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THE spreiamiCs, Will h* published entry SATURD A Y Morning , In the Brick Building, at Ike Corner of Colton Avenue and First Street, 1* THE CITY OF MACO*, OA. by HAKUISOY * MYEItS. TERMS: for tho Paper, in advance, per annum, if not paid in advance, (2 50, per annum. If not paid until the end of the Year $3 00. * £7 Advertisements will be inserted at the usual ra(o * and when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they will be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly. (LJ* Advertisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favorable terms. O’Sales of Land by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the AT ternoon, at the Court House of the countym which the Property is situate. Notice ofthese Sales must be given in a public gazette sixty nay* previous to the dav of sale O’Sales of Negroes by Administatorf, Yxeeu tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction the first Tuesday in the month, between the legal hours of sale, before the Court House of the county where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration •or Guardianship may have been granted, first giv ing notice thereoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub lic gazettes of this State, and at the door ot the Court House where such sales are to be held. .O’Notice for the sale of Personal Property must *begiven in like manner torty days previous to ithe day of sale. 7 Notice to the Debtors and Creditors ofan Es tate must be published for forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne groes must be published in a public gazette in this State for four months, before any order absolute lean be given by the Court. (Lj*C itatioss for Letters of Administration on an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must be published thirty days for Letters of Dismis sion from the administration of an Estate, monthly ! for six months —for Dismission from Guardian ship forty days. £j*Kolks for the foreclosure of a Mortgage, must be puolished monthly for four months — for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of three months —for compelling Titles from Ex ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond hasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of three months. N. B All Business of this kind shall receiv prumpi attention at ihe SOUTHERN MUSEUM Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal Advertisements are published according to Law. (LTAII Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in sure attention. 33 or t r . THE SABBATH DAY. BY EBF.NEZER ELLIOT. Sabbath holy ! To the lowly Still thou art a welcome day. When thou cometli, earth and ocean, Shade and brightness, rest and molion, Help the poor man's heart to pray. Sun-walked forest, Bird, that soarest O’er the mute, empurpled moor, Throstle's song, that stream-like slowest, Wind, that e’er dew-drop gnest, Welcome now the woe-worn poor. Little river Young forever! Cloud, gold-bright with thankful glee, Happy woodbine, gladly weeping, Gnat, within the wild rose keeping, Oh, that they were ble.-sed as thee ! Sabbath holy ! For the lowly Paint with flowers the glittering sod ; For affliction’s sons and daughters, Bid thy mountains, woods and waters ! Pray to God, the poor man’s God ! From the fever, (Idle never, Where on Hope, Want bars the door) From the gloom of airless alleys, Lead thou to green hills and valleys, Weary landlord's trampled poor. Pale young mother, Gasping brother, Sister toiling in despair, Grief-bowed sire, that life long diest, White-lipped child, that sleeping sigliest, Come and drink the light and air. Tyrants curse ye, While they nurse ye, Life for deadliest wrong to pay ; Yet, O Subbath ! bringing gladness •Unto hearts of weary sadness, Still art thou “The Poor Man's Day.” From the Charleston Courier. SLANDER. BY MRS. MARY S. WHITAKER. bo is the dame with ghastly stare, " Uh snaky locks and brow of fear, ith haggard look—with tatter'd garb— In her right hand a thirsty barb ? ® n ander is the Fury'B name, itli mournful voice and eyes of flume ; Her dreadful trumpet rings aloud, hilc silent gape the list’ ning crowd : t each foul blast, some victim’s name a randed with disgrace and shame, hag! fl,_ fl> « wajr , hated presonce clouds the day ; a 1 ail the fiends who on thee wait, nil the woes thou dost create; to some dark and secret cave, lerc pent up whirlwind* storm and rave, *re thunder roars, and lightning keen "®veals the l0l)e and horrid sccnc-I frogs and serpents dread w *’ fei "* nd ">ar the crested head ; iere owl* and ravens flap their wings— • "well with these abhorred things ; ' robd P eace return once more, And hatred, grief and ill be o’er : >«n shall the smiling world rejoice, * n totjcord tunc her winning voice, THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM. BY HARRISON & MYERS. From an Eloquent Article in the A'. A. Review. THE SIPREME POWER. BV EDWARD EVERETT. “ It has been as beautifully as truly said, that the undercut astronomer is mad.” The same remark might with equal force and justice he app ied to the undevout ge ologist. Os all the absurdities ever start ed, none more extravagau can be named, than that the grand and far-reaching re searches and discovories of geolugv are hostile to the spirit of religion. They seem to us, on the very contrary, to lead the inquirer, sep by step, into ihe more immediate presence of that tremendous Power, which qpuld alone produce and can alone account for the primitive con vulsions of the globe, of which the proofs are graven in eternal characters, on the side of its bare and cloud-piercing moun tains, or are wrought into the very sub stance of the strata that compose its sur face, and which are also, day by day and lmur by hour, at work, to feed the fires of the volcano, to pour forth its molten tides, or to compound the -alubrious elements of the mineral fountains, which spring in a thousand valleys. In gazing at the starry heavens, all glorious as they are, we sink under the awe of their magnitude, the mystery of their secret and reciprocal influ ences, the bewildering conceptions of their distances. Sense and science are at war. The sparkling gem that glitters on the brow of night is converted by science into a mighty orb—the source of light and heat, the centre of attraction, the sun a system like our own. The beautiful planet which lingers in the western sky, when the sun has gone down, of heralds the approach of nmrning—whose mild and lovely beams seem to shed a spirit of tranquility, not unmixed with sadness, nor far removed from devotion, in o he heart of him who wanders forth in solitude to behold it—it is in the contemplation of science, a cloud wrapt sliere; a world of rugged mountains and stormy deeps. We study, we reason, we calculate. We climb the giddy scaffold of induction up te the very stars. We bor row the wings of the boldest analysis and flee io the uppermost parts of creation ,and then.shut ing our eyesonthe radiant points that twinkle i:t the vault of night, the well instructed mind sees opening before it in mental vision, the stupendous mechanism of the heavens. Its planetsswell into worlds. Its crowded stars recede expand, become central suns,and we hear the ru-h of the mighty orbs that circle round them. The bands of Orion are loosed, and the sparkling rays which cross each other on his belt, are resolved into floods of light, streaming from system to system, across the illimitable pathway of the outer heav ens. The conclusions which we reach are oppressively grand and sublime ; the ima gination sinks under them; the truth is too vast, and far from the premises from which it is deducted ; and man, poor frail man, sinks hack to the earth,and sighs to worship again,with the innocen e ofa child or Chal dean shepherd,the quietand beautiful stars, as he sees them in ihe simplicity of sense. But in the province of geology, there are some subjects, in which the senses seem, as it were, led up into the labora tory of divine power. Bet a roan fix ins eyes upon one of the marble columns in the Capitol at Washing on. He sees there a condition of the earth’s surface, wken the pebbles of every size and form and material, which compose this singular spe cies of stone, were held suspended in the medium in which they are now embedded, then a liquid 6ea of marble ; which was hardened into the solid, lustrous, and va riegated mass before his eye, in he very substance of which he bell Ids a record of a convulsion of the g obe. Let him go and stand upon the sides of the crater of Vesuvius, in the ordinary state of its eruptions, and contemplate the glazy streams of molten rocks, that oozes quietly at his feet, encasing the surface of the mountain as it cools with a most black and stygian c ust, or lighting up its sides at night with streaks of lurid fire. Let him consider the volcanic island, which arose a few years since in the neighbor hood of Malta, spouting flames from the depth of the sea; or accompany one of our own navigators from Nantucket to the Antartic ocean, who finding the centre of a small island, to which he was in the habit of resorting, sunk in the interval of two of his voyages, sailed through an opening in its sides where the ocean had found its way, and moored his ship in tiie smouldering crater of a recenlly extin guished volcano. Or finally, lei him sur vey the striving phenomenon which our auihor has described, and which has led us to this train of remark, a mineral foun tain of salubrious qualities, of a tempera ture greatly above thai of the surface of the earth, in the region where it is found, compounded with numerous ingredients in a constant proportion, and known to have been flowing from iis recret springs, as at the present clay, at least for eight bunded years, unchanged, unexhausted. The relig ons of the elder world in an early stage of civilization placed a genius of a divinity by the side of every spring which gushed from the rocks, or flowed from the bosom of the earth. Surely it would be no weakness for a thoughtful man, who should resort for the renovation of a wasted frame, to one of those salu brious mineral fountains, if he drank in their healing waters as a gift from the outstretched, though invisible hand, of an everywhere present and benignant Power. A GENTLE REPROOF. One day as Zachariah Hodgson was go ing to his daily avocations after breakfast, he purchased a fine large codfish, and sent it home with directions to his wife to have ii cooked for dinner. As no particular mode of cooking was prescribed the good woman well knew, that whether she boiled it or made it into a chowder, her husband would scold her when he came home. But she resolved to please him once, if possi ble, and therefore cooked portions of it in different ways. She also, with some little difficulty, procured an amphibious animal from a brook back of the house and plumped it into the pot. In due time her husband came home, some covered dishes were placed on the table, and with a frowning, fault finding look, the moody man commenced the conversation : “ Well, wife, diJ you get the fish I bought.” “ Yes, my dear.” “ I should like to know how you have cooked it, I will bet anything that you have spoiled it for my eating (taking off' the cover ) l thought so. What in creation possessed you to fry it! —1 would as lief eat a boiled frog.” “Why, my dear, I thought you loved it best fried.” “You didn’t think any such thing.—You knew better—l never loved fried fish—why didn’t you boil it 1” “My dear the last time we had fresh fish, you know I boiled it, and you said you liked itbestfiied. But 1 have boiled some also.” So saying, she lifted a cover, and lothe shoulders of a cod nicely bo led, were neatly deposited in a dish the sight of which would have made an epicure rejoice hut winch only added to the ill-nature of her husband. “A pretty dish this!” exclaimed he. Boiled fish ! chips and porridge ! If you had not been one ■ f the most stupid of wo man-kind, you would have made it into a chowder.” His wife, with a smile, immediately pla ced a tureen before him containing an excellent chowder. “My dear,,’ said she, “I was resolved to please you. There is your favorite dish !” “Favori’e dish, indeed,” grumbled the discomfited husband, “I dare say it is an unpalatable wishy-wash mess. I would rather have a boiled frog than the whole of it. This was a common expression of his, and had been anticipated by his wife who as soon as the preference was expressed, uncovered a large dish near her husband, and there was a bull-frog, of portentous dimensions, and pugnacious aspect, stretch ed out at full length ! Zacbarriah sprung from his chair, not a little frightened at the unexpected apparition. “My dear,” said bis wife, in a kind en treating tone’‘‘l hope you will at length be able to make a dinner.” Zachariah could not stand this. His surly mood was finally overcome, and he burst into a hearty laugh. He acknowl edged that his wife was right, and that he was wrong; and declared that she should never again have occasion to give him another lesson. Good Advice —John H. Prentiss, in his recent valedictory on retiring from the editorial chair, which he had filled for forty-one years, has the following : “No man should be without a well conducted newspaper; he is far behind the spirit of the age unless he reads one ; is not upon equal f piing with his fellow man who enjoys such advantage, and is disgraceful of his duty to his family, in not affording them an opportunity of ac quiring a knowledge of what is passing in the world, at the cheapest possible teach ing. Show me a family without a news paper, and 1 venture to say that there wi 1 be manifest in that family a want of ame nity of manners and indications of igno rance, most strikingly in contrast with the neighbor who allows himself such a ra tional indulgence. Y’oung men, especial ly, should read newspapers. If I were a boy, even of 12 years, I would read a newspaper weekly, though I had to work by torch light to earn money enough to pay for it. The boy who reads well will learn to think and analyze, and if so, he will be almost sure to make a man of himself, bating vicious indulgences, which reading is calculated to beget a distaste for.” A child’s Answer —A father once said playfully to his little daughter a child five years old, “Mary, you ase not good for anything.” “Yes I am, dear father,’! replied she, looking thoughtfully and tenderly into his face. “Why, what aro you good for, pray tell me my dear 1” “/ am good to love you, father,” replied she, at the same time, throwing her tiny armes around his neck, and giving him a kiss of unutterable affection. Blessed child ! may your life ever be an expression of that early-felt instinct of love. The high est good you or any other mortal can con fer, is, to live in the full exercise of your affection. Cobbet said : “Women, so amiable in themselves, are never so amiable as when they arc useful: and for beauty, though men may fall in love with girls at play, there is nothing to make them stand to their love like seeing them at work." MACON, MARCH 10, 1?49. A Robber’s Stratagem. —A freeboot i er, taking an evening walk on a highway in Scotland, overtook and robbed a weai thy mercham traveller. His purpose was not achieved without a severe struggle in which the thief lost his bonnet, and was obliged to escape leaving it in the road. A respectable farmer happening to be the next passer, and seeing the bonnet, aligh ted, took it up, and rather imprudently put it on his own head. At this instant the merchant man came up with some assis ! tance, and recognising the bonne!, charged the farmer with having robbed him, and took him into custody. There being some likeness between the two parties, the merchant persisted in the charge, and though the respectability of the farmer was admitied, he was indicted and placed at the bar of a Superior Court, for trial. The Government witness, the merchant, swore | positively as to the identity of his bonnet I and deposed likewise to the identity of the farmer. The case was made out by this and other evidence, apparently against the prisoner. But there was a man in Court who well knew both who did and , who did not commit the crime. This was the real robber, who advanced from the crowd, and seizing the fatal bonnet, which laid on the table before the witness, placed it on his own head, and looking him full in the face, said to him in a voice of thunder. “Look at me sir, and tell me on the oath you have sworn, am not I the man who robbed you on the highway The merchant replied in very great aston ishment, “By heavens! you are the very man!” “Ycu see,” said the robber, “what sort of memory that gentleman has; he swears to ihe bonnet whatever features are under it. If the Hon. Judge were to out if on his own he--! T -> .l— | /ut 11 Uli 1113 ucuu , a uuig oajr mat lie would testify that lie robbed him.” The innocent prisoner was on this evidence at once acquittf and, because no reliance could he placed on such tes’imony, and yet it was positive evidence. The Danger of Riches.— No rich man— I lay it down as an axiom of all expe rience—no rich man is safe, who is not a benevolent mam ; rjo rich man is safe but in the imitation of that benevolent God, who is the possessor and disposer of all the riches of ihe universe. What else mean the miseries of a selfish, luxurious, and fashionable life every where ! What mean the sighs that come up from the pur lieus, and couches, and most secret haunts of all splendid and indulgent opulence ? Do not tell me that other men are suffer ers too. Say not that the poor, and des titute, and forlorn, aie miserable also. Ah ! just Heaven ! thou hast in thy mys terious wisdom appointed to those a lot hard, full hard to bear. Poor houseless wretches who “ eat the bitter bread of p "nury, and drink the baleful cup of mise ry ;” the winter winds blow keenly through your ‘ looped and windowed raggedness ;’ your children wander about unshod, un clothed, and tender ; I wonder not that they sigh. But why should they, who are surrounded by everything that heart can wish, or imagination can conceive—the very crumbs that fall from whose table of prosperity might feed hundreds—why shou and they sigh amidst their profusion and splender 1 They have broken the bond, that should conned power with usefulness and opulence with misery. That is the rea son. They have taken up their treasures, and wandered away into a forbidden world of their own, far from the sympa thies of suffering humanity ; and the heavy night dews are descending upon their splendid revels, and the all-gladdening light of heavenly beneficence is exchanged for the sickly glare of selifish enjoyment and happiness; (he blessed angel that hovers over generous deeds and heroic virtue has fled away from the world of false gaiety and fashionable exclusion. Dr. Dewey. Excellencies of Knowledge. —There are in knowledge these two excellences ; first, that it offers to every man, the most selfish and the most exalted, his peculiar inducement to do good. It says to the former, “ serve mankind and you serve yourself ;” to the latter, “ In choosing the best means to secure your own happiness you will have the sublime inducement of promoting the happiness of mankind.” The second excellence of knowledge is, that even the selfish man, when he has once begun to love virtue from little mo tives, loses the motive as he increases the love, and at last worships the Deity, where before he only coveted gold upon its altar.— Bulwcr. A beautiful oriental proverb runs thus : “With time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes satin. How encouraging is this lesson to the impatient and desponding ! And what difficulty is there that man should quail at, when a worm can accom plish bo much from the mulberry leaf. When Benedict Arnold was about to die, he rose from his bed aud with difficul ty clothed himself in an old suit of the American uniform ; with which he had never parted during alibis peregrinations, and then with the name of his country upon his lips, he expired.—Poor Arnold ! but for one false step no general officer in the revolution would have reaped more honor than he. A braver man never ex isted; and his perseverance and energy in his Canada campaigu were alone enough to imartalize him. VOLUME 1-NUMBER 15. A Mother’s Responsibilities. —She is responsible for the nursing and rearing of her progeny, for their physical consti tution and growth,—their exercise and proper sustenance in early life. A child lefi io grow up deformed or meagre, is an object of maternal negligence. She is re sponsible for a child’s habits, including cleanliness, order, conversation, eating, sleeping, and general propiiety of beha viour. A child deficient, or untaught, in these particulars, will prove a living mon ument to parental disregard—because, generally speaking, a mother can, if she will, greatly control children in these mat ters. She is responsible for their deportment. She can mako them modest or imperti nent, ingenuous or deceitful, mean or man ly, clownish or polite. The germ of all these things is in childhood, and a mother can repress or bring them forth. She is responsible for the principles which her childien entertain in early life. I Fit her it is to say whether those who go j forth from her fireside shall be imbued j 1 with sentiments of virtue, truth, honor, j honesty, temperance, industry, benevo- [ lence and morality, or those of a contrary j character—vice, fraud, drunkenness, idle- i ness, covetousness. These will he found j to be of the most natural growth,—but on ! her is devolved the daily, hourly task of weeding her little garden, of eradicating those odious productions, and pluming the human heart with the lily, the rose, and the amaranth, that fadeless flower, emblem of truth. She is to a very considerable extent re sponsible for the temper and disposition of her children. Constitutionally they may be violent, irritable, revengeful, hut for jjig regulation or correction of tl'e or * po°- sions, a mothei is responsible. She is re sponsible for the intellectual acquirements* of her children—.hat is, she is bound to do what she can for this object. Schools, academies and colleges open their portals throughout the land, —and every mother is under heavy responsibilities to know that her sons and daughters have all the benefits which these afford, and which their circumstances permit them to en j’.v. She is responsible for their religious ed ucation. The beginning of all wisdom is the fear of God, —and this every mother is cajiable, to a greater or less degree, of infusing into the minds of her offspring. Beautiful Ankcootc —ln Mr.lvilpin’s school were two brothers from eleven to twelve years old. One of jbese children had,after repeated ad monition ns, manifest ed a determined obstinacy and sulky resis tance. Mr Kilpin told him that the result of such conduct would be a chastisement that would not easily be forgo ten. He was preparing to inflict ii on the still hard end child, when his brother (Paul) came forward and entreated that he might bear the punishment in the place of his broth er. Mr. Kilpin remarked, “My dear Paul, you are one of my best boys ; you have never needed a chastisement ; your mind is tender : I could not be so unjust as to give you pain, my precious child.” The ueai boy said, “1 shall endure more pstn to witness his disgrace and suffering, than any thing you can inflict on me ; he is a little boy, and younger and weaker than 1 am ; pray, sir, allow me to take all the punish ment ; I will bear anything from you. Oh, do sir, take me in exchange for my naughty brother !” “Well, James, what say you to this noble offer of Paul’s /” He looked at his brother, but made no reply. Mr. K. st od silent. Paul still entreated for the punishment, that it might be finished, and wept. Mr. K. said, “did you ever hear of any who bore stripes and insults to shield offenders, Paul ?” "Oh yes, sir, the Lord Jesus Christ gave his back to the smiters for us poor little sinners, and by his stripes ye are healed and pardoned. Oh, sir, pai don James, foe my sake, and let me endure the pain. 1 can bear it better than he.’ “But yourbrother does not seek pardon for himself; why should you feel this anxiety my dear Paul; does he not deserve collec tion 1” “Oh yes, sir, he has broken the laws of the school, after repeated warnings; you have said he must suffer ; therefore, as I knowyou wouldnotspeak an untruth, and the laws must be kept,and he is sullen and will not repent, what can be done, sir 1 — please to take me, because 1 am stronger than he.” The boy then threw his arms around his brother’s neck, and wetted his sulky hardend face with tears of tenderness This was rather more than poor James could stand firmly. His tears began to flow and his neart melted; he sought for forgive ness, and embraced his brother. Mr. K. clasped both in his arms, and prayed for a blessing on them from Him, of whom it was said, “He was wounded for our trans gressions.” An Honest Beggar. —A gentleman reading a paper in an Albany hotel, on Wednesday morning, was accosted by a little half naked girl, who asked him for a penney. He handed her half a dollar by a mistake. The girl went out, was absent a saw minutes, and returned with forty-nine cents, which she handed the astonished man saying, “hero is the change, 6ir.” The gentleman immediately took measures to have the little inocent clothed and provi ded for. (ttr Three essentials to a false storytell er—a good memory, a bold face, and fools for an audience. BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, Will be executed inthe most approved-style, tend on the best terms, at the Office of the “ SOUTHERN MUSEUM.” ~ -BY— HARRISON & M\*ERS. Honesty. —What is honesty ? “To pay one’s debts.” Exactly so. No defi nition could be nearer correctness. Al ways minding, however, that there are other ledgers than the trader’s ; - that a man’s debts are not calculated in pounds, j shillings and pence. It is not honest for a man to deteriorate his own nature, to blight his own heart,to eufoeble his mind, or even to neglect his physical culture.— It is not honest in a woman to swear to love a man when 3he only loves his house and equipage; nor any honester for a man to purchase a woman as he would pur chase a beast. For everything has its certain value; and to pay that which is fairly due is the prerogative of honesty. It is not honest to make a poet an excise-- officer, any more than it is to steal a leg islator's robes to throw them over tho shoulders of a fool. It is not honest to preach one thing and practice another.— It is not honest to impoverish one man to I enrich another. For honesty has the ut most respect for the rights of all. It is i not honest to feel one thing and say an j other. Alas, for our daily custom ! Do we not continually, hiibed with the hopes of some paltry gain or fearful of oflense giving, put on a pleasant smirk, and giasp with friendly zeal the hand we despise '! This is not honest. Do we not He daily for the sake of a half pence, and so pick men’s pockets; and look lies for the sake of empty smiles and compliments. This is not honest. Do not some of us go a bout with cold, sneering lips, as if wo were of custom’s frost-work, when our hearts are burning within us; making con ventional grimaces, and repeating formal catechisms, when our inmost thoughts aro sti uggling for utterance! But we should displease this friend, give advantage to some foe, be laughed at by some fool, ho deemed rude by the world ; and so wo sell our hearts for the reward of worldli ness and live, not like true men made in God’s image, but ra her like automata manufactured by custom’s patent. The Lower Classes—who arl They? —The toiling millions, the laboring man and woman, the farmer, the mechanic, tho artizan, the inventor, the producer 1 Far from it I—These are nature’s nobility— God’s favorites—the salt of the earth. No matter whether they are high or low in station, rich or poor in pelf, conspicuous or humble in position, they are surely the -“uppercircles” in the order of nature, wha’ever the fictitious distinctions of soci ety, fashionable, or unfashionahlo, decree. It is not low—it is the duty, privileges, and pleasure, for the great man and the whole-souled woman, to earn what they possess, to work their own way through life, to be tho architect of their own for tunes, Some may rank the classes we have alluded to as only relatively low, and in fact the midliug classes. We insist are absolutely the very highest. If there is a class of human beings on earth, who may be properly denominated low, it is those who spend without earning, who consume without producing, who dissipate on the earnings of their fathers or relatives without doing anything in aid of themselves. Frankness. —Be frank with the world. Frankness is the child of honesty and cour age. Say just what you mean to do on every occasion ; and take for granted you mean to do what is right. If a friend asks a favor, you should grant it, if it is reasona ble; if to make a friend, nor to keep one; the man who requires you to do so dearly purchased at a sacrifice. Deal kindly but firmly with all men ; you will find it best; ifnot.iell him plainly why you cannot. You will wrong him and yourself by equivoca tion of any kind. Never do a wrong thing. Honesty ever wears best. Above all, do not appear to others what you are not. IF you have any fault to find with any one tell him, not others, of what you complaiu There is no more dangerous experiment. than that of undertaking to be one thing to a man’s face, another behind his back. Wo should live, act and speak out of doors, as the phrase is. and say and do what we aro willing should be known and read by men. It is not only best as a matter of principle, but a3 a matter of policy. Wiiat is Law like. ? —Law is like a a country dance; people are led up and down in it till they are tired cut. Law is like a book of surgrry —there are a great many terrible cases iu it. Ii is like physic too, they that lake the least of it are the best off. It is like a homely gentleman, “very well to follow.” and a scolding wife, very bad when it follow us. Law is like a newr fashion, people are bewitched to get into it; “and like bad weather,” most people are glad to get out of it. Keep Your Temper. —This is a good maxim. It is well enough to have temper, if you can keep it—hold on to it, and never let it gain the mastery. Never let others see you angry, for it is a marked weakness, and they will despise it in you. If you wish to make them respect you, keep cool. Tho power of controlling passion displays truo courage —command universal respect. great comprehensive truths, said President Quincy, are these: Humau happiness has no perfect security but free dom ; freedom nono but virtue; virtue, none but knowledge : and neither freedom nor virtue, nor knowledge, has any vigor or immortal hope, except in the principles of the Christian faith, and in tho sanctions of the Christian Religion.