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THE FRIEND OF THE FA MIL Y. VOLUME 11. €l)t jfrituii nf Cjjc jfututltj, A Weekly Southern Newspaper, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY EDWARD J. PURSE. J, E R M S : Two Dollars a year, in advance, or Two Fifty if not paid within three months. SUBSCRIPTIONS RECEIVED FOR SIX MONTHS, AT ONE DOLLAR, IN ADVANCE. Three copies tor one year, or one copy three years, $5 00 •Seven Copies, 10 00 Twelve copies, - -- -- -- 15 00 *** Advertisements to a limited extent, will be inserted at the rate of 50 cents for a square ol twelve lines or less, for the first in sertion, and 30 cents for each subsequent insertion. Business cards inserted fora year at Five Dollars. H?"A liberal discount will be made to Post Masters who will do us the favor to act as Agents. Postmasters are authorized to remit mo ney to Publishers and all money mailed in presence of the Postmaster, and duly for warded bv him, is at our risk. rF* ah communications to he addressed ((post-paid) to E. J. PURSE, Savannah, (la. FALLIG-ANT & TAYLOR, ’CONTRACTORS & BUILDERS, Shop corner Whitaker and Terry Streets, • Jan 4 ly SAVANNAH. W. S. LAWTON & CO., Warehouse & Commission Merchants, MACON, GEORGIA. LAWTON & DOWELL, FACTORS Sc COMMISSION MERCHANTS. No. 210 Bay St. Savannah, Ga. Tender their Services to their Friends and the Public nnv 2 W. S. WILLIFORD, Auction fy Commission Merchant, MACON, GA. HU* All kinds of Merchandise and Produce [except Liquors] received on Consignment.or Pur chased to Order. 1 yr liov 2 CLASSICAL & ENGLISH SCPIOQL. No. 159 Browghton-St. BERNARD MALLON, Principal. J. 11. LUTHER, A. M., Classical Teacher. MISS V. JONES, Assistant. nov 9 GEO. M. WILLETT & CO., DEALERS IN • GROCERIES , WINES , LIQUORS , TOBACCO, SEGARS, FRUIT, PICKLES, Preserves , Confectionary, Sy Garden Seeds. All kind* of Fish and Oysters, when in season. No. 68 St. Julian and 101 Bryan Streets , J P. A. DuroN, ? (Waring’s Building.) John R. Tkbeau, ( nov A BOOK AND JOB PRINTING. GEO. N. NICHOLS, (Ovens’ Building, opposite the Pulaski House,) SAVANNAH, GA. I* prepared to execute all work in his line, with neatness and despatch, and in a stylo not to be surpassed. Prices as reasonable as any other establishment D the city. ly sept 28 Gk BUTLER, MASTER BUILDER, DEALER IN WHITE PINE LUMBER, York Street, Oglethorpe Square. B. —He is prepared to put in Iron fronts in Store*, &>e. ly oct 19 T. R. CLARKE, FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER, Next door to corner Bull and Broughton-sts. ct io !y A. PONCE, Importer and Manufacturer of Segars, No. 13 Whitaker Street, Koeps on hand a well selected stock of impoited fjefirar# ? also Manufactured 1 obacco. Snuff, 1 U” and all other articles usually kept in bis line .i business, which he offers on the most reasonable terms. ly oct E. T. SHEFTALL, attorne yat law, ma y 25 DUBLIN, GEORGIA. MEDICAL NOTICE. DOCTOR MOREL. Office No. ir>7 Brough ton Street. ts mar 23 j D3 MARTIN, DEALER IN Fruils, Wines, Liquors, Segars. rtCKI.ES, TUESERVES and GARDEN SEED. —: also : APPLES, ONIONS 4’ POTATOES, When in season, received fresh by every vessel. —: ALSO*. — Oysters put up to order in from. \ to 10 gallon kegs. Corner es Bay and Whitaker Streets, JOHN OLIVER, HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER, GILDER, GLAZIER, &c., 121 Broughtan. Street, n few doors east of ■ ‘ Whitaker Street, Savannah , Ga. rST All kinds of Paints —Paint Oil, Turpentine, famish, Glass. Putty, &c., for sale. July 20 EDWARD G. WILSON, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, ponveyancer, Collector, Accountant Copyist, Office under J. M. Haywood’s. rF“ Return Day. Wednesday, February 19th. COLLINS & BULKLEY. Importers and Dealers in CROCKERY CHINA <fc GLASS WARE, FAMILY Hardware, Table. Cutlery, Wood and WtlVovr Ware, Lamp*, Lanterns, Wicks, &c. f Also, Camphine and Burning Fluid, I ogether •with a great variety of Fancy and House I urnish hing Goods, at Low Prices. No. 100 Bryan St., Savannah, Ga. J. P. COLLINS, ? T. A. BULKLEY. ) nov2 MRS. SILBER, MILLINER DRESS MAKER No. 157 CONGRESS STREET, Has the pleasure of informing the LNs Rgflp Ladies, that she has returned from New York with e bcautilul assortment of Silk Pattern Bonnets, all colors, Straw, Leghorn, and New Fashioned style of Jens by Lind Bonnets. French Flowers and Ribbonos, of the latest styles, and a general assortment ot Fancy Goods and Trimmings. Also the Latest Fashion of Silks, Cassimere, Mousline de Lane, tee-, Ac. Ininfeii to literatim 1 , from? anil art, tjjc lons jf €f)ipmnrp, <f>Mi Jltaanrij anil tjjr Spins nf tjp intj. P. JACOES’ SEGAR MANUFACTORY, No. 27 Bull Street. 1 HE SUBSCRIBER keeps on hand at all times the nest Brands oi Havana Segars, and is ready to fdl orders for Country Merchants and others, as low as any other establishment in the Cit\. He also Manufactures Segars of various quali ties, and has on hand the best of Chewing Tobac co, Snuff, Sc e. Segar holders, Pipes —common and fancy—Port Monies, Segar Cases, Tobacco, Pouches, &c. Orders from the Country will be punctually attended to. nov 2 McARTHOR & MORSE, Manufacturers and Dealers in PLAIN, JAPANNED & BLOCK TIN WARE, lIOLLOYt & ENAMELLED WARE, STOVES AND COOKING RANGES, Lead Pipe, Sheet Lead. Copper and Zinc, STORE, l.‘{ BARNARD STREET. All kinds of Copper, Tin and Sheet Iron Work, done in the best manner, ut the shortest notice. _ B 'TL 2I . lyr ALLEN & BALL, FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 112 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA. J. M. BALL & CO., (Eo mmtSßlon Merchants, MACON, GEORGIA. ROBERT A. ALLEN, JAMES M. BALL, sept 20 ly N. ELLS, FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER, No. 104 Broughton-st., near the corner of Bull-st. oct 12 ts JONES & PAPOT, Shipwrights, Spar Makers, AND CAULKERS. Yard opposite R.& J. Lachlison’s Foundry. R. H. DARBY, r TB7’ . SSL AMEi <H£> „ Corner Broughton and Whitaker Streets, SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. R. H. D. is prepared to execute all orders for Making or Catting on reasonable terms, mar 9 ly J. S. STURTEVANT, MASTER BUILDER, Corner Montgomery and Liberty Sts. AU orders in his line will be promptly attended 10, and faithfully executed. ly june 1 JOHN V. TARVER, FACTOR 4- COMMISSION MERCHANT EXCHANGE WHARF, SAVANNAH, GA. RABUN & FULTON, COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 207 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga. J. XV. RABUN, R. L. FULTON, I. P. WHITEHEAD. LANIER HOUSE, BY LANIER & SON, june 22 Macon, Georgia. J. HASBROUCK & CO., Wholesale and Retail Dealers in CHINA, GLASS AND EARTHENWARE , sept 21 BROUGHTON STREET, SAVANNAH. S. Y. LEVY, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Office, No. ISS Bay-Street. FRANCIS WAVER IMPORTING & COMMISSION MERCHANT, No 107 Bay Street, Savannah, Geo. PHILIP KEAN, DRAPER AND TAILOR, AND DEALER IN READY MADE CLOTHING. Penfield’s Ranje, No. 98 Bryan Strept, Store formerly occupied by J. Southwell & Cos. J. T. JONES, MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN Double & Single Guns. Riiies, &c., West .Side of Monument Square. A SHORT, MASTER BUILDER, Will take contracts for Building and Work in Masonry of every description. Corner of Smith Broad and Whitaker si rents. may 26 CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER. The subscriber is prepared to oxeciue with neatness and despatch all work in the above line. 142 Broughton St. Two Doors West ol I. W. MORRELL’S Furniture Store. pine 1 ly I. SOLOMONS. Agent. CLOTHING, TIERSON & HE IDT offer for sale CLOTHING, Wholesale and Retail, at New York juices, No. 10 Whitaker Street. apl ~6 GAS PIPES AND FIXTURES. STRATTON &. DOBSON, Having received an assortment of Chandeliers, Pendants, Brackets and Portable Gas Burners, respectfully invite the citizens of Savannah to call at their store. No. 72 St. Julian street, and examine the same 4t june 1 DR. J. DENNIS, BOTANIC DRUGGIST, Next door above L. C. Warren &. Cos, Augusta, Ga. Keeps constantly on hand a choice assortment, selected from the best establishments in the United States, consisting of Emetics, Cathartics, Diapho retics, Diuretics, Expectorants. Emmenagosues, Stimulants, Tonics, Astringents, Nervines, Alka lies, Alteratives, Rubefacients, and Compounds tor family use. Composition Powder, No. Six, Lobelia in its various preparations, Ac., also Medical Books. may 4 ALFRED HAYWOOD, CORNER BRYAN AND BARNARD STREETS, Market Square, Savannah, Dealer in Choice FRUITS, CANDIES. NI TS, ORANGES. LEMONS, APPLES, AND PO TATOES, Wholesale and Retail. First quality Thunderbolt Oysters, Fish. & c. Newark refined Champaigne Cider, and Albany Cream Ale, by the bbl. Orders from the Country, accompanied by the cash or City reference, punctually attended to * ai, g 9 G. M. GRIFFEN, jfiL HAVING purchased the stock in trade of thelate M. Eastman, would solicits the con a#iifrtinued patronage of all the friend of the establishment. All customers shall be pleased with goods and satisfied with prices. GEO. M. GRIFFEN- N. B. —Watches and Chrometers will receive the personal attention of Mr. G. as usual, sept 12 DAGUERREOTYPES. - P. M. CARY would respectfully give notice to the public that his Rooms, corner Bryan Street and Market Square, arc now open, where he will be happy to wait upon all persons who would have their pictures well taken. dec 7 Iflrrtrir From Mrs. Ellis’ Morning Call. THE WISH OF A WEARY HEART. Oh ! that I was bu| a little child, Once more—once more! Hocked in a boat amongst breakers wild On a pebbly shore ! Oh! that I might but play with flowers Os Spring—sweet Spring ; And lie, and listen, in leafy bowers, To hear the birds sing. Oh! that I might, on some breezy hill Away—away— Wander, and drink in my deep heart’s fill Os the golden day. Oh! that I might forget—forget The world, and its strife ; And watch tho bright sun rise, and set, All my long life. Oh ! that I might but rest! Sweot rest, Come back to me ! Why hast thou left me this weary breast, That pines for thee ? “ Fool! thou wouldst tire of the breezy hill, And the lazy hours, The golden summer would fail to fill Thy heart with its flowers. “Fool! thou hast drank, where thou shouldst have sipped, Os life’s sweet dream ; Thou hast bathed, where thou shouldst have only dipped, In its troubled stream. ** Thou art sated and weary, because to thee Too deep—too deep, Has been the swoll of the world’s rough sea, Where none may sleep. “ But faint not; the battle will soon bo o’er, The victory won ; If straight for a homo on the better shore Thy course be run.” frlnlcii Cale. [From Mrs. Ellis’ Morning Call. SELF-DECEPTION; OR, THE HISTORY OF A HUMAN HEART. Seasons of sorrow, especially when occasioned by sickness and death, are those in which everyone longs to escape from the noise and the tumult of great cities. Scarce ly could the advantages of a total change from this kind of life have been more cordially embraced by any human sufferers, than by Ella More and her mother, after the first few weeks of mourning had passed over in their town residence. There was then no longer anything in Lon don to claim their attention, or to awaken interest in their minds; arid except the meresthousehold remem brances which still clung about the heart of the elder Indy, there was little to call forth affectionate regret on leaving it for an indefinite pe riod. There are, in fact, no people who take so little root, as the dwellers in great cities—no doors so easily closed upon departing steps, as those which open upon public streets —no hearthstones about which the heart hangs so few tendrils, as those ; which send up the smoke of their fires to mingle with the dense at mosphere of a thickly peopled city. London has, unquestionably, many charms to those who have breathed its dust, and trod its ashes,from their childhood ; but to leave it is always an escape and its tired denizens are, for the most part, able to go forth with fewer regrets than attend the departure from any other home. In the present instance, there was not only little for our travellers to grieve for in what they left behind them, but there was much to attract in the new scenes upon which they were about to enter. Miss Mason, a very energetic lady, who knew everybody —at least, everybody worth knowing —was already on the field of action before them, and had announced the expected arrival of the widow and her daughter to a pretty numerous circle of ladies and gentlemen, who were, most of them, exceedingly genteel people—ex ceedingly well-meaning—but at the same time, exceedingly idle. Miss Mason, although scrupulously plac ing first in her list of recommenda tions, the great worthiness of the wid- ow, had also spoken of her wealth , and, altogether, there had been got up a very favourable feeling towards the new comers, amongst the small but increasing circle of society al ready occupying a favourite place of resort on the south-western coast of England. The settlement of Mrs. More and her daughter in their new home, surrounded as it was by every natural advantage of air and scene ry, was consequently made under the most favourable circumstances. It was made, too, at that pleasant time of the year when summer first begins to show symptoms of wan- SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1851. ing into autumn ; and when the har vest season, triumphant over life, and loveliness, and bloom, flaunts its gay banners over field and wood, announcing with all the splendour of a recent, but a mighty conquest, that freshness and vigour are al ready mastered by decay, and that life has surrendered to the power of death. The small and quiet little town which iormed so great an attraction as a winter residence, situated in a lovely valley opening out upon the sea, was sheltered on either side by lofty ridges of wooded hill, present ing many lovely pictures of white cottages, and villas studding the prospects on either side. These, on the first arrival of the Mores, looked rather dull and lifeless; but they soon began to fill with strangers from all parts of the country, who each in their turn, excited the interest and curiosity of those who had se cured a residence before them. From the very limited range of her acquaintance with the world, Ella More was unable to recognise the faces of any of these new-com ers. She said she did not wish to meet with any one whom she had known before; she hoped her moth er would make no intimacies; and, above all things, insisted upon it, that they ought not, under present circumstances, to think of visiting at all. Thus all the endeavours made by Miss Mason to draw Ella into company, proved, for a con siderable length of time, entirely fruitless. Perhaps *he means she employed were not the best adapted to her purpose ; for Miss Mason had a peculiar fancy for taking attract ive young ladies under her wing,so as to be able to lecture them,and ex hibit them, at the same time.— Wherever she went, she was sure to pick up some pretty girl or ano ther, lo make a pet of, as she called it; but, in other words, to try her good influence upon, and so to re ceive, in her turn, some of the off shoots of that flattering attention which youth and beauty are always sure to command. Classing herself habitually with such a girl, and moving about with her like a kind of double, or shadow, Miss Mason could say we, with the utmost com placency, even where admirers of the other sex were concerned ; and would sometimes go so far as to speak of the number, the trouble some attentions, the folly, or the fashion of the beaux whom we were unable to get rid of, though endea vouring to do so with all our might. And many were the young ladies who felt themselves happy to be admited into partnership with so useful, so honourable awe ; but Ella was not of this number. In her present slate of mind she was more likely to become a patroness herself, if that, as Miss Mason seem ed to think, meant an adviser against the evils of society, and a protector from its snares. Ella was, at present, far more likely to set up on her own account in this praiseworthy cause, than to be taken by the hand, so as to lie involved in any kind of we. Her tendencies of character were all, just now, of an opposite nature. To sit alone in her own apartment, or to warder unattended along the sea-shore, ap peared to be her only enjoyment. When prevailed upon to accompa ny iier mother in any of the nu merous calls .which Mrs. More felt it her duty, or her pleasure, lo make, Ella was silent, pensive, and absorbed. Finding no interest in the conversation, she lost herself in dreams, from which she had to be roused afresh each time that an at tempt was made to call her atten tion to present things, or to occupy a place in her thoughts. When ever such attempts were made, Ella started blushed, and looked about with a very pretty kind of astonish ment, sometimes smiling at her own absence of mind; but she soon hung her head on one side, and was lost again, waiting to be again recalled when she was absolutely wanted. Mrs. More felt wholly at a. loss what to make of this new feature, which she had never before seen developed by her daughter’s char acter. Had Ella’s hair turned white or black, the moiher couH scarcely have been more surprised. Absent, and moody, she had never seen her daughter before, nor entertained an idea that her lively, glowing, quick feeling Ella, could sink into such strange abstraction as now seemed to have overtaken her. Fond as Mrs. More had ever been of con sulting with advisers, she now made use of her privilege in this way to a more than wonted extent. So nu merous, however, were the indi viduals to whom she applied forad vice, and so varying and so widely different the cunstructions they put upon the case, that the poor widow was even more deeply involved in wonder and confusion, after she had consulted her friends, than be fore. Miss Mason suggested an at tachment, as the cause of EL'la’s absence of mind ; and a hopeless at tachment soon spread about in the circle upon which Miss Mason and her attendant young lady called.— An attachment seemed the ino.st probable, or the most pleasing idea to all; but the mother persisted in it, that an attachment was not the cause, inasmuch as her daughter knew nobody to be attached to. She had heard little of the circum stances of her visit in the north, and, in the absence of sdl indi vidual association to supply the vacuum, she even touched once or twice upon Mr. Stevens himself, as the only chance her daughter hail ever been thrown in the wa} r of. Nothing was easier than to spread the intelligence of an attachment, in such au idle unoccupied little place as the town of C , wiih its surrounding neighborhood of elegant cottages, villas, and lodging houses, all beginning to be filled with their population of gossiping, do-nothing, half-poorly, and very nervous people. Nothing was ea sier than to get up a mystery there, and the innocent wonder of the mol her, with her often-expressed unconsciousnessof the fact, afforded ample evidence to many that there was an attachment, and to some that there was such an attachment as there ought not lo be. Had the desire of Ella’s heart been to make herself distinguished, by being constantly the theme of conversation, she could not have adopted a more certain method of accomplishing this end, than by her lonely walks, her silent musings, and the general air of abstraction by which her manners in company was so peculiarly marked. Per haps she had never calculated upon the consequences, when adopting this new, and to her, unnatural style of conduct; but, like many others, who afterwards quarrel with the world for meddling with their affairs, she first made herself singu lar, and then wished people would not watch her, nor talk about her —she first wrapped herself in mys tery, and then wondered why peo ple should busy themselves in try ing to penetrate the veil in which it was her pleasure, just at the pres ent moment to be clothed. A few years’ more experience would have made her acquainted with a fact very useful to know— that if we do really wish to be alone amongst the many— if we do really wish to keep within ourselves a store of cherish ed thoughts, which a stranger may not meddle— if we do really wish to pass without comment or obser vation along the peopled ways of life—we must flnix with society on its own terms; we must mingle with mankind simply as one of the many ; we must converse with ease on common topics, listen with the outer ear to every one who speaks, wear at least a smile when others laugh, and so fill in with the current of human life, as to glide smoothly down the stream, neither creating a bubble nor an eddy on their own account. This is the great secret of not being talked O t O about, which all may learn ; and this also is the great secrelof’ bearing about with ns an inner life, untouch ed, unmeddled with, and, sometimes even unsuspected. Ella More was far enough from having arrived at this stage of ex perience; possibly, she had not yet arrived at the wish to reach it.— That absent, lost and starting state to which some individuals attain, has, certainly, but ltttle to do with the cherishing of a deep inner life ; and this was more properly Ella’s condition at the present time. She was not, however, wholy without method in her meditations, nor without purpose in her solitary mu sings. The past was often in her thoughts, accompanied with a pain ful remembrance of duties neglect ed and wrong impulses obeyed.— These formed the frequent subject of her silent musings, for it was self upon which she perpetually dwelt and pondered; and when she looked into the future, it was self still. Self was to begin life afresh; self wasto become a pattern of benevolence, and of virtue of every kind ; self was to visit the sick, assist the poor, and do every thing which was good and looked beautiful in the doing; self owed nothing to those disagreeable tire some people who were met with every day in society , self was not interested in them, go this very praiseworthy and disinterested self went musing about alone, and won dered bow its benevolent and high minded purposes could best be brought to bear upon the circum stances of th e suffering, or the con dition of the poor. “Surely,” thought Ella, “ there must be some dear old woman in one of those cottages by the sea, or some old fisherman, to whom I could read the bible, ot some sailor with a bro ken limb. I should like very much to begin to be kind, and do good to such people. How much better that would be, than sipping coffee and talkin g nonsense in a drawing room, amongst those one cares nothing 3ibout.” It was not long before these be nevolent emotions found an object on which to expend themselves.— Passing one day by the door of a cottage, £l]a was struck by the ap pearance of a poor woman who seemed to be looking intently out in the direction of the sea, shading her eyes, at the same time, with her hand, that she might gaze far into the distance, unembarrassed by the glare of the bright sunshine, which made the whole surface of the ocean brilliant ns a mirror.— Struck by the earnestness of her manner, as tho woman remained in this fixed attitude, Ella stopped almost unconsciously by her side, and she also looked in the same di rection, using the edge of her open parasol for the same purpose as the woman used her hand. There were certain signs of weariness, like that which comes after a long series of disappointments, when the woman looked awav from the broad expanse of the ocean to the fair figure by her side. Ella had a heart naturally overflowing with warm sympathies, if she would have done them justice, and she asked the poor woman, in a tone of friendly interest, if she was expect ing any one home, that she looked so earnestly upon the sea. The woman shook her head.— “There is one very dear to me,” see said, “upon yon broad waters, somewhere. It’s fifteen months now, come Michaelmas, since he went away—the bravest lad, and the noblest that ever mothers’ eve rested on. They told me his ship would he home some three weeks since. I know it was spoke some where out at sea, and all was then well.” “ The weather is very still and fine,” observed Ella. The poor woman shook her head again, and answered quietly, in a lower tone, “Just now, it is; there’s no doubt about that: but it’s a treacherous time of year. How ever, I am not going lo mistrust Providence. I have been helped through thus far. and he may come in to-morrow, or next day, or the day after that. lam not despair ing, Miss. I have been helped through a good deal in my time.— It would be strange if I should grow mistrustful as I grow old.— Would j’ou please to take a seat, Miss, in my humble place, here. Many that come to this part are weakly and soon tire, and our hills try them very much at first. But it’s a fine air, Miss—a beautiful air.” “ I feel it so,” said Ella, turning into the cottage, and at the same time loosening the strings of her bonnet. “ Mine is only a poor place,” ob served the woman, “ but if you would like to rest a bit, it’s very quiet, and we have a fine look-out from the porch. Suppose I put the chair there for you, Miss, and you can sit and look out. A finer sea view nobody could have, and you can see the ships go by.” The poor woman, as she said this, took out a chair from her little sit ting-room, and having dusted it with her apron, she placed it for her visitor just so as to command the widest and finest view of the ocean, which rolled at a vast depth below them, apparently almost be neath their feet. “ ft is indeed a fine situation this of yours,” said Ella. “ Yes,” replied the woman, “ in still weather; but it’s somewhat ex posed in the winter months.” “And having relations at sea, * 1 • ~ 7 you feel it more,” observed Ella. “ No doubt—no doubt,” replied the woman. Eve sat at iny lire all night when every blast seemed to blow through me, and the waves, as they beat upon the rocks below there, seemed to shout and scream like drowning men. Nay, l have even run out to see, so sure did I feel that a vessel was on shore.— And all the time there was nothing —nothing but wind and waves, and a high sea booming up into the hol low caves; for, as I take it, it’s the echo of those caves that makes the uproar when the tide swells in.” “ You grow nervous with living so much alone,” observed Ella. “ It may be so, no doubt,” replied her companion. “ Jt’s lonesome enough living here, as I do. It’s lonesome enough sometimes, and needs a stout heart to bear it. But I’m not complaining.” This was the poor woman’s cus tomary conclusion, even while her tone and manner indicated feelings widely different from too e which she professed. Finding herself, however, in the pre ; * of one who seemed disposed only to sympathise in her gr. but to listen to her history, the poor wo man went on, by no means reluc tantly, to improve her short ac quaintance with Ella, by relating to her the story of her life. It was no uncommon one for the poor, but striking to the young visitor, in its many trials, sorrows and privations, to the simple recital of which she listened attentively; and when at last she rose to take her leave, it was with a promise to return when ever she had leisure, and perhaps to bring some book with her, so as better to beguile the thoughts of the anxious mother from her long and fruitless watching of tlie sea. The history of Mrs. Lane, for that was the poor woman's name, was a very simple one. The v idow of a seafaring man, and the mother of five sons, all of whom had died bv shipwreck or other accident, except the youngest, now upon his vovage home, she had learned habitually to anticipate calamitous tidings, on the return of a vessel; even though she knew there was an equal pro bability that it might arrive with a full freight of joy for her. Ella More, young as she was, and wholly inexperienced in tho.-e sor rows which destroy the natural buoyancy of a hopeful heart, ven tured to reason with the mother against this tendency to sadness and despondency; and when her reasoning failed, she ventured to advise, without, however, being able to produce any satisfactory re sult; for while the poor widow ac knowledged the truth of all she said, and repeated again and again her habitual expiessions of trust in a good Providence, who had never forsaken her—yet it was evident that her spirit was perpetually sink ing within her, under a load of fear ful apprehensions, which she could not wholly dissever from her hopes. “ hook you,” said she to her young adviser, one day, “1 do trust I do believe that all which God ordains is right, and wiil he ri^ht; and 1 say as much to myself every hour of the day. But who knows that it may not be right for my boy to be dashed upon some far-off rock, or seized some monster of the sea, oi left to hunger amongst savages in some cannibal island ? and so I may never look into his pretty fact again. Ah ! my sweet young lady, give me comfort for that, will you V” Ella was wholly at a loss how to propose any but the most common place mode of consolation, under such a state of feeling. Her sea son of experience had not come yet when her ail might hang upon one beloved object, and that one be in peril. Her hour had not come yet, when the right should be acknow ledged—the well-doing of an Om nipotent arm confessed; and yet! —and yet! She was herself only sporting with the waves on the shore of that great ocean which she still bad to cioss. It lay before her smooth and bright, but deep and treacherous. Its hollow caves were moaning in the distance, hut she heard them not. Its waves were rolling vast and wide over unfath omable mysteries, which she had never thought of solving. Its bound less waters were swelling upon shores by her unknown, undream ed-of yet, Its sunken rocks were sleeping underneath, and she be held them not. let over that vast ocean she, like all other human voy agers, must go. Has she the well trimined barque, the sails, the cor dage, ready V Goes she forth alone ? of stands a pilot at the helm, guid ing the course of her light vessel, keeping it ever onward, and steer ing directly for the blessed haven ? There was something in the situa tion of the lonely widow in her cot tage on the cliff which interested, the feelings of Ella More, in a far higher degree than they were in terested by what she considered the common-place acouaintances amongst whom her mother found unceasing occupation, of one kind or another. Mrs. More was by na ture formed for the little things of life ; and, what was very cheering and consolatory under all her trials* she could feel great upon what in it self was little . I hus she enjoyed all the exhilarating influence of a new fact, or anew development, even when the fact was a raindrop NUMBER 49,