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The star of the north. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, March 25, 1857, Image 1

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THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
tt, IT. Weaver, Proprietor.]
VOLUME 9.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
IS PUBLISHED EVERT WEDNESDAY MORNINU BY
It. W. WEAVER,
OFFICII-—Upstairs, in the new brick build
ing, on the south side oj Main Street, third
I quart be .'our Market.
: —Two Dollars per annum, if
•pant within six months from the lime of sub
scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not
paid within tho year. No subscription re
ceived for a less period than six months; no
discontinuance permitted until all arrearages
are paid, unless at the option of the editor.
ADV XRTISEJIKNTS not exceeding one square
will be inserted three times for One Dollar,
and twenty five cents for each additional in
sertion. A liberal discount will be made to
those who advertise by the year.
I'ULIHBUS ON Flits r ULIIOLUINU
A M Fit It'A .
'God of my sires! o'er ocean's brim
Von bounteous land appears at last;
Raise, comrades! raise your holiest hymn
For now onr toils are past.
See o'er the bosom of the deep
She gaily lilts her summer charms,
As if at last she longed to leap
From dark oblivion's arms.
What forms, what lordly scenes may bo
Secluded in thy flow'ry breast;
Pure is thy sea and calm thy sky,
Thou garden of the West;
Around each solitary hill
A rich magnificence is hurl'd,
Thy youthful face seems wearing still
The first Iresh fragrance of the world.
eome wish hope, our bosom bright,
Like Noah drifting o'er the wave,
To claim a world—'he ocean's might
Has shrouded like the grave;
And, Oh! the dwellers of the Ark
_ Ne'er pined with fonder hearts to see
The bird of hope regain their bark
Thau I have longod lor thee.
Around ma was the boundless flood,
O'er which no mortal ever pass'd ;
Above me was a solitude j
Aa measureless as vast;
Yet in the air and on (he sea
The voice of the eternal one
Breathed forth the song of of hope to mo,
And hade me journey on.
Hud 'em nl Lust,
A young man from the "rural districts"
went to the Post Office, t he other day, with
a bank note, for a dollar's worth oi postage
stamps. He was told that paper money was
not received. He went away, and shortly
returned with four Spanish quartets. "We
don't receive llum now," said the attendant,
"for more than twenty cents apiece." The
countryman thought Uncle Sam mighty par
ticular, so he went away agnin, and obtained
a dollar in coppers. "Now," said lie, on re
turning to the office and laying down bis
"pile" at the window of the delivery, "I
guess I can suit ye." The man inside looked
at the display of "specie currency," and
coolly said, "we never take more than three
cents in copper at any one time; it is not a
legal tender above that sum."
The countryman looked at the composed
official for the space of a minute at.d a hall
without stirring; and then he belched out:
"Look here, you ; ain't you almighty kind
of particular, for fellers locked up in such a
jail as this 'ere? You don't take only three
cents in coppers at a time, hey? Well, then,
s'pose you give mo three cents' worth of
stamps, anyhow." The official very politely
0 *cut htm of! a single stamp, and passed it
out, for which the countryman laid ftnvn
three cents. He was about to pass away,
when the latter crieu out: "Look here, you !
Hold on ! That ere's one time. Now, s'pose
you gin me three cents' worth more on 'em."
Uncle Sam's clerk was not slow in discov
ering that he had "caught a Tartar." He
turaed back to the window. "How many
coppers have you got?" he asked. "Wall,
only about ninety-seven on 'em : I had a
hundred on 'em when I began." "Pass 'em
in !" was the gruff reply. "Pass out your
•tamps fust, and then 1 will," said Jonathan;
"but I reckon yon don't ketch me agin."—
The stamps were passed out, the coppers
were handed over, when the countryman
went off, saying, "I s'pose because a feller
holds office under Uncle Sam he thinks he's
stttyletVill creation; but 1 guess they larnt
somethin' that time."
English Governesses.
"A poor governess" writes to the Times: ,
1 was one of about fifty ladies (most of
whom were accomplished gentlewomen) j
who applied last week in reply to an adver- •
tisement in the Times, for a situation as gov- 1
erness in a family in the neighborhood of I
Kir.gsland. The applicants went from all
parte of London and its environs; many \
Were in consequence quite overcome with
fatigue, having walked long distances to
■ave expense. After having bean kept |
standing in a cold draughty hall more than
an hour, I at last obtained an interview with
the lady, and learned that the duties of the
governess would consist in educating and (a- \
king the entire charge of the children, seven .
In number, two being quite babies; to per- ■
form for them all ihe menial offices of a 1
nurse; make and mend their clolhea; lo
Teach at least three accomplishments, and !
"fill up the leisure hours of an '
playing to company." For these combined j
duties the munificent sum of .£lO per an-,
hum was offered. I ascertained lor a fact I
that the two domestic servants in the same 1
family were paid respectively £l2 and £lO.
INSECT OOI.OGT A single female house
fly produces in one season 20,080,320 eggs.
Some female spiders produce nearly 2,000
eggs. Dr, Bright publishes a case of an egg
producing an insect eighty years after it must
have been laid.
BP" The manners which are neglected as
email things, are often those which decide
tnen for or against you.
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 25, 1857,
From "Major /ones' Courtship."
MA J. JOSEPH JON Kb' WPUDINU.
To MR.THOMPSON DEAR Slß:—Ever sense
I writ my last letter to yon things is gone on
just as straight as a shingle, and the only
thing that troubles me is, I'm afraid it's all
to good to last. It's always been the way
with me ever sense I can remember, when
ever I'm tho happyeet sumthing seems to
turn up jest to upset all my calculatTbns, and
now, though the day is set for the weddin'
and the Slallionscs is getting everything
reddy as fast as they can, I wouldn't be
epiised much if some bominable thing was
to happen, somo /earthquake or something
jest bust it all up agaiu, though I should bale
it monstrous.
Old Miss Stallions red that piece in the
| Miscellany bout the mistake in parson Mil
ler's figers, and I do believe she's as glad
about it as if she was sure she would live a
whole thousand years more herself She
ses she liainl got no objections to the weddin
now, for ma and Mary will have plenty o(
time to make a fortin for our children and
raise 'em up as they ought to be. She says
she always wondered how Mr. Miller could
cifer the thing out so straight to the very
day, without a single mistake, but now he's
made sich a terrible blunder of a whole
thousand years, she sajs she knows he aint
no smarter nor other people, if ho was raised
at tho north.
It's really surprisin how mazin popular it
does make a body to be engaged to bo mar
ried lo a beautiful young lady. Senso the
thing's leaked out, every body's my tickler
friend, and 1 can't meet nobody wherever I
go, but what wants to gratulale mo on my
good fortin, cept cousin Pete and two or
three other fellers, who look sort o' like they
wanted to laugh and couldn't. Almost every
night Mary and me is invited to a parly.—
Tother night wo went to one to old Squito
Rogerses, where I got my dander up a little
the worst I've had it for some time. I don't
believe you've ever heard of jest such a fool
trick as they played,' on me. Ther was a
good many thor, and as the Squire don't al
low dancin, they all played games and tricks,
and such foolishness, to pass away the lime,
which to my notion's bominable site worse
than dancin.
Cousin Pete was there splurging about in
his biggest, and with his dandy cut Irowsers
and big whiskers, and tried to take the shine
off of everybody else, jest as he always
dose. Well, bimeby he sea:
"Spose we play brother Bob—let's play
brother Bob."
"Yes, let's play that," says all of 'em,
"wont you be brother Bob, Major?"
"Who's brother Bob?" ses I, for I didn't
know nothing bout it, and that's the way I
cum to be so bominably tuck in.
"1 tell you," ses be, "you and somebody
else must set down in the chairs and be
blindfolded, and the rest must all walk round
and round you, ar.d keep tapping you on the
head with somethin, till you guess who
bobbed you."
"But how bob me?" ses I.
"Why," ses lie, "when any one laps you,
you must say, brother I'm bobbed ! and then
they'll ax who bobbed you ? and if you guess
the rile one, then thoy must take your place
and be bobbed till they guess who bobbed
'em. If you'll be blindfolded, I will," ses
be, "jest for fun."
"Well," says I, "anything for fun ; " and
Cousin Pete sot out two chairs into the mid
dle of the room, and we sot down, and they
lied a handkorclicr round my eyes as tight as
the mischief, so I couldn't see to guess no
mor'n if I had no eye at all.
1 hadn't set so no time for cawhalux some
one tuk me rite side o' the head with o
drated big book. The fire flew out o' my
eyes in big live coals, and I like lo keeled
over out o' the chair. I felt my blood risin'
like a mill-tail, but they all laughed mightily
at the fun, anJ after a while ses I, "Brother;
I'm bobbed!" "Who bobbed youV ses
tliev. I guessed the biggest-fisted feller iu
the room, but it wasn't him. The next
miunit spang went the book agin Cousin
Pete's bead. "Whew !" ses he, "Brother
I'm bobbed!" But Cousin Pete didn't guess
rile, nuther, and the fust thing I know'd
whang they tuk me agin. I was dredful
anxious to guess rite, but it was no use; I
missed it every time, and so did Cousin
Pete; and the harder they bit the harder
they laughed. One timß they hit me a great
deal easier than the rest. "Brother, I'm
bobbed!" ses I. "Who bobbed you !" 6es
they. "Miss Mary Sheldon," ses I. "No,
I never," ses 6he, and they all roared out
worse than ever.
I begun lo gel monstrous tired of sich fun,
which seemed so much like the frogs in the
spellin' boots—for it was deth to me—and 1
don't know what I would have done if Mary
hadn't come up and ontied the handkercher.
"Let's play something else," ses she ; and
her lace was red as fire, and she looked sort
o' mad out of her eyes.
I seed ther was something wrong in a
minnit.
Well, they all went on play in' "pawns,"
and "pon honor," and "here we go round
the goosebury bush," and "O, sister Feby,
how merry we be," and sirh nonsense, till
they knowed ; and when they was playiu'
Mary told nie how Cousin Pete bobbed me
himself.
It was the most audacious takein I ever
heard of. Do you think he didn't sot rite
down beside me and never blitldlold himself,
and bit me every lick himself, now and then
bitliu' bis knee with the book to make me
j b'lieve he was bob'd 100 I My head was
i singin' with the licks when aha '.old me how
I lie done me, and I do beliove if it hadnt betl
I for her I'd gin cousin Pete stch a licki n rite
tliar in that room as lie never had afore in
his born days. Blazes! but I was mad at
fust. But Mary begged me not to raise no
fuss about it, now it was all over, and she
would fix him tor his smartness. I hadn't
no sort of a ide how she was gwine to do it,
but I knowed she was enough for Cousin
Pete any time, so I jest let her go ahead.—
Well, she took the bominable fool oil'to one
side and whispered to him like she was
gwine to let him into the secret. She told
him bout a new play what she learned down
to Macon when she was at the College, call
ed''lntroduction to the King and Queen,"
what she said was a grate deal funny er than
''Brother Bob," and swaded him to help to
git 'em all to play.
After she and him made it all up, Cousin
Pete put out three chairs close together in a
roe for a throne, and Mary she put a sheet
over 'em to make 'em look a little grand.
Bdl Byers was to be King and Mary was to
be Queen.
"Now you must all come into tother
room," sea Cousin Pete, "only them what
belongs to the court, and then you must be
introduced, one at a lime."
"I aint gwine," ses Tom Stallions, for
there's some trick in it."
"No there aint," ses Cousin Pete, "I'll
give you my word there aint no trick, only a
little fun."
"Well," ses I, "I'a had fun enough for one
t:ite."
Mary looked at me and kind o' winked,
and ses she, "you're one of the court you !
know, Major, but jest go out till the court is i
•ornoiianJ luifnra Itui lluiuitf
Well we all went out, and bimeby Bill
Bj era called out lords and ladys what bo
longed to the court, and we all went in and
tuck chairs on both sides of the throne.
Cousin Pete was to be the first one intro
duced, and Samuewel Rogers was to be the
feller who introduced the company. Well,
himeby the door opened, in come Cousin
Pete, bowin and scrapin, and twistin and
rigglein and putlin on mora ares nor a
French dancin master—be beat Croehett all
to smash. The King sot one side of the
throne and the Queen on tother, leaving
room in the middle for some one else. Sam
was so full of laugh at Cousin Pete's umicks
that he couldn't hardly speak.
"Doctor Peter Jones," sea he, I inlerduce
yon to their Majesty's the King and Queen."
Cousin Pete sctaped about a while and
then dropt on one knee, the afore 'em.
"Rise gallant knight," ses Billl l!yers;
•'rise we dub you ktnglit of the royal bath."
Cousin Pete got up und bowed and scraped
a few more limes, and went to sit down be
tween 'em, but they ris up jest as lie went
lo set down ; and the first thing ho ktiowed,
kersiosh he went, rite into a big tub of cold
water, with nothing but his bead and heels
stickin out.
He tried to kiss Mary as he was (akin his
seat, and if you could jsst seed htm as he
went into that tub of water with his arms
reached out to hsr, and his month sot for a
kiss, I do believe you'd laughed mor'n you
ever did afore in your life. The fellers was
all so spicinus that some trick was gwtne to
be played they all left the door open, and
when the the thing tuck place they all run
in ahoulin and laughin like they would bust
their sides.
Pele got out as quick as he coulJ, and I
never seed a feller so willed down in all my
life. He got as mad as a hornit, and said it
was a mean trick to serve enny body so, es
pecially in cold weather. And he went rite
off home by himself to dress.
Mary made the niggers take out the mid
dle chair and put the tub of water lhar when
we was in (other room. Pete didn't spicion
the trick was gwine to turn out that way, he
thought the Queen was gwine to sentence
every feller what didn't kiss her, as he sot
down to do something that would make fun
for the rest, and he was jest gwine to open
the game. 1 felt perfectly satisfied after that
and I don't think Cousin Pele will be quite
so foud of funny tricks the next time.
But I like to forgot to tell you, my wedditi
is to take place—providtn ther ain't no more
yearlhquakes nor unaccountable things to
prevent —on the 22d of this month, which
you know is a famous day what ought to be
celebrated by every gene wine patriot in the
world. 1 shall look for you to come, and 1
hope you will be sure to be (bar, for 1 know
you couldn't grudge the ride jest to see Miss
Mary Jones what is to be. We'a gwine to
have a considerable getherin, jest to please
the old folks, and old Mirs Stallions ses sho's
gwine to give us a real Georgia weddin of
ihe old time fashion. No more from
Your friend till detb,
JOS. JONES.
P. S.—l went 'over tother nite to see 'em
all, and they was as bissy as bees in a tar
barrel [sowin and makiu up finery. Mary
was sowin somelhin mighty fine and while
with ruffles and jigamarees all round it.—
"What kind of a thing is that V ses I. The
gals looked at one another and laughed like
they would die, and my poor little Mary
(bless her soul) kept gatherin it up in a heap
and blushin dredful. "Tell him, Sis," ses
Miss Caroline, but Mary looked rite down
and didn't say nothin. "I'll tell him," ses
Kesiah, "it's a "No you shan't now
—stop, stop," ses Mary, and she put her
pretty little hand on Miss Kesiah's Inouth,
and looked like she'd ory for a little. I felt
so sorry for her I told 'em I didn't want to
know, aud they put the things away, and
bimeby I went home, but I kept a lliinkin
all the way what upon yearth it could be.
I spose I'll find out some day.
Tram and Right—-Cod aid onr Country.
UK. KANE,
The ROY. Charles Wadsworth, in a beauti
ful and touching discourse preached on Sun
day evening, to his congregation, from the
text " Jesus wept," John xi. 35, paid (ho fol
lowing just tribute to the memory of him over
whose early grave a nation is now called to
mourn :
" Yes, Death is an evil and s bitter thing !
Who does not know it? who has not fell it?
and to-night, perhaps, more keenly than is
our wont, we know it and leel it. We are,
this holy hour, a city of mourners. Before
another Sabbath comes with its blessed light,
we shall have gone forth to pay funeral hon
ors to one, whom we all loved as a man, and
honored as a citizen—in whoso living deeds
we are alt glorified, and whose early death
we deplore with lamentations and with tears.
I am not thinking here to u.ter his eulogy ;
the occasion does uol permit it; the mail
does not require it; but it was a forgelfulness
of God's grew. voice in his providence not to
render here and now a brief and humble trib.
ule to the honored dead.
Dr. Kane's career was a matter of national
pride, and his death is a matter of national
lamentation. His was achatacler singularly
grand in its separate elements, and match
lessly beautiful in the harmony of their com
binations. The power of u naturally keen
and comprehensive mind had been strength
ened by earnest culture, and developed in the
wildest range of practicable and scientific at
tainments—and these in all their fullness
consecrated to the loftiest aims of beneficent
usefulness.
philosophy—and exquisitely imaginative with
itie loftiest poetry. Tho combination of his
moral character were still more remarkable
and wonderful. To the truest and teuderest
sensibility were added the iron will and the
most indomitable decision ; and with a
dauntless bravery that equalled the golonous
chivalry of the old ideal and fabulous hero
ism, was blended a calm, practical judgment
—a marvellous and majestic patience—a beau
tiful simplicity and modesty; all rarely equal
led in human biography. Meanwhile suf
fusing all that character us with a heavenly
light, and blending all its rare qualities as
with a Divine solvent into one exquisite
amalgam—there was a living and controll
ing purity which made tho whole man a liv
iog sacrifice to his fellows, and laid down all
the spoils and trophies of his triumphs at his
Master's feet. Qualities seldom oomblp.ed,
and Thdeed seumingty nn'agonistical, were
| found in his heart and life, each in fullest
j power, and all in loveliest harmony, lie
| thought like a philosopher—he wrote like a
| poet—he acted like a'hero—he felt liko a
! child—ho lived like a/man—he prayed like a
Christian.
"Ha was al once (he giant oak that bat
tles with the storm, and the beautiful vine
that beautifies its gnarled trunk with itsgreeu
leaves and purple clusters, and makes sweet
alike zephyr and storm will, its exquisite
aroma.
"And as such he has died in the early
prime and promise of his manhood—in the
morning twilight of his brightening fame—
jiist as his powers were reposing for loftier
toils, and his benevolence kindling for broader
enlerpiiee—.just as we wero beginning fondly
to appreciate the wonders of his past, and
exultingly to prophecy the splendors of his
future—just then he died; and we mourn for
him—we weep for him—and why should
we not weep ? Science weeps! Humanity
weeps! The Htorld weeps! And it were
unnatural—it were ungrateful—it were to
prove ourselves cold, stolid, unsentienl, dead
to all generous impulses, lalse to our loftier
and holier instincts, if we went not forth to
his burial in tearful sorrow. For the Divine
man of Nazareth was a pattern in all that is
alike lofty and lovely in magnificent man
hood, and over a tomb no gentler in its beau
ty—no loftier in its gIory—JESUS WEPT, J uses
WEPT."
"Fifty Yeurs Hence."
Right Rev. Bishop Clarke, (Says the Balti
more American) is staled to have delivered,
recently, a lecture on the above subject, in
which occurs the following passage; wkeiher
intended for prophecy or satire, we are not
exactly able to determine;
"Fifty years hence, the newly married
pair will step into an emporium for the sake
of houses, look over the book of patterns, se.
leet one to suit their taste and means, order
it, and it will be sent home in the morning,
put together and occupied at night.
In traveling, as great changes will take
place, instead of the dusty roa-l and crowded
car, there will be a splendid locomotive ho
tel, flying over a road carpe'e.l with turf and
hordered with shade trees, and heralding its
approach with sweet music, instoad of the
demoniac shriek of the steam whistle, aad
labelled through from Boston to San Fran
cisco iu four day*.
Instead ot the unsightly telegraph poles,
there will be, fifty years hence, a net work
underground, and under toe bosoms of the
deep, and it will click ofl" thougats instead of
words. Then the electric battery will light
all the street lamps at onoe, enable all the
clocks in the city to keep exact time, and
kindle the beacons on die dangerous rocks,
where, now, men hazard their lives, and
wiar out their lonely days.
♦Then, the author will not write by our
alow process losing his rarest fancies, but he
will sit down to the newest invented chiro
graphics! instruments, and putting his fin
gers on the keys, write at feet as be can
1 think."
it DILEMMA AiUONU IHE DESPOTS.
TUB SECBET THEATV BETWEEN TRANCE AND
AUSTRIA.
Mr. D'lsraeli, a member of the British Home
of Commons, has more than once alliuleti to
a Secret Treaty between Franco and Austria.
On a recent occasion he pressed Lord Palm
erston so closely, that the Premier was in
duced to make some admissions. The charge
made by D'lsraeli was, that a Convention had
been agreed upon, by which Louis Napoleon
pledged himself, that if, in consequence o(
any assistance which Austria should render
to the Allies in the Eastern War, the Italian
Provinces should revolt, Franco would im
mediately furnish troops to put down the in
surrection. He (D'lsraeli) further affirmed
that this understanding was made with the
knowledge, if not at the instigation, of Lord
Palmerston himself. The latter denied the
whole story at first, but Air. D'lsraeli persist
ed, repeated his asscttion, and raised a direct
question of veracity between himself and the
Premier in the House of Commons. Lord
Palmerston, finding it necessary to vindicate
his first position, or to mako some explana
tion, made the proper inquiries, and ascer
tained that some such agreement had been
entered into by the two Emperors. But he
denied that it was instigated by the British
Government, or that England had any knowl
edge of it, until after the terms had been
agreed upon. It appeared in the course of
the debate, that Austria was urged by the
two great \Ve6tern Powers, to lake the fie'd
boldly and actively against Russia. But this
declined to do, for the reason above re-1
referred to, namely, that she was not strong
n. , ..w . j .- — -.j y
troops tor sttcti an undertaking, unless at m i
imminent risk of revolt in her Italian Provin- j
ces. The admission was not made openly
and in an official form, but it was intimated
in distinct and confidential terms, to the Em
peror of France, and thus the treaty between
the two Powers was agreed upon. Despite i
this arrangement, however, Austria still lies- j
ilaled. She was, in all probability,unwilling !
to encounter risks. The stake involved was j
two-fold. In the first place, apprehension for
her own safety, or at least for that of the Ital-'
ian Provinces, and fear for the deadly enmity
of Russia. The position of this Power through
out the Eastern war, was indeed most unen- j
viable ; and her authorities must have re- j
joiced with the liveliest satisfaction, at the
declaration of peace. She was, in fact, men-!
aced from throo quarters. England and ■
France coaxed and threatened her h i— 1
, Russia constantly reminded her of the deep
i obligation she was under lo the Czar, while
I the dissatisfied among her own people, only
I waited an opportunity lo break out in open
I rebellion. The reader will redily perceive
that even a leading despotism of the Old
j World may bo in a sad dilemma. Only a
few years have gone by, since Austria was
! at the mercy of the Hungarians, and would
have been dismembered as an Empire, but
for the assistance of Russia. And r.ow we
find this same Austria entering into a delib
erate arrangement with France, to render
material assistance against the Czar, under
certain circumstances and condilions I No
wonder that Alexander II speaks of his Royal
brother, Ftancis Joseph, not only in terms of
contempt, but indignation. The treachery of
Austria againsr Russia was not carried into
full effect; but the blackness of the turpitude
and ingratitude is not theoless palpable.—
Many years will elapse, before Russia will
forget or overlook conduct so vascillating and
1 apparently perfidious.
IV" Occupation! what a glorious thing it
is (or the human heart. Those who work
hard seldom yield themselves entirely up to
fancied or real sorrow. When grief sits down,
folds its hands, and mournfully feeds upon
its own tears, weaving the dim shadows that
little exertion might sweep away, into a fu
neral pall, the strong spirit is shorn of its
might, and sorrow becomes our master.—
When troubles flow upon you dark and heavy,
toil not with the waves—wrestle not with the
torrent—rather seek, by occupation, to divert
the dark waters that threaten to overwhelm
you, into a thousand channels which iha du
ties of life always present. Before you dream
of it, those waters will fertilize the present,
and give birth to fresh flowers that may
brighten the future—flowers that will become
pure and holy, in the sunshine which pene
trates to the path ol duty, in spite of every
obstacle. G'ief, after all is but a selfish feel
ing ; and most selfish is the man who yields
himself to the indulgence of any passion
which brings no joy to bis lellow man.
nr Some one has beautifully said that in
the life of the good men there is an Indian
summer more beautiful than that of the sea
sons ; richer, sunnier and more sublime than
the most glorious Indian summer which the
world knew—it is the Indian summer of the
soul. When the glow of youth has depart
ed, when the warmth of middle age i gone,
and the buds and blossoms of spring are
changing to the sero and yellow leaf, then
the mind of the good man, still ripe and vig
orous, relaxes its labors, and the memories
of a well spent life gush forth from their se
cret fountains, enriching, rejoicing, and fer
tilizing ; then the trustful resignation of the
Christian sheds around a sweet aud holy
warmth, and the soul, assuming a heavenly
lustre, is no longer restricted to the narrow
confines of business, but soars far beyond
tbewiuterof hoary age, and dwells peace
fully and happily upon that bright spring anJ
summer which awaits hint within the Para
dise, ever more. Let us strive for aud look
trustfully forward to an ludian summet like
ibis.
! A SHOUT SIUK Y Willi A MOHAL..
" Honor thy father and thy mother," i* the
first commandment with promise—promise
as beautiful in ita exemplifications, as glori
in its conception. A mother's lips first broaih
ed into our ears these words of Holy writ,
and explained their general import; and from
the lime when the story of gray haired Elijah
and his youthful mockers first excited my
young imagination, the respect then inspired
for white hairs of age, has grown with my
growth and strengthened with ir.y strength.
Wo sigh whan we think of the days when the
young were wont to bow before the hoary
head, and by gentle uncalled-for assiduities
strew roses in the old man's tottering path.
But those kindly customa have passed
away. The world grows selfish as it grows
old ; and age-dimmed eyes mutt turn home
ward lor stays to their trembling hands and
tottering limbs. Here they shall find fulfil
ment of their first commandment with prom
ise.
No truo womanly soul ever withdrew her
gentle hand from her poor oIJ father and
mother; no mar.Jy heart ever forgot the
home loves of bis wayward childhood, or
ceased to hear Hie echoes of u fond mother's
prayer. Often the cares of this wurld and the
decetifuluess of riches may choke up the in
born alfectiou of narrow souls ; but lew and
far between is lite fondly loved child, who
can bo so untrue to himself or to bis Maker
as wholly to forget the mother who bore
him.
Yel even with the holiest dictates of our
reasons and au>u, j n( j with the wide - appli
cation of this commanuraent, has Fashion in-
son, perchance, who lefi hi* fo.nl parent * j
home reluctantly and tearfully, lo wake hi* '
way m the worlJ, forget*, when fortune fa
vor*, lo welcome his rustic tnulher to h * own
luxury with the same co/dial embrace wiih
which he has left her in his childhood home.
Her dim old eye*, perhapa,do not catch read- |
ily tha meaningless courtesies of lile, but
they look none the leas lovingly upon her
child, than when they watched over hi* help
less infancy. Her withers 1 hand may be
large and bony, and never had known a jew
el, but none the less gently did jliey smooth
the weary pillow, or bathed (he heated brow,
in the dependent days of boyhood. Ah !
she'* the same fond mother still—her aged
and work-bent form, clad in rujttc garb,con
ceal* a heart full of never dying love, and
ready (or a new sacrifice. „ .
I And, thanks to iheTtreal being who gave
| us the commandment with promise, and now
| and then there stands up a noble man, true
! to his inborn nature, who throws of! the tram
mels of Fashion, however wide the gulf that
' separates, in the world'* eye, from the hum
j blest poverty of his boyhood—who is uol
ashamed to love, before Ins fellows,the hum
ble mother who gave him birth,
j "Mr MOTHER, permit me lo present her
| to you." said an elegantly dressed, noble
\ looking young man to a friend, for whom he
i had crossed a crowded drawing room, with
j the aged parent leaning on his arm. There
was a dead silence for full five minutes.
The moral beauty of the piuture pervaded
every soul, and melted away the r roM work
of world-wide hearts. 'Twas the old fore
ground of a fashionable summer resort, whith
er host— had come, with all their saltish pae
eions to seek in vain for health and pleasure.
But here was variation—a bit of truth to na
ture—in the molly mingling of colors-
From a little brown farm house, pent in
the forest, ewsy up in the Granite State, (hat
young man had gone forth with brave heart
and stalwart arm—strong, like his native hills
he had already made a name for himself.—
Polished circles opened for him, and gentle
lips bade him welcome. Yet none the less
carefully did his mauty arm support his home
ly, tottering old mother; none the less softly
and tendetly did he call her, queer though
she looked, "my mother," amongst the proud
beauties who had striven for his favor. Her
dress was antiquated, for trie gifl6 of her son
had been mutilated by rustic hands; yet only
one heartless girl tittered, despite the broad
filled cap and well kept shawl. Her voice
was rough and often her expressions coarse
and inelegant. Used to the social mug at
home, she asked for her neighbor's goblet at
the table, and was guilty of many vulgarities.
She was an ucimeresting woman, save in her
vigorous age, and her beautiful love for her
sou.
Yet for a week, the son watched over that
mother, and gained for het kindness tnd def
erence, in the very (ace ol fashion; walked
with her, drove with her, helped her, like an
infant, up a difficult mountain side of twenty
miles, humored her every caprice, and each
day found some new friend, whose heart he
might thrill by those gentle words ''my moth
er." To him she was the gentle mother who
rocked him to sleep tu childhood; and, true
to the commandments he had taught him,
he was making the path smooth to her de
dependent years.
One there was in the gay throng whose eye
flashed haughtily, as they rested on the toil
worn, homely woman, but she was a noble
soul, aud truth and right gaiued an instant
victory over life-long prejudices. Ouiekly
and elegantly she crossed the room and laid
her hand with a gentle,thrilling touch on the
arm of her, and whispered a word iu his ear.
Will she ever forget the look of love tri
umph in his eyes, or the smiling gentleness
of his tones, as he presented the beautiful,
high-bred betrothed to his gray-haired doung
mother.
Or No man can leave a better legacy w
the world than a well educated family
[Two Dollars per Annoa*
NUMBER 10,
Fiom the Child's Paper.
Tbe Boy who Broke bin Mother'* lleail.
I went Into the "Toombs" or the New
Yotk City prison yesterday, and saw a great
many things to matte me very sad, but none
that excited my rympaties more then a poor
weeping woman, who stood looking into one
of the cells containing three or four boys
Irom nine to twelve years old. One of those
boys was her own and her eldest son ; she
was a widow, and her husband who was u
sailor, had been dead several year*.
I spoke to this heart-stricken mother, end
inquired into the cause of her sorrows. "Oh,
sir," said she, "my boy is here in prison lor
stealing. Oh, if he were dead anil in hts
coffin, I could bear that; but to have hitn
here tit a felon's cell, this breaks ray heart.
I triad to keep him in, but he would go out
into the streets, end thorn be got into bad
company; I warned and entreated him, but
ho would not do as I wanted bint to-, and
now he is here -'o this dteadful placet"
No wonder thai this mother wept; no won*
der that she could not be conducted. Here
in a horrid prison, in which were ehut un
scores of thieves and other bad men ati.t
boys, was Iter own child, the bsbe that she
had nursed and kissed with the lovo that ■
mother only knows; the babe that she hid a
thousand limes rocked to sleep singing a lul
laby ; for whom ahe had in sickness watched
and wept and slept not, aud to clothe and
feed him had sewed till midnight hours had
come. That babe, in rags ar.d disgrace,
| could now be spoken to only through the
t iron urating, even by his mother. Poor wo-
I man, I did pity her. I wept with her and
! tried to soothe her aucutsu.
r.et me ask those who reaa tow story, how
it in with you. Are you kind and obedient
to your mother 1 Do you mind her quickly
and pleasantly when she speaks to you!—
Did you ever disobey her! Or are you like
the boy who broke ins mother's heart I No
matter how old you are: be cartful, 0, very
cartful you don't break your mother's heart.
You will never know in this world how
much you owe your mother, how much site
has endured and suffered for you. But if you
are spared to live until you are grown up,
and that dear mother shsll live for you to
bury her, if you are unkind end disobedient
to her now, how will you (eel wbsn you
come to kiss Iter cold face for the last time
before you cover her from your eight! When
1 see boy or girl disobedient and unkind to
a mother, I greatly lear they will come to
CUItIOUS.
On Monday, the lUth of January, a young
gentleman, in company with a friend, enter
ed the church of Dr. Cleveland, near the
Tontine building, New. Haver., Conn. Tho
atmosphere in the church was very told, but
a stream of warm air rose from the furnaces,
the evaporators of which were partly filled
with water. Around one of the furnaces
snow was gathered to the depth of Ihiti or
four inchss, formed by the crysta fixation of
the moisture in the ascending stream of air
forming into bright crystals of beautifal
forms, which fell in showers to the floor.—
There was nearly a bushel of snow sronnd
one of the furnaces, and even on the iron
work of the register was piled up,—the air
rising from the furnace through a grating of
snow.
Tits WORD "CREOLE."—Some suppose thi
Creole lo be nearly black, imagining the word
to be used a a a term of disgrace and reproach.
The Spanish word Crillo (Creole) was origi
nally applied to the descendants of whites in
Mexico, South America and the West Indies,
in whom white blood, unmixed with that of
every other tace existed. This is still the only
scception of the term in the West Indies. A
Mulatto is the offspring of a white and a ne
gro, a Quadroon, of a white and s Mulatte,
being one quarter black, a Mustee, of a whit*
and a Quadroon, or one-eighth black, and a
Mustafina of awhile and a Mustee, being
one-sixteenth black. Terms implying •
much less admixture of black blood are prev
alent in Cuba. Creole simply means a naiiv*
of tropical climet.
I V l! Have you," said a young lady, en.
tering a music store in which we weresisnd
ing and leaning over the counter, sod addres
sing the young man, -'have you A Heart tbat
I.ores Me only V
"Yes, Miss," was the reply, "and ho re m
A Health to Thee, Mary."
Mary 'ook the songs, and was leaving the
store, when suddenly she returned.
"Oh, ! forgot 1 I want One Sweet Kiss
before We Part.''
We left, and can't ssy whether she obtaiu
ed it or not.
ECUTIITL StMtt.E.--The altentioo of a tittle
girl being called to a rose bush, on the top
most stem of which the eldest rose was la
ding,but below aud around which three beau
tiful buds were unfolding their charms, she
artlessly exclaimed to ter brother, "See,
Willie, these little buds have just awakened
to kiss their mother before she died."
E7* Beecher Cheever, and other Levi.es of
that class, tre oversowing with wrath. Stump
speeches against the Supreme Court form
their only Suuday labor, and Bduigsgee is
poured out like water.
GF" Set bounds to your zeal by discretiou,
to error, by truth. to paestoa by reesea, to
divisions, by charity
IF The dissipatioas that person- rosott to,
are like curtains which children tu bed part
down to keep out the dark

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