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T1 IE -lOl’HXAL is PITIMSUKI) EVERY SATURDAY MORNING, 1)Y SEAMAN is. GORDON. Office on Main St. nearly opposite St. Charles Hotel. Terms.—The Journal will be furnished to sub scribers at the following rates : For one year $10 oo " six months 5 oo “ three months 3 00 Advertisements conspicuously inserted on the following terms : One square, first inssrtion $ t 00 For each subsequent insertion 2 00 A square consists of Ten lines, or less. A reasonable reduction from the above rates will be made to yearly advertisers. BOOK & JOB PRINTING. Having recently made large additions to our stock of JOBBING MA TKit I A LS, we are now prepared to execute every description of f>LMW fc*ANCYf»At!9T$Jia in the best style of the art, and with promptness and DESPATCH, t-8~ Orders from abroad for Advertising or J011 Printing, to ensure prompt attention, should in all cases be accompanied with the Cash. Stletttfr Tin* Little Watcher. IIY A MIXER. Mother, how long will papa stay Ayont the prairies wild ? And when will he come hack, to kiss 11 is long forsaken child, And chase the sorrow from thy brow That's settled there so deeply now '! Mother, 1 fear he ne'er will come, Hut in some lonesome glen lie’s buried deep beneath the snow, Or in the grizzly's den ; Or in the bottom of the sen, lie never thinks of you and me. No. mother, no. lie can't be dead ! W hen summer (lowers spring Vpon the hills and mention's green, And birds begin to sing, We'll see him coming down the lane, And kiss his sun-burnt cheek again. We'll take his picture from (lie wall. And wreathe it now with (lowers, And when he conies I'll tell him how You prayed for him (or hours — That while I slept the angels came And whispered in my ear his name. And when w e hear the Sabbath bell, We'll lead him to the grave, To show where little brother sleeps, Down where you willows wave ; And then we’ll oiler thanks to God, And press our foreheads on the sod. *— fiierra Citizen. The ( onllitt of tine 10th Century. WIicii Freedom, on her natal day, Within her war-rocked cradle lay, An iron race around her stood, Jiuptized her infant brow with blood, And through the storms tlmt round her swept, Their constant ward and watchingjeept. Then where the quiet hoards repose, The baleful roar of battle rose | And brethren of a common tongttc To mortal strife ns tigers sprung, And every gilt on Freedom's shrine Was limn for beast, and Idood for wine. Our fathers to tlicir graves have gone, Their strife’s are o’er, their triumphs won ; Hut nobler conflicts wait the race That rises in their honored place ; A moral warfare with the crime And folly of an evil time. •So let it be. In (iod’s own might ; We gird us for the coining light ; And strong in him whose cause is ours In conllict with unholy powers, We grasp the weapons he has given— The Light, the Love, and Truth of Heaven 1 A uentlkman who had been married some live or six months, having occasion to visit a distant city, was somewhat startled on re eeiving a telegraphic despatch to the effect that his wife ‘ had a child the night before.’ lie was considerably troubled, at first, but the matter turned out to be a telegraphic blunder —his wife having had a chii.i.. An Agricultural Addition.-— 'I'hc Lynn News tells a good story of two boys, one of whom was boastiugof the beauties of his fa ther’s house. ‘ It has got a cupola,’said lie, ‘ and it’s going to have something else.’— ‘ What is it’ asked iiis interested companion. ‘ Why, 1 heard father tell mother this morn ing that it’s going to have a mortgage on it !’ Matrimony.— A lively female, who found the cords of Hymen not quite so silky as she expected, gave vent to her feelings poctico. We have room for but two of her stanzas. The penultimate line is expressive : — When I was young I used to earn My living without trouble ; Jlnd clothes ami pocket-money too, And hours of leisure double. 1 nrvidreamed of such a fate. When I, a-lass! was courted— Wife, mother, nurse,seamstress, cook, laun dress housekeeper, chambermaid, dairy woman, and scrub generally, doing the work o six, For the sake of being supported! , — Hat. Magazine. A lady at Columbus, Ohio, recently in quired of the spirit-rappers how many chil dren she had ? ‘ Four,’ rapped the spirit. The husband startled at the accuracy of the reply, stepped up and inquired : ‘ How ma ny children have 1 V ‘ Two P answered the rapping medium. The husband and wife looked at each other, with an odd smile on their faces for a moment, and then retired non-believers. There had been a mistake made somewhere. The Mythological God of the Miners. ran. WEAVE11VILLE, T HIM TV COUNTY, CAL.. SATURDAY HOMING, MARCH I. Boy Love. —One of the queerest and fun niest things to think of in after life, is ‘Boy love.’ A'o sooner does a boy acquire a toler able stature, than he begins to imagine him self a man, and to ape manish ways. He easts sidelong glances at tall girls he may meet, becomes a regular attendant at church or meeting; swings a cane, carries his head erect, and struts a little in his walk. Pres ently, and how very soon, he fulls in love; yes, fulls is the proper word, because it best indicates his happy, delirious self-abasement, lie now lives in a fairy region, somewhere collateral to the world, and yet, somehow, blended inextricably with it. lie perfumes his hair with fragrant oils, scatters essences over his handkerchief, and desperately shaves and anoints for a beard, lie quotes poetry in which ‘love’ and ‘dove’ and ‘heart’ and ‘dart’peculiarly predominate; and he plunges deeper in the delicious labyrinth; fancies himself filled with the divine aillutus, and suddenly breaks into a scarlet rash—of rhyme, lie feeds upon the looks of his be loved; is raised to the seventh heaven if she speaks a pleasant word; is betrayed into the most astonishing exstacies by a smile, and is plunged into the gloomiest regions of mis anthropy by a frown. He believes himself the most devoted lover in the world. There never was such another. There never will be. He is the one great idolator! He is the very type of magnanim ity and self-abnegation. Wealth! lie des pises the grovelling thought. Poverty, with the adorable beloved, he rapturously apos trophizes as the first of all earthly blessings; and 'love in a cottage with water and a crust,’ is the beau ideal paradise of dainty delights. He declares to himself, with the most sol emn emphasis, that he would go through fire and water, undertake a pilgrimage to China or Kamschatka; swim storm-tossed oceans; scale impassable mountains; and face legions of bayonets, but for one sweet smile from her dear lips. He doats upon a flower she lias cast away. He cherishes her glove—a little worn in the fingers—next his heart. He sighs like a locomotive letting oiTsteam, lie scrawls her dear name over quires of foolscap—fitting medium for his insanity.— He scornfully depreciates the attention of other boys of his own age; cuts Peter Thib betts dead, because he said that the adora ble Angelina had carroty hair; and passes Harry Bell contemptuously, for daring to compare ‘that gawky Mary Jane,’ with his incomparable Angelina. Happy! happy I foolish boy love; with its hopes, and its fears, its joys and its sorrows; its jealousies, its delights; its raptures and its tortures; its exstatic fervors and terrible heart-burnings; its solemn ludierousness, and its intensely prosaic termination. Lessons or Contentment. — It happened once, in a hot summer’s day, I was standing near n well, when a little bird flew down, seeking water. There was, indeed, a large trough near the well, but it was empty, and I grieved for a moment to think that the little creature must go away thirsty; but it settled upon the edge of the trough, bent its little head forward, then raised it again, spread its wings and soared away singing; its thirst was appeased. 1 walked up to the trough, and there, in the stone work, I saw a little hole about the size of a wren’s egg. The water held there had been a source of revival and refreshment; it had found enough for the present, and desired no more. This is contentment. Again, 1 stood by a lovely, sweet smell ing flower, and there came a bee, humming and seeking; and it chose the flower for its field of sweets. But the flower had no hon ey. This I know for it had no nectary. — What then, thought I, will the bee do? It came buzzing out of the cup to take a fur ther flight—but it spied the stamina full of golden farina, good for making wax, and it rolled its legs against them until they looked like yellow hose, as the bee-keepers say, and then heavily laden, flew away home. Then said I—‘Thou earnest Reeking honey, and finding none, lias been satisfied with wax, and hast stored it for thy house, that thy labor may not be in vain. This, likewise, shall he to me a lesson of contentment.’ The night is fur spent —the dark night of trouble—that sometimes threatened to close around us, but the day is at hand, and even in the night there arc stars, and I have looked out on them and been comforted; for as one set, I could always see another rise, and each was a lamp showing me somewhat of the depth of of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God. Why is a laundress like conscience? Because she brings so many things home to us. Very true. DEVOTED TO THE INTERESTS OF TlilXri'Y COVXtY. For the Journal. The Minor's Last Dream- n Y K V K I. Y N . On a Sierra, where cheerless and dreary, Murmured a streamlet, whose sands were of gold : A lone band of miners lived wayworn and weary, Shaded by cedars so gloomy and old. And there sat a youth, in wild desolntion. \\ utching the stream that ran ceaselessly on ; Sighing, he wept that no consolation, Could for the loss of a mother atone. Long had he labor'd and toiled, yet in vain. No smile of Dame Fortune could ever be won, And temptation resisted again and again, Hut more deeply erased what Hope lmd begun. Few were his days,sickness shorten'd their number. And delirium seized on his fevi r-tossed brain : Yet he smiled, as hcdream't, in his last broken slumber, The form of a mother stood by him again. No other he saw, when awaking he said, “ Now, mother, imprint the last kiss on my cheek ; For soon 1 shall peacefully rest with the dead, And no more tor your heart-stricken child may you seek.’’ beneath the dark pines they buried him low, Hut they knew that his hope, which could never be riven, Gleamed brightly and clear in Htrrnitv’s glow, Of meeting that mother, on earth or in heaven. “ Yes, my native laud I love thee, All thy scenes 1 love them well ; Friends, connections, happy country, Can I tiid you all farewell! Can 1 leave you, lovely native land, farewell.' Which of us but can remember scenes of our early years, that endears to ns with ten der endearments, the home of our childhood and youth, and brings with it associations thut can never be erased—scenes that are perhaps trivial at once both in nature and design. Vet how indellibly are they stamp ed upon our choicest memories ; making the land of our birth and home of our youth the most tenderly loved of all lands. We may find more beautiful and enebantive vales, — more bright sun-shine and lovelier skies, clearer rivers and purer atmosphere,— yet all cannot shut from the mind’s-eye those early joys which are still enshrined in mem ory’s deep and hidden mines ; perhaps we might say with the much admired poet : “ Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue." Home, too, how sweet the word, and even the thought ; how true the sentiment in tin old familiar verse ‘ Ihel’C is no place like home.’ While on this foreign shore, how doubly dear is everything that 1ms the slightest connection with home. With what earnest anxiety is the eastern mail looked for—and how many overjoyed hearts, with blinding tears, reach forth the trembling hand to receive dear mementoes of love, that have passed many weary miles ‘o bring to our hearts unspeakable joy or grief. In the loneliness of the ‘stilly night,' when visions of home, and scenes of by-gone clays, crowd our memories, driving sweet Morpheus from our otherwise drowsy eye-lids, how often are pictured the old hearth-stone with its anthra cite burning brightly in the grate—the cir cle of living, loved ones that have lived but in the light and joy of each other. —JMilks Budget. Turn I’oETitY — In these namby-pamby days, it is refreshing to meet, occasionally, with a poetic stanza that has soul in it, and — meaning. Suc h are the following lines, from Hie pen of Mrs. Judson, (Funny For rester,) written in (lie first days of her wid owhood. We found them in the Home Jour. Again down life's dim labyrinth 1 grope my way alone ; While, wildly through the midnight sky, black, hurrying clouds are blown ; And thickly in my tangled path, Thu sharp, bare thorns arc town. Yet firm my foot, for well I know The goal cannot he far ; And ever, through the rilled clouds, ■Shines out one steady slar,-- I'nr when mt/ g uide unit 111 1 , he lift The pearly yates ajar. —Nat. Magazine. A Fine Roy.—A little fellow, not more than five years old, hearing some gentlemen at his father's table 'discussing the familiar line, ‘ An honest man’s the noblest work of Hod,’ said 1 lie knew it wasn’t true ; for his mother was better than any man.’ Can any ono tell us why it is considered impolite for gentlemen to go into the pres ence of ladies in their shirt sleeves, while it is considered correct for ladies to appear be fore gentlemen without any sleeves at ull ? A Western editor wishes to know wheth er the law recently enacted against carrying deadly weapons, applies to doctors w ho cur ry pills in their pockets. Our old friend, Mrs. Partington, was very indignant on hearing that the Russians bail taken Jlight; at the same time she observed that it must have been an outlaudish sort of place at best, for she couldn’t find it any where on the map. Model Local Items. —A Boston paper gives the following model specimen of local items: A gentleman in passing along State street yesterday afternoon, dropped his cane and when he went to pick it tip, he did it. The cane had no ferule on it, the head was gone, and pretty soon the stick went —along with its owner. A kitten was seen chasing its tail on a door step of a house near the corner of Aim and Boylston streets last night. There was no policeman in sight at the time, and it is not ascertained, therefore, whether she caught it or not. The dome ot the State House still remains in its present position, and there are rumors that it will do so still longer, unless it should not. A man was seen looking at it the other day. As an omnibus was passing by Deer Is lane hospital, on its way to the outer light house, a large Newfoundland dog was ob served to open his mouth. Bystanders thought the animal intended to bark, but it was ascertained he was only gaping. tta>'• A better story than the* following, which comes from North Carolina, we have not found in many a month. About thirty miles above Wilmington, V (\, lived three fellows, named respectively Barham, Stone, and Crap, on the hanks of the North Hast Uivrr. They came down to Wilmington in a small row-boat, and made fast to the wharf. They had a time of it in the city, 1ml for fear they would be dry before getting home, they procured a jug of whiskey, and after dark, of a black night too, they embarked in their boat, expecting to reach home in the morning. They rowed away with all the energy that three half-tip sy fellows could muster, keeping up their spirits in the darkness by pouring the spirits down. At break of day they thought they must be near home, and seeing through the dim gray of the morning a house on the river side, Stone said: “Well, Barham, we've got to your place at last.’ 'll this is my house,’ said Barham, ‘some body has been putting up a lot of outhouses since I went away yesterday; but I will go ashore and look about, and see where we are, if you’ll hold her too.’ Barham disembarks, takes observation, and soon comes stumbling along back, and says: ‘Well, I’ll be whipped if we ain’t at Wi! mington here yet; and what's more, the boat has been hitched t o the whart' all night!' It was a fact, and the drunken dogs had been rowing away for dear life without know ing it. Ml! '. I’aKTINUTON at A Si NOAV Comt.kt. ! ‘Who is tliat'l" said Mrs. Purtington, in a big whisper, at the Musical Hall, on Sunday night, during the performance of the Orato rio of Solomon. ‘That’s Solomon,’ said I he one she ad dressed, tapping out the time on his thumb, with the libretto. ‘And those in front,’ said she, pointing to the ladies on the platform, ‘arc some of his seven hundred wives, I s’poso, and the men up heliiud ’em, must, lie the children of Is rael. W ell, Solomon must have been a wise man to know how to take care of so munv wives, but he wasn’t any better than he j should be, if all the stories are true. Ah, what blessed music that istobesure! How much better than that which folks hear on wcek-n-dnys in play-houses, played on god less fiddles!’ She seated herself in an attentive altitude, listening to the music, while Ike sat count ing the new gas-lights round the hail, and drumming ‘Jordan’ on the arm of the settee. A Shout ('it to Infamy.- Tease living with your wife and commence living with a woman. People anxious to reach the peni tentiary, w ould act wisely in cut ting thisout and posting it in their hats. Living with a ‘woman’ leads to family feuds, lawsuits, and assassinations. During the past five years, we have known no less than seven well known citizens embark in this sort of specu lation. Of this number, one lias been hung, two are in the State Prison, and the other four are under indictments for ‘assault with intent to kill.’ The difference between a wife and a ‘woman’ is infinite. One leads to happiness and endless bliss, and the other to the Grand Jury rooms and outer darkness A boy at school in the West, when called to recite his lesson in history, was asked.— ‘ What is the German Diet V ‘ Sourkrout, pretzels, schnapps, hint worst, weincr suit 1 zel and lager beer,’ was the replv i From Carrington's Commtssionairo. To .lolin PtlO'iii\, •Min I'licruix ! you're a trump, and • nothing short ■\mi duln t ought : you really didn’t ought or, Como down upon ns in that wicked style. And • nary’ grin upon your phiz the while. We've read some books, by tunny authors too; There's Doe-stieks, Dickens, i'artington ; but you, immortal Squibob! You can • take are file.' Youv’e non the game, 1 old boss' you've • raked the pile,' SrKki.k I’en is married, in? are free from knots. And lor.M'ijneatly live ‘ around in spots ;' So Steele says sometimes, in a friendly way, ' Come, take pot luck with us.’ The other day We did the same : and having found his fare Not bad, fell feebly in his elbow chair. Dividing with the pleasure of reflection The serious duties of a due digestion : declining thus in a beatitic state. Staring at nothing in the cheerful grate, Steele thrust a volume in our nerveless hand. And -aid. (Mi, ljt ti.i t:, read read and under stand.’ We look the book, and with a previous sigh I urticd on tli" title page a languid eye : A mortal shudder shook us to the core ; A 11 mul) book!' we shrieked. ■ no more! no more! < Ml, eruel Steele, could not • Young Sam' sullleo ? Wu i wo be slaughtered with blunt arrow - twice ?' Steele laughed, and said, •Smooth down your feathers IJnillc, l.ook in the book, then ‘ smash' it if you will.’ We did look in ; and presently a smile Broke feebly upward through the seething l>ile. the smile grew or end, and widened to a grin I In' grin grew deep, ami let a giggle in The giggle grew, and ended w ith a laugh The laugh grew strong and Steele began to ‘chilli" We heeded not the laugh became a roar The roar, a shout the shout, a shriek. Before Assistance came, we writhed upon the floor, In all the agonies of llerco gull iw. W’e • ca\ od.‘ the thing w as • up.’ A gentle dram (Internally applied) of Wolfe’s Sehiedam, lii stored us la a eonvale.-eeiit state. We drew our slippers from beneath the grate W here we had ku ked them, and with tearful look, (lazed at the comers of the I’humix book. And thus soliloquized : ‘John I’laiaiix, you Are • punk Ills you are • some.’ if not a ' few’ \ ou ve • knocked' the tribe of tunny scribblers ‘ cold They 're ‘dished’ and' done lor,' 1 doubl d up,'and ‘ sold,’ They how l at you, great John,but never mind 'em. In a lew years ’twill trouble one to hud ’em, W bib-t thou shall llourish in immortal youth 1 uhiirt amid the war of elements (lire, earth, air, and water.) the wreck of (animate and iniin imatc) matter, and the crush of (several) w orlds.’ Dk (1. Q. Com; move, the dramatist, is tin* author of the oft-ijiiotrd line Music hath charms to soothe a sa\ age bleu-1..' ll occurs in the opening lines of his tritg oily of ‘The Mourning llride,’iu the follow ing connection * Mus.e has charms to sliothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted o ik. I \ e read that things inanimate have niov • d. And. n- with living nails, have been informed By magic numbers and p'-rsuasive sound.’’ Ini. Wur aw (Mu.) I)nni i r.il Inis the fol lowing : ‘We sifikc 1 lie nmues of t wo of our subscribers from our books Ibis week, who have recently been hung in Texas. We do it because we two not advised, ns yet, of their present locality. We shall take pleasure in sending I lie Democrat to l heir address- an soon ns we hear front them.’ A I’m a i .-> pa mi; by a .itone tun mi' shop, bawled out ‘ (i in a I morning, Mr IV, llard at work, I see. mi finish your grave stones us lar us, ‘ In memory of,’ and then wait, 1 suppose, to see who wants a inotm nieiil. next?’ ‘ W hy, yes,’replied the old limn ; ‘ unless somebody’s sick, and you are doctoring him then I keep right on.’ lit-:.vt Tin i. K.XTitAt r- helping a young la dy oat of a mucl puddle. ‘ I Have very little respect for the ties of this world,’ as the rogue said when the rope was around his neck. Do not utter velvet words if you would accomplish stony deeds. A Uuon Hit A clergyman, at an alter noon service, was asked |o read a notice of n ‘ woman’s rights’ lecture, whereupon, lie stretched out his hands, pioiiouurcd tlie ben ediction, then euteliiug up u piece of paper, said lie had forgot to rend the following no tice : A t half-past six to-night, at the school house in the first district, a hen will attempt to new! A I’itovmn of which California lies prov ed the fallacy ' Wright wrongs no man.’ A st nsciui«i;u writing to a western editor, says : ‘ I don’t want your paper any longer.' To which the editor replied : ‘ I wouldn’t make iL any longer if you <li<l ; its present length suits me very well.’ Because one likes softness in a woman’s hand and heart, it doesn’t follow that a like i|iiulily is to be admired in her head. That was a keen reply of a buxom lassie to a little pigmy of a man who solicited a matrimonial connection 1 (), no,’ said the fair lady, ‘ I can't think of it for a moment. The fact is, .John, you are a little too big to put into a cradle, and a little too small to put into a bed.’ W in,' said a married man, looking for a boot-jack, after she Was in bed, ‘ I have u place for all things, and you ought to know it by tliis time.’ ‘ I ought to know where you keep your late hours, too, but I don’t.’ A j.ivn sucker called at an Illinois post office lately, and asked for ‘a dime’s worth of post office kivers, with freedoms on ’em ’ 8*ay The following article on ‘Woman's \N rungs,’ is from a correspondent of the San l- raneiseo !•'wrung BullUin: Furron Bv u.v.Trv. —Dear Sir:—From the letter ol yesterday, signed S, with editorial remarks, 1 perceive that tbo writer, like my sell, has been subjected to insult and shame, livtm which, in the present state of society tlterc is no redress or hope, unless the ladies take up arms in their own defence, and hr exposing and opposing the liberties of men, who will pass the early part of the evening in the society ofvirtiiou.s females, discour iug upon the charms of domestic life, and the solace of home, and virtuous associations! and directly upon leaving, cross the street and enter a house of ill fame, and there in the face of truth, honesty ami self-respect, join the Imchanal and obscene orgies of wan tons, which would have disgraced the pagan mysteries of the goddess The cool ef frontery of men who have enacted this scene, did not allow themselves even the screen of a curtain, or a window sash, to prevent a view of their persons, and the sound of their voices front reaching the house of their re cent entertainers, who were startled and a mazed with the ribald jests and oaths of visitors, whose voices but a few moments before bad been modulated in the persuasi ve eloipienee bestowed by the classical impress of Yale ! We could scarcely believe the testimony of our senses, but our ow n names, connected with a rude, unfeeling jest, pro nounced in a loud tone, painfully impressed us with the reality tours (lowed freely (iod grant that they may never feel lie measure of our misery, caused bv them at that moment unless by the reaction of sin cere ami heartfelt repentance, We were rooted to the spot with horror, for among them was the husband ot a de< r friend, a lady ennobled with nil the uttr * butes of a virtuous and loving depositin' , and a mind for companionship with an in tel ligeiil, and reasonable man, above price or earthly equivalent, and a trust in the truth and integrity of her husband's virtue, tfiat would have scarcely believed, in onr position, the evidence of her own senses, .'■ he had made him her idol of earthly adoration. Ilovv wantonly had he belied her trust, ai <1 betrayed her confidence which had cheered and upheld him in .sickness and adversity? To leave her upon a bed of sickness, with her pledge of affection, for the soul destroy ing and (lod forsaken haunts of prostitution tin' marts of man’s sensual lust ! Is it possible that man in his deep de pravity can look unmoved bv pity upon the desolation and ruin of (jod’s fairest work ? Can he call that pleasure which degrades his victim of Hellish lust, below the brute, robs her of caste, friends, and the virtuous com panionship of her sc.v, of hope here and here after ! Are there no means of rescue or re demption for woman’s virtue a gainst the ni'nhil enmity and exterminatin'.:'war waged by nmn’s lust '! (Hadly would 1 extend the hand of sisterly friendship (if it could In’ done without condemnation in the sight of man and my own sex) to all that Would re ceive its aid, to regain the path of rectitude. Although the woiind- of that night may not be healed, I still hope that the spirit which prompted these lines will prove beneficial in their application. I kii Nii'-iiir. II you woulij Imvc ti (Vi ml V<>u must find him; uml as lliis is mi impor liiut point to gain, too much cure cannot ho bestowed upon your search. I5i! very can* lions in your selection—as it is not every man who culls himself, or even appears to la; your friend who really is such. Before you venture to entertain the friendship of any man, or offer him yours, he perfectly as ! sured I hat he is worthy of it; do not rash I v In e siprht of this precaution, as on its proper observance depends the comfort, nay, even safely, of your choice. Never believe that real friendship can exist without respect; therefore, if you observe in the character, habits, or di-.position of any of your acquain tances that tends to lessen your es teem for him ns an individual or a Christian, do not think to make that man your friend. \\ lien you have found a friend, your next care must he to keep him. This will depend almost entirely upon yourself. Solomon says, ‘A friend luveth at all limes;’ but do not presume too much, uor ever tak" advan tage of your position, by making it the plea for a careless and neglectful manner. The baneful influence of such behavior is too of ten seen in family relationships, and be as sured it is most detrimental in diminishing that respect which is indispensable to true friendship. Family, you will do well to re member the proverb of the wise man above quoted—‘A man that hath friends must show himself friendly; and there is a friend that stieketh closer than a brother,’ NO. (i.