University of South Carolina Libraries
V(3LUMEll7 C AM DEN!, SO UTH-CA ROU^ 15,1850. NUMBER21 ijpoctical Department. For the Onmtl-n Journal* . JJNES. It cannot be that I must wake, So sweet has been the dream of love, A sleeper from the fairy land, O'er earth's cold, cheerless paths to rove ? Oh! can it be that one who loves Each smite that tnem'ry holds in store, Although they shone on colder hearts, Must love in vain or love"no more? And must the heart that ever warmed At tones which fell on others' ears, Have no soft tone to still its grief?? To cheer it 'mid a world of cares? Why do the gentler stars illume The sky in winter's chilling hours, And send the moonbeams to awake On earth's cold breast the pretty flowers ? Tis not in vain : the flow'rets spring, Responsive to the starbeam's tone, While hearts that love, less cold than they, 3Iust wander on through life alone! CONSTANCY. THE HOUR-GLASS AND TIME. Mark the golden grains that pass Swiftly through the crystal glass; . Busy, till each sand has sped To tell another hour has fled. Then let some hand invert its frame, And all its powers return the same; While any golden grains remain, Twill work its mile nour again. But none can turn the glass for man, . When all his golden grains have ran; None can collect the scatter'd sand, Dispersed by Time's unsparing hand. Then, reader, since this truth is plain, " That Time, once gone, ne'er conies again, Improved bid every moment pass? See how the sand rolls dovrn your glass! THE CASTLE AND TIIE COTTAGE. COMPOSED BT BALFE?WRITTEN BY FITZBALL. On yon mountain frowns a castle, Wreath'd with gold its portals shine; i In yon valley smiles a cottage, Ro .?es sweet its porch entwine. Wealth and pride dwell in those turrets, Humble hearts the cottage rove, Strife and hate are in the castle, In the cottage peace and love. Silken floors adorn that castle, Banners deck its topmost toner; Sand of snow bestrews the cottage, ^ In its lattice many a flower. Other hearts seek in that castle Pomp with anguish interwove, Mine the poor and humble cottage, Riclfer far in peace and love! ?ljc ?lio. The glory of a good man is the testimony of a good conscience; have that, and thou wilt have inward peace amidst troubles. Which three letters in the English alphabet ore the most forcible ? 'N It G, (energy.) Which two the most hateful ? N V, (envy.) Which two contain the leastM T, (empty.) Which four arc the most corpulent ? () II (J T, (obesity.) Which two the nmst failed ( D K, (decay.) Which four have a title of honor? X L N C, (excellency.) Which three the most wearisome? N U E, (ennui.) Which six arc a popular doctrine ? X P D E N C, (ex]K>diency.) Which three are a mournful poeui ? T l? < 1 I.. 1 \ JU Ei v?, \VIVQJ .) A Consolatory Precedent.? All degrees of nations, says the late Sydney Smith, begin with living fn pig sties. The king or the priest first gets out of them; then the noble, then the pauper,, in proportion as each class becomes more opulent, Better tastes arise from better circumstances; and the luxury of one period is the poverty of another. Very H ard Indeed.?A young gentleman paid his addresses to a young lady, by whose mother he was not honorably received. " How hard," said he, to the young lady, "to separate those whom love has united!" " Very hard, indeed," replied she, with great innocence, at the same time throwing her arms round his neck, "and so mother will find it!" A United Congregation.?During a season of great religious declension, an aged deacon was asked whether tlio church to which he belonged was united. " Ah, yes," replied the good man, with emotion, " for we are all frozen together !" epigrams. R.iit hrwilr and hair, are used hv anfrlor fino : "' ? ""ww"? v , r 7 * J ?? ' Emma's bright hair, alone were bait, hook, and lino. Faraday was the first to elicit the electric spark from tiie magnet; he fouml that it is visible at the instants of breaking a "1 of renewing the contact of the conducting and only then. Around the magnet, Faraday Is sure that Yolta's lightning.- .-lay; But huiv to draw them from the wire ? He took a lesson from the heart: 'Tis w hen we meet, 'tis when we part. Breaks forth the electric fire. lunxc'tcc?A crystal fount in a barren land. A Fact?" Didn't Know Him."?A certain young limb of tiic law, whose merits were greater than his professional success, and whose purse had never been remarkable for its length, by a late hickv turn in the wheel of fate, threatened to become the possessor of an immense Untune. Distinguished for his gentlemanly deportment and courtesy, as well as for his frank and independent character, the number of our hero's friends is great, and the name of his resjjectabte acquaintances legion. Among the latter is, or rather was, Mr. X., a gent leimwi of the " I'pper Ten," blessed with one or more marriageable daughters. Although having an acquaintance of some years' standing with onr young tiicnd, X. had rarely been able to bring Lis aristocratic optics to bear upon so briefless a mortal, when they passed in the street; and when he did succeed in so doing, he acknowledged his polite greeting with u scarcely discernible frigid bow. Hut when X. was informed of the very brilliant prospects of our hero, he became suddenly possessed of a most vivid recollection of bis jhtsoii, ?" ' *?" /lo ir,. t? fl'tim nn intimnto nr? quaiiitniicc with Iiiin. A short time after the arrival of the news of our friend's approaching good fortune, X. met him in the street. With outstretched hands he approached?"Ah, Mr. , 1 am delighted to sec you?why have you not been round to so:1 us ? Really, you must come and dine with us to-morrow en famille. Xo excuse now."? Our friend regarded X. a moment with a look of utter surprise?" Why, really," says lie, " 1-1 must say 1 d-don't know you?if 1 ever did, 1 have entirely forgotten you! And as to (lining with yon, it is out of the question; but if you will go up to the Verandah with me, I can give you some ox-tail soup, and pay for it too!? What'll you drink, stranger V' X. vamosed. Soon after the Copernican system of astronomy began to be generally understood, an old Connecticut farmer went to his parson with the following inquiry: "Dr. T., do you- believe in the new story they tell about the earth moving J .i ?? "tt v - -j ? u n. I roil mi ine sun ; i es, ccruiiuiy. u" juu think that it is according to the Scriptures? If it's true how could Joshua command the sun to stand still?" "Untph!" quotii the doctor, scratching his head, " Joshua commanded the sun to stand still, did he ?" " Yes." " Well, it stood still, did it hot?" "Yes." "Very well. Did you ever hear that he set it agoing again ?" Doctor?not Reverend.?A convention of ministers, recently assembled at Syracuse, N. Y., formally denounced the honorary dcgiee o I'D. D., as a mark of distinction, and resolved that the title belongs to all teachers of Christianity. They recommend, therefore, that all ministers receive the title of D. D. instead of Rev. " Mr. Brown, I owe you a grudge, remember that!" " I shall not be frightened, then; for I never knew you to pay anything that you owed." I? - -.--?-I |H | 1?11 ? ... - ?? A Sclcctcii ?nlc. ALICE UAKCLAY, OK, RECOLLECTIONS OF "AN OLD MAID." IIV K?C?. How often (!o we hear old maids ridiculed, and even abused: and perhaps you, dear reader, have sometimes lent a helping hand to this injustice. If you have, 1 hope you will never do it again, for 1 am sure, if you had ever thought a moment, you would never have done it; if the ri.ftcfui \ehv thev have remained siuirle is because they have never Inul an otter, you should pity tliem, or if tliev have been coquettish, you should pity them still more. But .1 do not 1 think ol<l maids generally owe their gilt of sin- 1 gle blessedness to either of these causes, lie- ' fore I introduce'my heroine, 1 will he obliged to ' relate a few incidents of my own life, while 1 beg of my readers not to be impatient My mother died when I was very young, lie- 1 fore i had learned that a parent's love only can ' be perfectly disinterested; 1 was consigned to the care of my aunt, Mrs. Hereford I have but I a distant recollection of my mother's death, for ' I could not have been more than six years old, ' but I remember that 1 was carried to my mother's room, where, as nurse told jne, 1 was to < i . _ ?i. i.....?: c...i i i SOC nor lor iiiu iusi iimv, iiij itiiiiV-1 ?iia niiming by the coliin, iintl I hardly knew liiin, he I looked so paleami haggard; nurse placed me I near him, and left me; iie did not speak lor a i long time, hut at last arose, and kissing the pale lace of my mother, held me up to do the same; , 1 mechanically did so, hut I could not conceive why he looked so solemn, .for I thought she was only asleep: hut when he drew me to him, ' and a tear fell on my face,?1 had never seen ' him shed a tear before,?1 immediately fell that sonic awful calamity had befallen him, and, without distinctly knowing the reason whv, cried as if my heart would break. "Dear, dear lather!" said 1, wiping his ' rough cheek with my apron, " 1 will love you ! till ma comes hack." ile hid his face in his ' handkerchief, ami 1 never saw him shed another tear. 1 helieve 1 fell asleep then, for 1 do I not know what happened alter that, until I ' found myself in nurse's lap, in a small room, I that 1 knew 1 had never seen before. i "What room is this, Aunt Juiiof?(I always 1 called her aunt.) j " You are in the boat, Miss, and is going to f your aunt's." < " 1 don't want to go to aunt's; I want to go to ma." I " Poor child," she murmured. I "(Mi, don't cry so, Aunt Jane," said I, lay. i ing my hand eoaxiuglyon her ebon cheek. j She now told me my mother was gone to! Heaven; I beggtd her to go there with me, in- i stead of my aunt's. She tried to explain to me j that I could not, but it was a long time before I 1 .understood that I could not go to my mother without putting ofl'lhis mortal flesh. She told I me a great many other things, which 1 do not now recollect, but the time passed very pleas- j antly to me, till my father one day came into 1 our little room, and told Aunt Jane to follow! him; she took me in her arms, and we were ? soou out ot the boat on the bank; I bad never j seen a river before, and was perfectly bcwil- j dered. "Is this the river Jordan?" I inquired of nurse, (she had been telling nic that 1 would be obliged to cross that river ere 1 got to ileaven.) " Oh 110, Miss Kate," she replied, much troubled at my want of comprehension; she then ' entered into a prolonged description of the mer- \ its of that river, which I have forgotten. We | soon arrived at the door of a very large house,! and were ushered into a splendidly-furnished | parlour, where there was a lady, and a child 1 about my own age ; my father told mo that the j lady was my aunt, and the child my cousin, | Mcilora. My aunt drew ;rie to her and kissed me, butt I noticed that she did not kiss me as loudly as mania always did. My father did not remain long, but promised to come again as soon as he could. My uuul lifted -me to her side, and told Medora and me that we must love one another. At night Medora's maid Lucv went with us to our room, and after 1 had been undressed, and had said 1113* prayers, as usual, to Aunt Jane, she, after running her lingers through inv hair, exclaimed:. " What pretty, dark, curling hair she has! Don't you wish yours was as pretty, Miss Me- j dora V* # Medora did not look well pleased, and so I | glanced at the opposite mirror. 1 thought that i it was indeed very pretty. I had never known, I or thought of the color of my hair before; this j was the spark of vanity that had ever entered my soul, and it found a welcome resting place, as it will in every heart that has not been purified by religion. The next morning I was awakened by Lucy, I bad no idea of being taken up by any one but Aunt Jane, and inquired for her. " She is sick," replied Lucy, "and cannotcome; but I will dress you, my sweet lady." I nerinittoil her to t.-ikn m?? no then A fti?r I Medora and I wore dressed, we went down stairs, where I saw my uncle for the first time; but I was too anxious to see Aunt Jane to notice anything, and after breakfast begged to be carried to her. When she saw me siie appeared to he perfectly delighted, and begged me to stay with her all the time. I did not need much persuasion to do so, and all the entreaties of Medora failed to make ine quit her. l ivery day after that she became worse, and at last she told nic that she was going to die, and hoped she would go to heaven; that 1 must he a good child when she was gone, and not to love fine things too much. 1 told her that 1 would do any thing to go to her and my mother. ] For weeks after my good old nurse's death, 1 thought of nothing but her, heaven, and the river of Jordan. Jiut my aunt, who was a vain, worldly woman, laughed at me until 1 gradually began to forget all the good advice given ine i at my dying nurse's bedside, for 1 was very easily lumicnrou. .tiv aunt liait a great ileal of i company, who praised and Mattered ine, often saving that .Medora and I were the j)rettiest , children they had ever seen. 1 thus became so j much accustomed to Mattery, that I could not | endure any one who did not tell me that I was ? pretty, graceful, a great genius 'or something of ( the sort. I imagined no one could like me , without telling me their opinion of the subject ] of my appearance, which 1 thought of course | wotdd ahvays he Muttering. i When .Medora and 1 were about twelve years , of age, we were as vain, and as fond of dress, j us any lady in the town; and my uncle said laughingly, one day, that our heels and toes had been taught long, enough, and that it was lime we should either go to a hoarding school, or have a governess. My aunt was very anxious for us to go to a fashionable hoarding school, hut my uncle insisted on having a governess. | " You know," said lie to mv aunt, " that we i have a distant relation, a Miss Alice Bark lev, i vvlioiu ji? v sister Kate (lie alluded tu my iiiutlier) < used to he very fond of.'' s "l)l?!" said my aunt, "she is an old maid?my ' detestation." . * Anions the many useless things that my aunt ' !iad instilled into my ductile mind, was a great ' horror lor old maids. 1 was taught that no sit- 1 nation in life could he more deplorable. ' 'Tather, do send us to the hoarding school," 1 said Modern, imjiloringly. But he was iuexorahle this time, and despite j the entreaties of aunt and tin* tears of .Medora j iikI myself, wrote a letter to Miss Barkley, of ii-nug un uir Miii.uiiMi ,1* guviTiii:^. ^ "I hope she will die before she gets it,"said Medora. ( "Oh, no, we will laugh at and make fun of j ier till She wishes she had never come," lanswered; not being cruel enough to wish her loath 011 the occasion. I A month passed, and as we had heard nothing \ Irom .Miss IJ., we began to indulge a hope that t ive never should. IJut, alas lor all earthly hopes li lie next week we received a letter from her, saying that she would be at my uncle's in six v 1 1 l I . I I ivitks, uuring which imil' we mane sundry eon- \ lectures as to her antiquated appearance, jut- r mailing ourselves that she would he the most \ lisagivcable and old-niaiilish of all old maids, v 1'he day we expected her. Medora and I were t alkiug about her, when l.itcv came rumiing io. " iiul told us that Hie old maid was coining. We \ an to the window?the carriage was at the door c uid a tall gentleman was jiM alighting. I "I wonder who that can be,"" said Medora; "perhaps lie is her brother." "He is too handsome to be and old maid's brother," put in Lucy, who had also imbibed my aunt's opinions on that subject. "What a pretty loot?" I exclaimed, as the lady in question was handed out of the carriage. "Ladies that have small feet, I believe, are j generally old maids," said Medora. laughing. "1 never heard of that before," 1 answered angrily, for I had a very small one; "but if it is true, you certainly will never bo so unfortunate ; as to be one." We were here interrupted in our attempted i nil.s by a message from my aunt, that we must come down, i immediately went to the mirror for my looks was my first thought in every emergency; and after smoothing over my long j curls, of which I was very proud, with Medora 1 descended to the parlor, and was clasped in the arms of my father. "My beloved child," said he, putting back my 1 curls, and kissing me again and again. 1 looked up into his face with proud surprise, 1 for ho was exceedingly handsome, though at j least forty. I now turned to Miss Barkley, 1 who was about to embrace me, but I drew back 1 and merely bowed fashionably; but Medora was ; less thoughtful, and pretended to be very glad j to see her. My father did not happen to notice | my rudeness,- and my practiced eye quickly saw j that he was astonished and delighted at my j grace and beauty, and 1 was angry and morti- j liud wheal perceived no glance ofadmiratiou ! from Miss B. My father remained with us two weeks. 11 was with liiin almost constantly, and when the I time came tor him to go away, 1 begged him to ' let inc go with him; hut he said that 1 could not ! leave my aunt's until I finished my education, 1 which lie hoped would he in a few years, then h he would come and take inc to my native home; i he little thought that ere this I would he an orphan. I w; s very much d'sapponted in my i governess. 1 had expected to have found her a ! sour, ill-natured person, with a great dislike | for people of the masculine gender, but she was j very sweete tempered, and I never heard her ' say a word against the unfair sex, and though J I could not immediately get over my repugnance to her old inaidship, 1 gradually, w.t icut know- i bur it. hiv'Tjin t.o li?Vi? ln?r_ tli*? o "> D -.-.J t)' V "o"" " ' wishes of my atint. 1 hail exp.-etcd to have had a great deal of amusement at her expense; but I was disappointed in that also, for even if 1 had had the inclination, I never got a chance. Medora, who was the fac simile of hi r mother pretended to despise her, though I noticed that she was a great deal better in every way, when in the company of Miss Alice. ]>ut I must hasten to the end of jny story.? About three years after the departure of my fa* ' tlier; mv uncle received a letter from his con- i [i.lential agent, announcing the disastrous in- j J telligeucc of my f'.ithor's dentin- 1 was ofa.vory i1 oassionate disnositioli. and when I lmniil ii I i was s<> much shocked and agitated, that I was thrown into a fever, and for weeks hovering he- 1 twee 11 life and death. The morning after 1 had ' heard of his death, I woke for a few moments : to a sense of my situation; no one was in the room hut .Miss Alice; she was kneeling; and ' with her llihle before her appeared to he absorbed in its holy contents; she was as pale as I death, and if it had not been for the fervent ox- 1 pression that illumined her counte lance, she j might have been taken for a corpse. I thought I heard her murmu *, " Father, for- j give me." I sighed, for 1 thought that if a he- | ing, whoso utiiform'y followed the example of licr glorious Master, needed forgiveness, that I | shocl.l never obtain it. When she a roses she j Game to mo. 1 closet! my eve?, for 1 did hot wish her to know that I had been a witness to tier saeled devotions?site pressed her li'/s to ' ii y burning brow; tiiey vvero as void as ice; 1 t .nvolitntariiy started. "What is the matter, leaivstf' she impiired; "you must keep pereciiy stiil. Throughout my long illness, when'v r 1 awoke to consciousness, I saw .Miss j \!aee, like an angel of light, hovering over me, j inticipating my every want. .My aunt and t Medora seldom came to see me ; a side room ( ,vas illy stilled to litem. One lovely morning, ipon awaking, 1 fell as lliotigh I hail just bro- r ten from a long, long sleep; every thing np)eareil new to me; the sun was pouring a Hood >fradiant light through the window; 1 endeav- j >red to rise to look out, but 1 was as \^eak as in inlaid. A feeling ol languid liappiness came kCmiic, as I lay silently enjoying the cheering ays ol the miii, which had never appeared more leautilid. No one was in the room; hut hi a i'w iiiome. ts the door opened, and .Miss Alice s.itered. I gave I at livr in utter astonishment; ii-'eail of the piump, rosy cheeks 1 had almost { iixied, they were pale and sunken. The Doc- ^ or was w itli her, and 1 heard him say to her, i( ' Von are unnecessarily confining yourself; 1 j hiuk .Mi s ivite is entirely out of danger."-? _)ear, dear Miss Alice, and have you su(T-rid ^ omoeli forme!" 1 murmured, hinudihly. When | ve were . ilnlie I railed lier f i me sin,I ng my anus around her, wept long ami freelv; or I It'll llial sin' was now the only one on earth loved. Under her fostering care, i rapidly recovered, and, as we had moved to my uncle's i.Mintry seal, our physician enjoined it on us to alio a great deal oi exercise. Kvery evening ^ ve took long walks. W e contiirued the- prae- ( ice long alter we ceased to he invalids. 'J'hose | lours are among the happiest of my existence ( ?with my hand in hers, wandering over the villi! v h a 1 ul woo !s ol M (tiii'.i al'rt I talking farther than usual, and being both weaied, we seated ourselves <.it an old log covered vitli moss, under the thick shade of a large tree, chose branches almost touched the ground; lie scenery around was perfectly enchanting. 'How lovely!" I exclai ncd, "now if llarley cere with us. I would he so happy; hut von auuot sympathize with me; ynu were never in ove, were you, .Miss Alice!" "1 will answer t jour question when we reach home, if you will coine to my room, for it will take a longer time than you imagine! But, dear Kate, be assured 1 can sympathize with you." ' She smiled affectionately, and taking my hand, we started for home. About half way we met Harley, who had come in search of us. Miss Alice, always anxious for the happiness of others, left us, and we walked slowly along a winding path to the house. When we arrived there, he took his leave, and I ran up the steps to Miss Alice's room and knocked, heard a soft "come in" and entered. She was sitting by an old desk, which Mcdora and 1 had often ridiculed as being old niaidish. I drew a chair to her side, put my arms coaxingly around her, and looked inquiringly into her sweet blue eyes. " You must not expect a romantic storv. Kate ; hut plain matter-of-fact" " Miss Alice, I did not think you had ever been in love, because you never got married ; for you are so beautiful and perfect?" " Hush, Kate, you must not talk so; what you said a few moriients ago recalled to my memory many events of the past; and as the only barrier to my answering your questions is now broken down, I will relate to you, Kate, the most important. 1 opened this desk a moment ago, the first time for fifteen years." She now took from it a miniature case, and handed it to me : unclasping it, I beheld one of the handsomest facesl had ever seen. I thought an instant it was mv father's; I gazed at it long and tenderly with irrepressible emotion. I begged h'T to proceed, and she continued? "You know, Kate, the original of that picture was a distant relative of mine?third cousin, 1 believe. Well, when I was about sixteen, lie came to R , to see us. I had never spoken to, and lind scarcely ever seen a young gentleman before. Imagine, then, the impressions a handsome, accomplished one like him would make on a young, untutored, impulsive ffirl. as I was then. He remained at. R a month. Wo rode, walked, and wero constantly together. He was very wild, and one moonlight night proposed taking a ride. My parents were always so particular, that had any one else made the proposition I would have been allocked. But he, I would have done any thing, gone any where with him, (for, although ho called me cousin, and treated me only as such, I, foolish creature, loved him to distraction.) I agreed ; lmt we had notgoue far when my horse started and threw me: 1 was not at all hurtr though much frightened; he lifted me from the ground, and as he did so kissed my check. Ah! the wild, thrilling happiness of that moment I would willingly have- l>een thrown a thousand i !i,t A.i f /% li nif.v l>ltnr ? (iiiiiro iv iiavu ca|runrui;vu a^iuu mat iiiibc *? The memory of that kiss haunted me night a^d day, for weeks. In dreams I would awake, my wholu frame trembling with intense joy; for that kiss was burning on my cheek. The month that lie was to stay at It? passed quickly away. My mother asked him to go with me as far as G , as I was going there on a visit to her old friend, Mrs. Morley. lie agreed, and [ was almost frantic with delight to know that 1 would be with him a littlelongcr. Kate Morley was very pretty ; and as mv watchful eyesaw the ardent gaze of admiration he fixed on lier, nn* heart sunk within me; I thought that perhaps, afte: ..11, he merely loved me as a cousin: but then the incidents of that moonlight night came fresh to my memory, and I loved on; L?ut my Heavenly Father saw fit to displace that idol from the throne wherein he alone should nave been worshipped. I was informed, and ilmf too bv bim. that he and Kate were entoitr .-(I. It was one evening 1 was sitting in tho Kileonv looting at tho stars, and thinking of liin, when lie came, and seating himself near no, took my hand. " Cousin, tlear, I've got a secret to tell you."' I could not ask hiiu what it was, aud he con-inued? " Congratulate me, coz,?sweet Kato lias*' iromiscd to he mine." 1 was thankful that the darkness prevented tin) from seeing my laee, for I would not havelad him see it tor worlds. 1 pressed any liar.d o my brow to stiil its tiirobhings?but he did' lot notice me, for liis thoughts were with Kate." When we are manied, we are going to Eu-ope. You must go with us?won't you?" " No," 1 answered, "I must go hometo-mor-ow, anil 1 know my parents will not agree tev t." " 1 must give you my miniature then,'that:you' iri v not Ibrget your cousin Charley." !li- ir:i vi? il til Im-. I Wi-nt. miii-klv- tn mv ooni, and kneeling, prayed to iny CJod to give* ne nawlon for the past, and strength for days to1 nine. I poured out my soul to Him who alone' an lieal the i.Token-heartod. 1 locked up inhis desk every thing he had ever given me, with his miniature; I resolved never to look at it gain : for 1 knew 1 could not look into those oved eyes, and remember, as 1 ought, that they vote another's, 1 vowed from that timc;-witlk i Oil's help, to devote myself solely to Itim, and^ lear Kate, lie has never forsaken me." Her eyes were radiant with excitement, and . tear had fallen on her Hushed cheek. She overed her face with her hands, and when she emoved them, she was as calm as usual, ? iion sue moil sue if Il all her riches to tho tour, l>ut she bequeathed her old desk to me, illicit was more valuable than all the wealth of In- Indies, 1 kept it as a treasure ; as a relio if her, my host, and for a long time, my only i iie friend, i made a resolution never again to liter another word of reproach, or abuse, against Id maids. Reader, 1 hope you will do likewise. Man was horn to die, Woman made to sigh, Viii! niiuwit* m<iiln tii ll\' [The Fates. Kitm-Dmnking.?A bane to society, a curs^ o mankind, ami an open door to lu 11.