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About The Lumpkin palladium. (Lumpkin, Georgia) 186?-???? | View Entire Issue (Aug. 25, 1859)
V VOLUME 2. LUMPKIN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, AUGUST 25, 1859. NUMBER 34. inti |)f.patti!unt. T Ml editress. ASSOCIATE. WttrCTB& yon THE PA1XADTCM. My Angel Sister. BY GRACE MORXIXGTON. 0! I remember well, Though it were long ago, The dream hangs like a spell Of music, soft and low. Sweet as the breath of evening’s tranquil hour, Pure as the dew of twilight on the flower, Fair as the moonlight on the sleeping rose, That vision comes at daylight’s gentle close; And I can see that pure angelic brow, That infant face—its beauty haunts me now. That sweet pale face, That angel face, Fair as the drifting snow. 0! I can see those dark, ■ Those sad and dreamy eyes, Their languid beauty now Will oft before me rise. What heavenly light beamed in her infant glance, W r hen e’er a smile would o'er her features dance, ’Till death, one cold and dreary autumn eve, Before the light of day began to leave, Came forth and touched her with his icy hand, Then angels bore her to the spirit land. That sweet sad smile, That angel smile, Still beams beyond the skies. O ! I remember well My father’s shaded brow, My mother’s tearful glance Is still lxifore me now. I knew not then what made them look so pale, For death had hushed the dying infant’s wail; A babe myself—I ne’er had known his power, Or seen him snatch from earth the opening flower; ’Till now, my sister drew her dying breath, And sweetly sank into the arms of death. Those sweet dark eyes, Those dreamy eyes, Were closed in that sad hour. remark, there are none so had as not to possess some good equalities, and as charitable beings, it is oftr duty to mention their faults only privately to the erring one. Then, if done in a friendly, sympathising manner, it may prove salutary. When this christian- like habit prevails, a halo of moral grandeur wib encircle the earth, and “Ppace on earth, good qgjh 1 nCTifL wiH be ttfelanguage St every heart.— West Jersey Pioneer. itcrani |)t par hunt. AHME R, E D IT II ESS, WRITTEN FOR THE PALLADIUM. SETTLED EOE LIFE ; OR, How Cousin Frank got Married. BY FIXLEY JOHXSON. WRITTEN FOR. XILF. JAi-LADIL'M. CHAPTER 1. Cousin Frank Swan was a genius, of a pale, Byronic cast, - strongly marked with bashfulness and the small pox. It had been his individual opinion for sev eral years that he was occupying a false position of life : that instead of being ponfined behind the counter he should be in some high station, and this fact so preyed upon his nerves that he be came quite reserved and melancholy, so much so that his poor mother was made miserable, She, however, was quite convinced that her darling boy was a neglected genius—a race of beings whose fate it is, she had always under stood, to live in want and.destitution, and die God-abandoned suicides. One only effective cure for genius bud she ever heard of—matrimony; and although Frank -was as yet barely twenty, she was vehemently desirous of seeing him married and settled, Fortune had of late appeared to favor her wish. Miss Arabella Dlnmintiun Small-lumas the. but who can control the cur-1 seizing me by reu# ot -his fate ! The plain truth is that.an Engel has crossed my path.” “The devil! What, here ?” “Yes ; listen, and judge for yourself. She is as beautiful as an houri—soft, blue eyes, waving hair, angelic features and fairy form. But thesenot one- YuTTf’ fife ehuuwniems of my Mary.— Hallo ! what the dev ” “Mary.” I thundered. “Tell rr.e, you jacknape, who it is you- are talking the arm as I turned to leave the room, “don’t you think it would be better, under tho circumstan ces, to—to give—to—to give up ” about.” “Murder ! Let go—you’ll strangle me. Give me my breath and I will tell you. Mary, I have overheard her com panion, Miss Bond, call her ; that’s all I know.” “ And you have never spoken to her?” .. “Never orally, I assure you. I have sent her often copies of my verses. Here js the last, shall I read it?” “No, don’t.” The wrath which suddenly blazed up at the mention of my Mary’s name was soon quenched by a sense of the absur dity of the affair. However, not feel ing inclined to make a confident of the conceited fool, 1 said : “The fact is, I know Ma—Miss Har vey, that is her name; but I am espe cially acquainted with her companion, Miss Boud, and 1 for the moment thought you might be using the first lady’s name as a blind—you understand.” “Oh ! I see. But you are mistaken.” “All right, then. Now what can 1 do for you ?” “It was arranged that I was to be the bearer of a formal declaration from Frank to the lady. This he had pre pared in prose and verse. I was also to call on Miss. Smallboncs and endea vor to calm her wounded feelings. “Give up the lady,” I.savagely inter rupted ; “impossible si -. Remember that my honor is engaged. So adieu.” 1 will not' reci Woff- WLaltgrhate hot and cold Sts exhibited by my unhappy 7 cousin during the time which intervened between him and his promised happi ness—the immense quantity of brandy and water he swallowed—the frequent inquiries he made as to the strength of the chain by which Mr. Harvey’s watch-dog, an animal with an ill name, was fastened up at nights ; nor dwell upon the pathetic manner vith which, when he was very maudlin he would brokenly exclaim, as he looked with piteous expression in my face : “Oh ! what had my youth with 1 ambition to do? oh ! why did ArabellliMfleave?” Suffice it to say that those incidental trifles amused us mightily, but more especially Miss Sinallbones, who, in tho reviving tenderness of the repentant culprit, dis covered a fresh pi edge "of success.. “Love Net.” BY C. N. Cold, heartless words! ye fall upon my ear Like echoes from a heart all sad and drear, A heart that’s seen love’s gleaming light die out, And now, to us it ever cries, “love not!” “Love not!”—then, if I must not love, cans’! tell Whence comes the bliss that in my soul doth dwell? 1 sought it not; unasked it came to beam With wondrous light—to-shed a hallow’d gleam O’er all my life—to teach my lyre sweet songs to breathe, And flow’rets bright to cull with which my brow to wreathe. Away, cold words! come not again to me! Why life a dreary thing would ever be, If we could teach the heart to cast away From its pure shriue love’s bright and hopeful sway, To lore and lie beloved in turn, is bliss supreme, And life without a toilsome way. to me would seem. Too late ye came ! My heart e’en now doth dwell Within a love-lit home, and it doth thrill With rapture wild and fond, while listening for Sweet words of love from him, my own love star / Lumpkin, Ga. WRITTEN FOR THE PALLADIUM. Tlie Broken Heart, Forgive me if I cannot smile, And mingle in the giddy throng; Pray, bear with me a little while, For, oh! I feel ’twill not be long. There was a time, not long ago, When I wLs gayest of What now I feel—none, none -must know, It ever at my heart will prey. Forgive me, if I can not bend My heart to all that’s light below; Go! leave me here, my gentle friend, In silence I must bear my woe. Farewell! and when you hear I am no more, let memory shed A tribute dear—a silent tear, For him who was to misery wed. Xeno. Lumpkin, Get, Speak Well of Others—Were we to give a receipt for rendering every neighborhood a comparitive paradise it would be, “speak well of others.”— Short as it may appear and simple as it seems, if universally adopted, it would be found omnipotent for good and productive of untold happiness.— But hqw often we are pained to find the opposite disposition indulged. In almost every neighborhood the vile slanderer may be found, sowing the seed of pain and sorrow. The hard-earned reputation of the gray-haired sire is frequently assailed; the brilliant pros pects of the ambitious youth are dar kened, and the fond hopes of the vir tuous maiden are often blasted by the Withering remarks of the malicious calumniator None, it is true are entirely fiiolfclesa, and we may, with much truth j late ?” eldest but one, and much the prettiest and sharpest of the four daughters of a respectable widow, was her favorite, and, the indications were, also that of her son. Things were thus in statu quo when I paid a visit to my uncle’s family in order to spend a few days in hunting, and if the truth must be known, to set tle matrimonial matters with one ot earth’s angels—Mary Harvey. My un cle and aunt greeted me cordialllv, and not seeing cousin Frank, the topic of conversation soon was himself and his prospects. “A poor business,” said my uncle, and all on account of Frank finding him self, as he says, in a “false position-” “Yes,” chimed in my aunt, “it is grow ing beyond endurance. Frank will not do any thing but mope. If be would only listen to reason—what with Ara bella, and the widow, and baby caps, and christenings, things might go right yet.” “What,” said I, “is not Frank yet the happy husband of Arabella Clementine Smallboncs ?” “No, indeed and here I was treated to a fulLand lengthy account of his un faithfulness to the young lady in ques tion, and while in the midst of it the young man himself entered. He was very glad to see me, and he managed to get on very well till bed time. Soon after dinner on the following day, cousin Frank, in a very delicate whisper, proposed an adjournment to his private study. I complied, and being well supplied with old rye, wtidiad every prospect of passing an hour or two very pleasantly. “Cousin Tom,” he at last said ; “consul Tom, I am in a false position.” “The deuce you are,” replied I. “But, Frank, that is not uncommon, I believe, with you.” “True ; but in the present state of affairs it is doubly unfortunate! Y r ou are aware that certain love passages have occurred between a—a Miss Small- bones and myself?” “Of course ; and let me tell you that you have made a very sensible choice.’ “He-e-c—no—yes. I have nothing, Tom, to reproach that lady with. In fact, she can be reproached at nothing, except it may be a somewhat too ten der regard to attentions which—which, in point of fact, were somesort of a— a-—you understand me.” “Quite so. Go on.” “The fact is, cousin Tom, I have dis covered-—alas ! too late for her peace of mind—that we are not suited for each other—that the torch of love lias not been lighted at the same altar ” “Here, for heaven’s sake, that wii] do. But is not this discovery rather CHAPTER III. At length the much •wished for, dreaded morn arrived—a clear, frosty, bitterly cold one—and 1 shook Frank out of his trumbled slumbers a.t a very early hour. “Quick, quick, man !” I exekimed, as be slowly and reluctantly commenced arraying himself in the wedding gar ments placed ready over night; “quick' you but delay your bliss. ‘Tlie lovely angel waits to bless you.’ Ah ! Frank, you are a happy man.” “I don’t think, cousin Tom, he replied, his teeth chattering all the time like a pair of castanets, “I don’t think, cousin ; Tom, you would be quite so merry if | yon were going to get married yourself _Lhis cald-.roor.ning.”—y- —r— room of Mary Harvey one of the happi-; I assured him that :i should not be est of men. Nor when the tumult of; pleased one whit the less it I myself grateful emotions had somewhat calmed RLE CHAPTER II. xeexis - bxxm-A; J ajmxM-Aoi-t—±1lq-xLi: :»v i n £>’ “Of course its possible, and proper, and right,” rejoined the lady, accenting tne adjectives as before; “and now hurry down, or Captain Bond will catch 3 r on here, and the consequences will be awful.” Poor Frank instantly obeyed, espe cially as. thanks to the horrid dog, lights were already gleaming in seve ral windows ; but scarcely 7 had he reached the ground when the furious mastiff broke his chain by a desperate effort, and Frank, encumbered as he was, had barely time to regain an atti tude on the ladder to escape the des perate leaps of the savage animal.— This was more than we had bargained for, and amidst the shouts, cries, and screams which ensued I slipped off' the out house, and ran round as quickly as possible to assist in extricating my un fortunate cousin and his lady 7 love from their unpleasant positions. I found Captain Bond there before me. The dog had been secured, and the Captain, fierce as ten furies, was questioning Frank upon the reasons and his motives for being there. The poor fellow, trembling with fright and bewilderment, could afford no expla nation except incoherent and contradic tory exclamations. “Pardon me, Captain,” I exclaimed, “this gentleman is no robber as you appear to think. Hs is a cousin and a friend of mine.” “Y"e-e-s, yes,” said poor Frank, recov ering a little, “quite so.” “The truth I believe to be,” I contin ued, looking the astounded Frank in the face, —indeed, being in his confi dence I know it to be so—that this gen tleman, being somewhat of a romantic turn, and having long, been attached to this yfoung lady, has prevailed on her to elope with him. This is the whole affair ; is it not, cousin Frank ?” WRITTEN FOR THE PALLADIUM. HOME-MADE CRITICISMS. almost any department of NUMBER TWO. Novels and Novelists. j authors in I literature. . • j From these reflections about person al notions and the reasons for them, let turn to the consideration of some dies bv which the harmless, us characterh To 7 persons of mature age the con- J aU( j u e ful novel may be distinguished troversy betwyyg the advocates and 0ppoiierrys^-k2ffi’* : U!Uk40--kAAt4-lu-.a ... -«rv not a little amusement. With the 1 youthful reader, however, it becomes a i more serious matter, for while one par-1 | from those of an opposite tendency WriTefs oi Aviuira to gain reputation by what they are pleased to call refinement in language, but it must appear to every thinking “The nuzzled The was on the brink of matrimony ; and he having at last completed his toilet, was I forgetful of my cousin, peals of merriment excited in the ladies j we crept down stairs, sallied out in the and Captain Bond—a. brother of Mary’s | clear moonlight, and soon reached the scene of action. The spikes upon the large gate, over which it was necessary for the happy bridegroom to climb, pre sented a difficulty ; but I kindly lent him my back, aud a vigorous jerk sent | him scrambling down the other side in companion—had not died away, when a plot was suggested for the especial benefit of that gentleman, the details of which I undertook to arrange, the Captain and the ladies promising to very heartily co-operate. Before I again saw cousin Frank I j a hurry 7 . The dog immediately 7 gave had some very important eommunica-1 tongue, and I as quickly as possible tions, not only 7 with my uncle and aunt, j climbed to the roof of an out house, but also with Miss Smallboncs. Our from which 1 had a distinct view of the scheme was heartily relished by them ] progress of affairs, ail ; Arabella especially, confident of her influence when in actual presence of her fickle swain, had not the slight est doubt of a favorable result. “Frank,” said I, gravely, the first time we found ourselves alone, “the purpose for which I sought Miss Harvey has been successful. Your letter, the poetry especially, affected her in a re markable manner. Miss Harvey con sents to be married next Tuesday two weeks.” “God bless me ! you don’t say so ?” “I do, indeed ; but there is one indis- pensab e condition, that of secrecy, and this chiefly 7 for your own sake, as .it is quite certain that your life would not be worth a dime should the matter reach the ears of Captain Boud, one ot the lady’s guardians.” “Good Lord !” “He is a dragoon officer, and of fiery temperament, _urid would take great pleasure in sending a buRet th you.” “Oh !” am, therefore, to arrange every thing. The lady will descend by a lad der, placed in the back yard, in your armsic-a coacli will be in waiting on the outside, and if you are lucky you will g'et clear off—if not, why 7 of course there will be a battle, murder, and sud den death.” “Good God !” ejaculated our cousin, and his tones were awfully dismal. “i have "also seen Miss Smallboncs. She resigns all claims upon you ; in deed, she appears to treat the matter with contempt.” “God bless me ! y r ou don’t say so ?” “It is so ; but it don’t seem to please you.” “Oh ! yes ; charming, very,” fejoiued the poor fellow, with one of the bluest attempts at a smile I have ever seen. “Only you must acknowledge, Tom, that female caprice is often strangely ro? t uj- fested.” ‘‘Very true. But now, after settling things to your satisfaction, I must at tend to my own. So good-by With timid, hesitating steps Frank approached the ready-placed ladder, making an unnecessarily wide circuit ii: order to avoid the dog, which now 7 thoroughly aroused, barked and leaped witli frightful rage. The concerted sig nal was given, a sash was instantly thrown up, and a veiled figure in white appeared at the aperture. The lover slowly ascended, and when he had gained the top he chatted out: “Cha-a-a-rming la-a-dy, co-o-ondescend -to your de-e-vo- ELhi PrutRJmok which he fixed upon me lean never forger!-- Cold as it was he wiped a profuse per spiration from his forehead as Miss Smallboncs replied for him : “His cousin is quite.right, sir. Here is the license in our joint names ; is it not, Frank ?” The glance which accompanied these v 7 ords had a potent effect upon our vic tim. “Is this true, sir ?” said the Captain, with an increased fierceness. “Y r es, sir—yes. Its a mysterious li cense ; a—every thing is a mystery. I wish I may die if ” “Nonsense about dying and myste ries,” broke in Miss Smallbones. no mystery, am I ?” “Not in the least ; perfectly plain and clear.” “I see how it is,” cried the Captain ; “it it is quite clear ; a stolen wedding. But we will disappoint you, you adven turous, romantic, young rogue you,” he added, poking his caiie in the ribs of ty insists upon the necessity of read- j m ; u q that they thus attach a primary ing works of this kind, the other with | i m p 0r t ance to'what should be only a equal zeal, continue to warm him against | secon ,p r .y consideration! If the per- the danger, as if they saw “eontamin-, g()ng V /ho are presented in the story ation in the very entrance;” so he is ! are lacking in the essential parts of a necessarily at a loss to determine by j re f ine( j character, or if the scenes in whose counsel to be guided. On the ; w iii c h we are called up< n to witness one hand he is promised many a delight-'j their actions are not what might natu- ful voyage through the aerial regions j ra [ly result from the circumstances of fancy 7 , numberless thoughts 61 brill-1 w hich . they are surrounded, the iant originality, and an extended, it not | t j m3 S p 0 „t j n writing and reading the a complete delineation of the workings j f a j e flight have been more profitably of the passions in every conceivable j USC( p x g t only should the lives of variety of circumstances; on the other, j jj 10Se persons present a purity consist- he is threatened with a perverted taste, a weakened memory, a disordered fan cy 7 , and a long train of like consequen ces, scarcely less to be dreaded than those which were attended upon "man s first disobedience.” In this, as in other matters, truth may be found between the extremes. As novel writing is probably the ea siest of all kinds of composition, it is more frequently attempted than any other kind. 1 would not be understood to say that a really 7 meritorious novel ^ is easily written, but that many per-j for our instruction, or plans to be adopt- sons can wr'te a long story more-readi- • e d in the discharge o'i similar duties, ly than they could write history, poe- j When the author succeeds in accom- try, or miscellaneous articles. Yet it: plishing what is thus looked for, it can must- be admitted that even this sue- j not be otherwise than unjust to charge cess depends more upon the number oi him with wrong motives or his woiks their pages than the quality of their | with an injurious tendency 7 , thoughts. Another circumstance tend-; Allusion has heretofore been made insr to increase the number of novelists | (o those characters only which are nS Q Tin?"pciTCu r rrmri-r?—■-’’ Nil awn on mrr umtn.T7G:..T-rn-,'■’nevr■pTOvqyvV 7 - thor in determining the limitation of | Rig upon the principle of teaching by his work; for we see them varying from | CO ntrast, others of a totally different one or two columns in a newspaper to j kind are frequently introduced, so that the massive volume of hundreds of pa-; while we are forcibly impressed with gcs. lie who can not write a long sto-1 the dignity of the former our previous dislike for the latter is sensibly aug mented'. Therefore before condemning an author on account of the baseness or weakness of the persons about whom j ent with the strictest interpretation of j christain morality, but there should be | something in their manners which | would lead irresistibly to the conclu- | sion that their action’s did not take their ! shape from outward circumstances but l were fashioned in the mold of unyield- ing principle. We do not expect our pleasure in becoming acquainted with characters of this kind to be limited to what is merely 7 an appreciation of their moral worth, but we look for something like excellence in originating thoughts ry r may 7 write a short one. Not disconnected with this subject is the popular use of assumed names, for it affords a pleasing opportunity of gaining distinction, or failing in the attempt, it offers a sufficient guaranty against exposure. While some per sons regard this custom as the perlec he writes it is necessary 7 to understand his design in presenting them. YYhen this is done it may be seen that be was not only consistent, but that in the very tion of modesty others consider it a place at which his judgment was like- of literary failures.—j ly' to be questioned he exercised the which are ; skil of a master in his art. i ii not whether his story is to entrust yourself to ted sla-a-ve.” The business-like alacrity with which the damsel, so tenderly and respectfully addressed, complied with his request, together with the brusque, decided man ner in which she dropped, as it were, into his outstretched arms, shook his equilibrium terribly. His hat fell off, and but for the lovely burden, who with one hand grasped his hag, and with the other a step of IhoAZSQ, he must have fallen. “Beloved Ma-a-a-rv,” murmured the | agitated hero, as he prepared to de scend, “beloved Ma-a-a-ry.” “Don’t Mary me, you wretch,” ex claimed the lady, throwing back her veil and disclosing in the clear, cold moonlight the pretty and excited fea tures of Miss Arabella Clemintine Small- bones. “Don’t Mary me, you wretch,” she continued, shaking him by the hair at each emphatic epithet. “Its your lawful wedded wife that is to be, you monster of perfidy and ingratitude, and that you’ll soon find, you faithless, hate ful, abominable creature.” The lady, I have said, grasped a step of the ladder. Had it not been so, down they must have tumbled, for the sur prise and consternation of the bewil dered man, whose upturned ey 7 cs gazed in utter amazement upon the charming vision, reposing partly in hi? arm? ancl partly on !,,« left... shoulder, deprived him of the little strength he usually possessed. Miss Smallboncs fortunately upheld him by his flowing locks. “Ar-a-a-bel-bdl i, is it you?” at fruitful source 1 am Both parties offer opinions entitled to some consideration' Often j It matters have we been disgusted at seeing the ' founded in truth or is all fiction In- real name of an author printed above | cidents of actual occurrence when em- some contemptible production and, at j bodied in a novel, rnay give it a lo- the same time, obliged to pity the per-; cal interest, but with a majority of rea son who presisted in placing himself in so 1 ders^ wkbare distant from the place unenviable a position;yet it should not be forgotten that this willingness to aie ^ . Frank with unmerciful gaiety; “but! assume the full responsibility of author-1 ef the autnor s imagination, ^ we’ll disappoint you. The marriage of j ship, is often the sigft of a most lamia- * It may be safely asserted that w tere your cousin Tom is to take place di- ble and dignified independence. When an article is well written there is cer tainly some satisfaction in knowing who did it, still we ought not to allow our curiosity 7 to prejudice our minds against him who, for reasons satisfac tory to himself, chooses to remain un-; known. He is sftrely entitled to our un restrain-; ed gratitude for having given his stud- j , ies to such subjects as, when his I'eflcc- j novels, but to insist that all wmch tions on them are placed before us, are i originate with persons not capable of found to be interesting and instructive, j continuing thefo to any desirable length These claims will be iieightened by the j are. iYeccsmnw Trrwn Tirrerror Liner.— labors are often ! So far from making quantity a criteri- do not ■ on of merit, I am obliged to think that rectly, and you shall be spliced at the same time. There now—no apologies ; come along.” Before Frank, judging from fiis looks- had even partially recovered his senses the two weddings were solemnized. I and my wife set off at once for Europe. Frank took his bride home to his pa rents. Six months afterwards I paid cousin Frank a visit. The old people were I quite happy. The wife of Frank was seated upon a sofa in the room. Frank, himself was are distant from the. ! at which those incidents happened, they perhaps as well supplied by those there is not a sufficient originality of invention to ensure the writing of a tale that would fill a respectable vol ume and make ail its parts appear rea sonably connected, without allowing the reader’s interest in the narration to become lessened, there will be a cor responding inability to write a short one entertainingly. I -do not mcani t o'condemn all brief sofa in the ‘drawing himself rvas usefuily employed holding a skein ot silk stretch- ek out between bis bands, which his wife was leisurely winding off. Alto gether the scene was edifying and do mestic. Being desirous of testing its reality a little more closely, I said care lessly : “Come, cousin Frank, suppose we go to the opera to-night?” He gave a sudden start, his cheeks flushed, and bis voice trembled as he replied : “You forget, cousin Tom, that I am now married ” “And settled for life,” rejoined his wife promptly. I was satisfied. Poor fellow ! he was, indeed, settled for life Baltimore, Md. recollection that his gratuitous, and when not so, always procure fcr him one half of j some stories which have oeen published what most people would judge a rea-; - n one short chapter arc worth more sonable compensation. He may ex- 1 'ban some others that till three or four plore the fields of pleasurable science j hundred pages ... > book. Besides, and conscious that many will appre- Wort fictions are frequently read by date Ms exertions, though privately . persons who lack either the opportu- madc so that he scarcely feels himself j n 'l>' or ll> o inclination to peruse those at liberty to withhold the result of his | of greater length. The words “to he researches; yet he knows that there continued,” printed at the close of a are envious characters who would take j chapter often prevent the reading of it, pleasure in pulling a person down from I "'hen it is not expected that any cun- any height of popularity, and still be i «dty which might be awakened by that perfectly indifferent about the success j chapter is to be gratified by an oppor- „f such useful knowledge as he i&y j ‘unity of reading those that follow it. have discovered, when the acc-quisi- j Scraps.—-Labor is a business and or- tion of that knowledge is not shown to qj nance of God. “Oousin—-’cousin Tcm,”ganped Frank,! gasped out Frank. be the result of individual enterprise. Knowing these things, let ns not blame him whose philanthropic heart is wil- An eminent modern writer beautiful- lir.g to devote all its energies to such ]y says; “The foundation of domestic happiness is faith in the virtue of wo man; the foundation ot all political happiness, is confidence in the integri ty of man; and. the foundation of all happiness, 'temporal and eternal, is re* “Is it poeei-i-ble ? 3 fiance on the ^oddness of God,” pursuits as bring profit to the w 7 orld, The sun and moon arc the red and white roses of the field of heaven. A public fault ought not to suffer a secret punishment. It is folly to attempt any wicked be an d yet is unwilling to have its sensi- j ginning in hope of a good ending, bilities needlessly shocked by exposing j L; es arc hiltless swords, which cut- ins private character, as well as his : the hands that wield them, words, to the ! detractions of envious j Nothing > elevates us so much as the and illibdf4l criticism. i presence of a spirit familiar, yet supe- Tbe above thoughts may apply to | ridr to our otftt.
