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The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, January 13, 1860, Image 2

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83016751/1860-01-13/ed-1/seq-2/

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VOL. XI.—NO. 40
[This calmly beautiful poetry appeared, |
original, in “ Ike Independent," written ;
upon the passage, “Man goeth forth unto |
his work, and to his labor, until the even- 1
The stream is calmest when it uears the tide, |
And flowers are sweetest at the eventide,
And birds most musical at close of day,
And saints divinest when they pass away.
Morning is lovely, but a holier charm
Lies folded elose in Evening’s robe of balm ;
And weary man must ever love her best,
For Morning calls to toil, but night to rest. i
"he comes from Heaven, and on her wings !
doth bear j
A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer;
Footsteps of angels followed in her trace,
To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace.
All things are hushed before her, as she throws !
O’er earth and sky her mantle of repose ;
There is a calm, a beauty, and a power
That Morning knows not, in the evening hour, j
Until the evening” we must weep and toil,
Plow life's stern furrow, dig the weedy soil,
Ti ead with sad feet our rough and thorny way, 1
And bear the heat aud burden of the day.
«»k when our sun is setting may we glide,
Like Summer evening, down the golden tide ; j
And leave behind us as we pass away,
> weet, starry twilight round our sleeping clay ! j
From the Church Journal.
Every body knows who Barabbas was ; J
and his name and character are held in gen- i
eral abhorrence.
But is not this the effect of Christian !
prejudice? Are we not visiting upon his,
head the sins of the real and great villains
d the times—the chief priests and scribes |
and rulers of the people—who, for hatred of!
our Lord, taught the people to “ ask Bar
rabbas,” in order to “ destroy Jesus ?” Is j
it not possible that Barabbas, viewed thro’
the clearer spectacles of modern enlighten
ment, may appear to be no such very
reprobate individual after all? May there
not have been good reasons why he should
.-jHiutaneously have been named as the pop- j
ular lavorite, rather than any other prisoner,
ti i be released by the Governor at the Feast ?
The reasons are at once apparent, the
m ment we begin to investigate the state of j
public affairs at Judea at the time ; and the \
close connection between Barabbas aud the
politics of that day in that part of the world, j
is equally self-evident and significant. Iu j
the minds of the great majority of the !
•Jewish nation—a nation that had always j
been stiff-necked and rebellious—there was j
a deep conviction ol an irrepressible con- j
tiict, that must sooner or later be fought out
between themselves and their masters the
Romans, who had reduced them to the con
dition of a subject province, made them pay
tribute, taken from them the right to have
kings or princes of their own nation, and
denied them the privilege of inflicting death
according to the laws laid down in the
Books ol Moses. In these and various other
oppressive ways the Romans had reduced
them to a condition which they regarded as
their bitterest affliction, and little better
than slavery. True, it was God’s providence
that had brought all this upon them, in
punishment for the abominable sins of them
selves and their nature, which had been
accumulating more and more for many gen
erations. True, their own prophets bad
foretold the very doom that they were then
suffering, and the incomparably greater
miseries that were yet to follow if they per
sisted in their wicked ways. Aud yet they
persisted. And as every successive year
their strength grew weaker, and the Romans
grew stronger, still, with a strange pervers
ity. their conviction aud hopefulness of the
irrepressible conflict took deeper and deeper
hold of the secret heart of the nation, and
was the one and only nerve that thrilled
through the whole laud whenever it was
touched. In all these things they were
hopelessly divided into sects and parties,
that hated one another with only less intens
ity than they had the Homans.
Xow it is evident that Barabbas was a
firm believer in the irrepressible conflict.
The chief priests and scribes aud popular
leaders preached it up all the while, but
were careful to keep themselves out of
harm’s way when any attempt was really
made to meddle with cold iron. Whenever
it was necessary to keep their highly respec
table selves out of the clutches ol the Ro
mans, they were ready enough to protest
with hypocritical promptness and earnest
ness, “ We know no king but Cai3ar!”—
This they did freely, but the thing was per
fectly well understood throughout the whole
lend of .J udea, and notwithstanding all their
protestations to Pontius Pilate, everybody
knew their sympathies were on the side of
freedom—as they understood it. Barabbas,
however, was more honest and brave, or less
politic than the leaders of the national party
to which he belonged. With a straightfor
wardness which scorned the hypocrisy of
the Scribes and Pharisees, and with a lofty
courage and cool hardihood of daring which
the world has seldom seen surpassed, he, with
bis small band of followers, defied the tre
mendous power of imperial Rome, and began
the irrepressible conflict. Poor fellow! he
must have been desperately disappointed at
the result 1 He knew his motives to be
patriotic, and took it for granted that the
people for whom he wa3 risking so much,
would flood to his standard in overflowing
thousands. But they preferred staying at
home, possibly hoping and wishing that he
might succeed in doing the fighting, but
evidently thinking it too wild and risky to
take any part in themselves. So he and
those who made insurrection with him suc
ceeded only in “ committing murder,” —that
is, killing a few people, aud perhaps by no
means those whom he desired to kill—and
th< n they were speedily overpowered, cap
tured, and for some time “ lay bound in
But, of course, Barabbas became at once
a notable prisoner. Every other believer in
the irrepressible conflict sympathized with
him, and his name was in their mouths iu
all the cities, towns, villages and hamlets,
from Dan to Beersheba. Though they were
all ready to disclaim any responsibilty for
his deed of violence and blood—for there is
a great deal of difference between only
entertaining a dangerous opinion, and being
such a madcap as to act upon it—yet they
were unanimously agreed that Barabbas
was admirably brave; that his error was
only an error of the head, not of the heart;
and that if he had only succeeded, he would
have been a hero, instead of being, as he
was, a “ robber,” aud a “ murderer,” and
very likely to be hanged on a tree.
There is one excuse for Barabbas, how- i
ever, that must not be forgotten. Those j
whom he was so anxious to deliver were of
his own race and nation—of his own flesh
aud blood. He had no idea of any such
Quixotism as undertaking an insurrection
for the benefit of a different race. It was
not to deliver the Samaritans, or the rem
nants of the Caananites in the laud, or the
Philistines, or the Moabites, or the Edom
ite3, or the dwellers in Tyre and Sidon, or
the yet more distant subjects of Candace,
queen of Ethiopa, that he took up arms, and
perilled his life and the lives of his follow
ers. The sufferings and oppressions of those
other nations and peoples, he very well knew,
were none of his business. He had been
faithful in attendance on the Synagogue,
doubtless (else the chief priests would hardly
have taken so great a liking to him,) and
had often heard read there the words of the
wise King Solomon :—“ He that passeth
by and meddleth with strife belonging not
to him, is like one that taketh a dog by the
ears.” The comparison is very striking,
especially to one who, like Barabbas, was
familiar with the packs of untamed dogs
that act as scavengers iu all the villages and
towns of the East. That there was gross
oppression among those other nations was
true; and, probably, particular cases of it
may have come to his knowledge, and stirred
his indignation at the time. But he re
membered King SolomoD, and bethought
him of the consequences of taking a dog
by the ears. He knew that this method of
proceeding does not really hurt the animal,
and thus might Dot prejudice his excellent
character for kindness and true humanity of
disposition. But he knew 'hat it has a very
irritating effect upon a dog to take him by the
ears, especially if he be a large dog, a strong
dog, and a dog of unsubdued and violent
passion. He knew, also, that the position
is exceedingly inconvenient for the man
that bolds the dog. For though, while
firmly grasping the ears of the brute, and
turuiug them iu a judicious direction, the
dog cannot bite, yet every moment increases
the ferocity of his desire to bite. More
over, the dog, under such circumstances, is
an active and energetic member of the
liberty party, and makes incessant struggles
to recover that full use and enjoyment of
his own ears, to which every dog has an
inalienable right by nature. On reflection,
too, it will be perceived that, in the position
alluded to with such pregnant brevity by
King Solomon, the man’s hands are likely to
ache miserably with the fatigue and exer
tion of holding the dog’s ear 3, loDg before
the dog is tired of trying to get away ; so
that, no matter how long the indulgence in
this awkward amusement is protected, the
chances of the dog are continually getting
better, while those of the man are as rapidly
growing worse. The man’s reflections, too,
as his strength decreases, and his eyes are
fascinated more and more by the long white
teeth that are not far from the dog’s ears,
can hardly be agreeable. He is apt to say
to himself, “ What a fool I was to take this
dog by the ears! I cannot possibly hold on
much longer, and how terribly he will bite
when be is let go! ” Indeed the natural
finale of this affair is unpleasant to look for
ward to, that if we have succeeded in clearly
picturing to the mind of our readers a man
in that uncomfortable predicament, we are
sure we shall be pardoned by them if we
decline to see him through with it, and
prefer, of mere kindness, to leave him hold
ing on still.
But Barabbas, as we have said, was no
such fool; which is not a little to his credit.
He Lad made an attempt for the benefit of
his own nation, aud he knew they under
stood it. He knew they looked forward to
the coming struggle as well as he did ; and
that even were he executed, he would be
reckoned by them a martyr in the cause of
liberty, and his name would be a watchword
on their lips when the great, day of bloody
deliverance should come at last. So he was
fully prepared to die like a hero ; although
the law, and the Romans, and the writers of
the ever-blessed Gospels of God. knew no
other description for him than to call
him a “ robber ” and a “ murderer,” —one
who had made “ sedition ” and “ insurrec
But his time had not yet come to die.
He was to be delivered from prison and
from death, notwithstanding the provocation
he had given, and the wondrous strength of
the Roman arms that held him fast. It is,
indeed, in the means of his deliverance, that
the deepest and most solemn teachings of
his history are given to us, —teachings that
may, perhaps, convey wisdom iu other ages
and other climes. He was the lavorite of
the people, indeed ; but that alone would
not have been enough. Another and a
greater than Barabbas was there. He, too,
was widely known throughout all Judea,
and beyond Jordan, and in Galilee, and Sa
maria, and in the coasts of Tyre and Sidou,
and all the region round about. He, too,
had seen and known the fearful degradation
aDd oppression of His people, and had come
down to earth to deliver them, and offer
them true liberty. He bad fed the hungry,
healed the sick, restored the halt, the maim
ed, the deaf, the dumb, the blind ; cleansed
the lepers, cast out devils, raised the dead,
and wrought innumerable wonders through
out all the land. He had given unto them
Truth—heavenly Truth, —and had opened
unto them them the fountain of everlasting
life. He spake as never inau spake, and
Dot one iu all the laud could convince Him
of sin. Him the popular liberty party had
attacked again and again, and laid every
snare to entangle Him in His talk. The
liberty party, iu those days, refused to be
lieve in a God or a Gospel tliat did not
approve of a conflict ol physical force, to
free them from their masters the Romans.
Every Gospel that came not up to this
standard, was to them a spurious Gospel;
and, short of this, every one that claimed to
be the Christ, they were ready to stone as a
,‘blasphemer.” In their eyes, therefore, the
Lord Jesus was deeply tainted by His com
pliances with the enslaving power of the
Romans. His very birth took place when
Joseph and Mary went up to Bethlehem to
be taxed at the command of a Roman Em
peror. He had healed the child of a Roman
Centurion. He had told them to render
unto Caesar the things that be Caesar’s.
He bad paid the tribute—that odious badge
of subjection—for Himself aud bis follow
ers, by miracle. He had escaped from the
popular party, and hid Himself when they
wished to take Him by force and make Him
a king; and that, too, when He claimed
all the while to be the King of Israel, the
Son of David, and the rightful Heir to
whom God had promised that lie should sit
on David’s throne, and that of His King
dom there should be no end. Iu every way,
and at every point, He had purposely,
pointedly, and repeatedly foiled the liberty
party of His day ; whereas, in all these
respects, Barabbas was the type and symbol
of those very things in which the people
delighted, and in which the Ch-ist had dis
appointed them. To make the antithesis
yet more perfect, the very name of the pop
ular hero was a parody on that of Him who
was rejected and despised ; for Barabbas
signifies “ The Son of the Father.”
The coincidence, then, that led to the
delivery of Barrabas from prison and from
death, was no accident, —no mere empty
chance. Barabbas was a representative man,
as well as Christ. The multitude loved the
one for his crimes ; just as they hated the
Other, because of His intolerable and super
human virtues. They “ desired ” Barabbas
to be delivered unto them, because they
were enthusiastic for the liberty that comes,
so bravely, through insurrection, sedition,
robbery and murder. They cried out against
the Christ in the same breath, “ Crucify
Him, Crucify Him,” because they bad no
love for the more glorious liberty of the sons
of God, and treated with scorn the idea of
a freedom that was to come through obedi
ence, and suffering, and poverty, and mar
tyrdom, and every variety of earthly tribu
lations, and a spiritless submission to every
ordinance of man for tbe Lord’s sake. They
had no ears to hear, and no hearts to under
stand, the liberating power of the new Gos
pel as given unto them by the true Son of
tbe Father : —“ If the Son shall make you
free, ye shall be free indeed.”
Therefore it was that they so readily fol
lowed their evil leaders, —the chief priests,
the scribes, and rulers, —who were hypo
crites and demagogues ; —who were very
pious meu, nevertheless, in their way, and
made long prayers, and were as happy in
quoting the Scriptures as Satan himself; —
the liberty-loviqg mob gladly followed them,
and the passions of their own hearts, in that
day when the sublime and overwhelming
Crisis of their nation was in their hands.
It was not simply the expression of sympa
thy fora brave but unsuccessful man. They
were called to choose between two. To
accept the one was to reject the other. They
knew it: and with awful eagearness they
made their rejection of the Christ, first of
all:—“ Hot this Man," shouted they, “ but
Barabbas.” St. Peter also, in his sermon
in Solomon’s porch, places the two alterna
tives in the same order :—“ Bat ye denied
the Holy One and the Just," saith he, “ and
desired a murderer to be granted unto you.”
And when Pontius Pilate, anxibus still to
free himself from the guilt of innocent blood,
asked what they would that he should do
with Jesus, they replied at once :—“ Let
Him be crucified.”
I’ll us did the liberty-loving Jews settle
the great Crisis of their nation, when it
came upon them. It was a tremendous
price to pay for the temporary triumph of
the principles of Barabbas. It is a price
which those who hold the principles of
Barabbas are as ready to pay now, as they
were in the streets of Jerusalem eighteen
hundred years ago. So that, after all, it is
no wonder that Christian men abhor the
memory of Barabbas.
Closing the Victoria Hi 5 ge
Quebec Cjrrespand-snce of the Spectator
The Grand Trunk cars will soon run
through the Victoria Bridge, they say, at
the rate of twenty miles an hour, even if
they do not already come up to that speed.
Five minutes, therefore, will suffice to cross
the St. Lawrence at Montreal. I left the
Point St. Charles station yesterday at nine,
and may say a word concerning my first
trip through the tube. A very few minutes
sufficed to bring the train upon tbe great
cause-way which runs out in deep water, and
here it was evident how wise a provision
this p irt of the work is for holding fast the
bordage ice. In the bays between the em
bankment and the shore the ice is frozen
tight, the line where the current sweeps past
it being well defined.
With a great rush, the locomotive as
cends the incline, and with a fierce scream,
dashes into the bridge proper, which is so
long that the lamps are lit into the passen
ger cars before the journey is commenced.
I had previously taken my stand upon the
platform, outside of the door, but I would
recommend no future passenger to follow
my example, for gusts of wind, charged
with light ashes from the furnace, and with
snow, into which the steam from the engine
had been condensed, howled past my ears,
and rudely assailed my face. The din was
something terrific, as if made by the clank
ing of ten thousand great steam hammers.
Every now and then, when passing the holes
punched here and there through the iron
plates, I couid 3ee enough to be aware of
the great speed at which we were going.
When we passed from one tube to an
other—and the space between them is, in
this cold weather, enough for a thin man to
squeeze his body through—there was a mo
mentary illumination, and in two or three
of those places I saw men or boys clinging
close to the side of the tube, with a look of
mingled wonder, fear and awe, as the train
dashed past. There was a little slackening
of our speed towards the centre of the
bridge, but when we got halt way over and
commenced the descent, it was accelerated,
and the brake had to be applied a little.
Soon we emerged iuto the open air, and
could look back at the Cyclopean masonry
which, as at the other end, guards the por
tals of the marvellous Victoria Bridge.
Message of the Governor of Penn
Harrisburg, Pa., Jan. 4. —Gov. Packer’s
message refers to the Harper’s Ferry diffi
culty, and says that it is gratifying to Penn
sylvania to believe that the citizens of the
commonwealth did not in any manner par
ticipate in the unlawful proceeding; to
know that when some of the guilty parties
were arrested within its jurisdiction, they
were promptly surrendered. He adds that
while entertaining no doubt that our repub
lican institutions, which have been carried
forward to their present exalted position in
the eyes of the world, will continue to the
latest generation, it is the part of wisdom
and patriotism to be watchful and vigilant
to guard a treasure so priceless. Let mod
erate counsels prevail; let a spirit of har
mony, good will and national fraternal senti
ment be cultivated among people everywhere
and the disturbing elements which tempo
rarily threaten the Union will assuredly pass
Pennsylvania’s central position, with 3,-
000,000 of free men, enables her to say with
emphasis to the plotters of treason on either
hand, that neither shall be permitted to
succeed, that it shall not be in the power of
either to disturb tbe perpetuity of a Union,
cemented and sanctified by the blood of our
patriotic fathers. At every sacrifice the
constitutional rights of the people and the
State shall be maintained, equal justice done
to all, and these States united forever.
The Governor congratulates the Legisla
ture that the State debt is decreasing at the
rate of a million yearly, resulting mainly
from the sale of the canals.
A Southern paper has the following par
agraph of correspondence: “Negro lectur
ing pays. A speculator hired one of
Downing’s (Broad street oyster saloon) wait
ers for fifty dollars a month, and agreed to
pay his expenses to lecture! He hired a
person to write the lecture, and the darkey
started on his tour, calling himself an escap
ed Virginia slave. His lecture was called
“ John Brown and Slavery in Virginia.”
He delivered the lecture at Newark as
George Johnson. His receipts were four
hundred dollars. The speculator then agreed
to divide equally, and let George off on the
fifty dollars a month arrangement.”
From the Boston Courier.
Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-Xine lin
gered in the high belfry of the church in
Hanover street : lor, being a wily oid fellow
who had seen the world, he knew that the
clock there, like many other things that go
“on tick,” was sure to be behind time, and
he would thus gain five minutes before he
stepped into the past. As he looked out
over the snow-beleagureu town, he spoke.
And this was what he said :
“ I’m not sorry to leave you ; for I’ve had
a hard time with you. 1 came among you,
a fresh and merry child. 1 found many of
you asleep in warm beds, many trying to
sleep in beds not so warm, a few of you with
no beds at all. By many my advent was
hailed with boisterous glee; but this was
probably born of the beverage in which you
drank my health. You greeted me loudly,
and then by daylight began to growl about
the weather I brought; some of you have
growled about the weather on each of my
three hundred and sixty-five days. There
was no such tbrng as suiting you ; and, to
tell the truth, I never cared much whether
you were suited or not. When I first came
I had a good stock of faith in human na
ture, was disposed to deal very gently with
your faults aud to make much of your ex
cellencies. But you abused me from the
beginning to the end, and now I don’t won
der that you are glad to turn your back on
one you have so much injured. What a
quantity of humbug I have seen to be sure!
Why, on the first day of my course it was
rampant. Every body called out, one to the
other, ‘ Wish you a happy New Year,’ and
then went directly to work to render happi
ness an impossibility for all parties. A led
B into temptation, B cheated C, C slan
dered D, and the whole alphabet wrapped
themselves in a thick mantle of selfishness,
became social hedgehogs, with a head rarely
visible and never attractive. I vow, I
couldn’t help laughing, child as I was, when
on the ‘New Year’s Day ’ I saw the small
parties of nice young men making calls—not
because they liked to do so, nor that they
enjoyed the business, nor because they had
anything to say, nor because they really
wanted to see anybody, but because the nice
young men of New York, following the
ancient custom, made calls on that day, and
it was thought to be the thing. That which
in the metropolis was a natural and a grace
ful amusement —graceful early in the day, I
mean—and in which a certain measure of
real hilarious enjoyment was to be found,
became here to you a solemn performance,
dull even if original, and utterly rayless as
an imitation. Gracious! How my weather
was used up in the talk of that day and
those calls. There was a spice of scandal,
certainly, but even that bad Dot its usual
zeal; for everybody was acting a part, and
none were yet quite easy in the words.
There indeed seemed to be some exceptions
to the general dullness; as, for instance, I
overheard little Jane Threadneedle say to
her sister Bella: ‘ How funny Mr. Cban
delles was! He kept laughing all the time,
and made up the queerest faces' She re
ferred to a young man who had just left the
drawing room, gyrating somewhat, and a
little shaky with his polysyllables. It was
rather late in the day, to be sure, and Bella
merely said, ‘ Hush, child.’ I soon found,
however, that this humbug wasn’t confined
to the first day of my reign ; that it ran
through all your social life. I saw a small
country called society, surrounded by a high
wall and entered by a narrow gate. On one
side of the gate was a crowd of people
striving with their might to keep it shut,
giving very little heed to the cultivation of
the pastures the well inclosed. On the
other there was a second crowd pushing
vigorously to force open the door; and
they, too, neglected * their own fields,
turned coldly away from their pleasant
running brooks. Now and then, one in gay
apparel, bringing a heavy bag to bear upon
the gate, would be unwillingly admitted;
this one would wander about for a time
alone in society ; then would become part
of it, and would join more zealously than
any in the throng who pushed from within
to close the gate. I found Mrs. Grundy
among you in great force. She has had you
all under her foot, and none of you dare
even to buy a new hat or muff till she has
been consulted. The young men among you
dare not marry, because they cannot afford
it, they say. Stuff! It is because Mrs. G.
says they must live in a certain quarter of
the town, have a certain kind of furniture,
and buy meat every day, instead of taking
it cold half the time. The young men are
bad enough about this ; but the young wo
man are worse. Disinterested affection !
Oh, yes! Have I not looked into the pretty
head of many a girl when the suitor was
stumbling along in a confession of his love,
and when she was supposed to be listening
in rapture to the sweet words; and have I
not seen that a panorama of a household
was passing before her mental eye, a pan
orama whose minutest details she was criti
cising as coolly as she would criticise the
personal appearance of a beauty at the
theatre? Instead of the conventional ye s,
it would be much more appropriate if she
had answered it's a bargain. If by chance
some of these people have blundered into a
marriage, they dare not live as they would
! like to live. How many of them would
dine at one o’clock, if they thought it desir
able to eat at that hour ? Or, dining then,
how many would not try to hide the fact,
perhaps calling it a luncheon! Heaven
help them ! You pul nice furniture into
your houses ; who uses it ? Bobson, and
Knibbe, aud Newdel, who come to visit
you, who care nothing for you, for whom
you care less.
Y r et they use your furniture; and then
you cover it up again when they are gone,
and exile yourself to mbre ordinary domes
tic appliances. You like the old better?
Then why did you buy the new? Because
Mrs. Grundy told you to do it, and you
were afraid of her sneer. Marriages, in
deed ! Some of your marriages are pleasant
things, arn't they ? Bride-to-be and bride
to-be’s parents work themselves nearly to
death for a long time beforehand. Bride
to-be inks her fingers in addressing envel
opes to a thousand people—friends ! Friends
send presents, trumpery. Bride-to-be, kisses
the friends when she sees them, and thanks
them lor the beautiful gifts. Hubbub, more
envelopes, more presents. A tardy hard
day’s work, and then the friends come. They
don’t bring opera glasses, for there’s no need
of them. But they have the same interest
in the show as they would have at the
theatre. Enter the parties to the contract,
pale, jaded, used up. Love, honor, obey—
O, yes. of course, and all that. Hurry along
priest; this is not what the friends have
come to hear. Tramp, tramp, three hours i
of people always saying the same thiug ;
three hours of the sensation the Siamese
twins might feel when on exhibition. Duly,
luckily, they didn’t understand the language
when they traveled. As soon as they did
understood it they stopped, lest they should
be bored to death. Bride is picked to
pieces by her female friends. Bride’s cake I
is picked to pieces by her male friends, and
much of it falls on bride’s mother’s carpet.
An excellent way to begin lite, truly. Yet
you would’ut dare not to do so, or as much
like it as your means afford. This wedding
is the key note ol your whole life. There’s
a mother-in-law in every house. Mrs.
Grandy is her name.
You go to church. Well, you do go to
church with some regularity here, I have
noticed it. What hour do you go? Y'ou
go in a state of perpetual strabismus —with
one eye turned to Saturday and the other
towards Monday. Sunday to you is a sev
enth day refrigerator, and when you go to
your business again you are as cold as if
you had sent your hearts to be repaired and
they had not been brought back. I have
much enjoyed seeing you when you wish to
do something about which your trouble
some conscience growls. You begin to look
very grave and solemn, and to take the name
of duty iu vain, and to make yourself think i
you are obeying her in the deed. Then
your ecouomy is amusing, exquisitely amus
ing. Most of it is stinginess, aud you brag
of it. Once in a while you practice real
economy, and then you are mostly ashamed
of it, and pretended that you did no such
thing. Your benevolence is rich too. You
give a few dollars to the treasurer of some
remote charity, and then you write over
your cash book, ‘ : the free list is entirely
suspended,” remembering that as you have
the poor with you always, you can attend
to their case next year. You “ only give
to well known charities.” That is entirely
satisfactory to the miserable woman who
just now went out of your presence. She
might live on that for a day at least. I’ve
seen a few of you, a very few, go quietly into
pestilent nests up tumble-down stair-cases,
down into damp cellars, and there throw a
little sunshine into some dreary lives. I will
say that I have seen this, and have made a
note thereof. But I’ve had no surfeit of the
sight. I’ve sometimes thought you lacking
in veneration, but I must take back the
thought. You do have a reverence for
money. You do not speak aloud in pres
ence of it. You never enter a bank with
out in heart putting off your shoes. I think
most of you would swoon with awe if you
found yourself in a bank parlor. You talk
with a friend chattingly, good humored ly,
and even with mirth, so long as your con
versation runs on the order of the day. But
the moment you touch upon money, each i
man of you puts on his pontificial robes
and bows down. ’Tis well. Cultivate this
feeling, and then you will scrape together
wealth, and when you die you will leave it
all behind you and go somewhere else.
My time is almost out. I hear the steps
of my successor. Shortly you will be clink
ing your glasses, dancing on my grave, and
hailing the newly born. I wish him joy of
you! And to-morrow morning you will
make good resolutions. O, yes! If they be
only kept, all the traders will do a cash
business next year. Well, I’m tired of you.
And yet, there’s some good among you ;
some true hearts, some ”
Just then the clock awoke to a sense of
duty and struck. It was a clumsy execu
tioner, and took twelve blows to slay the
old year. He died like a man who has too
long put off making his will, and the legacy
of his good word was lost. It is pleasant ;
to think, though, that he would have said
something kind bad there been time.
Jenny Lind has made up her mind to
endow and erect an asylum for decayed sing

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