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_ _ ____ i' i i ' 1 " ... ??? .. -...', "in lbwis h. grist, ipropridtor.} An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. - ,|/$2 per amhuh ib advahce. ^ . .' -' ' ? ' " -" '- >-*'-t':i i r*n>i"<A jam ,wii?fc |iiijnn)n s?^? .. jr r VOL.6. " YORKYILLE, S. C., THTJESDAY, MAECH 22, I860. NXX12.' ' - ' . - ii -i i i n mmmm+mmmi if linflifi i . drigiital fottrg. Written for the Yorkvllle Enquirer. BARON DeKALB. Written on vietring kit Monument at Camden, S. C. BY 8. CORLEY. Tread lightly here! disturb him not, While on this consecrated spot His manly form in silenoe sleeps, And o'er his tomb fair Freedom weeps, As o'er her noblest son. He came not as a wayward yonth, To fight for falsehood or for truth As it might hap: Bnt as a patriot snge He came, fearlessly, to stem the rage Of battle's frenzied throng. Then drop a tear?one grateful tear, O'er him whose memory mast be dear! Here Freedom's sons have striven to build A Monument his fame to gild ; But it must crumble to the ground, I And not a fragment more be found, Long ere his name shall die; It lives in every freeman'3 tone? Con'd Freedom die 'twould live alone In Camden's name?-must henceforth, forever be A watchword of the brave and free, Mid fiercest battle-cry. Then drop a tear?a manly tear, O'er him whose bosom knew no fear! Like clouds of fire that morn arose Not his, alone, but Freedom's foes, And spread with fury o'er the field, Where friend and foe together reeled, And rolled in death. 'Twos then, in bold relief, he stood, To stem the torrent of that flood, That swept and bore them all away, Bat not until, in mingling fray, He had resigned his breath. Then ween for him?'tis creat to weep, O'er those who thus in greatness sleep! And when the dreadful scourge of war, Again our horizon shall mar, And eagle's scream shall tell us where Has fell the blow, that we must bear, Or dare repel; (Then, let us look to freeman's right. Gird on the armor, bravely fight? D* Kalb our watchword as we strike? For all that's near and dear, and like That for whioh he fell! Then weep o'er him whose name Lives as your hero-patriot slain! Lkxikoton, S. C. 91 n rfl&rtnrtnttl ^ rrmmtr <> f-r , WRITTEN FOR THE TORKVILLE ENQUIRER. EVAN DHU; ORJHE FOUNDLING. BY MRS. M. RITCHIE. CHAPTER IV. Stretched upon an humble pallet in a low built room apparently' designed from * its strong foundation, as a place of security for the better sort of prisoners, lay the woman, over whom Sir Robert Anstruther designed to exercise control. She was coarsely attired, and her ghastly features, cold and clammy with the dews of death, bore the impress that the inexorable hand of the king of terrors pressed heavily on her heart, freezing the current which pro longed existence, xne restless roiling 01 her eye with a peculiar triumph in her frenzy, told plainly there was a method in her madness; although the hysterical sobs, like the last gusts of a subsiding tempest, announced that the calm of dissolution was rapidly approaohing. The only light found its way from a small grated window in the thick stone wall, and was just sufficient to give a double dreariness, as the pale rays flickered in indistinct forms about the apartment. The Laird and his attendant entered, and the former stepped just within the door, whilst Ronald informed the wretched female of his presence. 'Raise me up !' she cried vehemently; and as Ronald complied with her request, by placing pillows around her for support, she went on. 'The Laird?is he?the good Sir Walter? No, no!' she said, fixing her eyes upon Anstruther. 'I know you now?monster, depart! where is my husband??where your brother??where your sainted wife ?' 'Peace, wretch, peace! I have a dagger here,' exclaimed Sir Robert, grasping the instrument of destruction beneath bis plaid. 'Dagger!' she screamed, harshly. 'Ide fy it. Here strike upon a bosom, wild as the lightning blasted heath ; for your accursed wiles have already blighted every hope. Monster, you are hateful in the eyes of heaven!' Sir Robert trembled with ungovernable rage; he lifted the dirk in his hand, and seemed about to spring with fury on his defenceless victim, that he might make the blow more sure. But Ronald held him back, saying, 'Forbear, Sir ! and do not imbrue your hands wantonly in a fellow creature's blood. Remember what you wish to learn, for the stroke of death is even now upon her.' 'Nay, nay,' responded the woman, do not stop him. 'This vanlt must speak tormentsj to his guilty soul, for here has perished many a victim to his hate! But, Oh ! my boy, my boy still iives !' she shouted with frenzy, and struggling with a return of in- j coherent laughter. 'Blistered be the tongae that uttered it,' muttered Sir Robert. A thousand curses on your head; and but for the desire of knowing more, I would cut short the frail thread that binds you to earth.' 'Stop,' she said. 'Laird, I will tell you all, and fix a leech upon your conscience that shall suck its venom out.' Again, she raved wildly and brandished her hands over her head in an attitude of defence. 'Fool/ uttered the chief, impetuously; did he not perish by disease ?' 'No ! be escaped the contagion, and was rescued from the token of affection, sent by a fond unole to hurry his departure; for Oh ! I snatched him from the very jaws of fell destruction.' Then with a quivering voice she sang: 'Twas the proudest of my clan, Long may I repine; And Evan ttas the bravest man, And Evan, he is mine.' Then with restless impetuosity she ad* ded: 'Yes, he lives! my Evan lives.' 'Evan,' repeated Sir Robert, and Ronald, together; but the former continued, 'My forboding soul anticipates with terror; say, what became of him ?' The fever of excitement seemed dying away in the tortured brain of the poor being, | as she feebly answered: <1 would have brought him up in happy ignorance, knowing the price of blood was on his head; but he disdained a peasant's lot, and though be never knew another parent, he left my humble cot to serve his country.' 'Ah, did he so ?' eagerly asked Sir Robert; and with a laugh scarcely less coherent than that of the expiring woman, he added. 'This is as it should be.' 'You relent then,' she faltered. 'But he is safe from the castle, and ere he returns, a trusty friend will reveal his title and warn him of his danger.' 'Is it so, fond fool ?' rejoined the Laird, drawing in his breath, whilst his countenance assumed a look of stern malignity. Know then from me he can never return; his bones lie rotting on the hill-side, and lack a place of sepulchre?for I?ay?I? buried my dirk in his heart.' The horror stricken Ronald started back and gazed ruefully upon the fiendish expression on his master's face; whilst the unhappy woman once more burst out, 'Oh, blood hound! finish your cruel purDose and let mv tortured soirit escape from r * * & your oompany. Yet stay, cannot yon bear with me a few short minutes, when the bitter anguish of my soul overflows its measure, though the sight of me must be as a blight upon your heart; but the hour of retribution is at hand?the arm of Omnipotence shall crush you, worm, and I will appear at his bar against you?before you quit this world. I will demand justice on a murderer; for blood crieth from the ground.' The Laird of Norland's mind was passion tossed; there seemd to be a mighty spell on his limbs, that fixed him to the spot; until all at once he sprang forward, raising the dirk which Evan left upon the table, was about to strike the fatal blow, had not Ronald restrained bim. 'Do not bold him Ronald/ said the woman feebly. 'Like the panther, he has a glossy skin, but treacherous cruelty lurks within.' Then chancing to cast up her eyes at the weapon that was held over her, she madly shrieked, Qa! 'tis the same, and I had lost it; where got ye that, brave Sir Robert. Look at it, 'tis crusted with a brother's blood.' ?be guilty man gazed with terror on the instrument, for well he knew it, and exclaiming in suppressed agony, 'Fiends, torments, it is even so.' He turned on Ronald/crying more fieroely, 'Villain, where did this come from ?' 'I know not, my lord,' returned the agitated Ronald, as he looked upon the scene i with a deep, intense expression of horror and amazement. The Laird stood apparently unconscious of what was passing, except by a shudderi ing tremor, as if a palsy shook his limbs, and fixing his straining sight upon the weapon, he continued as if apostrophizing it? 'I would I could cast thee from me; but thou art grasped with strong convulsive agony. I cannot loose my hold.' 'Suppress this wild emotion, Sir. It is down right folly, and may produce the most disastrous results,' urged the faithful Ronald. His master only regarded him with a pathetic indifference, whilst his distorted features were rendered more repulsive by his hideous laugh, as raising himself erect to gather more resolution, he shouted, 'Come every demon from the fathomless abyss of tortured spirits to appal the sights and mar the senses, Robert Anstruther will ? - still be firm.' 'You know it then?' asked the womaD. 'It was intended for my Evan, too; but I stayed my husband's hand, who fled from me forever. Keep it, Laird; keep it in your sight to glut your brutal rage, I go? I go?Pardon, pardon heaven !' she exclaimed, with convulsive snatches, a ghastly livid expression overspreading her death stricken features. Then struggling to rise, she fixed her dim eyes, already glazed with films of the grave on Sir Robert and uttered the word, 'remember,' fell backward on the pallet; the fitful dream of life forever ended. Sir Robert gazed with a sort of idiotic stupor on the corpse?his fierce eyes gleaming with ill suppressed vengeance, and his whole appearance presenting a statue-like form of moody madness. But his mind was full of action, and reverted with rapid flight to former days when that frail remnant of UnmomfTT nj'io a T7/^tinr? on/1 lACAiio icifo and llUUiaui tjr nao ? jvuu^ uuu jwjuuo *? mum as quickly anticipated the future, when the summons must inevitably arrive to call him from the scenes of time. A few minutes filled up the lapse of years, and as busy memory hastily sketohed the shadows that passed in swift review before him, he gnashed his teeth, and muttered curses mingled with stifled groans burst forth from his lips. He had been induced to remove his elder brother (who, from bis generous character and humane disposition, had received the appelation of the good Sir William,) that he might seize on the estates and title; and the same ambitious design bad prompted him to attempt the destruction of his child. Disappointed in his expectations of a male heir, bitter feelings had crossed his mind at the prospect of Norland passing into other hands by the female line, and the name of the family becoming extinct; and now when he knew this might have been prevented by the union of Evan and Beatrice, but for the deadly purpose he had executed, his trou bled spirit was harrowed up by conflicting passions. His unconfessed sins bad indeed been many, and longer concealment appeared impossible; yet his revengeful temparement was unsubdued ; and, turning a desperate glance on hie humble friend, who bent over the corpse absorbed in the c ontemplation of the blighted flower, he had seen blasted so untimely in its full perfection, said, You know me now, therefore, beware. This wretched being has escaped my vengeance ; let her carcass be cast out, ere the sun gilds the morrow, to feed the corbies, and her bones to bleach in the winter storm. No hesitation. I leave you to execute my orders, and let your actions testify obedience or your lifeless corpse may be dangling in the wind, from the top tower of the castle. Nay, remonstrance is vain.' The chieftain quitted the apartment and Ronald shuddering at the developements he had wituessed, stood reflecting silently upon what he had heard. Evan had always been a favorite, and Ronald had more than once entertained ideas that the youth was not of peasant birth. His surmises were now realized, but in a fearful way; for Evan was shown to be the rightful heir of Nor ' i *1-- i?J lana, ana toe usurper uuu muuuj oucu his blood, though conscious of the consanguinity which ought to have claimed his fostering protection. Evan had lived as a vassal in the castle of his ancestors, basely deprived of his inheritance; and though Ronald knew not he had wedded his young and lovely relative, their attachment was not to be concealed from his observant eyes. His tears fell unrestrained upon the palid face of the dead as he moralized over her. 'Thy career is forever closed; and thou art, now, forever beyond the reach of malice. What is reserved for me, 1 have yet to learn; but sooner would I suffer a thousand deaths than change places with the Chief of Norland, stained as be is with blood !' He 9pread a large coarse cloth over the evanescent remains, and mournfully with drew, 'with large drops of sympathy in his eyes. * * * * * * The sun had nearly teached his meredian altitude over that arm of the sea which expands like a majestic lake, called Firth of Forth, and gilded the rocks and precipices, that still exhibited a few remnants of the wood which once clothed them. These towering heights skirt the northern side of the water; and form the chief object of attraction to travelers in search of the picturesque, by their bold resistance to the savage assaults of old ocean, whose wild waves they drive back in feathery scud, as if thousands of sea-birds were beating the air with their wings, and vanished with hoarse screams in the driving mist. The day was beautiful j and seemed to invest with extraordinary at-j tractions ODe large oak that stood alone, where a few roods of clear ground extended round the foot of a huge rock, that had rolled adown the mountain. Under the shade of this tree sat two men, whose athletic frames showed that nature had been bountiful in her benison of strength; and there was a hardy daring in their looks, that bespoke at once their mode of life to be turbulent and dangerous. Their dress was of Tartan, with a black belt passing round the waist to support the usual appendages of Claymore, dirk and pistol ; broad j blue bonnets were laid with their guns on 1 one side, and they stretched their limbs like men who were wearied from long watching. 'Well, Alaster,' said one of them to his' companion; 'fortune has not favored us much to-day. I begin to be weary of this droning way of life. I feel a sullen indignation at being compelled to rob the defenceless traveller of his little pittance.? Give me a creagh, where we sweep off a hundred head of cattle or so, in one drove. That's the triumph for a daring oaterau.' 'Aye,' replied the other, 'Those were the days to enjoy life, when it was a shame to want anything that could be taken; but a: great change has taken place in the country, and the 'stormy sons of the sword' are straightened on every hand. Since the royal Stuart abandoned Scotland, the world is our estate?our land is conquered; its lights arequenched, and a disgraceful and unpitied death would be ours were we to follow the practices that gave our fathers credit and power. We have to walk in consonance with the times.' 'Still, Alaster! I do not see why we have not an equal right to levy on the Lowland herds and harvests, as the Hanoverian, who substituted military violence for civil order, and takes by strength aud threats of vengeance from friend as well as foe.' 'True ; and they say the Highlands will soon raise the standard of rebellion again. I do not like these German strangers and will freely fight under any leader who takes the field.' 'You cannot mean it, that you would faafnrt nKoino nnon v?nnr limKa arirl Korfor liberty with a new chief whom our fathers only knew as mortal enemies ? Our band has always been the terror of the adjoining counties, and all we have to do, is but to join heart and hand, and we shall hold out to the last.' * <1 am not unsatisfied with my companions, Donald, but our present idle life. Our leader's protracted absence has given the lieutenant an opportunity for dividing the opinions of the men to get himself chosen in hisstead. ! For my part, I will return and hurl confusion on such base designs. He has the j firm attachment of the company, and though ! the youngest man amongst us, yet he is the most brave and most powerful.' ?I can uphold you in that last part, by the dreadful gripe he gave me for letting mad Moll escape ; I feel it in every limb to this hour!' 'The secret of his absence is unknown ?' 'It is to me ; perhaps he has been betrayed. But hark ! some one comes.' The two men grasped their arms, and knelt behind the stones, watching the approaching intruder, a short thick set fellow, closely shrouded in a large plaid and a bag pipe under his arms. Slung on his back was a well filled wallet, and no sooner had he reached the tree, which he seemed disposed to make a halting place, than Alaster sprang from his concealment, hoarely exclaiming, 'Stand fellow, or die.' He 'was answered by a load barst of laughter, as the minstrel threw back bis plaid and displayed the well known features of a comrade and confederate. 'This must be a good disguise, indeed/ be said, when you are both deoeived/ 'Ah, Laucblin, is it you V said Donald, 'What news?' 'The King has issued a proclamation; offering a free pardon to all who submit, and AM? If ?WA mill kafuntr rtiin Pklof _____ W uui uauu, u no mi* uctuajf uui vutw Is he returned ?' 'No,' replied Donald, 'and I think the lieutenant's head ill fitting on his shoulders, if he usurps his place. But what have you been doing, Lauchlin; your wallet is well filled.' 'There is very little doing now,' he answered laughingly: 'for what with the foreign monarch and the rebels, as they are called, who plunder every body between them, the life of a freebooter, will soon be anything but ^gentlemanly. I met a roey parson crossing the Carse of Gowrie, with a huge red probocis that dangled from a face of scarlet, and that looked like a baron of beef roasting before a coal fire.' 'Good morrow, father, quoth I.' 'Good morrow, Sonsaid he, 'do you seek ray blessing ?' 'Yes, reverend Sir, the blessings of your well stored purse, gained by hypocrisy and fraud. Come, come, give it-to ap honest mnvt ntliA TrnAfBu Wo rrolnA rxrtA mill lilrn uiauj vtiju auvno ibo thiuV| uuu ntiij itav yourself, spend it freely, on creature comforts.' 'What did lie say to that, Lauchlin ?' 'My Son, would you rob the church?' 'Ay,' I replied, 'if it were within the compass of your belt, and there seems plenty of room for steeple and all. So hand over, quick.' 'Misguided youth! I will denounce you to eternal misery.' 'Don't trouble yourself, for I am not of your creed, and if you will please to give me the crown3 of this world, you are welcome to those hereafter,' said I. 'He was a hard bargain,' said Alaster. "But he fetched his price.' 'Nay,' he said; 'I am but a poor preacher, travelling on a sorry beast, (lean like myself, with meagre fare,) to the University of Saint Andrews, to attend a conference and assembly of ministers.' 'I'll help your pious purposes; come hand over/ said I.'" 'And what did you get ?' enquired Donald. 'Why this poor divine, full of scant living and privation, disgorged fifty hard crowns, a flask of good usquebaugh, two cold fowls, and a loaf of wheaten bread, and now whose for dinner?' The repast was quickly spread beneath the tree, and the trio sat down to enjoy themselves with much merriment at the expense of the worthy professor of divinty. The flask went round, when a blast of a horn sounding in a peculiar manner, stopped their mirth. 'That's a call to the cave,' said Alaster. 'There's something in the wind; let's obey the summons. Come, hand round, my brothers, and let us stick to the carcass ?whilst the spirit remains,' added Lauchlin, shaking the flask. In a few more minutes all traces of their repast were cleared away; and they having resumed their arms, had slowly quitted the spot. [TO BE CONTINUED.] Original papers. For the YorkviUe Enquirer. 'RUBY' AT SCHOOL. Well, well! "Nuuqnam homini sati$ Cautum est in boras and here Ruby goes, limping and hobbling even as a lame goose or a paralytic duck? a muscovy, for instance?not one of those curly-tailed, green-and-gold-necked fellows, who are so kindly and pressingly invited to offer themselves, as voluntary sacrificial victims to the Lares and Penates of the kitchen hearth, in the famous Bong, "Dilly, dilly duck, come and bfe killed." No ! he is not one of that kind, though he came very near going and being killed; and if Amelia Jane will call him her duck, it must be her lame duck. You see, his Bteed is a very spirited 'enimel,' having a great many natural and s/M(Z-ied graces; and last Sunday said steed, being anxious to get away from 'meetin,' jumped off before Rubv could iumn on. and the conse J ? ?r -qucnce was One leg was in the stirrup placed, And one gyrating wildly ; (Lord Ullin's dattghter modified,) until with one mighty effort the horse cleared a large log, but Ruby didn't. A small <snag' upon said log, being of an inquisitive turn, insinuated itself beneath his ribs; and so Ruby was tbrowed home du combat; and has a little leisure to write to the Enquirer and enquire'er how she feels, since the conclusion of that Star-talc-ing story. One great comfort to him in his affliction is, that the school-boys will have cause for rejoicing, and verify the old proverb that 'it is an 111 wina, tnat blows nobody any good.' If there be any one curious on the subject of rainbows, he may call upon Ruby, who will completely gratify his curiosity by exhibiting in 'propria persona' all' the prismatic colors, and a great many others which Sir Isaac Newton never dreamed of. Did you know that Ruby had became a saint? It's a fact, strange as it may seem. Now he was not canon-ized, like St. George Washington was at the battle of Princeton; nor yet by any Pontifical Bull; though he came very near being exalted on the bom's of neighbor Jackson's bull. I do not think that his relics are revered with any particular veneration, except by the crows, who religiously avoid approaching the oom, where his old coat, elevated on a pole, flatters its ragged tails protectingly. The only miracle he has performed, was to borrow a quarter from the Thng, who had never before been known to lend a dime, or even have one to lend. Nevertheless, he has been translated?not,to heaven by any manner of means?bat to dwell among the St. Andrews, and St. Helenas, and St. Georges, and St. Lukes, and St. Bartholomews and St. James Goose Creeks, and all the rest. Yes, he is 'one of them Parishers/. as he heard an up-country brother remark; and he is at his old vocation, instructing youth in the science of nitro-sulphuric projectiles; in other words teaching the young idea how to shoot?an occupation, admirably adapted to sweeten the temper and develop the quality of patience, but one not very strongly spiced with variety. And here bis time is occupied in reading, writing, teaching and learning.? Of course be eats and sleeps sometimes, not being exempt from all mortal weaknesses; but he performs these aots, more from respect to the customs aud opinions of society, than from necessity. He is teaobing a little and learning much. Nature is his kind Instructress, and he reads in her great book, a gorgeously illuminated volume, whose every page is enriched with most beautiful illustrations.? He sees a dewdrop, and reasoning as to its origin, infers the whole theory of vaporization. He sees the little shining drop resting on the grass, like a diamond dropt by an "Emm-ess on the ereen velvet carpet of ber throne. As the son rises, the dew dissolves and floats away to the heavens on the viewless wings of a sunbeam. There the vapor from myriads of dewdrops, and from oceans and seas and rivers and lakes, floats along in pearly clouds, until their weight increasing by means of condensation, they feel the attraction of gravitation. Then first a little watery particle breaks loose and commences its descent. As it hurries down, its cooling influence condenses others which hasten to join it, and co-hering together form a sparkling sphere which reaches the earth, a beautiful raindrop, the harbinger of a refreshing shower. Having performed its earthly mission, it again is drawn to the skies, and the process goes on 'ad infinitum.' And the little globule glistening on the violet's breast, may have been borne up from Capernaum's sea; or may once, a floating snowflake, have rested on the crown of the monarch of mountains. He looks forth when night has overspread her star-jewelled vail, and sees.the moon obedient to the great Law of Gravitation, revolving around the earth; which, with its sister planets and their satellites, performs its course around the sun: who, with his brother suns and their planetary systems, is journeying on, marching in the grand procession around some central source where the Great Magnet is placed, where the Source of all attraction is centered.? And here bis reason and imagination fail him ; and his mind, after its farthest reach, sinks back upon itself wearied; and overcome with the awful grandeur of even the conception of the Great First Cause, he bows hie head and veils his eyes and cries: 'What is man, that Thou nrt mindful of him; or the son of man, that Thou visitest him/ And sometimes Kuby walks through the solemn forests, nature's sanctuary, where the long-leafed pines rear their tall and graceful stems, and interweave their spreading branches, forming emerald arches overhead, and making aisles, and columns, and architraves and domes, finer and grander than Michael the Angel* ever reared.? There he hears the music of the WindHarp, sighing and soughing through the trees, more glorious far than any organ's notes, pealing through Minster's fretted vaults. Yes, he studies earnestly in natures book, and prays to learn to 'look through nature up to nature's God/ And he learns much; for he has learned how little he knows, and has been taught to 'Wait the great Teacher, Death, and God adore.' Yours, RUBY. Michael Angelo?Anglice: Michael the Angel. Written for the Yorkvilte Enquirer. BECOLLECTIONS~OF CHILDHOOD. BY WADDY ONLO. I shall ever remember my first impressions of immortality. It was on a sultry summer evening. The toils of the day were ended, and I sat beside my father out on the green to catch the cool breeze just then beginning to come from the distant hilltops. . As the stars shone out from the deep blue sky, my childish cariosity made a thousand queries about them, all of which save one, with my father's answers, have long since been forgotten. That related to the largest, brightest planet then in view. 'How long will it be there, father?' 'Long after you and I are dead and gone, and forgotten, child. Strangers who never heard of us will live here then ; and our tomb-stones will have fallen down, so that they will not know where we are buried ; and they will plow over our graves) and then the>.y will die and be forgotten, too.? Bat still that star will shine on, as bright as ever.' 'How can it father?' was my eager enquiry; to which the" kind reply was, 'I do not know how, my son, but God will keep it shining ' My mind was now full. I could ask no' further question. But long I sat and thought?intensely thought?but most of all on the idea that I should be forgotten.? 'Shall no one remember me ? Shall I surely cease to be ? Or shall a stranger's plow turn up my father's grave ? Ah ! where will my mother be, then ? And brother ? and little sister? Will the world forget us all, and just pass on as though we never had been ? I wish I could get up where that star is, and then I should be remembered, and may be I could live forever there.' A sharp voice reminded me that it was time for sleep. As I went to bed my en- i quiry was, "Fattier, ao. people neveT Know any tiring more after death V "Yes, they say so, and that all good people go to Heaven and live forever happy with God and his an- ; gels.' I had bnt a vagne idea of Heaven, and knew not the meaning of angels, and i yet treasured the words with the design to j press my enquiry some future day. My father had mentioned the name of God.? He made that brightly beaming, lovely star, and good people should live forever with Him. To outlive that star was my ambition. To do this, I must be good, and please God, and then I should live, even though the star might die; but I would ask God to keep it for me to look at, and let me go to see it where it is, and may be he would let it s"bine always. With thoughts and feelings such as these I fell asleep, determined hereafter to be a better, and also to become a wiser boy. It .vrij.'.i. t i u..i ii._ was a uuuuiBu tuiug, jl uuuw, uuu tuc iuipressioDS of that hour remain with me as vividly as if they had been made but yesterday. Many sad changes have I passed since then. Hope has often been crushed for a moment to the earth, when the fear of being forgotten and the dread of death have spurred me up to renewed exertion. Those scenes are past The earth may now forget me. I care not. For I shall yet stand up to be crowned as a child of God, the Great King, in the presence of all men. My name is even now inscribed in His Book of life, and no doubt many angels have read it; and all those earthly friends who have gone, or may yet go before me, to that happy place shall see it. And wben my labors bere are ended 1 sball be introduced to the angels of light, who, with the innumerable host of the Redeemed sball know and remember and love me as one.of the heirs of ineffable joy, forever and ever. f oplar lUabhtg. THE CUBSE OP PROSPERITY. It is one of the saddest features in human nature, that mankind generally are more capable of bearing adversity than prosperity. When smitten by misfortune, man displays a patient fortiude that makes him an object of admiration) but if his aamma ko nninforwinforllu nrnanorAna ka uuu1cc uv uuiuvvii u^/vvuij |/ivu^v>vuuj uv becomes elated and puffed up with haughty pride. . It is strange, too, that those who have once endured the frowns of fortune are most easily spoiled by her favors. It might be supposed that their experienoe would teach them meekness aDd humility; but it is rarely so. One who is suddenly elevated from a low estate drops his patience, and often too many of his other virtues, as badges of his degradation, and puts on characteristics which he deems more befitting his new position. They are like plants which, in the frigid zone, have so conformed themselves to the climate that they are able to pass uninjured through all its rigors; but transferred to the tropics, they loose all their hardiness, and become more delicate than the creeping annuals that nevor knew a chilling breath. We every day see illustrations of this strange feature in our constitution. See, for instance, that man who bears himself with such scornful pride, as if he thought the world could not boast his peer. When he moves amid a crowd of his fellow-men, he holds bis head as one might do, who walked among toads and all kinds of dis gustiog reptiles, x ou reaa in ms countenance plainly enough that he deems himself formed of a purer clay than these common mortals. He treads as if the ground were too vile for his touch; he speaks and acts as if there was a fascinating eloquence in all he says; a peculiar majesty in all he docs. That man was once poor, and then none could surpass him in complaisance and affability. He had a smile and pleasant word for everybody, and with fawning sycophancy, licked the boots of some whom he now deigns to patronize. But it was his luck to marry a rich wife, and her gold has so wrought upon his constitution that he finds it very unwholesome to bow politely to all whom he meets on the streets, or to stoop down' and then to press the rough hand of an honest laborer. When he becomes a candidate for Congress?for be thinks his wife's money can carry him there?he will perhaps do these things; but now he is cold and stiff, moving along as mechanically as a puppet skeleton strung upon wires. There is a lady arrayed in a splendid attire of silk and jewelry, upon whose face pride and haughtiness are as plainly written as if they were printed. She is now rich and fashionable, and the 'best circle' is i . i i i D..i :, proud to ciaim ner as a meuiuer. jjut n was Dot always so. She was once an humble dress-maker, and then all admired the patient and honest industry with which she toiled for her bread. Her conduct at home and abroad was, so far as an observer could see, marked by a most commendable propriety. But now all is changed. She married a rich man, and threw away the little instrument with which she had kept want and suffering from her door. She now associates with those, the hems of whose garments she was not previously thought worthy to touch. But where are those, who, in her days of poverty, gave her work and encouragement! one Knows them not. They are not of her 'set,' and she passes them with a cold stare that sends the hot blood to the cheek, but forbids all recognition. Prosperity has changed her heart, as well as turned her head. We might go on endlessly, enumerating the transformations for the worse which ?j i?* prosperity pruuuuus, uut ict kucsc ouiuuc. Id all such instances it is a curse, and Dot a blessing. The gratification which it affords the individual is more than balanced by the changes which it makes in the moral character. Better far it is to continue poor and honest, than, by some sudden turn of fortune, to be lifted above poverty and honesty. Neither unexpected adversity nor success is desirable. The former seldom makes persons worse, bat sometimes makes them better; the latter often takes away the few virtues whioh tbey possessed, and be* gets, in them vices, to which they were previously strangers. It is beydnd all doubt, a blessing that 'Life is a mingled yarn-? good and evil mixed together.' EABNESTNESs'lN ORATOBY. When Kossnth was in this country, peopje talked of nothing bat his magnetism.? His oratory certainly was wonderful, so wonderful, indeed, that cold, passionless men shed tears when he spoke at the Musical Fund Hall, though the day after, they vowed themselves opposed to the intervention which he sought. We have known nearly similar effects to be produced by John Mitchell. Bat the only magnetism which we have reoognjzed in either speaker, is the power of an earnest oonviction. No man ever heard Kossuth speak without feeling that the soul of the great Magyar was in all he said; that he believed in it as he believed in his life; that he was ready to do all he urged his hearers to do. An orator of this kind always communicates something of his own enthusiasm to th^ audience. And the want of this earnestness is the great defect of modern eloquence. This is noticeable, both at the bar and in the pulpit. How often do what are called elegant speakers lose their case, when comparativek a plain spoken advocate on the .1 lT Jil fl 1 At-* A t otoer siae w#ts icj ana cms, doc Decause his evidence is stronger, bet because he has succeeded in convincing the jury that be really belives his client in the right! It is the fault of being eloquent 'by rule and line,' of being a rhetorician, that it gives an air of artficiality and insincerity to the orator. Everett could never produce the effects that Webster or Clay did, simply from this fact, though more correct and more finished than either. Not a Sunday passes that a critical observer cannot see how the influence of the pulpit is impaired by the apparent want of earnestness in preachers. The use of written sermons, though to be recommended on many accounts, has the very serious disadvantage, that it is almost impossible for a speaker tc discourse from the manuscript and yet re tain an air of earnestness. The most effec tive pulpit oratora in all ages hare beer those who either spoke extemporanously, 01 seemed to do so, or when their sermom were committed to memory. Much of th? power of the early Methodists over their an dience is attributable to the earnestness o! their belief in what they said. We do not wish to be understood as re commending extemporaneous oratory, it the seose in which that phrase is generally understood?for no man can make a speech, without having prepared himself directly for it, or beiDg so perfectly conversant will the subject as to be able to discourse from ? foil mind Demosthenes always carefullj wrote out his orations, learned them bj heart, and pronounced them with every aid of intonation and gesture. Even Chatham never rose to speak, ex cept rare occasions, until, he bad turned the subject over and over again in his mind and the exceptions were when he was rous ed by some mighty stake, when he wsu thoroughly master of the subject, andwher he was called oo to reply in debate. Pat rick Henry indolent as he seemed, as ht lounged about or idly angled, was continually thinking of his cases. Perhaps the most favorable condition fororatory are jus! when the speaker rises with his miod full of his subject, his thoughts clearly arranged and a few salient and striking passages determined on, but the general tone and language left to take color from the oooasion. Such an orator has always an air of earnestness. The pulpit, especially, might profi! by cultivating, to a greater degree, thu style of speaking.?Philadelphia Ledger, WASHINGTON'S FAMILY BIBLE. The agent of the Nasbvile Baptist Soeiety, Mr. R. M. Hawkins, has recently been distributing Bibles in Macon county, Tennessee, and while travelling throngb the country, met with the old family Bible that found a place in General Washington'e chamber. Mr. Hawkins says: <1 tookil in my hand and examined it carefully; after which I read the 19th Psalm in familj worship. I then asked the brother to tell me bow be came in possession of it. He said, at the General's death a niece fell heir to the Bible. Previous to leaving Virginia ber son was taken sick and died. He waited oo him until his death. The old lad; told him that she was oldand must soon die, and that she had nothing to give him for waiting on her son save the old family Bible. He gladly received it and brought it to Tennessee with him on horse back. He told me that he would not take three thousand dollars for it. The gentleman lives in LaFayette, Macon county; his name is Claiborne. You oannot imagine how I felt when turning over its leaves. I really felt and thought that I had found a precious jewel. It appeared to me that I would have given any price for it.'? Western Episcopalian. Position in Sleeping.?It is better to go to sleep on the right side, for then the stomach is very much in the position of a bottle turned upside down, and the contents are aided in passing out by gravitation.? If one goes to sleep on the left side, the operation of emptying the stomach of its contents is more like drawing water from a well. After going to sleep let the body take its own position. If yon sleep on your back, especially soon after a heavy meal, the weight of the digestive organs, and that of the food, resting on the great vein of the body, near the back bone, compresses it, and arrests the flow of blood more or less. If the arrest is partial, the sleep is disturbed, and there are unpleasant dreams. II the meal has been recent or hearty, the arrest is more deoided, and the various sensations, such as falling over a precipice, 01 the pursuit of a wild beast, or other im pending danger, and the desperate effort tc get rid of it, trovse as; that sends on the stagnating blood, and weawake in a fright or trembling, or perspiration, or feeling of exhaustion, according to the degree of stagnation, and the length or strength sf the effort made to escape the danger. Eating a Inge, or what is called <a heart; meal,' KftfnrA oniric to ohnnld ftlwmvfl bo avoid ded; it is the frequent cause of nightmare; and sometimes the cause of sudden death, i How thb Yankees Make Shom^ The mannfaotare of a shoe is divided in two parts. The first is, that work whioh is done upon it previous to leaving the factory of the boss, which consists of outting oat, shaping, sewing of the uppers, and preparing the materials, or 'findings,' as they are technically called, necessary to finish the shoe. These 'uppers are then Ifent to the journeymen by the 'case'?each case containing sixty pairs. The second part of the work in that which is performed by the journeymen, and consists of shaping the upper to the 'last,' 'pegging* the sole and heel, and 'trimming' down. To fitcflitaie the latter operation, and get out A greafot number of shoes, it is customary for the journeymen to work in couples, and divide their wages between them. One of these confines himself exclusively to lasting and shaping the shoe; this being done, hahaede it to bis chum, the 'pegger add heeler/ and his duty being performed, it is agaha given to the other, who trims down the edges, of the sole and removes the <iaet/ So far as they are concerned, the shoe in > then done, and their money earned. It in i then returned to the factory, where the bob torn is scraped and finished, the ?hefefe i oleaned, stamped, hung up to d*y, and finally packed for transportation. ~ i x vyu wur&uicu iu iiiia wuuuvjf uiu&e, \ju an average, fifteen pairs of shoes a day, or [ a case and a half per week, wr which, at ' the old prices, they would be paid, tboof i ninety cents a day each; at the prices, now 1 demanded, they would receive between i them an advance of forty-five cent?, or from , one dollar and fifteen cents- to onadpUs; - and twenty-five cents each. . Much of this work is done by farmers, 1 who take two or three casea with them into ' the country; bat the regular, 'jowra1 srork ' in the shops which are rented for the port 1 pose by some of their number mors eatepr prising than the rest. This 'jour' then relets 'bench room'?a space about three . feat, hv fivp?fcn th? aitant, nf hir. irniAnn. WW* ? - - WW www W?WWWW ' dations, and charges for the same at the f rate of a. shilling a week. . The hands congregated in this manner are colleg ia crew,' - and as the lessee of the premise* generally takes his place among them,. he thus darives from the two sources, namely, the revenue of the seats and his -own labor, a comfortable income.?New York Herald. DAMASCUS' 2L Damascus is the oldest city in the world Tyre and Siden have crumbled on the shore 3 I Balbec is a ruin; Palmyra is buried in the eandsof the desert; Ninevah and Baby? Ion, have disappeared from the Tigrifi and 3 rjuporaies, i/auiaHcus remains wuat it ?fBB ; before tbe days of Abraham?a centre of travel?an island of verdure ixr a ^eseri'? 3 <a predestinated capital,' with martfi^ and i sacred associations extending tbrongh mote than thirty centuries. It was 'near Damas) cur that Saul of Tarsus saw the 'ligbt from the heaven above the brightness of the sunj' ) the street which is called Straight, in which ; it was said 'he prayeth,' still runs through 1 the City. The csaravan comes and goes as I it did a thousaod'years ago; there are still the shiek, the ass, and the waterwheel,lhe merchants of the Euphij^ andkcf the Mediterranern still 'occupy' these 'with the multitude of their wares.' The city which Mahommed surveyed from a neighboring height and was afraid to eatery-'beea'&e^t is given * mam to have but oae'paradpf, and for his part, he resolved not to have it in this world,' is, to this day; what Jnlien called it, 'the eye of the East,' and, it was in the time of Isaiah, 'the head.ttnB?!i|/ From Damascus came the Damson, our blue plum, and the delicious apricot of Portugal, called Damasoj damask, our beautiful fabric of cotton and silk, with vines and flowers raised upon a smooth, bright ground; the damask rose, introduced into England in the time of Henry Villi the Damascus blade, so famous the world over for its keen edge and wonderful elasticity, the secret of whose manufacture was lost when Tamerlane carried off the artist into Persia ; and that beautiful art of inlaying wood and steel with silver and gold, a kind of Moeaio,engraving and sculpture united, called Damaskeening?with whiob boxes, and btueaqg, 1 and swords and guns are ornamented. It 1 is still a city of flowers and bright watepj$ i the streams from Lebanon, the 'rivers of I Damascus, the 'rivers of gold, still murmur and sparkle in the wilderness of Syrian i gardone.'?Christian Times. Ladies Should Read Newspapers.*? It is a great mistake in female education to keep a young lady's time and attention devoted to only the fashionable literature of the day. If you would qualify her for conversation, you must give her something to ialtr akanf V naaam 41ia ? uu& auuuij give uci uuuvauvu nibu buc av trial world and its transpiring events. Urge her to read newspapers and become familiar with the present character and improve ment of oar race. Histoiy is of some importance, but the past world is d&d, wnd we have little comparatively to do with h. Oar thoughts and our concerns should be for the present world, to know what it is, ' and improved its condition. Let her have an intelligent conversation eonoerning the mental, politioal, and religious improvements of our times. Let the gilded annuals and poems on the centre table be kept a part of the time covered with journals. Let _ the family?men, women andehildren, read ' the newspapers. B9"(<My .8on, what would you do if your dear father was suddenly taken away from . you?" > " Swear and chaw tobacker."