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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.