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- DQX.LARS PER ANNUM.] . ''Tan ?I?.IOBI OX* libkhty IS BTBRNAII VIOIIIAITOII." [PAYABLE IN ADVANCE. BY'?AVIS & CREWS. ABBEVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 16, 1857. ~ Vol. YIV Ktn jte From Ike Missouri Deniocrat. A LAWYER'S ADVENTURES. "We presume* our Illinois readers will . readily expand tLo town C -,meutionj > ed in the following sketch into Carlyle * ' * About three or four years ago, more or * > j 'C sless, I was practicing law in Illinois in a 'pretty large circut.. I was called on one - day in my office, in the town of C ?, by a very pretty woman, who, not without jtears, told mo her husband had been arrested for horse-stealing. She wished to retain me on the defence. I asked her why rIia fliil tint. crc\ fn .Tii/lrrr* K an Av-^nnnfni' to- ? w "" ^uu"vvr of tho United States, whoso office was in the same town. I told Iier that I was a young hand at the bar, &c. She mournfully said that ho had asked a retaining fee above her means, and besides did not want to touch, the case, for her husband was suspected of belonging to an extensive band of horee^thieves and counterfeiters, whose headquarters wore on Moore's prairie. I asked her to tell me the whole truth of tho mattor, and if it was true that her husband did belong to such a gang ? " Ah, sir," said she " a better man at heart than my George never lived ; but ho liked cards and drink, and I am afraid they made him do what he never would havo done if he had not drank. I fear that it can be proved that ho had the horses; he didn't steal it; another did, and passed it to hira.w I didn't Iiko the case. I knew that there was a great dislike to the gang located where she named, aud feared to risk the case before a jury. She seemed to observe vit* i i 4 ?njr luwunuu iv iciuaa iuv tiwu# citiu uuiat into tears. I never could see a woman weep without feeling like a weak fool myself. If it liadn't been for eyes brighted by " pearl}' tears," (blast the poets that made tliem to come in fashion by praising 'em,) I'd never have been caught in the lasso of matrimony. And my would bo client was pretty. The handkerchief that bid ber streaming eyes, didn't hide her ripe lips, and her snowy bosom rose and fell like a white gull in a gale of wind at sea. I took the case and she gave me tho particulars : The gang, of which he was not a member, had persuaded him to take the horse.? He new the horse was stolen, and like a fool acknowledged it when ho was arrested.? Worse still?be had trimmed the horse's tail and mane to alter his appearance, and thp opposition could prove it. The- trial came on. I worked hard to get a jury of ignorant men, who bad more heart than train; who, if they could not fathom the depths of argument, or follow the' labyrinthine mazes of tho law, could feel for a young fellow in a bad fix, a weep' ing pretty wife, nearly broken-hearted and quite distracted. Knowing the use of u effect," I told h$r to dress .in deep mourning " . and bring her little cherub of a boy, only . ~ " three year? old, into court, and to sit rfs near herliusband as the officer would let her. I tried that game once in a murder case^and a weeping wife and sister made a jury render a verdiot against law,, evidence ?lnd the judge's charge, and saved a fellow that ought to have been hung as high' as Haman. > ' / J k \ The prosecution opened very bitterly; ,?. inveighed againgttfiiGves and counterfeiters, .jfrho had made the laud a terror to stran'" gem "k?d travelers, and who had robbed .. 'every ^former in jtlie region of tljeir finest tiorgeq^It introduced witnesses,.and proved all arid more than I feared 1t would. \ - i^Tb??me capao for mq .to rise for defined. *' \ \Vifn$a?es iLbSd >g6ne^ * Btft .1 determined . .?to^?ihtce fin!cffojrfc, only lioping^so to interlt$i 1 -4^;the }6d?$ aitid jtrry aia to secure a lecotn. /mood^ion Uf guberi^toriairclorriancy iyid t_ : ' ^a JightVj&bt&<&r "Sopainted this pic" . raan'eotered infoilife^fed? ^ *'b<k^M<Vii in^peraOh?pog *. i^jSnrngg ^Xgopilo noble attribute.?'V*f ;\. j^^4W^bpn;W?lJ^fore and all around'hhn, ' V ^ Gueats tbere^werjp ift^nyy} it fottollSpi1 biui ^ inqui^ififcftbeir bu?l ''#**> -t;5^^^wo|g^weU.a?^a pm&jjfc# ; ^bHWand^id promp^^ At-an ungWrdec v hour, When be" was insane^j^^ibe liquoi "* they- nrged up<jn,hrTM, .;he tflid 3evUtec * ir<j?f the path of TeQtUude. , The' demon o aVnlinl had reifmi&d in bi?liram*r And If. wni lu* first Offence. Mercy ple%ded-for anolh orchance to save Lira from ruin. Justic< 414Jiot that, tysyoung wife, should - go;.<Jowoiforrowing to tbe gravg, and tba .5 . JjteaLadow ofvdiBgrace.and tho taunt of t v ^ felon Father should cross the path of thn child.' O, ho# earnestly did I pleat ' for-thora. The proman wept; tbehusbam did t|ie same; 4he judge fidgeted ^nd rub bed hVeyaj^the-jurjt looked mel(jng. I , X CO#* have had the closing speech hi woul<j|bare been cleared ; but thq.prosecu to* had the cloee, and threw ice on the fir< ^ b^d kindled. But they did not quite pu It out, v|:?he Judge charged according to law an< >ev?deoce, hotevidently leaned on tbeaideo vmercy# , Theory found a verdict of guilty but unaniraoualy recomrafflded the-prisone 'tO-tfte mjpoy of tbe couif, My client W* ; sentenced to the shortest Imprisonment th< ^rf^.^powered to giro, and both ju b '*f$ tb? court signed a petition to tbiporenior for.aa unconditional. pardon whiob hu einco been granted^ Uil not be * fore the following incident OCCfrt&I:? Some three-months after this, I receive< f ' '* * * an account for collection from a wholesale house in Now York. Thofparties to col lect from were hard ones, but they had , properly, and before they- had an idea ol .'the "trap laid, I had the. property, whicli ythey were to assign-before they broke under attactytyfent. Fftfding I was neck ahead and bound to win, they "caved in' and "forked over" three thousand seven hundred aud ninety-four dollars and eigh teen cents (per memorandum-book) in good money. They lived in Shawueetown, aboul 36 or-40 miles southeast of Mooro's prairie * T il.? ? "l .. l j. iuwivcu mo iiiuua jubi< :uivr u;uik open' ing, but other business detained mo till after dinner. I then started for C , intending to go as far as the villngo of Mount Vernon that night. I had gone along ten or twelve miles, when . I noticed a splendid team of double horses attached to a light wagon, in which were seated four men, evidently of the highstrung order. They swept past as if to show how easily they could do it. They shortened in, and allowed mo to comc up with them, and hailing mo, asked mo to "wet," or in other words, diminish the contents of a jug of old ryo they had aboard ; but I cxcused myself with the plea that I had plenty on board. They asked me how far I was going. I told them as far as Mount Veruou, if my horse didn't tiro out. They mentioned a pleasant tavern ten or twelve miles ahead as a nice stopping place, and then drove on. I did not like tho looks of those fellows, nor their actions. But I was bound to go ahead. I had a brace of revolvers and a V.U auiic , my iuuiiv^ >vil3 UUl III 111V VUUse or my sulky, but in a bolt round my body. I drove slow, in hopes that they would go on, and I should see them no more. It was nearly dark when I saw a tavern sign ahead. At the same time I saw their wagon stood before the door. I would have pressed on, but my horse needed rest. I hauled up and a woman came to the door. She turned as pale as a sheet when she saw inc?she did not speak, but with a meaning look she put her finger on her lips and beckoned me in ; she was the wife of ray late client. When I entered, the party recognised me, anu naueu me as an om travelling trtend, and asked rac to drink. I respectfully, but firmly declined to do so. " 15y G-d, you shall drink or fight!" said the noisiest of tho party. ".Just as you please ; drink I shall not!" said T, purposely showing the butt of a Colt which kicks Bix times in rapid sucession. The party interposed, and very easily quelled tho assailant One offered mo a segar, which I reluctantly refused, but a glance from Alio woman iuduccd me to accept. She-advanced and proffered mo a light, and in doiug so slipped a noto into my hand, which sho must have written a moment before. Never ahull I forget the words. They were : " Beware, they aro.ipembers of the gang. They, mean to rob and murder you 1" Leave soon : Twill detain them !" I did not feel comfortable just then, but tried to do so. "Ilavo you any. rooin to" put up my horse?" I asked, turtiing to tho woman. ' 41 What?are you not going on to-night?" asked one of the men.; we are." 44 No," said I, " I shall siayhcre to-night." " We'll all stay then, I guess, and make a night of it!" said auothor. of the cut throats. 44 You'll have to put op your own horse - ?here's a lantern.^'4'satd the woman.-', 441 am used to-tbat," I Baid.. MOentlomen, excuse me a minute; I'll joj^f^pu in a'drink when I come in." " Good on your head ! More whiskey, old gal," shouted they, t JL wont out, glanced at tliejr wagon ; il was oldfashioned, and " linch pins" secured th^^e^J". To take out my kife and prj 'J one1 from the fore and hind wheels was bill ' 'the.work of 'Jgi instant, and I threw .then ' as far off.hfthe darknoss. as I could. T< | untio mj^Jiorse and dash off was the worl of a moment. *The road lay do&n a steoj r -hill, but lantern,lightod me somewhat > I had hardly got hnder full headway when I heard a yell from the party I lia< J so unceremoniously left. I put whip t< my horse. The next momeat^vith a shou 5 they-j|larted. I threw my light away, an< ' I loft joy horso to pick his way. A mo L ment later I hoard a crash?a horribl 1 shriek. Tho wheels were off. Then cairn 1 .tho rush of the horses tearing with th< * wreck of the wagon. Finally7they sceme< \ to fetch up in tho wood. One?or tw< shrieks I heard as I swept on, leaving then ^ far behind. For some time I hurried m; 9 ?orse?you'd better believe I "rid!" 1 * was a litile after midnigbg^arben I got t< 9 Mount Vernon. 1 The next day I heard .that a Moore1 Prairie team had run Away, and that tw * men out of four had been so badly hui ^ that their lives were despaired of; bat ' * didn't cry. _ My olienta got their money r and I didn't travel that road any more. B m???> ?a m J. A 1 At " xv jfrvuuw niuirtuiin.jr nnu in ** mind -id heart rapst act together; the; b must be the impartial judges, the geutl it monitors, and the kind encouragers of eaol - other; they dependent upon each otfa er; and we on tfiem,?Jam Kindrey Stan 1 fbrd. r. " . THE BACHELOR AND THE BABY. K- ' j , BV OSCAR DUMAS. r Edward Thornton was ono of tliat small i class of bachelors, who arc so, not from nei cessity, but from inclination. lie wbuld as ; soon have been suspected of highway rob bcry as of any intention of committing i matrimony. Still, he was very polite and gallant to i T i?~ i .K?? ?1. I uuu jouiuo* x uavu uuaci vuu liicil ouuii io ' more likely to be the case with your tlior, ough-going bachelors, than with married . men. I will leave the philosophical reader . to speculate on the cause of this singulnr. ity, if such it may bo called, while I pro, cecd with my story. liusiness had called Mr. Thornton to a t city some fifty miles distaut from tho place , of his residence. His business arrange! mont8 satisfactorily concluded, he had, at tho oponing of this veracious narrativo, , sealed himself in tho cars which wero to bear him back. Opposite him in tho cars sat a young i woman, respectably attired, with a babe, . perhaps three months old, in her lap. The baby was not remarkably pretty?no babies are at that age?and tho expression of its countenanco indicated about the sarao degree of intelligence as you wouVd expect to finrl ill n w-Pf-lrrJil L-ilfnn Tl.? ? ... ? vv.? niwvviii X1IV UiVVU^I J , for such she evidently was, was encumbered with nothing else but a small carpet bag, which doubtless contained a supply of clothing for the journey. At the first way station, the woman rose hurriedly, and said 10 Mr. Thornton? " Will you have the kindness, sir, to take charge of my baby and carpet bag for a moment ? I Lave just caugbt a glimpse of a friend, through the window, with whom I wish to ppealc for a moment." "Certainly, ma'am,1' said our bachelor triend ; and lie took tlio baby, awkwardly enough, and placed tlio carpet bag at his feet. 'V The female, thus disencumbered, left the cars. Our friend, not being used to such a charge.as ho had undertaken, folt_ a little embarrassed, but consoled himself by the reflection that it would be but for a moment. But, to his consternation, the cars star led, without bringing back tho owner of the baby. Good heavens!" thought ho, "sho has been left. How distressed she will bo about her child. " Here," he said to the conductor, who was just passing through tho car, " you have left ono of your passengers behind you?a woman who occupied the opposite seat.1' "Oh," said the conductor, "she didn't intend to get in again. She walked away quite in au opposite direction, lint hero is a letter sho told in* to givo to a gentleman with a baby." Thornton tore it open with trembling * 'hands, and read the following: 44 Dear Sir: Finding it uo longer convenient to retain tho charge of my baby, I - have confided it to your charge, feeling confident, from tho benevolent expression of y.qur countenance, that you will lako good (JgM'bf lt_. A? it linn no nnmn nnii givo it your own', if you-.please." " P. S. The valise contains tli^; fluid's clothing. It is sufficiently supplied" for tlio , present." * ' >* < * " Good heavens !" thought our now unhappy bachelor. "That's cool, and no mistake. "With what face phall I meet my , friends, with such an encumbrance ?" Just thcu the child began to cry. Ilorc , was a new perplexity. " What shall I do ?" thought Edward Thornton. " JLet mo see. I'll trot it." And forthwith ho began to trot the child in tho most violent manner. To his great I astonishment^tliis .only made it cry tho more. , " Your chiM seemB troublesome," said a I lady, who had entered the cars at the , same- place where the child's mother got } out. c " Mine, ma'am 1 it isn't mine I" j " Excuse me," Baid the lady, "possibfy it is a friend's." ? . " No, ma'am, it is?well, I don't know j whose it is. I novcr saw it before/lfrtpy 5 life." ^ After a glance of surprise, she said, ' I 1 presume it is hungry. Poor cbild 1"* The child continued to cry. B " Perhaps, ma'am, you could satiafy hfa e hunger." "Sir!" said the lady, drawing*horsell 1 up? I "Oh, I di#& mean anything, ma'am, 1 ? assure you," said Edward Thornton, realiz 'v ing the interpretation which might bo put t upon his words. o The lady looked as if she dUJn't believe it, afid said no mgre. , At length, after two hours of the slowest o traveling, as it seamed to Edward, that he ^ had evor experienced, he arrived at the tergt urination of his jom^ey. : . It was with a ludioroua air of embarrau' ment that Edward isSued from the oars with ? the baby In his arms, aril! the carpetbag in d his hand. He tyi thought of leaving^ jr child on ooe^C*tibi? atoto,Jnu 'the conduca get a chance. . " ' To mtktto matter worse, of 1* , met * " Good heavens!" ejaculated one.? " Thornton, where did you get that baby ? You ain't married, aro you ?" " Married ? No." 11 O, it's a frieud's." ? No!" " Ah ! I understand !" and the friend looked particularly knowing. Edward grew desperate, " No !" said he hurriedly. "You arc wrong. It isn't so, you may bo sure." " Isn't how ?" " Why, as you understand," stammered Thronton. His friends looked politely incredulous, and left Edward Thornton nioro wretched than ever. What was to bo dono ? Tho reader must bo informed that our bachelor kept house, and employed a housekeeper, a staid maiden of forty, who, for a consideration, sewed the buttons on Ins shirts, darned his stockings, and kept tho house in order. With a nervous hand, Edward pulled tho bell. Martha opened it. " Goodness, gracious me !" shrieked tho astonished handmaiden ; " a boy ! What is the world coming to ?" "It isn't mine Martha; it aint mine," " You may be sure it isn't mine ; I don't know whose it is, but hero's the carpet bag that it belongs to?I mean, that came with it. You can open it, and sec what's in it; I believe its clothes." Tho housekeeper wasn't generally troubled with a cough, but sho coughed here, very significantly. " And just get dinner ready as quick as you can. Tho child is hungry, aud so am I." " What shall I get V 11 Well, you might cook me somo beefsteak. Let me see?I suppose the baby can't go beefsteak, yet; you may bring it 6ome bread and butler, and cakes, or pies, if you have any." " What does tho man mean !" ejaculated Martha, in astonishment; " a baby like that cat bread and butter and pies 1" " Well, get what you like! I don't know any thing about such matters." Luckily, it was found that tho child would drink milk. "Well," said the housekeeper, after a pause, " what do you intend to do with yonr child?I beg pardon, the child ?" " Why," said Edward, " I've bean thinking perhaps you had better*adopt it." "I adopt it!" ejaculated Martha; "I would not do it for the world!" "Iiut something must bo done with it." " You ought to have thought of that beforehand." 41 Well, how could I tell that tho woman was going to put it into my hands, and then leave?" "OT It was a small word, but there was a sentence full of meaning in it. Without Btopping to detail tho confusion, inconvenience and embarrassments, which this new comer introduced into the bachelor's household, it will be sufficient to state that a family was found who were willing to adopt it. It was joyfully resigned by its transient proprietor, who is more confirmed in his bachelor habits than over. Rising in the World.?You should bear constantly iu mind that nine-teutlis of us are, from tho very nature and necessities of the world, boru to gain a livelihood by tho sweat of the brow. What reason have we, then, to presume that our children are not to do the same 1 If tliey bo, as now ! and then one will be, endowed with extraordinary powers of mind, those powers may have an opportunity of developing themselves; and if they never have that opportunity, the harm is not very great to us or to them. Nor does it hence follow that the descendants of laborers are always t? be laborers. The path upwards is steep and long, to be sure. Industry, care, skill, excellence, in the present paront, lay the foundation of a rise, under more favorable circumstances, for the children^ ..The children of tho these take another by-and-by the descendants of the"*pfesent laborer become geutlemen. This is the natural progress. It is by attempting to reach the top at a single leap that so much misery is produced in the world; and the propensity to make such an attempt has been cherished and encouraged by the strange projects that we bave witnessed of late years for making the laborers virtuous and happy by giving them what is called education. The education which I speak of, consists in bringing cbil* dren up to labor with steadiness, with care, and with skill; to show them how to do ( as many usefull things as possible; to teach them to do all in the best manner; to set them an example in industry, sobriety, , cleanliness and neatness; to make all tbese habitual to therri/so that they never shall be liable tov foil into the contrary j to let . thorn alwayaf*ee a. good living proceeding ^ from- from tiWm; v:^. * -f A' -'i, ?; ? V*. .*? from Riuuir* Magazine. DEPASTURE OF YOUTH. At what time of life docs youth end 1 We lately heard this question discussed by m< parties of various nges nnd experience.? 8(31 One assigned one period?another, another ?twenty, twenty-live, thirty. AH differed, UP nnd we think all were wrong. The truth, of course, is, that it is impossible to fix m any preciso limits to the period of youth; cr< | that it varies with character and circuin- sei stance; nnd that in many cases it melts so imnerccntiblv into 111.111 linrwl tlmt. nr> Pe * ? - ' I survey, however thoughtful or minute, can 8C< trace tho dividing line. As boyhood ends ow with the first blush of love, so at any 13 age, grief, misfortune, may close the gates P? of youth upon us forever. In such instnuccs tho transition is marked and sudden, liko tho fall of trophic night. But ^1S amid quiet scenes and happy fortunes, the rc< mind matures with tho slow process of a co vegetable. Unreflecting persons let the ^ei years go by like mile stones which they mi aro too indolent to reckon. As a ship, under tho influence of a gentle breeze, is lifted m along the sloping current of a river to the I 1 ? It 1 height of a thousand feet above tho sea, so, unconscious and observant, these people an glide softly from youth to manhood, from manhood to old age! Soruo startling change in themselves?perhaps tho growth S? of more than one lustrum, yet unnoted till ,n its completion?awakes them, liko a blow, to the consciousness of approaching grey ur hairs. I The lifo of boyhood is not less bu&y and th stirring than that of manhood. The rival lies in scliool mid out of it?tlio ambition Tl and tbo struggle?the success and the dis'appointments?the friendships, heart-burn- T' iiigs, and enmities?the boisterous sport, c)' and the bittor ridicule?call forth, in a nn smaller degree only, the same passions oc which tear the heart and stir the spirit on I-"tbc larger theatre of the world. And be- 'ef f IWAfln 4 1 ? Af A ???? ^ T *xlv ?iTvgu mwu 6>v?j sittiub?iiKu an mciiaii vu summer with its atmosphere of dreams? y? comes the most delicious period of all.? va The fever of boyhood is over, the ripo pur- y? poses of the man yet undeveloped. It is a ' b time of vngue longings, indefinite wishes, visions of poetry and love ! an When these vague longings begin to ^ft< concentrate into a Riglo passion, wo are approaching manhood. As often, youth ends bu with a disappointment which, like the shock of cold water in iho morning, startles us 'ai from our dreams, and compels us to think on of action. ve The ltomans continued to call a man tei "adolescents" at forty. Such an epithet P? applied at this day to one of thirty, would dy sucrcrcst to US tllO fftrlaml nn ?1iA nnra r\( W0 Bottom. However, the custom speaks volumes io favor of the early Romans. In g? the nineteenth century one might die an thi old man at thirty-five. he It is melancholy to see how rapidly we ne contrive in America to get over the golden spi period of youth. In the life of not a few ha individuaals, we believe there is actually wtl no youth at all! "What a loss 1 "When- up ever we look upon a man of twenty, (lie is " t known at a glanco,) we aro reminded of a thi story which we Lave read somewhere, in which, to punish some cold- hearted and practical plodder, a good spirit deprives him of the beautiful faculty of dreaming. It is impossiblo to bo youthful always, it is not impossiblo to carry many of our ^ youthful feelings iuto manhood, and even 685 into ago. We.ourselves have just slopped ?? into the responsibilities of maturity, but we P? hope to see for a long time yot, '' 1 "A glory in the grass, a splendor in the flower/ Life is worth something even when ca. TTOnlW' *o noah ntwl 1- * ? j VMU1 10 I'uav | auu UUIIU UUk JIUTbUIIB Ul UI1- "* imaginative temperaments will find it altogetber insipid. Though it be a desert, over- 8'' head are a sky and stars! bt In a vague recollection of the emotions th of childhood and youth, (and undoubtedly w of dreams also,) we find an explanation of iti the feeling of preexistence. A morning or iri a sun-set sky, a leaf, a flower, a soft touch di of the breeze, wake some old but long silent chord in our bosoms; and alas 1 years ec of business or sorrow have put, in effect at 01 least, so many centuries betweeu ourselves 111 and childhood, we stand u' "At such a distance from onr youth in sin,'-!, .to that we refer .jfteir dimly remembered emo- su tions to another and impossible life! w ? t-( IT.. ; ? _i * - ? juuggiua uhu ? Biiiirp porter, i nis cnnp g( returned from the pm offica tho other day ^ With Muggin's papers, and informed him that there was a letter id the post-office that he cotildn't get. ** " Couldn't gol it! why couldn't you get it, you stupid!" M There's five cents to pay on it.M v' MWhy didu't you |>ay for itl" asked Muggins, with indignation. " I hadn't cents enough!" replied the cj urchin grinning welly. ^ ' "You fool !n said Muggins stoiming, u here take this five cento and get that let,* ter in little less.tfron no time r . " No use. I tell vfln." wnli'itrf-ilia' Wmo have it." * ^0 au^jthey Wt?ra like to ^ - ^? " ** NT TO FEMALES WHO RIDE IN RAILROAD CAR8. A correspondent of the Cincinnati comjrcial is to bo credited witli tho following isouable anccdoto: A gentleman entered tho "ladies' car" on ono of the eastern roads, and as tho y was chilly appropriated au entire seat the vicinity of tho stove. Passengers >\vded in at every station, and soon every it was taken except tho one occupied by inself. Presently two ladies (so they apared) entered tho car, and as 110 one ;ined inclined to offer a vacancy at his rn discomfort, our friend, whose gallantry proverbial, gathered un his shawl. rtmanteau and himself, arose, motioned o ladies forward, assisted them into the lit, and took a standing position not far stant. Not so much as a smilo or bow jognized tho kindness?it was evidently nsidered a mark of respect duo to Male dignity?a privilege which any getlem might he proud to acknowledge. "Coolly done," remarked an individual juxtaposition to our friend. Decidedly," was tho laughing reply, >ut I'll give them a lesson by-and-hye, d one they'll be likely to remember." " Why, thee won't say anything, surely !" "Indeed I will?the opportunity is too iod to be lost; and somewhat annoyed, it ust be confessed, though les3 tho loss of 3 seat than by tho rudeness of its igraoious occupants; ho walked away to o window and occupied his vision with ? 11.: m.. ..i A u LiiiiiyM uikiiuuL. ^vuuiiiur siauou? lotlier stop?the ladies rose to depart, ley had nearly readied the door, when clear, matily voice called out " Ladies." icro was a gcffcral htish, whilo every c was turned upon the serene counte,nco of our traveller. " Ladies, you have cupied mv seat during the ride from , and I cannot allow you to ive without expressing my senso of tho ligation, also tlie hope that when next 11 enter a crowded car and a gentleman cates his seat for your accommodation, u will at least have the politeness to ruik him." A. shout of applause rewarded tho speaker d the ladies (?) lowering their confused ;cs, retreated hastily to digeBt as best cy might this suddon but merited rcke. Did overr ladv psnrrisill v mpto imimn ^ J 4 J V iy?know thero is always in every car, mibus, steamboat or other public conyance, notwithstanding the ordinary exrnal aspect of its occupants, a self-npinted/ury watching her actions, and reato pjiss sentence thereon, she would look >11 to her "manners," and, in cultivating ose indispensable outward semblances of od will, she would unconsciously foster e germs of an active and wide spreading nevolence. Unobtrusive words of kindss cost nothing beyond the effort of eaking, and many a weary pilgrimage s been brightened thereby. A simple i hank you," coined in the heart and rung on the lips with the genuine sound of < rue metal," is a more efficient weapon I an the sword of the conqueror. Misfortune.?To eseane misfortune is t v - - A ~ I want instruction, and to live at ease is , live in ignorance. As no man can on- , / happiness without thinking that he en- \ /s it, tho experience of calamity is nec- , sary to a just sense of better; for the >od of our prcseut etato is merely com- ( rativc, and the evil which every man feels , 11 be sufficient to disturb and harrass , m, if he does not know how much he espes. The lustre of diamonds is invigorad by the interposition of darker bodies; e lights of a picture are created by the ades. Tho highest pleasure which nature is indulged to sensitive perception, is at of rest after fatigue ; yet that state bicli labor heightens into delight is of self only easo, and is incabable of satisfyig the mind without the suporaddition of versified amusements. Prosperity, as is truly assorted by Sen:a, very much obstructs the knowledge of irselves. No man can form a just eatiate of his own powers by unactive specation. That fortitude which has encoun red no dangers, that prudence which has irmonnted no difficulties, that integrity hich has been attacked by no temptaons, can at best be 'considered but as >Id not yet brought to the test, of which icrefore the true value cannot be assigned. A lazy by boy makes a lazy roan, as sure i a crooked twig makes a crooked tree.? foo ter saw a boy grow up in idleness tit did not make a shiftless vagabond ben he became a man, unless he had a rtune left him to keep Up appearances f be great mau of thieves, paupers Aid iraroais tfcat tm our penitentiaries and mshouses, have come to what they are r beirtg^ brought up in idleness* Those ho constitute the business part of our mmtmity?tboae who make our great id uueful men-gjera trained ia their ear rnaBBflWWUfeit. J 'n'l'rVr "f'^i A SNAKE TALE. Snys the lawyer : 44 Animals sometimes '* vory nearly approach reason in their dinning. I got interested in the sludy of serpents down in Arkansas, where I spent the most of last year. I don't know why, but I was constantly watching thein nnd test ing their sagacity, by placing them in new situations, and surrounding them with novel expedients. Of nil kinds I experimented most with rattlesnakes and copper heads. ' ? Ono afternoon I seated myself on a little knoll in the woods to smoke and read?for I always had a hook or newspaper with ine?and had heen enjoying myself for some time, when I espied a copperhead making for a hole within ten feet ot whore I sat. Of course I threw down my hook and cigar, aud proceeded to try a new /experiment. As soon as I stirred, the rascal mado a rush for the hole; hut I caught his tail as ho got nearly in, aud jerked him 60inc twenty feet' backward. Ho throw himself into a coil in no time, and waited for mo to pitch in. But I concluded to let him try his hole again. After a while ho started for it, stopping when I stirred to coil himself up; hut I kept pretty quiet, . ~v ' he recovered confidence and went in.? Again l jerked Inm out. Jfo sooner did he hit the ground than he made n grand rush for the hole in a straight line for my. legs ! But that didn't work, I got out the way and gave him another flirt; This time he lay still awhile, appearing to reflet on tho course to be taken. After n time ho tried it again, though rather slowly. After getting his head a little way in, he stopped and wiggled his tail, as if on purpose for me to grab it. I did so; and quicker than a flash he drew his head out, and enmo within a quarter of an inch of striking me in the face. However, I jerked him quite a instance, ancl resolved to look out for him tlio next time. Well, bo tried the same gamo again, bvt it wouldn't worlc~I waa. too quick for bim. Tbis time bo lay in a coil balf an bour without moving. At hist, lie tried it once more. He^dvanced to witbin five feet of tlio hole very slowly, coiled again, and then, by the heavens! got the start of me by one of the cutest tricks you ever beard of." "How was that?" we all exclaimed in one breath. " Why," said the narrator, sinking his voice to the acmo of solemnity, and lookinor M ImniKl nrwl ortKni. no O -? ,J ?0 v* Mwitrw* iH a man VUUIU look, " why be just turned his head toward my hand, and went down that hole tail first!" 4 ? Good Humor.?Good humor may be defined a habit of being pleased ; a constant and perennial softness of manner, easiness of approach, and suavity of disposition; like that which every man perceives in himself, when the first transports of new felicity have subsided, and his thoughts are only kept in motion by n slow succession of soft impulsos. Good humor is a state between gaiety and unconcern; the act or smanation of a mind at leisure to regard the gratification of another. It is imagined by many, that whenever Liiey aspire to please, they are ^required to be merry, and to show the gladness of (heir souls by flights of pleasantry, and bunts of laughter. But though these men niay be for a time heard with applause and admiration, they seldom delight us-along.? Wo enjoy them a little, and then rctire'to easiness and good humortas the eye gases awhile on eminences glittering with tile sun, but soon turnB aching away to verdure nnd to flowers. . Gaiety is to good humor as animal perfumes'to vegetable fragrance; the one overpowers weak spirits, and the other recreates and revives them. Gaiety seldom: fails to , . give some pain ; the hearers either strain faculties to accompany its towering, or are left bohind in envy and despair. Good humor boosts no factlliiffe whiftli avai-tt nno ... ? ?J docs not believe iu his own power^ ?nd pleases principally by not offending. Not long since, a youth, oldefin wit than in years, after being catechised concerning the power of Nature, repl|od : 'M?, I think .there's one thing Nature ban't do. What is 1tf eagerly inquired the mother-? She can't make Bill Jones's moulii^i>y-,bigger without setting his ears back. ** ** Vf/: It should rather be our desire to use what we learn, thhn to romemWHfc?\ Irire desire to use it. we shall rememK?* It nt course; if wo wisirlmerely to remember it it is possible we may never use it.?Sampson Reed. # f It is with lffe as with ceflfeo, he wbo # woWftf drinfcit pure must not drain it to the dlega. h - ' - JfeThere is one satisfaction in owning a close mouth?it retains all the foolish, as well as the wise words one's heart. Complaints of bad luck are oftenrouodabout, shallow apologies for indolence or carelessness. & . Harsh T^ordB areL like hailstones, whicb, if SelMthe Wndw planU Ihey batter dow* citfRMhion's votaries have two /auUjS?tbef ^ are-hollow-headed as well aa fttofldfclNttrt' y i- 4*4V&r> *?***?*" " * ?d. , It U easy tp look do*n on 6ihw? ; to Mt 4?f # difflottiiy. VWf04&* 8??* horw 10 tlw ?tab!?, but jad? ot? a jonrnijr.