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7- : .'
THE EVENING HYMN.
BY THOMAS .1111.1.1 K, BASKET .MAKER.
tlow many days, willi mute adieu,
Have pone down yon untrodden si: j !
(gftd still it looks as' clear and blue
As wlieti it first was hung on high.
The rolling mm, the frowning cloud' '
Tfiut drew tlie lightning in its rear,
' The thunder, 'tn"pi"g deep and loud,
Have left no foolmark (here.
The village bells, with silver chime,
Come softened by the distant shore;
Though I have heard them many a t i mo,
They never rang so sw eet before.
A silence rests upon the hill,
, A listening ave pervades the air;
They very flowers are shut and still,
And bowed as if in prayer.
And in this hushed and breathlrss close,
O'er earth, and air, and sky, and sea,
Y That sljll low voice in silence goes,
Which speaks alone, great God of Thee.
The whispering leaves, rlie far olF brook.
The linnet's warble, fainter giown,
The hive-bound bee, the lonely rook,
AH these their Maker own.
Now shine tlie starry hosts of light,
Gazing on earth with golden eyes;
llrirvlil rvllfivtl! .in tf fill, til itu-fintti rwl ti!r1i(
What are ye in your native sl.ies ?
I know not! neither can I know,
Nor on what leader ye attend,
Nor whence ye came, no'r whither go,
1 Nor what your aim or cud.
I know; they must, be holy tilings
That from a roof so sacred chine,
Where sounds (he beat ol angcl-uings,
. And footsteps echo all divine.
Their mysteries I never sought,
, No hearken to what science tells ;
For oh 1 in. childhood I was taught
That God amidst (hem dwells.
The darkening woods, the fading trees,
The grasshopper's last feeble sound,
The'ilowers just wakened by the breeze,
All leave-the stillness more profound.
The twilight lakes a deeper shade,
I The dusky pathways blacker grow,
And silence reigns in glen und glade
All, all is mule below.
. .'i . ( r, ' . '"'
And other eves as sweet as this
Will close upon its calm a day,
And, linking do'vn the deep abyss,
Will, like the last, be swept away,
Until eternity s gained,
That boundless sea without a shore,
That without lime forever reigned,
And will wb,en time's no more.
No nature sinks in soft repose,
; A living sterablunce of the grave
The dew eteale noiseless on the rose,
The boughs have almost ceased to wave;
The silent sky,' the sleeping earth,
Tree, mountain, stream, the humble sod,
All tell Aom Whom tbey had their birth,
Andcry.hoIdaGod." ' ,
JIn Boston there pre 257 pbysio!an8,
besides 8 female p'ractilioners, registered
in the directory, and 18 Thomsonian pVao-'
tidohers iif.jaY.ous'parts'or the city.
- From the Young People's Mirror.
DOJi'T BECOME RICH 1GM.
BY MRS. SIGOURN EY.
.... . . 7. . ....
"l ve lost my wiiole lortune," said a
merchant as he returned one evening to
iiishome; "we, can no longer keep our
carriage. We must leave this large IrOuse.
The children can no longer go to expens
ive schools. Yesterday I was a rich man.
io-any there is nothing that X can Call my
"Dear husband," said the wife, "we
are still rich in each other and our chil
dren. Money mny pass away, but God
has given us a better treasure in those ac
tive hands and loving hearts."
'Dear father," snid the children, "do
not look so sad. We will help you to get
"What can you do, poor things?" said
"You shall see, you shall sec," an
swered several cheerful voices. "It is a
pity if we have been to school for noth
ing. How can the father of eight chil
dren be poor? We shall work and make
you rich again."
"I shall help," paid the youngest girl,
hardly four years old. "I will not have
any new things bought, and I shall sell my
The heart of (lie husband and father,
which had sunk within his bosom like a
stone, was lilted up. The sweet enthu
siasm of die scene clmcred him, und his
nightly prayer was like a song of praise.
They iel'l his stalely house. The ser
vants were dismissed. Pictures and plale,
rich carpets and furniture Here sold; and
she who had been so long mistress of the
mansion, shed no tear. "Pay every debt,"
siid he ; "let no one suffer through us,
and we may yet be happy."
lie rented a neat collage r.ud a small
piece of ground, a few miles from tlie ci
ty. Willi the hi. I ol his sons, he cultiva
ted vegetables- for the market. He vit w
ed with delight mid astonishment. l!'e eco
nomy of his wife, nurtured, us she had
been, in wealth; und the efficiency which
his daughters soon acquired under her
T he eldest, one assisted her in (he work
of the household, and also assisted the
younger ehildren. Besides, they execu
ted various works, which they had learnt
us accomplishments, but w hich they found
coul.J be disposed of lo advantage. They
embroidered w ith taste some of the orna
mental juris of female apparel, which they
readily sold to a merchant in the city.
They cultivated (lowers, and sent bo
nnets lo market, in the carl that conveyed
Hie vegetables; ihey plaited straw; they
painted maps ; they executed plain necd'.e
wor!;. Every one was at her post, busy
and cheerful. The collage was like a
"I never enjoyed such heath before,"
said the father.
"And 1 was never so happy before,"
sa'd the mother.
"We never knew how many things we
could do, when we lived in the great
house," said ihc children ; "and w e love
each other a great deal better here, you
call us your lillle bees."
"Yes," replied the father, "and you
make just such honey as the heart loves
to feed on."
Economy as well as industry was strict
ly observed, nothing was wasted. Noth
ing unnecessary was purchased. The eld
est daughter became assistant teacher in a
distinguished female seminary, and the
second took her place as instructress to
The little dwelling which had always
been kept neat, they were soon able to
beautify. Its construction was improved;
vines and flow ering trees were planted a
round it. The merchant was happier un
der his woodbine covered porch, in a sum
mer's evening, than he had been in his
"Weare now thrivingand prosperous,"
said lie; "shall we again return lo the
"Ol no, no," was the unanimous reply.
"Let u remain," said the wile, "where
we have found health and contentment."
"Father," said the youngest, "all we
children hope you are not going to be rich
again ; for then," she added, "we lillle
ones were shut up in the nursery, and we
did not see much of you or mother. Now
we all live together ; and sister, who loves
us, teaches us, and we learn to be indus
trious and useful. We were none of us
happy when we were rich, and did not
work. So father, please not to be rich
man any more." . , ;
A NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING
"We shall be very happy' together J"
said Louisa lo her aunt, the evening be
fore the wedding.' And her cheek was
tinged with rich colorand her eyes spark
led with soul-felt happiness. When a
WARSAW, MISSOUFJ, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 12, 1348.
young bride says "we," it may easily be
imagined whom she is talking of.
" doubt it not, dearest Louisa," an
swered her aunt, "take heed only piat j on
remain as happy."
"Oh 1 no fear of that, my prudent aunt.
I know myself and my own faults : bill
my love for him will correct them. So
as long as we lov e each oilier, we can nev
er be unhappy ; and our jifi'eelion cannot
"Ah!" said the aunt, sighing, "you
talk like a girl of nineteen on ihe eve ol
marriage in the hey-day of hope and bright
anticipations. Dear child 1 believe ine
even the heart grows old. The day must
come, when the rapture of passion will
decay ; when the illusion is over, and w e
stand revealed in our real characters.
After custom has robbed beauty of its
dazzling charms alter youth has depart
cd, or shadows mingled with the light of
home; then, Louisa, the wife may talk ol
the excellencies of the husband, or tlie
husband of the amiable qualities of his
w ife. But the day I efnre the wedding,
such encomiums go'for nothing with inc."
"I understand you, dear aunt. You
mean to ny the viiluts only of each can
give lasting pleasure to the oilier, Now
for myself I say nothing for 1 can boast
only will; but you cannot deny that my
betrothed is the Lest and most dfttyrving
of all the young men of iLis town? Are
not all virtues that lead to happiness bloom
ing in him 'tu
-1 win !o you noiii justice, answered liert! o vt,UI,,t j10rsci) in ti1B a,joiniii8 mea
lier relative, "and acknowledge lliat vif- tuW- '
lues bloom in bolh ; I can say llial lo you ; Tj)e clicf WB9 a ,vi(1oWPr . lls ' !v ()fr
without flatterr. Hut, my love, they on
iy bloom and need a life lime of rain and
sunshine to ripen ihem. Nu. blossoms
aie more deceitful at the first opening.
We cannot know in what soil they arc
rooted. Who know s Ihe hidden heart r"
' jay, my tiear clnlil, even couui jou
always remain as you are, youlli and beau -
ly would lose the power lo charm, vwili
liabil and their constant presence. Men
prow soon wery of ti e lovlicst face.
Besides, your husband musl grow old him
self; and then youthful manners will cease
lo please him. Your habits, your tasTes,
will no longer be congenial. "
"I could store your memory ," resumed
her aunt, with precepts lo guard your hap
piness. 1 womd ttl you lo beware ol Die
first quarrel ; never lo contend, even in
jest ; lo have no sejrels irom cacli other,
lest Ihe springs ol confidence be insensi
bly snapped ; (h beware of tlie interfer
ence of relatiiius. But these are maxims
which your prudence will sufficiently im
press upon you, and their observance ut
best will have but a negative effect."
"Would you have ihe secret of perpet
ual loyliness. It is treasure not in fea
ture or complexion, but ill soul. Men
worship beauty for the inward graces of
which it is the pledge. Would yon know
how to keep the soul fair ? Ht!i"ion is
ihe only secret for that."
uiusyou see, my love, now nine we
can depend upon personal perleclions ;
now lillle on mental excellencies or ami
able traits of character. But, the virtues
born of, and nourished by religion, are
immortal seek them from Hiin who is the
Author of religion; and seek them daily
from Him. lie assured thus, that you
will ever remain fair and amiable in the
eyes of your husband, and be blessed in
every relation ol lite.
Louisa flung her arms around her aunt's
..i. ......4 lu.i I,.,.. ...nv. in..Pr..i ....no
neck and thanked her, with tearful eyes,
lor her lesson
5r,'l he streets of Paris, during the re
cent insurrection, literally rn with blood.
It is stated by the London correspondent
of tha New York Commercial that one
corps of the National Guards from the
country, marching suddenly into the city,
withdrew, amidst the laughter and exe
cration, of the Garde mobile, ten ified 1 at
a j it B i i . ' ,
Armand Marr.itl staled in the Nutional
Assembly, (hat (j'lhe pavements of Paris
had never before been reddened ly so
; 1 " nations than laws are obeyed among the
The liar. As you would avoid the civilized. Thus no ray of hope lighted
path of sorrow and misery as you would , ,lp the gloomy mind of Alamir. Altho'
turn from a crumbling precipice run from he was one of the handsomest, men of the
the steps of a liaj. His breath will pol- !trjbe, Eunilzuh had looked upon him wili
lulo and destroy. No one can confide in indifferent eye but hence her pure filial
him he is hated by hii companions and;oVe called incessanllv before her mind
shunned by his friends. Should you get
entangled in his net, use your utmost ex
ertion and prudence to regain your former
standing; for unless you do, farewell to all
your hopes to all your joys.
Railroads. The Boston Journal notes
in one paragraph the opening of seven
new railroads in that section of country,
within a few days past,
3A letter from St. Petersburg, of the
2f)th ult., states the strength or the Rus
sian army at 831,200 men,' 108,700 hor
ses, and 2152 guns.
From JilcMikui't Courier.
THE CAUCASIAN LOVERS.
rnANSLAir.D dy castau brituiia csen.
Among (lie inhabited districts of the
Caucasus, towards tlie west of (he A st ra
dian, ihe Great and Lesser Cabnrdas are
distinguished by fertility of soil, luxuri
ous gioH.th ol' wood, and the beautiful
!brms of their inhabitants. The Great
Cabarda is occupied by four tribes, which
bear the family names of (heir prince?;
the Alajuks, Misosls, Beckmirzaiis, and
Kanlukins. Their domicils extend dow n
lo the Caspian Sea. Nature 1 as done
much for these Circassians of the moun
tains, and not less than their valor and
wonderful strength of body, defended them
against hostile incursions; but alas! ihe
rage of internal feuds allows them but lit-
l.lle t0 cl,,v ,hu ulvaMlllgeii o(- tleir
In the year 180-1, the Alajuks united
with their neighbors to carry on war with
the Kiski, who livn in an easterly direc
tion, higher up in (he mountains, along
(he banks of the Siimlja.
Atajnk set out wuii three thousand
horsemen of ihe clan, w hich was named
afier his ancestors. Only women, old
men, and ehildren, with a few warriors,
remained in the habitations scattered thro'
the valley, among which the residence of
Ihe chief was marked by a larger number
of outbuilding, and a more numerous
spring was a daughter, Lunitznh, of the
age of seventeen, liie most beautiful of all
the fair Circassians, llcr dazzling white
ness, her perfect form and gracefulness,
relieved the radiant beauty and regularity
of her features.
Four days passed before news arrived
tlie expedition against the Mountain
eers. On ihe liflh day, when Eunitzah,
with the first ray of ihe morning sun, full
of anxiety hud left the house, anil in com
pany of I cr maids, had gone into a piece
of woods surrounding it, accidentally look
ing towards ihe river, which meandered
through the pasture grounds, she espied a
warrier carried upon a bier near the bank.
Four horsemen accompanied him silent
ly they piocecded on their path which
leads to the Prince's resilience. Uttering
a cry of terrur, she ru-lied down the hill;
for ihe wounded man, she surely thought,
was her father. .She arrived at the very
moment when ihe bier was set down near
an oiit-biiilding. Presently she recogni
zed Alamir, a young officer of the Prince's
"Rejoice, Eunitzah," said the wounded
warrior, in a feeble voice, "the victory is
ours. Atajuk will yet to-day press you
to his hcait."
"I shall rejoice," replied the Princess,
"if Aliinur's wounds ari not alarmig. 1
will send aid."
Soon tinncirpd mi nM wnmnn f-vi-ierif-n.
ceJ ; llpe , j,,.,. jrMS,.j h
.OUIld!l allJ administered a decoction of
-i i -r -
simples, which procured him a deep sleep.
In the evening before sunset, the sound
of arms announced the return of the
Prince. Atajuk's first business was to
visit the officer. His daughter followed
him. The nurse declared the wound not
"Praised be the Prophet I'1- exclaimed
the Prince. "My child, bless Alamir
Id receivej ,ie slroke ,;iri,c,ej lleui'nsl
.... .... .
me. JNuhle youth! I give to thee three
horses and a complete minor, and my
heart will be op'l'i lo thee."
Alamir had distinguished himself in se
veral actions ; perhaps, hon ever, but for
ardent love which lie bore lo this daugh
ter of the Prince, he would not . have
shown daring, which thrnst him on the
enemies who had attacked his chief. This
secret passion had never been revealed to
j ,he b , ' d .. - , cou(l.8Scd
1 K to himself. Could the daughter of the
Prince give her hand to the common war-
rior? Habit and custom of the country
prohibited such a connection, and habits
are mure respected with those barbarous
' Uie image of the pale warrior whose breast
had served as a shield for her parent, and
love i.tole into tier unguarded heart by the
way of gratitude. When she became
conscious of the sentiment, she sighed,
she wept, horror thrilled through her bo-
. ...I,. ..l.l ft...s r
iuj , mio tuuiu uui iciiam iruui saying 10
herself "An insurmountable wall sepa.
rales me Irom Mm whom 1 love; even
(he consolation of dovbt, of uncertainty is
not left to me. Ancient usage rules sove
reign over prince and warriors, rich and
poor, old and young. No, no, .Eunitzah
can die, but never be, united to tlie war
rior who saved her futhcr.V These and
similar thoughts tilled her soul, and rea
son would not admit a single ray of hope.
Atajuk reviewed his warriors in an o
pen plain. Eunitznh walked unperceiv
ed into a grove of rliidodendron intersect
ed by a brook. Also Alamir had retreat
ed lo its shade, absorbed with thoughts of
nis love. JUiscovcrmg llunitzah, he en
deavors to flee, and his strength fails him,
lie wavers and sinks at her feet.
"Why dost thou try to avoid me?" she
commenced speaking. "I love thee!
Twice the leaves of the trees have drop
ped since I first saw thee; but I did not
love thee. Thou hast saved the life of
my father, and the waves of the great sea
are not so movable as is my bosom when
thinking of (bee. Why wilt thou flee
from me ?"
"Dare I believe it?" exclaimed the
young warrior ; "my dream of last night,
iu which' 1 sa'v thee addressing to me
the same kind words which thou hast pro
nounced my dream is not mere fancy :
thou lovest ine, thou forgivest me?"
"I forgive thee, I love thee! But ne
ver will our hands be entwined in each
other in the holy grove. Thou knowest
not to whom I am affianced."
"Oh, do not Call the hateful name I All
my blood revolts against it."
"Yes, rather death limn such a marriage.
I will speak to my father; he shall know
for whom my heart beats. Atajuk! I
shall say lo him, cither my window must
open for your deliverer, or (lie grave will
receive your only daughter."
Her lips touched the breast of Alamir,
and she disappeared in the thicket fleeter
than the gazelle, speedier than the hind
btfore the arrow of the hunter.
1 Day passes after day, but Eunitzah ven
tures not to speak of her love. Atajuk
observes his daughter withering away
like the (lowers of the field.
"My child," says he, "has Allah touch
ed thee in his wrath ? Why do thy tears
flow ? I will give up my flocks, my most
splendid arms, lo recall a smile to thy lips,
color to thy cheeks, to hear again thy mer
ry ditty ring in the mountains and valleys."
O, f'aiher," answered Eunitzah, "what
is the use of riches? Poverty is what I
cove! ; for poor is (by deliverer."
"He is the beloved one of my soul ; for
him I will die."
Struck with this avowal, the Prince co
vered his face with his hands. His daugh
ter thinks him angry; lie is only affected.
He loves Alamir like a sou since the day
he saved his life; whence shall he take
courage to reproach his daughter for her
feelings ? He becomes sad and pensive
like her; like her he seeks solitude.
iien he meets Alamir, he accosts him :
"Youth, why didst thou not let me be
pierced by the iron of the enemy ? 'J'hou
hast saved my life, and precipitated my
daughter into the grave."
"My Prince," responded Alamir, seiz
ed with alarm, "I will mount my charger
and hurry into the large forest, and thou
shall never see me again."
"My daughter would follow thee."
"Command, and I will plunge iuto the
torrent of the stream, even blessing the
parent of Eunitzah.". !,
"My daughter would rush afler thee.
Eunitzah is gentle as a dove; but her
heart is fiercer and prouder than the glance
of the eagle. No more of. despair 1 Ne
ver will the nuptial hymns be sung for my
"Command, Atajuk, and I will obey
thee faster than the thunder does the liglit
inni." "What can I want thee to do ? No hu
man arm draws the arrow which penetra
ted Eunitzah's bosom, out of ihe wound.
Her hand is promised to the son of our al
Jy, the chief of the Beekmirzans, who is
more powerful than our clan, and boasts
of a number of horsemen as superior to
ours as the large river is to, the lillle
stream. Soon the day will come when 1
must fulfil my promise, or I will see a fo
rest of lances raised on yonder hill. Al
amir, thy prince is very unhappy. Why
didst thou save him from death ?"
"O, that my death '
"No, the life of my daughter art thou,
whom I dare not call my son." . No ray
ct hope appeared to cheer them. Atajuk,
perhaps, by his influence, by the venera
tion pLiid to his authority, might have ap
peased the prejudice of his nation, and
could have given his daughter to. the war
rior who saved his life the old men rec
ollected a precedent but how escape the
wrath of the allied prince, who was capa
ble of the most terrible vengeance ? how
sacrifice the interest of Ilia country to the
interest of his family P
WJien Ihe Circassians are .not at war,
either'among themselves or with the Rus
sians, they combat tlicunimals of the for
estexcitement seems a natural want to
this people. Atajuk started qu a hunt of
the boar, accompanied by thirty men. A
lainir was of the party. Unfortunately,
eagerness in chasing the game led th.em
beyond the limits of their usual excur
sions. They met a corps of Cossacks, by
far superior in numler. The . nature of
the ground rendered flight difficult. An
action commenced. , Atajuk fell pierced
by the first bullets of the enemy. , A ter
rible conflict follows the first tiring-. A
lamir performs wonders of bravery to save
the. corpse of the prince ; for, like the he
roes of the Bias, the Circassians never per
mit their dead companions in arms lo be
come a prey to Ihe foe. He succeeds, af
ter havuig killed three Cossacks.. Profit
ing by the disorder in which his courage-'
has thrown the enemies, he charges his
steed with a double burden, and leaves
with his small retinue. The Cossacks '
soon gave up pursuing the warriors of
Caucasus on their dangerous roads un
known to them; nor would the attempt
have availed, on account of the swifiness
of the Circassian horses.
Alamir sends a messenger in advance,
lo announce the calamity lo the princess.:
He stops at a spring to cfeanse the dead
body of th s chief from blood and dust.
Ere long the cry of loment is heard. Ev
ry body hastens to the path which leads
to the spring. Women, children, old men,
warriors, break out in wailing. Amidst
the disconsolate crowd stands Eunitzah in
her grief, like a young oak struck by light
ning. The women surrounding her can
hardly restrain the outburslings of dien
grief. Sobbing, she throws herself on
(he corpse of her father, and in a tone ot
reproach she exclaims
"Alamir! Alamir! why has thy cour
age not a second time the life of thy
"Eunilzah," replied the young hero,
"(he discharge of the gun is quicker .thani
steel. Why did the bullet, which killed
thy fathey, not hit me ? But I have re
venged my prince, and thou canst wet
with tears his grave." .
Slowly they proceeded to the house.
Every one coutests the honor to carry the
mortal remains of Atajuk. ' ;
The day afler the funeral an assemblr
of (he people is called lo decide the fate of
the lovers. The old men decree, that Eu
nilzah, agreeably lo the former contract,
be married to (he son of Beekmirzan, and .
ihe young chief be declared prince and
successor of Atajuk. . In vain Eunitzah
protests that it was impossible foi her to
have the nuptial song so soon succeeding
to the dirge. In objection lo her refusal, ,
the Council represents lo her the hecessi-.C
ty of electing a new chief, and the fear of
a war with the Russians or Mountaineers.
Eunitrah yields apparently, and the fe
rocious Ormiassin exults in joy j he be
lieves already in the possession of the
most beautiful maiden of the valley, the
rich domain and pow er of Atajuk. . i .
The day is appointed, to-morrow the
ancient league of bolh tribes is to be con
firmed by a new alliance satisfactory lo
all desires and interesls The young girls
are busy to ornament the dwelling of Eu
nitzah with garlands of flowers. The
young warriors run from place to place,
mingling amorous ditties with the sounds
of the musical band st their head. Alu.
mir is their leader, and his gaiety surpass
es the joyousness of all. .; j ,
The shadows of night interrupt the noi- ,
sy preparations cr a ceremony which is to
commence with the first rays of new
sun that is lo greet bolh tribes united thro
lllA V ,11 Oil flit Mmivvl- 1, k ..1 .. -
j n v ii .tic tiui i u v e.
According to the ancient custom of ibis
people, the night preceding marriage to
oe spent in devotion and prayer;. to in
dulge in sleep would be impious. . Eunit- .
zaii dresses in the virginal robe, and w inds
the wreath of innocence in her hair. -Next
lolhe apartment in which she keeps ,'.
lonely vigils, are her playmates in the fi-, ,
nest attire. Everv hour Eunitzah m&ke.a'
her voice heard, and recites, some verse
oi i ne nymenial saner, which are resnond.
ed to by her companions. Then all be
comes silent again until the next hour. "
While the choir answers tha rinnA ilmrn
Eunitzah open, the door and calls in '
child that is affectionately attached to her. '
She says iv. ..., ; , T
"My head burns, I must take ihe air.
Uemuui here. . I cannot go so lo the holy .
grove to-morrow. Come, my darling, '
lake my place, and when my playmates
sing the third vere, answer, Imitatinir toy
voice.. Pay attention to the hour glass.-,
Before the first dawn of morn I shall le "
back again." .' ,,. , .
Th child, proud of the confidence ef
her mistress, lakes' her place.-, Eunitzah,';
wraps herself up in her veil, conceals
dagger in the. folds of her garment, as- f
capes through ihe window, and proceedt ,
tow ards the holy-grove. . , '
. uaric is ine night--Us silence is inter- i.
rupled ey.the nuptial song dying away in -the
distance. Shahas passed tuot of the
woods the dwellings are out of sight j
the forest .receives her. A wide Bath,
bringa her to tlie hurst dedicated lo tha sa
cred celebraiion. Nobody is allow 4, tin
del the penalty ol death, to enter it ex-
cept on foblival days.
' It !- .1.... . 1 . . . . .
. s nun mai pun in onmeu lotne
detested Prince. She enter the sublime