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ii $1,50 P E R A N N U IP PAID IN ADVANCE. Z, RAG AN, Editor and Proprietor. POETRY. Mother, Home, and. Heaven. . "The three sweetest words in the English language, are Mother, Home nod Heaven." Mother The first fond word our hearts express In childhood's rosy hours i When life seems full of happiness, As nature is of flowers ; Award that manhood loves to speak, When time has placed upon his cheek, But sadly pondered now ; -As time brings back, 'mid vanished years, ' A Mother's fondest hopes and fears. Heme . The only Eden left untouch'd, . Free from the tempter's snare ; A paradise where kiudred hearts May revel without care j A wife's glad smile is imaged here. And eyes :hat never knew a tear, Save those of happiness, ' Beam on the hearts that wander back From off the Ions and beaten track Of sordid worldlineos, . To-taste these purer joys that come Like Angels round the hearth at homo. Heaven ' The end of all a Mother's prayers The home of all her dreams ; The guilding star to light our path With hope's encheenng beams The haven for our storm-tossed barque. From out a world where wild and dark The tempests often rise . But still in every darksome hour The hope will rise with holy power, And point us to the skies, Where Mother, Home, and Heaven are seen, Without a cloud to intei vene. 8. D. Andebsos, A GOOD STORY. The HomeBtead, BY SYBIL HASTINGS. CONCLUDED. All at once she caught the reflection of herself in the glass, above the mantle piece, and reason questioned, stern and true, it tne nustieu ana careworn counte nance reflected therein, was such as the blessed realization of a pure heart's hopes should have stamped n peace and joy thereon ; and as the girl looked, with a sudden, sharp pang of terror at her heart, she saw that the innocence and guileless ncss once depicted there had faded pre ceptibility with the deeper coloring of the cheek the darker light of the eyes. Presently the clear, ringing chime of the far off cburchbell brokH upon the ilence of the morning ;and turning round, he beheld (he froBl-work melting slowly from the window panes the first time for many years ungarlanded by the green leaves and red berries of winter's ever greens on Christmas morning. An'earn eet desire, an irresistable impulse, carried her to her chamber, there to envelop her self in her cloak. She did not stop to adjust, with the little 1 armless vanity of olden times, the ribbonds ot her hat, or the braids within ; but went hurriedly down again, as if fearful that the sudden impulse which was leading her, lor the first time in many a week to church, would leave her as swiftly as it had come. 1 The deep snow which oovered the ground was hard-frozen ; the trees weie laden with many a pendant of glittering ice, and over all fell the dazzling rays of the unclouded sun. Something there was in the invigorating atmosphere of the morning, and the exercise 01 her long and rapid walk, that cleared the shadow Irom . her brow, and, lifted the gloom from her heart. , The old church was dark with the dra pery of its Christmas - wrenths. The choir was chanting the anthem of the Nativity, when Hope Raymond, kneeling Where she had knelt since early childhood, with her head bowed low, felt her limbs tremble, her cheek pale, with the agony of the , mockery of that position on the part of one, as she now, lor lbs hrst tune, clearly and fully realized, had trembled on the verge of innd.ehiy. , But soon the burden of the weak and erring spirit's prayer, "save us from temptation 1' reverberated through the chaos of her despair. God and the angels alone knew bow great bad been her dan ger and temptation, how abiding was her . oenitdpce. -.. , .' All alone, in the moonlight, sat Hope in the deserted studio. She had stolen away from the companionship of Aunt Bessie; she could not join in "be old lady' gossiping humor that night worn and .agitated as she felt herself by the experience of the day. , There was no fire in the room, hut the girl felt neither the cold nor the absence of light : lor llie moonbeams came down through the window in the roof, and bathed her in their frigid glory, as she sat . there in Harrv's easy-chair, with a dread of coming grief mingling with the new born peace of the morning. Gradually vhantom fancies took possession of her. strange visions flitted before her mind 19 the still evening she was areamiiig a wild dream of toy and of woe.'.. T.8he stood in he shadows of those Christmas wreaths, and the mMmhg'it which then streamed over her sleepin M V Itedlg lonmal, ace, and the . sun s rauiance pouring through the chancel windows, and resting on her bridal crowned hair; but the choir chanted requiems for the dead, and look ing on Harry Worthington'a face, she saw that the expression there was one of de finance and of mockery while (here stole over bis heart, thiough the purity of his bridal vestments, a deep, red stain, as if human blood flowed slowly from a wound beneath, and the wedding ring, which he placed on her finger slipped from thence with irresistable force, and fell to the ground. But it was not quite alia dream. Hat- . a . ry W 01 thins ton hail returned ; ne was standing before her, and the ring which he had given her had indeed slipped Irom her finger, and lay at his feel. Surprised at finding her sleeping there in the cold and deserted chamber, be was about to wake her, when she started up with a cry of horror. He endeavored to subdtio her agitation, and strove to smile away the emotion which the recital of her dream awoke in his own breast. But when he would have rephced the ring, Hope withdrew her hand from his, and, though tier voice wavered as she snoke, her words were firm and resolute. ' , "When you first gave Una to me, fear Harry, I did not comprehend, in the moment's happv excitement of finding inysalf your betrothed wife the avowal which you then made; and I cannot with a maturer knowledge of your sentiments, again accept from you, a token ot an af lection which recognizes in spirit, no ho- Iter consecration than its avowal. No more, dear Harry dare I become your wife,' knowing, as I now do, from your own lips that you look on marriage but as an idle form nf conventionalism, which you would, without Bcruple,at once reject if possible." "I did not expect this of you, Hope What has changed you thus since I lefi you! his tones were bitter; he question ed ber1 with stern impenonsness. She grieved not over the coldness ol those hitherto gentle tones, as she did over the weakness and aposiacy of her own heart, which had Given htm occasion to thus quest'.on her; and she answered, sorrowfully and meekly. Communion with ray own soul in the solitude of your absence, and tin consciousness of the delusion with which an human affection has blinded nit, to a wilful douht of thai which in my heart knew to be true ; and more tliau all else ear Harry, do 1 grieve over the bitter fruit of my own degeneracy, which 1 now reap in the lasting conviction that I. who have been found vulnerable to the doubts of scepticism, may never be to vou the humble instrument of God's mercy eadmg you to a recognition of his infiniie tenderness towards his children. Oh, Harry ! Oh, Harry ! would that I had not sinned, less for my own sake ihau thine, my beloved." And in her own grief she hid her face upon the breast that no longer in coldness rejected her. First for my sake, then tor Hi?, whimpered Hope, in leuderrst, imploring accents, as II airy Woiihington looked, with strange sad eyes, upon ber tearful countenance, and strove to still the tuinuh in his own breast. So lng did he remain silent, so intense was his agitation, which portrayed itself in the changing expression of his counteuance ate he answered her that a nameless dread of the worth which she saw he was about to utter, came over the heart of Hope. "You are very cold -vou are shivering my love! and Harry Worthington fol ded his own cloak about her; for he felt that she would grow colder yet with his word. And then he went far back into the past, recalling the day of Hannah Vorihington.s death, and the rigorous years ol her guardianship which had preceeded it. with my boy-heart hardened into unnatural obduracy by her constant re proaches, her never-ceasing rebukes, 1 at that period cherished the secret belief which she ever openly professed of the natural moral depravity of my nature. Suddenly Hannah Worthington was called to yield that exemplary Christian life of hers, which was deemed a model for her fellow beings. Death sumn.oned her in the full pride of thai life j and oh, Hope Raymond 1 let me tell ton how the dreid messenger found her prepared for thai journey. , "The mystery of that chamber of death won the boy from his play 10 look within upon iU Scaicx his childish mind could comprehend. lhe;burdeu of 'the words falling from her '. lips lips quivering : t. li 1 , ... T 0 wun ; ungiiiKn, oianonua . with a terror m re ashy in lis hue, than the d.ath shadow veiling a I Uiosh. haggard line menis. He only knew that she, the go.id woman lear-u to go, and in that coward fear, contersed herse f t-ioful in the f x- irrmn, miu wneii giiin.UK inoneu in in the still evening Hme, upon her dead upon face, there was nothing there of that mysterious . serenity which fills the ex pression of a human being at peace ; bat j)ttotft to American Inttrisls, f iterate, Stum, anr STEUBENVILLE, OHIO,; WEDNESDAY, fear, fierce agony, was frozen there in death. .... 'And the boy went out the succeeding day into the sunlight of the morning with an unburdened life. The weight of liia past belief in his own degradation lifted from his heart. "1 'ill be good her way no more," I said to myoelf, and thereafter there was more freedom, more happiness, in my boyhood. A second tune 1 locked on death- 1 found bim whom I had heard my Aunt Hannah and her friends term sinful, through hig unbelief in their creed -him, the proud, high spirited old man, stricken from a life, vigorous even in its extreme age, to death alone, died in his chair; and that face bore no vestige of the conflict which .Death had engraven upon the face of his child ; and I never forgot the contrast between the two. "Hope, I have thought myself a strong m . . . , . I man ; 1 Have been vain, noastiui 01 tne igor of my manhood.' Look upon me now, l am weak as a little ciniu ; 101 me cross of my life is greater than I can shoulder. The words which I would speak to Ton are fainting into silence on my lips, 1 cannot utter them. 15ut before you leave me, to night, Hope Raymond before you open tins letter which I give you to read let me impress upon your remeuibrai.ee that I was in ignorance ol its contents that I did not' wilfully de reive your trust in me. Anil rlope, re member always that I bind myself not to forms that bind other men, that I as openly henceforth regret, thoroughly contemn. the narrow and arbitrary forms wbicli would bind me, body and soul, to imbecile sulruistdon to infamy and misery. I ask you not, Hope, for a love which will give itself as a sacrifice, with fear at its vitals to corrode its peace and purity ; not for a heart which will thrill with shamtt while it yields to its desire. But, Hope Raymond, if the miserable shackles with which the tuition of that grand tutor, society, has fettered your soul, fall for ever thence, come to me my beloved 1 So the earth shall make itself a heaven in Harry Worthing on's love !" . There was passion in his glance, there was madness in his tones ; but his com panion shrank not from his violence, or trembled at his words. She was girding up the strength of a pure heart, and sub duing the wounded piide of maidenhood, to answer him fitly. "If you lack strength, Harry Wor thington, to make to me your confession, to lay bare to me the secrets of your life which it is needful that 1 should know, your weakness is not mine. I can listen; and surely, if I can listen, you can speak. From your own lips I beseech you, suffer me to learn what I can better endure, if of great pain, to hear from yourself. He took bark the letter which he had proffered her. Ome or twice he pacetj the little chamber, luminous now with the full lighl of the moon; and (hen he spoke, but liia voice was hoarse with surpressed passion. "In Florence there is one whom the world calls mv wife, one who calls her self woman You start now yon rise you are going now, Hope I thought you said but now, you would listen pa tiently to what I might have to say." There ran be nothing more for me to hear." He could not tell whether it was desnairor uride that steadied her voice to a lone so clear and quick ; but he answer ed, " There i more that vou should that you shall hear, Hope. No iilTeciion sanctified the tie which she assumed, and I yielded to her desire. In the mad intoxicating life I led in Florence, t brilliant fete glowed upon my delirium ; the woman who called that brilliancy her own, saved a life which time has proved too worthless, too miserable to have been spared. In gratitude for the useless boon, I gave her what she asked, She knew well that no faith of mine consecrated the'idle mockery which made her, in man s eye, my wife. " But she whom I would have endeav ored to have'eherished through her truth, had deceived me. She was unworthy of affection, We parted in disgraceful con flict, and I relumed home, when I had cause to suppose that the grave hid her sin, my misery. With this conviction in the first stages of our intercourse, I did not feel that, even in the eyds of the world, my love for you was shame or gum. " But later, when the fatal tidings reached me, that that wretched existence which had been chained to mine, was still prolonged, even as my lips first syliihled what mv looks for weeks hat told you, I yet determined, in spite of die harsh judgment of mv fellow beings, to make you mine. But I refute the false hood with which the woild would assai me 1 I recognize not the bondage with which it would make me a slave evermore, a miserable xU'cast from human tender nes and human love I Will yon leave inn now, Hope, with ruthless scorn, witl ' prulK t cj 'ction o a love which i a .turn: luiu for 1 the s'ain with which society would blacken 11 T . Not i scorn not m coldness and pride, and not that the shadow which ; - ' - visible to human eyes, not for fear of man, but in obedience to God's word, do t now and forever reject your affection reject it even while the prayer, the one earnest desire of this life, will be that a love of more ineffable tenderness, of more hallow ed peace, tlinn can fill man's boim for mortal--love for our Father in Heaven, Harry, may fill your being on, with that peace which passed) all understand ing ! and with her , head drooping reverently forward, her lips still sylabling half audible prayer lo God for his salvation and happiness, Hope Raymond glided away, from beneaih the moon lit window in the ronf, and was gone. Her words had subdued the passion of his heart, nothing was left there but a wild, earnest longing to believe with her in that Refuge from this world's trials. Very, very weary, Hope Kay men d entered her own chamber, after leaving Harry Worthinglon, and sat down before the table, upon which lay a Bible that had once been her mother's. Half un conscious of what she did in that hour of heavy trial, but with a vague longing for comfort for her aching heart, she turned back the tune worn cover, and there on a leaf, lay the crisp and faded leaves, Through the bitter memories which they conjured up, a keener puijjnancy of woe, a drearier desolation, she beheld the name written therein in the wavering lines and uncertain character? of her mother's dy.ng hand. " Hope Raymond," was uoitlmia name of bitter mockery for her whose life burthen seemed o heavy T But a little further, and " save her from temptation keep her from sin," written in clear,, legible letters, met her despairing eyes, and in that simple pray er there lay a mind of more than common strength. CHAPTEK III. No more thy charnel glooms the soul nppal, Pale Azrael I nwful eidolon of Death I The dawn-light breaks athwart thy glimmering hall, And thy dank vapors own the morning's breath. Again there is heard the pleasant whisper of summer stealing through the old bouse, and murmurink its gay song of sunlit skies and breezy woodlands in its inmates ears, even as on the day when Hannah Worthington died, two and twenty years ago. And now, as then, closed blinds and falling curtains shut out the sunlight, and something of the garden's perfume. Of those who were piesent that day, one alone remains ; and childlike grief has taken the place of the maiked content ment of Bessie Worthington , for the joy f . ! II II el ner age lies, tine a nroaen mossom with drooping petals, its beauty not quite all gone, upon the couch before her. 6mce early day the wing ol tne death angel has cast its shadow over the watch er's hearts, for they have known since then that the Reaper s shining sickle has wavered long, impatient to gather fruit age ol Httluent youth into the garner huie of death But 'he girl, sick unto the f illing of all hope, lies with still, cairn eyes awaiting the Reaper's coming. The fever of suf fering ha paled her face 10 the hue of the June w'dtii roses that lie on her pillow. All at once the calm eves grow starry in the light o! an earth horn hope ; for there is a ringing step iu the hall below, which all present hear. Once more a form glides up that stair way. and bends its head to the door of that sick chamber. But ihe broad chest ed figure is not like that of the boy of other years The sunshine of the spirit of youth, dim then with but the shadow of passing fear had faded - forever ; but the intense, earnest light in those blue eyes, the pale, compressed lips, speak the intensity of bis emotion. "She has gone!" said a despairing voice, falling with fearful import on his straining car, as he stood there, neither daring to enter nor willing to depart. These words bore him to her side. More than ihe agony nf all past suffering he indured with the first glance that fell on the fair, still face of Hope. " She is not she has but fainted 1" said a voice, the calmness of which seemed to mock his suffering -and his despair, so little dared he to trust to its assurance. " Sho has but fainted, she will live I" it repeated once more, in tones more calm and assured. Not for hours afterwards did they dare to trust to even the physician's words of hope. Not until sue slept that placid sleep which brings health and healing in its wake, and he was suffered to gaze for a moment on the face which had nevsr again thought to look upon in life, did Harry Worihingion dare 10 give way to the b leased assurance ot hope. ' The naive confession of his childhood " I will be good no more her wav," he recanted, in the simple trtyr of . Suffer me. mv God, to he like unto her I" as he turned aside from the placid sleeper to to learn how entire w.a her submission to God's will, when he had called her would rest upon its acceptance would be. from the joy of bridal pieparationa lo APRIL 7, 1858. that sick bed, from which she had tho'i never again lo rise,, to life's many hopes, earth's now great and manifest joys. The tidings which Harry Worthington had received of the existence of the wo man whom he had believed dead, were false. The past gave her not up, to burden hs future life, her own soul with further misery. The seed which Hpe Raymond in her hour of extremest suff ering and sorest trial hid planted nncon scioosly, by the example of her faith in God and his love, ripened in her lover's heart into rich fruit in after time. The vows which he pronounced at.the hr id a I altar when she stood by his side a ppy, trusting bride, now solemn with the realization of their import. A Startling Confession. Motdecai Paine, a saddler doing busi ness m south INinth street, was called home I'mm his work shop on Saturday morning, by a messenger who brought the melancolly intelligence that his wife liarbara, had taken arsenic for the purpose of committing suicide, and was tben at the point of death. He hastened to her bedside, and found her in more agony of mind than body, one dechire J that there was something on her mind which she wished to confess to him before her I departure, with the hope of obtaining his lorgiveness before she had made known her offence. "Ah. Mordecai," said she, "you re member our large white pitcher was broken some time ago; I pretended to you that the cat broke it, but that was false, for I myself did it." " Oh, my dear," said Mr. ?.. "don't concern yourself about such a trifle. I had forgotten the pitcher, and it matters not now how it was broken. ' ' There is another matter," said Mrs. P., after some hesitation. ' The silver spoons which I ninde yu believe were stolen by the Yankee clock mender; I pawned them to raise money to pay the munner lor doing up my pink satin bonnet." " Never mind it, my love," said Mr. aine, encouragingly. I hope Heaven will forgive you as freely as I do." Altei a short pause, Mrs. P. began again : " Your best razor, which you missed last summer, and made so much ado about. 1 swapped it away to a pedlar for a tortoise shell comb." " The deuce ! well, well," said Mr. , recolleciing himself, " that's all done now. and can t be amended, think no mom of it." " I could not leave ihe world with such a thing on my conscience," said the fail penitent. " Go on, go on." cried Mr. Paine, " I told you that I could forgive everything at such a lime as this." Mrs. P. resumed : " You remember our boarder.Simeon Drafte, who run up a bill for six weeks, and then went off in a hurrv. without paying a cent. He and I had agreed to elope together ; but he changed his mind at the last moment, and ran away with out me. " Fire, and fury 1 do you dare to tell me tins f cried Mordecai in great ex citement. " But as vou are dying I won't repioach you. I'll leave you now to settle the affair with your own con sciense." " Stay and hear one thing more," said the repentant Barbara. " The dose1 I look this morning was intended for vou I put into your cup of coffee, but in my hurry to gel the thing done, 1 gave you the wrong cup, and took the right one myself. " The devil fly away with you, you jade I roared Mordecai, as he flung himself out of the room. In the entry lie met ihe apothecaiy who had sold Mrs. 1 . . - - P. the fatal powder. This medical man had beard of the commotion at Paine a house, and suspeoiing the cause of it, he came to administer hope and comfort to the afflicted. "Don't be alarmed Mr. Paine," said he, "the drug I sold to .your wife was nothing but magnesia. I judged that she wished to destroy herself ; and I tricked her in this way to save her life." " You swindling rascal." shouted Paine, ( how dare you cheat a customer in that shameful manner and obtain her money on false pretenses! Begone I" And with this exclamation he violently ejected the astonished apothecary from his front door. The man of Physio of course, suspecting, that poor Mordecai was deranged, sent two officers to piovide for his safe keeping. His relation nf the preceding dialogue, however, soon obtain ed hie discharge Phil. Press. Appropriate to thb Dat. An ap cieut wriier, hut a clever one says : "Let him who expects one class of society to prosper in the highest ,degree, while the other is in distress, try whother one side of his face can smile while the other is pinched " This si plies to rich and poor, and should ne noivd oy both. Patience is a tree whose roots are bitter, but the fruit is very eweet. SI N nural $ntcllipte. A Thorough Ticket. . Fellow traveler to the bar of God, have you a through ticket T Need I tell you, you are in the car of time, on the road to eternity, the ecgine in motion, no stop ping now, no, not a moment. Have you got your ticket yet is your name regis teied in the office, above, and your fare paid I If not, get it immediately, don't delay a moment ; a switch may be out of place, or some obstruction on the track, or a collision take place ; in the twinkling of an eye you may be in eternity, ihe whole journey to settle for, your time to do it forever gone all all lost forever. Do you want 10 know where, or how to gel a through ticket ? You can not buy it with gold or silver. If you had the world t give, it would not be accepted. It could not purchase even a cure for leprous Nauman. You must accept a free ticket or none. For your encourage ment, I tell you, Jesus Christ has paid the fare if you accept his terms. Don't be offended at the terms, for he will vnot change them for your accommodation. Though you may be a great man in your own istimaiion, and think yourself better than others, you must come down to the same terms Lazarus did. God is no re- spector of persons all must wash in the same fountain, the king and the beggar, tne master anu servant The terms are, repent and forsake your sins, or no ticket. Turn or die believe in Christ or perish. Dying fellow traveller to eternity how long have you been on the road ? May be you have only started a few years if so, apply at once for a through ticket : switch may be out of place a few steps ahead, and you may be dashed to pieces, your soul demanded no time 10 get a ticket heaven or hell is your home for ever you can not come back to remedy tne neglect. Have you traveled on to Ihe meridian of life, and s: til no through ticket f Apply al once be importunate, take no denial ; the conductor may call for your ticket; your undying soul be demanded, no ex cuse will avail you then; then all eternity will not be sufficient for you to settle the claims of God on your soul. It must be done as you go, and before you reach the end of your journey, or never; no, never. Are you old and near the end of your ournev, aud still no through ticket I Heaven or hell must soon burst on your vision ; a company of angels or devils are waitmg your arrival ; their conveyances are all ready ; your room is prepared ; Angels waiting to gieet you with joy, r devils to gnash their teeth on you with rage; may be your children to curse you r your example, and charge their dam nation on your neglect of their souls. See, the engine is beginning to slack its speed, the brakes are pressing on the wheels, a moment, and all is over. The car is stopped, your journey ended, the tickets all examined, are you safe 7 The Judge is there to applaud with, "Come. ye blessed ot mv father, inherit the king dom prepared for jou from the foundation of the world." or say, "Depart ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." See well to your ticket Central Presbyterian. Honor the Good. The true basis of distinction among1 men is nt in position nor possession ; it is not in the circumstances of lite, but in the conduct. . . Ii matters not how enviable a position a mun occupies, nor how much wealth he has in itorcj if there be defects in his behaviour, he is not entitled to that consideration and respect due to one wild is superior in a moral point of view, tho he possesses neither riches nor honor. T. ! ., , 1 ' . 11 is not mm wnicn gives us puce, nut conduct which makes the solid distinction We should think no man above us but for his virtues, and no man below us but for 11s vices. Entertaining this view, , we would seek lo emulate ihe good, though it be found under coarse exterior, and pity the evil, though it be clothed in the guest garb and dwell in luxury. . We would .never become obsequious in the wrong place. Call no man mean, low, or vulgar, because he tills the soil or stands before the work benoh ; for in point of true worth and real manhood he may be muoh superior to the President of some bank, or some eminent liquor dealer, or Wall street broker, br the rich nabob who dwells in yonder miserable palace. The virtuous and high minded sons of toil are nature a noblemen. They ate lovers of good, lovers of truth, lovers of Und. 1 hey were not born to shine, nor be the recipients of empty honors, hut they were born to be men, the heaven of earth and a nation's bulwark. ' ' Quaint Inscription. There pi an in sciiption on a tomb stone at La Point, Lake Superior, which reads as follows: " John Smith, accidentally shot as a mark of affection by his brother." , A man attempted to eeixe a favorable epportuoity a few daya since, but hi hold slipped, and he tall 10 the ground consii erablj injured. . - - G L E C O P I ES .FIVE CENTS'. ' V VOL.' 4 NO. 14. ,' , i Heaven.,- ;1 Were there t country pn earth uniting all that is beautiful in nature and ail that ia great in virtue, genius and the liberal aria, and numbering among its citizens the most illustrious patriots, poets, philosophers, and philanthropists of our age ; how . eagerly should we cross the ocean to visit it I And how immeasurably greater is the attraction nf Heaven 1 There live the elder brethren of the creation, the sons of the morning, who sang for joy at the creation of our race : there the great and good ol all ages and climes, the friends, benefactors and deliverers, ornament 01 their race ; the patriarch prophet, apostle and martyr ; the true heroes of public, and still more of private life ; the father, mother, wife, child, who unrecorded by man, have walked before God in tb beauty of love and selbyacrificing virtue. There are all who have built up in our hearts the power of goodness and truth, the writers from whose countenances have shed light through our dwellings, and peace and strength through our neans. There they are gathered together, eafe from every storm,' and triumphant over every evil ; and they say to us, .Come and join us in our everlasting blessedness,' come and bear a part in our song of praise, share our adoration, friendsh'p, progress nnd work of love. Channiug. Thaddeus Kosciusko. During the American struggle for independence, Washington was greatly embarassed by the arrival of foreign officers who expect ed nothing less than one of the highest posts in the army and frequently, when accepted, proved unworthy of the station assigned to them. Experience of this kind ted Washington to be exceedingly cautious in receiving foreign officers into tbe service- At this period, Kosciusko presented himself lo Washington, 'forti fied by a letter from Franklin. The first interview between the gallant and gener ous Pole and the equally generous Wash ington, is thus described in the third volume of Washington Irving'a Wash ington, just issued from (he press. , "What do you seek here? inquired the Commander-in-Chief. "To fight for American Iudepeddence." "What can you do?" 'Try me." Washington was pleased with the curt yet comprehensive reply, and with hit chivalrous air aud spirit, at once received him into his family as an aid-de-camp. His subsequent noble and'gallanl career as an officer in the American service,' is well known, and has inseparably joined his name with that noble struggle . to which we owe our present exalted rank as a nation. , For a number of years a suit has been in progress in the courts of the District of Columbia, prosecuted by his collateral heirs, to recover the property left by him at his decease in this country, which now amounts to upwards of fifty thousand dollars. ' We believe that a final decision has been rendered, establishing the rela tionship of ihe claimants and the validity of their claim. - That Voice la Eternity. A minister, while attending church in a. strange city, was struck with the sur passing sweotness ol the voice pf a beau tiful and pleasing young lady who sat near him. Being afterwards introduced to her, he inquired whether she loved the Saviour. , She replied, "I am afraid not." "Then, my dear young friend,", aaid the minister, "what will you do with that voice in eternity f Shall it be spent in uttering the wailing of the lost forever t i The solemn question sent conviction to het heart, and she rested not till she found peace in believing in Jesus, till prepared to sing the song of redeeming love with the stints on earth, and to join in the new song with the redeemed around ihe throne on high. 'American Mesiengtr. . I . .: " i .; . , The best bank ever jet known is e, bank of earth it never refuse! to die count to honest . labor. . And . the best share is the plowsh ire on which divi dends are al way liberal' That's so. , .. "What are you writing tuch a large, hand for, Pat J" "Why. too aee that my grandmither is dafe, and I'm writing a loud letier to herl" , , , . .. r. 'George what ha happened ,H ,,4The most delightful thing. 1 caught my Jen- ny this morning, without hoopt ; sod 1 got the first kiss I've had since whale bone skirts came into fashion." - - ;' " A distinguished teacher defines genint. to be the power of making eflbrt. ;" Love and friendship exclude each olh-. er. Love begins by Love, and the strong eat friendship could only give birth to ; feeble love. Da Cosur.;. -,. , , v Emulation looks, out for merits that he may exert herself by a victory; envy spies out blemishes, ibatehe c?.y hTJ another by a defeat CMon.