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(low among the flowering cainillias. Before it stood an alabaster vase; the picture ol a young lovely girl looked down, as il from the wall, in tenderness upon it; books were there behind gilded wire-work; all was bright and beautiful. This little boudoir opened into the drawing room, where a youth was playing some grand sacred music; the dove flew from side to side of'the cage ; some hotly heard, and said the poor bird wants to get out, he sees the daylight through the window; so they put down the Venetian blind and a soft green gloom, as of a wood in sunshine, filled the room. The youth continued to play, and the poet’s children came in to listen also; nobody but them thought more ol the dove. “ r J he dove does not like it,’’ said they to each other, for the dove was more to them than the musie;‘*it distresses him, it is no use telling them not to play; but oh! how unhappy he is! Let us take him and hang him in our room; it is so quiet there.’ They hung his cage in their pretty room; call ed him the sweetest names they could think of, and w'ent dow r n to listen to the beautiful music. But they could not forget the dove. In less than an hour they stole up stairs: the room w r as dusk, and the bird calm and still; they thought he slept; and they closed the door soltly lest they should wake him. The next time they looked at him he was just in the same place ; they mount ed on a chair, peeped into the cage, and then they knew the truth. His little life, like that of the young musician and the old monk of Carmel, had passed away on the spiritual wings ol harmony. Life is a strange riddle; and all that I have told you of the little-dove is quite true. siisiMi w jlkbs. Contributed by the Author. NIGHT AND SUNSHINE; OR THE ODD FELLOWS CHRISTMAS. CHAPTER I. “ Past twelve o’clock ! ” cried the distant watch man, as the last stroke of the midnight hour w r as faintly borne through the violent tempest to the overstrained ear of a lovely girl, sitting in alowly tenement, that creaked and swayed to every blast as if complaing of its fury. “ Past tw r elve o’clock oh! why don’t he come ! ” half audibly muttered Mary Linton, convulsively pressing together her clasped hands in her icy fear; for there, before her lay that which must awe the stoutest, ere the frequency of the spectacle has numbed the shrink ing sensibilities of our nature —the stiffening rel ics of humanity ; and bending over the corpse as she wreathed her bony fingers into many a dis gusting figure, glared op her from her stony eyes, an idiot girl; alas! for the contrast: life, in its in tensitv of beauty—in the freshness of youth and */ * health—in the joyousness of existence ; death , in the emaciated, aged corpse, whose sharpened features told of cares and suffering; and yet, alas! alas—for the contrast! Life and Death linked in horrid sisterhood, in that soulless idiot laughing and gibbering in her mirthless glee over the ghastly body of her now lied mother. Well might poor Mary tremble ! unused in the hush of night to open her eyes upon aught less peaceful than the silken curtains of her pleasant chamber, yet, who had the prompting of hu manity left that luxurious home to minister to her suffering fellow-beings, fearful was that hour!— the broken slumber of the only living inmate of that dreary room, save the senseless girl, came mingling its suffering sighs with the wailings of the storm, to which the beating of the hail, and moaning of an ominous dog without, formed but a saddening variation; and still as the blasts whirled round that crazy domicile t yelling as mad dened because they could not overthrow 7 it, louder and more frantically rang the laughter of the in sane girl. Gloomily had that day set in, and gloomy in deed w 7 ere the reveries of the watchers by the sick couch of the aged sufferer, sinking fast in death, hut who now 7 slept so calmly, and wore such a placid smile upon her countenance, that they almost envied her. Little did Mrs. Arden or her daughter dream, as they sat hut a few months since in their distant comfortable home, surrounded by the elegancies of refinement, that they would shortly he glad to gain the shelter of even such an humble roof, and he dependent upon those, who 100 often fatten on the toil of the widow and or phan, for a scanty maintenance. Mrs. Arden w r as the daughter of wealthy pa rents in one of the northern cities, losing her moth er in her infancy, she became the idol of her father hut mercantile reverses, year after year, sapped his spirits, and the loss of a large venture at sea, on which the insurance was, by some legal quib ble, unjustly withheld, threw him upon his death bed ; leaving his daughter an orphan with hut a few 7 hundred dollars inheritance. Accidentally thrown in the Charles Arden, they speedily became mutually enamored, and were wedded without the lady learning from her lover the op position made by his father to their union. Charles Arden w 7 as the only child of an opulent merchant, whose wife had been dead many years. It was his father’s intention, as soon as his “colle giate course was over, to take him with him in his firm, which w r as eagerly desired by his partner, with whose daughter it was proposed he should he joined in wedlock. Engaged together in busi ness many years, the partners had formed a fra- ternal friendship, and it was their favorite dream that in their children’s marriage, their houses, wealth and kindly feelings would he perpetuated, hut when did wise plans or grave heads guide love? With the lady of his choice Charles met, and an attachment was formed before he was even made acquainted with the cherished designs of his father, who would not listen a moment to anv remonstrance ot his son —accustomed to im plicit obedience, it almost astonished him that Charles should even dare to love without his di rection, and the curt reply to all his son could urge w r as, “ that il he did not at once diop all thoughts of any other union than the one lie had proposed, not only would he incur his Listing dis pleasure, hut he would cast him off without leav ing him one farthing ol his fortune. But Charles inherited something of the determination of his father, and, ignorant of the pertinancy and obdu racy of that parent, for separated neatly all hib life by his school and college days, he understood not the character with w hich he w'as dealing, and concluded that if the irrevocable step was once ta ken his father must relent, in an unlucky moment the lovers were wed, alas! too soon he discovered his error, for the hopes of his father’s forgiveness were quickly dashed, when on his revealing his marriage, his implacable parent ordered him never again to cross his threshhold, and alter several weeks of incessant importunity, the seal was put upon his hopes by reading, one morning in a pub lic print, greatly to his astonishment, a notice of his father’s second marriage; convinced now that hope was useless, he set himself to lay out some plan for his future conduct; without capital, and ignorant of business, the only prospect be fore him w r as that of taking charge of a school. — Opportunely an opening occurred in one of the western States, for he could not dream of re maining in his native city, and embracing the oc casion,.a few weeks after saw 7 him entered upon the duties of his vocation, success crowned his efforts, and before two years had passed, in the smiling home that an affectionate wife and the sunshine of an infant’s laughter spread, Charles Arden never regretted the fortune he had re nounced with a venal marriage. CHAPTER 11. The proper understanding of our narrative makes it requisite that w r e should glance at the elder Mr. Arden’s history after his rupture with his son; impetuous as obdurate, he resolved never to forgive the heinousness of his son in daring to make his own selection of a wdfe, and thus disappointed of the domestic happiness he had anticipated in that son’s family, he now con cluded to create one for himself. It might he percolating that inexplicable mystery, the human heart, too closely to search how far his w 7 as influ enced by a stern satisfaction in speculating upon the bitterness of this step to his son, which would be to him a convincing proof of his rejection, suffice it that his immense weath made his ad dresses any thing hut unwelcome to the lady he selected, and after but three weeks from his son’s marriage he led home a wife who was to supply the yearnings of his dissatisfied bosom. A daughter was the fruit of this union, and in his visions of the future the merchant once more beheld the vacuum filled. Alas ! that child grew up, without the light of intellect ever beaming from her eye, and after all that wealth lavishly expended could effect, the horrid truth was forced upon his mind that his daughter was a helpless idiot. Bitterly now, as day bv day wore on, without one gleam of sunshine, did that leaden-hearted man regret his rejection of his son, and had Charles appeared, how 7 cordially would he have been welcomed ; but his direction w 7 as unknown; his despondency wrought so heavily upon his spirits, that what was at first but a slight in disposition by which he was attacked, became so aggravated as to terminate fatally. Had he survived, his widow felt conscious that the huJk of his large fortune w 7 ould have been bequeathed to his son; hut nought appearing to the contrary, she inherited, by virtue of a will made a few weeks after marriage, his undivided estate. Al though thus legally entitled, the lady felt many misgivings of conscience, and a secret prompting to render the property to w hom she felt it was justly due, bat how strong are the hands of temp tation ; especially when those chains are gold ! and years rolled on without her hearkening to the still, small voice w 7 ithin. Increasing infirmities, and the knowledge of the utter uselessness of this world’s w r ealth to her afflicted daughter, were the instruments employed by Providence to work a change at length within her. Indeed from the first she had regularly intended some such course, being perhaps rather a weak than an evil minded woman.—Summoning up all her resolution, she heroically, in the true spirit of a Christian, re solved to make ample reparation for the w 7 rong she how 7 perhaps too acutely felt she had practiced upon Charles Arden; and an advertisement was placed in several papers, as a preliminary step, requesting him or his heirs to appear personally in New York, as such a course would be greatly to their advantage. Eager now that he should not be defrauded of his right, she not only used such legal mea sures as to secure to him two-thirds of the es tate left by his father, hut also from the remain der scrupulously added the interest which should have accrued upon it, and took such steps as to place it out of her power, even should she so de sire hereafter, to withdraw one farthing of the property thus disposed until such proof was af forded that no claimants existed. r l he advertise ment referred to a house in New \ork, where she waited perhaps a } 7 'ear, anxiously ex pecting, though in vain, some tidings of her step son; at the expiration of this time by the advice of her physician she removed to Baltimore, led to this step by the faint hope that her daughter’s health would be benefitted by a change of air and climate. Her own fortune, (well was it that the larger one of Charles had not been so disposed!) she placed in the United States Bank, hardly had she been settled in her new home when she was astonished by the failure of that institution, and this one blow reduced her from opulence almost to penury. Her first step after she had some what recovered from the stunning effects of the news was to remove to a less costly residence, but with her at least, was verified the old pro verb, that ‘misfortunes seldom come single,’ for from this she was ejected by a most disastrous fire, and now in her declining days, with her in sane daughter, was Mrs. Arden driven, if she would avoid the Alms-house, to depend upon her needle, for the scanty sustenance doled out too often by heartless avarice to its necessitated victims. CHAPTER 111. Return we to Charles Arden and his family. ‘Now my dear that you’ve acquired a knowledge of your business, can’t we turn it to account in some method calculated to gratify yonr father t who has so thoughtfully caused you to be instruo ted, not only that you may be useful in whatever sphere of life you may be thrown, but also should it be so ordered, be able to maintain yourself by your exertions.’ ‘Oh! I WQuld love, Mother! above all things, to present Pa with anew cloak for a Christmas gift,’ rejoined Caaroline Arden, the same child who had gladdened the first years of Charles Arden’s marriage, sixteen or seventeen years ago, and who now again appears, after the lapse of that period, had ripened the bud into a sweetly beau tiful flower. ‘And if you think yourself capable, my daugh ter, of making it, you shall be gratified, for your farther’s is quite worn out, and of late years his business has so depreciated that I know he will not be persuaded to furnish himself with another this winter.’ ‘But how will I obtain the materials without his knowledge and consent,’ enquired Caroline. ‘Why you know,'rejoined the mother, ‘that I’ve a sum of money deposited in the Savings’ Bank, which, as it was my own, prior to our marriage, your father will not be induced to use, but insists upon my retaining it, and appropriating the in terest to my own private purse, this is but little, yet it is sufficient to let us obtain the requisite ma terials without inconveniencing me, and you may get the articles this very evening if you desire, my dear!’ ‘Oh, thank you, thank you; I shall be so de limited, and now I’ve nearlv three months to work at it, without father finding out, and— ’ here she was interrupted by that parent’s en trance to his noon-day meal, and all conversation upon this subject ceased for the time. In the evening of the same dav, as Mr. Arden was sitting, apparently engaged in reading, but in fact despondingly musing upon the future, for after the many years of constant and unremitting attention to the duties of his academy, he found himself but little better off than at his first com mencement; true! now he could support his fam ily with respectability, but as he had nothing stored for a rainy day, melancholy forebodings preyed upon his mind, lest any unforeseen event should deprive him of the power of contributing to their necessities, thus ruminating he did not ob serve his daughter opening a parcel of drygoods that she might stealthily exhibit them to her moth er, but was startled by her sudden exclamation, ‘Bless me ! what’s this? why I declare to gracious, Pa, if this advertisement don’t refer to you !’ and eagerly she read the identical one which the widow of his father had caused months before to appear; anxiously did Mr. Arden peruse and reperuse the paragraph, before he could be convinced that it really had reference to himself, but after re peated readings he became satisfied that no mis understand ing existed, and the family now pass ed several hours in speculations and conjectures, growing out of a thousand fancies. Agitated as they were, the parents found but little rest that night, and did we pause to detail all Caroline’s dreams about cloaks that turned to mantles of gold, and the thousand phantasies of imagina tion induced by sleep, we would require the space of a volume. Busy indeed were the inmates of that family for the next few days in making preparations for Mr. Arden’s departure, and with double joy did Caroline forestal her Christmas present by sur prising her father most gratefully on the threshold at starting, by throwing over his shoulders her completed cloak. Arrived in New York, his native city, to which his long absence almost constituted him a stranger, our traveller met his first disappointment by learning much to his discomfiture that the gentleman to whom he was referred by his advertisement, was absent on a visit to Europe and would not return, it was expected, for a couple of months ; after many fruitless enquiries, the extent of informa tion he gained was that the notice in question ap peared through the means of his late father’s widow, who he gathered, had removed to Balti more, and hoping to discover her he directly took passage for that city, alas ! this was a disastrous trip indeed, for as he reached his destination some chance obstruction on the road overturned the car he occupied, and he was so seriously in jured by the accident as to be deprived of con sciousness, and for several weeks of the exercise of his intellectual faculties. Providentially, he had made the acquaintanceship of a young gen tleman with whom he travelled, by accident, dis covering that each belonged to that noble institu tion, the Order of Odd Fellows. Pitiful iudeed might have been the condition of the poor sufferer had not this friendship been formed,for no sooner had they reached the city, of which young Albert Linton was a resident, than with the prompt be nevolence of the hand with a heart in it, a com fortable provision was made for the unfortunate man, by the Order to which he belonged, and ar rangements to afford him all pecuniary and other aid necessary. To be Continued. A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY, SAVANNAH, THURSDAY APRIL 5, 1849. PREMIUMS. The following premiums will be awarded on the first of May to the successful competitors. To the Masonic Lodge having the greatest number of sub scribers to our paper at that time, ten copies will ba given gratuitously for one year. To the Odd Fellows Lodge, the same. To the Division of the Sons of Temperance, the same. IGNORANCE OF FRENCH—A NEW EMETIC. Unable to lay hands upon the “document” we must tall the below story as best we may—in the absence of the origi nal rendering. Some short time since, three jolly flat-boatmen found them selves, with full pockets arising from the sale of their “ ven ture,” eager anticipations of sight-seeing, and with most clam orous stomachs, for the first time in New Orleans. No soon er was their business satisfactorily adjusted, and their wallets stored safely away, than “Sam” cries “Now, boys! for some’at to eat, for darn my buttons, if my stomach don’t be gin to fancy my throat’s cut; and I guess we can git glorious grub at someone or other of these eating houses with queer names, —so let’s mosey !” “ Hold on, don’t you remember what they say about their cooking all sorts of things—frogs and such like varments, and lacing their colfee with brandy, who knows but we may find ourselves bolting tad-poles for chicken meat.” “Shut up Dave !” cried Mike, “ that bell-clapper of youra. What do we care if they do put a stick in the coffee for those who wish it. 1 dare say we can git it fit for cliristians, — and as for the outlandish cooking, I believe all that’s stuff— so let’s travel, for I’ll be dogged, if my in’ards ain’t growling and grumbling worse nor a menagerie of wild-cats ’fore feed ing time.” Hunger was a powerful persuader, for Dave felt as if he could bite ten-penny nails in two. So pocketing his suspicions he followed his comrades to the first Restaurant they could find. In due time, the trio were comfortably seated, making deep inroads into their plentiful supply of “ Gumbo,” which, having seen the waiter serving up to several customers, they had likewise ordered — The first keen edge of appetite being blunted, Dave was eying rather suspiciously the small bones he had picked from his plate, when several gentlemen entered, and one cried— “Garcon—cafe ! case pour quartre personnes.” Our friends started. Dave with face turning rather green ish, said “Thunder! Boys—did you hear that.” “ Darn my buttons, if it did’nt sound like ‘ poor cat,’ ” said Sam. “ I’ll be dogged if it didn’t!” responded Mike, nervously regarding his empty plate. “Dave wasn’t such a fool, after all—l do wouder what this stuff is we’ve been eating ?” “Vite!—Garyon vite ! Pousse case,” vociferated the new comer. Sam dropped his knife. Mike grew as pale as Dave, who exclaimed—“ There ! Puss coffee ! Oh! murder—murder! who knows but we’ve been eating lean kitten ! Don’t you feel it squirming in you. Oh! I’m so sick—ugh—ugh.” A moment after if you had chanced to he looking at the back door of the Restaurant, you would have seen three very sick young gentlemen “casting up accounts ” worse than if they had dined on emetics ; and “dogging” themselves “darn ing their buttons ” and their bad luck in getting such hottentot dishes into them for their first meal instead of a Christian din ner in New Orleans. THE CENTRAL RAIL ROAD. The following abstract of the earnings of this Road for the past four months is the best evidence that can be adduced of its management. 1847-8. 1848-9. December, - - - 37,421 73 67,861 05 January, - - - - 52,291 27 66,629 07 February, - - - 57,786 38 71,364 80 March, - - - - 51,434 38 *75,000 00 $198,933 76 $280,854 92 Shewing an increase of about eighty-two thousand dollar* in the past touf months, being far beyond the expectations of its most sanguine friends. * Approximate—the footing being incomplete. EARLY VEGETAEILES AND FR UIT\ It affords us pleasure to inform the Friends of the Family that Okera and Tomatoes, Water Melons, Pine Applet Bananas, &c.,can be purchased at Mr.DeMartin’s. Speakiog advisedly on the subject, we pronounce them very fine*