Sauk Rapids frontierman. [volume], May 17, 1855, Image 1

About Sauk Rapids frontierman. [volume] (Sauk Rapids, M.T. [i.e. Minn.]) 1855-1860

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SAUK RAPIDS FRONTTERMA.
JEREMIAH RUSSELL,
VOL I
(S e le e t« d P ®e try.)
Fwm Ibe Literary Mewwnger.
SABBATH’S EVENING BILL.
BT 1* q. A. WOOD
From childhood's early artless da f
I've loved tile sacred Sabbath well.
But tnoet my soul doth own its sway
When listhiing to it* evecingpbeil.
It is the sound of aii I know
That I account most blessed here,
I hat ! would have wlhen I matt go,
Fall las’, upon my dying ear. , ,
Methinks my ♦'pirit lew vrould'grieve
To quit this fickle world so fair,
Did but the !>ell of Sabbath eve
Come melting through the purple air.
Ia soiitodtrs remoteet nook
Seek only for sccb tones divine—
The murmurs of (ho lonely brook,
The vliispsr of the mountain pine
Or by the Ottan’s summer straiid
Where through the white mist nil sight long
The smooth seas swinging to the land.
Pour to the stars a pleasant song.
Heart-soothing sounds of raugl: power I
As welcome to the scul they eocne
As pardon in « parting hour,
Or twilight to a dying room
©ripat Itekite
AZIO L A :
OTt
mrrC* TST wncit* ft'i” T .V'-’ e
A ROMANCE OF NEW.STEAT) AUDEY. I
B 3 Ml a S ! E II A » I I. r. "R . i
v*»v; . CHAPTER 111. j
' narao is not Gaetano L&nza. !
-jv is Leonardo da Vincenzi, a I
creat wealth ia the South of
Italy. Though a second son, I was
Ifenerally regarded as heir presumptive,
to his title and estates ; my elder broth
er, Alberto, having been 'sits*:!/ frc..-
birth, was supposed to be on the bor- j
ders of the grave, when I fled my fktk- J
er-land.
My brother tmd myself were only j
children. 1 was always ray father’s fa- j
vorite; for upon me ho looked with pi id© t
and hope, emotions which entered not j
into his feelings -and affections far his j
eldest-born. Mow often those very oh-!
iecta of our fondest Jovo and pride arc.
those by which we are i&pgbt she saver: f
eat and saddest lessons of life ! It is I j
who have caused that (loafing, indulgent j
father —but I will not anticipate. ini
the vicinity of ciy father’s cstn'e, and '
bound to him by tho closest ties of in- i
timacy, resided a.u old Ital;an Count,
Edwario Vogliostro. Intercourse l>e-
Mveeen the families was rer}’ frequent—
but in my youthful days I never enjoyed
these visits, there being no lady and no
children to brighten up the solitude. j
Count Vogliostro had bad f.u only |
daughter, who was his only child. At j
a very early age, against the wishes and i
positive prohibition of her father, she j
married an Englishman by the name of]
Courtnaye. - Forthis she was disinherit- j
ed. With her husband she immediately i
left Italy, and nothing was heard of her
thereafter, until, two years previous to
my return from France. Giulieita,
which was the daughter’s name returned
to her father'* castle, in almost dying
condition, accompanied by two beautiful’
’j daughter#. The old Count, hoary, de
ere pit, and unhappy, at sight of their
: distress and lonely condition, relented
f reluctantly from his long-chcrished au
‘ ger, and gave them a home in his long
% vacant halls. Giuliettn enjoyed the
s reconciliation but for a brief season ;
then joined her husband in the spirit
land—he haying died some little time
, previous on the Spanish borders.
J> The two grand-daughters became
henceforth the chief solace and delight
of their gray-haired relative. Both
were very beautiful ; but as. the young
er seldom mingietMn society, l never
became much acquainted with her. It
was said she was in love with some for
eigner, to whose suit her grandfather
was bitterly opposed, and that wrapped
and lulled in her absorbing love-dream
ing, she chose uotto make acquaintanc
es, though she had* the reputation of
being a groat beauty, Shd an accom
plished lady—yet unlike others of simi-
attractions, had no love of admira-
or inclination for vain display.
A ROMANCE OF NEW;? TEAT) ABBEY
B r Hi & N I E
But the elder one, whose name Iras the
Musical one of Lenore, was a **. being
beauteous aa o’er to earth was given.”
At my first meeting with her, I w*s
fascinated, not so much by her extraor
dinary beauty, as by the winning grace
of her manner. Her hair and eyes
were the color of yours, Aziola, and I
hate often fancied that I could traee p
resemblance between her and yourself.
I have been conscious too that this real
or fancied resemblance made you more
dear and estimable to me than you might
otherwise have been. I confess to you,
Aziola, I loved her with all the warmth
and devotion of which ray ardent tem
perament is susceptible. Ah—
“ I loved her once, raid in such sort I loved
That sorrow hath bat burned the image in. ”
Unfortunately for all concerned, Al
berto, my brother, had met and loved
her, before my return. He who had
from infancy been afflicted with an in
curable malady, which threatened at no
distant day to destroy him, which had'
deprived him of most moans of enjoy
ment ; which li.nl affected his disposition, j
rendering him unloving and morose ; lie]
war. had never seemed to love a human i
being, dad fared the beautiful Lenore* j
I ’
With ali that obstinate energy which
;* concentration of passion gives its pos
sessor, id; persevered in Isis suit for
»mnrriage to that fair girl. So eager
had ho been to have arrangements made
hof ora t?ty return, (probably fearing me'
as a ri»al) that articles of settle moot,
? forth, fond been entered into be
tween my father r.ad Count Vagliostro.
To the latter, this engagement was par
ticularly pWasing. With no other family
would lie have been so willing for his
grand-danghter to have formed an alli
ance ; for, none was more honorable as
regards wealth and ancient lines—two
i mport<ftia*rnott» ta tbe'worldly
.vise and proud.
II A H V I. E“E ,
My father urged no serious objections, j
The dower of the l#dy Lenore Was to be j
immense, and he wav’d he proud of her!
for a daughter-in-law ; but it was for
myself he would have chosen her, for
he continually, i repeat, regarded uie
as his heir. But ns Alberto had latterly
improved in heaitfc, and there seemed a
probability of tiis living several years, |
'and ns Vagliostro, being old and child- j
ish, insisted in the choice already made, |
my father submitted. The lady Lenore j
.r> as averse to this. And the snore, as |
she had known nothing of it, until all';
eras afraqged as above stated between j
the acting parties. Only the day before \
my return had she been informed df it
by bar grandfather, at Alberto’s request.
My brother, but little accustomed to fe
male society, was exceedingly diffiident,
[though to the same extent obstinate and
| wilful. Fearing, from the restraint and
J coldness o£ Lenoro’s manner, that he
i might be unsuccessful if pleading in his
! own behalf, he requested the old Count
j to inform the bride of the honor awaiting
[her.
Lea ore listened in silent sorrow, for
she felt the impossibility of ever loving
Alberto : hut.respect for her aged rela
tive, and a sense of deep obligation j
restrained the expression of her views !
and reluctance to her only protector.
I had been* absent from Italy seven
years. My father looked forward with
great impatience to the day of niy re
turn, winch he had resolved to celebrate
by making it a great gala-day. Accord
ingly, be invited friends from far and
near ; bo when I reached the paternal
castle, I found it merry from topmost
turret to foundation stone. Grey-haired
men, robed in blue coats laced with sil
ver, in long vests adorned with gilded
buttons, short trowsers and long silk
stockings, tlm foot arrayed in long-toed,
shoes, fastened with golden clasps, were
holding wise conversations on political
affairs, national honor, past national;
glory and future probabilities—while
their worldly dames sat.or stood stiff in
crowds, in imaginary elegance, talking
of their sop’s brilliant match, or contem
plated exccltent good fortune in the
matrimonial line, or of that son’s folly
' or madness in uniting himself to a beau
tiful girl, who has not one vine beneath'
which to shelter herpelf—-or of this
lady's imprudence, or that one’s ugli
neso~*or another’s dress ; each matron
EQUAL AN » EXACT JUSTICE TO ALL MEN, OF WHATEVER STATE OR PROFESSION RELIGIOUS OR POLITICAL.”— JEFFERSON,
SA.UK RAPIDS, M. T., THURSDAY MORNING, MAY 17, 1855.
in alb * Ity, making the same or
similar arks to some other sympa
thizing candling lady, of the very saute
worthy madam and her aft airs, whom
she had but just left in professed friend**
liness.”
“ observations bear hard upon
the ladies, good tutor,”interrupted Azi
ola. “Do you particularly of
those at that time assembled at your
father s, or of ladies in general ?” f
Well, I must confess to have fpttn
ed my present picture from my 1 infifed
knowledge, or opinion of them liTgeifev
ral. If it be too severe, I plead ignor
ance. That there are lovely exceptions
I well know. My beautiful and sensi
ble Lenore, and yourself, Aziola.”
“ N’importe,” said the lady, “ I will
not quarrel with you— please proceed,”
and she continued to listen, with more
apparent interest, than the mere inci
dents of the recital would seem to excite.
“ Among the ancient lords and dames,
counts and counteases, were many beau
tiful Signoras, magnificently dressed and
charming, who attracted my attention
as I was ushered into the large Hall,
wh%re «li were gathered to give me a
welcome. Never shall I forget the
fond embrace of my father, while a tear
glistenod in his eye, which beamed with
love and pride. ! noticed and felt it the
more, as it was followed by the cold,
formal, unfraternal one of my brother.
After receiving the congratulations of
tUe company, nearly all of whom I fail
ed to recognize, we were led to the re
fectory, dinner having been kept waiting
a considerable time for my arrival. I
was introduced by my father to a little
lady, Miss Lansdowne, a young English
heiress, sojourning, for a season in
Italy, whom 1 was to escort to the hall,
and with whose plain, pleasant face,
and lively conversation I might have
been greatly pleased, had not my eye
and fancy been at once attracted to the
superior beauty and elegance of the
lady whom by brother escorted. ' He
had preceded us to the table, and we
chanced to place ourselves just opposite.
Miss Lansdowne observing my gaze
melted upon the lady, said in a low
tone,
c The lady opposite is Lonore Court- i
nave,, a beautiful lady as you observe, 1
and good as she is beautiful, I know
you mil admire her am every one does—
and you oughf to love her too, for she is 1
the betrothed of your brother !” 1
11 The betrothed of my brother i” I '
mentally ejaculated, and for the first, I '
turned my eye involuntarily upon 1
him. Ilis dark eye was flashing wild,
and fixed upon me intently for green- !
eyed jealousy had blended its torment
ing form therewith, giving it an expres
sion chilling and repulsive. I recoiled
from it, as from the gaze of the serpent,
yet I still felt it resting upon me, nor
could I shake off its freezing influence.
I could not however refrain from casting
my eyo more than once upon the being
of angelic loveliness by his side, at
which times I met her own, large, soft,
liquid, resting upon me, as I fancied,
with somewhat of interest. At each
glance that I ventured, a power that I
could not resist drew my eye from her
to' Alberto, whose pale, sickly face con
trasted so powerfully with those black,
burning eyes, that shone fierce upon
me in hatred. Indeed, this was noticed
by the gentle girl at my side, whom I
was conscious of neglecting, but which
her kindness would not allow her to ob
serve, for she said to me—
“ 1 profess to be no sybil, but
“ Coming event* cast Hot their shafowe before/*
if I see not, that, whether you will or
not, your brother will make you a rival
with himself for the lady Lenore. It is
not strange either. What would be
more natural, than for you to be like
every body else, and fall in love with
her, or for her to prefer an active, ener
getic, handsome and learned young man
(your pardon, Signor) to one sickly , re
pining, fretful, as yoflr brother evident
ly is, whose state of health has prevent
ed him from pursuing an education, but
has contributed to foster and cultivate
only his ill nature. Excuse me for thus
1 speaking of your brother,’* she added
i in a still lower tone, to which 1
•till more-ray ear,’’.but itisknown to
i all that such is his disposition, a* you
wilFtllsco*' sufficiently soon. I have
heard it by more than one, 4fcat he
did well press bis suit before your re
turn, or lie would not so easily have
gained it. In truth, are you not your
self sorry for the young lady ? I am, I
am sure. What an unequal match ! He
so inferior, sullen, and disagreeable,
she so elegant, charming and beautiful—
a perfect contrast! They say she is
not pleased. I fancy the report true.
She has seemed to-day, sadly constrain
ed.” And thus the lively lady rattled
away. * v To ftjt Continued.
Cut THrs Out.— The Mercantile Times
gives the following seasonable rules for
young men commencing business :
The world estimates men by their
success in life—and, by general consent,
success is evidence of superiority.
under any circumstances, as
suriSpli responsibility you can avoid con
sistently with your duty to yourself and
others.
Base all your actions upon a principle
of right ; preserve your integrity of
character, and, in doing this, never
reckon on the cost.
Remember that self-interest is more
likely to warp your judgment than all
other circumstances combined ; there
fore, look well to your duty, when your
interest is concerned.
Never money at the expense cf
your reputation.
Bo Either lavish nor niggardly ; of
the two, avoid the latter. A mean man
is universally dispised, hut public favor
is a stepping-stone to preferment—there
fore generous feelings should be culti
vated.
Say but little; think much *, and do
more.
Let your expenses be such ns to leave
a balance in your pocket. Ready
money is a friend in need.
Keep clear of the law ; for, even if
you gain your case, you are generally
a loser of money.
Avoid borrowing and lending.
Wine drinking and cigar smoking are
bad habits. They impair the mind and
pocket and lead to a waste of time.
Never relate your misfortunes, and
over what you cant pre
vent.
Fi ckle People. —About two years a
go, a young Frenchman, on a business
tour to this country was much annoyed
by the charge frequently seen in Ameri
can papers, and which to him was often
made face to face, *' that the French
people were too fickle to be good repub
licans.”
He returned a few days ago, and vis
ited a French restaurant, where he read
the paper. All present were much sur
prised to see him, quit# excited, rush
up, paper in hand, to a friend of his, ex
claiming, “ Fickle peoples ! eh ! Oui ;
fickle people ? When I was here be
fore, zay adored Kossuth, now zay de
nounce Mitchel; then for Hungary, now
far Russia ; then all democrat gover
nors, now all whigs; then call New
Hampshire bigoted, now New Hamp
shire praise all over ze Union ; en ver
ite, peoples sont fiekles !”
Love op Literature. —Were I to
pray for a taste which should stand me
in stead under every variety of circum
stance, and be a jdrce of happiness
and cheerfulness td me during life, and
a shield against its ills, however things
might go amiss, and the world frown
upon me, it would be a taste for read
ing. Give a man this taste, and the
means of gratifying it, and you can
hardly fail of making him a happy man;
unless, indeed, you put into his hands a
most perverse selection of books. You
place him in contact with the best socie
ty in every period of history—with the
wisest, the wittiest, the tenderest, the
bravest and the purest characters who
have adorned humanity. You make
him a denizen of all nations, a cotempo
rary of all ages. The world has been
created for him.— Sir John Herechel.
.oB* Scene io an apothicary shop af
ter the passage of the Maine liquor law
—Two nice young men enter.
'* Come, Jim, what will you take t*’
“ Well, I guese 111 take ; a prosaic
acid smash* ” ■ *
Clerk tOod goat—'
,f 111 take a burning fluid cockuft-l
JOHNSON’S ADVICE.
" Dr. Johnson, giving advice to jin
intimate friend, said 1 . ‘Above all, ac-,
Custom your children constantly to tell
the truth, without varying in any cir
cumstances.’
A lady present, emphatically qxclaim
ed, * Nay, this is too much, for a little
variation iii narrative must happen a
thousand times a day, if one is sot per
petually weSching.’ ‘ Well madam,’re
plied the Doctor, ‘and 6c
perpetually watching. It is more from
carelessness abc&i truth than from in
tentional lying, iW* there is so much
falsehood in the world.’ ” \ ‘
It is from the same source that §o ma
ny troubles arise in the community.—
One reports a conversation, and by
change of tone or expression in some of
the parts, varies the narrative, so that
the truth becomes a lie*. The variation
excites hard feelings and broods a quar- i
rel. It is better to refrain from all such I
conversation ; but if entered upon, one
is morally bound to give just the impres
sion and language, made use of by the
author.
By adhering to this rule, many neigh
borhood quarrels and difficulties might
be hindered. It is on this account that
the fattier is such an odious character.
A shade of malignity is almost always
thrown over the second report. How
true the common saying, that a story
always increases as it flics. If you
must tell the news, always stick to it
literally, and add no spicing to make it
merre palatable. TAMWORTH.
Be Gentlemen at Home. —There
are few families, we imagine, any where,
in which love is not abused as furnishing
a license for impoliteness A husband,
father or brother will speak harsh words
to those whom he loves the best, and
those who love him the beat, simply be
cause the security of love and family
pride keeps him from getting his head
broken It is a shame that a man will
speak more impolite at times to his wife
or sister than he would date to any fe
male, except a low and vicious otic. It
is thus that the holiest affections wf man’s
nature prove to be a weaker protection
to woman in the, family circle than the
restraints of society, and that a woman
usually is indebted for the kindest Po
liteness of life to thoso not belonging to
her own household. Things ought not
|so to be. The man who, because it will
not be resented, inflicts his spleen and
bad temper upon those of his hearth
stone, is a small coward and a very
mean man. Kind words are the circu
lating medium between true gentlemen
and true ladies at home, and no polish
exhibited in society can atone for the
harsh language and disrespectful treat
ment too often indulged in between those
bound together by God’s own ties of
blood and the more sacred bonds of con
jugal love. —Springfield Republican.
The Present Age. —ln these brief
words what a world of thought is com
prehended ! whai infinite movements!
what jops and sorrows 1 what hope and
despair ! what faith and doubt ! what si
lent grief and loud lament 1 what fierce
conflicts subtle schemes of policy I
what private and public revolutions I
In the period through which many of
us have passed, what
shaken ! what hearts have tiled 1 *wli!it
millions have been .biit«Jhsretl tfj IfcPcft*
fellow creatures ! jiviihhogeH.Jfiphir*** •
thropy have been flighted ! And at the.
same time whaf magnificent enterprises]
have been achieved! what new province*?
won to science and art 1* what rights and
liberties secured to nations ! It is a
privilege to have lived in an age so stir
ring, so pregnant, so eventful. It is an
age never to be forgotten. Its voice of
warning amhencourageraent is never to
die. Its impression on history is indeli
ble.—Channing.
jggjflf we were only half as lenient td
the living as we are to the dead, how
much happiness might we render thefe,
and from how much vain and bitter re
morse might we be spared, #hen‘t]|e
grave,tbji nil atoning grave,” has
closed oveftr them. ’
ggf* la the boy that got flogged for
telling a fib, the same trembling lyre
tbo po S » '<pe«k«of ?
'-A GOLDEN PYRAMID, S ' ■ ,
■— B}i. ■■■'—» V
The monetary census of New York #'■
.and its vicinity shows near a million -
people* most of whom are trying, or at
least strongly desiring, to be rich, and
the number who have succeeded in that
object is but ten hundred and sixty ! Of
these, three hundred and fourteen
are put down’at one hundred thousand.
Two hundred and fire have attained tho
rank of one hundred and filly thousand.
One hundred and fifty-nine enjoy tho
distinction of two burdred thousand.
Seventy-nine hare it to the height
of a quarter of a miiliou . Seventy -fivo
have reached the grade of three hundred
thousand. Eighteen have ihe rare fe
licity of three hundred and fifty thou
sand. Thirty-seven have won the com
moner glories of four hundred thousand.
Three,individuals only have paused at
four hundred and fifty thousand ; white
seventy-three have pressed forward to
the grandeurs of half a million. Twen
ty-four have proceeded to six hundred
thousand j five to sevea hundred thou
sand ; twenty-five, to eight hundred
thousand ; and sixteen have attained
the giddy height of one million. Fiva
have gone on to a million and a half ;
six, to two millions ; one, to three mill
ions ; two, to four millions ; one, to five
millions ; and one stands solitary and
alone, on the pinnacle of six millions.
Ocrn Dust Cart. —Some persons take
more trouble in looking for pins than
they would for stars
There are two bores in Society—the
man who knows too much, and the man
who knows too Jiitle.
An Annuity too long Deferred tnak
eth the heart sick.
Travelling, r Hiats in
living on rail' g at ho
tels •• . \ '
The oldest T „ ■ know is
when a man in ciovorHie ri-iea a woman
in w* eds.
Remorse is the ' tlvt-tdot iU* pinches
the sou!. • ' 5S
A Woman’.* ’V >•*
A greats • ' *-
by a man m
and giving yv
The bread
in many instances u
wo sow in our youth
Noonday Truisms.- —Lore, the tooths
ache, smoke, a cough, and a tight boot,
are things which cannot possibly bo
kept secret long.
Every woman is in the wrong until
she cries—and then she is in the right
instantly:
A tragedy is often the safety-valve of
Insanity.
The man who lends an umbrella is a
real philanthropist—sacrificing himself
for the benefit of bis species.
There is a craving in almost every
man’s breast for a latch-key.
Every woman’s mother has been
beautiful.
A Wag on Wagner.— We do not
know what Herr Wagner’s new musical
theory may consist of, but we should
say that the “ Music of the Future,”
must be composed principally of “Prom
issory Notes,” made payable at two,
three, or six months after date.
.. P«Q9iearr<]ft ik Purchase . —H itherto,
ohljt/|9uVb.*nieAVa wore born with silver
yppons ( . in.tbeur xoij&tfti’coyld command
iV? the future, let
* *iope* that the silver test will t Je
with, and none will be a* iited
Queen’s Service but those who
‘display their Britannia Metal*
Much of * Mwcenbss.—lt is diffi
cult to say whether, is the worse, a des
ponding riew of war, or a Bright one,
The Shortest Act on Record.—
The A§t obtaining. the it |pas
an Act of -no provisions at aH% *
, •. , *r- -4
A Bright IbsA-— : An eminent London'
brilliant.
Recess of the ilectalc Hgjlt, as ,recently
'empBoved in Paris for*h#. illumination
of the night-works ''
ieard to exclaim, „yr Vr
'* B y Jore !
uu anu skart *
;- gi' -f < < 17,
TrOobeST
bottle wii«» " ■ • ■ .■;■■• .r ■
o?»e glass of v . - ||
PROP]
NO*f“
'. ; £. ;>?.
!*»