IVOLIIIIE XIII.- - -NIIMBER 34.
Origiaal.
SYMPATHY.
irilen ye were children ; ye would fill your hands
With wild flowers in the wood,
And, comforted for all your sorrowings,
Ye said that "God is good.'.'
But all your blossoms faded, when the light
• Died from your childhood's slopes,
And manhood's dreary heart is made an urn,
Full of dead Loves and Hopes.
Now, at the darkened windows of your souls;
Val:4 must Beauty plead,
The voices singing by the bolted doors,
Ye neither hear or heed. •
Ye strew white flowers, where your beloved
As if that those below [sleep ;
Had any care how, in this world of sin,
Birds sing, or blossoms grow I
Tie think how they that entered thatdark house
Through the low, narrow door,
In all the . golden summers, -will not pass
The grassy threshold o'er.
What right have I to cry "be comforted I"
• 'Who have not suffered so ?
What right to say "God willeth," when my lips
• Touched not your eup of woe?
Your grief is sacred, yet rebuke one not,
If, faint with:pain; I stand,
Not daring to look up to - one of ye,
And offer you my hand.
Tearful, I pray for all earth's Veari e d ones :
That watch alone , to-night,
.
, 'OpCn, 0 Christ! the golden gates of Morn I
Ilest them behold the lightfi
' tter Cd.., July 25 1/361.
1
Parted by a fla i r's Breadth.
My lady Paterdailc sits in the large
drawing-room of her place down in Blank
shire, and listens to the .fain which falls
' drip, drip, u - r ion theistone terrrce without.
My lady is not there from cligice, but by
reason of her medical tyrants. In her
listless hand is a novel which she does
not read. Now and then she glances at
the fire, which is there not because it •is
cold, but because thp[plac& in Blankshire
is dreary; a dampness hangs about it and
a chill—a queer sort of creeping, as tho'.
the dead Sir Oliver still lay in - state on
the hearse-like bed of .crimson velvet in
the western chamber.
'My lady's own companion sits behiEd
her, occupied in a mysterious fancy-work
called tatting; but it is not upon her that
those wandering glances fall as they leave
the fire ; upon two figures at the
other end of the room—so far away dint
in the dim light they can rather be it'll
agined than seen, and their 'voiceS are in
audible. These are the daughter and. the
nephew of my ladyiPaterdaile.
Ey and by the conversation is finished
and they come up and, stand together op.
polite my lady's great chair On the hearth.
" George Haughton," said her ladyship,
"why, arc you locking like a caged lion?"
"Twelve mouths ago,"replied the :Vollllo'
man, "my cousin bade me wait patiently
a yeara whole long year. It exPirs
today, and I am here to know my fatq."
"Speak lower, George Ilaughton."
'She tells me," he went on with a '' , es-
Lure of impatience, " that she can nOtfet
ter herself yet; that . I. am still a boy and
must serve yet another year for her," t
"To which youlhave agreed," interpost•
ed a softer voice, while a little white band
touched his. arm.
"To which I have agreed. It is no
boy's love I have given you, Catharine,
but my whole life. "You must not think
I da not know you ; f it is because you love
admiration—because - you would be acconn
ted free to exercise your fascination over
.otbers—that you hold back fro keeping
your promise. I can wait; but do not
try me too long. You are mine and I aui
yours forlappiness or misery, and the one
shall not Stiffer without the other."
, My lady Paterdaile bent her false eye
'raws into a frown as he finished.
"These are:strange words - fur aloFer,
young Haughton!!-
Then the haughty face softened with a
sudden gleam of tenderness, and he tea
both the hands of his betrothed in his own
strong, earnest grasp.
"Catharine knows," he said that I Jou
her aS my own soul."
He was gone. My lady's book slippld
slowly down to the stool at her feet, for
she was watchingher daughter. strange
look came into the eyes of .tho young girl
as she pressed her.clasped hands together
and felt the touch of George Haughton's
ring. /
"'fora are wise, Catharine," said her
ladyship. -"When we go back to town
you will have many a better, at your
hot." -
I ‘,That le not it," exclaimed Catharine,
scornfully. "And the Iran does not live
whom I should think worthy to compare
with him."
• My lady le.ntler uncertain old eyes to
look into her daughter's fade.
"Yon are -endowed with a singular,
power of fascination," she said . ; s'Ynu'
would flirt, my daughter, in your shroud."
A shudder passed over the beautiful
crouching figure, and the poor Companion
made a false move in her tatting.
"But do not trust to it, Kate . ; with
youth and beauty it passes away';—ah, so
quickly !" .
Then my lady rang for lights, and be
gan to reckon up the days and weeks
which must elapse before she Would dare
to go back to town and gayety, from the
dreary place in Blankshire.
So that year also went by, and then an
other, and another, leaving the promise
unfulfilled; and still George i Naughton
repeated as firmly as ever, "I can wait ;"
while the hope that had ripened his youth
was withering away manhood'. f I
Four years more bad he servedifor her;
this was the fifth. And my lady Was back
again at her place in Blank - ship', but no
longer alone with her unread notel.
She had filled the house; with fashion
and youth• and 'beauty. There were
daughters and sons to be merry,landma•
trons to gather round the card ;table, of
Lady Patterdaile, and to squabble bver
the cards which she touched ;lovingly
with her trembling old fingers; whiled the
dancing, went on around her.. ;
On such an evening it was that Gelarge
Houghton 'again entered the lage draw
-^rn o the plan- Blaullshi Hr
idg-room of the place in lan
,s ire.; He
stood in the •doorway watching ;thelight
clouds of gauzy blue, and pink!atid white,
with the black coats thatrciieded them.
George Haughton's head ts , shigher Than
any there; he leaned, in his laiy strength,
against the wall, watching, with a smile
to which yenrs of disappointed hopes; had
given a sort of despairing bitteidess,While
his cousin drew near, and s_topppd w-th a
gesture of surprise. George initde her a
low bow, and then offered her ;lti's tinLlov
.,
ed hand. -
"Hare you forgotten the day of . the
month T" I
"Let me speak to you a moment,i" lie
said, taking her apart from the
,"rest4
IRE
Wilco they conic back 'she was looking
up at him laughingly. .
"When will you- give me up, Geor o oe
Haugbton ?"
"When that beautiful_ blael; head .is
streaked with silver," retorted ;George '
She heard a new sound in ;his .voice,
and shrank from it ; but the' nest; int).
went all her gayety came back, fo• She
said to herself, imperiously. "He knows
not my power; he can not forsake MC.
"One word more," said George. "You
call that young lady who left you just
now your friend, do you not,"
"Oh, yes—lily dearest friend." 1
"Well, and the fair-haired young fellow
leaning over the prie-deau is stranger
to you ?" ; I
"He was till this evening." 1
"But not to me. When I came in, you
were flirting with him. When I tell you
that he is engaged to your 'dearest Mewl,'
will you spare him_?" -
With, a laugh, she broke from the light
restraint of his hand. He looked ! after
her, and smiled' at the folly of asking such
a question. He drew himself urs and
pressed his knuckles together, and he
mattered to himself fiercely, 4 .1 - wall ; I.
swear it !"
,I
So this year Oeorge HaUghten did not
take himself and his answer awdy as Usual,
but he staid on day after day, patient and
watchful, amongst the other auestslof his
aunt. •
One evening the poor companion knock
ed, with her tatting in .her 14nd, at the
door of Catharine's dressing romp and
entered, trembling at her own, boldness.
"My dear," said the poor lady, and-all
the rows of curls on he forehead quiver
ed with agitation, "forgive :me, put I
ould not hlp it."
"Help what ?" asked Catharine, gently.
"My dear, my dear, an old maid's life
is not always a happy one. IdO net say
that mine is unhappy, but others
instance' dif
ferently constituted—yourself,for
if such a thing were to happen. '
A laugh interrupted her; but clasping
her hands, with one point of the tatting,
needle running into them, she went on
most earnestly :
"Alas I alas ! you would be so misera
ble! Smile at me if you will for taking
such a theme on my old lips but I know
what it is to trifle with a man's heart, and
—Heaven help me !—to
The Last words were but it.faint mur
mur, and the old lady was gonp.
"An old maid !" 6tharine laughed
again; she sprang up lightly' and stood
before the glass, radiant: and beautiful,
repeating the words scornfully. k
Look once more. The laugh of the fair
cousin has ended in a little cry of
; a look of horror has cliasedl away
the radiant smile. , What is it? I Only
that she has seen reflected there a Jwhite
hair—only one, but startlingly white,
gleaming like a silver trail down the black'
locks.
She turned away, but still'She saw-it ;
everywhere she, saw it--dovra the walls,
on the gilt frames of the pictures, on the
4001", pleryirliete. It lay along the dark
green of the Venetian- bland; and when
, - she raised - that impatiently ) it (nit in two
•
ileb;oteD to tiia 2kirteipies , of Rtio Deitioehey, 41 . 10 issoltiirmtioq of 4j"
COUDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, P t lt., WEDNESDA',.&UUST 14
the prospect from the window. Then she
threw herself on a couch and covered her
face. There seemed to be before, her,
then, herself, yet not herself, bearing, a
shadowy resemblance, but horrible to he
hold ; a' gaunt figure, a lonely, desolate
woinan, unloving; with nothing but the
bitter remembrance -of past pleasures to
fill up the yearning in her heart; with
none to live for, no voice to easWer hors,
no lips to smile for her ; alone with the
.phantoms of the'past, which mocked her
wretchedness.
Then the picture changed. Earnest
eyes were looking into her own; a loving
hand clasped hers ; whispers of tenderness
filled the air around her, and tears came
stealing through the hands clasped over
her face.
That evening George Hauglifon saw
that his cousin was more beautiful than
ever; that there was a new' grace about
her, a something almost akin to humility;
that she was strangely quiet and reserved.
But he only smiled bitterly as he saw it,
and thought of his vow.
Once only she addressed him—when
he was' passing her to leave the room;
Never looking at him or even turning to.
ward him, she vonturned to ask why he
was going away so soon. lie had letters
to write, he said; he was going to the
library.
But he did not write them. He stood
od the rug, leaning his elbow 'on the
mantelpiecm; he seemed to be weaving
pictures out of the dull glimmer : ;of the:
firs; but they could not have been pleas
ant ones, his face was so stern and bitter.
He looked up impatiently as the door
opened, but 'it was the figure of his cousin
which stood there to interrupt him.
For a moment the old, long-cherished
lore clamored at the door of George's
heart, and cried out with piteous plead
'ing to be taken in; but the keeper of
that' door answered; sorrowfully, "Too
late!'
She was near him now—downcast, but
resolute.
"The time has arrived, George Hough
ton. I come to give you back your bond ;
to set you free.'
Georg&looked at her earnestly.
"Is this all your pride can say to me,
Catharine',"
All I OF
h, no 1 it needel a wort
from him to call forth the whisper of a
better and a happier love than she, had
ever before known, but that word would
never cone. Looking into his face, she
choked back the half-uttered "Forgive
me."
"I remind you of your own deelaration,
whether it was jest or earnest 'The sil
ver streak- has come; look here, George
Ilaughton."
He saw it at once as she bent her head
before him—the one white hair, glisten
ing, on the black locks.
'He said to her, as calmly as he could,
almost ldokin,g, down upon her, as She
stood there. "This, then, has gained a
victory which seven years of devotion
could not gain.! Give it to me. Catha
rine, I told you once that it was not my
love I offered you, but my own life. You
accepted it; you took and offered it up
to vanity and frivolity. Think what it is
to have withered a man's life up."
• "Forgive .me," murmured Catharine.
"I do.' I accept Iry release at your
hands. Catharine, when I' came here
four days .ago, my heart was full of the
old.love. Again you put me off, as the'
I were, indeed, no better than a play
thing. Then I swore that I would free
myself; bat no effort was needed. I was
free; your voice had no power to move
me, nor „your touch; you. bad withered
up all I gave to you, and nothing remain
ed but bitterness—nothing. 'The past is
like a dream, which I can remember with
out being able to bring back the emotions
which filled it. They will never come to
me again. These two, the saddesewords
a man's tongue can utter, are all that
come to, me as I look at you, and think
of what might have been—goo late.' "
He paused, but there was no reply.
Then a sign and a trophy, he holds it up
--the long, white hair.
"This, then, brought you to me too late.
Catharine, good-bye ; for if ever we meet
- again, it l will rise up as a ghost between
us, and we - shall be strangers !"
1 ' False Pretences.
A law against obtaining hnibands
der false pretences, passed by the English
Parliament in, 1770, enacts,--"That all
women, of whatever age, rank, profession
or degree, who shall, after this act, im
pose upon, seduce, and betray into-Matri
mony any of his Majesty's subjects by vir,
tee 'of scents, paints, cosmetic washes,
artificial teeth, false hair, iron stays, bol,
atered hips, of high-heeled shoes, shall
incur the penalty of, the law now in force
against witchcraft and like misdemeanors;
and the marriage, under such circum
stances, upon conviction of the 'offending ,
parties, shall he null and void."
Men of some vocations are usually un
dersized: The most strapping fellows in
,c) commuuity•Qre the eoliool-masters:
Pay . as Yo i Go: I i I
"Pay as you go." This is one of Frank:
Tin's rules. His practicfil wisdon was the
advantages to be derived from; followinc , r>
1 i
'it in the early days of tie Republic; and,
the justness and benefitiorits obserVanee I
are no less now, when the liberty and in= 1;
te,grity of the Nation A're to be Imestab-,
,lished. As a general rte it is applicable
'and ,obligatory at all times and Under all
circumstances.: The spirit of; ibis pre-,
,cept is essential to the !honesty and' hoti r
or, and to the true' greptness and I inde
pendence of States andpf singleiclizerial.
Doubtless there may be asesan w ich a.
departure from the st r ilict, lett r Of the
rule is admissible. BO the ex eption is 1
too often wretchedly 4 - bused -I By what
right do we tax; and bgrden ii r future
energies and abilities beyond ,the rims- 1
sities whieh,the future preSent ?If
it be not wrong to the 'redittir- is' it net
cruel self-injustice to th6kiebtor ? ' "Suf
ficient to the day - is the t liability "'ler&
of." 1 " Owe no man anythin( •is 0,16 1
divine. injunction- 7 41M itrue philoSophY.
buy what you can pay,lfer, and Iwhat you
can't, do without.: This would save mon
ey. For the 'man wI4 sells on! trust,
needs, additionly, the I interest on the
4 i
ready-pay price, togetli , with:coMpensa
tion' for any contingent liability to 'allure
of payment, and for theibad debts of oth
ers. But beside being heaper and more
economical, it would alse avoid much per
plexity and disappointment, and! litiga
tion and despondency.' It Would save
much confidence and 1 reputatio'and
friendship. •It would contribute largely
i
to cheerfulnes, health arid enjOym nt. It
would • prevent financi4 revillsions, and I
bankruptcies and repudiation's.
But pecuniary 'obligations are not the
only ones to be. met with the promptness
of the p.^-'y down plan. f That man with
recognizes no other 13 . .4. a mew , valua
tion—who supplies aIV his_ needs with
cash, and who strictly:, and ri!,gic:.ly dis
charges all such debts, And snob Alehe,,is
but a Shylock who knows little of the
worth of the higher, better estate within
his reach. He is a more pilble bank
rupt than ordinary insolvency ver made,
by so much as matter isinferior to mind.
He who lets his wealthor , li j s Idignity
excuse him,from perfortuing his qbare of
the offices, and of the, active • 14bers inei
deka to life '
has, gone 'down below the
loWest level of huninnity„ It; IMs been
Wisely ordained that min shaltowe him
self, first; to cultivate' his garden or his
field, as Adana did his .Eden!; 'elf to pur
sue some other mode• ofuseftill, healthful
industry. Next, to improve the talent
he possesses. He may not, ash dill one of
old, hide it by digging in the; earth, or by
other sordid means. ge owes' hiS fellow
man to be to him a brOther. , He owes
his country to uphold ber in Ithe ri,.,(ilit.
All these duties he owes to Deity; and he
must pay them as he gots. "Twill never
do to put off till no-inrow what mild
l
and should be done to- ay. , q'lie habit,
c
if it does no more, will fill the tissue of
existence with' expectation urealized--
with " hope ileferred."l ' 1 , '
Individuals compose cmmtrin ides, and
communities make up States a d Nations.
As are the people, so i the' ullic. It
is the duty of every commonwealth, by a
judicious system 'of educlation, to
train up
itiyouth sous thus to become payingcit
izens. Fcr the citizen that pa $ the best
is the one that shall thus pay best as be
:
goes. And when traitors, wh had not,
or who heeded not such training, insist
on taking all Nrthin , their ioich i lof the
assetts of our governmental, partnership,
and going out, it. is Well tb suggest to
them the ipropriety ofthe principle—Pay
as you 0.1 When England said to Ader
.l
ica, " YOU must submit to our taxes and
obey our laws, , represented or no rePre
dented," America said to England, "The'
plan is wrong; you must give !the equiv.
alent for our allegiance,you must pa.y;fis
you go." And she establighed her right.
And when it. is urged, that the priceless
heritage of freedom which our fathers
bequeathed to us, shall be transmitted to
our children, encumbered and involved,
with its title, l if not imPaired, yet disput
ed and defied, 'let
. us say " we'll adjust
the dispute and souare up the aceoutik—
we will-pay as we go," .
j w
And when, as new, jai repudiaticin
on the one hand and w th_ piracy on the
other, we are summons to iclivjde that
heritage, so as to ". spoi the' Whole," and
to the end that; over ne p,cirtiim of it
shall be made more pr mirient and
,dis
tinctive that system w ich ,reverses our
Motto—the system of u paid labor—with
one voice let us join the mighty response,
"pay as you go." The only government
that pays is one that ea and .will thus, .
in all respects, pay as it goeS. l
And finally, the . only ay' tp make life
pay•—to make it an' ea est and satisfac
tory reality—is ; in all t lags, well to r ob- i
Serve the rule, pay 'as y u go —lndepen- 1
dent Republican. , . 1 . : i
„Wo men should set giod eamp i
tlieiaen are always folio- •initheiwomen.
It seems hard that, when a man ales,
his better half is entitleArto only one third.
i;4lii . y, .iti.:lkliti,.4lla 1i (vs.' il
,: I ' Aug - list. 'I , 1 i
The ! dog sear rages, and, every living
thing syieltere, in the Summer heat. Cat
tle seek Ithe shade; or plungirig, , into the
coolin g ! 'stream, stand knee, 'deep in the
water,l3' .b'ushi'ng their sides with' moisten
ed taili. Thus they hold ,the elouds i of
[
i
moscput es and flies at• bay, and guard
themser esagainst their ,tormentors : + l
Sivine;l 01l I zily in , the mud; coating
i
every 1, istle with the thick' ooze, and
smotherin , * c another raoe of ;inlepts quite
as terriblete them. Fowls lie :leisurely
in theilhade,l throwing dust ' oiler every
feather land 'shaking it down over every
part of.': Ain. Ducks' and geese 'sit
upon thp river's Mink, indristrionslfr rill
ping their oily bills over every part of the
body, Makin. , the feathers proof against
the eggs of insects, as . well as agaii3st
rain. , Every animal and plant has its
parasi4 and the parasitiC races, andiall
j
the tribes f insects are`' now in their
prime. 1 Life, would be too! dull • these
hot calm Summer days, were it not for
these tnutef creatures filling:the Air with
the hti of their varied music. '• 1
Thelmeadows are mainly stripped; c
the burden of grass that Covered theiio
fov days,age, and you notice, the tra
of 'the inower and, the width of his sw
He ha:
of inse
of the
tor, as,
ished a
with th
the sOel ,
of the
swarm
stubbl, ,
funit
and im
want 'a
...
formidable obstacles with ivhf‘ch the
bandmiin has to contend. The arra,
mentsi of Nature have been kited
with in the !advance of eivilization, _
'the halrmony once, existing between in
sects and other tribes pf living things, has
been destroyed. But even the meal de
structi e of these races has its use, land
the we Id chuld not I get
,on without its!
labors:, We need toi direct these labors,'
e l
rather M
than Ito exterminate the o l ers!
If ma did not interfere with th ar
rangements ,Of Providence, they woul all
be kePt in harmonious balance, and every
tribe' 4 living things would ho seen t 6 ac
complish more of good than of evil in its
labors! Man" has disturbed this balance
in various ways. The trees and shiubs
which' were designed as ;,the food (1' in
sects; have been cleared aWay ifathe march
of civilization, so,that not ,a tenth pail, of
the original i i i pasture ground of, their sect
tribes f is left in the older States. I Foi'ests
have been cut down, and swamps drained,'
and''
i n
e tint inhabitants! that once Hung
and s orted in the. unbroken 4 wildenieEs,
arli fo ced to'seek their living' in raie 1
fields d Meadows. I MI the same re,'
the nA ural eilemies of the insects', w rich I
were designed to keep them in check,
nave been I almost exterminated.. ; IThe
wild's'imalS that derived it large part of
their 0 bsistence from insects, have Main
ly qii ppedred with the forests, 'The
birda lso, Which are our best safegharcl,
ao e ,ains their undue multiplication,i are
consid red lawful - game by every vaga
bond hat can carry a gun, and by eery
cat th'nt ought to catch Mice and rats.
WA line; toot not only the insect' na•
tine ko our forests, : but those of qtlier
,i.
lands; introduced by commerce.
.These
'have ome in grain Sacks, sometimes in
straw or mainin seeds, 'and upon plants
broug t hither for ;cultivation., Pfovi
derma has furnished }abundant 'cheeks to
the •Mitltinlication of these - creatures, and
we have only to study their habits, to
learni hew to keep! them Within due
bound.. J i 1
As;vet, the adenine 'of entoinologyi has
but fay' admirers in this country... There,
are iefry few; who have had thp timel an d .
patience to follow these creatures tbriingh
their Variolis change's, to Andy , the times
and 'Methods of their reproduction, ;and
st means of circumventing them
is beginning to be felt, however, a
- f this'knowledge as indicated in the
UB inquiries in :ear a,grieuliural
rticultural journals. Close ohierv
iD
n they farm are learning bow to have
4reals from their depredations, 1 and
lbo b istd :are pablishin A a their middies
+e rasf i,. insects ,
ages of among their
There is great need of a wider
of observation, and a larier claps of
is win) shall closely' investigatil the
. of ilie insect, tribes. :This is )11
in w4ch our young, readth:s, eayee
be boa's, might engage with great
'to themselvss,and with a fair Dru
id' I:tininess td the conatinniti
'Aloe ' of speciinens is indispensable
prci3etution - of tile , study Onto
aad these every, student Might
y
ally gather, for himself. ,:If, for in
., we, bad a few eggil of the Worm,
Igroxvin specimen :Ss be feeds ripen
ves df the Mulberry, a cocoon t,ipon
And' ,IWbere it; wet, sptiP,.lnd,npair,
lers s the should have befoie "us; at 'a
i . • , ,
IN
uncovered the homes of myrij
is quite as beautiful, quite as I
wisdom and goodness of the CI
the grasses and ftowerS that El,
hove tpem. Now the air is pie!?
ie shrpl note of the locust, and a
Llg of the grasshopper and the el
crieiet on the ear. Ti
an countless multitndei among
andlevery advancingistep drl
ire host before you.
6omplain of the insects as enern
their present number, and our
f skill, they are among the
TERMS;--$l.OO PER
. -
. .
glance, a"pretty correct view of the insect'.
Every worm, bug; and •buttertly, pith i ,
which we cotne , t .iti daily contact, I:i4. Ti
similar history worthy of our investigai
tion. It would not lake a very large cali l
inet to make us familiar with thifse which
.prey most upon our lahors.i..Speoimenk
of insects are much more easily preserved
than thoseof birds and the larger anitliils.i.
andthe expense 'for the meterial o2re,
serving them, would be 'within the clr
of most farmer's sons. • The habits of
careful - observation.fostered by such a:
study, would be invaluable to the" boy,
whatever might be his future calling. • .
One of the . best methßtla 01 kpepWiio-:
'sects in 'cheek upon the meadow,' an 4
which is appropriate to the season, is lib l
eral top-dressing with compost or stable .
manure.' .As soon after the mowing as is
convenient, compost is spread at the rate:
of twenty loads or more to the acre. those
who adopt this course, give as thei res..
sons, that awl - main: is offensive to in eels;
and they are much less liable, to d posit
their eggs in a recently matiured tri l adow
than in a clean stubble; and that the ma.'
nure makes stouter plants and mire of
them, so that the traces of the eating of
worms are seldom seen in rich' meadows.:
'nets generallY prove the theory: i
Others have great faith in the plow as ;
,a destroyer of grubs.
.All their lands'
'destined for hoed crops arc plowed late in,
the Fall and the burrows of a muqitude
of insects and their eggs, are thus turned,
up to the Winter frosts. But they most.
efficient helpers in this warfare are the,
birds. Some of theatfiud their priticipal
food in bugs and worms, and were they.
1
protected by the farmer, and alto ed to
multiply, they .would guard his cr ps ef
fectually from insect ravages. They`
should be welcomed to his orchar s and.
meadows, and copses of evergre us be.
planted to shelter them,. where the have,
ir
not stifficient protection. They soon,
learn their friends, and congregate in the,
I t i
places
i 'vill re. no robber molests,, a id• no,
gun make them afraid ? —Amerk n Ag
xiculturis .. -
1
us
ige.
red
ittd
liv ,
.-1 .n.i l • -''
rano 1 ern on Sons ttly.,
_,
Fanny Fern, (Mrs. Parton,) havinLts
'
lost her eldest daughter in marria,,,e, a •
makes th i e following reflection, by her:.
rather sinnificant. When she Penned,
them - - "boesticks " plr. ThomPson,).
had probably just declared his interitions f;
7 .
"How any young fellow ci.n hiiie the
face td, walk into, your family, one-1(1'043 7 ,
,errtely ask for one of your daughtera,".
surprises me.l That it is dine every day,
does not lessen my astonishment at the.
sublime . impUdence of the thing. There, you have been, eighteen or twenty years.
of her life, combing her hair and washing,
'here face for l —hins !
..It is lucky the.
thoughOnever strikes you when yen are
doing it, thau this is' to belle endof all.,
What if you mere married yourself? that,
is no reason why she should be witched.
away into a separate establishment just as:
you begin to lean upon her,end feel proud;
of her; ..or, at least, it stands to Ireasou,
that after yeti have worried her through
the, measles, the chicken-pox, scalet le- •
ver and whooping cough, and h d her,
properly baptized and vaccinate , • this .
i
young man might give you a short reath- .1
ing time befOre she goes. He seems to.
be of a, different opinion i ; he not only in-.
sists upon taking / her,/ but upon taking'
her immediately, if not sooter. He talks,
well about it—very well ; you have- no'.
objection to him, not, the least 4. 11, tbei
world, except that when the world is full,
Of girlsovhy couldn't he fixed his• eye on,
the daughter; of somebody else 7 f There
are some parents' who aro glad to be rid.
of their daughters. Blue eyes are as,
plentifuhis berries; why need it be t this
particular pair? Isn't she happy cionn.b
as she is ? • Don't she• have meat, and •
breadl, and clothes enough, to say nothing
oflove? What is the use of' leaving a,;
. _
' certainty for an 13 neartainty, whe.o that :
..certainty, is amother, and you can! newt..
have but one'?" You put, all these gees-,
nom to her, and she has the sauciness to,
ask if that is the way you reasoned whew,
father came for you. You disdain to
answer, of eciurse; it is a mean dpdging
of the question..- But she gets round you,
fer all.that ; and so does he, tot., though;
you try your best net - to-like hilia.; - arid . ;
with A 4 We'll, if I must,l must,' you'.
,
I
just order her Wedding clothes, mutter?,
ing to yourself the, while„ , Thaii dean ? ,
what sort of, a fist" will that Child ine.k.e . ar,
the head 'era house ?How will she over .
know what to do' in this, that, or the oth
er, emergency !-she who is calling on
'mother' fifty times a day, to settle evn y
trifling question I what folly for her to set - _
up house for herself l'' How many moth'-.
ers have 'had these foreboding thoughts _
over a daughter ! And yet, that, daugh- .
ter has met life, and its unexpected re-. ;
`verses, with a heroism and courage as
undaunted as if every. 'girlish tear bad : '
not been, kissed away by 'lips that, As 2,',.
may be dust when the baptism al Woman-,
hood comes upon her." _ ._. . ,
,
A. man is most to fall down uppcv„.
ice when te Tentures upon it dip'6lwai-
II