Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME X.
(Original ipoclri).
Written for the Visitor.
TO MY CLASSMATES.
Time is a rapid stream—it onward rolls,
And bears upon its bosom many a joy,
And many a hope of care-worn, restless souls
Who grasp at happiness—fortune’s mere toy;
And time dear ones hath borne us fur apart,
Lore's ties, the strongest, have been rent in
twaiu—
An aching pang now dwells in each young heart,
For we ha?e parted—ne’er to meet aguiu!
To us the earth seems now all joyous bright,
And lightly fall the merry-footed hours—
Each landscape weareth now a brilliant light,
We see no serpent crawling o’er life’s flowers.
But ah! that viewless future may be dark,
Although no threatening cloud as yet is seen,
Upon a treacherous sea our boats embark,
A brilliant goal ahead—perils between.
Our destinies are severed! we’ll no more
Assembled be at call of morning bell—
Our gladsome school-days are forever o'er,
And we have breathed that bitter word—fare
well !
Deserted are the desks where late our forms
Pored over text books, 'till the eye grew dim,
But oh! the soul with recollection warms
At thought of morning prayer and morning
hymn.
When we have tasted deep life’s bitter cup,
And forms now youthful with old age shall
bend,
The prayers by kind preceptors offered up,
Will live in memory, ami sweet visions lend.
And oh! whatever joys life may afford,
There will be none so pure and sweet, I ween,
As when our voices with *‘one accord”
Blended, in the sweet days that once have
been. f
Wo, like young birds leaving the parent nest,
Our* Alma Male?” leave thee fur behind.
And hope and fear coute: ding heave the breast;
As we unloose the cords so closely twined.
Yes, different homes and different fates are ours,
For some will choose the thorny road to fame,
Olhers perchance may roam through pleasure’s
bowers.
And “barter peace” but not to “gain a name.”
But, while we wander o’er life’s varied plains,
Memory with us will travel “hand in hand.”
And when bright youth with all her visions
wanes
In spirit she’ll rejoin the broken band;
The flowers are scattered, and the vase lies bro
ken
Uu.ted we on earth can never be,
But may these words by each aml all be spoken
“I’ll strive to live for him, who died for me.”
AnXiis of “ Bellevue.”
Richmond county, Ga..
Written for the Visitor.
MEMORIES.
I must not say I iove thee yet,
For what can words like these avail;
I dare not say, I'll kneel again,
For pride, and manhood check the tale.
Yet wildly o’er my wayward soul,
Ritsh feelings which 1 cuunot stay,
And all ihe sternness of control,
Is swept from my weak heart away.
Oh ! memory of the mad'ning Past!
Oh! mournful fate, that atill must be;
All, all alike are vain—the lust
Is still, to love! —to worship thee!
Sen waiuex ski.
Avgusta Ga.
I WAIT FOR THEE.
The hearth is swept—the fire is bright,
The kettle sings for tea;
The cloth is spread, the lamp is light,
The muffins smoke in uapkins white,
And now I wait for thee.
Come, come, love, home, thy task is done;
The clock ticks listeningly;
The blinds are shut, the curtain down,
The warm chair to the fireside drawn,
The boy is on my knee.
Come home, love, come; his deep fond eye
Looks round him wistfully;
And when the whispering winds go by,
As if thy welcome step were nigh.
He crows exultingly.
In rain—he finds the welcome vain,
And turns his glance on mine,
So earnestly, that yet again
Jlis form unto my heart I strain,
That glance is so like thine.
Thy task is done—we miss thee here;
Where’er thy footsteps roam,
No hearth will send such kindly cheer,
gg No beating heart, no listening ear,
Like those who wait thee home.
Ah, now along the crisp walk fast
That well known step doth come;
The bolt is drawn, the gate is past,
The babe is wild with joy at last—
A thousand welcomes homo.
Clasp ine, love ! I’m thine,
Th* dgh ail oth r light depart,
Save this sunshine of the heart,
Yet while sheltered at thy side,
I am blest, whate’ei betide. •
Ah, ’tis vain ! the shadows flow
O’er my heart—thou too must go!
Lose, farewell. Life’s dream is done!
Mine the shadow, thine the sun ;
Till afar from grief and pain,
In the fight we meet again—
So forever mine.
31 Southern tUrckh) Citcvnnj ant) ittis cell aments Bonvnal, for iljt fjomr Cuxlc.
21 Capital Sion}.
THE WHISPERING TREE.
In the city of Cairo there on ee dwelt
h Christian merchant, named Hanna
who had amassed a considerable fortune
so that envy often turned its glances to
wards him. As is usual, however, in
this world, Hanna found cause to com
plain of his condition. It was true that,
he had a fine house in the street of the
saddle-makers, that his furniture was
co-tly, that his slaves, pipes, ntules and
asses were of the first quality. One
thing was wanted : a son, an heir to in
herit his wealth, and continue his name.
Now', in an Eastern store, no sooner
is this difficulty mentioned than we can,
as a general rule, foresee 'hat in some
manner more or less ingenious, the much
desired addition to the hero’s fatnilv h
miraculously made. Sometimes, a nil
giimage is undertaken to the tomb of a
Saint; sometimes, prayers are addressed
directly to heaven; sometimes, a inn
gieian makes his appearance and gives
two children, on condition, that at a e'er
tain age lie shall be allowed to claim
one and slay it for the purpose of some
horrible incantation : it following as a
matter of course that he chooses the
favorite, and leaves the disconsolate pa
rent to cover his head with ashes, to
clothe himself in sackcloth, and to per
form all the heart breaking ceremonies
of an Eastern mourning. The difficul
tv in the case of Hanna was that he
had no wife and was determined never
to get married; and, considering that
lie was past his seventieth year, the de
termination can scarcely be called unwise.
There was am.vstery, however, in the
life of this Christian, which will explain
iti some measure why he did hoi give
himself up to absolute and sullen despair.
About half acenturv before, the period
of which" we speak, he had been a trnv
eller, had visited Hind and hind, with
many other wonderful places, had resid
ed ill Persia and sailed upon the Caspar,
He would tell to one or two iritima e
friends, that when at. Ispahan lie had
loved ami been loved by a ladv, whom
he married and lived will) for nearly u
year. A child was born to them, a bov.
on whom both showered all the treasures
of iheii affection. But it happened, one
day, that they were in the gardens in
the neighborhood of the city; and Han
na feeling weary went under some trees
to sleep, whilst his wife sat with the
child by a stream of water that danced
along through a grass-fringed bed. The
young man's slumber lasted for some
time. The shadows which had protect
ed him when he lay down had moved
away when he awoke. Indeed, it was
the sun playing upon his eye lids that
recalled him from the land of dreams.—
He rose from the warm turf and called
languidly for Lishet; but, though lie
could see all across the meadow where
he had left her under a locust-tree by
the side of the water, his eyes discerned
no sign of life. lie went forward slow
ly, stretching his arms and yaw ning, un
til he came to the spot where the young
mother had been silting. Here lie saw
traces of the trampling of mativ feet,
both of horses and men ; and a riband
that had adorned the wrist of the child
lay on the ground. Fear of a calamity
came upon him. He gazed more eager
Jy over the meadow ; and beheld a track
through tile grass as if a body of hor-es
had rushed rapidly along One loud cry
of •' Lisbetl”—a cry that burst.in an
gitish from his lips, but to which he did
not expect an answer—showed that he
understood what disaster had befallen
him. He sprang on the track of the
ravishers; crossed the meadow; burst
through a little screen of trees: and sanq
on the extreme limit of the plain, just
fading from his view, as it were a little
moving cloud with a clusterof sparkling
rays of light above it. The Turkomans
were shaking their spears in triumph as
they entered upon the desert with their
T-r 7-
Hanna bad never obtained any reason
MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JULY 2G, 185 G
able in’ormafion as to the fate of Lis
I iiet. Perhaps he did not do all that
| some heroic natures would to recover
j her and the child. He sent messenger
j with offers of money to the tribes; he
j even undeitook a journey to the s'l ong
| hold of Jatfir Kalin ; but w ithout sue
cess. The Turkomans hinted that per
haps the charms of Lishet had smit:oi
some independent chief, who had car
ried li> r far away into the wilde liras. —
After some years of vain wailing, die
extreme manifestations of grief d'sup
|mared, Hanna resumed his comuicr
cial enterprises, and at length became
established in Egypt, where he remain
ed, buying and selling, until wealth sur
rounded him. But lilty years passed
away, and he did not take unto himselt
another w ife.
So far he easily confided to the few
whom he called his friends; and when
■these would condole with him as.to the
childless position, he used tosmilc strange
ly and iosimiato that there might yet be
found an heir to inherit what lie , had
amassed: Yet 110 never admitted that
his hopes lay in the eliild of Lishet, milt
that he had some taint r>asou lor lari
lieving that lie was not feeding upon a
dulii ion.
The truth is that Hanna, who was a
good, kind man— made better and kind
er by all his mistiutlines—as he was
travelling between Bagdad and Damas
cus, several years after the loss of Lis
bet, fell in with a poor nmn by the wav,
a poor miserable man, who lugged for
succor from amidst some bu-hes; fin
he was totally naked, having been strip
ped by robbers. All he a.-ked was a
eltiak and a loaf lieu ho might continue
his journey and reach a neighboring
town. But Hanna stopped his kafihi
and clothed and fed him, and gave him
money, ami set him upon a mule, white,
ami fit for a king—ami took him all
ihe way to Damascus, where lie set him
down in the street, without so much as
asking Iris iii.im', Iris country, or his failh.
Tlrw poor stranger was a Jew, who
came, many years afterwards, to Egypt,
ami recognized his benefactor. 110 was
also a magician, who discovered "the 'Se
cret thoughts of those wiih whom he
conversed; so ho said, one day to Han
na, “ There is a mighty sorrow within
dice; for I see the signature of regret
upon tliv brow, near the right temple."
“I regret not to have a child,” replied
the merchant.
“Nay,” said the Jew: “ the grief hath
relation to a thing past. Tell hie thy
story, and I may be of service.”
llanna told his story; and the Jew
forthwith went away, and burned per
fumes, ami uttered w. r Is, and w rote
symbols, and wrestled with the keepers
of the unknown. When he came back
to the merchant, lie said, “ 1 have no’
discovered all that I wish to know ; hut
they tell me. if ilion canst find the Whis
pering Tree, it will speak to llice of Lis
Bet mid her child. 1
The Jew could give no further infor
mation ; but Ilatma, who believed, be- t
gan forthwith to make cauiiotis inquiries
about the Whispering Tree. lie ques
tioned not only the people of Cairo, but
wrote to all his correspondents in vari
ous parts of the globe, asking about
this strange thing. Indeed, lie went
about catechising the world in general
respecting the mysterious Whispering
Tree. But he got no information. All
replied that they were ignorant. No- j
body had beard of a tree that whisper j
ed. Year after year Hanna pel si-ted
in inquiring ol every stranger arrived
from various provinces, whether lie knew
anything about the Whispering Tree ; |
until time passed,and strength began to j
fail. When all his friends were tired of
hearing him ask the same question, and
he became tired of asking it, despair •
was a frequent visitor with him.
One dav, he was at Gisnch, in a gar
den drinking coffee with his friend Ma j
lek, and listening to the bubbling of his
water pipe, when, along the parii lead- j
ing from the pyramids, appeared coming
a string of laden camels accompanied |
bv many men. “Is it the caravan from
Momznk 1” inquired Hanna—“Nav,”re-
I*l ed Malek ; “ that caravan came in
be week past; and I know not from
"hat country this arrival may be.”—
they went to the garden gate, moved
by curiosity; and waited until the fore
runners of the caravan came bv.
Their costume was that of the sons of
the desert, except around the head was
a wrapper which enfolded both the brow
and the mouth, leaving little more than
the eyes exposed.
“ they are of ihe Mntludameen,” said
Mtkk; .‘“and opine from the deserts to
waids Beled es Soudan ; but of whip
tribe we shall only learn by asking.”—
Then he. raised Iris Voice, and said. “ O
s'rangers, merchants; from what conn
try, and with wlmt merchandize ?”
I lie man addressed muttered from be
neath his muffler; “ from Agdaz in the
land of Ahir, with gold dust and ivory _
and a remnant of slaves, the strong
and the sturdy, the rest having peris nod
by the way. 1 So saying, he passed on.
Hast thou ever heard of this coim
it'yV’ inquired Hanna.—“ But. little,”
-aid Malek. “It is not a country id
commerce; ami I cuunot understand
why they should have come this wav.”
As he spoke, a youth of pleasant coun
tenance, riding on a camel, with his
mouth uncovered, eaine slowly towards
them. “O young man,” cried Hamm,
as it obeying a sudden inspiration, “ thou
coolest Irani unknown lands over won
derful regions. Bere|ianee thou canst
tell me of the Whispering Tree.”—“lt
is at Kama,” lepded the youth, striking
with Iris heel the neck of his camel and
causing it Jo turn but of the line and
slop, “and what, my father, is the rea
son of thy curiosity ("—“ ’Tis a long
story,” replied Hanna; “but if thou
wilt alight and repose thyself after thy
fatigue, l will ielate it to thee.” The
Voting man leaped down, and called to
a black inan who hail followed Jriin on
foot to take care of the camel, and en
tered the garden with the two old men.
W lit n lie had heard the story of the
merchant, the young stranger said : “My
story is sinrla’' to thine; Omy father.—
I In hi art seeking what thou hast perhaps
never seen, iam seeking what has only
appealed to me in a vision. I came not
of the Mathofitnieeii of Agdaz. My
father was a merchant of Egypt, who
traveled with me into the land Tafehs,
ot wise men and magicians, and dying,
left me there a child. Now it happened
a year ago that I dreamed a dream, and,
lo ! a maiden of surpassing beauty came
and bent over me like a lily over a pool
of sleeping water, bent, and bent until
her lips swept my temple, and I awoke
tremulous as after a kiss of love. I
stretched my ,'irins in the darkness, hut
there was nothing; I called my slave,
who came with a light ami searched the
room '. am] there was nothing.
“ Tie II I knew that l had dreamed, and
I turned upon my pillow again, ami
sought to return to the country which I
had quit." Soon I slept again, and the
same maiden appeared—but this time
afar off’—beekouing me to follow. I
endeavored to rise, but my limbs had
lost their vigor. I struggled ; but in
vain. Tin) earth drew me still closer to
it, until I durst away into consciousness,
and found myself trembling in the lied.
From that lime 1 pined for Jove of the
maiden of my dream, and nought would
content me. Ly friends at first laughed
and mocked ; hut when I became in truth
sick and pule, and unable to rise from
ll„. bed unable and now ntliv ; for when
ever I slumbered, the same f. rm o,
beauty appeared —when I drew near n
the gates of death, they brought to nn
a wise man who inquired into my case,
and smiled when he heard what had be
fallen saying—
“‘The-remedy is not easy; for the roa<
is long, and there are dangers by the way
But .f thou hast courage, thou wilt hea
what thou wishest murmuring amid th
leaves of the Whispering Tree.’ IJ,
then told me that this tree was situated
at a place called Karas, in Khorassan,
beyond Persia. 1 instantly sold all my
goods, and prepared to depart with u
caravan that was bound for Tripoli; af
ter we had travelled a month, wo came
to a country where there was war; and
we were compelled to traverse the regions
of Thibet, and tlie Haronj Mountains,
and tile Walls, and to travel through
many disasters to Egypt. This is the
reason why we met; and now it will he
better for us both to journey together iu
search of this wonderful tree.”
\\ lieu Hanna heard what this young
man said, that Kama was in the coun
try of Khorassan beyond Persia, lie
doubted not but that lie should hear
there some news of the lost Lishet and
her child. He therefore resolved to de
part in company with the young man,
whose name was Gorges, although the
prudent Malek objected Iris great nge,
and the possibility of danger and death.
In a few days the worthy merchant had
closed his business for that season, and
with a purse of money and a case of
jewels, was ready to accompany’the lovy-
I rn Gorges.
The narrative nec-d not trace their itin
erary. Many months elapsed ere the
young and the old traveller—the toys
ot love and parental affection—were
wandering, disguised in humble raiment
through the wilds of Khorassan, asking
ot the rare people they met for a place
called Kama. Nobody seemed able to
give them any intelligence. The place
was a place unknown. They began to
think they wire tin; victims of delusion ;
and when they had passed several years
in the vain search, it is said that they
became, as it were, mad. They thought
and talked of nothing but the Whisper
ing Tree of Kama. The people in the
villages and the encampment knew them
as the strange questim ers, ad pitied
their case; and instead of harming them
whenever they met them on the road,
would cry. “ Has there any news been
heard by ye, O melancholy searchers?—
0 father 1 O brother! has the unknown
place been made known ? lias the se
cret been revealed j” Thus they con
tinued v earying the desert with con
stant going to ami fro, until Hanna be
came a bent shadow, and the youth grew
lo be a bearded mat).
It happened one evening, as they were
going through a mountainous country
which tlu-y had not hitherto trodden,
far nil the way to Bukhara, they came
to a small valley locked in the embraces
of rugged rocks. Its surface was like
a green emerald. Grass, and shrubs,
and trees, arid flowers, spread to the feet
of perpendicular cliffs. A silver stream
wound here and there, as if unwilling
to leave so pleasant a spot, and at last
gathered into a small lake without appa
rent issue. The two wayfarers expected
to find a village where they might pass
the night. But there was i o sign Os
human habitation. The night began
balmily ; the stars shone warmly ; there
was scarcely any breeze ; and the little
that blew was warm and fragrant .as the
breath of woman. Hanna and Gorges
lay down under the shadow of a tree,
and slept tis the travel-weary alone can
sleep.
They both dreamed adream—if dream
it was. The tree above their heads be
gan to wave and wave its boughs; mur
murs seemed to creep from every leaf;
here unjflQknm and a buzz, as if a
swain- oVHLwas settling over head ;
md by degreoPp chorus of small voices
eemed losing': “This is Kama, Kama.
Kama ! Go no further ; but tarry here
test and peace will find you ; for this is
Kama, Kama, Kama!’’
All night long the same melody re
ieshed their ears; and an evil spirit
who bent over them intending to do then,
vrong, tied away ; for, on seeing tlieii
mile of happiness, he said to himself.—
That is the smile of the angels of God 1
Tile birds wore singing when the 01.
nan and the young awoke. The mini
•f Kama was still ringing in their ear
*nd it seemed as if the thrush that had
•ome to perch in the boughs overheat,
was repeating it. Suddenly a clear
sweet voice sounded over the meadow,
and the wayfarers beheld a maiden with
ajar upon her head, tripping lightly
along a pathway that passed near them
and led to the stream. She was singing,
and the burden of her song was : “Fair
is the valley of Kama!” Hanna turned
up his eyes with gratitude towards the
Whispering Tree; but Gorges kept gaz
ing intently at the maiden. His dream
stood before him embodied.
The maiden of Kama was alarmed at
first, at tlie aspei t of strangers; but
they soon contrived to re assure her, Hnd
bidding them wait until she returned
from the stream, she promised to con
duct them to her dwelling. Tney wait
ed accordingly, and followed her steps,
which she made slow out of respect to
the age of llanna, passed bv a green
garden, in the midst of which were
three graves, and reached a kind of her
mitage scooped in the rock, in front of
which, on a sunny, bench, sat an old man
with a huge white beard that swept to
his knees. No stranger had penetrated
into that valley for many a long year,
but the patriarch was past the age when
surprise is possible, and meekly bade the
travellers to be seated on the beucli be
side him.
Y\ hen they had refreshed themselves
with rest and food, the old hermit bade
then) tell their stories, whilst the maiden
sat at their feet, a little nearer to Gorges
than lo the others, listening with down
cast eyes, llanna related what had
sent them in search of the Whispering
Tree of Kuna oini tii_.no hug not even
the love of theyoiuig min for the bein .
ot his dream. The hermit smiled in his
white beard and said : “I am one bun
died years old, and no longer fear the en
mity of inan ; for lam in hopes of the
mercy of’God. I have sinned, hut I
have stiff-l ed. It was I, 0 llanna, who
took away thy Wife Lishet. I took her
to my tents, not far from thisvallev ; but
she refused me her love and died. Then I
desponded and retired to this hermitage
with her child which I bred as my own.
I called him Kama, which in our tongue
means the Bereaved, and named the
place of our dwelling after him. II"
grew up not knowing his origin, and indue'
time knew a maiden, and took her and
dwelt with her in her happiness until he
died, and she died leaving this daughter
to my Care. There are the graves ol
Lishet, and her son, and her son’s wife,'
said the old man pointing to the three
mounds of earth. IBs hand fell, says
the story, with a rattle. Obi ago lmd
done its work. lie had lived to restore
the grand daughter of Lishet to him
who had so long sought for herself: ami
was buried in the little garden before hi
hermitage.
The worthy gentleman who related
this story to ine, after observing that ol
course Miriam became the wife of Gor
ges, and that they and Hanna returned
in safety to Caiio, endeavored to play
lie free-thinker by explaining that wlmt
ever seemed supernatural in this story
was purely ornamental; that the Tree
most probably did not whisper at all;
and that there was nothing in it inconi
patible with tl e supposition of an extra
ordinary coincidence.
I observed, however, that while ven
turing on this ticklish ground he had an
uneasy look which reminded me of thus,
philosophical ones who observe in a dis
mal voice that they believe in nothing
ihev do not understand.
The fact is, these Levantines are cred
ulous as the Muslims; and altliough
heir stories are not quite so wild am;
•xtravagaut afi those of the Arahiai
Nights’ Entertainments, they exact tin
•xercise of nearly as great amount o.
aith. I mentioned this to the narrator
.ud observed, instead of entering upon
aiilusopliieal discussion with biin, ilia
ie seemed to lay no stress on the jov
it' Hanna at recovering his granddaugh
er, or on tiiat of Gorges at beholding
ie lady of his dream.
“As to the latter point,” said ho, “we
•an all imagine the feelings of the young
man ; but I remember that it is usual to
NUMBER 30
say, ill filing this story, that the good'
old'llamm—whilst the heriuit was tel&
ing his story —put his arms round th*
necks ofMiriam and Gorges, and pressing
them to his breast tried to speak, but
could only give utterance to a loud cry"
of triumph and joy. Tli-y say, too, that
he always wandered in his speech a little
afterwards; and would, now and
wish that he were nsleep in Kama by
the side of Lisbet.”
■♦*♦* » —■ J
A Wife’s Influence'.
A woman, in many instances, has her”
husband’s fortune in her power, because
she may or may not conform to his cir
cumstances. This is her first duty, and
it ought to be her pride. No passion
for luxury or display ought to tempt her
for a moment to deviate in the least de
gree from this line of conduct. She
will find her respectability in it. Any
other course is wretchedness itself, and
inevitably leads to ruin.
Nothing can be more miserable than
to keep up appearances. If it could suc
ceed, it would cost more than it is worth;*
as it never can, its failure involve* the
deepest mortification. Some of the sub
limest exhibitions of human virtue have*
been made by women who have been
precipitated suddenly * from wealth and
splendor lo absolute want.
Then a man’s fortunes are in the hand*
of his wife, inasmuch as his own power
of exertii u depends on her. Ilis morale
strength is inconceivably increased by'
her sympathy, her counsel, her aid.—•
She can aid him immensely, by relieving
him of everything which she is capable
ot taking upon herself. Uis own em
ployments are usually such as to requir*
liis whole time and his whole mind.
A good wife will never suffer her hus
band’s attention to be dis'meted bv da
tails to which her ow n time and talent*
are adequate. If she ho prompted b r
true affection and good sense, she will
perceive that when his spirits are born*
down and overwhelmed, she, of all hu
man beings, can minister to its needs.—
For the sick soul her nursing is quite a*
sovereign as it is for corporeal ills. If it
he weary, in her assiduity it finds repos*
and refreshment. If it be harassed ancf
worn to a morbid irritability, her gentle
tones steal over it with a soothing more
potent than the most exquisite music.—
It every enterprise be dead, her patience
and foriiiude have the power to rekindle .
ihem in tile heart, and he again goe*'
forth to renew the encounter with th*.
toils and troubles of life.
The Census. —The following colloquy
took place between the census marshal
and a native of Germany ;
“ Who lives here ?”
“ Yaw.”
“ What’s your name f”'
“ Slim-many on the Rhine."
“ What's your father's name I”
“ Nix for Slaw.”
“ When did you arHve in Albany f* '
“Mit a steamboat.”
“Got any children ?”
“ Yaw—two barrels,mit krout.”
“llow long have you resided in this’
house ?”
“ Two rooms and der basements.”
“ Who owns the building?”
“ I pays noting. Ilans pays dersamaP
wice a month.”
“ Where did you live last year ?"
“Across der red store as you coma'
up mit der market on your right hand,
pel-hind der pump vat berlongs to der
ilaeksmid’s shop.”
He is but half prepared f-r the jour*
nev of life who takes not with him that
riend who will forsake him in no enter
,ency, who will divide his sorrows, in
l ease his joys, lift tire veil from his heart'
mil throw sunshine around the darkest'
cones.
- -
“My lad,’’ said a lady to a boy carry- a
ing out an cmpiy mail bag, “are yoa' ’
i mail boy ?”
“ You don’t think Vie a female baf*
dot ye f*