The Columbia spy. and literary register. (Columbia, Pa.) 1848-1848, May 27, 1848, Image 1
GI 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 risers. Jun PRINTING Such as Hand-bills, Posting-bills Card.. Label., Paniphlicts, Blanks of every description Circulars, etc.etc.,exccuted with neatnessanddespatch and on reaaonableterrus. PHILADELPHIA ADVERTISEMENTS. GREAT DESTRUCTION. 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 trIVE.B.B.MLZAS 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, UeAa'AL2.a:ki 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 firstrate workmen. Thankful for past favors.l respectfully solicit a con titinance of public patronage. JOHN JORDAN & Co . Columbia, March 18, Merchant Tailor. CLOTHING! CLOTHING!! 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 iHo 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. ZIALIMEEP 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. Apl'eSif CaItr'11:10. 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, Vloctro. BY THEODORE A. GOULD I= 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 them." 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 sounds 1" "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. tude 7" 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 song. 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 121 IN 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 Chestnut street. " 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 banker." "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 you.' " 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 cleverest fi.liow." 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 a banker. 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. I.lliscellancous. WOMAN'S CARES. 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, and 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 for marriage . "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. pearanee." 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 Brown. 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. cry prospect. 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, unmingled 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. =I 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. =l2 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 fop. 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 said : " Well, I suppose I must spend the money, straight." 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