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31,50 P E 11 A IN N U 11
IF PAID IS ADVANCE,'
Z llAuiN Editor and Proprietor, .r '-
MY COUNTRY, r
Why should I not my country love, .
. And oft in her talc pridet
I ever find in her a shrine, "
' ' And can in her confide. '
jn: r : :::;') . . i ' '
Though I to foreign lands should go,
, . And years among them roam, - ,-,
1 The thought ould yet be dear to me,
i: My country's still my home, ;
Ours is a fair and pleasant land,
j ' Aland of liberty; '
"Around ve see on every hand :
;; ' Millions of the free. '
; Broad are onr fields, our mountain, tops
Reach to the skies above; J
Our hours aw with plentyjUrled,
And round are friendfwe love.
No tyrant doertitrr land invade,
Or send histrin;o!:s here;
We innke pHflaws, ourselves tvc rule,
And froedum's banners rear.
' . Our firesides ever cheerful are,
? ., And God to uk has given : .
4 Much that should be grateful for,
.t Much tha we Owe to heurun.
" God bless obr free and hnppy land,
God grant her many a year
Of peace, that she limy prosperous be,
Aud naught may have to fear.
' And may she yet to nations prove
' Freedom's priceless worth;
" That the; lime tnuy come when there shall bo
' Liberty o'er the earth.
iV. v Kaw Cabltue.
HER WEAKNESS AND HER
; -. BY VIRGINIA' F. TOWNSBNO.
To-morrow J to-morrow! to-morrow!'
over the words to herself,
in a kini 6f dreamy abstraction, as though
che were trying to impress the truth which
they, embodied on her mind a truth so
so strange, ana vast and incomprehensible,
that now standing face to face with it, her
heart could not realize it.
,, She,,Mirian; Wealo, stands a few feet
from the chamberjwindow, with one arm how the neighbors cnuld call him cold and
resting on the bedpost. Her home is a haughty. The girl's fresh, impulsive,
. large, old fashioned, yellovv house, with a transparent nature charmed the world
deep yard in front, but tlnVist night's weary man, and he thought that his heart
clouds have lined this, and the road beyond
witlMone unbroKen breadth ot snowTJU.i
riam does not see this, though she gtu.es
out of the window, for her heart is looking
Inward." What a fair, sweet, earnest pro
file it is that droops forward till it almost
touches the carving of the old bed, post.
You would hardly imagine it . bad seen
' twenty-one summers, there is so much child-
like simplicity about it, and yet there is
strength and character in the casting of the
smalt, sweet month, and oh ! what a world
of depth and feeling in tho large, glorious
eyes eyes that are like a clear forest lake
filled with twilight. -" ' ;'
On the bed. on the chairs, all about the
dreaming'g'rl r scattered dresses, scarfs
embroideries in rich contrast with each
xjther.1 .There Is the rose-colored morning
. robe, with its crimson trimming:: the ma-
roon riding dressj'and by Itself as though
propinquity to its 'more substantial peigh-
bors might, in some wise, endanger' its con-
iistency, hangs a 'white embroidered dress
--whith tells the whole story, you see at
once all these are a part ol a bride's tros-
seau. And this is what Miriam Neale is
trying. to realize, though, as 1-eaid, it js
very bard,-even with such tangible evidence
But, in a little while, her thoughts move
off tdlhe' past. , She sees a : quiet summer
Afternoon, and happy hearted little girl,
gathering.butter:cups and clover buds , in
the. grass plot, at the back of the house.
Then, Elizabeth, her sister," almost twelve,
years older than herself. comes -out and
takes her h.and. Her face is very; white,
ana ner voice i. mna.u ine wnwperf,
"jAirmm, won ma y .g. ,
i -Tho little one does not
irrr ' .
. J m
Jhivbut they go tngetTifir Into the bedroom
wnere me uuiw,yi oocior, ana wvenuoi
inn neiguoorsara suwu.mj, on ioonng very
ojemnp i r, ., t masters for the completion of her educa
; Miriam is lifted up to the pillows, a pair tion. : ; ! ' i .
(Of thin armaaj drawn around her neck
a pair of lips press he? own eo cold that
; their touch Bends a thrill to the heart; and
wnen mo ii lunen uuwn, iiiinain lias
mothe np longer. T hen she reimmbera
tbwi in lest than two years, her father fol
tcclilii ountal, gcbol to American 'ntfts jrittraturc, anb
owed his'wife and go her memory follows
up the road of Jier life it is a long green
shady, one, wuh few, to others, prominent
dates, or mileistnnes.
' Miriam tfffs not like other girls, and her
inner lifa wis the best part of her, but
nobody dreamed ot this, not even Eliza
beth, in $vho6e arms she slept every night.
Indeedjj two persons could not be more es
sentially unlike than the two sisters. Eliz
abeths character was sterling, practical,
energetic; Miriam's dreamy, gentle, es
thetic, her very movements keeping time
the rhythm in her soul.
When Elizabeth discovered that all the
property her father had left his children,
was the old yellow homestead, which had
been his grandfather's, she immediately
cast about in her mind for some plan by
which she might support herself, and the
little one to whom she stood in the place of
a mother. She settled upon a trade, and
with her to decide was to act. For the
last sixteen years, she had Been the favorite
dressmaker of the village, supporting her
si.lf and Miriam by her labors. The elder
sister loved the youngerone, with a kind of
protecting, maternal affection, and as the
other evinced a partiality for hooks than
anything else, Elizabeth spared no expense
which her limited means afforded, in per
fecting Miriam's education.
And standing by the cherry bedpost, the
young lady sacs all thin,' as her thoughts
move up the past, to that day nearly two
years ago, when Mr. Hewitt came to their
home for the first time.
How well sho remembered it! Mr.
Hewitt was a tnll noble-looking gentleman
about forty years old, with very bland,
though rather elaboratCmajinore ant i,8
sister with her magnificent dress, and pat
ronizing airs quite fluttered Miriam, who
was washing up the dinner dishes, and
went to the door in the gingham apron she
had tied on over her pretty muslin dress.
Miss Hewitt, who was visiting at Law
yer Gaines', called to engage some dress
making, but Elizabeth was absent and so
she lea her orders with Miriam. The girl
thought she should pot have asked her to
reoeat them snnfmn if tliR frnmlomnn lm1
not kept his eyes fastened on her face du-
ring the whole time.
Somehow Mr. Hewitt had a great many
errands to the ytllow house during his stay
in Meadow Brook. Miriam and he were
frequently together, and the girl grew to
like the stately gentleman, and wondered
might learn the song of its youth again.
sheltered upon it.
One afternoon it wns in theearly autumn
Knnd Miriam had been out in the woods all
Say with her books she entered the sit-
rirt(T.rnnni lluafilv lipp fiitnlinnnnt eiuinitlnn
in oJie hand and her torrent of rich brown
curls flowing over her flu.-herl cheeks. To
her unspeakable surprise, Mr. Ilejvitt sat
by the side of her sister, her hand clasped
in his, ami both were talking low and ear-
"Come hire, Miriam dear," called Eliaa-
betln for tnegirl wns hastily retreating,
There was a, staJIe of unusual softness lur-
kin? about Elizabeth's mouth and a look
0f triumph in hh- eyes, which Miriam did
not interpret, flushing till her cheeks
Were the color , of the half-opened moss-
buds in the garden, she came forward and
tne elder sister said, 'Mirinm, we were
talking of you arid Mr. Hewitt has just
made a request pf me, which does us both
great honor. J$is that I will give my little
sister to him,tand he will make her his
wifa."i ShaTsmoothed dowN the folds of
rumpled hai fondly and proudly.
' MiriamVbrown eyes wandered from one
t0 the other in a ; mass of bewilderment,
making her look handsomer thaq ever. She
was a cliild .still, though she was' coming
into het twentieth, summer. At last' her
heafsank on Elizabeth's shoulder. "I do
not.know ivhat to say," she whisponed. .
It was done . with so much simplicity,
that both her auditors lauffhed and loved
her better than ever So the' matter was
settled, Miriam was the promised wjfe of
the r)ch widower, William Hewitt.
, The cent eman was des rous oforenarinir
" r o
a new home for his girl-bride, so they were
I iiwwd iui uid gii4-ufiut7,DU nicy were
Lot married immediately. Meanwhile it
was arranged that she should remain with
ner sister and Mr. Hewitt should provide
Once a month he came from New York
to see her, bringing her costlv nresent..
and seeming every time fonder and prouder
aiol ner than ever. ; ' . ;
Miriam's memory glances through ill
- ' this, and now, (do you seel) a change cornea
over her face. It droops forward still far
ther, the mobile mouth softens and quivers,
the thick lashes fill with a kind of twjlight
sadness oh', there is a name written, laid
away, and locked up in Miriam's soul; it is
He was her drawing-master last summer
and the only son of the minister in the
Presbyterian parish adjoining that of
Meadow Brook. He was very poor and
glad of any opportunity whereby he could,
by his own labor, remove part of the bur
den which weighed so heavily on his father
that of defraying his expenses at college.
Lewis Cleaveland came twice every week
that summer, to the yellow house. He
was an artist, proud, talented, impulsive',
with a th in, pale, but unusally. attractive
face, and that kind of social magnetism
about him, which always ensures a man
tho favor of women.
You have guessed the rest, retider. Few
persons could see the minister's son with
out being warmly interested in him, and
Miriam was a child no longer, . Mr. Hew
itt had made her a woman, hut he hadnev
er fathomed the deep wells of her woman's
Lewis Cleaveland knew, as did every one
else, of her betrothal to the wealthy wid
ower. But he looked farther into her sou
than the husband elect had ever done, and
to look there was to love Miriam Neole.
The teacher was honorable and he never
told Minnie this, though often when he saw
that bright, graceful head bent cer the
drawing, a longing that he corld hardly
resist, would come over him, to fold it for
a moment close to his heart.
His pupil was not used to concealing her
fealings, and sometimes when he laid his
hand on hers, to define a line or curve, he
felt. the little fingers tremble.
And I doubt whether, plighted though
she was to another, Lewis Cleaveland
could have resisted the voice of his heart,
but he had no home to offer Miriam.
She had not seen him since Septem
ber, for then the college term commenc'1
ed. How pale and strange he looked,
the afternoon that they parted. ' There is
a mist coming into her eyes ah, Miriam,
Miriam, it is not thus a woman should
think of another than her bridegroom on
the last eve of her girlhood.
Sadder, and sadder, grows the drooping
face. Her eyes wander over the dresses
scattered around her. A little shiver
crawls slowly over her frame. . 'If there
were only some one to whom I could lay
bare my heart,' murmurs the poor bride
elect. Then she thinks of Elizabeth, the
dear, kind grateful sister, who has been
to her in place of the mother that lies un
der the snow ;. but an afterthought nega
tives the sudden impulse : 'Elizabeth
Would never understand it.'
At last the corners of the old chamber
begin to grow dim. It is the last night
of the old year, and the shadows fall ear
ly. She hears Elizabeth's step on the
Goodness ! Miriam ! you've let the
fire go almost out,' is her preliminary ejac-
illation. 'If you don't leave off your old
habits of sitting all alone, and dreaming,
I don't know what Mr. Hewitt will think,
dear me,', vigorously adjusting the half
burned sticks. 'I hope Tom Jones won't
forget the pine to trim the bride's loaf.
Don't you want to go down and see it,
and not sit shivering there, Mrs. Hewitt
of to-morrow evening?'
Miriam put off her sad face, and came
toward her sister. 'Let the cake go now,
Lizzie,' she said. 'Sit down here, and
put your arms around me, for I want to
talk. with you. It is the last time you
will ever sit so, with Miriam Neale, you
The eldest sister was softened. he
sat down on a low stool, and drew her
arms around Miriam's neck. The fire
leaped up the chimney, and the two faces
so unlike in their whole tone and expres
sion, brightened in its glow.
What aabeautiful home you will have,
dear,' commenced Elizabeth 1 for her am'
bition was much gratified with this mar
riage.' 'It will be one of the handsomest
ou Fifth Avenue, all built of .stone with
bay windows, and then the inside will be
like a palace, with its crimson curtains,
and Parisian carpets,. and you, little sis
ter, will be mistress of it all 1' . '
. The girl smiled faintly. 'But I wouldn't
wonder if my heart should sometimes look
off with a great longing to this old yel
low house,' and the chamber where I've
been eo happy, Oh I Liziie, tell me you
UlilUj WJSyiWUAK, D'pilUMW 27, li
love me jusf this once, for my heart is
very weak. I1 and the tears broke forth.
Elizabeth soothed her very much as
she would h;e done a child, chiding her
one moment for her want of character
and self-control, at such a time, and the
next paintiig gorgeous pictures for her
future, and telling her that Mr. Hewitt
had promised they would come back ev
ery summer, and that he would have the
old house thoroughly rejuvenated, and
made an elegant country seat.
Then they ieard a rolling of carriage
wheels outside, theie were loud voices at
the gate, -and both the sisters sprang up,
exclaiming, 'ii is Mr. Hewitt.'
Three yetrs had passed. The after
noon was ve y sultry, anil Mrs. ilewitt
sat in her chamber, at the hotel of a fash
ionable watering-place. The wind that
came up faintly from the ocean, tarried
dreamily among the muslin curtains, and
the lids diopped over the languid eyes of
the lady who sat by them, as its cool
breath touched her forehead
She is little changed. The world may
have given a touch of staleliness to her!
manners, and subdued somewhat the old
buoyancy of het spirits, but the face, purer'
and sweet, that leans against the silkeft
cushion is that of Miriam Neale.
The door is opened lightly so lightly
ihat it does not arouse her, and a gentle
man of middle age and noble presefnee
steps softly up to the lady, and leaning
over her chair kisses her forehead. Sh
rpringtfTfpMMth ffch a starrth'at her hair
leaps from its fastenings, and bounds
down to her waist.
'Why, William, how you scared me !'
she says, clapping her small hands, and
joining in his laugh.
Did I, my pet? Well, you looked so
pretty I couldn't help it. Besides I was
in a great hurry, and couldn't stay to say,
by you're leave' this time. I must start
for New York in half an hour, Miriam.'
'William 1' The tone abridged a whole
chapter of entreaty, surprise, disappoint
I know it's too bad, darling, but it
can't be helped. That outrageous law
suit imperatively summons me, and in
spite of the heat, I must hurry back.'
And how shall I get along without you,
in this strange place 1'
You must make acquaintances, dear.
There'll be plenty of young gentlemen
who'll bo overjoyed at the oppor'unity of
exercising their gallantry for Mrs. Will
There is a half scornful ourve of the
ady's under lip. 'I shall give them no
opportunity for doing so. I'll stay in my
room till you get back.'
No you must'nt, for the aea air will
do you little good in that case. But there
comes the cars. Miriam, my precious
wife, lake care of yourself till I return for
you. Anu ne is gone.
This scene, . reader, will give you the
key to Miriam's married life. Wealth,
affection, watchful tenderness made it out
wardly very bright, p'tU there were long
ings and needs in his wife's nature, that
Mr. Hewitt could never comprehend.
She felt for him a quiet, clinging sort of
flection, very much Bitch as a child would
have for an indulgent parent.
(to be continued-)
WHITE HANDS AXD MUDDY. COF-
, ' FEE. - i v
Henry Thornton had been a married
man just two months) He was proud of
his wife's glossy ringlets, her brilliant
eyes and, last 'of all, her small white
hands. Be never once asked himself
these same hands could iron a shirt, make
bread, or. mend a pair of socks. Not he;
it was enough to know that they could
make trills on the piano, work worsted
dogs on crickets and ottomans, nnd paint
something styled a landscape. She was
not' literary either.' Henry Thornton
couldn't tolei ate that kind of absurdity.
In his opinion a woman had much better
be asleep than putting her thoughts upon
paper... He thanked fortune, too, thai
she never took to dry, disquisitions, ledi
ous essays, or egotistical books. Besides,
his Helen didn't tare about politics, being
a regular 'Know Nothing' in regard to I
the item of who stood the best chance of
being the next President. As to the war
in the East, she could not tell positively
whether Sebastopol was up or down; or
whether in the hands of the Allies or of
. I - Ti ' . T . . , I
tne uussians. neiormation, topics sne
never broached either. Temperance was I
only fit for runkard's wives to talk about.
So it will be perceived that Helen Thorn-
ton was mot a strong-minded female; a
fact upom which her husband felicitated
himsef not a little,
Wq have said that two months compri-
sed the marriasre life of the latter. It
would be eratifvincr to add that his happi-
nesfj was complete, that he had nothing
to wish for; but candor compels me to 1
?ay that he had discovered a little alloy in
Ins gold. To be sure it would pass for
pijre metal, but close examination'dieclo-
sfcd the fact. In a word, his coffee had
Joeen exceedingly muddy for more than a
(week, and when he cautiously dropped a
hint to the effect that if her personal at-
tention was given to the matter the evil
might be remedied, she rather tartly res
ponded that 'coffee making was not her
business,' moreover shutting herself up
in the chamber, in a miff, thus depriving
him of her precious company for the rest
of the day. A kiss and a new scarf set
the matter right the next mowing, how-
ever, Mr. Thornton throwing in gratis an I
apoiogy lor ma i.i-umeu suggeswu... e
l I ii. .11 t.: J I I
i p i"n. -i i i
re.nemuereu u.stau manamu .u
may as wen inciuae woman-Kinu; se.uom
attain to perfection; that roses always
grow in the immediate vicinity of thorns
and that rainbows and black clouds are of
ten seen together.
It is a curious fact, but no less true,
,t... !..... i i: l.ji i
tiiai hivo BCiirceiy ever uuuivea oau ureau, 1
s.nuny ica, mien cuuee, nam uuucu eggs,
.... . .i.s.i. r i i i m-.i I
discolored silver and soiled table linen.
After all the romance and rhapsody laid
to his charge, the little man deals in prac
inabilities. He likes bread and butter,
and he wants the bread light and the but-
(pr swept. lift in a litfln PYQptinrr Inn- in.
sistine that gaiters look better neatly laced
than when open and flapping at the sides,
with the strings trailing on the ground.
le was even known oqce to take an ab
nipt leave of a lady on the ostensible plea
of dissimilarity of disposition, but the
shrewd people suspected the true reason
was because she wore dirty collars. He
may be whimsical, flighty and ex
travagant sometimes, but he is just as
sure to leave his air castles, and settle
down to the three meals a day and a ci
gar in the evening, as a feather is to obey
the laws of gravitation. He writes ten
del poetry, too; but generally inspirations
seizes him afier eating heartily of roast
beef; the sly rogue knows that an empty
stomach is not favorable to smooth rhyme
or soft sentiment.
They honeymoon had just expired, or
rather the months allotted to that inter
eating period; for it has been ascertained
that that season can be protracted, by
proper means, to an indefinite length of
time. The twain were sealed at the break-
fast table. Mr. Thornton looked dubious- abused and ,ne wsidioijs, the hypocnt
ly at the burn and dried steak on the ical, and the malignant, take advantage of
platter before him, made a wry face at
his cup of coffee, took one mouthful of
the clammy, leathery toast, and then
My dear Helen'
Well, Mr. Thornton
'Did you ever eat any of my mother's
No why do you ask!'
Because she makes the best biscuit I
Undoubtedly! A man's mother is
generally his wife's superior in everything
I only wonder he is - ever persuaded to
leave-her 1' responded Mrs: Thornton,
drily. ' . ' .
It was the first time she had ever
spoken sarcastically, and Henry was puz-
I merely referred to my mother be-
cause she superintended the bread making
herself. I wish you could be induced to
do the same. - ' i .
The lady lifted her taper fingers. .
Do you really wish me to putty my
hands with the pie crust, and bury my
arms in dough!' '
No not exactlv. my love; but you
could overlook Biddy, and teach her e
make better stuff than this he added,
pointing to the toast. (That wouldn't
spoil your hands, would' it?'
'I don't know how-besides, Biddy
don't wan t me in the kitcnen, and I'm not
particularly attracted therel I am not
I , . J . .1 . .
ame to ao anyining more man wait upon
the table and entertain visitors.
The bride sighed and leaned, back in
her chair. S
'But your cousin Mary keeps ho help
and still gets time to V
'My cousin Mary is very foolish to-do
so much more than she need to. And
then her hands are iustasbrown as a exa-
! never happened to notice them.
1 only remember she makes delicate pas-
try; and plays the piano nearly as well as
yourself, rejoined Mr. lhornton sooth-
'I wish you wouldn't quote cousin
Mary, I don't like comparisons. She's a
drudge and a blue. You said you didn't
'I don t like them blondes are my fa
vorite; and you are as pretty a blonde as
I ever saw.'
'She's an advocate of woman's rights
0o. How often you've said you were
gad that I don't interfere vith thing
that don't concern mv sex. And now
you are finding fault with myhousekeep
,That.g the j,
' J r
on)y regretting your non-interference in
matters that do concern your sex.'
Mrs. lhornton denned ner position
immediately. She did not design bury
ing herself in the kitchen, or attaching
herself to Biddy. She had married for
a homn and maintenance, not tn xnpn
. . ii; , ,.
her time in roluntr n e.crnst or mould nor
Henry Thornton looked surprised, and
no wonder, for he felt surprised. That
his adorable Helen could be perverse
when it suited her he well knew; but
that she should 'put down her feel' so de
lerminedly. Win to thinking. The
story need not be lengthened. Waste
and improvidence in the kitchen soon
brought pecuniary embarrassment, whi
in the parlor incapacity and ignorance of
what constitutes a true woman and rea
lady laid the foundation of much discord
which lime did not lessen. The charm
of 'white hands' had departed. Mere
personal beauty without intellectual at
tainments, a fund of common sense and
moral worth, cannot prove long attractive'
Think of it, ye Benedicts, in searchof
"The mischief makers ;
Nor do they trust their tongues
But speak a language of tbeir
Can read a nod, a shrug or loi
Far better than a printed book .
Convey a libel in a frown JT
Or wink a reputation dow."
The duties and obligations of social
life are often misunderstood, as well as
I ji.i.j ,ni ,i r I-
oa v .""
tnougntiess expressions, utwrea pernaps
in moments of excitement, tprovoke dis-
8t wmeni jeaiousy, animus cause
bitterness ana ni-wiu. ii nas c-een wen
and forcibly said : "That to reoeat what
you have heard in social intercourse, is
sometimes a deep treachery," amKwhen
it is not treacherous, it is often foolish.
Thn idle tattler, who runs from door to
door, listening eagerly to all that is slid.
then repeats, exaggerates, or by wickcb
insinuations, conveys a meaning that was!
never intended, is a source of infinite
mischief, and often of bitter and hopeless
feuds between neighbors and families.
We can conceive of no treachery more
deplorable or censurable, than that which
abuses the frankness and confidence of an
I honest nature, and by persuasion or dis-
trust, creates an offence, and inflicts a
wound where nothing of the kind was in-
tended. Thus a confidential conversation
will be repeated, with a most solemn in-
junction not to betray the mischief ma
ker, who not only tells the whole truth,
but adds some unauthorized interpret
I tion, or describes the manner aa having
been offensive, when the fact was exactly
otherwise. Some dark 'suggestion, hint
or innuendo, is also made, and thus a
playful remark or a frank expression, is
tortured into slander,' an insult or a slight.
The breach thus created, unwillingly ere-
ated, so far as the original parties are con
cerned, is widened from day to day by a
double system of treachery and betrayal.
the mischief maker professing to be con
fidential with the parlies, and enjoining
secresy upon both.' Hence,' hearts be
come estranged, friendships broken, and
flection is stiflled. ; - : i
There are. we are aware, many mis
chief makers, who are so thoughtlessly;
foolishly and without any deep, deliber
ate or serious design of doing evil. They
are simply babblers or tattlers, who lack
discretion, judgment, and common sense,
and who have never been able to practice
the philosophy of holding their tongues.-
uut there are others who are subtle, wily,
and adroit, and who, as if prompted by
some incarnate fiend, seek for and study
every opportunity to undermine, under-
rate, uariten cnaracter, destroy repuiauou,
impair confidence, and sever friendship'.
We can conceive of no darker illustration
of human depravity. There is scarcely
an individual in existence who could not '
be injured seriously, if not fatally, by such
insidious and double-faced guile. ' It is
impossible, at all times, to be watchful
and wary, especially in social life ; and
when the intercourse is free, frank, and .
undisgusted, at sueh times the thoughts
and feelings are apt to be expressed with
the utmost freedom, and eveiv, the weak-,
nesses and prejudices of cherished friends
to be alluded to, not in bitterness or weak
ness, but in confidence, sincerity, ! and
sympathy. If, however, a malicious mis--chief
maker happen to be at hand, it is
the easiest thing in the world to misrep
resent the real fact of the case, so as to
annoy, irritate and inflame, to' create a
sentiment of distrust and of coldness, and
thus to lay the foundation of a misunder
standing, which, if followed up, is sure to
end in enmity and ill-will. Some persons
are, moreover, quite sensitive on certain
subjects, while others are particularly
credulous. The mischief-maker is sure
to discover this, and play his game accor
dingly. -J.,' .'
There might be-many illustrations point
ed out j sufEcrf it to say, that this vice is -
heartlessjruel and. dangerous,' and its '
victims; directly or indirectly may be -
counted by thousands. It is such an ea
sy thing to wound a 'sensitive spirit. It
is so light a thing to stain or soil the rep -
utation ; confidence may be so promptly
excited. How many merchants have had
their credit ruined; how many honest
men have had their prospects blighted,
and their families subjected to all the hor
rors of poverty ; how many unkindness
es have been provoked ; how many hearts
have been lacerated; how many families '
have been made miserable, by the thought
less, or the vicious, the heedless, or the
crafty and malignant propensity of the '
mischief-maker. The poor wretch, who,
in a moment of necessity, end laboring
Lunder the horrors of hunger, commits
some paltry theft, with the object of sat- .
isfying the cravings of nature, is prompt- '
ly arrested, convicted, and sent to adu
ranee vile.' But how many destroyers
of the peace of families, disturbers of the
happiness ot honiuholds, in brier, moral ,
assassins of character, perform their wick
ed work so artfully, stealthily, and hypo- .-
critically, that they see the rnm ana the ;
wreck they make, and yet contrive to es
cape the responsibility. - Let, them be as
sured, however, that a day of reckoning
Will COme. ; . ..,': " ' -, : . ;,, .
Scraps of History. Pope Sergius
IV. 1009, asserted that the Pope could
'not be damned, but that, do what ha
would, he must be saved.
H is said of GuneeunJ, Qneen of Hen
ry 11,1014, that having been suspee'ed
in incontinence, she walked over twelve
red hot ploughshares to prove her inno
cence. ThisVas the ordeal by fire m
that superstitious tJeripd. She was c-a-
onited through this lieN... v -i
Musetto, the Saracen King, sent tr
Pope Benedict VIII (who crowned
ry Hand his Queen Uunejpind)a ry of
chesnnts, to signify the 'muliiude of mori
he could bring against him. ' T'e PoniifX
retorted this n'u'u with a sak of menu
and stirred pYhj Genoese, to tspcl t' ?
Saracen t ftom gardinia, i0l2.f'
?ope Niches H. 'JlOnft) decreed
no marri' o'etB0n should hear tzz-z ('
m" . i Jprk. and that no married cU
Ki !! M'U:!'. iAi '! .V."i. J'l t
1VV' li'.J-,.' ! kU'tik'.Wita