Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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t~t aot .avILd1n'tt~,Ct "WVe will cling; to the Pillars of the Temple of our U rS , amid if it must fall, we wil' rs mds h un. W. F. DURISOE & SON, Proprietors. I JEtIELU, 0.1., JOL. 18NO I80 NEOS EPISCOPOS, Editor. " He that is first in his own cause seemeth just, but his neighbor cometh and searcheth him." SOLOMON. Cor. SzKIs,-My dear Sir: Although this article is in the form of a communica tion, I prefer, for several reasons, to occupy the corner to which I have been accustomed for some months past. You were not more surprised, I appro hiend, at seeing my endorsement in the issue of the 4th inst., of Rev. Mr. TUCKER'S letter than was your editorial associate in reading your article of the 11th inst., headed " Per sonal ;"-which party had the best cause for .surprise will perhaps be seen in the sequel. Allow me then first to correct an impres sion which your piece may have made on the minds of some who "Know Nothing" (in the natural way) of the manner in which I became connected with the paper. It is very true as you state that " a .friend of ours voluntarily offered his services to conduct a ' Religious Department' in the paper ;" but unless my memory plays the traitor, that friend did not know you in the transaction. We did indeed have some conversation on -the subject, but not until after the arrange ment was effected between myself and the Junior Proprietor. It is much to be regret ted that this thought did not occur to you, as it might in some degree have tempered the tone of superciliousness which charac terised a part of your article. But that which has occasioned the most surprise to myself, and to every one else with whom I have passed a word on the subject, without distinction of party, religi ons or political, saint or sinner, was, that the letter to which. I -gave a " downright and hearty approval,". should have presented it self to you as such a monstrum horrendum informe, in all tihe hideousness of Anti-Catho. lie Know Nothingism. ' I have however worked out a solution of the Matter which to myself at least is satisfactory, and to which in the spirit of charity I shall ad e, until a"_raft___ tit' that.is,. that when you penned the article you had not read Mr. T's letter, but simply glancing at it, and seeing that it called in question the ccuracy of some statement made by Mr. STEPHEN'S, you concluded it to be "Know Nothing" and hence your " personal" re flection. I shall not stop here to offer any com ments on the document which has given .offence to you and perhaps to others. That :has been widely published, and become part .of the history of the times; it can be seen and read of all men where a free press sends the light of knowledge throughout our happy country, and the flag of freedom waves "O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave." Thanks be to God, that flag still displays its :ample folds high above the sectarian stand ards that would displace it, and under the shade of the Palmetto all can meet and build the altars of their religious faith.' Esto per petua, be the prayer of every Christian, the sentiment of every patriot. All that I submit in reference to the letter and my own "approval," is, that the matter discussed in it was of a religious and not a political character. 'The question at issue was in relation to a point of priority and historical fact, respecting the establishment of religious liberty in America, and in proof of this I offer not my word, but refer you to the document contained in the Advertiser of the 4th July. -But Sir, the next thing which is presented for your consideration, as an act of injus tice to one who had a right to expect better things, is not a mere matter of inference <drawn from what you have written, but a' -"pen. and ink sketch" placing me in the ranks of a political party, which, in your exprsed opinion is of " dangerous tenden - cies and especially useless to Southern inte rests." This is certainly taking bold ground, and which, if put to the proof, you might find it digieult to maintain. No evidence can be found in any thing which I have written or "approved" in this paper, and " my mannier of life" has not been such as commit me to the declaration of political principles or preferencees. 1There are few ,men of my age who have had less to do than I in the strifes of contending parties, so much so that I have been reproved by my friedsfor not exercising a freeman's fran chise. Unless actuated by considerations of personal friendship, I have seldom if ever visited .the hustings. 'The' only exception that'now occurs to my memory, was in the case of the last Senatorial election, when I advocated the return of the theo incumbent for what I honestly esteemed hii faithful dis charge of an unpopular dut. But Sir, I am disposed to attribute this also to a hasty Lemperamenit, and not a'deisign to injure one .eko has never given you cause to do so.. Ikowld it to be the right however of every one "de got desire by this to make the impression that! was indifferent to your feelings on the mubjieet, fbr Ifrceey acknowledge that had i supposed there wae any objection on your pert to the arrangement I eertsinly should not have pone into it. And such 't .u-.,..a. w t.s..ntiments of Mr. Duassos. in this free land not only to have an opinion, but when occasion calls for it, to speak out on all subjects, religious and political, which effect the common interest, and as such, if it will afford you or any one else any satis faction, you have herewith my views in re gard to the great struggle that now absorbs the 'attention and energy of the common wealth. It is indeed a very small matter what I or any othe: individual in like humble circumstances may think about these matters A fly on the balance-wheel, might perhaps, as much influence the running of the steam engine. It is though of'some importance to myself inasmuch as the politics of " Nzos .EPiscopos" have been sent around the orbit in which revolves the Advertiser, "distinctly disclaimed" by the chief Editor. What then, I ask in "defining my position," is Know Nothingism I Well, not being now, and never having been a member of the order, I emphatically and literally know nothing about it except what I have seen in the news papers and what I have on different occasions gathered from the conversation of a few in dividuals that I suppose were members. And like all other creeds, whether relating to politics or relig ion, that which is set forth as embodying a manifestorof Know Nothing. principles, contain some things which in my judgment are good and others bad. I have before me two sets, and as I do not remem ber having seen either of them in the Edge field Advertiser, it will afford me much pleasure to furnish' them for publication, which, as it is by the diffusion of knowledge among the people that we hope to maintain our free institutions, it strikes me would be better than to suppress, for party purposes, that which the people have a right to see. But, does Know Nothingism propose. the election to office of Native Americans in 'preference to Foreigners ? Then, as a general rule, it meets my "approval," and such I think has been the policy of this and every other country which has had the direction of the government in its own hands. But to sweep out all Foreigners with the broom of pros. cription, is not in my opinion, right or pru dent. There are foreign-born men *known tonis,%nd .perhaps somee in this. Village,' who are as thoroughly American as will be their descendants five generations hence. Does Know Nothingism advocate the en tire separation of Church and State, and guarantee to all alike the rights of conscience, and oppose the placing in power of any who would violate these heaven-descended and dearest of all privileges ? Then am I a Know Nothing, " dyed in the wool," born, raised and educated, present, past and for ever, until a new dispensation comes from heaven ; and in this faith,' I hope by the grace of God to die, even if it is as the stake ; and dying hope to leave as a legacy to my children, a charge to advocate and perpetu ate the princip le. - Does Know Nothingism\ propose to ex lude Catholics as such from officei Then am I not a Know Nothing. The St. Louis Church and the Louisiana delegation to the late Philadelphia Convention, with others that might be mentioned, have given evidence that American Catholics are a different tribe from the priest-ridden, heathenized Christ iane that come from lands long oppressed by despotic rulers, and groaning under the do minion of a corrupt and decaying hierarchy. The best boon that could be confered on such as these, would be D'ot only to forbid them from holding office, but- that they should be allowed no vote, and that their children should he taught in Government schools, letters, industry and the principles of liberty ; and then, grown up, they might act out their parts with credit to themselves, and benefit to others, on this great world theatre of ours. This latter I understand Know Nothingism in substance to teach, and in this I advocate the "-Order." The dan ger to be apprehended from Romanism is through the influence of Jesuit Priests, the train band life-guards of Trans-Alpine Pa paey, who have made themselves obnoxious to almost every country where they have obtained a foothold, and have been banished from country to country, for intrigue and interference with governments that have tol erated them. If Know Nothingism proposes to debar these men from all interference with our governmental affairs, it meets from me an "approval" as "downright and hearty" as did Mr. TUCKER's letter. But, my dear Sir, it is dificeult to find a stopping place when one begins to write on subjegts like these, and I therefore give you what has been written as a specimen of my polities, and if you are disposed to take the trouble to canvass the country, you will find, in the language of the famous razor-strap man, " a few more of the same sort left," and like the magic reproduction whichcon tinually renewed his exhausting stock, so will the spirit of American freedom fill up the ranks. The principle of liberty, in medical parlance, has " entered the cir ulation" of the body politic, and it will take hard physicking to get it out. In eonclusion Colonel, suffer me, in all sinserity, to extend to you the right hand of friendship. We are not strangers to each tAP_ *ougbh ongn for many yars in circles locally apart. " We have been friends together" in the days of joyous boyhood, when tops, trap balls and marbles were-things of vast importance, whose rightful possession involved nice points in school-boy law, and the determination to maintain which would have done credit to the spirit which stood up for " fifty-four forty or fight." When hic, hmc, hoc was the ne plus ultra of nonsensi cal stupidity ; when teachers were tyrants that could come to school on rainy days just to spite the boys, that wei-re always show. ing partiality, and had a special grudge against the luckless wight whose turn it was to hop the hickory, or hang by his fingers and toes on the posts now gone, but never to be forgotten by the boy that went through the motion. Happy days were those when in reference to futurity, -" airy dream, sat for the picture, And the poet's hand, imparting substance to an empty shade, Imposed a gay delirium for a truth." May kind heaven forbid that we.should meet again in our native Village for discord and strife; but may the "light of other days" come round us, and may a better light shine upon our pathway, illumine the valley thro' which we must pass, and bring us to the land of everlasting deliverance. With respectful and friendly esteem, E. L. WHATLEY. 07' AT the request of Rev. W. W. SPEAR, President of the South Carolina Tract So. ciety, we present our readers with a statisti. cal summary of the operations of the Socie ty for the past year. Accompanying a let. ter just received from this gentleman, was a detailed report of this Society's extended operations, some extracts from which we propose publishing in future numbers. Mr. SPEAR has recently been on a visit to our village, and by-his gentlemanly and Christ. ian deportment, commended himself to the favorable regard of all who formed his ac quaintance. AMERICAN TRACT-SOCIETY.--30Tu ANNI vERsARY, NEw YORK, MAY, 9, 1855.-Sta tielical Results of the Year.-New Publica tions in six languages, 36; total publications, 1,948; total approval for circulation abroad, in 122 langt gtgs gaid dialects; 2;972A1aths ly circulation of the American Messenger shout 200,000, German Messenger, 27,000, Child's Paper nearly 300,000. CIRCULATED duringhthe year 961,363 vol. umes, 10,091,214 publications, 292.361,233 pages. Total since the formation of the So. ciety, 158,319,412 publications, including 10,424,737 volumes. GRATUITOUS DISTRI BUTION for the year, in more than six thou sand five hundred distinct grants by the Com mittee, 66,464,036 pages, besides 11,041,470 to Life Membersand Directors; value, $51,. 737. REcEIP'rs, in donations, including $13, 302 42 in legacies, $157,298 13; for sales, including periodicals, $265,87 73; total, $413,17386. EXPENDITURES for publishing books and periodicals, $225,030 12; for coi porteurs, $100,113 31; cash remitted to for. eign and pagan lands, $16,000; total expen ditures, $419,225 34. COLPORTAGE.-Number of colporteurs laboring the whole or part of the year 659, of whom 126 labored among Germans and emigrants, and 104 wvere students from col leges and theological seminaries. They visi ted 639,193 families, with 281,697 of whom they conversed on personal religion or prayed. Of the families visited, 83,126 -habitually neglected evangelical preaching, 68,686 fam ilies were Roman Catholics, 51,392 families were destitute of all religious books but the Bible, and 36,259 households destitute of the Bible; and they held or addressed 12,763 religious meetings. Six colporteur conven tions have been held. FOREIGN PREssEs AND PAGAN LANDs. Remitted in cash, for the Sandwich Islands, $1,100; China, missions of Presbyterian Board, $500; Canton, Southern Baptist Board, 8100; Shanghai, A. B. C. F. M. $200 and Southern Methodist Board $100; Siam, Presbyterian Board, .8500; Burmah and. Karens, $500; Northern India, $2,000;0Oris s, $300: Teloogoos, Baptist mission, Nel lore, 8200; Lutheran mission, Guntoor, 8300; Madras, $1,500; Arcot mission, $500; Madaura, $200; Bombay, $500 ; Nestori ans, 8200; Syria, 8300; Turkey, Amenians 1,800, Jews, 20; Greece, A. B. C. F. M. $500; Episcopal 8200; Baptist 8200; Italy and Sardinia, 8500; Sweden, $300; Baptist mission, Germany, $1,300; Lower Saxony Tract Society, Hamburg, 8300; Dr. Marriott, Basle, 8300; Belgium, 8200; Strasbourg, $100 ; Paris Tract Society, $800; Toulouse, 300 ; total $16,090. (The above article was handed in for pub lition by " NEos EPIscoros" last week, but unavoidably delayed until this issue.) PUB. THE late Dr. Chalmers, of Scotland, be ing interrogated by an. old woman of his congregation as to. what he ment by the "catastrophe," of which he had spoken so much the previous Sabbath, explained the term to her as meaning " the latter end of a thing." This satisfied the old woman, who thought she might now safely introduce so fine a word in her vocabulary. It so happened that the Doctor had to pass the old wvoman's house the same evening; and being buried in deep thought, as he rode along, he did not observe that a large thorn ad been fastened to his horse's tail, until he came opposite the house and heard her shouting, "Ab, Doetor, d'ye see that big thorn at yer horse's catastrophe !" A young stockholder; having married a fat old widow, with $100,000, says it wasn't his wife's face that attracted him so much as thaefiure. There was a time wh the countries now so unnaturally conglomer, d in the grasp of the doubled-headed: A 'an eagle, each formed an inSlependent d happy realm, under its own native ;.when the dukes of Austria, although::' ors of Germany, possessed but a small' of land on either bank of the Danube, bb. ed by Passan and Presburg: when una - defend themsel ves against their - nei they lost even their hereditary posses _and were living as fugitives on the,-un "f one or other of their vassals in (Jnian The latter was parti arly the case du ring the second moiety" the fifteenth cen tury, when the Epe Frederick IV., Duke of Austria, by hi peated invasions of the border-coun Hungary, whilst their sovereign, Ma Corvinus, was en gaged in a severe contes with Turkey, pro. voked the just resent of that renowned king, Matthias not.o -ronted the-Austri an forces, but in ;a feat onths conquered Stiermark and Uppes: ria, with all their fortresses, extending 11 andaries of his realm to Tyrol and Car a and taking up his residence at Vien ~hose inhabitants, dissatisfied with their for continually imposing new taxes. m, gladly submit ted to the liberal a a oay of the Hun garian prince. ; In order effectually rotect the borders against any future inr of the Austrians, Matthias gave the adj t countries a mili tary organization, dis 'ng the woodlands along the frontiers the most deserv ing veteransof his iti f ble Black Legion,* and bestowing on the e rights and privi leges of noblemen, or ..bich they, in time of emergency, were toy d the borderers of their district against th, vading enemy. The portion of thextern frontier of Hungary, where- Matt put this salutary measure into 1reef is 1 rsected by several low ranges of-'the St I Alps, abounding in gigantic as well as. ntile scenery, and their higher points' co d. with primitive forests. Besides the. ming views, that vary at every step .in. ature and beauty, that traveller is struck the many ruins of castles and towers w 'crown the isolated mountain peaks.. M of these fortresses played art importaqt during the endless wars of the mid each of them, as if reflecting a p rti of se barbarian times, posssingi -.. melancholy nature. There is, for example, the castle of Lock. enhaus, in the lovely Ginez Valley, once the property of the mighty Knights Templars, who, in the beginning of the fourteenth cen tury, at the order of King Charles Robert, were extirpated in Hungary as well as in other countries. To the visitor of that an cient, but still habitable building, and the great hall, commonly called the " Hall of Blood," where the assambled brethren of the Temple were surprised and massacreed by the troops of the king. The large dark spots on the stone pavement are said to be the innocent blood of the chevaliers, which, in spite of every effort to efface them, retain their reddish hue, as if to bear eternal wit ness of the cruelty perpetrated on them. Higher up in the mountains the castle of Landsee rises above the surrounding country. One of its earliest possessors, in consequence of a fit of jealousy, caused his yoUng and beautiful wife to be immured there. A few days afterwards, on being convinced of her innocence, he broke doivn the walls of her prison. But his repentance came too late. Overwhealmed by incessant remorse for his foul deed, the husband made a vow to pass the remainder of his days as a hermit, in the very cell in which his wife had endured all the horrors of a death by starvation. In the vicinity of Landsee, upon a steep rocky summit, is the fortress of Forchtenstein, still in good preservation, wherein the vast fami ly treasures of the jprinces or Eszterhazy are guarded by grenadiers kept in their pay. 'The most picturesque of all castles in that neighborhood are stately ruins of Kirchsch lag, encircling the brow of a conical moun: tain projection, and overlooking magnifi cent valley and a; borrough of the same name. About half an hour distant from that place, in an easterly direction, stands an in solated tower of a granite block, its massy walls partly hidden by lofty firetrees. It wvas in former times one of the fortificationa erec ted at the command of Matthias for the pro tetion of the borders, and is situated on the left bank of a mountain rivulet, which at that point, for several miles, forms the boundary between Hungary and Austrian. This se luded spot is known as the "Grave of the Hungarian Girl," a name well adapted to its loneliness and solemn stillness. But the melaneholy the place inspires is changed into pai'nful sympathy, when recalling the tradition attached to it, the touching as well as soul stirring episodes of which invest that otherwise unimportant ruin wvith an un fa4ing interest, and at the same time con nects its fate . with that .of the castle of Kirchschlag. 'The facts, as they were narrated .to us, ran thus :--When Matthias establishe-i his line of defence, the land in the vicinity of the " Grave of the Hungarian Girl," fell to the share of Karol, a gallant officer in the Black Legion, wvho, after building his strong hold, settled with his fatnily and a dozen men-at-arms, clearing from the woodland as such ground for agricultural purposes as w~as necessary for their subsistence. At that period, the castle of Kirchschlag belonged to a powerful and wealthy Austri an magnate, the Count of Puchheim, who besides possessed several other castles and seigniories throughout the land. Ha was one of the favorites of Frederick IV., batig the Hungarians, most heartily, and ravaging *The Blak Legion was a corpe of six thousand regular foot roldiers. Matthlas organised them himself and kept them on his pay also in time of pece, as the elit of his army. -This legion muster ed the bravest men, who with -their irresistible charge often deeided a viotory. The king knew mosat of tk..m by name. their country on every plausible opportuity. As he, however, plundered not only Hunga rians, but also his own countrymen, the people .bestowed on. him the expressive denomina tion of the Knight of Evil. 'Puchheim was a widower, with an only son, Rudolf, a youth of a noble disposition, who, quite the-feverse of his father, abhorred his nightly revels and predatary excursions. He, therefore, so offen as he could, with. drew from the banqueting at Kirchschlag, and, taking his bow and arrows, rode out to hunt in the forests of his father's dominions, which even now-a-days have an inexhausti ble supply of game. One summer evening, as he bent his way homewards along the winding course of a rivulet, his ear caught the tones of a female voice, singing the " Ave Maria," with touch ing sweetness, while the evening bell tolled from the castle. With. mingled feelings of pleasant surprise and curiosity, Rudolf fo.l lowed the sound, and after a short walk,.at a sudden turn of the path, behind an over hanging cliff, he discovered a scone of pecu. liar interest. On the deep bank of the spark. ling-streamlet, which there formed a clear little bay, a maiden of uncommon loveliness kelt on the greea turf, teaching- her little sister the melody of that evening prayer, her countenance lighted up with an expres sion of childlike piety. The group was charming, but still more so the songstress, who, in the'first bloom of youth, looked the very picture of innocence and beauty. No wonder that the scene produced a marvel lous effect upon the young count, and he uncnsciously tarried, lost in contemplation, until he was accosted by a warrior of impo sing appearance, who, on learning the name of the stranger, introduced himto his daugh ter Gizela, inviting him at the same time, as a good neighbor, to his house. Karol led his guest and children up a flight of stairs, rudely hewn into the rock, to a spacious clearing where, round. a mas sive watch-tower, stood several buts, sur rounded by a plot of arable land, the whole enclosed by a rampart and difch. There, on Hungarian ground, Rudolf enjoyed the hospitality of the simple but true hearted inhabitants, giving himself up wholly to the uncontrolable emotions which the presence of the commander's eldest daughter awoke on him. The host's friendly wishes, that the young count should repeat his visit, was a welcome pretext for his coming again and again to the Hungarian settlement; till at last he felt that he could not exist one day without listening to that voice which thrilled through his -every -nerve-without seeing those festinethst resindedtiiinif-a-pieture of a guardian angel in the castle chapel of Kircbschlag. When unable any longer to resist the force of his love, he avowed the state of his heart to Gizela, whose affection he already possessed, they mutually plighted their faith, and the father of the maiden bles sed their happiness with a feeling of. per fect security and content, caring little within their own fairy circle for the egotistical schemes of the outer world, where, however, the storm was already gathering around their heads, that would so soon break upon i their bliss with an annihilating power. Amongst the garrison at watch-tower was a youth, by birth a German, whom Karol, when a boy, had rescued from destruction 1 at the storming of an Austrian fortress. From that time, the warrior kept him in his family as a play mate for Gizela. *The youth conceived a violent passion for the maiden ; his suit, howvever, having been re jected, his love changed into hatred, to which] the success of the'young count added fresh aliment. His keen, jealous eye detected, without much difficulty, the cause of Ru dolf's daily visit, and on remarking the pro gress he made in the maiden's favor, the un grateful miscreant, forgetting the numerous marks of kindness bestowed upon him by the family of his benefactor, resolved on bb traying the secret of the lovers to Rudulf's father. He accordingly hastened to the cas te, and informed Count Puchheim how af fairs were going on in the Hungarian watch tower. The wrath of the haughty magnate was terrible. Besides his hatred against H ungary, he felt his aristocratic pride and prjudices deeply wounded by the proceed ings of his son. In order at once to put a stop to his'youthful folly, as he deemed it, he informed his son that twvo weeks from that day he was to wed the daughter of a neighboring cavalier. At this intimation Rudolf felt the crisis of his fate fast approaching. Fully aware of the uselessness of openly opposing his fath er's will, or of imploring his pity, he with. drew apparently satisfied, and rode over to Karol, to communicate the sad intelligence to him. The war-rior knew of only one way to surmount the mighty obstacle, and that was, to go without delay to King Matthias at Vienna, from whose justice and humanity he promised himself the most satisfactory result. When the day for their setting out was once fixed, the betrothed quickly forgot troubles, and now began to look upon their dreams of a glowing future as already re alized. - . Although the preparations for the journey were made with great precaution, still the Austrian traitor's suspicions were aroused, and no sooner wvere they confirmed, than he again sped to Kirchschlag imparting the tidings to the count, who was just then ma king merry with several boon companions. Heated by wine and passion, Pochheim swore, in the presence of his guests, to pre pare a suitable nuptial couch for his Hunga rian daughter-in-law. It was the evening before the day of do parture. Rudolf and Gizela had visited, for the last time, all the place3 so endeared to them by a thousand sweet remembrances. Before entering the dwelling, they lingered at a lovely spot not far from the ramparts, easting a farewell look on the glorious mountain-senery, bathed in the gray hue of approaeching twilight. Lost in silent reve rie, and overwhelmed by in inexplicable feeling of sadness, they did not remark that night and darkness gradually spread over valley and mountain. As the girl Ieanton his shoulder, Rudolf, n a sudden, felt her whole frame shud der violently. The next moment, with a faint shriek, she sank into his arms, her breast pierced by an arrow, and heart's blood gushing in a warm. stream over her lover, who, in a paroxysm of mingled agony and madness, sprang forward towards a thicket, from whence the deadly missile was shot. Perceiving the figure of a man moving off stealthily, Rudolf, with a bound, fell upon him, plunging his dagger, in mate rage, re peatedly into the breast of the murderer. The catastrophe soon became known at the settlement, and Karol hastened with lighted torches to the spot, from whence two bodies were carried into the fortification; one was Rudulf's father, the count of Puch. heim, and the other the victim of his ven ;eance, the gentle Girela, lovely even with impress of death on her pallid cheeks. The ormerstill.lived, and he spent his last breath in cursing his son, who stood aghast between the corpses of those whom he most loved and venerated upon earth. Gizela was buried near the tower, and her untimely fate awaked so much sympa thy that the people immortalized her memo. ry by giving the place the name already mentioned. The bereaved father left the mournful spot, and settled farther eastward, in the Rabnitz Valley, where the village of Karl now stands. Rudolf, broken-hearted, joined the war in the East against in infidels, from whence he never returned. He was the last of the di rect line of the Puchheims. The castle be. name deserted, and left gradually to fall into ruins. The inhabitants in the vicinity of Kirch schaig affirm, that, at midnight, they distinct ly hear the tramping of Rudolf's horse, as he gallops up the mountain ridge that sepa-, rated the castle from the watch tower, where lie halts at the grave of his betrothed, until the cock calls him back to his distant res ting place. SHE CH NGED HER MlID. There are some persons who are never sick without thinking themselves very much worse off than they really are. Of this mlass was Mrs. Haskins, a married lady, and the mother of two fine boys. On one occa sion, being with a fever, the consequence of mprudent exposure, she gave herself up to the melancholy fancies which usually assail ad her and persuaded herself that she was oing to die. In consequence of this melancholy pre sentment, she assumed so woe begone an appearace that even her medical attendant was startled-int-believing.- that. she was, really much worse than from her symptoms he had judged her to be. Under these circumstances he advised her to make what earthly preparations she had yet to make, while there was yet time to o so. Mrs. Haskins was an affectionate mother, md the thought of parting from the children ;o whom she was so warmly attached, at a ime when, more than any other, they need ad a mother's care, was peculiarly distress. ng. "Their father will be kind to them no loubt and see that they are amply provided or, but nothing that lie can do will supply o them the loss of a mother." Gradually the idea of a step mother sug. rested itself to the lady's imagination, and ;uch was her care for the happiness of her bildren, that she became reconciled to an des so repugnant to most wvives, and actual. y began to consider wvho among her acquain ;ances wvas best fitted to become a second Mrs. Haskinis. " My dear friend," said Mrs. Haskins, in i feeble voice, " I have sent for you for wvhat ierhaps you will consider a singular reason. But, believe me, it is a mother's anxiety for er children that prompts me. I am very ick, and shall not live long. So the doc :or tells me, and my own feelings tell that it nust be so. The situation in which I shall eave my poor boys, wvho will thus be de prived of a mother's watchful care, distres ses me beyond measure. There is only one gay in which my anxiety can be relieved, md this it is which has prompted me to send or you. Promise me that when I am gone ou will marry Mr. Haskins, and be to hem a second mother. Do not refuse me, t is my last request !" ' Desirous of comforting her friend, Miss Parker assented to her request, adding, "I will comply with your request, and the nore willingly, for I always liked Mr. Has-. " Always liked Mr. Haskinsv," exclaimed ts dying wife, raising herself on her elbow, er feelings of conjugal jealousy for a mo nent overpowering her maternal affection; 'you always liked my husband, did you! rhen I vow you shall never marry him, if I iave to live to prevent it!" And Mrs. Haskins did live. The revul ion of feeling resulting from Miss Parker's mexpected declaration, accomplished, in ler case. wvhat the skill of physicians had aeen unable to effect. There is an old 'saying, which, like most >1d sayings, has in it not a little truth, that hen a women wills, she will, depend on't md when she wont, she wvont, and there's mn end on't. So it was in -the case of Mrs. Efasins. She has determined that if Mr. Easkins ever does have a second wife, it rhall not be Miss Parker. LovE is as necessary to a woman's heart 1 a fashionable bonnet to her head. Indeed, ie think, rather more so; for nothing less han a largea measure of love~will content her, hereas tihe recent fashion has showvn that rhe can be satisfied with a very little bonnet. :tis unooubtedly a scandalous observation, >ut a modern philosopher has remarked, and e give the aphorism for what it is worth, hat " Love is so essential to the very lire of roman, that in celibracy she- is unhappy vithout a lover, and after marriage, if she is 0 unfortunate as not to love her own hus land, she is pretty certain to love somebody rse's !"-N. York Leader. THE Boston Bee sas--a mah1 can get aong without advertising, so can a wagon .uta greasing. but-it goes hard. GIRLS WHO WANT HUSBANDS. Girls, you want to get married; don't you ? Ab, what a natural thing it is for young - ladies to have such a hankering for the sterner sex. It is a weakness that woman hag, and for this reason she is called the weak sex. Well, if you want to get mnarried, don't for conscience sake act like fools about it. Don't go into a fit of the hips every time you see a hat and a pair of whiskers. Don't get the idea into your heads that you must put yourselves in the way of every young man in the neighborhood in order to attract notice; for if you don't run after the men they will run after you. Mind that. A husband-hunter is the most detestable of all young ladies. She is [full of starch and puckers; she puts on many false airs, and she is so nice (I) that she appears ridi. culous in the eyes of every, decent person. She may generally be found at meeting, coming in, of course, about the last one; always at social parties, and invariably takes a front seat at concerts. - She tries to be the belle of the place, and thinks she is. Poor girl! you are fitting yourself for an old maid, just as sure as Sabbath comes on Sunday; Men will flirt with you, and flatter you, sin ply because they love to do it, but they have no more idea of making you a wife thain they have of committing suicide. If I was a young man, I would have no more to do with such a fancy titan I would with a rattle. snake. Now, girls, let Nelly.give you a piece of her advice, and she knows fr.om experience if you practice it, you will gain a reputation of being worthy girls, and stand a fair chance of getting respectable husbands. It is all well enough that you learn to finger, the piano, work embroidery, study gramma, &c., but don't neglect letting grandma, or your mother teach you how to make bread and get a-meal of victuals good enough for a king. No part of a house-keeper's -duty "I should be neglected ; if you do not marry a 'wealthy husband you will need to Vuow how - to do such work, and if you do, it will be no disadvantage to you to know how to-bver, see a servant girl, and instruct her to do these things as you 'wouldenes them done. In the next place, don't pretend to be what you are not. Affectation is the most des. picable of accomplishments, and will only cause sensible people to laugh at you. No one but a fool will be caught by affectation -it has a transparent skin easily to be se through. Dress plain but neatly. Remember that nothing gives a girl so modest:becoming add.lovely appearance asaa neat and.plain dress:. All the flummery and-tinsel wsleef the dress-maker and milliner are unneces. sary. If you are really handsome, they do not add to your beauty one particle; if you are homely they only make you look worse. Gentlemen don't court your faces and jew. elry, but your own dear selves. Finger-rings and folderols may do to look at, but they add nothing to the value of a wife-all young men know that. If you know how. to talk, do it naturally, and do not be so distressingly polite as to spoil all you say. If your hair is straight, don't put on the curling tongs to make people believe you have negro blood in your veins. If your neck is very black, wear a lace color, but don't be so selfish as to daub on paint, thinking that people are so blind as not to see it; and if your cheeks are not rosy, don't apply pink saucers, for the deception will be detected and- become the gossip of' the neighborhood. Finally, girls, listen to the counsel of your mothers, and ask their advice in every thing. Think less of fashion than you do of kitchen duties-less of romance than you do of realities of life--and instead of trying to catch husbands, strive to make yourselves' worthy of being caught by them. NELLIE GnAY, LIE AS IT IS. Let us make an excursion down the street and see what we can learn. Yonder is the wreck of a rich man's son. lIe was per, mitted to grow up without employment, went and came as he. pleased, and spent his. time in the gratification of spontaneous pas. sions, desires, and inclinations, with no one to check him, when his course was evil, -or encourage him in the ways of wvisdom. His father was rich, and for that renson the son thought he. had nothing to do, no part in honest labor to perform, Well, the father died, and the son inherit. ed a portion of his abundaat wealth, and having never earned muoney -by honest toil, he knew not the value of it, and having no knowledge of business, he knew not how to use it, so be gave loose reins to his appetites and passions, and ran at a rapid pace down~ the broad road to dissipation. Nowv be, hold him-a broken down man, bowed with infirmity, a mere wreck of what he was, bioth physically and mentally. His money, is gone, and he lives on the charity of those whose hearts are open with pity. Such is the fate of hundreds and thousands that are horn to fortune, And there, on the opposite side, in that comfortable mansion, lives the son of a poor cobbler. Fifteen years ago he left the hum, ble room of his parents, and went forth into the broad world alone to seek his fortune, All his treasures consisted of his chest of tools, a good knowledge of his trade, honest principles, industrious habits, and twenty. five coppers. Now he is the owner of that elegant mansion, is doing a -thriving busi ness, possesses an unbroken constitution, and bids fair to live to a good old age, Such is the lot of hundred and thousands who never boasted of wealthy parentake. .Go into the city, and you will almost in variably find that the most enterprising men are of poor parentage--.men who have had to rowv against wind and tide; while on the other hand a majority of the descendants of * mediocrity in talents, live a short time like drones, on the labor of others, and then go down to untimely grves. If the rich would train up their children to regular habits of industry, very many of themt would be saved froiintemperance, mim, ery, and an untimeLy eud..