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D rti 3ura DyschtoSoubtu igtsNespoities, erald Jutellignuu, CiatuMrai, iYEnpaanc, gLricaLtuue e
We will eling to the Pillars of the Temple of Liberties, and if it must fall, we will Perish amidst the Ruins.
W. .DRISOE & SON, Proprietors. EDGEFIELIR S. C., MARCH 28, 1855. - - -
ElPtne 2CtIL .
'TIS BLESSED THUS DIE.
Weep not," the dying mother said
" Weep not, weep not for me;
But for my baby, when I'm dead,
Let gentle tears flow free;
I leave my darling baby one
An orphan here below;
Bnt lie who guides yon burning sun,
Can shield it from earth's woe.
"'Twere vain to mourn and weep for me,
For I shall rest in peace;
My body in the grave shill be,
My spirit find release
And 0! if heavenly power approve,
My spirit oft shall cone.
And hover o'er the babe I love,
Here in its earthly home.
" For it alone I wish to live
To train it for its God;
But you will heavenly counsel give,
When I'm beneath the sod ;
You'll tell my child of Jesus' love,
And teach it how to pray ;
And turn its infant thoughts above,
To realms of light and day.
" My sand of life is ebbing now!
Bring me my babe once more;
0! let me fix upon its brow
- One look, ere all is o'er ;
One gentle kiss. 0! let me press
Upon its infaut cheek;
Let mie receive its fond caress,
While I have power to speak."
The babe was brought and to her breast
She pressed it tenlerly;
Its checks and brow her cold lips prest,
Then murmur'd fervently:
- 0 ! Father! shield my darling child
Keep it from evil free,
And safe to heaven-O: bring it home,
To dwell with thee and me."
I gazed upon that scene of love
I heard that mother's prayer,
And felt that spirits froni above
Were gently bending there;
Once more a smile lit up her brow
Joy sparkled in her eye;
She faintly whispered, " farewell earth 4
'Tis blessed thus to die !"
And oft since then, in dreams of night,
I've gazed upon that scene
I've seen the mother's dying sni!e
Deani with a glory sheen
I've heard again, in visions blest,
Her last departing s'gh ;
Those whispered vords of failing breath
"'Tis blessed thus to die !"
VALUE OF YOF!NG .IEN TO THE VIlIRIlI
THE strength of the young mnen is one of
the richest treasures of power the church
possesses. Her old men may be rich in chris
tian experience; rich in large material re
sources, and rich in the priceless wealth of
a truly benevolent heart; but it is her young
men and her sons that are reaching up to the
prime of' manhood, who mainly enibody the
enterprise anti the spirit that is to embody
the Gospel of Chnrist thrrough all the chan
nels, along whlichr flows ihe mighty stream
of hrumainity, att honme and abroad. That
very enterprise, that youthful ardor that cour
age and that power of ripe manhood, deC
clare the nature of their mission, as truly as
if Jesus wvas heard sarying to their posses
sor: " Run, speak to tis young marn; run
to proclaim thre tidings of my grace far and
widie; run to instruct thre ignoranrt, to reform
the vicious, to recall the wanderirrg, to lift
up theo despornding, anrd guide the anxious
sinner to the cross."
The young roan who imiaginres that lhe is
redeemed by thre blood of .Jesus, and yet
feels and cherishes no sense of obligation to
use his power so ars to advance thre cause of
religion, is but a withered branch of this
heavenly vine, on which no clustering foila'ne
gathers, arnd no fruits of heavenly benefi
cence ripen for glory. If angels run to
minister to men, how ought the redeemed
to run on missions of mercy to their fellow
mnern! For what are clhristian young men
strong, if not to serve as missionaries of the
cross, and minnisters of Him, who for their
sakes endured the agonies of Calvay.
That strength, that anrimration, the courage,
that buoyant energy will soon decline. It
.is a talent given btut for a season, the pas.
sage of timie wvill bear it from you forever.
-hen, as you stand on tire othrer side of life's
meridian, thre consciousness of neglected
opportunities arnd wasted powers will op.
press your heart. Then whlen at length you
come to judgment, arid you are challenged
to account for all the strength of your early
.and ripened manhood, you will car-ry in your~
;heart, not the blessed fruits of tire seed you
thave sowed and reaped, not the memories of
sinners saved and ignorance enlightened
.not the deeds of heavenly love. Which
.have ministered benedictions wide as heaven
-to the souls of the miserable-but threase
of burnt out passions, the withered stalk ofi
a fruitless branch, the memnory of neglected
.Opportunities and souls lost forever.-Dr.
RELIGIOUs Boouts A~roNG TIIE PEoP'LE.
" If," said the late Daniel Webster to a
friend, "religious books are not circulated
;unong thre masses in this country, and tho
people do not become religious, I do not
know what will become of us as a nation."
And the thought is one to cause solemn re
flection on tire part of every patriot and
Christian. If truth be not diffused, error
will be; if God and his word are not known
and received, the devil and Iris wvorks wvili
gain the ascendancy; if the evangelical vol.
time does not reach every hamlet the pages
of a corrupt and licentous literature will; if
the power of the gospel is not felt through
the length and breadth of tire land, anarchy
and misrule, degradation and misery, corrup
tion and darkness, will reign without mitiga.
tion or end.
THE MOMENT AFTER DEATH.
What a moment that must be!-how vast
its consequences!-how overwhelming reve
lations! Let us try, by illustration, to real.
ize it. There dies a saint of God. The
summons was sudden, but his house was in
order, and with a smile on his face, lie bids
a glad adieu to the scenes of friendship on
earth. Coldness passes from point to point
in his sytem; his vision grows dim; his
tongue faltering; but in strong faith lie
commends his all to the Conquerer of death,
and passes away shouting an everlasting
victory! The spirit soars-angels attend it
the gates of the city are open to receive it
--the King is seen in his beauty-andnow
heaven is enjoyed in all its bliss and glory!
Waking up from his life dream, the first sight
is Jesus as He is-no flight through immen
sity-no pilgrimage of the spheres-for the
everlasting arms are the resting place of the
disembodied soul-it will be in the bosom
of Immaniel that the emancipated spirit will
enquire. " Where am I "-and read in the
face of Jesus the answer-" Forever with
But another, and a different scene. There
dies an impenitent sinner, and as he feels
life ebbing away, his soul is filled with unut
terable anguish, his sins are arrayed before
him, his conscience accuses him, lost oppor
tunities mock him, hope perishes, and eterni
ty is made terrible by its treasured up wrath.
But lie must die, He that cuts him down,
sways him as the feller of wood sways the
tottering tree-now a root breaks--now a
heart string-now oozes out drop by drop,
the very lifeblood of his wretched soul-and
at last, goes out the lamp of life in terrible,
Eternal darkness, and the miserable soul
goes to a just retribution! [low awful, to
such an one, is the moment after death!
The narrow confines of time passed a bound
less eternity stretches itself before him, and,
in the twinkle of an eye, he is ushered into
outer darkness-the region of unending wo,
" Where the worm dieth not, and the fire is
not quenched!" The torments of hell are
already begun, and the soul's bitter reflec
tion is, that they are merited, and will never
Yes, solemn thought! One brief moment
will effect an entire change in our mode of
being-will make plain what, with respect
to a future state, is now involved in mystery,
and will hear the soul to the fearful retribu
tions, or to the glorious rewards of eternity!
[Conr " ''
A CoNTRAST.-Near the end
the licentious Byron wrote th
" My days are in the yellow
The flowers and fiutt of love
The worm, the cancer and th
Are mine aimn.
Near the end of his days, "Paul the agede
wrote to a young miniister whom lie gentle
loved, as follows: " I am now ready to e
offered, and the time of my departure is ah
hand. I have fought a good fight, I hby
finished my c:urse, I have kept the faitvn
henceforth there is laid up for me a crowe
of righteousness, which the righteous Judg
shall give me at that (lay." Is there not a
difference between him that serveth God and
hini that serveth him not? All experience,
as well as conscience, answers-YEs.
Ii. rr wERE NOT FOR IlorE TiHE IIEART
wVOtUL IIREA.-Were it not for hope the
arm wvould fall powerless on the struggling
battlefield of life, and the pure light would
fade out from the weary eye. We sit in the
shade of the elm and watch the living ocean
ebbing by-at every throb of thio heart a
life wave rolls on the other shore. The foot
man with his pack, and the rich man with
his steed, is urged on with the hope of better
tinmgs ahead. T [he ragged child with his
basket of berries, hopes for manhood and
days of brighter sunlight for him. The old
man ecepinig up the hill on staff and crutch
looks out with hope for coming death and
rest becyond the grave. The sun has long
since faded from the sky. Tell him he nev
er shall know the rest he seeks, and tears
will wet theo wrinkles on his withered cheeks;
for his old framie is wvorn out, and he longs
to lay aside, and leave his stick and crutch
at the door of his grave.
TErace of mankind would speedily per
ish did they cease to aid each other. From
the time that the mother binds the child's
head, to the moment that some kind hand
wipes the death damp from the browv of the
dying, we cannot exist without mutual help.
All therefore, that need aid, have a right to
ask it of. their fellow mortals; no one can
refuse it withnut guilt.
NOTHING sets so wvide a mark between a
vulgar and a noble soul, as the respect and
revential love of wvomankind. A man who
is alwvays sneering at w'omen, is generally
either a coarse profligate, or coarse bigot.
IF you would be pungent, be brief, for it
is with wvords is with sunbeams, the more
they are condensed the deeper they burn.
IF you wish success in life, mako perse
verance your bosom friend, experience your
wise counsellor, caution your elder brother,
and hope your guardian genius.
OUR evil genius, like the junior member
of a deliberative body, always gives its
07 LET your expenses be suCh as to
leave a balance in your pocket. Ready
money is a friend in need.
07 SAY but little-think much-and do
07 KEEP Clear of the law; for, even if
you gain your case, you are generally a
loser of money.
O0r QUARRES would never last long if
SHE was a beautiful girl, when I first saw
her. She was standing up at the side of
her lover, at the marriage altar. She was
slightly pale-yet, ever and anon, as the
ceremony proceeded, a faint tinge of crimson
crossed her beautiful cheek, like the reflec
tions of a sunset cloud upon t6e clear water's
quiet lake. Her lover, as lie clasped her
hand witifin his own, gazed on her for a
few moments with unmingled admiration,
and the warm eloquent blood shadowed at
intervals his manly forehead, and " melted
into beauty on his lips."
- And they gave themselves to one rnother
in the presence of Heaven, and every
heart blessed them, as they went their way
rejoicing in their love.
Years passed on, and I again saw those
lovers. They were seated together where
the light of sunset stole through the hall
closed and crimson curtain, lending a richer
tint to the delicate carpeting and the exqui
site embellishment of the rich and gorgeous
apartment. Time had slightly changed
them in outward appearance. The girlish
buoyancy of the one had, indeed, given
place to the greater perfection of woman
hood, and her lips were somewhat paler,
and a faint line of care was slightly rercep.
tible upon her brow. Her husband's brow,
too, was marked somewhat more deeply
than his age might warrant ; anxiety, ambi
tion, and pride had grown over it, and left
the traces upon it; a silver hue was mingled
with the dark of his hair, which had become
thin around his temples almost to baldness.
He was reclining on an ottoman with his
fice half hidden by his hand, as if he ieared
that the dread and troubled thoughts which
oppressed him were visible upon his features.
"Edward, you are ill to-night," said his
wife in a low, sweet, half inquiring voice, as
she laid kcr hand upon his own.
Indifference from those we love, is. terri
ble to the sensitive bosom. It is the -un of
Heaven refused its wonted cheerfulness, and
glared upon us with a cold, dim and forbid
den glace. It is dreadful to feel that. the on
ly being of our love refuses to ask our sym
pathy, that lie broods over the feelings which
he scorns or fears to reveal, drea.dful to
watch the convulsive features and the gloomy
brow, the indefinable shadows of Lidden
emotions, the involuntary sigh of sorrow in
which wo are forbidden to narticinatp nnd
p reruse to tell me the cause."
Something of returning tenderness soften
ed, for an instant, the cold severity of the
husband's features, but it passed away, and
a bitter smile was his only reply.
Time passed on, and the twain were sep.
arated from each other. The husband sat
gloomy and alone in the damp cell of a
dungeon. He had followed ambition as his
God, and had failed in high career. He
had mingled with men whom his heart loath
ed; he had sought out the fierce and wrong
ed spirits of the land. and had breathed into
them the madness o revenge. He had
drawn his sword against his country; lhe
had fanned rebelion to a flame, and it had
beena quenched in human blood. HeI had
fallen, and was doomed to die the death of
The door of the dungeon opened, and a
light form entered, and threw herself into
his arms. The softened light of sunset fell
upon the pale brow and wasted cheek of
his once beautiful wife.
"Edwvard, my dear Edward," she said, " I
have come to save you; I have reached you
after a thousand ditficulties, and I thank God
my purpose is nearly executed."
Misfortune had softented the proud heart
of manhood, and as the husband pressed his
pale wife to his bosom, a tear trenmbled on
his eyelash. " I have nt dheserved this kind
ness," he mturmured in the choked tones of
" Ed ward," said his wife, in an earnest
but faitt and low voice, which indicated ex
treme and fearful debility, " we have riot a
moment to lose. By atn exchange of gar
ments you will be etiabled to pass out unnto
ticed. Haste, or wve may be too late. Fear
nothting for me, I am a woman, and they wtill
not injure me for my efforts in behalf of a
husband dearer than life itself.
"But, Margaret," said the husband, " you
look sadly ill. You cannot breathe the air
of this dreadful cell."
" Oh, speak not of mo, my dear Edward,
saidl the devoted womatn. " I cart endure
anything for your sake. Haste, Edward,
and all wvill be wvell," and she aided, wvith a
trembling hand, to disguies the proud form
of her husband in a female garb.
" Farewell, my love, my preserver," whis
pered the husband in the ear of the disguis
ed wife as an officer sternly reminded the
supposed lady that the time allotted to her
had expired. "Farewell!I we shall meet
again," responded the wife: and the hus
band passed out unsuspected, and escaped
the enemies of his life.
They did meet again-the wife and hus
band; but only as the dead may meet-in
the awful commutnings of another world.
Affection had borne up her exhausted spirit,
until the last great purpose of hei- exertions
was accomplished in the safety of her hus
band-and the bell tolled on the morrow,
and the prisoner's cell was opened, and the
guards found, wrapped in the habiliments of
their destined victim, the pale, beautiful
corpse of the devoted Wife.
ANOTHER SECRET SocIETY.-The Pittsburg
Gazette states that there is a regularly organized
association of blacks in that, city, bound togeth
er by the most solemn oaths, and meeting in
secret, whose object is the abduction of colored
servants, travelling with their masters, who are
.uneted to be alaes
THE SLIUHTED SCHOLAR.
Cases like the 0 be I am about to relate
are much too freqqent in our country, and
they are such, to,. as should be guarded
against by all wh#*have an interest in edu
cation. The incident was brought to mind
by hearing a compaint made by the parent
of a poor boy, whdhad been grossly neglect.
ed by the teacher.of the village school, neg
lected because he .was poor and compara.
Many yeare ago'when I was a small boy,
I attended school.in the town of
Among the scholad there was a boy named
George Henry. &-is father was a poor
drinking man, and he unfortunate boy had
to suffer in cons nience. George came to
school habited ipragged garments-but
they are the beathe had; he was rough
and uncouth in hiif anners, for he had been
brought up in this manner; he was very
ignorant, for he hadinever had an opportuni
ty for education. *
Season after season, poor George Henry
occupied the same seat in the school-room
-it was a back.corner seat, away from the
other scholars-an, there he thumbed his
tattered primer. Tie ragged condition of
his garb gave a homely cast to his whole
appearance, and what of intelligence there
might have been in: is countenance, was be
clouded by the "qater covering" of the
boy. He seldom pIyed with the other chil
dren, for they seemed- to shun him; but
when he did, for a nlile, join with them in
their sports, he was. so rough that he was
soon shoved off out'of the way.
The teacher passed the poor boy coldly
in the street, while other boys, in better
garbs, were kindly noticed, In the school,
young Henry was' coldly treated. The
teacher neglected him, and then called him
an "idle blockhead," because he did not
learn. The boy received no incentive to
study, and consequently he was most of the
time idle, and idleness begat a disposition to
while away the time'in mischief. For this
he was whipped, and the more idle and care
less lie became. He knew that he was ieg.
lected by the teacher, and simply because
he was poor and ragged, and with a sort of
sullen indifference, Isharpened at times by
feelings of bitterness, he plodded on his dark,
Thus matters went on for several years.
Most of the scholars who were of George
Henry's age had passed on to the higher
branches of study,.- ihile lie, poor fellow,
still spelled out wordi of one and two sylla.
:. ns mlife was at nana. te
stood now upon the step in life from which
the fate of after years must take its cast.
At this time a man by the name of Kelly
took charge of the school. lie was an old
teacher, a careful observer of human nature,
anti a really good man. Long years of
guardianship over wild youths had given him
a bluff authoritative way, and in his disci.
pline he was strict and unwavering.
The first day he passed at the teacher's
desk of our school, was mostly devoted to
watching the movements of the scholars,
and studying the dispositions with which he
had to deal. Upon George Henry his eyes
rested with a keen, searching glance, but
eviently made little of him during the first
day ; but on the second day he did more.
It was during the afternoon of the second
day that Mr. Kelly observed young Henry
engaged in impaling flies upon the point of
a large pin. He wvent to the boy's seat, and,
after reprimanding him for his idleness, he
took up the dirty, tattered primer from his
" Have you never learned more than is in
this book ?" asked the teacher.
" No, sir," drawled George.
" How long have you attended school I"
"I don't know, sir. It's ever since I can
" Then you must be an idle, reckless boy,"
said the teacher, with much severity. " Do
you realize how many years you have throwvn
away ? Do you know how much you have
lost i What sort of a man do you intend
making, in this way I One of these days
you will be too old to go to school, and then,
while your companions are seeking some
honorable employment, you w ill be good
for nothing. Have you parents I"
" Yes, sir," answered the boy, in a hoarse,
" And do they wish you to grow up to be
an ignorant, wvorthless man 1"
The boy had hung down his head and was
silent; but Mr. Kelly saw two great tears
roll down his cheeks. in an instant, the
teacher sawv that he had something besides
an idle, stubborn mind to deal with in the
ragged scholar before him. He laid his
hand on the boy's head, and in a kind tone
he said, " I wish you to stop after school is
dismissed. Do not be afraid, for I wish to
assist you if I can."
George looked wonderingly into the mas
ter's face, for there was something in the
tone of the voice which fell upon his ear
that sounded strangely to him, and he,
thought, too, as he looked around, that the
rest of the scholars regarded him with kinder
countenances than usual. A dim thought
broke in upon his mind that, from some,
cause, ho was going to be happier than be.
After the school was dismissed, George
Henry remained in his seat till the teacher
called him to the desk.
"Now," said Mr. Kelly, " I wish to know
why it is that you have never learned any
more. You look bright, and you look as
though you might make a smart man. Why
is it that I find you so ignorant 1"
" Because nobody never helps me," re
plied the boy. " Nobody never cares for me,
ir, for I am poor."
By degrees the kind-hearted teacher got
the poor boy's whole history, and while
generous tear. bedewed hi. eyes, he said:
--very wrongly, but there is yet time for
redemption. If I will try to teach you, will
you try to learn ?"
" Yes-O yes," quickly uttered the boy
in earnest tones. " Yes-I should love to
learn. I don't want to be a bad boy," he
feelingly added, while his countenance glow
ed with unwonted animation.
Mr. Kelly promised to purchase books
for the boy as fast as he could learn to read
them, and when George Henry left the school
room his face was wet with tears. We
scholars who had remained in the entry,
saw him come out, and our hearts were
warmed towards him. We spoke kindly to
him, and walked with him to his house, and
his heart was too full for utterance.
On the next day, George Henry commenc
ed studying in good Earnest, and the teacher
helped him faithfully. Never did I see a
change so radiant and sudden as that which
took place in the habits of the poor boy.
As soon as the teacher treated him with
kindness and respect, the scholars followed
the example, and the result was, they found
in the unfortunate youth one of the most
noble-hearted, generous, accommodating,
and truthful playmates in the world.
. Long years have passed since those school.
boy days. George Henry has become a
man of middle age, and in all the country
there is not a man more beloved and respect.
ed than he is. And all is the result of one
teacher having done his duty.
You who are sebool-teachers, remember
the responsibility that devolves upon you.
In this country of free schools, there should
be no distinction between classes. All are
alike entitled to your care and counsel, and
the more weak the child, the more earnest
should be your endeavor to lift him up and
fll fo (af.
THE IMPORTANCE OF WRITTEN MEDICAL PRE
Some few years ago, a wellknown botani
cal doctor was called in to prescribe for a
man who kept for sale all kinds of dogs.
The patient was a great believer in herbs
and botanical productions, and was indeed
very ill. The doctor felt his pulse, and as
he was leaving the room, said, " Oh, cheer
up! Mr. Jones, I'll send you some herb med
icino that will put you all right again. I
want to find your wife." To the latter. who
-. tve, Mrs. Jones, have you done as I
ordered you to do I"
"To be sure, I have doctor."
"Well and how does it operate I"
Operate, sir? I can't tell; but I'm sure
Sam will kill me when lie gets well."
" How, kill you I What should ie kill
you for, good woman I"
" Because Doctor, he's been offered two
guineas a-piece for them puppies and I know
he wants the money."
" Puppies, woman," replied the astonished
doctor, " what have you been giving your
"Puppy-head tea." replied the woman.
" Puppy-head tea ! I told you poppy-head
ea," and the doctor rushed from his patient,.
wvho by the wvay got well, and after a while
forgave his wife but never the doctor.
WHAT lIE DIED OF.
We overheard once the following dialogue
between an Alderman arid an Irish shop
" What's gone of your husband, wvoman 1"
" What's gone of him, yer Ihoner ? Faith
and he's gone dead."
" Ah! pray wvhat did he die of?"
" Die of, yer honori He died of a Fri
"1I don't mean what day of the week, but
what complaint !"
" Oh, what complaint, yer honori Faith,
and it's himself that did not get time to
"0O, he died suddenly I"
" Rather that way, yer honor ?"
" Did he fall in a fit ?"
"lHe fell in a fit, perhaps ?"
" A fit, yer honori Why rio, not exactly
that. He fell out of a widow, or through a
celler door-I don't know what they c~dI it."
'- And broke his necki"
" No, not quite that, yer wvorshrip."
" What then I"
" There was a bit of a string or cord, or
something like that, and it throttled poor
FOR unadulterated economy, commend us
to the German. Give him a salary of forty
cents a day, and in ten years he will own a
brick block, a fat horse, nine childern, and
a vrow broader than she is long, and as good
natured as a blind kitten.
GOING IT STRONG.-A faCtious gentle.
man, traveling in the interior of the State,
on arriving at his lodging place in the even
ing, he was met by the ostler whom he thus
" Boy, extricate that quadruped from the
vehicle, stabulate him, denote him an ade
quate supply of nutricious aliment-and
when the Aurora of morn shall again illume
the oriental horison, I will awvard you a pe
cuniary compensation for your hospitality."
The boy, not understanding a word, ran
into the house, saying
" Master, here's a Dutchman wants to see
A CAsE OF MoDEsTY.-A newspaper
publisher going on a collecting expedition,
and leaving his accounts at home for fear of
giving offence to his patrons.
WaR is a spendthrift's purse like a thun
der cloud! Because it keeps continually
THE PLAINEST WORDS MAY LEAST DECEIVE
Mv speech is frank my vows are few,
I do not woo with courtly smile;
But all I say is warm and true,
And all I promise bears no guile.
I cannot breathe false tones of love,
Which gentle hearts too oft believe;
But take me Mary, and thou'lt prove
That plainest words may least deceive.
"There'll be some shadow in our lot,
When wedded faith shall crown our days;
But I will clear each thorny spot,
If manly care can smooth life's ways.
Thy faults shall meet a voice still kind
I'll sigh o'er all that bids thee grieve,
And grey old age shall only find
That plainest words may least deceive.
WHY TILE FOURTH oN MARCH WAS SE
LECTED.-The Portland Advertiser, correc
ting the blundering statement which every
year or two goes the round of the papers, to
the effect that the 4th of March wias selec
ted as the beginning of the Presidential term,
because it will not fall on Sunday for three
hundred years to come, says:
"The selection of the fourth of March as
the day for the beginning of the Presidential
terms seems to have been the result of acci.
dent. The old Continental Congress, when
the ratification of the new Constitution by
the necessary number of the States had been
ascertained, passed a resolution Sept. 13,
1788, appointing the first Wednesday of the
next January for the choice of the presiden
tial electors, the first Wednesday of Febru.
ry for the election of President and Vice
President, and the first Wednesday of March
as the time for the organization of the new
government. The first Wednesday of March
happened to be in the year 1789, the fourth
of March, and as the administration which
began on that day was limited to four years
by the Constitution, the next and all succeed.
ing administrations have begun on this day
of the month."
How TO MAIKE -L LovE CAs.-Let any
pretty or amiable young lady take three cups
of sugar, three eggs, one cup of butter, one
of milk, a small lump of pearlash; mix all up,
not as stiff as a pound cake, and bake it t
nicely. Then get a neat tea-pot full of t
strong Souchong, or else Congo; set a snug
little tea-table before a rousing fire in a cosy
parlor. Draw up to the table a soft lounge
or sofa. Let no intruders be about, and
till out two nice cups of the tea and cut the
REFLECTION.-HOW suggestive of hu
man life are the seasons of the year! Spring
with its warm and genial sun, bursting huds
and opening flowers, its seed-sowing and
song of birds, suggests the infant whose
intellect is just expanding in the sun light of
knowledge, whose pure and guileless nature
unsuspicious of coming ills, sees but the
brightness of the present, and he rejoices
with the songbird of the woods-and from
his flight tirst learns ambition. The summer
comes with its sunshine and rain to mature
the foilage of the trees for the protection of
young fruit from the fervid heat-offering a
most grateful shade for weary man, who now
in his meridian is subject to strong-matures
the ambitious pilants of youth-and form new
projects which may never be perfected. In
his decline-the autumn of his existence,
the fruits of his labors are gathered home to
be enjoyed here but a short space, and he like
the venerable world lies dowvn in the icy em
brace oIf the wvinter of death.-Nashville
EFFECTS OF SOLITU-DE ON YoUTH AND
AGE.-TIo be left alone in the whole world,
with scarcely a friend-this makes the sad
ness wvhich striking its pang into the minds
of the young and affectionate, teaches them
too soon to watch and interpret the spirit
signs of their own hearts. Tihe solitude of
the aged-when, one by one, their friends
fall of f, as the sear leaves fr-om the trees in
autumn-what is it to the overpowing sense
of desolation wvhich fills almost to breaking
the sensitive heart of youth, when the near
est and dearest ties are severedi Render
ed callous by time and suflering, the old
feel less, although they complain more.
'[le young, bearing a "grief too deep for1
tears," shine in their bosoms sad memories
andI melancholy unaticipations, which often
give dark hues to their feelings in after life.
A GENTE lIlNT.-" WVhy don't you get
married :" said a young lady, the other day,
to a bachelor friend. " I have been trying
for the last ten years to find seome one who
would be silly enough to have me," was the
reply. "J guess you havn't been up our
way," was the insinuating rejoinder.
THE Chinese are a queer people to go to
market. A friend at Canton, writes "Kem
lich Van Tassell," that a neighbor of his had
just laid in his winter's provisions-a hind
quarter of a horse and two barrels of bull
dogs. The latter salted to keep.
O7 GooD Logic.-" Brudder Jones, can
you tell me de difference 'tween dying and
dieting 1" " Why, oh course I can, Samuel.
When you diet you lib on noffin, and when
you die you hab noffin to live on." " Well,
dat's a race atween de doctorin' stuff and
starwation, to see wvhich will kill fust."
" MOTHER, I heard sissy swvear." " What
did she aswear ?" " Why she said she wasn't
going to wear her darned stockings to
THE ladies among the Esquimaux make
necklace of icicles, and their ear-drops con
sist of a pair of snow-balls fastened with a
small hook, made of brass wire. Cheaps,
but, decidedly picturesque.
07 ACCORDING to Lacon, men will wran
gle for religion; write for it; fight for it;
am hin ut-.live for it.
DEATH OF THE CZAR.
IF the present war resulted from the per
onal ambition of Nicholas, and his individu.
ki despotic will has been the primum-mobile
>f the tremendous struggle which has con
rulsed the world, his sudden death might
easonably be expected to lead to an imme
liate restoration of peace.
But, judging from the personal character
md qualities of the late Emperor, in con
unction with the well-known national con
riction of Russian " manifest destiny," en
ertained by a large majority of his people,
t may be a matter of great doubt whether
he accession of- a new sovereign to the
hrone will result in peace, or a more deter
nined and energetic prosecution of the war.
It is said by well-informed Russians, that
wo-thirds of the nation constitute what is
:alled the " Old Russian party," whose re
igious creed, and firm faith is, that their na
,ion is the chosen instrument of Almighty
lower to crash Islamism, to drive the Otto
nan out of Europe, and to establish the
iniversal dominion of the only true, ortho
lox Greek church throughout Christendom;
he consummation of which is to usher in,
is its climax of glory, the millennium! The
ate Emperor has been supposed to be the
massive instrument of this fanatical majority
;r his subjects, under the implied penalty of
leath as a traitor to the high destinies of his
mpire, and a contemner of the will of
leaven, if he dared to swerve from the path
vhich his people religiously believe has been
>ointed out to him by the finger of Omnipo
ence for such great purposes.
Such a national sentiment as this is not
o be changed in a day, in such a country
s Russia. If it directed or influenced the
>olicy of the late Emperor, (personally a
nild, amiable gentleman, as his enemies
nust admit) his son and successor to his
hrone may have no choice but to carry out
he religious frenzy of his people to con
ummation or destruction ; and he may be
orne along by a torrent of popular opinion
ad prejudice, to resist which would cost
iim his throne and his life.
We have no reason to doubt that the war
s national with the Russian people-that
hey have loved, revered arid confided in
heir Czar, is beyond question. We have
ret to learn what effrect his sudden death
nay produce on a population excited by re
igious fervor, to view him as the chosen in
trument of God, to bring about the mighti.
st changes in the destinies of mankind.
)eror be canonized as a martyr to the cause
)f his country, (for he has probably fallen a
ictim to the intense mental excitement and
inxiety which must have borne heavily upon
3is physical powers,) his death may bind
the people more strongly than ever in their
resistance to any sacrifice of the national
ionor, or curtailment of its power, such as
s demanded by the Allies as a guarantee
or the future peace of Europe.
The death of such a powerful, sagacious,
md able sovereign as Nicholas undoubtedly
was, is therefore by no means to be viewed
is a sure precursor of peace. His successor
steps at once into his place, under the mo
iarchical principle-" The king never dies."
" Lc Roi est mort, Vice ic Roi."
[Journal of Commerce.
AXlERICAN AFFAIRs WITII SPAIN.-in the
:ourse of the sitting on the 10th, the Span.
is Minister of Foreign A fiairs, in reply to
the question as to the state of the relations
with the United States, begged permission
to deny that the government or himself had
aver wished to insult Mr. Soule, and ho
" The United States Government, on the
15th of January last, resolved to replace the
niinister wvho represented it at Madrid.
When the news arrived here, that Minister
iad already left. Subsequently, we gave
rders to submit to a new examination all
juestions pending wvith the United States,
in order to decide what is just. We are
perfectly in accord with the Government of
the United States, and consequently wve have
thie hope of arriving at a pacific solution."
P'RESIDEET PIEICE AND TIlE Nuw HAMP
HIRIE ELECTloN.-A correspondent of the
Boston Post, writing from Concord, March
" I have been permitted to copy the fol
owing high-toned sentiment from a late
private letter of our patriotic President to- a
riend in this city, which is pertinent to the
point. The letter is dated about a week ago.
Gen. Pierce says:
" I am naturally anxious about the resuhs
af the election in Newv Hampshire. But
:ell my friends that if, after a contest eon
iucted with the ability, honor and courage
with wvhich this has been, we are defeated,
much defeat, under such circumstances,,.will
lever disturb me for a moment. If you
:ould have carried the State with the aid of
my one of the inms, by a majority of 28,
300, and would have consented to do' so, I
should, in my feelings, have sounded the
:lepths of humiliation. As it is, no disap.
pointment can depress me."
EAsILY ACCOUNTED FO.-" I say, milk.
man, you give your cows too much salt!"
" Why-how so ! How do you know
how much salt I give them I"
" I judge from the appearance of the milk
you bring us lately. You see that salt makes
the cows dry, and, then they drink toe nmuch
water, and that makes the milk thin, you
" Oh, yes-well, I shouldn't wondeor if
hat was the cause!1"
THEi dashing 93 Highlanders, the pride of the
linglish army, left Constantinople. 800 .trong,
Lnd after their arrival in the Crimea received an
iddition of 150~ men. This gallant regiment
as recently returned teoetaanople,:re.
luced to fourteen men and five ofiistoogA
itill bearing with them their glorious and unsulk