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- DQX.LARS PER ANNUM.] . ''Tan ?I?.IOBI OX* libkhty IS BTBRNAII VIOIIIAITOII." [PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.
BY'?AVIS & CREWS. ABBEVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 16, 1857. ~ Vol. YIV Ktn jte
From Ike Missouri Deniocrat.
A LAWYER'S ADVENTURES.
"We presume* our Illinois readers will
. readily expand tLo town C -,meutionj
> ed in the following sketch into Carlyle
* ' * About three or four years ago, more or
* > j 'C sless, I was practicing law in Illinois in a
'pretty large circut.. I was called on one
- day in my office, in the town of C ?,
by a very pretty woman, who, not without
jtears, told mo her husband had been arrested
for horse-stealing. She wished to retain
me on the defence. I asked her why
rIia fliil tint. crc\ fn .Tii/lrrr* K an Av-^nnnfni'
to- ? w "" ^uu"vvr
of tho United States, whoso office was in
the same town. I told Iier that I was a
young hand at the bar, &c. She mournfully
said that ho had asked a retaining fee
above her means, and besides did not want
to touch, the case, for her husband was suspected
of belonging to an extensive band of
horee^thieves and counterfeiters, whose headquarters
wore on Moore's prairie.
I asked her to tell me the whole truth of
tho mattor, and if it was true that her husband
did belong to such a gang ?
" Ah, sir," said she " a better man at
heart than my George never lived ; but ho
liked cards and drink, and I am afraid they
made him do what he never would havo
done if he had not drank. I fear that it
can be proved that ho had the horses; he
didn't steal it; another did, and passed it to
I didn't Iiko the case. I knew that there
was a great dislike to the gang located
where she named, aud feared to risk the
case before a jury. She seemed to observe
vit* i i 4
?njr luwunuu iv iciuaa iuv tiwu# citiu uuiat
I never could see a woman weep without
feeling like a weak fool myself. If it
liadn't been for eyes brighted by " pearl}'
tears," (blast the poets that made tliem to
come in fashion by praising 'em,) I'd never
have been caught in the lasso of matrimony.
And my would bo client was pretty.
The handkerchief that bid ber streaming
eyes, didn't hide her ripe lips, and her snowy
bosom rose and fell like a white gull in a
gale of wind at sea. I took the case and
she gave me tho particulars :
The gang, of which he was not a member,
had persuaded him to take the horse.?
He new the horse was stolen, and like a fool
acknowledged it when ho was arrested.?
Worse still?be had trimmed the horse's
tail and mane to alter his appearance, and
thp opposition could prove it.
The- trial came on. I worked hard to
get a jury of ignorant men, who bad more
heart than train; who, if they could not
fathom the depths of argument, or follow
the' labyrinthine mazes of tho law, could
feel for a young fellow in a bad fix, a weep'
ing pretty wife, nearly broken-hearted and
quite distracted. Knowing the use of u effect,"
I told h$r to dress .in deep mourning
" . and bring her little cherub of a boy, only
. ~ " three year? old, into court, and to sit rfs
near herliusband as the officer would let
her. I tried that game once in a murder
case^and a weeping wife and sister made a
jury render a verdiot against law,, evidence
?lnd the judge's charge, and saved a fellow
that ought to have been hung as high' as
Haman. > '
/ J k \ The
prosecution opened very bitterly;
,?. inveighed againgttfiiGves and counterfeiters,
.jfrho had made the laud a terror to stran'"
gem "k?d travelers, and who had robbed
.. 'every ^former in jtlie region of tljeir finest
tiorgeq^It introduced witnesses,.and proved
all arid more than I feared 1t would. \
- i^Tb??me capao for mq .to rise for defined.
*' \ \Vifn$a?es iLbSd >g6ne^ * Btft .1 determined
. .?to^?ihtce fin!cffojrfc, only lioping^so to interlt$i
1 -4^;the }6d?$ aitid jtrry aia to secure a lecotn.
/mood^ion Uf guberi^toriairclorriancy iyid
t_ : ' ^a JightVj&bt&<&r "Sopainted this pic"
. raan'eotered infoilife^fed?
^ *'b<k^M<Vii in^peraOh?pog
*. i^jSnrngg ^Xgopilo noble attribute.?'V*f
;\. j^^4W^bpn;W?lJ^fore and all around'hhn,
' V ^ Gueats tbere^werjp ift^nyy}
it fottollSpi1 biui ^ inqui^ififcftbeir bu?l
''#**> -t;5^^^wo|g^weU.a?^a pm&jjfc#
; ^bHWand^id promp^^ At-an ungWrdec
v hour, When be" was insane^j^^ibe liquoi
"* they- nrged up<jn,hrTM, .;he tflid 3evUtec
* ir<j?f the path of TeQtUude. , The' demon o
aVnlinl had reifmi&d in bi?liram*r And If. wni
lu* first Offence. Mercy ple%ded-for anolh
orchance to save Lira from ruin. Justic<
414Jiot that, tysyoung wife, should
- go;.<Jowoiforrowing to tbe gravg, and tba
.5 . JjteaLadow ofvdiBgrace.and tho taunt of t
v ^ felon Father should cross the path of thn
child.' O, ho# earnestly did I pleat
' for-thora. The proman wept; tbehusbam
did t|ie same; 4he judge fidgeted ^nd rub
bed hVeyaj^the-jurjt looked mel(jng. I
, X CO#* have had the closing speech hi
woul<j|bare been cleared ; but thq.prosecu
to* had the cloee, and threw ice on the fir<
^ b^d kindled. But they did not quite pu
v|:?he Judge charged according to law an<
>ev?deoce, hotevidently leaned on tbeaideo
vmercy# , Theory found a verdict of guilty
but unaniraoualy recomrafflded the-prisone
'tO-tfte mjpoy of tbe couif, My client W*
; sentenced to the shortest Imprisonment th<
^rf^.^powered to giro, and both ju
b '*f$ tb? court signed a petition to tbiporenior
for.aa unconditional. pardon
whiob hu einco been granted^ Uil not be
* fore the following incident OCCfrt&I:?
Some three-months after this, I receive<
f ' '* * *
an account for collection from a wholesale
house in Now York. Thofparties to col
lect from were hard ones, but they had
, properly, and before they- had an idea ol
.'the "trap laid, I had the. property, whicli
ythey were to assign-before they broke
under attactytyfent. Fftfding I was neck
ahead and bound to win, they "caved in'
and "forked over" three thousand seven
hundred aud ninety-four dollars and eigh
teen cents (per memorandum-book) in good
money. They lived in Shawueetown, aboul
36 or-40 miles southeast of Mooro's prairie
* T il.? ? "l .. l
j. iuwivcu mo iiiuua jubi< :uivr u;uik open'
ing, but other business detained mo till after
dinner. I then started for C , intending
to go as far as the villngo of Mount
Vernon that night.
I had gone along ten or twelve miles,
when . I noticed a splendid team of double
horses attached to a light wagon, in which
were seated four men, evidently of the highstrung
order. They swept past as if to
show how easily they could do it. They
shortened in, and allowed mo to comc up
with them, and hailing mo, asked mo to
"wet," or in other words, diminish the contents
of a jug of old ryo they had aboard ;
but I cxcused myself with the plea that I
had plenty on board. They asked me how
far I was going. I told them as far as
Mount Veruou, if my horse didn't tiro out.
They mentioned a pleasant tavern ten or
twelve miles ahead as a nice stopping place,
and then drove on.
I did not like tho looks of those fellows,
nor their actions. But I was bound to go
ahead. I had a brace of revolvers and a
V.U auiic , my iuuiiv^ >vil3 UUl III 111V VUUse
or my sulky, but in a bolt round
my body. I drove slow, in hopes that
they would go on, and I should see
them no more. It was nearly dark when
I saw a tavern sign ahead. At the same
time I saw their wagon stood before the
door. I would have pressed on, but my
horse needed rest. I hauled up and a woman
came to the door. She turned as
pale as a sheet when she saw inc?she did
not speak, but with a meaning look she put
her finger on her lips and beckoned me in ;
she was the wife of ray late client.
When I entered, the party recognised me,
anu naueu me as an om travelling trtend,
and asked rac to drink. I respectfully, but
firmly declined to do so.
" 15y G-d, you shall drink or fight!" said
the noisiest of tho party.
".Just as you please ; drink I shall not!"
said T, purposely showing the butt of a Colt
which kicks Bix times in rapid sucession.
The party interposed, and very easily
quelled tho assailant One offered mo a segar,
which I reluctantly refused, but a
glance from Alio woman iuduccd me to accept.
She-advanced and proffered mo a
light, and in doiug so slipped a noto into
my hand, which sho must have written a
moment before. Never ahull I forget the
words. They were :
" Beware, they aro.ipembers of the gang.
They, mean to rob and murder you 1" Leave
soon : Twill detain them !"
I did not feel comfortable just then, but
tried to do so. "Ilavo
you any. rooin to" put up my
horse?" I asked, turtiing to tho woman. '
41 What?are you not going on to-night?"
asked one of the men.; we are."
44 No," said I, " I shall siayhcre to-night."
" We'll all stay then, I guess, and make
a night of it!" said auothor. of the cut
44 You'll have to put op your own horse
- ?here's a lantern.^'4'satd the woman.-',
441 am used to-tbat," I Baid.. MOentlomen,
excuse me a minute; I'll joj^f^pu in
a'drink when I come in."
" Good on your head ! More whiskey,
old gal," shouted they, t
JL wont out, glanced at tliejr wagon ; il
was oldfashioned, and " linch pins" secured
th^^e^J". To take out my kife and prj
'J one1 from the fore and hind wheels was bill
' 'the.work of 'Jgi instant, and I threw .then
' as far off.hfthe darknoss. as I could. T<
| untio mj^Jiorse and dash off was the worl
of a moment. *The road lay do&n a steoj
r -hill, but lantern,lightod me somewhat
> I had hardly got hnder full headway
when I heard a yell from the party I lia<
J so unceremoniously left. I put whip t<
my horse. The next momeat^vith a shou
5 they-j|larted. I threw my light away, an<
' I loft joy horso to pick his way. A mo
L ment later I hoard a crash?a horribl
1 shriek. Tho wheels were off. Then cairn
1 .tho rush of the horses tearing with th<
* wreck of the wagon. Finally7they sceme<
\ to fetch up in tho wood. One?or tw<
shrieks I heard as I swept on, leaving then
^ far behind. For some time I hurried m;
9 ?orse?you'd better believe I "rid!" 1
* was a litile after midnigbg^arben I got t<
9 Mount Vernon.
1 The next day I heard .that a Moore1
Prairie team had run Away, and that tw
* men out of four had been so badly hui
^ that their lives were despaired of; bat '
* didn't cry. _ My olienta got their money
r and I didn't travel that road any more.
B m???> ?a
m J. A 1 At
" xv jfrvuuw niuirtuiin.jr nnu in
** mind -id heart rapst act together; the;
b must be the impartial judges, the geutl
it monitors, and the kind encouragers of eaol
- other; they dependent upon each otfa
er; and we on tfiem,?Jam Kindrey Stan
. THE BACHELOR AND THE BABY.
j , BV OSCAR DUMAS.
r Edward Thornton was ono of tliat small
i class of bachelors, who arc so, not from nei
cessity, but from inclination. lie wbuld as
; soon have been suspected of highway rob
bcry as of any intention of committing
Still, he was very polite and gallant to
i T i?~ i .K?? ?1.
I uuu jouiuo* x uavu uuaci vuu liicil ouuii io
' more likely to be the case with your tlior,
ough-going bachelors, than with married
. men. I will leave the philosophical reader
. to speculate on the cause of this singulnr.
ity, if such it may bo called, while I pro,
cecd with my story.
liusiness had called Mr. Thornton to a
t city some fifty miles distaut from tho place
, of his residence. His business arrange!
mont8 satisfactorily concluded, he had, at
tho oponing of this veracious narrativo,
, sealed himself in tho cars which wero to
bear him back.
Opposite him in tho cars sat a young
i woman, respectably attired, with a babe,
. perhaps three months old, in her lap. The
baby was not remarkably pretty?no babies
are at that age?and tho expression of
its countenanco indicated about the sarao
degree of intelligence as you wouVd expect
to finrl ill n w-Pf-lrrJil L-ilfnn Tl.?
? ... ? vv.? niwvviii X1IV UiVVU^I J
, for such she evidently was, was encumbered
with nothing else but a small carpet bag,
which doubtless contained a supply of clothing
for the journey. At the first way station,
the woman rose hurriedly, and said 10
" Will you have the kindness, sir, to take
charge of my baby and carpet bag for a
moment ? I Lave just caugbt a glimpse of
a friend, through the window, with whom
I wish to ppealc for a moment."
"Certainly, ma'am,1' said our bachelor
triend ; and lie took tlio baby, awkwardly
enough, and placed tlio carpet bag at his
The female, thus disencumbered, left the
cars. Our friend, not being used to such a
charge.as ho had undertaken, folt_ a little
embarrassed, but consoled himself by the
reflection that it would be but for a moment.
But, to his consternation, the cars star
led, without bringing back tho owner of
Good heavens!" thought ho, "sho has
been left. How distressed she will bo about
her child. " Here," he said to the conductor,
who was just passing through tho car,
" you have left ono of your passengers behind
you?a woman who occupied the opposite
"Oh," said the conductor, "she didn't intend
to get in again. She walked away
quite in au opposite direction, lint hero is
a letter sho told in* to givo to a gentleman
with a baby."
Thornton tore it open with trembling
* 'hands, and read the following:
44 Dear Sir: Finding it uo longer convenient
to retain tho charge of my baby, I
- have confided it to your charge, feeling confident,
from tho benevolent expression of
y.qur countenance, that you will lako good
(JgM'bf lt_. A? it linn no nnmn nnii
givo it your own', if you-.please."
" P. S. The valise contains tli^; fluid's
clothing. It is sufficiently supplied" for tlio
, present." * ' >* < *
" Good heavens !" thought our now unhappy
bachelor. "That's cool, and no mistake.
"With what face phall I meet my
, friends, with such an encumbrance ?"
Just thcu the child began to cry. Ilorc
, was a new perplexity.
" What shall I do ?" thought Edward
Thornton. " JLet mo see. I'll trot it."
And forthwith ho began to trot the child
in tho most violent manner. To his great
I astonishment^tliis .only made it cry tho
, " Your chiM seemB troublesome," said a
I lady, who had entered the cars at the
, same- place where the child's mother got
c " Mine, ma'am 1 it isn't mine I"
j " Excuse me," Baid the lady, "possibfy it
is a friend's." ? .
" No, ma'am, it is?well, I don't know
j whose it is. I novcr saw it before/lfrtpy
^ After a glance of surprise, she said, ' I
1 presume it is hungry. Poor cbild 1"*
The child continued to cry.
B " Perhaps, ma'am, you could satiafy hfa
"Sir!" said the lady, drawing*horsell
I "Oh, I di#& mean anything, ma'am, 1
? assure you," said Edward Thornton, realiz
'v ing the interpretation which might bo put
t upon his words.
o The lady looked as if she dUJn't believe
it, afid said no mgre.
, At length, after two hours of the slowest
o traveling, as it seamed to Edward, that he
^ had evor experienced, he arrived at the tergt
urination of his jom^ey. :
. It was with a ludioroua air of embarrau'
ment that Edward isSued from the oars with
? the baby In his arms, aril! the carpetbag in
d his hand. He tyi thought of leaving^
jr child on ooe^C*tibi? atoto,Jnu 'the conduca
get a chance. . " '
To mtktto matter worse, of 1*
" Good heavens!" ejaculated one.?
" Thornton, where did you get that baby ?
You ain't married, aro you ?"
" Married ? No."
11 O, it's a frieud's."
" Ah ! I understand !" and the friend
looked particularly knowing.
Edward grew desperate, " No !" said he
hurriedly. "You arc wrong. It isn't so,
you may bo sure."
" Isn't how ?"
" Why, as you understand," stammered
His friends looked politely incredulous,
and left Edward Thornton nioro wretched
What was to bo dono ?
Tho reader must bo informed that our
bachelor kept house, and employed a housekeeper,
a staid maiden of forty, who, for a
consideration, sewed the buttons on Ins
shirts, darned his stockings, and kept tho
house in order.
With a nervous hand, Edward pulled tho
bell. Martha opened it.
" Goodness, gracious me !" shrieked tho
astonished handmaiden ; " a boy ! What
is the world coming to ?"
"It isn't mine Martha; it aint mine,"
" You may be sure it isn't mine ; I don't
know whose it is, but hero's the carpet bag
that it belongs to?I mean, that came with
it. You can open it, and sec what's in it;
I believe its clothes."
Tho housekeeper wasn't generally troubled
with a cough, but sho coughed here,
" And just get dinner ready as quick as
you can. Tho child is hungry, aud so am
" What shall I get V
11 Well, you might cook me somo beefsteak.
Let me see?I suppose the baby
can't go beefsteak, yet; you may bring it
6ome bread and butler, and cakes, or pies,
if you have any."
" What does tho man mean !" ejaculated
Martha, in astonishment; " a baby like
that cat bread and butter and pies 1"
" Well, get what you like! I don't
know any thing about such matters."
Luckily, it was found that tho child would
"Well," said the housekeeper, after a
pause, " what do you intend to do with
yonr child?I beg pardon, the child ?"
" Why," said Edward, " I've bean thinking
perhaps you had better*adopt it."
"I adopt it!" ejaculated Martha; "I
would not do it for the world!"
"Iiut something must bo done with it."
" You ought to have thought of that beforehand."
41 Well, how could I tell that tho woman
was going to put it into my hands, and
It was a small word, but there was a
sentence full of meaning in it.
Without Btopping to detail tho confusion,
inconvenience and embarrassments,
which this new comer introduced into the
bachelor's household, it will be sufficient to
state that a family was found who were
willing to adopt it. It was joyfully resigned
by its transient proprietor, who is
more confirmed in his bachelor habits than
Rising in the World.?You should bear
constantly iu mind that nine-teutlis of us
are, from tho very nature and necessities
of the world, boru to gain a livelihood by
tho sweat of the brow. What reason have
we, then, to presume that our children are
not to do the same 1 If tliey bo, as now !
and then one will be, endowed with extraordinary
powers of mind, those powers
may have an opportunity of developing
themselves; and if they never have that
opportunity, the harm is not very great to
us or to them. Nor does it hence follow
that the descendants of laborers are always
t? be laborers.
The path upwards is steep and long, to
be sure. Industry, care, skill, excellence,
in the present paront, lay the foundation of
a rise, under more favorable circumstances,
for the children^ ..The children of tho these
take another by-and-by the descendants
of the"*pfesent laborer become
geutlemen. This is the natural progress.
It is by attempting to reach the top at a
single leap that so much misery is produced
in the world; and the propensity to make
such an attempt has been cherished and
encouraged by the strange projects that we
bave witnessed of late years for making
the laborers virtuous and happy by giving
them what is called education. The education
which I speak of, consists in bringing cbil*
dren up to labor with steadiness, with care,
and with skill; to show them how to do
( as many usefull things as possible; to teach
them to do all in the best manner; to
set them an example in industry, sobriety,
, cleanliness and neatness; to make all tbese
habitual to therri/so that they never shall
be liable tov foil into the contrary j to let
. thorn alwayaf*ee a. good living proceeding
^ from- from tiWm;
v:^. * -f
A' -'i, ?; ? V*. .*?
from Riuuir* Magazine.
DEPASTURE OF YOUTH.
At what time of life docs youth end 1
We lately heard this question discussed by m<
parties of various nges nnd experience.? 8(31
One assigned one period?another, another
?twenty, twenty-live, thirty. AH differed, UP
nnd we think all were wrong. The truth,
of course, is, that it is impossible to fix m
any preciso limits to the period of youth; cr<
| that it varies with character and circuin- sei
stance; nnd that in many cases it melts
so imnerccntiblv into 111.111 linrwl tlmt. nr> Pe
* ? - ' I
survey, however thoughtful or minute, can 8C<
trace tho dividing line. As boyhood ends ow
with the first blush of love, so at any 13
age, grief, misfortune, may close the gates P?
of youth upon us forever. In such instnuccs
tho transition is marked and sudden,
liko tho fall of trophic night. But ^1S
amid quiet scenes and happy fortunes, the rc<
mind matures with tho slow process of a co
vegetable. Unreflecting persons let the ^ei
years go by like mile stones which they mi
aro too indolent to reckon. As a ship, under
tho influence of a gentle breeze, is lifted m
along the sloping current of a river to the
I 1 ? It 1
height of a thousand feet above tho sea,
so, unconscious and observant, these people an
glide softly from youth to manhood, from
manhood to old age! Soruo startling
change in themselves?perhaps tho growth S?
of more than one lustrum, yet unnoted till ,n
its completion?awakes them, liko a blow,
to the consciousness of approaching grey ur
I The lifo of boyhood is not less bu&y and th
stirring than that of manhood. The rival
lies in scliool mid out of it?tlio ambition Tl
and tbo struggle?the success and the dis'appointments?the
friendships, heart-burn- T'
iiigs, and enmities?the boisterous sport, c)'
and the bittor ridicule?call forth, in a nn
smaller degree only, the same passions oc
which tear the heart and stir the spirit on I-"tbc
larger theatre of the world. And be- 'ef
f IWAfln 4 1 ? Af A ???? ^ T *xlv
?iTvgu mwu 6>v?j sittiub?iiKu an mciiaii vu
summer with its atmosphere of dreams? y?
comes the most delicious period of all.? va
The fever of boyhood is over, the ripo pur- y?
poses of the man yet undeveloped. It is a ' b
time of vngue longings, indefinite wishes,
visions of poetry and love ! an
When these vague longings begin to ^ft<
concentrate into a Riglo passion, wo are approaching
manhood. As often, youth ends bu
with a disappointment which, like the shock
of cold water in iho morning, startles us 'ai
from our dreams, and compels us to think on
of action. ve
The ltomans continued to call a man tei
"adolescents" at forty. Such an epithet P?
applied at this day to one of thirty, would dy
sucrcrcst to US tllO fftrlaml nn ?1iA nnra r\( W0
Bottom. However, the custom speaks volumes
io favor of the early Romans. In g?
the nineteenth century one might die an thi
old man at thirty-five. he
It is melancholy to see how rapidly we ne
contrive in America to get over the golden spi
period of youth. In the life of not a few ha
individuaals, we believe there is actually wtl
no youth at all! "What a loss 1 "When- up
ever we look upon a man of twenty, (lie is " t
known at a glanco,) we aro reminded of a thi
story which we Lave read somewhere, in
which, to punish some cold- hearted and practical
plodder, a good spirit deprives him of the
beautiful faculty of dreaming.
It is impossiblo to bo youthful always, it
is not impossiblo to carry many of our ^
youthful feelings iuto manhood, and even 685
into ago. We.ourselves have just slopped ??
into the responsibilities of maturity, but we P?
hope to see for a long time yot, '' 1
"A glory in the grass, a splendor in the flower/
Life is worth something even when ca.
TTOnlW' *o noah ntwl 1- * ?
j VMU1 10 I'uav | auu UUIIU UUk JIUTbUIIB Ul UI1- "*
imaginative temperaments will find it altogetber
insipid. Though it be a desert, over- 8''
head are a sky and stars! bt
In a vague recollection of the emotions th
of childhood and youth, (and undoubtedly w
of dreams also,) we find an explanation of iti
the feeling of preexistence. A morning or iri
a sun-set sky, a leaf, a flower, a soft touch di
of the breeze, wake some old but long silent
chord in our bosoms; and alas 1 years ec
of business or sorrow have put, in effect at 01
least, so many centuries betweeu ourselves 111
and childhood, we stand u'
"At such a distance from onr youth in sin,'-!, .to
that we refer .jfteir dimly remembered emo- su
tions to another and impossible life! w
IT.. ; ? _i * - ?
juuggiua uhu ? Biiiirp porter, i nis cnnp g(
returned from the pm offica tho other day ^
With Muggin's papers, and informed him
that there was a letter id the post-office
that he cotildn't get. **
" Couldn't gol it! why couldn't you get
it, you stupid!"
M There's five cents to pay on it.M v'
MWhy didu't you |>ay for itl" asked
Muggins, with indignation.
" I hadn't cents enough!" replied the cj
urchin grinning welly. ^ '
"You fool !n said Muggins stoiming,
u here take this five cento and get that let,*
ter in little less.tfron no time r .
" No use. I tell vfln." wnli'itrf-ilia'
Wmo have it."
* ^0 au^jthey Wt?ra like to ^
- ^? " **
NT TO FEMALES WHO RIDE IN RAILROAD
A correspondent of the Cincinnati comjrcial
is to bo credited witli tho following
A gentleman entered tho "ladies' car"
on ono of the eastern roads, and as tho
y was chilly appropriated au entire seat
the vicinity of tho stove. Passengers
>\vded in at every station, and soon every
it was taken except tho one occupied by
inself. Presently two ladies (so they apared)
entered tho car, and as 110 one
;ined inclined to offer a vacancy at his
rn discomfort, our friend, whose gallantry
proverbial, gathered un his shawl.
rtmanteau and himself, arose, motioned
o ladies forward, assisted them into the
lit, and took a standing position not far
stant. Not so much as a smilo or bow
jognized tho kindness?it was evidently
nsidered a mark of respect duo to
Male dignity?a privilege which any getlem
might he proud to acknowledge.
"Coolly done," remarked an individual
juxtaposition to our friend.
Decidedly," was tho laughing reply,
>ut I'll give them a lesson by-and-hye,
d one they'll be likely to remember."
" Why, thee won't say anything, surely !"
"Indeed I will?the opportunity is too
iod to be lost; and somewhat annoyed, it
ust be confessed, though les3 tho loss of
3 seat than by tho rudeness of its
igraoious occupants; ho walked away to
o window and occupied his vision with
? 11.: m.. ..i A
u LiiiiiyM uikiiuuL. ^vuuiiiur siauou?
lotlier stop?the ladies rose to depart,
ley had nearly readied the door, when
clear, matily voice called out " Ladies."
icro was a gcffcral htish, whilo every
c was turned upon the serene counte,nco
of our traveller. " Ladies, you have
cupied mv seat during the ride from
, and I cannot allow you to
ive without expressing my senso of tho
ligation, also tlie hope that when next
11 enter a crowded car and a gentleman
cates his seat for your accommodation,
u will at least have the politeness to
A. shout of applause rewarded tho speaker
d the ladies (?) lowering their confused
;cs, retreated hastily to digeBt as best
cy might this suddon but merited rcke.
Did overr ladv psnrrisill v mpto imimn
^ J 4 J V
iy?know thero is always in every car,
mibus, steamboat or other public conyance,
notwithstanding the ordinary exrnal
aspect of its occupants, a self-npinted/ury
watching her actions, and reato
pjiss sentence thereon, she would look
>11 to her "manners," and, in cultivating
ose indispensable outward semblances of
od will, she would unconsciously foster
e germs of an active and wide spreading
nevolence. Unobtrusive words of kindss
cost nothing beyond the effort of
eaking, and many a weary pilgrimage
s been brightened thereby. A simple i
hank you," coined in the heart and rung
on the lips with the genuine sound of <
rue metal," is a more efficient weapon I
an the sword of the conqueror.
Misfortune.?To eseane misfortune is t
v - - A ~ I
want instruction, and to live at ease is ,
live in ignorance. As no man can on- ,
/ happiness without thinking that he en- \
/s it, tho experience of calamity is nec- ,
sary to a just sense of better; for the
>od of our prcseut etato is merely com- (
rativc, and the evil which every man feels ,
11 be sufficient to disturb and harrass ,
m, if he does not know how much he espes.
The lustre of diamonds is invigorad
by the interposition of darker bodies;
e lights of a picture are created by the
ades. Tho highest pleasure which nature
is indulged to sensitive perception, is
at of rest after fatigue ; yet that state
bicli labor heightens into delight is of
self only easo, and is incabable of satisfyig
the mind without the suporaddition of
Prosperity, as is truly assorted by Sen:a,
very much obstructs the knowledge of
irselves. No man can form a just eatiate
of his own powers by unactive specation.
That fortitude which has encoun
red no dangers, that prudence which has
irmonnted no difficulties, that integrity
hich has been attacked by no temptaons,
can at best be 'considered but as
>Id not yet brought to the test, of which
icrefore the true value cannot be assigned.
A lazy by boy makes a lazy roan, as sure
i a crooked twig makes a crooked tree.?
foo ter saw a boy grow up in idleness
tit did not make a shiftless vagabond
ben he became a man, unless he had a
rtune left him to keep Up appearances f
be great mau of thieves, paupers Aid
iraroais tfcat tm our penitentiaries and
mshouses, have come to what they are
r beirtg^ brought up in idleness* Those
ho constitute the business part of our
mmtmity?tboae who make our great
id uueful men-gjera trained ia their ear
A SNAKE TALE.
Snys the lawyer : 44 Animals sometimes '*
vory nearly approach reason in their dinning.
I got interested in the sludy of serpents
down in Arkansas, where I spent the
most of last year. I don't know why, but
I was constantly watching thein nnd test
ing their sagacity, by placing them in new
situations, and surrounding them with novel
expedients. Of nil kinds I experimented
most with rattlesnakes and copper heads. ' ?
Ono afternoon I seated myself on a little
knoll in the woods to smoke and read?for
I always had a hook or newspaper with
ine?and had heen enjoying myself for
some time, when I espied a copperhead
making for a hole within ten feet ot whore
I sat. Of course I threw down my hook
and cigar, aud proceeded to try a new /experiment.
As soon as I stirred, the rascal
mado a rush for the hole; hut I caught his
tail as ho got nearly in, aud jerked him
60inc twenty feet' backward. Ho throw
himself into a coil in no time, and waited
for mo to pitch in. But I concluded to let
him try his hole again. After a while ho
started for it, stopping when I stirred to
coil himself up; hut I kept pretty quiet, . ~v '
he recovered confidence and went in.?
Again l jerked Inm out. Jfo sooner did
he hit the ground than he made n grand
rush for the hole in a straight line for my.
legs ! But that didn't work, I got out the
way and gave him another flirt; This time
he lay still awhile, appearing to reflet on
tho course to be taken. After n time ho
tried it again, though rather slowly. After
getting his head a little way in, he stopped
and wiggled his tail, as if on purpose for
me to grab it. I did so; and quicker than
a flash he drew his head out, and enmo
within a quarter of an inch of striking me
in the face. However, I jerked him quite
a instance, ancl resolved to look out for him
tlio next time. Well, bo tried the same
gamo again, bvt it wouldn't worlc~I waa.
too quick for bim. Tbis time bo lay in a
coil balf an bour without moving. At
hist, lie tried it once more. He^dvanced
to witbin five feet of tlio hole very slowly,
coiled again, and then, by the heavens!
got the start of me by one of the cutest
tricks you ever beard of."
"How was that?" we all exclaimed in
" Why," said the narrator, sinking his
voice to the acmo of solemnity, and lookinor
M ImniKl nrwl ortKni. no O -? ,J
?0 v* Mwitrw* iH a man VUUIU
look, " why be just turned his head toward
my hand, and went down that hole tail
Good Humor.?Good humor may be defined
a habit of being pleased ; a constant
and perennial softness of manner, easiness
of approach, and suavity of disposition;
like that which every man perceives in
himself, when the first transports of new
felicity have subsided, and his thoughts are
only kept in motion by n slow succession
of soft impulsos. Good humor is a state
between gaiety and unconcern; the act or
smanation of a mind at leisure to regard
the gratification of another.
It is imagined by many, that whenever
Liiey aspire to please, they are ^required to
be merry, and to show the gladness of (heir
souls by flights of pleasantry, and bunts
of laughter. But though these men niay
be for a time heard with applause and admiration,
they seldom delight us-along.?
Wo enjoy them a little, and then rctire'to
easiness and good humortas the eye gases
awhile on eminences glittering with tile
sun, but soon turnB aching away to verdure
nnd to flowers. .
Gaiety is to good humor as animal perfumes'to
vegetable fragrance; the one overpowers
weak spirits, and the other recreates
and revives them. Gaiety seldom: fails to , .
give some pain ; the hearers either strain
faculties to accompany its towering, or
are left bohind in envy and despair. Good
humor boosts no factlliiffe whiftli avai-tt nno
... ? ?J
docs not believe iu his own power^ ?nd
pleases principally by not offending.
Not long since, a youth, oldefin wit
than in years, after being catechised concerning
the power of Nature, repl|od : 'M?,
I think .there's one thing Nature ban't do.
What is 1tf eagerly inquired the mother-?
She can't make Bill Jones's moulii^i>y-,bigger
without setting his ears back.
** ** Vf/:
It should rather be our desire to use
what we learn, thhn to romemWHfc?\ Irire
desire to use it. we shall rememK?* It nt
course; if wo wisirlmerely to remember it
it is possible we may never use it.?Sampson
Reed. # f
It is with lffe as with ceflfeo, he wbo #
woWftf drinfcit pure must not drain it to the
dlega. h - ' - JfeThere
is one satisfaction in owning a
close mouth?it retains all the foolish, as
well as the wise words one's heart.
Complaints of bad luck are oftenrouodabout,
shallow apologies for indolence or
carelessness. & .
Harsh T^ordB areL like hailstones, whicb,
if SelMthe Wndw planU
Ihey batter dow*
citfRMhion's votaries have two /auUjS?tbef ^
are-hollow-headed as well aa fttofldfclNttrt'
y i- 4*4V&r> *?***?*" " *
It U easy tp look do*n on 6ihw? ; to
Mt 4?f # difflottiiy.
VWf04&* 8??* horw 10 tlw ?tab!?,
but jad? ot? a jonrnijr.