" INDEPENDENT IN EVERYTHI^^JEUTRAE IN NOTHING.
CLAYTON, DEL., SATURDAY MOÜMNC. JULY 5, 1869.
Invariably in Advance .
TE.TMS : Two Dollars a Year,
NO. 13. *
[Written for tho Clayton Herald.]
AT WHAT AUE OOTHLOVE BEGIN?
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?
Ait thou among the number,
•hose breast love doth slumber?
Tell, oh, tell
Is the olden love yet dead?
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."
ar frank FOXCBOFT.
her upon the unknown
or tat treml,
ol 11 to their wate
e the Hirer
sit three sisters
Weaving a silken thread.
fabric half so raro
man or angel scon,
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.
AU our ro.it; rims uft<
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.
It Is but an undent tale
Of the mythologie lore,
; bravest efforts full,
When heart is weak und strength is frail,
all the more.
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.
A Story With Ai
'Have you examined the bill, James?*
" Yfos, sir."
I find two errors."
" Ah, let mo see."
Tho lad handed his employer a long
bill that had been placed on Iris desk for
" 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
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
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
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
"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
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
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
Thus it went ou until James was in
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
There was something about tho
ments of Mr. Carman for tho rest of tho
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.
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
"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
you feel better?" ask ml Mrs.
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
" 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
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
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
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
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
"Only a few weeks*fli?r I went into
his employment, I examined a bill by
his direction, and discovered an error of
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
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
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
* him, sobbed aloud, ami »end
ing over, laid her hand on his head say
" My poor boy ! my poor boy !"
•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 !"
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
" 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."
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
Altersomo general ronsc
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.—
y Bergen, J. suoui
* 1 offered to try and find out for her
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
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
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
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
about phantom shapes, I took my books
and worked out
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.
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
xiety tho hour of mid
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,
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
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
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
ny other terms
[Written for tho Clayton Herald.]
THE MONOTONY OF LIFE.
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
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
excitement on every succeeding
sloif. We take off
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
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
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 '
out effort oil
tudes of our existence.
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
lioi.MKsmrRa. Pa., )
July 12 th, 1 S 0 D. >
Moral oi* a pall* of Stocking.*».
The following wi
y l:t ly.of Troy, N. \\,
Ige of New Haven,
ol' Iris ma
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<
•so, making exist
ence one fair and consistent piece, until,
together, having pissed the heel, you
como to the very too of life,
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
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,
Hoping that these stocking
monitions may meet a civil reception, I
ain iu tho true blue friendship,
seemly, yet without seeming 3*ours,
FROM TOl* TO TOE«
"In Bette it Circumstances,"—H en
ry Waril Beecher «113*8 :
" It is true that men do not know hew
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."
l have not ahvavif been
<• umstauccs. Because vou one
and vanity dressed i
nd now you wear calico.
silk, are not half
meekness and gentle
ness dressed in the plainestgurb, 3*0.1, i*i
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.
xml | txt