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? - - .... gggggaasggBBafag^ajtefeg^tey ssssssssssssesms^Kss ? in. i. j i mi i in ,- ''-IT .1. '-ci tr ' ' v-.y *. ( ' yvnof. rJ ttzvv- <>& ^-ja - 'L--. --^V lewis m. qeist, Proprietor. [ An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. '.; . 4w wbhtamwiik advance * - ' ;" *' ' ' ...' v.. ' u ii - i ix- ' -t :j h '-' >** ^*ia> akijii'iiw iiifft *u"w * \ vol. 6. yoekyille, s. o., thuesday, maech 15,1860. 2sto. ll ? ^?mmmmmm Jieleridr JMrg. From the Charleston Courier. "THOU ABT THE SAME." BT WILLIE LIQHTHXART. Ah me! the music of such blessed words Comes down upon the weary footed ones like spring-time 'pon the bosom of the earth, When wrapped In desolation, storm and snow. It cometh o'er the heart?the disappointed heart? Like the delicious gurgle of a running spring Upon the parched, hot and desert plain, Where quivering lips cry 'water, or we die!' It cometh o'er the soul like the far distant shout From life-boat, hast'ning u> the sinking wreck, TT"a~ ilaalr a thnnund hftflrtfi he&l wilct A thousand eyes gaze wildly through the mist It eometh o'er the heart and thrills it with a joy, As sweet as melody from out the glory-land ; And kindles in the soul a fire as pure As that which burns forever at the throne of Ood I 'Thou art the same!'?It matters not though all The flowers of human hope are crushed and dead; Though every star In darkness has gone out, And the long winter night of sorrow chills the heart; It matters not though thy warm heart is doomed, With lacerated feet, to tread the wilderness alone; Though loved ones love thee not as fondly as they did In the bright summer time, the sunny long-ago; It matters not though childhood's laugh be hushed, Though the fair hopes and visions all are gone, Which bloomed awhile ago, like flowers, and sung like birds, So sweetly and so beautifully all the livelong day. I It matters not though friends are strangely oold, Though faces, that were wont to smile of yore, Now turn away, or, looking, wound thy heart By the stern brow, the curling Up of scorn. God has not changed (?through all thy weary Ufe, From early boyhood, when thy lisping prayer Went np, with "Our Father," at thy mother's knee; Through iufkncy and boyhood, np to manhood's prime, E'en to the tottering season of a good old age, His voloe hath haunted thee, His loving arm Hath zoned thee through a thousand stormy hoars, And the sweet Invitation. 'Come to me,' Has sounded, everlastingly, upon thine ears I Oh! learn the soothing, blessed, changeless truth, That man, however sunk in sin and crime, Hath e'er a friend in heaven, whose loving heart Yearns after him, from childhood to the verge of hell And, when the sickened, disappointed, wounded heart, Turning from earth, looks for a better hope and friend. Above the throne of God, in living lines of light, A promise ?>"?" shine oat to beacon it in peace Into the outstreehed arms of an unchanging friend ! WRITTEN EOR THE YORXVILLE ENQUIRER. EVAS DHC; OR JHE FOUNDLING. BY MRS. M. RITCHIE. ' CHAPTER in. It was early in the morning, when the warder at Norland Castle heard the warlike sound of bngles in the distance; an| nonnoing the approach of straDgers, and shortly after, a flourish of trumpets at the great gates proclaimed the arrival of the party, who oraved hospitality. It was soon ascertained to be a messenger from the royal army, that requested an audience of the Laird; and the heavy draw-bridge was thrown down for his admission. The retainers were drawn up in the Court yard?rough fellows and lawless loons?who were ready to back their chief, sword in hand, in any desperate emergency; and as the Southron dignitary passed through them, leaving his n oi/3/k fKn roulnn Ko own guttiu UU lus uiuvi D1VJV buu laiiusj ? was saluted with sullen looks of discontent. Sir Robert Anstruther was seated in his chair of state in the great hall, amid his numerous dependents, determined to impress the herald with a due sense of his importance ; yet he could not repress a start when that functionary presented him with a packet, sealed with the royal arms. 'A messenger from the King, hah!' he said; 'we give you welcome and, prithee, do aot stint the cheer, whilst I arrive at a seDse of his missive. Harkee ! knaves, hurry the repast.' Whilst the messenger attended to the viands, the Laird tore open the letter and proceeded to read it with a flushed brow. <By the holy rood,' he muttered, impatiently; <to join the invading army in person, and bring my followers, or pay a hundred pounds within six days; if I fail, my head will be forfeited and my Castle stormed. Hun?hun?a hundred men I can command, but I'll not be drawn from my fastness in that simple way, to do him homage, and if I rack the country round, I could not get as many shillings together, oinoo if. is forbidden to lew nrotection M*"vv "" * r money on the Lothians.' With the mandate, however, oame a private letter from Lord Cranstown, which he next perused, informing him of what he knew already?the King's displeasure.? He was well aware, too, that small dependence could be placed on those interests he had betrayed; for the Laird had played booty on both sides, nor could he rely on the patriot band whose cause he had abandoned, when fortune favored him. Harrassed by corroding passions, vengeful and irritable, the Laird let his chin fall on one hand, whilst the other rested musingly on the pommel of his claymore, unable to form a settled purpose, which Lord Cranstown's missal was not calculated to soothe. Though it promised life, at the same time it painted the frown of the monarch, as the harbinger of death, unless he chose to save his honor at the expense of his daughter's hand. Sir Robert's remonstrances and entreaties, aggravated by his fierce suspicions, having failed with Beatrice, now blazed forth into threats and imprecations, which subsided into a deliberate purpose if she refused immediate acquiesencc He knew Evan had fallen by his hand, and he reflected that compulsory, steps, on his part, were only a just punishment for her delinquency in having married one so far below her station, and a just expiation to her father's anger. He, therefore, resolved to send a portion of his armed men to join the Southern army, excusing bis own attendance on plea of indisposition; and invited Lord Cranstown to an immediate interview, with the promise that all his requirements should be complied with. The messenger?a devoted instrument of Lord Cranstown?departed and brought with him such a glowing description of Beatrice's beauty, that her venerable admirer resolved to put his schemes into execution as rapidly as possible; whilst Sir Robert retired to his private apartment, overwhelmed in thought, to reflect on the terms which were compulsory enough, and brought about, as it were, with hemp and halter. Suddenly he started up from the seat where he had thrown himself, and a fiend-like expression agitated the muscles of his face. 'Oh ! cursed pride !' he exclaimed; 'wretched ambition ! how have your toils entangled my vacillating mind, and plunged me deep in guilt! Furies that haunt my soul! harpies that gnaw my vitals! Oh 1 were ye embodied, thus?thus would I crush ye !' He stamped his ponderous feet on the floor, and clenched his hands until the sinews of hisarms cracked again. Although sentiments of paternal affection found but small space for culture iu the chieftain's heart, yet he keenly felt the mortification of yielding to menaces in the bestowal of his daughter's hand, and to one, too, in whose sharp face it was puzzling to read the anomolous passions that abounded within, and who might, under the guise of these terms, meditate a fearful and refined revenge upon her. This stung his haughty soul with bitterness, and there seemed to he a fitful fever in his brain; for in the midst of violence and rage, a tremulous perturbation, apparently arising from some secret dread, shook his frame to the impotence of childhood. He paced the room with rapid motion, sometimes in sullen silence, then as corroding thoughts stirred up reflections on the past, a wild unnatural laugh or expression of defiance burst from his quivering lips. At length reflection opened calmer prospects on his view, and he became more tranquil, though his lineaments still betrayed evident marks of internal agitation. At this juncture the door opened, and Ronald, bis foster brother and faithful follower, stood before him. The remotest member of a Scottish clan invariablv stood in some relation to bis chief which naturally induced a sentiment of devotion, even to death, and formed a bond of union more binding than if they had been brothers in reality. The question of supremacy was never raised ; and the protective arm of the one and self-devotion of the other equalized the distance, so that the result was a confidence, esteem, friendship and affection between them, which, at the present day, it may be found difficult by any effort to realize to the imagination. For an instant the Laird paused and fixed his penetrating eyes upon his humble friend; then, as his look of suspicious doubt subsi ded, his features regained strong traces of hidden agony. 'Ronald/ he said, 'I have need of your confidence, and wish to hold some converse with you. My daughter has refused Lord Cranstown's hand; she is now the only hope Heaven has left our house, since my noble brother fell on the battle field, and his heir perished with the nurse. Poor child !' he continued, afifecting a look of sorrowful sympathy, 'it caught that fatal distemper, the small pox, and died.' 'Pardon me, my Lord/ rejoined Ronald with solemnity, 'the boy was saved. It was to tell you this, I intruded on your privacy.' Language would be inadequate to paint the sudden change in Sir Robert's face.? Dismay and horror, sat upon his brow, whilst conflicting passionB seemed to wither up his faculties. He writhed his Angers in his long black hair, and repeated to himself, disorderedly, 'The boy was saved ! the boy was saved!' But gathering more firmness, he continued addressing Ronald, 'Saved, did you say ?' 'Yes, Sir Robert, and lives.' 'It is a base lie, a villainous fabrication ! I know he died?that is?yes?yes?I know be died.' 'Indeed, indeed, my noble Sir, he lives.' 'Dare you trespass on ray patience, and contradict me with your falsehoods ? Beware, beware how stir up my wrath. Is this tale your own, or is it the invention of another ?' demanded the Laird of Norland, impatiently. ?I am not used, Sir Robert, to practice falsehoods to my chief,' replied Ronald, proudly., 'My authority is now within the Castle?the woman who was his nurse.' 'His nurse !' repeated the chieftain, as he /)wa(it kin Vtv/vnfYi rr?ifV\ u&cvt uio uitaiu it it u icpcatcu UUU YUlSlVc catches, which seemed to border on strangulation. 'His nurse ! What does she want here ?' 'You shall hear, my Lord.' 'Be brief then,' exclaimed Sir Robert, furiously; but collecting himself, he con tinned, with an air of more serenity, 'Excuse my impatience, Ronald. Joyous surprise well nigh overturned my reason; yet torturing doubt weighs heavily on my spirits, and I fear deception/ <A few words will suffice, my Lord, to explain the tale. At the first blush of dawn, as old David and myself were stalking deer, we discovered in a vault beneath the old chapel by the loch, a human being, whose weird looks and wasted strength bespoke the near approach of death. Humanity prompted us to briDg her to the Castle; and though age has sadly altered her features, I easily recognized the daughter of old Margaret. As soon as I made this discovery, I had her removed apart from the domestics; for when her speech returned, I found her ravings were unfit for every ear to listen to.' 'Indeed ! You did right, worthy Ronald, but to what did her talk tend ?' he inquired, fixing a scrutinizing gaze upon the narrator. 'Alas! her reason was sorely bewildered; she spoke, nevertheless, of murder and Sir ha a. > noDert. Vice is progressive in its course, and whoever falls a prey to its snare is borne away by his evil passions, until he sinks deeper and deeper in guilt, and finally becomes an infatuated wretch, hurried along by his own acts to the grave. Sir Robert felt this as a tornado of reminiscences swept across his memory^; yet seeing the absolute necessity for dissimulation, he laughed aloud, although his laugh bore no kin to merriment. The very demons hear the terrors of Omnipotence, and tremble?still they laugh and exult horribly, and such was the present feeling of Anstruther. 'She named me, did she ? She coupled it with murder too, and you believed it ?' he asked. 'Believe what, Sir? Did I not say that she raved.' 'So you did, truly 1 but did she positively mention me ?' She did, and whilst her hand was searching for something about her garments, that was missing, she spoke of your lamented brother, our dead Laird.' 'Of my brother! The plot seems to thicken, then,' he murmured to himself. 'What did she say of him ; she could not say much of one of whom she knew so little,' he added, in more distinct tones. 'She exclaimed, drawing out her lean and withered Sogers, 'I cannot find it; 'twas Robert's present torn from Sir Walter's dying heart. Hark !?they call?they call!' then gazing on her hands, she loudly I i * * -.1 .i l.ri* snrieKea, <tnese?tnese are pure; Dut, sir Robert, yours are deeply crimsoned with a brother's blood.' The Laird's lineaments underwent various changes whilst listening to Ronald, and towards the close of the narration, he appeared to shrink within himself, like the orouching of a tiger, about to spring on it3 prey. He suddenly drew a dirk from his side, and rushing on the defenceless man, with a voice half choked with fury, 'Villiain, you lie; I did not murder him, he fell on the battle field. You dare not say I murdered him.' Ronald stood firm and replied with composure, <1 am no villian, my good master; but your true and faithful servant, bound to you through every viscissitude of life.' The solemn composure with which these words were uttered, re-called the distracted senses of Sir Robert, and dropping the dagger's point, whilst a smile of scorn, mingled with defiance curled his lips, he said, 'Aye, I think you have told me this be lore. 'Have I not proved myself devoted to your interest ?' The grim features of the chieftain relaxed; he thrust the dirk into its scabbard, and a look of melancholy overshadowed his brow. The surprise of the moment, operating on a mind, already weakened by distress, had irritated his feelings and thrown him off his guard. For the words of the nurse, though a mystery to Ronald, were not to him ; and the unconscious narrator had held up a faithful mirror to his eyes, which time could not obscure, though dimmed with blood. He struck his hand upon his heart and a heavy groan burst forth, as if the tortured spirit were struggling to escape; and grasping the arm of him, at whom but a few minutes before he had pointed a na ked weapoD, he said mournfully, 'Forgive my injustice, Ronald; I have proved and found you faithful, and now, you are the only being left to me, on whom I can depend.' 'You overrate my services. Were there no other motive, your kindness to myself and family demands my gratitude?my life.? Oh, good Sir, can I ever forget when your hand snatched us from destruction ! How my aged parents, bowed down with age and affliction, saw the home of their early loves enveloped in crackling flames, and the red glare of the blazing mass, streaming on the ghastly paleness of their cheeks, seemed to mock the agonies of its victims. My sister? she whose remains, now moulder into dust beneath the turf raised mould, stood trembling as the brutal 'sidier rhu' marked her for their victim, whilst I, bound and bleeding, could only look upon the spectacle with horror and dismay. Yes, the scene is still before me, engraven on ray memory. My venerable sire, with his white hair streaming in the breeze, and a look of meek piety, even demons would have reverenced; and my mother too, on whose neck I hune in infan cy?she was subjected to the rude grasp of villains. Both were bound, as marks for their carabines. In vain my sister shrieked?they revelled in her cries, and exulted in her frenzy. Oh! 'twas a sight of horror, for they stood like lambs appointed for the siaughter?willing to die for conscience sake !?when you, my noble master, came like a guardian angel to our rescue?the hoary heads of my parents weDt to the grave in peace, and a sister's purity was saved!' Whilst Ronald spoke, the gloom which had hung upon Sir Robert's brow, gradually dispersed like mist before the rising sun, till his eye once more glistened with pride and dignity. The retrospect just brought before him, recalled to his memory the time when honor and integrity swayed his mind, and for a few moments made him forget the intervening years?years that were stained with villiany and bloodshed. A tear gathered in his eye, but as existing circumstances again rushed like a torrent on his soul, he dashed the unwonted monitor away, and his features resumed their frowning sternness. 'But this woman and boy,' he hastily resumed ; 'what more of them ?' 'As soon as transient recollection was restored, I made myself known, and questioned her. But the visions of a disordered imagination were fading away again, and I could obtain no other reply than 'the boy still lives?the boy still lives !' ,o _ T> > i~: J o:_ T> i?j. .. 'Vjo .uuuiiiu, cAuiuiuicu oir nuucn, as feverish passion flashed his cheeks ; 'prepare this woman for an interview. I will see her, and question her myself. Torture shall wriog the secret from her, if other means fail. Go, go!' Rouald quitted the apartment, and the Laird resumed his hasty walk; his mind racked with anguish and suffering, the keenest distress the poison of a guilty conscience can inflict. 'Is the hour of retributive justice then arrived ?' he muttered. 'The tempest gathers about my head; yet I will dare the storm and boldly live, or bravely die. To die?and what if there should be an hereafter? Phsaw ! away with the thought, I'll not believe it; 'tis but an idle tale, the base invention of some babbling monk, to scare the credulous, into giving support to his monastrey. Still, what is this that struggles in my thoughts?down, down thou hissing serpent, that coils about my heart.' He continued his rapid strides in unison with his feelings, unconscious that a panel had been pulled back*t the far side of the apartment, and that Evan stood at the entrance of a dark, winding passage, watching his movements. The Laird at length stoped, and seating himself, leaned his head on the table, with his back to Evan, who cautiously and silently entered the room. 'My daughter/ he continued; 'she too, has betrayed me by leaguing with a base born wretch, whom my bounty cherished. 'Tis true, he towered above his fellows, was brave and generous, and when I fell overpowered by numbers in battle, he rushed to my rescue, and kept the foe at bay, till succor came, though his own flesh was scored with gaping wounds. I loved the boy, for he saved my life; but his ambitious i i* 111 spirit soared aoove control, ne woma nave incited my vassal 3 to rebellion?and it is well I crashed the viper?my dirk drank his ' 'Blood,' said Evan, placing himself erect with stiffened limbs and rigid eyes, right in front of Sir Robert. The chief fixed his gaze upon the figure with desperate energy, then shuddering hysterically, he uttered with a demoniac expression, worthy of a fiend, covering his face with his hands. 'Spectre, forbear 1?those bones are marrowless ! Why does he appear again !?to curse me?fiends, fiends, ye have done this 1' and he fell prostrate and senseless to the floor. Evan gazed upon the fallen man reproachfully ; then, remembering that be was the father of his beloved, he took a dirk from his bosom, and laying it upon the table, silently withdrew. Sir Robert remained insensible upon the floor when Ronald returned to announce the result of his mission, and immediately raising the head of his prostrate master, he shouted lustily for help, and the domestics hastening in, the Laird was laid upon a couch. The stragglings of natare were short, and in a brief space reoollection resumed her sway, whilst convulsive throbs rent his surcharged bosom with fearful ag ooy. Ronald spcke to him, bat he heeded him Dot; next there was a gurgling in the throat, spasmodic twitchings of the body, and he opened his eyes and looking round with bewildering surprise, as he stretched forth his hands and screamed, 'Spectre approach not?wretches ! blood will have blood. Stand back, miscreants.' 'Compose yourself, Sir,' said Ronald, soothingly. 'All, Ronald ! is it you ? I have had a strange dream. I thought?but, can the spirits of the dead return to testify on earth against their foes f A misty vapor came before bis eyes and he would have fallen again, if Ronald had not been at band to catch him in his arms, which only increased his terror, for not being aware his retainer was near, his bewilI 1 - 1 f ! J 1_ .M!_ xL. aerea iancy lmagioea ne was wnmu uie grasp of the demon, and glaring timidly aronnd, he cried, pointing to the spot where Evan had stood, 'I saw it there.' 'Saw it there?' enquired Ronald, whilst the panic spread to the rest of the servants, who, unacquainted with the cause of alarm, crowded together for mutual safety. 'Saw what, ray good master ? Do not trust to dreams, but think upon realities !' 'By heaven, you echo my words. What! would you probe my soul ? I fear neither the living nor the dead?those untenanted shells from whom the spirits have fled for ever. Drive these varlets hence. The fit is over,' he added rushing amongst the domestics, who made a simultaneous movement to the door, glad to escape from their haughty and conscience-stricken lord. 'Oh ! Ronald,' he exclaimed, when they were alone, 'how weak, even in his best strength is man.' 'Pardon me, Sir Robert,' replied his humble friend, 'you suffer an overheated imagination to effect your brain, and thus fancy embodies thought!' 'Was it so? Did you see nothing?hear nothing? Yes, yes, it must have been imagination, and this heart, that never shrank in battle, trembles at an air-drawn shadow.4 'Is the woman prepared ?' She is; though at times, reason wavers.' Then lead on, and see that we have no intrusion.' Ronald again quitted the apartment, and j Sir Robert prepared to follow, but seeing the weapon which had been left behind, he stretched forth his hand, mistaking it for his own, and whilst secreting it about his person, he murmured in a low voice to himself, My dirk; perhaps I shall have need of thee,' adding in a shriller tone, <now then, ye smiling fiends, Oh ! steel my heart and nerve my arm to plan and execute vengeance.' ' Vengeance,' repeated a hollow voice from behind the sliding door, where Evan had disappeared, just at the moment when Ronald re-entered the room ; and the start led Laird rushing at him, demanded in a voice of fury, 'Villain ! Why do you mock me.' 'I spoke not, Sir, but thought you called on me to return.' 'Did you not speak ?' 'No, by my troth, my good Laird j have you heard a voice V 'A voice!' cried the chief, with despe| rate energy. 'Ay, a voice sounding from the grave, that called for vengeance. Vengeance !' he continued, bursting into a wild manaical laugh, ' 1'es, and it shall be mine.' [TO BE CONTINUED.] /\ rt n tt -i URIGIN OF oAEBATH-oCHOOLS IN U.S. !?In a recent address, Charlton T. Henry, Esq., brought forward the following interesting historical facts : On the 19th of December, 1790, a meeting of eight or ten ; persons was held in Philadelphia, of whioh ; the late venerable Bishop White was Chairj man. At that meeting measures were adopted which resulted in the organization known | by the name of the Society for the Institui tion and support of First-day or Sunday| sohools, in the city of Philadelphia and the districts of Soathwark and the Northern Liberties. On the first of February, 1791, the first school was opened for forty female pupils, and the teacher was allowed $80 per annum for tuition and room Tent. Other sohools for the same object were organized daring the years whioh succeeded this. But it was not until the year 1811 that there was any school established with voluntary teachers. About this time the Rev. Robert May, a missionary from London, on his way to India, remained in Philadelphia for a year, ana during nis stay succeeded in establishing a Sabbath-school upon the present plaa Original papers.. For the Yorkville Enquirer. A Tnr.MAPTTATtT.TB DREAM. In the month of May, several years ago, I had the following singular dream. I thought the sun had gone down, and in the early twilight of the beautiful evening, I was walking alone, in the bosom of a dense and tall forest growth, that skirted the south-eastern side of the farm on whioh I had been brought up. A few rods from the part of the path where I fancied I was then sauntering with slow and musing pace, a bold spring of pure water gushed from the crevice of a rock at the foot of a bill, and sped away in a rippling rivulet over its pebbly channel, towards the east. The birds were filling the forest over and around me, with the strains of a melody, the rich sweetness of which is, perhaps, peculiar to the luxuriant woodlands of our upper Districts, when reposing in the still tranquility of a May-evening sunset. My path was conducting me from a somewhat low and level part of the woodland, to the foot of an ascent which rose before me, and swelled into a hill towards the west. I had advanced within a few paces of the bill, up and over which the little pathway before me seemed to be olimbing, when in the contemplative mu sings of my mind, I paused, and turning partially round, beheld, a step or two behind me on the path over which I had passed, a young man of most lovely appearance. He was tall; his mien, graceful and majestio; his hair dark; his forehead, high, full and smooth; his brilliant blue eye radiated with intelligence; the rose of health bloomed on bis cheek; and a smile mingled with solemnity, graced every feature of the most intellectual and amiable countenance I had ever beheld. I stood in motionless admiration of the extraordinary excellence and dignity of the youthful stranger, and felt all my faculties subdued into the posture of an inquiring attentiveness, as to who, and whence he was, and for what purpose V? a Vio/1 nmaolooaln onv\i>AnnVin/) m n wnfVi uc uuu uviobi^ooij UJJ ^aiu j and taken bis position so near me.- As I thus stood gazing upon him in silence, and intently making these inquiries of myself, he raised his hand, and pointing up toward the heavens, he said to me, do you see yon star? I instantly looked up in the direction to which he pointed, and through | a space between the tops of the trees that grew around us, I saw a large and brilliant star speeding its course through the sky, with a velocity I had never before witnessed in any of the stellar train, and which, I thought, must of necessity in a very lit^ tie time bring it below the western horizon. In answer to the young man's question I replied in the affirmative, expressing my astonishment at the swiftness of its flight. Then dropping his hand to his aiito hp t.nrned fnward thp hill thnr. rr><jp ? just before us, and observed, you see that hill before you; now mark well what 1 say, for your future destiny depends on the attention, or the neglect with which you regard the information and instructions I give you Your fate, young man, continued he, is connected with the two objects to which I have turned your attention?the star and the hill. You know from the speed of yon star that it must soon set; the hill before you is steep; but you must reach its summit before the swift star goes down; or you are lost forever. Now start, and with all your might speed your way up this path to the top of the hill; your life depends upon the issue of a few moments. Having ut tered these words, 1 saw him no more. My energies seemed to be aroused at once, as if by an electric touch, and the next instant I found myself at the top of my speed, rushing up the hill, which now wore an importance in my estimation, vastly beyond the magnitude of a thousand worlds. A few moments more, and I stood on the level land which stretched away from the hill invt r\ TTT n ll AtMA rt C ?nr? o ? J tup lurvuiu tuu uuluc ui Lujr uijiiuiiuuu ttUU, with trembling anxiety, raised my eyes iD search of the twinkling symbol of my life's careering stages. To my unspeakable joy, the fleet running star, holding its onward course through the heavens, again met my eye, having passed over a space, from the moment I first saw it, incomparably less than my fearful apprehensions had led me to anticipate, and was at such a height above the horizon as completely quieted my fears, and filled my mind with gladness, and my lips with praises to God.? With a heart overflowing with gratitude to the Benefactor who had found and instructed me at the foot of the hill, and with expressions of thankfulness and love to my Creator, who had sustained and sped me id my race to its summit, I again set forward, as I thought, with a nimble step and cheerful spirit, along the path which seemed to lead across a beautiful and level field in the direction of home. I had not proceeded far, as it seemed in my dream, when I discovered near the edge of my path, at a short distance before me, the most fierce and hideous monster my eyes had ever looked upon, or my imagination pictured ; and as I approached, he glared upon me with eyes of fire, growled and snapped his teeth, threatening, as I thought, my instant destruction, should I advance a 6tep farther. I stood still and hesitated; and looking on each hand for a way to pass round and escape, discovered, what I had not before observed, that on each aide of the path and paralel with it, a hedge or fence stretched along, and completely forbade my diverging in either direction. I thought of turning back, but the remembrance of what I had been told at the foot of the hill, and of the indescribable comfort and joy, with which the discovery on reaching the summit had, hut a few moments ago, filled my mind, rebuked the idea, and drove the thought iDto banishment from me. I felt that to turn away from the path, 1 could not, and to turn and go back, I dare not; I therefore resolved to go on, and to commit the issue to the Almighty. On form!n<? >li!o ?an1nl!nn T fi&If atronffalv norufld lug WlilO tVUUlUVIVU^ JL 4vl? ubiuugvij MW? ? V-J and, as I imagined, began again to proceed. As I advanced to the spot where the terrible looking creature was couohed, apparently infuriate with rage, he rushed to his feet, vaulting and bounding to light on his prey; but with all his efforts, seemed unable to throw himself into my path, or to touch me with his frightful paw as I passed. When a few yards beyond the perilous spot, reassured from the marvellous security with which I had passed the ferocious beast, I turned my eye back to inquire why I had not been torn in pieces, and discovered a massive chain fastened upon him, and so secured, that it was impossible for him to obstruct the path, or to reach those who should chance to be pasnamra n 1 nn /? if TKio nQTTT /i i Qrtl AQIIVO Voof AW. siu^ aiuu^ iv* jluio ucw uiovtuauio icowi - i ed tranquility to my mind, and filled me with adoring wonder at the mysterious arrangements of an invisible Power for my security and happiness, and melted my heart once more in gratitude and praise.? Elated with these delightful emotions, I again, as I thought, sped along the path across the plain homeward, ruminating with delight upon the strange incidents of the evening, and praising the Most High, for what I had learned, for what I had gained, and for what I had yet to hope for, when I awoke and found it a dream. At the time I had the dream which I have briefly but accurately, as to its incidents, narrated above, I was but a youth; and although by no means a stranger to thoughts and impressions of a religious character, 1 had, nevertheless, no experimental acquaintance with that great and radical change which the Bible calls Regeneration, but which, as I trust, was wrought in my soul by the power of Divine grace, in the course of the three years that immediately followed this dream of the night. Whether the reader may regard it as a premonition of what God was about to do fur me, or as nothing more than the mere random flights of the sleeper's wild and lawless fancy, there was to me at the time?and the lapse of years has not eradicated the conviction?a strong persuasion, that something more was wrapped up in the imagery of this dream, than the simple pencilling of an unguided imagination.? Should the reader be versed in his Bible, and himself acquainted with the commencement and progress of a work of saving grace upon his dVn heart, it strikes me, he will observe several of the leading features of the above dream; illustrative of scripture truth, and of the dealings of God, in conducting a sinner from a careless sauntering life of sin and pleasure in the valley of spiritual darkness and death, to the top of the hill, where faith reveals the star of hope, and the believer's pathway home is guarded and secured bv the Dower of God. O */ 1 / in fulfilment of the promises of the everlasting covenant. L. For the Yorkvillo Enquirer. PUBLIC"ROADS. Messrs. Editors :?Permit me through your columns to lay before the public my views on keeping up country Roads, as well as the bearing the late legislative enactment will have towards attaining that end; and whether its bearing will be equal or one qual upon the people, required by it to do the work or pay the tax. If my views should have no other good effect than to bring abler minds to discuss the subject, so important to all, I shall feel amply repaid. As much money or labor is contemplafrwl nnrlnr thfe nAtr nr?f. tn Ko on ?.? w"- -v- ?- ? -ruuvu wu Roads, tbe question with me is, how it is to be applied. If in banking upon tbe roads from ditches &c., to make them good, I think it will, in whole or part, be a failure ; and much road that is usually good, spoiled. For by throwing up beds of clay, be they ever so deep, packed and rounded to the ditches, they will cut down in wet times. Although no water be permitted to run on them, what falls is fully sufficient for wheels and hoofs to make impressions which will fill with the falling rain. Ever; additional traok cuts deeper and deeper, in search of firm bottom; and, it follows, the deeper the cla;, the deeper the mud will be, and the worse the roads. Be the ditches ever so deep and good, the water cannot pass through the miry clay into them, and has to dry by evaporation. Hence clay roads, where much throwing up has been done, are almost impassable throughout the winter and spring. A hard freeze only makes it worse, as that throws up the mud in frightful, dangerous blooks, when cut into by wagon wheels. I think those who have traveled the hills near Yorkville (which have been worked in this way) during winter and spring months, will agree with me that piling up roads only makes bad matters worse, unless done with gravel or sand. This is the case, also, on the flat black-jack roads, which are one . i? J .1 _i_ n _ i . .. l * i continued Biusn or mua ana water during winter; yet they are never so bad as when the under-layer of pipe-clay is thrown up. Now we may notice the stoDy, gravelly or sandy roads, which are seldom very bad unless neglected, by letting water run on and wash them into gullies; in a word, for want of breakers and drainage. But if, for further improvement, deep side ditches should be cut and the under clay thrown upon them, then we should have muddy and bad roads of them also; and the more put ou the worse. The reader, no doubt, is ready tosay, yea condemn the only practi- , cable way of making oar bad roada good, | as graveliog or caose^-waying all oar roads, would be an intolerable bnrdln?bow can it be done ? That,' friend reader, is jast1 what I want to know myself; and wonld be thankful for Buch information. How can a large amount of labor and money be benefioially expended On them In any other way, than by making an eotire under-layer of stone, gravel or wood? .1 wonld only venture to suggest that, if the same amount of labor as has heretofore been performed, was done, not at one time bat at different times of the year; if the roads were overlooked so that whenever a breaker is oat l.t. _.l .1.1 3 L. _ I tnrougu or a cutcn cnosea, it migut im iustantly repaired; it would be easily done, and perhaps as well under the former method of overseers as any way. It would f>e well, however, to shorten the Road Sections, so that overseers and hands would be nearer the work, when needing their attention. For better surveillance, the overseer might apportion his part to each of his neighbors; for, then, it would be better watched, each feeling interested in his own part, lest by neglect be should have the more work to do on it. I doubt whether the late enactment can accomplish the object contemplated, folly. Should the commissioners levy a tax to the extent of their power, all will pay who possibly can, rather than do the work themselves, for many reasons: such as the uncertainty of the time and extent of the work; of - its distance from their homes; and of the character of the contractor, who might be tyrannical to the hands ander hiin. 'A large fund would thus be put into the hands of commissioners; but how can it be applied on the roads, so as to make them good at the least expense ? In other words, how can commissioners lay down specific rales for letting out eaoh portion of every road to a contractor, so that he may have a fair understanding of what work has to be done, and oontraots may be bid down to their value? Otherwise bidders would be cautious, and competition scarce, giving speculators a chance of getting oontraots at far beyoud their real value Even then, to make the best of a good bargain, contractors will do as little work, and that as poorly, as the commisioners will receive?their object being to make money, and not to improve the roads. This, ? v *.i . " 1 m o i t . coupiea who treasurer s tees <xo, leaves out little doubt that a considerable amount of the funds will not be applied in labor on the roads, if indeed what is done shall^uro out to he of permanent utility. Besides it would seem to me to be patting more work on the commissioners; a class compelled to be public servants and do much laborious service, without fee or reward. Now let us consider whether the raising and disbursement of this fund will be equal on the people. The fund is to be raised by a general tax ; but the more numerous the the roads and the worse their condition, in any given seetion, the greater is to be the outlay, without regard to the question whether most of the tax was levied in that particular section or not. The law thus makes one end of the District keep up the roads of tbe other, at a distance of sixty miles, while neither receives much if any benefit from the road travel, except to their Court House which is in the center. I thick this would be putting public benefit on an extensive scale, and uneqnal in its bearing. Many will agree that Congress street of Yorkville being Macadamized is a public benefit; yet, few will say that the whole District should have been equally taxed to have done it. It does seem to me more equitable and just, that each one should as nearly as possible have the fall benefit of the tax laid upon him; and this can only be done by appropriating tbe money raised in each section -to tbe road within the same, or by each road division keeping up the road within its bounds. Other instances of the unequal bearing of this law might De adduced, out 1 trust enougn nas Deen said by your fellow citizen, J. R. Hints to Youno Gentlemen.?Don't give up your seat iu the cars, when you are tired out with your day's work, to a pert youDg miss who has been amusing herself with a little shopping?she won't even thank you for it and if a man is going to sacrifice his comfort, he has a reasonable right to expect, at least a little gratitude. No use being polite some ladies?there's an old proverb about casting the pearls before?what's their name ? Don't submit to be crowded off the pavement into a muddy gutter by too advancing balloons of silk and whalebone. Haven't your newly blacked boots as good a claim to respect as their skirts ? Look straight before you, and stand upon your own rights like a man?the ladies can contract themselves a little if they see there's no help for it! Don't talk literature and fine arts to the nroffr tyirln nf vrrnr n<*nn&intannA nnfcil vnn f?"V B J ?1 J are sore they know the difference between Thomson's Seasons and Thomson's Arithmetic. And if they look particularly sentimental, then you may know they don't understand what you are talking about! Don't ask a nice little girl about her doll unless you are very certain she has'nt 'come out,' and been engaged in two or three flirtations already. Don't say complimentary things to a young lady at a party, without first making sure that her 'intended' is not standing behind you the whole time. Don't accept a lady's invitation to go shopping with her, unless you have previously measured the length of your purse. Don't stay later than eleven o'clock when you spend the evening with a pretty friend ?the wisest man in Christendom becomes a bore after that hour. Don't believe any woman to be an angel. If you feel any symptoms of that disease, take a dose of sage tea and go to bed?it is as much a malady as the small pox, and it is your business to get over it as quiokly as possible. An angel, indeed! If you doo't find oat pretty soon tbst sbe laoks considerably more than the wings, we. are mistaken! v Don't make up yonr mind aboat any creature in a belt ribbon and velvet rose ties, with oat first uking your sister's advioe. Depend upon it, one woman can read anoth-r or better in five minutes than you can in five years! And, above all, don't imagine that yon must keep ycur lady-talk and gentleman talk in separate budgets, labelled and sort-^ ed, unless you want the girls to laagh at > yoar wishy-washy sentiments. Talk to them in a frank, manly style, as you would to an I intallimanf /?a*itl amn n T\aw'f onnn/viA Vva lUWUIgOUV gCUVlOUiQUc JL/VU V OU^/^VCVJ WVcause they are women, they don't know anything. Remember all this advice, an & may make rather lass of a fool of yourself than you would otherwise.?Mrt. George Washington tyyUy$. 'Worms' on thk Face.?An English editor informs a correspondent-?who signs himself 'A Troubled Ooe'?,?s follows : Little black specks are occasionally observed upon the nose and forehead of Same individuals. These spooks, when tbey fti* ist in any number, are a cause of mnefc an* sightliness. They *fe. minntecorks, if we may use the term, of ooegnlated lymphj which close the orifices of the pores or estbaleut vessels of the skin. On the skin, immediately adjacent to them, being pressed with the finger naila,.these bits of coadgulated lymph will come from it in venuonlsr form. They are vulgarly: called 'fleshworms/ many persons fancying them to be living creatures. These may be got rid of, and prevented from returning, by washing with tepid water; by proper friction with'a ? . 1 m towel, ana by tbe application of a little cold cream. The longer these* little biles are permitted to remain in the akin, the more firmly they becomed fixed; and after a time, when they lose their moisture, they are converted into little bony spines, as dense as bristles, and having much of that character. They should be thoroughly but cautiously squeezed, says another author, and on retiring to rest, a paste should be applied to, f the part affected. Recipe tor the past Take one ounce of powdered hitter almonds, and one ounce of barley flour, and enough \ honey to make the above ingredients into paste. There is another and still mote aim?la * ?asv MM/-t si Milti nit M?M VMAM Pnths pic roujcuy wuiuu jruu ujojt pioict. the spots several titles a day with lufc* warm water and a sponge; rubbing the sponge over a piece of yellow soap. There is a healing power in soap distinct from Its cleansing properties. * The Tomb o* Juliet.-*-Verona is the most important town in Veoetia, after the pity of Venice. It is now little .mora than a fortified oamp of Austrian*; and. bean all the marks of Austrian desolation. Thetown is one of great interest, fine cbmebes, Roman remains, &o. Among thedntiqaities is an amphitheatre after the style of the Coliseum at Rome, in a good state of preservation, which is still used, and will accommodate 60,000 persons. Here, too, is the tomb of Juliet, so immortalised by Shakspeare?it is a melancholy reliot of the past, and well calculated to teaoh a moral. Juliet was buried io au. old convent, which, after many vicissitudes, has become a stable ; a poor Italian family live iu a little shaoty adjoining, and one of tbe-liiWM boys unlocked the door of the stable and showed us round. In one corner. of the room is a dilapidated sarcophagus, rtfuch covers the remains of Juliet. In the oppot-: site corner of the same room, and not mote ' than twenty-five feet off, standing dirt floor, tied by the trough, was an innocent looking donkey with ears like elk horna.-^Oo one of theataccoedwails is still seen/iwifc. pretty good preservation, a fresooe of tbe"^" * Virgin, and on the opposite, another of the * '? crucifixion. I confess that this scene will leave with me a paioiui reminiscence, mougn it.may teach to the reflecting mind a pointed moral.?Dr. Nott. If fl Speed op Light?Immensity op the Universe.?Light traverses space at the rate of a million mires a minute, yet the light from the nearest star requires ten years to reach the earth, and Hersohel's telescope revealed stars two thousand three bnndred times farther distant. The great telescope of Lord Boss pursued these creations of God still deeper into space, and having resolved the nebulaaof the milky way into the stars, discovered their systems of stare?beautiful diamond points glittering through the black darkness beyond. When he beheld this amazing abyss?when he saw these systems scattered profusely tbrughout space?when he reflected upon their - . immense distanoe, their enormous magnitude, and the countless millions of worlds that belonged to them, it seemed to him as though the wild dream of the German poet was more than realized/' Land Measure.?Every farmer should have a rod measure?a light, stiff pole, just 16$ feet long?for measuring land. By a little practice, he can learn to step just a rod in five steps, which answers very welt? for farm work. Ascertain the number/# k. rods in the length and width of the lot you wish to measure, and multiply one number by the other, and divide by 160, and you have the number of acres, as 160 sqnare rods make one square aore. If you wish to lay off one square acre, measure thirteen rods on one side, by twelve and a half on the other. This gives two and a halt rods over a fall aore. Don't yon remember the story of the Frenchman, who, for twenty years, loved a lady, and never missed passing his evenings at her hoaae. She became a widow. 'I wish yoa joy,' cried his friend ; 'you may now marry the woman yon have so long adored.' 'Alas!' said the poor Frenchman, profoundly dejected; 'and if so, where shall 11 spend my evenings ?'