Newspaper Page Text
' 0 ,i",
. , ' ...... .......... . s . . t ... ' ' ! s. - ...... .... . ........ . ...j-, . .x-i " - " - - -.-- i- ' x ... V i .-,-. v ' - - ......... ., ....... - , . - - . . , v.-';'. . ..... . . . , ..v.. . . . - ' ' ' " ' " '"' ' 'j'"''"' " ')'''') ' : l " " l ' ' ;.V'.-'C02SEa MAE3CET AND 4TH ' - y ; - ,; m,,: r , v; ; Q ." : ..... .k f. : i."'::;" : ' ; -' I " ' ' ' ' " " . " " ' - ... , . . .. . , I"1 1 : rr 1 - 11 57, .51 ' From Peterwn's MgMin i v,..: THE BABTOFS.- - A I TORT Of EEAI. LIFE. ', , (CONCLUDED.) , t .:v) v; CHAPTER IL;", v' J Th windows of large, handaomely furnished ctambcr were thrown open to the oft breezes of May, which, " toying with the light lace" curtains, admitted the gold en day beams m picturcsquo alternation with cool, deep shadows. From the garden beneath the sweet fragrance of early flow rs came floating 'on the pure, balmy air, end from the clustering foliage of trees lose by, the "ravishing notes of bird song filled the apartment with melody. Sepa rated from Ihe .'neighboring dwellings by ' ita spacious garden, shut in amid shade trees' clambeHng vinos, and blooming plants, the house theugh remarkable neith er for design nor architectural beauty, presented an attractive aspect, which seem ed to denote it the abode . of simple and unpretending happiness; and the admira tion of the passer by was doubtless often clouded by an emotion of envy toward the fortunate occupants.' ; " f f , ''Ah ! how seldom can wo judge rightly . by afWances ! j ' r..-.. : In tyt inost, dismal haunts of penury, in the dilapidated hovels which one passes f ouiciriv.wiiaa snuaaeroi puy auu uisyuei, ed with real heart grief than the sad, tear ful woman , who," sitting in that pleasant room, surrounded by gladsome sights and sounds, sees but one object the suffering i occupant of the couch by which she watch es with patience that never wearies with - love stronger than death with agony that , Wrings every fibre of her maternal heart. Not alono the unutterable anguish of the mother hovering o'er.: her suffering dying fhild is hers there is another feeling that renders more - acute every pang very trial. . ;.;.,.);-; -r .,: ' - How often during the delirium of fever did the. piteous :bcseechingS of the little patient for a joy that could "never more be r his, fall on her shuddering ears I ' How v ofton afterreturning consciousness would f bo thin; wasted fingers tighten, about hers -the' blue eyes,' now unnaturally large f v -and brilliant, be raised imploringly to her enxious .face whilethe plaintive words, "Mamm, won't you send for papa to see . Charlie oh,:, when, will he come home ' egain V wpuld wake a ! new.throb of.n guiBh. ' Then would she clasp him convul sively in her arms with passionate caresses, whiaperiug the -while Bweet wprds 16 com: fort the affectionate ohild, while on her own wan brew the lines ef care and sorrow al ready tracod, grew deeper and more leg!- . . . ,,f, . . ti j . . i Few months had passod einco she. was moving in conscious pride amid gay and - fashionable associates, yet how few of them eould have recognized the lively and bloom ing Emily Barton . in that sad, spiritless woman, wasted by secret sorrow infl ma ternal solioitude ? tFor many weary weeks little Charlie had been, an invalid j hope Alternately rose, and fell in the anxious pa rent ; now the last glimmer- of hope had faded ,from sinking soul, and the unclpud; ed glory ot advancing spring the beauty of that lovely, 4ay iinockod hor with its cheerfulness, for , s fearful presentiment liaunted hr through the rosy hours, that with the fall, of iiight on nature's glories the darkness of -bereavement Would envel- : ope hor in gloomy' clouds. .And it was to 'te so. Eor when the animation . with which the little invalid, so. Jong confined to a sick bed, hailed the fair scene he had pined to look upon, had passed, the Quick ened ejilsn as if exhausted by its transient -animation grev feebler and lowgr- a chill "pallor took-the: place of the' momentary ' flush of joyana the signs of approach. ing; dissolution became more fearfully evi- ' dent; :'VtifW--.;- ..i ti :' .w"Tia'fcft6r. long, restless ep that " the child suddenly Btarted 'up and bent eagerly forward in a waiting posture, his dilated Jos. .fixed with '.iW intensity on . , the doorway, the .bmth coming, quickly and withjdifficulty through the parted lips. A domestic with cautious tread entered the room; . xne cnua ieu DacK upon nis piuow with a sigh of disappointment, the light faded from his changing features; and with slow gathering tears he murmured, "Oh, I thought it was papa ! Oh,"why doh t he come? mamma won't you send for him?',' and checking his sobs he looked up to her with? yearning, eager expression .peculiar to the dying. A sharp cry broke involun tarily from the wretehed parent, and the wild burst of grief that would not longer bo stayed, for a momcnt,'compelled her to turn fromthe bed. It was the first time since early morning that he had uttered the words, which, all through that long, wasting sickness, had expressed his child ish longings, and the mother's heart seem ed breaking as she caught this pitiful re quest.' Alas 1 the wide ocean rolled be tween the father and his dying child. The affectionate little follow saw her grief; his lip quivered again, and with his damp brow laying, close to her cheek, he murmured softly, "Don'tcry, dear mamma, don't cry 1" till suddenly starting up with a new thought, he said eagerly, "papa will como home some time, won't you tell him Charlie was a good boy, and loved him so much,' oh, so much." "Again his little strength was exhausted, he fell back rubing his tiny hand over his mother's tear-bedewed face, as he continued whispering half unconsciously, "don't cry, my own sweet mammal'' , ' ' . But the mother wept tm long and bitter ly without fear of disturbing the loving child, who lay unoonscious alike of her tears and carcs&es. Time passed on count ing out the last hours of that brief young life; and from that death like stupor little Charile awoke amid the angels hosts of heaven. , V . . . '.. Convinced at last that it was but the in animate ' remains of her precious one on which sho gazed with mournful intensity, the mother gently withdrew her arm from the dear head it had pillowed, and pressing one long kiss on . the marble brow, bowed her head upon her clasped hands in silent prayer. . Long had she prayed for strength in her impending trial; with-agonized fer vor had supplicated Him who holds death and Jife in His hands to spare her darling,' or enable ber to give mm up uncomplain ingly to a love' deeper, fonder than even her yearning tenderness. ': During that long season of sorrow she had lived over much of her former life, realizing the sin fulness of the discontent she had indulged when surrounded by undesorved blessings; and the retrospect while it filled her with shame and remorse, awoke also the bettor feelings of her nature, which had so long lain useless and almost extinct beneath the rank weeds of pride and petulcnce. Hence, in this hour of darkness, when her attend ants, knowing with what a passionate fond ness she had regarded hor fair and gentle boy,.cxpeoted to seelier overwhelmed with frantic grief her sorrow deep and agoni zing1 as it was, was yet tempered with Christian resignation and hopei ? v y The beautiful remains of tho angel Char-1 lie were laid in the 'quiet church yard not far from her dwelling, 'and thither would the bereaved, mother often repair to weep and muse above the hallowed spot. Of a fine summer' afternoon she would takQ her little "Emily, "now a sprightly, winning child, whose lisping prattle wiled many a weary hour; and they would wan der through the shady precincts of the 'city of the dead;'' or while sitting beside Char lie'fl jgrave tho mother, would talk of her lost angel to the little . one, who with her Jiead loaning on "mamma's" lap, and her large bright eyes filled with wondering thoughtfulness, Vould listen with unwea ried interest to the oft - told tale. '.' But when autumn came with "changing skies," the mother often deemed it prudent to leave Emily at home, and her visits to the gravo yard were now more sad and suggestive of mournful Reflections, as sho drew neat1 the little mound from" whioh the bright flowers she had planted were fast fading away." One afternoon, it was toward the close of Potober, her steps wore directed to her ao cUNtomed. haunt.' Two days tad passod since Ltii Ukl visit, aud tho heavy nin that bad fallen .aluiost continually duriug the pterin) had robbed the grave yard pf the emnants of summer beauty; and k the v f.rt - -.vVteW; ,y passed slowly through the damp leaf strewn paths she trembled with grief and nervous ness, when her eyes rested on the spot so dear to her maternal heart. There, more than anywhere else, she thought,5were the ravages, of the chilling storm; and she wept more disconsolately than since the first days of breavement as she bent over the faded mound her face bowed upon her hands as Vas usual with her in seasons of great anguish. She continued thus in dulging her grief, till startled by an ap proaching footstep, and looking up beheld a gentleman almost at her side. With a wild scream she threw her arms about him sobbing convulsively, "Ob, Gustavus, our Charlie's gone I our own darling, darling little Charlie I" ,-. ; - The gentleman was indeed Gustavus Barton. Vainly had he sought in foreign climes the' peaceful happiness he had reck lessly shipwrecked, and returningto his na tive.city was told of his son's death. Stunned and heart stricken he had set out to visit the grave, and wandoring through the church yard had witnessed his wife's anguish, which softened still more his re lenting feelings, i Tears streamed over the faoe of the proud man, as tenderly support ing his distressed wife, he knelt with her beside the grave where rep'osod the remains of him who had been so dear -to both the erring parents. He could not speak, and Emily also wept in silence, till at length as tho night shadows deepened they fose sadly, and together proceeded to her quiet dwelling, where the only remaining object of parental tenderness was clasped in the fond embrace of a father of whom her in fant mind retained no remembrance. The sight of hor recallod nioro vividly her bro ther's, image, and he exclaimed mournfully "My bright, beautiful boy; I told him he would , never see me again but oh, I thought not of death !" ' In the city where the first years of their married life .were spent, Mr. and Mrs. Barton now reside, less gay, but more re ally happy than in tho time to which both look back with painful self upbraiding. But the lessons of the stern teacW afflic tion havb not been vain, they have learned mental forbearance, which renders lasting the reconciliation tacitly made at the grave of little Charlie. . ' , .-. Striking Thoughts. Solitary thought corrodes tho mind, if it be not blended with social activity; and social activity produces a restless craving for excitement, if it bo not blended with solitary thought. , Almpst all knowledge is interesting, if presented in an interesting manner. -." Many a great man resembles Herod in tho theatre, shining and groaning at once. . ' Every day well spent, lessons tho task that God has set us. ' '. .: .7 - It is useless to recommend to people a course which they have not judgement enough to pursue. ; ' v - How ignoble most men's lives would ap pear to themselves, if described m tho lives of Others! - - A' Turkish proverb says, "The devil tempts other men, but idle men tempt the devil." ". 'A? Spanish proverb, "What the fool docs in tho end, the wise man docs in the beginning."vv;V ; , - ,'-o.v .; v The more man is envied, the less he is spared,;- v ... ', ' The ardent reformer moves the multi tude, but tho calm philosopher moves the ardent reformer. ' " The following is a rendering of Martial's famous couplet? - v T V : V'They who excel in strength, are not moRt likely to show ' contempt of weakness A man docs not dospise tho weakness of 1 child.'', iW' " ; ' v-V i' ) ,(' If a good act benefits' no one olse, it benefits the doer. ' ? '' : ...... - ' ' ' ' - l- Money is well spent in purchasing tran quility of mind. ,.. ; . 1 Difficulties' dissolve before a cheerful spirit, like snow drifts before the sun. ' ' n. The Italians say, "Timo is a silent file." (We learn a little, of God'a ways,, but very little of ni purposes.' ' ' ' HIQ,: .mlY,IirjliLp55S:ES . .. ... 1 t .... . ...)..'' THE TWO PICTUEES. - BX COATeS-KINNET. BATTLE 0 INKERMANIT.' As the day came up struggling with the gloom of clouds, the vanguard had given alarm of that onslaught, which before the day was done, should make Inkermann sec ond only to Waterloo. Through the fog gy drizzly dark, had burst tho blasts of bu. gles, and drums, and fifes, and rattling mus- rketry; and the transition from sleep to battle had bepn a transient interval of con sternation : not the consternation of cow ardice, however, but of sudden surprise. To arms ! To the summoning martial music drums whose hurried roll, and fifes whose thrilling shrieks, make the blood beat surge in the veins to the glorious martial musio, man after man, column after col umn, company after company, they wheel into amy.' Swiftly and mightily, as though hurled by the power of thunder, horse and plumed rider sweep over the field, and along the' lines, bearing the hoarse, loud com mand ; and quick as thought there follow charges and evolutions, and sublime prep arations for blood' 'Oh I the battle of Inkermann would have been a splendid sight to see in abroad field and a bright sun. , But the nature of the ground, and the darkness of the day, rendered it impossible to take in more than a small scene of the grand and terrible dra ma at one view. Many 4 heroic deed was performed that day in obscure and solitary Dlaces. that left nv r"rd.but death; If 1 1 JL ' you found. j some gloonQ glen, a flush harvest of carnage corpse lying thick as sheaves after the sickles you know there had been great achievements there ; but they will not illume the pages of history, for their memory sleeps in the burial trench es with those who died enacting them. Thirst of glory, such as is slaked by blood had lured young Cecil Gray from his happy home in old England, to the camp and the field. He was an officer in the fifth Dragoons j and as we have an in terest in him now. let us watch the per formance of the fifth, on that day of In kermann. . v Is it not they, yonder on the height? Let us go nearer them ; for this dismal day is so like twilight that we cannot distin guish the figure on their buttons. Yes, it is five. What noble fellows 1 How proud ly they sit on , their horses 1 With an air of impatience they lean forward, as the bat tle's din increases ! How their nostrils di- ato with tho delay of opportunity ! . Which of them is Cecil Gray f Do you see yonder at the right, that tall, noble young officer, who is gaziog with looks of unspeakable tendernessr upon a locket miniature which he has just drawn from his bosom f That is ho ; and the minia ture is of the name would choke his ut terance, if he attempted to speak it; for he is thinking of the time not many months ago, but ob. how long 1 when the original of that picture sobbed on his breast, and lung to him wtih love's desperation, kis sing him with the most impassioned kisses, and pleading with him in' God's name not to go-oh, not to go I His lip quivers ; he closes the locket and replaces it iu his bosom. . If he were not agonizingly prayed for . with her every breath, of whom he is now thinking we would say, oh God I let him not sink on the battle-field to-day I ' . Tho Fifth has' lost most of their infan try in the beginning of the battle; for the Turkish foot, their main support, had fled, at the first onset; and there remained to them now only a small division of the High landers', a number quite insufficient to bus tain them. Yet, as the cannons thundered, and the muskets hailed the death around, the trave fellows felt it like a shame to sit there idle while their comrades were win. ning glory ; and every moment they grew more eager, even wuuou tug euppor ot iw fantry, for an' occasion to act. - , . Hark t the tramp of cavalry. .Every rein is" tightened, and every horseman's breath' is quilled with expectation. Up they come at a fierce gallop, as though they meant to sweep theheight clear at a single pasaV . It Is the Muscovites 1 Their heavy rusbW' LilloWo'f horse, dash full upon the Highlanders, and are shocked back by the shore of bayonets.' They rally, and advance more slowly and determinedly. ' Then the bugles of the fifth sounded, and the fiery horses ore wheeled into order for the onset. ' .;.. . Look at Cecil Gray ! he has forgotten the miniature; he has forgotten ijs origi nal ; he has forgotten the little cottage by the Thames, where she is singing prayers to Heaven for him now; ho thinks only of glory. His breast heaves and pants, and his hand clutches his hilt, waiting for the next signal twang. c ' ' , ' . T Another blast of the bugles, and the whole Fifth, instantly bristling all over with swords', like a single being,)spring into the pat de charge. A thundering hurri cane of battle, they swoop right down on the advauoing foe with the speed of the wind. God of heavcnl what a spectaolel With what a sublimely terrific shock the two hostile masses of men and hones crash together! Sword clangs on sword; horse and rider sink; tho sea of combat surges over them. ' ' ' ' ' . . . The Fifth cut foe through and through; and when their bugles sound the rally, they disregard the signal, . determined to fight still , they", clear the field or die. Horse against horse, with onset and repulse, Saxon and Cossack, they cleave one anoth er down, swaying to and fro like a stormy sea. .... - . Where : is Cecil Gray? Yonder in his plume. Watch it. It tosses about the thick of the fight, as if it were alive with glory. There, it loses itself in tho smoke nistols. It emerges. .We lose sight of t .again. . iouJoi once more it bioa alnng he field, liko some splendid bird f prey hat kills its "quarry, but "tops not to de vour. Swords leap up above and about it; other plumes nod and sink around it, rid erless horses whirl away from it, and roll down, and surge and die in the overwhel ming billows of battle. But that plume, and the sword that goes with it, cease not for an instant in their sublime career. . The wounded French Chasseur who re clines on his elbow here nigh us, watching that plume, forgets his pain, and ejaculates, "Cestsuperbel" and it is superb; it is glor ious. - . But now that plume , is the dreadful centre of a vortex of foes, which dashes upon it, as upon a lone sail the foam cap ped whirlpool in the sea. Other plumes -fly to the rescue. Sabres flash up thick and fast, and chop down into fiery brains, and cross, and thrust, and stab, and mix in hor rible turmoil of heroic desperation. We close our eyes tightly, with a shud dering sickness, and when we open, them on the scene again the Russians aro in to tal rout, "and the gallant Fifth in, rally, with shout and hurra. But the plume of Cecil Gray? ; It is gone! ' The prayers which have kept going up to Heaven from tho cottage by the Thames have not been answered. That plume bowed to death, and went down while we were shutting our eyes. . . How gloriously he died! On the field they found him tho evening of that day, with a monumbnt of slaughtered heroes piled up to his glory. And as his sum vinar comrades spaded him a grave and wrapped his cloak around him, and laid him tohisrcBt, they talked antimatedly of his horoism and then they spoke falteringly of onowho. ' 1 -; ' ' ' '' "No more of that, my comradel" said he who had been his bosom friend, in a choking voice "There," he had taken the locket from the neck of the dead, clipped, with his sword, a lock from the hero's hair, and shut it over, the miniature; "that-shall bo her ti dings! -and may God pity and-comfort her!.''- -',.'': Vr a - r '.''. The big, blinding tears streamed down those stern cheeks: they filled .up the grave, breathing hard w'th the rush of home dear .emotions, but speaking not another word '7' JV.'V' y ;.-),'', ; A CottageJbt TnETnAM3. Inkerman has boon fought, and the news kas gone'through England. In that cottage Minnie Gray sit sobbing and wailing for what sho knows possible, and yet hopes im possible.' - Weep on Minnie:. the hour is at hand when the blessed relief of tears will be denied' her., .; - ; ,'. ., ;''.. I. ; "Willie, go to tho Vwn, and-and-Go! Willie!" ., , , ' '' Willie (roes; ho runs all the way. lie brings back nothing but the newspaper, "No letter, Willie?" ' . . . , "None.", ; ' V . '., . She seizes the paper, and gropes tear- blind through the long columns. But she finds nothing, only that so many were killed and so many were wounded, and the names ; of a few 'great officers that Were slain. the throbbing blood almost bursts from her veins and her eyes grow dry, as she reads a printed letter from one of the Fifth Dragoons had been in glorious peril! ' ; "Oh! my God! how can I bear this ago ny of suspense!". . y - . Willie tried to soothe her, but she could hear nothing but the soul-stunning thunder of battle, see nothing through her tears, but the charge of the Fifth Dra goons!" '. : ' " ,; "Go to the town, Willio, and come not back till you have brought some word from him!".. -: The boy went sorrowfully. Minnie Gray watched the clock and the road to the town, all day, and all night, and all next day till tho sun went down. Willie was coming! The sight of him made her dizzy and faint. , How did he walk? Were there tidings in his step? Yes 1 life . or death 1 He came hurriedly, while he seemed to red under the weight of his heart. It must be death 1 .Now, God of mercy ! Thy helpiDg hand l She staggers out to meet hhn, and gasps ; , "Any word, Willie?" ( , , , , "No word, but " .,. . , She holds her breath and stores wildly at him. as be draws forth the locket. He places it quickly iu'tor ctynchlug hand and turns his face away. ' She unclasps it shudderingly, and the lock of hair springs out and curls round her finger! 'A smoth ered quivering cry, a stifled, choking wail of agony that crushed the life but, and Minnie Gray fell into her brother Willie's arms. : .' ' . "" In tho little village churchyard, there is now a new-made grave, and over it a mar bio slab, bearing this inscription. . r In . Memory ; ; r Of Cecil and Minnie Gray, Whom Peace Married ' ; In Life, ; ; mom War Wedded . '..' In Death. One Leaf from my Anadem. Ah, what a holy sight! threo infantile forms bowed at their mothers knee in prayer How neat their snowy night-tVbes how artlessly serious their faces how meekly their tiny hands are clasped as they repeat in childish earnestness, "Our Father." That young mother, too! not the traco of a furrow on her smooth polished brow not a solitary thread of silver in her fair hair yet her cheek is pale, and her eye looks np sorrowfully. Can she have drained the cup of woe thus early? ' Maik the uneasy glance she ever and anon gives at the win dowwhile the accents of those horison fall like angel musio on her heart. Oh; if he should come and profuno this holy mo ment with his blasphemy this nioment- a gleam of the rare hallowed light that ouce illumined her maiden bower. : Her atr and' feature tell of better dya, though the plain appointments of her room might suggoit anything else. ' Hark! the subdued tones of the prayer is still heard, and the amen is whispered with solemnity.,' Oh, joy! there's been no unhallowed interrup tionSomething then, is'' gained. n Poor mother! can'st thy feeble arm .roll back the tremendous tide of a father's, influence? WilTbabcs be taught to bless. Him whom their sire curseth? Faint not in thy efforts Omnipotence Is - with the! v The" chords htbu art touching shall vibrate joyfully for ever.' f' ' Blanche Woodbdert. : Ths. Beginning Of Eva A young man was sentcnccd.to the South Carolina penitentiary for four years. When he" was about to bo sentenced, he stated publicly that his downward course began iu disobe dienco tj hia parents-r-that bo, thought he knew as much of the world as his father did, and needed not his aid or advice; but that -as soon as he turned his back upon his home, then temptations eame around hiin like a drove of hyenas, and hurried him VUMI(UII. 1 ... ., , ... . ! . . I'rl'here are somo moments in cxis tanca which comprise be mwer of years: as thousands of roses are compressed into a fow drops, of t'jeir t casence. . . t . ; ' ; ' . J , EUVAEIABLY IS ADVANCE. 1,-NUJlBEU 16. ; - . V ' ' , " AHGSY WITH MOTHEE. , ' You get very much put out with moth er, sometimes, don't yon children, because -; she won't let yon have your own way, wnicn you ining me pest way r 1 es, we know you do; and that you pout occasion; . ally, and think yourselves Very badly used, v Well, here is something on this very sub- ject, which we find in the Portland Eclec- ' tic. ' Something about being angry with mother. Read it, and resolve never to ' act like the little girl who is presented to, , your notice: . . ' ' . " ' ' '".''.. "Dou t look so troubled, child: and - , every time you raise your eyes from your ' work, give your mother such a disdainful,' . scornful look, bhe is your another, and . .- not tine worst. woman that ever lived, eith- k er. It is no use for you to wish she wis . ' anybody's mother but yours1. ; You have 5 broken her rules, and she has gently re- rlmvnA vnn luifr vliat rf fKnf linn aim i not a right to do bo? Must you get your revenge in this sullen,' angry way, and try ',4 to make her feel , that she has done some . very wicked thing by crossing your incli-- ' nation, and that sho will be sorry for it, 4 and come and ask your forgiveness? You - - , mistake her if you suppose any such things She is as firm and decided as she is mild and gentle ; and all the threats your litUo naughty faoe expresses will not make her change her purpose, for she knows you bet-'; 1 , ter than you know yourself. You may si- r ntly threaten and menace, and vjhen sho ' asks you to come to dinner, give her a ta-' : citNo! and make her feel, if you can .t. - , w J . ,. V . ' ." that sho needn't trouble herself in any ¬ way on your account. nen Airs. is. comes in, be very smiling, pleasant and ' polite, just to show your mother what you . can be ; when she withdraws, step right : back into your old mood, to let her see what you won't be! ; Take the time when ; she goes to her sccnit place to pray to Him who can soften the hardest heart, to take a nice dinner and run in the garden and orchard ; but be sure to bo in your chair, . working as fast as your needle can fly, be , fore she returns. Fix up the same kind V of face for her as before, to let her know , ,, that, your purpose . is unalterable ; and , . when sho agaiu . invites you to the table,, decline as gently as before, thinking she .-j will relent if you go to bed supperless. But she loves you too deeply too tender- ly for that. .Not this day only is before her,, but your whole life, and for this she . , labors and endures. It wil. not always ;; be so.. .. .. . .... i f,'Let me hurry yoi over the rough pas- onr.A tf o faur vaara Vnn KnvA triAil flia world, you have . sought pleasure in your own way s . You now look around for one ,.. true hoart, but in your agony thero seems ,,jf to be none for you. Your fuce is troubled, (A and anxious, but .not angry, and then, in the bitterness of your soul, you exclaim, "Oh, my , mother I my blessed mother t , would that I could lean on tho faithful , , . love that I once scorned; but the heart that was so true to mo has long ago ceased to beat. ., Her spirit is where no angry , child can disturb tho pcacefulness of her eternal home. But does she love me now ? Docs she turn from, her blest rest to her agonized, repentant child ? , Oh, if I only all that this heart Buffers,' and . that she !; would say, ,"Thou art forgiven, my child!" But this is not permitted, I must live on ,v with this great sorrow burning away in my heort, ;that I oncef yea,' many times, scorned, the Iovo that would now make me so rich in happiness"--.,, , . ; ; , ij ? VThink of this, angry child, and go to , that dear motherl and ask her to forgivot;? you while you may. ; Let not wicked pride ; V keep you back, but obey the still voice that , j whispers in your ear, "Thia is the way, walk ye in it.''; 1 v We should walk through lifo as through' tho Swiss mountaius, where a hasty word may bring down an avalauche. . ;The only praise, that ought to-be rulied on, comes from competent judges without temptation to flatter.- . . , . -. ; ' Writers often muliiily wuvJo u attempt to make clear to ethers v.-"! not clear to themsolves.' i , . 11... I, .1 Wllg UUaCltc u.ua .u .v luariiajjo head for tho news of the i.- .i.-.'.. filled "Latitt Jaoii uuma. j ' ' ' ' -.14 $ !.'. ;;; ,1 . 1 V'