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LITERARY
PENPIELD, GEORGIA.
oTXuuaay Odfomtup, 26, fsss.
Jj. LINCOLN VEAZEY • - - KIJITOIL.
“ Julian” must give a responsible name before
“The Memory of the Past” can be published.
This is our invariable rule.
A young man or woman never did worse than
to make up their minds to marry at all hazards
and at all events. It is the next thing to suicide,
to which it very often leads.
Ihe following lines are no less true than beau
tiful :
“ Small service is true service while it lasts;
Os all thy friends, though humble, scorn no one:
I lie daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.”
When you enter a printing office, do not touch,
and especially do not read any matter you may see
in the compositor’s hands. This i3 the worst
torm of bad manners. Take the paper, anti you
will have it all in due season.
— v
We sincerely regret says the Montgomery Mail,
to learn the death of Mr. John W. Talley, of
Loachapoka, Macon county. lie died yesterday
es cramp colic, after an illness of a few days. Mr.
T. was a native of Greene county, Ga., and was
about thirty-five years of age.
Mr. William Allen Butler, the author of the
popular poem, “Nothing to Wear,” has lately
published another called “Two Millions.” It
was delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa So
ciety of Yale College at the late commencement,
and is said fully to sustain his previously acquired 1
reputation.
Take care how you flatter. A word of praise
unfitly spoken may fill the head of your friend
with vanity, and render him unworthy of your
esteem. Many men have been caused to “ play
fantistic tricks before high Heaven which made
the angels weep,” by the encomia of the well
meaning, but indiscreet. There are those whom
it is alike inexpedient to praise and unjust to
condemn.
The September number ot Harper , the nonpa
reil of monthlies, opens with a poem of several
hundred lines, entitled “The Finishing School.”
It is a faithful picture of those fraudulent hum
bugs which afflict our country, and the moral
which it is intended to teach should be impressed
upon the mind of every parent. Besides this,
the present number contains a richly varied table
of contents, which will repay a perusal.
The July number of the Edinhurg Review is on
our table. It contains eleven essays, extending
over a wide range of subjects. We have had an
opportunity of reading only the first, on Hugh
Miller; but there are a number of others which
we would judge to be equally interesting. Ite
published by L. Scott & Cos. New York, at $3 a
year. Blackwood and the four Reviews, $lO. As
this is the beginning of anew volume, it is a fa
vorable time to subscribe.
<
Several of our religious exchanges, we observe, ‘
are engaged in a spirited discussion respecting
polygamy—whether or not it is, in and of itself,
a sin and condemned by the Bible. We cannot
see that such a discussion can be productive of
* 1
any good, and may result in much mischief. If
the people should be convinced that polygamy is ‘
not condemned by the Holy Scriptures, all laws
against it would soon be swept from our statute
books. This is a result which we are assured
neither of the parties in this controversy desire. 1
We see by our exchanges that a gentleman in ‘
Philadelphia has secured the capital prize of <
„ ‘565,000 in Samuel Swan & Co.’s lottery, drawn at j
Augusta, Georgia, on Saturday last, and thus re- <
alized a large fortune at the risk of ten dollars.
Yes, we have all heard of him, but who has
ever heard his name? That is as scrupulously
concealed as if the poor victim of fortune would
have his modesty shocked by its revelation. We
are as credulous as people need bo, but we must
regard this sixty-five thousand doll.ir prize drawer
as altogether a myth.
Whether or not a man lias succeeded in life, is
not determined by his having accumulate l pro
perty or acquired fame. 11 does not even depend
upon his having accomplished the end which he
proposed. He may have done all which he aimed
to do—may have “drank every draught of praise,
heard every trump of fame,” and yet his life, in
the sight of Heaven, have been an entire failure.
History awards her praise or censure according
•* to the decisions of frail, erring human reason;
but there cometh a higher and wiser judge, in
whose scales many whom the world has pro
nounced great, will be found wanting.
The inability of a wife to make bread lias been
declared sufficient ground for divorce, by a Coun-
M try Agricultural Society.
When a few more grounds for divorce are
found, all legal obligations upon the parties had
best be removed, and the parties allowed to sep
arate when they choose. Where will the matter
end? Even when there are numerous opportu
nities of being parted by regular course of law,
wives and husbands are continually running away
from each other. What, then, must be done?
Shall the number of pleas on which divorces may
be obtained, be increased? We move there be
added to the list incompatibility of tempers, dis
similarity of tastes, not being what they were
taken for, the having worn false hair, false teeth
or painted whiskers before marriage, general ex
travagance, inability to still baby when crying, a
fondness for admiring all beauty but that at
hetne. ignorance of business, a love of quarreling
and scratching, not staying at home, not visiting,
not going to balls and watering places, not attend,
ing church, not doing, saying, thinking and be
ing what they should.
4
Some persons are blessed with the happy fa
culty of looking at the bright side of everything.
Nothing can depress them so low that they have
not some elastic spring upon which to arise. If
a cloud of misfortune descends upon them, it has
somewhere a gleam of light to relieve its dark
_ ness. Their eye 6 catch the brightest points of
every prospect, and find the sweetest beauties in
every landscape. Their happiness is not created
or destroyed by external circumstances. 1 hey
have within themselves a well-spring of joy, the
waters of which gush forth perpetually and give
•• animation to the soul when all without is dark
i and frowning. It was this which sustained Ma-
A dwjie Roland amid the damp dungeons of the
‘ Conciergerie, when everything on which a hope
’ could rest had been swept away, and the guillo
tine awaited her with assured certainty. Her
int&lect, though strong and vigorous, would not
have borne her through these scenes of suftering
and h#cror. Her pride would have been broken
down by the indignities which she was compelled
to endure. But a consciousness of her own rec
titude, a firm faith in the justice of posterity, and
a heart tutored alike for misfortune or prosperity
made her a martyr and a heroine^
I mil ERE is, always has been, and always will be, |
I X much of error in human thought and action.
There are falsehoods which no logic will ever
practically refute, wrongs which no tribunal will
redress, and follies which will never be abandoned
until they have lived out their course.
The writer may pen brilliant paragraphs, the
orator declaim eloquently, and the satirist ex
pend bis bitterest sarcasms; but upon these fal
lacies, wrongs and follies all will be of none ef
fect. Many of the fine sentiments which are so
current, and gain such universal admiration, pos
sess no influence over men’s actions. They read
finely in an essay, sound well in the popular ad
dress, but their beauty and truthfulness is never
shown forth in practical exemplification.
It has been admitted from the remotest antiq
uity that worth makes a man ; that if he be vir
tuous, he is entitled to respect, whatever may be
his circumstances. But where has this idea ever
obtained in practice? Superior talents are ever
able to overwhelm and crush moral excellence,
however exalted. Genius and virtue, when com
bined, may be not only unnoticed and uncared
for, but trampled down by the condemnation of
the powerful. Tyrants have lauded goodness at
the very time they were leveling against it their
direst persecutions. We need not search the re
cords of martyrdom, or peruse the annals of re
ligious bigotry to find instances in which those of
righteous motives and correct intentions were
made the victims of harsh cruelty, meiely because
the/ were pure and good. Assert it as loudly as
they can, and re-assert it as often as they may,
men do not love virtue for her own sake. They
adore her when she comes in splendor, arrayed
in purple and fine linen ; when she is simple and
unadorned, they loathe her presence and close
tlieir ears to her teachings.
It has always been an admitted fact, that a man
is none the better because of his wealth, and that
the splendid pageantry by which it can be sur
rounded, cannot change or even hide an ignoble
spirit. Again and again has the world seen heads
that wore kingly crowns, bent on the accomplish
ment of low, grovelling schemes of trickery which
would have disgraced a mountebank. Many
who have riches have accumulated them by fraud,
injustice and legerdermain, and retain them by
miserly meanness and oppression of the poor.
Mankind have seen all this, not without a secret
feeling of exultation at the follies and failings of
the great. Yet, men are honored for their wealth
who have no other claim to respect. There are
those in all communities who receive the most
flattering marks of distinction, who, were it not j
for their money, would bo driven from society |
with the execrations which they richly deserve. |
The Bible assures us that all wordly hopes, as- j
pirations and pursuits are insignificant when |
compared with the interest of the soul, and most !
persons assent to the doctrine. Yet, men do not
live as if this was their belief. They toil as
eagerly for the trifles of an hour as if their pres
ent state of existence was to be eternal, and no
grave awaited them. They wear out their bodies
and forget tlieir souls to gather up a little glitter
ing dust to be squandered by idle spendthrifts.
They arduously strive for praise which dies with
the breath that speaks it, or, at best, only occu
pies a space in some ephemeral newspaper, or a
page in a worm-eaten book. Professedly, the
glory of God is the only object for which they
strive, but really, their own honor and aggran
dizement are the ends of tlieir ambition. A day
or two of fevered excitement at wide intervals,
and perhaps even then, produced by sickness or
the fear of death, are the only times when religion
is their chief concern. They have not, like the
fool, said in tlieir hearts that there is no God, but
they act as if they did not believe in his exis
tence. Such is the conduct, not of one alone, or
of a few, but of a half, perhaps a majority, in all
Christian lands.
The scrupulous compliance which is made to
all the requirements of fashion is condemned
universally, and her servile followers denounced
for tlieir folly. Bui who are not her subjects?
Some arc much more abject in their homage than
others, but there are none who do not submit to
inconveniences in order to obey her dictates.
Some for this will squander tlieir money, ruin
tlieir bodies and destroy their souls. At Fash
ion’s bidding, woman will assume any shape, from
the ghostly slimness to the swelling fulness of a
ship when every inch of canvass is spread to the
wind. One part of their bodies they will pad to
the requisite size, another compress to the most
wasp-like smallness, and voluntarily reduce them
selves almost to the condition of having “noth
ing to wear.” By her commands, men will sur
mount their heads with ornaments that look like
moving “ towers of Pisa,” insert tlieir limbs into
garments that threaten rupture at the bending
of every joint, or sport coats which make their
wearers walking burlesques upon the noble fowl
from which they take tlieir name. All these are
absurdities, confessedly so; but you would as
soon batter the walls of Gibraltar with peas and
pop-guns, as d.ive out these follies by reason, rid
icule or sarcasm. You could not in all this land
find one man that lays claim to common sense
who will dress as he pleases, despite the reigning
fashion.
Such are some of the discrepancies which exist
between practice and theory, which we never
hope to see reconciled. We might increase the
length indefinitely; hut we forbear. They are
inconsistences, it is true, and some of them pain
ful to contemplate; but they are not without
palliation. Many of them are almost unavoida
bly incident to the infirmity of our nature, and
only here and there does one rise superior to
them, and exhibit a higher style of manhood.
Happy, indeed, would it be for the world if noth
ing worse were ever found in man that these in
consistences which are so near common to us all.
Washington's Family Bible.— -The agent of the
Nashville Bible Society, Mr. I’. M. Hawkins, has
recently been distributing Bibles in Macon Cos.
Tennessee, and while travelling through the
county, met with the old family Bible that found
a place in Gen. Washington’s chamber.
I took it in my hands and examined it care
fully, after which I read the 19th Psalm in family
worship. I then asked the brother to tell me
how he came in possession of it. He said that at
the General’s death his neice fell heir to the
Bible. Previous to leaving Virginia, her son was
taken sick and died, lie waited on him until
death. The old lady told him that she was get
ting old and must soon die, and that she had
nothing to give him for waiting on her son save
the old family Bible. He gladly received it and
brought it to” Tennessee with him on horseback.
He told me that he would not take three thovs
and dollars for it. The gentleman lives in the
town of LaFayette, Macon Cos. and his name is
Col. Claiborne. You can’t begin to imagine how
I felt while turning over its leaves. I really felt
and thought that 1 had found a precious jewel.
It appeared to me that I would have given any
price for it.
Ax Old Fashioned Mother. —Ah, how much
meaning is comprised in that simple expression,
the old fashioned mother ! It Carrie's our thoughts
back to those women whose home influence was
pure and elevating; who taught their daughters
to render themselves blessings -to society, by their
goodness, their dilligence and their useful knowl
edge. We think of the lofty heroism, the brave
endurance, the thousand virtues they inculcated
and sigh at the contrast between the past and the
present. How few modern mothers understand
or perform their duty in training their children.
A smattering of this, that, and the other is com
sidered quite sufficient education, and to show on
to advantage is niade the great business of life.
No wonder there are so many desolate firesides, so
many unhappy wives, so many drinking, gambling
I husbands.
! Experience is like the stern-lights of a ship that only
serve to illumine the path passed over.—Coi.ekidge
MANY men learn theoretical wisdom by ex
perience ; a few learn it practically. The
old mariner with bleached locks and frame worn
down by hard toil, would give the young adven
turer instructive lessons for the guidance of his
course. He would tell him where the quick
sands lay, point out the breakers, and direct him
where his keel could plow the waves with safety.
Yet, should he again launch upon the deep, he
would, in all probability, neglect the advice which
he had given others, and run upon the very rock
upon which he had been previously stranded.
While another stirs, he may point out the dan
gers which lie on either hand—may tell how
Scylla may be shunned and Charybdis avoided ;
but when his own hand holds the helm, he for
gets, amid the excitement of the scene, those
wise precautions which his experience should
suggest.
So with men of every calling. The merchant
who speculates wildly and becomes a bankrupt,
and then accumulates a second fortune, will, if
the temptation be offered, commit the same folly
again. When the tide of fortune floats his bark,
he flings away the chart which experience had
marked out, and ventures again boldly upon the
sea of trade. The politician who has passed
through a long career of public service and ex
perienced all the incident changes, will yet, time
after time, trust his fate to a vacillating and un
grateful people. So alluring does the bait be
come, that a failure only serves to draw them on
to another attempt.
Experience does teach, and by the young who
seek not to guide themselves by reason, her les
sons are received with profit. The child who is
burned by touching a coal of fire, will carefully
avoid doing the like for the future. It is thus
that in childhood and early youth we learn what
we may, and what we may not do. But as we
grow older, we become less impressible to the
teachings of experience. We apply to reason to
direct our course, which, though undoubtedly a
higher faculty, is always more erring than in
stinct. We eagerly follow in the wake of others,
disregarding the light which our own previous
history would throw upon our path. A misfor
tune to-day should vender us less liable to the
same misfortune to-morrow; but most peisons
are hardened or heart-broken by adversity, and
few find in it that jewel which makes its uses
sweet. Yes, experience is like the stern-lights of
a ship: it may throw a beacon blaze to those who
follow, but the rays which it casts ahead are dim
and glimmering.
WOMAN AND ROMAN CATHOLICISM.
WE are too much disposed to look upon the
Roman Catholic religion as being evil in all
its influences and tendencies. Convinced of the
erroneousness of its doctrines, and the absurdity
of its pretensions, we are liable to forget the ser
vice it did for science and literature during the
Dark Ages, when Vandalism had swept over Eu
rope. An English reviewer thus remarks upon
the benefits which it conferred on woman, and
the position which she occupied in ages and coun
tries where it was supreme:
The general condition of the female sex was
decidedly inferior in Protestant, to that which
she enjoyed in Catholic lands. Luther, in de
claring that woman’s sole vocation was marriage
—that in that, and that only, was she performing
the part assigned her by Providence—had des
stroyed the halo with which virgin chastity had
once encircled her brow. Catholicism had raised
her to the rank of saint; it had inscribed her on
the list of martyrs ; it had given her a place amid
the hierarchy; it had brought her into immedi
ate contact with the supreme head of the Church.
To those whom choice or necessity hindered from
entering the bonds of matrimony, it had opened
another career—that of the recluse—the sister of
charity ; it had presented another assylum—that
of the convent; a career contrary, in leed, to all
our natural instincts, full of self-denial and pri
vation, but promising truly or falsely an immor
tality of blisi hereafter—an asylum sad and
gloomy, but calm, tranquil and secure —a life of
privation, but devoted to an end sufficient to
atone for every suffering, the relief ot the sick,
the helpless and the destitute. Os all this the
Reformation at once deprived her. It narrowed
her influence, it lowered her sphere, it confinred
her place to the daily round of domestic joys and
sorrows. Catholicism, in the person of Mary,
had invested her with almost divine attributes ;
it had represented her as the interessor between
the Savior and mankind—as the incarnation of
the highest purity, of the loftiest philanthropy;
and even those who repudiate such doctrines
freely recognise the powerful influence they must
have exercised in elevating and hallowing the
whole sex.
In the annals of the principal cities of Italy,
we find women occupying the chair of the pro
fessor—not of modern tongues, not of music and
drawing, but of Greek, Datin, Hebrew, Mathe
matics and Astronomy. We find them deliver
ing lectures in public to crowded and admiring
audiences; we see them admitted members of
learned societies, and addressed by the most sci
entific men on terms of equality. • et, it is
doubtful whether the far-famed Novella was a
better Greek scholar than Mrs. Browning; or
Maria Porcia Yignoli, whose statue long adorned
the market-place of Viterbo, more learned in
Natural Sciences than Mrs. Somerville.
A Frenchman has written a work of fiction,
“ The Romance of a Mummy,” of which the plot
is laid in the times of the Pharaohs. An English
nobleman, while travelling in the East, discovers
a tomb which had never been opened, and by
the payment of a liberal sum to an Arab chief?
effects and entrance. They there find the mum
my of a young female, whose royal rank was pro
ven by its presence in the tomb of kings. Hav
ing conveyed it on board their vessel, the wrap
pers are unrolled and a papyrus scroll is found
between the arm and side. This, having been
deciphered after several years of study, proves
to be the history of an Egyptian princess, the
consort of the Pharaoh who was swallowed up in
the Red Sea at the time of the Jewish exodus.
This, told in autobiographical style, forms the
body of the story. This attempt to describe the
domestic scenes and portray the manners and
customs of people who lived three thousand years
ago, and of whom every thingis now lost but
a few mummies and ruins, is certainly a bold one,
but the British Reviews speak of it as not being a
failure.
Many people are heard to doubt whether, in
any event, the submarine telegraph would be of
any great benefit. Here is a case in point:
On flie 18th of June, 1812, our government de
clared war against Great Britain. We had many
causes of complaint against Great Britain; but
one of the most prominent and palpable was based
on her orders in Council, by which our trade with
the continent had been most outrageously har
rassed and crippled. The orders in Council had
been repealed before we declared war, though
the fact was unknown, unsuspected here. Had it
been known—in other words, had the Atlantic
telegraph then existed—it is quite probable, says
the New York Tribune, that war would not have
been declared, that further negotiations would
have been had, and an amicable redress of griev
ances attained, saving to each country thousands
of precious lives and hundreds ol millions of dol
lars. What has been, may again be.
Kind words are looked upon like jewels on the
breast, never to be forgotten, and perhaps to
cheer, by their memory,, a long, sad life; while
words of cruelty or of carelessness, are like
swords in the bosom, wounding and leaving
scars which will be borne to the grave by their
victim.
‘lt is extremely disagreable to me, madam,’
said an ill-natured fellow, ‘to tell you unpleasant
truths.’
‘I have no doubt sir, that it is extremely disa
greable for you to tell truths of any sort.’
A FEMALE WARRIOR and artist.
The powers of the pen and sword are not unfre
quen tly contrasted; but the following sketch which
we find in the Westminster Review, is, we believe,
the only instance on record in which skill in the
use of warlike weapons and of the pencil were
found united in the same person, and that per
son a woman:
Onorata’ Rudiano wielded at once the pencil
and the warrior’s sword. She is quite a personage
of romance, and we are surprised that she has
never figured in novel or poetry. In her 23rd
year, she had already attained so great a reputa
tion for artistic skill that Gabrino Fondolo,
tyrant of Cremona, comitted to her care the
adornment of his palace. Onorata would willing
ly have declined this equivocal honor, but the
Marquis would listen to no refusal; and to excite
the anger of a man at once so vindictive and so
unscrupulous was too fearful a risk.
Onorata was not destined to labor long in the
service of Fondolo. One day, while occupied in
painting the walls of one of the apartments, a
courtier notorious for his dissipated habits, en
tered the room, and offered some unjustifiable lib
erties. The young artist indignantly repulsed him,
and on his returning to the charge, she seized a
dagger she always wore concealed in her boddice
and stabbed him to the heart; then rushing from
the palace, disguised herself in man’s attire
i and fled to the mountains,‘'declaring she would
rather perish in exile and a wanderer, but pure
and untainted, than enjoy splendor and honor at
home. The Marquis was furious; he sent soldiers
in every direction in pursuit, with orders to bring
her back alive or dead; but unable to find the
place of her retreat, and finding no one capable
of completing her labors, he promised full and
and entire pardon on condition of her instant re
turn. Onorata, however, had effected her escape
from his dominions. Retaining her disguise, she
obtained admittance into one of the companies
of Condottieri then infesting Italy, and by her
courage and conduct soon rose to the post of can
tain. Her warlike spirit delighted in the inde
pendence and excitement of her new career; she
refused to abandon it, and continued to fight and
paint alternately for thirty years. In 1472, her
native town, Castellione, was besieged by the Ve
netians. Onorata, at the head of her company,
flew to its relief; she forced the enimy to raise
the siege, but was mortally wounded in the con
flict, and died a few days later.
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
llow dark, how cheerless is that philosophy
which denies to man his immortality, and writes
upon his grave-stone, “Death is an eternal sleep!”
llow chilling the thought that when I am done
with earth, my very life must die ! In what terri
ble darkness does it enshroud the tomb, and all
the unknown beyond; and how ill does it accord
with the deep, inherent sympathies of humanity.
Cold philosophy may beget doubts and fears; hu
man reason may lose itself in daring unguided wan
derings, but deep in the soul is an undying prin
ciple which tells of an unending, unfelt desti
ny. >
“ O, listen, man!
A voice within us speaks that startling word,
Man, thou shah never die !* Celestial voices
Hymn it unto our souls; according harps,
By Angel fingers touched,when the mild stars
Os morning sang together, sound forth still,
The song of immortality.”
* But it is in the hour of sorrow and gloom that
the heart most earnestly yearns after another life.
And “as the ivy to the oak clings closest in the
storm,” so, in the hour of his sorest trial, does man
cling closest to his hopes of a life yet to come.
And as his earthly night grows darker, so do
his hopes grow stronger, that after the night then
cometh the morning. But these hopes of Hea
ven, which buoy up the soul, mid the waves of
trouble and sorrow, are to the Chnstain alone, “both
sure and steadfast.” And O, what a glory rests
over the true believer’s grave, and how clear and
radiant does faith make all the way beyond !
11 is said that the caged eagle, when a storm comes
on, beats violently against the sides of his prison
as he longs to be free; that with unfurled wings,
he may soar above the clouds into the calm sun
shine beyond. So, in the troubles and storms of
life, the soul of the Christian, like the eagle, strug
gles to free itself from its earthly prison-house,
that it may rise superior to the ills of Time, and
bask in the empyrian of God.
Oh! no, man— immortal man —was never born to
die! there is for him a higher, nobler life than
this.
“Let not thy heart within thee sink !
Another doom, brother, hath set its promise in thine eye;
A light there is there too quenchless for the tomb,
Bright earnest of a nobler desiiny.”
Oxford. —National American. Ex**.
LAYMAN BEECHER’S COURTSHIP.
An eminent divine, who is as well known as he
is universally respected, many years since was led
to the conclusion that “it is not well for a man
to be alone.” After considerable pondering, he
resolved to offer himself in marriage to a certain
member of his flock. No sooner was the resolu
tion formed than it was put in practice, and get
ting out his cane, he speedily reached the dwell
ing of his mistress. It chanced to be on Monday
morning, a day which many New England read”
ets need not be told is better known in the house
as washing day. Unconscious of the honor that
was intended her, the lady was standing behind
the tub in the back kitchen, with her arms im
mersed in the suds, busily engaged in an occupa
tion which, to say the least of it, is more useful
than romantic. There was a loud knock at the
door. “Jane, go to the door, and if it is anybody
to see me, tell them that I am engaged and can
not see them.” The message was faithfully re
hearsed. “Tell your mistress,” said Parson B.
“ that it is very important that I should see her.”
“Tell him to call this afternoon,” said the lady,
“and I will see him.” But it was unavailing.
“I must see her now,” said the minister.
“Tell me where she is.”
So saying, he followed the servant into the
kitchen, to the great surprise of her mistress.
“ Miss , I have come to the conclusion to
marry; will you have me?” was the minister’s
opening speech.
“ Have you ?” replied the astonished lady.
This is a singular time to offer yourself. Such an
important step should be made a matter of prayer
and deliberation.”
“Let us pray!” was Mr. B’s only response, as
he knelt down beside the tub and prayed that a
union might be formed which would enhance the
happiness of both parties. Ilis prayer was an
swered, and from this union, thus singularly
formed, has sprang a family remarkable for tal
ent anti piety.
• m ii
DIFFERENCE IN WIVES.
Two weeks since, we were riding in the cars,
when a gentleman came and spoke to a lady di
rectly in front of us, who was seated beside a sick
ly man whom we thought was her husband. The
conversation turned upon the health of her com
panion, who was evidently a consumptive. “Last
winter,” said she, “I went to Kansas with him.
The winter before we spent in Florida; and now
we are thinking of removing to Wisconsin, or
Minnesota, for the benefit of his health.” The
gentleman exspressed some thoughts relative to
her hardships in thus going away from her home
and friends, traveling so much abroad. “Oh!”
the replied, “I do not mind that at all, if lie can
only regain his health. I like New England bet
ter than any other part of the country, for it is
home ; but I am willing to live anywhere for his
sake.” Her husband made no remark as he
heard these words, but volumes were in his ej T es.
The incident, however, did not particularly im
press us, until we stopped at a station, about an
hour afterwards. Then a friend entered the car
and took a seat by our side. He was troubled
with a bronchial, and lung difficulty, of some years
standing. In course of conversation, we recom
mended a residence in a certain Western State,
to which he replied, in substance, “I should have
been there months ago, if my wife had been wil
ling to go. But all her friends are here in Massa
chusetts, and no consideration could induce her
to leave for a residence so far away.” We looked
at once at the stranger-woman, whose conversa
tion wo have cited. “Noble wifel” we said.
“One of a thousand, doubtless, in this spirit of self
denial for her husband's sake.” There is certain
ly a great difference between these two wives.
Happy Home.
The Mohammedans say that oUe hour of
justice is worth 70 years of prayer.
1 lie total amount of gold coined at the Branch
Mint, California, for the week ending July 10th,
was 39,803 ounces or $750,000.
the Albany Central railroad on the sth of Au
gust* declared the usual 4 per cent, dividend, pay
able at the usual time and place.
~ * Brown, why do you wear that bad hat?”
Because, my dear sir, Mrs. Brown says she will
not go out of the house with me until I get anew
one.” &
To kill bedbugs, take corrosive sublimate, and
daub it all over your bedstead; then burn your
beads tend and clothing, and move into another
house.
The Boston Traveller says that Jared Sparks, just
returned from Europe has gathered fresh materials
with which to enrich the history on which he is
engaged.
Richard Barett, just elected to Congress from
St. Louis, is thirty-eight years old, and one of the
handsomest men in the United States. lie is
married.
“Here’s Webster on a bridge,” said Mrs. Parting
ton, as she handed Ike the; dictionary. “Study
it contentively, and you will gain a great deal of
inflammation.”
An old lady of Tuscumbia, Ala., offers a reward
of $20,000 to any lady, not over 17 years of age,
who is willing to live in the capacity of an adopted
daughter with her.
Col. W. W. Strapp appointed consul to Pernambu
co, in Brazil, left Louisville Kentucky, on the3oth
ult., en route for his new home, to assume the du
ties of his consulship.
A Western editor closes a pretty long article by
saying, “We have no rum for further remarks to
day.” lie had better.send out and get some, if he
can’t manage to write without it.
. •
A foolish girl of twenty married one of the
Sioux Chiefs, recently, at Washington. When
she reached his princely wigwam, she found it a
mud hovel occupied by two other wives!
Anthony Burns, the celebrated fugitive slave,
who elicited a few years ago, so much sympathy
from Boston Abolitionists is nowin the Massachu
setts penitentiary for the crime oi robbery.
Lola Montez is writing a history of the Cosmetics
which have been in every ago of the world.
Our lady friends will, perhaps, be interested in
the perusal of this book, and look for it with im
patience.
Quaint old Fuller says, “Let 3dm who expects
one class of society to prosper in the highest de
gree, while the other is in distress, try whether
one side of his face can smile while the other is
pinched.”
The Oxford, Miss., Mercury, tells of an old bach
elor in its neighborhood, worth $150,000, who re
cently found anew born female babe hanging at
his gate. He has adopted it, and given it the name
of “Eureka Gate.”
“ I hope to live to see the day,” said Lord
Brougham, “when every peasant in England can
understand Bacon.” “Wouldn’t it be better that
they had a little bacon first?” replied Cobbett.
Both would be good.
The gifted editor of the Charleston Courier has
pubished a series of numbers on “The Marion
Family and the Widow of General Marion,” which
will appear in the fortli-coming portion of Ban
croft’s History of United States.
The Baron Steuben Monument movement is
spreading over the large cities of the country, and
preparations are making by the Germans of Bal
timore and Philadelphia, in the way of celebra
tions for the beneflt of this fund.
A recent official publication in England shows
that the duty upon Tobacco lias in a single year
yielded a revenue oi millions of dollars ! In London
alone the duty received amounted to more than
ten millions and a half of dollars.
A company of Swiss is now being made up in
New York to form a colony in Western Virginia.
They have been offered 10,000 acres, at $1,25 per
acre, and intend sending a commissioner out to
make an examination of the tract.
“Blessed is he,” sayelh the I’>ook of Mormon,
“who blovveth his own liovn ; for whoso bloweth
not liis own horn, the same shall not beblowed.”
Likewise: “Whoso bloweth his own horn, the
same shall be blowed with a vengeance.”
A Bostonian, travelling in Europe, was not al
lowed to visit Naples because, itisstated, liis name
was among the subscribers to the cannon pre
sented by citizens of Boston to Sardinia last year.
King Bomba keeps close watch, it must be con
fessed.
The return of the Emperor of Russia to St. Pe
tersburg from Areliangle was accompanied by the
publicat ion of a ukase restoring to the Bible Socie
ties the privileges they formerly possessed, but
of which they were deprived by the late Emperor
Nicholas.
Columbus, Kentucky, is a hard place. An ckl
farmer, who had been badly swindled there, said
of it: If the angel Gaoriel happens to light at
Columbus, there’ll be no resurrection, for they’ll
swindle him out of liis trumpet before lie can
make a single toot!
Last week a little son of Judge Donalson, in
Montezuma, Indiana, was bitten on the arm by
a spider, while sleeping in a cradle. The arm
swelled rapidly, inflammation spread to other
parts of the body, and the second day after the
injury the child died.
The question has been asked, would a pin the
first week and doubled every week for a year
load the Leviathan? Allowing thirty pins to the
ounce, it would load two hundred and thirty
eight vessels carrying 22,000 tons each, which is
the tonnage of the Leviathan.
The Mayor of Boston has received a letter
from the Turkish Minister of Foreign Affairs,
thanking the citizens of Boston, in the name of
the Sultan, for the generous hospitallity which they
extended to the Rear Admiral Mohammed Pasha
during his late visit to that city.
The Bombay Geographical Society announces,
in tlieir proceedings, that they have received a
specimen of the walking leaf, from Java, with
escs and young : and, wliat seems more curious
still, a walking flower, described as a creature
with a white body, pink spots and crimson bor
der.
A farmer who had employed a green Emeralder,
ordered him to give liis mule some corn in the
ear. On his coming in, the farmer asked: “Well,
Pat, did you give the corn ?” “To be sure I did.”
“How did you give it?” “And sureasye told me,
in the ear.” “Well.yez see, thecraythur would’nt.
liould still, and switching his ears about so 1
couldn’t git above a fistfull in both ears.”
A Quaker who had his broad brimmed hat
blown off by the wind, chased it. for a long time
\\ith fruitless and very ridiculous zeal. At last,
seeing a roguish-looking boy laughing at his dis
aster, he said to him: “ Art thee a profane lad ?”
The youngster replied that he sometimes done a
little in that way. “Then/’ said he, taking a
half dollar from his pocket, “thee may damn yon
der fleeing hat fifty cents worth.”
Earthi.v Glory.—The plaudits of earthly glory
will die in an echo, the laurel wreath will fade,
and the withered blossoms drop from the browot
the conquerer; but he who, like Howard lays the
foundation of his fame in the throbbing hear o
humanity, is carving out for himself a nan * e , .
shall survive the conflagration of worlds, an •
ring through the amaranthine bowers 0 1 .
ring tl,e endless ages of eten.it,V, ‘’ .Mel’which
powers of your mind in the pursuit o n
must burst as soon as touched.
Tub Stars —lt is the opinion of^astronome 1 s^t
there are stars so lnmtneJlv ten • m jpi ons
ted at the distance of twe \e .. , which trav
of miles from our caHh: miles
els with the of years
in a mmute, would requi t orbs t<) our own
!lVhaeX>S“> Who should record the
f mutations of such a star would be le
S’* <* the present day,but that
!, wh took place two millions of years gone by.
The nearest, P a Centauri, one of the brightest stars
bi the southern hemisphere, is at twenty-one bil-
Rois o?Sues distance-that is, its light would
require three years and a quarter to reach us.
The second, 61 Cygni is not newer than sixty
three billions of miles off, and its light requires
upwards of ten years to reach us.
A COIJIVtItV tOTTACE.
[The following is a pretty peep of a country
cottage, the praiseworthy certainty of the last line
making a homely but not inapt termination,]
The stream ripples bright by my cottage;
The sunshine is origin on the stream ;
And the wee pebbly stones in the sunshine,
Like diamonds sparkle and gleam.
There are hazel trees kissing the water,
And plumes of the fair meadow-sweet;
And down by the hazels sit 9 Jeame,
And dabbles her little white feet.
The robin peeps in at my door way;
The linnet looks down from the tree;
And here, pillowed up in his cradle,
Wee Sunday sits smilingat me.
My milk-pail stands bright in the corner,
My tins are all bright on the shell;
And the white supper-cloth on my table
Is clean, for 1 washed it myself!
THE PROUDEST LADY.
BY T. WESTWOOD.
The queen is proud on her throne,
And proud are her maids so fine;
But the proudest lady that cverwas known
Is a little lady of mine.
And “oh ! she limits me, she flouts me,
And spurns, and scorns, and scouts me ;
Though I drop on my knee and sue for grace,
And|bcg,Jand beseech, with the saddest face, ’
Still ever the same she doubts me. ’
She is twenty by the calendar—
A lilly’s almost as tall;
But oh ! this lady’s by far
The proudest lady of all.
It’s her sport and pleasure to flout me,
To spurn, and scorn, and scout me;
But ah 1 I’ve a notion it’s naught but play,
That, say what she will, and feign what she may,
She can’t well do without me.
When [she rides on her nag away,
By park,’and road, and river,
In a little hat so jaunty and gay,
Oh then she’s prouder than ever !
And oh! what faces, what faces!
What petulant, pert grimaces !
Why, the very pony prances and winks,
And tosses his head, and plainly thinks
He may ape her airs and graces.
But at times, like a pleasant tune,
A sweeter mood o’ertakes her;
Oh ! then she’s sunny as skies in June,
Ar.d all her pride forsakes her.
Oh she dances round me so fairly !
Oh ! her laugh rines out so rarely!
She coaxes and nestles, and looks and pries,
In my puzzled face with her two bright eyes,
And says, “I love you dearly !”
Oh ! the queen is proud on her throne,
And proud are her maids so fine;
But the proudest lady that ever was known
Is that little lady of mine.
Good lack ! how she teases and flouts me,
And spurns, and scorns, and 9couts me;
But ah ! I’ve a notion its nought but play,
That say what she will, and feign what she may,
She can’t well do without me.
LITERARY MEN’S WIVES.
The newspapers take a profound interest at pres
in the troubles of Sir Edward Bulwer and Mr.
Dickens, by reason of those two distinguished
persons having been afflicted with unsympathetic
wives. Their case was certainly hard. What is
an author to do when (as was the case as with Mr.
Dickens,) the wife of his very bosom, to whom he
reads his works in manuscript, will fall asleep
under his finest passages? when she can hardly
refrain from laughter at his pathos, and when his
humorous touches go near to make her cry? Is
this the love, honor and obedience that she vowed
to him at the altar ? Is it not an incompatibility ?
And we put it to any reader of sensibility wheth
er there is any adequate remedy save divorce a
mensa et thoro.
As for Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, orLytton Bul
wer, his grievances have been, if anything, even
harder to bear. He makes a parliamentary effort,
abounding with his most philosophic sentences and
his vixen of a wife absolutely sneers at it. “What
man or member could do less than Sir Edward did
—strike her in the face? Under the same roof they
must abide no longer; but even separation does not
entirely protect Sir Edward. For years she taunts
and lampoons and ridicules him; and at last on
a high and solemn day, when as a minister of his
soverign, he appers before his constituents and po
litical friends, she absolutely comes forward among
the crowd and—looks at him. A cat, indeed, may
look at a king; but for an offending wife whom one
has felt it his duty to thrash to thrust herself in
amongst an admiring multitude and hold up be
fore a prosperous statesman, moralist and philoso
her, the very face which he had pounded—was
too much. Nothing but a private mad-house, aa
it appears to us —shaving the head and copious
shower-baths—could properly discipline that lady.
To a private mad-house, accordingly she was sent
to meditate there at leisure upon the duties of an
author’s wife.
These stories have a moral which some writers
diligently treasure up and illustrate. The moral
is, that “men of genius” are peculiarly liable to
this species of trouble. Milton, Byron, Shelley,
Edgar Poe —none of them found it possibble to
live with their own wives, though with other men's
wives, some of them could endure life for a time.
It thus becomes a prima facie proof that a gentle
man is a “man of genius” when he quarrels with
his wife; it would be out of all rule if a truly lit
erary man could find a sympathetic heart in that
domestic relation ; and as we have in this country
great numbers of authors and literary celebrities,
they will naturally feel that to complete their
character, they had better all abandon their wives.
They can complicate the transaction (to avoid
monotony) with some of those dramatic and thril
ling incidents which they so well know how to
get up. Thus they can make their lives sublime,
and create a personal interest that will sell their
next hook. In this way each of them can become
not only a romance-writer or poet, but himself a
living Romance, a Fiction that walks, a Poem that
drinks juleps. This is the moral.— Southern Citi
zen.
A Hit at tiie Lawyers.— Judge Jones of ,
Indiana, who never allows a chance for a joke to
pass him, occupied the bench when it became
necessary to obtain a juryman in a case in which
L and B were employed as counsel.
The former was anhlliterate llibernian,|tlie latter
decidedly German in his modes of expression.
The sheriff’ proceeded to look round the room in
search of a person to fill the vacant seat, when he
espied a Dutch Jew and claimed him as his own.
The Dutchman objected:
“I can’t unsthand goot Englese.”
“What did he say?” said the Judge.
“I can’t unsthand goot Englese,” he repeated.
“Take your seat,” cried the Judge, “take your
seat, that’s no excuse ; you’re not likely to hear
any of it!”
Under that decision lie took his seat.
.
A Philanthropist. —Some few years ago. Dou
glas Jerrold ordered a brougham. On going to
bis coachmaker’s to look at it before it “' as
home, he spoke highly of its beauty an *
especially of the mirror-like glossing of the var
ni b “Ah” said the wit, “it is unfleckea oy a
speck now, but those back panels
their share of scratches from tbe.saucy .urchi^
jvho indulge Se eoachbuilder, -a
„ thousand scratches on my carnage
Sr; one on the hand of a footsore lad to whom
a stolen lift might ben godsend.
Thf Hopr-G lass.— Coming hastily into a cham
ber 1 had almost thrown down a crystal hour
pear lest I had broken it made me grieve
a if I had But, alas! how much precious time
hare I cast away without any regret. The hour
<fl iss was but crystal, each hour a pearl; that but
like to be broken, this lost outright, that but
casually, this done wilfully; a better hour-glass
might ’ be bought, but time once lost, is lost ever.
Thus we grieve more for toys than for treasure.
Lord, give me an hour-glass, not to be by me, but
to be in me. Teach me to number my days. An
hour-glass to turn me that I may apply my heart
unto wisdom. — Dr Thomas Fuller.
Ennui is a French word for an English and
American malady, which generally arises from
the want of a want, and constitutes the complaint
of those who have nothing to complain of. When
this ugly Goliath haunts the mind, he is to be
subdued only by exertion and occupation. “Throw
but a stone, the giant dies.” Authors have too
much to do with printers’ devils to be annoyed
with blue devil. They may infliot ennui, but they
seldom suffer it. No exorcism for the spleen ana
the vapors like that of the Muse. When Bellero
phon went forth to conquer the Chimwra, he
mounted Pegasus.