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PB..c6NNf RAN N-U M
CORNER MARKET AND 4TH . : ' - ' ; " INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE,
, Z. RAGAN, Editor and Proprietor,
The Land of Dreams.
BT w. C. BET ANT.
A mighty realm is the Land of Dreams,
With steeps thathang in the twilight sky,
And weltering oceans aad trailing streams,
That gleam where the dusky valleys lie.
But over its shadowy border flow
Sweet rays from the world of endless morn,
And the nearer fountains catch the glow,
And the flowers in the nearer fields are born.
The souls of the happy dead repair,
From their bowers of light, to that bordering
And walk in the fainter glory ihere, land,
With the souls of the living hand in Land,
One calm, sweet smile, in that shadowy sphere,
From the eyes that open on earth no more
-One warning word from a voice once dear,
Eow they rise iu the momory o'er and o'er !
Far off from those hills that shine by day,
The fields that bloom in the heavenly gales,
The Land of Dreams goes stretching away
To dimmer mountains and darker vales.
There lie the chambers of guilty delight,
There walk the spectres of guilty fear,
And soft low voices, that float through the night ,
Are whispering sin in the helpless ear.
"Dear maid, in thy childhood's opening flower,
Scarce weaned from the love of childish play'
The tears on whose cheeks are tut the shower
That freshens the early bloom of May 1
Thine eves are closed, and over thy brow
Pass thoughtful shadows and joyous gleams,
And I know, by thy moving lips, that now
Thy spirit strays in the Land of Dreams.
Light-hearted maiden, 0, heed thy feet!
0 keep where that beam of Paradise falls,
And only wander where thou may'st meet
The blessed ones from its shining walls.
So shalt thou come from the Land of Dreams
With love aiid peace to this world of strife ;
And the light that over that border streams
Shall lie on the path of thy daily life.
From Graham's Magazine.
THE EBONY CASKET.
A LEGEND OF HUTCHINSON-HOUSE.
BT ELLEN LOUISE CHANDLER,
Autluor of "This, that, and the otlter."
He raised his eves to Heaven as if im
ploring a benediction, then bending over
me he placed the ring on tne iourta linger
of niy left hand. "My wedding-finger f
T said, in an accent of inquiry.
"Yes, Ida, bride of my spirit, with this
' ring I thee wed I Then drawing me close
to his heart, for the first time that night,
he covered cheek, lip and brow with his
passionate kisses, lie drew the pins irom
my hair, and let it float over my shouldors
in heavy, rippling waves. Then he took a
clasp-knife from his pocket, and severing
one long tress he wound it round his fing
er, and fastening it with one of the gold
pins he had so often seen me wear, placed
n in his bosom. "See there, Isa, the
moon has gone down long ago, and those
are the rosv morning clouds in the east : I.
have kept you here all night, but it is the
last time. Come out to the door : no, you
.11V i i
shall not, you are not able, i win say good
hvn tinrn. 1 must."
Again and again he strained me wildly
to his heart and half-smothered me with
his kisses, then putting me down he rush
ed from the room. sprang noon his horse,
and soon I could hear the steps as of a no
ble steed urged to its quickest speed. At
last I wept it seemed as if every footetep
was pressed upon my heart.
I need uot dwell on those long months
fit airnnv which followed that fearful night.
I would see no one save Barbara, except
that sometimes kind Dr. Hamilton would
force his way to my room, and vainly try
to persuade me to go to his more cheerful
home. I staid constantly in the drawing
room, it was the spot where I had seen
him last, and besido, there hung my moth
er's picture with its kind eves. .Three
days before Reginald's twenty-first birth-
Anv I heard of nis father' death : he had
fallen from his horse, in leaping a danger-
UUS lUViUCj BUU UtUM tivU lUbVlUUi AUJIMjr
At riiA annotated time I received, through
. my guardian, tho promised deed of Hutch-
insou-house. U was tugueu uy iveginaiu
. Percy. Oh. how the very sight of these
bold, free characters made nfy untamed
' heart beat and throb. ;.
At eighteen 1 was beautiful as ever, but
u tho Wntv nf mature womanhood.
Thoso two years of suffering had oblitera
ted every trace of girlishness. I went
somewhat into society, cuaporonoa Dy uw
nnnfli vlfi nf 'nm kind finiardiad. " Hfl
fouv.v w J " o 1
lc seemed so devoted to my interests, so
Meelilg ournnL f ttoteb to American Interests, fiterato, .. Science, atib General -"Intelligence.
sincerely anxious for my happiuess, that I
was willing to give mm the satisfaction of
fancying that ho promoted it. He had
never known of "my engagement to Regi
nald Percy, nnd knowing that ho was my
cousin, ho often mentioned him. One cold
winter morning, just after my nineteenth
birthday, he and Mrs. Hamilton were my
guests at breakfast. The Doctor looked
over the morning paper and hand it carc-
essly to me. My eye chanced to glance
down the column headed "Fashionable
Intelligence," and this paragraph met my
.t.,1 . 1 1! 1 , . i.
eye : "xnere is, we ooneve, a ueitcr ioun-
datioii than rumors generally can Doast,
for the report we mentioned yesterday of
tho engagement ot oir Kegiuald 1 ercy ot
Percy Hall, to the belle of the past year,
the beautiful Miss lllsley."
By long practice .1 had acquired great
self-control, but it required a strong effort
to speak in my usual tone. 1 put down
the paper, and remarked very calmly
"So Grisi sings to-night V
"Yes, and you will go at last, I hope,'
and Mrs. Hamilton glanced inquiringly up
from her toast and coffee.
"Yes, Isa," added the Doctor, "you
surely ought, for your cousin Reginald will
be there of course with his uew fiancee.
We have tho use of a certain nobleman s
private box just now, aud as it happens to
command a good view of General lllsley's,
ou can see aud not be seen it that s anv
inducement for you."
"Thank you, 1 said, with a lorced
smile, "I believe that even I, hermit as
you call me, have a spice of such a wo-
. . 'i . T Ml
manly weakness as curiosity, so i win
prove it by accepting your iuvitation."
That afternoon, when Barbara had fast
ened my dress, I sent her down-stairs. I
wished to look well lor tho suKe ot my
guardian, and I resolved to wear some of
my mother s jewels. 1 had unlocked the
ebony casket and was looking over the or
naments, when my eye chanced to fall on
the paper containing the notice ot lvegi
nald's engagement my hands trembled
and the casket fell to the floor. The jew
els rolled out upon the carpet, and as I
raised the casket, 1 perceived that the jar
had loosened a secret spring, which I should
have noticed long before had I examined
it as carefully as my father evidently ex
pected. It revealed a false bottom, be
neath which there were some totded pa'
pers. The first I opened was a certificate
of marriage between Grenvillc Hutchin
son and Inez Gaspare. I sank upon my
knees, and my checks were bathed in the
first happy tears 1 had shed smco the tear
ful day on which my father died. "Thank
God, thank God !" was the burden of my
cry "Thank God that she was innocent,
my sweet, beautiful mother :
An hour had passed before I could con
mand myiclf sufficiently to examine the
remaining papers. The first I read was a
long letter from my mother. The hand
was peculiarly light and gracetul, she had
evidently been educated with great care.
It seemed that my father had doubted her
truth, and relentlessly cast her Irom him
She had full proofs of the falsity of his
suspicions, but she was too proud, in her
injured innocence, to adduce them. She
wrote the letter from time to time, during
a lingering illness, to be sent to him after
her death, with her child two years old.
It was very sweet and touching. She
spoke as gently as possiblo of the story of
her wrongs, and then she said "1 have
told you all this, my husband, that when I
am dead you may stand over my grave
with a loving heart; that you may say to
yourself 'She was my own true wile,
and that looking in the deep eyes of our
baby you may take her trustingly to your
heart, and love her for tho sake of your
poor Inez. ihere was no word of re
proach in it. She quite acquitted him of
blame, and loved him to the last. 1'crhaps
this was the very reason he blamed him
self with such unsparing rigor.
. The remaining paper was a letter to me
from that beloved father. It was evident
ly written but a few days before he confi-
ded the casket to my charge. The char
acters were so hurried as to be almost u
legible, and it was blotted here and there
with tears. He told me that my mother
was the daughter of a noble family ; that
he had seen her in her fresh beauty and
girlish innocence, and learned to love her
as few ever love. His passion was return
ed with all tho warmth of hor Southorn
tomperaraent. They wore married secret,
ly, but lawfully, and not a single oloud oh
soured the first two years of their wedded
life. . When I was a year, old, however
he was led by the ingenious contnvances
nt an uroh.fintul to doubt her truth. He
left her, without even seeking an explana.
tion, which he saw ho possibility of her
being able to give. He loved her too fond
ly even then to take her child from her.
He pioturod in a few vivid sentences the
agony of that last time he looked upon
her living face. He came home and stole
into her room for a farewell look. She lay
there sleeping, with her child's head upon
her breast. For one moment he was
tempted to believe her innocent, but the
proofs of her guilt seemed too positive.
le bent over her and pressed his lips mad-
y, passionately upon her brow. She turn
ed over with a sweet smile, and whispered
his name, without waking. "Hypocrite,
even in Bleep," he muttered, and sitting
down at her table, wrote her a note full of
the most scathing and terrible reproaches,
and ended it with an impassioned farewell
forever. For a year ho believed he had
done right, but he saw not a single hour of
rest. Her Bweet, silvery voice would star
tle him even from his dreams. At last he
resolved to look once more upon her face.
His soul cried out, hungry for herpresence,
and would not be satisfied. The next day
he resolved to set out. That evening there
reached him a trusty messenger, who gave
him her marriage certificate, her letter and
their child. Too late ! too late ! Hence
forth there was for him no hope of earth
ly pardon. The true heart had loved too
vainly, too faithfully, and so it broke.
There was to him no heritago but a mem
ory and a grave. This then, was the
wrong which had clouded his life with re
morse, of which he had spoken to me so
shuddcringly. Thank heaven it was no
worse. He had secreted these papers in
the casket, because, except the certificate
of marriage, ho was unwilling they should
meet any eye but my own. It had never
occurred to him that after all I might fail
to find them. His letter concluded with
an earnest prayer that I would judge him
as gently as I might that thinking on his
sufferings I would pity and forgive. Then
there was a postscript, teliing me that the
picture of the Italian singiug girl was the
portrait of my own sweet mother, as ho
first saw her, at a fancy ball.
"Too late !" was my first thought as I
laid down tho letters. "Had Reginald
Percy but known this three years ago, I
might have been his wife. Too late, too
late !" Then I asked myself "Ought I
to let him know it now V I resolved to
let that evening's testimony in regard to
his position be my guide, and smoothing
down the folds of ray velvet robe, I fast
ened a bandeau of pearls in my jetty braids,
and went down-stairs.
Already Dr. Hamilton was waiting in
the drawing-room. He smiled when I en
tcred and exclaimed, with a cordial shake
of the hand
"Well, now, this is something like it,
little woman. You look five years young
er than you did this morning, and there's
such a light in your eyes as I haven't seen
there this many a day."
I do not know what the opera wjs that
night, I took no note of tho performers.
I sat in a retired corner of the box secure
from observation, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton
being fortunately sufficiently occupied with
the spectacle to let me have my own way.
I could see every expression of face, every
movemont in General lllsley's box dis
tinctly. I recognized Marion at once.
She was tall now and very elegant, but her
expression was the same. Her features
were absolutely perfect. Her golden hair
fell in long ringlets about her dazzling
white neck and shoulders. Her dress was
of deep azure satiu, with frills of point-
lace, and was singularly becoming to her
peculiar style. . An opera-cloak of violet
colored velvet, lined with ermine, fell care
lessly back, revealing the graceful waist,
the elegant bust, and the rounded arms,
with their pearl bracelets. She was more
beautiful even than I had ever imagiued.
Beside her was Reginald, so like, and yot
so different. There was the samo tint of
pure gold on his curling hair, the same
cloudless azure to his deep eye, and a cor
responding grace of figure ; and here the
resemblance ceased. Both faces were ex-
pressivo in their way. Marion's betoken
ed a fearless self-complacency, full sov
ereignty of pride, and an admirable pow
er of self-command and concealment. With
her face, a person in an humbler sphere
would have been pronounced passionate,
self-willed and deceitful. But such words
were not admissible in the charmed circle
where moved the accomplished Miss Ills
ley, and certainly none but a true physl
ognomist could have detected these ele
ments iu a character veiled by so sweet a
smilo. - Reginald's ' expression was just
what I remembered it,, bold,, fearless, fne
Ho looked like one far above even the im
putation of dishonor. He had grown
more manly in the three years since our
last meeting. There was a look of forced
composuro about the mouth, as of one who
had suffered deeply. Tho forehead had
two heavy Hues across it, and his whole
air seemed that of one who had grown
weary of tho world. Marion lllsley evi
dently loved him. True, her culin cheek
wore no deeper crimson when he address
ed her, but her smile brightened, and
ouco I saw her bosom throb tumultously
as he bent over and spoke to her in a whis
per. If I had hated Marion lllsley less, I
should have been less afraid of treating
her unjustly. As it was, I formed my
resolution, with a stern sense of justiec,
at once stoical aud conscientious. She
loved him, I thought, and heaven forbid
that I, her enemy, should dash the cup of
happiness from her lips. He would be
mine iu heaven. She should have him on
earth. He should never see the marriage
certificate which had made my mother's
memory a sacred thing ! I resolved, and
my soul was at peace. He did not love
her. I, whom ho had loved, could sec
that very clearly. He did not look into
her eyes, as in other days he had looked
into mine not once did his face kindle
with the beaming smiie, my lightest word
had had power to summon. Yet, it was
evident, he thought her very fair to look
upon he would take pride in her loveli
ness. I renounced him forever in this
world j and there came to my soul" a sweet
calmness, a looking unto heaven, which
was worth the sacrifice. After that even
ing I saw them no more, hut in six months
I beard of their marriage. I received the
news very calmly, and that night, with a
lighter struggle than I had fancied it
would cost, I bent my knee in prayer, for
Reginald Percy and his wife !
On my twenty-first birth-day I sat alone
in the drawing-room at Hutchiuson-house.
I wore the dress of simple black silk,
which was now my habitual costume, and
smiled, as I looked in the glass, at the
very quiet exterior "the old maid" had
learned to wear. My faco was that of
one who lived within herself; whoso hopes
aud wishes were not of this world. For
a time I watched the light and shade steal
through the latticed window and fall upon
my mother's picture. How much young
er, how much fairer she looked, than the
child who gazed upon her. The bright
lips seemed parted, as if just about to
speak, and you could seem to see the
young-light on hor brow, the joy-light in
her eye. "Such and so beautiful will she
smile on me in heaven," I murmured, as
I gazed. Then I drew from my bosom
another face. I always wore the locket
Reginald had hung about my neck, but it
was a year since I had suffered myself to
look upon his features. I opened it now,
My heart was very calm. No rebellious
longings disturbed it; no tido of passion
agitated its tranquil waters. I looked up.
on his pictured face, with its happy, beam.
ing smile, but as the semblance of one
whom I should see in heaven. At that
moment I heard a step in the hall. It
quickened my pulses, as I had not thought
sound of earth ever could. The door opea
ed, and Reginald Percy was on his knees
beside mo. He drew mo to his bosom,
and kissed me as in other days. But I
sprang from his arms.
"Reginald," I said, "cousin Reginald,
is this right ? You forget what is due to
me, and still more, what is duo to anoth
"Isa," he answered, with reproachful
sadness, "could I do this ? Have I not
always respected you as fully as I have
loved you ? You told me I might seek
you here, when trouble came upon me,
and you would share it. I havo oomo to
claim your promise I have no wife !"
"Is Marion dead ?" I asked, turning
pale and shuddering,
"Worse than that, Isa. Death wouli
have been a mercy. I am a divorced man.'
"Is that right, Reginald ?"
"For one cause, yes 1 And I had such
fearful, disgraceful cause, as I pray heav
en may never come to your pure ears. Isa
I have no right to ask you to marry a di
vorocd man but oh, if you would but be
JUNE 27, 1855. ;
the mother to Marion's unhappy child,
my poor little orphan Bell. I am but
punished as I deserve. I should have
seen that love such as ours absolved me
from my vow; that I had no right to im
molate your happiness and my own. 1
did not love Mariou lllsley, nnd I should
never have married her. Perhaps, had
ler husband loved her more, she never
would have fallen. Oh, may heaven for
give me, for my sins have been terrible !"
"And would you wed me now iu spite
of all ?" I asked, smiling through my
"Would I? my beautiful! I would give
ifo itself to call you mine. Oh, Isa, you
ought to hate me. Can you love me ?"
My only answer was the word 'Wait.'
I went hurriedly up-stairs, and return
ing, placed in his hand my mother's mar
riage certificate aud my father's letter. He
grew pale as death while he read them,
and laying them down, he ejaculated
"Good heavens, Isa, when did these
come to your knowledge ?"
"It will be six years ago, iu three weeks!''
"And you never told me ! Oh, Isa,
can I forgive you ? You might have saved
mo then 1 It was before my engagement
to poor Marion."
"No, Reginald, I had seen a notice of
your engagement in the morning paper,
before I found them, and that is why I
did not tell you."
"That notice, Isa, was a base fabrica
tion, put in, as I learned afterwards, by
the lady's friends. Marion seemed very
much hurt about it, aud this was one of
the greatest rcasous I married her. I fear
ed her reputation might suffer, and I do
believe she loved me then, as well as such
a woman can love. Alas, Isa, now your
birth is established and you are legal mis
tress of the Hutchinson estate, I cannot,
I dare not, ask you to shadow your bright
path with the gloom, wherein my feet
must walk. I must give you up. And
yet God knows it is bitter. I had built
such hopes on this last meeting.
"And why not?" I felt tho old sun
shine stealing back to my face, as I asked
He looked at mo wildly.
"Isa," ho said, "Isa, you would not
trifle with me, it is not iu your nature
Such as I am. will vou trust me ? Will
you be my wife ?"
"And Bell's mother?"
Oh, I cannot write about that hour. It
was too pure too bright. I was his own
at last He caught me passionately to
his bosom. Ilo murmured blessings over
me ho rained kisses upon iny brow he
called me a thousand times his wife, his
angel, his own through all.
The next day we were married. Regi-
uald was an impatient lover. Our wed
ding was a very quiet one. Good, kind
Dr. Himilton gavo me away, and the cler
gyman's blue-eyed daughters were my
bridesmaids. Three months afterward I
was in Paris with my husband. He was
sent for to a miserable attic, and the crun
bled note which summoned him was sign
ed "Marion." I accompanied him, and
standing over that dying bed, I learned the
beautiful meaning of that petition iu tho
Lord's Prayer "Forgive us our trespass
es, as we forgive those who trespass against
The roses of Provence are blooming
now upon the grave of tho outcast peui
tent. Her death-sleep is calm and tran
quil. Two lovely, dark-eyed children cling
to my knees and call me "Mother," and
with them comes ever my older darling;
poor Marion lllsley's child, lifting to my
faco in a sweet confidence the untroubled
azure of her cloudless eyes. My husband
my Reginald, is drawing away my paper,
and pulling my pen from my fingers. The
sun is going down, trailing after him the
lengthening robe of his glory, and I must
go out upon tho terrace to watch tho young
' "Ned, who is that girl I saw you walking
"Hogg, Hogg well she's to be piitied
for having such a namo."
"So I think," rejoinod Ned. "I pitied
hor bo muoh that I offered her mine, and
sne is going io iase n presently.
Too Smart for a Mechanic.
How often do we hear the exclamation
made in reference to a youthful prodigy,
by a fond parent, when speaking of an idol
ized sou "Too smart for a Mechanic"
and so straightway a profession is hit upon
for the wonderful lad, who is too smart for
Iu the course of our life, and you know
we are an "Old Man," wo have observed
numbers of these great youths, whom their
fathers have made Preachers, Lawyers,
Doctors, etc., and havo very frequently
seen them prove complete failures j not at
all competent to shine in any profession,
but forced to dwindle out their days in
shoving jack plane, as rough carpenters, or
digging post holes, as common day labor
ers ; their families, if they have any, suf
fering for the very necessaries of life ; and
all this because they were too smart to
earn regular trades, at which a competen
cy might be made.
If there is anything that has ever been
curse to this country, it is theso men
thrown upon the community without means
of subsistence to support themselves, and
no trade to go to, when tlicir parents who
have hitherto supported them, drop off,
caving them as a legacy, the miserable
retrospection of the past, without one dol
lar for the coming future.
We have known men who have went to
school nearly all their lives, in consequence
of the opinion entertained by their parents,
that they were to become prodigies in some
one of the professions, who have acquired
superior educations, by diut of hard knocks
and intense study,- who have almost starv
ed for a day's victuals, because they knew
nothing of tho world, had never come iu
contact with it, had never went through
an apprenticeship, had never graduated,
amid its hardships and privations. They
had always been taught to look upon them
selves, as a little lower than tbo angels,
and that it would never require scarce an
effort on their part to get through the
world with honor and credit.
It is this growing evil of rearing children
for gentleman and ladies, in the incorrect
meaniug of these much abus jd words which
will tend more to the ruin of our country
than anything else.
To those who would rear their children
prosperous and happy when they aro tot
t - m
tcring to the tomb, wo would say, give
them trades-; let them learn some one of
the useful and honorable avocations of life;
and if they have intellect for other callings,
for the professions, depend upon it, they
will soon find it out themselves, and the
fact of their having a trado, will never re
tard their progress toward distinction and
eminence, but only tend to make their
fame more lasting, and their virtues shine
out more apparent.
Again, we say, give your children trades
with an education, classical, if you like, if
they are capable of becoming good work
men, as mechanics, they Btand far better
chance of succeeding in any of the learned
The brightest intellects our country ev
er knew, aroso to their distinction from
the workshop of the mechanic, and they
wero not ashamed to say they, were once
mechanics themselves, but gloried in the
appellation. Cincinnati Home Journal
Official information h as been received at
Washington, that the state of siege in Cu
ba its islets and adjuccnt bays, as wcli as
the blockade of all the coast, has been rais
ed. This siego has existed upwards of
three months, having been proclaimed on
the 12th of February.
John Carroll has been removed from
the post office at Somerset, Perry County,
Ohio, and Charles Elder, tt Roman Catho
lic, has been appointed in his place. Car
roll is a Pennsylvania Democrat, but was
suspected of being a Know Nothing. The
Catholio Postmaster General1 at Washing
ton provides for his brethren.
A Ludicrous MistaAI.-A short
sighted deacon recently,, iff giving outf
hymn to be sung, when ho came to' the
"The eastern sages shall com in'
With messages of grace."
put the audience in a roar of laughter by
reading out in a loud voice:
"The eastern stages shall some in
With ssnsnges and cheesol'v . . ,
i "VOLUME I.-KUJ
DON'T DEPEND ON FATHER.
Stand up here, young man, and let " us
talk to you you havo trusted alone to tho
contents of "father's purse" or to his fair
fame for your influence or success in busf-
ncss. Think you that "father" has at
tained to eminenco in his profession but'
by unwearied industry ? or that ho has
amassed a fortune honestly, without ener
gy or activity? You should know that
the faculty requisite for the acquiring of
fame and fortune, is essential to; nay iu
seperabio from the retaining of either of
liese? Suppose that "father" has tbo"
rocks" in abundance; if you never earned
anything for him, you have no more busi
ness with thoso "rocks'1 than a gosling with
tortoise, and if he allows you to meddle
with them till you have earned their value
by your own iudustry, he perpetrates un
told mischief. And if the old gcutlcmau"
is lavish ol his cash towards you, while he
allows you to idle away your time, you'd
better leave him, yes run away, sooner
than be made an imbecile or a scoundrel
through so corrupting an influence. Soon
er or later you must learn to rely on your
own resources, or you will not bo anybody.
f you had never helped yourself at all, if
you have become idle, if you have eaten
father's bread and butter, and smoked
father's cigars, and cut a swell in father's
buggy, and tried to put on father's influ
ence and reputation, you might rather havo
been a poor canal boy, the son of a chim-'
ney sweep, or a boot black-and indeed we
would not swap with you the situation of a
poor, helf-starved motherless calf Miser
able objects you are, to depend upon your
parents, playing gentleman, (alias dandy
oafer:) AVhatin the name of common'1
sense are you thinking of. Wako up there !
Go to work with either your hands or brains
or both, and be souiethiug! Don't mere
ly have it to boast of thit you have grown
in "father's" house that you have vegeta
ted as other greenhorns! but let folks know
that you count one.
Como, off with yorir Coat, clinch tho
saw, the plow-handle, the scythe, the axe,
thepick-axc, tho spade anything that will
enable you to stir your blood! Fly round
and tear your jacket rather than be tho
passive reccipicnt of the old gentleman's
bounty! Soonerthan play the dandy at
dad's expense hire yourself out to somo po
tatoe patch, let yourself to stop hog'-holcs',
or watch the bars; and when you. think
yourself entitled to a resting spell do it on '
your own hook. If you have no othcr
means of having fun of your own, buy
with your earnings, an empty barrol, and
put your head into it and holler, or get in
to it aud roll down hill; don't for pity's
sake make tkejold gentlemen furnish every
thing, and you live at your ease:
Look about you, yon well-dressed smooth
faced, do-nothing drones? Who aro they
that have wealth and influence in society? .
are they those that have depended alone on
the oldgent Ionian's purse? or are thpy
those that have climbed their way to their
position by their own industry and ener
gy? True, the old gentleman's funds,' or'
personal influence, may sceuro you tho
forms of respect, but let him lose his prop
erty, or die, and what are you? A mis
erable flcdgling-a bunch of flesh and bones
that needs to be taken care of.
Again we say, wake up get up m tho
morning' turn round, at least! twice beforo
breakfast 'help' the' old man give him
now and thou a' generous' lift in business
learn how, tako the lead and don't depend '
forever on being led, and you have bo idea
how the discipline will benefit you. Do'
this; and our word for it,yott will seem to
breathe a new atmosphere,' possess a new
frame,-tread' ay new Carth, wako to a new
destiny, and yon may then begin to aspire
to manhood. Take off, then,' that riDg'
fromyonr lilly finger,' break your cancy
shave your upper lip, wipe your nose, hdld
up your heal;' and by all means, noy'er '
again1 eat the bre'ad of idleness, nor depend .
on your father
BgaJFather,' said a boy to his paternal
protector a Yonerable Qauker, 'I can lick
that chimney-sweep." , '
That may bo all very true, my son ; but
if thee does, thco will get thy hands black-"
ed in the operation,' was the wise counsel'
of the peaceful friend." A counsel which'
every sngaoions editor sees frequent ooii
sion to follow.
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