Newspaper Page Text
POETRY. From the National Era. BARCLAY OF URY. Among jhe earliest converts to the doctrines of Friends in Scotland was Barclay nf Ury, an old and distinguished soldier, who had fought tinder Gustavus Adolphus in Germa ny. As a Quaker, he became the object of persecution and abuse at the hands of the magistrates and tbe populace. None bote the indignities of the nnh with greater pa tience and nobleness of soul than this once proud gentleman and soldier. 'One of his friends, on an occasion of uncommon ruda rteBS, lamented that he should be treated so harshly in his old age, who had heen so hon ored before. "1 find more satisfaction," said Barclay, "as well as honor, in heinff thus in tuited fot my roligious principles, than when a few years ago it was usual for the magis trates, as I passed the city of Aberdeen, to meet me on the road, and conduct me to pub lic entertainment in their hall, and then ca eort me out again, to gain my favor." Up the streets of Aberdeen, By the kirk and college green, Rode the Laird of L'ry; . . Close behind him, close beside, Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, Press'd the mob in fury. Flouted him the drunken churl, Jeered at him the serving girl, Prompt to please her master ; And the begging carl in, late Fed and clothed it Ury's gate, Cursed him as he passed her. Yet, with calm and stately mien, Up the streets of Aberdeen Came he slowly riding; And, to all he saw and heard Answering not with bitter word, Xurning not for chiding, ing, Came a troop with broadswords swing Bits and bridles sharply ringing, Loose and free and froward ; Quoth tho foremost, Itide him down ! Push him! prick him! thro' the town Drive the Quaker coward !" But, from out the thickening crowd, Cried a sudden voice, and loud : "Barclay! Ho! a Barclay!" And the old man, at his side, Saw a comrade, battle tried, Scarr'd and sunburn'd darkly; Who wiih ready weapon hare, Fronting to the troopers there, Cried aloud : " God save us ! Call ye coward him who stood Ankla deep in Lutzen's blood, With the brave Gustavus !" " Nay, I do not need Ihy sword, Comrade mine," said Ury's lord; " Put it up, 1 pray thee ' Passive to His holy will. Trust I in my Master still, Even though he slay me." "Pledges o'thy love and faith, Proved on many a field of death, Not by me are needed." Marvelled much that henchman bold, That his Laird so stout of old, Now so meekly pleaded. " Wo's the day," he sadly said, With a slowly shaking head, And a look of pity ; "Ury'a honest lord reviled. Mock of knave and sport of child, In his own good city ! "Speak the word, and, master mine, As we charged on Tilly's line, And his Valloon lancers; Smiling through their midst will teach Civil look and decent speech To these boyish prancers!" " Marvel not, mine ancient friend, Like beginning, like the end :" Quoth the Laird of Ury, " Is the sinful servant more Than his gracious Lord, who hore Bonds and stripes in Jewry t 'Give me joy, that in His name I can bear, with patient frame. All these vain ones offer; While for them He suffereth' long, Shall I answer wrong with wrong, Scoffing with the scoffer 1 "Happier I, with loss of all, Hunted, outlawed, held in thrall, With few friends to greet me, Than when reeve and squire were seen, Hiding out from Aberdeen, With bared heads, to meet me. " When each good wife, o'er and o'er, Blessed nie as I passed her door ; And the snooded daughter, Through her casement glancing down, Smiled on him who bore renown From red fields of slaughter. " Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, Hard the old friend's falling off, Hard to learn forgiving: But the Lord his own rewards. And his love with theirs accords, . Warm and fiesh and living. "Through this dark end stormy night, raun oeuuios leeoie ugni, Up the blackness streaking; Knowing God's own time js best, . Ia a patient hope I rest. For the full day-breaking !"- So the Laird of Ury said, Turning slow his horse's head Towards the Tolbonth prison, Where, through iron grates, he heard Poor disciples of the Word ., . Preach of Christ arisen ! - Not in vain, Confessor old, ' '' Unto us the Isle is told. Of thy day of ; Every age on him who strays From its broad and beaten ways Pours its seven-fold vial. Happy be whose inward ear Angel eomfonings can hear, - -O'm the rabble's laughter; And, while Hatred's fagots burn, Glimpses through the smoke discern Of the good hereafter. a Knowing this, that never yet Share of Truth was vainly set In the world's wide fallow; After hands shall sow the seed. After hands from hill and mead Reap the harvests yellow. Thus, with somewhat of the Seer, Must the morn I pioneer From the Future borrow; Clothe the waste with dreams of grairt And, on midnights sky ol rain, Paint the golden morrow 1 J. G. W. MISCELLANEOUS. THE IRISH HEART. A TRUE STORY. BY LYDIA MARIA CHILD. It was a pleasant sight to look on James and Nora in their earlv childhood; their cheeks were so rosy, their hair so sunny, and their clear blue eves so mild and innocent. TIipv were the youngest of n cabin-full of children; and though they did now and then gel a cull from the elder ones, with the nasiy words, "Get out of the way, you spalpepn, they were the pets and playmates ot them all. Their love for each other was extreme; and though James, early in his boyhood, evinced the Irish predeliction for giving knocks, he was never known to raise his hand against his utile sister. V hen she could first toddle about, it was his delight to gather the May gowans (hat grew about ilia well, and put ihem in Nora's curly hair; and then he would sit before her, with his liltle hands resting on his knees, contemplating her with the great est satisfaction. When ihey were oldpr, Ihey might be seen weeding the "palhics" aide by side, or hand in hand gathering berries among the hawthorn hushes. The greatest difference between them seemed to hp, that James was all fun and frolic, while Nora was ever serious and earnest. When the young maiden was milking the cows, her soft low voice might be heard, war bling some of the mournful melodies of Ire land. But tho plaintive tones were rarely heard from James. Ho came heme from his daily labor whistling like a black-bird, mock ing the cuckoo, or singing, at the ton of his clear ringing voice, the merry jingle of St. u.i-i.b'. n.,.. i.. m : c. miiLn o tyiiji viiu .infilling, Ul mi) lillC- tious air of Paudeen O'RafTorty. At danc ing, too, he excelled nil the lads of tho neigh borhood. He could dance Irish jigs, three part reel, four-part reel, or rowly-powly, to the tune of The Dusty Miller, or The Hakes of Bally-shanny, with such a quick ear for the music, that all the lassies declared they could " see the tune upon his feet." He was comely lad, too, and at weddings and Christ mas carousals, none of the rustic dandies looked more genteel than he, with his buff colored vest, his knot of ribbons at each knee, and his caubetn set jauntily on one side of his Head. Meing good-natured and mirthful, he was a great favorite at wakes and dunces, and festivities of all sorts; and ha might have heen in danger of becoming dissipated, had it not been for the happy consciousness of belonging to an honest industrious family, and being the pride and darling of Nora's heart. Notwithstanding the natural eavetv of his disposition, he had a spirit of enterprise, and a love of earning money. This tendency led him early to ihink of emigrating lo America, the Eldorado of Irish imagination. Nora resisted the first suggestion with many tears. uut James drew tine pictures ot a firm of his own in ihe new country, and cows and hor ses, and a pleasant jauming car; and in the farm-house and .tie launiine. car. Nora was ever by his side; for with the very first guin eas mat crossed ins hand, sure he would send for her. I he affectionate sister, accustomed to sympathise with all his plans, soon bgan 10 ueip nirn to Diuid his castles in Ameixa ; and every penny that she could earn at her spinning-wheel, was laid away for passage money, liut when ihe time actually arrived lor him to go to Dublin, it was u day of sor row. All the married sisters, with their lil tle ones, and neighbors from far and near, came to bid him farewell, and give their part my uicBaiiig. urn goou moiner was uusy to the last, storing away some liltle comfort in his sea-box. Nora, with the big tears in her eyes, repeated, for the thousandth time "And Jimmy, mavourneen, if you grow grand there in the new country, you'll not be after forgetting me ? You will send for yuur own Nora soonl" "Forget you!" exclaimed James, while he pressed her warmly to his bosom: "When the blessed sun forgets to rise over the green earth, maybe I'll forget you, mavourneen dhectih." Amid oft repeated words of love and bless ing, he parted from them. Their mutual sor row was a little softened by distant visions of a final reunion of them ail in America But there was a fearful uncertainty about this. The big sea might swallow him up, he might sicken and die among strangers, or bad ex amples might lead him into evil paths worse than death. To this last suggestion, made by an elder sister, Nora replied wilh indignant earnest ness. "Led into evil coorses, indade!" she exclaimed ; " Shame be on you for spaking that same ! and he the dacentest and best be- navea ooy in all the county Longford. You don't know the heart of him, as 1 do, or you'd never be after spaking of hi in in that fashion. It's a shame on you, and indade it is. But och. wurrah dheelih, let him not sicken and die there in the strange country and the sister not there to do for him !" And, overcome by Jhe picture her own imagination had drawn, she burst into a passionate flood of tears. In a few weeks, came brief letter from James, written on board the ship in which he sailed from Dublin. About seven months later, came a" letter, dated New York, saying he had obtained work at good wages, and, by God's blessing, should soon be enabled to send for his dear sister. He added hint that one of these days, when he had a house of his own, perhaps the father and mother would be after coming over. Proud were they in the Irisn cabin, tt iicc this letter was read, aloud to alj who came to inquire after i ue young emigrant. . All ins old cronies an swered, " Tliroih, ami he'd do well anywhere. Divit man in the ten parishes could dance the Baltihorum jig wid him, any how." Potatoes. Darling. i Sweet darling.' 0 Sweel Virgin. Time passed on, and no other letter rame I from James. Month after month, poor Nora Watched will) feverish anxiety to catch eight of her father when he returned from ihe dis tant post-office; for he promised, if he found a letter, to wave his hand high above his head, ns soon as he came to Ihe top of ilia hill fronting the house. But no letter came ; and a! last Nora fully believed that her dar ling brother was dead. After writing again and .again, and receiving no answer, she at last w rote to the son of a neighbor, who had emigrated to America, end begged of him, for the love of Heaven, tonscertain whether he was dead oralive.and send them word as soon as possible. The Irishman to whom this epistle was addressed, was at work on a dis tant rail-road, Bnd had no fixed place of resi dence; and so it happened that Nora receiv ed no nnswer to her anxious inqniiiea, for moro than a year and a half after they were written. At last, there came a crumpled square of soiled paper, containing these words: "Pear Frinih. Black and hevy is my hart fur ihe news I have to tell you. James is in prison, concerning a bit of paper, that he passed for money. Sorra a one of the nabors but will he letting down tho tears when , hey j hear o the same. I don t know the riohts 1 of the. cane; but I will never believe he was a boy to dagmco an honest family. Perhaps some other man's sin is upon him. It may be some comfort to you to know lhat his time will he out in a year and a half, any how. I have not seen James sense I come to Ameri ky; but I heern loll of what I have writ Tho blessed Mother of Heaven keep your harts from sinkin down with this hevy sor row. Y'our frind and nabor, ' 1 I j : ; MIKE MURPHY." Deep indeed was the rrrirf in that honest Cam. ily, when these sad lidinrs were read. Po.ir Nora buried her face in lur hando. and aohherl aloud. The old mntrer rocked vinUmln ir and fro, with her apron a', her eves: nn.l i ....I. . i i ' . . J . lamer, iiiougii ne irieu n.ird lo conceal h is emotion, could not restrain the big tears from rolling down his wealher-beMen face. "Och. wo is Ihe day," said he, " li at ever we let nun go Irom us. !such a dace.it lad, and he- longinir to a family that ncverdi l a dishonour action. And sure all hearts weie upon him, ! aiiu w n mi su pruuu uui oi mm "l'atlier," said the weeping Nora. "I know the heart of him better m.r any of vnu does; and 1 know he never hr.d intinlion to do anything that would bring to the blush the mother lhat born him, and the sister that slept in his arms, when we were both weeny things. I'll go lo Ameriky and find out ail about it, and write you word." " J ou go to Ameriky exclaimed her mo- ther. " Sure you're crazed with the big grief that's upon you, rwrrn macrcc, or you'd niv- er spake thim words." "And wouldn t he follow me to the ends of the earth, if the black trouble was on met" tiled Nora, with passionate earnestness. " There was alway3 kindness in him for all human craihurs; but beloved me belter than all the world. Never a one had a bad word agin him, but nobody knew the heart of him as I did. Proud was I cut of him, and lone some is my heart widout him. And R it I will lave him alone wid his trouble 1" Troth, not if there was ten oceans ntween us." This vehemence subsided after awhile, and they talked more calmly of how thpy should hide their disgrace from the neighborhood. That their hearts were sad they could not con ceal. Day after day, their frugal meals were removed almost unlasled.and every one step ped about silently, as after a funeral. The very cows came slowly and disconsolately, as if they heard grief in the voice of their young mistress, when she called them to be milked. And the good old mother no longer crooned at her spinning-wheel, the song siio had sung over the cradle of her darling"boy. Nora at first persisted in her plan of "cross ing Ihe Atlantic ; but her father forbade it, and said no more. But her heart grew more and more impatient. She spoke less and less of James, but she sighed heavily at her work, am! her eyes were often red with weeping. At last, she TPSolved to depart unknown to any one. She rose stealthily at midnight, tied up a small bundle of clothing, placed a hub ua oi money in ner oosoin, paused and gazeu lovingly on ner sleeping parents, has tily l.-ushed away the gathering tears, and Bleppe1 out into the moonlight. She stood for a few moments and gazed on the old fa miliar hills and fields, on the potato patch, where she and James had worked together m-my a day, on Ihe old well, by the side of which theMaygowans grew.and on Ihe clear while cabin, where the dear old ones slept. She passed into the little shed, that served as a stable for the animals, and threw her arms about the donkey's neck, and kissed the cow, that knew her voice as well as her own mother did. She camo forlh weeping, and gazed on the old homestead, as she would gaze on the face of a dying friend. The clus tering memories were loo much for her loving heart. Dropping on her knees, she prayed", in agony of sorrow; " If it bo a sin to go away from the good old father and mother, perhaps mver to see them agin, till the judgment day, thou oh ! Futher in Heaven, wilt forgive me ; for thou set (. I can not lave him alone wid his great trouble." Then crossing herself, and I the beloved home of her childhood, she said, in a stifled voice, "The Mother of Glory be wid ye, and bless and keen v nil." Half blinded with tears, she wended her way over the moonlighted hills, and when ner lavorne cow called as usual for her milk ing pail, in the first blush of ih she was already far on her way to Dublin. And had James heen criminal I In the eye of the law ha had been; but his sister was right, when she said he had no intention lo do a wicked thing. Not long after his arri val in America, he was one day walkingalon" the street, in a respectable suit of Sunday clothes, when a stringer rrne op and enter VT c.0"verH''0n him. Afar asking h!.con(!nfm,ue8lion8' he qia ;;Sixteendo'larJ"was the answer, stranger Yo'fJ011 tw"y or it." said the hnw m 'timl f eo'nBy in a hurry, and riHve no time to get orm mads. " r ; so he readily .greed to ,he bargain? ..i. . i . iu me stranirert " but perhaps you would not be willing to sell yours for ten dollars 1" "' 10 J""e frankly confessed that U'wM two Pet of wy heart. dollars more than he gave for if, and very willingly consented to the transfer Some weeks nficr, when ho attempted to pass the money the stranger had given him, he foond j to his dismay, that it was counterfeit. After j brooding over his disappointment for Knmn time, he came to a conclusion at which bp.ter educated inpn than himself have sometimes arrived. Ho thought lo himself" h is ,ard for a poor man to lose so much, by no fault of his own. Since it was put off upon ine, I will just put it off npon somebody else. Maybe it will keep going the rounds, or some body will lose it that can better afford it than I can." It certainly was a wrong conclusion; but it was a bewilderment nf the reasoning pow ers in the mind of an ignorant man, and did not involve wickedness of intention. He passed the money, and was soon after arrest ed for forgery. He told his story plainly; but, as he admitted that he knew the money was counterfeit when ho- passed it, ihe legal construction of his crime was forgery in ihe second degree. lie had passsd three bills, and had the penalty of the law been enforced w ith its utmost rigor, he might have been i sentenced to the slaw-prison for fifteen years; ZSZZ m-ccd "him Wfive hut appearances were so much in his lavor, venrs. Five years taken away from the young life nf a laboring man, spent in silent loll, in shame and sorrow for a blighted reputation, was, indeed, a heavy ponalty j confused no ' tions of right and wro.ig, concerning bits of paper, stamped with n nominal value. Hut law, in its wisest and kindest administrations, cannotalways make nice distinctions between thoughtless errors and wilful crimes. It is probabhs James never fell the degree of compunction that it is supposed eveiy con vict ought lo feel ; for the idea was ever with him, that if he had sinned against government, he i id not mean to sin against God. That he had disgraced himself, tie knew full well and fell keenly. The thoughts of what No- . I I .1.-- i.i ..ir... .1 "u 1,13 suu" i""1"" " ouiu nuiu i, u inry could see him driven to hard labor with thieves and murderers, tore his soul with an guish. He could not bring his mind to write lo them, or send them any tidings of his fate. He thought ii was heller that they should "PPse linn dead, than know ot Ins disgrace I'lius the w eary months passed silently away The laugh of his eye and Ihe hound of his step were gone. Day by day he grew more disconsolate and stupid. lie had been in prison about four years, when one of the keepers told him that a young woman had come to visit him, and he had recpived permission lo spe hpr. He fol lowed silently, wondering who it could he; and a moment alter he was locked in his sis ter's arms. For some time, nothing but sobs were ai dihle. They looked mournfully in each other's faces, then fell on each other's necks, and wept again. "And so you know me, mavourneen?" said Nora, at last, trying to smilo through her tears. " Know you !" he rpplied, folding her more closely to his breast. "i eunh.'a mnchrcc, and wouldn't I know your shadow on the wall, in the darkest cellar they could put me inl But who carno wid you, mavour neen?" "Troth, and it was alone I come. I run away in the night. I hope it wasn't wrong to lave the good father and mother, when they had spoke agin my coming. I wouldn't like to do any thing displasing to God. But Jimmy, tnachrce, my heart was break in' wid out you ; and I couldn l lave you alone wid your great trouble. Sure it's long ago I would have been wid you, if you had let us know of your misfortin." The poor fellow wept afresh at theso assur ances of his sister's affection. When he was 1 calmer, he told her circumstantially how the great trcuhle had come upon him. "God be praised for the words yon spakp," replied Nora. "It wiil taka a load off of hearts at home, when ihey hear of tlm same. 1 always said there was no sin in your heart; for who should know better nor me, who slept in the same cradle! A blessing be wid you, maviiurncen. The music's in my heart to hear the sound of your voice agin. And proud will I be of you, as I used to be when all eye?, young and old, brightened on you in warm old Ireland." " uut iNora, cheeltsh, the uisgrace 13 on me," said Ihe young man, looking down. "They will say I am a convict." " Sorra a fig I care for what they say," re plied the warm-hearted girl. " Don't 1 know Ihe heart thai is in you 1 Didn't I say there was no sin in your inlinlinns, though you was shut up in this had place! An if there had heen if the black murder had been widin you, is it Nora would be after laving you alone wid your sin and your shame! Troth, I would weary the saints in Heaven wid prayers, till they made you a better man, for the sake of your sister's love. But there wat no sin in your heart, and proud I am out of you, a tuillish machree, and bad luck to the rogue that brought you inlo this trouble." The keeper reminded them that the time allowed for their interview was nearly spent. "You will I'ome agin!" said James, im ploringly. " You will como to mo agin, acashla machree?" " I had to beg hard lo seo you once," re plied Nora. They Raid it was agin the rules. But when I told them how 1 come alone across the big ocean to be wid you in your trou ble, because! knew the heart that was in you, they said I might come in. It is a heavy sorrow that we cannot spake together. But it will be a comfort, mavourneen, lo be where I can look on these stone walls. The kind I man here they call the chaplain, says I may stay wid his lamily; and sure not an hour in the day but I will think of you, a villiih. The same moon shines here, that used to shine on us when we had our May dances on the green, in dear old Ireland ; and when they let you get a glimpse of her bright face, you can think maybe Nora is looking up at it, as she used to do when she was your own wee ny darlint, wid the shamrock and gowan in her hair. I will work, and lay by money for you; and when you como out of ibis had place, it's Nora will ctand by you; and proud will I be out of you, a tuitlieh machree." The young man smiled as he had not smil ed for years. He kissed his sister tenderly, as he answered, "Ah, Nora, mavourneen. it's yoursolfthat wasalways too good tome. God's blessing be wid you, aciuha machree. It will go hard wid me, but I will make some return for such goodness," , "And sure it's no goodness at all," replied Nora. " Is it youiself would be after laving mm" , . ., PuUe of my heart. , " . ' I Light of my heart, ' Dear, me atone, and I in the great trouble! Hut, tut, Jimmy, avick. Sure, it's nothing at all. Any body would do it. You're as dacent a lad as iver you was. Sing lhat to your heart, muvournetn. It's -Nora will stand by you, all the world over." With a smile that she meant should be brave one, but with eyes streaming with tears, she bade her beloved brother farewell. He emhrared her with vehemennt tenderness, and, with a depp sigh, rptnrnrd lo his silent labor. Hut the weight was taken off his heart, and his step was lighter; fjr "Iope'a sunshine lingered on bis prison wall, And,vre looked in upon his solitude." Nora remained with the kind-hearted chap, lain, ever watching the gloomy walls of Sing Sing. When her brother's, lerm expired, she was at the prison door to welcome him, and lead him forth into ihe blessed sunshine and free nir. The chaplain received them into his house, cheered and strengthened their hearts by kind words and judicious counsel, and sent them lo ihe office of Ihe Prison As sociation, No. 13, Pine street, New York. As James brought certificates of good con duct while in prison, the Association lent him tools, to be paid for if he should ever be able lo do so, and recommended him to a worthy mechanic. At this place be would have re mained, had not his employer needed a jour neyman thoroughly versed' in his trade. It is the policy al Sing Sing not to allow the prisoners to learn nil branches of any busi ness, lest ihey should come inlo compe tition wiih inichnnics nut of the prison. hat James had been accustomed to do, he did w iih great industry and expertness; but he could not do all his employer required, anil was therefore kindly and honorably dis missed. Had he been dishonest, he might have gone off wMi the tools ; but he went to the office of ili.' Association, to ask w hether ihey were willing he should keep them till he could ob tain work clspwhpre, and parn enough in pay for llipm. They consented very cordially, and told him to remember them as friends in need, so long as he behaved well. His sis ter was with him, like his shadow, and their earnest expressions of gratitude were truly affectiog. Her good-natured honest countenarce and industrious habits, attracted the attention of a thriving young farmer, who succeeded in ob taining ihe treasure of her warm and generous heart. !She who made so good a sister, can scircely fail to be an excellent wife. James continues to do well, and loves her with su perabounding love. The blessing of our Fa ther ho with them ! Thpy are two of the kindest hearts, and most transparent souls, among that reverent, loving, confiding, and impulsive people, w ho, in their virtues and Ibeir defects, deserve to be called the little children of the nation". A Touching Scene. A scene of intense interest is thus de scribed in the New York Tribune : A crowded audience was assembled at National Hall, on last Sunday evening, at tracted there to hear the evidence of twenty reformed inebriates, given in favor of absti nence from intoxicating drink. The address es were only five minutes each in length ; but there was a grpatdeal said by each speak er in those five minutes. It was, indeed, a novel sight to behold so many of the once despised and unfortunate class of individuals coming forward on the platform, one imme diately succeeding the other, pleading in elo quent tones the cause of their suffering fel-low-crealures those who were still bound by the chains nf a degrading appetite chains which were riveted around the brightest in centives of their being boldly proclaiming the evils of the monster-curse. Intemperance : pointing to themsrlves as living proofs of wtiat they asserted, and exhibiting in their present condition tho happiness of a life of sobriety. As each one ol those redeemed men made his appearance and spoke of ihe misery and awful sufferings the inevitable attendants of a career of intemperance, and, as each speaker left the stand, it spemed that it was like " Pelion on Ossa piled " in favor of abstinence from the intoxicating cup that cup which has invaded and made desolate the domestic circle, squandpred fortunps, dis honored bright namps, hardened hearts, sear ed consciences, and brought gray hairs to tho grnvp. There they stood before thn people old men and middle-aged men some who had been drunkards for fifty years there Ihey were, lining up their warning voice to the multitude before thrm ; there they were, and yon heard the drunkard's sufferings described to you by those who had actually undergone those very sufferings. There was no fiction nhout those scenes they described ; they were. alas! sad realities; and yet you looked upon the speakers, and could hardly imagine that humanity hail endured such; but there was no getting around it; the heart might sicken, but these thlngt had been to! And the cause of all this was told you; it was intoxicating drink. And then the speakers told what ab slinence had done for them : it had made them men and reasonable creatures; opened a new life lo them ; from the very lowest depths of degradation, wrptchedness and dps pair, they had been elevated to a position which their Uod intended Ihey should occu py. Instead of ills and misfortunes which beset Ihe drunkard's path, bright hopes, cn joyments and happiness were now their lot; home, with its joys, had now more attraction for Ihem than thedram-shop ; the hippy facps to be lound al thPir firesides, were more plea sant for them to look at, than the bloated conn tpnances of bar-room companions. A cheer fill and contented mind was more desirablo than one racked with anxieties and cares; the pure drink provided al Nature s table was a moro pleasant bpverage than the nox ious stuff drall out by the rumseller; and to he looked up to as good, useful members of society, belter, far belter, than to be looked upon as a curse to -themselves, their friends, and the community of w hich Ihey .were un worthy members. There were some among those twpnty, who had heen drunkards nearly all their lives, and considered as irreclaimable ones. The world had always hitherto looked upon the drunkard as ono lost lo all sense of his de grading situation ; he hid heen viewed in the light of a necessary evil of society, whose situation was much to be deplored, but for which there was no remedy, no halm in Gilead. The world had thought him a poor, miserable, misguided wretoh, void of oil tender sensibilities of humanity ; whose heart was closed to all kindly feelings and emo tions; and that world, in its selfishness, had turned a deaf ear to the sad condition of that drunkard. It had been the false idea, that the moderate drinker, and he only, could be saved; and he who had indulged to excess, was considered as being beyond the pale of all human reclaim. But these men stood there that evening, putting lo flight all such old notions, which the enlightenment of the age had condemned as unchristian and unbe coming Ihe true spirit that should excite men to action in the holy cause of Reform. There they stood, making glad the heart of the mo ralist and philanthropist. What would have been the fate of these twenty reformed men, had Ihey continued in their wild career of dissipation, can easily be imagined. The following beautiful and touching sto ry was related by Dr. Scbncbly of Mary land : " A drunkard who had run through his pro perty, returned one night to his unfortunate home. Ho pnlpred its empty hall anguish was gnawing at his bean-strings, and lan guage is inadequate lo express his agony as he entered his wife's apartment, and llipre beheld Ihe victims of his appetite his love ly wife and darling 'hild. Morose and sul len, he sealed himself without a word he could not speak, he could not look upon ihem. The mother said to the little angol Ivy her side. " Come, my child, it is time to go to bed," and lhat little babe, as wrs her wont, knelt by her mother's lap, and gazed wist fully into the face nf her suffering parent, like a piece of chiselled slnluary, slowly re peated her nightly orison ; and when she had finished, the child (but four years of age) said lo her mother, " Dear Ma, may I not of fer up one more prayer!" " Yes, yes, my sweet pel, pray; " and she lifted ,ip her liny hands, closed her eyes and prayed "O, God, spare, oh spare my dear papa ! " That prayer was wafted with electric rapidity to the throne of God. It was heard on high 'twas heard on earth. The responsive " Amen ! " burst from that father's lips, and his heart of stone became a heart of flesh. Wife and child wpre both clasped to his bo som, and in penitence he said, "My child, you have saved your father from the grave of a dinnkard. I'll sign ihe pledge!" . CHEAP GOODS! THE subscriber has on hand the follnwinir Gnr.ds, viz: Plain dark Calicoes of different qualities ami prices, small fig. Moti8.de lains, all wool, Mous. de lain, Thibit and drab Shawls, white silk dress Shawls of different sizes, Merinos, Coburgs, Flannels, Linsies, flam striped and cross barred Uambricks, Book Muslin and Book Muslin h'dk'fs, Fur niture and Apron checks, Ginghams, Tick ings, Saltinetts, Cassimeres, Cloths, &c. ALSO, Free Goods, such as Ginghams, Calicoes, Muslins, Table diaper and Apron checks. All of which are offered for sale very low for CasA or 1'rodurc. C. D. BASSETT. A few doors West of the Bunk. Salem, 3d mo. 5th, 1847. WANTED, 1000 bushel dried Apples, 100.000 lbs. Pork, 50.000 lbs. Lard, 10 or 13 good Horses. H EATON h IRISH. Dec. 2Sth, 18-16. CONSTANTLY ON HAND. Sole Leather, Upper Leather. Calf-Skins Shoes, Roots. Sugar, Molasses, Tea, Cofltee, Spice, Fish; Cin. mould Candles. Tar by the kit and barrel. Turpentine, Sperm Oil, Flaxseed Oil, Paints, 4c, Ac, by II EATON &, IRISH. Dec. Oflth, 1S-1C. LOOKING GLASSES. In connection with Hardware rnd flrvgt, the subscribers have a large supply of new and handsome styles of large and email Look ing Glasses and Looking Glass plates. Old frames refilled and glass cutting done to order. CHESSMAN & WRIGHT, fiilem, lllh mo 1, 1810. CHEAP FOR CASH. Thn proprietors of the Salem HARDWARE AND DRUG STORE, have just received their fall supply of NEIV 1URI) 1VJRE and FRESH DRUGS. The patronage of their old customers, and the public generally is rpspectfully solicited. CHESSMAN & WRIGHT. Salem 11th mo 1, 1 810. REMOVAL. George Orr has removed from the house of Ely, Kent &; Brock, to the large end ex tensive Dry Goods house of LUDWIG, KNEEDLER & CO. No. 110, Nonh 3d St., where he would be glad to havo his Anti-Slavery friends call be fore making their Spring purchases elsewhere. Philadelphia, Jan. 7th, 1847 7G. MEDICAL. DRS. COPE & DOLE Have associated for the practice of medi cine. Having practised the WATER-CURE, until they aru satisfied of its uneqalled value, in the treatment not only of chronic butacuto diaeasps, they are prepared lo offer their pro fessional services on the following conditions In all acute diseases, when called eaily, and when proper attention is given by the nurses, if they fail to effect cutea, ihey w ill ask no fees. Residence east end of Salem. January I, 1817. JUST RECEIVED, Directly from Philadelphia, a fresh supply of beautiful plaid Linseys. black, and brown Alpacca and Paramenia Clolhs, cheap Casir netts and Cloths, black and white Wadding, Plaid French Cloaking, and fashionable plaid silk bonnet linings by HEATON & IRISH. Dec. 28th 1816. C, DONALPSON & CO.. WHOLESALE & RETAIL HARDWARE MERCHANTS Keep constantly on hand a general asso rtment of HARDWARE and CUTLERY. No. 18 MAIS ST. ClUCINJfATT, ' Joly 17, '46-