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*■ ,V. •tft Clayton ïf (Ali ¥5] 0 fmß h m ■?m 7 / " INDEPENDENT IN EVERYTHI^^JEUTRAE IN NOTHING. CLAYTON, DEL., SATURDAY MOÜMNC. JULY 5, 1869. Invariably in Advance . n TE.TMS : Two Dollars a Year, NO. 13. * YOL. III. Original fjoctni. [Written for tho Clayton Herald.] AT WHAT AUE OOTHLOVE BEGIN? AD. VENTURE. I would ask my little queen,— Tell mo when doth lovo begin ? Kummer« three thou hast not seen, Little fairy, Dimple Chin. But a miracle of sweets, Hlow approaches, sly retreats, Khows the little Archer there Hidden in thy curly hair. Pry tho, tell me Dimple chin, Where illd'st learn a heurt to win?— Here the little Queen drew nigh, Giving mo this sweet reply— I could'nt tell you If I'd try. Ask some younger lass than I!" Tell, oh, tell 1 f thy heart nlid head keep pace ? When doth hoary love grow still, Under cold Dccemljcr's chill ? , wrinkled face, In there love within thy heart? llastHhlno early love forgot ? its embers hum below, All that chill December.-now? ru Ait thou among the number, •hose breast love doth slumber? Tell, oh, tell Is the olden love yet dead? li hoary head, Tell, oft, toll me wrinkled face, Doth heart and head still keep pace? When doth hoary love expire? When do frosts put out the fire? " Ah!" the aged lips reply, " Youth may fade and strength may die, But o6 love I can't foretoken. Ask some older Rage than I." s?clcctcfc poetrj). TIIE FATES. ar frank FOXCBOFT. shore, her upon the unknown or tat treml, ol 11 to their wate Sc •lied by WI. e the Hirer sit three sisters pour, Tin I er more, Weaving a silken thread. fabric half so raro man or angel scon, Never Hath For the lives of ren t here, ■■ . An l plea vs in be tween. A ml all the bat tles that wo fight, And all the tear. e allo<l AU our ro.it; rims uft< All light, r strivings for the right, Are WJVOII with the thread. Oftentimes two threads they bind And weave them both a« And thus two Ii And heart with heart, and mind with mind. Are thus together spun. ,*o intertwined, It Is but an undent tale Of the mythologie lore, ; bravest efforts full, When heart is weak und strength is frail, all the more. But wlie ii t:. ii ii-. B >, apart from earth's strange strife, • I sit and wonder here, If, in the changing threads of life. It will bo my lot to call her wife, Whom now my heart holds dear. ^clcricb êfoni. Unforgotten Words. A Story With Ai Excellent Moral. 'Have you examined the bill, James?* " Yfos, sir." Anything wrong?" I find two errors." " Ah, let mo see." Tho lad handed his employer a long bill that had been placed on Iris desk for examination. " Here is an error in the calculation of ten dollars, which they have mado against themselves, and another of ten dollars in the footing." "Also against themselves?" " Yes, sir." Tho merchant smiled ii struck the lad as peculiar. " Twenty dollars against themselves," ho remarked in a kind of pleasant sur prise. "Trusty clerks the3* must have." " Shall I correct the figures?" " No, let them correct their own mis takes. We don't examine bills forolh a way that er people's benefit," replied tho mer chant. It will be time to rectify Ihoso errors when they find them out. All so much gain as it now stands." Tho boy's delicate moral senso was shockod at so unexpocthd a remark.— Ho was the son of poor widow, who had given him to understand that to be just was the duty of man. Mr. Carman, the merchant in whose emplo3*mont ho had boon for ouly a few mouths, was an old friend of his father, and a person in whom he reposed tho highest confidence. In fact James had always looked upon him as a kind of model man ; and when Mr. Carman agreed to take him in his store, he felt that great fortune was in his way. "Let them correct their own mistakes." Those words made a strong impress ion on tho mind of Janies Lewis. When first spoken by Mr. Carman, and with tho meaning then involved, he felt, as we have said, shocked ; but as he turn ed them over again in his thoughts, and connected their utterance with a person who stood so high in his mother's esti mation, lie bega 1 to think that perhaps the thing was fair enough in business.— Mr. Carman was hardly tho man to do wrong. A few days after James had examined tho bill, a clerk from tho house by which it had boen rendered, called for settle ment. The lad, who was present, wait ed to seo whether Mr. Carman would speak of the error. But he mado no re mark. A chock for tho amount of the bill as rendered, was filled up and a re ceipt taken. "Is that right?" James asked him* self tho question. His mcral sense s»iid no; but the fact that Mr. Carman hud done so bewildered his mind. " It may bo the way in business," so ho thought to himself—" but it don't lçok honest. I wouldn't have believed it of him." Mr. Carman had a kind of way with him which won the boy's heart, and nat urally tended to make him judge what over he -might do in a most iavorablc manner. "I wish ho had corrected that error," he said to himself a great many times when thinking in a pleasant way of Mr. Carman, and his own good fortune in having boen received iuto his employ ment. "It don't look right, but it may be in tho way of business.'' Ono day ho wont to tho bank and drew the money on a check. In count ing it over he found that tho teller had paid him fifty dollars too much, so ho wont back to the counter and told him of his mistake. The teller thanked him, and ho returned to tho storo with tho consciousness in his mind of having dons right. "The toller overpaid mo fifty dollars," ho said to Mr. Carman, as he huuded him tho money. " Indeed," replied tho latter, a light breaking over his countenance, and he hastily counted tho bank bills. Tho light faded ns the last bill left his finger. "There's no mistake, James." A tone of disappointment was in his CO. v< "O, I gave him back tho fifty dollars. Wasn't that right ?" "You simpleton!" exclaimed Mr. Carman, "don't you know that bank mistakes aro never corrected? If tho teller had paid you fifty dollars short he would not hi mado it right." blood mantled tho cheek of Tho wan Til III OH It is olten tiro case that more shame is felt fora blunder than ti crime. In this instance ho had fell a sort of mortifica tion at having done what Mr. Carman was pleased to call a silly thing, end he mado up his mind that if they should •erpay him a thousand dollars at the bank ho should bring the amount to his employer, and let him do as ire pleased with the money. " Let people look uftor their own mis takes." said Mr. Carman. James Lewis pondered theso thing in his heart. Tho impression they*made was never to bo forgotten.. " It maj' be light," he said, but lie did not feel altogether satisfied. A month after tho occurrence of that bank mistuko, as James counted over his woekly wages just received from Mr. Carman, he discovered that he was paid half a dollar too much. Tiro first impulse of his mind was to return the half dollar to his employer, and it was on his lips to say, " You gave mo a half dollar too much, sir," when thp unfortunate words, "Let people look after their* own mistakos," flashing upon his thoughts, mado him hésita to. To hold a parley with this evil is to be overcome. "I must think about this," said James, ns he put tho money in his pocket. "If it is true in ono case, it is true in anoth er*. Mr. Carman don't correct mistakes that people make in his favor, and lie can't complain when tiro rulo works against lrimsclf." But tho boy was very far from being in a comfortable state, lie felt that to keep a half dollar would be a dishonest act. Still ho could not mnko up his mind to return it, at least not thon. James did not return tho half dollar, but spent it for his own gratification.— After ho had done this it came sudden ly in his head that Mr. Carman had on ly been trying him, and ho was filled with anxiety and alarm. Not long after, Mr. Carman repeated the same mistake. James kept the half dollar with less hesitation. • " Lot him correct his- own mistakes," said ho, resolutely; "that's the doctrine ho acts on with other people, and ho can't complain if ho gets paid in tho samo coin he puts in circulation. I just wanted halt a dollar." From this time the frno moral sense of James Lewis was blunted. Ho had tak en an evil counsellor into his heart, stimulated a spirit of covetousness—la tent in almost every mind—which caus ed him to dosiro the possession of things beyond his ability to obtain. James had good business qualifica tions, and so pleased Mr. Carman by his intelligence, industry, and tact with sue tomers, that he advanced him rapidly, and guvo him before ho was eighteen years of ago, tho most reliable position in the storo. But James had learned something more from his employer than how to do business well. He had learn ed to be dishonest. He had never for gotten the first lesson ho had received in this bad science, he had acted not only in two iustances, but in u hundred, and almost always to the injury of Mr. Car man. He had long since given up wait ing for mistakes to be made in his favor, but originated them in the varied aud ever complicated transactions in which ho was trusted implicitly, for it hud novel* occurred to Mr. Carman that his failure to'bo just to tho letter might proven snare to this young man. James grew sharp, cunning, and skill ful ; always on the alert; always bright and ready to inoet any approaches to ward a discov •ong doing by his employer, who held him in tho high est rogard. Thus it went ou until James was in of his his twentieth year, when tho merchant had his suspicions aroused by a letter that spoko of the young* man as not keeping tho most respectable company, as spending money too freely for a clerk on a modorato salary. Before this time James had removed his mother into a pleasant house, for which he paid a rent of four hundred dollars, his salary was eight hundred, but he deceived his mothei by telling her it was fifteen hundred. Every com fort that she needed was fully supplied, and slio was beginning to feel that alter a long and painful struggle with the .world her happier duy$» had come. James was at his desk when tho letter was received by Mr. Carman, lie look ed at his employer and s iw him change countenance suddenly. Ho read itover twice, and James saw that tho contents produced disturbance. Mr. Carman glanced toward tho desk, and their eyes met; it was only lbra moment, hut the look that James received made his heart stop beating. There was something about tho ments of Mr. Carman for tho rest of tho l. It ve day that Ir was plain to him that suspicion had been aroused by that letter. O, how bitterly bled the young now did he repent in d ad of discovery and punishment, tho evil of which ho had been guilty. " Y re not well this evening," said Mrs. Lewis, ns sho looked at her son's changed face across the tea table. " My head aches." "Perhaps the lea will make you feoj butter. "I'll lie down on Ilia sofa in tho parlor for a short time." Mrs. Lewis follovod him into tho par hn* in a lill'o while, and sitting down on th!| ötty.pn which Iro whs laying, placed Hon in the ss+lil 5 bend. Tho touch ut mrmm he ■pp you feel better?" ask ml Mrs. lime "Do Lewis. with her hand oil his forehead. Ho Irad remained so " Not much," ho replied, and rising as he spoke ho added, "I think a walk iu the open air would do mo good !" "Don't go out, James," said Mrs» Lewis, a troubled feeling coming into her heart. " I'll only walk a few squares." And James went from the parlor and into tho street. ' "There is something more than hcad fiio the inatftr with him," thought Mrs. Lewis. Ar half an hour James walked with out any purpose in his udnd beyond the oscapoof his mother. At last his waliv brought him to Mr. Carman's store, and in passing ho was surprised to sec a light within. "What ci this mean?" lie asked himself, a now four creeping, with shud dering impulse, into his heart. lie listened at the doors and windows, but ho could hear nothing. "Thcro s something wrong," he said " what can it bo? If this should bo dis covered, what will bo the end of it?— Kuin ! ruiu ! lily poor mother." Tho wretched young man hastened on and walked tho streots for two hours when lie returned homo. Ilis mother met him when he entered, and with un consoled anxiety asked him if ho was better. Ho said yes, but in a manner that only increased tho troublo sho al ready felt, and passed on to his room. In tho morning, the strange uiterod face of James, as he met his mother ut tho 'breakfast table, struck alarm into her heart. Ho was silent at the table; tho door bell rung loudly. Tho sound startled James and ho turned his head to listen in a nervous way. " Who is it?" asked Mrs. Lewis. " A gentleman who wishes to see Mr. James," replied the girl. Janies rose instantly and went out in to tho hall shutting the door as ho did so. Mrs. Lewis sat watching her son's re turn. Sho heard hi in coming hack in a few moments ; but ho did not enter tho dining-room. Then he roturnod along the hall to tho street door, and sho heard it shut. All was silent. Starting up sho ran into tho passage. But James not there. Ho was gone again with tho persou who called. " Tho young villiau shall lie in tho bed ho has made for himsolf!" oxclaimod Mr. Carman in his bitter indignation. And ho muUe tlie exposure completely. On tho trial ho showed an eagor desire to have him convicted, and presented such an array of evidence that tho jury could not givo any other verdict than guilty. Ah, that was a sad g ring away ! Mr. Carman was Half tho night in examining the uocouut of James, and found frauds of over six thousand dollars. Blindly indignant, ho sent un officer to arrest him in the morning; it was with this officer he wont away from his mother— never to return. The poor mother w ble in tho silence that followed her convulsed sobs upon tlie air. Tho presiding judge addressed the culprit, and asked if he had anything in court, audi oauie to say why the santenco of tho law should not bo pronounced against him, and all eyes wero turned upon tho pale agitated young man, who arose with, an eifort. and loaned against tho railing by which he stood, as if needing support. " Will it ploase your honors," ho said; "todirect my prosecutor to como a little nearer, so that I can look at him and your honors at tho same time?" Mr. Carman was directed to como for ward to where tho boy stood. James looked at him steadily for a few mo ments, and turned to tho judges. " What I hnvQ to say to your honors is this" (bespoke calmly and distinctly) "and it may in a degree extenuate, though it cannot excuse my crimo." " I went tolhat man's store an inno cent boy ; and if lie had been an honest man, I would not have stood before you to day as irguilty criminal!" Mr. Carman appealed to the court for protection against an allegation of such an outrageous character; but he was peromtorily ordered to bo silent. James then continued in a firm and steady voico! "Only a few weeks*fli?r I went into his employment, I examined a bill by his direction, and discovered an error of twenty dollars." The face of Mr. Carman crimsoned. " You remember it, I see," remarked James, "and I shall have cause to re moMiber it while I live. Tho error was in favor of Mr. Carman. I asked if I should correct the figures, and he an swered ; " No, let them correct their own mistakes, we don't examine bills for other people's benefit." " It was my first lesson in dishonesty. I saw the bill, and Mr. Cameron take twenty dollars that was not his own. It seemod such a .wrong thing, lint soon after he called me a simpleton for handing back a fifty dollar bill to the teller of a bunk which he had overpaid mo on a check, and then—" " May I ask tho protection of the court?" asked Mr. Carman. " Is it I rue what the lad nays?" asked the judge. Mr. Cameron hesitated and looked confused. All eyes worn on his lace and the Judge and jury, lawyers and spectators fell certain that he was really guilty of leading the young man asbiay. " Not long afterward«." resumed Lew- -- ■—f ^ - wTg f > s> i IS, revelv jeTinri That g my Mr. Carman had pafd nie fifty vents too much. I was about to givo it back to him when I remembered Jus remarks about Idling people correct their mistakes ami said to myself: * Lot him correct his own error,' and dishonestly kept the money. Again the thing hap pened, and again I kept tho money that •lid not of right belong to me. This was tho beginning of evil, and lierq I am.— If ho had shown any mercy I w have-made any defence." Tho young man covered up his face with his hands and sat down overpow ered with his fcolfngs. I lis mother who was VI» ild not * him, sobbed aloud, ami »end ing over, laid her hand on his head say ing: " My poor boy ! my poor boy !" There •ere few eyes in the court un dinined. In the bileneo that followed, Mr. Carman spoke out : " Is my character to bo thus blasted on tho word of a criminal, your honors? Is this right ?" " Your solemn oath, sir, that this charge ia untrue," said the judgo, " will place you in the right." It was the unhappy boy's only oppor tunity, and the cour t fe lt bound iu hu manity to hear what he had to say. James Lewis stood up again instantly, and turned his white face and dark piercing eyes upon Mr. Carman. "Let him take this otith if lie dare !" he exclaimed. Mr. Carman consulted with his coun sel and withdrew. After h brief conference with his as sociates, the presiding judgo said, ad dressing the criminal exclaimed : " In consideration of your youth, and tho temptatiou to which in tender years you were unhappily subjected, the court gives 3*ou tho slightest punishment— one year's imprisonment. But, let mo solemnly warn you against any further stops in tho way you have taken.— Crime can have valid excuse. It is in tho sight of God and man, and leads only to suffering. When 3*011 como forth again after 3*011 r brief incarcera tion, may it bo with the resolution to dio rather than commit crime." And tho curtain fell on that sad scene in the boy's life. When it was lifted again, and he came forth from prison a vear afterward, his mother From the day her pale lace faded from tho court room, ho never looked upon her again. TejuyßiU^-aBfPfr^id« a man was rcuding a newspapc':.,in a far wes tern town. lie had a calm, serious face, and looked like one who had known sirfforing a nd trial. " Brought to justice at last ?" ho said to himself, ns tho blood came into his ace; " convicted on the charge of opon insolvency, and sent to the Stale prison. So much for tho man who gave mo the first lesson in ill doing. But, thank God, tho other lessons havd been re membered. " When 3*ou como forth again," said the judge, " may it be with a resolution to die rather than nommita crime!" and I have kept this injunction in my heart ever since; and God helping nie, I will keep it to the end." was dead. ' Auf. causes m-an3* ale-ins, (ailiugs.) A Ghost Discovered. My father, who was an old naval cap tain, met with an untimely death at sea. lie was in command of his ship when he was caught in u severe ga'e ott tho coast of Syria; a heavy sea was rolling, and as lie stood near the companion-ladder, ho was thrown violently down, break ing his leg in two places. The shock of amputation was too great for his system, and ho died shortly after the operation. I was then serving in tho Channel Fleet, but I obtained leave of absence and hurried to Dcvenport, whore mother resided. After my poor father's affairs were settled sho took a great dis like to tho sen. Tho sight or sound of it, the appearance of sailors in the street or tho firing ol' a salute, served to re mind her most a cutely ol' tho loss she had sustained. Of course it was decided that she should leave town, but whereto wend hoi* steps she knew. not. Shu herself had choice of a neigh borhood, so we had nothing to do but to look out for en eligible house in some inland town* Sootl the following adver tisement caught our attention : rro BE LET ON LEASE, IN A SMALL X Market town, near a railway station, a »mod house, in trond repair, with largo <1 front. Kent moderate, owing to peculiar circumstances. I applied where I was directed, and was informed thai the cottage was situ ated in Burnside, Derbyshire, and that it might be viewod on further applica tion. I should saj r that tho letter also stated that tho rent would be only eight pounds if taken for fourteen years. I hastened to the place, saw tho cot -vas delighted with its appearance and situation, and then sought for in formation as to tho " peculiar circum stances" under which s«> charming a little house was to ho let for so trilling a rent. rardeli bark tage, Altersomo general ronsc sfor leaving, which I ventured to hint could hardly he called peculiar, the lady—the outgo lit—confessed that she had re e.ontly taken the house for fourteen years, but had found it was haunted, or at least, most utiaccoutitabl id at midnight, causing hei mlich uneasiness, und, ut length, be coming a source of great ulurm toiler daughters, who wero but young gills.— unds vero In ■ mo widow. y Bergen, J. suoui say, * 1 offered to try and find out for her the cans« then tnk ioi.se», mid. even Hie house, perhaps at a higher rental ; but she said that if I liked to risk the finding out and putting a slop to them, I should have tho cottage at tho rate named ; for sho said it had been left her by a pers but little, and that therefore the rent, though small, would be some addition to her income. I agreed to take the house at once, for ii was empty, and I proposed sleeping in it the same night. The lady had not removed all her fur niture, so she kindly made me up a bed in the back parlor and placed there also an armed-chair. A fire was lit; I pro vided myself with tho materials for a good supper, and locked myself in the house at ten o'clock. of whom sho knew Of course ono ever heard of a ro spcclahle ghost appearing before mid night, so that Iliad two hours before I should test the truth of the report I had heard. I made hearty supper—there was something material in that, and if tho conflict about to bo was one ot spirit 8 matter, I felt that I would not go vert into iltlo on an empty stomach, keep my head clear, and not al.'i run riot in imagination, picturing all the possible forms that might appear, and recalling all that I had heard or read To it to about phantom shapes, I took my books and worked out ship's course. J soon gave it up; it was unmanly to be doing this in order to keep off fear ; so I shut my hooks, lit my pipe, and gave free run to iny thoughts. But As was natural, they soon turned to my poor father's death, to my mother's sorrow, and to other events which hap pened about that tlmo that tended to make mo low spiiited. 1 tried toa void such thoughts, but that was tho wn3* to bring them to m3' mind. I tried to recall some of tho more exciting scenes of my life. I endeavored to car ry back my thoughts to the roving, hap py du3*s of childhood, and forward to tho promotions from tho Admiralt3 r , among which 103* name might figure; but it ali ennio to this, that I was en deavoring not to think of present posi tion, and miserably failing in the effort. Looking at my atcli, and finding it wanted but toil minutes to twelve, I mixed 1113'self another glass of grog, and waited with xiety tho hour of mid night. Sure enough then, within a minute or two of that hour, I heard a rumbling noise, like the approach of a carriage that got louder and louder, and which soemed to proceed from down stairs. I was making my way there when I dis tinct^* heard the clanking of a chain, but h\* the time I got into the kitchen the sound appeared to bo recoding, till at length it died away. A bell hung hi tho back kitchen was ringing gently, us if a woman's hand held tho bell-rope. On coining out from tho kitchen, I was surprised to fiud that two doors, one belonging to tlie pantry, and the other to a largo closet were open, both of which I had shut, after having examined the insides, when I first camo into the house. I entored the pautr3* und the closet, a but without finding any due to the so lution of the mystery. Ou. going back to tho parlor I was still farther surpris ed to find that tho hearth-brush, that 1 had left standing by tho side of the fire place, was thrown down ; ml that my pipe, which I had left upright on the mantle piece against the wall, was bro ken in two pieces. There were no indi cations of anything further having hap" pencil in tho room ; my unfinished grog remained in statu quo , as did tho few few other things on tho table I made up tho fire, sat down before it, and began to account for these remark able occurrences. One hypothesis after another was proposed and then giving up, till at last being fatigued, and feel ing that as midnight was now over there would be no repetition of tho noisos, 1 got into bed and soon loll asleep, and remained quite undisturbed. In the morning I hurried to inform tho lady of my night's adventure. I could sec that xho was secretly well pleased that her experience had been mliio also. In broad daylight I felt assured that the cause of noises was to bo sought in the world of matter rather than spirits, and was to bo found from without, rather than from within tho house. Tho situation of the house was an all important consideration, and suggested a lino of inquiry which terminated sat isfactorily. A railway went through the town, and not far from the house lug of the tunnel. Having fancied that this might lead to tho solution of the mystery, I went to the station and learned that recently a largo quantity of earth had fallen away in the tunnel, at a spot close to tho house,' tho foundations of which had thereby become exposed, I 1 oarued also that at five minutes to twelve at night, a heavy luggage train started for London, which arrived oppo site the house in about five minutes; (hat tho train was started from tho town laden with local manufactures, which would account for its punctuality, and also for the noises being heard so exact ly at midnight ; passengor trains being much lighter, togothor with tho fact that in the daytime other noises around would prevent attention being drawn to the poeuliur sounds. The night following tho discovery I •as the beginn w mimm arravged the pipe and bAsh as before, and i\ent down to tho kira&um. At the usual time tho train camo plundering along, and just as it went by'the house the engine driver, by arrangement, sounded his whistle. Simultaneously tho chain vlanked, tho bell tinkled, and I saw the doors open. These Wero not fastened, so that the shaking of tho house caused them to open, as they wero hung a lit tie on the iuclitio. In tho-kit chen cupboard there was a chain hang ing loosely against tho wall, and resting an old dish-cover that had been loft there. In the parlor I found the brush and pipe prostrated. Being quite satisfied, lieft tho house, and slept comfortably at the hotel. Next morning I waited on tho lady and informed her of my solution. She was much pleased, and at first refused to let the cot lag than t. «ose she had at first named; but at my pressing solicitation she consent ed that I should become her tenant at a slightly increased routai. Even belter than obtaining a comfort able little cottage at a low rent, was the acquaintanceship tluu formed, which proved very valuable to my mother. I should have added that when tho tunnel was repuirod, tho shaking was hardly felt at u'.l, and tho noises were scarcely hoard. ny other terms [Written for tho Clayton Herald.] THE MONOTONY OF LIFE. nv MONITOR, Tho general character of life is that of gurd the life toii3 r . Whether w n, with highly cultured iutolloet, or tho life of tho Authored songster ns he warbles nis shrill notes from tree to Ire 1110 of ma \ I making Iiilis mid valleys ring wilh sweetest melody, or tho life of tho beasts | as they 1 axil3*graze in "meadowsgr or even that of the vegetable world, as it lives and dies through tho eh seasons, we are struck by tho same re tn.Mkablo fact that life,-to all appearan ce«, is u monotonous succession of scenes ana events—all but incidental. Wo of ten wonder how tho interest is kept up. Wo ininglo in the Hi that engaged our attention 3*estet*day and the da3*8 preceding. We never tiro of going to bed at night, and w c are very sorry when wo have cause to tiro of get ting up in the morning. Wo never woa ry, except with regret, of breakfasting, dining, aud supping, and yet those ac tions are repeated three hundred t3* five times In the ye ige of sceues to-day d hix rith renewed excitement on every succeeding sloif. We take off oeca elothes once eve ry day and wo put them on every day. We do this at nearly tlie same hour, in sesaion, and when health is so do daily good the pleasuro derived fr« ing »a not marred b3* tho repetition of the act ; for tho ebbing and flowing of r bodil3* sensations prepares 1* part, for all the vicissi When hungry, food iH agreeable; when weary, rest or sleep is a treat; when warm, the cooL air i>* refreshing; when cold, the plea ; sure derived from a cheerful fireside is delicious. The excitement is kept up ' s, with out effort oil tudes of our existence. 4 by c uitracls ; and wo purchase tho en joyment of one fooling by encouraging the reverse. With health and youth and prosperity wo should never bo wea ry. It is rge, \reaktiess, and poverty that prepares us for death ; and even that conics easy to most men at last, like sleep, and the heaviness of the heart gives even tho last sleep Evcty heart knows its own sorrows, and every besom is acquainted with its ;n throbbing*. Amid the toils and disappointments of this monotonous life many sad countenances are lighted up with a forced smile, aud many crushed spirits arc longing to bo gone to whore there aro joys and employments ever varying and ever new, because ever en larging and increasing, lllossed aro they who shall ho found ready when tho change comes. lioi.MKsmrRa. Pa., ) July 12 th, 1 S 0 D. > rclcorne.— Moral oi* a pall* of Stocking.*». distln. The following wi •ritten by y l:t ly.of Troy, N. \\, gtllslicd life d Ige of New Haven, ol' Iris ma II Dear Cousin :—Herewith you will receive a pair of woolen stockings, knit by my own hands; and bo assured, dear eoz, that my friendship for you is as warm as the material, uelivo us the *ous as t lie dona tion. But I consider this present as pe culiarly appropriate on tho occasion of your marriage. You will remark in the first place, that there are two individu als united in ono pair, who are to walk Hide by side, guarding against coldness, and giving comfort as long as they last. Tho thread of their texture is mixed, and .so alas! is tho thread of life. Iu those, however, tho white Is male to predominate, expressing my desire and confidence that thus it will be with the f your existence. No black is used, for I believe your lives will bo wholly freo from the black passions of wrath and jealousy. Tho darkest color hero is blue, which is excellent when wo do not make It too blue. Other ap propriate thoughts arise in my mind regarding these stockings. The most indifferent subjects, when viewed by the mind in a suitable frame, may furnish instructive inferences, tinger-work, aud go •* The iron dogs, tho fuel nrnl tongs. The hollows that have leathern lunj The firewood, ashes, and the smoke. Do all to righteousness provoke." On to the subject. You will pcrceivo that the tops of tho stockings (by which I suppose courtship to he represented) aro seamed, and by aro drawn into a means of seaming *1 ; but afterwards comes a time when tho whole is mad» plain, and continues so to the end aud final toeing off. By this I wish to take occasion to congratulate yourself that you aro now through with seaming, and have como to plain rcalitj\ Again, as tho whole of tho?o comely stockings was not made at once, but by the addition of ono little stitch after an other, put In with skill and discretion, until tho whole presents tho fair and equal piece of* work which you seo, __ life does not consist of one great action, but millions of little onos combined; and so may it be with your lives. . No stitch dropped when duties aro to bo performed, no wielding made where bad principles are to bo reproved, or economy to bo preserved; neither scan ntrrowing where truth and generosity are in quostion. Thus, every stitch of Ufo mado right and set iu tho right place, none either too largo or loo small, too tight or too loose ; thus you many keep smooth and even c< ning nor your •so, making exist ence one fair and consistent piece, until, together, having pissed the heel, you como to the very too of life, final narrowing blcmatical pair of companions and com g associates, nothing appears but white, the token <>t innocence and peace, of purity and light. May you, like theso stockings, the final stich being dropped and t! ml. In tho If the evil of this ein work completed, go together from the place where 3*0*1 to a hsppisr stiito of cxisltnoe-a pres 0 nt from earth to heaven, ere formed, Hoping that these stocking nd ad monitions may meet a civil reception, I ain iu tho true blue friendship, seemly, yet without seeming 3*ours, IV FROM TOl* TO TOE« "In Bette it Circumstances,"—H en ry Waril Beecher «113*8 : " It is true that men do not know hew It is ealth. One says, "Sir, 3*ou see mo '. I have bcin in bettor circumstan ces." Perhaps ao; but I do not consid er, madam, that3*ou were iu better cir to value health till they lose it." the same l have not ahvavif been •iih <• umstauccs. Because vou one silk and vanity dressed i •ore nd now you wear calico. Pride silk, are not half meekness and gentle ness dressed in the plainestgurb, 3*0.1, i*i kc'olh." prosperous The lincofe-m I uct chosen 1*3* a 3'oung nun during thj ti\*e years from fiiteui to twont3*, will, almost in overy in stance, determine hi« chara toi* in after life. As lie is thon c ireful or c ireloss, prudent or imprudent, industrious or indolent, truthful or dissimulating, in» tellig-mt or Ignorant, temperate or «lis solute, so will lie bj iu after .years, and it needs no prophet to cast his h >ro s.'opo, or calculate his chance i.i life.