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ONE DOLLAR A YEAR IN ADVANCE.] AND LITERARY REGISTER.
NEW SERIES, VOL. 1, NO, 47.3
GEO. W. SCITROMR, Editor and Publisher.
Office—Front Street, three doors above Locust.
Tears.—The Corximara Spy is published every
Saturday morning at the low price of ONE DOLLAR A
YEAR IN ADVANCE, or one dollar aid fitly cents,
not paid within one,rnonth of the time of subscribing.
Single copies, THREE CENTS.
Trams or Arrvairrisrrro—Advertlsements not exceed
ing a square three times for el, and 25 cents for each
additional insertion. Those of a greater length In pro
portion. a}A liberal discount made to yearlyadver
Jun PRINTING Such as Hand-bills, Posting-bills
Card.. Label., Paniphlicts, Blanks of every description
Circulars, etc.etc.,exccuted with neatnessanddespatch
and on reaaonableterrus.
ROW many die a most horrible death without
the cirtipls, cause being suspected. Some linger for
years. as they suppose. from rl.peptitt, when it is worm.,
Whiell causes most diseases. There lino come under
our notice several eases of supposed dispepna ' of several
years' standing, when we have recommended the Syrup.
which has entirely restored them to health. We would
say to AULI'S when they.are afflicted with Soar SlOlllaela,
Suck Head Ache, Fits, is frequent deceive to make Stools,
Leanness, Bloated Stomach, Nervousness, Sickness after
Sensation of rising in 'the throat after eating, &c
be assured it is simply worms, and it needs but a trial of
HOLIESSACK'S WORM SYRUP
to satisfy you it is so, and if you have any of the above
symptoms and the Syrup fails to cure, the agent will re
fund tine money. TO PARENTS we would say, that the
greatestsin you ore convicted of, is to let your children
sutler mid die. when there is a simple pleasant Vegetable
remedy at hand. It is stud by our oldest Physicians, that
Worms cause more deaths yearly, than nil the other dis
ea.es the human faintly are subject to. Then, how im
portant it is to have a safe and pleasant remedy at hand.
Parents, when your children have mom or inflamed eyes,
you may rest satisfied that it is caused by worms, and
you will do well to cull on the storekeepers of your
neighborhood nod get a Book of llobensack's. containing
certificates of cures and the symptoms of worms. Al
ways keep a Bottle of If obemack's Worm Syrup on hand,
it is a friend in need.
READ ON! READ DN . !! READ ON!'!
PIIILADELPIIIA, May ^5, 1x47.
Messrs. I. N. & C. S. HottetwAck--Gentlemett-1 have
been for sonic time using your ^ Vermiluge in my prac
tice, and I am happy to say that in toy hands it has sue
ceeded in its intention, so as fully to justify my confidence
in its use. I thank a among the very best prepa rations In
Line. C. W.A.marro,s, at. D., No. Id, South st
PHILADELPHIA. September 10. 1'•17.
Messrs, Hobensack—Ronne time back t bought a bottle
of your Syrup for my children. one two years old, and tine
other four. I gave it to them according to direction. and
belore giving a bottle they parsed a full quart of worms.
They are both well and hearty now.
swmue.n. ROSE, 152, Crown at.
LA\CASTr4 COCNTV. January 19, IPJG
Messrs. J. N. it G. S. flobensac k—linving been afflicted
for some time, and finding no relief front various Med,
...Ines, I was induced to try your WOllll Syrup, - from be
lief of being afflicted with worms,
I hod taken but three bottles of your syrup, when, to my
great surprise and immediate relief. 1 passed a tape-worm
2d feet in length, shush I crud ton. Hoping tin, may
benefit some one ulllicted in the like manner. and ni pis
nee to the value of your medicine. I respectfully offer this
satement. Yours, respectfully, JACOB SuriFENIII.F.R.
Prepared only by J. N. A. G. S. llobensack, at their
Chemical Laboratory. Southeast corner Second and
Coate+sr. Philadelphia. Price 25 cents.
'Phis Syrup is tabu tor sale at the principal Drug Stores,
and by storekeepers generally all over the United States
April (5. 1845. nce2Wl7.-1 y
CINUELPEST TrEE WORLD!
QTEXIII Refined Sugar Candice, Twelve and a
L.] hull' cents per pound. IVholesalc. i. J. RICKA
hON, No .1 . 2 Narket et rest. Philadelphia, takes pleasure
ut hifurining the public, that he gull COOtiolles to •ell his
very superior SlellOl Refitted Candy at the low price of
$l3 50 per 100 lbs., and the quality is equal to nay inanu
incturcd ut the elated :Slates.
Ile al,o offer , ell kinds of goods in the Confectionary
and Fruit line nt cornponding low price, us quick sales
and stnall profits are the order of the day.
Call or send y our orders, rind you ennui fail to be sat
tsfied. Don't forget the number. 1.2 Murlivt .t reel.
J. J. 11.1CIIARION.
Philo. Feb, 20, 1 ti..4t,.-3m
AND Parasols Cheap. WILLIAM A. DROWN, Lim
brdla and Parasol nlanumetorer, St Market street.
Philadelphia. Venire. an Umbrella,. um! Para-uls, wl,ll
- to purchase lanal-onic good., of superior qualoy.
cheap, are invited to cull at my Maimilictory nod Store,
No. tsli Market 14121.1, one door below Third street. where
every variety of Umbrellas mat Parasols. are sold cheap
er than they can elsewhere be. Ohl tillit•d.
A call when you visit Philadelphia in requested. An
examination of my good. ,11l satiety )00 that at Nall be
to your interest to purchit, of sue.
Orders by letter Nill receive strict attention, null goods
selected adapted to your market'.
Phila. reb. 20,
STORE, Front street, Columbia, Pa., two doors
above R. NVillintna' Drug Store. This e,tablisltmcnt
has a very cheap and well selected as,ortsnent of
HEADY MADE CLUTIDNG.
which seal be sold very low.. The stock includes every
descrinnon of clothes worn at the present day—conststmg
of Dress. Suck, Frock, Business.and India Rubber Coats;
Cloaks, Danguns, &c., Pants, Vests, Pocket and Neck
llantlherchief4, Scarfs, Shams, Flannel and Kint Under
Shirts. ALSO. a fine lot of. _ . _
CLOTHS. CASSIMERES, VF.STINfiS.
of the finest ns well as common qualities always on hand
and made to order in good std Ic at very small advances.
'the Spring and Summer Fashions m.o. received. Cus
tomer work made according to life latest mode. and by
Thankful for past favors.l respectfully solicit a con
titinance of public patronage.
JOHN JORDAN & Co .
Columbia, March 18, Merchant Tailor.
BY B. CIUNSTON. The subscriber respectfully
informs his friends and the public generally that lie
is now ready to supply them at his New n.taldisltrnent,
the three-story building in FRONT STREF7I% Columbia,
on the lot formerly occupied by John E aae r. as a rope
walk. Ile intends keeping on hand a select assortment
OF FASHIONABLY MADE CLOTIIINU.
He has lust returned front Philadelphia mud N. York.
with a new and splendid niiiiortment of all kinds of CLO
THING, made of the best materials, and in the latest
style---consisting in part of superfine blue nod black
CLOTH COATS, FROCK AND SACK COATS,
Pelisse Cloth and Tweeds of every color and
Az.so—a large assortment of plain and fancy
mere. Cloth. and all other 'PANTS, mutable for Spring,
Summer and Winter, of every size and description.
VESTS—figured, Silk. Satin, Menno and Alcaseilles,
suitable for all seasons and of every stre. style and qual
ity; to which is added a beat:info' assortment of fine Lin
en Losom SIIInTs, Muslin. Check and Plain do.; Bosoms
nod Collars. Drawers and Vridershirts.
Atzt Urge litit'of Cravats, Suspenders. Half-Hose,
de. An endless quantity , of BOOTS mid tilloEs of all
trees. itxrs and CAPS. Travelling Trunks. Carpet Bags
and Valices, a variety of notions too tedious to mention.
N. /3. Clothing ;nude to order at the Store. lie has a
large supply of GOODS on hand by the piece and a first
rate Tailor in attendinrce.—Do not mistake the place,
three story building on the lot formerly occupied as a
I ersons will find it to theiradvantage to give him a
call us lie is deiermineerto'selras tow as ally other en.
tabli " hment In the . 03 Mtroand warrants all goods. He
Selig as he rePTSSUIIIS them When sold or the money will
be refunded. Coharabia, March 25, 1,3.1.
IIsPIDESG BELTS. Just received another supply of
_LIU the improved
GUM ,ELASTIC RIDING BELTS FOR LADIES
wk." am subject to pain in th e lode while riding on horse
back. Also Gum Elastic Money Belt. For sale by
aplslS—tf W. A. LEADER.
i'" •••ycp (}:
A NY quantity of Little alio jut received and
for sale by • WM. A. LEADER.
ALARGE stock of Carpets just received at Mc
S. PATTON'S, winch will be sold much below
the usual prices, ar:2,19-tf
THK COLUMBIA SPY.
From the Now Orleans Delta.
THE SABBATH BELLS
The bells of the holy Sabbath
Arc ringing out god and clear;
And their solemn and sacred music
salt pleasantly on the ear;
While their sweet, persuaive summons,
Recalls God's high behest:
"Sixthly-8 shalt thou have for labor.
But the seventh shell be air rest!'
The tools of the weary workman
Are lying unliended now;
arm has ^eased from toiling.
And smiles play over his brow;
leor he li.ty to the ehareli-bells ringing,
And blesses that high behest:
"Six days shalt thou hove for labor,
But the seventh shall be for rest f"
And Me heart, no matter low sinful,
With a purer impulse swells,
As it thrills lathe soothing cadence,
Of the blessed Sabbath bells;
For their tones, so calm and earnest,
Are echoed within the breast:
"Six days shalt thou have for labor,
But the seventh shall be for rest:"
Oh. a blessed day is the Sabbath,
IVith its sweetly chiming bells;
For the spirit of calm devotion,
In their clear vibration dwells;
When the toil-worn are reminded
Of Jehovah's high behest:
"Six days shalt thou have to labor,
But the seventh shall be for rest:'
,G - clect Storics.
THE HINDOO ANCHORITE.
KANOUA, a hermit of Hindoo, had suffered Bever
ly, because, after lie had vowed himself to the life
of a saint, he become desperately enamored of a
beautiful girl of inferior caste, whom the laws for
bade him to marry. Time more sinful tt was repre
sented, the stronger became the temptation ; accord
ing to that powerful law of human nature forbidden.
Atter a terrible conflict will, himself, he resigned
his aspirations after a saintly character, and hid
himself in the depths of the forest with Ms beloved.
'flicre she bore him a son, and there she lived four
years without seeing a human face beyond her own
little circle. Excepting the spiritual conflict, which
was now and then renewed within him, the hermit
was us happy as Robinson Creisoe might have been,
if instead of being waited upon by his man Friday,
lie hail •found some gentle, pretty Fayaway. He
built his hut under a great bower of verdure, form
ed by interlaelng trees, of luxuriant East India
growth, through which the sunshine cast a golden
glimmer. Got genus parrots glanced about in the
bright atmosphere, and swarms of hers hummed
cheeribily at their work among the flowers. A
small river frinved near by, on which sailed troops
of dazzling white swans. No round was heard
there, except the buzz of insects, the song of birds,
thz cry of wild deer, and the voice of the hermit
chanting hymns to his gods.
Very beautiful was the boy who grew there alone
with nature. He was flexible as an osier, nimble
as a fawn, and a whole tropical heaven looked out
from his ardent eyes. It was truly an Eden for
love and childhood; but the demon Fear cast his
shadow there. The poor hermit' could not, for any
length of time, dispel the idea that he was forfeit.
ing hopes of paradise hereafter, by thus making
to himself a paradise below. His eyes melted with
tenderness as lie gazed on the beautiful child sleep.
ing on the breast of Isis beautiful mother; then he
would turn away and sigh at the thought that for
loving them so dearly, lie might be obliged to re
turn on earth again in some inferior shape ; per
haps in that of a pariah,* a goal, or even an ape.
When the little. Manou was three years old, his
mother died. The hermit buried her in the silent
forest, and then there came over him in his loneli.
nese a renewed desire to be purified from every
earthly stain, to rise above every human affection,
and become completely absorbed in the contempla.
tion of the Divine Being. But the little one clung
to his heart-strings, and tied him to this_ earth.—
He resolved to forego extraordinary pilgramages
and penances, until the-boy became a man; for
the sacred books assured him, that in fulfilling the
duties of a father, lie was doing something for his
own happiness in a future existence; and in this
particular their teachings harmonized with the
promptings of his own heart. But what if lie
should die while Mauou was still in his childhood
Die withobt atoning fur his human enjoyment by
severe penances and mordifications of the body?—
lie shuddered at the possibility of coming into the
world again in the form of a pariah or an ape.—
Thus did a spectral theology haunt his brain, as in
various forms it has haunted the brains of thou
sands. Meanwhile, the friendly old earth carried
him on her bosom, and soothed him with murmur
ing waters, the song of birds, and the prattle of
his little Muncie.
The hermit's most earnest wish' was to have his
son renowned as a saint; and in order to keep him
perfectly safe from temptation which had dragged
him downward in his own saintly career, lie re
solved that he should never hear. there was such a
bcinglmf the - world as woman. The - child' pined
for his mother at first, but never hearing her name
mentioned, lie at lust forgot her. He spent his
youth in gathering wild grain, fruit and flowers,
offering sacrifices to the gods according to the in
struction of his father, feeding his tame deer, and
learning portions of the Vedast by heart. Never
coining in contact with any of stormy passions
of lite, his couutenance was singularly calm and
innocent; but in the languid dreaminess of his eye,
there was something that indicated latent fire.
Existence passed smoothly and pleasantly with
him, till lie attained his fifteenth year. At that
time it chanced that a portion of the British army,
passing across the country to a new destination,
came into the neighborhood, and were quietly en-
camped for a few days among the surrounding
hills. A company of the officers,
one or two of
them with wives and chilrcn , took an excursion in
the forest In enjoy the beauty of the scenery,—
Manou, wandering as usual in search of fruits and
flowers to offer to the gods, heard such sweet sounds
as he had never heard before. He stopped and listen
ed eagerly. Did they come from birds in paradise ?
As he stood gazing all round him in the air, the
toner; ceased; then suddenly they burst forth again
in livelier measure. He followed them, and drew
ever nearer, pausing oft to listen with timid won
der. At last, ha came within sight of a vision that
almost gave him wings. A lad with the European
complexion, which Manou had never seen, was
leaning against a tree warbling on his flute, and a
"The lowest caste among the people. whose sitnalson
ihodostan is sootier to that of the negro! among
The sacred Looks of the Masker,
BY THEODORE A. GOULD
COLUMBIA, SATUI6AY, MAY 27,-.1-.548
fair young girl was singing while she playfully
fastened wild flowers in his hair. Newr in•buman
eyes shone a light so intense as beamed from the
young Hindoo ! He was afraid to speak, he was
almost afraid to breathe, lest the lovely vision should
vanish. The maiden searching for new flowers
skipped through the bushes that separated them,
but when she met the steadfast eagerness of his
gaze, she screamed and fled, dropping half her
flowers. When Marion recovered from his aston.
ishmcnt, he sprang after them, but they were no.
where to be seen.
The quick tropical blood leaped in his veins un
der this new excitement; and when he entered the
hut, his father was instantly struck with the fire in
his eyes, and the flash on his cheek... Oh, father,"
he exclaimed, have seen two such beautiful
creatures! One young man, not at all like toe,
made such delightful sounds with something he
held to his mouth! But the other! oh, how beau
tiful he was"! His eyes were like a piece or the
sky, and his hair was like the shunshine. Hu wore
a long robe almost to his feet, and he sprang through
the hushes like a young deer. I did not know there
was anything in this world so beautiful! Who do
you think they were? Did they come from that
Europe you hove told me about? I will make you
a staff to-morrow, and we will walk till we tied
The hermit easily guessed that his son had seen
an English girl; and to divert his mind from the
idea of going in pursuit of her, lie said quietly,
"How does my son know that he has not seen a
vision of Gandbarvash and Asparas?"f
" I did not think of that," replied Manou ; " only
when I first heard the sounds, they seemed to me
to come from Paradise." But this explanation did
not cure his restlessness. As he lay down on his
couch of leaves at night, lie inquired, " Do the
Gandharvas live with the Asparas, Father ?"
"They are much together," replied the old man.
Manou was still for a long time, and the hermit
supposed he had fallen asleep; but again he broke
the silence of the night by asking, "Father, shall
I ever become one of those spirits of sweet
"Perhaps you may, my son, when you die, if
you fulfil all your duties, sacrifice often to the gods,
subdue the senses, and think no evil, thoughts."
"What is it to subdue the senses?" Lc asked
"It is not to cut when you are hungry, or drink
when you are thirsty, or sleep when you are chow
" And what arc evil thoughts 7" inquired the
guileless babe of fifteen.
The hermit found it difficult to answer in a man
ner intelligible to the experienced youth: "To
wish to kilt anything, or harm anything, is having
an evil thought," he replied ; "hut silence is best
for you now, my son.
Obedience among the greatest of Hendee vir
tues, and therefore Mmou spoke no more; but he
lay lung awake, wondering that it was possible to
wish to kill anything. Extreme reverence for Na
ture, inculcated by the pantheistic creed 01 his
country, had taught Itim that it was a sin to throw
a stone at a bird, or even to pull fruit too violLnily,
lest !ha tree should be unnecessarily wounded : and
the degree of hardness that could commit murder
was to hint inconceivable. But pleasanter ideas
chased away these disturbing thoughts, and lie fell
asleep to dream of flower-nymphs and musicians
of the air. When he woke, the music of his dream
still sounded so audibly in his spiritual ear, that be
started and looked round in search of the lovely
vision he had seen the preceding day. The first
question he asked was, • Father, if 1 do not cat
when I mm hungry, nor drink when I UM thirsty ;
if I sacrifice constantly to the gods, and okay you,
and feed everything but myself, how lung will it be
before I can become a Gandharva?"
The gentle-hearted hermit looked at him with a
sort of mournful repreach, as it he would have ets
" Are you then to anxious to let file alone, my son , "
But he quelled the human feeling, and calmly ans.
wen:cf... It may be ten years, or it may be a lion
deed, or it may be a thousand. I cannot tell how
many forms you will be obliged to take, or how
long you may remain in them. But if you do your
duties well, and mortify the body, you may become
much higher and holier than a Gandliarva. You
may become entirely absorbed in the the Divine
Mind, and rnjoy eternal beatitude."
" I should like to be a Gandliarva fitly thousand
years," replied Alanou ; "fur they hove those beau
tiful Asparas for companions. TO have an Aspara
sing to me, and smile in my face while she placed
flowers in my hair, would not that be divine beati.
The hermit groaned, and called his son to their
morning sacrifices. The youth performed all his
duties with redoubled zeal, but he was evidently
absorbed with the one idea that had taken posses
sion,of him. lie lingered about the grove where
lie had heard the flute, and one. ....cited there for
hours. When sunlight gleamed through the foli
age, he hoped it was the golden.haired Aspara.
When shadows floated over the ground, he thought
the beautiful objects of his vision were hovering
near him, though unseen. lk gathered up the
flowers, which the maiden had dropped among the
bushes, and reverently preserved them in baskets
of moss. lie said their souls had gone away and
become sweet sounds. Perhaps they would coi
to him when he was a Gandharva, and when he
breathed them forth again in heavenly tones, they
would become ficrers far more beautiful than they
had been. Men would call them fragrant and
graceful, but only the flower-nymphs and the mu
sic-spirits would know that their fragrance was a
Day by day, lie ate less, and his dark eyes be
came larger and more luminous. The maiden,
whom he supposed to be the nymph, was always
in his dreams. Again and again, lie asked, "Why
will not my soul go out of this body, that I may
become a Gandharva ?"
At last, by starvation and intense longing, he
wasted away and died. The old hermit buried him
tenderly, and on the grave of his innocent arid be
loved child, lie shed his last tear, and atruegled
with his last human emotion. He did not know
that the poetic, loving, intense spirit of the child
carried with hint all his remeinherances of moon•
lit groves, and drevm•inusic, and flower nymphs,
and performed another human pilgrimage, in the
form of Mozart, before it became a Gandharva.
On himself, he felt that the greatest of Diode°
afflictions hed fallen ; for he had now no child to
offer funeral sacrifices for him, when lie departed
from the body ; and this his creed taught him was
essential to the future welfare of his soitl. But he
meekly accepted this destiny as a punishment he
deserved. "Nothing remains for me now," he
said, " but severe penance for my sins, and a re
mote hope that, by complete anniliilationof the body,
I may finally attain to complete absorption in tile
Divine Mind, and thus remain in immortal para.
disc." lie made terrible vows of self-torture, and
fulfilled them. Day and night he stood on tiptoe
without food. In summer lie exposed himself to
the hot sunshine, and in winter be lived in the wa•
ter. Finally, he made a vow to walk a thousand
miles with his arms perpetually stretched upward.
But before he had half fulfilled his task, the poor
abused body fell down exhausted, and strangers bid
it in the earth.
• lite smelt. of tuneful AOllllll, rri-i,irm•
the nir.believed In by itimloo
t N) mph., of Ilindoo
THE BEGGAR & BANKER.
"Stand out of my way," said a rough surly voice
under my window one day, as I sat musing over
the busthng scene below me, at my lodgings in
" Your honor will please to recollect," replied a
sharp and somewhat indignant voice—" Your hon
or will please to recollect that I am a beggar, and
have as much right to the road as yourself."
" And I am a banker," was retorted still more
gruffly and angrily.
Amused at this strange dialogue, I leaned over
the case, and beheld a couple of citizens in the po
s.tion which u pugilist would probably denominate
spared, their countenances somewhat menacing,
and their persons presenting a contrast at once lu
dicrous and instructive. The one was a purse
proud, lordly mannered man, apparelled in silk,
and protecting a carcass of nearly the circumfe
rence of a hogshead ; the other a ragged and dirty,
aut equally impudent and self-important personage;
and front a comparison of their countenances, it
would have puzzled the most profound M. D. to
determine which of their rotundities was best stored
habitually with good victuals and good drink.
Upon a close observation, however, of the coun
tenance of the banker, 1 discovered almost as soon
as my eye fell upon it, a line bespeaking something
of humor and 'awakened curiosity, as he stood fixed
and eyeing his antagonist; and this become more
clear and conspicuous when he lowered his tore
and asked : "How will you make that appear?"
How?" said the beggar—" Why listen a mo
ment, and I'll learn you. In the first place, do you
not notice that Gud has given me a soul and body
just as good for all the purposes of thinking, eat
ing, drinking and taking my pleasure, as he has
you, and then you may remember Dives and La
zarus' Is we pass. Then again, it is a free country,
turd here, too, we are on equality; for you must
know that even a beggar's boy may look a gentle
man in the face with a's much indifference as he
would a brother. I and you have the same com
mon master, are equally free, live equally as easy,
and arc both travelling tha eau. journey, bound to
the same place, and both hare to die and ho bitrird
in the end."
" But," interrupted the banker," do you pretend
there is no difference between a beggar and a
"Not in the last," rejoined the beggar with the
utmost readiness, "not in the least as to essentials.
You swagger and drink wine in' company of
your own choosing; I swagger and drink beer,
which I like better than your company. You
make thousands ii'day'pe , haps; I make a shilling
perhaps; it you are contended I am ; we are equal.
ly !nippy at night. You dress in new clothes, I
4/1/ j 12.4 as constiiria ble in old ones, and have 110
trouble in beeping them from soiling; if I have
less property than you have, I have less to care
about ; if fewer friend , , less friendship to lose; and
it I don't make us large a figure in the world, I
Make as great a shadow on the pavement ; I am
as great as you. lksides, my word for it, T have
fewer enemies, meet with few losses; carry us light
heart, und sing as many songs as the best of
" And then," said the Lauber, who had all along
tried to slip in a word edgcwasy," is the contempt
of the world nothing?"
."I'he envy of the world is as bad as its con
tempt ; you have perhaps the one and I share in
the other. And besides, the world deals in matter
equally unjust with us both. You and I live by
our wits, instead or livin g by our industry; and
the only difference is, that it costs society more to
maintain you titan it does me. I ant contended
with little—you wont a great deal. Neither of us
raise grain or potatoes, or strove cloth, or manu
facture anything useful; we therefore odd nothing
to the cammon smelt see are only consumers, and
if the world judged with strict impartiality, there
fore it seems to me I would be pronounced the
Some passers-by here interrupted the conversa
tion. The disputants separates, apparently good
friends, and I drew in my head, ejaculating some
what in the manner of Alexander in the play. Is
there then no more difference between a beggar and
But several years have since passed away, and
now both these individuals have paid the last debt
of nature. They died as they lived, the one a bank
er, and the other a beggar. I examined bulb their
graves when I visited the city. They were of
similar length and breadth ; the grass grew equally
green above each ; and the sun looked down as
pleasantly on one as nn the other. No honors,
pleasures or delights clustered round the grave of
the rich man. No finger of scorn was pointed to
that of the poor man. They were both equally de
serted, lonely and forgotten. I thought, too, of the
destinies to which they had passed—of that state
in which temporal distinctions exist not—where
pride and all the honors which regard this life never
find admittance. Then the distinctions of time
appeared indeed as an item in the sunbeam, com
pared with those which are made in that,. change.
less state to w • they had both passed.
My heart always "stirs within me when I read
selections, made by the editors," of the newspapers,
which arc designed for us married ladies, setting
forth our duty in relation to make our homes happy
to our husbands; that wb should always welcome
them with a cheerful smile when they come in
from the cares and fatigues of the day, and do all
we can to make married life pleasant for them, &c.
Now this is all well, and I trust to reduce the the.
ory to practice. But allow me to inquire if the
cares and fatigues of the wife are always appreci•
atcd by the husband 7
Shall I give a short sketch of domestic life as it
is? not, of course, describing a family as it should
be : but I wish to give a fair example of every-day
life at home.
My neighbor, Mr. Benson, is a lawyer by profes-
sion, and is what the world calls a respectable mail.
His income is small ; but he married a lady who
was able to furnish their small house handsomely,
and they have some hoprs of property in reversion.
Mrs. B. has beet, a wife twelve years, and is the
mother of five children—the youngest but a babe;
and the family are its happy as the larger portion of
It is Monday morning, and this speaks" unut
terable things" to a New England wife, who has
been married a dozen years. Mr. Benson has had
his breakfast in season, has kissed the children,
gone to the office where the boy has a good fire;
the books and papers arc all in order, and Mr. B. sits
down to answer a few agreeable demands on .his
time, which Will eventually turn to cash. lle goes
home to his dinner punctually at one o'clock. It
is ready for him. Ile takes it quietly; perhaps
frolics ten minutes with the baby, and then hurries
back to his office. At the hour for tea he goes
home—everything is cheerful, and, to quote the
simple rhyme of an old song—
The hearth ttns elerin—the fire w•et clear—
The kettle on for lea;
lien,OillvaQ in hi. rockinir-chair.
.tnd blest u. irmn could he
But hew leas it been with Mr.. 11C115011 through
[81,50, PAYABLE AT SIX MONTH►S.
the day? She has an ill-natured girl in the kitchen,
who will do half the work only, at nine shillings
per week. Monday morning at 8 o'clock, four
children must be ready for school ; Mrs. Benson
must sponge their faces and smooth their hair; see
to the books, slates pencils, paper, pocket-handker
chiefs. Yes, four of them are all in order. And
now the baby is crying; the fire is low ; it is time
Sally should begin to wash ; the parlor, the cham
ber, the breakfast things are all waiting. Well, by
a Bong to the baby, who lies kiiiking in the cradle
—a smile to ruffled Sall—and with all the energy
she can summon, things are straightened out, and
the lofty piles of a week's wearing apparel begins
to grow less. But the time shortens with it ; it is
almost dinner-time. By some accident the joint of
meat is frozen; company call: Mr. Benson forgot
to get any eggs Saturday, and Mrs. B. must do the
next best thing. 'rhe bell rings twelve. The door
opens, and in rush the children from school. John
has torn his pantaloons. Mary must have some
money, then, to buy a thimble—she has just lost
hers. William has cut his finger with a piece of
glass, and is culling loudly for his mother.
Poor Mrs. Benson endeavors to keep cheerful,
and look delighted in the hubbub. And now the
dinner, by her efforts alone, is upon the table. Her
husband comes in, and, perhaps wonders why " the
pie is not a little better warmed." And with this
comment, and a smile on the babe, be is off till it
is time for tea. I forbear to finish the day; and
shall say the afternoon is made up of trifles, too
small to mention, but large enough to try the faith
and patience of all the patriarchs.
Now this wife has surely borne the burden and
heat of the day ! Her limbs are wearied—her
whole energy of mind and body exhaustcd,and she
is exhorted to "welcome her husband with a smile."
She does it, for woman's love is stronger than death.
I would ask, should not Mr. B. give his wife a
smile 7 What has he done to lighten her cares
through the dny ? How is it? In nine eases out
of ten, he wishes Mrs. Benson would put all those
noisy children to bed. He should be glad to hate
her tell David to go to the post-office for letters
and papers; and, at last, when half way between
sleeping and waking, ho looks at his exhausted
helpmate, and exclaims Well, wife, you begin
to look a little fatigued!"
Editors should be more just, and, now and then,
exhort limbands to do their part toward making
home more agreeable to their wives, when the lat
ter have, like Atlas, borne a world of cares and vex
ations through the day.
A BOSTON OF:AIf AND OF.I.LE OF 1750.—01 d Times.
—Rev. Mr. Fox, in a paper written in 1628, to a
friend gave a familiar shoe!) of the manners and
habits of the good people of Boston nearly a cell.
tory ago. The following is the part which des.
eribes the dress of a couple as thoy were arraigned
. "To begin with the lady t her lucks were strain
.ed upward over an immense cushion that But like
an incubus on her head, and then plastered over
with pomatutn, and sprinkled with a shower of
white powder. The height of this tower was
somewhat over a fool. Our single white rose.bud
lay upon its summit, like an eagle upon a haystack.
Over her neck and bosom was folded a lace hand
kerchief, fastened in front by a bosom-pin rather
larger than a dollar, consisting of your grandfath
er's miniature set in virgin gold. Her airy form
was braced up in a satin dress, the sleeves tight as
the natural skin of the arm, with a waist formed
by a boddice worn outside, whence theskirt flowed
strand was distended at the ankles by an ample
hoop. Shoes of white kid, with peaked toes, and
heels of two or three inches elevation, enclosed her
feet, and glittered with spangles as her little pedal
members peeped curiously out.
" Now for the swain: your grandfather slept in an
armchair the night before his wedding, that the
arrangement of his pericranium, which had been
under the bands of a barber the whole afternoon,
might not be disturbed. His hair was sleeked back
and plentifully floured, while his cue projected like
the brindle of a skillet. His coat was a sky blue
silk, lined with yellow; his long vest of while sa.
tin, embroidered with gold lace: his breeches of
the same material, and tied at the knee with a pink
ribbon. White sick stockings and pumps, with
clocks and ties of the same hue, completed the ha.
bilaments of his nether limbs- Lace ruffles clus
tered around his wrists, and a portentous frill
worked in correspondence, and bearing the minis.
lure of his beloved, finished his truly genteel ap.
CURIOUS LOVE STORY.—A very curious story is
told by several ancient wracks respecting Egirvard,
a secretary to Charlemagne, and a daughter of that
emperor. 'The secretary fell in lovo with the prin.
cess, who at length allowed him to visit her. One
winter's night lie stayed with her very late, and in
the meantime a deep snow had fallen. If ho left,
his footmarks would be observed, and yet to stay,
would expose him to danger. At length the prin.
cess resolved to carry him on her back to a neigh.
boring house, which she did. It happened, how.
ever, that from the window of his bed.room the
emperor saw the whole affair. In the assembly of
the lords, on the following day, when Egirvard and
his daughter were present, ho asked what ought
to be done to a man who compelled a king's dough.
terto carry him on her shoulders, through the frost
and snow, in the middle of a winter's night r They
answered that he was worthy of death. The lov.
ers were alarmed, but the emperor, addressing Eg.
irvard, said, " Hadat thou loved my daughter, thou
shouldst have conic to me; thou art worthy of
death, but I give thee two lives. Take thy fait
porter in marriage, fear God, and love one another."
A VENTERANNre.no,—We were much interested
in the history of the adventures of a negro man,
who has lately returned from the Mexican war, as
related to us by that accomplished officer Lieut.
Rains, of the Engineer Corps. Sandy has bad the
singular fortune, for a negro, to have been, at his
own earnest solicitation, in nearly all the battles in
Mexico. He was at Corpus Christi during the en
campment of our army at that place; and marched
with the column to the Rio Grande. In some of his
peregrinations around Fort Brown, lie was captured
by the Mexicans after a stout resistance, and thus
became the first prisoner in the war with .Mexico.
The Mexicans took Sandy to Matamoras, and
heated him with the "most distinguished consider
ation," and finally offered him a Lieutenancy in the
Mexican army, which he indignantly declined, and
escaping in a skiff, joined his master, Major Rains,
and was resent at the bombardment of Fort
By solicitation, Sandy was•allowed to join the
army at Vera Cruz, and was present throughout the
siege. lie was again at the battle of Cerro Gordo,
and joining his master's brother, Lieut. Rains, at
Puebla, he marched with the army into the valley
of Mexico, and was present in every battle before
the capital—being always near to render assistace
to his master in ease lie should rquire it. No ono
in the whole army enjoycs the successes ofour arms
with more enthusiasm, and no one maintained a
more uniformly gallant devotion to his duty and
charge than the negro Sandy. Having been with
the army since his childhood, he well deserves
the tittle of the venteran negro."—N. 0, Delta.
[II I IIOLE `UMBER,,
From the Boston Olive Branch:
ESSAY ON HOPE.
Hope is the mainspring of hunianlife.—By it the
various machinery of society is kept in motion.
Its influence is seen in its inspiring the soul to ar
dor, energy and oerseverance,ind nerving the arm
with agility, and strcmgth, for accomplishing the
various objects of pursuit, in all of the walks of
life. Obstacles may lie in one's path, difficulties
may surround one, and circumstances may be ad
verse ; but obstacles are surmounted, difficulties
overcome, and outward circumstances made propi.
tious, as long as Hope gilds the prospect with the
anticipated good. Extinguish that hope and the
spirits languish, the energies fail, and the arm be.
comes weak, all efforts cease, and the pursuits are
changed or fall into a state of miserable inactivity.
The in. t cnce of hope is seen also in its soothing,
solacing C. - td sustaining the soul, under the distill..
poirittnents, and adverse changes, incident to this
chequered scene of life. The hope of brighter days
ineptfs the child of adversity, with fortitude, cow,
age and resignation; extinguish this hope, and life
becomes tiresome, dire despair sits upon the brow,
paralyses the soul, and throws its dark pall over es.
Hope was implanted in the human breast for a
two•fold purpose : to cheer and animate in the per_
forrnance of duties, and to solace and sustain in
the endurance of trials. Hope is often fallacious,
but when deceptive, it is the fault of the possessor,
who imagines things to be permanent when they
are only Heeling pleasures.
One object of Hope is worthy of the lofticat as.
pirationa of a mortal being, and is above all others
alta'nable, iris an ' eternal weight of glory.' Lan.
gunge is incompetent to express an adequate idea
of its value. You can imagine yourself divested
of mortality, radiant with immortal splendor and
beauty, dwelling among glorified spirits, a comp n.
ion of Cherubims and Seraphims, basking in the
Divine presence ; enjoying uninterrupted, unsullied,
The hope having this for its object, based on the
promise which can neither fail nor decieve, will
stand the test of time, the wreck of matter, the
crash of worlds. It will live through the final trial
of spirits, and terminate Le...endless happiness.
SURNANIES.--The use ofsurnames began in France
about the year 987, when the barons adopted the
practice of designating themselves by the names of
their estates. This has been the general origin of
family names among the nobility of Europe, though
some were derived front badge;,cognizancos, &c.—
Surnames began to be used by the English nation
about the time of William the Conqueror, in 106 G,
when the conquest was achieved, or, as some sup
pose as early as Edward the Confessor, who began
to reign in 1041. It is certain that the occasional
use of surnames in England dates beyond the in
gress of the Normans. The most current opinion
is, that they can be scarce said to have been per
manently settled before the era of Reformation in
the 16th century. The origin of moony of the
the names now in use among the commonality, is
to he traced to the old custom of adding to theson's
Christian name that of the father, by way of dis
tinction, The occupation ore person also frequen
tly gave rise to his name, though we think if our
ancesters had been a little more explicit in this
matter, it would have been as well; for instance,
instead of the vogue and general appellative Smith,
we should have had Blacksmith, Whitesmith Cop
persmith, &c. Many were indebted to their corn
plcction, size, and other accidental distinctions, for
the names which they bequeathed to their poatrity.
Thus arignated the numerous family of Browns,
not to mention the Whiles, Blacks, Littler, &e. It
would be difficult however, to give any satisfactory
reason for the adoption of moat of the surnames
now iu use.—Eoston Saturday Rambler.
Tint COXCOMB REWARD/n.—WC shall not readily
forget a circumstance which occurred some months
ago, at a bazar. held in France, the stalls of which
were, of course, kept by the ladies interested
in the cause it wan to forward. A pert fellow,
whose shining abilities were rather outside his
head, upon his periwig, than within it, strolled
from stall to stall disporting his elegance in the eyes
of the fair merchants, paying impertinent compli.
merits, and uttering, what he was vain enough to
consider, his wit,but carefully avoiding being drawn
into a purchase. A young lady who observed him,
and whose good sense was properly affronted by
his foppery, resolved, if he should come her way,to
make him pay, if it were possible ; and presently
the self assured victim drew near.
" What do you look for, Monsieur ?" she de
manded, as his cye rove through his glass over her,
certainly, charming person.
" Nothing which you will sell," replied the other,
determined not to be a. purchaser.
"And what is that 1"
" A look of this exquisite hair:" answered the
It is yours, Monsieur ?"—and seizing her sis
sors, she cut away a handful of her hair, and held
at forth to the baffled wit; not forgetting to place
in ample price upon it, which of course, it was ho
possible he could do otherwise than pay.
A lIARD exse.—A poor jolly Wearer, In this city.
not many years ago bad a fortune left him by a
distant and wealthy relative, who went " otr the
handle" in England rather unexpectedly. When
the news came to the poor fellow, he sat clieket to
clacket at his loom, ate stopped, stock still, and
" Well, I suppose I must spend the money,
The fortune, some twenty thousand dollars, was
duly realized and duly spent—for, two brief years
did the job, and he returned to his loom as poor as
a church mouse, but merry as a cricket, and work
ed away again for his daily bread, perfectly satis-
fied with the "good time" he had had, while hie
fortune lasted. His friends called him green, but
ho laughed at their gibes, and worked the harder,
In a twelve month's time, off popped another rich
relative, and the news, post haste, came to the jolly
weaver, that he was again the possessor of a hand.
some fortune. Stopping his loom, and looking sor-
rowfully at the letter, he despondingly said:
"Good heavens! is it possible that I mutt go
through all that again."—Boaton Rambler.
In company, an English lady, half joculary, of
course, attributed a very polite readiness for wine
to the daughters of Erin. "I believe that in Ire.
land:' she observed. " it is quite customary for a la.
dy, it' she only catches the cyc of a gentleman
earnestly directed to liar at dinner-table, to say
'Port if you please.' Promptitude is the order of the
day." " Yes," replied the Irish lady not overpleased
with the Insinuation, and determined to repay it
with interest, "and the promptitude takes another
direction in your country." " flow do you mean 7"
"Why, when an English lady finds a gentleman's
eye upon her at table, I understand rho averts her
countenance, and blushing, nays, in her gentlest
tone, • You must ask papa.'
A recent number of the London Times contained
the extraordin.ory number of 1772 advertisements