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NEW SERIES VOL. 2 Cefaitcastcr alette. ...... CUT OP LANCASTER. PUBLISHED EVERY THUR8DAY MOKNIHG. T0V1 S. SLAUGHTER, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR, OFFICE Old Public Blinding Southeul corner ol ,.. the Publlo Square. t TERMS 0 no year In advance, t,0O; at the explra ar, t2,5ic, Cluboftou, 15,00; Clubs of tlon of the jre twenty-five, $30,00. XERMS OF ADVERTISING. One Hmiare, 10 llnea (or lets) three Insertion 1,00 , 25 fcucL additional insertion 3 Month' tMoMht 4,00 6,00 ' 8,1)0 10,00 12,00 1S.0O 18 Monlki $0,00 9,00 13,00 14,00 1)1,00 8.1,110 One Square Two " Three One-fourth column One-third " One-half " 3,no 4,00 ,00 7,(K 9.00 10,00 One 14,00 30,00 40,00 Yearly advertiser hare the privilege of renewing tholr advertisement. TTPBuslneM Cards, not exceeding one square will be Inserted, for subscribers, at $5,00 per year; non gubscrlbera will be charged $0,00. Thursday MorniHS, April 26,1855 'SEASONS OF LOVE." T MOItO T- HOallS. The spring-time of love -. -Is both happy and gay, '., For Joy sprinkles blossoms - And balm In our way; The sky, earth, and ocean, , In beauty reposo, And ill the bright future " Is eealear it ro$t. The summer of love ',.'.. Is the bloom of the heart,. . When hill, grove, and valley Tholr Music Imparl; And the pure glow of heaven" :, Is seen In fond eyes, ' As lakes show the rainbow That's bung In the skies. The autumn of love Is the season of choor - Life's mild Indian summer, The smlluoftheyear; ' - Which comes when the golden, Ripe harvost Is stored; -.And yields Us own blessings , Reposo and rowurd. '.'The winter of love Is the beam that we w in, ' While the storm scowls without, ' From the sunshine within. , Love's relgu Is etornnl, .The heart Is his throne, And he has all soasons Of lift) for bis own. ctir-aous OR PUIZE, THE LOST BRACELET. ii . i BY FRED HUNTER. v . - v Between the shire town of Kircudbright nd Port Patrick, upon tlic extreme south westerly point of Scotland, there is b bay makes up inland, above the Mull of Gal loway, where the northern 'fishermen of ten find shelter from the rough weather . that overtakes them in the edge of the Irish Sea, nod whioh lias served as a capital harbor for the small craft of that region many a time, upon the approach of a hur ricane outside. -.- -.'." , Anions the families of hardy Scotch people who resided alonjr the shore there, many yean ago,' was one by the name of Gieo-or-McUrcctorhatl been too original name, but the first syllable bad been drop ped by the descendants of the more illus trious of this race, and this family were known simply as the- gregors. - Jennie Grogor was the daughter of the fisherman, and be had two other children, sons, who were engaged with the father upon - the small sloop they owned, and whicli was employed most of the time on the fishing crounds. -,- - ' i Jennie was a fair-hatred lassie, who sang sweetly, and who was always happy, tlio the Uregors wore poor enough in purse, . and she was obliged to rise early and work steadily at the wheel or about the house, to aid in the family's support. : But, as she turned the briskly spinning wheel, or bore the well-filled pail from spring or cow Louse, she Was always the same merry, bonnie lass, ever joyous and rejoicing wiih herself and thoso who surrounded her. And Jennie came and went, beloved by all, and idolized by her father, She was, indeed, a brilliant star in the somewhat circumscribed horizon '. that encircled her, and her fond parent often declared that if fortune dealt with: her according to her deserts, she Would one day shine in a brighter sphere than the humble one she now occupied. . . . But the fickle dame had thus far proved .herself (in Jennie's case) a graceless lag- f art, for as yet no bonnie lad had invited er to 'gang awa' and be his bride,' tho' she would gladly have 'danced o'er the hills' Tight cheerily with the favored one, had he made bis appearance. And Jennie Gregor had come to be eighteen years old. - One afternoon, lata in the season, the wind suddenly freshenod,-and before night the little fleet of sloops and schooners . made for harbor; for the signs were threat- ening, and the experience of the fisherman ' taught them that a gale was not far off. The fare was promising, however, and one or two of the hardiest of the Bkippers ven ' tured to prolong their stay upon the fish ' ing-ground an hour after t the rast had de partedjshoreward. . . " Jennie sat at the window of her father's . little cot, watching for the well known sig nal that always floated at the truck of the Swallow,' her father's jaunty sloop; but, thongh half a score of Vessels were scud ding merrily towards , the haven where they would b secure from the tiojencs of NO. 51 the blow, yet the anxious daughter could not see the desired craft among them. Suddenly, tar away to tne southwest, a black speck was discovered, which soon loomed up, and was made out a hquare- rik'sod vessel, much larger than trie shore people were in the habit of seeing in that region, and immediately afterwards the Swallow' hove in swat, with all the sail spread that she could carry, booming on over the now angry waves towards the Mull of Ualloway. , - . ' lue hurricane was coming, and a tear ful one it was to prove too. The large ves sel was a brig that had been blown off her course end now she heared the rough coast, . where her helmsman was a total stranger. Tho 'Swallow' lay blithely up to the wind, and coming down from a quar ter more favorable, she soon lowered all sails, save the jib, and before sunset reach ed the wished-for haven in bafely, where with the rest she came snugly to anchor. All eyes were nowtowaid the brig, the managers of which seemed intent upon daring off the coast; but 6he became un manageable at 'last, and an hour after nightfall, in the midst of the terrific blow while the fishermen were some of them dragging their anchors from the increased violence of the gale the brig suddenly dashed in amongst them, under bare poles, while officers, crew, and passengers were vieing with each other in their shouts of warning or for ' succor amid their fearful peril. The anchors were thrown over, but all eflorts to save the vessel were fruitless. She stranded upon the rough beach, and her crew and passengers all perishcd.it was believed, amidst tho darkness and the storm. All night the hurricane raged with re lentless fury, and during the next day the wind continued to rave and howl, with dis: mal mournings, as if over the fate of tho lately lost vessel, pieces of the wreck of which wore dashed high up over the rocks at the shore. But no living soul was seen and i' was clearlv supposed that all on board had perished with the wreck. Yet, 'after tho storm comes a calm,' usu ally. And on the second morning suc ceeding the gale, the sun rose in all his. glorious splendor, shining brightly upon the now calmed waves, and looking cheer fully upon the dozen or more white sails of the nnxious ushcirucn, who quickly avail ed themselves ol the opportunity alloi-Ued them by this change to pursue their avo cation. . Jeiinid had been down to the shore to give her father and brother the customary temporary adieu and god-speud at parting, when, upon reiurnnig up the bench to wards llie cot, her eyes suddenly fell upon a curious article in the sand, such as she had never seen before. . It was a magnificent bracelet of gold, circled around the edges with glistening jewels, the real vulue of which Jennie had no conception of, though thev werh dw monds of the first water. In the centre of tho ornament was a larsre emerald, too, of surpassing beaut', and underneath this stone appeared the initials, 'C. P.,' graved on the gold baud. This was, indeed, a prize to tho poor Scotch lass. And she hurried away homeward, highly elated with her good fortune, without thinking how or when this precious trinket might have lound its way to that bleaH shore. "L100U, Uummic, sue cried, jumping into the cot, whero an old cousin of her father's, Dunimia Barton, was seated be fore the peat fire, toasting his withered limbs, 'look at what 1 found among the beach-stones. What is it' . Dummio took it in his hand, turned his bleared old eves on it, and handing it back to Jennie, said: 'I dinna ken, Jennie.' 'But isn't it beautiful, Dummie?' insist ed ihe girl, enthusiastically. 'Seo how brilliant are these jewels, and how bright the circlet. . 'Mebbe it be, Jannio I canna say,' mut tared the miserable, half blind .Dummie Barton, who oared nothing about the bnu ble, and who was only waiting for tho barley cakes that were scorching by tho fire, while Jennie was eagerly examining her newly-found treasure. 'God's pity on the puir folk that cam' in the brig mther! exclaimed Dummie, a mo mont aftorwards. 'Dinna ye ken wha cameo' them, Jannie?' ho continued, re ferring to the supposed, lost people of tho wreck. - 'Nothing, Dummie, and no signs of any o' them, either. Now I think of it micht not this very olasp have belonged to some one o them, surely? added Jennie, anx lously. . 'I canna sai, Jannie. . Come the cak's a burnin'. Jannie seel' and a moment af ter, the humble breakfast was served, to which Dummie did ample justice He was a better judge of Scotch barley -cakes than of precious stones. -, .... t- A weok afterwards, the 'Swallow' re turned once more into port, and Jennie quickly exhibited her prize to her father. who saw that it was an elegant affair, and was plainly valuable. As soon as his sloop was carefully secured; he again ex amined the rich and costly bracelet, which he eoncluded must have belonged to some unfortunate lady whomicrhtbavebeenapas- senger.probably, on. board the wrecked brig; and after a long conference with his daughterfor Scotchmen are proverbially slow in their movements he determined to go over to Dumfries and make inquiries about it, and perhaps advertise it for the owner's . benefit, or that of her friends, if she chanced to .have any. . And on the third day arter, ths following 'card ap LANCASTER, OHIO, THURSDAY MORNING, APRIL 26, 1855 peared in the Dumfries Courier,' 'roR an Uwnkh. ricked up, on the beach above Kircudbright, immediately after the late storm, a valuable gold brace-!. let. diamond mounted, bearing the initials r, . m,, ' "PO" the band.; The owner can have the same by identifying the property, and making known his pleasure to Mau- j rice Gregor, at the beach.' The editor added to this that the brig Robert Bruce had gone a shore near this .....i i..k.r ji .i . i. . place, been the property of some unfortunate Jady i J - ... passenger lost in that ill-luted vessel. Some six weeks subsequently to the ap pearance of this advertisement, there ar rived at the humble residence of Maurice Gregor, a young man about two and-twen-! ty years old, who desired to see the fisher- j man in reference to his 'card.' Maurice was absent from homo, and Jennie receiv- d him. He was struck with the sinsru- ir beauty and modesty of Gregor's fair daughter, who asked if she could serve him, in her parent's absence. . 'My name is Plympton, said the stran ger. 'I heard ot your father s advertise ment, lately, and I come to claim the bracelet he has found, as I believe it is tho property of my sister.' , Ho then described the lost ornament ac curately, and, upon seeing it, pronounced t to be Ins sister s instantly, ller name was Caroline Plympton, and she was a passenger on board the 'Robert Bruoe,' on the way from Dublin to Carlisle. The ves sel was lost, but the captain and officers, with five ol the passengers, had taken to the long-boat and had been saved, after three days' and nights' exposure to the el ements. When the brig had neared the shore, the master helped the two lady pas sengers into the boat, and in the midst of the contusion, as he took Miss Plympton s arm to hand her over the vessel's side, he grasped it so suddenly as to break tho clasp of the bracelet, which fell into the water. It had plainly been washod ashore by the incoming waves, and thus Jennie had become its possessor. It was highly prized for certain family associations connected with tho jewels, and from their intrinsic value also, which was very considerable the gems being worth several hundred pounds Merlin?. While Mr. Plympton was thus conversing with Jennie, whom ho thought one ol the sweetest creatures he had ever chanced to meet, tho fisherman returned, and entered his cottage to find the stranger alono with his daughter. Matters were quickly explained, and the young Englishman, detailed to Gregor the object of his mission, tie also gave him an account of tho loss of the bi ig.nnd then tendered him a liberal reward for 1, is course of conduct with tho bracelet. He tarried at the cottage over night, and even lingered thero far into Ihe afternoon of the following day. He visited the beach be low, in company with Jennie, and talked to her of scenes thnt she had never heard of previously. And when he finally left, he asked the privilege of returning thither again at an early day. '' He would bring his sister with him, he said, who would in per son thank the beautiful Jennie for her dis covery and many other pretty things he ventured, which were intended only , tor the poor fisherman's daughter's private car. Jennie was in love! Mr. Plympton was a finc-spoken gentleman, verily, and she looked forward to tho hour of hisnext visit th deep Rolieilude. Perhaps he wouldn't come aam, thoucrh she thought, niter a week had paspd away; But he did come; and he brought his sister, and they all got marvsllously well acquainted, too, in a very brief space of timo afterwards. Mr. and Miss Plympton proved to be tho only surviving children of Henry Plympton, of Carlisle, a wealthy English commoner , and the fon possessed a hand some fortune in his own right. He had been amazed, at first, at tho rare beauty of iho innocent Scotch lass he so casually met at her father's humble abode, and he re solved to offer her his hand and fortune at his next visit to the Beach.. .Ho did not hesitate, therefore, to invite her father to quit tho rude life he was Ihen pursuing, 'and offered him a comfortablo and pleasant home at once, if he would ac cept it, in the vicinity of his own resi dence near Carlisle. He then formally asked the hand of his daughter in marriage, declaring that he had never met so sweet a creature before in the whole course of his by no means very limited female ac (luaiutanno. . .. Jennie had already consented to his proposal, provided her father would agree, and Maurice Gregor saw the advantages of his proffer too clearly to raise objections unnecessarily. ' Within a month the nsher man had been introduced by young Plymp ton to his proposed new home, and, bav ing satisfied himself that the pretentions of the handsome young stranger were in no wise exaggerated, he gladly accepted him for his future son-in-law, and Jennie thus obtained an excellent husband.' ' Dummie Barton wouldn't quit the old hut npon any consideration whatever; so he remained there, and died a few months after, of old ago. The boys continued to follow 'their avocation the father " gave them the sloop and his old house, and they continued to thrive and live happily, as they had done twenty-five years before. Jennie 'did ..not make a mistake in the choice, and ever after her marriagesh.e re alized that she had indeed found a rniE in het noble husband. t s; 'GUMS' BY TDB WAYSIDE. The stage-horn was ringing in my ear wa"ng " 'de, it wait- ,eu ior no maD, or woman euner, dui as !t hurried on throucrl, a dim nass.,. .IW1 a glimpse through a half-open door at a scene that has impressed itself on my memory indelibly. "Why didn't they hold me?" were i .... i ,. . j i . .u -n - . g . ' that tbey thrilled in my ear when the afnnra linn rwirnu ma tur avuav fivtrn tliot great city and its sins and sorrows, and I determined to flint; them as an alarum on the winds, until statesmen and people, mother and teacher, should set about forg ing bands to hold those that follow in the footsteps of that dreadful sufferer. A half dozen fine looking men surrounded his bed, the thrifty growth of hair on their faces, aud the glitter of jewelry about their per sons, indicated as plainly as their haggard features and wary eyes the order to which they belonged. They were of that myste rious order of knighthood,, who seem to have found the alchemist's coveted results. They live iu first-class hotels, wear first class clothes, gold abounds with them, and yet they hold labor, practically at least, in supreniu contempt. I knew the object of their care was one of their number, who the night before, in a fit of delirium tre mens, had thrown himself from the win dow in the upper story of the hotel. He did not toss from side to fcido as men us ually do when a burning fever rages on them, for head, spine, limps, had all been rendeied useless by that fall; but his whole frame quivered with agony, and from un derneath the matted, streaming masses of hair that fell over his' face, already wan aud wasted with suffering, his eyes glared out fiercely as a wounded tiger s. "Why didn't (hey hold me?" he mut tered, and with his groans ho mingled re proaches and horrid curses on the care less watchers that had lot him make that terrible leap. Why didn't they hold him? Why, they did not realize the tearfulness of the ter rois that encompassed him; they have nev er had delirium tremens not vet. The fiend thnt brandishes that naked sword over his defenceless head, was invisible to their eyes. They did not hear the hiss of the serpents that coiled aud writhed their sli my tolas about his shrinking iorm. u no; they did not see them, and it was such rare sport, to see that swaggering, bluster ing bully cower and crouch before hit) im aginary tormentors! So they mocked and leered and ineitou una oil lo comma wan his phantom Iocs, until tho window caught his eye as a hope tor escape, and so, Willi a veil and a bound, he made that desperate loep, and the next moment there was taken from amid the mire and bluoJ and shiver ed glass in the street, a shrieking and man cled wreck of humanity. Whether that reckless and restless spir it has cone up to its awltil account ot nu, spent time, or has yet to beat out Us weary lite anamst tho prison bars ot a crippled frame, I know not. Gud be merciful, and heal, if he lingers, both . soul and body. Why didn't they hold him? Not these careless, heartless watchers of tho other night; the demon of drink was in him then too strong for mortal control, but long, loniraro. when ho was a blithe bright bov. as I remember him, then his nioih or might have held him in the bonds of good habits, and trained him as she did those fragrant vines about her door; and his virtues iuighl have rendered another homo as lair as did those clustering br.'.nch es her own sweet cottage. I remember that houiebold well. Iho lather was a man of high standing, filling a respectable and responsible office. The mother, gay, indulgent, and afl'ectionale, surrounded by a band of rosy girls and frolicking boys. Fashion entored the holy circle first, with its baneful habits of idk.Tics3.nnd extrava franco. - With it came the custom of drink- P . . r r . L. in"', because ol log or oi nosi, oncause they were merry, or bocnuse they were sad. The wind was sown there; long years they have been reaping tho whirl wind. ' A taste for drinking rendered useful oc cupation disagreeable; gaming at once af forded excitement, and the promise of liv ing -without labor. The boys drifted off into vagrancy, the father was degraded from his station, and died in penury. The gills drooped liko cankered flowers, and God in pity took them. The home stead has passed into stranger's hands, and now the poor old mother sits alone in a comfortless cabin, beside the same stream which rolled by the home of her early happiness, and doubtless as it wanders by, it often whispers of the time when she might have held them all back by her counsel and example from their ruin. Why did they not hold him long: long aco, when a teacnaoie, irusum uvy, mo noblest of a group that played in the grand old forest shade, that sheltered our lowly scl ool house? We were euoompassed with noble asso ciations the Cumberland range lifted its blue peaks in the distance, and the winds bore us the anthem of its great cataract. An old fort was mouldering in ruins be side us, and the church - and the silent graveyard were close at hand. -The teach er often bade us heed how many little chil dren's graves were there, and told us thril ling legends of the Indians, . and old pio neers who slumber so dreamless in. their rest. s.Whydid he not toll us, that our fathers, who so bravely defended this fort, had Dermitted.a'.wort enemy thanlnli.ins l ' 1 r to build up magazines filled with far more destructive elements than ever beset a pio neer iu his border life? Why did tbey not hold him? They could not. - The demon raging in hirawss one of superhuman strength. But we, as a people have power to exerone and bind the fiend which thus pursues and destroys in our land. .V. Y. Tribune. Flowkks, Tbees, SnacBBEKr. We are not about to philosophize at all, but ire wish to ak the farmer the man who has a house and a lot with it, the owner of any spot of solid earth why it is that be does not more often realize the power which he lias, to make himselt master of a literal faradise? Our poets always talk of gren eaves, and bright fresh flowers, and noble trees as things belonging of coarse lo a blussed palace. Our hymns sing of 'Jow ly plains aud 'trees of life immortal, aud all our representations of happy places and scenery include them as a matter ol course. Why cannot this be . realized? The man who has a house, a garden, a yard, a farm, '.an, with little care, have lhete, although io can lay no claim to wealth. There is wisdom in cultivating these lovely adorn ments; and although we promised not lo philosophize, we cannot help saying that there is more philosophy and good hard sense in these notions than more good men can imagine. There is reason as well as poetry. And he who has about his dwelling these children of earth, will have among them the songsters of the air; anJ the tragrance and music which comes on the breath of summer through his open window will sweeten his intellectual as well as regale bis senses. IS'ow if this little artich should bo the means of planting a hundred trees and flowers, we should not bo surprised to find out, in the end that it had cherished, also i bundled domestic virtues. Dimensions of Heaves. "And he measured the city with the reed, twelve thousand furlongs. The length, and the breadth, and the bight of it are equal." Rev. 21: 1G. Twelve thousand fmlongs, 7,920,000 feel, which being cubed, is 496.793,0C8,- 000,000,000,000 cubic feet. Half of this, we will reserve for the Throne of God, and tho Court of Heaven, and half of the bal ance lor streets, leaving a remainder ot 124,108,272,000,000,000,000 cubic feet. Divide this by 4C96, the cubical feet in a room 16 feet square, and 16 feet high. and tiieie win be 3U,;j-'i,o4j,7ou,uuu,uuu rooms. We will now suppose the world aln avs did and always will contain 900,000,000 nhabitants and that a generation lasts 33 venrs, making i;,7uu,uuu,uuu every centu ry, and that the world will stand 100,000 years, making in all 2U,uuu,UW,itJU,l'uo inhabitants, lhcn suppose there were 100 such woiIJs, equal to this, in number of inhabitants and duration of years, making a total of 27,000,000.000,000,000, per sons. Thou there would be a room 16 feet long, 16 feel wide, aud 16 feet high for each person and yet there would be room. Learning a Trade. If you have no oc cupation for the bov, be can go in the af ternoon and be learning a trade aud you can allow him to have his own earnings, .i l, i,!, ..,.1 ,l.,.m .,n,lUr ,l,n i hi varents. fur a library ofhis own. musi- cal instruments, musical instruction, etc Lot the boy be hardening his muscels andj learning a trade at the same time. It is not possible to estimate the value of that trade to his body and to his manhood. Does he become a preacher? . Neither the congregation, nor presbyteries, nor synods, general assemblies, dictate to his soul what it shall believe or not believe what it shall utter or not utter. He can snap his fingers in their faces, and go on his way rejoic ing "He has a TaADs!" A lawyer made such by a machine system and a sheepskin he can quit with honor and go to his trade, when he finds nature fid not t.:... r- r.r.,c;., t.-f i-u.h' . th honor to he a member." instead ho nf dragging out in it a life of dishonor for tho sake of bread, as so many do! The Secret of fcciiiK Loved. William Wirt's letter to his daughter, on the siyall sweet courtesies of life, con tains a passage from which a deal of happi ness might be learned'.: I want to tell you a secret. , The way to make yourself pleas ing to others, is to' show that you care for them. . The whole world is like the miller at Mansfield, who cared for nobody no, not he because nobody eared for him. And the whole world will serve you so, if yon give them tho same cause, xei an persons, therefore, Ree that you do care for them, by showing them what Sterne so happily calls the small, sweet courtesies in which there is no parade; whose voice is too still to lease, and whicli manifest them selves by tender and affectionate looks, and little ki"d acts of attention, giving others . . T.a,ll the preference in every little enjoyment at. the table, in the Held, waiKing, suung or standing. . ; , : 3rWhen Commodore Pekrt wentont! tj0n to t,i,e miod's breadth and depth, the to Japan, Colonel Colt, of pistol fame, gtore cf information it possesses, and ac sentoutby him about fourteen hundred , cumulated ideas of its experience, 60 are dollars worm oi nis improveu ure-rais, . yie intensity and loiuness oi us enjoy-1 to be distributed as, presents to the-Ja-' mar,t.' " - panesa officials. In return, the Emperor;. . .. t- . , sent him several very old fashioned, cluni-1 A fellow stole a wood-saw, and on trial sy looking, but curiously mounted and told the judge that he only took it in a finished arquebuses or wall guns, and sev- joke. 'How fardid you carry it? asked eral swords. ' The Commodore states that the judge., 'Two miles, answered the pris the Japan blade is equal if not superior oner. 'That is carrying the joke too far,' lo the To!edo or .the Damascus manufac- i remarked the judge, and the prisonej; was .,, .i . ... J committed bttbet for examination. - -.-." , i APDIL, There's )ojr lo the reUer, And Joy on the hlllt, A rushing of vorre&U, A laughter of rills, An echo of glad nest, . . From manva 4u!l, For FprUg's i'PK Jf-'rtt ' . Hath broken the sjiell. Tiers'! Joy lo tie forest, A musical din. For frolicking brsries Ara stealing 7lth!s; And birds on their pinions Their roundelavs sing, While beauty seems dwelling . la ererj tiling. The dew-drop tkat nestle In eat b fow'retsenp, Th glad ttiatbice aeetb, And drinketb them up! Tbebndi are at gently ; Vnfolding their leaves. As the fell of those Messing t'nr spirit receives. 1 be clouds that are Hosting So lisrhl) and free. Appear to onr vision Like tliips on tb sea. And glitters each rain drop. Like torn scs -washed jrem, Ou diw're: expanding On bad snJon stem. We bsil thee, sweet April, Best month In the year, Thy romliig brings gladness, Tse lonely to caeert in holiday vestments Tbe earth Is now seen. And rich Is her carpet Of UeanUruI green. illtmt utcd lor Cbilslreu. I once saw a clergyman (ry to teach the children, that the soul would live afier they were all dead; they listened, but evi dently did not understand. He wad too abstract. Taking bis watch from his pock et, ne saia: ..i ,.. ... -James, vnat is ibis i bold in mv hand?" "A watch, sir." "A little clock," says another. "Do you see it?" "Yes, sir." "How do vou know that it is a watch?" "Uecause we see it aud hear it tick." "Very good." - He then took off the case and held it in one hand, and the watch in the other. "Isow, childreu, which is the watch? you see there are two which look like watches. Very well. Now I will lay the case aside put it way down there in my hat. ow let us see it you can hear the watch ticking?" "Yes, Bir, we hear it," exclaimed sever al voices. ' "Well, the watch can tick, go, and keep time, as you see when the case is taken oil', and put in my hat just as well. So it is with vou, children. Your body is noth ing but the case; the body may be taken off and buried in the ground, and the soul will live just as well a this watch will go, when the case is taken off." The ruGuUhrd Letter. A lady, being absent on a visit to some friends, wrote a letter Lome, describing how she had enjoyed herself, and saying how much happier she doubtless would have been, bad her husband aad children , . i oecn present vi ii u ner. me letter was Pos e.d' ceivcd by her husband, ind read by him to tho children, who were all de lighted with the good news and kind wish es it contained. A little bright-eyed, rosy cheeked boy, in particular, was almost frautic with joy. But when ho came to that part of the letter where it spoke about "remaining yours," etc., the child's coun tenance changed, the sweet smile of pleas ure passed away, the bright eye bent down ward, and disappointment look possession of h'w features. At length he looked up sorrowfully in his father's face, and said, 'father, it isn't half a letter; andf if I were vou. I would send it back again,' and tell dear mother to fiuUh it." "Why?" asked e latner. ".because, faia me nine iei- low' "mother does not say when she U ! coming home again." X. . Observer. Littu Tuikgs so Trifles. The nerve of a tooth, not as large as the finest cam bric needle, will sometimes drive a strong man to distraction. AuiusHuetoean make an elephant absolutely mad. The coral rock, whioh causes a navy to founder, is the work of an insect. The warrior that has withstood death in a thousand forms may be killed by an insect, The deepest wretchedness ofton results from a perpetu al continuation of petty trials. The for- matiun of character often depends on cir- cumsUinccs apparently the most trivial; an impulse, a casual conversation, a chance visit, or something equally unimportant, has changed the whole destiny of life and has resulted iu virtue or vice in weal or in woe! Misd. It is mind which gives beauty to the rose, and throws sublimity around tho mountain or the comet. It is mind that envelops the cascade with beauty, and tha heavens with rrrandeur. In propor- x - - t : . '-. . it ..''- i :,3 t-1 '.' ,iir)j ESTABLISHED IN 1826; roll YOCTG ITJE.T. US DRLIXg. How ominously that sentence fallal How we pause in conversation and ejacu late 'it's a pity." How his mother bopea that be will not when be grows older,and bis sifters persuade themselves . that it II only a few wild oaii that he is sewing. And yet old men shake their head and feel sad and gloomy when they speak of it; for whoever stopped and did not at tome time give way to temptation. ' It isdangercus to trifle with pleasure. Each step that she leads us away from th path of rectitude, leaves us less desire to return. Each time that she induces us to deviate, we must go a little further to ob tain the same enjoyment. Even with in creased experience we resolve to walk in the path of duty, we follow it with more difficulty if we have once allowed our selves to wander. Pleasure stands at a gate ever open, and she invites us to enter her gardens. She lells us that we need not fear, for we can return when we choose. She calls to the pilgrim on the dusty highway of life, and way-worn and weary as be is, she invites him to enter. Sbepoints him to men that are again npon the road, men who once whiled away some time iu her dominions, but bare now resumed their journey. He does not know the eelf-reproach and the weakness tbey felt on leaving lief bowers, nor the increased difficulty with which they tread the path of daily life. He wishes, and then turns, and then looks in: He will enter for . little while. But he hi soon bewildered in enjoyment. His sens es revel in the fragrance. He is on en chanted ground. He is sure that he can return. And that he will return, after he has been a little further; yet with every step he feels less desire to do so. Of what profit is it lo him now, that the gate suind open? As he wanders along, ihe air be comes more exhilerating, and the fruit more highly flavored. The breezes be come warmer, the fragrance is more pun gent, and the flowers more aromatic. His senses are intoxicated, and his desires bo come inflamed. The flowers that blos somed along his morning pgib, the little modest flowers that opened their meek eyes, sparkling with dew, and smiled on him as be eet out on bis journey are for gotten. The duties that he owes to him self, to his fellow-men, to his God, all are forgotten; he goes restlessly forward to enjoy hotter breezes, more ' stimulating fruits and more nareotie odors. What m vails to him now, that the gate remains ev er open. But already these pleasures have beg-tin to fail. Some strange influence is benumb ing his senses. He finds apples with ash es at the core. Hot winds are blistering his flesh, but he feels no wound. Excess of pleasure is becoming pain. He has reached the marshes where the garden of Pleasure borders on the valley aud shadow of death, and he wo'd fain lake refuge in oblivion. He sits down under the shade of the Aconite, and binds his throbbing temples with wreaths of its dull foliage. The night of despair is fast closing in up on him. Darkns like a blanket, shuts out the light of Heaven, and the tremb ling madness fires his brain. Slimy ser pents are in attendance upon him. Tbey glide around noiselesr-ly, end lull him in drowsy folds. Worms are incessantly twisting in the soam of his clothing. In visible fiends are gathering around him like ravens. They wait 'mpatiently. He hears the rustling of their skinny pinions and be feels the air moved a little by them. Their eyes of fire are shining on him from their viewless bodief , and the air is thick with muttering. Out from the darkness comes the voice of the worm claiming him as her brother, and the voice of corruption calling him 'uy son;' ' and with a chill he curses God and dies. 'At the last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder.' Young man, just commencing life.buoy ant with hope, dox't drijck. , You are freighted with a precious cargo. The hopes of yoar old parents, of your sisters, of your wife, of your children, are all laid upon you. In you the aged live over a gain their younger days; through you on ly can the weaker ones attain a position in society, and from the level on which you place them must your children go into the great struggle of life. Country Gettfleman. 2Tlndustry is "essentially social. No man can improve either himself or his neighbor without neighborly help, and to better the world is to set the world to work together. .Every useful invention has been carried out and perfected by the co-operations of roauy minds, or bj the suocessive applications of varied genius to the same object, age after age. The me chanic must aid the philosopher, or he must stand still in his demonstrations, or he will work, aud work without wisdom. The astronomer needs the telescope, and the chemist his material and apparatus. The sciences hang on the arts, ana the arte on the sciences. '-'". X"How little do weappreciate a moth er's tenderness while living, now neea- less are we in childhood or ail ner anx ieties and kindness. Bat When she isdead and gone when the cares and coldness of the world come withering to onr hearta when we learn how hard it is to find true sympathyhow few love us for ourselvet how few will befriend us m our misfor aaegtben it is we think bf -the mother we have lost, .. ' . " "' ' ' . "" ':" 1