Newspaper Page Text
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.
