The home journal., February 03, 1859, Image 1

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HOME
OURNAL
i
Volume III.
She m 0MraL
luYW. J. SLATTEB.
Pledie U Prty' arbitrary wr,
We fbllu Trath where'er Ue leads I he wj .'
Tub Titlu op Professor. There is a
most ridiculous practice now-a days,
of giving the title of Professor to ev-eryjack-a-napes
who has had the good
fortune to take a peep into u collcgo
window. It matters not however in
significant and underserving the per-.-sonages
who bear the title, still you
Shear nothing but Professor so and so,
'Until the very title has become almost
m disgrace, rather than an honor. Wc
'understand that one of these titled
fpersonages not a thousand miles away
'having made application for a sheep
rskin, was passing an examination for
his degree, when failing upon every
subject upon which he w is tried, he
complained that he had not been
questioned upon tho things whi ' he
knew. Upon which, the examining
master tore off about an inch of paper
and pushing it towards him, desired
h'm to write upon that, all he knew.
He had to make off for parts unknown
and forge the name of Professor.
The fables which appeal to our
higher moral sympathies may some
times do as much for us as tho truth of
science.
New Atlantic 'JYleurapii. The
Paris correspondent of the Boston
Journal says that in an interview a
few days since with several English
capitalists, the Emperor expressed his
confidence in the proposed laying of a
telegraphic cable between France and
America, the termination of which is
to bo the city of Boston. The compa
ny is being formed, and the whole
affair will be carried into execution us
rapidly as possible.
The cost of construction and equip
ment of the railroads in the United
States, amount to $1.0511,0(55,870, or
enough money to break down any
other country in the world.
There is a gentleman in New Orl
eans, a merchant and a planter, and,
we regret to add, a bachelor, whose
income this year will reach the hand
some sum of five hundred thousand
dollars, who, twenty-four years ago.
was a clerk with a salary of fifty dol
lars a monjji.
Two fasVygung men formed a part
nership in Boston, Mass., for the pur-
poso of doing a retail business, and
opened two stores in different parts of
the city one partner in each. Their
plan Was crafty, for customers would
visit one of the stores, ascertain the
price of an article, and on stating that
it could be purchased elsewhere for u
less sum, woul 1 be told that there was
but one place in Boston where it could
be done, and that was the store of
(the other partner) who undersold
goods to the infinite disgust of the en
tire trade. The same process was
carried on at the other store, and the
consequence has been that botli to
gether, each playing into the other's
hands, have done an immense business
and realized large profits.
The Memory op a Good Mother.
How often when (he syren voice of
the tempter whispers in the ear of the
frail child of mortality, the words, aye,
the very voice-tones, of warning are
remembered and the snare broken.
Long grass may be grown over the
hallowed spot where all that earihfy
reposes, tho dying leaves of autumn
i may bo whirled over it, or the chill
' white mantle of winter cover it from
pight; yet the spirit of such a mother
is always by the side of him when
walking the right path, and gently
sadly, mournfully calling to him when
wandering off into the dull paths 'of
; error and crime.
t "Daniel Webster's Wooing. A cor
respondent of the Boston Courier tells
, jhow Daniel Webster proposed to Grace
jFletchr :
Mr. Webster married the woman
r bo loved, and the twenty years ho liv-
ed with her brought him to the merid
ian of his greatness. An anecdote is
current on this subject, which is not
; recorded in the books. Mr. Webster
vras becoming intimate with Miss
firace Fletcher, when the skein of silk
. getting in a knot, Mr. Webster assis
t ted in unraveling the snarl then look
ing up to Miss Grace, he said : " VYe
Lave untied a' knot; don't you think
we could tie one?" Grace was a little
embarrassed, said not a word, but in
the'eourse of a few minutes she tied
it knot in a piece of tape, and handed
it to Mr. W. Thjs piece of tape, the
thread of his domestic joys, was Lund
puer i no ueam u rar, neDsier, pre
served as one of bis most precious relic--"
f
By railway accidents in the United
fitates in in 1853, there were killed one
hundred and eight persens, and in
Jured wo hundred and Jweofy-nine.j
FASHIONABLE FRIENDS.
About the hardest trial of those
who fall from affluence and honor to
poverty and obscurity, is the discov
ery that the attachment of so many
in whom they confided was a pretence,
a mask, to gain their own ends, or was
a miserable shallowness. Sometimes,
doubtless, it is with regret that these
frivolous followers of the world desert
those upon whom they have fawned,
but they soon forget them. Flies
leave the kitchen w hen the dishes are
empty. The parasites that cluster
about the favorite of forlune, to gath
er his gifts and climb by his aid, linger
with tho sunshine, but scatter at the
apnroach of a storm, and the leaves
cling to the tree in summer weather,
but drop off at tho breath of winter,
and leave it naked to the stinL'inir
"blast. Like ravens settled down for a
banquette, and suddenly seared by
noise, how quickly, at the first sound
of calamity, these superficial earth
lings are specks on the horizon I
But a true friend sits in the centre,
aW is for all limes. Our need only
reveals him more fully, and binds him
more closely to us. Prosperity and
adversity are both revealers, the dif
ference being that in the former our
friends know us, in the latter we know
them. Notwitstnndiiig tho insinceri
ty and greediness prevalent among
them, there is a vast deal more of es
teem and fellow yearning than is even
outwardly shown. There are more
examples of unadulterated affection,
more deeds of silent love and mag
nanimity, than is usually supposed.
Our misfortunes bring to our side re.tl
friends, before unknown.
Benevolent impulses, where, we
should not expect them, in modest pri
vacy enact many a scone of beautiful
wonder amidst plaudits of angels.
And upon the whole, fairly estimating
the glory, and the uses, and the actual
and possible prevalence of the friend
ly sentiment, we must cheerily strike
the lyre and lift our voice to the favor
ite song, confessing after every com
pliment is ended, that
There is a power lo miiko each hour
As swuul an Heaven designed it;
Nr lice. I wo rotiui to bring it home,
Though few t hero be to find it !
Wo seek too hi:d) fur things close by,
Ami loose whnl nature found us;
For lifct hiith hero no chiirmsso dear,
As hunieoiid Iriunds around us.
A Faiii.k. A young man once pick
ed up a sovereign lying in the road.
Ever afterward as he walked along,
he kept his eye steadfastly fixed on the
ground, in hopes of finding another.
And in the course of a long life lie did
pick up at different times a good
amount of gold and silver. But till
these days as he was looking for them
he saw not that heaven was bright
above him, and nature beautiful
around. He never once allowed his
eyes to look up from the mu I and filth
in which he sought the treasure; and
when he died, a rich old man, he only
knew this fair earth of ours as a dirty
road to pick up money as you walk
along.
Skcond-iianu Si.anuku. There is a
decision in thu last, voluan: of Gray's
Reports which is at once sound mor
als and good law. A woman, sued
lor slander, was defended on the
ground that she only repeated, and
without, malice, what was currently
reported. The Court held, that to re
peat a story which is f tlse and slan
derous, no matter how widely it may
have been circulated, is at the peril of
the talc-hearer. Slander cannot al
ways be traced to its origin. Its pow
er of mischief is derived from repeti
tion, even if a disbelief of the story
accompanies its relation. Indeed, this
half doubtful way of imparting slan
der is often the surest method resorted
to by the slanderer to give currency
lo his tale.
No Wonder! A Japanese nobleman,
upon being shown a fashion plate in
an American magazine, was much
startled, and exclaimed : "How very
fat your women are!"
We learn that Mr. Trust is dead,
and that Bad Pay killed him.
It has been said that a merchant
who docs not advertise is like a man
who has a lantern but is too niggardly
to buy a candle for it.
Miss, can I have the exquisite pleas
ure of rolling the wheel of conversa
tion around the axeltree of your un.
derstanding a few minutes this even
ing? The lady fainted.
If you love others they will love you.
If ydu speak kindly to thein they will
peak kindly to you. Love is repaid
with love, and hatred with hatred.
Would you hear a sweet and pleasing
echo, speak fweetly and pleasantly
yourself,
WINCIIESTKIt, TlCISriS"., FEBRUARY 3, 1859
Written fur tho Winchester Home Journal.
"BUSINESS TRANSACTIONS."
BV MRS. EMILIK C. 3. CHILTON.
If o mnn la poor forsaken
If his heart is almost breaking
'Neath its land of woes,
Raise your foot and boldly strike him,
Pity not poor wretchos, like him,
Wearing shabby clothes !
If lie asks you for employment,
Scorn to give him such onjoymont ;
Save it for some other
Keep it for the man of dollars,
Broadcloth com ami linen collars
Man should help a brother
If the poor niiiu breaks his fetter,
Helped by fools who know no bettor,
All your contempt mocking,
Strive your luminal to del em him,
Wheedle, co;i., then rob and client him,
That's the "business doctrine."
If hi; fulls, and sinks to ruin,
Surely it was not your doing,
Never sco nor heed it ;
Raise your hands in prayer to Heaven,
Woo to man on earth was given,
And all pour wretches ncud it!
If ho triumphs in tho struggle,
Then your sunshine smiles redouble;
Hasten to assure him
"Hero's my heart ami here my purse is;"
If hu never needs your services
Slick the closer lo him!
When you're dead ond onguls reading
Uul youl sins, then raised lha pleading,
"Twas business t runs act tuns ;"
Freely then they'll mercy lend you
Freely pardon freely send you
To Hades' wild distractions!
There lifi up your eyes and see, sir,
That pour man from sin set free, sir,
Blessed mid rich indeed!
Think how you relieved his sorrow
What y iu loaned when ho would burrow
Hope in biltcr Jieed.
Call lo mind those oilier cases
Breaking hearts, an I tearful faces,
The maniac's distractions ,
Happy homes e'en now in ruin
Work that's day by day accruing
By "fiir business transact ions."
HOW TO M A K li 1 1 0 M li 1 1 A V 1' V .
Do Hot jest, with your wife upon ;i
subject in which there is danger of
wounding her feelings. Remember
that she treasures every word you ut
ter, thourh you never think of it iiirain.
I )i ii i a wi w;i I.- Winn.. i r! nr. in n in 1 1 ti .
I" "
er man's wife to remind your own of a
fault. Do not approach your wife
with personal defects, for if she has
sensibilities you inflict a wound ililli
eult lo heal. Do not treat your wife
with inattention in company. Da not
upbraid her in the presence of a third
person, iioi-ciitcrtnin her with praising
the beauty and accomplishments of
other women. If you would have a
pleasant home and a cheerful wife,
pass your evenings under your own
roof. Do not be stem ami silent in
your own house, and remarkaMc for w transcendantly beautiful!-the
'sociability elsewhere. Remember : " of righteousness-shall
that your wife has as much nee.l of bathe thy happy -pint in his beams!
recreation as Yourself, and devote a ! lhmealh her slept, m dream-like
portion, at least, of your leisure hours j -auly. the 'hih. faraway
to such society and amusements asj'"""5 '''"' 1'" litlll! mountain's
she ...ay join. By so doing, you will i ws "'itl. the hues of the
secure her smiles and increase. j '"y tinted aulumu. No sound d.s"
..(!.. ,.;..,. ri i... i...:.... I ttirbed tilt! Sabbath stillness of the
till I. Ulli'll. Jii liwi, 11 l.i'lll IUU I AilUL
iii iii'i.iini.'ii'v in.-. if. .rv mi. l.i. linn.
,. ,
feel her dependence on your bounty.
It' she is a sensible woman, she will be
accounted with your business and
know your income, that she may reg
ulate her house expenses accordingly.
Do not withhold this knowledge in or
der to cover your own extravagance
Women have a keen perception be
sure she will discover your selfishness
and though no wonl is spoken, from
that moment her respect is lessened,
and couliileiiee diminished, pride
wounded, ami perhaps a thousand un
just suspicions created; from that mo
ment is your domestic comfort on the
wane. There can be no oneness
where there is not full confidence.
A IIioii ani Di:si::ivk: Co.mi'I.im::nt.
The Memphis Bulletin pays the fol
lowing high, but richly deserved com
pliment to that despised, but po.verful
influence, the Coijsthy Prcss. It says,
have seen in little country news
papers prose articles of genuine merit
articles in which were displayed
the highest order ol capacity, ami yet,
beyond the narrow circle ol a county,
where, perhaps, they were not and
could not be appreciated, were never
read, nor even heard of. We open
every week in our ollice country pi
pers, whoso editorials would adorn
the great city papers ami make their
reputation. But they pass away after
being glanced over, and are seen no
more There is a great amount of
talent in tho country that could be
made the basis ofiiplendid reputation.
But it wants a theater for display..
Like the cold steel, it must be smitten
to produce tire It is modest, timid,
and retiring, ami lives in oblivious
shades while contemporaneous and
arrogant ignorance takes the lead in
all public matters and gathers all the
laurels to be wun. Look at (he second
and third class of conspicuous men
among us. What they lack in capac
ity they make up in an article com
monly called 'brass.' They have
stepped in where the highest capacity
feared to tread. They reap honors,
emoluments, while the timid children
of genius, like the glow-worm, shine
in obscurity, and go wantinz all their
days. He will indeed be a benefactor I
who shall teach true merit how to he
courageous." (fukvUU New,
THE BROKEN-HEARTED.
"His heart is another's!" sighed a
fair young girl as she bent listlessly
over the broad window sill on her cot
tage home, and gazed on tho silent
lake that slumbered beneath her. The
gentle moon looked down upon her
sad face, as if in in pity for the sor
rows of the young and beautiful.
"Mis heart is another's; he claims her
as his bride and I am forsaken. Oh,
who would have dreamed that a few
brief months of absence would have
come to this!" In her hand was an
open letter which told of her lover's
treachery. As it caught her cyu a sud
den fire burned upon her cheek, and
her beautifully curled lip trembled
with scorn, such as only woman fuels
when her heart's best treasure has
been spmned by him she loved and
trusted. But revenge was foreign to
her gentle nature. By degrees the
flush of anger faded away, and gave
place to expressions ol'despair so calm
and yet bo unutterably mournful, it
was plain the heart of the maiden
was broken, and the light of her young
life was darkened forever. From that
hour she drooped like a sweet liily
blighted by an untimely frost.
She was the only child of a widow
ed mother, and had been a sun beam
of joy to her withered heart; hut now
she was paling away, and desolation
and gloom brooded over that little
household.
Mouths glided by. Winter, with its
rude blast, was ended; Spring, with
its llowers, had come and gone; .Sum
mer, with his long and weary days,
hail toiled lazily along, and the passing
year was fading into the sober tints
of Autumn. In that little cottage, near
the quiet lake, the young girl was dy
ing. Her features though sunken and
emaciated, were still lovely; and her
eye beamed with that unearthly beau
ty so ofter seen in the early blighted.
The sun was sinking in a bank of gol
den clouds, whose reflected light shed
I a f I
h jilory over the declining day.
Its mellowed beams were streaming
into the little casement, and resting
on the face of the dying, "liaise me,
dear mother," she whispered, "raise
mi! a little; let me view the fair earth
once more. That will do, dearest
mother." She looked out upon the
crimson sun light.
'Beautiful ! Oh, how beautiful!"
Sweet girl ! thou shall never again
In hold its rising. Long ere the morn
ing dawns thy suffering will be over;
and another sun, far brighter, and oh !
seem, save
the faint murmur of a
waterfall that emptied its tiny stream
let into the lake, and the low music of
the wind as it sighed through the old
wood; while ever and anon, a rustling
leaf w heeled in slow and circling ed
dies lo the ground. Her eye rested
on a weeping willow that fringed the
border of the lake. Above all others
it had been her favorite tree, for be
neath its pendant branches Harry Wil
mot had breathed his first vows of love
ami there, too, they had spent their
last s id hour of parting. "Oh, had he
been but true!" and a single tear
drop trembled in her eye, and stole
down her palid check, U was the last
tribute of earthly sorrow and regret.
"When I am gone, ilcar nu ther, bury
me beneath you willow." And now,
as her pah', calm face reflected back
the softened sun set, she seemed as if
her dreaming f-pirit had already
caught, far, far through the glowing
drapery of the sky, glimpses of that
ever-during light which gleams from
glowing portals of the glad city whith
er she was going. And solily they
laid her back upon her pillow
A calm and holy light is on her
brow, and on her lip is a smile of inef
fable sweetness. Gently, gently the
pure spirit of the broken-hearted is
passing away
Bring the white shroud and the
(lower-decked coffin; for the sorrows
of her innocent life are ended, and Is
abel Summers is un angel of Paradise
A crown is on her head, a golden hnrp
is in her hand, and she is striking the
sweetest notes that ravish tho ears of
cherubims. And in that little cottage
there is a voice of lamentation, a
mother weeping for her only beloved,
and refusing to he comforted.
And the village heart is sad as the
death nefts spreads over it like a shad
ow. And around the Innocent face of
the dead are streaming eyes, and sti
fled sobs, and murmured prayer.
And they laid her beneath tho wil.
low, by the quiet lake.
Nightly 'he pitying moon weeps sli
ver tears upon hor lonely grave, and
softly sweet the night wind sighs a
mong the drooping boughs that cover
its narrow bed. Tread lightly, for in
it sleeps the tho Broken -Hearted.
On tho far off shore of the Pacific,
a gallant bark is spreading hor white
sails to the breeze, and stemming the
blue water with her homeward brow.
Sho is freighted with hearts that
aro bounding high with "thoughts of
kindred and of home." Among them
is a youth whoso manly form is
dilating with tho anticipated joy of
folding to his bosom one, more dear to
him than friends or kindred. He had
plighted his troth to a sweet girl who
was the idol of his heart. But strange
stories of exhaust less gold from the
far West tempted him from her side.
Wealth, inoio prized for her sake
than his own, seemed to join the ea
ger spirits w ho were crowding to the
glittering harvest. Fortune had
crowned his efforts, and he was re
turning with buoyant heart, to lay
his treasures at the feet of his belov
ed. Many months had passed since
tidings of his Isabel had reached him
hut, though in the anguish of disap
pointment he had bitterly chitted the
tardy post that had failed lo bring the
accustomed message of love, his san
guine nature forboded no evil. Alas!
he little knew that an idle tale of a
lalse lover who had broken his vow
and wedud another idly told, and
as idly repeated until it had assum
ed a garb of truth she could not
doubt, had readied her and that the
sweet rosebud that had bloomed only
lor him had faded forever. Onward
speeds the vessel over the foaming
billows, and lltn-y Wilmot is still
dreaming of his love. Dream on,
fond lover; build high, while, thou
niuyc.st, thy bright vision of bliss, for,
oil! dark and terrible will be the des
olation of thy grief-stricken soul,
when thine hour of waking shall
come. .Never, oh! never more again
shall the while arms of thy beloved
encircle thy form, and her trusting
eyes gaze fondly into thine. Cold,
cold is the heart that beat only for thee;
and quenched is the love-beam which
kept watch fur thy coming.
'l'is night. The. moon-beam sleeps
upon the quiet lake, and on the grave
of Isabel. Over its cidd stone, be
neath the w illow, a bowed, a broken
form is bending. Deep groans of an
guish are rending his frame, lie is
pouring out his gricf-burtheued heart
in prayer. Suddenly he looks up
ward. Oh, Harry Wilmot! is thy rea
son wandering oris it indeed an angel j
that beckoneth thee! Listen! Dream
est thou! or dost thou .really hear in
the upper air, music so soft, so ravish
ingly sweet as only seraph .strike! li
front golden
And oh! do! li the
dim light of yon shadowy harper take
on it the likeness of thy loved and lost!
Il'so, rejoice! oh Harry Wilmot! for the
days of thy sorrow are drawing to a
close. Bo patient for yet a little lon
ger, and thine hour of deliverance is at
hand.
Time speeds, and autumn again
with its sighing winds and falling leaf,
saddens the dying year. The mlver
leaves of the willow are gliding, with
noiseless fall upon the grave of Isabel
but not on it alone, for near it is a
white stone which bears the name of
Harry Wilmot. The fevered heart of
the .-tillerer is stilled at last, lli
dreary life is over and Harry Wilmot
has joined his angel bride in the up
per sky. Oh Death! thou has per
formed a work of mercy.
Long years have passed, and still
the wilderness keiq s watch over the
sleepers beneath; and oftoti the dwel
lers by that quiet lako grow sad as
they point to the graves of the Broken
Hearted.
THINK Of MK.
Farewell and never think of m
In lighted hall or lady's bower !
Farowtdl and never think of me
In rpriug nunshiuc or summer hour.
But when yon see a lonely grave,
Just where a broken heart might he,
With not one mourner by ils soil,
Then, and then only, think of mo !
Uctith ollin Oldest Man in Virginia.
Mr. Phillip Jessie, aged ViO years,
died in New-Garden. Russell county,
Va., on the 1st of December. It is
stated that a short time before his
death he was able to attend to his own
household affairs and that while in
his hundredth year he cut and split
one hundred rails.
A man named Cope has been sen
tenced to sixteen months' imprison
ment in Louisville, for running off
with a negro girl. It was an 'affair of
the heart.'
Nothing establishes confidence soon
er than punctuality.
A heart once given should not be
transferable,
Evil men speak as they wish rather
than what thrv know.
Written for the Winchester llsme Journal,
LINES TO AN ABSENT ONE.
WRITTEN Br MOON LIQIIT.
The moon is gently beaming
O'er land and sea;
Its rays are sweetly streaming
Across the lea
Faint zophyrs murmur o'er mo
So sadly sweet,
I wake from my dreamy slumbers
Thy voico to groat.
But oh! sail bcreavcmonll
I piiie'nlono
The charm, thy presence lont,
Alas, is gone,
But like the mellow music
Of midnight dreams,
Thy spirit hovers round mo
Siill still it seems.
Tho stars reflect thy imago
Sj very bright
Tho moon with beauty sparkles,
So full of light,
I think 1 see thee looking
Down from above,
To choor my heart, now languishing,
Willi smiles of lovo.
PATRICK HENRY.
Very little is known of the most elo
quent orator of our revolutionary histo
ry, and who derived all his power from
original genius and thestudyof nature
and men, and had no acquaintance
with books. The following sketch of
his character and habits Mr. Webster
received from Mr. Jefferson, and is
found in the recently published volum
es of Mr. Webster's correspondence:
Patrick Henry was originally a bar
keeper. Ho was married when very
young, and going into some business,
was bankrupt before the year was out.
When 1 was about the age of fifteen, I
left the school here to go to the college
at Williamsburg. 1 stopped at a
friends in the county of Louisa. There
I first became acquainted with Pat
rick Henry. Having spent the Christ
mas holidays tin-re, 1 proceeded to
Williamsburg. Some questions arose
about my aduiis'ston, as my prcpuritory
studies had not been pursued at the
school connected with the institution.
This delayed my admission about a
fortnight, at which time Henry ap
peared in Williamsburg, and applied
ibr a license to practice law. having
commenced the studdy of it at or sub
sequently to the time of my meeting
him in Louisa. There were four ex
aminers Wythe, Pendleton, Peyton
Randolph and John Randolph. Wythe
and Pendleton at once rejected his ap
plicat ion. Tho two Randolphs, by his
import unity, were prevailed upon to
sign the license; and having obtained
their signatures, he applied again to
Pendleton, and after much entreaty
and many promises of future study,
succeeded in obtaining his. He then
turned out for a practicing lawyer.
The first ease which brought him into
notice was a contested election, in
which he appeared as counsel before
the committee ol the. House ol Bur
gesses. His second was the Parsons
case, already well known. These and
similar cllnrts soon obtained for him
so much reputation that he was elec
ted a member of the legislature He
was as well suited to the times as any
man ever was, and it is not now easy
to say w hat we should have done with
out Patrick Henry. Ho was far be
fore nil in maintaining the spirit of
the Revolution. His influence was
most extensive with the members
from tho upper counties and bis bold
ness aurl their votes overawed and
rant rolled the more cool or the more
timid aristocratic gentleman of the
lower part of the State. His eloquence
was peculiar, if indeed it could be call
ed eloquence, for it was impressive
and sublime beyond what can be im
agined. Although it was (lillicult,
when he had spoken, to tell what he
had said, yet, while he was speaking,
it always seemed directly to ttie point.
When he had spoken in opposition to
my opinion had produced a great
effect, and 1, myself, been delighted
and moved, 1 have asked myself when
he ceased, "what has he siiidr' 1
could never answer the inquiry. His
person was of full size, and his manner
mid voice free and manly. His utter
ance was neither very fast nor very
slow. His spechi'S generally short
from n quarter to half an hour. His
pronunciation was vulgar and vicious,
but it was forgotten while speaking.
He was a man of very little knowl
edge of any sort; he read nothing, and
had no books. Returning one No
vember from Alberinarble court, he
borrowed Hume's Essays, in two vol
umes, saying he should have leisure in
the winter for reading. In the spring
he returned them, declared he had not
been able to get further than twenty
or thirty pages in the first volume.
He wrote almost nothing he could
not write J lie resolutions ol 7J,
which have been ascribed to him, have
by many been supposed to have been
written by Mr. Johnson, who acted as
second on that occasion; but it they
were written ly llenry himself, they
were not such as to prove any power
ot comparison, neither in politics
nor in his profession was he a man..
His biographer says that he read I iu
tarch every year. 1 doubt whether be
ever read a volume of it in hi l'f
His temper was excellent, and be
erally observed decorum In debate.
On one or two occasions I bave seen
i.; o,i i.i.anzerwas terrible;
those who witnessed it were not dis
posed to rouse it " J opinion
,e was yielding and practiMc. and not
disposed 'to Met from his friends. In
n.ivM conversation he was agreeable
facetious, and while in genteel so-
elfty, appeared to understand all the
deiciences and proprieties of it; but in
neBrt nB P" ' "y, nu
Number 4
sought it as often as possible. He
would hunt in the pine woods of Flu
vanna, with overseers, and people of
that description, living in a camp for
a fortnight at a time without a changn
of raiment. I have often been aston
ished at his command of proper lan
guage; how he obtained a knowledge
of it, I never could find out, as he read
so little and conversed little with edu
cated men.
After all, it must be allowed that ho
was our leader in the measure of the
Revolution In Virginia. In that re
spect more was due to him than to any
other person. If we had not had hint
we should probably have got on pretty
well, as you did, by a number of men
of nearly equal talents; but he left us
all far behind. His biographer sent
the sheets of his work to me as they
were printed, and at the end asked for
my opinion. 1 told him it would be a
question hereafter whether his work
should be placed on a shelf of history
or of panegyric. It is a poor book,
written in a bad taste, and gives so
imperfect an idea of Patrick llenry,
that it seems intended to show ofl the
writer more than the subject of the
writer.
We always think of a very mean
man that he was made by one of na
ture's cobblers, and, like an unfinished
boot, thrown off without being soulcd.
The Ciiuss Kino. A dispatch dated
Halifax, January' 14, says:
The chess contest between Morphy
and Anderson took place at Paris, with
the following result; Morphy won sev
en games, Anderson two, and two
games were drawn. According to
agreement, Morphy having won seven
games, is the victor.
MARRIED LIFE.
The following beautiful and true
sentiments are from the pen of that
charming writer, Frederick Bremer,
whose observations might well become
rules of life, so appropriate are they
to many of its phases:
"Deceive not one another in small
things nor in great. One little single
lie has, before now, disturbed a whole
married life ; a small cause has often
great consequences. Fold not the
arms together and sit idle Do not
run much from home. One's own
hearth is of more Worth than gold.
Many a marriage, my friends, begins
like the rosy morning, and then falls
away like a snow-wreath. Anil why,
my friends? Because tho married
pair neglect to be as well pleasing to
each other after marriago as before.
Endeavor always, my children, to
please one another, but at the same
time keep Clod in your thoughts.
Lavish not all your love on to-day,
for remember that marriage has its
to morrow likewise, and its day after
lo.tnorrmv, loo. Spare, as one may
say, fuel for the winter. Consider, my
daughter, what the word wife express
es. The married woni'in is the hus
band's domestic faith, in her hand he
must be able to confide house and fam
ily; be able to entrust to her the key
of his heart, as well as tho key of his
eating room. His honor and his home
are under her keeping his well-being
in her hand. Think of this! And
you, sons, be faithful husbands, and
good fathers of families. Act so that
your wives shall esteem and love you."
GIVE ME HOPE.
BV V. J. SLATTEB.
Give mo iiore, if not your love,
Oh ! give mo hope to cheer,
Lisa, by all dial's true above,
My future will be drear;
For life, e'en now, is dark tome,
Of gladness not a ray,
Then do not add to misery
l!y casting hope away.
Bo yon doubt 1 then give me time
To prove that I'm sincere
For, to me, (here's not on earth
Another one so dear
Another for whose love
My life I would lay down
Would liko a boggar rove
Rcfuso a monarch's crown.
"Asn tiikm's my oriNioss!" 'Don't
you tell me, sir,' said Mrs. Spitfire,
with a lace burning like a kitchen-hre;
"no man has a right to be a bachelor.
It's his own fault if he is, ond serve
him right, too, say I! An old maid,
poor creature, is frequently an old
maid from compulsion; but when a
man is a bachelor, 1 mean fo say that
nine times out of fen, he is a bachelor
from choice, and a pretty choice it is.
It is all the difference between mak
ing your bed and having it mada for
you. And them's my opinions!" and
here Mrs- Spitfiro folded her arms a
la Napoleou, as though she were ready
to receivo ti combined contradiction
of the entire world. Punch.
The amount of vacant and unen
cumbered land belonging to tha State
of Texas is 101,039,100 acres.
The Boston and Worcester railroad
Company gave over 4,000 lbs. of Tur
key to their eniployeeon Thaaksgiv
ing Day.
"A stern rebuke," os the dog
when the Irishman thoppcdathi$ttil
with a spade. '.'" '