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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.