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Volume 3. A. farmer'll We envy not the princely man In city or in town, Who wonders whether pumpkin vines Eun up the hill or down ; We care not for his marble halls. Nor yet his heaps of gold— We would not own his sordid heart For all his wealth thrice told. We are the favored one’s of earth, We breathe pure air each mom ; We sow, we reap the golden grain, We gather in,the corn: We toil, we live on what we earn, And more than this we do— We hear of starving millions around, And gladly feed them, too. Thy lawyer lives on princely fees, let drags a weary life; He never knows a peaceful hour— His atmosphere is strife. The merchant thumbs liift jTtrd-stiek o’e-, Gro s ragged at His toil ; tie’s hot the mati Ut)d ttieant him ft)*— Why don’t yoti till the sdil ? The doc tot plods through storm ami Hold, Plods at his patient's will; When dead and gone he plods again To get his lengthy bill. The printer (bless his noble soul I) He grasps the mighty earth, And stamps it dil our daily sheet To cheer the farmer’s Hearth. We sing the honor of the plow, And honor to the press— Two noble instruments of toil, With each a power to bless; The bone, the nerve of this fast age, True wealth of human kind— One tills the eTer generous earth. The other tills the mind. A RACE WITH DEATH. '■Sir, you're an ass !’ “Sir, Ihu not; I came here to sue for your daughter's hand, and— ’ “And you expect me to give my daughter to a man who, whatever may be his other qualities, has not a copper ip the world to bless himself with ?’ “I know I have no money at present, sir, but I have hopes —’ “A pretty thing to begin house-keep ing on ! Supposing you were married to morrow, do .you wish to live or die ihe day after ?’ “Live sir, of course.’ “Why of course! To live you want food ; if you want food, you want mon ey ; atnl as you have no money you would get no food ; and no food means starva lititi ! lh> you see that) sir ?' “Yes, sir ; but— ’ , “But! There's no but in tlie Case. Now take a bit of advltie from ute; Mdr timer, as one of your father's oil ‘St friends. Go and earn a livuig ; and when you can show me that you can support my daughter it I give her to you—mind you, it —l shall be ready to ta kto you. Good morning. Bah 1 and the testy but good unturned o-d gentleman stump ed out of the ro nil, leafing me sp Self less sitting on the edge ot the chair With my hat iii hand. AM irty hopes had bet tf ruthlessly dashed tcf the ground. I had expected to argue the poirtt with Mr. Clavering as Bessie; his dilighter) had assured me that it would be all fight if 1 tv.ly put the matter properly before him. We had mutually agreed that he would he sure to give his consent, and haid laid iict end of plans for the future, in which everything but the question ot money had been exhaustively considered. The abrupt manner in Which this had now been brought disconcerted me not a little, and I left the room' not quite so certain that I did not resemble that generally good natured b”t otherwise unreliable quadruped to which Mr. Ola vering had likened me in the course of our conversation. At the door I met Besie. with an ex pression of mingled anxiety and curiosi ty on her countenance. “Well, Jack, what did papa Say V “ That. I was an ass, Bessie!’ “Oh, I hope you did not quarrel. I ivas afraid there was something wrong, as I beard bira.ordering deviled kidneys feff iHflch; ftnd! he never does that with out he's in a passion.’ . “Bessie,- the Old gentleman asked me ho’w tfg vfefe going to fife.-’ “Well, did you tell him in a little cottage, with a garden in front, and a piggery, and a kitchen garden, aud a ffrtfl Ffcrcse Sttd a little dairy, and— ’ “Yes, yes; but that's not what he meant. He wanted to know where all the money were to come from to pay for all tfeiSf’ “Why, yotl were to provide the mon* ey, of course. You Wgfff t tf earn It.’ “Geftainly • but your father wanted to Know how.’ “Howl Well, you would—there tfoW. you ought to know best, surely. Bon'l you f “No, I do Hot, flosSie,' and 1 think We ought to have thought ot this before. “Jack, I don't wonder papa got in a passion with you,- you're so stupid. I have a great mind to 1 get angry with you fnyself.' “But sweetheart,- don't you feally think we ought to have considered how we were going to buy what we Wanted? 4 "That was your business, not mine ; and Jfick,- if you look at me like that I ? ll box your ears.’ . “No, you wonT! I think yon'ra all la a very bad temper this morning.’ “Do you? Now I tell you what it is Nr. Jack. Till you find out how we‘re going to get money to live on I Won't have anything more to say or to do with you at all. Don't come near nflre now. I don’t love you a bit And, Jack when you have found out how, you'll come and tell me fit st, won't you ?’ And away dashed Bessie, leaving me at the garden gate, to which we had walked daring our conversation. It was a lovely spring morning. All feature seemed in ecstacy at the prospect /^BI■ I 9 V BB v .W IB Bi * ~> m _ flfi Hfi |m ' h I of approaching stirtlrrter; I alone was sad. I could ndt help feeling that I had made a miSiHke. and that t must have lowered myelt considerably in the esti mation df old Mr. Clavering by appear, ing so thoughtless and inconsiderate. Trtte; I Was but nineteen, and having lost mv father early, had been brought up and edildated by my mother alone, and so perhaps had rather less knowedge of the world thari I Should have acquired had I been sent to a public school or to the university. My position wits by no means a bad one. The only sriri of A difingiiinhod military officer wrl o was not wealthy, but left what little he had to his widow during her lifetime. I might be said to have possessed a good education, and what was perhaps better, good prospects. I had been invited by Mr. Clavering, who was and old military comrade of my father's to spend a month with him at his residence flf Mdfeddtttbe Bajn During my stay 1 hid Ibarnbd first to like and then to love his daught er Bessie, and when my visit approached its termination had not only declared my love, but had asked permission to marry, with what result is known. Having been always tolerably well supplied witli money, I had neVt'r yet beet! bl-o tight face to face with the gl'edr edudatdf of humanity—the necessity of earning one‘9 broad—and was, there fore; rather igno rant of some of the principal duties of life than Unmindful <4 them; Tile bluff 1 , ooitintOn sense of liessie's fatfief Lad compelled me to consider rririttefs fldtti a practical point of view) and I wHS ndw perhaps ritobe diig>-y with nlyself than with ahy oHe else. I walked on bdt fin., allyiesolved to fetu’-n to the cdttare and saddle Mdro ft)r a ride. Moro had been my father's charger, and had been left me, with particular instructions as to his care. lie was a splendid horse of jet black color; of enormous strength. By the kindhecs df tily Host I had been allowed to bring him with trie) and many a pleasant ride had I had oil hi3 back with Bessie Clavering. As I re-entered the pleasant garden attached to the cottage I strove in vain to catch a.glimpse of Bessie;'and reach ed the stable without having met any body but the old gardner, who saluted me with] the usual “How ’de do, Stir?’ I was soon by the side of Moro, who gave a neigh of delight as I entered. It did not take me long to put on his sad dle, and as I left the yard I learned from tile old groom that Miss Clavering had lidderi Otlt alone about a quarter of an hour before me. I was certainly much chagrined :it this, and made several men tal resolves to be fully revenged as soon as I could get a -convenient Opportunity; I turned down a lane that led to tile biiil e path along the top of the cliff 1 , and letting the reins fall over Moro's rteflk, abandoned myself to building cat tles 111 tire ait‘; irt the erection of which Bessie took a Very prominent part. The spot was admirably adapted to medita tion. Ttf my left if small Wood; tbfoiigh the breaks in Which glimpses of the fisJ ing Upland we'fe eaifght every no\V and then? straight ahead a broad expanse ot purple heather,- and to my right the rug ged steep clifts, at the foot of which lay a vast tract of sand; as life Sea; owing to the flat shore; retires ;! distance of nearly fotfi rffiiee : far away in the distance the bright dancing waters, with a sail or two in Sight; and oVer the whole a glorious expanse of blue; across which the light morning air blew a fetf white Scudding Clouds; Sotfte three rind rf biff fffiles from the sheffe there extended right along the coast a low sand-bank, which was at once a sources of pleasure and danger to the inhabitants and the fishermen. When the tide flowed the sea beat against the bank for some time; till ait last with an angry roar, it Surmounted the obstacle and come tearing dowrt the incline like a very avalanche. Many accidents result ing" in loss of life had taken place, owing to the ignorance aud carelessness ot tourists and others, who lulled into a state of fancied security by the distauce of the Sea, would wander about on the sands till overtaken by the tide; wheff they were placed; aS it were in an instant, beyond human assistance, and Were inVa riably lost. Danger signals aud notices had been put up in every mominent position by the authorities, who were accustomed also at the turning ot the tide to tire a signal gun ; but, with all that; the sands were so tempting, and the Very breeife that waited across them so delicious, that a day seldom passed Without Some party or other, generally iiftfunted,- venturing upon them. As I looked down I e’otfld see nothing but a solitary speck in the distance; which I Socrn after made but,- through a little pocket-glass I always carried,- to be a person cm horseback Cantering along; 1 paid no particular attention at the time and eonlirtued my way; gathering un the reins as Moro broke into a gentle trot. I was now cm the edge Of the cliffs, where a single false Stey would at once have preciuitated me oh the sands’ below, and consequently, although Moro was wonderfully surefooted and well ac quainted with the path, I moved ri!ong with considerable caution; The beauty of the scene and the exercise Soon dis pelled the gloominess that had oppressed me, and as my blood began to circulate more quick y, my spirits tose and I com menoed to siug right merrily. The path t ow took at sitHden turn by a deep gorge, and as 1 did not wish to go round it, a distance of nearly a mile, I resolved to put Moro across it ? so patting-him gent ly on the necl{; for I never touched him with spur or whip. I called to him ; the noble old horse Understood me at once, and increased his speed. On we went, ibe pace getting faster and faster, till, at the gorge, Moro roao with a splendid CONYEtIS, GEORGIA.: THURSDAY, MAY 4, 1876. bound and alighted safely oil the other side. I noW gdt ti full view of the sands again, and found Ihtlt t Wits Considerably nearer’ the persoti on horseback below— in fact, that we had been moving toward one another. At that moment Moro suddenly stopped, and tossing his head in the air.gave aloud neigh. Somewhat aston'shed at this proceeding, I looked more careful y, and perceived by the flutter of the dress that the person on horseback was a ladv. I became more interested, and taking out my glass, discovered that it was no other than Bes ale? who had berm* cantering along on the fcttnds on a mare that her father had lately bought her. Moro had no doubt recognized his stable companion. I de. baled with triyfielf whether .1 should re turn, arid by taking a short cut, meet her on Bef Way Bonlcj itt order to upbraid hel 1 With her iliisoonditct in going out alorie. While I was oogitatin s, Moro uttered a snort of alaml. I looked and beheld ill sight that for the moment took aWdy riiy breritli. lYdut sdirie cause or other Bessie’s hdrse appeared to have taker! fright and become unmanageable i all at oritie it tore away like the wind in the diretiliflri of the sea. At the same rriottlerit l heard tire distant bomb of the signal-gun Which announced that the tide Wris jitst about to turn. The frill horror of # tlie situation now flashed across me i Unices the triare riorild be stopped in time) iriy loVe would he over taken by the sea and lost before my eyes. A cold chill taken possession Ot rite; and fc/r it iriOntent 1 sat niotidnless; Bessie's fl ;tlre WMS d-fetid y becoming snr ider as she Wits bohie rapidly oiiwardi “Now or never; Moro!” I said, as 1 rose in the stirrups; and the gallant od horse seemed to understand me, for he impatiently pawed the air with liis fore feet. The next thing was how to get upon the sands. “The gorge ! oh, the gorge !” I touched Mot-o, mid in a teu seconds we had reached it; It was a frightful declivity; and the descent seem ed impossible ? tek it was my only chance; and I ’determined to make the attempt. Carefully; and with the g'rea - cst Caution, I gitided Moro ; and after a few rtidirteuts of agonised suspense gain ed the Sand. I knew I had only one course before rue—to ptlrSue the mare and theft attempt to'race the tide. 'Mo ro !’ I shout-d, “Moro! we ride to save my love !’ Moro shock himself as if he knew what a irenleiidoitS eftbrt wris de manded of him, and seifled Sown xo Ids work. By this time Bessie was rjime , h-tll the distance toward the sea. Would I reach Iter in time? In order to lighten the weight, 1 threw away my overcoat, my hat, coat and waistcoat. I tabled Upon Moro ;he seemed to fly. We were gaining upon the mare evidently; but Still the rfWtitl question rose to illy lips : child it be tit time?’ I could already he.fr the roar and surge of the waters, shid the rising wind warned tile that the tide woifld that morning propably exceed its usual height. My b ood was up. I determined to either save my love or to perish with her; We were now but half a utile apart. I shouted till I was hoarse; but a.l to no effect, for the wind was dead in our faces. Moro geemed to pftrtifiipftte in irty excitement; and strains etf etfcfy ffeffre to overtake the mare. Wd dere not moro than two hundred yards di3tant from the sand hank against which tHe tVavefl were dashing with un woffted fbl’fle; Another second and the mate woffld hafe paSsed the bank, be overwhelmed by the raging waters, and till Woifld be lost. I screamed in my ag ohfy. I thought I heard a low waft, in res’pon'Se; f shut my eyes as I could not bear to look, but opened then! immedi ately, as Moro gave a whinny of pleas ure. “Ah ! what is that ?’ The marc hrfn Stumbled and thrown Bessie, and then plunged tfrildly,* irt her terror and faty into the waves. In an i I was alongside rtn loVe, had dismounted and was kneeling by her. ‘‘Bessie l Bessie ! oh my darling) are you dead ? Oh, speak id me }’ speak to me f' Alter a few moments, which seemed to me an age ol t6Vture, she opened her eyes and said faintly: “Jack, my best belovvd, save yourself,' the tide will be ©Ver the bank in a second or two. Give my Ibte to dear papa.’ Then exhausted She fell back in a dead faint; 1 tore my hair in despair y I raved like a madman; What Could I do 1 Al last I became calmer,- for a deSpeffife resolVe had taken possession of me. Moro should have a double bUr den, and we would try and outstrip the tide ; we would race with death. I soon placed my darling across the saddle,- and leaped up behind her as the first spray came flashing over the bank. I krtew not an instant was to be lost.- We star ted tor the shefre. I patted Moro* I said to him' “Moro, you bore my lather through the ranks of death at BalaklaVa. Ob, save his son 1’ To add to my agony I now perceived that a storm was im pending. The sky was overcast ; heavy drops of rain began to fall,- and every now and then a lurid flash lit up the darkening air. We were now but two rm eff from the shore, and if I could only rea’C'h' the gorge in tithe I knew we were Shved. I called again upon Moro. The noble horse lot the first time uttered sighs of distress; Anew terror uo.w Se’ifed me—"would Mora's strength last f 1 turned and looked, ar.d through the Winding rain Saw,* to my horror that the sea’ was already breaking over the bfitrk. It Would be Upon us almost directly. I urged Moro otf afresh, but the poor ani mal appeared unable to increase his speed. Boom l boom f Ah ! what is that ? Thiitrk God, W3 have been ob served, and they fire hastening to our helo! Tne signal-gun l “Moro, my Mo-, ro, but a lew seconds longer!’ We tore along. Bessie still lay insensible in my arms. The cliffs now rose frowriing be fo-e ns. Another Htindrod yards and we are saved. “On, Moro, on 1 I near the roar of the descending tide.’ Once Store I turned, and nS the lightning dshod: I saw the wafers racing rind surging almost at the horse's heels. At. that moment Moro staggered. ’The sea was upon us and over us. I heard a ringing in my ears. I gave one Inst, one agonized shriek, and remembered no more. I awoke and found myself in a warm b<*d, surrounded by compassionate faces; Mr. Clavering came forward. *'.i od must not excite yourself, my boy,’ be said: “IJe sie is well.' “And Moro 1’ 1 asked. “Is well too,’ lie said. Bo you want to know whether I mar ried Bessie ? It yon do go to Morcombe Bay, ask for the Hawthorne's and maybe you'll see an old b'aek military charger, almost b'ind, with two or three eurly headod little urchins on his back, all laughing and clapping their hands as he car: ies them daintily up aud down the path. Angry Words. Angry words are lightly spoken. In a rush and thoughtless hour ; flrighest links of life are broken By their deep insidious power, itearts inspired by warmest feeling, Ne’er before by anger Btirred, Oft are passed all hun au healing By a single angry word. • Poison drops of care and sorrow,' Bitter poison drops are they— Weaving for the coming morrow Saddest memories of to-day. Angry words ! oh, let them never From the tongue unbridled slij> ; May the heart’s best impulse ever Check them e’er they soil the lip. Love is much too pure and holy. Friendship is too sacred far, For a moments reckless lolly Thus to desolate and mar. Angry words are lightly spoken -. Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred; Brightest links of life are broken By a single angry word. * The Voting Lawyer. The tie which bound a certain Detroit youth to a lawyer's office was severed the other day, and itis parents were hap py They wanted the boy to make a great, lawyer, but he was getting along info fast, lie pursued his studies will) an afdor which cast a judicial shadow o'er the household and created consider able neighborhood talk. He got trusted for candy and repudiated the bill on the ground that he was a minor. He bought a dog and went into bankruptcy'. He borfVf’ved a pair of skat sand defied the ownef to get out a w rit of replevin. He borrow* and tit v cenis and then made the Under his assignee. But the worst of it was in the family, lie had a legal name for almost every thing, and his desire was to prove to his pare 1 to? that he was just absorbing dead loads of law. II he wanted a potal iat the dinner table he would remark: “Father, tile tny claim against that baked potato ana I'll prove the indebted neSfl this afterttdon.’ If he wanted bread he said ! “Motli ef- get me out a writ of attachment far a piece ot bread.’ It Was expected of Hiiti that he would build the rtiornir.g tires; blit no sooner bad be gained an insight into ldw than he said to his father 1 “I'm gCfuig to move for a change of venue unless Sonic other arrangement is made.’ He moVed fof ft Stay Of proceedings when asked to go to the grocery; and it chided for being cut nights he replied : “File your declaration and give me a chance for a jury trial ’ VTnen he was in good humor he would sit aud regale his mother with stories about how Old Chancery was going tip to'wn one night and met Old Equity and Usked him how Decree was getting along. Old Hleadifig and Expectations came and ong just 'hen, and there was a big tight, and the young lawyer wotlld Slap bis leg and add: “It Indictment had only been there be'ed haVe whaled the dhole crowd !’ The other day the long suffering fa'h. et severed the tie. He was trying to bciit tip; hoping for reform, but as he sat down to the tea table his son biightened up and remarked i “The defendant will rto'W take the Stand and be sworn. Now, sir, did you or (fid you not come out of Griswold stieet saloon at eleven o’clock this morn ing; wining your mouth on the back of ycur hand 1 Tell the jury about it, sir f It was a little too much, and the ooy doesn't study law any more. He olays with a woodpile in the back yard. Tying the Mnot, A young fellow was taking a sleigh ride with a pretty girl, when he met a minister who was somewhat celebr ited for tying the matrimonial knot at short notice. He stopped him and asked bur riedly r “Can you tie a knot for me ?’ “Yes; said Brother B 1 , “I guess so. Whren do you want it dono ?’ “■Well, right away,’ was the reply “Is it lawful, though, here in the high way ?’ “Ob, yes ; this is as good a place as any—-as sate as the elittrclr itself,’ “Well, then, I wrihf a Knot tied in <¥iy horse’s tail to keep it out of the snow.’ The minister strangely, displayed pro fane wrath. The extreme height of misery a small boy with anew pair of boots and' no mud paddle. Pyspcpsfd—lt* Cause and Cure. The most universal cause for dyspep.. sia is catling too oltcn; too last, mil too tntfuh. , The general rules should be : 1— Ear thrice a day. 2 Not eat an atom between meals. 3 Nothing after 2 o’clock but a slice of told bread and butter and one cup of hot drink. 4 Spend half an hour at leriSt in taka ing cacli meah 5 Cut up all meats and li&ffl food in pea-sized pieces. O—Nevcr eat enough to cause the slightest uncomfortable sensation aftel watds. 7—Never work or s:ndy hard within hall an hour ot eating. The most universal and infahiahle in dication that a person is becoming dys peptic is some uncomfortable sensation coining on uniformity after each meal, i whether that be in the stomach, throat or any where else. The formation of wind in the stomach, indicated by et no tation, belching; or otherwise, demon strates that dyspepsia-'s fixing itself in the system. Then there is only one course to puisne, and that is in fall IftHle i eat less and less at each meal, Uiitll flo wind is generated and no uncomfortable sensation experienced in any part ol the body. No medicine evef cured confirm ed dyspepsia j eating pliiltl food regularly and living otlt df doors industriously s ill cure most cases.—[Hill s Journal of Health. Social Wine Drinking; At nil Episcopal convention, a dis cussion on temperance brought tip the “ wine question.” A part of the clergy advocated its eritire disuse, and a part took the other side. At length an influ ential eletgytrian made a Vehement argument ill favor of wine, denouncing the radical reformers for attempting to banish this token 01. hospitality i'rbni use. When he had f-esttmed Ids seat, a layman trembling with emotioft rose, and asked it it waS allowable for him to speak. Tile chair having signified that he would be heard, he said “Ml* Moderator; it is not my purpose in rising to answer the learned df-griment you have just listened "to: My object is more humble, and I hope more praci cal. I onee knew a father in nrodef-ate circumstances who was tit much iiitbu venience to educate haiuwd son n. college. Here this son becarfle dissi pated; but after he bad gtadiiated and returned to his father, the influence ot home, acting upon a generous nature, actually reformed hint. The father was overjoyed at the prospects that his cherished hopes of (After days were fl'.i'l to be realised: “Several year# paSfbtl when; ifie young man having completed his study and being about to leave his father for the purpose fit establishing in business, lie was invited to dine with a neighbor ing clergyman distinguished tor his hos pitality and social qualities. At this dinner wifte was introduced and offered to this Noting man, and refused; pressed upon him and again firmly refused. This was repeated, and the young man was ridiculed for his singular abstinence. He was strong to overcome appetite, but couldn't Hot fesist ridicule ; he drank, mid fell ; and from that moment became a confirmed dtunkard, mid long sittco has found a drunkard's grave. “ Mr; Moderator,” continued the old man With steaming eyes, “ I am that father; and it was at the table of the Clergyman who has just taken his scat, that this token of hospitality ruined the SOh I shad never oeatfe to mourn. t*retty or Not ? '1 0 he pretty is the great object of al most every living woman—even of those whb hav’ “a mission f” and who, if truth wero told, dress themselves as becomingly as possible, even while limy lecture upon the impropriety of doing so. Boauliffil women spend a great deal of thbught fipon their own charms, unci liottiel/ women grow homelier through frettihg because they are not hand some; Men, at least while they are young, are verv much like women m this re spect, though they hid-*, their feelings belter. There is one comfort to the homely ones, however. After you come ‘.o know people very intimately, you do not know whether they are pretty or not, Their “ ways’’ make un impression on you, but not their noses, and ears; their eyes and months. In time; the soul expresses itself to you, and it is that which you see. A man who has been married twenty years scarcely knows what his wife looks like. He may declare 1 hat he Joes, and tell you that she is a bewitching little blonde, v ilh soft blue eyes, long after she is fat, and red, and fo 1 ty ; because the image of his early love is in his heart, and he doesn't see her ns she is to day, but as she was when he courted her. Or, being an indiff rent husband, he may not, know that she is the fine woman that other people think her. You have known men who have mar ried the plainest viloirten, and think them beauties ? aud yOU know beauties who are quite thrown ft way on men who value a wife for lief Rffccess rs a cook. As far as' one's effect on strangers is to be taken into consideration, heaiAy i.- valuable, and Very valuable. So; if you have it, rejoice; but if you have it not,- be content. Take care of your heart, your soul, your mind, and your manners, and you will make lor yourself that beauty which will render you lovely to those who are nearest and dearest to you. timber 4:l* A \\ underfill flock. A German ol ( inc’imati has invented a dock which, tlioiigli much, Sinai Ini titan the celehra-ed one at Strusbiirg. is, from its description, much trleiv (,’bthpli, dried: It ijf now bn exhibition In one ol the windows of a jewelry fttofle And attracts mite p nltentioff The inventor t calls it “ Die Lahenstihr”—(he clonk of lire; The elaborateness of ils inecnnn ijtii limy he imagined from the following description ot tire wonder; We see, m a glass ease, a thvee-etoi'v steeple-sh; ped olof-K, Jbbi- febt wide at the fliht Story ami hihe feet high. T’hej movements are placed iii the first story, on four delicate columns, which is in the' insignificant form of a bee hive. Be-1 hind the pendulum there is a picture representing mature manhood— a coun tryman behind his plough. ’■ he corners are carved and represent four periods of life—infancy, youth, manhood and old age. The spaces 'o the right and left of the dock are ornamented with \w9l oil paintings, representing {tie spring time of life, (cnildf-eti jilaying in the garden), and tbd nfftttmnor the end of life (grave diggbi-8 in the cemetery.) i" The second #tbt y consists ot two tow- r er-iike pieces, on the doors of which represent boyhood and early manhood: In the one and hoy is just pushing his little hark nwa'y from tho shore. Ho Stands upright in his boat and points to the distance ; he is about to begin life —to paddle his “ own cauoe.” In the Other a young man who lias already rtrnde some' progress fn the journey of life) enters it rOom ifl fbhifih there is an hour glass, which reminds him of tire fleet ness of time. On this story ther e are three guardian angels. A rnnjestic tower cf-oWn9, as third story, tlie ingenious structure. A cock,- as a symbol of watchfulness, stands on the top, flireotly over the portal, which opens the lower itl fj-ont. On this porN ta' there is a painting vbhieh represents u tire perishableness ot earthly tilings. The entire structure iS; itt appearance,- 1 very much like ati blf} Gothic Cafltle: Now, let us flee it we Can describe the meohftrtic’fll action ot the clock. When it rffrirfes the first quarter, the door of ihc left piece of the'second story opens, and we see a child issue from the back ground, cone forward to a little bell, give it a blow, then disappear. At \ho second quarter a yotltli 3;>p u aiS, strikes flic bell twice, anti men tlleappeuio. Al. the third cotnes a man in prime, at the fourth we have a tottering old man, leaning on a staff, who strikes the bell four times. Each, lime the door closes itself. When the hortrfl are ftfll the door of the fight peafce of the sec ond story opens, and Death; as a skelcn loft; sfiythe in hand; appears and maiks the hour tfv stfikii/g a bell. But is at the twelfth hoffrthat we have the grand! spectacle In the representation of thd day of judgment. Then, when death hits Stfuek thfee blows on the little bell, the bock oft the top of the tower sud denly flaps his wings, and crows in a shrill tone; and after Death has marked the twelfth.hoer With hi# hammer, ne crows again twice. Immediately the angels, who stand as guardians in a cen7 tral position, raise their trumpets with their right hands (in their lelt they Ji’old Swords), and blow a blast toward each of the four quarters of the earth; at the last blast the door ot the tower opens, aud the resurrected children of earth appear, while the destroying angels sink out ot sight. The multitude stand fftf .fl rtfottefit full ot awe and wonder, when suddenly, Christ, in all his majesty descends, surJ ftfttnded by angels. On his left there is tin dttgbl who holds the scales of justice ; on his right another harries the Book of Life, which opens to show the alpha rind omega—the beginning and the end. Christ waves his hand, and immediately the good among the resurrected are separated from the wicked, the former going to the right and the latter to the left. The Arch Angel Michael salutes the good, while on the other side stands the devil, radient with fiendish delight; The figure of Christ taises its hand again; dilh a Ihreatbning mien, and the accursed sink down to the realms of hjtr Satanic majesty. Then Christ blesses the chosen few who draw near to him. Ei ually, we hear a cheerful chime of bells, during which Christ rises, surrounded by his angels until he disappears/ and the pb’flal clostfs. We look with amazement o’ri Inisf ex hibition of the mechanic’s ingenuity ; a complete drama is here represented, withotff life aid ot human hand. And what eXckes our admiration still more is the perfection of all the movenfents; they are steady, calm arrd noiseless; witn the exception of tho threatening gest ures of .the figure of Christ and the movements ot Lucifer who darts across the scene with lightning rapidity. The peculiar action ot these two figures is intentional on the part of the artist and adds greatly to the effect. I Gills talk and burgh about marriage as though it tfas a jubilee, a gladsome thing, a rose without a thorn. And s a it is, if it is all right—if they go üboui it as rational beings instead of merry making children. It is a serious thing to marry. It is ft life business. There fore; neve'f do it in haste; never run away to get married ; never marry for wealth or standing,- or fine person, or manners, biri for character, for worth, for the qualities of mind and heart which make an honoinb.e man. Take tftffe ; think long aud well before you? acoept any proposal ; consult yonf patents, then some judicious friend, then your own judgment. Learn alHhat is possible for you to learn of -your proposed husband. \Vhen all doubts havo been removed/ i and not trll tlreir, a evpt;