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. 'I! II' ' ' :. - ..I'M-.'! (! "' ' :i i ! r Z. 11AGAN, Editor and Proprietor. ' V : : From the'ChrJstian Ciirouiole.' ' " LITTLE ;ALnE., :i : -,. .A v' ', BT CORNELIA IISOWLINQ. .' , ! . " I i .i I j i ' i n i . . Soft dud low the wind js sighing ,, ; Thru' the ruBtlinjr, forest treen,: ? Quietly tlie day ii Jyinx, ' . . '' Soothed by many a whispering breeze ; Slow the crimson hue is fading From the clouds .that flout afar, And the shadowy robe of twilight, ' Radiant is, with inuny a star. " ' ! . -A - , I ' 'I . If f. Gently seem the stars to whisper, . ,- ' With their calm and earnest eyes, , ' Of a little angel blossom, Now a floweret i& the skies', .''' . .. Thut the hoavenly Florist lent us,' - -Here, awhile, to bud and bloom, Then recalled his tender nursling, There to shed its aweet perfume. i Peep and blue a flowing river, . Bright as evening orbs that rUe, : Liquid as the dew of morning, . ' '' ' Were our little Allle's eyes. By a lake that gleamed with lilies, . Oft her feet were wont to fall, ,, : Treading light among the flowerets, She, the loveliest nower of ail. But an angel oold arid chilling, .' Came to us one summer's day . ; ' Gently tooK olir littlo jewel, ' ' Frem its casket, fair, away ' -t So we smoothed the shining tresses : Softly o'er the lily brow, Kissed the little hands and laid them On the bosoui silent now. -'f. . Then beside the tiny lakelet, Where the water-lilies weep, And the breezes sing a reqnium, ' Laid we Allie down to uleep.--' , Wild birds carol soft abovo her, " But lit a voice is heard no more. . : Hushed the little slop that rustled,' By the pretty lakelet's shore. When, as now, the twilight gathers, ' And the iilglii-ilew fills the air, Much weiniss the to.icn that murmured . t Once at cve,a childish prayer Dimpled arms that clung around us, : Rosy lips that pressed our own, . E'er the blue eyes closed in slumber, . Twilight whispers, all are flowu." Oh I were earth, so sad and lonely, ' All on which the heart might rest, ! - Withering hopes and dying loved ones All our portion, none were blest. Look we for a peaceful heaven. Far bcybiid Life's troubled wave Oft we muse upon it, sitting, By our little Allie's grave. , From the Family Magazine. KIHA: OB, " WEEPING FOR A HIOHT-JOY IN THE MOMINQ." BY CORNELIA M. DOWLISO. ' i ' Nina, please put some wood upon the fire, it's so cold here. How. the wind rles the window pane 1 Nina, Nina, don't you hear me ? I'm cold." . , ; Hush, Willie ; you'll wake mama. Let me wrap my shawl around you. The wood is all gone, dear ; but the warm weather will soon come now ; neit month is April, you know." ' Tenderly the sister wrapped the shawl around the form of the boy. She tried to speak cheerfully, but she sighed as the soft, dark eyes of the child were' raised vacantly -toward hur own. For, alas I Willie was blind. ' .. Drearily the bleak. March wind whistled and moaned creeping in at the broken panestealing coldly in under the door, ranting the window as tliough it. would shiver it to pieces. But the morning sun shine streamed in brightly, and there was comfort in tha'. ;.. '...(. . ' Let me move your chair a little, Wil lie, jnto the sunshine there, isn't that warmer?'1 and Nina looked lovingly down into the little pale face, with the yellow light gleaming upon it. - i ' ' i -c Willie smiled.- - f ..'! 'Thank you, Nina, It is very. pleas ant 'this beautiful Bunshine. I wish 1 might see it, Nina ;" and the smile chan ged to a sigh. " - The young girl glanced about the room then at the boy's wistful face, with a strange pitying expression in her eyes. Perhaps she thought that the sight of the cheerless room with its; scanty furniture, its naked floor, and the pale, thin face on the bed yonder, -would- scarcely have cheered him if we could have seen it. Poor little Willie I . -,.; v i: :., ; ; Nina, . my dear, will you give : me 1 a glass of water V . ;,. t( i i The tones were weak and feeble the lips were white from which, they ; came. Nina hurried to the bedside, she filled an earthen cup with water, and hold it to her mother's lips, . ' :-(.,,, ; .' Thank you, dearthat will da ; now sit down by my side for awhile. I want to talk to you . ' ;, u 1 . - But, mama,' you know - the Doctor suid you must be very quiet ; he told me that the least excitement might be very hurtful to you.' . ..vr.)V.. 'My child, listen -to me. It may be the last time that I shall have strengths to talk to you, ' I have a long story to ' tell. Just raise- my pillow a little dear ' now ! -eW 1 .iTOS .K:UQl .V.O-ll'. BJv '-'A-; v;F -iTi J i f III J i) ' -iW : ' 1 ' U M I III, fi J. ;lfcil2:0TOiI, Srtotf)) Jo ntcricto fntrrcsts; Pcato, ;irfmcc, ani give me your hand let me look into your eyes.' .;.' v i-- ... .. . m.i; There was something hollow, death like, in the sick woman's yoice; her eyes were bright aud glittering her cheeks were flushed and hot yet there was a loving smile upon her lips.1' Nina was but a child, hardly fifteen. She felt that death was near, and she shivered. ' But she pressed the dear hand which she held the mote closely ' ' Nina, I will tell you of my early his tory. I was S rich man's daughter- my little sister sharing with myself the love of a tender lather, " a gentle, ' praying mother. But I was wilful. I could not crush ths warm tide of affection at' the voice of worldly prudence, I loved and married a poor artist against my father's will. He was proud unyielding, itnd, despite the tears of my mother, the on treaties of my darling little sister, I was disowned cast away from the heart that had cherished me from ' my babyhood. But my noble husband was still left to me, I left mv borne, my country, and came with him to America. " ' . 'A few years of happiness, and I heard the heavy clod fall on his coffin lid. I have struggled on for you, my children," Willie had groped his way to tho bed side with a mother's deathless love, in poverty, sickness ; but death has come now oh ! who will take care of you when I am gone t Nina's bosom heaved convulsively. Willie sobbed aloud. v ' You, my dear daughter, inherit from your father an artist's noble gift you may succeed ih supporting yourself. aud my little blind darling, by painting pictures and selling them, us you have ; done : for some time past. But I dread to leave you, my childso young; so beautiful to battle with : the cold, stern world. Take cure of Willie ; try to be cheerful, and remember, that though ' weeping may endure lor a night, joy cometh ; in the morning ' May God bless you both, my citiiuren, and tit you to meet me there.' She pointed upward with a sweet smile, and her' head sank back upon the pil low. ' 1 ' ' ' ' ;-' ."::''.'.. ' Kiss me, Nina Willie,' she whisper ed. They bent to press the pallid lips, and the spirit paused a moment until the pressure had been returned, then took its night upward, where ' the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.' ,: I Nina clasped the hand of her little blind brother, and bowed her bead in si ltnt agony. Orphans orphans, in this bleak, cold world ! Heaven help them ! Soft velvet enrpets. Mirrors. Costly paintings. . Curlnins flinging a rosy gleam upon the beautiful room, with its elegant and cosily fumituie. A lady sat upon a lounge, reading, A lovely child played upon the carpet at ' her feet. A very sweet lace tne lady nau, and as she re clined gracefully upon the luxurious fail tuil, her long lashes shading her cheek and her soft hair falling in curls uooq either side of her face, she seemed born to be the presiding genius of a scune so bright and beautiful. 1 At length, flinging .aside the book with a weary ait, she stooped, itnd raised the little girl from the carpet, and placed her on her lap.. Are you glad that we have reached America at last, Ella?" she said,, lifting tue mile rosy lace, and looking into it. Oh 1 yes, mama. The ship was not near so pleasant as this pretty house. Are we going to live here always, mama ?" ' ' No, doar, this is only a hotel. ' But there is Jour father's step ;' and the child rati to open the door., ' Well,' Herman,' said she, looking anx iously up into her husband's face, 'have you been able to discover any traces of them v- ' ,':! " None whatever," he answered, weari ly. '' ' I did succeed in' finding a house where they resided some six months ago, but they have moved a-vay,. and I could not learn where they had gone.' ,' I am veiy sorry,' murmured the lady. " Poor Alice ! how. many times I have longed to see her since we parted !' Mama, mama,' cried Ella .from the winuoWj oov. t Here s a hearse going Slowly solemnly it rolled through the streels.v There were no. carriages follow ing in its wake ; no line of mourners upon the side- walk ; only s slender girl, scarce ly more than a child, and a - little boy whom alio was leading by the hand; : It was Nina and her blind brother, Willie ( and their mother lay within the hearse, i People glanced curiously at them as they . passed along, and . Nina pressed the hand of , her brother more closely in her own, and. followed on after the coffin feelingr oh I how lonely, how desolate 1 . ! v sr , .,. ' 'Strange, that there should be so few mourners,' said Mrs. MaynartU,; Hoiv car'elully the young girl ieads the little ooy over tne pavement I ne ' seems per' icuiijr ucpDiiunim upon iter to gmue Uim I think he must be blind'i i i i;:v.- 1 Ob ! no, mama,' cried Ella, I saw c ' SI N G L El 'i .11 STEUBKNYILLE, his face us they !passed by the window, and his eyes are as large and as bright as yours? r : ' Hew blind, I think: Ella, neverthe less. What' a beautiful countenance the sister has I think she must be bU sister. Did you notice her; Herman !' Yes. She is very pretty j poor thing! I wonder who they aie T Mrs. Maynard sat with her head lean ing on her hand. " 1 ; ' I do not know-why,' she murmured, but the light of that sweet ' face seems strangely to have awakened old associa tions, in my heart. I caught but a glimpse of her as she passed, but she seemed eo like some one whom I had known and loved years ago.' ' : ' ' Mamma,' whispered Ella,' will they put the coffin in the ground I' ' ; Yes, in j child.'.' " Ella shuddered. ' How cold !" she murmured. Will they put me there, too, when I die, mama?' The lady ihrew her arms around the little questioner lovingly - Ella's form may have to lay in the ground dear bye and bye, but if she is good her spirit will go up to a beautiful world, where there will be no more death no parting wiih loved ones." She sighed.1 1 ' I wish you could find Alice,' she said, turning to her husband. I will do my best, Laura, but I am afraid shall no; sucoeed.' - ' ' Oh ! but you will. I am sure you will,' she exclaimed, earnestly ; it will be so sweet to tell her that papa torgave her on hi 8 death bed, and that mama is waiting to receive ber in our childhood home. She bad two childien when we heard from her last. I wonder if they are both living still.'- ' It is some five years since her husband died, is'ntit, Laura?' said Mr. Maynard. ' I'm afraid she has had -to struggle with poverty since.' ' Well, that will be all over now. I am so glad that papa divided his properly equally between us. , Poor., A life I how dillerent her lit has been from mine ! . She looked lovingly up into her hus band's face, : stroking Ella's curls the while. .. . . Mama,' whispered Ella, ' Don't you think we're very happy ?' A lovely April day. The warm, stili sh ine . danced nd laughed along the pavements, looking smilingly into mnny a desolate home and among them Nina's. She sat at . the table painting. She looked tired and weary. , Willie -sat by the open window, enjoying the fresh air and the warm sunshine. Nina, you're tired; I know you, are. Stop painting for a little while, and come and sit by me.' I can't, Willie. I must finish this picture to day. : We have nothing to eat in the house, dear, and no money to buy anything.' ' Are you going to carry the picture to the store this afternoon. Nina ?' ! ' If I finish it.' ' V- ; ' ' It is so lonely without you here, sis ter,' and the blind boy sighed. ' What is it that you are painting ?' ' ' . A wild scene, Willie. The ocean dark deep, and blue.' Night: A ship wrecked upon the rocks. A woman's form, tlender and graceful, tossed upon the breast of a wave. A little infant clasped within her arms. ' The moonlight gleams upon thein'upturned faces, chilly and cold with the hue of death.' . Willie had listened with parted lips and nu8hing cheets. :.' ' Oil 1 sister sister,' - he - exclaimed, wildly,- I 'wish I could sue.' ' -: Nina laid aside her brush, and going up to the boy, twined her arms lovingly aoout n is necK, 1 . ; Poor Willie ! she murmured j ' you must try to be patient'' - i But Willie wept, and would not be comlorted.- - . - . 'Is thai all you can give me for it BUI 'The tone was' low and timid. The painting lay oil the counter. ' It was very beautiful.1 Nina loved it. It was her brain child,, .; ! i ' , ' All that lean afford to give you for it, Miss. .1 he painting is very pretty, but times are hard,' and there is little sale for them now.' ' ' " '' i. ' v ' ' 11 ' Nina' tbok'tlie money with a sigh gave one last look'' at ' her beautiful creation, and turned to leave the store. ' ' , ' ' ' Why, Benlly, ' exclaimed " a' gentle man, as the door. closed behind her, ' the painting is exquisite it 'must be worth more than you cave for it.' 1 ' 1 11 v; 'It is' replied his friend, quietly, 'but mo iiciiihuu mr buoii nrucivs is bo very small tow that I do not care to burden my' hands with them,' unless I can obtain them at a 'very moderate price. ' It is a beautiful thing, though isn't it?' " It is indeed;1 "What a lovely oounte naiice 1 and that little dead babe what could be mora beautiful ! ,k "' '" l '1 ' ' '.Nothing unless it be. tie fair artist herself,' said Mr Bently, smiling She is very pretty don't you think so F' ' n' OUIOj'TWI'rTXESDAY, 'Yes. But there is; a strange look of care upon her face for one so young.' : Meanwnne xv.iti t, unconscious oi tne re marks that were made upon her, winl tripping alongthe pavement, sorry to have parted with htr painting, glad to have the means of procuring food and fuel for her self and Wille. Just before her a richly dressed lady was loitering slowly along, dividing her ittention between the shop windows and their showy goods, and a beautiful clii'd of some four summers, who run merely on by her side. Suddenly fhe lady turned to enter a store supposing .the. child was following her. 11 The Ittie otie, however, not per ceiving wheie' her mother had gone, and feeling bewildered, stood for1 a moment looking aboui her,,' then catching a glimpse of some one whom she mistook for her mama upon die opposite side of the way, strayed laugiingly into the middle of the street. ; , ' .., Nina, intent upon her own thoughts, had not noticed the little one. Suddenly she heard V confused noise, as of voices shouting, 'stop him ! he is running away the man will be killed ;' and a fu rious horse came tearing madly down the street. But no one seemed to notice the child, who stood fight in its path', per fectly still, and bewildered by the noise and confusiou. ' : ' My child my child! she will be killed !' screamed a frantic voice ! Nina looked, saw the child, quick as thought sprang to the rescue, and bore ber in safety to ber mother. ' A mother's blessing rest upon you you Lave saved my child,' murmered Mrs. Maynard, a s she clasped her little girl convulsively to her breast. Nina raised her eyes and looked smilingly into the lady's face.- Mrs. Maynard started. Who oro you V she cried quickly; tell me your name.' , Nina Leigh.' ' ,' 'And' your ; mother what was her maiden name-?' ' Alice Arlington.' t. The lady seized Nina's hands, and clasped them in her own her eye3 spark ling joyously. " " - ' Wheic was your mother from, Nina ?' Devonshire county, England.H' ' Found ut last at last,' exclaimed the lady, joyfully. I had almost given you up; Your mother where is she ? take me to her, Nina.' ' Sue is dead ma'am.' Dead ! oh, my sister, my poor sister, Alice, shall I, then, never see you after all ? The lady sobbed convulsively. Your sister, ma'am is it possible that you are' : ' ' It is it is lead me to your home, Nina. ' I am your aunt Laura. You have a brother let wo see him. You shall both go jback to Englatid. My mother is wailing to receive you. Poor, poor Alice!' And the tears broke fast A cheerful room in an old English mansion. An aid lady sits in an easy chair by the fireside. Huge logs sparkle and crackle upon the hearth. A young girl, slight and graceful, sits upon an ot toman at ber grandmother's feet. Her face shaded by its soil brown curls, spai kles and beams with the light of a happy heart. A boy i pale and thoughtful, is reading to' them aloud. The old lady strokes Nina's curls, and glances with a .look full of love at the beautiful boy. , . That will do, Willie, she said gently, 1 it will riot do for you to try your eyes too much. It seems like old times to be able to read again, don't it ?' ' ' Oh! gramlmama.' Nina.' exclaimed the boy, earnestly, "no one can tell how to prize the blessing of sight until they have been deprived of it. ' That long, sad sickness that left me blind oh f I can never forget it. It seemed too much to believe, when the doctor told me a few months ago, that he thought that he could restore me to my sight.'. , J V"' : Thank God' for it, dear brothei," whispered Nina, gently. ''How good he has been to us, to find, us such kind friends 1" and she pressed her grandmo ther's hands tenderly. ; A painting hung oyer, the mantlepiece the same that Nina had sold a year ago. It had been redeemed. . ! ; . ' How that picture carries me back to the little cheerless room,' said Nina. , Do you remember the day I finished t, Willie?' . ...-;. ' Perfectly. How I longed to see it ! It is more , beautiful than ever I . imag ined.' , -,. . . . . . , "' Nina smiled. 'Those .were dark : days, Willie; but the clouds are all gone now. Weeping may endure . for a night.; . but joy cometh in the morning.'. ,., :; C7There is one argument in favor of Christianity; which I could not reason away, said a young man who tried to be an infidel and could not, and that was the consistent godly conduct of mv own father. i i- ar.lF vow. would be pungent be brief; for it is with words as with sunbeams, the more they are condensed the deeper' they burn. - OCTOBER 1: (856. , THE MAN OU THE ICEBERG. 1 It, is a man 1- said the captain, hand ing his' telescope to the mate, after a long, steady look ; and he seems frozen hard and fast to the side of the ice-berg.' ' Keep her away !' cried the skipper. So oo. ' Steady .'', and ;by thus al tering our course -we brought the iceberg right a head.' ' ' '''' ;,i The iceberg had been in sight since the weather cleared at' midnight; when it looked like some high rocky headland, except that, by watching the bright slais behind it, wc could see its gigantic out lines swaying solemnly and majestically up and down. Thete was something sublimely grand in the slow stately move ment of such a mass. ' 'There it floated, large enough, had it been land, to have been the dwelling, place of hundreds of human beings, The . lower part was of so deep a purple as to look almost black ; but higher up it shaded off to a bright azure, then to a light pale green, while on its lofty summit were long and slender spires and pinnacles, and pieces of thin transparent ice worked into all manner of fantastic forms, and either of crystal whiteness,: or tinted with beautiful pale pink. There were bays and promonto ries, caves and gi ottos, hills and dells, with every variety of light and shade. The island was almost equally divided by a great valley running through its centre. This was half filled with snow, which thawing .lowly in the, sun, formed the source of a waterfall, at a height so great that il was blown and scattered into fine rain before it reached the sea. Around its base on which the sea was breaking with a noise less booming and more mu sical than when il dashes on the solid shore was abroad band of frozen spray, which, glittering in the sunshine, looked like the silver selling of an enormous sapphire. . ; .. Not far from the top, and on the sido nearest to us, was a vast, smooth, glassy plane, inclining steeply towards the sea, and terminating abruptly in a tremendous overhanging precipice.- In the very cen tre of this plane, those among us who had good eyes could see a small,, black spot. It was at this the captain had been peering through his glass when he said, It is a man !' Every glass in the ship was in requisi tion, and every eye strained towards one point. The excitement became almost frantic when one of the watchers sudden ly exclaimed that he saw the man move Ins head. We approached ; so near that the pla teau above, and its dread object, were at last hidden from view by the brink of the precipice itself, which seemed as if about to roll over and crush us. We sailed along the side, frequently lying-to, to ex plore each nook and corner as we passed. The further end of the island, when we rounded it, presented quite a new feature; the base was sapped away and under minded for about half a mile by a suc cession of low cavernous hollows, extend ing inwards farther than we could see, while the sea rushing in and out tumult ously, made the pent-up air within howl and whisle like a hurricane. Altering our course again, we steared almost due west under tho southern Bide, where its vast shado'w spread out far and wide over the ocean. It now looked even grander, darker, more fear inspiring, than before, with the sun beaming over its rugged crest, or shining through die thinner parts and showing the prismatic colors of the rain bow. The form of the ice island was that of an irregular triangle, and in about five hours we had tailed completely around it. But there was ho single point at which any boat ever built could have landed, even had it been a dead calm, and tbe sea as Btill as a mill-pond ; much less in such a heavy surf as was then foaming i ' : i ! ' ,. : . xt . ,. ana creaming an arouuu n. no sign oi living thing was seen, excepting one great sleepy seal, that had crept into a hole just above water-mark, and lay here as if he was in comfortable quarters. No sign of boat or spar, or wreck. It was a picture of utter desolation. r We hove-to again, at the nearest point from which the man on the iceberg could be seen. He lay on his back with one arm folded in an unusual manner under his head, the whole attitude being one of easy repose ; indeed, had it not been for the marbly look of his face and hands, we could have fancied that he was sleep ing soundly, ; He was clothed as one - of the best class of seamen, in rough blue pilot cloth with large horn buttons ; he had no hat, and ' by his side lay a small boat hook, to ' which was tied a strip of red woiien stun, apparently a piece of the same which he had worn around his neck. This, no doubt, the poor' fellow had in tended as a signal, In such a thin, clear atmosphere, with the aid of a powerful telescope, even his features might be plain ly traced, and his iron-gray hair was seen moving in the wind. ' . i The second mate stoutly declared that he recegntzed the man be was quite sure of it--aa old chum and shipmate of his with whom he had sailed .many along voyage, and some part ol whose wild va ried history he told lis the next evening. ijitolilttifiltei i. ,.; ... -....... VOLUME 2.-NUMBElt 39 What seemed to convince him more than anything, was the peculiar way in which the dead man's ; arm was. stowed away under InVhcad his old shipmate always slept so, even in his hammock. . tnumerous and strange were the conjec tures and remarks made by officers and men. Who, and what was he ? How long had he been there?, How did he get there ? The general conclusion was that he was one of the crew of some ves sel .wrecked upon the iceberg itself, of which no vestige rpinained. , . ; - Vies, like enough,-, said, one of the sailors ; she run into the ice in the dark, and went down . like a stone, same as we may have done any time these .'last six weeks. . .,' .....; 1 Perhaps he was aloft when she struck, aud got, pitched up where he is now.' As like to be pitched into the moon, rejoined another contemptuously, Why, that there precipice is three limes as high as the tautest mast ever tigged,' . ' Perhaps, now, suggested a third, it's some awful cruel skipper, : who's been a hazing and ill-using his crew till they couldn t bear with it no longer, and was drove to mutiny, and put hi.n ashore there all alone, to die by himself, so as they should not have his blood upon their hands : or maybe he was a murderer.' Ah, Bill,' growled - out a previous speaker ; 'you've always got a good word to say lor every one, you. have.' Il was a very old man who spoke next, one who was looked up to as a great au thority on all such matters, although he was usually remarkably taciturn, and would never enter into an argument. He quietly deposited his quid in his hat: and as this was always done preparatory to his making a speech his shipmates waited in silence tor him to begin. , ' That there ice-island, he. said at last ' wasn't launched yesterday : nor yet last year, nor the year before, perhaps; and by the looks of him he s been for a pretty long cruise in warm latitudes last summer maybe and then come back home for tbe winter. If you look away yonder there, just this side of that high point like a church steeple, only lower down, there's a place looks darker than the rest. Now its just there I expect that a great piece has broken off and drifted away; and. I calculato . 'twas lower and more shelving oh" not so steep and rocky like as it is now. 'Twas there that poor chap was cast ashore from ship or boat. lie was trying to make bis wav up to the heights to take a look around, and hoist a signal, when he lay down and went asleep and never woke again ; only, where he is now, you see, must have been covered with snow then or he could not have kept his footing.' Having said this much, he replaced the quid in his mouth and spoke no more. there was no earthly use in waiting longer, and yet the captain seemed loth to give the order to fill and bear away. 'If the poor fellow uadaspaikof life in him, he would have moved before this, for it's six or seven hours since we saw him. But if he did move, it would only be to slide down over the precipice, for no living thing could keep a footing on such a slope as that. And if there are any more of them we should have seen them before tbis time, although, we could never get them off if we did. A hen pausing suddenly in bis walk on the quarter-deck he gave an order to get a gun ready forward, aud presently came the answer : ' AH ready with a gun sir. 'Fire 1' In a few seconds the echo of the loud report resounded from the icy wall ; for another instant all was still, and then came- a noise like a rattling ol loud thunder, proceeding from the centre of the berg. ,' . The danger, of our proximity to this vast object now became more and more apparent, and all sail was made to get a good offing. But we had barely proceed ed a quarter of a mile, when the same noise was heard ogain, only louder, and more prolonged, and accompanied by a rending, crushing 1 sound, the . intensity and nature of which is perfectly indescri bable. The vast island was parting in the middle, down the course of the sea, upheaving' what had been its base, in which were imbeded huge masses of rock covered with long sea-weed. Tbe other part still remained erect, but was sway ing to and fro, as if it also must capsize. This convuliion caused leas foam and tur moil than might have been supposed, but raised a wave of such immense magnitude, that when it reached our ship she seemed about to be Overwhelmed by a rolling mountain of water higher than our mast heads. - The good' ship rose upon its crest, and before again sinking into tbe hollow, we saw the man upon the iceberg still in the same posture glide swift ly down the slippery incline shoot over tne eage ot tne precipice, anu piuoge in to ths raging surf.- , 1 .. ' A sensation of inexpressible relief was experienced by all: it had ' seemed so dreadful to sail Away and leave him there, unburied and alone; now at any rate, we had seen the last of him. ? w ' 1 v j. i,. i'i j t-; '-...Hii") v COPIES ;,:jYB:c'y!Lit8;v';v;-;::;;;.:n' '..i'iS T t THE SAILOR'S GRAVE.'. Not in the churchyard shall he sleep.' . . . Amid the silent glooni, "';' His home was on the mighty deep," ' Aad there shall be his tomb. ''" -' i ".i V r-- .,': , '.. v"! ' He loved his own bright, deep blue sea, O'er it he loved to rosm; , , And now his winding sheet shall be ' The same bright ocean's foam. - i v '- . . . . !. . . - - ! No village bell shall loll for hlrt. ; Its mournful, solemn dirge J r. ' The wind shall chant a requiem To him beneath the surge.. , ,'To him break not the graiey turf, 'S Nor turn the dewy sod t 1 ''' : ' "; His dust shall rest beneath the surf,. His spirit m with its God. . . . j Old Age. . : s The neglected portion of the great American family is old age, we are sorry to Bay. Not that we, as a nation, , are disrespectful to the old, or that they: are denied or grudged anything. -, We per form the negative duty to them ; by avoi ding all which shall occasion to them of fence or deprivation, but we do not per form the duty of assiduously seeing that they occupy, always and only, the places of honor and prominence ; nor more par ticularly, do we study to contrive, untir ingly and affectionately, how to comfort, strengthen, cheer, and recuperate them. Tbe old man in one house may have his chair in the drawing room, at his place at the ftble, and be listened to when he speaks, and obeyed when he commands. But in another house he will have his easy chair cushioned and pillowed, and bis arm chair at the table, and the cook .will be busied most with what will newly nourish or refresh his more delicate ap petite ; while all listen first to his words, and address conversation to him as a cen ter, and eagerly seek for his commands as an authority. I bis we assure the rea der, from our own well weighed observa tion in both countries, is a fair picture of the difference between rage in America and old age in England. We have been sad to admit this, to the commenting traveller. Il is an unconscious fault in our coun try, an oversight of our life too . busy, our attention too' overtasked,, and our plans of home and pleasure too unsettled and immature, but the feeling for the better things is in us, and , time will brinff this feeling into . action. iV. P. mint. . ; - - -. . ..;.. Anecdote of Washington. Mr. "It. H. Lee, writing from Washington, Pa correcting a statement in Uov. Wise e oration at Lexington, relates the following anecdote ot vv asnington : 'During Gen.. Washington's adminis tration, hejalmost daily attended his room, adjoining llie Senate Chamber, and often arrived before the Senate organized. On one occasion, just before his arrival, Gov. Morris and some other Senators ' were conversing upon various topics,' arid amongst litem, the natural but majestic air of Gen. .Washington, when one ob served there was no man living could take a liberty wih him. The sprightly aud bold Morris remarked, ' I will bet a dozen of wine lean do that with, impu nity.' The bet was accepted. Soon af ter Washington appeared, and commenced an easy and pleasant conversation with one of the gentlemen, at a little distanco from the others. While thus engaged, Morris stepped np, tapped Washington on the shoulder in a very familiar manner and said, 'Good morning old fellow! The General turned, and merely looked him in the face, without a word,- when Morris, with all his assumed effrontery, stepped hastily back, in evident discom posure, and said, ' Gentlemen yoa have won the bet, I will never take such a lib erty again !' The writer received this from one who. was a member of the Sen ate and present. ' ' ' ' : ": ' : t V Papal ' Biootrt. An ' English - lady lost s daughterat Rome,: and on the tomb (which was in the English Protestant cemelry) she wished to have the verse from St. Matthew., ' Blessed . are . the pure in heart for they shall see God,' in scribed ; but it appears that some officer connected with the censorship entered the workship of the statuary who was work ing at the tomb, and forbade him .inscri bing more than the first half of the verse, as he said it was nuttier , right nor just that heretics should see the Lord. ' , ) - Lockjaw. I have noticed lately i iev' era! deaths by' lockjaw, and -for the n. formation of all I wilt gi ve . a certain1' rem edy, . When any one runs .a nail or any sharp iron in any part of his body,1 take a common smoke pipe, fill it with lobaoco, light it well, then take a 'cloth or 'silk handkerchief, place it over the bowl of the pipe imd blow tho smoke through 'the stem into the wodnd ; two or three pipes full will be sufficient to set the 'wound discharging.' I have tried it myself," and five others, and found it gave immediate relief. , If the wonnd has been some days standing it will open again if the tobacco is good. ,Try it sny " one who iny chance to gel such woind. s- : '