
ment with Mrs• Charles %V. Thurston,who
is in feeble health, was soddenly roused by
a slight noise. Looking around her, she
saw a ruffian, evidently a robber, at
window, in the act of raising it. Leaping
up, she bade him depart. tie hesitated a
moment; but, seeing that the two ladies
were alone in the room, he proceeded with
a terrific frown in effecting his entrance.
Thereupon the young lady instantly seized
a large pistol that chanced to bo in the
apartment; cocked it, presenting' it at him,
and declared her determination to blow his
brains out if he did not instantly fly. Ile
knew from her countenance that she would
be as good as her word, and snatching
some small articles of dress from a chair
within arm's length of the window, he fled
with precipitation. We are told that the
young heroine would have tired if she had
known that the pistol was certainly loaded;
but sho feared that it was empty, and that
a snap would betray her defencelessness.
WHO CAN SOLVE THIS Priontr3ll—Fill
a wine glass to tho brim with water, or, if
possible, raise it higher than the edge, by
letting one drop fall at a time until the
water presents the convex surface. When
this is - done drop into the glass as many
common pins as will fill it, and the water
will not overflow. This simple exper►n►ent
mhy be easily tried, but I have never seen
it explained•. Water is not compressible
in a wine glass and the pins ate made ci
solid metal, yet the water in the glass
remains as it was before pins were dropped
in.—Ex. paper. •
The money paid for advertising should
never form the least difficulty to a man
who has anything to gain. It should be to
him as a mere drop from the ocean. A
painter once asked a very weatlny mer
chant why he had note letter sign. 'Ah,'
- said he, advertise. My neighbors-have
ell splendid signs, but they never bring as
many customers as mine. , Any one in the
whole country miry see my sign board.- it
is the printer and not the painter, that has
fund(' inv tvnalth.'
UPZEfgailig cuTY q.,) , a COL
longer for baring.oil rubbed into them once
in a while.
Spots on furniture may usually be cleanso
ed by rubbing them quick and bard
with a flannel wet with the same thing
which took out the color—if rum, wet the
cloth with - rum, &c. The very best resto
rative for defaced varnished furniture, is
rotten stone pulverised, and rubbed on with
linseed oil.
Sal volatile, or hartshorn, will restore
colors taken out by acid. It may be drop
ped upon any garment without doing harm,
SpiriiS of turpentine is good to take
grease spots out,of woollen cloth—to take
spots of paint, &c., from Mahogany furni
ture, and to cleanse white kid gluvea.—Fru-.
gal Museteffe.
ECONIMY Ilk CAN DLICS. - 11 . 3700 ere with••
out a rush light, and would burn a caildle
all night, unities you use the following pre
caution, it is ton to one an ordinary candltr
will gutter away in en hour or two, some
times to the endangering the safety of the
house. This may.be avoided by placing
as mnch Felt, finely powdered, as wilt
reach from the tallow to the blaidi of the
wick of a partly burnt candle, when, if tho
same be lit, it •will burn very slow,yielding
sufficent light for a bed chamber. Thu
salt will gradually sink. as tho 14.11ew is
consumed, the tallow being drawn through
the salt; consumes the wick. ••
G,Avs comm.—how, Fryer, ono of
the workmen employed at the new glen:
house, Alex borough, near Doncaster, has
manufacture &a glass eight, which he. has
bequeathed to his cousin, who holds a situa
tion in Guy's Hospital, London, for but
own holy to be enclosed in when he as,.
so that his cousin will see if he rots any
faster than if he was in a leadau
Tim collie is made of clear glass, a quar
ter of an inch thick, 6, feet 2 niches long.
21 inches across the bosom, and 15 inches ,
deep. He hos ornamented it with blue
glass, death's head and cross bones or the
sides, also his name on the lid.
A CUTTING E TOR T. A gent foto=
walking near Oxford, was met by Goma
students of the Univereity, one of w•hum•
addressed him with,
'Good morning, lather Abraham.'
'I am not father Abraham,' said he.
'Good morning. lathet Nue,' said tr
second.
am not father Isaac,' was the reply.
'Good morning, father. Jacob;' •said a
'1 am neither Abraham, !sane or Jacob..
hut Saul, son of Kish, who went out to find
his fathor'S asses, and lo) 1 have found
aint acing to be called prtr.ter'g
devil any longer—no more I elm,' ex•
claimed our Fhb the other day, in a
terrible pucker. Well, what shall we
call you—hey 'Why, call me typograpi..
cal spirit of evil—if you please; that's all.
ncaa g na are, you willing to be damnett e
if it be the Leas wi111" inquired a pleat
friend "Oh, yea, ma-en, and more trio;
willing to have you damned urao, mesas,'
replied Congee.
NITINIFIVEN'T BEQUE4T9.—We stated'
yesterday that the tato Thomas Otis Esq.
had left a verbal bequest of five thousand
dollars to the Board of Missions of the
Prritesiant Eaiscopal Church. We learn.
this morning, hat Mr. Otis, in his dyirg
moments, bequeathed $5,000 to the domes
tic Mission; $5,000 to the Foreign Mission,
and $5,000 to the City Mission—all .of
the Proteotant Episcopal Church. The
entire sum, $15,000, has been paid agree.
ably to the desire of the liberal donor.—N.
Y. Ado.
THE SECRET OP DOIIU3TIO ENJOYMENT.-
One greet secret of domestic enjoyment‘ is
too much overlooked; it lit is in. bringing,
our wants clown tr, our circumstances,
instead of toiling to bring our circumstan
ces up to our wants. Waists well afways.,
be ahead of means, and . Otero will he irtr
end to the rare, if you set -the latter tn•
chasing the former. Put the yoke of self
denial on desire, apply the spur of industry.
to energy, and it the latter does not over
take the former, it will at least •• keep in.
sight of it.
A miser in Philadelphia, n Aimee).'
sweeper by trade, lately died worth $lOO,-
000. Ile was so nintrand derly, that hie'
shadow would not follow him for more thaw
r year before hie death..<
PCS...-. Eating when you tie not hungryi.'
drinking boil wine when your lieitd:itebeta -7,
and you feel like a fool, playing brag tilt
you Ithir nll your money, and going:tonre•
in n drizzling rum to bed to awake up thfr
next morning to repentence, n Pick *to--
runch, nr.d 1 tclo.:ling , tr)fe. Tt it is lyp.