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2 Democrati 3ournal, ewatch to lyt Soutly wa Soutlytu digLieties, adt it mustfl, Ciue & ais taeau rclue&
"We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of o Liberties, and Iit must fall, we will Perish umidst the 3lut."
SIMKINS, DURISOE & CO., Proprietors. EDGEFIELD, S. FEBRUARY 24, 1858. ~ *
I WEPT WESIDE TRY GRAVE, MOTEEE.
BY PRANK MYRTLE.
I wept beside thy grave, mother,
My heart is weeping still,
And fondly lingers near thy tomb
On yonder lonely hill.
I did not bear thy parting words,
I did not see thee die;
But thy last message came to me,
When death was hovering nigh.
I'rve been a truant boy, mother,
And caused thee many a pain,
But I would heal the wound I made,
Could'st thou return again;
My boyish heart would not obey
Thy mild commands, I know,
And o'er my waywardness to thee,
My tears will ever flow.
I was thy cherished pet, mother,
Thy love was fond and true,
Thy kisses oft bodew'd my cheek,
Ere manhood's care I knew;
Affliction's child from infancy,
Ye loved me but the more,
And o'er me wept as oft ye tho't,
Life's pilgrimage was o'er.
I've wandered many a league, mother,
From where we used to dwell;
No cherished one is near me now,
Of those I loved so well;
But oft my weeping heart return'
Across the foaming sea,
To where thy precious relics lie,
And there it weeps for thee.
WHAT VAKis A MAN.
Not numerous years, nor lengthened life,
Not pretty children and a wife;
Not pins and canes and fancy rings.
Nor any such like trumpery things;
Not pipe, cigar nor bottled wine,
Nor liberty with kings to dine;
Nor coat nor boots, nor yet a hat,
A dandy vest not trim cravat;
Not houses, land or golden ore,
Nor all the world's wealth laid in store;
Not Mr. Rev., Sir nor Squire,
With titles that the memory tire;
Not ancestry, traced back to Will,
Who went from Normandy to kill;
Not Latin, Greek nor Hebrew lore,
Nor thousand volumes rumbled o'er;
Not judge's robe, nor mayor's mace,
These all united never can
Avail to make a single man.
A truthful soul, a loving mind,
Full of affection of its kind;
A spirit firm, erect and free,
That never basely bends a knee;
That will not bear a feather's weight
Of slavery's chain, for small or great;
That truly speaks from God within,
And never makes a league with sii;
That snaps the fetters despots make,
And loves the truth for its own sake;
That worships God, and him alone,
And bows nowhere but at his throne;
That trembles at no tyrants nod;
A soul that fears no one but God;
And thus can smile at curse or ban;
That is the soul that makes the man.
BY MRs. MARY A. DE.NIsoN.
" There ! Who savs I have not been happy ?"
cried the beautiful Smily Travers, as she threw
her jewels carelessly into their casket. " This
cant and hypocrisy about earthly ploasures, and
all that ! I'm sick of it.' What's the use cof
one's secluding one's self forever from the mul
titude. I was made to reign in society, and to
night I have received confirmation of my royal
right. Hleigh-ho! There were none there
more beautiful than 1, none as brilliant, they
Then why that sigh, lady? Why the listless
gaze at the tall French mirror, as if memory
were turning away from the gate of splendor,
and looking down~ some quaint old road back to
the ancient gamble-roof of the homestead she
has left ? Why,.if she had been as happy as
she said, came that look of listless indifference,
as, one by one, she suffered her maid to lay by
the pearls and the bracelets, the rings and bands
that had bound back from her snowy temples
her gleaming curls ? Because it was the first
time for months that she had gone as a partici
pat amidst scenes of heartless pleasure. She
new the measure of their hollowness. She
had tasted the bitter fruit of flattery before.
She had seen the golden adulation anud the dros
sy scorn of what the world calls Societr. Two
years before, her father had died a beggar, and
byte labor of her hands, had Emily, the peer
less, supported herself bravely; but in that
time of trial no homage, clad in queenly gar
ments, came to her poor home. She had for
gotten none of her former wealthy friends;
they had forgotten her.
D~uring that time, and before the period of
mourning had elapsed, Emily had bcnt her steps
towards the worshipping place of the humlde
the plain, unpainted village church. A man of
slight figure, but surpassing eloquence of look
and manner, occupied the low pulpit. Simple
in speech (yet a simplicity attained by his best
years of arduous study,) the stranger more than
interested her. From Sabbath to Sabbath, the
little church was her sanctuary, the village pas
tor her spiritual guide. Dearer than all the
flattering unction of her former friends was his
low and thrilling salutation when he had learn
ed to know her ; and when at last they loved
each other, as both did, not matter how the
knowledge camne to each, she was more tender.
ly and thoroughly happy than in her palmiest
days. Innocence reigned over her heart. It
seemed as if angels were constantly coming and
going, bringing and bearing away messages of
love. The humble room in the little cottage
where she boarded became a parailise to, the
once haughty Emily. Her labor seemed in a
manner sanctified by the sweet mission of her
inner nature; love had changed, regenerated
all. Love made her beautiful face more beauti
ful; the language of her eyes needed little in
terpretation ; every glance, either lifted in wor
shipping homage to Heaven, or bent down upon
the dewy splendor of earth, seemed to say, "I
And all this the spiritual Linaden saw, and
a al tis umble thanked God. He had
found at last the treasure so long sought; he
had found humility waiting upon regal beauty,
gentleness joined hand in hand with lofty ge
nius, and seemingly genuine piety following all
her words and works.
The time came in which he resolved to unfold
his love, and, at the spne time, his secret-for
he., pure and good, and.set aside as he was from
ordinary mortality, had yet a guarded secret
but be sure that it affecfed not his honor. He
had been for a few days in the neighboring city,
and consequently knew not into what a commo
tion the village had been thrown by the depar
ture of a new heiress. As soon at supper was
dispatched, he threw on his cloak and bent his
steps towards the home of the beautiful Emily.
No sound of happy singing came from within.
He even ventured to look ovet the low blinds
into the room where Emily usually sat busy
with her embroidery-frame; only an old lady
bent drowsily knitting by the fire. The cat
filled her accustomed place; but the little stand
was not drawn into the area of chimney com
fort, and the new glass lamp stood, tall and un
lighted, on the mantel. Still, he laughed a lit
tle at the sudden gloom that fell over him, and
knocked at the door with a motion braver than
"Oi, come in!" said prim little Mrs. Coles,
with her usual bustling manner. " Happy to
have you here again so soon, minister, only it's
queer how we've lost Miss Emily, ain't it?"
" Lost Miss Emily !" exclaimed Linaden, with
an emphasis that made Mrs. Coles feel double
imrortance as a newsteller. "What do you
mean, madam ?"
" On, sit down, minister! They say bad ti
dings comes easier that way, though the tidings
isn't so very bad neither, only that Miss Emily's
a great lady again, and her uncle that was-I
don't know his name-has died and left her a
large fortm-I can't say how much-and the
t'other uncle that is has come and taken her
away in a grand carriage, and all that, and-'but
how's your health, minister ? Well, now, that's
queer, too," she continued, with a mortified air,
while her needles stood bolt upright with as
tonishment. " Wonder if he calls that a pas.
torial visit ? Who did he come to see, I won
der? What does it mean? im sure I never
thought on such a thing," she mumbled, half
audibly, after a momentary cogitation, falling
-man her stocking-toe again; "but it might
lie good dame's soliloquy, and her slight
show of anger, were not entirely uncalled for.
Linaden, at her strange story, had suddenly
paled ; he felt his brain reel, snatched up his
hat, and, with hardly a civil good-by hurried
from the house. The news had seriously affect
ed him. Never before had his love been tried,
and it was stronger about his heart than bands
of iron. Emily was gone-and whore? The
Imble, childlike, yet too lovely creature
thrown suddenly upon the glittering surface of
a golden stream, dazzled by splendor, surround
ed by assiduous flatterers, he feared for her in
tegrity; he would not say to himself lie feared
for her love. Yet it seemed so almost cruel.
lie had so longed to win her from a cottage
home, to wed her in the free, glad country, to
cultivate her noble nature, and fashion it to the
mould of his own; but now
Again rich, envied, courted Emily's weak
will (weak only in the first flush of gratitude)
led her with the tide, although her heart, onice
wounded by the thorny pride and neglect of
summer friends, bade her beware of their ca
resses; yet, little by little, she yielded. Once
mwore she occupied her olden seat at the gray
cathedral; and Emily tried to believe that the
dark-visaged pastor, whose bands and whose
prayers were always just so long, imaged young
auburn-haired Linaden, with his earnest eye
and graceful motion, but in vain. The sweet,
eloquent fice of the village preacher vanished
before the stern lines nature had given the ex
cellent curate ; and sorry am I to say that
Emily's head was too often bent upon the gol
den-clasped prayer-book, and Emily's heart and
thoughts travelling to a distant hmnble pulpit,
and resting fondly upon its occupant.
" Why did she not go there ? the reader will
say. In vain might I try to explain the subtle
reasoning of a woman, especially one loving as
she did, and remember that on neither side had
the love been spoken ; remember, too, that to
her he was now the poor pastor, whose pride
perlance might smother the germ that lovli
ness had fostered. 1Her delic.acy of sentiments
prevented her from goinigin person, although
she often yearned to visit the humble church
where she had spent, she could not but ack
nowledge, the best years of her life. Her un
c's home was one of beauty, luxury, and re
fiement ; ever ready handmauidens waited on
her every wish ; while, like courtiers to a queen,
caie suitors of distinction; and the gay world
marvelled that she gave them no heed.
Tfhe first grand fete of the winter caine off.
Emily attended, and pursuaded herself for a
while that it was very delightful, that she was
immensely happy ; but in a pause of the dance,
she fancied (it could surely be but fancy) that
a pale face lifted itself above the crowd of list
less gazers at the saloon-door, that those deep,
searching eyes, those sof t auburn locks ciuld
belong to no other than the village pastor. For
a moment, her heart stood still; the bright
blood flushed her temples, then receding, left
her deadly pale; and not till she had taken
several measures in the now uncared-for dance
did absolute consciousness come back.
In dreamy morod, she had seated herself on
her return to be attired for the night.
" Who says I have not been happy !" was on
her lips-.-.' am very, very wretched," in her
As slender fingers carefully smoothed out
and ainnointed the glossy curls, Emily glanced
at herself in the mirror. She made a pretty
picture, she and her maid ; more beautiful was
fair Emily, with her locks banded back and
simply knotted on the crown, than in all the
array of costly jewels. Suddenly, her eye fell
on an unsealed note. She took it mechanical
ly, and started to her feet, exclaiming : " Why
was this not given me on my return ?" and
again she read the few, but significant lines
" Dzaa FRIEND: Come to me, for I am dy
ing. Oh, I must behold your face once more,
" It is'not yet too late !" she cried, moving
hastily forward. " Tell Philip to put the horses
in again ; quick, tell him quickly-it is a mat
ter of life and death."
Preparing herself hurriedly, she paced the
floor till the carriage was ready, then praying
she miighit be in time, silently entered, and was
driven through the faint starlight far out on the
* * * * * * *
The night, or rather morning, was very bleak,
and Emily shivered in her snug corner; not
only with~ cold, however, for the transition was
so sudden, so awful, from the gayly lighted ball
room to the chamber of the dying or the dead,
it chilled her to the heart. It had grown quite
lark when she reached thme plain wooden man
sion, whose faint lights fell feebly on the road
side. It was that chamber ; she knew it, though
tme blinds were closed. Often had she sat there
by the jasmine-covered window, with the sweet
s maid in "-.alI the country round." Her blue
'eyes and her 'golden tresses-how were they
.ow...14he anid damn with the death-dae.
"She will not come, and I shall be gone to
morrow. Oh, tell me, my dear friend, how did
she look? You saw her; tell me."
"Glorious as a queen," murmured a voice,
tremulous with deep feeling; " but the brilliant
and beautiful were with her."
" And she has forgotten me," said the dying
girl, her tones plaintive with the grief of a first
neglect. "I loved her too well! So all earthly
loves perish; only Heaven is real." And she
lifted the gentle eyes, on which hung, glitter
ing, the last dew of life's last day; henceforth,
they were to shed tears no more forever.
"She lifted her head and looked forth eager
ly. Her mother entered, followed by Emily.
" Oh, bless you-bless you, sweet friend,"
whispered the sick one, holding forth her white
wan hands. "I did not look for you now. How
kind you were to come, to come and see me
" You are not so very ill !" cried Emily, sink.
ing on her knees at the bedside. " You must
get well and go home with mne. You are stron
ger than you think; you are frightened, my
"Look at me, Emily !" exclaimied the dying
girl, with sudden energy. " Do you see any fear
in my glance? Oh, no! Why should I fear
when I am going home to my father. No, I
deceive not myself. I am very weak; feel how
my pulse is fa'iling. But I am so glad you are
here! See, Emily, here is our friend, our good
minister; he has been very kind to me."
Emily dared scarcely raise her eyes. She
trembled in every limb; but when she found
courage to murmur welcome, she saw that a
change had passed over the ministers face. It
was not only pale, marble pale, but sad, as if
his heart labored with some great and deep sor
row. A maurnful majesty seemed to sit on that
matchless countenance. And the look lie gave
her, so indescribable, and yet so suddenly inter
preted I There was shame in Emily's heart
hame for the vain thoughts that night cherished -
hame that he, living above earth, as he seemed
to her, had seen her in the thoughtless, revelling
throng, and deemed her happy.
" May we be alone, mother-kind Mr. Lina.
len ?" asked Jessie, faintly smiling. "It is so
long since Emily was here, and I have much to
say. Blessed nother !" she murmured, in an
undertone. " It is hard to leave her."
Both moved into the adjoining apartment.
Emily at first grew faint with fear, lest cre they
returned the spirit should be sunnmoned; but
tIen the voice was so cal m and steady; a' flush
ail softly on the cheek; the eve, Iarge and
hollow though it was, sparkled with an intense
Emily dear, do you remember the little
church ? Do vou mind how the sutner sun
sed to slant over the graveyard where we walked
in the caln evening with Mr. Linaden ? I loved
that little church. I love to think how the ivy
twines over its door, green and bright, even this
winter's morning. You know we both had a
weet little Sabbath-class. Matty and sunny
eyed Mary were in yours ; they are both in
She paused a moment. Emily could not speak.
" We used to -have such holy prayer-tines;
ind how softly and beautiflully our dear minister
taught us of Heaven! Oh, he has a voice of
ausme! Emily. he is almost an angel, some
ines I think. Bunt away with earthly thoughts!"
she said, a grieved expression stealing over her
race. "I want to say something more than this,
somthing to you; an what diudl I say ? how
sall I sav it?"
Say what You will," replied Emily, in a bro
ken voice; "reprove me. I an very sinful.
ell me that I have broken my vows, anid lde
wryi, no merey. I need it all."
"Oh, Emisily, you always seemnud so f'dl of
oolemss to me that perhaps I ought not ! Still,
houtghts of olden times have been busy Nvith
nv memorv to-day. I recalled you. hunble,
while vet so gloriously beautiful. lamnb-like in
yntleess; then I toiught of your sudden
wedthu. You seemed to nie standing on some
ereat elevation above all others ; and yet the
laner-the danger of your- fall from that dizzy
eight. Dear Emily, forgiv'e me for warniing
rou ; but remenmber that I atm this moment o
e verge of eternity."I
"Say on my best friend~, and let me confirm
your imupressions. I have not been happy since
i left this pleasant place-no, not for a muomenct."
"And Linaden-does lhe know this ? Have
you seen him much ?"
"No no,!" said Emily, shuddering, for she
remembered where she had last met his gaze.
"He, too, has forgotten mec. 1 Oh, sometimzes
wealth is a heavy misery! I'
"A great change has conic over him," mur
mured the dying girl, with an effort; "nd I
believe it is partly that makes him seem so much
above all others. Sitnce you left, Emily, our
blessed minister has been an altered tman. Some
times, I fancied he loved you, had spoken of
that love, and you had slighted himx ; but no,
io-that cannot be. What woman, h~e she uieen
or peasant, but would be honored by Linaden's
love ? Oh, love for him must be abnost wor
She had slightly raised her hands as she said
this. A deeper red diffused itself over her trans
parent cheeks; a raptture too intense for comn
mon friendship lighted up her glance. Emily
started. As suddenly as it had broken forth
was the truth revealed to her ; this sweet, fadlin"
flower loved the gifted child of Heaven, ana
perhaps-she could not tell-was offering up her
young life as a sacrifice upon the altar of ia love
The sufferer's lip quivered, and she closed her
eyes to sljut back the comning tears ; then, after
a long silence, she raisedl her arms and motioned
that her head should rest upon Emily's bosom.
" You have seen the struggle," she whispered.
"Hecforth, when you remember mes, you will
pity what earthly lot was mine. But oh, Emily,
I beseech you, by all my suffering, let him not
suffer I Something tolls me that you love him:;
it must he so, for I am near eternity, and my
vrision is clear. lIe taught mue to be a Christian,
Emily. He loved me only us a cherished sister ;
he dreams not of what you have interpreted.
But oh, Emily, if you kntew-if yoti but knew
the depth and tenderness of that soul, the almost
woman-like softness and devotion, the stern Ro
man depth also, the mighty earnestness of that
nmoble spirit! You are rich, and lhe is poor; hut
what is gold in comparison with stuch love ? Otnly
promise me that you will not make him suffer ;i
bless him, and~ if it is in the power of released
spirits to grant otne favor to embodied soul, I will
bless you, dear Emily. You promise, amnd I am
happy. You were not made for the idle throng.
What noble helpers you will be! I am so light
and happy now. I half believe Heaven has be
gun. Lay me back love, and, if you please,
call thema in. One prayer more-one prayer,
Sometimes, the throngr of gay dancers, the
flashing gas-lights, the trifling words, the un
mueaning laughter of the few previous hours
flitted through Emily's mind during that prayer.
It was, she felt, for her as well as for the dying.
rears-not " idle tears"-chased rapidly down~
her cheeks. Her hand laid on the bedside ; she
had been resting her head upon it. She,felt the
pressure of col' fingers ; close beside was the
hand of the pale pastor, and that of the dying*
girl lightly laid on both. A thr-ill passed through
her framno. It was a solemn token of union, for
face of her friend, the; hand stiffened-dead
was before her.
* * *- * * .
"Uncle, I have de.' d. I love him. I lov
no other. I will marit im."
"Then none of yo- nting hypocrites slhal
ever enter these doors
A tall, stately fig ur that moment made it
appearance. Emily gfrom her seat; hei
uncle, abashed before e calm, lofty gaze o1
the stranger, stood un ided how to act.
"Uncle," said Emil "Mr. Linadan heard
you just now; but y ee he is here-he, the
worthless country pa , the poor preacher,
stands before you. at him, uncle, and
then say if you blame for my choice?" And
the sweet girl gazed picdly upon her lover.
But her uncle only Pwed with a cold and
stately air, and left the ln.
"It will be a sacrifi 'my Emily," said Lina
den, leading her to a ,L ! Think long and
calmly upon the ch." 6 of your happiness.
The life of a country- rson has many cares,
perplexities, and cro .. Much self-denial it
must coqt you to give .fi this splendor.
"Remember Jessie' death-bed!" exclaimed
Emily, in a low, firm. oice. "Think you not
that before such a see earthly splendor fded
from my vision, never ook all glorious again ?
No, Linaden. I have imething to live fbr
something beside imy selfish cares, joys, and
sorrows. I regret no ng with you. I shall
forever have nothing regret, except that I
cannot love you more pafeeth."
And Emily was wed d, not in the home of
her rich uncle, but in #e sweet church from
whose pleasant wiindowhe could see the plain
white headstonie that mfked where J.essie laid.
It was a balny summe4 morning ; and all the
little village had assem d outside and in, and
every heart asked for lessings on the happy
bride. Emily was robe- in a dress of simple
muslin, with no ornam' save the bridal wreath;
and pure and graceful e looked, most fitting
the holy place, as sheji sed down the rustic
church, at the conclu' a of the cerenony. A
horse, richly but neatl caparisoned, stood be
fore a beautiful little cae- and, to Emily's
astonishment, her husbiad Ced her to it, and
seated her and himself- ithin.
" Whose beautiful .' icle is this ? and why
do we ride 7" asked E 'ly, her hand upon her
husband's armii; but henl smiled a smile full
f trust and promise, ' she was contented
with his silence.
"How perfect !" exclmed Emily, when at a
turn in the road appeased a large and beautiful
cottage, surrounded byxiawn and gardens, and
glorious growth of foresttrees. " Whose charm
ing place is this? It isa new spectacle in out
" Suppose we get outlere," said her husband,
turning his horse's head"towards the broad and
evenly rolled avenue ding to the house;
and suppose," he ad.d, "I[ present to the
cottage, with all the charming scenery, its ow
ner and sweet mistress, Emily Linaden!"
Mute with astonishment, Emily suffered her
elf to be led through'Iae hall, where several
well-trained doaiosticA Ude her a civil welc.'ome
intt large, graceful roofds, appropriately fitted
,'Does it please f m TIliuldde
lighted with her wondering amaze.
" It pleases me; and yet," she answered, in i
low tone, "it is not w hat I have droamed of
little humble home, a pleasant parsonage, where
te p~oor maay not fear to comte. Is it not too
" Too beautiful, extravagant," you would say
my sweet Emily. "It is not too beautifaal foi
you, neither have I gone the length of a slendoi
purse. Here, ny love, the poor will come; fin
it is not the iouie thto. precludtes ionvst pride,
but the hearts within it. Emily, I am not v
loor man. You start with wonder; bit it i
true. You have trusted in me, givr-n your-sel
to at stranger for the love of him and the prin
iples lie professes. You have not trusted iii
vain. Seven years ago, I left ay home in ling
land, left a peerage and part of a p:ineely fur
tune for the sake of Christ and my poor invalid
ibother. My fither, in a freak of pasiion caused
by any brother's naarriage with onie he dli-liked
exceedingly, banishted himi fromi his homie, anud
died, leaving everything to mae. My brothera
pied, and yet his pride allowed iae not to ad
himt; so, at last, having a yearning desire te
visit this new lanad, I llade a lastiang farewell te
ny country, settled two-thirdls of any fortune
upon mny ba-other and his little fiamily, an
abandoaned the honors and emoluments which,
though showered upon me, fitted not my nature,
And now come with me, and look through out
house. Ihere," lie continued, as lhe threw opent
the door of a wide arootm, high ceiled andl lainily
furnished, "here is the room which I meaan ic
dedicate to our people. We will have pleasant
'atherinags, where the old anad the younag, ever
the little childrena shall gather, wher-e, with sitm
ple andl innocent amusements, they may pa
the haappy hour-s. Out of this leads a dianing
room capable of seating hunidreds; here they
shall have thteir Christmas dinner in good old
Eghsh stylo. Yonder, I have caused a youang
pine-tree to be transplanmted. You naotice tha
great box is moved by pulleys from t he window
and by the time we shall need it, the Krisi
Kringle boughs will be flourishing amid beauttiful
You, any sweet Emily, shall puratChasse all th
gifts, and distribute them with your own hand
Here is another room, somewhmat smaller, t
which children alone shall have free access. Th<
floor is uncarpeted ; and I intend to have seve
-al gymanastic gaines, for - the purpose of devel
oping their physical powers and promoting gracE
anal energy. The walls, also, I intend to covel
with books, and to-morrow you shall aid mue ir
selecting them. The conditions of these enter
tainments shall be cleanliness, industry, studi
ous habits, and good behavior ; thus, we shah
promote their welfare in every imnportant par
ticular. Her-e is a smalL reading-room that h
to be furnished with seats, tables, papers, an
good books ; hither I will endeav(or to persmada
the young men of the village, for I ace tha
several of them begin to frequent the ale-shops
of the public hotels. If thmey are fond of music
nothing will delight me more than to please thal
exquisite taste, beautiful alike 'n all conditions o
life ;" and he pointed to a hbi y wrought ant
finished flute-stand, with its accompaniments,
guitar case, and several musical instruments
Again lie smiled athis young wife's loving glanci
of astonishment. " I have long looked forwar<
to these plans," he added, "but found no on'
whom [ could take fully into nmy confidence tun
til I found my Emily. And once my whole lifi
was overshadowed. I dreaded that you, too
would be lost, to--if it had been so-but it i
not wise to speculate. Now, we will go int
Arm in arm, the young and happy coupl'
walked slowly from the house, and entered the
thickly- shadowed walks of a wild maple-grove
The moss was crisp beneath their light tread
and many a little flower meekly asked for mere;
as the foot that brushed it bruised not its loveli
ness. The heart of the grove beat with mnos
musical measure, for is not the twitter of th<
young birds the pulse of the greenwood? i
sounad of breezy voices swept ever across thei
path, until at last they camne to a beautiful in
closure, where perhaps the Dryad nymphs had
in olden time, held their festivals; there, raise<
by art, and draped by ingenuity, stood a beauti
0ianw-ehron. oe-bushes, the floweism mi,
into autumn, were planted at intervals, and lit
tle plats of choice flowers threw, with lavish
munificence, the full bounty of their fragrance.
From the boughs above hung colored ropes; at
their extremity fanciful boxes were securely
fastened, in which little ones night swing with
out fear of injury. In an outer circle, table.;
were " planted," their support the boughs of
strong and slender trees.
"This is so beautiful !" murmured Emily, with
tears in her eyes. Planned, too, I an sure,
for the pleasure of your peeple. How thought
ful! How different from all mankind you are,
dear husband!" And more surely she felt the
great bliss of her lot in being the nearest, the
dearest eartbly friend of such a man.
"My love, the i nly difference between my
self and other men who have large poxssessions
is this: they call their wealth their own-I feel
myself but the steward of my Master, and I
trust and strive daily for the pl-osession of prac
tical piety. God has given these people into
my keeping; he has aiven me of this world's
good, but no surety of life be% ond the present
moment. Why, then, s honld I hug iy gold,
perhaps for the idle and dissolute, when I have
the power of be. towing so much jioy on all
about ily path? Think you 1 would exchmnge
the sweet peace taiis thaiot sacred plea.-tre
gives tie night and d I for the paltry conscisil,
ness of what I am wonat 7 No, no; it is btt Iur
The cheerful sound of many voices roused
them from the plewe.unt reverie into which they
had fallen under the shadow of the old inaple.
They hastened to the bouse; the rooiIs weIe
filled with joyous faces, and the eager notes of
childhood rang, like flte-toies. over tile hawn.
How they crowded around their noble pastor
and benefatctur as lie entered with his bride!'
With what loving looks and cordial haiid.; they
received his silent benediction! IHow like the
great Shepherd in earthly guise seemed the lov
ing being who stood in their midst, with sweet
words and welcome for all !
"Fear not that I shall ever sigh for the vain
world again," whisperedt the gentle bride, her
eyes tilled with happy tears. " Truly, this is
worth the splendesr t* millions such ; and the
joy of my heart at this mo.inent is 'better than
F0IUTUXE UP AND IOWN.
The B.ston L.-tjer, of a late date publishes
In 1787, a youth, then residing in Maine,
owned a jack-knife, whic:h he, licing of a sone
what tradmg and ntsitey mnaking dispositioun,
sold flor a gallon of West India rumn. Thli lie
retailed, and rith the IrocCods he p:ur:cled
two gallons, and eventu:ily a barrel, which wa.,
followed in due thi by a large stock. In a
word, he got rich,and became tme 'Sqpuire of the
district through the pos.ession and sale of the
jack-knife, ani an i?dornitable i radhig indu.,try.
He died worth property in real estate and ino
ney, valued at eighty thousatid dolhrs. This
itwas divided by testament, anng four children
-three boys an-l a girl. Luck, which ssenmed
to have been the guardian amnel of the father,
deserted thk children ; f'or every folly and ex
travirgalee they could- engage ln--eened-to oe
cupy their exchii-ve atten ion and cultivation.
The daughter married untbriunatel,. and h1er
patrimony was soon thrown away b1Y herspemd
thrift of a hsusaml. The . ts were no more
fort nuaie; alid tw' of thein dIe l of '.L47illafiii.
and in alnost poverty.
The daughier aluo liel. The last of the
fatmily, for Inany years past, has lived en tile
kinnlie.s of those who knetw him in islays of
l itol)ely, as pritie would not allow him to go
to tA n)or i-il. A few sinyl ago be <liedl.-ud
denly lai unat tendel, inl a aUra whi'rte he ltl
aiid liiacLf down to take a ilrunken --Ioep. 01n
his pockets being exanmwvd, all tiat a lomind
in themiivas a sinall piece of string 'Il .; .wk.
kitt/u So, the forsiume that began with an iml
ipi'ent if' that kind, left but its simiple dupli
Cate. We leave tfhe inuoral to be drlaw. inl
whatever fashion it na% y su.gest itself to the
reader-S i.i plyV Statilng that the stUorv i a true.
*one, and all the facts well known to niumy"
wihomn tis relatin will doubtlIess reaeb.
Srt;'m. i o.-\ounig matn, you wh".o take
your glass of greg, bescaii.-e it i.s thLaionablle, aie
ept a war'ning of your tiger* anit stop in thmne.
'The customi is franuu wita dainger, and' so sure
Ias yojuhpersit in it, so sure you will become a
slave to the botte. Youi may think there is no
danger of this-that you ar'e so .,trong within
youirself that you cani stop at any pin~tt upon
the road to ruini and retrae your .-ep with
*ease. .lluded raa.n, you uy see your error
whenu it is too late;lfor there is a pjoint upoen
the dangerous road bey ond which f'ew have ever
Ireturned, and th~e.-e fewu have pserfonniedl t he i-at
wtith superh unmam -.trurggles. You cani break thme
habit nmoe-its fetters are not rivetted as yet,
antd now is the timae is break li oe froms a cus
tomu wich wuiill inev'itably ruin you if' yon la-r
sist ti its~ practice. You atre strong enmough now
to stop, and~ you peril yur life and souml by
risking thet gathering: <bogemr any longer. Y outr
h~elple, weaknce wilf comne uponi you in an hourt
wheii you least e.':pect it. You will be in thme
midst ot' a deb.neiinna: revel, andis g:munt dansger'
will suddenly sinmd ut bjelre yeu, anud you
will thlen feel your helleha'ness and want~ oh
power to grapple i4th a curse the mnost ailie
tive :.hat ever' scournged Lumianity. Stop int tuie.
In the hearing cf an Irish case for assault and
battery, a council, wvhile cross examiining one of
the witnesses, asked himm what they had at the
.first place they Stoui ped at ?.
"Four glasses of ie."
:" Two glasse-- of whiskey."
"~ What next ?"
":Oneglas of brandly."
"Wa ext ?"
At Hamilton, Canada, thiere is a woman in
prison fur civil debut. She has been there for
seven years, and still no prospect fur her release.
"There is a divinity that shapes our ends,"
as the pig remarked, when he was contemplating
the kinks in his tail.
A certain preache~r having changed his relig
ion, was munch blamed by his friends fur having
deserted them. To excuse himself, he said he
had seven reasons, and being asked what they
were replied," "a wife and six children."
mny;Icharge five f er cent. a month[, and as
you want o a huderta lea ejus fote
dollars coming to you." Innocent borrower
" Then if I wanted it for two years, there'd be
something comitng to you chi?"
Never let people work for you gratis. Twc
years aigo a man carried a bundle for us, ant
we have beeii lending hun two shillings a weekm
ever since. --
Why is a loafer in a printing office like
shade' gee ?-Deicause we are glad' when~ hu
Home auusement-, of some kind, we hold
to be necessarv ; and if ilecessary, then usefud.
Alni in what they shall consist ? I should be
gIal to have those who arecontiimally discoun
tenancing this or that amusement to practice,
suggest wome substitute which they could ap
Iove. They take but do not give. The truth
i;, there is reason to believe, many of them, at
lea.it, having passed beyond tie period of youth
t1emaelves, dismiss the idea that any amtise
ments for this elaws. are necessarv oce at all desi
"1 When the young men and women of a fami
ly come together it evening, having labored
during the day behind the cotiner, perhaps, and
inl the .chool room or shop with the younger
children, who also have been tasked with the
le,sons all that brain and nerve could bear, and
Imayhgp soe associates of the former drop in
to pend an hour in their company, shall relax
ation and diversion be excluded? All will
reconiize how aturvaly at uich scenes come in
the 'iound of small talIk, which exi-ands into'
Ilagrant gosip,-and how those too young to
enjoy this kind of amusement, grow ill-natured,
and engage in hickerings among themselves, till
linally taey are sent dissatisfied to bed, in pun
imbileent of olfences for which the head of the
fami ly is ino.,t justly re-p..,ible.
Within a few miionlths i intened to a some
what noAite(d preacher of' our denomination-who
settled ii another city, was on an exchange with
a brother in Boston. le ended his sermon with
,.ase discussive remarkz by way of exhortation
to his nea'ers, in the course of which he spoke
to this efeet; ' I wiI,' said he, -you could see
two httle boys of my conIgretationi, who have
bvtely becoae subjects of divine grace.' He
proceedei to repeat what these had related of
themselves in the conference meeting. Oe said
'I uied to love to play with my little mates,
u.'.31i to love to fly my kite-but now to read
my Bible, is all I want.'
To the preacher it seeied a matter for heaven
ly congratulation, that. this tender child was in
dutced to re.sign thus his playmates and plays
to me it was rife with sad suggestions. Wbero,
t wei ty years hence, will be that little buy who
se:e~ellnenp t.> i Ohva that he could hest
pi.:a-e tuc dart :.tviour 'vv continuialy eramping N
ni-, growing Iraitme into a position and a place
suited to study and soldering his inflexible mind
to U. C tMeme, however pure and good. Pray
God he may make a good miiionary, an editor
of a religi-su, journal-a holy man in some ca
pacity. wtiatsoever He appoints; but the child
is a score of #ines inure liable to go to his grave
voung., become the iinate of a madhouse, or,
tader itill. turn from the way which seems to
exaCt beyond what is nature's to give, backto
the WCa.z andU beeiarly eiemients or the world.
-- idu. I enr-eat, do not deprive the Cil-'
dren n youth of the ainu.sements they value
and wichlthe' enjoy with infintely more relish
if their parents anu elders occzsionvlly engage
with tuem, and give thiemn nothing suited to
their years and ta.,tes in return. Prescribe
while you proscribe."-Chistian Era.
LIFE IN TEXAS.
--K*V enihi -one,, hrrprea-g
the N'.w Orleans Picaymien, owns lhirge estates
in Texas. Writing to a friend in Boston, he
d eteribes lii mode of life asjollows:
You may. pierliaps. wish to learn the mode
and manner of my life hereaways ; let ie en
lghten vou. Three days in eaco week I ordi
n'rily pas., at miy rncio here, three or four
m1ile ,m New'1:annfes, with my lamily;
I %o da.S [ sA.1ed at the Est:Cia, a 1.lace of
mne . inilei We.,t, awdt where.ny flocks
.. si'p u'e part-el ; :1id the other tw1o I am
on i r. '.i h.&weV 'l., and irward.:, my con
v ,..e an .1.1 .J..ey wr:g~n, with Iwo trusty
harIs. '1 hee is e :ai, f4 eigt tu iles oll the
rea'l u a1.nI a io-e. andA anlot hr of1 twelve
yet the way is not I,;:me. uever pass over
it wi.out sceir:g an:ai:mnee of deci:, turkies,
dh:'. pamtides, and the lik e I carry along
-id ofm a double-ferel gun, a Sharp's rifle,
and one of C.lt's rechers, and somne kinl of
gamle is aur'e to grace may wagon both going and
My "lheep now naumbe'r some three thousand,,
:ni liner' flocks yout never mset eyes upon ; in
.May heeo.e to bel :ale to conult upwin-ds of fouri
th'i.--aml. as my lambls ceo me inl Ai~ril. 1 have,
beides. a emne gAng of brood nmre--, besides soe
forya cows, and like the clder M:'. Norval, "to
i'eet my3 flock and increase my atore'" is now
"my con:..tant care." I id I not once tell you
that I imdl much rather see my lamebs skipping.
npl' n t he lhil i mdl p'ai ng in t he valleys the' i
ito ~ i$ wi t eiireauette.- and entehalS 01 the
be.,t acorps. de ballet that ever existed ?. If I
did not,.-ay as nuch to vou it is ne.vertheless
I havr~e -eenm a good deal in may daty, .Jim.--the
w'orbl. thle elphant,. &c., but neCver saw any'
a iaa ;l cks whe'n dom'n well. A\nd .ince I
hve'Ateen here on the spiet inl paer.ions, nlow
nrh two vear's. I have haid extr'aordinary
goodluckl ; I have not lost two lper cent. of my
sheep peer ainn, and when 1 tell you that
twenty per cent. 1s the avinLe 1-us4 the~ wor'ld
over, 'you mnay well iml:,i'e that m~y success is
reitmarka&bl'.. I never -eli a ewe or anything
which prodluc'e<; I have ;a~nturage for twenty
thmilaltd sheep aind an~y nuiber' ce orses and
cmat tle ; and to see all this space ceredea is tio'
what I aia working foi'. I don't bother my
mind a mnomen~t about. Kansas, or Brigham
Young, or pa hitis aof any kind--doni't care who.
i~ l're~sidot--fear' God and hate the Indians
am mndifferent about, Walker and thme devil
try to keep my feet warum and head cool-and
sn:ke my pipe in peitee with all mankind..
llere, notwithstandmng we occa-mionally have
a cold aind bhustering norther.' our climato is
d.elii'"m; I mamow writing, on this 1st Janna
r', A. D., .I85, sitong in nay shirt sleeves,
dors and window.- wide opaen, no lire, and ro
biiis iad other summiiler birds singing in the
gren lhve *.akds of1 my yard. Th ink of that,
all maufled nyp :s you are, andI weep. A nid then
here among ihe mzountains we hatvc no fevers,
no chills, no' consumptions, no sickne:.s of any
kind. Thbre's hahm in Texas.
Tuia Cuina or IN-rEMPERlArE 1lABITS.-A no
tionl pr'evails that a person addicted to alcohol
stimuants cannot at once leave them oil with
out danger of illness,'or great and long contin
ucd snfferingr. TPhis i., an crror. A cup of' tea
or' coff'ee will supply the needed tonic whmen a
sense of ext austion is felt, and we have the au
thority of an eminent physician for stating that
no constitutional injury will be suffered from
immediamte and total abstinence. The uncoum
fortah'.e feelings will subside in forty-eight hours,
and will be eniig over' ini a J'orluightl. Any
mana who hats fmrm resoiution c'ani break himnself
at once of the degrading and fatal habit of
Sesm'es~ PoETRIY.-It is really refreshing to
cef across such a gem as the following. We
would Jlike to read the entire poem of which this
is hut an extract.
The first bird of sp~ring attempted to sing,
But ere he had .counded a note.
lie fell from the iglb-ah, a dead bird was
Th'om'ale hll fis i hi thrat
The accepted mode of selecting Chaplains for
the Army and Navy of the United States is
strikingly at yaiance with tle spirit of our
Federal and ..,t0 Con-,titutions. 'hese aflirim
that the care of souls i4 a matter of strictly
individual and not of public concern-that eve
rv adult rational being should be left free to
select his own creed an'l his own expounder of
that creed-and that Governmnent sbould con
1ln'' it'elf to teInporal concerns, including the
securing to each inlividul of his natural God
given rights, leaving his spiritual and eternal
well-beingr to tle ruidance of his owu judgment
and. ebi-science. Ili the Army aid Navy all
this is rever.cl A Chaplain is appointed to a
vessel or a regiment withotit even a pretense of
cnnsulting tle wishes or humoring tile religious
conviction< of thoe to whom he is to rminister:
they may be mainly Roman Catholics, while he
I; a roaring denouncer of Popery-perhaps a
Unitarian or Universalist,- whose clerical incul
cations niust be niakedly aouminable in the eyes
of the great body of the flock. It may thus
be a matter (if conscience with the crew or
regiment not to attend nor countenanee tiue
m1ii.i'i ration1 of him whorm the Government hIas
Np"poilteI tIleir spiritual g1ide. 01f course, l.;
:,ervice.4 are wor-s than usele-s, and his 'alary
a shecer r4lierv of the TrewNtiry.
T/.EaiIer, an allytitan Iin 101r
city. Ilirm., th-q, there. i.- :, pret y gIenleral til
derstanding among the officers (not the seamen)
Of c.:e NAVV, to Celce tIhe ue f the PoteitaIIL
Episcopsal I.irurgy by the C.vl:aihn<, n1141 IIL.er
of wh.t deinaoiltilu ionm. We learn th:It of the
twenty-Iiur C h;.iai ens in our Navy, eleven a
E ....lle of the thirteeun Ip i ted
from :sopw: all oter. deliti o n Ilisllltiohl (compri
sing, at :.entt nine-tetths of the AmriePn l'eo
ple.) all bit l-2 have been dagoo::ed into tLe
Use Of the Episcopul Liturgy.
ie Examiner has a statement showing such
results as might have been expected of ths
quasi Chnreh Elablishmnent ill this free land.
The Rev. Joseph Stockbridge (Baptist.) a Chap
lain of si.xteen %:u.' .la wn4lr. was Urdered to
and joined the Savannah, in t h'e R11 do la Plata,
in Felr:.u-y, 1.0 i. lnt-.!:e Co nlllencing his
first Sabbi h sv ice, he was re.n--te, byV h1",
the Ca;pt:in and i: e Co:mnso-ore 1o nlev I;;:,
P-pisCopdl Utnrtgy. whife hI rer:lined to 14).
The niot Sumb lbrught a likm rlue0lst, Wit h
:n intimation 1 ltet h iht he :-uperseled if
he refused comp1liance. le did refn:e, never
tlCless, and this rensai was the :i..tnal for the
coinmmenement of system:tic vex.i1ion and :m
novance00. He WaS first r.otified. Ib t.e Fir-t
Lutenan~t tlhit :sngin:.. a.< a p;:rt ft di.'. ine sI r
vi:e, wo111,1 by tile C Apains orurr, h1 ien
e. Witi next, li. Slimd.1 * a reou wa I-cited
with orangepeel ind otheit i mI
it was broken I:1p; then he lountd Inusilf ex
elide-I from s;ouial ilte'lu'Se :mdl the ur
mian.iftletations of hospialit biv I le higher li
cer.s ; at length a tumbier of water was thrown
at him, w..ile at dinner, by a jlnior iller of
ma-ries, whose arm was arrested by a: ,uperior
cAllieer 4aS lie attempted to throw another tonz
bier; aitnd ail the pinislieit vyiited oi the
oifender was a formal reprilmaml. On appeal
tnthe(hite) - ..:::ry. of the4avyittis4n:l
swer was returned:
" From examinin: all tihe i.::per;, I do not
think tilat Lieut. li- inltenlded to S'riuk,, :It
mrelv tu ijult or' iortiAy. by thro-win- water
at the ch::phtil. * I do 1!otoniderq the
case wort l of tie tijgnity01' U *-miL 2.2 *
If a junior lieutenanft cod' b11 ". 3t a
mnorv u'ngenith-numly or ims .:rM a a
that w tf o.in-. 4 ton ih-r w : ni l i ";;If --
IV to insult or '. the b::!;5 t * : ; -
- .,V~t thi:J :11t en dI- h ih ho :
he tunilfr14 at the 4onan;n4l- N'y.:.-! I
t' foll.,w it Ili y t:row i lthe, .d ih
ha 1"ve Lwieen let "ff.,Iail
W e tned. 1t ; ii . , e u .0. .
I ipit. ti- 1 0 of~ t'oi. ti-'n II ' hi42. -\.A. '.
and hiso-otnte .rneh-.wr:e -
p ltei*v bi))en(' do4wn, be.'.e -4 d. i i b.: .r .t.CI
t ;I u .1 te liur.r f1 an.er chV2 ma *I I : :aItL
of wien lhe wI.. a me::b .
4n111r j l4in!i 'en ii t s Fe'.;al G~on' rn::.ent
wold i..sis it-s Armaiy andi Navy ChaplainN,
reslving~ neverL' to e!1lplo.-'~t ianm.'2. exsept by~
hir al1iope vo4e ofL the cre or r*..~egnet
which i.; to be prolited i s'y the .ervi'e~s of sneh
eiilin, its ownl co2n."deney~i wol be vidi
catdu an~ud tue caus-e of1 reI4li d eiedl pro0
A notl Isr-:ns.Lt. 3[.'lni.-.Lii mt duiring
ttempf wa~s made onl Wednesday4il1 :lom'l") .
Phi.14b-hhia, to d4etroy' hi::ani l ig by i an I
anl "if4t*-nal macine." Sita4lted no 1t a hudri"'d
mi.e.; [romi the Ex:-han~tgc, ~.iL' 11I:iLa lce of bu:
ne52s oft a1 well known barber, who ai '2clebate
tr his early risiigr. Wes2ay n~ti rn11III 1' he
camne to his shop just as. thle day ..- was h':;mon
o dawnm:nd whi~ia &Iamt t-) 4nter he d1i-'overed'
a1 veryI' nice: Iookn~ eigar ing' onl the .t-- . A
the ' we:d" appeared1's to be v.:'ry chs';. lhe phie'
it upi an2d lniaeed it in his pokeot. he wen4%1 hom1e
to :,r ks'it, after which f..ing' like tinui a
s-i-. s., h " !: 2ir 1d np" th ei:ar. i're'sently is
not :te::d to) wh!'il* ,4moh4ing. anld lay:ig 'Nhia
vania" ui. 41:i the muantetl.piece, hie rem~hi ed1 "thut
is a.-.;-, bad igar." 1ua2 a1 ihor titme hiis sill. a1
$1mall t'i.ild, cioiamen1ced1" cu.5ims e)p lhe clr
w-he~s he4 thuud in theo ee:4 Ire ; 'T.:;I aun twr1
inblus in lemvg.:th, canin21iigo p.a l-r and4 s -it
The en-ds were 5so arrai~ned ats wihn .the IL-e
r acbed tihe quill. thle shost would ty 11mo 1~
mouth of hes sta -ker! TIhis was ivA-ed, a very
nrrow 4scape. The was t> be ~rcen is, a1 lni
t, ill .Ins1ive\ ml.tfn : and~ ih eml.vuinaltpnC who
tht. villhian who preparedt'4 ti.t'' "1.Cme1m- IS.
P eronls' iren. to it2Itaserin the true2 statte 21
their lung, aedrce odwi suc
breath as5 they convenienltly can ; they tare then
o count ats ihr as the'y are able', ill a slow and.
Iaudible voice't. withoutt draswings iln Ill))r breath.
Thie ntumber of' sseounds ths:y '.) can <.aunne( coun21
tng must5 ihe calrefiuly obse4rved : ini at emanasIip
tiv tile time does not exceed ten,. and j. fre
quently less than six seconds , in pleurisy and
pnleumoia it ranges fromnl' nine to line second4(i.
When the lungs are in a sound cowuton, the
time ill rauge as high as frm twemy2 to thir:y
AMssNN OF l'A1N5~.-48-The Washington cor
rspon lent of the Richmond Ews2ndrer', dated 1111
It is now readily admitted 0on all sidles that the
Administration will triumph, andi that Kansa:
will be admitted under. the State Constitution a:
now presented. Thu snbject was withheld f'ron
te terrritorial commnittee by a vote of II toi 11
--how ing a defeat of the Lecomptonites by :
single vote--with ae rserved strengtlh of' five '40te2
for Kiansas not yet polledl. Even if this resertVe4
strength could not be brought to belar upon)1 tin
final l.sue, when reporte-d back fronm the specml
Oemm ilittete, there is no doubt thet influence oif thll
federal Admlinistration is sullicient to change:
'ote where the adverse majority is so smal!.
A little stealing is a dangerous part, but seal
ing largely is a noble art ;' 'tis mean11 to rob
l en-roo..t of a hon, but stealing millions make