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1,50 PER A N N U M SI N G L E C O P I E S IP PAID IN ADVANCE. Z. ItAUAN, Editor and Proprietor. A LESSON FOR DANDIES. Trying to be a Gentleman. ' BY BARRY SUNDERLAND. The efforts which certain young men make, on entering the world, to become gentlemen, is not very amusing to sober, ..thoughtful lookers on. lo become gen tlemen, is not perhaps, what is aimed at so much as to make people believe that they are ; for if you should happen to in sinuate anything to the contrary, no mat ter how wide from the mark they go, you may expect to receive summary pun ishment for your insolence. One of these characters made himself quite conspicdnus in Baltimore, a few years ago. His name was L and he hailed from Richmond, we believe, and built some consequence upon the fact that he was a son of the Old Dominion. He dressed in tho extreme of fashion; spent a good deal of time in strutting up and down Market street, switching Lis rattan ; boarded at one of the hotels ; drank wines freely, and pretended to be quite a judge of their quality ; swore round oaths occasionally, and talked of his honor as a gentleman. ' ' His knowledge of etiquette ho obtain ed from books, and was often quite as literal in his observance of prescribed modes andiorms, as was the Frenchman in showing off his skill in idioms when he informed a company of ladies, that he had some fish to fry. That he was no gentleman, internally or externally, was plain to every one ; yet he verily believed himself to bo one of the first water; and it was a mattor of constant care to pre serve the reputation; Among those who woro thrown into the society of this L , was a young man named Briarly, who had rather more basis to his character, and who, al thmish he dressed well and moved in pood society, by no means founded there on his claim to bo called a gentleman.- He never liked L because he saw that he had no principle whatever ; that all about him was mere sham. The con sequence was that he was hardly civil to liim. a circumstance wnicli u .was low neither to notice nnr resent. It happened one day that the tailor of Briarly asked rum one day u tie unew anvlhing about L-. Not much," replied Briarly " why do you aBk T Do you think him a gentleman." " How do you estimate a gentleman ?" naked the young man. " A gentleman is a man of honor," returned the tailor. Very well, then L must be a gentleman, for he has a great deal to say about his honor." I know he has. But I find as a gen eral thine. thBt those who talk mubh of their honor, don't have much to brag of." Then he talks to yon of his honor T ' " Oh ves : and eives me his word as a crentleman." - 'Does he always keep his word as a gentleman! , . The tailor shrugged bis shoulders. " Not always," he replied. Then I should say the word of trentleman is tot worth much," 11 Not the word of such broadcloth and buckram gentlemen as he ts. . Take care what you Bay or yon may find yourself called to account for using improper language aooui mis genuemau We may have a duel on the carpet.' . It would degrade him to fight with a tailor," replied the man of shears. "So I may speak my mind with impunity. But if he should cnauenge me i win re fuse to fight him on the ground that he is no gentleman. . " Indeed ! How will you prove that !' ' Everv man must bo permitted to have his own standard of gentility." "Certainly." .''I have mine." "Aht Well, how do yon roeaure icntilitvt" : ' Bv mv ledger. A man - who does not pay his tailor's bill I consider no gen tleman. It jj senas me a cna lenge, I will refuse to fight him on that 0rnnnd.' ' Good said Briarly laughing. I'm afraid if your standard was adopted, thai a rri mnv who now pass themselves off for gentlemen, would be held in lit tie estimation." ' , . , It Is the true standards nevertbelss,1 replied Shears. A man may try to be trentleman as much as he pleases, but be don't try to pay his tailor's bill at the name time, he tries in yam." 'You may ba right enough,' remarked Briarly, a good ileal amused at the tat ' lor'a mode of estimating- a gentleman and possessed of a new fact in regard to t 'a claim to the honorable distino- tinn of which he so often boasted. - Shortly after - this it happened that J, made Briarly angry about some' thing, when the latter very unceremoni nnilv tnnk hold of the handle on vounv man's face, and moved his head around. Fortunately the body moyed . . m r fttitcclilj) jomial, wun tne neaa, or me consequences might .a .1 m i have been serious. There were plenty to assure L , that for this insult be must if he wished to bo considored a it gentleman, challenge unariy, and shoot . ... . . . I him it tie could, several days elapsed s before L - a courage rose high enough I In ennhln him tn nml thn ripnillv misaivB bv the hand of a friend. Meantime a wag ot a fellow, an inti- mate friend of Briarly s appeared in Market Street in an old rusty coat, worn bt, and w ell mended but clean and whole trousers anu vest, menu alter, iriena slopped him, and, in astonishment, in quired the canso of this change. lie bad but one answer in substance. But will give our own account of the matter, as related to three or four young bucks in an oyster house, where they append! to meet him. L , was of the number. "A patch on your elbow, Tom, as I ive said one. And here s another on pur vest. Why old fellow this is pre- meditated poverty." .Better wear patched garments than owe for new ones," replied Tom with great sobriety. " Bless us when did you turn econo mist!" V I'KvAr ii in pa T IfTart trt a n nnn tlirvi on ' "What?" Ever since I tried to be a gentleman may strut np and down Market Street tn fine clothes, switch my rattan about, talk nonsense to silly ladies, swear and rink wine : but if 1 don t pay my tai or, I'm no gentleman." "Nonsense! was replied. There was a general laugh, but few of. Tom s uditors felt very much flattered by his words. "No nonsense at all," he said, we may put on airs of gentility, boast of in dependence and spirit, and all that, but it is a mean kind of gentility (hat will let man flourish about in a fine coat for which he owes Lis tailor. Wyville has a arge bill against me for clothes, Grafton another for boots, and Cox another for hats, l am trying to pny these Oft u- .1 . ti I iitiuk w ucnuuw nimeiuaii. It "hull ln.'l .An.IJn. itAn.i.ir BPntloman n" " u i munusi juuiraii ()h nn I'm on v trv nir to hor-nrnft a gentleman," meekly roplied Tom. though a close observer could see a slight twitch- ing in the corner- of his mouth, and a slight twinkle .in the corner of his eye. My honor is in pawn, and will remain so unm i pay tneso ouis. .xnen i sns i leei f1 il I Ml- mi V .1 i noiumg up my neaa iigaio, anu iook- 1- 1 I I 1 J T I 1 I. I in rr rronllAmAn in fUet In nek " .1 The odd ness of this conceit, and the boldness with which it was carried out attracted attention, and made a good deal of talk at the time. A great maTiy tai- or 8 bills were paid instanter, that would not have been paid for months ; perhaps not at all. in a lew uays, nowever, 10m appeareu .1 4 1 i. 1.. 1 ,- , r6 Vi 1 . a , . ' 1 . 1 ed as before, alledging that his uncle had taken eomnaaaion m him and out of ad- miration for his honest principles, paid off his bills and made a gentleman of him - 1 . . ... I once more. w No one, of course, boheved Tom to be sincere in all this. It was looked upon as one of-the waggish tricks, intended to r ! ' P, w,'u,Vias8 tho ii honpfatrAia. I u w I VIVIUU I m , . While Tom was metamorphosed as ..i.j T.:. t.. . . ... 1 " , hv a voun? man. who nresanted him with a challenge to morta combat from the n- suited L , and dtsired him to name his friend. I cannot accept the challenge," said Briarly promptly. "Why not 7' asked the second of L. in surprise Because your principle is no gentle man. "What!" "Is no gentleman," coolly returned Briarly. v. " Explain yourself, sir, if you ' " He doesn't pay bis tailor he doesn't Eay his boot-maker he doesn t pay bis atter he is therefore no gentleman, and I cannot fight him." " You will be posted as a coward said the second fiercely. " In return for which I will post him , flrnnll st win nnl ima i A AnirlrttiflA no gentleman, and give the evidence replied Briarly. " 1 will take bis place. Yon will hear from me shortly," said the second turn' ing away. "Be sure you don't owe' your tailor anything, for if you do I will not stoop to accept your challenge," returned Briarly, r will consider, it prima facie evidence that you are no gentleman. . I know Patterson very well, and will in the mean time inform myself on the subject All this was said with the utmost gray itv and with a decision of tone and manner that left no doubt of the inten tion.; ' ' ' ' The second 1 withdrew, f An tour elapsed but no new challenge came. Days went by. but no posters drew Crowds at tbe corners. Gradually the "... ' 0 - gjrtortft- to raeritim itets, ftetuw, en, anV STEUBENVILLE, matter got wind, ' to the mtinate amuse a a . ment of such as happened to know L. who was fairly driven from a city where was no use trying to be a gentleman without paying his tailor's bill . " w MISCELLANY. : . e Professor on a Tour. A pieasani correspondent or tne new Orleans' Picayune relates the following amusing annccdote One of the most distinguished parties uw h mniin nn vvhwa M.,n. tains this season, was one composed prin cipally of the savans connected with Har vard University. Among them was the famous A., always intent on scientific re- search ; and there were the professors of uotany, and beology, and Chemistry, with Prof. F., the well known Grecian, and I believe Dr. II., tho " Autocrat of tho break- fnut tnMn " numeroU8 a8 toreqiliro a special convcv- ance for their transportation from Conway to the Crawford House. This conveyance was a largo country wagon, drawn by a fine team of Green Mountain horses, and driven by a sturdy son of tho Granite State F. sat on the front seat with the driver, and the rest of the company stowed thomselves away in the body of tho wagon as they most conveniently could, and so the distinguished party jogged cozily along the road to the Notch. The day was one of the finest of the sea' son, and admirably adapted tor such an excursion, and every one, after his speci ality. seemed to take tho keenest delight in its incidents. Occasionally, the geolo gist would spy out some curious conforma tion or remarkable specimen of rock, and would IriBiBt on tho drivers stopping to allow him to alight and investigate it. This would often consume much timo.while tho geologist would discant to his compan- ions upon the nature and peculiarities of his dinnoverv. unit mnrn than fin thn im J ' patient Jehu was obliged to remind tho ' " .1 U.l . .1... J... vi"jr uucuiuou jmnj vi.ai. mu uujr won ' " "'S ,or8 tMm' Uut scarcely had they resumed inoir Beai8 m ino wagon, oeioro tno botan ist was struck with the apparition of an unfamiliar looking flower or plant by the wawidc. of which not to nossess himself wer0 a erievous deprivation to himself. ,, ,f ;u t,. . , k, . ... So there was another stop, -followed by another general debarkation, another con sulfation of tho savans, another scientific diBauisition.anrl of cotirse nnthor Mdnr, ted delay of which laat the honest driyer 1 .1 .u . 1 luipicAou 111 biia CAirciuu w aiiuat wua( .n ,!,. B11i,ie ,,,nn0. ,j tua.n mM 1 1 " J terious consultations over pobblcs and , , . , , Weed8 could mean) wo8 louder nd more IhIiih V ! j t fiL- - A - uuc"8 ,u ",B "'l'n. ne mwau they occurred, tho longer they lasted, and i. .. ... . me nearer tno party approached the end ot their journey. In the height of his impa tience, the depth of his despair and the extremity of his perplexity, he turned to his companion on the box-for Prof. F., I . K Bcienunc researcnes 01 nis oreinron, out . 1 .....m i um. .l. J t. 1 I .l 1 1 iiuu wuuwmcu iiiuiBuu iiiuaiiwniiu whu IHB 1u,et Peru9al of 8omo faV0it8 Gro8k P00t U1 ou...i..nj. u.o ...aJUBu scenery by which ho was surrounded. "What on airth's the matter with them men, Squire 1" somewhat petulontly de- manded the botherod Jehu. '' What Ire they abeout, stoppin! the team and jumpin' eout evory time they come to a loose stone or a big dandelion or thistle in the road 1 Who aro they, anyhow, 'Squirol" he ex Claimed in an agony of cariosity, and im- patience. "Oh," quietly remarked our Grocian, " they are naturalists." A few days after this, the' same team was engaged for this identical trip by a party of Bostonians. None of them were particularly scientific in their tastes or habits, and did not in any great degroe 1 . 1 1 1 t share in the fondness of geological or bo tanical, research which characterized the tho eminent gentlcmon, who had gone be fore them, and whom being acquaintances and friends, they wero expecting soon to meet among tho mountains. As they rat tied alone the turnpike through the Notch, one of them said to the drivor, who was dolightcdly ruminating on. the contrast betwoen his present orderly company, and the troublesome party ha had beon so per plexed with-a day or two before : "Good fleal of travel along here this summer 1 eh driver 1" . "Wall, considerable this ..week or so,' was the reply. "I suppose you have about as much as I you can do, now-a-days, carrying people to OHIO, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1858. the mountains don't you," continued the tourist. , . Pretty nigh," replied our Jehu of the wagon. "I had a queer party along, the other day the last before you. " I never soo such a set of fellows !" "What wero they like1" "Like ? . Like loonaticks, more'n any thing elso I know on I Why, I thought I should never get up to Crawford's. Every once In a while they'd stop the team and jump out, and pick up a stone or pull up a weed, and one of them would preach along sermon, and when he'd done, all the rest would chatter over it ; and it was e'en a most as much as I could do to git 'em into the wagon agin; and as it was, it was day light down afore we got ter Crawford's." "But who were these people 1" enquired the wholo company of listeners, in a breath "Didn't you find out1" "Wall, not exactly. . I axed their 'keep er' who they were, and ho told me they were naturals'!" Somo laughing about this time, as you may reasonably suppose ; but how was.thc merriment increased when tho tale was told to the actual heroes of it, that night, at Crawford's. Keep tbe Staff in your own Hands Thero was living at Harlem, an old man who related the following story of himself. He was possessed of a goodly farm, with servants and every necessary for his business, and had but one child, a son, who having married, it was agreed that tho young couple should live in the house of the parent, as ho was a widow er. Things went exceedingly well for some time, when thes on proposed to tho parent that be shonld make over to bin his estate, promising to build a new bouse and otherwise improve the farm. J he latter, through persuasion, gave him a deed or gift of it and everything belong ing to it. After a few years, as the father grew 1 he grew a little fretful and dissatisfied, while the son, thinking he had nothing more to expect from him, forgot his filial duiy, and used his father worse than he id bis servants. The old man was no onger permitted to eat at the same table with his son and wife, but compelled to take his meals in the chimney corner. and be continually otherwise ill-used by them. 1 he old man ate Ins victuals dai- from a wooden bowl, which his son made for him. His grandson saw his father make this bowl, and set making just such another. Being asked by his father what he made it for, be answered, for you to eat out of when you grow as old as grandfather. . Although this ought to have turned his heart, and . made him reflect that as be dealt by his father, he might expect to be dealt with by his children when he grew old, still it had no effect with bim, and the ill usage was carried to such an ex tent, that the old man could no longer bear it, bnt left the house and went to a relation and neighbor of bis, declaring that if his friend could not help him to get his farm back again, be should be obliged to come and live with him. . His friend answered, that be might come and live with him, and if he would follow his directions, bo would help him get his estate again. Take this bag of dollars, carry it into your room, at your son s residence, then shut it up well in your chest, and about the time they call you down to dinner, Bhut your door and have all your uollais spread out upon tbe table in tbe middle of the room. When ihey call you, make a noise with thorn by sweeping them into the bag again. The bait took immediately, l be wue . .. . . a . . Bit peeped through the keyhole and saw the dollars spread out on the table, and told it to her husband. When the old man came down they insisted on his sitting at the table with them, and treated mm with uncommon respect. - . The old man related to his friend What he had done, who gave him directions what be suouid uo it nis son aaseu me money from him. After a few days tho son discovered tbe old man very busily engaged in counting his money, and at the next meal time asked what money It was that he was then counting. Only some money I had received for the discbarge of one of the bonds 1 had standing out. . I expect more money in a few days, and 1 shall be ooiigcu to take Mr. in farm, upon wnica x nave a mortgage, as he is not able to raise the . . . T . 1 I T I money, and if the farm is sold it will not fetch as much as will discharge tne mort gage.. , ; ' . '; : After a fe days the eon told the father he intended to build a bouse on the larm and would be glad if tbe father would let bim have the money. ' Yes, child, all that I have ia coming to you. I intend giving you the bonds and mortgages I have, but then I think it bcst.to put it altogether, to a new deed 0 gilt. I will gel neighbor u 10 oa here and get a new one. ' " ' 1 ' Accordingly, bis fiiend and cousin, who had devised the scheme, came to the house, when the son gave the old deed that another might be drawn from it. When the old man got tho deed into his hand he broke off the seal and committee the writing to the fire, saving : " Burn I cursed instrument of my folly and my misery and you my dutiful children, as this estate is all my own again, you must remove immediately, un less you bo content to become my tenants; I have learned by sad experience, that it is the best for a parent to hold the loaf un der his own arm, and that one father can better maintain ten children than ten chil dren can one father." Toting Ladies and Housework. A friend of ours, remarkable for his strong good sense, married a very accom plished and fashionable young lady, at tracted more by her beauty and accom plish ments than by anything else. In this, it must be owned that his strong good 6ense did not seem very apparent. ilia wile, however, proved to be a very excellent companion, and was deeply attached to him, though sho still loved company, and spent more time abroad than he exactly approved. .But as his income wns good, and his house furnished with a good supply of domestics, be was not aware of any abridgements of comfort on this account, and be therefore made no objection to it. One dav, somo few months after his marriage, our friend, on coming home to dinner, saw no appearance of his usual meal, but found bis wife in great trouble instead, " What's tho matter !" he asked. " Nancy went off at ten o'clock this morning," replied his wife, and the chatnber-mi'ul knows no more about cooking a dinner than tie man in the moon.' " Couldn t she have done it under yonr direction T inquired her husband, very coolly.' Under my direction ! I ehonld like to see a dinner cooked under my direc tion." Why so t" asked tho husband in surprise, " you certainly do not moan that you cannot cook a dinner." " I certainly do, then," replied bis wife. How should I know anything about cooking?" The husband was silent, but a look of astonishment perplexed and worried bis wife. You look rery much surprised," she said, after a moment or two had elapsed. " And so I am," he answered ; as much surprised as I should be at finding the captain of one of my ships unacquaint- A.I Inilll Mwirr.l.n T w . K..M ;u ivim iiuvigaiiuu. . iuu w ituuw liow to cook, and the mistress of a family ! ane, 11 mere is a cooking school any where in the city, go to it, and complete your education, for it is deficient in a yery important particular." T..S. Ar thur. M. Thiers and hit Schoolmaster. M. Thiers has been entertaining his friends with an anecdote of himself. In the coutse of one of his journeys he stopped one evening at tbo little town of Luxemburg. Ihe ;. burgermaster came forth to do him honor, and by way of complimenting him, mentioned that an aged man, a Marseillais, bad performed the functions ol schoolmaster in the town for about twenty years, . Thiers asked the name of the old man, and was an swered Margas. The ex-minister desired to be introduced to bim, when the follow ing dialogue ensued. Thiers comraen cing: Do you know me 1 No, sir. You don t remember little Adolphe Thiers, one of your scholars at Marseilles? Wait, wait ; yes, I do recollect such a name: a sly little monkey, who used to play such pranks. Just so. Ah ! it is you ; I am very glad to see you. Have you succeedodl Have you made your fortune i , Sufficiently so, I thank you. . So much the better 1 I am an old man, well nigh worn out. I cannot return to my country; but when you return to Marseilles, take my compliments to all who know me. Thiers promised the old man he would do so, and then inquired, in a homely way, now be was getting on. Not very fast ; scholars are rare. - Thiers slipped a few pieces of gold into bis band, and was about to retire, when he said; , : Pardon my curiosity: I should like to know whst you have been doing. . Are you notary, banker, merchant 1 ' . I have retired from business,, but have boon minister. , t. . . ;.' , , 1 ., . Protestant ! cried the old man. . And such is glory t said Adolphe Thiers, when he had terminated his anecdote. Critic. , ,.' . ;; . . All railroads , running to fashionable watering places are 'trunk' lines. tntral . JnM(ipce. AGRICULTURAL. We republish tho following, from the California i??! Deacon, by particu lar request: j Smutty Wheat. ; Tbe following communication is from a gentleman, with whom an acquaintance is a sufficient recommendation as to his capability to treat upon tbe subject chosen, which is one of much importance to the farmers ot this Stato. We hope we may be favored often with experiments and suggestions of practical men like Mr. Myers : - rLGASANT-UROVB f ARM? Tehema Co., Sept. 13th, 1858. Editors Beacon : Allow me, thro' your valuable paper, to make a few re marks in regard to smut, its origin and preventive. I have been a farmer in Cal ifornia for the last four years, and it has always' been a doubt with mo, whether smut grew, or whether it had an impreg nating quality, and the two last years have fully convinced me of the fact that it does not do either, and having the interest of the farming community at heart, I thought I would giye them my experience relative to smut. t In the year 1857 I raised some find wheat free from smut and I concluded to tramp il out with horses, and having -done a portion, and found it more tedious to separate the straw from the grain, than I had supposed, I abandoned the idea, and put the balance through a machine, which did very good work. The fall of the same year I sowed all of the tramped wheat and some of the other, all of It being sowed on. the same kind of land, and a portion of both on the same day, and the place marked where the two seeds met, and the consequence was that I could trace tbe smut to a furrow,' where the machine grain was sown, and the other was perfectly free from smut, both being clean seed when sown. Again, bought 6eed from my neighbor that had been thrashed by a machine, and had considerable smut in it. He volunteered the ground the seed came off of, and il produced clean wheat, and my seed bro't at least three limes the amount of smut that was in the seed. My theory is, that it is tbe bruised kernels that have not vitality enough in them to mature tbe grain, but enough to produce a stalk and head, and the grain blasts or smuts. I am satisfied that the above has a great deal to do in regard to smut, and if farmers would thresh theii seed with horses or the flail (the old fash ioned way,) it would not be two years before the cry of smut, would be beard no more ia our land. Yours &c, Wm. Mters. Dbcisiv IhtborItt. The man who is so conscious of the rectitude of his in tentions as to be willing to open bis bo som to the inspection of tho world, is in possession of one of tbe strongest pillars of a decided character. The course of such a man will be firm and steady, be cause he has nothing to fear from the world, and is sure of the approbation and support 01 neaven. ; wnue ne wbo is a t rars i conscious of a secret and a dark design, wnica 11 Known, wouia oiast nim, is per petually shrinking and dodging from pub lic observation, and ia afraid ofall around t t 1 . 1 , ii. . . him and much more of all about him. mi a 1 ne ciear unciouoeo brow, the open countenance, the brilliant eye which can look on honest man in the lace, tbe health fully beating heart, and the firm, elastic step, belong to him whose bosom is free from gailo, and who knows that all pur poses and motives are pure and right. way should such a . man falter in his course ? He may be slandered, he may be deserted by the world, but he has that within which will keep him erect, and enable him to move onward in his course, with his-eyes fixed On Heaven, which he knows will not desert him. Tears. There is a sacredness in tears, They are not the mark of wcaknoss, but of power. They speak with more elo quence than ten thousand tongues. '.They are the messages ot overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, of unspeakably love. it Micro were warning any argument 10 prove that man were not mortal, I would look for it in the strong convulsive emo lions of the breast, when the soul has been deeply agitated ; when tbe fountains ot leeling are rising, and then laars are gushing , forth in crystal streams. O, speak' not harshly of tbe striken one- weeping in silence I Break not the, sol emnity "by rude laughter, or intrusive footsteps. Despise not woman's tears they are what make ber an angel. Boot! not if the stern heart of manhood is some- limes melted in sympathy they aro what help to elevate bim above the brute. love to see tears of affliction. They are painful tokens, but still most holy. There is a pleasure in iuara an awiui pleasure. If there were none on earth to shed 1 tear for me, I should be loth to live ; and if no ono .might ween over my grave I could never die in peace. Dr. Johnson. FIVE CENTS. fa vol; 4-no. 4i: 'ORIGINAL! written roa thb tbcb ahibicah. Twilight. ':f? The last halo of the setting sun has fa- V ded from the West, and slowly and im-; perceptibly, the dim shadows aro falling -around. Deep, dark shadows are down in ' ' the lonely ravine, while far up on; the rocky peak is caught the last light of the fading sun. . ; : - How often have I stood by the river's side and watched the solemn shadows k stealing over its calm surface, until ere I y that enchanting hour, the stars had stolen '' out one by one from their far homos above, . and the broad azure domo was a spangled ' arch of light There, where the murmur" ' of the city came faintly to the ear, hajo 1 ' felt the mystic influence of that hoar in 1 its deepest Intensity. The day may pass . in those pursuits and pleasures which so ., much engrpss our attention in connection a with the world, and our nights in ' rosy tJ ' riot" fly ; but ?to one who '.wandera forth ii-.t--.i : '. ft .. ' t-J7 in iniH nonr inern in n innnonon that rrn. tly brings the heart's best feelings home Our past woes and sorrows, obscured by ' Hi. nfTal. nl Ih.l ...1 V :it " mvw i mm uuu, ciiuuuuuug nour, como floating softly back a faded dicain. The deoarted seom to rather arnnni) n, tn that mysterious hour, and, in the soft sigh ; of the evening breeze, wo seem to hear af- faction's whispered words once more. Ambition with its eagle eye and fevered , pulse, lies sleeping ; Fame reposes unmind ful of the world's praise or blame j and all . our stronger passions lie slumbering, while a deeper, holier influence steals over us. ' Then how like a bubble, as it is, on the ' stream of time seems this short life. How 1 vain and delusive the struggle for wealth. ' fame and glory that consume our little space of time. Then Faith looking into the future, raises the soul above the things -, ot this vain transitory, and bids it sock to win that goal where the smilo of God shall cure all earthly woeB. . , , And thus as wo return from our twilight strolls, we feel that deep, serene, happy Influence which the exercise of the better ' r I! ; .1 .... . ' . - - icuiiiigs aioue can give. , a.,' ' The Adventures of a Seed. Nature 1 baa arranged that plants growing even in tho burning desert shall be provided with enough of water for the generation of their seeds; and one of the most remark' " able instances of this fact ia furnished by the Anastatica Hierochchuntica, or rose of Jerico, which grows on tho arid wastei ot fcgypt, Palestine and Barbary : nport the roofs of houses and among rubbish in 1 syria t and in the sandy deserts of Ara bia. This little plant scarcely six inches tiigh, after the flowering season loses its oaves, and dries np into the form of a ball. In this condition it is uprooted by. the winds, and is carried, blown, or tos sed across the desert into tbe sea. , When the little plant feels the contact of the. water it unfolds itself, exnands its branch. es, and having become thoroughly satuV rated with sea water, is carried by the tide, and laid upon the seashore , From the seashore the seeds are blown back to tbe desert again, where, sprouting roots and leaves, they grow into fruitful plants, nmuu nm, iu mv-ir lurn, ukb meir an-,' cestors, be whirled into the sea. Theso regular periodical processes of the life circle of this wee rose struck the simple" imaginations of the men of old with su-.' perstiiious awe, and they invested it with, miraculous virtues. Dickens' . House-1 hold Words.. , Thankful for Small Favors It has always been a good joke agaiust the Irish bricklayer, who in his anxiety to gain a wager he had laid with a fellow -workman that be could not carry him on bis hod to the top of a high building, con fessed that be 'bad hopes when bisbearer's 1001 siippea near the fifth story but in Mis Gaskell'a life of tbe Bronte Girls there is an anecdote of a Yorkshire far. mer which throws Pat quite in the shade.' it appears be bad insured bis life, and tbe B; y v vMiiuui wmi k mas grief to the money-loving Yorkshireman Urfi n r.a in fha am.il nt lPk..Uli. u. . VMV . WIM VI .VUailUblD. T i ... 1. .i t . .. -.' uivuiu, iipuiu uuuim 111 1110 pursuit of money." Just bofore the second pay. ment of tbe anular premium came around, a mortal sickness seized the unfortunate. who, when the doctor and the parson an nounced bis approaching fate, lifted him self in bed, and with 1 chuckle, which rose in grinning triumph over' tbe death Ecodl you don't say so iroinir tn w. .ww . . , , . f 1 : , 1 .... die I '. Zonmta I tlicn I shall An. It, Inr.? . , . WMH.t WW .I1U IUDU" ranee chaps out of their money, after all. 1 always was a lucky bird." y . " It is a poor rule that won't work Kfkth VslVP AYnlaimAi trt a Iiah aim. the rule back at tbe scoolmaster. -.. w hat ehip'a. boat ought to contain uuppy vrew ia joiiy Doat.