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DKKII llf THE STATE MfIISMSIS TEIeMI 111811 111 l flFllffflf jfllM
JOHN 11. SEALS, f
EDITOR & PROPRIETOR. (
NEW SERIES. VOL. It
TBMPIRAM (mm
PUBLISHED
EVERY THBRSDAY, EXCEPT TWO, fIS THE VEAR,
BY JOHN H. SEABS.
TERMS:
$! ( Qp i in &4^r { ce; or $2,00 atjthc end of the year.
84’L'ES OF ADVERTISING.
1 square (twelve lines or less) first msei-tion,..sl 00
Each continuance, ••• 50
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
six lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office 8 00
STANDING ADVERTISEMENTS.
! square, three months,,,,. T ANARUS,... T A NARUS,... ?T ?; 500
4 *♦>tUg, 7:■•::::*** f 22
i square. twelvemonths, 12 OO
% squares, -800
3 aqnares, “ H
4 squares, “ “ 25 00
Advertisements not marked with the number
of insertions, will bo continued until forbid, and
charged accordingly.
“Merchants, Druggists, and others, may con
| ~of for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
pKG<f't. ApyEBTiSEMENXp.
Sale qf Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 5 00
§s}£ qf Personal Property by Administrators,
haecutors, and Guardian's, per square,... 8 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
’ T ... 8 25
P'ISGAL REQUIREMENT’S.
Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators,
Exyeutors, or Guardians, are required by law to be
held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Notices of these sales must be
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be
given at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must
h.e published forty
Notice thaf application will be mafic to the Court
6f Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Megrqes, must
be published weekly for two months.
Citations for Letters of Administration must be
published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin
istration, monthly, six mouths —for Dismission from
Guardianship, forty days.
)tu!e§ for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly jo : r four months —for compelling titles
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
been given by the deceased, the full spetee of three
month-
will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
For tlie Crusader.
In Memoriam.
BY M A K Y F . B KY A N ,
ThKite's not a breeze to stir a silken curl
U poo the brow of beauty ; the lair moon
Lays her white hands upon the brow of Earth
In solemn benediction; Nature stills
Her myriad tones to list! the air scorns filled
With mystic music, sueli as angels heard
Upon the birth-day of the —Universe,
Wh,er} all the moving spheres together sang
In their high paths of light,
Oh! it must be
On such an holy hour, that angels draw
Nearer our sin-stained earth —their beauty veiled
By silver moonbeams, and their voices sweet,
Unheard by mortal ear, yet whispering low
Unto an inner sense. If it be so,
Then ’tis thy voice, that thus so deeply stirs
The fountain of my soul; Oh ! spirit blest,
Twin spirit of my life; the early loved,
And early lost! —my worshiped idol once
My guatdian angel now ! Oh ! it is sweet,
Yet sadly sweet, to dream that thou art near,
To hid tlie feet of mournful memory stray
Back to the past, and bring the blighted flowers
That strew its path.
We met in the first flush
Os warm impulsive youth; my girlish heart
Was one wild chaos, where young unfl.dgcd hopes - ;
Unformed, ambitious, burning dreams of love,
Rose restlessly, like to the Sea’s wild waves,
Until thy calm voice thrilled my very soul
And hushed the tumult, with its ‘‘Peace be stilll.”
I bowed my erring heart, in homage true,
To thy strong Christian spirit, and I felt,
Could that firm hand be laid upon my helm,
My life bark would be safe. It might be ;
Thy hand removtd the veil, for on thy 7 cheek,
Tlie- rose of death already bloomed, the sad
Foretelling flush.
‘1 here was no hope,
And so we parted—thy dear memory
Left, like a talisman, to guard from ill
Alas! alas! it did not, could not save
I quaffed the mingled cup my fate held forth,
Yet like some melody of early years,
Thy- mem’ry oft came o’er me, and thy hand
Seemed ever laid upon my wayward heart,
1 heard of thee as dying, calm, resigned,
Sustained by high and holy trust in Heaven,
Then came the tidings of a death-bed scene,
To wring my soul with mortal agony,
And now it is my hand, that writes to-night,
Thy “in memoriam.”
Thou didst once forbid
Unto thy gifted brother, that (when Death
Had claimed the victim, that he coveted)
Unto the world thy virtues should be told,
But ah I thou wilt not chide, if o-i this hour
Os holy beauty, my poor blighted heart
Breathe forth to thee its incense.
I have laid
Away the tokens of our saddened past; *
Thy letters —leaves from thy pure heart,—the flowers
You gave me.- But when o’er my shul, the waves
Os sorrow break I tu?n to them; and when,
Haunted and tno< ked by yearnings wild and vain
For hunnn love and human sympathy,
I cry despairingly, “Not here! not here!”
Ihy low voice answers me, “in Heaven! in Heaven.”
Thomasville, Ga.
Wr the Crusader.
The Two Students Dying in the Guard
House,
RV MISS C. IV. It A ItBKU,
“Vice is a monster of such frightful mein
That to be hated needs but to be seen.”
‘Try. thinking,*’ said Harry as be
threw up the Col ege window and gazed down in
to the street, “t)pfi old wuelp Billy Gore has ta
ken almost too much ‘O-be-joyful’ to day. lie's
got *a brick in his hat’ tha t Vcertain? See how lie
reels about!” and he pointed to an old man who
was walking, or rather staggering, first on ope side
of the str.jsgt, iiuqi pn tjie opief. Ho wore “a
shocking bad bat” it b/>ri- marks of time, and of
contact with the pavement at sipiijry limys, qpd
ifi sundry places; lu* nose was very red —his
yyes ditto, and lie was, (to borrow a sailor's
phrase) cursing “at the rate of ten knots ah hoar.”
William Stewart came and looked over his
churn’s shoulde; - .
>‘Ves, uncle Billy's in a bad way,” he said laugh
ingly. ‘die's been up to Mark SandfoftPs groce
ry, and w ill be likely to sh op in the ditch to-n : gh(,
unless lie's helped along. Let’s go down and
have some fun out of him.”
“No, I don't believe 1 care to!” said Ashbury
in rather a sad tone. -Tin as fond of fun as any
body; I can steal chickens, and like down signs,
and move gates, and all that sort-o’-things—no
body is injured much by such mischief, apd the
citizens who livp near the grounds, are on the
look out for us, and if they are sensible and good
natured, don't mind our pranks much, but some
how I can’t make fun of a drunken man—the
sight is too bad—l never coufcf Iptyo Huy sport
out of one.’*
“Pshaw!” said Stewart —“that’s an <>!d woman
ish notion. Bye blacked many an old chap—its
amusing to J-ieqr soi|U’ of them swear under the
operation.-*
Ashbury sighed, but remained silent. His eyes
were still fixed upon ‘uncle Billy.’ Presently the
old man fell head-long, ami lay quite still as if lie
had not the power of moving a muscle.
“lie’s done for,” said Stewart again laughing.
“Ile'll sleep there until somebody kj<B him out
of the way. I have a gloat mind to give him a
coat of tar.”
“No don’t, dont I” exclaimed young Ashbury
nervously, I fear that I may, some day be left to
sink as low.”
‘‘Volt? you, Ashbury! You are jesting now
surely,” and Stewart glanced over the fine manly
figure, and intelligent face <>f it s companion, with
a surprised, incredulous air.
“Yes, I sometimes fear that you, and I, and all
of us, who tamper in the least with that accursed
stufi, may sink down—down—down, before we
know-what we are about, almost to a level with
‘uncle Billy’ yonder. Its a hazardous game that
we are playing when we put even the first glass
to our lips, I have a great mind to say now in
full view of that old man, that l'ii never touch
another drop as long as I live. I’ve a great mind
to gel the Bible, and with my hand upon tire •’ov
er, swear it, I shall then been the safe side. As
it is, I feel like a traveller, who is walking over
the crater of a volcano. It may crack and spew
fire at anv moment, I am far from being safe.”
“But you can drink s. me, without becoming a
drunkard,” said Stewart. “I hate these radicals—
these extremists—those who are never satisfined
unless they can dig things up by the roots, and
carry schemes to the furthest extent. “You'll
never he a drunkard Hairy—take my word for
it.”
. “-Vo, / never will!” said the young man rising
up with a flush, exc ted face, “l never will, 1
swear it now and here, 1 will never touch, taste,
or handle the poison more. All convivial gather
ings l henceforth eschew. I’m going to he a tee-
totaler out and oil’;”
“ You can do as you please,” said Stewart, “hut
I'm not afraid, 1 can drink, or let it alone. So I
shall make no promises, and vow ho vows. Hall
and Brown, and Bn ghee, wifl be greatly amused
over your decision.”
“Yes, they think a*you do, that they can drink
or Tet it alone. I’ve proved to you all, that I cun.
drink —l mean b* prove now that 1 can h-til alone”
replied Ashbury, “An alcoholic appetite once
formal,, is like the horSe-leech, always crying
more, more, (jive me mere! lam determined that
it shall not k come fastened. to me.”
,1 list at that moment the bell rang—-Ilam
dropped the window with a crash, and the two
Students seized their hats, and hurried away to
re. itatioti. * * * * * *
Ashbury and Stewart both graduated, and
both chose the medical profession. They were
pretty equally 1 nil kneed in talents, habits of in
dustry, Wealth, and tlie influence of friends. The
only noticeable difference Between them was —-one
loved the convivial scot! —the other adhered, with
PEMIELI), QA., THURSDAY, JULY 1(1,1857.
Soartan firmness, to the resolution taken bv the
window, of ids room while at Colloo-p
Both married lovely and intelligent woanu.—-
Ashbury setiled down in his native eitv, ami
Stewart went Wst. They did not correspoiul,
ami seldom met. In the bustle, and hurry of ac
tive life, Ashbury almost forgot that such a being
as Ktewart existed on terra finna.
Wo pas* over a period of time. Tt was a dark,
blustering afternoon in winter. Blue-lipped litfle
children, hurried home froni school—few ladies
were b> tic on the side-walks—even the old
beggars at the corners had disappeared —business
men wrapped their great coats ami cloaks shiver
itigly about them, and hastened a wav, as if mix
ions to reach, before the gloom of a eheerless-twi
light, their warm, and comfortable homes.
Dr. Ashbury was among the latter. He had
been on a weary yoinyj that day among the sick
aip( dying, aud was now walking rappidlv towards
his home on Blecher Row, q nice, pretty house
it was (.op, full of pictures, music, warm fires,
good carpets and smiling faces. He was thinking
ot the radiance, and welcome, that awaited him
there, when a voice near the Guard-house (\ylijyh
lie at that moment chancq.il fp. he passing) arrest
ed biig.
“Ashbury, is that yon ? I’m glad to sec you,
you are the very man I was about, to send for, I
want to consult with you about a poor chap \yho
is dying in here,” anti Doctor Wejls, the speaker,
touched with hjs finger, the dark, ponderous door
before him.
“Dying in the Guard-house?” asked Ashbury
pausing, “lhat must be a cheerless place to die
in, on such a night as this. Pray, We|b. who is
it, and how cajpehpin there?
“Well, lie’s, a chip of our block—that is he’s a
Doctor although I should hate to be like him in
any .other particular. He came here the other
day from ‘out W est’ soineyrhare u he^ms —indeed
lie says this is his native place. lie got into a
spree night before last on the street, and the po
lice stowed him away for safe keeping in bore.—
He was too sick in the morning to oome out, and
I’m afraid is dying. I’ve done my best for him,
buts believe in spite of fa to lie’ll ‘peg out.’ lie’s
a hard ease and Ids constitution is wrecked.”
Ashbury hastened forward. On a pile of straw
in a corner of the most forbidding room the city
could show, a poor mortal lay, with clammy fore
head, and matted Italy, and ghastly visage,
wrestling with the King of Terrors.
A tallow candle shed a dekly glare over the
scene. The breath came with a low gushing
sound, through bis fast stiffening iips—his emacia
ted bands tossed wresthssly about, over a dirty
piece of coarse sacking which had been drawn up
over him for coyer, -
Both physicians bent low in the faint light, the
better to discern his condition, but Ashbury sprung
upright ag du, and held bis breath with amaze
ment.
Before him lav William Stewart, the Student
who had so confidently said, “I can drink or let
it alone.”
Why had he not let it alone! Why had he
suffered that fiend, Intemperance, to manacle soul
and body ? Why had he let if destroy him com
pletelv? Why did he then lav stretched in the
Guard-house, wrestling with the glim spoiler,
Death? Simply because he was mistaken. lie,
could not, or rather would not prove to the world
the last part of his assertion. He had sank lower
than Bill Gore—'lower than hundreds whom lie
had once despised.
Ashbury eh sed -that night, the patient’s eyelids,
after life had departed, and as lie did so, lie thank
ed God in his heart, that he had crushed a last
forming alcoholic appetite in the hud, and vowed
by that College window, to let the poison alone,
Greenesboio’, Ga.
[cOMMI’NK’ATIiF).]
The Great Question,
Mu, Km ion :—The great question now before
the friends of Temperance, and that urgently de
mands their serious reflection, is this ; which is the
best plan, tojnrther promote the Temperance refor
mationJ The great Temperance ship that has
rafted so many safely on their journey through
the ocean of life, has uiifoitunately struck a sand
bar. and there she sticks. despite of the mightiest
efforts to move her. Ihe last powerful level
brought into requisition, was the doctrine ot Leg
isktion, ami though that Temperance giant, B.
11. Overby, wielded this lever as no other ifr,n in
Giorgia could have done, yet there sticks the glo
rious old ship, still fast to the bottom, as it a
mountain were upon her crest !
Well sir, my opinion is this; the only way to
floct her again is to deepen the. wains . that is
thoroughly diffuse the Temperance leaven through
tin’ great public mind. We may unfurl her sails
—prune her comeliness —tug at the anchor, sound
the trumpet of march Jo our present position,hue
not a barley-cot u .will she move, until the waters
are deepened ; then like a thing of life she will
r‘uje triumphantly , the waves Jtud billons—hid de
fiance. tp flood and storm and sail on to the port
of security.
“The order of the S. of.T., was a noble lever,
and has given the good old vessel many success-
tid litt-, but its strength has depicted, and there
is no man or Has*, of men, that can restore it.—
l rue it has done a glorious work that will tell op
en eternity, but except in a few localities, its eiFi
ciencv as an organization for a general purpose ha
died to live no more.
lo accomplish -any thing at present air soon,
hy legislation, we cannot * would to God that we
could. bearers in such a struggle
should bo noble Well, approximating as nearly
a* posibte, to the gallant, noble, hearted Over
—and how many sue - .’, men in Georgia cau we
find,— willing to be sacrificed upon the Altar of
a liopehss enterprize. Some of your correspon
dei.ts gealously declare, that we should pot be
discouraged by the Ovyrby defeat, but should
unsheathe *ofir sword., and at them again. Well,
there would he no just cause for discouragement,
had it been simply a defeat; but I do not view it
in that light; I consider it as being just no race
or fight at all. True we mustered six thousqnud
strong; but what is this number, compared witli
the scores of thousands thqt has rallied against us ?
Our small army is net ready yet to carry the ene
my's strong hold at the point of the bayonet. We
musi again send forth that lovely messenger, mor-
al sivasion rectify their consciencies and win their
hearts.
In strong faith, 1 would again recommend, the
reorganization o i the old broad-door “Washing
tonian Societies,” with the addition of such ele
ments as will secure their almost state of perfec
tion, and so managed as to have regular monthly
le.turing. We need a system, that all, old and
youpg, male and female, without money and with
out price, may enter, and raise one general, uni
versal war-hoop in the place of the hydra-headed
monster. The old Washingtonian lever has never
been worn out, and was never made as efficient as
it might have been. When the Sons arose, it was
battling-fare ami aft, daing execution ali around.
Tire system that came in as a substitute , was an
excellent one, but it had several weak points, viz.
secrecy and the exclusion ol youth and the ladle s
—Heaven bless them { how can any society upon
earth that has a moral end in view, sjceeed, when
those lovely bewitching, noble-hearted agents of
good, are shut out ? Why, you might as well ex
pect evergreens to flourish upon an iceberg, or the
rose of health’ to b oom upon the cheek of death !
Wc discovered finally our mistake, but ’twas too
late. The ladies are too high-minded and zealous
ot their honor, to condescend to march under our
banner after our glory has departed, and (I might
add,) their curiosity. Just give them afair chance
dJ) -v vii bt-v ii i. i• in! iti I.
rite waters must be deepened or the old ship
will never tioat again. When the old Washing
tonian System was in vogue we had the clergy and
churches with us, and an influonce, a moral influ
ence, a -mighty influence encircled our progress,
that threatened speedily to swallow up every dog
gery in the land. These two classes are ready for
another such opportunity to buckle on their arm
or and go forth to battle ag.in. We, cannot do
without them ; for they are called in Holy Writ,
(that is, Christian's,) “the light of the world and
the salt of the canid” Where the light is not
darkness prevails; and without salt there can be
no permanent preservation. Tli eehurches are the
great citadel o l moral influence, and we must en
iist the co-operation of their members or we are
hrd, or rather Intemperance, in all its hideous de
formity, wiil continue to prevail. If we can get
up the aforesaid societies -again they will not stand
aloof. Ts they love Christ who died for them, they
will sacrifice the pleasure of an occasional dram,
(tl*>se who drink,) for the salvation of poor drunk
ards who aie dying horrible deaths around them,
if they do not how can they lay the flattering
unction to their souls, that they are “salt” and
“light” in the scriptural sense, and are marching
on to a Heaven of joy and peace? But I know
that they will be with us, at least the sheep, for
conscience would goad and remorse thunder.
But we have no time to lose in battling to no
purpose, or in the advocacy of a theory that is not
practicable; let us go to work and deepen the wa
ters. Let us establish societies at every eligible
point an l instill temperance principles thoroughly
into the great public heart. Let us preach more
in favor of moral suasion and less against it, and
persuade men everywhere to enlist under our ban
ner until we get the pe >ple, the great body of the
people right— then our ship will steam it up the
river of ■'‘legal suasion” at the rate of forty knots
per hour. O, that Cod may help us roll on this
great work! HANNIBAL.
Jefferson Cos., Ha.
A Man Courting his own Wife.
[Translated for the Evening Post from the Montreal Pays.]”
Ten years ago, M. V. married in Montreal. He
was one of’ the principal merchants of the city ; but
bv a reverse of fortune, he was compelled to sus
pend payment soon after his marriage. He loved
his wife to distraction, to use a common phrase ;
and the idea of involving Iter in his disasters, great
ly afflicted him. After a thousand internal con
flicts, M. V. resolved to leave our city without say
ing anything about it. lie wished his departure
or rather disappearance, to remain a mystery. —
Brit he had a purpose. “But I will go” he resolved,
to “Austria ia, uad i-h< re met and mv fortunes, or die
without giving any ■account’ of mv.-.Yf”
Tins r.-s lut.ion taken,ohr tm>fe*ni;m embirked
dandes indy, n and eight days after bis flight, he
was not thought-of. Madame \ . oe.p', we are tain
to suppose ; in.'-fc than this, we be i ve she shed
(omit* of feus, and sought him upon liver-, and
in wood-, l iios and caverns, but ill Vain. M. V.
had left to bis beaniitiil but weeping, and forlorn
wifi-an igc -mn of a humlrel iouis, and sailed for
Australia. W hat Ixoicl upon those fav- ivd -bores
we do rot well know but little bv little be arn;uss
ed weak !il
At Monfreat they snppo-e.l him dead. His wife
wept bitterly, and she saw, undoubtedly, th t sor
row jaumbci<l her complexion and dimmed her
eyes ; ;lien tin;**, she o-ust-d all swee ly h* r roie of
Niobe. < )ui Pcnolope u and smile like a young
widow ot eighti (-ii ;• the art of rx ed!e-wo’rk is too
pertest now ; are not, men entangled with it f She
was faithful to her wandering hti’sdbftnd sixteen
long months; hut she did then what .others might
have done in Iter place. Thinking; herself voting,
she lent her ear to tender proposals ”, she reviewed
her ge grapby of love ; confessed to never having
studied (he map of the. tender country, and one
line morning contracted anew marriage. But the
first husband ! lie, ah Ihe was dead. What liv
ing husband would slay away eighteen long nn nths
without writing a word ? If he was not dead he
ought to be (feminine logic.) She married. Was
she happy or was she not! (Shnkspearean ques
tion.)
Meantim 1 the- liist husband laboie4in the mines.
Heacquiivd, acquired —always a<‘quiied. Falling
upon an auriferous vein he suddenly obtained a
largo sum, and had bis only motive been the love of
gain, would have Tin mediately returned to Mon
treal. Bui his dear Louisa must eat trom silver
and drink only from gold.
The nnfaiihful Louisa, as we, have already said,
was again man ied. Faith does nor. save u-,; M.
V. always labored, but an epidemic prevailed ;
our hero caught, the email pox, and was completely
disfigured. 1 >isgu*ted with Australia he sold his
property and embarked on an American ship.
During this voyage, the second husband of bis
wife died with consumption. M. V. landed at
Portland, flew to Montreal, went to the Montreal
House, vi'hout arousing any suspicions as to who
he was. There are people who always have to
create surprise, and he was one of thorn. He in
quired for Madam V. no one knew such a person;
but M. V. insisted. Finally he was told by some
one that she was now a Widow S. M V. scratch
ed his head. They pointed out to him Madame
Widow V, afterwards Madame widow S. and lie
leeognized his wife, charming as when he lelt her.
M. Y r . immediately fell into a brown study. His
countenance was grave, sad, very sad, very gloomy;
and thus he turned away.
M. V. had more spirit than money, and he found
it very strange for him to pay his addresses to his
own wife. But he did it ; He courted his own wife
for three months. He recognized her ; did she re
cognize him ? It is more than wo know ; we leave
the dames who read this to solve the problem.—
He was introduced with all his pounds, shillings
and pence. People will admire pounds, sterlings
and dollais federal, and women above all. Though
scarred and pitted from head to foot with the small
pox, M. V. won the heart of his wife. They were
to exchange the second marriage rings, when M‘
V. presented her the same one he had given her
at their first espousal. The woman, they say
fainted.
Young Lady in a Scrape—Hoops and
High Heels in Church.
‘l'he Kriehmond Whig says: —“A few Sundays
ago, a modest young gen.leman of our acquaint
ance attended the morning service, in one of our
fashionable churches. lie was kindly shown into
a luxuriously cushioned peiv, and had hardly settled
himself, and taken an observation of his neigh
bors, before a beautiful young lady entered, and
with a graceful wave of the hand preventing, our
friend from rising to give her place, quietly sunk
into a seat near the end. When a hymn was
given out, she skilfully found the page, and with a
sweet smile that set his heart a thumping, handed
her neighbor, the book. The minister raised liis
hands in prayer, and the fair girl knelt, and in
this posture perplexed her friend to know which
most to admire, her beauty or her devoutness.—
Presently the prayer was concluded, and the con
gregation resumed their seats.
Our friend respectfully raised his eyes from the
fair term he bail been scanning, lest
when she Ift&ked, up detect him storing
at her. After a couple
tive glance at his charmer, and was astonisfrecFto
see her still bn her knees, he looked closely, and
saw that she was much affected, trembling in vio
lent agitation no doubt from the eloquent power
of the preacher Deeply sympathizing, he watch
ed- her closely. Her emotion became more vio
lent; reaching her hand behind Her, she would
eonvu siwly grasp her clothing, and strain, as it
were, to rend the brilliant fabric of her dress. —
The sight was exceedingly painful to behold, blit
he still gazed, like one entranced, with wonder and
astonishment. After a minute the lady raised her
face, heretofore concealed in the cushion, and with
her hand made an unmistakable beckon to our
friend. He quickly moved along the pew towards
her, and inclined his ear as she evidently wished
to say something. • •
“Please help ire, sir,’* she whispered, ‘hny dress
lias caught, and I can't, get up.” A brief exam
ination fevealed the cause of the difficulty; the
ir-gir woefis.r mxbehig h-keel shoes ; kneel
ing upon both knees, these heeL of course stuck,
out at right angles, and in this position the hight
~est hoop of her new tangled skirt caught over them,
and thus rendered it impossible for her to raise
herself or straighten her limbs. The more she
struggled the lighter was she bouend ; so she was
constrained to pail for help. This was immediate
ly if not scientifically rendered; and when the
next prayer was mad a, she merely inclined herself
upon the back of the freut pew —thinking no
doubt that sire was not in praying costume.
1 TERMS:
j $1 In advance; or. $2 a i the end of Uie year.
\ —oo— - : ■
/ JOHN 11. SEABS’
V CfiOPKIETUK.
VOL. XXIII.-NUMBER 2(1
From the Home Journal,
Marriage.
Nature never did betray the soul that loved her ;
ami nature lefts man and woman to marry. Just
as the young man is entering upon life—qust as he
comes to independence and man’s estate—j cist as
the crisis of Ins being is to be solved, and it is to
be seen whether he decide with the good,rtud the
great, ami the true or whether he sink ami he lost
forever —matrimony gives him .ballast and a right
impulse. War with nature, and she takes a sure
revenge. Tell a young man not to have an at
tachment that is virtuous, and he will have one
that ia vicious. Virtuous love, the honest love of
a man for the woman he is about to marry, gives
him an anchor for his heart ; something pure and
beautiful for which to labor and live. And the
woman, what a purple light it sheds upon her
path; it makes life no day dream, no idle hour, no
painted shadow, no passing show: hot something
real earnest, worthy of her heart and head. But
most of us are cowards, and dare not think so:
we lack grace} we are of little faith ; our inward
eye is dim and dark. The modern youg lady must
marry in style; the modern young gentleman
marries a fortune. But in the meanwhile the girl
grows into an old maid, and the youth takes cham
bers—ogles at nursery maids, and becomes a man
about town, a man whom it is dangerous to ask
into your house, for his business is intrigue. The
world might have had a happy couple; instead it
gets a woman fretful, nervous, fanciful, a plague to
all arouud her. lie becomes a skeptic in all vir
tue; a corrupter of youth of both sexes; a curse in
whatever domestic circle lie penetrates. Even
worse may result. She may be deceived and may
die of a brokan heart.
He may rush from dne folly to another; asso
ciate only with the vicious and depraved; bring
disgrace and sorrow on himself and all around ;
and sink into an early grave. Our great cities
show what becomes of men and women who do
not marry. \\ orldly fathers aud mothers advi.-e
not to marry until they, can afford to support a
wife, and the boy wickedly expend double the
amouut in low company. Hence it is all wise
men, (like Franklin), advocate early marriages;
and that all our great men, with rare exceptions,
have been men who married young. Wordsworth
hail only one hundred pounds a year when lie first,
married. Lord Eldon was so poor that lie bad to
go to Clare-market, London, to buy sprats for
supper. Coleridge and Southey we can’t find had
any income at all when they got married. We
question at any time whether Luther had more
than fifty pounds a year. Wo blast humanity in
its very dawn. Fathers, you say you teach your
sons prudence—you do nothing of the kind; your
worldly-wise arid clever son is already ruined for
life. You will find him at the faro-table and at
free love circles. Your wretched worldly wisdom
taught him to avoid the snare of marrying young
and soon—if he is not involved in embarrassments
will last him a life—he is a blaze fellow heartless
false, without a single generous sentiment or man
ly aim: he has—
“No God, no heaven, in the wide world! ”
The Seat of Government in Canada.
The. Queen has beeu invited to discharge one of
the most interesting and poetical duties of empire
and one of very rare occurrence. She is asked to
decide between the rival claims of as many as
four or live cities to be tlie seat of the Canadian
government, at present we can scarcely estimate
the importance of the question. Before long it
is probable that all British Ametiea will be under
one government; and at the present rate of in
crease and improvement, by the end of another
century, the population will be as numerous, as
wealthy and as advanced in all the arts of life as
that of the mother country. It is, then, the me
tropolis of an empire such as ours that has to be
selected. The occasion sends one back to the ear
liest origins and to the grandest epochs of history
—to the tower of Belus and the walls of Ecbatna,
to Virgil’s picture of infant Carthage, and Livy’s
legend of young Rome; to^ Alexander laying out
with a line the city which still bears Ids name and
justifies his sagacity; to Constantine founding,
unwittingly, the seat of an anti-Christian empire,
and Peter the Great.driving piles into the mud of
the Neva. The origin of cities, indeed, is gener
ally wrapt in obscurity, and it is by the merest ac
cident that they have become what they are.—
Even in our times we have seeu the seed of cities
sown broadcast over new continents,’some to with
er or languish, some to shoot up into colossal pro
portions. In the memory of old men there was
not an Englishman on the Australian continent,
and within the lifetime- of schoolboys there was
no such place as Melbourne —-now.a magnificent
city, with mere than a hundred thousand inhabi
tants. In the heart of the North American! con
tinent the oldest inhabitant of Chicago—a man
of about fifty —finds himself surrounded by a v.ast
city, and at the centre of an immenee commerce.
‘But probably there never was an occasion when
deliberate choice had to bo made between several
claimants, with all the results in view, and with
the full knowledge that posterity would canvass
.the decsion. Why should Rome, or Paris, or
Madrid, or Vienna, or London be the capitals of
great empires ? Had we now to choose our me
tropolis, how would Lancashire fight for the Mer
sey ! how loudly would Edinburg proclaim the
grandeur of modern Athens, and Ireland her At
lantic site, her mild climate, her picturesque
shores, ami h6r vast harbors! In almost every
other instance the question is settled for us: and
as each man pursues the path of his own advance
ment or ease, he unconsciously contributes to solve
the grandest political and geographical problems.
But this large responsibility —this creation of his
tory to coino—which we are thus usually spared,
is in the prevsent instance, thrown upon the Queen
and hen ministers. They have to find or fouml a
metropolis for British America.
jggpTn order to convince a neighbor of the useful
ness of birds, a farmer neaf Rlinghampton, Now
York, last year, shot a yellow bird in his wheat field,
opened its craw, and found in it two hundred wee
vils, and but four grains of wheat, and in these four
grains the weevils had burrowed.