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i 1 ' """ v ^ - - - - ' ^ ^ ^ ^ mmmmmmmm TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM.] "thch .MiXOJB os* ZiZbxhitt zm mtmxi.n* ax* vio-ziiAiaos." [PAYABLE IN ADVANCPr ~BTf;t*AVIS & CREWS. ABBEVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY MORNING, JUNE 25, 1857. V ~~xi\r q % iju wnunifi. UT ANHA WILMOT. 'fc * ' N Ada Glenn had*been a sad trifler in lier time; Her chief pleasure scenied to be in extorting admiration from the sex, and then porting with the feelings she had awakened. In at least half a dozen instances, young men had been encouraged to pay ber attentions for months at a time; and, when confident of having won her regard, they came forward with serious offers of marriage, she threw them from her with an indefference that was both mortifying * and painful. But like roost of those who play this game with the feelings of others, Ada was made to taste a cup as bitter as any mixed | by her hands for the lips of her victims. A young physician named Bedford, whose prospects in life were much better than arc usually presented to the eyes of graduates in his profession, met Ada one evening, and was exceedingly pleased with her?and no less pleased was Ada with tho young physician. A wish to make a good impression added to her usual habit of putting on her *iost grace when in company with young r men, made Ada more than usually interesting, and when Dr. Bedford separated from the bewitching young girl, he was completely enamored. He took an early opportunity to call upon her, and was re- j ceived in a manner that encouraged him to repeat his visit". NAVAI* WflrA mrwn nrvfn/tnl.tA < ~ ivr ..l.J one tlinu were those of Dr. Bedford to Ada Glenn. But the old spirit had not died out, and really flattered sis she was l>y the young man's attentions, Ada was tempted to give him a specimen of her power and independence. No very long time elapsed ere Dr. Tied- i ford laid his heart at Ada's feet. Willi a < thrill of pleasure could she have accepted i the proffered gift of love; but to yield at < once seemed like becoming too ea?y a prize, 1 and she therefore affected profound aston- < ishmcut at the Doctor's proposal; treated < it rather lightly, and deeply wounded his naturally sensitive and independent feelings i by too marked an exhibition of disdain. i Doctor Bedford retired with his miiid in a fever of excitement. Hin admiration of and love for Ada had been of the warmest character. Judging from her manner, he had felt warranted in believing that the regard he felt for her vv?? fully reciprocated \ and when he approached her with a confession of what was in his heart, lie was prepared for any reception but the one he received. To be then repulsed coldly, proudlv, and almost conteinptiously, was to receive a blow of the severest kind, and one, the pain of which ho was not likely soon to- forgot. From the dwelling of Ada, Dr. Bedford J, ~ retired to his office with his mind greatly excited. There he found a young friend, with whom he was intimate, and to whom, rr as he could not hide his feelings, he communicated iff confidence the result of his 1 U'Wll A /lo rP/"V !?!? 'I ? |?wvi ? IVIf Iinu 41UOI xv llio C3UI|ll iaU| IL1U friend said? ? * I can hardly pity you, Doctor. I saw you were pleased with that gay flirt, who is fascinating enough ; but I did not dream that you were seriobs in your attentions to one known everywhere as a most heartless ?<Jquette." Dr. Bedford looked surprised. "Are you itl earnest ?" he said''In earnest. * Coiiitlnly ! Didn't you know that this was her character ?" "I had not the most remote suspicion."' "Strange that it should not have*come to ydur ears ? . I can point you to three she .lias jilted, uiithin my own knowledge." "K that is her. character," said the doctor, rallymg.hiraself with a strong effort at *0ff-control, and' speaking in a composed Rnd resolute voice, *,'1 will at once oblitcr ate her-image from my mind. It was unr worthy tQ^iget theto. I did not love Ada, l-kltftijft ialtoal ft? tMHliiA T ? "Ff v* .. ? || IUO Ujnt JL vainlyJ&elieviB she embodied." "You are right. She is not worth}' of r^u, my friend, beautiful, intelligent and-'interesting as she is." MlJo. She is utterly unworthy. Fortunate am-1 that she did-not accept my offer. _ It required, on the part of Ada a strong effort to assume towards Dr. Bedford a fal&p exterior, and when he withdrew from her presence, composed and dignified in his manner, *he more than Ifalf regretted her folly. But she forced back this feeling with a gfcy smile and a tosa of the head, ttfftfig half aloud? ' be hero again before a week goes by." But 4^* was slightly in error. The week passedT #ithout bringing her lover.? Aedso went "by two, three and four weeks. But vain of her power over the other sex, Ad* atill endeavored to maintain a confident spirit, though there were times that thjMttddttt thought that Dr. Bedford would ntfrar agafo seek to win her favor, made tjh* blood gather with a chill around her baart. /About .this time, a friend gave a little fancy dress party, and Ada learned, much U> bar paal delight, that the individual who, of jtf otbeiy,* had most'struck her fancy, was to be present. Hi?* wis to r,fiord the ftrftvppportumty for meeting, since her hatf haaghty rftputy roan who bad offered #1) a true and fopjlp benrt", . k.:. : ? ' . I An overweening vanity made Ada confident of her power over nny of the sterner sex; and she believed tliat only a slight yielding efTort on her part was necessary to bring the Doctor to her side. Choosing her costume for the evening, Ada arrayed herself with great caro, and in a style that 6he believed would attract attention. Tlie fashion of her dress was that of a hundred years ago, and tho material a rich old broca-Je in which her grandmother had danced the minuet many a time, in her younger days. Calm in her conscious power, Ada joined the company at her friend's and her quick eyes soon made known tho fact that Dr. Bedford was already present. Her heart beat quicker, and tho color of her cheeks grew deeper; but no one could read in her well-schooled face, a trace of what was passing in her mind. No long time passed before the young doctor was thrown near her, so near tha^a sign of recognition became necessary. He spoke to her, but in a manner that sent a nervous chill to her heart. Not that he was studiedly polite or cold ; not that he fnanifestcd resentment, but in his eye, voice, face and manner, was a language she could read,'and it told her that to him she was no longer an object of j interest. i'or mis sue was, ot all Unrigs, least prepared. Slio had never felt towards any one as slio felt towards this young man ; and now when the first well-grounded fear of losing him stole through her bosom, she became inwardly agitated, and in spite of every effort to control herself, manifested too plainly the fact that elie was ill at ease. Fancy parties -were novelties at that time, and all, except Ada, who usually led off on festive occasions, entered into the spirit of the hour. Even Dr. Bedford appeared to ^ enjoy himself as much as any. But the beautiful coquette, whose peculiar style of ;u!)Liiiiiu iitU'acleu til! eyes, hau for once, lost the gay exterior for which she was ever listinguished, and there were but few presi... ?i.:- ? '--J jilt, uj n UUUI 1.1113 noa nut icmai Keu. Once or twice Ada was thrown directly into the company pf Dr. Bedford, when lie treated her with an ease and plotenees that, more than anything else, tended to extinguish the hope that had arisen into a flame in her heart. Had he manifested any emotion, had he looked grave, troubled, indignant, proud, haughty, or anything else but calmly indifferent and sel possessed, Ada would have felt sure of her power over him. But a perception of the real trulli was as distinct to her as if the most emphatic words, sealing her fate, had been uttered in her ears. Earlier thau the rest, Ada retired, unable longer to control herself as she could wish, and unwilling to expose to eyes already 100 observant, the change that had come over her feelings. From that hour, Ada Glenn ceased to bo the gay, buoyant, attractive girl, who had extorted admiration .from so many, and trifled in her vain, pride thoughtlessness, with all. She rarely went' into company, and then her sober mein left her usually in the,background., " * The lively belle, in a few months, ceased to attract attention; and young men who had been captives at her feet, wondered why she hatt exercised bucIj power over them. As for Bedford, lie pvmmI in believing tint with a single dash of the will, he had effaced forever the image of Ada from his mind. Wounded pride and honest indig nation had raised him in a moment, superior to the weakness of liis nature. But a long pfcriod did not pftss, before line after line began to reappear, and before he was really aware of what was going on within, he found himsolf gazing upon the image of the maiden distinct as ever upon his heart. The discovery* when first made, was far from being pleasant to the young man, and he turns from the fair image with impatient scorn. But turn which way he would, it was still before him. Occasionally, lie heard of Ada greatly changed, and sometimes ho was thrown into company with her, when tho change was apparent to his own eyes. These "meetings, whenever they took place, left him in a musincr. 60 *ber state. There was something about Ada that still interested him ; and when, as it occasionally hapifened, he looked suddenly towards her, and met her eyes fixed intently upon him with a sad earnest, tender look, he had feelings that he was hardly able understand. Thus affairs progressed, until, unexpectedly, the yuong people found themselves brought togethor in a pic-nic. Dr. Bedford was less displeased at this circumstance than he would hate been a few months earlier; but he was careful not to throw himself purposely in Ada's -way, for his self-possession and cool indifference, so far as she was concerned, no longer existed.? The thought of her. even, had now noirer disturb tbe pulsations of hit heart The pleasant day bad drawn nearly to,a close. Two or tbred time* Bedford had been brought into such olose contact with Ada, that he could not, without appearing rude, have avoided speaking a few words to her. On these occasiot* 1m said little; but it was impossible to help observing, in tbe manner of Iter replies, in the tones, agdin ibe expression of count?naiice,*or?efbing " r" * that told him as plain as language could have uttered it, that she deeply repented of her former conduct towards him. " It is too late," the yonng man said to himself, with some bitternebs of feeling, as he reflected upon what it was impossible not to perceive. And even as- he said this, there arose extenuating arguments in his mind that he in vain strove to expel. Disturbed by such thoughts and feelings, Dr. Bedford wandered away from the gay party, and remained alone for nearly an hour. As he returned, ho came svwldenly upon Ada, seated in a pensive attitude, just above a little dashing water-fall, down into which she was looking. She was so entirely lost in the scene, or more probably, in the thoughts which it was impossible to drive ut of her mind, that she did not observe the yonug man's approach. Bedford paused suddenly," and his first impulse was to retreat. But not being able to get his consent to do this, he. after a little hesitation, Jlfll'nnporl on/1 ??'* ' VVM} Ituu ?I tiuu nuiJIII <4 1UW roused her from her revery by a few lightly ultered words. Ada turned with a start, while a deep crimson mantled her face.? It was sometime before she could command herself sufficiently to reply with anythiug like composure, and even her voice slightly trembled. Few words passed between them, as side by side they slowly returned to where they had left their companions, for both were afraid to trust themselves to speak. Before a week elapsed Doctor Bedford, breaking threugh pride and every other restraining sentiment, visited Ada, and, before leaving her, renewed his offer of marriage, which was accepted amid a gush of joyful tears. Deeply had Ada suffered through her folly, and from her sufferings she had come forth a purer and a truer, and a belter woman. Tliorfl nrA n fnvv lilro A/lo % ??-.l Joes the vain coquette escape - with so t?rief a period of suffering. Usually with her it is u life long season of sorrow and repentance. After rejecting, with heartless levity, her worthy suitors, she yields her hand at last to the most unworthy, and unblessed by true affection, goes wearily on her way through the world, glad when the hour comes in which she may lay down her burdens, and find rest and peace in the quiet grave. ??^? > ? The Culture of Strawberries.?The New York Horticultural Society, at a conversational meeting,arrived at the following conclusions in regard to the best method of cultivating strawberries: "The best soil for the strawberry was stated to be a gravelly loam. The land Bhould bo drained, and to every acre appliod twenty bushels of unleachcd ashes, ten bushels of lime, and two or three pounds of salt. The ground should be well broken up; animal manures should be eschewed ; leaf is the best, and this should be carefully spaded in. About-the first of July is the best time to set ont the plants. In doing this, pains should be taken to have tlicin firmly rooted. The rows should be eighteen inches apart, and the plant a foot apart. Sometimes it will be well to allow greater interval,, in which case tbe interstices can be filled up from the growth of the runners. After setting out tbe plants, throw on a covering of tan bark an inch or inch and a half in depth, then water them plentifully, mid iLih moiatuiu will be retained a long time. After cold weather comes on, cover the atj^wberry bed find the walks with clean straw, throwing over a little brush, or something to keep the straw in its place. In the spring, remove the straw. and make use o? some fertilizing agent to give the plants vigor, as sulphate of soda, sulphate of ammonia, or nitre of potash. Keep the roots out, see that the plants arc bountifully watered and let nothing intervene to disturb or retard their growth till you gather the fruit Tbo beds should be made over as often as every three years." Garget Root. ?Gjttget, in cows, is a disease of the udder, arising from inflammation of the lymphatic glands, which may be known by the bags becoming hard in spots, and yielding bloody milk. A dose of garget root, of the size of a man's thumb given in a potato, or cut up and mixed with meal, is the best thing for this disease. When this is not at hand, a dose or two of saltpeter will often remove the trouble. Meanwhile, the milk should be gently removed twice or three tinjfes per day. Garget root is common, a$d grows spontaneously in r great many places. It is an herbaceous nlantorbush. the root of which I ? 7 if perennial, but the top is annual. It haB clusters of black or dark red berries, that yield an indelible' stain wben expressed. Almost every farmer baa a little of it growing tomewhere on bis premises for his cows. ' Hogs as well as cdws are subject to the garget This may be known by tbeir hanging down their heads and carr/fng them on one side, moist eyes, staggering, and lots of appetite. Hogs thus diseased should have a dose of tulphur, an8 warm, stimulating eordkldriaka. Sometimes they should b? bled.? Drew't Rural. "I sul>po*e**i$id * quack, while feeling the puUe of a patient, 44 that you think me a humbug." " Sir," replfted the tick tnao, Mi peroeive you etn diecorer a vom'm ^7.: jn.; .>.4? J*Yom the 2?no Origan* Delta. THE SLAVEHOLDING INTEREST. There nre not less than lliree hundred and fifty thousand actual and legal slaveholders in the South, and, counting members of families and others who aro virtual slaveholders, the number directly identified with the shiveholding. interest is not less than two millions. The number of slaves in the South is over mrcc anu a unit millions, their aggregate value, at present prices, is fully sixteen I hundred millions of dollars. The cotton plantations in the South arc ttbout eighty thousand, and the aggregate value of their annual products, at the present prices of cotton, is fully one hundred and twenty millions of dollars. There are over fifteen thousand tobacco plantations, and their annual products may bo valued at about fourteen millions of dollars. There are two thousand six hundred sugar plantations, the products of which average annually more than twenty millions of dollars. There are five hundred and fifty-one rice plantations which yield a annual revenue of four millions of dollars. Many other products of Sauthern agriculture might he added to this list, but we enumerate the above articles because they may be regarded as exclusively the pioductions of slave labor. Ilere, then, we have a capital of sixteen hundred millions, producing annually a cash value of one hundred and fifty millions, owned and employed in the South, and identified with the institution of Slavery. No community of capitalists of tho same number, unless it be tho British East India Company in its palmiest days ever wielded a capital of such magnitude or possessed more elements of power, commercial, political and moral. Yet the vast capital of this bod}- of men is not based upon a monopoly ; is protected by no fostering laws; has had the perpetual frown rather than the smile of the government under which it was held ; and would have long since perished under the restrictions of unfriendly legislation, but for the inherent justice, wholesomanesa, and utility of the industrial system on which is rested. How much longer this capital will be ablo to stand befoVe the hostile influences arrayed agani3i 11, may uc a question of a very few years, or a question running through a future of indefinite duration ; according to the sagacity or the stolidity, the energy or the apathy, the courage or the timidity, the spirit of independence or the spirit of submission, which may he displayed by the slaveholding interest of the South. Certain it is, that this capital is now in great danger, and the danger increases daily. The "moral sentiment of the cirilized world is at war with this capital ; the literature of the cirilized world is acting like a slow poison to destroy this capital; the newspaper press in JJurope and, with a few exceptions in the United States, is cither hostile to this capital or un?ympathizing with it; while the politics of the only existing national party offer no protection to this capital beyond the abstrao lion of " non-interference?which means tho preservation of a status quo, the inevitable result of which must bo the gradual destruction of this capital. This capital is not only insecure, its condition is abnormal. It not only needs to ho politically and vindicated morally, material guarantees are also wanted. Its basis requires to be enlarged territorially, diffused numerically, and stabilitated socially. National politics, as at present organized, if confided in for security will betray this great interest; political non-interference from without will delude with the show of protection, while passivity within is inviting tho spirit of destruction that never rests and never sleeps. We are told that the public opinion of the world must be changed before Slavery is entirely secure; but there ib another change more essential, and that is the change of public opinion at the South.? Tho thorough conviction of right, first, the strenuous and unflinching assertion of might afterwards, are the indispensable conditions of Southern safety. For right is uothing without the power to defend it; and the public opinion of the world has always been disposed to construe might into the prima facie evidence, at last, of right. I'ower, in whatever form, is always respectable, and the public opinion of the world 1 holds it in due reverence. The Slave interest, then, has only to show that it is in earnest, to Bhow that it is strong, and show that is ready to exert its strength defiantly and triumphantly, in the TTninn ap ant nf ihfl TTntntl ?-?va an/1 V??IWM W? v. ""V ? v| MIIV4 uog its strength, if necessary, In argument of naked steel and logio of shotted gun, to guarantee its existence against moral, political, or any other power.,. But the greatest enemy of the South is in the South. The indifference and lassitude of the Southern people on questions vital to them and., their institutions, must he overcome. Politicians wjio look to sucese by anticipating public impulse and reflect* ing publio MiqumeflH. wjij soon oe right on th* Sou thf *n question if the Soulhgrp people tbemwivm are ra?Ja right. #9 e$>ct .< ($<* 1,'aJil, 1' mi?< ../.' i.'CM. V .J. ? ????I from tlio whole South it should bo a lig to all; it should bo a warning to the unwar it should bo a terror to life bad and treac erous; it should bo an omnipresencowatching whilo all other sentinels sioj shining like a beacon at all hours of tl night, though the stars might disappear ai storm and dnrkness mingle. But this is material- age, and such a press must ha' material sustenance. Out of two millioi of slaveholders; out of sixteen hundri millions of slave capital; out of 0110 hui died and .fifty millions of income derivi from slave labor, cannot sufficient materi; aid bo supplied ? Yes, a hundred times sufficiency. Will it be contribute*! wit the promptness and alacrity which tli em ^ency requires ? Let those tho mm m. ' interested in the question ai 6wer. v ?. by no menus disposed to di parage those Southern journals which ha\ already distinguished themselves, by tl. zeal and ability with which they havo d< fended the rights of the South and elu< dated the philosophy of her institutions.They have not wanted for materi: support; they may have succcedcd in soiii instances very well pecuniarily; but, it i our mortifying conviction, that they hav not reaped buccoss as the reward of thei devotion to Southern interests, but hav rather achieved it in spite of the sincerity boldness and fidelity with which they hav adhered to the Southern cause, regardlcs of tho smiles or frowns of placemen o place-seekers, or the favor or resentment t this or (lint political organization. It may be said that what they have don for the South has been a labor of love; i has been gratuitously performed. They hav been proscribed by the bigots of party, Ik cause they had.an object higher than th mere success of jj/*rty; and by aspring pol ticians, because tliey could not be induce to sacrifice principle at the shrine of an nan's ambition; while the great an wealthy interest, in whose defense the stood, was too much occupied in mere ccti per cent calculations of the moment, o too much given up to luxurious inertia, I put itself to any trouble in arming in it behalf the most powerful of afl moral en gines?the press. At present the Southei press nas 1101 me concentration or laien the grasp of material facilities, tlio extende scope of influence, to long an J successful! combat tlio gigantic mora! power wiolde against the slaveholding interest of th South, in Europe and America. Ono Ant! Slavery newspaper in New York city alon* it is likely, reacbcs nearly as many reader as all the newspapers published in Charles ton and New Orleans put together. I: spito, therefore, of whatever zeal, fide! ity, and vigor the latter may display, the are comparatively feeble and their effort of little avail. But they might bo mad irresistible; they might bo clothed wit! moral omnipotence; and they woul be, if the slaveholding interest, wisely aj: predating its dangers and its necesaitiei would promptly arm with the sinews c war an instrumentality that is essential t its safety and pnrpotuSly. How Men Die.?Some men die in ignc ranee, unconcerned, and seemingly withou fear for the future. Others arc sullen an< silent, as if determined to brave it out at h liazaiuo. ? ).. - ?* wearied out b long illness an J continued pain, that tuey ni eager for change, yet give no evidenc of being in a fit state to appear befor God. Others abound in professions < hope and confidence, yet leave iinpartii observers at a loss to conceive what bas there can be for such assurance. Other again give their friends every reason J think that they are real children of Got make the dread passage with little Or a sensible comfort?in not a few cases, und* a dark and heavy cloud. The majorit of consistent Christians have their last em as it is described by the psalmist in a sipg word ; it is " peace." A few of them, hov avur tonto lirmvan this side of the col Jordan, and thoir rnplure is a thing to t witnessed in order to be understood. The) is a very simple rule for the direction < any one who feels concerned about tl manner in which ho is to meet the la enemy. This is to live habitually ii> con munion with God 'through w ?hrit Such a life cannot end miserably. Deal must be to il only the crowning c-jai i steadfast course, the finishing touch to i lofty blessedness. ? Christian Intelligent* A Wife's Temper.?Some " gentleman to us unknown, says he baa kept a Diai of his wife's temper, and here it is : "Monday?A thick fog; 110 seeing throu^ it. Tuesday?Gloomy and very chill} unreasonable weather. Wed need ay?Frc ty : ai times sharp. Thursday?bitter co in t|H> morning; red sunset, with Ayii clouds, portending hard weather. Fridi ?Stormy in the morning with penis thunder; air clear afterwards. Satnrdi ?Yearns of sunshine, with partial thav frost agai o at night, fionday?A Jig ecijwMinttr in the rooming; calm ai wS^aks dlnoer jjiife ; hmrrieani a et] nMtm ijfco guiq *R I 5 I > ? ii I ! i i r i i >1 c it e c id y d y It r o .8 I) t. d y d i'? In Iy 6 t h d > i. >1 c ) ll i II i * i > i it B X 1 ( ,1 i I. If k H r? > ij a w. Mpur oj Muracr*.?iiourtwiu^ ' bofgfe- letWf -teethe of Oraco^ffrtPT^ the following extraordinary story : j ' "A tragical drama lias juat taken pi.w ' here. The agent of Count Sell , who Sc had been to the bank to receive a sum of T# 15,000 silver foublev, lost the packet of h notes on bis way home. The money was M1 ' picked up by a clerk, who instead of giving Aft the property at once to the owner, followed 'n< rjj him io his house and inquired the name of frt r, the person who lived there. T^^nder of ne m. the ujopey then returned hpnjeflfctnting 70 .it ^ _.1 1 .1. 13 l^TT-nr*^. Am in nw own minu uuw do bhouiu hot- wnen u? ho arrived there, a violent quarrel took '?F iy place between linn and fft?*wife, the latter 0( wishing to keep the money. The cl?rk, however, on the following morning, went to f. the house of the cojifl* tp deli ver the enm, M bt but jjfrU,ler not receive it, sayirfg ,j b. * * ? are ? ? V. TAKING TOLL. It was a wiuicr evening clpnr and cold, d the snow was finely packed, when Dr; :ado\vs wn9 one of a sleigh party, which describes, so far as ho and the young idow Lambkin were concerned, in the >rds following : The lively Widow Lambkin sat in the ne sleigh, under the same buffalo robe ih me. 44 Oh, oh ! do 'nt, do 'nt!" she exclnimed, wo camo to the first bridge, at tlio samp uc catching me by the arm, and turning r vailed face toward nio, while h.er little js twinkled through the moonlight. "Do'nt what?" I asked ; 44I'nj not do? ; anything." 14 Well, but I thought 3rou were going tp ;e toll," replied Mrs. Lambkin. ' Toll," I rejoined ; 44 what's that?" 4 Well, I declare !" cried the widow, her ir laugh ringing out above the musiy of bells, 4? you pretend you don't know it toll is ?" . Indeed, I don't then," I said, laughing; ay explain, if you please." You never heard, then," said the widow, t provokingly?* you never heard that n we are on a sleigh-ride the gentlemen lys?that is, sometimes?when they s a briilge, clajrn a kiss, and call >1 loll. I never pay it." said that I had never heard of it be? ; but when we caino to the next bidge limed toll, and the widow's struggle to the veil over her faco were not enough ;ar it. At last the veil was removed, round, rosy face was turned directly tor d mine, and in the clear liglit of a ,y moon the toll was taken, for the iirst ; in his life, by Dr. Meadows. Soon wo e to a long bridge, with ceveral arches. f widow said it was no use to resist .1 1 -who would liave bis ow way, so she i tlio toll williout a murmur. But you won't take toll for every arcli, you doctor ?" the widow said 8P arcjily, l. I could i)ot fail to exact all niy dues, that was the beginning? ' ut never mind the rest. The Lambkii) the Meadows al to herself in thp 'g 'ertyalc J&ducfiiion.?A writer in a late bar of the North British Review ob= 28: Instead of educating every gill a? igh she werp born to be an independent, supporting mcpiber of 8opjety,.?re edPr ber to become a mere dependent, a !jer on, or, as the law delicately phrases chattel. In somo respects, indeed, wp more barbarously than those nations >ng whom a plurality of wives is per-: :ed, and who regard women purely as nuch live stock; for among such people nen are. at all nvpnlQ niwirJnrl mitli ? ?, ? ? , , ""-t Iter, with food and clothing?they are . ' ed' for as cattle are. Tbere is a coiflleness in 6iich a system. 1 But among ourselves wo treat women cattle without providing for them as cat- ,4j We take the worst part of barbaristi} |g i the worst part of civilization, and worl$ into a heterogeneous whole. We ng lip our women to be dependent, and ;n leave them without any one to depend Thore is no one, there is nothing for !tn to lean upon, and they fall to thp ~ : >und. Now, what every wot an, no leag. nvorp man. should have to depend on, is an ability, after some fashion or ifcr, to turn labor into money. She may IIImV IJUt I/O V?/ia*..M)|v J A ? L 'i. 1 it, bute. *y one ought to possess it. If she gi to the richer classes nli? t vv Ilia* Ultve IQ rcise it; if to the poorer, sheassuuredly ? ** " l western chap gives his views of the v York women in this way: Sonars in every circumference of silk, velvet eetry that wriggles aiopg Broadway, e\i allurs a wurnan, I spoie; t>v)t hovjr h of the* holler is filled up with meat,' v how much is gammon, the mere spqgr k?n never knoyr. A feller IMFT1P& ^ and finds when he comes to the jrinf, b bus nuihiu in his arms but are?j' xttoQ&y- Ef meu { ?-^7* ! ' , t0 ULi a leapt* \\\& Jesses fof ,pdr?d and forty, but hesent really ** u - ? is i??>, v/u uoi i?9 ^vmu ^ipnoo n ^nuuitj. v I the nterieni plumpness cpimst^ng qp t<j. >.( whalebone. - - . . * " JT ? Jd are you, Bridget lw m ntlppiap f> hi? servant girl. y, sir," replied Brid^fiJ. ! You are mitten, Bridget, you.arp not <>*?' twenty fees, sir, Akat it H. I'm aboqt tvyerjty pf ,y, somewhere along there." This answer licatee a a boat the sfcne degree elligenoe a* tliat of an old gray-headed grq in Sotyth Carolina t u How old ar$ n, Pete f said a gentleman to .bim one y. M1 dunna Mass, | feels berry old j iect Fse about five or six hundred.1 A western editor and hi* wifi) ?f$jf|riUkv I ing tbft bright moonlight, one er*bing. a aiC* ?tl n? an a*/>au1inoIit nA.i:..l v fp.fj rwrrr rrwr .tore, and aakl to her~asato: " Notice at moon?how bright, and calm md WtifaLT " Couldn't think of noticing tynje* M ?* fa?ft*Ppr ?(*< "i" .:< ? v * r. V -