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Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, September 11, 1850, Image 1

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ITrat.TOK W*W«aX,}lllJtoM * Pro,Plct01,. CONSTANS ET LEXIS. UT RES EXPOSTULET, ESTO. l**m« W..kl,-*« p« A» *
JOS. A. WADDLLL, S r ____■—■ - - ■--~~■ ■ ■ —■■ —; - — -==~—x—rzxssm*
|t> The “SPECTATOR” is published once a week, at
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So subscription tt'iUbe discontinu'd, but at the option of
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same proportion. A liberul discount made to advertisers by
'the year.
Old Grimes is dead, that good old man,
We ne’er shall see him more ;
lie used to wear mu old black coat
All buttoned down before.
llis heart was open as the (lav —
His feelings all were true—
Jti* hair was some inclined to grey ;
He wore it in a queue.
Whene'er he heard the voice of pain,
His breast with pity burned —
The large round head upon hi» cane,
From ivory was turned.
And ever prompt at pity’s call,
He knew uo base desigu—
llis eyes were Jark aud rather email,
llis uose was aquiline.
He lived art peace with all mankiud.
In friendship he was true—
llis coat had pocket-holes behind,
llispactaloons wereiatae. ,
Vnharmed, the sun which earth pollutes.
He passed securely o’er—
He never wore a pair of boots,
4 For thirty years or more.
Hut good old Grimes is tier* at rest,
Nor fears misfortune’s frown—
ilc wore a double-breasted vest—
The stripes ran up and dowu.
He modest merit sought to find.
And pay it its desert—
He had uo malice in his miud.
Nor rullles ou his shirt.
llis neighbors he did hot abuse,
W a* sociahle and gay —
We wore large buckles iu his shoes.
And changed thee* every day.
Hi* knowledge hid from public gsao.
He did not bring to view—
Nor make a noise town meeting days,
As tuauy people do.
Ilia worldly go«xls he never threw
In trust to fortune's chances—
Jtut lived (as all Lis brothers do)
In easy circumstances.
Thus undisturbed by anxious care*.
llis peaceful JuosueuU ran —
And every body said he wa»
A line old gentleman.
The la te lamented Judge Hugh L. White of Tennessca
Wamo conspicuous at a very early period of life, as a jurist
and a statesman. He fixed his permanent home near Knox
ville, amidst the scenes of his youthful sports and the com
panions of his boyish days. Rarely has a young man, con
tinuing in his own country and among his own kindred, so
soon attained such literary and political pre-eminence.—
From his youth, the Judge was characterized by profound
re ve is nee for the ordinances of the gospel, lie was a reg
ular attendant at the house of worship; and while he was a
l’resbyterian, that being the Church of his fathers and the
'Church of his choice, he wee benevolent and generous to
ward other branches of the great Christian family. He gave
*to the Methodist Church at Knoxville, the ground on which
their house of worship was built; and occasionally ho would
appear iu the congregation, and join with them in their
Now, in those days, there was a notable presiding eider
in that region, called Father Axle}’, a -pious, laborious, un
compromising prea. her of the gospel, who considered it his
duty to rebuke sin wherever it should presume to lift up its
deformed head within the limits of his district. And while
Father Axley was a man of respectable talents, undoubted
piety, ami great ministerial fidelity, he had, moreover, a
spice of humor, oddity, and drollery about him, that rarely
failed to impart a characteristic tinge to his performances.
The consequence was, that amusing anecdotes of the say
ings and doings of Father Axley abodnrfcd throughout the
On a certain day a number of lawyers and literary men
were together in the town df Knoxville, aiid the conversa
tion turned on tbs subject of preaching and preachers. One
and another hat! expressed his opinion of the performances
of this and that pulpit orator. At length, judge White
spike up—“Well, gentlemen, on this subject each man is,
of course, entitled to his own opinion; but t must confess,
that Father Axley brought me to a Sense of my ev?i deeds
—at least a porti:^ of them—more effectually than any ,
'preacher 1 have ever heard.” At tins every eye and ear1
was -turfed ; fur Judge White was known never to speak
lightly ohhjlifjuifcs -subject®, and, moreover, he was habit- j
•ally cautious and respectful in his-rewafk® concerning re- ;
■ iigious men. The compimy how expressed (ho most urgent
jjcjire that the Judge would give the particulars, and ex
l >ec*al.on stood on tiptoe.
“I vrenWqp,’’ said the Judge, “one pvening to the MalTi
• ndist church, ft sermon was preached by a clergyman with
■whom i was not acquainted ; butsFather Axley was in the
I pulpit. At theclose of the sermon, lie arose, and said to
ithe congregation, M atft not going to detain you by deliver
'lng an t*s hor' -itioh. 1 have rtbeh simply to administer a re
buke for improper Conduct, Which l have observed here to
night.’ This, of course, A-aked Cq; the entire assembly ;
and the stillness w2$ most profound, while Axley stood and
looked, for two or three seconds over the congregation.—
1‘heit, stretching out his large.loP? arin> a°d pointing with
bis finger steadily in one direction, 'Now'/ said he, ‘1 cal
culate that those-Uvoyonng men,who were talking 5c laugh- j
ttig m that corner uf the liouse,while llie brother was preach- ■
ing,think that Fin going to.tafk about them. Well.it is true
that it hxiks very bad, when well dressed young men, who
you would suppose, from their appearance,belonged to sumo
genteel, rp*pe<*iablo family, come to the house of God, and
instead of reverencing tlte* majesty of Him that dive!-,
let It therein, or attending tu. the message of his everlasting
Jqye gst .ogethe,' in tue corner of the house,’(his finger all
lioJ pointing straight and steady as the aim of a rifle- 1
man) and there!, through the whole solemn scrvicis. keep
talking, tittering, laughing, .giggling—thus annoying the.
minister, disturbing die congregation and sinning again** '
jt,- * ****■'*"■*
“ ‘i am sorry for the young men. I am sorry for their pa
rents. I am sorry they have done so to-night. 1 hope they ’ll
never dosoagair. But, however, that’s not the thing that
1 was going to talk about. It is another matter, and so im
portant that I thought it would be wrong to suffer the con
gregation to depart without administering a suitable rebuke.
Now,’ said he, stretching his huge arm, and pointing in an
other direction, ‘perhaps that man, who was asleep on the
bench out there, while the brother was preaching, thinks
that I’m going to talk about him. Well, I must confess,
it looks very bad for a man to come into a worshipping as
sembly, and instead of taking his seat like others, and lis
tening to the blessed gospel, carelessly stretch himself out
on a bench, and go to sleep ! It is not only a proof of great
I insensibility with regard to the obligations which we owe
I to our Creator and Redeemer, but it shows a want of gen
teel breeding. It shows that the poor man has been so un
fortunate in his bringing up, as not to have been taught
good manners, lie does’nt know what is polite and re
spectful in a worshippingassembly,among whom he comes
to mingle. I am sorry for the poor man. 1 am sorry for the
family to which he belongs. I am sorry he did not know
better. I hope he will never do so again. But, however,
that is not what I was going to talk about.’
"Thus Father Alley went on for some time, ‘boxing the |
Compass,’ and hitting a number of persons and things that
he was ‘not going to talk about,’ ar.-J hitting them hard,
till tlie attention and curiosity of the audience were raised
to the highest pitch, when finally he remarked,‘The thing
of which I was going to talk is, chewing tobacco. Now, I
I do hope when any gentleman comes here to church, who
can’t keep from chewing tobacco during the hours of pub
lic worship, that he will just take his hat and pul it before
him, and spit in his hat. You know we are Methodists—
You all know that our custom is to kneel when we pray.—
Now, any gentleman may see in a mument, how exceeding
ly inconvenient it must be for a well-dressed Methodist la
dy to be compelled to kueel down in a great puddle of to
bacco spit!’
"Now,” said Judge White, "at this very time, 1 had
I m my mouth an uncommonly large quid of tobacco. Ax
ley’s singular manner and train of remark had strongly ar
rested every olio’s attention. While he was striking to the
right and left, hitting those‘things’ that he was not going
j to tdlk about, my curiosity was roused, and conjecture was
busy to find out what he was aiming at. I was chewing
my huge quid with uncommon rapidity, and spitting and
| looking up at the preacher to catch every word and every
i gesture; and when at last ho pounced on the ‘tobacco,’ be
hold there 1 had a great puddle of tobacco spit. 1 quietly
slipped the quid out of my mouth, and dashed it as far as 1
could under the seats, resolving never again to be found
chewing tobacco in a Methodist church.”—l fester n Sketch
Something to tei.l you.—One evening a weary trav
' oiler applied to an inn keeper, at a village in Virginia, for
permission to remain iii.liis house until morning, saying at
: the same tune that he had walked that day a great dis
: lance, and was very tired ; but, said he, I have no money ;
( I can’t pay fur it; however, I can tell you something that
might he of great value to you. The inn-keeper was pe
nurious, ?.»-J would doubtless have summarily turned him
j off', but for his suggestion that he could impart something
that might be of great sorvice to him, and yielded to the
traveller’s ropiest upon condition that he should communi
cate the secret tb him. Morning came, and the traveller
had not disclosed tire secret. Breakfast over, the traveller
: prepared t« depart; and as he had not yet told the secret,
the inn-keeper began to suspect that he had been grossly
j imposed on, which provoked him no little. As the travel
ler passed out of the house, the inn keeper reminded him
of the condition upon which he had suffered him to
step at his house. The traveller manifested much surprise
at his neglect to fulfil it, and affected to he unable to ac
count fur it, but at once bade the inn-keeper step aside to a
place of more privacy, for the purpose of imparting the val
uable iulbrmation. Said he to tho inn keeper, who w as a
corpulent man, and who always availed himself of the as
sistance of a cane, “My dear sir, should you ever have the
misfortune to be put in the penitentiary, as 1 have'had, and
you ehbtYfd be put, as your work, on the tread wheel, get
I on the side next to tlie well, fir it’s much easier work
there.” The rage of the inn keejiercan be better imagined
than described. It should be said, however, he dealt with
his cane a deadly blow at the traveller, whose agility ren
| dered it harmless; and hut for his corpulency, the inn keep
er vvoald have given chase to the traveller, who scampered
° i ,
at full speed.—Doiltir JVetcsjiitpcr.
Chicken Poets.—There is a class of writers of verse
who deserve the foregoing title. In writing a lyric for in
stance, in the first stanza they start off as if tlie wings of
their Pegasus would bear them without a failure to the
summit of Parnassus. But the first thing you know the
wax which fastens on the pir.ionb of their Winged pony is
melted, as if by the fire of the first stanza, and, like poor
Icarus, down they tumble into the tr.arc tenekrarum of
rhyming nonsense and dullness. They remind tne of chick
ens f«»r two reas ms; 1st, because they are chicken-heart
ed. As to my second reason, I must premise a little before
1 can give it. I have seen a lien, when a hawk made a
strike at one of her chickens, fly up at him fully as high as
the roof of a shed. She would start as if “borne on ecpial
tving” with the hawk. But Soon che would come plump
down u,pou tiro ground because she was nothing but a chick
' on, and it is not the nature of a chicken to sour. My se
cond reason then for calling a certain class of bards chicken
poets is, that they start off so well at first, but plump down
agei" so well at last. They are nothing but chicken poets
any way, and it is not their nature to soar. To illustrate
what I say, I will simply give tVvo stanzas of poetry which ,
1 have seen. Note tho difference between them :
told was the sod on the maiden’s breast
Wheti tier Romeo in sorrow,
Unfurled hi* suit for the golden west,
And sadly thought of the morrow.
Tor'he then hail heard that she was deafl
And hislu-arl filled up with sadness.
WBS dull as the look of the drossy lead,
And hoped for no more gladness.
[J. Jl. Tamer, S. Literary .Messenger.
N. P. Wit.r.is.—I am sorry to see that this popular au
thor has gut tu writing his name N. Parker Y\ iliis. I dis
like to give up the old way, plain N. P. YY'illis. Besides
this, even tho respect due to the author of “Pencillings by j
tiio \\ ay ’ cbnnot prevent bis modern fashion of inditing his j
name from bringing to mind the thought of soft hands and
soft brains, notwithstanding the examples of J. Fennimore
Cooper, K. Biilwer Lyttoii, T. Habington Maoauly, and
others in the literary wotld, and .1. McPherson Berrien and
ofh'-’rs of the political world. Some tew exceptions aside,
the manner of writing one’s name censured here, is the habit
of “nice young men” with coats unpaid lor, false whiskers
and hats on one side of the head—delicate,'feminine young
poetasters, who adopt Carlyle’s froth about “spirit-homes,”
"dream-lands” and such other iollies, without the strength (
which often pervades the under-cutrcnt of thought .in the
great cnek-braint’o fcmglish Mystic. J. <■'!. lamer, Lite
rary ^Messenger.
fry-An old Jew being in an out of the way alms-liutisr,.
treated himself to some Inm and eggs, but just as he was |
about to raise the forbidden morsel to his mouth, a flap of
thunder slbrtledjhim. f fe dropped the fork, saying : “Main ;
<’ ■ • 1 f 'v chest because eld Mothes is eating a little1
...•—-- s r
bit of bason.
At the close of a summer’s day might have been
seen, many years ago, a man walking pensively along
the banks of a small stream in Phrygia. His noble
and commanding appearance, well-knit brow, manly
form, dark and piercing eye, stamped him as one of
Nature’s noblemen, while his rich and luxurious
dress denoted rank and station. He walked along
seemingly wrapped in thought; sometimes, as if to
rid himself of gloomy feelings, quickening his pace,
but soon, unable to overcome them, relapsing into
his former measured tread. That man was Alcibi
ades, tossed by the tide of popular ingratitude on the
barren and inhospitable shores of Phrygia, driven j
into exile by the people whose idol he had been.— >
His walk ended at bis castle.
The door opened, and a servant advanced to in- J
form him that his evening meal was ready, ilis mas
ter, with an impatient gesture of the hand, waved him
away, and slowly followed him.
Alcibiades entered the castle, and was ushered into
n room of accurate proportions, furnished most com
fortably and tastefully. At the upper end of the
room was a round table, covered with delicate and
delicious food. There were also large vases filled
with water, of crystal clearness, and pieces of ice
floated in the water. There were also veses of wine,
cooled in the same manner; and in one beautiful gol
den vase was a.cosijy wine, most agreeably pcrlumed.
Reclining omaWbuch was a beautiful woman.—
Her age was twenty-seven, but one would hardly be
lieve, judging by her appearance; that she bad passed
the limits of youth. The figure was graceful in the
extreme, and a white tUnic that fell in graceful folds
! to her feet confined at the waist by a broad white
sash, but partially concealed the free but graceful
movements of her rounded figure. Her hair was
adorned by a golden grass-hopper. It was an att*
cieni belief among the Greeks that they had a com
mon origin with these insects. In her ears were large
gold hoops, fastened by large pearls of uncommon
beauty, and from the back of her head flowed a long
white veil.
This was Timatidri, the wife of Alcibiades. She
was silent as if asleep. Alcibiades advanced toward
the couch on which she was reclining, took her hand,
and pressed it to his lips. This affectionate greeting
aroused her, and she spoke words of love and wel
come. A servant appeared with basins of water.—
They washed and annoiuted themselves, and then re
clined at their ease, preparatory to the enjoyment of
moments a confused and solemn sound
was In^RNosofan approaching army. The earth
ircml>l<^H|feut the thought of what was to ensue.
Alcibiaifl^Bffed from his scat, seized his spear, and
hasteived to the door. He looked and gazed in vain,
for the darkness of the night obscured the surround
j ing objects; but still theftuJIen sounds grew nearer
and more near. AlcibiiAs knew not what to think
' or do. He had no soldi's, and the few trusty fol
! lowers who remained were insufficient to defend his
! castle. Alcibiades retired to bis room, and there, in
voking flic aid of the gods, girded himself as if for
! war. While thus occupied he heard a tremendous
1 shout, and at the same instant the room was filled
i with flames and smoke, lie rushed to the door.—
Timandra, in affright, clasped him in her arms. He
I said, "Timandra, fear noi, all is well,” lie then rush
ed forward—flames and smoke arresting his progress,
ami destroying all that was once beautiful.
I As he appeared at the door, another tierce shout
arose from a body ol men, armed with spears and
j slings, who surrounded the castle. Alcibiades called
' to lus servants, and, blandishing his spear, pierced
the crowd. Soon his weapon was dyed with human
’ blood. Javelins fell thick and fast about him. At
first be heeded them not, but at last he fell, pierced
' with wounds. His enemies surrounded lrim, and he
' was soon at rest.
The Spartans wished to carry his body to their
city; but Timandia begged so earnestly for bis re
! mains, that they couseuted, moved by her touching
Thus died Alcibiades, one of Allien’s greatest gen
Yankee Shoes.—To give some idea of the extent to
which the manufacture of shoes is carried on in some towns
in New Knglar.d.it is on-ly necessary to Show the operations
of one village. For the year ending the first of April last,
it was estimated that the whole number manufactured in
Farmington, N . IF, exceeded 425,000, valued at $300,
'900. The amount paid for labor, freight, and trucking,
was near $90,000. Tit's boxes alone, cost $3000, and re
quired 210,000 feet of boards to make them. There aro
now six largo manufactures besides some smaller ones, al
together capable of turning out 90,000 pairs per annum*
should the wants of trade require, and fho prospect war
rant it.
Remembered Happiness.—Mankind are always hap
pier for having been happy ■; so that if you make them hap
py now, you make them happy twenty years hence, by the
memory of it. A childhood past, with a duo mixture of
rational indulgence, under fond and. wise parents, diffuses
over the whole .of life a feeling of calm pleasure ; and, in
extreme old age, is the very last remembrance which time
can erase from the mind of man. No enjoyment, however
inconsiderable, is confined to the present moment. A man
is the happier for life, from having made once an agreeable
tour, or lived for a length of time with pleasaut people, or
enjoyed any considerable interval of innocent pleasure.—
Rev. Sydney Smith.
Frightening a Rogue.—In the St. Louis Recorder’s
‘Court, recently, Alexander McManus was fined S5 for steal
ing wood from the steamer Hannibal, and was asked to
“fork up” by his Honor.
“C-c-c-can’i do it,” stuttered he, “a-a-a-aifi’t got fh-lh
the p-p-p pettier, your Honor.”
“Are you a mariied man?” inquired the Recorder.
“ N-n-n-not exactly s-s-s-so far gone jfet, sir.”
“Well, 1 will have to eend you to the house of correc-;
lion,” said the Recorder.
“T-l-t-tain’t nothin’ t-t-t-to go th th-th-there,” said A-;
lick. ”1 1 I’m used to it; b-b b but when you t-t-t-talked
about m-m marriage, old -fellar, you f l'-f-frightened me! ’|
Statistic.—Boston contains ninety-four 'places of re) i-1
gious worship. One hundred and eight newspapers are
published, of which twelve are issued daily.,eight semi-;
weekly end eighty-eight weekly and monthly. There are
five public libraries containing nearly one hundred thousand
volumes. Thirty-three banks with a total-capital of twenty
millions of dollars ; eight and a half millions are invested
in capital of ineuranw companies. -It corrttsifis a popula
tion ofone hundred and thirty-eight thousand.of which only
thirty persons have the honor to bear the name of John
gCf-Mr. Bond, of the Cambridge (Mass.) University,
has daguerreotyped the star Lyra. This is believed to be
the first instance in which an attempt to daguerreotype a ,
star has succeeded. 'Ihe picture of the star, the Boston)
Traveler says, is quite distinct, and of the size of a com
mon pin head, and was obtained in about thirty seconds,the j
great refracting telescope of the Observatory being used
without the eye glass. Scientific men will regard this ex-;
periment ^ilhpreat interest,, as 'he possible prelude toiou j
portant astronomical developments. j
Man’s Longevity and Wisdom.—One cause of
that superiority I conceive to be his iongevitiye :
without it, that accumulation of experience in action
Stul knowledge, in speculation could not have exist
ed, and though man would still have been the first
of all animals, the difference between him and others
would have been less considered than it now is. The
wisdom of a man is made up of what he observes,and
what others observe for him; and of course the sum
of what he can acquire must principally depend up
on the time in which he can acquire it. All that we
add to our knowledge is not an increase by that ex
act proportion, of all we possess ; because we lose
some things as we gain others ; but upon the whole
while the body and mind remains healthy, an active
man increases in intelligence, and consequently in
power. If we lived seven hundred years instead of
seventy, we should write better epic poems, build
better houses, and invent more complicated mechan
ism, than wc do now. 1 should question very much
h Mr. Milne could build a bridge so well as a gentle
man who had been engaged in that occupation sev
en centuries ; and if 1 had only two hundred years
experience in lecturing on moral philosophy, 1 am
well convinced ! should do a little better than l do
now. On the contrary; how diminutive and absurd
all the efforts of man would have been if the dura
tion of his life had only beeh twenty years, if he had
died of old age just at that period when every human
being begins to suspect that he is the wisest and most
extraordinary person that ever did exist! I think it
is Helvetius who says, he is quite certain we only
owe our superiority to over the ourange-outangs to
the greatpr length of life conceded to&yraud l^,al **
our life had been as short as theirs,tWpjjtould have
totally defeated us m the conijsfUUUjii' f°r 11 u 18 al1t^
ripe blackberries. 1 can hartfl this extrav
iigaut statement; but 1 think,inafflBKai^nly years,
the effort of the human mind would have been 60
considerably lowered, that wc might probably have
thought Helvetius a good philosopher, and admired
his skeptical absurdities as some of the greatest ef
forts olj.he human understanding. Sir Richard Black
more would have been our greatest poet; our wit
would have been Dutch; our faith French; the Hotten
tots would have given us the model for manners, and
the Turks lor Government; and we might probably
have been such miserable reasoners respecting the sa
cred truths of religion, that we should have thought
they wanted the support of a puny and childish jeal
ousy of the poor beasts that perish.—S. Smith•
A second “Story of RiMiM.”-Leigh Hunt’s sto
ry of Rimini is paralleled in the following from the
New York Star, if it be a real occurrence.
ju the II-packet ship, from -, came out
the other day, say two weeks ago,a beautiful woman,
about 30 years old. having a curly head boy about
live years of age with her, and being accompanied by
a young moustached man,of elegant address and easy
manners,who appeared to be of some tender relation
ship to the beautiful and interesting stranger. They
stopped for three or four days at the Astor house,
from which they removed to an exquisite villain Ho
boken. This was most luxuriously furnished, and
money seemed no impediment to the gratification of
cultivated tastes of the parties. They strolled of e
venings along the banks uf the noble Hudson, and
deeply impassioned dialogues were the customary
accompaniments of their recrenliou. # * * On
hoard the Canada, during her fine and rapid passage,
might be seen a tall man,of grave demeanor and noble
proportions, lie was efoliVeritly‘aristocratic in look
and bearing. He spoke but little during the passage.
Something pressed heavily at his heart, and he could
not enjoy the voyage or society of any kind. Me,
too, 'stopped at the Astor; made inquiries after a cer
tain lady, child and gentleman ; tracked them to Ho
boken, and discovered his own brother, the seducer
of his beautiful wife, and the destroyer of his peace
forever, lie returned to Europe with his darliugboy,
leaving the guilty pair to pursue their course of bin
and shame as they best blight. These parlies may be
met daily in the Elysian Fields, seeking to drown re
morse in the enjoyment (?) of each other’s society.
The cries of the lady after her adored child are some
times extremely frantic. She wishes she had never
been born. _
Sabbath lx San Francisco.—A correspomlent
ofilie New York Journal of Commerce, writing from
San Francisco, mentions live following pleasing inci
“! see the drawings of a bright future for Califor
nia—an organized government, an educated and en
lightened people.atul the genial influences of our holy
religion, have made us elsewhere,and will here,a na
tion exalted above the nations of earth. How it glad
dens my heart, amid all the wickedness of this com
munity ^ to hear the gospel preached ; yea, to see it
carried even down to the doors of those who exert
the greatest influence againsi the progress of Christi
anity. Last Sabbath, a Methodist preacher openly
took his stand in the plaza, and commenced singing
a good old-fashioned hymn. The thing was so novel,
that he was soon surrounded by a thousand idlers,
who would Lave never thought of visiting God’s
house. From the various gambling houses around
the square the music poured forth harmoniously, but
in vain. The old, sweet, solemn sound of the sacred
song, from many hundred human voices, echoing to
the very heavens, acted like magic upon the floating
mass, anti the gambling houses were soon dessrted
and their games for the time being broken up. The
wind blew a gale ; the dust was intolerable; and the
trumpets and trombones piped merrily; but above the
wind, the hum, the din and bustle of a San Francisco
Sabbath,was heard the voice of that faithful servant of
•God, as he preached Christ and him crucified to the
vast multitude around him. Plainly and Tatfh'fuTly
he dealt with them, and soiouti were the tones of his
voice, that it wfcc heard in the streets adjoining the
A Warning voice fro?i tke Grave.—The fol
lowing impressive counsel by James Madison should,
at the present time, sink deep into the hearts of eve
ry American: ,
“As this advice, if ever it see flic light, will not do
so until I am no more, it may be cousidered an issu
ing from the tomb, where truth alone can be respect
ed, and tiie happiness of man alone.consulted. Jt will
bo entitled, therefore, to what ever weight can be de
rived from good 'intentions, and from the experience
of cue who has served his country in various stations
a period of forty years.; who has espoused in his
•youth and adhered through his Hfe, to the cause of
its liberty ; and who has borne a part in most of the
great transeclions which will constitute qpochs in its
•destiny. The advice nearest to my Jieart, and deep
est, is that the Union of the States be cherished and
perpetuated. Let the open enemy to be regarded as
a Pandora with her box .opened, and the disguised
one as the serpent creeping with his deadly wrlefe in
to Paradise.”
“VoriCe, a long’ vile ago, 1 ven intus mine able orchard
to clime a bear tree to get some beaches to mako mino vrow
a blunt budding mit, and ven I gets to de tobermost branch
I vails from de lowermost limb, mit von leg on both sides
of de vence, an likes to 6tliove my outsides in.”
(W- Some suppose, that every learned man is an educated
man. No such thing. The man is educated who knows
himself, and takc9 common sense views of men and tilings
around him. Some very learned men are the greatest fools
:n the world j the reason is, they are not educated men. ,
An Irish mac :S£td, “the only way to suicide was:
‘loiitakeii a capital offence, punishable with death.”
The Freaks of fortune.—The New York Day
Book says there is a man in that city who has seen
some fifty summers, of a good stature and com
manding figure, who drives a Waverly omnibus, and
who has actually grown grey in the service. He
commenced this occupation m March, 1833, now
more than seventeen years past, and has pursued it
most of the time since, llis father was a wealthy
upholsterer for many years in Maiden Lane} and now
he is a rich retired old gentleman, highly respecta
ble, on Long Island. The son is a man of fine ca
pacity, has a more than ordinary iatellect, and is
handsomely educated. His fast living for a while}
rapidly dissolved two moderate forlunes, which, to
gether with some family disagreements, had the ef
fect of estrangement between himself and father. All
ill-feeling is now over. His father has given him
§40,000, a small portion of what he doubtless will re
receive—the interest of which he draws as he desires
and appropriates as lie likes. He lives with his fam
ily in a snug cottaee in 22d apeet in a quite Christi
an like way, still following hie profession of stage
driving, because he likes it—because ’lis pastime—
because he earns his living by it, and not by com
pulsion. Many of the ten thousand passengers who
ride in that excellent line have, doubtless; remarked
this extraordinary man with his piercing black eye
his long black hair now mixed with white,his brown
face, his tall and rather slender figure,his broad brim
med hat, and the rapidity of his movements,—his
stage passengers little thinking that they were thrust
ing their sixpences into the fingers that had at com
mand §40,000.— PhiL Enq.
Life at Twenty.-Dow, Jr.} describes life at twen
ty, in the following unique manner:
“Friends : at twenty, we are wild as partridges.—
There’s no such thing as taming Uswe ride that
fierce, fiery and head strong animal, Passion, over
fences, ditches, on to the devil, leap the five barred
gate of reason without touching the curb of discre
tion, or pulling harder than a til-mouse upon the
strong rein of judgment. And at twenty you are a
perfect locomotive, going at the rate of sixty miles an
hour, you heat the boiler, love is the steam, you some
times blow off in sighs—and hope, fear, anxiety and
jealousy, are the train that you drag. At this season
of life you are filled withexhilirating gas of romance,
everything looks romantic by spells—even a jackass
philosophising over a barrel of vinegar. You (both
girls and boys) now read novels till your gizzards
have softened into sentimental jelly and settled into
to the pit of your stomach ! Oh ! I know how you
feel! you feel as though you would like to soar from
star to star! kick little planets aside, take crazy com
ets by their blazing hair, and pull them into their
right courses, sit upon the highest peak of a thunder
cloud, and dangle the red lightning between your
thumb and finger as a watch chain, and then dive
down into the golden sunset sea, and sport with the
celestial syrens, speed on, pull the nose of the man
in the moon,ransack creation, knock a few panes out
of the window of heaven,and then flutter down gen
tly as a breeze, and find the darling object of your
love, mending stockings! That’s how you feel.
~ A Touching Story.—The following beautiful and
touching story was related by Dr. Schnelby, of Ma
ryland, at a meeting held in New York, to hear ilie
experience of twenty reformed drunkards: A drunk
ard who had run through his property, returned home
one night to his unfurnished house. lie entered his
empty hall—anguish was gnawing at his heart-stringf,
and language is inadequate to express his agony as
he entered his wife’s apartment, and there beheld the
victims of his appetite, his lovely wife and darling
child. Morose atid sullen, he sealed himself without
a word ; he could not speak, he could not look upon
them. The mothersaid to the little angel by her side-,
“come, my child, it is time to go to bed and that
little babe, as was ber wont, knelt by her mother’s
lap, and gaiing wistfully into the face of her suffer
ing parent, like a piece of chiseled statuary, slowly re
peated her nightly orison ; and when she had finish
ed, the child, but four years of age, said to her moth
er, “dear ma, may 1 offer up one more prayer r”—
“Yes, yes, my pet, pray.” And she lifted up lier
tiny hands', closed her eyes and prayed; “O God !
spare, oh spare my dear papa!” That prayer was
wafted .with electric rapidity Aothe throne of God.—
It was heard—it was heard on earth. The respon
sive “Amen!” burst from the father’s lips, and his
heart of stone became a heart of flesh. Wife and child
were both clasped to his bosom, and in penitence he
said, “My child, you have saved your father from the
grave of a drunkard. I’ll sign the pledge.”
A Death Scene.—The Troy Whig giving an ac
count of the Caldwell tragedy iu that city, says :
“The scene presented in the bed-room was one we
shall not attempt to describe. A more ghastly and
horrible spectacle the .mind cannot Conceive. Both
i were in their ordinary night clothes. The woman
I was lying in the front part of the bed, her head rest
ing on the arm and partly on the bosom of her com
: panion. The gash in her throat was not deep, and
the blood had dropped beneath so that little was on
her person. Her countenance was pallid, and mark
ed bv .a serenity amounting almost to a smile. She
bad evidently moved only very slightly after the cut
was made, and then in '.he struggles of death. She
was of the middle size in height, hardly ordinarily ro
bust, and apparently age.l about 30 years. By her
side on the right lav Caldwell, the most horrid ob
ject the eyes ever "beheld. He was tall, muscular,
; well formed, large head, features strongly marked, and
; the lower part of his face covered with a heavy pair
of whiskers. The gash in his throat had severed and
laid bare his windpipe, and he had bled most pro
fusely. His face, hands, and breast were covered
with blood, and’his hair and whiskers were clotted
•together with it. Judging from the position of his
limbs,'his 'contortions must have beer, long and se
vere. By his right side was found a razor, covered
with blood, and also the razor case.”
Evening Meditations.—>fn the stillness of the
hour, away from the busy crowd, wc should listen to
the voice that speaks from within, and to the voices
of those who, having gone hence,now from the abode3
of the blest, call us to come up on high. Still are
they with us—those departed ones—to rebuke us for
our earthliness and sirr, to alleviate our affections, and
to secure ofir firmer allegiance to virtue and to God.
Then conscience speaks; how severe its rebuke when
we have yielded to the force of evil! How blest its
benedictions when we overcome temptation, and
prove true to the aspirations of our nobler nature !—
Then we are better prepared to estimate the true val
ue of existence, and to consider its only worthy aims,
to scrutinize our .own hearts and delect the sophis
tries of sin; and then cab we trace up to their various
sources the streams which feed our inner life, and if
we give ourselves with a good degree of faithfulness
to this wofk, we may rest assured that these solita
ry musings will make us purer and better men.
£3- “Mother, why does Pa call you honey r”
“Because, my dear, he loVes me.”
“No, Ma, that isn’t it.”
“It isn’t-? What is it then ?”
“Whv. it’s because yoti iiave so much comb in
your head—that’s why.”
That child ought to have been “sent right off
to bed-”
Question for a Debating Societv Which is
the most proud, agici w.jtbjlfif he*u; Qr f
with her nrsi uhdv r
For What is a Mother Responsible ?—She
is responsible for the nursing and rearing of her pro
geny; for their physical constitution and growth, thsir
exercise aiid sustenance in life. A child left to grow
tip deformed or meagre is an object of maternal neg
ligence. She is responsible for a child’s habits, includ
ing cleanliness, order, conversation; eating, sleeping
and general propriety of behavior. A child deficient
or untaught in these particulars will prove a living
monument of paternal disregard; because;generally
speaking a mother can, if she will, greatly control
her children in these matters;
She is responsible for their deportment. She calx
make them modest or impertinent, clownish or po^
lite. The germ of all these things is childhood^ttd *
mother can suppress of bring them forth.
She is responsible for the principles of which her
children entertain in early life. For her it is to say
whether those who go forth from her fireside shall
be imbued in the sentiments of Virtue, truth; honor;
honesty,temperance, industry, benevolence, morality,
or those of contrary character, vice, fraud, drunken
ness, covetousness. These will be found tt> ba of
the most natural grdwth—but on her is devolved th*
daily, hourly task of weeding her little gardeh, of e
radicating those odious productions, and planting lb*
human heart with the filly, the rosepnd the amaranth
that fadeless flower; thfe emblem of truth.
She is,to a vety considerable extent;re6ponsitole for
the temper and disposition of her children. Consti
tutionally they may be Violent; irritable; fevenjgfeful;
but for the regulation and correction of these passions,
& mother is responsible and for the intellectual ac
quirements of her children, that is, she is bound to
do what she can for this object. Schools, academies,
&. colleges open their portals throughout the land^nd
every mother is under heavy responsibilities to know
that her sons and daughters have all the benefit*
which these can affordy&nd which their circuflilttJiice*
permit them to enjoy;
She is responsible for their religious education.—
The beginning 6f all wisdom is the fear of God; and
this every mother is capable, to a greater or less de
gree, of infusing into the minds of her offspring,
The Wild Peofle of Borneo.—Further toward*
the north are to be found men living absolutely in 4
state of nature; who neither cultivate the ground nor
live in huts; who neither eat rice or salt; and who
do not associate with each other, but rove about th*
woods like wild beasts. The sexes meet in the jun
gle, or the man carries away a woman from som*
company. When the children are old enough to shift
for themselves they usually separate, neither One af
terwards thinking of the other. At night they sleep
under some large tree, the branches of which hang
low; on these they fasten the children in a kind of
swing. Around the tree they make a fire to keep off
the wild beasts and snikes. They cover themielVe*
with a piece of bark, and in this also they wr4p their
children. It is soft and warm; but will hot keep Out
the rain.
These poor creatures are looked upon ahd treated
by the Dyaks as wild beasts. Hunting parties or
twenty-five and thirty go out and amuse themselVe*
with shooting at the children in the trees with th*
sumpit, the same as monkeys, from which they ar*
not easily distinguished. The men taken in the**
excursions are invariably killed; and the women com
monly spared if they are young. It is Somewhat re
markable that the children of these wild people can
not be sufficiently tamed to be entrusted with liberty
Solgie told me he never recollected an instance when
they did not escape to the jungle the Very first oppor
tunity, notwithstanding many of them had been treat
ed kindly for years. The cohsequehee tr, all th*
chiefs, who call themselves civil feed, no sooner tak*
them but they cut off a foot, Sticking tb'e stomp ia
a bamboo of molten da mar: their escape is thus pre
vented, and their services in paddling canoes retained.
Home.—The ordination of Providence, says a die
Anguished writer, is, that home should form our char
acter. The first objects of parents should be t<>
make home interesting, it is a bad sign when chil
dren have to wander from tire parental rooffor amuse
ment. A love of home is one of the strongest saf*
guards against vice—not only to children blit to men.
Men who delight iii their own fire-sides, are never
seen lounging about bar-rooms and oyster salooat.
Make home attractive to your children—so that they
will leave it with regret, and return to it with joy—
for this is a mighty preservation from vice.
Lofty Trees.—Lieut. Wise says that many of tho
trees that fringe what Humboldt terms the maritime
Alps of California, are of enorPioOs magnitude. A
German naturalist assured him that he had measured
pines in the Santa Cruz mountains fifty-seven feet it*
girth at the base, and carrying the lofty tops Up*
clear shaft for 270 feet, without a branchl It is Hum
boldt, we believe, who mentions a species of malar*
pines only three-tenths of an inch high ! He ale*
mentions pines in California 300 feet high, if mess*'
ured to the very top. Somewhat of a contrast j«—
Boston Post.
What the end will be.—When 1 see * boy
angry with his parents, disobedient and obstinate*
determined to pursue his own .course, to be his own
master—setting at naught the experience of age, arid
disregarding their admonitions and reproofs—unless
his course is changed, I need not inquire, “What will
his end be?” He not only disobey* his parent*
and insults his friends, but he disregards the Vote#
of God, and is pursuing the path which ieadt fitlsfr
ly down to the gates of-death and wo.
Flowers.—Flowers are delightful -to atl. Thi A*
theniansjV/ho had a market for the sale of them,wuiw
obliged to pass laws to restrain the extravagance of
purchasers. Such was the passion oxer every mind
in the East for flowers,thalifram them hat been made
a universal language of friendship, affection end lore.
0~ The purest and ten derest loVe St tcrtUttftne*
lavished on us at a time When we dp Pot appreciate
it. h is only in life, when we see rhe love of other
parents for their children, that we begin to reflect that
we were equally loved oOrsdves.
0» Bentley’s Miscellany gives the following illus
tration of Irish combativeness : ‘*Och! murtber !—
Nine o’clock at Donybrook fair, and the divrl a fight
yet ? Will any body have the kindness to treadm
'the tail of viy coat ?”
0“ A young'Irishman, who had married wheti hs
was but nineteen years of age, complaining of
difficulties to which his early marriagehad subjected
him, said he would never marry to yoUng again, tf
he lived to be as old as Methusalem !
“Ifyou think,” said a young swell, a fetr
since, addressing a julip that was before him, ‘111*
ain’t going to drink yotr, why, you’ll fctnuikf . .ial *
'that’s all;” and, without farther ceremony \
the action to the word. •» “e ,0J,*d
0• A lazy fellow onefe deolaiw*. .-.Til -
pany, that he could not find .breud rr rfMlWie -oom.
“Nor I,” replied an industrious r f
bliged to work for it;** .^ecJtanic, “4 «*|
C3- A man in Pittsburg 6ned ^ 92*
tng a young lady’s. hand. Here it
girls love it, w the
-We never ^j-^e our own character eo much
as when we attack that of otbere. Bear this in mrajl.

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