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VOL. I' :|RM^1LLE, .firFlillUY MuKMNii, DKCKMUKli 15, 18^1. ^ NffcSI. J <d%i ?nutljrrn (gtttrrjirisf, J A. REFLEX OF^WULAR EVENTS.j EDITOR AWljpyBlETOft, T. J. & W. P. Price, Publishers. VKQXSJMES* ft 00, payable ia a<l vnncc : $2 if delayed. 1 'CLUBS of TKN and upward# ft, the mqnev in evcrv instance to aeoompnny the order. iHU AI>VKRT?EMENTa inserted eon#pieuou#$ySK the rateapf 75 cent# per square of 8 line#, and I *6 coots for each subsequent insertion. Coa> traats for yearly advertising made reasonable. Irlrrttlt ^nrinj. Orlgh] of i\)& E'oJrgef-lYrc-^fct. A OKRVAX T*AOmoX. ',< Among Silesinn plains whore glide JBf The Oder rtrwrnn, in slow meander, ?? fair bright eVentide Of old, twd raver* came to wander. ^ And if from sunset's gorgeons dyes Some em Idem meet, they sought to borrow, l*s ,t If woe to eo0 in these fair skies, llopeo for some far diviner morrow. to And if?while o'er its silvery spray They bent to view the singing water, Where (pam bells flashed in joyous play, And ripples broke, like low sweet laughter. A thought was mingling with the dream, Whirn in that hour did thrill and quiver. Amid .their heart string*?it might seem Of nuiMO rolling on foraver 1 i. i i 1 - tl? i" .1 . rw t-FWII i n IIWH l l??o uiniwcM VI ivu . "Jh? inifd^v flowers are fair to gather? llairbclla, and daisies, sunny-eyed. And cowslip, child of -AJf>ril weather; Ivitig-cnrvs ana crocuses, thnf fling A golacn gKmmeroYr the meadows; And Tillies, o'er the glassy epriug. Hint bend to view their own white shadows. "Rut. unavailing tlieseire flung, In blcsbing bloom of peArly whiteness, Tlu- w hile for me so idly hung Tho& buds of blue celestial brightness, . That gem the ware's opposing shore, L*]<on my grasp w hich fair 'would measure Tltnt glittering space of water o'er, Bespread like some attaiulees treasure," "The boon be thine, fair love!" he cried; And, through that glittering crystal dashing, He wended fast where o'er the tide The blue gleam of those flowers was flashing. He reek'd not of the treacherous flood. Outspread in deepening paths before him ; While on, in eager, ardent Vnood, Unto the flowery prise he bore bhn! Alas! nlas! the watery cone Around him olnng with mightier clasping; Hut the goal u rescued, the prize is won. Triumphant in his reeolutc grasping! lie turned him proudly to the strand. And cries', while o'er the o'crwhelming river, *' lie flung the flowers with dying hand? 'Forget me not!" and jiaasea forever! Forget me not! and ?? lier feet, Where ne'er had lore bid truer token, They lay, whose task was now but meet To wreathe a heart whose hope was broken 1 Thence ever grew that name to bo So dear unlo affection parted? . "Hie flower of lore's fidelity, .. . Hie motto of the eousiant-bearUd. tLB.)L Original Craralatioii. a 9* TruilWwi Rrta thf 0trmin for tko too. EnttrplM THE BRACELET. *r a 'L Col. Dx Waldox bad met with a brave ' eohlicr'a death in the bloody battle of Leuihete, where on the 5th of December 1757, , Prussia's greatest king, Frederick, the second ( gained inch a glorious victory over, the Austrian*. lie left his wjJow, living in Prague, in very indifferent circumstances, - * which wore tho more prossing, ae she, besides herself anu young daughter, had also .to provide for the sister of heir husband, who joforo his death had offered her an j asylum In his family. A small pension was scarce sufficient for the most necessary wants, but she succeeded in nursing and attending her sick sisUjvin-law by industriously making and sellfpg Hno fancy needlework. ? But umgtna^nt^are Mrs. D? Waldo* iind was payment of lier house rent, monTporticuldrly as the owner of the house, bachelor, belonged to thet class of persons who have no sympathy for the mint'oi iujh'h of othore, and live only to nattafy J their cwii. wishes 'and desir.*. Following, c^PBRer prifccrit abode had been, also* <tt1(Knt.'r fWfcnts^ n*nd an such all hor JMtnVul and hnppyVKoura were connected it, and for that reason she generally managed to pay her house rent punctually. Three years had passed, not without cares and sorrows in their small family, but still in quiet contentment, when the sister-ir. law of Mrs. Da Waidon was called away to follow her brother into a better world; this casualty would have mitigated their condition, if ITok Mrs. De Waldos, having with nightly watching by the siek'bed, and working for tlieir support in the day time injured her health to such a degree, as to bo compelled to take to her bed. A small amount of money, alio had managed to save, was entirely expended during her sickness, and for the burial of her sister-in-law. Sorrowfully she often gar.ed anxiously at her dau^mer, the only joy she had, conjecturing what was to be the future destiny of the poor girl, liet orphAn daughter, if sho her mother, too, was called Away. It was on a cold and blustering winter's day,when Ktpily, coming from the doctor, whence she got some medicine for her mother, and on her way home, crossing tire bridge over the river Moldavia, where she saw a carriage and its horses, wild. umnnncgaDie ana running away, coming in a dashing gallop towards her. Emily lost not a moment in running to the end of the bridge, and was on the point of stepping on the pavement of the street to keep out of the way of the infuriated horses, when losing her footing on the snow and ice-slippery pavement, she fell down, and so unfortunately as to be in imminent peril of being crushed to death. An officer of the dragoons passing by and seeing her great danger, sprang with lightning speed to her, lifted 1 her in his arms and bore her amid the approving shouts of the people * to a place of safety; trembling and blushing, Emily endeavored to thank her presorvcr, a very handsome young man, in the most heartfelt terms, and entreated him to accompany her to her mother that she too might have the pleasure of thanking him for his noble deed, but the officer excused himself, and said, that it was with regret he denied himself the honor of her company, as some military duty prevented his complying with hor request, 'neither have I,' he continued, 'done anything but a duty encumbent ou every human being with these words he went away almost bewitched by the glances of those dark aud lustrums blue eyes of Emily. Emily went home and related to her sick mother all that had happened. She was at first terrified,.but at the conclusion of the story she thanked God in a sincere and heartfelt prayer for the preservation of her dear child from swell a horrible deatfff The emotions of her heart having subsided a little, Mrs. Du Waldo n reproved her daughter for neglecting to learn at least the narno of the officer, that she too might have expressed her gratitude to him ; to Emily life name was of coureo unknown, bqt the image of her preserver was for over engraven on her young and innocent heart She jvas always ! vividly recalling the particalars of the scene to her imagination, when %vor she crossed the bridge or passed near tho spot of her disaster. Emily was now in her sixteenth year, and nerTersonal charuw more and more unfolde^tue treasures of her cultivated minJ to such a degree, that she was called the belle of Prague everywhere. Appearing in public wa? sure to excito general homage to her angelic loveliness. There w as an indescribable enchantment about her that o?n h*>r m.aK - could not withstand, and very often when Rmily mt busily {dying her needle, her mother calling her to her bedside, and putting beak a cloud of rich nubum curls from her daughter's classic forehead, would cover It with soft kisses, but not in this viow alone was Emily the joy of her mother, who, sick and helpless as she was, entirely depondod on her daughter fur support and consolation. Emily's rare and tasteful skill in fancy needlework, oombinod with indefatigable industry, enabled her hot alone to provide for all necessary wants, hut event to pfbeuro. now and then some refreshing luxury for her sick mother. ^ About this time there waa a remarkable change in the conduct and whole exterior of her landlord ; this nan p?o had on every' occasion shown himself rude and ooano to km De Waldon, Wham* <BTw "everyday ma*a and ynore agreeable and epoHto in bis jSplllta and conversation, and i^ing vsrf .*?? * ft gdtta. 9e& in *" rafti-fri attentive, also regarding his drew, lie occasionally called on Mrs. Do Waldon, to inqure anxiously into tlio state of her henltli and other circumstances and things, which he bad never dono before, except only to request the payment of bia rent or receive money due to him 1W such. About this time her houso rent became duo, and not having the money ready at hand, Mrs. Do Walden required time, which was not only immediately granted,; but Mr. Dempsky in his present inexplicable beha viour, also offered for the use of the ladies a beautiful garden attached to the house, which was the more surprising, as Mrs. De Waldon had before this vainly entreated him to permit her the use of it; his visits became now more frequent than ever, and sometimes lie would present the mother with the choicest fruits of his garden, or on another occasion present the daughter with the most beautiful flowers tied into a bouquet, nay ho even sometimes dared to kiss the halulB of mother and daughter, before bowing himself out of the room. v-' For a long time Mrs. D^PpIdon could not explain to herself the reason oMier landlord** kindness to her family, it being a contradiction to his kuown charactqj, but she felt at times a presentiment of his true intentions.? She was not deceived, when one morning being alone, Mr. Dcmpsky with a new wig and dressed in the extreme of fashion, solicited an interview with her; it was granted, and with deep bows he made his entrance into the room, commenced the conversation with the common topics of the day, and then led off on the happinness and joys of married life, and expatiated at great length on his unhappy lot, in not having as yet experienced such bliss, as he had never before isccn a young may attractive enough in person and mind to offer his heart and hand, but heaven had blessed him at last in recognizing and appreciating tho loveliness and accomplishments of her daughter, and she alone deserved to become his wife. MYes, my de.tr Mrs. i)e Waldon," he continued, "I love your daughter, her graces have enchained me, and it is impossible for me to exist without her, I give myself up, therefore, to the secret hope, of your aauction to our union, and that you will now look upon mo as you* future son-in-law, making me such in .fact as soon as convenient to youand with these words this silly and conceited person glanced with a complacent smile at his rellected form in tho opposite hanging looking glass. Although Mrs. De Waldon had suspected his intentions, and that the beauty of Emily alone had melted the ice around the heart of this old man, she never expected to hear it avowed so soon, but having tact sufficiently to listen to his proposal, she nnswered him with her native dignity and kindness tliat an offer of marriage to a young lady was a very important event in her life, and aught to be well considered, that he would uot expect her to give him a decided answer now, but having spoken to her daughter about it, sho then could let him know the result of it in the course of the day. ?Mr. Dcmpsky was a rich man, posAfesing, besides his houso in the city, a fine'country residence in the environs of Prague, which yielded him a good round sum of money in rent every year, so tlmt a marriage of her daughter with him, could have secured to her a life free from care and want. But leaving alone the disparity in years, he being Mllilr. Mr. Dpmn?l-? wna tim-i-n lm <> 7?1J . *?J "" " great miser, and an infamous usurer, and the last though not least reason, was the natural aversion of her daughter to this man, abe concluded, therefore, to let liiin know bar decision in the following linos: "jSir; rou will not denj, as a reasonable mau^that in contracting marriage with a young lady, tliat a mutual affection ia indespenstfbla, and you will pardon me, that aa a mother, who dearly loves her child, I should consult the wishes of my daughter on this suhjcct,nnd I am sorry to inform you that she peremptorily declines the honor of your hand. I will add, that the difference of your age and that of my daughter, also the difference of *ur respective positions and means compared with yours, cause me to second my daughter in her determination to of alliance with you, fHemlly iuteroourso from this u% I,remain yours, rMhtffclly, ' Cuaai^t^uflHVrALOoy.<* Mr. Pempsky having anticipated quite a different result, and counting on their poverty for complying with, his wishes, seeing himself thus cooly and insultingly rejected, became furious, and was now. certain!v not ' J * the innn to fulfill the concluding wish of Mr*. De Waldon's letter. On the next day, alrenJy, ho called for the money duo' to him, yet, informing her, either, consent to the mnrriage of her daughter with him, or not paying the money due to him in six days, he would enforce the rigour* of law against her. She knew him too well, to expect anything hotter from him, but how to avert and relieve her distresses,1 withbut sacrificing the happiness of her! daughter, was a riddlo to her, as just now \ her means were entirely exhausted, her ein-; barrassmcnt and cares enlarging every hour and with anxiety of heart, and weeping eyes, sho saw a dark, troubled, cheerless future, open before her, but, where affliction's great' est, God's saving hand is nearest 1 Accustomed to domestic life, Eniilv never desired any other pleasure, than to be near her mother, attending and enlivening her weary hours, occasionally leaving hor to. the care of a friend, she wont to a neighboring chapel, hearing mass and praying to God for tho recovery of her mother's health. On the day that Mr. Dempsky made known his final determination to her mother, she had gone, as usual, to fulfil her pious duty, and moss being over, she slowly retraced her steps homeward. It was getting dark, and she was just on tho point of stopping over tho threshold of the chapel,when,accidentally casting down her eyes, she saw lying on tho flnnr lM?nr (Kn rtonr onmn aliininn -- ? stooping down sho took it up, and wraping her handkerchief around it, without farther looking at it. But how surprised, nay frightened, was Emily on coining hom<^ showing it to her mother, sho discovered now for the first time, that it was a magnificent worked bracelet, covered with the most valuable stones. Neither mother nor daughter for a moment entertained the thoughtof retaining this valuable ornament as their property.? They carefully put it up, expecting soon to hear who was the ownor of it, and after the lapse of a few days, the above mentioned friend of Emily's, told her that it was advertised in the papers, the person who had found a bracelet, according to description, would meet with a reward commensurate to its value, on leaving it at the mansion of Gen. Count De Thurneek. [concluded next week.] oM q Iir e'3 ScgJ b. Some years ago, an individual wellknown and highly re*pocted in the religious world, uarraled in my hearing the following incident : In early life, while with a college companion he was making a tour on the continent, at Paris his friend was seized with an alarming illness. A physician of great celebrity was speedily summoned, who stated that much would depend upon a minute attention to his directions. As there was no one at hand upon whom they could place inuch reliance, lie was requested to recommend some confidential and experienced nurse, lie mentioned one, but added, 4You may think yourself happy, indeed, should you be able to secure her services ; but she is so much in request among the higher circles hero, that there is little chance of finding her disengaged !' Tho ndfrator at once ordered his carriage, went to her residence, and, much to his satisfaction, found her at borne. lie briefly stated his errand, and ro- j quested her immediate attendance. 4Hut.' before I consent to accompany you, permit, me, sir,' said she, 'to ask you a single quoslion : Is your friend a Christian ?' 'Yen,' lie replied ; 4ho is indeed a Christian, in the host and highest sense of the term ; a man who lives in the fear of God. Hut I should like to know the reason of your inquiry ?'? ; 'Sir,' she answered, 'I wastho nurse that attended Voltaire in his last sickness, and for all the wealth of Europe I would never ?ee another infidel die.'?LortTt DamatcuM. ' ? Noe* axd Lrpa.?A sharp nose and then lips are considered bv physiognomists certain signs of a shrewish disposition. As n criminal was onca on his way to the gallows, proclamation was made that, if any woman would marry him under the gallows, with the rope around his neck, he would receive pardon, "I will," cried a cracked voice from amid the crowd. The culprit the candidate for matrimony to approach uiu ratrt, which sue aid. "IMose like n km to," i said Jm, "lips liko wafers! Drivoon, hfUggu man * I As infallible remedy for rMnnJuney rf| tyle is for the diffuse Author to form the habit of writing advertfsefbtttta, Jtftd paying fbr {heir insertion. Ik ju * ^ * jjffi" lAln'irii mi IMrrrsting ?tnrirs. S t Irelfy Slo Irj). 'Wklu I think it's likely ; but don't tense ; mo nnytttore. Your brother has married a I poor girl, on o whom I forbade him to marry, ' and 1 won't fogrvc him if they starve together.' This speech was addressed ton lovely girl scarcely eighteen, beautiful ns the lily that hides itself beneath the dark waters. She was parting the silvery locks on her father's high, handsome forehead, of which her own t was a liiinature, and pleading the cause of | her delinquent brother, who had married in i opposition to her father's will, and conse quently been disinherited. Mr. Wheatlv was a rich old gentleman, a resident of Boston. lie was a fat, good Matured old fellow, somewhat given to the mirth and wine, and 1 sat in his arm-chair from morning until I night, smoking his pi|>c and reading the newspapers. Sometimes a story of his own j exploits in our revolutionary battles filled up a passing hour. lie bad two children, the disobedient son, and tho beautiful girl before spoken of. The fond girl went on pleading : 'Dear father, do forgive hiih ; you don't know what a beautiful girl he has married, and? 'I think it's likely.' said tho old man. 'hut don't tease me, and open the door-* little, this plaugy room smokes so.' 'Well,' continued Ellen 'won't you just sec lier now?she is so good, and the little boy, : he looks so innocent.' 'What do yoa say ?' interrupted the father; 'a boy ! have I a grandchild i Why Ellen,! never know that before! but 1 think it's likely. Well, now give me my chocolate, and then go to your uiusic lesson.' Ellen left liiin The nl.l timii'a lienrf l*e The I>b?lixk of Akt im Ttaly.?A Florence correspondent anya : "The expcridhce of thin old academy, (Horence Academy nf Fine Art*,)richly endowded by tlie mnhificence of past times, and furnished a* it i* with all poaaible means and facilities, in the midst of the choicest treasury affords a conspicuous example of the hopeless inelliciency , of suchHnstitutions. The growth of art ' owes nothing to academic machinery and conventional training. Its master minds and match !esproductions were not forced into immortalityjby any hot-hod cultnro whatever. But the .groat age of art in Ttaly is past! In thb, *? in oth^ lbmgs the star of aspire is Not Miai&r able.?T went v shilling mu&?} ana glm aA*r are thirty r1 gan to relent. Well, lie went on, 'Charles was always a good boy, a little wild or so at college, but 1 indulged him ; and he was always good to his old father, for all, but ho disobeyed mo by marrying this poor girl; yet as my old friend and fellow soldier, Tom Bonner used to sa3% we must forgive. Poor Tom! 1 would give all tho old shoes I have got, to know what ever become of him. If T could but find him or ono of his children ! Heaven grant they they are not suffering ! This plaugy smoky room, how my eyes water!? If I did but know who this girl was that my Charles has married; but I have never heard her name. I'll find out and? 'I think it's likely,' said tho old man. Ellen led into the room a beautiful boy, about thrco years old. Ilis curly hair and rosy cheeks could not but make ono love him. 'Who is that ?' said the old mau wiping his eyes. 'That that is Charles' boy,' said Ellen, throwing one of her arms around her father's neck, while on the other she placed the child* on his knee. The child looked tenderly up in his face and lisped out: 'Grandpa, what makes you cry so?' ? The old man clasped the child to his bosom, kissed biin again and again. After this emotion had a little subsided, ho bade the child tell his name. 'Thomas Bonner Whcatly,' said the l>oy, 'I am named after grand pa.' 'What do I hear ?' said the old man, 'Thomas Bonner your grandfather V 'Yes,' lisped the bov, and he lives with ma, at- ; 'Get me my cane,' said tliQ old man, 'and come Ellen ; bo quick chilJ.' They started otf at a quick pace, which soon brought thero to the poor, though neat lodgings of his son. There ho behold his old friend, Thomas Homier, seated in one comer, weaving baskets, while his swathed limbs showed how unable he was to perform his necessary task. Ilis lovely daughter, the wife of Chnrles. was preparing their frugal meal, and Charles was out seeking employment to support his needy family. 'It's all my fault,' ?obl>od tho old mnn as he embraced his friend, who was petrified with amazement. 'Come,' said Mr. Wheatly, 'come all of you homo with me, wo will live together, there is plenty of room in tny house for u* all.' 'Oh, how happy we shall be !' she exclaimed, 'Ellen and father will love our little Thomas so, and he'll be your pet, <von*t he father ?' .. 'Ay,* said tho old man, *1 think it's very . liltolv.' ,, B il) o n 0 e ip^ui^ 1 o I* Jj . "NVk notice in the European paper* mHk 86 extraordinary, that we could hardlyiMBHT credit to it. if it was not endorsed by.'^nWfc *2jg of the highest standing in lterlin and Vl|u ^. 4 enna. A very wealthy lady had by a first marriage twin sons, to whom sho was devoteslly attached. Their health being delicate she dqrided upon leaving <jrcnnany. *Ry the advice of tho mnrt eminent physicians she fixed her residence in Italy ; there, under the influence of the fine climate, they grew, but preserved tho nervous impressibility which in their youth had put their lives in danger. Their likeness to each other was truly surprising. Both devoted themselves to the line art*, painting esj>oci;iUy. When sixteen years old they were considered as masters; but about that time a crisis took place in the disease attacking both. The physicians decided that the young men must separate ; they objected for a long time* but at last overcome by the supplications of their mother, they left to chance to decide which one should depart. It fell upon Alfred, and lie started to visit Greeec and the East, to be absent about a year. Regularly were transmitted by hiuff to bis mother and brother left behind, pictures, sketches, of interesting and beautiful scenes ill his travels. But these pictures, taken from nature, were so exactly the counterpart of what had been painted by tho brother at home during the same time, that tliev could not ho distin^tiishdd the one from tho other. While in Upper Egypt Alfred died, and the physicians wrote to the mother an account of the circumstances attending his death. Upon the same day, and at tho sainc hour, the brother in Italywalso lied. The same circumstances attended his death?the last words uttered were the same. The distracted mother relumed to Germany. Two years after she again gave birth to twin sons, tho exact Qpunterparts of those she had lost. She gave to them the same names. The same symptoms of feeble health showed themselves, and change of climate was again ordered. Tho mother repaired to Spain. The twin sons again devoted themselves to painting. When sixteen tliey weie also taken sick, and a separation was order for there w no nge in ITwen. Yet why Apeak of Age in n mournful strain ? It i* hcafotifhl, honorable ?ud elo<iitenL 8hoi)!n we sigh attlio proximity of death, when lift) and Vie world are so full of emptiness f Let die old exult Urn use they are old, if nnv must weep, let it be tbc young. At the lorn? sttOeessioii of cares that are before them. Welcome the snow, ft* it ? the em- / blcin of peace ?nd of rest. It M hut a ternKrial crown, wjjich fhall fall at tie gates of undue, to be leplsoed by a brighter and4 better. , * ... - ' ed. The mother for a timo resisted, but finally consented that one of thcui> should visit the south of Spain. Chance again designated Alfred the one thnt should go. The saino phenomenon was again ^vitnossed. What was painted by one in Cadiz was reproduced by the other in Barcelona or Cadiz. Upon the very day that Alfred was about to return to his mother and brother ho was suddenly taken ill and died* At the very same moment the brother died in the arms of his mother, both pronouncing the same words their brothers had pronounced twenty years before. This story is published in the German papers for a verity. The Gourier des.. Etats Unis, from which we translate it, vouches for the respectability of those by whoinpt is endorsed. ?? ?The Snow of Age. We have just stumbled upon the follow ing pretty piece of inoasic, lying amid a multitude of those less attractive : . > ' "No snow falls lighter than the snow of age; but none is heavier, for it never melt*.* The figure is by no means novel, but fhe closing part of the sentence is hew as well as emphatic. The scriptures represent age by the almond tree, which bears blossoms of the purest white. " The almond tree shall flourish," the head shall be hoary. Dickens says of one of his characters, whose hair was tprning grtry, that it looked as if Time hncMightly plashed his snows upon it in pacing. "It never melts"?no, never. Age is inexorable ; its wheels must move onward, they Know not any retrograde movtfnent. The <jld man may set and sing?"I woukl I were boy ngnin," but be grows older as'be sings, lie may reap of the elixir of youth, but Tie cannot find it; he may sigh for the secret of the alchemy which is able to imiko him young again, but sighing brings it^ot. He mays gaze, backward with an eye of longing upon trie rosy schemes of early years, but as one who gnzo* on his home from the deck ofn departing ship, every moment carrying him further and further away, l'oor old man ! he has little more to do than die. "It never melts. The enow of winter comes and sheds its whito blotsom* u?oryg&> ley and mountain, but soon the sweet pfiWTg follows and smiles it all away. Not so with that upon the brdw of tiio tottering veteran; there-1* a o Spring whose warmth can penetrate its etormd frost. It camo to stay: its single fiakea fell unnoticed, and now it is drilled there. WosltaU see it increase until wo see the'old man in his grave; there it shall he absorb*! bv due erariml darkness.