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AMfIUUCAM UMOißlf,
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VOL. I.{ DR. WM. GREEN-EDITOR.
.VUERICAN DEMOCRAT,
PUBLISHED WEEKLY,
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NOTICE.
,T |tlJE undersigned have associated them
I sclv b in the practice ot’ the law, and
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us may he intuited to their circ.
They »il attend the following Courts:
Bibb, Ciawibrd, Monroe, Twiggs, Jones,
Wilkinson, H’u-ffon, Pulaski, Henry, and
Pike.
A. P. POWERS,
1,. N. WHITTLE.
M iron, April 17, 1314. 48—tl
Office over E B- Weed’s store, two
doors below Win. B. Johnston.
Can I Flour, foiosheii Butter
A Cheese,
OF superior quality, jurt rcrriurJ and ft>r sale by
C. A. ELLS.
A prtl 24 -49 -ts.
SANDS’ SARSAPmO
IITHIS invaluable Medicine, to much cal-
Jl Idefor of late, if now to be had at the
proprietor’s prices, at GEOROE PAYNE’S
DRUG STORE—who is Agent for the
same.
►_ April 10, 1841. 4T—tf
Administrator’» Snip.
AGREEABLY to an order From the
Honorable Inferior Court of Macon
roun , y. when sitting for Ordinary purpose s,
will bo sold before the Court House door,
in the Town of Lanier, M icon county, on
the first *1 u (i sday In JULY next, the North
half of Lot of Land, number twenty nine,
and Lot number thirty in the fifteenth Dist.
of originally Houston now Mncrtn eotfnty.
Sold as the pr .prrty of Elias Jouidnin, late
of said county deceased. Soil for the
benefit of the heirs and creditors of said
deceased.
Terms of Sale made known on the day
THOS. T. JOHNSON. Adm’r.
April 10, 1814.
Home
Horae' there’s mu:;ic in the name
More sweet than the jEolian harp’* soft strain,
Theling'ring sound falls from the tongoo
Like a note from an angel's lyre rung
Home ! *t is a sound of sweet melody
’ T is a chain that binds all hearts;
Thro’thc blight «|X>tsofearth you may wan'er&roam,
The brightest, the greenest, will ever be home
Gweet spot! fond memory loves to retrace
Each step of youth in that rime-honored place,
'The gush of the streamlet so silvery and clear,
And the waterfall’s murmur 1 still seem to hear
The shade of the wide spreading oaks where 1 played,
The gloom of forest where often I strayed,
The green grassy banks of the clear crytal brook,
Where trout f ensnared with a treacherous hook
The hum of the hive, tire labor and tod
Os the bees that returned heavy laden'd with spoil
I rememher them all asthings of to-day,
Tho' years, long years have since pass’d away.
With fancy’s soft pencil I still can rrtrai o
Each feature ami line of mv mother s sweet face,
! .till ran remember the. look of fend joy,
That lit up her face as she gated on hci boy.
Ah 1 aieumd that warm hearth, so cheerful hefote,
That once happv group shall cluster no more;
No more now shall smile that grav-hradeh sire,
No more now shall glow that once sparking fire!
The mother no more with smiles and joy
Shall wrfc-.ome home her darling hoy;
fbe wifcl wmd of heaven now mournfully raves,
And the wrath of the icmpra burst ocr their grace.-,
Rut tho' all now are laid in the rold, -ilcnt tomb,
Vet dcir to mv heart u mv infancy's' home;
Tho' no sin - ! parent’s voice wcleonße* back to the spot
Y-t 'he scene* «f my childhood •'•IH u*'ei be frip-t
DEMOCRATIC BANNER. FREE TRADE; DOW DUTIES; NO DEBT; SEPARATION FROM BANKS; ECONOMY; RETRENCHMENT;
AND A S'VRXGT ADHERENCE TO THE CONSTITUTION.— J. C. CALHOVJT.
MISCELLANY.
The Old Cloak.
BY MRS. B——.
“Pray, Mr. Norton,” exclaimed a live
ly lady to a fashionably dressed, hand
some young man, who was standing be
side her, at an evening party, “pray, do
yon intend to remain an old bachelor all
your days ? Since your return from Eu
rope, 1 have been continually expecting
to hear of your marriage, but here you
have been, two years, and yon are still,
to all appearance, ‘in statu quo,’ as the
lawyers say.”
“My dear Mrs. Hinfon,” replied the
young gentleman with a smile, “I will
be frank, and tell you the real reason of
my remaining a general admirer of the
sex, instead of confining my attentions to
any one, ‘bright particular star,’ however
much I may be dazzled by its brilliancy.
1 am actually afraid to marry !”
“Afraid!” echoed the lady, opening
her dark eyes to their widest extent with
astonishment. ‘ 1 ‘Faint heart never
won,’ you know. Are you.afraid to pro
pose !”
“No, madam, afraid to marry. You
will laugh at me, I dare say, when I tell
you that my seat in church has a great
deal to do with my solitary state, which
seems so much to excite your surprise.”
“Why, yes,” replied Mrs. Hinton, “one
is always surprised when n young man
who—without meaning to flatter you
is certainly a favorite in society, (here
Mr. Norton made her a polite bow,) and
who has an independent fortune, still re
trains from choosing one of the many fair
damsels whom lie meets, to superintend
his establishment. But what influence
your seat in church can have upon the
matter, 1 am at a loss to imagine.”
“You must know, then, that 1 sit just
behind Miss La Modes, in f)r. Righthead’s
church, and the sight of her velvet cloak
absolutely frightens me from the thought
of marrying a wife who may some day
say to me, ‘My dear, I am dying for a
new velvet cloak; please to give me two
ot three hundred dollars, and I will go to
’s and buy one.’ How I should
shudder to hear such a request.”
“Really, Mr. Norton, this is too absurd
for yon, with your fortune, to talk in such
a manner. 1 shall begin to think you a
miser. Your wife might dress as extra
vagantly as she chose, and it would not
injure yon. And surely you do not ob
ject to a lady’s wearing a velvet cloak?
“I do not object to any thing that is
consistent, but I cannot help thinking
splendid velvet, such as Queen Victoria
herself might be satisfied with, for a cor
onation robe, sadly out of place when it
is made into a cloak, to be worn on al
most all occasions; particularly when it
is well known that Miss La mode’s fath
er does not even pay his baker or butch
er. If I were one of his poor creditors, I
should be tempted to take the cloak from
the young lady, in the street, and sell it
for what it would bring.”
Mrs. Hinton sat silent at this speech.
Her conscience reproached Iter, for she
knew that she had, on that day, purcha
sed an elegant new mantle,although her
husband had requested her to be as econ
omical as possible in her expenditures,
as he found it difficult, in those trying
times, to meet all the demands made up
on his purse. She was a woman, how :
ever, of generous feelings* as yet unhard
ened by resisting good impulses, and she
secretly resolved to take back the mantle
the next day, and prevail upon the shop
man to receive it, since it was not yet
paid for. All this passed through her
mind with the rapidity of lightning, and
»he turned round with a smile to address
when an over dressed young
lady, who had been sitting, an interested
listener in the conversation, interposed.
“If Mr. Norton wants an economical
wife,” she said, I would recommend him
to offer himself to Emily Harwood. I
think she will suit him exactly, for she
has worn an old cloak all winter, with
no alteration—one that she has had two
years, at leart, to my knowledge.”
Mr. Norton looked at the speaker, and
the unamiitblc expression of her conn
tenance sunk her in his estimation for
ever, although he had hitherto regarded
her as very pretty and interesting, and
had sometimes even thought it almost
possible to love Caroline Howard well
enonght to marry her, if he could only
hope to cure her of the passion for dress
which she displayed. But this remark
sealed her fate, as far as he was concern
ed, and turning to Hr Hinton, he asked:
“Who is Emily Harwood ? Are you
acquainted with her? I should really
like to be introduced to a young lady
who has moral courage enough to wear
an unfashionable garment, alter having
worn it already two winters; she must
possess a more than common character.”
“I will introduce you with pleasure,”
said Mrs Hinton. “She is a sweet girl
and a great favorite of mine. I confess I
have myself been surprised at the plain
ness of her dress, this winter, for her fa
ther is considered wealthy, and she is the
only one of his daughters of an age to go
into society. That is she, in the sHtiplc
white frock, and that is hci mother, by
herride.”
Mr. Norton was charmed to perceive
'hdtitwasa voting iadv who, by hci
MACON, WEDNESDAY, MAY 8, 1814.
singularly modest and unpretending ap
pearance, had attracted his attention in
the early part of the evening. He had
intended to inquire her name, kit lost
sight of her in the crowd, and supposed
that she had retired. She received him
with an easy, graceful air, and after a
few moments passed into conversation,
he thought her positively beautiful, so
intelligent was the expression of her
dark blue eyes, audsobeammg the smile
with which she listened to his lively re
marks. lie was also very much pleased
with Mrs. Harwood, who did not leave
to her daughter the whole burden of the
conversation, as some mothers are apt to
do, contenting themselves with being
mere spectators.
When Mr. Norton laid his head upon
the pillow, that night, it was long before
he could compose his mind to sleep, so
much was he disturbed by the vision of
a pair of blue #yes which danced before
him, not to mention dark ringlets and
old cloaks, which mingled together and
had at last found the object he had been
so long seeking, and resolving that lie
would call the next dayat Mr. Harwood’s
at last resigned himself to repose.
The next morning, Mrs. Hinton, in
pursuance of the wise resolution she had
made, attired herself to gi out, .and was
waiting in the parlor for her carriage.—
The beautiful mantle lay on the sofa by
her side, and she was examining it, and
making up her mind that after all, she
could do without it, and tfshe could,that
she ought to. At this moment, Carol me
Howard, who was an intimate friend, en
tered.
“Are you going out so early ?” she ex
claimed, on seeing Mrs. Hinton ready
dressed. “I came in the hope of seeing
you at this hour, for I wished to tell you
that had some of the loveliest
mantles you ever saw. I was there yes
terday, and looked at them. They were
just opened, and the clerk assured me
that they were the only ones imported,
and there are but a dozen altogether. I
was afraid they would all be sold, yet I
did not dare to buy, and before asking
my mother’s permission; for father made
such a fuss last week about my buying
this splendid silk, without consulting
him, that mother forbade my doing it
again. I have been all the morning
tcazing her to let me have on«, and have
at last succeeded. So you must positive
ly come and choose one too. But I de
clare,” she continued, “you have one al
ready,” as her eyes fell upon the sofa,
for she had talked so volubly that she
had not even paused to look round her.
“But you will come with me. will you
not ?”
Mrs. Hinton replied gravely—“l am
going to return this mantle, and I would
advise you, my dear Caroline, if you had
to tcaze your mother for leave to buy
one, to deny yourself, and gratify her
by informing her that you have resolved
to do without it. Fifty dollars is a great
deal to spend, husband told me this morn
ing that he was afraid he should be ob
liged to give up his carriage and horses,
his business is so much less profitable
than formerly. Now, you know it is
absolutely necessary for his health that
he should ride a great deal, and I resolv
ed to spend as little as possible, that he
might be able to enjoy his carriage.”
Caroline sat without speaking until
Mrs. Ilinton had concluded, when she
said, pettishly—
“But you are married, and it does not
make so much difference to you how
you dress* just sec how kcOtiting this
is.” And she turned from the glass, at
which she had been arranging the man
tle in graceful folds over her well shap
ed figure, and Mrs. Hirtlon Could not
help acknowledging that it was very k
coming indeed. Nevertheless, she still
attempted to persttade her young friend
to forego the purchase, for she knew that
Caroline’s father was very much involv
ed in debt, and it was feared every day
he would stop payment; although, as it
appeared, like many other gentlemen
who keep the state of their affairs a secret
from those most interested in the truth,
his wife and daughter were Utterly igno
rant of the circumstance. But she found
her arguments of no effect Indeed Car
oline endeavored to persuade Mrs. Hin
ton krsclf to retain the vclvelt she was
about to carry back. But she had too
much strength of inind to be led away
by her vanity, when she knew that her
decision was right, although she could
not repress a womanish feeling of regret
at the thought of resigning so becoming
an article of apparel.
Mrs. Hwton was so much grieved and
shocked at the selfishness of her young
friend, that she thought she could irever
again feel toward her the same affection
she had hitherto experienced. She made
her confess that the fifty dollars her mo
therhad given her, with which to pur
chase the wished for mantle, was a sum
that had been appropriated to a younger
sister, that sire might take lessons m
drawing, an art of which she was pa; inn
ately fond, and for which she had a de
cided gemous. She could not forbeai
hinting to Caroline that a time might
come when the talents of her sister would
be put in requisition for mere important
purpo. es than those of mere amusement,
1 but her pernunnu: were lest upon «hc
mind of the thoughtless and selfish trirl,
and she saw her depart, with pain, to ful
fil her intention.
Mrs. Hinton found no dfficulty in re
turning the mantle, and after 6hc had left
the store she wondered how she could
have been so foolish as to suffer a mo
ment’s uneasiness on such a trifling sub
ject. The words of Mr. Norton had
made a deep impression upon her, and
as she looked at the multitude of poor
houseless wretches, who throng Broad
way, begging for charity, she felt how
sinful it was to waste in extravagance
that which would bring comfort and
happiness to so many hearts. When her
husband returned to dinner, she, like a
true-hearted wife, made a confession to
him of her folly of the day before, her re
pentance, and the purpose for which she
had just .visited . Mr. Hinton
was a man of sense and intelligence. —
He had often deplored his wife’s fondness
for display, but she was so young when
he married her, and had been so petted
from her childhood by a fond mother,
and was withal so lovely and interesting,
that he cmtld not find it iri his heart to
deny her any gratification, trusting that
asshegrew older her tastes would change,
lie did not know that the passion for
dress is one which increases with indul
gence, like all other bad habits, and is
the hardest to overcome ift the female
heart, particularly, as Was the case with
Mrs. Ilinton, where there are no children
to occupy the time and attention. 8H
delighted was he with the ingeniousness
of her confession, that he presented her
with a sum of money for charitable pur
poses, telling her that be had that day
recovered a bad debt which he had long
since despared of, and consequently no
longer entertained the fears which he
had mentioned to her in the morning.
I*et us return to Mr, Norton. He
could not avoid anticipating the calling
hour a little, so impatient was he to meet
again the object that had so much fascin
ated him the night before. As he enter
ed the hall, he heard the sound of music
and king shown into the drawing room,
found the fair Emily evidently giving
lessons on the piano to a little sister. Al
though attired in a simple morning dress
she did not appear less lovely than his
memory had pictured, and the bright
blush which Ins unexpected appearance
called tip, made her not less interesting
in his eyes. She dismissed the little girl
with a message to her mother, who soon
appeared and received him kindly. As
he glanced around and observed the air
of elegance, though not of display, that
pervaded the establishment, he could not
help recalling Miss Harwood’s words a
bout the old cloak, and his curiosity was
excited to know what could be her reason
for tvearirig a garment unfashionable
enough to attract observation. After
making as lortg a call as he dared, upon
first acquaintance, he tbok leave, not
without being invited by Mrs. Harwood
to call agaifi an invitation to w hich he
cordially responded, Not many days
after, ns Mr. Norton w;ls walkifig in
Broadway, he met Miss Harwood, and
joined her immediately. He had walked
for some time without at all observing
her dress, when Miss La Mode suddenly
emerged from a shop, and passed on be
fore them, arrayed in her superb velvet
cloak, with feathers, etc., in the height
of fashion. The conversation at the par
ty instantly recurred to his thoughts, and
he glanced at the cloak of his companion.
It wds of plain dark merino, and had ev
idently been much worn, though every
thing about her was so scrupulously
neat, and her simple white hat so becom
ing to her fresh complexion, thalshe was
infinitely more attractive to an intelligent
man, than the dashing Mis* La Mode.—
To test her feelings, he remarked, care
lessly' “That is a beautiful cloak Os Miss
La Mode’s.” No blush appeared on her
cheek, as she quietly replied, “It is in lend
very beautiful.” Mr. Norton could not
help seeing how superior was this con
duct to that of some young ladies, who
betray an uneasy fccltng of consciousness
when they hear praises of another’s ap
pearance, which they knew to lie more
brilliant than their own.
He continued to visit at Mr. Harwood's
and was kindly received; but he was not
one to decide too hastily on a subject of
such vast importance, as he felt the cha
racter of his companion for life to be. It
chanced, at length that he had a corn
mission from an aunt in (lie country, for
some millinery, and although entirely
unused to make such purchases he re
nted to the most fashionable establish
ment of the kind, for the first time to ex
ercise his taste in that department. The
imlliner took him belittl'd a curtain which
separated the two rooms, til order to sliow
him some very rechcrchc articles, and
requesting him to take a seat upon a sofa,
left him to search for the important box
which contained the treasures. He was
beginning to grow impatient, when a
sweet well known voice sent a thrill thro
his heart. It was Emily Harwood’s
voice, apparently conversing with anoth
er young ladv, so close to the curtain
that he could not avoid hearing every
word. He was abont.to dart forward and
address them, when the word:, ‘old cloak
[fell upon his ear. “Now,” he thought,
j perhaps 1 hall find the solution of the
mv.tei v ‘No ' and Emily, ’I ” ill net
buy such a gay hat ns this. It would
not suit at all with my old cloak.” “Do,
for pity’s sake, my dealt family,” exclai
med her companion, “tfcll me why you
have worn that same old Cloak this win
ter. 1 believe it is the third winter yott
have had it. \Vc have all wondered
why yott did not get anew one, and that
spiteful Caroline, Howard has talked about
it at every party this stasrttl.
“I am very sorry,” replied Emily,
laughing, “that Miss Howard has been at
such a loss for subjects of conversation*
as to find nothing more interesting than
my poor cloak. However I will tell you
my motive fo'r wenrtftg it, and 1 am sure,
dear Helen, that yoti will approve of it.
But first promise me that you will tell no
otic else. 1 should not think of explain
ing it to any but you.”
Here Mr. Norton almost resolved to
show himself. He felt it a breath of
honor to hear what was evidently a se
crct; but this interest in the fair Emily
was so strong, that he excused himself
on that plea, and remained silent. Hel
en made the required promise and Emily
proceeded;—
“You remember hearing of the death
of my uncle Murray, laststimmer. lie
had failed just before, so that his family
were left tjuite destitute. Catharine, the
eldest daughter, has ken at Mrs. Will
ard’s school for the last year, and she was
very desirous of remaining another term,
after which Mrs. Willard would engage
her as a teacher. She considers her one
of her finest scholars. Btit it was not for
her mother to continue such an expense,
and my father said he could not offer to
db it unless wc would make some re
trenchment in our domttstic affairs.—
Therefore I offered to wear my old cloak
another season, and to give little Julia
music lessons, instead of her having a
teacher. Now do yoti think that a suf
ficient motive ! I assure yoti I have felt
more pleasure this winter, in wearing
that old cloak, than I should have done
in -possessing crile even more splendid
than Miss La Mode’s, ibr now my poor
cousin will be able to sttppost herself and
assist her mother in educating her broth
ers fffid sisters.”
“That is just like yourself, Emily,”
exclaimed her friend, enthusiastically.—
“I drily wish I could tell of it. How
ashamed Caroline Howard Would kof
till her ill natfired speeches ?”
It is needless to say that tltCfe was
another auditor who shared in the ad
miration of Helen* Mr. Norton was so
delighted with the simple tecital of Emi
ly, that he Idnged to clasp her to his
heart, and tell her that his happiness de
pended on her alone. He saw the young
ladies take their departfire, and in a few
moments after hastened away, forgetting
his aunt and all her commissions, and
leaving the milliner lost in astonishment
at this abrupt departure. He reached
Mr. Harwood’s almost as soon as Emily
herself, and astonished her by a Warm
declaration Os his feelings. She did not
bid him despair, and it was soon after
announced that Mr. Norton and Emily
Harwood were engaged, mueh to the as
tonishment ol Miss La Mode and Caro
line Howard, who could not understand
why she was preferred to themselves.
Mrs. Ilinton was delighted with Mr.
Nortofi’s choice, and predicted that he
would have a pattern wife. She never
forgot her good resolutions, but her pCr
sr* ions were lost on her former friend,
Caroline, who was, however, soon forced,
by the failure of her father, to renounce
her extravagant habits.
We must do Mr* Norton the justice to
say that he had the Candor to confess to
his wife, soon after marriage, the menfis
by which he obtained a knowledge of her
motives for wearing the old cloak, which
was ever after preserved as a precious
relic. I can assure my readers that she
did not blame severely and should this
tale ever meet their eyes, 1 trffst that they
will kth pardon the use 1 have made of
the incidents related to n tie.
The I.«*t Hay of Eve.
U approached the everting twilight.—
The mother of mankind was placed by
her descendants in front of her tent, re
clining on a rude cortch. The western
wind fanned her pale cheek, and played
amidst her gray locks. Near her sat her
husband. Eve turned her eyC upon
him with a look of sadness yet of deep
affection, and his head of snowy white
ness seemed to call to mind other days.
Inwardly she reproached herself.—
“ Ah, not thus was it t saw firm, when
first given to him by our God. Where
ha;; vanished that manly form—where is
the elastic step where tire eye that ka
med with brightness- where rtow the
rich and mellow voice ? Alas, how
changed! And it was I who templed,
who destroyed him—l the. wife—-the
cherished companion— ! bade him eat,
and now what is he, who, but for me,
hod known neither pain, nor sorrow, nor
age.
“And what remains of her on whose
beauty he then gazed with tirtsatiated de
light?—A trembling, wrinkled form, just
sinking into the grave.
“ Where is now that paradise, with its
rich fruits— that bn’my air which brought
en everv bre ith a tribute each happy
.ruse these ravs o.huh ’'.armed, bet
JNO. ftl.
never scorched ? And sadder, sadder
still, where Uotv is ifiHt blissful inter
course with Him, who made t» rich in
the happiness of living ? His voice is no
longer in our ears- driven fr«n Miss
ftotti scenes so lovely- the earth ertfsed
—siri, sorrow, afid death the inheritance
of our Children.”
Our mother was overcome by the rUsh
of recollections. Her eyes, lotig dry,
fotmd new fountains, and her aged form
shook with deep emotion.
It may k that Adam had ken indul
gmg in musifigs not Unlike <0 these, for
he was startled as if from a reverie by the
emotions of hh wife. The old man pi*,
ced himself kside her. She laid her
head on the bosom which had so often
soothed its throbbings.
“ What moves thee, Eve ?”
“Oh, my husband, how caiist thofi
show kindness to hes who has dofie all
this ? Thon Wast yofing, and knew on
ly happiness, and all around was formed
to delight our every sense; and I should
have strengthened thy virtue, but felf
and dragged thee with me, the partner of
my sin, to this depth of ruin. And after
a few years of toil and anxiety, we are
about to lay these Womout frames in the
ddst.
“ But for sill wc had lived in perpetual
youth, and feared no change. The
threatened death has worked slowly but
surely, aud now with us his work is near
ly done.
“ The first to sin, it was meet that I
should return to dust. Had the guilt
and the curse been only mine, I mmht
endure it. But I see thee now, nnc? I
compare thee with what thou wast as it
seems to me but yesterday.
“ A few days will lay thee low. Let
our children place us side by side in the
cold earth. I know not why it is, yet it
seems to me there will k comfort in our
bodies dissolving together, as if there were
something conscious in the lifeless dust.
“.Little of comfort as is now left in life,
yet I cannot endure the thought that I
shall utterly cease to k !
“ Adam, thou hast often given me
words of consolation. Is there aught
can cheer me, now I am to bid thee fare
well? Thou seest yonder snh—thou
wilt again see him rise and set—he is
bidding me a last adieu. Sense shall
soon cease forever, and no light shall
again enter these eyes.”
The old man wiped the tears which
fell on the Wrinkled brow of his partner*
A stiaden light Was on his countenance,
as if anew lamp had been lit up in his
soul* Eve saw it, and it brought to her
a gleam of hope; she gazed on his fcwe
as if death had lent new powers to her
faded visiott*
“ First of women,” said Adam, “ claim
no preeminence in guilt—together we
sinned, together we have borne the pun
ishment*
“ But there is redemption—there is
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“ Whilst thinking of the fearful change
which ktokens to my heart that its part
ner was about to be taken away, a hea
venly light kamed on my thoughts, and
taiight me to understand the visions
which have so often visited me on my
couch*
M We shall not die—there is a costly
ransom provided— we must sleep under
the cold earth, but we shall rise again in
the freshness of that youth which we first
enjoyed; and pfirifled from all sin, we
shall walk in our Eden seven times more
bemnilul than when we first roved amidst
the frtiits and flowers. And there will
be the thousands who, inheriting our evil
natures, will have found a powerful phy
sician, whose presence shall wake ten
thousand harps to melody.
11 This earth, too, so long, so grievous
ly Cursed for our sin, will come forthpU
rifird from every stain and itt mote than
the knuty of its pristine youth.
“Thou wilt go a little kfore me to
the grave ; but We shall rise together wtth
the glad shout of gratified jubilation;
and with us millions on millions of our
posterity rartsomed from the curse.”
Adam natfsed—bls cfc fell ori the face
of his wife—a smile seemed to play in
the brightness of hope on her pale Itp t
but (he heart had ceased to beat, and that
sleep had fallen on her which the trump
of the arch angel only shall disturb.
ou tromcri.
Say What you will, Wc respect and
love old women. Th r-s mit next door
neighbor, who must k nearly three score
years of age, .Hid never idle. At morn
ing’s dawn she is tip and busy, and nev
er retires until she has accomplished her
work. When a neighbor is sick, she is
always ready to sooth, by her little kind
riessses and manifests as much interest
in his or her welfare, as if a near relative.
When the wind howls, she feels for and*
pities the poor sailor. Where a cold
north easier approaches she pememkrs
the poor. Inline, she is always doing,
good as tar as hei meiK will allow.—
Blessings on the old women. They can
not k dispensed with, May they all
live in pence aud happiness, and when
tbeii «voik is accomplished, die in com
posure, to receive the welcome p’andit—
! W* !’■ dcn° gecd aud faithful sc rvants ”
Portland Tribune.