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(fonnintnirafas.
FOR THE PALLADIUM.
Response to an Appeal to Sym
pathy.
The “wail of the smitten,” which is
borne over the land through the last
Palladium, has reached my heart and
touched its tenderest chords of sympa
thy. And it is not enough that these
eyes of mine are tilled with tears; for
they afford not a sufficient channel for
the outpouring of the waters of sym
pathy with which my heart is overflow
ing. I would give vent to my feelings
in lines traced in kindness and speak
them in sweetest mystery to “the Vic
tim’s” inmost heart. Would that l—
even I—could be inspired with words
which might afford him that pure solace
he so much needs.
It is hard to see, much more to feel,
affection blighted byrepulse. But this
is one of the many ills of human life
which prepare us for its absent enjoy
ments, and render them the mpre dear
and priceless when they return. Suf
fering often proves salutary to the suf
ferer. The evil but gives additional
lustre and value to the good. The
clouds that hide the sun from view ren
der it more beautiful when they dis
perse. Benevolence might slumber if
there were no afflictions to heal. Let i
not “the Victim” yield to a spirit of rc-j
pining. It is true, the coldness of the '
•heart’s idol, and deceptions practiced ,
by trusted friends, arc calculated to -
rend the delicate tissues of a sensitive I
nature like his seems to be, but he i
should know that there are yet true
hearts which will not become hard, and ,
in which there is no room for dcccytion.;
And as the sweets and ills of life must
be together mixed, can he not hope that
his present sorrows may make his com
ing joys all the sweeter? Let him feel
assnred that there is at least one who
has a heart to sympathize with the sor
rowing—especially with an affectionate
young gentleman, as I take him to be —
and that though his sky is now over
cast with clouds, his sun may not go
down in darkness. It seems to me that
I—even I—could harmonize all that
seems to him inexplicable. Though ,
this is called a world of trouble, where .
sin has opened wide the gates of woe,
he must not feel forsaken. There is
many a clever girl who would willingly
keep her mind and hands in constant
exercise for the well-being of a nice
young gentleman such as I fancy him
to be. I know he must be young —I
know this from his “wail.” Poor fel
low! How could his lady love treat
him so? Such love asMic has bestowed
should bring him an abundant return in
wedded joys. But he lias made up his
mind to be contented in single-blessed
ness. Can he not be persuaded to al-'
ter his mind? Let him look on the i
bright side of life’s picture, and wisely
reflect but for a moment, and he will re-I
call this rash determination. My mar-'
ried friends tell of joys which thosel
living in single-blessedness, as it is
called, never experience. Is “the l Vic
tim” going to deny himself these just
because of a single rejection? Let me
persuade him not to do so. Domestic
society has need of all kind-hearted,
loving, confiding gentlemen like him
self. Good husbands, who are easy to
manage, are precious few now-a-days,
(as I am told by friends who have a
right to know, to a partial extent,) and
as he is a pliant sort of creature, (judg
ing from the manner in which he was
used by some of his “friends,”) I am
sure he may yet be made happy.—
There are plenty of girls in the village
who are as good as the one that “smote”
him, if not a great deal better, and as
Matrimony is on the decline, I am in
hopes that some one of us may be able
to make good use of “the Victim,” if
he is old enough to leave his mother.
As he has evinced a spirit of willing
ness in one attempt, let him be encour
aged to “try, try again.” This is an
excellent motto for an aspiring youth.
If this outpouring of true sympathy
should afford him relief and encourage
ment, it would fully compensate me for
the task of penning these imperfect
lines, even if a rival of mine should
win him.
one who has a heart.
FOR THE PALLADIUM.
LEISURE THOUGHTS.
BY PAUL JOXES.
Literature.—The literature of the
present age is considerably modified,
indeed, when compared to that of the
past. And why has this great change
taken place? Is it because we are de
ficient in learning? It cannot be;, for
we occupy a much higher position in
learning and civilization than the an
cients did. But the reason of it is, be
cause there are so many literary
“quacks” in the preset age. Can the
present age boast of a Homer, a Shak
speare, a Shadwell, a Shentone, a Mil
ton, a Young, a Moore, a Goldsmith, and
a host of others? It is true, we can
vaunt of a Everett, a Ramsey, a Ban
croft, a Wheaton, and others, but none
have ever rendered their names so im
mortal, by their inimitable composition,
as those first mentioned. Everett is a
model of graceful eloquence,'but before
another century shall have sped by, his
name will be cast into oblivion, there
to remain until the lust trump shall
sound? We may tear monuments,
= whose tops mingle with the mist of the
! heavens, inorder h> render our literary
men’s names imperishable, but (bo mar
ble will crumble into dust, and the
names will be enveloped in the dark
ness of oblivion, until the last remains
will be but a faint light glimmering in
I the distance. Go to Westminster Ab
. I bey ami mince its “long-drawn aisles”
, • until you come to the tomb where tin*
I last remains of Geoffrey Chaucer now
. • repose, and bis admirable “Canterbury
. Tales” will bound into your memory as
the great work that hands bis name
down to future generations. The criti
cism of scholars may be burled upon it;
. it may bo swayed byjashion and preju
dice; but the unanimous voice of over
four hundred years is a most correct in
. dex of its ingenuity. Four hundred
and fifty years, aye one hundred and
fifty from now, how many of Everett's
■ works or “fourth of July orations” will
. be shining in the heaven of literature
.j as a rubric distinction of his former
■ ( magnificence and conspicuousncss ?
. True, but sad to say, they will be in
.; wrapped in a draught of lethean from
whence they will never rise to that
bright constellation from which they
! fell. They now throw an regis before
■ them that will last for some time to
■; come, but it will gradually decay until
; it entirely disappears.
But what few literary subjects wo
have South seem to entertain an undy
ing devotion for Northern scenery, for
I Northern customs, &c. It has been re-
I marked by the grovelling Helper, and
■ reiterated from every Northern stump
! and pulpit, that the South has no litcr
t ature; that we are engaged in the “hid-
cous business” of making cotton by ne
gro labor, and possess no time to write
■ books; and if it were not for the fruit
i fill minds and colossal learning of Yan
kee writers, we would be cast in a most
wretched pit of ignorance and mental
darkness; and in short, if the enrich
ing rivers of the North were dried up,
the South would become an intellectual
Sahara, with here and there a green
oasis in the form of a Yankee school
teacher! It is true that the North has
a number of “street babblers” in liter-
l ature, who furnish the Northern jour
| mils and papers with a few petty, tri
fling and love-sick stories. We would
• prefer to have the honor of being the
! author of some genuine, robust and co
gent book like “Sam Simple,” “Georgia
Scenes,” or “Capt. Simon Suggs,” than
to be saddled with the nncqualed noto
riety of being the author of every book
composed by all the peripatetic Yan
kees who now constitute the bright
stars of Northern literature.
; Now, in conclusion, let me ask every
' Southern writer, never so long as the
I midnight jcßvcls of heaven continue to
! shine, select a location for your story
I North df Mason and Dixon’s line. Stick
. to your Southern clime, even though
the sun turn to burning lava, the
: moon to fire, and the stars to dead
:ly scorpions. Never let the harsh sound
grate upon your cars that the South has
no literature —especially when it falls
from the lips of such mean, atrocious
and tagabondish skunks as Helper,
Seward, Greeley, and a host of others.
■Lumpkin, Ga.
] £§?• lie has not lost all who has still
■ the future left to him.
I Genuine religion is matter of
I feeling rather than matter of opinion.
8®" The great obstacle to progress
is pr judice.
Some men judge of others by
: feeling of themselves.
We make way for the man who
I boldly pushes past us.
I £.67“ In commercial circles, the mind
| is mainly appreciated as a money-ma
king machine.
£67“ A man happily married wonders
'at nothing more than how he could
1 have remained single so long.
I ° °
£67“ Less depends upon the amount
i of brains one had than upon the use he
i makes of them.
The thing most prejudicial to
■ our general health is to be constantly
thinking of it.
It it seldom that we find out
how great are our resources until we
arc thrown upon them in self-reliance.
£r-A“ A better principle than this, that
the majority shall rule, is this other,
that justice shall rule.
The pleasantest things in the
world are pleasapt thoughts, and the
i greatest art in life is to have mfiny of
them.
£67" To tell an indecent story is to
compromise one’s dignity, and to incur
• the risk of being despised for the poor
I result of exciting a laugh.
: Respect for wealth is respect for
i power. What we respect in those who
! possess fortune is the ability to do with
i it what we cannot do without it.
t _____
£67' Handsome features alone arc as
incapable of expressing real beauty as
speech alone is incapable of expressing
I wit.
Smto Jltabiug.
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.
This institution, comparatively speak
ing, is yet in its infancy. It is not
venerated for ils antiquity. It has not
of come down to us clad in the costume
other and ancient days. It has not been
bequeathed to us as a legacy from our
lathers; but is a modern institution,
adapted to the peculiar wants of this
age, and has only given an earnest of
its future usefulness.
Its first limits have been indeed tru
ly abundant, and give us cause to hope
that it will finally become one of the
most important and cfficicent organiza
tions for the dissemination of moral
and religious information, and an indis
pensible auxiliary to parents and teach
ers in training up the rising generation.
The auspicies at present arc most fa
vorable; and under them Sunday-schools
arc growing with great rapidity in
popular favor, and increasing in an
equal degree in their power to do good.
This is a strong argument in their fa
vor. Wherever they have been organ
ized and properlyjconductcd, they have
awakened a deep and abiding interest
in the progress of mental, and espe
cially of moral culture, and elicited the
best talent of the community in the in
struction of the young. Many can
remember when a Sunday-school was
a rare thing. Like angel’s visits, they
were “few and far between.” There
were a few scattered here and there
over the world’s waste, like oasis
in a desert; but the intervening spa
ces were very extensive, and in the
absence of moral instructions and mor
al restraint the tender minds of the
young were subject to the pestilential
blasts, and death-distilling dews of Ig
norance and Sin. Now yon can scarce
ly find a vicinity that is not blessed
with one of these hebdomanal socie
ties, with its Bibles, Tes
taments, Tracts, and other useful books,
and its corps of earnest, indefatigable
and self-sacrificing teachers.
Then but little respect was paid to
the Lord’s day.
The children of the neighborhood
generally assembled on Sunday, it is
true; but it was on the banks of a stream
to engage in angling, or in some shady
grove, where the chase and the ball
occupied their attention, and engaged
their physical powers, while the intel
lectual and moral were entirely neglec
ted.
Now they assemble, but it is at the
Church-house, or School-room, where
they spend the Lord’s day, morning or
evening, in gathering up the golden
grains of useful knowledge, and feast
ing upon the rich mental repast pre
pared for them Ly their pains-taking i
and devoted instructors. Look on this
picture, and on this, and you will be
prepared to appreciate, in some degree,
at least, the Sunday-school, and cher
ish it with that affectionate care which
it so richly deserves.
Yes, there are instilled into the
youthful mind principles that will ex
ert a powerful and sanctifying influ
ence on the heart, long after the gol
den-tinted morn of youth has passed
away.
Here the young may gain that use
ful imformation that will enable them
to take an elevated stand in society
among the teeming, busy millions of
our populous country, and exert a good
influence upon those by whom they arc
surrounded, and with whom they come
in contact. Here they may imbibe
those eternal and immutable principles
of Divine Truth, that will sustain them
through life, console them in their de
clining years, shed a halo of happiness
and glory upon their dying moments,
and illumine the “dark valley of the
shadow of death” with the resplendent
rays of hope.
It is the aim of the Sunday-school
organization to dissemminate moral and
religious information among all classes
of society and conditions of life. Its
blessings are not confined to the privi
leged few—the be pampered sons and
daughters of wealth and luxury, but,
with a philanthropy wide as the world,
it says, to the poor and needy children
of our country, Come, and, without mon
ey or price, drink of the precious
streams of Knowledge and Wisdon that
are ever flowing from the inexhausti
ble fountain of Divine Truth. Its de
sign is to seize upon the young and pli
ant mind
“E’er earth had profaned it,
Or sin thrown a blight over its early bloom,”
and so indelibly imprint upon its fair
blank, the great principles of truth and
virtue, that all the storms of life, the
gusts of passion, and the shafts of
affection, can never erase them from
the tablets of memory, or tear them
from the embrace of the affections.
The instruction communicated in the
Sunday-school will capacitate the soul
for the discharge of her duties in this
life, and “enable her to stand on high
vantage ground when she leaves this
oracle of her being for an immortal ex
istence beyond the grave.”
One word to Sunday-school teachers!
You should never forget that you la
bor for an immortal mind. That little
child whom you now instruct may
eventually shine with brilliancy far e
clipsing the brightest star that now be
decks the azure vault of Heaven.
The soul, if properly cultured, will
sparkle with a lustre far excelling that
of the brightest diadem on earth, in
that world of light and knowledge, and
happiness, that knows no change.
That immortal spirit will outlive em
pires and kingdoms, it will continue to
exist when the sun with all its glory
shall have grown dim, and the Heavens
with all their grandeur have passed
away. If rightly trained here, it will,
amid the wreck of matter and crush of
worlds, “plume its flight to the mansion
of its Father, and there, amid the chant
of angels and the song of the redeem
ed, it will live, and burn immortal and
undimmed.”
A Young Man’s Character.
No young man who has a just sense
of his own value, will sport with his
own character. A watchful regard to
his character in early youth, will boos
inconceivable value to him in all the
remaining years of his life. When
tempted to deviate from strict proprie
ty of deportment, he should ask himself
caff I afford this ? Can 1 endure here
after to look upon this?
It is of amazing worth to a young
man to have a pure mind, for this is the
foundation of a pure character. The
mind, in order to be kept pure, must be
employed in topics of thought which
are themselves lovely, chastened and
elevating. Thus the mind hath in its
own power the selection of its themes
of meditation. If youth only knew how
durable and how dismal is the injury
produced by the indulgence of degraded
thoughts—if they only realized how
frightful were the moral depravities
which a cherished habit of imagi
nation produces on the soul, they would
shun them as the bite of a serpent.
The power of books to excite the imag
ination is a fearful element of moral
death when employed in the service of
vice.
The cultivation of an amiable, eleva
ted and glowing heart, alive to all the
beauties of nature and all the sublimi
ties of truth, invigorates the intellect,
gives to the will independence of baser
passions, and to the affections that
power of adhesion to whatever is pure,
and good, and grand, which is adapted
to lead out the whole nature of man
into those scenes of action and impres
sion by which its energies may be most
appropriately employed, and by which
its high destination may be most effec
tually reached.
The opportunities of exciting these
faculties in benevolent and self-denying
efforts for the welfare of our fellow
men, are so many and great that it re
ally is worth while to live. The heart
which is truly evangelically benevolent,
may luxuriate in an age like this. The
promises of God are inexpressibly rich,
the main cadencies of things so mani
festly in accordance with them, the’ex
tent of moral influence is so great, and
the effects of its employment so visible,
that whoever aspires after benevolent
action and reaches after things that
remain for us, to the true dignity of his
nature, can find free scope for his intel
lect, and all-aspiring themes for the
heart.
Fate of the Apostles.
St. Matthew is supposed to have suf
fered martyrdom, or put to death by.the
sword, at the city of Etheopia.
St. Mark was dragged through the
streets of Alexandria, in Egypt, till he
expired.
St. Luke was hanged upon an olive
tree in Greece.
St. John was put to death in a caul
dron of boiling oil at Rome; and esca
ped death. He afterwards died a nat
ural death, at Ephesus, Asia.
St. James the Great was beheaded
at Jerusalem.
St. James was thrown from a pinna
cle wing of the temple, and then bea
ten to death with a fuller’s club.
St. Philip was hanged up against a
pillar at Ilierapolis, a city of Phrygia.
St. Bartholomew was flayed alive by
the command of a barbarous king.
St. Andrew was bound to a cross,
when he preached to the people till he
expired.
St. Thomas was run through the body
by a lance, at Cermandel, in the East
Indies. , > -
St. Jude was shot to death with ar
rows.
St. Sirnon Zelotes was crucified in
Persia.
St. Mathias was first stoned and then
beheaded.
ISyln selecting a calling for one about
to enter the arena of practical life, re
gard should be had to the interest of so
ciety, as vzell as merely to the prospec
tive pecuniary advantage of the youth,
and for this reason, that the interest of
society and that of the individual are in
the long run identical. Thus, instead
of selecting a profession, that of the law,
for instance, merely because more money
may be made in it, or more considera
tion is paid to its members—a profes
sion already overstocked, perhaps, and
whose tendency is, with honorable ex
ceptions, to promote contentions—in
stead ol selecting such a profession,
and thus adding to the stock of drones
and mischief-makers in the community,
it is in the end to the benefit of all par
ties to prefer some mechanical or agri
cultural employment, in the estimation
of the right judging, far more useful,
and by reason thereof, a great deal
more honorable.
/or lyt gaiuij.
THE BRAVE
I was sitting by a window in the sec
ond story of one of the large boarding
houses ‘at Saratoga Springs thinking
of absent friends, when I heard shouts
of children from the piazza beneath us.
“Oh yes; that’s capital ! so we will I
Come on, now! There’s William Hale!
Come on, William, we’re going to have
a ride on the Circular Railway. Come
with us!”
“Yes if mother is willing. I will run
and ask her,” replied William.
“0, 0, so you must run and ask your
ma. Great baby, run along to your
ma! Ain’t you ashamed? I didn’t ask
my mother.” “Nor I. Nor I.” added
half a dozen voices.
“Be a man Will'an,” cried the first
voice, “come along with us, if you
don’t want to be called a coward as
long as you live. Don’t you see we
are all waiting.”
I leaned forward to catch a view of
the children, and saw William standing
with one foot advanced, and his hand
firmly clenched in the midst of the
group. He was a fine subject for a
painter. His flushed brow, flashing
eye, compressed lip, and changing
cheek, all told how that word coward
was wrankling in his breast, “Will
he prove himself indeed one, by yield
ing, to them?” thought I. It was with
breathless interest I listened for his
answer, for I feared that the evil prin
ciple in his heart would be stronger
than the good. But no.
“I will not go without I ask my moth
er!” said the noble boy, his voice trem
bling with emotion, “and I am no cow
ard cither. I promised her that I would
not go from the bouse without her per
mission, and I should be a base cow
ard if I were to tell a wicked lie.”
There was something commanding
in his tone which made the noisy chil
dren mute. It was the power of a
strong soul over the weaker; and they
involuntarally yielded him the tribute
of respect.
I saw him in the evening among the
gathered multitude in the parlor. He
was walking by his mothers side, a
stately matron, clad in widows weeds.
Iler gentle and polished manners, and
rich, full tones of her sweet voice, be
trayed a southern birth. It was with
evident pride she looked on her grate
ful boy, whose face was one of the fi
nest I ever saw, fairly radiant with an
imation and intelligence. Wqll might
she be proud of such a son, one who
could dare to do right, where all were
tempting him to do wrong. I shall
proably never see the brave, beautiful
boy again, but my heart breathed a
prayer that that spirit now so strong
in its integrity, might never be sullied
by worldliness and sin—never, in com
ing years, be tempted by the multitudes
of evil. Then will he indeed be a joy
to the widow’s heart—a pride and an
ornament to his country. Our country
needs such stout bravo hearts, that
can stand fast when the whirldwinds
of temptation gather thick and strong
around them—she needs men who from
infancy upward scorned to be false and
recreant to duty.
’ Would you, little boy, be a brave
man and a blessing to your country, be
truthful now. Never, never, tell a lie,
or deceive in any manner, and then,
if God spares your life, you wi'ZZ be a
stout hearted man, a strong and fear
less champion of the truth.
Why do You go to School ?
Young Friends :—You attend school;
but do you know, or have you ever
thought, why yoq attend? Do you ever
reflect, young friends, why you learn
to road, and write, to reckon numbers,
and write compositions?
Some may reply that, though they
are averse to study, and can’perceive
no benefit therefrom, arc nevertheless
compelled to go to school. Why is
this? Your parents and guardians cer
tainly incur expense in sending you to
school, besides allowing you the time,
which would otherwise be engaged for
their benefit.
Ah, children, reflect whether it be
not for your advantage, that they pro
vide so liberally for your education.
How thankful and obedient should you
be to your parents and teachers, who
take so deep an interest in your wel
fare.
You learn Io read in order to become
useful and intelligent citizens; to be
able to read books and newspapers,
which inform you what is transpiring
in other places, thus enabling you the
better to manage your own affairs and
those of the town and State, when you
become men.
You learn to write, reckon numbers,
and compose, that you maybe prepared
to enter into business; as a lawyer, doc
tor, magistrate, or a farmer. Should
you prefer learning the trade of a me
chanic, to the above occupations, be
lieve me young, friends, you will become
better workmen if you possess a thor
ough knowledge of these branches,
than those who do not.
Girls will not engage in any of these
pursuits; and they are capable of be
coming useful and intelligent, as well
as boys. They should be able to con
duct household affairs, frugally and
skillfully; to preside in the parlor, and
to manage in the kitchen; hence, they
must be educated.
Let inc repeat it, my young friends,
if you arc ignorant of the branches be
fore spoken of you cannot become use
ful members of society in any capaci
ty. No worthy and profitable business
could you creditably conduct. No
books could you read. No letters of
friendship could you write. Oh, of
how much happiness you would be de
prived!
Strive, therefore, never to be idle.—
When you arc not at school, at exer
cise, or the in service of your parents or
friends, devote your leisure time to
reading. Never allow your teachers
to compel you to study.
Have you a difficult problem to solve?
Then betake yourself to your task; ap
ply your mind to nothing else except
your problem; remember the teacher’s
instructions and the rules of your, a
rithmetic; these, together with your
own reasoning, will effect a solution.
Should you fail to solve it, yield not
to disappointment; your endeavors will
not be useless. In consequence of
your attempts, you will the more read
ily comprehend the teacher’s explan
ations. Solutions obtained in this man
ner arc never forgotten.
Do you always comprehend the mean
ing of all the words contained in your
lesson? If not, delay not a moment to
procure a dictionary, in which you will j
find the requisite imformation; and al
ways keep it near when you are study
ing-
THE RAIN DROP.
A FABLE FOR THE YOUNG.
There was once a farmer/who had a
large field of corn; he plowed it and
planted the corn, and harrowed it and
weeded it with great care; and on his
field he depended for the support oT his
family. But after he had worked so
hard, he saw the corn begin to wither
and droop for want of rain, and he
thought he should lose his crop. He
felt very sad, and went out every day
to look at his corn, and see if there
was any hope of rain.
One day, as he stood there looking
at the sky and almost in despair, two
little rain-drops up in the clouds over
his head saw him, and one said to the
other, “Look at that poor farmer; I feel
sorry for him; he has taken such pains
with his field of corn,-and now it is all
drying up. I wish I could do him some
good.”
“Yes,” said the other, “but you are
only a little rain-drop—what can you
do? You can’t wet even one hillock.”
“Well,” said the first, “to be sure I
can’t do much; but I can cheer the far
mer a little at any rate, and I am re
solved to do my best. I’ll try, I’ll go |
to the field to show my good will if I
can do no more; so here I go.”
And down went the rain-drop, and
came pat on the farmer’s nose, and then
fell on one stalk of corn.
“Dear me,” said the farmer, putting
his finger to his nose, “what’s that? A
rain’drop. Where did that come from?
I do believe we shall have a shower!”
The first rain-drop had no sooner
started for the field than the second
said, “Well if you go, I will go too, so
here I come;” and down dropped the
rain-drop on another stalk. By this
time a great many rain-drops had come
together, to hear what their compan
ions were talking about; and when they
heard them, and saw them going to
cheer the farmer and water the corn,
one.of them said:
“If you are going on such a good
errand, I’ll go too;” and down he came.
“And I,” said another, “and I,” “and
I,” and so on, till a whole shower of
them came; and the corn was all wa
tered, and it grew and ripened, all be
cause the little rain-drop determined to
do what it could.
This is a fable, we know, but it
teaches a good lesson. Never be dis
couraged, children, because you can’t
tlo much. Do what you can. — Child’s
Paper.
Print it in Letters of Gold.
A father whose son was addicted .to
some vicious propensities, bade the boy
to drive a nail into a certain post when
ever he committed a certain fault; and
agreed that a nail should be drawn out
whenever he corrected an error. In
the course of time the post was com
pletely filled with nails.
The youth became alarmed at the ex
tent of his indiscretions and set about
reforming himself. One by one the
nails arc drawn out; the delighted fath
er commended him for his noble, self
denying heroism, in freeing himself
from his faults.
“ They are all drawn out,” said the
parent.
The boy looked sad, and there was a
whole volume of practical "wisdom in
his sadness. With a heavy heart he
replied:
“True father; but the scars are still
there.”
Parents who would have their chil
dren grow to sound and healthy char
acters, must sow the seed at the fire
side. Charitable associations can re
form the man, and perhaps make him a
useful member of society ; but, alas !
the scars are there! The reformed
drunkard, gambler and thief is only the
wreck of the man he once was; he is
covered with scars, dishonorable scars,
which will’ disfigure his character as
long as he shall live.
Baby Poetry.
Some hypocritical old bachelor may
say there is no poetry in the follow
ing reported effusion of “a young and
happy mother.” She sings over her
first born, in baby language, true poe
try : ‘ '
Where is e baby ? Bess its heart—
Where is muzzer’s darling boy ?
Does it hold ite ittle hands apart,
The dearest, bessed toy ?
And so it does; and will its ittle chia
Grow just as fat as butter 1 ■
And will it poke its ittle fingers in
Its tnnnin ittle mouth, and mutter
Nicey wicy words,
Just like ittle yaller birds 1
And so it will; and so it may,
No matter what its pappy, mammy say,
And does it wink its ittle eyeses,
When it’s mad and ups and crieses?
And does it squall like chick-a-dees
At every thing it sees ?
Well it does ! Why not, I pray?
Aint it muzzer’s darling day ?
Oh ! what’s the matter ? oh my ! oh my!
What makes my sweetest chicken ky ’
Oh nasty, ugly pin, to prick it;
Its darling muzzer’s darling cricket I
There I there! she’s thrown it in
The fire, the kuel, wicked pin I
There ! hush my honey; go to seep,
Rocked in e kadle of e deep!
A Big Story.—An old gentlman who
had a neighbor rather addicted to tell
ing large stories, after listening one
day to several which quite taxed his
credulity, boasted that he himself could
tell a bigger one still, and proceeded
to relate the following—
“ One day I was quite at the farther
end of my farm, more than a half a
mile from my house, when all at once
I saw a heavy dark cloud rising in the
west. Soon I saw the torrents of rain
decending at a distance, and rapidly
approaching the place where I stood
with my wagon and horses. Determin-’
ed, if possible, to escape the storm, I
instantly leaped into my wagon, and
started my. team towards home. By
constant application of the whip to my
horses, I barely escaped being over
taken by the rapidly approaching tor
rent. But so tremendous did it pour
down, that my little dog, who was
close behind me, had to swim all the
way.”
Snoring.—Old Hicks was an awful
snorer. He could be heard ’farther than
a blacksmith’s forge; but his wife be
came so accustomed to it, that it sooth
ed her repose. They were a very do
mestic couple—never, never slept apart
for many years. At length the old
man was required to attend court some
distance. The first night after his de
parture, his wife never slept a wink;
she missed the snoring. The next
night passed away in the same manner,
without sleep. She was getting into
a very bad way, and probably would
have died, had it not been for the inge
nuity of a servant girl. She took the
coffee mill into her mistress’ chamber
and ground her to sleep at ence.
£67" So far as the great purpose of
happiness is concerned, it is better to
have the love of a girl, or the venera
tion of a wife, than the homage of the
multitude. What is even the poet’s
wreath to the wreath made by her arms
as they encircle you?
£67“ A good anecdote is told of one
of the Chippewa Indians now at the
North. He was asked why Indians
did not copy the dress of our people.
He replied: “Methinks wo started your
fashions, your men now wear blankets,
as we do, and your women paint their
faces and wear feathers!”
£67" An attorney, on being called to
account for having acted unprofession
ally in taking less than the usual fees
from his client, pleaded that he had
taken all the man had. He was, there
upon, honorably acquitted.
£67“ Somebody says a baby laugh
ing in its dreams is conversing with
angels. Perhaps so—but we have seen
them crying in their waking hours as
though they were having a spat with
the devil.
. It is said that the ivy will not cling
to a poisonous tree or other substance.
What a pity that the tendrils of a wo
man’s heart have not the same whole -
some and salutary instinct.
Looking Forward.—“ls it possible,
miss, that you don’t know the names of
your best friends?” “Certainly! I do
not even know what my own name
may be in a year from this time.”
£S7» A divorce was recently granted
by one of the Courts of Indiana, where
the only allegation against the defend
ant was that he had cold feet.
An Irish lover remarked that
it is a great pleasure to be alone, espe
cially when your “swatcheart is wid
ye.”
Yonng folks tell what they do;
ok! ones, what they have done; and
fools, what they will do.
Tenderness—A quality much more
frequently found in beef-steaks than in
husbands.
Tom Hood says nothing spoils
a holiday like a Sunday poat or a new
pair of boots. To have time set easy
your garments must set the example.