Newspaper Page Text
MACON, FRIDAY, JULY 10, 1868.
{VOL. XUI.—NO, 38-
jflST POCKET-BOOK.
.cheerful afternoon. A bitting,
‘; ai l drove the slow-drifting snow
Vjke a blinding mist; and the
jo low as almost to touch the
i of the houses.
desolate it is," Mrs. Halpine
icing out from her attic win-
Cloomv prospect below, as she
Jjjnd folded the garment she had
''j. “and the cold’s so bitter, I
r- f to send you out, Louise, but
tf a lump of coal, or a dust of
Willie musthave the medicine.
Ser, no! let me go; I don’t
£3. ‘Til hurry back."
j Ac little girl sprang up from the
Ltbeside the infant’s cradle, and
.'i-ton on her faded cloak and
■ ■] i suppose that you must,” the
Continued, as she wrapped up the
li v embroidered garment. “You
L place? Mr. Rawdon’s, on
street—that brown stone.”
L ves, mother 1 I know.”
rlif dear, run fast and keep yourself
nnd s ay to Mr?. Rawdon that I’d
. Ce tohbed the work before if
fie Hadn’t been so rick. Three dollars
“res me. Vou can call at the baker s
v t a loaf or two.”
' child took the bundle and vanished
\ <ight down the dreary flight of
fhile the mother turned back to the
> where the sick child lay. He held
little hands, and moaned so pite-
me some tea, mamma, I’m so
.. darling, just as soon as Louise
ftyes filled with tears as she raised
•tie fellow to her bosom, clasping
losely to keep him warm, for there
I fire in the stove, and the desolate
room was very comfortless. Yet
!ad been a day when this same pale-
. meek-eyed woman sat in a luxuri-
iamber, with every comfort that
could wish within her reach, and a
- husband’s strong arm of love to
li ami protect her. But her hus-
•ns dead, lying unknown on some
:t battle-field, and her riches had
; themselves wings and flown away,
in and friendship, sick at heart, and
rfrom incessant toil, she sat with her
ill babe upon her bosom, gazing out
useless, tearful eyes upon the dis-
hti beneath her attic window,
fci meanwhile, little Louise make
[ nr through narrow bystreets and
xdalleys into the most populous and
aible pqrt of the city. The biting
und still continued to blow with a
i saddening wail, drifting the low,
e clouds and the mist-like snow. But
tiled on bravely, and at last reached
lEairdon’s. A dazzling glow of light
si upon the frosty air; Mrs. Rawdon
jiving a grand party in honor of her
S daughter’s birth night. Louise
t np the marble steps and pulled the
i A footman in livery answered her
-i summons.
fin I see Mrs. Rawdon, please sir ?”
tasked.
V Mrs, Rawdon, indeed! and she in
parlor in the very middle of the com-
jr. Of course you can’t.”
He was closing the door, but Louise
it at his sleeve, and cried, imploring-
the opposite sidewalk with a dull, aching
min in her heart that almost took her
ireath. How could she go hack to her
desolate home, and tell her poor mother
that she had failed to collect her hard-
earned wages; tell her that they were not
able to buy so much as a solitary loaf?
Was it right that others should have so
much, while they lacked daily bread?
Just then something beneath her foot,
soft and slippery, almost threw her to the
pavement. Looking down she saw a
pocket-book. She caught it up with a
suppressed cry, and, thrusting it into’ her
bosom, darted of at the speed of an ante
lope. At last, out of breath, and beside
herself with excitement, she paused be
neath a lamp-post, and after glanceing
stealthily around her, drew the treasure
from her bosom. It was large, thick and
heavy. Her fingers fluttered nervously
as she unclasped it; and when she caught
sight of the green notes it contained, she
WANTED-A_GOVERNESS.
A low narrow room—the single win
dow curtained with coarse white muslin
—the floor covered by a scanty carpet—
somehow the broad March sunshine
brought out every element of poverty in
the abode of the poor widow and her
daughter.
“Rut on a little more coal, Amy,” said
Mrs. Ardenham, shudderingly, drawing
her shawl closer around her frail figure,
as she dropped her needle-work; “it is bit
terly cold this morning.”
Amy obeyed silently, yet she could not
help noticing how nearly the little stock
of fuel was exhausted, and remembering
how inadequate their slender purse was to Jay;
the replenishment thereof, her heart sank
a little. Only a little though, for Amy
was not one of the desponding kind. No
—she was a sunshiny little creature, full
of bright, infectious hopefulness—and
had promised “ to take charge of him,
was our little Amy! . .
“ Tell me about it, Frank,” said his sis
ter, when at length he returned from ac
companying Amy to her humble tene
ment—a spot which would soon cease to
be home. . r
“ We have both been the victims ot
misrepresentation, Lizzie, said Frank;
“Miss Roland assured Amy that I was
engaged to her. What could Amy do
but withdraw?”
“Then she loved you all the timer
asked Mrs. Jay.
“ So she says,” said her brother.
“ And instead of my finding a govem-
5, you obtain a wife!” laughed Mrs.
“ Oh, Frank, I am very glau.”
uttered a cry of delight, and darted off 1 somehow, in that squalid room, she seem-
again like something insane. Mother and ‘ ed like a fresh rose blossoming in a sandy
Willie should have all they needed now! j desert! She was very pretty, with brown,
Just beyond the baker’s shop, towards I tender eyes, just the shade of the heavy
which she bent her steps, a soldier met braids of her hair above—a small, coral
her. ! mouth, and cheeks delicately shaded, and
“Little girl,” he said, arresting her fly- j as s he tookup the newspaper, you couldn’t
ing steps, “you didn’t find a pocket-book i help noticing what a showy, taper little
as you came along, did you ?” 1 hand she had, with pink-tipped fingers,
Louise paused asingle instant, her heart an d dimples at every joint,
fluttering like a firiglitened bird; then, as “Mamma.” she said, suddenly, “here’s
a thought of her mother and Willie flash
ed through her mind, she answered,-
No, sir;’
an advertisement for a governess.”
“Well, what of it ?” asked her mother.
“Why, mamma,” hesitated Amy, “you
“Well, it is gone, I suppose;” and the fcrmw we are very, very poor, and 1 should
soldier passed on; while Louise hurried {}ke very much to earn a little money.”
away in the opposite direction. ^ Mrs. Ardenham had bowed her face
By the time she reached the baker’s U p 0n ber hands, and in an instant Amy
she was in a tremor from head to foot, : was kneeling beside her. “Mamma, dar-
and her cheeks seemed on fire; but she ‘ b n g don’t cry!” she said,
drew the pocket-from its hiding place, j i did no t mean to be so foolish, love,
and standing outside the door ; unclasped , but it all came back to me at that mo-
it and took out a note. The shop was m ent—the wealth and station we have
crowded with customers, and she had to ! lost—the poverty to which we are re
wait for her turn before she could obtain duced. Oh, Amy, it is too hard!”
wliat she wanted. Her eyes wandered; “But think, mamma!” said Amy,
wistfully round the tempting shelves.— ; cheerfully, “ how delightful it will be for
She would buy so many loaves, and even : me make all my school accomplish-
that frosted cake. They would have coal m ent help us along in the world. May I
and flour. Why not ? The pocket-hook ^ r y f or this situation ? I should like it
was hers; she had found it. Still her so much.”
hands trembled, and her cheeks burned, i „ j£ u tbink it best, my child,” ac-
She glanced down at the note she held, i q^^gd Mrs. Ardenham, resignedly,
and saw, with a start of horror, it was tor 1 „ j mus t lose no time,” said
fifty dollars. What had she done? Rob-; ^ „ she w an to arrange her hair
bed that man of his money—and he a andad : us t the details of her simple toilet,
soldier. With a cry, clutching the pock-; ««jj ow do I look, mamma?” she laughed,
et-book in one hand, and the fatty dollar • wbcn aJ . i eDgt b she was ready to depart,
bill in the other, she darted from the shop ; jj rs< Ardenham’s admiring, affec-
and down the snowy street. Just a square t j onate „] ance brought the roses to her
or two beyond the glittering mansion ot clieeks a | s b e tripped away. For she did
Mrs. Rawdon, she overtook the soldier. i 00 k exquisitely pretty, the coarse shawl
He was walking slowly, glancing from „ race f u i cur ves about her slender
one side of the icy pavement to the, f orm an( j the cheap straw hat with its
other with an anxious, despairing look j a j Q bl ac k ribbon might have been the
on his face. Louise was at his side in an mog ^ f as bionable of bonnets without be-
instant. , , . .' iug a whit more becoming.
.h^wfCacChe? ! -M, A ?J ." pondered the mother.
sir, please wait! Here’s the work
wanted—Miss Violet’s frock,. you
f. Mother premised it by to-night;
iet me take it up to her.”
Ike man hesitated a moment, and then
aid back.
Miss Violet’s frock ?” he said;- “she’s
Med it, 1 know. I heard her fussing
anse it didn’t come home. Maybe
11 see you; I’ll try anyhow. Come in
and wait.”
nise followed him through the
ied hall and passed the glittering par-
’•bto a kind of ante-room adjoining
: supper apartment. Here motioning
Mo a seat, he went in search of his mis-
*• Hut it was full half-an-hour before
'-Rawdon could disengage herself from
! nests; and poor Louise, tired with
and benumbed with cold, was
1 >» the point of bursting into tears
y the lady stepped into the room.
•!us is a pretty business, now, isn’t
ihe began, as she received and un-
*d the bundle that Louise proffered
I thought that you promised to
a -this vesterday?”
Th, ma’am; but little Willie was so
* that mother couldn’t sew.”
ves, that’s always the way; you
some excuse ready; but I shan’t
*t you again, you may depend upon it.
J* Violet’s been crying for an hour,
‘refused to come down because^ she
( >odisappointed about lier dress. John,
* the bell for Jane to take it up to her,
go back to the parlor now.”
was sweeping out, her satin robes
’-•og after; but Louise sprang up with
It. * '* ' * (
V ma’am! little brother’s so ill, and
J " have his medicine; please let me
inoiiev!”
* can’t to-night; lam entirely out of
"J*. You can call day after to-mor-
-t Louise was not to be repulsed. She
■ht the lady’s hand in both of her little
palms. One of the rings that
. '"*1 Mrs. Rawdon’s soft fingers would
procured all the comforts her mother
‘little Willie needed. Some such
S 3 flashed through the child’s mind as
■ ^ado her appeal.
madam! you are rich and happy,
Wta a u you want; hut my little
/•**»' will die without medicine! Do
, 5 have the money!”
J?*; Rawdon shook her off impatiently,
f have no change now. You must call
>!*■ John show her to the door!”
> footman obeved, and Louise soon
herself upon the marble steps while
; ‘ jfl y door closed in her very face with
l^nless slam. The wind howled more
lJ**'? thaa ever, and the keen, stinging
j. like a shower of shot. Louise
* n ded the steps and crossed over to
•*«iVifis fv.'l -
thrown back Her blue eyes wim anu j. fo ' tetep died away 0 n the
started, and her bright hair blown all “slie is a perfect little sunbeam in
about her flushed face, I did find your the dar k ness 0 f my daily existence. Her
pocket-book! here it is. I took this note a ached 7 with the bitter
out, but I couldn’t spend it. Mothers aeart
almoststarved. andlittle Willie wall die P a °g3 ° Mrg ^ Ardenham was mistaken,
without his medicine^ but I can t steal A had tas t e d the hitter cup—nay, she
I can’t; take it back. , , j;+ + 0 very dregs!
The soldier took the money the i ^here was a vein of poetic apprecia-
half-frozen little hand that held it to lnm, somewhere in the jumble of fun and
then lifting the child m his arms, he good humor and sarcasm that
smoothed back her tangled locks and A R hley, as he lay la-
looked down into her pale, tear-stained oq the sofaj p i ay ing with two or
little face with eager, startled eyes. His ) go lden-liaired children, who were
swarthy cheeks grew pale, and his beard-, room . “Hi tell you
ed lips to tremble. . , . T° izz ; e » sa i d fae to his sister, who
“I,ouise, Louise ! he said, Jus voice wh: c ^ broidcring> « you spo ii those young
full of thrilling tenderne^; poor little dar-.. about as completely as any mamma
^fhechUdlookedup, and then her cry’ of my acquaintance. . _
xne enuu ioob-cu p, . , ««As if you didn’t spoil them ten times
0f ‘Dmpa ra w S ethouiht you were dead! worse!” retorted Mrs. Jay, laughing.
MSS heav-' ^eA^they
^hkSH^ufh^sqodMSeJs ! “ You'wJmake such a nice, domes-
llg d dfrkbv hneTnd rim soldier followed tic sort of a husband—you are so fond o:
and dark by-lane, ana tnesoiuu: home. I know that that manoeuvring
“-Mamma, • mamma, I'm so hungry; “ You »ero. right,”.ho replied; “she
jlease give me some tea,” the little fel-
; [ow moaned, clasping his hot arms around
her neck. „ . _
But the last spark of fire had gone out
and Louise did not come.
“Wait a moment, darling—just a mo
m £d’g&i t&r&sAtzS.
tire cold, gray dradotrs «dflrf domu ; tcrtlrere. ^ Urn she
darker and darker; and the poor mother ag > i;, t „ n t I determined at all
clasped the child closer to her bosom. {cold arch^nt. J^ ^ ^
the very evening that I had resolved to
submit my suit to her—we were both in-
o party at Miss Rolands—1
she had left the town. Miss
was indescribably repellent to me,
“ Then why—”
“Why did I never marry anybody
else? Well, listen, Lizzie, and I’ll tdl
you. I was once in love with one of the
-' sweetest girls, I believe, that ever walked
‘ this earth. It was when I was staying at
A TALE FOR WIVES.
the dear husband who had gone to his
last, long home, with no tender hand to
close his eyes.
The shadows grew heavier and darker;
the winds moaned dismally; the snow and
sleet tinkled sharply against the windows.
“O mamma, please make a light! I’m
so cold, and the dark makes me afraid.”
“Wait a little bit longer, darling.—
Louise will come soon.” “ Of "course ” he replied; Miss Roland
At last came a noise below, a bounding, course, jib j f-:« nd Q T
joyous step upon the stairs, and Louise was one of her most int t i ienalld
burst into the room, her face glowing and \ left Brighton the next d« y, ? *
radiant,
vited to a
learned that , „
Roland told me, not m direct words, ot
course, but as delicately as possible, that
it was to avoid my continuous attentions.
“And did vou credit this? asked
“O mother, mother,” she cried, “father’s
not dead. He’s alive; he’s come back to
us again!” ■. .. v, ^,• in "
The soldier’s wife rose to her feet, gap
ing at the bed-post for support; as she did
so, strong arms clasped her to a warm and
^°Louise ,9 <irept to her father’s feet, her
KtdTpt it r she
asked; with tears in her voice. .
“Then, dear, you would not have round
me. Always remember that wrong wins
its punishment, and.right its reward.
py Fans with likenesses of military herpes
painted on them, are the latest novelties.
Grant has been rejected, because he always
keeps shut up.
ry Fnsrlish papers-spell Forney’s humble
name as “Fourney,” and call him a “notorious
orator." Such is honest fame 1
Ihere Sd all of love that it will ever be
^A^hVceied speaking, A servant came
in “ If you please, ma’am, a lady is be
low who says she has come to apply for
the situation of governess. Shall I sh
her up?” ,, . ' ‘
Mrs. Jay assented, and the next mo
ment Amy Ardenham entered the room*
“You seem very young,” was one ot
the first remarks Mrs. Jay made.
“I am eighteen, ma’am,” said Amy,
quietly. ''
Frank Ashley, who had been reading
the newspaper, glanced quickly up_ at the
tone of her voice,- and- rose to his feet.
At the same instant Ainy’s eye met his,
and she grew deadly pale. -
“ Amy I” he exclaimed—“ Miss Arden-
haml” • ’• •„ :
But Amy had feinted.
An hour later, Frank Ashley was an
accepted lover, and the young laty, who
■f . . 4 ‘ .
“ Now this is what I call comfort,” said
Madge Harley, as she sat down by her
neighbor’s fire one evening; “here you
are at your sewing, with the kettle steam
ing on the hob, and the tea things steam
ing on the table, expecting every minute
to hear your husband’s step, and see his
face look in at the door. Ah! if my hus
band was like yours, Janet 1” _
“He is like mine in many of his ways,
said Janet, with a smile, “ and if you will
allow me to speak plainly, he would he
still more like him if you took more
pains to make him comfortable.”
“ What do you mean ?” cried Madge;
“ our house is as clean as yoursI mend
my husband’s clothes and cook his dinner
as carefully as any woman in the parish,
and yet he never stays at home of an eve
ning, while you two set here by your
cheerful fire night after night as happy
as can be.” ■
; “.As happy as can be on earth, her
friend said gravely, “ yes—and I shall tell
you the secret of it, Madge.”
“ I wish you would,” said Madge, with
a deep sigh, “ it’s misery to live as I do.
“Well, then,” said Janet, speaking
slowly and distinctly, “I let my husband
see that I love him still, and that I learn
every day to love him more. Love is the
chain that hinds him to his home. The
world may call it folly, but the world is
not my lawgiver!” .
“And do you really think,” exclaimed
Madge in surprise, “ that husbands care
for that sort of thing?”.
“For love, do you mean? asked Ja
net. ,
“ Ye3, they don’t feel at all as we do,
Janet, and it don’t take many years of
married life to make them think of a
wife as a sort of maid of all work.
“A libel, Madge,” said Mrs, Matson,
laughing, “I won’t allow you to set in
William’s chair and talk so.” _
“No, because your husband is different,
and values his wife’s love, whilst John
cares for mo only as his housekeeper.”
“I don’t think that,” said Janet, “al
though he said to my husband the other
day that courting time was the happiest
of a man’s life. William reminded him
that there is a greater happiness than
that even on earth if men but give their
hearts to Cnrist. I know John did after
his opinion, but he went away still think
ing of his courting time as of a joy too
great to he exceeded.”
“Dear fellow,” cried Madge, smiling
through her tears, “ I do believe he was
happy then. 1 remember I used to listen
for him as I sat with my dear mother by
the fire, longing for the happiness of see
ing him.” • ,
“ Just so,” said Janet. “ Do you feel
like that now ?”
Madge hesitated. “Well, no, not ex
actly.”
“ And why not ?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Madge;
“married people give up that sort of
thing.”
“ Love, do you mean ?” asked Janet a
second time.
“No, but what people call the senti
mental,” stud Mrs. Harley.
“ Longing to see your husband is a very
proper sentiment,” replied Janet.
“But some people are ridiculously
foolish before others;” reasoned Madge.
“ This proves they want sense, l am
not likely to approve of that, as William
would soon tell you; all I want is that
wives should let their husbands know
they are still loved.” i
“But men are so vain,” said Madge,
“that it is dangerous to show much at
tention.” , ,
Her friend looked up. “Oh! Madge,
what are you saying? Have you then
married with that notion that it is not
good for John to believe you love him?”
“No, but it is not wise to 3how that you
care too much for them.”
“ Say I and him; do not talk of hus
bands in general, but of yours in particu-
“ He thinks quite enough of himself al
ready, I assure you.”
“Dear Madge,” said Janet, smiling,
“would it. do you any harm to receive a
little attention from your husband ?”
“ Of course not. I wish he d try; and
Mrs. Harley laughed at the idea.
“ Then you don’t think enough of your
self already? and nothing would make
you vain I suppose?” -
Madge colored, and all the more when
she perceived that William Matson had
come in quietly, and was now^ standing
behind her, listening to Janets words;
and to confess secretly that they were
but he was not “used” to the the tone and I order marked the proceedings of the
look with which his wife drew near to House at all times. But, if ever there were
welcome him; nor to find warm clothes occasion to call to order—and a slight
by the crackling fire and slippers on the departure from the rules of the House
hearth - nor to hear no reproach for the was deemed an occasion—it was done,
late hours, and neglect, and dirty foot> I and effectually done, by a simple tap
marks as he sat in his arm-chair. Some upon the Speaker’s desk with his folder
change has come to Madge he was very or pen-knife. If, while a member was
sure. She wore a dress he had bought for addressmg.the House, two others were out
her years ago, with a linen collar round I of their seats, and even whispering in
her neck and had a cap trimmed with front of the Speaker’s desk, Mr. Clay
white ribbons on her head. would request the member to suspend his
“ You’re smart, Madge,” he exclaimed, remarks till order was restored. An an-
at last when he stared at her for some ecdote related by the venerable gentleman,
little time in silence, “ who has been here of whom we have spoken, will illustrate
worth dressing for to-night ?” the sentiment which pervaded the House
“ No one until you came,” said Madge, at that time in regard to the deportment
half laughing of members while in their seats: Mr.
“I? Nonsense, ypu didn’t dress for me," Vance, a member from Ohio, was lame;
cried John ' and to relieve himself from pain, he one
“You won’t believe it, perhaps, but 11 day raised his foot to the edge of his desk;
did; I have been talking with Mrs. Mat- Mr. Clay observing his position, sent one
son this evening, and she has been giving of the pages to him to remind him that
me some very good advice. So now, be was out of order. He looked up, and
John, what would you like for your sup- catching the Speakers eye, graciously
^ y> bowed an acknowledgment of the justice
1 John, who, won’t to steal on the shelf of the rebuke, and resumed his accustom-
at ni"ht and content himself with any- ed decorous and dignified position. At
thing he could find, thought Madge’s the time referred to, no interruptions of
offeAoo excellent to be refused, and very members while speaking were allowed^
soon a large bowl of bot chocolate was Now, such interruptions are constant, and
steaming on the table. Then his wife sat sometimes productive of the extremest
down, for a wonder, at his side, and talked confusion and disorder-leading natu-
a little, and listened, and looked pleased, rally to those hot blood retorts and dis-
when at last, as if he couldn’t help it, he graceful personal altercations which so
said, “ Dear old Madge!” frequently occur. Then, speaking to the
That was enough, her elbow somehow question, even in Committee of the Whole,
found way then to the arm of his great was strictly insisted upon, and the Speaker
chair, and she sat quietly looking at the was accustomed to remind _ members
fire After a while John spoke again— whenever they rambled or deviated from
“’Madge dear, do you remember the the question in debate. There was, of
old days when we used to sit side by side course, little or no occasion for, members
in your mother’s kitchen ?” to call one another to order, as they now
“Yes”‘ Ido incessantly. That office was then
“I was a younger man then, Madge, properly discharged by the Speaker,
and as they told me, handsome, now I am Now, the latitude and longitude of debate
growing older, plainer, duller. Then you in Committee of the Whole is unbounded
loved me; do you love me still' ?” and unmeasured by any rules of the
She looked up into his face, and her House or any laws of propriety. Then,
■eyes answered him. It was like looking when the House resolved itself into Corn-
back to old days to feel again his arm mittee of the "Whole, it was customary
around her as her head lay upon his for the Speaker to go down and take a
shoulder and to hear once again those part m the debate. Now, the Speaker
kind words meant for her ear alone. retires to his private room, which is fitted
She never once asked ifthis would make up with palatial magnificence for the re-
him “vain.” She knew as if by instinct, ception of his friends, and is se$n no
that it was’making him a wiser, a more more till the rising of tho committee,
thoughtful more earnest hearted man. which, during his absence, scarcely rises
And when’ after a happy silence, he took to the dignity of a political caucus, much
down the Bible and read a chapter, as he less to that of a town meeting or a dehat-
had been won’t to read to her mother in ing society. From all which we infer
aforetimes,shebowedherheadand prayed, that there is very little moral power in
From this auspicious reunion a new the Speakers hammer, and that parli-
life and new happiness were created, and amentary order and decorum, and the
having learned the secret how wives can amenities and courtesies of debate are de-
secure the love of their husbands and pendent upon a higher principle than
make their homes the most attractive on | can be envolved from any physical agen-
earth, it was never departed from.
Let others learn from it.
' the SPEAKER’S HAMMER.
CONGRESS NOW AND THE CONGRESS OF
THIRTY YEARS AGO.
cy whatever.
TWELVE GOLDEN MAXIMS.
From the Boston Traveler.]
This formidable instrument (the Speak-
er’s hammer") marks an era in the manage-
Hours passed before John Harley re
turned home. He was a man of good
abilities and well to do in the WOTld, and
having married Madge because he truly
loved her, he had expected to have a hap
py home. But, partly because he was
reserved and sensitive, and partly because
Madge feared to make him vain, they
had grown cold toward each other; so
cold that John began .to think the ale
house a more comfortable place than his
own home. . ,
That night the rain fell m torrents;
the wind howled, and it was not until _the
midnight hour arrived that Harley left
the public house and hastened towards his
cottage. He was wet through, when he
at length crossed the threshold. He was,
as he gruffly muttered, “ used to that;
The following extracts are taken from
a little work, entitled, “ Miscellaneous, or
Choice Observations and Pleasant Re
marks on the Virtues, Vices and Humors
Of Mankind, both Moral and. Divine.
Second Edition; byj. H.” The initials,
J. H. are for John Hall, Bishop of Nor-
ment of deliberative bodies. In the days I which, who died in.1659, aged 82 years,
“f Henry Clay it was unknown. A por- There is much m them for to-day s reflec-
trait of that model presiding officer hear- tion:
ing such a symbol would fail to be recog- 1*—on dress.
nized But the managers no less th*n In thy apparel avoid profuseness, sin-
the times have changed. It is no longer gulanty mid gaudmess; let it be decent,
bv moral power that parlimentary rules and suited to the quality of thy place and
can be sustained. It is only by the phys- purse. Too much punctuality and too
ical agency of the rough-and-ready ham- much morosity are the extremes of pnde.
mer that order and decorum can in any Be neither too early in the fashion, nor too
measure he secured. Such, at least, islongout of it, nor too prooueh; in it.
th 0 theory. Our impression is, however, What custom Lath civilized hath become
that even that rude instrument is loosing decent; until then -it was ridiculous.
;£? ootenev We have seen in some of Where the eye is the jury, thy apparel is
the recen/squabbles in the House that the evidence; the body is the shell of the
members are with great difficulty ham- soul, apparel is the husk of that shell;
mered into the propneties of debate. ?nd the husk will often tell you what the
Sse who are not accustomed to wit- kernel is Seldom doth solid wisdom
ness the proceedings of Congress, and who dwell under fantastic apparel; neither
have notrthe means, from personal obser- wiU the pantalopn fancy \e immured
Son of comparing the House as at within the walls of grave habit. The
present conducted with that body as it fool is known by Ins pied coal,
existed thirty years ago, would find it 2.-on conversation.
difficult to believe the truth in regard to Clothe not thy language either with
it A visitor to the House for the first obscurity or affectation; mthe one thou
time is astonished at the want of dignity, discoverest too much darkness, and in the
and the positive disorder which attracts other too much lightness; he that speaks
his attention. The scene which ordina- from the understanding to the under-
rily presents itself is one of confusion, standing, doth best. Know when to
One half of the members are out of their speak, lest while thou shewest wisdom in
seats walking to and fro, standing in the not speaking,'thou betray thy folly in too
aisles or in the area in front of the Speak- long silence. If thou art a fool, thy si-
er’s desk or gathered in knots here and lence is wisdom; but if thou art wise, thy
there and engaged in conversation so long silence is folly. As too many words
loud as to vie with the voice of a member from a fool’s mouth gives one that is
addressing the House, and even with the wise no room to opeak, so_ too long «-
rude noise of the Speaker’s gavel. Some lence in one that is wise, gives a fool
members are sitting listlessly, and with opportunity of speaking, and makes thee
apparent indifference to the proceedings, in the same measure guilty of his folly.
\nth both feet it may be on their elegant To conclude, if thou be not wise enough
carved oak desks. Others, among the to speak, be at least so wise as to hold thy
few comparatively who seem to be aware peace.
of the business before the House, are con-1 3.—on bearing adversity,
stantly 'interrupting the Speaker who is Hath fortune .dealt the, ill cards, let
entitled to the floor; and not unfrequently wisdom make thee a good gamester. In a
two or three members will be addressing feir gale-every fool may sail, but wise be-
the chair at the same time. What with havior in a storm commends, the wisdom
this and the conversation going on about I of a pilot. »To bear adversity with an
the hall, a pretty good ideh of Babel may equal mind, is both sign and glory of a
be formed. Every few minutes the indom- brave spirit. As there is no worldly gain
itable hammer is vigorously but vainly without some loss, so. there is no worldly
plied for the purpose of pounding mem- loss without some gain. If thou hath lost
hers into a sense of decorum, and enforc- thy wealth, thou hath lost some trouble
ing conformity to the rules of order. Ten with it; if tbou art degraded o£ thy hon-
times an hour the clear voice of the I or, thou'art likewise freed from the stroke
Speaker is heard. above the tumult of 0 f envy; if sickness hath blurred thy
tongues, requesting members to resume beauty, it hath delivered the from pride,
their seats and come to order,-and urging Sot. the allowance against thy loss, and
the request with more or less vehemence, thou wilt find no great loss. He looseth . _
by more or less violent application of the I little or nothing, who keepeth the favor into the shade,
hammer upon the devoted desk. • It must | of his God, and the peace and freedom of
be a firm and durable material which I his conscience.
withstands the constant and.severe home- J 4. xngee.
strokes of this despotic monitor. .1j Beware of him that is slow to anger.
During the long term of yeara in which jt is long in coming, is the
Henry Clay was Speaker of the House gtrQ g when it C p me s, and the longer
he seldom or never used his Hammer, it K - «> Abused patience turns to fury,
indeed'he was invested with such an em- j : f an cy is the ground of passion;
blem of power. A venerable gentleman, 1 UDder8 j-andmg which composes the
who was a member of Congress thirtyl^. the passion; but when
years ago, informs us that he never, in | : ndcmen t is the ground, the memory is
emy, arms thee against the evil he means
thee; but he that dissembles himself thy
friend, when he is thy secret ( enemy,
strikes beyond caution, and wounds he- -
yond cure. From the first, thou mayes t
deliver thyself; from the last, good Lord
deliver thee.
6.—ON LAW AND PHYSIC. •
If thou study law or : physic, endeavor
to know both, and to need neither. Tem-
lerate diet, moderate and seasonable la-
jor, rest, and recreation, with God’s bless
ing, will save thee from a physician; *
peaceful disposition, prudent and just be-
lavior, will secure thee from the law.
Yet if necessity absolutely compel, thou
may’st use both; they that use either
otherwise than for necessity, soon abuse
themselves in weak bodies, and light par
ses. poa
7.—ON INCONSTANCY.
Be not unstable in thy resolutions, nor
various in thy actions, nor inconsistent in
thy affections.- So deliberate that thou
may’st perform; so'perform that thou
may’st preserve. Mutability is" the badge
of infirmity.
8. —charity allegorized: 1
Charity is a naked child giving honey
to a bee without wings. Naked, because
excuseless and simple; a'child, because
tender and growing; giving honey, be
cause pleasant and comfortable; to a bee,
because a bee is industrious and deserv
ing ; without wings, because wanting and
helpless. If thou deniest to such, thou
killest a bee; if thou givest to other than
such, preservest a drone.
9. —on diet and regimen.
If thou desirest to take the best advan
tage of thyself,“especially in matters where
the fancy is most employed, keep temper
ate diet, use moderate exercise, observe
seasonable and set hours for rest, and let
the end of thy first sleep raise thee from thy
repose; then hath thy body the best tem
per; thy soul the least incumbrance;
then "no noise shall disturb thine ear; ho
object shall divert thine eye; then, if- ev
er, shall thy sprightly fancy transport
thee beyond the common pitch; and shew
the magazine of high invention. . .
10.—HOW TO USE PROSPERITY.
So use prosperity, that adversity may
not abuse thee. If in prosperity -thy' se
curity admits no fear, in adversity thy
despair will afford no hope;.he.that in
prosperity can fortell a danger, can in
adversity forsee deliverance.
11.—ON BELIEVING AND COMMUNICATING
V NEWS." ' " ! “ ’ • ■!
. Let the greatest part of the news thou
hearest be the least part of what thou be-
lievest, lest the greatest part of what thou
believest, he the least part of ^what is true);
and report nothing for truth, in earnest
or in jest, unless thou know it, or at least
confidently believe it to be so; neither is
it expedient at all times, or in all compa
nies, to report what thou knowest to be
true; sometimes it may avail thee, if thou
knowest. Hast thou any secret, commit
it not to many, nor to any, unless well
known unto thee.
• 12.—ON CONDUCT TOWARDS A FRIEND.
Hast thou a friend,, use him friendly;
abuse faim not in jest or earnest; conceal
his infirmities; privately reprove.his er
rors. Commit thy secrets to him, yet
with caution, lest thy friend become thy
enemy, and abuse thee.'
Queer Shings About Beet.
The poppy-bee makes her nest in the
ground, burrowing down about three
inches. At the bottom she makes a large
round hole, and lines it splendidly with
the scarlet leaves ofthe wild poppy." She
cuts and fits the pretty tapestry, till it is
thick and soft and warm, and then partly
fills the cell with honey, lays an egg, folds
down the red blankets and closes Up the
hole, so that it cannot he distinguished;
and there, in its rosy cradle, with food to
eat, and a safe nook to rest in, she leaves
her baby bee to take care of itself! The
leaf-cutting bee makes her cells of green
leaves, shaping them like thimbles. These
little jars Bhe half fills with a rose-colored
paste of honey and pollen from thistles,
lays her eggs, and covers the pots with
round leaf-lids that fit exactly.
The mason-bee makes its. nest of mud
or mortar. It looks like a bit of dirt
sticking to a wall, hut has little cells
within. The mother bee does all the
work, sticking little grains of sand and
earth together with her own glue. The
carpenter-bee bores holes in posts, and
makes her cells of sawdust and glue.—
The carding bees live in holes, among
an stones and roots, making their nests of
moss, lined with wax, to keep the wet
out, with a long gallery by which to en
ter. They find a bit of moss, and several
bees place themselves in a row, with their
hacks toward the nest; then the foremost
lays hold of the moss and pulls it up
with .her jaws drives it with her fbre-feet
under her body as far towards the next
as possible. The second does the same ;
ana in this way tiny heaps of prepared
moss are got to the nest by the file of four
or five! 'and others weave it into shape.
[Merry's Museum.
The Paris correspondent'oflhe Provi
dence Herald says: “The growing tastt»of
the Prince Imperial are leaning towards let
ters and art—a direction the Emperor neither
expected nor unduly desires. This is the
reason why the Prince’s system ,o! education
has been materially changed, and yiaita to
camps, facets, military schools, and spectacle*
are forcing Latin declensions and Greek terse*
into the shade. The Prince is growing up
healthy, but not a strong boy; ia full of nat
ural amiability, ia acquiring his father’s
winning manners# and.his mother’s sweet il—
luminating smile. The Emperor but live*
for his son, and no soli ever had a natter Pine*
Ion to educate him for the purple than the
future Napoleon the Fourth has in his fath
er.” ;
„ -r . 1 ludgnient is wo giuuuu, mu
the course of several terms of service, saw I •}i ie recorder , and this passion is long re-
Mr. Clay use the hammer. Either 1
Jt-* .«■!>
on V
. 4 »ut- 4 »••• IWf -'.'I V-J
through his-influence as a presiding offi
cer, or the,prevalence of abetter sense of]
decorum amoDg the members, dignity"and
’ •*. • -V, K>t
-tiiti.V
tained.
5.—ON SECRET ENEMIES.
He that professeth himself thy open en
w _ The prisoners at the Albany peniten-.
tialT were treated to strawberries, last Sun
day. Callicqtt’s dishful didn’t, taste sweat,
despite the liberal sngar.
A French gentleman ia irate at bring
refused admission to the opera w London
while wearing: nankeen pantaloons. They
w#re breeches <if decorum. ,
