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XVIII
r•ctiimioAix*.
GET Dr BEFORE T.BE SON,
Get up before the Sun, my lads,
Get up before the Sun!
This snoor,ing Itt a feather bed
•
Is what should not be done.
etweeti sunrise and breakfast,. lada,
Rise, breathe the morning air,
'Twill make_pou halo and hearty ladst,
make.you, look so fair.
Get up before the Sun, my lads,
Shake off your sloth—arouse!:
'You lose the greatest luxury
That life has, if you, &plata°,
Vetween sunrise, and breakfast, lads,
Arise, then, do not lose •
The key to health and happiness,
-'By lying in a enooie.
Get up before the Sun, my lads,
And in thfgarden hoe.
Or feed the pigs, or milk the cows,
Or take the scythe and Mini;
=Twill make you buoyant sprits, lode,
Give vigor to your frame ;
Then rise before the Sun, my lads,
And these rich blessings claim. •
THE COMING TIME.
When men forget their bye of gold,
And love their honor more;
When Truth is only current coin;
And counted o'er and o'er;
When men love Freedom for its sake,
For, all as well as one,--_
And for the greatest good their work,
From day to day. is done;
When men throw self aelde; and live
For some great purpose high . ;
Then will the glorious era come
When none shall fcar to die.
-Then-will-the_human_souLgrow_strong
And wise, and grand and liee,
Shall rise the com;ng race, 0 God,
A fitter type of Thee!
`f gen shall Thy seal, and only Thine,
Be set on every brow,—
And, none shall wear the mark of Cain,
As millions wear.it now;
Then shall the Eden bloom again,
Then shall the angels stand,-
And with new Adams and new Even,
White robed, walk hand in hand!
1VIIISIC)T-iiaJtSlk.MiTY.
THE WIFE'S FATE.
BY JAMES REFS.
"Here, here, yet stay do not say that it
came from me. I gave, it her, but yet I curse
her."
And with this speech was flung to, with
passionate vehemence, the parlor door of one
of the noblest mansions in London. Them
dividual who stood without, was a shalt se
man about forty years of age, of a dark com
plexion and shabbily clothed. He gazed a
bout him in the splendidDhall as though he
had suddenly dropped in some enchanted
temple; and was only awakened from his stu
por by the liveried menial politely request
ing him to "clear."
The poor man left the houser4s.ut tightly
clutched his treasure, till the light falling
from a neighboring gals lamp, allowed him
to count the amount.
"I wronged him," said he, "1 wronged
him."
"Five guineas ! 'twill last a long time, if
the relief Le n t t)o late; if the sufferer's spir
it has not winged its flight to- heaven, 'twill
make her passage easier, though never bring
her back to life."
So on he strode thtough the streets of the
metropolis. He passed up the Stand and
Fleet street. There was the busy throng,
the living tide of human life pressing on the
thoughtless and careless. There .was busi
ness itrall its activity, everything-to—attract
-or delay, but the wayfarer thought of but one,
and that was—
, In the eastern suburbs of the city, in an
upper room of one of the most mean huts of
that neighborhood; on an humble, yet neat
'
bed, lay a young and beautiful female. She
could be scarcely .twenty-two years of am_
yet death had pressed a clear stamp upon
features.' She lay apparently near
expiration, while everything around the room
gave the appearance of desolate poverty.
There was an apology far a fire on a cheer
less 'hearth, where a few sticks• of wood sent
forth 'at once light and. a slight warmth.—
An old lady was kneeling by the bed, and
her eyes neVeilittudereifrom the• palo' fea
tures of the dying girl. Every-motion of the
patient's lip was noticed, with an anxie
ty and care that, if aught human could do
it, would• have blunted to the dying one the
sharp sorrows of that hour. •
"Is he returned!" she - asked in a faint
tremulous voice. •
"Not yet," was, the reply.
forgive me," said: the
wishing to .linger in this cold-and cruel world;
but crh, if I could bear with me his forgive
ness:. 'Tis hard to die estranged -from • these
we' love; but," she added,: and a soft smile
• stole .over - : her face, "there is, no sorrow
• there.". .
'At this moment the sound of ascending
footsteps were - heard, and presently, the stran
.ger we have ;noticed in the commencement
'of our tale, entered... Now life seemed to
have entered the' heart ,of the sick girl, for
she started from her couch and gazed - fixedly
and wildly• at the stranger.whom the old la
.. ..
tt" . '•'• • •
dy welcomed as, o ; •
kcYout have. Bain Shriek
she; , •• - " • - • ,
"For the great Cod's salto,- tell me, have
you seen: im?" ;.
Both en.tteated tae; fo be calm, And from
bia pocket gober4 drew„the money he lead
received. • • .
"I have seen hint;" said - he, "and hue Are
the fruits."-
"lle bade Me not to let 100 konw tbatit
came from him." •
' "Kind kind!" said the poor girl, keep
ing; "he would not let me -feel the faior.-L,.
My poor father, tuad Isbell bear thy blessing
and thy .pardon to the grave."
But beholding the serious aspect of Rob
ert, she still pressed hire for the story
-of the
luterview. Go on ! — lie gave it you, told you,
to keep the author unknown, and-sent me—
his blessing."
"His curses?" said 'Robert, and he burst .
into tears.
A wild and almost superhuman shriek
rang through that shattered
. dwelling, and
that humble bed bore a corpse ! that last
cruelty luid - broken - the feeble threads of life!
Yes, died!—died as thousands die, Unno
ticed, we had almost said ualci wir t, i -
sands, whose lifes ;nbrning . dawned amid.
smiles and caresses,, and the bright fairy
dreams of life, 'mid. the joyous welcome of
relatives and the fond flattery of the inter
ested Who sh:all,envy the high estate of
the rich? it is a lofty preaepise, and the fall
will be more deadly and 'dangerous.
The name of the girl who thus closed a
bitter life of destruction and sorrow, was Lu
cy, once the admired and almost idolir,eu
daughter of Sir Ralph Fisher. When the
bud of lovely youth burst into womanhood,
she was the admired of all admirers. Thou
sands knelt at the shrine of her beauty. A
mong them was one unknown to the:princely
throng. lie had met her at the hall; he won
her atfontion; and for weeks he vieited her,
not indeed in his own, but an assumed char
acter. She dared to ove him, and knowing
her fathers disposition—to marry him.
After,their union, Sir Ralph Fisher was
made acquainted with the eireumstances.—
His•pride was roused, his proud ambitious
schemes were leveled to the dust, and in the
bitterness of his heart, Lear-like, he brcath-
ell out curses on his daughter.
"Sooner would I cast her fortune to the
beggar, or bury it in the Ocean — , than oneifir=l
thing should grace that girl!" said lie, and
he shut his heart up from all compassion.
The result was as might be expected.—
The husband of Lucy was a man who "lives
by his wits; a heartless, soulless villain, who
was content to live on the sufferings and los
ses of others." The gaming table and every
haunt of vice was his favorite resort, and
there he revelled and sported in the 'pollu
tion of his soul. Oil ! then did the, delu
sive hopes, that had buoyed up that young
girl's mind, fade away one by one! Her hus
band left her—and then, desolate and bro.
kenhearteci, she turned her footsteps to her
father's house, ouly,to be repulsed with scent
and hatred; and then bitter want and dis
ease gnawed at her heart-strings and a wild
blast swept over the summmer of her hopes!
Then. was but one person to whom she da
red a. fly; it was an old inmate of her fath
er'. amity and he'r nurse. She found her
", the humble dwelling iv,e have described,
but not till the bloom had faded from her
cheeks, the lustre Trom•her eye, and the can
ker was busy with her heart-strings. The
cause of her distress, when all hopes of en—
riching himself were fled, had 'forsaken her
—he•was gone none knew whither—and the
eyes of the poor girl were closed by the ve
ry hands which first bore her infant weight.
Imagination can create no sorrows which
touch the human heat t like those of real life.
Give me the old songs, those exquisite
bursts of melody which thrilled the lyres of
the inspired poets and minstrels oflong ago.
,very note has borne on the sir a talc of joy
and rapture—of sorrow and sadness ! They
tell of days gone by, and time bath given
them a voice which speaks to us of those who
'once breathed thoSe melodies—of what they
now arc, and what we soon shall be. My heart
loves those melodies may they be mine to
hear till life shall cud, and as I launch my
lioat_upanalke_na of eternity, may thei_r_ech,
oes be waited to my ear to cheer me on my
passage from the scenes of earth and oart h.
land I
Give me-the old paths where' we have
wandered and culled the flowers of love and
• friendship in, the clayunt" - Auld Lang Syne,"
ssvecter far the dells. whose 'echoes have an•
swered to our voices; ..whose turf is not a
stranger to our- footsteps, and whose rills i
ave in c i loop y- •i • •
.• chi (31.1,a, JLairreneltiveu•
forms, and those of our merry play fellows
from whom we have parted and meet no more
in the old nooks we loved so well. May the
old paths be watered with Heaven's own dew,
and be green forever in my memory 1
Give me the old house, upon whose. stairs
we seem to hear light footsteps, and under
whose porch a merry laugh seems to mingle
with the winds that whistle through ,old
trees, beneath whose branches lie the•graves
of those who once trod the halls, and made
the chambers ring with glee. And 01 a
bove all, give me the old friends—hearts
bound to-mine, in life's sunshiny .hours, - and
a link so strong that all the storms of earth b
br ik -its
atint "for
thight7Cot. cougen.
ial whose hearts' thro' life have throbbed in
union with our ownl , 0, when death shall
still this heart, I would not ask for aught
more sacred to hallow my. dust than the tear
of an - old friend. May my funeral 'dirge be
chanted by the-old 'friends I love so fondly,
whe.have not yet passed away to.tlie spirit's
bright home I •
Contentment is more satisfying than exhi
laration ; and contentment moans sintply the
sum of small and quiet pleasures. ;,:,
WAYNES,BRO',
Old Things
; • • 71 • • *
"}F • --!"
N'etweilmikrie,l l 4 7 -kik - trat* - 13:4AP .4 0*kia14" 13 42: 01 .1 11 F 1 C0 21 .- '
RANK.I4Ik:COVNTI; , -PkNN6YLVANIA . ,,YRIPWMORNiNG,IuNg,g 4 ; sets..-.:,:.:-.;::
• SPEECH OF%
R. -BR:EQICENRIDGE,
The folloViag_is an' eatrtiat from the `
s.:
01 . Di: - Bfeaktillil a e lifffiCtil, oa-taki ix'---g
-seat as Rresidee.tof the, Raltimere 'Union'
CuaveAtion k ' .
'We arnii;natien - , no dbutli's peculiar one,
a nation - forined Of . States, and no nation bz;
cept as theSe States fortn it ;And:these StateS
are no States except as they are States in that'
nation. They had no more-fight: to repu
diate the. nation than the notion bps to repu
diate them. Node of- them bad- even the
shadow of aright to - do this, and God help
ing us, we will vindicate that trait,. so timt
it shall never-be diSputed any more'. in this
world, (Ap_plaus(o lt is a feed ? l utter
ance that-is set before us,*but - but
ha,4e gxeat
compensations for it. • Those- of you who.
have alluded to thin subject know that from
the foundation of the prebent Government•
before and since our present' Conatitntion
was formed; there have always been. -parties
that bad nb faith- in out.,GovernmentA The
men - that - formed - it weredoubtful of its sue.
teas, and-themen who opposed its -formation
did not desire its suceess. Anti am - bold
say, wi ou distitining.you on this-subject
that for all the outcry about our violations,
of the Constitution, this present living gen.
eration and this present Unin party. are more
thoroughly devoted to that Constitution than
any generation that has ever lived under it.
(Applause.) While I say this, and solemn
ly believe it, and believe it is capable of the
strongest proof, I may also add that it is a
great error, which is being propagated in our
land to say that our national life depends
merely upoiFttairting of that Constit
tion. Out fathers made it, and we lo . ve it.
I intend to maintain it. But if it suits us to
change it we can do :so (applause),aud ihep
it suits us to change it, we will change it.
(Applause.) , If it were torn into ten thous
and pieces, the nation would be as much a
nation as it was before the Constitution was
made—a nation always—that declared ite in
dependence as a united people until now
—a nation independent of all particular in
stitutions under which they lived, capable of
modeling them precisely as their. • interests
`require. We ought to have it distinctly un
derstood by friends and enemies that while
we love that instrument we will• maintain it,
and will with undoubted certaint. mat to
death friend or foe who undertakes to tram
ple it under foot ; yet beyond a doubt we
will reserve the right to alter it to suit our
selves from time to time and from generation
to generation. (Applause.) One more idea
on that subject : We have incorporated- in
that instrument the right of revolution, which
gives us, without a doubt, the right to change
it.
.It never existed before in the American
States, and there is no need of rebellion, in
surrection or civil war, except upon a denial
of the fundamental principles of all free gov
ernments that the major part must rule, and
there is no other-way of carrying on society
except that the will of the majority shall be
the will of the whole.' So that, in one word,
to deny the principles I have tried to state
is to make a dogmatic assertion thit the only
form of government that is possible with
perfect liberty, and acknowledged by God,
is a pure and absolute despotism. The prin
ciples, therefore, which I am trying to state
before you, are principles which, if they be
not true, freedom is impossible, and no gov
ernment but one of pure force can exist or
ought to endure among men.
But the idea which I wished to carry out
as the remedy for these troubles aril sor
rows, dreadful as they are, is this : This
fearful truth runs through the whole histo
ry of mankind,, that whatever else may be
done to give stability to authority, whatever,
else may be done to give perpetuity to insti
tutions has been the blood of traitors. No
`Government has ever been built upri wiper
ishable foundations, which foundations wore
not laid in the blood of traitors. It is a fear
ful truth, but we had as well avoid it at once
and bvory lick you strike, and every Rebel
you kill, every battle you win, dreadful as
it is to do it, you are adding, it may be a
year, it may bo ton years, it may be a centu
ry, it may be ten centuries, to the life of the
Government and the freedom of -your chil
dren. [Great Applause.] Now, passing ov
er that idea,, passing over many other things
which it would be right for we to say,did_
ti - , nrre. and where th:- - 4, -m. le'
,ime serve, and where this the occasion, lot
me add, you are a Union party. [Applause.]
Your origin has been referred to as having
occurred eight years ago, In one sense it is
true that you arc far older than that. I see
before me not only primitive Republicans
and primitive Abolitionists, but I see, also,
primitive Democrats and primitive, Whigs,
primitive Americans and, if you will. allow
-rue4o-say--se,--1-myself-ant-hokei- who, all my
life, have been a party to myself. [Laugh
ter and applause.] As.a Union party, I will
follow you to the ends of the earth and to
the gates of death, [applause,] bat as an Ab
olition party, as a Republican party as a A.
merican' party, I will not follow you one foot.
- (Applause.l 'But it is true of the mass of
the American people, however you may di
vide and scatter, while this war lasts, _while
. the country is in peril, while you call your
selves as you do in the call of the Conven
tion, the . Union party,. you are for the pres
ervation of the Union and the destruction of
this Rebellion, root and branch ; and in -my
judgement, one of the great errors that has
-boon-eonunitted-ey-our Ad' • ist a' ion4;of tic
Federal Government, the chief of ,whielt ,we
are about to nominate, for another
to:
pf
office—one of the errors has been t:,, b elieve
that we have succeeded. when . wo,,hpt,e,
succeeded, and to_ act in a manner , is'
precisely for those who, have, sacceedi3d.—
You will not, you Canno t succeed • uittil you
have utterly broken the.' Military 'power of
this people. [Applause.] I will not detain
,nu' on these incidental points, a lt o of _ which
has been made prominent in the remarks of
theexcellent Chairman of the National Com-
mittee: I dnnot toot! that I would be will
ing to:go soffit its4robibly, „he would, - bat
I corclially.agreq - with him in' this, I think,
eonsidexing what has Wei demo 41)00 Sla.-.
• ; il1 118 4te:Fow -- ,stands 243 70 -
100 . ing altogether,,either,iti WaSi
nation or: ipprOVal any act that has brought
us to the point where„wo.ati, ibtit believing
in. my bonseienCifand :with all my heart that
whit hail brought Ws tO where We are in the:
matter of Slavery, is - the original sin' and fol.
ly of treason _Mid Secession. Beeatise. you
remember that . Clio Chieago ConVentioi3
it
self was understood, And I belieVe it Virtu
ally did explicitly state,:that they would not
touch Slavery in the StateS. Leaving it,
thezefore, altogether out of the question how
we came where we are on thafpoint, we are,
prepared to go'fittther - than
,the original Re ,
publicans themselves,were prepared to go.
'We are prepared to .demand - not only that
the whole territory of the United States shall
pot be made' slave, but`that th,e laeneml Gov
ernment of the American people shall do one
or two . things, and it appeari to me that there .
is nothing else, that. Can done, ,either ; . to
use the whole poiver, of
both.war power and peace power, to put.Slir.- -
_ very an nearly an possible back-Whitie it • was
(for although that will he a leiiful 'spite. et
society, it is.better than anarchy), Or else' to
use the whole , power of , the Government, both
of war and peace,andiall the practical
er that the people of the Uhited Stites will
give them to exterminate, and extinguish.—
[Prolonged applause] I have no hesitation
in saying for myself that, if I were a Pro-
Slavery man, if I b elieved this institution was
an ordinance of God arid was given to man,
v , ••• inc.! • " •oin those who de.
mond that the Government should be put
back where it was; but I tub not a Pro-Sla:
very man. I join myself with those who say,
away with it foreier—[appla_use]=and I fer
vently pray God that - the day may come when
throughout the whole land cvery man may
he as free as you are, and as capable of en-
joying regulated liberty. I will not detain
you any longer. One single word you will
allow me to say in behalf of the State from
which I come, one of the smallest of the
thousands of Israel. Wo know very well
that our eleven votes are of no consequence
in the Presidential election , we know very
well that in our present unhappy condition
it is by no means certain that we are here to
day, representing the party that will carry the
majority, of the votes'in that unhappy State.
I know very well that sentiments which I
am uttering will cause me great, odiutti in
the State in which I was born, which I love,
where the bones of two generations of my
ancestors and some of my children are, and
where, very soon I shall lay tny , Own. 'I
know very well soon,
my colleagues will incur
odium if they indorse what I say; and they,
too, know it. • But we have put our faces to
ward the way. in which we intend to go, and
we will go in it to the end. If we aro to per
ish, we will perish in that way. All I have
to say to you as, help us if you can; if' you
Cannot. believe in your" hearts that we have
died like men. [Great cheering.]
Self Made Men
It is a singular fact that the three leading
men now in the highest positions of the Re
public, or soon to be, are self made men from
the very humblest ranks of life—they arc, in
fact, the types of our Government and the
institutions of our country. The President,
Mr. Lincoln, in early life was a laborer in
the field, by occupation a rail • splitter, or
woodchopper, and by his industry and per
severance obtained for himself a liberal edu
cation which enabled him to become a prac
titioner at the bar, in Illinois, a leader of men
in .his native State, and finally to obtain to
the highest office in the world. '
Governor Johnson is also essentially a man
of the people, In early life he was a journ
eyman tailor. He time to manhood with
out even the first rudiment of school educa
tion. Far his 'first educatim into the walks
of seholaiship, he was indebted to his wife,
a most estimable lady. Ho was an apt
il . raidly an eectively he paud
-
p aned hi w ig p rous writing
and yeady and
powerful oratory boar noble testimony. His
career has been long and singularly sudeess
ful. We remember_ him in the National
House of Representatives, then'as. Governor
of Tennessee, and then as Senator of the U
-nited States. ' This hit position ho resigned
to. accept the office of Brigadier General, and
'since the 4th ofilaroh;• 1862- ho his' been
Military Governor of Tennessee In this
most difficult office hiS qiihninistration has
been - marked bye-single ability mad gre . .it sue
-
cess.
General Grant, too, The leader' of our- ar
mies which are destined to crush out this re-
lon Mrlerrrri e Pl‘ e e . " I " ^ 7=7] I e ing In
early life a tanner by trade, and has worked
himself up to the present position he holds
in which he has as fully •Abe' confidence of
his countrymen as' to his capaoity foa the
work in hand, as ever the first Napoleon had
of the French army and people. -
This is a singular condition of things—
that a war commenced "ty an aristaeracy,
which prided itselLon its contempt for labor
and wlio claimcd.the right In rill& in conse
quence of.their exemption from that state
which it was emphatically declared was to.
be man's portion, that he should, "earn -his
bread by the sweat of his &eon," are "meton
the field of battle and in the eounsils of State
. • ~ ..udaillsvhos's • a ' °ate to des
pise,
,and that, three leading slaveocrits, Da.
vis, Stephens and Lee —their Presidont,, Vice
Preilden,t, and.' ehief . G,eneral.:—are to how
down, and succumb, to our three' mechanics
our Rail-Splitter, Tailor and Tanner n iA bra
ham Lincoln Andy Johnson and U.'S. 9.. rant.•
Is. there not apioaren4 a Providential band
in this doing of things? A retribUtion up
on the prido'of those who are 'the violaters
of the laws of God and vr all good mon.
People and cows are the only beings that
bare calves..-• .
GREAT MEN OUR COUNTRY
It is not our intention, -to Speak of those
whose gradual .rise,to•eniinince • was through.
e-various sources -.wealth and influeneo - af
forded, but of• dime; et at leatit a few ; who - se
naves are Identified with self-cultivation and
those eircumstanees try which men are Made
great. - - . -
Industry and . integrity in. a . country like
ouxii Will accomplish much. - The poor of to
day maybecomettdeitedind honorable; they
may achieve greatness by the purity, Of their
principlesrand-the-fiaed-resolve---of-their_ossEn_l
noble efforts.
Sueh are the men who matte their mark
in republics—High—bbicA—iira—dfiwb-t-tek—t-o
-the aspirationfoi.youth, in two classes; The
one considers birth , a claim, the, other predi;
cater his chance of success on merit alone.—,
His Co:at:try wiites isPoe' the blackboard of
the nation's school: this lesson : "The little
finger of an, honest and , ncright young man
is, worth more than the whole body pf ap stre-
Minate'amlilielione et rich malt."'
• Theseare the izielkiho make the country,
who bringit to its physical and metital wealth'
and who trill make — it - the- - Joightiest, most
powerful, twit is alretiAy the first awn!!+ the
nations of the,worid.
SOMQ of the'gientest men of our Revolu
tion dothmenced.theirptriotie. career . at an
earlyrige; others again not until thy had
reached even, beyond whit is termed the
middle age.
Alexander Hamilton. Was scarcely twenty
one when he-was made bilektennitt-colcnel,
Benjar Fr
Benjamin Franklin Was fifty-nine before he
began to be heard of,- and,. then it was. iris
early life, hie youthful struggles—struggles
in poverty—struggles in labor—strugg=
obtain 'learning, and all the acquirements
sought after by an inquiring mind that be
come a living lesson to .all. Time has fixed
his name on the adamantine rock of ages a
gainst which . the storms and tempests of all
the passions and jealousies Vf th e hutOn
heart have battled in vain to destroy: Na
tions acknowledge its fixedness. Samuel Ad
ams, the statesman .and scholar, was forty
four before , his name• linked itself to the his
tory of our country: James Otis was thir
ty-eight. John Adams, a name equally great
in our historic annals was thirty-five when
he stepped forth into political life. Josiah
Quincy was forty. John'Hancock was thir
ty-eight, and that name stands in all the
boldness of a true patriot on that document
which -made us a •nation, and Declared all
men Free! And Thomas Jefferson, whose
name alone is a history, was only thirty-two
when ho made his mark on_ the great char
ter of life, that dacurrieat of liestiny. These
are a few of the names of those full-grown
men—working men—refined by toil and
strengthened by 'long habits of endurance
and self-dependence.
Washington was a surveyor and in after
life a farmer. -Need we say anything more
•
of Washington. His noble deeds have made
his name, not only immortal, but the coun
try he made free, a land-slide from Heaven !
Knox was a book-binder and stationer.—
Morgan (he of the Cowpens) was a drover.
Re gave Tarleton a lecture on that subject.
Green . was a blacksmith, and withal" a Qua
ker. And why not a Quaker? Cannot a
Quaker fight—and will ha ,not fight when
the nation is in danger, and the rights of
men assailed? Why not a Qtiaker?
Gates was a regular soldier.: It was the
dream of his youth realized in age. When
the war was over he, became a farmer.
Warran the martyr of Bunker 11111, was a
physician. The step he took from the lan
cet io , the sword, and from the quiet '.walks
of life to .the strife of death, is but' one of
the many instances on record of the nature
of thoge men wbo determined to be free.—
For the' freedom of his country he gate at
the battle of Bunker Hill his life.
The name of' Warren, like that of Bunker
Hill, forms one of those Signet stamps on the
historic page of our country which the geni
us of the nation will ever secure from rust or
erasure. Both, like them; will go out of our
memories with time.
Sherman was a shoemaker. He taught
the haughty Randolpk lesson by giving
him a lecture on leather.
Marion, surnamed "the "Old . Fox," was a
"cowboy,", tending eows , ou the hilts of the
South. . ' • ,
Snmptei,.the"fighting cock," of South
. ,
Carolina, was Usbopherd's boy
Putnam, &ark and Allen were farmers.
These were the men of the days of the Re
volution—not a man of them tip above his
business or calling..
They wets tinkers and tailors, and cobblers—What
: then?
Were Oho,
400. now at the present. Is it not a cu•
rious fact in history that in tho second great
struggle for the maintenance of the Union,
the leading .men for :he -suppression of the
rebellion aro of the same class who fought
and ruled in, the . past. Abraham Lincoln
was a boatman on the Mississippi River, and
at one'period a rail splitter. He is now Pres
ident ot -the United States. Those around
lira are the hardy sons date soil—at least
many of them. And the chief members of
Congress are actually working men. 1 They
are tamers, printers,. '&e.—true loyal men.
And' pow—mark,. : for here is one of those
Mysteries of the world which human knowl,
edge and itesaieue.e,h=r--Wen--unal
tFie men, the men who organi
zed this rebellion—the men North who sym
pathize with theta = the chief couspirators.
are aae aristoerav, the descendants of, trai
tors in' the Revolution, are the traitors of the
pretientday. The Wet of blood passes' dowo,
down, throng& all thiToul ehanngls:ef etuth,,
until it mixesin the greatstream which hur
ties it oa to its destination-,that great ris
er, between the low breath' of a dy'ng
and: hell itselfthe River Styr.. The . last
pasiage.on the railroad of a .bad mites life
rs that which hurries - hint on to'the doom of
his vile ancestors.,
Patriotism - -here;"blending • ite atfributos,
with those ,of in'honeSt life, leads us . 'to a
eel 15; Well
spirits of those we: haveimitated on` the darih,
ready
.te„teeeive us. 'Tis the home of•Jim
righteous, the home of Washington, the home
of our Saviour. „
• •
A young gentleman'-with a nieditint .
tight brown moustache; and a suit Of elOthea
such as fesbienahle tailors sonictinrriti'litibish •
tO.theincustomers "on accommodating kerb's,"
1 - 3that - io , on , the:inseenre:eredit - system- 77 egme
into , a • hotel one afternoon, and after eailiio
,for a -glass-of „Madeira, turned to. the:: caw
party and offered,to bet with oily man present,
that Grant would' not take Richmond.. "41w,
banter not being' taiielup, he offered
.that Grant would
_take Richmond._ Nobody;
however, wanting, to bet, the etquisite' glen
ced around contemptuosly. and ,reinarited—,.
"I want to mato a. bet :of, kind
don't care a fig Whotit'ini I'll bet ttiLY meal .
'from a. shilling's worth of cigars to.five Min=
Bred NOw's your time, gentlemerq :
what do you propose ?"
Sipping a glass
,of beer in 'OM corner of
the- bar-room,- sat-a plain old—getitlernan—wit
looked as though he might be a farmer.-
114 i§at - dpwrt his glass and addlessed the ex
quisitov•" ."°.
"Well, tnister,-I am not in the habit of
makiugints ; but seeing you are anxious tt
bobt it, I . cion l imare if, I gratify you. So
I'll bet you S. levY's Worth of. sixes that I
can pour a quart of molasses into your hat
and turn it out a Solid lump of molasses eto
cly in two minutes by, the • watch."-
"Done 1" said the ex( •-* • ;in (.•
bet aud handing it to the farmer.
It was a splendid article, that shone like.
black satin. The old gentleman their the
hat and requested the bar keeper to send for
a quart of molasses--'•the cheap sort, at six
cents a quart ;. that's the kind I use iq this
experimont," tAid he ) lipP4Hhs Si& Catil..ta,
the bnr•keeper.
The molasses was brought, and the act
farmer, With•a very - grave and: mysterious
countenance, poured it into the dandy's hat,
while the exquisite took out his watch to
note the time.
the hat itio'or three shakes, wjtlt.,
a_Signor - Blitz;liki3_. adroitness,_the_ mpor
'neuter placed it on the table, and stared in--
to it and, watched . the wonderful proces.of
consolidation.
•
"Tiine up," said the dandy.
The old farmer moved the hat. "Well I
do believe it ain't hardened," said he in a
tone expressive of disappointment; I, miss
ed it somehow or other that time, and I sup
pose I've lost the bet. Bar-keeper, lot the
gentleman have the cigars—twelve sixes,
mind, and charge thorn in the bill."
",What of the cigars !" roared the exquis
ite, "you've spoilt my bat that cost Me five
dollars, and you must jay for it."
"That wasn't in the bargain." timidly an
swered the old gentleman ; "but I'll let you
keep the' molasses—which is a little mere
than we agreed for."
Having drained the tenacious fluid. "from,
his beaver as best ho could into a- spit box
the man of moustache rushed from the place
fury not much abated by the sound of
ill.suppressed laughter which followed his
exit. He made his complaint at the police.
office, but, as it appeared that the experi
meat was tried with hie own consent,, no,
damages could be recovered,•
It cannot be disputed that everything
wlrth.doin,g is worth doing well. The great
profit in industry is to be 'found in making
the best possible use of whist we undertake.
Especially is this "well doing" principle
applicable to the farmer. ' Observation has
demonstrated the fact that it pays better to
spend money and la'aor on a small farm- and,
'get the most out of it than to work a wider
area and have it half done. But unfortn
nately this is not the general practice. Oar
farmers work too much-land. The result is
they do not work it properly. It is but.
.hall, done, and they do not reap the crops ,
as they shouldi do. It is a mistake to Suppose
that because men with large capital can
manage large farms , those with small means
can d o the same. It is not the - amount; - of
land that is worked, but the amount of worZz
do Ir ha
tone upon thekiud that pays.
How frecinently is. it the ease - that men
drag through lite till they wear themselves
out and die with little or nothing more than
when they began, and all from the fact
.that
they always tried to do too much- - to
age - too - much land. Let farmers remember ,
that a "little land well tilled' wii
raioro money ana more comfort.
A. Western editor offered b,iodevir &dime
a weekror &share hi the paper; the cute
young scamp unhesitatingly took the dime.
If you would render yciur children helpless
all their lives, never compel or permit thnnx
to help themselves..
Despair not: The course of God's provi
dence may. tic aswinding as. his rivers.
if you cannot please without being false to
yourself, you had. better displease.
""" tes -- egbmFfal s upon us, it may
. be we
may have entered into the cloud that wio
give its gentle showers to'refresb
. We generally_prefer new.. articles to old,
ones—the. new, maids' to old- maids,
Tfie I:od r i—ifiiit dii,sE ; the' sonl—'tis a
buctif eternity,' ; : ;7- ' -
Against the fickleness offortane oppose
bold bearL
There. a,re• persons .who wouhi lie prostrate
en. the ground., it: their vanity or their prid%
'ilia cot Mid thiai tt.2.
!Mli
11.11:1.4
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'it -
ty„`
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1111?4 - 41204 - ' 1 3P43.1.'ireetwir
NUMBERA_
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