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The Anderson intelligencer. (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, August 21, 1860, Image 1

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~" IjT"^! pcrature, $Mos, Utorals, Agriculture, Science nub %xt
by featherston & hoyt. anderson court house, s. c, tuesday afternoon, august 21, 1860. volume l?number 2.
iprf^forg of ??-ffi? fife.
/Vom /Ac Ar?o 3 orA- Mercury.
fig g&ggfl&s;
.Sweet Nellie JIudyn, memory reverts
tu thee now, even as I saw thee in tlic
days of childhood, when I imagined that
thou wort scarcely less fair titan the
bright beings that roamed in celestial
fields. But thou art::gonc-^-shadows thick
and dark enveloped thee, until no longer
aWe to await thy Maker's time to deliver
theo from tho weight of sorrow; : thine
own hand snapped the golden chord of
life, and launched thy soul into eternity.
The subject of our sketch was the oniy
daughter of a retired merchant; she had
been motherless from her infancy, and for
that reason had always been her father's
especial care, as she was also" his chief
comfort and solace.
V Mr. Haydn's residence was near tiie
s^ho'olhouse that I attended until I leftj1
h?t.-.o for boarding school. I often saw
NclUe?^jie won my childish fancy af
~-SJ^.*9 her I went with all my little
grievances;'from her expected comfort
and sympathy. Oft.m have I stood be?
fore her, my cheeks burning with indig?
nation front some real or faneied wrong.,
when one stroke of her fair hand over my
brown locks and a few words spoken in
her -kindly, affectionate manner, would
?ilm mo at ?ncej and with my arms
around her neck, my head resting on her
bosom, I Ikivc listened, as she strove to
teach me the lesson "forgive and forget.''.
-Hers: was the style of beauty mat would
naturally captivate a childish imagina?
tion. Tall and slender, with graco in ev?
ery motion peculiarly her QWfcj complex?
ion pure as tdabaster?not a shadow of
color unless animation lent rts aid; and
then it was but the tint of tie interior of
the most delicately-colored si-a-shcll.
She reminded one.of something pure,
ethereal?a white lily, a Jew-drop; but
her eyes, I could uot descrjtV.ih.em?they
haunt mv imagination still; and eveif"
now. methinks I see them gating into my.
own through the long, d'm vista of the
past, as in days of yore. Truth and iu
noceuco were mirrored in their blue
depths ; her hair was gulden, and fell to
her waist in n-mass-of ringlets; the gen
oral outline of her features betokened a
yielding nature, but lift* mouth was firm?
ness itself.
When Neiiie ajout eighteen years
of age. a son of one it! the neighbors re?
turned, .alter havingbeen absent for some
years. When he (et home Nellie was a .
child 7 on his return, he found not the awk?
ward school-girl,"bit the graceful, digni?
fied woman, lierpiquant originality and
unstudied grace immediately attracted
tiie man of the vorld; and he who had
flirted with the gay belles of Paris, roam?
ed through delicious groves with the fair
daughters of Italy, listened to woman's
siren tongue in .almost every clime, was
diseiichanlod'o.'" them all when he saw our
sweet Nellie?ns wo were w?nt to call
her; and she bvod him with the fervor of
a frank, gcnooiis nature, lint her father
would not listen to* his daughter linking
her fortunes with those of Richard Law,
and going Lo England with him as ho
liiohard'f impetuous spirit took fire at
this, and h; mentally vowed that Nellie i
should be Iis before he left the shores of
America. Months passed on; NelHc re?
mained with her hither, but Richard had
crossed :hc sea. At first, letters were
frequent: but, at last, they ceased alto?
gether. Two?three years passed away.
Nellio's.anxicty preyed upon her health
and spirits; and her eyes, from being oc?
casionally lit up with a mournful, wistful
expression, assumed it altogether; but
still a secret hope and faith in Richard
buoyed her up, and she lived and hoped
on, week after week, until at last he re?
turned. Oh ! what a thrill of thankful?
ness entered the soul of Nellie; she never
dreamed of his being faithless?ho would
explain all, and she would be happy again.
But a week passed; she did not see him;
he seemed to avoid her ; and, in tho ago?
ny of suspense she endured in those days,
her heart alternated between hone and
fear; and, finally, settled in despair. But
she would not give him up?she must soe
him once more. She saw him?itbut sealed
her doom. With what intensity of feel?
ing sho listened to his words!
;; Nellie, leave mo; I am a wretch un?
worthy of your, love or notice. I have
deceived yon?wronged you. I am mar?
ried, and the father of two little ones;
despise me as you Will, but say that you
do not love me."
For a moment not a syllabic escaped
her white lips. Those words were brand?
ed on her soul; she betrayed no emotion;
but with a mingled effort crushed down
the flood of feeling that surcharged her
heart; and with the words: i; Pid she
love you more t?an I did," prepared to
leave him. -$er calmness led him to
think that she had partly forgotten him;
and with the words: " Nellie, I will see
yoa soon sfnd talk matters over," thcy
parted?parted thus coolly.
On her^turn liomo, her father inqui
. red whei/she had been. She told him.
He expostulated with her on the impro?
priety ot calling on one who had appa?
rently forgotten her. But her reply, I
spokcrf in the veiy calmness of despair,
.paralysed him.
" Jnther, bo is my busband: ho has
deserted mc?wrecked my happiness for
tinW and eternity!" Then, with clasped
hands; she exclaimed : " But, 0, father,
sptn*n mc n'Otfor deceiving you; but pity
your erring, suffering child ! I was mar?
ried to him tho very morning he left
lore for England; but ho has taken anoth?
er .to his heart, and forsaken your poor
jfNellio! Father in Heaven," she contin?
ued, in a wildly vehement manner, '-did I
deserve this? This hour of agonizing
bitterness, methinks, should atone for" a
life-time of sin! But I shall never sec
him more! My brain burns?lam mad!"
Here she sank down into a scat com?
pletely exhausted with tho violence of her
All the anxiety of the father was
awakened; he tried to soothe her, and in
a manner succeeded j But not a tear re?
lieved that poor suffering .heart ; she he
came strangely calm, and retired to her
room. lie must bow see Richard Law,
the author of all this misery. The result
of that meeting is known but to the All
seeing Eye!
On his return, he sought Nellie's room,
and entered. She lay on the sofa, appa?
rently asleep. He stood for a moment,
to contemplate her as she lay there, so
still and motionless?the white rose that
she had twined amid her beautiful, golden
ringlets, not whiter than tho beautiful
face that rested there, in such death-like
lie spoke her name; she did not an?
swer. He approached and touched his
lips to her forehead; it was cold. She
was dead! A phial, from which had been
taken a deadly poison, told the fade.?
Weary?weary! she was tired of life, and
her own hand had hastened its end.
Mr. Haydn never recovered from the
shock; but in two short weeks he slept in
the church-yard, besides those he had loved
in life.
South Carolina Maids of tiik Olden
Time.?The Selma Sentinel has exhumed
the following curious petition, which, it
says, whs signed by sixteen maids at
Charleston, and presented to the Gover?
nor of that Province on March 1st, 1733:
To His Excellency Goo. Johnson:
The humble petition of all maids whose
names are underwritten :
Whereas wo, the humble petitioners,
are, at present, in a very melancholy dis?
position of mind, considering how all the
bachelors are captivated by widows, and
our youthful charms arc thereby neglect?
ed ; the consequence of this our request
is, that your Excellency will, for the fu?
ture, order that no widow shall presume
to. marry any young man till the maids arc
provided for; or else pay each of them a
fine for satisfaction tor invading our liber
ties; andlikcwiso a fine to be laid on all
such bachelors as shall be married to wid?
ows. The great disadvantage it is, to us,
old maids, is that the widows, by their for?
ward carriages, do snap up the young
men, and have the vanity to think their
merits beyond ours, which is a great im?
position on us who have the preference.
This is humbly recommended to your
Excellency's consideration, and we hope
you will prevent any further insults.
Make the Best of It.?A determina?
tion to make the best of evcrythijng is a
wonderful smoother of difficulties which
beset us in our passage through this pro?
bationary scene. In Peter Pindar's story
of the "Pilgrim and the Pests," two fel?
lows upon whom the penance of walking
to a certain shrine with peas in their
shoes had been enjoined, are represented
as having performed their tasks under
very different circumstances and in very
different moods. One of them having
taken the precaution to sollen his peas by
boiling thorn, tripped lightly and merrily
over the ground ; the other, who had not
"gumption" enough to turn his hard pel?
lets into a poultice, by the same process,
limped and howled all the way. It is
pretty much the same in our pilgrimage
through this "vale of tears." The impa?
tient and imprudent travel on hard peas,
the prudent and sagacious make them?
selves easy in their shoes, and run cheer?
fully the race that is set before them.
An English writer says, in his advice to
young married women, that their mother,
Eve, " married a gardener, in consequence
of his match, lost, his situation."
Jeffersom as Student and Lover.
During Mi*. Jefferson's law course of five
years, he usually spent the summer months
at homo, at Shadwcll, where the rest of
the family continued to reside. The sys?
tematic industry of his collegiate life con?
tinued. Notwithstanding the time given
to company, lie contrived to pass nearly
twice' the usual number of hours of law
students in his studies. He placed a clock
in his bed room, and as soon as he could
distinguish its hands in the gray of the
' summer morning, ho rose and commenced
' his labors. In winter, ho rose punctually
at five. His hour of retiring in the sum?
mer, in the country, was nine?in the
winter at-tsn. At Shadwcll, his studies
were very little interrupted by company.
He usually took a gallop on horseback
during the day. and at twilight walked to
the top of Montieello. An hour or two
given to the society of his family and the
favorite violin, completed tbo list of inter?
ruptions, and still left fourteen or fifteen
hours ibr study and reading;
"With Mr. Jefferson, the lover succeeded
the schoolboy in the due and time-honor?
ed order, as laid down the " melancholy
Jaques." The only record of this affair
is to be found in a series of letters ad?
dressed by him to his friend John Page,
commencing immediately after he left col?
lege and extending, at intervals, through
the two succeeding years. These arc to
be found at length in the Congress edition
of his works, and also in his life, by Pro?
fessor Tucker. They possess some inter?
est, perhaps, in relation to their subject
matter, but most, as the early specimens
of their author's epistolary writing which
have been preserved. Though they dis?
play something of that easy command of
language?that "running pen"?for which
he was afterwards so celebrated, they ex?
hibit no peculiar grace or style, or matu?
rity of thought. Perhaps, however, these
would scarcely be expected in the careless,
off-hand effusions of boyish intimacy. It
causes a smile to see the future statesman
'? sighing like a furnace " in a first love;
concealing, after the approved fashion of
student life, the name of his mistress un?
der awkward Latin puns and Greek ana?
grams, to bury a secret which the world,
of course, was supposed to have a vast in?
terest in discovering; delighted describing
happy dances with his 1; Belinda " in the
Apollo (that room of the Raleigh tavern
where we shrill soon find him acting so
different a part;) vowing the customary
despairing vow, that "if Belinda will not
accept his service, it shall never be of?
fered to another;" and so on to the end of
the chapter?in the well beaten track of
immemorial prescription. The object of
his attachment a .Miss Rebecca-Burwell
(called Belinda, as a pet name, or by way
of concealment.) whom tradition speaks
as more distinguished for beauty than
His proposal seems to have been clogged
with the condition that he must be absent
for two or three years in foreign travel
before marriage. He several times ex?
presses this design, specifying England,
Holland, France. Spain, Italy, Egypt, and
a return through the northern British
Provinces in America, as his proposed
route. Why lie gave this up does not ap?
pear. Whether lor this, or because her
preferences lay in a different direction,
Miss Burwoll somewhat abruptly married
another man, in 1704.
Mr. Jefferson was generally, however,
rather a favorite with the other sex, and
not without reason. His appearance was
engaging. His face, though angular and
far from beautiful, beamed with intelli?
gence, with benevolence, and with the
cheerful vivacity of a happy, hopeful
spirit. His complexion was ruddy, and
delicately fair; his reddish chesnut hair
luxuriant and silken. His full, deep-set
eyes, the prevailing color of which was a
light hazel, (or flecks of hazel on a ground?
work of gray,) were peculiarly expres?
sive, and mirrored, as the clear lake mir?
rors the cloud, the emotion which was
passing through his mind.
He stood six feet two and a half inches
in hcighth, and though very slim at this
period, his form was erect and sinewy,
and his movements displayed elasticity
and vigor. He was an expert musician,
a fine dancer, a dashing rider, and there
was no manly exercise in which he could
not play well his part. His manners were
usually graceful, but simple and cordial.
His conversation already possessed no in?
considerable fdiaro of thttt charm which,
in after years, was so much extolled by
friends, and to which enemies attributed
so seductive an influence in moulding the
young and the wavering to his political
viows. There wns a frankness, earnest?
ness, and cordiality in its tone?a deep
sympathy with humanity?a confidence
in man, and a sanguine hopefulness in tho
destiny, which irresistibly won upon the
feelings not only of the ordinary hearer,
but of those grave men whose commerce
with the world had led them to form less
glowing estimates of it?such men as. the
school-like Small, the sagacious Wyth?,
the courtly and gifted Fauquier.
Mr. Jefferson's temper was gentle, kind?
ly, and forgiving. If it naturally had
anything of that Warmth which is the
usual concomitant of affections and sym?
pathies so ardent, and it no doubt had, it
had been subjugated by habitual control.
Yet under its even placidity, there was
not wanting those indications of calm
self-reliance and courage which all in?
stinctively recognise and re.sj>ect. There
is not an instance on record of his having
been engaged in a personal recontrc, or
his having suffered a personal indignity.
Possessing the accomplishments, he voided
the vices, of the 3'oung Virginia gentry of
the day, and a class of habits, which, if
not vices themselves, were too often made
tho preludes to them. He never gambled.
To avoid importunities to games which
were generally accompanied with betting,
ho never learned to distinguish one card
from another; he was moderate in the
enjoyments of the table ; to strong drinks
he had an aversion which rarely yielded
to any circumstances; his mouth was un?
polluted by oaths or tobacco! Though
he speaks of enjoying " the victory of a
favorite horse," and the "death of the
fox," he never put but one horse in train?
ing to run?never ran but a single race,
and he very rarely joined in the pleasant
excitement?he knew it to be too pleasant
for tho aspiring student?of the chase.
With such qualities of mind and charac?
ter, with the favor of powerful friends
and relatives, and even of vice-royalty to
urge him onward, Mr. Jefferson was not
a young man- to be lightly regarded by
the young or old of either sex.?Randall's
" Life of Thomas Jefferson."
The Lover's Text.?The lover has no
conscience in his dealing! He gets his
due and asks for it again! He is never
paid! Something remains, or the coin is
hardly to his mind ! He accepts it at one
moment and rejects it at another?weighs
it to the fraction of a grain, and still
doubts whether it may not be' light!
Rings it with such car as never a tuner
of an instrument applied to a string!
Scrutinizes mintage with an eye that mag?
nifies a thousand fold ! and. after all, sus?
pects, from sheer inability to trust Ids jeal?
ous senses, or for the pleasure of imagin?
ing default where he knows nono exists,
that he may enjoy the reiteration of sweet
though uncalled for warranty! The
frank lips of the maiden have avowed it ;
"a world," not only "sighs," but of tears,
had affected it; at sudden times had her
changing checks revealed the fitful
mood ! and yet he wanted more ! more,
even though it cost a pang! a pang,
but unquestionably commiserated from the
knowledge, not only, that it was without
a cause, but that it was certain of being
superseded by transport! "Defend us,"
some of our fair readers may exclaim,
"from such a lover!" No lover that is
not like him is worth a sigh. The thorn
is the property of tho rose, as much as its
blush and breath! They never live
Neveu Tell too Much.?Dp not tell
the learner too much about a subject, and
puzzle him with many things, before he
has understood the first principles; do not
aim at being wonderfully profound in your
first explanation, but reserve your pro?
fundity for subsequent stages. Even ex?
treme accuracy may be dispensed with at
first; it is not wise to puzzle the learner
with little niceties and refinements, when
he is convulsively grasping at anything
like an approximate idea of matter in
hand. You will not mislead him by using
or permitting an expression which is not
quite technically accurate; the mistake
will not fix itself upon his mind, for he is
not giving his attention to that little point
in which the inaccuracy lies; he is not yet
able to appreciate nice distinctions and
petty exceptions. The first thing is to
give him a rough general idea of the sub?
ject; and when he has mastered that, you
may proceed to eidargc, refine, and dive
deep. There arc some teachers who can?
not hold their peace when occasion re?
quires, but seem impelled by their nature
to tell all they know upon every subject
they touch upon; the consequence is. that
the learner, being unable to discriminate
between the essential and the non-essen?
tial, is overwhelmed with the mass of
learning, and instead of having a cleat
idea of the main points, has an indistinct
recollection of many things.
How to Meet Slander.?A blacksmith
having been slandered, was advised to ap?
ply to the courts for redress. He replied,
with true wisdom, " I shall never sue any?
body for slander. I can go into my shop,
and work out a better character in six
I months than I could get in a court-house;
! in a year."
There's A Better Home Above.
Cease (Iiis sinful, vain repining?
Life lias depth, imbued with joy;
Blissful hours, where tainted sorrow
Dares not drop her rlark alloy.
Life, all pleasure, were not happy,
For if only gladness reigned,
Vi'c'd not know her boundless valut,
So 'tis best that wc are naincd.
When Decembers cold winds whistle,
Some bright flowers still cheerful bloom,
And from these, ye sad rcpiners,
Learn to banish wintry gloom.
Keep within yourhonrt imprisoned
Flowers of hope that bloom aniPcIiecr?
Flowers that shade the weeds jf sorrow,
And may thrive without a (ear.
Think when troubles thicken 'round you,
What a bright reward have we?
Heaven beyond, for those who suffer,
All life's ills unmurm'ringly.
There we gain a welcome haven,
Where all pnin and grief are o'er,
When the woes that bowed our spirits?
Alljue gone, to come no more.
Life is not the grand delusion
Misanthropic men would tell,
For if woe does lend her shadow,
Joy, if tended, bloomcth well.
Seek to disenthronc the sadncs3
Hovering on the hearts you love;
Say that life has woe and blessing
But to whisper of above!
Success in Life,
Benjamin Franklin attributed his suc?
cess as a public man, not to his talents or
his powers of speaking?for these -were
but moderate?but to known integrity of
character. "Henco it was," Jjo says,
" that I had so much weight wffli my fel?
low-citizens. I was but a bad speaker,
never eloquent, subject to much hesitation
in my choice of words, hardly correct in
language, and yet I generally carried my
point." Character creates confidence in
men in high station as well as in humble
life. It was said of the first Emperor Al?
exander of ltussia, that his personal char?
acter was equivalent to a constitution.
During the wars of the Fronde, Montaigne
was the onlv man among the French <;en
try who kept his castle gates unbarred;
and it was said of him, that his personal
character was worth more to him than a
regiment of horse. That character is
power, is true in a much higher sense
than that knowledge is power. Mind
without heart, intelligence without con?
duct, cleverness without goodness, are
powers only for mischief. "Wc may be
instructed or amused by them; but it is
sometimes as difficult to admire them as
it would be to admire the dexterity of a
pick-pocket or the horsemanship of a
highwayman. Truthfulness, integrity,
and goodness?qualities that hang not on
a man's breath?form the essence of man?
ly character, or, as one of our old writers
has it, " that inbred loyalty unto Virtue
which can serve her without a livery."
When Stephen of Colonna fell into the
hands of his base assailants, and they ask?
ed him in derision, t; Where is now your
fortress?" " Here," was his bold reply,
placing his hand upon his heart. It is in
misfortune that the character of the up?
right man shines forth with the greatest
lustre; and when all else fails, he takes
stand upon his integrity and his courage.
The Bloom of Aoe.?A good woman
never grows old. Years may pass over
her head, but if benevolence- .and virtue
dwell in the heart, she is as cheerful as
when the spring of life lirst opened to her
' view. When we look upon a good wo?
man, wc never think of her age; she
looks as charming as when the rose of
youth bloomed on her cheek. That rose
has not faded yet?it Avili never fade.
In her family she is the life and delight.
In her neighborhood she is the friend and
benefactor. In the church, the devout
worshipper and the exemplary Christian.
"Who does not respect and love the woman
who has passed her days in acts of kind?
ness and mercy?who has been the friend
of man and God?whose whole lite has
been a scene of kindness and love, a de?
votion to truth and religion't We repeat,
such a woman can never grow old. She
will always be fresh and buoyant in spir?
its, and active in deeds of mercy and be?
nevolence. If the young lady desires to
retain the bloom and beauty of youth, let
her love truth and virtue; and t<> the
close of life she will retain those feelings
which now make life appear a garden of
sweets ever fresh and ever new.
Fearof Death.?William the Conquer?
or, extremely alarmed on his death-bed,
entreated the clergy to intercede for him.
" Laden with many and grievous sins." he
exclaimed. "I tremble; and being ready
to be taken soon into the terrible examin?
ation of God, I am ignorant what I should
do. I have been brought up in feats of
arms from my childhood; I am greatly
polluted with effusion of much blood; 1
can by no means number the evils I have
done the>e sixty-four year-, for which I
am now constrained, without stay.to ren?
der an account to the-just Judge.''
Robert Emmet and his Love.
'Twas tho evening of a lovely day?
the last day of the noble and ill-fated Em?
met. .
A 3'oung girl stood at the castle gate
and desired admittance into the dungeon.
She was closely veiled, and tho keeper
could not imagine who she was, nor that
any one of such proud bearing should bo
an humble suppliant at the prison door,
llowcver, he granted the boon?led her
to the dungeon, opened the massive iron
door, then closed it again, and the lovers
were alone. He was leaning against the
wall with a downcast head, and his arms
were folded upon his breast. Gently sho
raised the veil from her face, and Emmet
turned to gaite upon all that earth con?
tained for him?the girl whose sunny
brow in tho days of boyhood had been his
polar star?the maiden who had some?
times made him think the world was all
sunshine. The clanking of the chains
sounded like a death knell to her ears,
and, she wept liko a child. Emmet said
.but little, yet he pressed her warmly to
his bosom, and their feelings held a silent
meeting?such a meeting perchance as is
held in Heaven only, when we part no
more. In a low voice ho besought her
not to forget him when the cold grave rc-?
ccived his inanimate body?he spoke of
bygone days?the happy hours of child?
hood, when Iiis hopes were bright and glo?
rious, and he concluded by requesting her
her" sometimes to visit the places and
scenes that were hallowed to bis memory
from the days of his childhood, and though
the world might pronounce his name with
scorn and contempt, ho prayed she should
still cling to him with affection, and re?
member him when all others should for?
get. Hark! the Church bell sounded and
he remembered tho hour of execution.
The turnkey entered, and after dashing
the tears from his eyes he soparated them
from their long embrace, and led the la?
dy from the dungeon. At the cntraneo
she turned and their eyes met?they
could not say farewell! The door swung
upon its heavy hinges and they parted for?
ever. No! not forever! is there .-r?t-ar^
Heaven ?
At sunrise next morning he suffered
gloriously; a martyr to his country and
to liberty.
And one?o'er <hc myrtle showers,
Its leaves by sofi. winds fanned,
She faded 'midst Italian flowers?
The last of their fair land.
'Twas in the land of Italy; it was tho
gorgeous time of sunset in Italy; what a
magnificent scene. A pale, emaciated
girl lay upon the bed of death. Oh it was
hard for her to die far from home in this
beautiful land where flowers bloom pcren
ial, and the balmy air comes freshly to
the pining soul. Oh! no; her star had
set; the brightness of her dream had fa?
ded ; her heart was broken. When ties
have been formed on earth, close burning
ties. what is more heart rending and ag?
onizing to the spirit, than to find at last,
the beloved one is snatched away, and all
our love given to a passing floweret."
Enough; she died the betrothed of Rob?
ert Emmet; the lovely Sarah Curran.
Italy contains her last remains; its flow?
ers breathe their fragrance over her
grave, and the lulling notes of the shep?
herd's lute sound a requiem to her mem?
Educating Without the Birch.?Hon.
Timothy Edwards, the son of President*"''
Edwards, and the foster-father^ef 'Aaron
Burr and Pierpont Ed\vsrfldv is reported
to have said, "I have brought up and ed?
ucated fourteen boys, two of whom I
brought, or rather thoyjp^^ up, without
the birch. One of these was Pierpont
Edwards, my youngest brother; tho oth?
er, Aaron Bun*, my sister's son. I tell
you, sir," he added, "maple-sugar govern?
ment will never answer; and beware how
you let the first act of disobedience in
these little boys go unnoticed; and unless
evidence of repentance be manifested, un?
punished." It is well known that this
li maple-sugar government." of these two
subjects on which it was tried, made two
of the worst men of tho past age, Burr
and Pierpont Eil wards. "He that spar
eth the rod. bateth his son." This pre?
cept requires always to stand side by side
with the direction of an apostle. - Ye fath?
ers, provoke not your children to wrath,
bnl bring them up in the nurture and ad?
monition of the Lord."
Old Almanacs as Good as New.?By
a strange coincidence, which will not again
occur tor a long time, the year 185.) com?
menced on the samcdayas 1840, and con?
sequently all through the year the date
was on the same day. But what is more
singular is. that all the movable holidays,
from Septusigesima to Advent, fell on the
same dates, and on rlie same days. The
same almanacs of 184'J might, therefore,
.i.M'vol lot' 1 ?5C>.

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