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tx"x i The Blind Boy. An editor, from ho,e Section, . take the f. "owing line; hu beautifully said, that, for himself, h. iould not m to read &em trough: fj tt was a blessirf summer's ... K The litU. bird! PJ , Beta the deep woods' simpls shads. ! ' Till suddenly 1 P? ... ..-. X ebUdre whs tuwl Uutter strajea. ... Just it 11 tge beech trte'i foot, a I... I. kn. and lilt RCllDedt ; i H i hand i hers tin "tlj put. Aid th I U oj was Wind. Thschildrem saewwrtlwas aesr i , tree ooicealed we ! their new J But til they said I well could hear, Aad I could tee all thqr might do. " Dear Mary I" laid the poor blind boy, "That Utile bird slug! very long, Sat, do you see him in his joy, . And it he pretty as his song 1 "Tes, Edward, yes." replied the maid, 1 I tee the bird on yonder tree i" .; The poor boy sighed, and gently said, "Sister, I wish that I eould see 1 "The flowersi yon say, are Tery fair, And bright green leaves are on the trees, ' Aid pretty birds are singing there, " How beautiful tor one who sees 1" "Yet I the fragrant flowers el Smell, ;, , And 1 can leel the green leaf's shade, . f Aid 1 can hear the notes that swell From those dear birds that God has made. . . . !'8o, sister, God to me Is kind, t Though siglit, alas I He has not given; t Buttell me. are there any blind Among Uie ehildren up in heaven i "No, dearest Edward, there all tee s But why ask me a thing so odd I" "Oh, Mary, He's so good to me, I thought I'd 1 ke to too at God I" Ere long, disease his hand had laid On that dear bnr, so meek an mild i His widowed mother wept and prayed That God would spare her sightless child. He felt her warm tears on his laoe, And said, "Oh, never weep lor me, I'm going to a bright, bright place, Where, Mary suys, I God shall see." "And you'll come there, dear Mary, too j But. mother, dear, when you come there, Tell Blward, mother, that 'tis you You know I never saw you here 1" He ip"Ve no more, but sweetly smiled, Until the final blow was given j When God took up that poor blind child And opened firat his eyes in heaven. Fate of a Drunkard. , BT DICKENS. When the dim and misty light of a winter's morning penetrated into the nar row court, and struggled through the be ; wrimmed window of the wretched room, Warden awoke from his heavy sleep, and found himself alone. He rose and looked around him ; the old flock mat tress on the floor was undisturbed ; every thing was just as he remembered to have seen it last, and there was no sign of any one save himself, having occupied the room during the night. He had in quired ot the other lodgers and of the neighbors, but his daughter had not been seen or heard of. He rambled through ue streets, and scrutinized each wretch-1 ed face among the crowd that thronged them with anxious eyes. But his seaich j was fruitless, and he returned to the gar ret when night came on, desolate and weary. For many days he occupied himself in the same manner, but no traces of his daughter did he meet with, and no word . ef her he hears. At last he gave up the ', pursuit as hopeless, and long thought of 'the probability of her leaving him, and 1 endeavoring to gain her bread in quiet ' elsewhere. She had left him at last to starve alone. He eround his teeth and ; cursed her. ,' He begged his bread from door to , door. Every half-penny he could wring from the pity or credulity of those to whom he adureseed himself, was spent ri in the old way. A year passed over his head ; the roof of a jail was the only one that sheltered him for many months. tHe slept under arches and in brick fields ' j anywhere where there was some : warmth or shelter from the cold and oil rain. But in the last stajre of poverty. ,, i disease, and houseless want, he was a ... drunkard still. ,. At last one bitter night, he sunk down on a, door-step, faint and ill. The pre mature decay of vice and profligacy had worn him to the bone. His cheeks were hollow and livid ; his eyes were sunken, and their sight was dim. His legs trem bled beneath his weight, and a cold hivpr ran through very limb. Ml And now the long forgotten scenes of MWI 11 1 "' ' ' if i THE OHIO ORGAN OF THE a misspent wo crowuou ..v. upon him. He thought of the time he had a home, a happy, cheerful home, and of tl ose who peopled it and flocked about him then, until the forms of his alder children seemed to rise up from the grave and stand about him so plain, so clear, and so distinct they were, that . ir. I n fhi,ip inn liar he could touon ana ieei mem. nuu that he had long forgotten, were fixed upon him once more; oices long since , hushed in death, sounded in his ears like too music of village, bells. But it was only for an instant, l ne rain oeai ueavi ly upon him, and cold and hunger were gnawing at his heart again. tie rose ana urngijcu u - a few paces further. The street was si lent and erapty-Mhe fevy ; passers by, at that late hour, hurried quickly on, and his tremulous ? oice was lost ia toe vio lence of the storm. The heavy chill throush his frame, and his kff -.mail to stagnate beneath it. He coiled himself up in a projecting door way, and tried to sleep. , ' But sleer) had 'fled from his dull and glazed- eyes. His mind , wandered strangely, b he was awake and con scious. The well known shout of drunk en mirth sounded in his earjtnegiass was at his lip; the board was covered with rich food: they were before him; hamnld see them all: he had' but to reach his band and take them; and though the illusion was reality itself, he knew that he was sitting alone in the deserted street,-watching the Tain-drops as they pattered on the stones; and that there were none to care for or help him. Suddenly he started up in the extremi ty of terror. He had heard his own voice shouting in the night air ; he knew not what or why. Hark! A groan 1 Another ! His senses were leaving him ; half formed and ' incoherent words burst from his lips; and his hands sought to tear and lacerate his flesh, He was go ing mad, and he shrieked Tor help till his voice tailed him. He raised his head and looked up the long dismal street. He recollected that outcasts like himself, condemned to wan der" day and night in those dreadlul streets, had sometimes gone distraoted with their loneliness. He remembered to have heard many years before that a homeless wretch had once been found in a solitary comer sharpening a rusty knife to plunge into his own heart, pre ferring death to that endless, weary wan dering to and fro. In an instant his re solve was taken ; he ran quickly lrom the spot and paused not for breath until ne reacnea me river siue. He crept softly down the steep stone stairs that led from the commencement of Waterloo bridge down to the water's level. ' He crouched into a corner, and held his breath as the patrol passed. Never did a prisoner's heart throb with the hope of liberty and life half so eagerly as did that of the wretcned man at tna pros pect of death. The watch passed close to him, but he remained unobserved; and after waiting till the sound of foot steps had died away in the distance, he cautiously descended and stood beneath the gloomy arch that torms the landing place from the river. The tide was in, and the water flowed at his feet. The. rain had ceased, the wind was lulled, and all was, for the mo ment, still and quiet; bo quiet, that the rippling of the water against the barges that were moored there was distinctly audible to his ears. The stream stole languidly and sluggishly on. Strange and fantastic forms rose to the surface, and beckoned him to approach; dark gleaming eyes peerea irotn tne water, and seemed to mock his hesitation. while hollow raurmers from behind urged him onward. He retreated a lew paces, took a short run, a desperate leap, and plunged into the river. Not five seconds had passed when he rose to the water's surface : but what a haU taken place in that short time in all his thoughts and feelings! L,ue, uie in anyiorm; poverty, misery, starvation, anything but death. He fought and struggled with the water that closed over his head, and screamed in agonies ol terror, the curse of his own son rung in bis ears. The shore but one foot of dry ground he could almost touch the step. One hand's breadth nearer, and he was saved but the tide bore him onward, under the dark arches ot the bridge, and he sank to the bot torn. Again he rose and struggled for me. r or one instant, tor one brief in TEMPERANCE REFORM. stant, the buildings on the river's bank, the light on tba bridge under which the current had borne him, the-black water and the fast flying clouds, were distinctly visible ; once more he sunk and again he rose; bright flames of fire shot up from earth to heaved, and .reeled before his eyes, whilst the watet tbundereJ in his ears, and stunned him with the fu rious roar.""' ' FA week afterwards the.body was wash: ed ashore ' some tnileVdown the river, a swollen and disfigured mass. Unrecog nized and unpitted, it was' borne away to the grave. There it has long since moulded away. . .. s i !r, A-Tru Sketch ; ''The following YaifhtW picture, drawn by James H. Smith, Esq., Associate Edi tor Of the Wilmington" Free Press, actu ally transpired in bur own city of. Ra leiarh. We well remember the soul- thrilling cries and harrowing shrieks of the heart-broken mother. ! We stood near the gallows as the unfwtunate victim was prepared for the fatal drop, and warned the multitude around to beware of strong drink, the foul demon that had brought him to his . awful, end. Anxiously he looked for, and seemed to expect the ap proach of a Courier bearing the Govern or's Reprieve! and writhing under (error and suspense, he. would cry "It is hard it is hard lor one so young to die the felon's death Oh!' whisky, whisky cursed whiskv I it has mined me." J'tne last five minutes of his time had come; the Sheriff adiusted the rope and death' cap the fatal cord was struck and poor Madison Johnson nung Deiween neaven and earth the disgraced and lifeless vic tim of strong drink. Eo. Spirit or thb Age.' . i : '; .,n ', ' ::. . : I : ?u - In the davs of mv bovhood I knew a young man who was in the 18th year of his 1 age,' or thereabouts, l he healthy blood flowed in his veins, and he bid fair to live many years.. But, although nurtured by tender parents and taught to avoid evil practices, he mingled in evil company, and at last no began to drink n r ' . i ' i i liquor, nis iamer, wno Kept a grog shop, ascertaining that he drank to ex cess, forbid the clerk from letting his son have any, on pain of being discharged. A few days after this order, the young man entered Ins lather's shop, ana ae marwlnd drink of brand v. "Your father has positively forbade me letting you have any," said the good- natured cleric. : . , , : "I don't care what he or you says either," shouted the young man, for his passion was becoming ungovernable. ' "You can't have any liquor, from this place, sir." "l cannot f" "Not a drop." , i 1 - "Then I'll have something else," said the young man, fiercely, drawing a pis tol from his pocket and presenting it at the frightened cleric. ; n "Give me liquor." "I'll die first." "Then die, I'll have liquor." , A report, and the clerk fell a corpse on the floor. The murderer was arretted. Mad with the effects of brandy, he raged the more those around endeavored to pacify him. He became the sole occu pant of a dismal dungeon the felon's home, and too often the poor drunkard's home. The unfortunate youth was left alone alone with his own conscience, and with no eve to watch the operations of remorse when he became sober, but the eye of the Eternal., 1 he awful day ot his trial is at nana He is put upon his trial and pleads not guilty. Counsel use every stratagem to clear him, but after a patient investiga tion, twelve honest and capable men nronounce him guilty or murder. The Judge, with a sad heart yet an unyield ns tense ot dutv. Dronounces tne areaa ful sentence of death upon the doomed man. He is remanded back to ms aun geon home, where, cut off from hope in this world, he miaht prepare for eternity. tne revolving wheels ot time bring tne fatal Friday; the crowds of men are gathering here and there, every pulse beating wildly. The law will be en forced, dm what gnet-stricicen group is this who are wending their, way to the Governor's mansion! . They are the parents of the doomed youth. They are making another soul-moving appeal to ihe Governor. Seel they are kneeling at his feet, and are pleading for the first pledge of their early love. The wild screams of the heart-broken mother ring out clear upon the air, and reach even the cell of her beloved son. But there is a voice far louder than the temfio wail of that mother. Justice thunders to the officer, "See thou pardon him not blood for blood." Hope has fled all is lost I With the crowd we hasten to .the pri son The time hai come to proceed lo the. place where Ihe horrible tragedy snail terminate, cehold mm 1 u, God save me from a scene so overwhelming ly appalling. He comes out of his slimy cell dressed in the habiliments of the grave. Mis mother, his once beiovea mother, is there waiting to give him one parting embrace.; j He Jneels down and asks her to forgive him for breaking her poor bean, becoming a drunkard, ana consequently a murderer. Weep, ve angels over a scene like? ' this, f ,0h ! youth ot America, be warned by ms con fession, It wasBum that, did it all. The Sheriff proceeds to the fatal spot. The agitated crc-wd' fofWl 1 TheV reach the.plMe,itAfteT.Mhrt! prayer, the criminal ascends the scaffold, The rope and cap is adjusted; a short pauso, and then a dull, heavy sound fall upoa the air, and the stillness of death come oyer the assembled multitude. , , Justice says' I am satiffied the victim was Blain. ' Rum had done its work.iii I) -T .uil ; Anecdote or Gn, Jackson. The, Hon. and1 Rev. "- -j-, who,, as, a, Baptist preacher anil' Lieutenant1 Governor, had at one and the' same! time been m ine service of , the Lord and the State of, Il linois, becoming dissatisfied with the honors or profits, or both, of the posts he held, determined to resign them, and de vote his time and talents to tne assis tance of the administration 'itt carrying on the general government of the coun try. Accordingly he came to Washing ton and laid his case belore the Presi dent. He stated his pretensions' and his wishes, narrated , at soma length al the events of his- political life, dwelling es pecially upon his untiring deVotion' to the Democratic party, thai sacrifices he had submitted to, the exertions be had made in its, behalf, and, Jti , consequent indebtedness to him, but not a word for what he had done for the cauee of reli gion. Gen. Jack son heard ,the clerical aspirant in silence, and after musing a moment, 'put the following questions to him: "Mr. K., are you not a minister of the gospel 1" -"1 am, sir,"; was the reply. "Then, air," said the General, with his usual quiet, dignity, "you hold already a much higher office than and in my gift; an office whose sacred da lles, properly performed, require your whole attention ; and really 1 think the be.t I can do for you will be to leave you at liberty to devote your whole time to them ; for, from what you tell me, 1 fear that hitherto they have been some what neglected." !'!) .. ; A Model State, .,, Vermont is in the enjoyment of about as many real blessings as any of her sistera of this great Confedera cy. First, she has ner model Pro hibitory Liquor Law, which, among other things, has emptied three of her county prisons. She has no public debt. Her system of education flour ishes with 2.594 school districts, and nearly 100,000 scholars. She has also three flourishing couegtaie insti tutions, and a lar?e number of acade mies and private schools. She has S3 libraries, containing ao.uuu volumes. Th wholo number of newspapers and periodicals published in Vermont, in 1850, was 38. xnere are oou cnurcn es in the State, which accommodate 226,466 persons, and are valued at 91,513,x2U. un tne ursi oi January last, she had 427 miles of railway in operation, and 40 miles in construc tion. ''The Maine Law and.no Pub lic Debt.", When shall we say that of our noble old Keystone ? Lancas ter (Pa) Exprtss. . "l Important. ,, j ., u The editor ot the Galena Jefferso nian, who is a Doctor " by trade," gives it as his deliberate advice that whisky should not be. drank in warm weather. ; He is equally decided on another point, Viz : That it should never be drank when the weather not warm.