The Lancaster ledger. (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, August 18, 1852, Image 1
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' 3Ljtlir(|tr+
DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE.
VOLUME I. LANCASTER, C. H? SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 18, 1852. NUMBER 28.
tup i *
JL AJLJU
LANCASTER LEDGER
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WEDNESDAY MORNING.
R. 8. BAILEY,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
*
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Notice to the contrary, are considered
as wislung to continue their subcriptions.
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INTENTIONAL KKAVD.
ALL KINDS OF
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EXECUTED WITH NEATNESS AND DESPATCH
At this Office.
JTlTrtS ltlP5.
From the Edgefield Advertiser.
The Orphan Brothers.
The night was /lark and gloomy; the
monotonous pattering of the rain was
Mined only hy the chorus of fitful winds,
which swept hy the solemn and mystori<*ts
bouse of death.
<>n a bed hi a lowly dwelling gasj?ed a
fair young widow of eight ami twenty j
(maimers. Her husband had died six >
months before and the consequent grief i
preying on a constitution naturally deli- |
CAte, had bowed that young head to the
dust.
The only inmates of tlie chamber, except
the dying mother, rwcher only children?two
little boys of eight and ten 1
years?and a faithful female attendant.? I
"Come to me my children," said Mrs. 11
Hays. "Your mother is dying?you will 1
aooo bo orphans, doubly orphans?for!
there is no one on earth to w hotn I can j
w:llingly confide my boys."
The Jjioor stricken children crept close |
to the side of their motlier, and their,dcs- i I
olate waitings mingled with the sad mono-'
tone of the warring elementa.without. |
"Henry!" said she to the elder, "here is
my dying gift. It is your father's Bible, i
VV illic! here is mine, and hear this the last
injunction of your dying mother. Never j
allow a day to pas* without reading at'
leant one chapter of these sacred page*.? I
Never sleep at night without repeating the 1
Lord's prayer, and at leant once, in every
week, read the sermon on the Mount. If
you fulfil these, my last requests, 1 feel
that strife and unkindncss will nover come 1
between you. Never, my boys, have the
first quarrel and you will never have the
second; and aever, never forget that you
lire the children of the same parents. If,
in your intercourse with your fellow men,
you should meet with opposition and contumely,
forget not that as you forgive, so
j*ill you be forgiven. Remember that the
heart must echo and confirm the sentipneot*
that the lips utter, or they are of j
no avail, And above all these, my chil-'
dren, allow no busy-body to interfrro be- (
tween yourselves or between you and your
fellow creatures. The Saviour said "blessed
are the peace-makers for they shall be
called the children of God." A trust. I
worthy friend will never repeat things from
?me to another?for it but engenders strife.
He who should do so, u your enemy ami
not your friend.11
With a last kiss, and a faint blessing on
her little ones, Mrs. Have, not long after,
died to the sorrows and cold-heartednet*
of earth.
Mr. and Mrs. Hays were emigrants to
the place where they died. An uncle of
the former, who lived some miles off, took
the brothers; but he was a cold-hearted,
exacting man, and night after night did '
the little boys creep away to their dark, |
dreary room, and, after praying together, i
weep themselves to sleep with no eye to
pity, and naught to ocanfort, save, Omni- <
present and Omnicient Being, who da- ,
glares that ha will avenge the widow and ,{
the fatherless. |
Mr. iilack their guardian had an only
child?a boh, who was near sixteen when
the little boys became an iuuiatc of his
father's home; and no sooner were they
domesticated with him than did Alfred
Black commence a series of petty persecutions
and annoyances that embittered their
youthful days.
Mr. llays left a sufficiency to educate
his boys respectably. After that, they
were to be thrown on their own resources
for a livelihood. Their unci? placed theiu
at an excellent school in his own neighborhood
nnd they made such rnpid progress
as to elicit the good will of their
teacher.
Ilenry w as seventeen and Willie fifteen,
before they had ever had a dispute; they
profited by their mother's counsel and
lived as biothcrs should. Young as they
were, they acted out tho praise-worthy
principle of mutual forbearance.
As Henry was a well grown boy, young.
Black did not dare to continue his form
or practice of lording it over him or his
younger and rather fragile brother?but
substituted a plan by which ho hoped to
create jealousies and dissensions between
thent. llo misconstrued and misinterpreted
their words and actions, until llenry
began to suspect that his brother could
stoop to weaknesses and foibles that his
own proud heart would not condescend to,
and Willie was led to believe that Henry's
coldness proceeded from declining atl'eetion.
Things remained in this situation for
snmo time. Willio was left to rend his
Hihlc alone. Frequently would he determine
to forget all unkindness and implore
his brother, by the memory of his mother's
dying hour to become to him all that he
had once been. Hut the cold stern look,
the repelling manner, impelled him to desist,
and the poor l>oy shrunk within himself
ami prayed Heaven that he might go i
where his mother's sweet smile and endearing
tenderness would richly compensate
him for the woes and sorrows of his
orplianage.
Willie's health began to decline to nil
eyes save those of his prejudiced brother;
still he continued at school seeking no
companionship and knowing no sympathy,
hut lienditur as a weak mul n...I
plant before the blast of injustice and oppression.
The summer term of the school was
about to close and the class, in which Henry
made one, were busy in preparing Latin
compositions, ns a silver medal was to be
awarded to the author of the best.
llenry had striven manfully for the
prize, and he felt so certniu of success that
he would not show bis composition to any
one except to young Black. He was a
great favorite with his teacher and wished
to give him an agreeable surprise. On
the evening belore the exhibition the
youths were sitting on the banks of a
stream near the house. The weather was
excessively warm?they had taken oil
their coats .and had hung them on the
branch of a fallen tree. Young Black
and Henry were talking at some distance
from Willie, who sat mndtly apart. I (lack
projtosed to Henry that they should go to
an orchard near by 'for fruit. After they
bad gone a short distance, Black said be
believed he would return for bis eoat. He
adroitly contrived while getting it, to slip
the composition from Henry's pocket to
that of Willie and then rejoined llenry.
Willie soon after went lionie. After they t
had gone to their rooms, in the evening, I
lleury, who, since his estrangement from
his brother,occupied the room with Alfred,
felt in his pocket for his essay. It wjls
gone. He was greatly provoked, and ask- i
cd Alfred if lie thought it pos-oble that it
could have dropped while they were at <
the stream. Alfred, to <*arrv out his iniquitous
scheme, answered that he thought
it probable, and offered to get a lii>hl and
go with liiiu in search of iu They went
but soon returned without it. As tliey
were passing Willie's room, Alfred suggested
that he might have purloined it
while they were nl*s*nt, and cited Henry \
to the fact that he had left while they 1
were gone. v '
"I will soon find out," said llenry, "and '
if he did I will disown him forever."
They entered the room together, w heu '
llenry demanded of his brother his pa- 1
per. *
"I liavo not your paper, brother," an- 1
wered Willie?"Ifo you think me capa- ?
ble of acting so meanly?" 1
UV- W .?! 1 IF nf t -1?
* r?, rmu *i?-iirv, "i iHJiicve your jeniousy
iff enkindled by the prospect of my i
succeeding nt tho exhibition and I feel 1
eertffin that you have stolen it."
"Ilrother! Mid Willie, his face nssmn- '
ing the whiteness of marble, and his pale \
lips <|uivering, "by tho memory of our
dead parents?by my hoj>ca of 1 leaven, I I
have never wronged you in thought, word, '
or actirn." Henry turned to the chair an ]
which Willie's coat was thrown and drew ?
from the pocket tho paper. '
"Coward and liar, said he, "from this '
night I discard you."
'Hie poor stricken victim fell senselss on '
the Hoor. Alfred assisted Henry to lay <
him on tlio hflil. threw wntor in liin fnmi I
ami as soon m they raw hiiu reviving left <
him. After consciouRncs had fully ro- J
turned, Willie raised himself up. lie felt '
crushed to tho earth. 1
"Mother! mother," he Raid in hia an- '
guUh, "are you near mo nowt Door your 1
gentle presence fail to aootbe, rr it has
done oftentimes before? Oh! why am I '
left on earth while Heaven is ao peaceful
?so void of strife, and oppression, and 1
hatred? Oh! bless thy boy, spirit of uiy '
angel mother, that he may not murmur \
in his agony!" J
"Oh, God!" ha screamed, "have mercy"
?for he felt his senses were leaving him.
lie fell back on his pillow and through I
the darkness and death-like stillness of i
that weary night, the fatherless and moth- <
erless boy wrestled with delirium alone.?
The next morning a servant went up to
see why Willie did not come down and returned
stating that she believed ho was
sick for he did not speak.
Henry did not go to him?but, with
Alfred and his uncle, set out for the Academy.
The sick brother, nephew, and cousin
was left to the mercies of a servant
more compassionate than his kindred.?
The live long day did the faithful negro
tend the sutiering boy and as evening
came on and the brother returned, elated
and exulting with succcs, she ran to meet
him. "Go to your poor brudder, inussa,
he no long for dis world?been call you all j
day. lie talk about paper, and call his j
mother to come for him."
Feelings of the bitterest compunction
caused Henry's heart to thrill painfully as j
he ran up stairs. He had thought in the
morning, that Willie's illness was only as- |
sumed in order to hide his shame at his
detection. What was his horror, on gain- i
ing the bed-side, to discover him enduring
all the agonies of brain fever, his e\ es
wild and blood shot, his nostrils dilated
and cries of anguish issuing trom his
parched lips.
"He has cast nie off mother, and I am
alone in the world?1 never wronged li'in
? I would have exulted in his success?I
have nothing left hut to die. Hut I forgive
him, yes indeed, 1 forgive them both." i
Ilenry threw his arms around him and
addressed him bv every endearing epithet
of his earlier years, but Willie did not
know him, and as the dying injunction of
their mother came thronging back to I
Henry's memory, be felt that it would j
have been better if lie bad never been
born.
A physician was summotul, and Alfred
and bis father accompanied liirn to the
sick room. The sufferer shrieked as he
saw Alfred.
"(io away" said he, "you have taken
away my brother. Henry! Henry! A
scorpion is on my coat?it will sting us?
get it otf."
To satisfy him, llcnry took up the coat
and shook it?when from the pocket in
which the paper had been found, a large
seal ring dropped.
Alfred picked it up with a trembling
hand?lie bad worn that ring for several
years and bad missel it the evening before
in the orchard, lie thought lie had lost
it there. Instead of that, it had come otl
as he slipped the papci in the pocket.?
His guilt was too glaring to be evaded,
and lie stood before the brothers w ith a i
braud as deep as thai of Cain on his brow. |
lli* lather hikI the physician were not nc-1
<}uaiute*l with the liicts and knew not to
what to attrihiite his confusion.
Ilenry give him a !<w.k that haunted
hint to his dying hour. Willie became
worse and worse and the physician nave
hut faint h<>|'0 of his retovery. Henry
mourned in dust and ashes his departure
fo nt his Hud, and his consequent cruelty
to his brother. After three weeks of the
severest suffering, W illie showed slight
svmptoins of convalescence?and oh! how
tenderly did llenry nui-so liiin! How
gratefully did he thank Heaven for the re- I
storation of health to his only brother, and j
peace to them both!
Suffice it to say that through a long
life the confidence, regained there, never I
wavered?but, as ornaments to society and I
bright lights in a christian community, i
lliey fulfilled the destiny which Heaven |
had marked out for them.
Alfred Hlack committed suicide in a >
year or two after his fiendish scheming.? i
lie perpetrated some criminal deed and '
in attempting to distance the officers of'
justice, who were in pursuit of him, and
discovering that, he could not succeed, lie
went unhidden to the bar of his Hod.
IIohe Con age.
How to Treat a Wife.
First, got a wife; secondly la* patient. |
you may have great trials and perpiexi- !
ties in your business with the world ; but
h? not therefore carry to your home a
clouded or contracted brow. Your wife
may have many trials, which, though of
less magnitude, may have lieen as hard
to bear. A kind, conciliating word, a tender
look, will do wondi rs in chasing from
Iter brow all clouds of gloom. You encounter
your diilieultica in the open air,
fanned by heaven's cool breezes ; but your
wife is often shut in from these healthful 1
influences, and her health fails, and her 1
ipirits lose their elasticity. Hut oh ! l?onr
with her; she has trials and sorrows to
which you are a stranger, but which your
tenderness can deprive of all their anguish.
Vntiee kindly her little attentions and efforts
to promote your comfort. l>o not I
take them all as a matter of course, and
|?nss them l>y, at thesamo time being very
inre to observe any omission of w hat you
may consider duty to you. l)o not treat
tier with inditrerenee, if you w ould not scar
and palsy her heart, Vdiich, watered by
1.1 e
iviiMiiavna, n'Miiu l?? IIIU lilu.TJl Killy l>[ JOUT
jxisterioe, throb with sincere and constant
Affection. Sometimes yield your wishes
to hers. She lias preference* as strong n?
rou| nn<l it may be just a* trying to vield
lier choice a* to you. I >o you find it liard
to yield sometimes I Think you it i* not
difficult f?tr her to give up always f Ifyou
never yield to her wishes, there is danger
that she will think you are selfish, and
care only for yourself; and with such feelings
she con net love as she might. Again
?how yourself manly, so that your wife
can looh up to you, and feel that you will
set nobly, and that she can confide in your
ludgmenL
mm ^ 9
?4T There is no man so contemptible
[>ut in distress requires pity. It is inhuman
to be altogether insensible of another's
misery.
! Idrrtrii Mrb.
American Honor.
CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA.
About seventy-five yenrs ago, tliere was
at Charleston, South Carolina, a famih
consisting of several members. It be
longed to the middle class?that is to say
contained barristers, bankers, merchants
solicitors, and so on?all of them animat
I ed, nt least so far as appears, l?y a higli
sense of honor and integrity. lint nobh
sentiments are no certain guarantee
iirrnli.uf tl ? >
in/ivii) viiu v* niv; mem i ires oi
the family in question became embarrassed,
borrowed ?1000 of one of Ins relatives,
but was soon after seized w ith paralysis,
and, having kept his bed live years,
died, leaving behind him a widow witli
I several children. He could bequeath them
110 property, instead of which they received
?s their inheritance high principles,
j and a strong affection for the memory ol
' their latin r. The widotv also was, in this
respect, perfectly in harmony with her
sons. By dint, therefore, of prudence, in'
dustry, and economy,they amassed among
them the sum of ?400, which they rigidj
Iv appropriated to the repayment of a part
, of their father's debt. The old man had,
indeed, called them together round his
death bed, and told them that, instead ol
a fortune, he left them a duty to perform ;
and that if it could not be accomplished
in one generation, it must l?e handed
down from father to son, until the descendants
of the B shad paid every
farthing to the desccndents of the S s.
While matters stood in this predicament
the creditor part of the family removed
to Kngland, -and the debtors remained
at Charleston, struggling with difficulties
and embarrassments, which not
only disabled them from paying the paternal
debt, but kept them perpetually in
honorable poverty. Of course, the wish
to pay in sueli minds survived the ability.
It would have been to them an enjoyment
of a high order to hunt out tlieir relatives
in Kuglaiul, and placo in their hands the
owing JL'UOO. This pleasure, which .they
were destined never to taste, often formed
the subject of conversation around their
fireside; and the children, as tlicv grow
up, were initiated into the my?tcr\ of the
JL'UOO.
Hut tliaj generation pa^ed away, and
am tlier succeeded to the liability; not
that there existed any liability in law, for
I thouerh n deed had been ewrtrtod, it had
lapsed in the course of time, so that there
was really no obligation but that whirl
I was strongest of all?an uneradieabb
sense of right. < >lt?ui and often did tlu
I' s of ( harleston meet and consul
I together on this famous debt, which ever]
I one wished, hilt no one could atford t?
I pay. The sons were married, and hat
! children whom it was inemnheut on then
f to support; the daughters had married
too, hut their husbands possibly did n<?
j acquire with their wives the chivalrous
sense of duly which possessed the breast
I of every member, male and female, of tlu
I It. family, and inspired thcin with a wish
to do justice when fortune permitted.
It would he infinitely agreeable to collect
and peruse the letters and records o!
consultations which passed or took place
between the members of this family on
the subject of the i.'UUO. These documents
would form the materials of one <>t
the most delightful romances in the world
?the romance of honor, which never die?
in some families, hut is transmitted from
generation to generation like a treasure
above all price. Winn this brief notice
is read in Charleston, it may possibly load
to tlio collection of those materials^ which,
with the j?r??j>er names of all the persons
engaged, should, \vc think, l>e laid before
the world as a pleasing record of hereditary
nobility of scutiincnt.
After the lapse of many years, a widow
and her three nephews found themselves
in possession of the necessary means foi
paying the family debt. Three quarters
of u century had elapsed. The children
and the children's children of the original
l?orrower had passed away; but the honor
of the It. family had been transmitted
intact to the fourth generation, and a
search was immediately commenced to
discover the creditors in Kngland. This,
howdver, as may well be supposed, was
no easy task. The members of the S.
family had multiplied and separated, married
and intermarried, became, some poor
and wealthy, distinguished and ol?curo
by turns, changed their topographical as
well as social position, and disappeared
entirely from the spot they had occupied
on their first arrival from America.
1 tut honor is indefatigable, and by dc
green a letter reached a ja-rson in Kensington,
who happened to (hmmcss some
know ledge of a lady of the S. family, mar
ricu 10 a solicitor practising with great
success and distinction in London. When
the letter had come to hand, she at first
doubted whether it might not be a sort ot
grave hoax, iutuudud to excite expectation
for the pleasure of witnessing its disappointment.
However, the English solicitor,
accustomed to the incidents of life,
thought there would at least be no hartn
in replying to the letter from Charleston,
and discovering in this way the real state
of the affair.
. Some delay "necsssarily occurred, especially
as the B. family in America were
old world sort of people, accustomed to
transact business slowly and methodically,
and with due attention to the minutest
points. Hut at length a reply caine, in
which (he writer observed, that if a deed
of release were drawn up, signed by all
the parties concerned in England, and
transmitted to America, the ?000 should
immediately be forwarded for distribution
among the members of the S. family.?
Some demur now arose. Some of the
persons concerned growing imprudent as
j the chances of recovering the money apI
peared to multiply, thought it would be
wrong to send the deed of release before
the money had been received. But the
solicitor had not learned, in the practice of
i his profession, to form so low an estimate
M of human nature. lie considered contt
deuce in this case to be synonymous with
, | prudence,and at any rate resolved to take
, | upon himself the entire esponsibility of
complying with the wishes of the Amerii
cans, ile accordingly drew up the ncces:
sary document, got it signed by as many
; as participated in his views, and sent it
r; across the Atlantic, without the slightest
| doubt or hesitation. There had been
I something in the rough, blunt honesty of
Air. 15 's letter that inspired the man
, of law with the utmost reliance on his
i faith, though during the interval which
elapsed between the transmission of the
deed and the reception of an answer from
, ' the States, several of his friends exhibited
F j a disposition to make themselves merry at
i | the expense of his chivalry. Hut when
we consider all the particulars of the ease,
we can hardly fail to perceive that he ran
; no risk whatever; for even if the debt had
not legally lapsed, the people who had
retained it in their memory through three
, generations?who had from father to son
practised strict economy in order to relieve
themselves from the burden?who had,
with much difficulty ami some expense,
sought out the heirs of their creditor in a
distant country, could scarcely be suspected
with any inclination to finish off with
a fraud at last.
Still, if there was honor on one side,
there was enlarged confidence on the
other ; and in the course of a few months,
the American mail brought to London
the famous JL'OtlO due since before the
War of Independence. The business now
was to divide and distribute it. Of course,
each of the creditors was loud in expressions
of admiration of the honor of the 15.
family, whose representative, while forwarding
the inoncv, asked with much simplicity
to have a few old Knglish newspa
c\jiil in nun i?v way 01 acKnowledgment.
For his own pnrt, however, lie
experienced a strong desire to behold
some of the persons to'whom lie had thus
! paid a debt of the last century ; and he
gave a warm and pressing invitation to
I any of tlioni, to come out and stay as
I j long us they thought projicr at his house
; in Charleston. Had the invitation been
accepted, we cannot doubt that brother
1 Jonathan would have acted as hospitably
; in the character of host as he behaved
1 honorably in that of debtor. It would
* l have been a pleasure, we might indeed say
* ' a distinction, to live under the same r?m?t
t ; with such n man whose very name carries
i' j us back to the primitives of the colony
) when Charleston was a city of the Kritisl
1 j Empire, and English laws, manners, habits
i j and feelings regulated the proceedings and
, i relations of its inhabitants. It is to b<
t .hoped, therefore, that the London solicitor
* ! will some day drop in quietly upon lib
t 1 friend in Charleston, tosmokc a cigar,and
! I discuss old times with him. He will in
i j that case probably fancy himself chatting
j with n contemporary of Kip Van Winkle,
1 Doubtless there are thousands of such men
r in the States, where frequently everything
! lhat is estimable in the English character
I is cultivated with assiduity.
How the property was distributed
' j among the S. family in England, we need
not say. Each surviving individual had
i . his or her share. The solicitor was only
i ! connected with tlu'm by marriage; but
. I ...:>i. ?i -1 i > -
; i ?uu ^ouu <m.j raigusn meas ot upriglit:
i ncss and integrity, lie was fully able to
1 | appreciate the Charleston lawyer's senti,
; nients. lie would have done exactly the
> same himself under s'uiilur circumstances;
! ! and, therefore, had the sum been tens ot
| thousands instead of hundreds it could not
| l>e said to have fallen into bad hands.?
j Whether the transaction above noticed
i has led or not to a continued correspond
. once between the families, we ate unable
i to say ; but we think the creditors in Kngi
j land would naturally have felt a pleasure
in exchanging intelligence from time to
time with their worthy debtors in Charleston.
These things, however, are pri
. "ate, and therefore we do not intend to
| trench upon tliein.? Chamber#' Edinburg
| Journal, July 10.
Comforts of an Editor.
If lie does uot till his paper with news
' of importance, whether there he any or
i not, it is condemned for not being what it
' purports to he?a newspaper.
| If Ito does not fill at least ono column
I evcrv week with somethiuor lniwr1<nl>L> l.le
| folio is pronounced uninteresting.
If a pill.lie nuisance should exist, notice
of it should oflend; and not to notice it
would be censured,
j If he does not publish all the marriages
nnd death that, "in all the world fortwonj
ty miles round," whether he hears of them
or not, he is not fit for an Editor.
If every paper does not contain ngoodly
portion of Suioide, Horrid Murder and
melancholy Accident it is dull and an unwelcome
visitor.
If half gloomy transactions which occur
are recorded, it is spurned as a vehicle
onlji of calamities.
1 If the paper contain advertisements, the
general reader murmurs; if it does not, the
l.iiuinPM mnn trill If
v iav?i ??in li\/V frit! IV*
If lie publishes tlio laws of the State,
old and young maids grumble; if he does
net, civilian frown.
If he ?teei* an impartial com*e, lie is
said to lie on the fence, if he jump^off,
he is sore to be besmeared.
If a dozen kind friends call on him
while ho is correcting his proof sheet, and
i one error escapes detection, he is the greats
i est blunder head in the world.
i iunhuj
An evening Meditation.
The close of the day is a fitting time
for serious reflectiop. As the shadows of
evening gather around, let me turn my
thoughts to future scenes?another portion
of my mortal life is finished?I have advanced
another stage in my journey to the
oti>rnul
What now are my thoughts, my hopes,
my expectations in reference to eternity?
What have been my thoughts during the
day? Sometimes, in the rush of business
j on my mind, 1 have had little sense of my
responsibility and obligations. Sometimes
the fear that an allseeing eye was
discerning in my dealings with others, an
unjustifiable selfishness, distressed me.?
Again, the earnest aspiration went up from
my heart, that I might be kept by the divine
hand, and that no evil word might
l?e found on my lips, no evil thought in
my mind,?but still I am dissatisfied with
myself; I have forcborne to speak to others,
of Clod and their own souls; the house
of afiiction was in my neighborhood, but
I did not enter it; I heard the profanation
of the all holy name of God, and did not
reprove it; I saw the suffering and the afflicted,
and passed by on the other side;
angry thoughts rose from the depths of
my heart, and I did not suppress them;
evil imaginations were in my mind, worldly
anxieties, trifles light as air, and Oh, I
must add, ingratitude for a Saviour's dying
love, has found its sad expression in
unbelief and indefference.
Let me now come to the place of secret
prayer. Why this strange reluctance to
enter the closet and commune with God? (
Alius! it is because of the sins, that soeasi- ,
ly beset me, because of that unbelief, which
r..fn?o- m i-i ' '
.>/ .uvn 10 UIU U1UVU VI ClCIUISlIlg
for pardon. Vet I must come; Saviour,
compassionate and divine, I iPurc not stay
away; Oli, turn not thy face from me in
anger, let me weep for my sins and cast
myself again at thy feet. "Whither else
shall 1 go! What other hope of pardon
for transgression like mine?
Thanks to thy nanrc, oh, Immanuel,
there is forgiveness with thee?thou wilt
not spurn from thy footstool, the perishing
and the lost; oh, take me, vile as I am,
under the shadow of thy wings; till me
with thine own love and at tliy bidding;
every temptation of earth shall pass harmlessly
by. Oh! teach mo the mystery of
thy love, and sin shall never more have
I dominion over me. ,
1 Night is the emblem of death. IIow
' sovn will my last night arrive, that night
I of darkness and gloom, whose morn will
i j he ushered in by the awful scenes of the
, I judgement. May I ever keep it in solemn
i prospect, to chasten every joy, to restrain
, from every sin, to awaken a daily soiici1
tilde, that 1 may be found of my Judge in
5 jieacc.
Oh, death thou last portion of sorrow,
The prosjiect of heaven is bright,
And fair is the dawn of thy morrow.
Hut stormy and dreadful thy night.
What? have I done to-day to glorify
Ciod? Methinks the solemn inquiry, should
. enter every chamber of the soul. Let me
never shrink from this investigation, but
in fidelity and with diligence may I improve
the season for self-examination, letting
no worldly occupation hinder me in
my duty, or turn my mind from the picture,
which conscience places before me?
j a mournful picture indeed, hut over its (
deepest shades, there are crimson lines,
j which speak of redemption and love. Oh, i
i my soul, never more let this shameless in- ;
gratitude come between tlice and thy Clod;
let the ice dissolve and tears of unfeigned
? repentance and contribution and a life of
willing obedience attest thy return to a
forgotten Redeemer.
The morning light will again shine upon
the world?so shall the night of death
terminate to the humble Christian, in the
dawn of an eternal day. Shall its blessed
light fall iijK>n my eye! Shall I catch its
approaching glory, while struggling in the
valley of death? Oh, blessed Redeemer,
let me gaze on thee in that dreadful hour,
and I w ill fear no evil?thy rod and thy
staff shall comfort me.
Jesus, the vision of thy face,
Hath overpowering charms;
Scare shall 1 feel death's cold embrace.
If Chirst be in mv uriiin
, [ Punoplist. \
?
"Vol Haven't Blf.shf.d it."?Thirty !
years ago, a little, the son of pious par- 1
nits, was invited to spend a few days at '
the house of a friendly family. \Vhcn
dinner came, on the table, l'hilip, though
very hungry aftci his journey, could not 1
he persuaded to touch h morsel of food.?
A train and ncrain did the.v urm* liim ?rw
CJ O t J - vv
eat, and as often did lie look wishfully at
the contents of the table, hut resolutely
declined. At length the lady kinkly inSuired,
if there was any reason why he
id not eat his dinner, bursting into
tears, and sobbing so that he could scarcely
speak, he exclaimed, "You haven't
blest it." That family ever aftewards (
asked the blessing of God on their food, ,
and that little boy is now a Baptist mis- j
sionary in Jamaica. ]
J\*T Repont as you go along, This i
sinning to-day and trusting to to-morrow's <
tears to wash it out again, is more risky '
than swimming with fifty-sixes fastened to
your feet. 44 To-morrow" may never ooine
along. Your sin, like your bank account, J
fjiould be written up every day.
stories for tip fining.
Sick of Being Punished.
A DI ALOOl'E BETWEEN TWO LITTLE OIRL4L.
Kate.?1 wtsh I coule go to some other
echool, Mary, for 1 do not like to be punished.
Mary.?No one likes to bo punished.
But, Kate, when one likes to do wrong,
one must exj>ect to pay for it. Did the
teacher hurt you much ?
Kate.?No. 1 wassn mnit T Awl ?.??
for it; if she liad nearly broken iny head,
I should not have cried a tear.
Mary.?I take care not to do wrong,
and so do not get punished.
Kate.?Well, I am not so sly, and always
get found out.
Mary.?I should think you would grow
tired of doing wrong, for it must be easier
to do right than wrong.
Kate.?I am not so sure of that, I like
to have my own way once in a while.
Mary.?If your own way is wrong, and
brings you into trouble, I should give it
up, and get a better way.
Kate.?Why, do you believe I could always
act right, as you do?
Mary.?Certainly! Don't you think I
could act wrong, as you do, if I tried to
do so? I>o you think your little kitten
will scratch me, if I take her up 1
Kate.?No, indeed! She scratched mo
once, and I soon taught her better. I
should like to sec her scratch any body
now.
Mary.?IIow did you cure her so completely
?
Kate.?I beat her sovuidly, and would
not give her anything to eat for a whole
day. 1 Mary begins to laugh, and Kate
sav*,] What are you laughing at, Mary ?
I do not see anything to laugh at.
Mary?Nor did the kitten. And yet it
is rather funny that the kitten lett off doing
wrong, after being punished only
once,and you cannot, after being punished
ft dozen times.
Kate.?Ycsk but a kitten isn't ft girl.
Mary.?I know she is not and that
makes me wonder the more, for she ought
not to be expected to do so well as an intelligent
girl. Now confess, Kate*, that
von can do right, if you choose to do so.
You know you can, and I wish you would,
for my sake.
Kate.?Why for your sake, when I
have to take all the punishment 1
Mary.?I really believe that every time
you are punished, I sutler more than you
do. 1 love you, Kate, and cannot bear to
see you sutler.
Kate.?You are a dear one, Mary, and
there is no denying it. Now I'll tell you
what I mean to do, for I am desperate?
Mary.?Don't say so.
Kate.?Hear me out, Mary. 1 am
desperately sick of being punished, and
not a little ashamed to be worse than my
kitten, and so you see, I am going?
Mary?Where, dear Kate 1 Not to
leave the school, I hope ?
Kate.?No, but to love it, nnd try to bo
as good as you are, you little philosopher.
There (kissing her) there, let me seal my
promise with a kiss, and when you see mo
doing w rong again, just say Kittv. Kittv.
Kitty! ami I shall take the hint ! Little
did I think when I punished my kitten,
that the blows nerc to fall so directly on
my own head.
Martyrs ok tiikRevolution.?Anas-,
sociation has been formed in Brooklyn, N.
V., for the purpose of removing the remainsof
that 11,500 martyrs ? f the British
prison ships, now piled up beneath tho
Navy Yard wall in that city, to a more
decent and appropriate place. It is designed
to reinter these relicts at Fort
Greene, (Washington l'ark,) and to erect
a suitable monument over them, to mark
the spot forever where they lie. A movement
of thiH kind was heretofore made,
but fell through for lack of energy. Tbecharacter
of the men who havo taken it
in hand now, however, is said to be a
guaranty that the project will be pushed,
forward and finally consummated.
Railroad Ladiks.?At a convention
lately held in Aberdeen, Miss., in favor of
I he extension of the New Orleans and
Jackson Railroad, by the way of Aberdeen,
Miss., and Florence, Ala., to Nashville,
a lady who was present?Mrs. Mary
Sims?proposed, through one of tho
'poakers, to be one of twenty ladies to sub~
- e At AAA \ 1
*riuo mo miiu ui ti,uuu eacn, inaKing
120,000, to the mail. She was immediately
responded to by nineteen others,
and the sum made up in a few minutes.?
The whole amount subscribed at the closo
of tho convention was #300,000.
Spontaneous Produce or Wheat.?
Tho Spartanburg Carolina Spartan has
been furnished with tho following statement
by Mr. Wyatt Lipscomb, a highly
respectable citizen of that District, under
whoso personal observation the subjoined
fticts occurred: Tn 1840, a parcel of ground,
about six acres, were sowed in wheat which
ivas destroyed by rust and was not reaped,
[n 1850, the ground was not cultivated,
(n 1851, the ground was cultivated in
x>rn, and a harvest of that grain was
oaped. In 1852, volunteer wheat was
liscovcred, which was supposed to be
:heat, but w as suffered to grow up and
mature. It turned out, however, to be excellent
wheat, and the crop was reaped,
producing 84| bushels from six acres of
ground. This was indeed an extraordinary
circumstance in agricultural experience.