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v MWSPAPEEg-BEYOTFB TO EJTEEATHIE, SCIENCE, ART, PGffl’lCS k GEIESAI rNTILUGENCE.
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| XG IN* DEATH.
.J'T JI.N'.NY.
I . i ar. which *avl mart nota’ay,
I t ..;e, which beckons we away.”
I , Hi.’ : ■.* fancy's gleam,
i ‘ts’ - not a'dretm.”
I- , , ; o tvc a portion of what is
oil iti their natures, though
K .til’ i a ore so in character. With
„ those with whom even efftt
, i S Lee., sufficiently powerlul to
i , in that rkliculooz and exager
!j heart of the illi I rate poor,
| a-ava-yard, tbe terror arising
- ring a ‘ghost,’ and induces
I ,- s m. . •! .• o preposterous tale* of ap-
L i.'.lci!*.® <yinnoe:el with the ap-
L.,visitors—which gives him
mens Arc. As per example,
l in o*l is the fore runner of
I the crowing of a cock at the
L . : . ir—to dream of losing teetli.
I of a friend, and multitudes of
I ilmis (Ariel es. VVith those oh
b . . : received an ordinary modern
ri- ant some wha*. cultivated, and
l” ;■ ; -i j,-'u the passion of shrewdness
k : i , i; is customary to deny utterly
i supernatural nature, nnd
h” Icrisioti ihe idea of any possible
f- ‘ ic material and spiritual worlds
p , ” v, tvo in a crowd arc apparently so
w>:< : • ■, • ) things ol this nature, are when
p . “ • v. ml silence, arrant cowards— paling
i- r i . aid trembling at the leant unu
t ‘ ; 1 .tiah-v. There is still a third
i ;. . thuee who with education, possess
* ’ •>; ecling and a true appreciation of
jt-ut.. mi, j m lids world, with a just sense of
[•• • ■ and awe-inspiring transition
|rn , 1„ pasr'uig through the ‘dark valley of
t '! . ieath, sod who w ithout giving credence
superstitions, still knowing that‘with
hi ah .’ . , possible’ avyw their belief (when
- : “ not mistake or misunderstand them)
• * . nee non between tins world ar.d ihe
1 • • tueh that the departed, may be per
’ ’ rvais. and for some signal or holy pur.
,uni">u with the friends they left be
c< mpauions in the Qesli. Many
• uu.d onec have boon deemed im
:i . ’■* -d ndracuious or savoring ot the
-. !u-. ivo with us assumed the oliarac
r ‘ . : in : facts and we only wonder they
! t -c< r>: .covered. And it is possible tliat
l .toic: a-• h.v, when meti have become puri
(••'’ ’ ■ i ... iin their views and nature,
•ms quite incredible —but is asserted
• e—may with the in hearV be a
11 ’ ■- > iceuror.ee. I refer to a communiea
- - \ l-!ls a the departed, and their friends
v. who prefers enure scepticism in
hi:. . o’ this kind, who ridicule as
. !-u V-’ievcrs o. am possible conuec
‘.l'rial and ..piritual worlds, I have
. y .voola doubtless cast aside as
” ‘ 1 ‘ umble talo(par/>orcnfAer,p€r
.') To those on the other hand,
J di nouuce what is strange and
” „ vnr not fully underataud or
a it, I will address the following
: . the talo as ’twas told to me
! - ‘1 it own iufenuices—either look
.. r- ha .ircl nation or tandidly con
e i’deed ‘more things in Heaven
■*’ dreampt of in their philosophy, ’
’*• ,jc .nd mysterious, may still be
[• •'■in J.- .’ember, 1849, when being
* * h • •r jitig house. seated before a
L m tide, or. which lay writing
’■ exert myself bufiicietuly to
tv M iiich 1 had determined not
i hu t ,'ms.w red S/itr half dozen Ict
t.uun was to.* great to be resisted.
’ •• • tne so much interested,
L ’ ; - jJ fi r hdf au hour with wrapt atten*
L ,: i ti.e utKir bell ring, l started impa-
t .ping it might no. be any one
” , ' |f *ectag myself than I was of being
■ the door o|>ened uDd a servant an
• Duv-,.* I hud down my book much
‘ iceutly than I had at fir-st intended, and
> • .ict my visitor w ! th no assumed oof *
JL 1 hi aw > e of tl.” fact, vraa a rare
• au, powers of acreeability, for there
’ _ ‘’ ; ’ 1 ‘htaaecs, whose Company I should
k. . • ><y I'ent companion, m which I had
6o 0 . ‘ ' t ’ ‘ c 'lei ested. Hut Ciiarlc* Duval w'as
..n, j • * r * wac a gcu,-ral favorite
a- - . -S'-eption b> tee rule cf admiuing and
1 ■ ‘"‘te <juaLt.es. Still bo was
,*e v 3 !,x!tia 8> wU educated sod agreeable,
“'yc r a vary susccptiVla ago there was
io our intercourse not one iota of any thing resembling
love. V e were confidential, sincere friends and are atiil
such. Many persons—and in fact, a great share of
the common herd sneer at tha suggestion of its being
possible tor two young persons of the opposite sex to
be communicative, friendly and attached, aside from
at aliments allied to love. They scoff at the term ‘Pla
tonic love’ and avow’ their disbelief in the existence of
friendship umningk and with any other sentiment between
a young man nnd woman. Throwing aside the term
‘Platonic love,* f maintain that it is very possible for
such a sentiment to exist ns I hive silken ts, between
those persons whose minds are pure and whose
thoughts arc elevated above the common convention*
ah ties and c#arse pains and feelings which engross the
time anT thoughts of two thirds of the world, srd all
those tor whose good opinion 1 would feel any anxiety,
whoso hearts beat in unison ugh mv own and influ
eneed by similar sentiments, wifi endorse my words.
Jiut to proceed. J will my friend, for like
most persons i place a good dca; of confidence in a
prepossessing countenance. The face is to a student
of human nature, a page which guides with much ac
curacy to a knowledge of the soul. Charles Duval
v-7m not r.ii ugly man. The giris pronounced him
handsome. Ilis form was finely built and manly.
1 lie frequent and fascinating {day of expression in his
face would have rendered a plain face charming. Ilis
complexion was dark but clear, having that peculiar
palencaa which is considered, by many, as an indica
tion of aristocratic blood and breeding. Ilis brow was
broad and intellectual, and his mouth (which could be
as it was not covered with hair) expressive of
■,‘tif igy and determination, which gave place to an al
most feminine sweotneiis of expression when he smiled.
I ho eyes hov ever w>re the most remarkable feature of
the face, i -orgo, vtiy dark and brilliant, they were full,
so to speak, of melancholy light. A subdued but in
tense melancholy united with intelligence. Ilis
ace in repose looked end, almost stern, but in conwr
- wtion his countenance lighted up, as it were, nnd th<>‘
never gay. his demeanor was cheerful and his words
frequently fraught with playful sarcasm and sterling
w it, which inspired mirth in others, in which he shared
so far as to smile. Ido not rcsollect of ever hearing
hint laugh, save when feeling contempt for some mean
ness or despicable egotism, he uttered a low and bitter
laugh of scorn. He was generally beloved, for ho was
kind and affable to all, tin.ugh intimate with few. That
his higher and nobler qn:iliti< sos mind and heart were
not generally appreciated or understood, I was folly
aware, und when I snv that I could appreciate them I
do i. in no vain or boasting mpod—but with hutniDy—
thanking Co-1 for the intelligence He gave me, and,
with gratitude to my parents for the opportunities nf
; forded me of increasing the talent committed to my
charge, which I trust i shall be üb’c to return with usu
ry, when my master shall require the purpose I have
i put it to, utthe Lust Oi cat Day. After the usual ci
\iiitivs were exchanged between us, my friend seated
himself by my’ side, enquiring what book lie had inter
-1 rupted my perusal of? It was a number of Itlaek
wood’s Magazine, and the article in which 1 had b -
come so deeply absorbed, a very well written and in
ten-sting relation of some tacts (.it least such was the
.writer's opinion) respecting Mesmerism and t'.lairvoy
anee. Duval had read the article, but offered to rend
’.be remainder of the piece, w iiich I had nearly finished,
aloud for my education. We tin- coot’ mod convers
ing upon tho subject, becoming much interested in dis
cussing its mysterious phenomena, and expressing un
reservedly our relative ope. ons upon tho subject. f:>
conneo’ion *oh MeMiierirm, Ciao voyance and Som
itonibuham. wo were led to speak of the character and
influence of dreams, prcseiitiinctita, and popular su
per', mons, generally—and when at length, with some
hesitation, I enquired if h< did not think it possible
for tie; sp’Pts of the departed to hold communion with
tho loved of earth, lie kicked at me with a glance which
surprised and startled rut —it was so fraught with
rm-iar.cb'jly, awe, and I feared, astonishment at my
; cry. I waited, impatiently, for his answer. He
s ghed deeply, passed his hand across his brow as ii
to brush away painful thoughts, and then in a tone
iiulesciibably m urnful, exclaimed, ‘Ye*, I believe, !
!:aox that such things are as you question me about,
Sind my friend, to you I will relate a true but startling
tate, being myself its hero. There are hut one or two
living besides yourself to whom 1 would reveal it. In
you I rep -se confidence. I think lam sure of your
sympathy, perhaps I may ad of your belief, strange
a may ho the circumstances, incredible as they may
nppeat, and absurd as the great mass of mankind would
declare my tale to be.’ i was startled and amazed, I
Hardly knew what to expect—but urged him to pro
ceed, and aficr waiting a few minutes for a servant to
replenish the fire, Duval, meanwhile, walking with
hurried steps across the room, his brow contracted with
powerful thought, I closed the door, and ho resumed
his seat and commenced, abruptly, as follows :
“! am now 26 years old. You have been acquaint
ed with me a year nr more, and 1 think I may sav,
we are sincere friends. You have frequently remark*
r.... r,..lr.rtrrtt.- nrxt rrl.i..rn *nd pbllOllC.il ftVOtdinP
JA\ > f
dated) you have kindly sought to remove tho effect,
which by your kind sympathy you haveoft.cn succeed
ed in doing for the time. I have frequently determin
ed to relate to you what I am now about to do, but not
knowing but you would deem my relation preposterous
and foolish, I'forebore, for I could not relate to incredu
lous cars that which to me was a solemn, purifying
truth. When I was 20 years of age 1 graduated at
Cambr ige University, with considerable honor, and J
returned to my father’s house in my noble native
Slate of Georgia, with a heart full of hope and a mind
eager to exercise iiself in the battle of life. My par
ents were satisfied with my collegiate course, and my
father combatting my wish to enter upon the study of
a profession, sa\ ing the world was already overatookc-d
with lawyers and physicians (one of which profession
1 had intended entering upon) and that being an only
son and heir Us au independent fortune, the care of
which, with literary pursuits, would be sufficient to
employ rrr time, expressed a desire for mo to travel,
first through America, visiting those parts of my own
native land which I had never seen, then to make the
lour cf Europe. This wish of my father was one to
1 which I acceded with pleasure. Accordingly alter a
few weeks’ sojourn, at heme, I started for the North.
Passing over the intervening time, I will mention that
the August succeeding, I found myself in the lovely
city of C iu the northern part of Vermont, in com
pany with three young men, who Lad been to Montre
al and elsewhere with me. We were delighted with
tin scenery, somewhat fatigued, aid moreover, I had
in B. an old and highly prized cias mate, who begged
me to remain an bile with him. Me had intended
proceeding directly to Saratoga, and my compagnior.t
du voyage did so, but I concluded to remain a week
with my friend Barton, who informed me that himself,
with his two sisters and a cousin, would then ne
■ company me there. 1 waa reoeived with aoi'dial warmth
srd L**pita!ity at Mr. Barton’s house. The family
were reflat’d and intellectual, and they were surround
|ed wiih all the appliances of waaith- The eldest
daughter was at home when I first went there, and J
tltpuglit her a accomplished girl. After she
left the r’>om, my friend Jack Bsptct> remarked, laugh
ingly, that l moittiot fell in jot a with h e F °f with his
1 cousin Fanny, who were both tq be of our projected Sa
ratoga party, for said he, ‘sister Gertrude is ‘engaged’
and cousin Fanny (who <nW a third -a fourth cousin by
the way) is the promised bride of your humble servant,
but sister Lily yon can fall in love with if ydh fee! dis
posed. In fact I hardly tbiak you can help it, for if I :
were not her brother I should be perfectly infatuat
ed v,i'L the lju)c fairy. 1
MAC ON, GEORG lA, SAT 111 DAY MORNING, JULY 3,7852.”
| ihe next icy, the two girls returned from a visit to
I a country friend, and soon after their arrival. Barton
uime to my room and invited me to go and receive an
introduction to them. I felt considerableenrositv tosei
t..< subject of Barton's brotherly eulogium, his sister
Lilian and also his betrothed On entering the draw
ing-room we iound Miss Gertrude raid her cousin
fanny together, ta'king with animation. I.ily was not
*u the room, I was presented to Miss Fanny, and was
not surprised at Barton’s a flection, for she seemed
worthy of it. While exchanging a few polite words
.vi li her, I heard a sweet clear voice singing, which
! approached the room, and there entered a being s >
beautiful, so ethereal in her looks and motions, I c mid
scarcely master my emotion sufficiently to acknowl
! wi'h propriety her words of welcome, as we were
j introduced. Her words were so flifltT*tat from .lie
. 70;d :ornjaliry of a strangers, her lovely e\es beamed
| with so much cordiaiuy, that 1 felt at once unarmed mid
| as Barton had said, ‘infaiuated,’ There whs the per
soni Heat ion of my idea! of female loveliness. It was
not alone that her complexion, hair, eyes nnd features
were cxquisitly beautiful—the expression—the constant
peiy o< expression on her Lee was fascinating. Her
eye.t - full of holy light—her notions so replete with re
i fiuemei)! aud grace—her words so soft, low and sweet
. her manner so winning. I know that ‘love at first
J sight’ is usually ridiculed, and I do not believe that it
I is of frequent occurence ; bui who shall say there ar
! not secret and mysterious sympathies, (and antipathies
to, on the other Iran J) which when two spirits fanned
alike meet together, draw them with a mighty and
mysterious influence towards each other? Be llii- us
it may, and J believe it a firmly as I do an\ established
fact, I loved Lily Barton the moment 1 saw her, and l
believed that in her soft end expressive eyes ar.d deep
radiant blush, I read a recior'i :il feeling. Doling the
week that I remained in Mr, Barton’s famly I watched
with an Argus eye the menage of the household. I
saw that the domestic affairs were carried on wiih
order and system. I observed refinement and intelli
gence in the manners and sentiment of the whole
family animated to warm, though unobtrusive affection.
! I watched Lily’s conversation, noted her taste, s< nti
j meats and manners with as much coolness as if an
, indifferent ‘looker on,’ and I concluded that it was a
i family to which one could be allied with honor. I was
j conscious that when I marr ed, my parents would ex
] peot me to unite mys.-ls to one in every respect my
equal—that they would expect my wife to be amiable,
well educated, and of good family—a family of refine
ment and fortune.
My parents were net mercenary, still they would
j not wish me to wed a portionless girl, and in truth, 1
Jo not know that it is any thing but proper fora man
j of wealth to receive some property with his wife. There
i is a feeling of mutual independence, w hich cannot ex
ist—when cue party ; s rich and the other poor. Os
course circumstances alter cases very materially, and
had Lily been a poor gal, with the same character and
attainments, I should not have hesitated a moment to
| wed her, for I would have died before I would have
married for money alone. 1 sought happiness in the
! married life, such as ean exist alone where there is a
sit’dlatity of tastes—mutual intelligence, or at 1 srt, if
| tiie husband is superior in that re*p ft. sufficient to
! lent on the wife’s part to nuke her a companion—u.u
----[ tuai forbearance towards cm h .tiler’s faults, and real
| sterling affection, nnd iu Lily l had met with one I
, believed 1 eonld be happy with through life, blessing
her nj being blessed. 1 was glad, on rny parents’
account, more than my own, that in point of wealth as
well as personal merit, the match was what the world
would eonsd .-r eminently an eligible one in every te
spoet.
Tic night before we v.cre to leave for Saratoga,
there was a small partv of young people collected at
Barton’s. The drawing-room opened up< ..a piazza,
and leading Lily through one of the glass door win
<i<> \B, on some pretext, I seated her by my side, ami
while we listened to the. gay voices in the room we had
left united in singing to the a< ■ompanimcni of M
’ Fanny’s Guitar and Gertrude's Piano, 1 told Lily my
tal of love. 1 vowed to cherish and protect
if she Mould unite her destiny to mine. I did no; pre
tend to worship her or kneel before her, but my tnio- !
i tion must have convinced her of the sinceruj of my ‘
! love, and she turned her clear beautiful eves towards
rn<*, and placing her little hand iu mine, said with a 1
briglit maidenly blush, visible in the moonlight—l
would not deceive you for a moment, 1 love you dear- ‘
!y and am not afraid to trust my future happiness to
your care.’ She spoke with a trembling voice, and •
with the frank confiding simplicity of a child, and her !
lovely face, ufflurneJ in its holy confidence to my own, 1
looked a like the personification of my notions of an }
Angel, that I actually felt a mixture of ave with my j
Fve—as though in the presence of one of a spirt uni j
nature—an-i i did not compress a kiss upon her lips ; !
out, I laid her head on my bosom aud prayed God to
bless her then mid evermore. We were to leave tbe
next morning, immediately after an early breakfast,
and i arose betimes, and sent a servant with a message
to Mr. Barton requesting a rivate interview. He re
man, wiih an eagle eye, aud his conversation was char- j
acterized by a mixture of shrewd common sense and j
pungent sarcasm. lie was a* man of sterling wortii, j
noble and generous, and to bis family a kind nnd indol- ,
gent husband and father. He- had treated mo very
courteously as a guest, but 1 had boon aware from the
first of a close watchfulness on his part. I saw that
he sought to rend end analyze my character. 1 had
been closely questioned upn many subjects, and l felt
agitated, for I was confident if he had not formed a fa
vorable opinion of me ho would not give his consent
to rny marrying Lily. I opened the conversation with i
som. very new and original remarks upon the weather,
which ho gravely assented to, then plunging immed
iately in mediae res, feeling all the time as if my
courage, like Bob Acres’, was oozing out of my fingers
ends’, I told him I loved his daughter, and desired his
consent for my wedding her. lie listened coolly-, did
not appear to be a whit startled or surprised, and when
I had fiuished my appeal, ho waited a few moments,
which to me seemed an Age, and anrwered thus, ‘Duval,
1 have watched you closely since you came here, for I
saw, immediately-, that you fancied Lily-, and had 1 not
been convinced from your countenance, demeanor,
and conversation as well as your former life (for I have
made enquiries of those who have known you at college)
that you were worthy of 3ier, which is saying n good
deal, for Lily is a dear good girl, I should have re
moved her from your society, but I am pleased with
you. You have a good he*rt, and a fine miod, and 1
behove you love my daughter and will endeavor to
render her linppy ; so, if your parents do not object, j
I will give my consent that you shall marry her in two
vears,’ ‘Don’t interrupt me’ lie continued, aa 1 began
to expostulate upon the length of time he mentioned.
‘Hor education is net completed, She is young, she
must see something of the world—rand study more of
boo’gs, and also of domesfle affairs, l wish my daugh
ters to be like their mother, good practical house keep
ers I wish them to understand howto superintend
their own household, No botjso is well and orderly
arrangea, where the ey’e of the mistress is not over ail.
I,','y shall -/’ with *i< to Saratoga. I eanpoi.
leave till next week, figt Mrs. Bartpu will act as ohape
ron to you young peqple. Yog mtfff. write lo yonr
parents immediately. I ‘.’ ink there is nq doijbt biit tlpy
will give their consent to the match, or rather for the
present betrothal—tor my family and fortune are good,
and Lily is a sweet, intelligent girl. You must thep rott*
elude your travels both here ad in Europe. Thea, if
you still continuo through absence and time to love Liiy,
return znd you shall bavo her and my blessing.’ I
l kaew that no iatreaty would jndb?? J® alter his
decision in regard to ihe fine of probation, end 1 thank
ed him warmly for the good opinion lie had expressed,
ar.d the consent he had given, and I immediately sought
my betrothed to communicate to her the result of the
interview, She was well content, and did not think the
term of our bairoih.i. too long, for said she,Sve are, as
father says, young, ,-.nd it would be better for us to have
a little more oxpfr.rkuna before we marry, nnd besides,’
added she, with a mirths- i arch-glance that belied her
\ w ord®. ‘how do 1 know hut you will change in two years.
I And if your love should grow cold, better before than
i alter marriage, id<d not think it necessary to Ytttcr
j any oath- or protestations of constancy. 1 felt as
! surel of ii *• trout and of my own love. ‘I do not wish
: or ’uteud,’ con . oued Duval, ‘to inflict upon you a rela
j tion of ali uty courtship, nnd 1 only relate the above to
i give you ;• proper ußdsrii nndingof what follows. We
ren. -n 1 a month ot raratoga and were a happy par
ty. t - rttiui'.:, 1 vr.ny and Lily, nil now betrothed and
their ;.>vers with them, we*-e admired and received a
; great deal of sciential), hot scorning coquettish arts
• while treating ail guith meu courteously, sought to
I make no conquests. We frequently mixed in brilliant
j crowds at Saratoga, but were happier when walking,
singing and conversing by ourselves—a double trio of
} betrothed lovers.”
[to be: concluded.]
Truth Is Stranger than Fiction.
Dedicated to Jealous Husbands.
HV r.tN’M- fkrn.
‘Percy, dear Percy, take back those bitter
i words; as heaven is mv witness, they are unde
served by me. Set*. m®r eye quails not beneath
! yours ; tny cheek blanches not; J stand before
1 you this moment, vita every vow I made you at
the altar, unbroken in letter atni spirit;’ and she
drew closer to him and laid her delicate hand
upon his broad breast. ‘Wroug me uot, Percy,
even in thought.’ The stern man hesitated.—
Had Le not wilfully blinded himself! He had
read t; alb and houor iu the depths of the clear
blue eyes that looked so unflinchingly into his
own. F>r a moment their expression overcame
him; then,dashing aside the slender fingers
that rested upon hint, he left her with a mut
tered oath.
Mary Lee had the misfortune to Le very pret
ty, and the still greater misfortune to marry a
jealous husband. Possessing a quick aud ready
wit, aud quick conversational powers, a more
moderate share of petsonal charms would have
;*ade her society eagerly sought for.
As soon as her eyes were opened to the defect
‘ alluded to in her husband’s character, she set
herself studiously to avoid the shoals and quick
j sands that lay iu ‘he matrimouial sea. One by
| one she quietly dr*; ped the acquaintances of
j gentlemen who ‘Toil their attractiveness or
i preference for her society, seemed obnoxious to
[ Percy.
j Mary was no coquette. Natur- had given
’ nor a heart; an ], superior as sL was to her
. husband, she really loved him. Vo must xvo
| men ids exacting unreasonableness would have
! stimulated to a finished display of coquetry;
! but Mary, gentle and yielding, made no show
; ot opposition to tin* most absurd requirements,
j Put aM these sacrifices had been unavailing to
i propitiate the fiend of jealousy ; and there she
| sat, an hour after her husband bad left her.
! with her hands'pressed tightly together, pale
I and teario'.-. striving, in vain, to recall any cause
| of offence.
Hour after hour passed by, and still he came
not. Ihe heavy tramp of feet had long since
cp;t-*‘d beneath the window; the pulse of the
great city was still; silence and darkness brood
ed over its slumbering thousands. Mary could
-nduiv i*. -iu linger. Rising and putting aside
the curtain, she pressed her fate close against
*he window-pane, ns if hei straining eye could
pierce the gloom of midnight. She hears a step,
it is bis!
Trembling, she sank upon the sofa to await
his coming, aud uervo herself to bear his bitter
harshness.
Percy came gaily up to her and kissed her
forehead 1 Mary passed her hand over her eye-*
and looked at him again. No! lie was not ex
i:derated with wine. What could have caused
this suddeu revulsion of feeling ? Single heart
ed and sincere herself, she never dreamed of
treachery.
‘Percy regrets his injustice,’ she said to her
sf-’.t. ‘Men are rarely magnanimous enough to
own they have been in the wrong,'and, with
the generosity of a noble heart, she resolved j
never to remind him, by speech or look, that
bis words had boon like poisoned arrows to her
spirit.
The fallowing day, Percy proposed their ta
king ‘a short trip into a neighboring town,’and
■ ‘ *•> r ‘finnce ban bow ..cu'fl’ ’ ‘ ’> ? r- •
g. 1.0 utui, .ut.vin j Cuiiip.il ■_!. .i .. ;uVO,j ,
day in spring; and tho fresh air and sweet
scented blossoms might have sent a thrill of
pleasure to sadder hearts than theirs.
‘What a pretty place,’ said Mary. ‘What a
spacious house ‘ and how tastefully the grounds
are laid out. i>o you stop hero?’ she contin
ued as her husband reined the horse into the
avenue.
‘A few moments, I have business here,’ re
plied Percy, slightly averting his face, ‘and yon
had better alight too, for the horse is restive and
may trouble you.’
Mary sprang lightly from the vehicle, and as
cended the spacious stone stops. They were
met at the door by a respectable grey-haired
port ?r, who u>hered them into a receiving room.
Very soon a little sallow-faced man, bearing a
strong resemblance to a wit’ ored orange, made
his appearance, and castingaglar.ee upon Mary,
from his little twinkling black eyes, that made
the blood mount to her cheeks, made an apolo
gy for withdrawing her husband fora few min
utes, ‘on business,’ to an .adjoining room.
As the} left, a respectable middle aged wo
man entered and invited Mary to take off her
hat. She declined, saving, ‘sho was to leave
with her husbaud in a few minutes.’
The old woman then jingled a small bell, and
another matron entered.
‘Better not use force,’ said she, in a whisper.
‘Poor thingd So pretty'too. She don't look
as though she’d wear a ‘straight jacket.’ ’
The truth flashed upon Mary at once. She
was in a Lunatic Hospital! Faint with terror,
s’aa demanded to see her husband, assured them
she was perfectly sane; to all of which they
erpijed quietly, with an air that said, ‘we are
qsed to such things here.’
By afld Lye, the iift’.a wiaan-faced doctor
caiKO in, and listening to bey eloquent appeal
with an abstracted air, as one would tolerate
thp prattle qf u petted child, he exatpined her
pulse, and motioned the attendants to ‘wait
upon her tp her room.’ Exhausted wit!) tho
tumult of feeling sbe had passed through, Bhe
followed without a show of resistance.
But who shall describe the death-chill that
struck to her heart as she entered it? There
was a bed of snowy whiteness, a table, a chair,
all scrupulously neat and clean ; but the breath !
of the sweet scented blossom* caftm ‘A through •
a grated vvjijdpvv j
Some refreshment wa*> brought her, of which I
she refused to partake. She could not even
weep, her eyes seemed turned to stone. She j
could hear the maniac laughter of her feilow
prisoners—she could see some of the more harm
less marching in gloomy tile through the
grounds, with their watchful body guard.
Poor Mary ! She felt a stifled, choking sensa
tion in her throat, as if the air she breathed
were poison; and with her nervous, excitable
temperament, God knows the chance she stood
to become what they really thought her’ To
all her eager inquiries she received only evasive ,
answers; or else the subject was skillfully and
summarily dismissed, to make place for cue in
which she bsd no interest.
Little Dr. Van Brunt daily examined her
pulse, and ‘hoped she was improving—’ or if
she wasn’t, it wvs his interest to isue a bulletin
to that effect, and all ‘compain ’ was vetoed us
‘exciting and injurious to the patient.’
Aud so day after day, night after night., drag
ged its slow length along. And Rercy, with the
meanness of a revengeful spirit, w hs ‘biding bis
time,’ til! the punishment should be sufficiently
salutary to warrant his recalling her home. But
while he was qnietiy waiting the accomplish
ment of this purpose, the friend of Tie weary
came to her relief.
‘Leave me, please, will you ?’ said Mary to the
Hurse, as she turned her cheek to tho pillow like j
a tired child. ‘I want to be alone.’
The old woman took her sewing and seated
herself just outside the door, thinking she might
wish to sleep. In a few moments she peeped
cautiously through the open door. Mrs. Percy
still lay there in the Amo position, with hei
cheek nestling hi the palm of her little hand.
‘She sleeps sweetly,’ she muttered to herself
as she resumed her work.
Yes,dame LTsnla, but it is the ‘sleep’ from
which only the trump of the archangel shall
wake her!
Mary’s secret died with her, and the remorse \
that is busy at the heart of Percy, is known only
to his Maker.
The Boy.
A writer in one of the papers described a
real boy , thus :
‘He is the spirit of mischief embodied, a per
feet teetotum, spinning round like a jenny or
tumbling heels over head. He must go through
tho process of leaping over every clcdr in his
reach, make drumheads of the doors, turns tin
pans Into cymbals, takes the best knives out to
dig worms for bait, and loses them, is boon com
panion to the sugar barrel, searching up all ‘.be
pie and preserves left after supper, eats them,
goes to the apples every ten minutes, hides his
old cap in order to get bis best one, cuts his old
boots accidentally if he wants anew pair, tears
his ’clothes for fun, and for ditto tracks your car
pet aud ouu your furniture. He is romping,
shouting, blustering, and in all his best estate a
terrible torment, especially to his sisters. He
does not pretend much until lie is twelve, then
the rago tor frock coats and high dickies com
mences. At fourte-'-u be =- too large to split
wood, cr lo other chores. At fifteen lie has a
tolerable experience of the world, but from fif
teen to twenty—may we be clear from the track
when he is in sight; he knows more than
Washington and Franklin together; iu other
words he knows more then, than he will ever j
know again.’
Married and Sin'Ole Men.— \ cotemporary j
very sensibly remarks that there should he some
means of distinguishing single men. Unmarried
females are known by the prefix of Miss to their
n mes, but men are stvlc-d Mr. llow much an- ,
necessary trouble and solicitude: might be spared 1
to the anxious mothers of marriageable girls [
could they make the distinction. How very {
annoying to a mother and a bevy of girls, iff- ,
ter laying themselves out to please some ‘nice ,
young man,’ to hear him incidentally allude to ‘
his wife ! This subject really demands attention, j_
and w think that the girlyshould suggest some j
plan by which these disappointments might be 1
obviated.
We think there already exists a mode in which
single men can easily bo distinguished from
unmarried ones, by ladies of discernment. It
is by paying a little attention to the conversa
tion and manners of a gentleman. There is
an ease and grace in the manners of uiarrie
men—a sensibleness and want of flutter in their
conversation, which enable thorn to be readily
distinguished, in a mixed company .
Unmarried men may be distinguished by a
general ‘greenness,’ a certain frivolousness of
convention, and peculiar flutter of deportment,
tST* We pulled the following out of Mrs.
Partington’s Carpet Bay:
‘Diseases is very various,'said Mrs. Part ington
as she returned from a street door conversation
with Dr. Bolus. ‘The doctor tells me that poor
old Mrs. Haze has got two buckles on her lungs!
It is dreadful to think of, I declare. The disease
is so various! one way we hear of people's dy
ing of hernitago of the longs, another way of
the brown creatures; here th<?v te ll us of the
elementary canal being out of order, and there
about tonsors of the throat; here we hear of
neurology in the head, there of an embargo;
one side of us we hear of men being killed by
getting a pound of tough beef in thesarcotagus,
and there another kills himself by discovering
his jocular vein. Things change so, that I de
clare 1 don't know how to subscribe for any dis
ease now-a-days. Now names and new nostrils
takes the place of the old, and I might as well
throw my old herb Hag away.’ Fifteen minutes
afterwards Isaac had that herb bag for a targe*,
and broke three squares of glass in the cellar
window in trying to hit it, before, the old lady
knew what he was about. She didn't mean ex
actly what she said.’
The Life ok an Editor. Garvin of ihe
Western Press thus feelingly and sensitively de
picts tbe life of an editor :
‘To publish a paper, successfully, it is neces
sary not only to have a largo subscription list,
but to have some money, occasionally, and with
out that, no person need try to make an inter
esting paper. This is almost a self evident truth.
It will in pite of Inin be influenced by the state
of his pockets. If they were well lined he feels
independent, loves hia fellow creatures, and can
with more life and good will defend and uphold
the cause which lie has espoused. The manner
in which the circulating medium quickens the
perceptive powers, and cause-: the ideas to flow,
is truly miraculous ? But if pockets are empty,
his paper bid unpaid, Lis family fighting for the
last bite, the land sharjj3 following closely in his
wake, and nothing corning in but chips and
grind stones, instead of eudeavoring to make
it a readable paper, he feel3 like takiug bis de
parture for the other world ; and like a ray of
light piercing the blackest gloom, comes tbe
thought that he wont bo troubled by the pres*
enjeof his 4el?Q|fisms in thoftq bright abodes !
The VAarous Signfications or ‘Pooh.’
‘Booh !’ said Lady Delmour, turning away
her head. Now that pooh is a very significant
one. On the lips of a man of business :t de
notes contempt for romance; on the lips of a
politician, it rebukes a theory. With that mono
syllabic, a philosopher massacres a fallacy; by
these four letters, a rich plan gets rid of a beg
gar. Batin the rc r y mouth of a woman the
harshness vanishes, the disdain becunies encour
agement. ‘Pooh ?’ says the lady, when you
tell her she is handsome ; but she smiles when
she says it. With the same reply she receives
your protestations of love, and blushes as she re
ceives it VVith meu it is the st rr.est, with
woman the soften exclamation ir. the rgmtge.
—Bulwer.
Ihe Model L.ydv puts her children out tu
nurse and tends lap-dogs ; lies in bid till woo,
wears paptir-soled shoes, and pinches h'-*’* wrtn*,
gives the.pvano tits, and forgets to pay lier.mil
*itier; cuts her poor relations, au-1 goes to
church when she has anew bonnet ; v turns the
cold shoulder to her husband, and flirts with
his ‘friend;’ never saw a thimble, don't know a
darning needle from a crow-bar, wonders where
puddings grow; eats ham and eggs in private,
arid dines oca pigeon’s leg in public; runs
mad after the first new fashion ; doats on By
ron, adores any fool who grins behind a mous
tache, and when asked the age of her Young
est child, replies, don't knout indeed,.ask Bet
ty'!— Olive Branch.
Courting in the Right Style,
“Git eout you nasty puppy; let me alone or
I’ll tell vour ma!” cried out Sally —to her lov
pumilg Ull i num me uu.uiiir jai.i.
“ 1 arn’t teebiu’ oil you, Sul,’’ responded
Jake.
‘‘Well, perhaps you don’t mean to nuther;
do yor 7”
“ No, 1 don’t.”
“ Cause you re too iarna! scary, vou long leg
ged, lantern-jawed, slab-sided, pigeon-toed,
gangle-kneed, owl, you—you hain’t got a Car
nal bit o’ sense ; get along home with you.”
“ Now, Sal, I love you, and you can’t help it,
and es you don’t let me slaj and court you, mv
daddy will sue your’n for that cow he sold him
t’other day. By jingo, he said he’d doit.”
“ Well look here, Jake—ii you want to court
me, you’d better do it as a whiteman docs that
thing—not set off thero as ifyou thought I wa*-
pizen.’’
“ How on airth is that, Sat
Why, side right up here, and hug and kiss
ine, as ifyou really had some of the bone aud
sinner ot a man about you. Do you spose a
woman’s only made to look at, you fool \ iu ?
No; they’re made for ‘practical results,’ as Kos
suth says; to hug and kiss, and sich like.”
5‘ Well,” said Jake, dra ving a long breath,
“if I must f must for I do love you Sal; and so
he commenced sidling up to her, like a maple
poker going to battle. Laying his arm on Sal’s
Shoulder, we thought we heard Sal *av;
“ Thai’s tne way to do it, old boss; that is uci
ng like a white mau orter.”
‘‘Oh, Jerusalem a-n-d pancakes!’’ exclaim
ed Jake, “if this ain’t better than any apple
s,iss ever marm made, a darned sigh'.!—Crack*
e-e! buck-wheat cakes, slap jacks and ‘iasses
aiut no whar ’Jong side ol you, Sail oh, how I
love!” Here their lips came together, aud the
report that followed was like pulling a horse’s
hoofs out of the mire.
Ma,” said a liftle g'rl to her mother, “do
men want to get married as much as ihe wo
men do?” “Psha! what are you a talking
about?” “Why, ma, the women who come
here are always talking about getting married
men don’t do so.”
Nature is a great admirer of fair play. Good
looktng girls are generally poor—while your
little dumpy, ill-looking women have generally
more Spondulicks* then they know what to do
with.
LETTERS FROM TOE SORTIiT
New ITsvmi, Jan** 15. 0, 185*2.
Dear Doctor —fa my last, l rpokc to yon *yn>
tluficahv of the enchanting beauty of thi* F*iry City
if many ga-dens—this Sylrauopolis *.f (he Ntu lb, but
‘aiJ nothing of any of herimlrdduai e:coeilcneie.-i. which
| are manifold.
I In the first place, I forgot to mention that there is,
!in Chape! street, nn Episcopalian Church (the fct.
j Paul s; so overgrown with a climbing and running
I viw, called the Mercury here, arc! the PcUonou*
Oak at the South, as to bo almost entirely conceded
fionr tbe view. In a few years, it will be entirely con*
cwwied. At thispreseut moment, it is so covered ov r,
j frott! bottom to too, that the sdk appear like a t
monument of earth moncted with eKrgreamon
the vine*, i u they clirvy to the wall, in gri wing, wenv
ing a gtoiesque Arubesqwerie of verdant network
which clothes (tie bciWing us with t e aboriginal * nr
ments of Kden. This crowns the Chun h, w hich is
Gothic in style” with a truly Gothic and pi mural Kb
r.v—giving it, at the same time, an Elysian
which lends the soul away out of thr cYit?er!e*e m<iD>. t
ony o a mere Terra Cotla vorld, into the irie.-doiry
Seas and flowery savannahs of the Ancient Paradise.
In it gives it a pu’ebritulinal juvenility,
symboli.ea! of tiojt Celestial City which can aerer gr< w
°l‘ .. like time to a mother’s lore, vrho carries on Iter
h row of Autumn the Chaplet of an immortal fcnr.n •
i ; ■ * t>
\uto ileaven.
I,iko the sou of a gnat map. who Las done the
wor’d perrennial good, the older ite gets, Use gret tier
it looks ob the ouUide. \N hat a t***autiful emblem not
only of the doctriue taught in it, out of the relation
which subsists between that doctrine and the life-time
of the soul! Every time l look opon that Church, f
think about those evergreen Pastures of Lore, through
whiw'b Gikl, with his right hand, led tbe sinkingaoul of
David, during his pilgrimage here on earth, which lie
around the beautiful milk-white wails of the New Je
rusalem, Thus does the s>ml, as it wanders up cod
flow if on ill*; banks of -he..re of life, lik- a timid
lamb that fears to cross—chtered .h by a fervent taith
in those lively Oracles. which were the echoes of the
‘still small voico of GuJ,’ look over on the other side,
with his eyes brimful of scalding tears, and envy , r,
incipient foretaste of ile joys which there await him,
IV here his Divine Po6B.*ssions he*.
In the last No. of the Literary Mure urn edited by
Osaian E. Dodge, in lioitun, is a poem entitled The
Stars, said to have been ‘ translated from the Ger
by the Rev. T. W. lfaason, the K.tio.t'mg of
which are the first and Inst verses:
Are tie* stars a th>ck of lambkins,
Which grazes when the son's clear light
Has grae, in thublae fields of lien, i.,
There shepherdc-s* the night 1
* • *
No I—they are silver letters,
With which the Angel of Love
lias written her glorious anthems
la heaven’s blue vault ibovt.’’
i! you wiil look over tic hark numbers of the Bos
ton Museum, (as its name was then called,’ von will
find Poem of mine entitled AyalL, cental. :;ag tL .
fol’owinc lines •
What nr* nar*. tut hieroglyphic* of <;od> glory writ m
lightning
On the wide-unfolded jiuges of tfca ezure scroll rtw, tc,
I merely quote them to show yon, ho*v easy i: is for
out man to write when he hasran original to steal from.
I>ut as this is not the first time that this same poet has
appropriated the hlo-dy sweat of the intellectual travail
of my divine jo, s for Jus own use, I do not *.voadvr ,-u
U now. As to steal from a man’s w ritings ,* the high
est honor that the r.igue can cottier pn hi-*
I take the present opportunity to thank the jvfuLman
Cvf lik peaistj-worthy appreckn’kaj!! of my hi’ - -as. I’ t
what Is moat ut uishJng Is, the elose affinity who s? t ! *. v
first stanza taw to thp following lines of nv icr IV in
of mine published many years ;e-.j r .
‘fiio Moon, the pa’e (v.jd ?Tw™ltetile of JD. ven 1
!<* folding now her starry Lambs or. high.
Ah feeding from the til! the eves,
In lha soft azure Pastur sos the *fcy
So, you see. it was no! ‘trorel ;led from the
rrit/ri, but stolen from my Poeou.
The Paris - correrpoodeul of ‘be New York Er
gelzst announces that a key to the Si.s*me Isti > ir~
Tfo.vs lias. *.*. length, been discovered. The fidlowirg
u a ’’■'■•'-ihHioa of threrj of them, acec roir.'to J j
.fvv exj'iauation ;
•The people with eager lips drank from (he
of water. The people turned away wralbfuliy from
the springs of water} striking with the hrm. be* of ~
treo the source of b ifci he cured it ’
*Tl.o people journeyed through the passage, terror
suioktu Jclwvah urged the p uple forward with c*‘■v
reins, with gentleness The people tti-d the waters.
. ..! .1 i... - Ji !•!.., ,
wth his ti.iiid raised towards Heaven. • !**..> fopbet
prays to God upon a huge stone, his liaod* sustafned L.y
Aaron and llur.’
It is remarkable that none of these inscriptions quote
exactly the textol the Bible, a tact which warrants tlia
belief that they are anterfor to the Pentateuch,
That wa* a good pan, whiab vrns submitted
lately by a musician m Tati*, fe rhe ;.riz-2 -.ffered bv
the Academic fir ihe most appropviato epitaph to ho
inscribed upon the tomlwot a snember, who had and -d
from the sticking ut a bone of a fish, called sol, in his
throat, i\ uinermw epitaphs v/cro sent m, but the nriru
was awarded to the muskhc'it eflort, which consisted
of a staff of music, with five notes, viz- -la, sm. la, or,
la,—played upon thus : La sol i'a mi la —the so! !.js
placed him there.
TTiis reminds me of the (allowing, wh’ .h I cut fr. n
the Boston Atlas.
—— A number of the cit.z. ns of Roxbury, St *•
sachus.tts. have placed a monument to the memory of
their late Mayor, General 11. A. S. D ■a* - * iro, ia the
family ground in tbo Forest Fill Cerm try. It is a
Corinthian column of Italian marble, artistically execu
ted, and presents a very fine appearance. - It is - in.
but® to tbe memory of one. a whom, wfo u iivirg, m
people of Rozbury were greatly indebted f the lorcie
‘city of the -l ad’ which it arlorus. Cpor the base,! a
each side of the monament, is an aro, ari ounded by
soroli work. Lpoo the front, engraved upon a Uibfo,
arc (he following words: ‘A. H. 8. Ifcaiborn. Died
*1 uly 2S,
is the following happily conceived inserptkm ;
‘Ossa in Terra quam coin it, oruavlt, diL-x.it,
Civcs et amici mcerentes condimns,’
‘We, his mouruing Lliow-cit /er.b and friends, lay his
bones in the Grouud, which he pbint -d and adorned,
end in which he took delight.*
The reason why I quote -this i, because I wish to
show yon how indispensably accessary it .s to punctuate
correctly if you would wish to give a lucid oxpoi-itfon ot
your meaning—for, in reading tha above translation,
1 was at a boss to xnow whether or not it was his ‘leone*’
that tha deceased had ‘planted, after his denth. or bis
ground,’ ia which he ‘took’ so much ‘deiigh!.’. Tho
comma after ‘ground,’ causes all this confusion.
Another beaaliful Aurora Boreal,* made its appear
ance here ia the nocturnal sky about 9 o’clock on the
evening of the eleventh of this present month—spar,-
cicgthe Heavens, from the North to the. South, with
a rotate circle, gilding mth a peculiar giory the sickle
.a tfe* breast of the Lion, while diffitang a getme ra*
juuooe over the laughing ace of Ah sir of tho Eagle
NO. 13.