North Branch democrat. (Tunkhannock, Pa.) 1854-1867, May 15, 1867, Image 1

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    ®he Slortlt Branch Bcmoaat
A weekly Dewocratia ,
paper, devoted to I'oh ggjgga '
1 cs News, tho Arts
tnd Sciences Ac. Pub- *lB * J
li.-heJ every Wednes- ' NgL *
day, ut Tunkhannoek fwSm
Wyoming County,Pa =/ \' V {T?f. ! J R
Terms 1 copy 1 year, (in advance) $'.2,00 if
net paid within six months, t2.50 will be chaged
NO paper will be DISCONTINUED, until all ar
ear igos are paid; unless at the option of publisher.
ADV 1L&?: ISTGc *
10 lines or 'll
less, make three f onr ( iro three ' six one
one square moth year
1 Square 1,00 1,25: 2,25, 5,00
2 do. u { i •?„ 6,00
3 do. 3,0. ; 3??' 4 75' 5 > 50: 7, ?° 9 :°°
i Column. 4,00 4.nv C,o" j> ; 00 j 9 '®?
i Jo. 0,00 (i.50 10.0 1 ' '-V '}' J[ f ' 25,00
I do. B,oo' 7,(2 14.(Ml 13,00 2a,00 35,00
1 do. 10,00 12,00! 17,00 22 00,28.00 40,00
COR'o NOTICES, of the usual length, 62,50
OBITUARIES,- ex jeoding tun lit, s, each ; 11EEI
GlOrSaud LITERARY NOTTCES, not of genera
nterost, o;.o L tlf tue regular rates.
llusLf st nrls of one square, wtth paper. 63.
of all kin Is neatly executed, and at prices to suit
he times.
WORK trust be paid for, when ordered JlotiffS.
5 t LAV*Office on Ttoga Street Tunkhannwck I'n
>s i;-o ir Stark" Uric'. IE. :k Tioga St., Ttytk
h tnnock, Pa.
t_ I • Newton Centre, Luzerno County Pa.
I' Otii-c at the Caurt lljuse, in Taukhannock
Wyoming Co. Pa.
•J • will attend prwptly t i all eatla in his pro
fession, Mi >e • :i ! at hisOffi'-- at the Dm;
Store, (i- i '• eon I'utmin Sieet, formerly
occupied by A. K. Piettti ftj.
f* i* &*'T i y' l v '• y
"i ■ f-; T '
f . " j, -
DP.. L T. Kl RNS h - peruMuldwtiy l---.ttcd in
I'unki, i-.ih " K lioruugo, .u. 1 i . Gully l.uders
his profess.■ nal services to it i.
Office on second fo,.i, i> ,i_ occu; ici l y Dr.
T'lf ItteWft Itom
o o C7<*
H All HI sunu;, PEN NA.
The nn-I -r-'trne 1 h ring lately purchased (he
"P' 1 i: " -E " property has already eorn
meuced • > a alterati. u- and improvements as will
ren ler this old i 1 pop tl • li ... • f.pial. if not suj.o
rior, t . . v tlotel in too Cii\ „f Harrisl.urg.
Aeontinuanoe of the public patronage isrefpei t
fully solicited.
rHIS et .blirhincr.t be? recently been refitted an
furnished ; n ti> > latest style. Every attention
will l,e given to the comfort and convenience of those
who patronize the Jt >u- •.
T. 15. Y.'Al L, Owner and Proprietor :
Tankhannoek, September 11, 1961.
South branch hotel,
Wm. 11. COKTIt IGHT, Prop'r
HAVING rt-ae i tie proprietorship of the above
II 'el, the 4u SerTgiK-il will c paro no efforts
lender the 1 use an groca .le place ot sojourn to
all who may favor it with their custom.
Jane, 3rd, 1 63
fjto* SfM,
(Late eft. PnitAisAßn IIOVSK, ELMIKA, N. Y.
The MEANS HOTEL, i one of the LARGEST
and BEST ARR ANGED Houses in the country—lt
if fitted up in the must modern and improved style,
and no pains are spared to make it a pleasant and
agreeable i .ppiug-place for all,
v 3, u2l, ly.
Remedial Institute
J\b. /A 'Monti street, A'eff York.
tY I ; u| i lotbrni ition, with the highest testimo
nials : also, a ]J.,ok u[\ Special Diseases, iu a seat
ed enrehipe, sent It . j~r ]{e^ ure and send far
t them, an 'you trill not regucl it ; for, as adver
tising pliysici.ins are g<-;„ illy impostors, without
reference* no stranger - nul lbe trusted Enclose
a stamp tor p.stage and aire. -i v p>li.. LAWRENCE
No. 14 Bona Street, New Voik. \6nlslyr.,
The Subscriber having La 1 a sixteen years prac
tieal experience in cutting and making clothing
now offers hi.-: services in this line to the citizens of
NICHOLSON ADvl viyinity.
Those wishing t., get'Pit3 will find his shop the
place to get them.
. . n r Sozv, R, SMITH
pleasant in taats and odor, free trom all injurious |
propertie#, and immediate ia its aotioa.
[From the California Golden Era.]
Our Washoe bachelors are always on
the qua vive duritig the la9t months of sum
mer and the first and second fall months,-
when the emigrant trains are rolling in
off the plains with whole troops of of sun
browned damsels.
The girl- hare all heard that the chan
ces for getting husbands are "awful good
in Washoe." They know there are
sights" of chances, so they begin primp
ing shortly after passing Independence
Rock, and by the time they strike the wa
ters ot the Carson they're in a perfect
state of wriggle.
My friend Condrick wanted a wife,
lie wanted a piece of "unsophistoca
ted calico from the states."
lie talked much of when the trains
would arrive, and of pretty emigrant girls.
He swore he would "gobble one up this
fall, sure."
At last it was reported that a big train
w r as camped on the Carson, two miles be
yond Dayton.
Condrick mounted his mustang and de
parted with alacrity.
The report proved true, and what was
hotter, "Women absolutely abounded," as
Condrick afterwards informed me in bis
enthusiastic way.
lie rode among tho tents and wagons,
ostensibly much concerned to know exact
ly the state, county and town from wnich
each family bailed, but in reality taking
notes of the finer points of all the mar
riageable looking females in camp.
At last lie struck one that suited him to
a dot.
Long afterwards, he said to me with a
grout sigh, which he tried to smother in a
laugh, "Oh ! she was a clipper! Trim as
a gazelle; lithe a a willow; cheeks which
(though sun browned) showed a peachy
ruddiness; with eyes! ah! such great
brown swimming eyes! that drove your
soul down into your boots, dragged jour
heart up into your throat and left you
speechless and slaughtered."
To this sumptuous female Condrick laid
II is progress was good.
As the shades of evening settled down
upon valley and hill, he and his charmer
took a stroll.
As they walked along the meandering
banks of the Carson, the full face of the
moon rose up from behind the eastern hills
All nature seemed filled and quivering
with love.
Love d.inecd in the rays of moonlight
that glanced on the stream ; the willows
rustled their leaves to the passing breezes
and so swiftly told the story of their love
that even the restless winds were for a
while enticed to*linger, forgetful of their
journey; enamored night hawks were
dimming the love-laden air in voluptuous
circles, rays of languishing light gleaming
in answering flashes from their lazy wings;
crickets, peeping irom their holes iu neigh
boring hillocks, chirped to each other in
mellow, tremulous notes on the ripe and
gushing love of their surcharged hearts;
beetles, crazy with love, thundered hoarse
ly their plaints of the tender pain that
racked their mailed bodies, and the sweet
honey-dew of Heaven fell softly into the
heart cup that each meek plant held trust
ingly up.
The sympathetic hearts of the lovers ac
knowledge the tender influence surround
ing them, and shared tho sweet thrills with
which all nature quivered.
Slowly the pair, in fond discourse wan
dered on.
What throbs of affection stirred Con
di ick's heart!
What fires of love burned in Condi ick's
eyes. . j
\s his charmer leaned trustingly upon
Ins arm, Heaven seemed to descend and
rest on the lower and uearest hills.
As the murmur of a bee in a rose was
her voice to his soul.
Seating themselves on agrassy bank,they
gazed together on the darkling eddies of
the gliding stream
In the glowing colors Condrick painted
for the fair being at his side, a picture of
the wonderful wealth hidden within the
rocky vaults of the Whipporwill mine.
Charmed by his eloquence and absorbed
in the contemplation of the picture he
placed before her, she forgot all else, and
gradually her beautiful head dropped—
dropped lower and lower—and finally rest
ted upon his bosom—his manly chest.
Great Heaven ! A thrill darted through
his frame and so affected him that it was
only by a tremenduous effort that he could
smother the volcano of emotions swelling
within his bosom.
lie felt a desire to bound to his feet and
utter a wild whoop !
But he didn't.
No ; he constrained his emotion ; he re
sisted the impulse.
Her head was now fairly and snugly
nestled upon his breast.
As she lay gazing into his handsome face,
her parted tresses of rich brown fell back
ward in affluent waves from her broad fore
head, uukissed by the sun and of marble
texture and whiteness. Her great liquid
eyes looked into his and he gazed down in
to their unfathomable depths till all the
past all Uie future seemed to center there.
Heaven came down still lower and rest
ed on the valtey.
But this could not always last. lie felt
that it could not. She seemed expecting
Iler great eyes closed wearily and the
silken fringes of their curtains rested on her
lie wa9 happy as he was, but ho couldn't
be as he was forever.
She seemed to have the same thoughts.
She lightly raised hsrhead. Its pres
sure on his chest was not so great as for
He was distressed. Would she rise ?
Was he about to lose her ?
The thought was agony.
His head grew dizzy. .
He felt himself standing on a precipice,
lie was losing his balance.
He was topping over.
lie gasped—gasped out his tale of love.
It was not a long one.
But it was to the point.
She sighed—sighed a long, long, tre
menduous, convulsive sigh.
But she said nothing.
In a murmuring tone, he asked her if she
hadn't some feelings of the same kind for
him. She put her arms about his neck,
and hiding her sweet face in his shirt front,
sobbed out in a broken voice that was what
ailed her
Heaven let go all holds, and fell at his
Here followed several deep, searching,
delicious kisses.
[For the gratification of my readers,and
that they may know the exact number and
duration of the kisses, I have put them all
down, They were as follows, rep
resenting their number, and the dashes the
duration of each ;_******_•_* ***
*** ** *_*_* *
*f: **•.*
*. It will be observed that the last
one was of immense length. It has a tail
tojit like a comet. I am not sure that
it was not even longer than I have repre
sented. Condrick is not even snr6 about
it. He thinks about here he was insensi
ble for a time.]
After all these kisses came an awkward
The situation to be sure was not an un
happy one.
But again my friend felt that it was time
for something more.
lie had made the leap from one precipice
—another was before him.
He was tottering to its brink.
He must speak of marriage.
llow would she take that ?
She had acknowledged that 6he loved
Good !
This gave him courage
lie gasped, and chokingly gulped out the
question —in fear, and with his eyes slight;
ly closed.
She clasped him more tightly about the
neck, and sighed deeply.
Poor Condrick ! all sorts of fears attack
ed him.
The very blood in his 4 heart seemed con
lie felt a drop of something moist fall on
bis band.
At first he thought her nose was bleed
lie held his hand aloft in the moonlight,
and on it beheld a glittering tear.
He felt better then.
His heart gave a great leap, and he said :
—"Thank Heaven !"
He was now much encouraged.
He agaiu made inquiry as to her love
for him.
She said then, in words, that she loved
him—"Oh, so, so much !" which for a tinae
comforted liirn greatly.
Condrick now began to urge immediate
She objected, but clung more closely to
him, and said, "Wait awhile."
Condrick wanted to know if there was
any obstacle to their immediate union.
She kissed him [*** *
*]aud said there was
aslight one.
lie then tenderly kissed her [**
*]and if they oould not be mar
ried in a week.
She raised her great swimming eyes to
his face and gazed fondly upon him, but
said nothing.
Her pouting lips were in tempting prox
imity to his own [** * * *].
lie now repeated his question, when in
an agonized voice, she cried ont:
"Oh ! dear, I can't tell ! I've got aphth
isicy old cuss of a husband out in one of
them wagons, and he's just spiteful enough
to live a month yet /"
Condrick is still a bachelor,
lie had a bad spell of something like
mountain fever the next day after he visi
ted the emigrant train—at least, he went
off into the mountains, and shunned man
kind and womankind for about two months.
But lie is all right now.
The little I have seen of the world,
and know of the history of mankind,
teaches me to look upon the errors of oth
ers in sorrow, not in anger. When I take
the history of one poor heart that has
sinned and suffered, and represented to
myself the struggles and temptations it
has passed through, the brief pulsation of
joy, the feverish inquietude of hope and
fear; the pressure of want; the desertion
of friends ; the scorn of the world ;
threatening vices within—health gone—
happiness gone —even hope that remains
the longest gone—l would fain leave the
erring soul of my fellow man with him
from whose band it came.— Longfellow.
A good heart is indispensably nec
essary to the knowledge ot truth ; he who
finds nothing can learn nothing.
"A woman's love !" Bah !it is as ev
anescent as a snow-flake, and about as
warm ! Whoever heard of a woman dy
ing for the man she loved, except in sto
ries where such a circumstance merely ex
isted in the writers own silly brain ?
Look at those women in there, Ralph !
Do you suppose their thoughts ever rise
above the furbelows on their heads f
Humph! That is their seventh heaven 1"
Will Harke's lip curled scornfully as he
looked in at the open window on a gay,
langhing, chatty party of the sex he was
abusing. Will Harks was a crusty old
bachelor, fair reader, as you might know,
for none but a sour, narrow-minded speci
men of that order, or a chicken-hearted,
henpecked husbend would have made the
above assertions.
"Hush!" Ralph Delane laid his hand
on Will's arm, and looked sternly into the
surprised face of his friend. Then raising
his great, dark eyes, he looked in at the
French window, with its silken draperies
and rich lace. His eyes rested on a slight,
little body, half reclining on the crimson
velvet cushion sofa, her face lit up with a
bright smile as she listened to some merry
talc or other. Brown eyes and hair, a
sweet witching little mouth —no wonder
the gray eyes grew dark and tender as
they gazed on the beautiful picture. Cine
little white hand was caressing the great
Newfoundland dog that Sat by her side,
the other was resting in a silken sash.—
Poor, little withered hand! its work was
over. We will listen to its story.
"Will, do you see her—my wife? I
will tell you of a woman's love! Y'ou
will take back your hasty words when you
hear it. You remember w'uen we were
married, and how soon I enlisted after
that had taken place ? Well, it was our
first qnarrel that sent me away, Dou't
shrug your shoulders, aud smile in that
sarcastic way, but hear my story. It was
ab'nt such a silly, frivolous thing, I will
not mention it. But you know my proud,
stern temper, and Effie in there was the
most wilful, obstjpate, and tantalizing little
piece that ever breathed. She would
have died rather than relinquish anything
she had set her heart on, and I—Will, I
should have borne with her—she was but
a child —scarce eighteen when I married
I was very stern and cold with her. I
thought she would grow tired, and come
back to my arms again ; but I was wrong.
The child grew thin and pale, but she
wouldn't unbend from her stately dignity.
Oh. we lived along in such a miserable
wav, and just then I was offered a cap
taincy iD the volunteers, and in a tit
fit of desperation I accepted. I said noth
ing to Elfie, but she found it out someway.
I saw it in her eyes, and yet the little
white teeth were shut closely together, as
tbou"h thev would never open to speak
loving words to rac again. The moraing
T was to start I sought her out, thinking
"she will not —cannot let me go without
one word of peace between us!" Her face
was white and cold, her small hands were
clenched together so tight the nails pierced
hor tender flesh, but she bowed coldly to
me, and 1 returned it—that was our part- 1
inf ? In my cruel selfishness and con
ceit, I never thought that I was to blame ;
that if I would open my arms, she would
fly back to her resting-place. My poor
little bird ! 1 went away the most wretch
ed being on the face of the earth, and vow
ed that if Death did not find me in my
first battle, it would not be my fault.
We had been in camp only a few weeks
when a lot of recruits arrived to fill out our
companv, as fine a set of fellows as I ever
saw. Among their I noticed a frail, girlish
looking boy, with great soft brown eyes,
that dropped like a girl's when you look at
them. Somehow they made me think of
Eflie's eyes. That was why I took such a
fancy to them, I think. His face looked
pure and innocent, as if it had never been
away from a mother's loving 'care before,
and I thought, "What will this sensitive
spirit do among these rough men? *1 will
take him into my own tent and care for
him as for a brother." I sent for him that
night, and finding him well educated, I told
him I would keep hira as my clerk. "He
should be my tent mate," I said smiling.
He crimsoned, and finding my gaze embar
rassed him, I went on talking carelessly,
and found his name to be Ellis Lee. lie
would tell me no more of his history.
From that time he was always with me,
ar.d I grew to love the boy as though he
belonged *o me. He won all the men's
hearts by his gentle, timid ways, and they
never were rude or rough when he was
near, but grew gentle as tbey would in
their far-oft'homes in the presence of moth
ers and sisters. He would share every
danger with me, and sometimes when I re
fused to let him go, he would look at me
defiantly and say, "I dare not keep him
from his duty ! '
At night when we wore out scouting, and
lay under the sky, the cold, pitiless rain
beating on our heads, I have gathered the
form of Ellis up in my arm* and tried to
shield him from the storm. I have gone
to sleep, aud dreamed sweet, tantalizing
dreams of my darling, and awoke to find
his head nestled in ray bosomjust as Effie's
used to. All this while there was no word
from her. I had waited till my heart seem
ed breaking; then I had written, but no
answer came. Oh, the dark despair of those
days ! I think I Bhould have died if it liad
not been for my boy. Whon he saw my
head bent in agony, he would come and
lay his hand on it caressingly, while such a
strange look would creep into his eyes, I
could not fathom them,
" One day we were surprised, and a fierce
battle ensued. There was sharp, quick
work, and through it all my little soldier
kept close by my side manfully, I had or
dered him to the rear, but I hardly think
he heard me. We routed tho enemy, but
not before many-of my brave boys had bit
the dust. Ellis and I were unscathed. We
were walking among the killed and wound
ed, when my attention was called away by
an orderly. I heard a little low cry, and
Ellis spiang forward between the ball and
iny heart. A wouuded man lay'ng near
had raised himself on his and fired
the 1 caught,the boy in my arms—
his head fell back. A beautiful smile crept
over his face, while lips murmured,
"My husband !" Then I kuew I was hold
ing the lifeless form of my wife, who had
died for ine perhaps—l, so worthless, so
harsh and cruel to her ! Thank God she
was spared to me ! You see that poor, use
less arm, Will ? That is what she gave
for iny life that day. With all the pain
and suffering she has had with it, there
has never a murmur passed her lips. O
my wife! my darling ! Eternity is hardly
long enough for mo to recompense your
Ralph Leland's face was lit up by the
beautiful light of worship as the fairy form
stole out to his side in the moonlight, and
looked wonderingly at Will Ilark's sober
face. That gentleman bent his head down
and sighed.
ble society gets gayer and gayer as the
city gets wicked and wickeder, The ex
travagance of the ladies'dresses this Spring
takes the shine out of ancient Babylon.
Where the money all comes from in these
"har ' times" is the mystery of mysteries.
Blue seems to he the prevaiiiug color, out
of contempt, perhaps, for the blueness of
the times. 1 lie outlay for "bugles" must,
be enormous, and we pity the unfortunate
husbands and fathers that have to face the
music. We to thiuk the Indian
squaws were fond of beeds, but they never
couM shine with the female ornaments of
society that exhibited their wampum on
Hamilton street on Monday afternoon.
The peplums looked so fancical and at
tractive. The spring hats, with glass
drops hung all around the edges like ex
clamation points wrong side up, is also ex
quisite. Glittering on the brow of youth
and beauty, tlicy remind us of what the
poet says about the "icicles on Diana's
temple." Likewise short veils, which reach
just below the nose, and rouqded off to
wards the ears; tliev are so becoming!
To a round (ace they give * celestial ap
pearance, like that of full moon half
eclipsed. Waterfalls, now we notice,
have been transferred on top of the head,
which is a pleasing change, as it slants
the hat over the eyes, and gives the wear
er the aspect of one of the b'hoys disguis
ed in petticoats. When the hat is worn a
litt'e on one side, as well as cocked up be
hind, it gives a how-are-you style of ex
pression to the countenance that is very
touching. Wonderful, truly are the fash
ions aud the ways of fashions.— Allentown
There wuz wuust a man who wuz
inebriated, ani that he might present him
self in a state approximating sobriety to
the partner uv his buzzum, he wuz essaven
to vcrfhit, trying thus to case hiz stomicuv
the cause uv the unpleasantni? therein, but
he coodeut do it. He heaved and heaved,
but there wuz no rezult. At this criticle
period another man approached, who re
marked kindly that, "if he desired to vom
it, his best holt wood be to run hiz finger
down his throat." The drunken individn
ooal looked up indignant at this unwarran
ted interference with his rites :
" Blast your eyes, sir," said he, "are you
or mo boasin this yer puke ?"
&W Dress has a moral 4 the
conduct of mankind. Let any gentleman
find himself with dirt)' boots, old sourtout,
soiled neckcloth, and general negligence
of dress, lie will, in all probability, find a
corresponding disposition by negligence of
A Wisconsin paper tells a story of a
man who eloped with another man's wife,
but on going to the hotel breaicfast table iu
Chicago, where such congenial spirits most
do congregate, was filled with consterna
tion at seeing his own wife with the man
whose domestic peace he thought lie had
wrecked forever. After consultation each
escorted his own lawful wife back to his
deserted hearthstone.
A GOOD HABIT.— When a Spaniard eats
a peach or pear by the roadside, wherever
he .is, he digs a hole in the ground with
his foot, and covers the seed. Consequent
ly all over Spain, by the roadside and else
where, fruit iu great abundance tempts the
taste, and is ever free. Let this practice
be imitated in our own country. •
Ifjf Wendell Phillips says he was wed
ded to truth and qhilauthropy when a boy.
The Boston Post thiuks Wendell ,uuat
have become a widower when quite young.
Quilp, who has heretofore been a
Unircrsalist, now believes there are two
things destined to bo eternally lost^—his
umbrella and the man who it,
VOL. 6 NO. 40.
FINE HANDS. —We do not know a cor
poral distinction which the exquisite co*~
eis more than a small white hand, a mem
ber which will fit easily into a lady's glove,
and may be exhibited npon a snowy hand
kerchief, without its color suffering by tba
contrast. To many, as well as to the late-
Lord Byron, such hand is a distinctive
mark of "gentle," or as we should rather
say, "genteel" blood. We confess that thia
is a feeling with whicn we have never sym*>
pathised. The bronzed hand, with it# pow
er of muscle, and its swelling veins,is to ua
a far more gratifying object, for it tells of
exertion, and society holds on to civilisa
tion y its stalwart group far more secure
ly than the most aristocratic fingers would
enable us to do. We are ail the more in
clined to preserve this teeliDg after reading
a paper by M*. Wilson, upon the ancient
Iberian population of the british Isles.—
That gentleman states, that from an exam
ination of the sword hilts of those warrior
hunters of old, it is evident that they must
have had very small hands—much smaller
than the men of the present day. The
Danes, too, and the Vilkings—the sea rob
bers—the marauders and pirates of ages
ago were distinguished by the same pecul
iarity ; their' massive swords scarcely fur
nish room within the guard for the delicate
grasp of a lady's taper fingers, while the
Saxons, the workers of the earth, are mark
ed by the large, hand of the laborer. The
small hand is the representative of luxuri
ous uselessness, the large hand of earnest
toil; and just as the small-handed warriors
ot old vanished before sturdy continuous
energy of the large handed Teutons, will
idle beauty pass away before the truth of
industry, and the labor of the large hand
ed will at once support and rule the world.
A WORD TO WlVES. —Little wives, if
ever a half suppressed sigh finds place with
you, or a half unloving word escapes you
to the husband whom you love, let your
heart go back to some tender word in those
first love days, remember how you loved
him then, how tenderly he wooed yon,
how timidiy you responded ; and if you
can feel th;: yon have not grown unwor
thy, trust him for the same good luck now.
If you do feel that you have became Ima
lovable and attractive than you then were,
turn —by all you love on earth or liope for
in heaven—turn back and be the pattern
of loveliness that won him. be the dear
one your attractions made you then. Be
the gentle, loving, winning maiden still,
and doubt not the lover you admire wilt
live forever in yonr husbaud. Nestle by
his side, cling to his love, and let his con
fidence in you never fail; and my word
for it, the husband will be dearer than the
lover ever was. Above all things do not
forget the love ho gave you first. Do not
seek to emancipate yourself,—do not strive
to unsex yourself and become a Lucy Stone
or a Rev. Miss Brown; but love the high
er honor ordained by our Saviour of old—>
that of a loving wife. A happy wife, a
blessed mother, can have no higher station
needs no greater honor.-- The Lidict'
following from a sermon preached
by the Rev. Chas. A. Humphreys, and
reported for ahe "Liberal Christian," a
very able journal published in New York.
"Show nae the vilest pander, the mean
est assassin that walks the earth, and I will
find in his some germs of good that, if nour
ished, would grow into trees that would
gladden the gardens of God, and some as
pirations whose blind gropings and vain
stiugglings would make an angel weep.—
This human soul is a breath of God's spir
it, and though at times it is almost smoth
ered under our ruined and wasted lives it
only needs to have its earthly incrustation
broken'to soar upward to its native air.—
Religion is love to God and uiau. It is a
growth, not a spasm ; a life, not a transient
experience ; not sad and depressing, but
bright and inspiring. It does not com©
like the lightning, flashing in a moment
from ea-t to weatjtbrough all the spreadinfi
heavens, but lika the rising sun, piercing
the gathered mists with many an ineffectu
al ray, then struggling slowly iuto twilight
and at last climbing into perfect day."
is a musician by birth. We extend a silk
en thread in a crevice in a window, and
the wind finds it and sings over it and goes
up and down the scale upon it, and Paga
nini must go somewhere else for honor, foe
lo! the wind is performing upon a single
string. It tries almost every thing on earth
to see if there is music in it—it pursuadea
a tune out of the gjeat bell in the tower,
when the sexton is t home asleep; it,
makes a mournful harp of the giant pine
and it does not disdain to try what sort of
a whistle can be made out of tl e humblest
chimney in the world. How it will play
upon A tree until every leaf thrills with a
note on it, whilst a river runs at its base
in a sort of murmuring accompaniment.
And w hat a melody it sings wheu it givea
a concert with a full choir of the waves of'
the sea, and performs an anthem between
the two worlds, that goes up perhaps to
the stars, which love music most and sung
it first. Then, how fondly it haunts old'
houses ; mourning under the eaves, singing -
in the halls, opening doors without fingers
a measure of some sad, old song around th®
fireless and desertedjhearths.
EST Why do little birds in their nesl
agree 1 Because they would fall out if
they didn't. • v