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The Trinity journal. [volume] (Weaverville, Trinity County, Cal.) 1856-1857, March 01, 1856, Image 1

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VOL. 1.
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.

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