Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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* , $2 ?ER ' IN ADVANCE ?..?? ^ < ' - I NEUTRAL IN POLITICS?DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, SCIENTIFIC, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE. PLUME HI. LANCASTER C. E, SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 10, 1855 N U M B ER 40 MMLLAMUS. Prom the Stir Spangled Bitnner. Individual Effort. Whatever blessed influence there may l>o in sympathy and benevolence, however much we may lean lb support and guidance on the counsel and assistance of others, we must depend entirely upon ourselves for the progress we make in oht lining wisdom, or in building up the character. Too experience of ages p mi. inu counsels ol the wise m>t goo,I, nil t!iHt is beautiful ami ennobling in an, science, literature, ami nature, are open to us. The divine precept ami exam le are ever with us. The collected beauty of all human morality and religion is ever spread out in all its attractiveness before us.? llut of what avail are they, if we posses not the teachable spirit ! Of wliat avail are the)*, if we have not that noble, allgrasping energy, which will labor on, through prosperi y and adversity, through good ami through evil report, to wui a lofty and dignified character ? All that can be done for us, ad the aid which n i ture and art can render, Hre of no service if we posses not the desire ami the eaer gjr to accomplish the good work. The soul is alone in the world in this respect, and depends entirely upon itself for advancement. Going to church on Sunday, reading the lhblo and Baxter's Call, are not goodness any in ore than looking at tin* ocean is going to Englau 1. A man in ly bend his knees aud cover his eyes in prayer time without b.-iug any nearer lie iven than though he were out in the green fields. Tuey are the at Is to goodness, which properly used may lead linn up to something butter than the vanity of worldlines*, but they are not the thing itself. Though it is eighteen hundred years since the urealM ister said that Lite hvoo wcritea expected to be heard because of tbeir'inucli bpealfing, they still continue epvakiifw, Hrtn hi HI expect to be hoard bos' chuhj of Uio a'mitdauoe of their word*. A in tn in to eVireh all Ii;h Mclhne, raty real all tlie good ffholts ill at. uuvy ?fer been written, m I yet without a purpose, wituoul a li.ved done for, without hi) earnest grasping after, tlie P ire, the UivhI, and the I'rur, lie will accomplish llO'.llillg. Men are positively alupi 1 at times oil this subject. Tbuy want to lie, cheat their neighbors, make sharp bargains on S ale .street, ati*I still have a lien on the Ivngtloiu of lle.tveii, for which tlirry ?l?*ln.|?* theifTselves into the belief tb it lliey have ptki the full price. They have bo?n to church every Sunday, covere-1 their faces in prayer time, put a sixpence iato tlie contribution box for Foreign Mis-joat, ami these formalities are the price of the so il's salvation. Tne widow an I the orphan have been defrauded; but what ?>f that f The prayers have bacn said ! A fortune baa beeu inade out of the simplicity of oo.ne poor struggling neighbor, who is now in the poor iioaw ; but no in titer ? me sixpence lU-it Welti to leach Ihe Nestorian* the way of I fe hits atoned lor it. A friend li.ts l>een wronged in hi* purse, outraged ih It la moral* ; it in utcr* n ?t? lie reads lite Hi hie every night before lie goes to bud. Wo have wen members of tli? .-V.irch in ft hi I and regular still ling - ? >t InUe warm, indifferent member* either?who could clon their li.tr-1 I'm* upon it c op I cr eoiu in the presence ol real aud--r.ii.;. aid ?iii' ho a* co-iii luir- of going to il inyn a* though the pearly gat-* were already ' divining for thein. Hut to snc'i a in in Heaven is indeed on the nth v si |? of JoKion ; it i* not within their own -.iris, mid they will eeriainly he ilmwne i when they attempt to cross the liver. S?u?e yeirv ago, h'u iiisiaucv cin- to tiar knowledge whir ft ilhi* rites this iifaleru "salvaii ui by faith and not work-." A very poor iu ti? who had been forced jiito the vary strait of poverty by sickius**, found himself unable to pay ilia few little debts lie had been obliged to contract.? ah me viiMgo Knt vv linn to IX) mi lionet jjl in, loiiiufritte, industrious mi l frugal ; Mini being tin lious^l Mi.in In* obligation* *|o oilier* imlurnlly gave lull) m great tfd^uneasiiitxM. GUooung the *vi*er course, lie detur.nuted toe ill U|mhi tlicm aud mimih J lu? y, f lie ltr*l edled ujhmt Iiim hutidier, who wm likewise it poor until, mi l who could ill u if I'd to lo*e FVtfQ tlift nut ill amount <luo liiiu, lie li.i.l, however, wlnit w;tn heller tli iit wealth ? he !i.? l a n ?V,e ait I gcucr ?m* iwurt. TUu |m*.?r de'Hor stati-d In* i*iri'iiiii4titiic?<*, mh4 added that ho had H little furi?intre~e etork Mint m rooking chair?that coukl be ?p ired, whicli he wa* willing to give up. liut tint bute'ier to >lt the hill, iiveipted it. Mini g ive it to lit.i ? ha *Hirfgil4t l.iin the debt.^ Him avtt rt*il was to Deacon A , ?#?* ? the chosen ftniete of the place, roll, miv in the Immd aisle of the mettiagllOIIHC. Mild liodoilill MIKVI4/I .?!.? ..f tl.~ eWief A ibo*yn*flo;?n? in ihe ??rUl lo r?im>. Tlio po>?r m?utotd hU rtory. " JJL The dentin frown**i Tlj* debt *n? for * ^ i4 load of ?ton?l *I?U:II It?vl vrnriivl ?? !. mn i) of inn iioti^fnt ntM^bbor. Tl?? Mft "ftf to?(ive ?^ rocVitiiX chair. ^ I. ;<" > <* rtvHUoo reiiJily <wc?|Ke*l il i Thai I rf V*y lie rcio ?r?J ibo lo his * * ' . * / ' "Jl * 4 Ki ' \M MiM** -? own ij' use. If tlie river Jordan docs not drown liiin wlien he attempts to cross it, there is nosenSe in placing Heaven on the other side of the river. Ami yet Deacon A gathered his family around the altar that evening, and asked his God to remember the poor, to help and bless them 1 Jle believed hims -If one of the elect, and he is only a type of thousands of others. Individual effort alone can make the m in. If lie has not the true and lofiy ideal of goodness in his soul, ho cannot work it out any more than the clownish stone-cotter can chisel out a Greek Slave, or a Venus di Mcdicis. And having the ideal, nothing but incessant labor, worlds of struggle ami toil, can ever enable Dim to realize bis model idea. A Fortunate Kiss The following litile story, bv Miss Hreiner, is furnished to Sartain's Magazine.? For its truth and reality she says she will be rcsjiotisible t la the University of Upsata, in Sweden. lived a young student, a lonely you h with a great love for studies, but w t'lout means for pursuing thorn. He w ?s poor and without connections. Slili he studied, living in great poverty, hut k.'ciiiuir a chc?i'ill heart, ami dared not to look at tlit! future, which looked so grim-nt him. Ilis good humor and good qualities in ido liitn beloved by Ins young comrade*. Once he was standing with some oi ilicm in the great square of Upsila, prating away an hour of leisure, when the attention of the young men became arrested by a very young and ele gam ladv, who at the side of an elderly one, walked slowly over the place. It was the daughter of the Governor of Up sala, living in the city, and the lady with her was the governess. She was generally known for her beauty and for her goodness and goutlcne-s of character, and was looked upon with great admiration by the students. As the young men now stood gazing at her as site passed on like a graceful vision, one of them exclaims I *. "Well, it would be worth something to liuvo a kiss from such a mouth !" Tue poor student, the hero of our story, who was lo k;ng intently on that pure an I angelic face, exclaimed, us if hy inspiration,'Well, 1 think I could have it.* "What!' cried his friends in a chorus, arc von crazv 1 l>o you know her f" N >t at all." he answered ; 'but I think slra would kiss nio now, if I asked her.* What, in this piace, before ali out eyes | In this place, before your eyes.' 'Freely l' "Freely.' ' Well, if she will give you a k'ssin thai manner, I will give you a thousand dollars,' exclaimed one of the party. 'And I.' 'And 1,' cried three or foui others ; for it so happened that several rich young men vrcrc in the group, and bets ran high on so improbable an event, and the challenge was made and received in less tim Jth.iu we take to relate it. Our hero?(my authority tells not whether he was handsome or plain. I have my peculiar reasons for believing that he was rather plain, but singularly good looking at the same time.)?our hero immediately walked off to meet the young lady, ind said : 'Afi/t frolcen, my fortune is in your hand.' Sbo looked at him in astou aliment, but arrested her atop . Hi pro.-cedcl to state hi# n.unj Hii'J condition, hi# aspiration#, and related simply aid truly what had just passed between Itiin and hi* companion#. Tim \ oung lady listened attentively, ami when he ceased to aiiaak, alia said, blUfrhilig hut with great sweetness, 'If UhRNh| a thing no much good can ha oSiwWr it would be fooloh in 1110 U? rufu?eyour request ami #he ..issed -the young mail publicly in the opeu square. Next day tlie *iu lent w n sent for by the G .vcrnor. Ha if ante I to see the m in ivbohaJ dare.I to ask - ki#4 from h:# daughter iullial way, rid I ivlioa. she had con-tented t<#kU# ?o. lie received h 111 with a severe and scrutinizing brow, but after an hour1# conversation was so plaa#e 1 with him that ha olFercd him a place at hi# table during hi# studies at Upsiln. Our Voung friend now punucil his indie# in a maimer whicji soon made him regarded as the 1004k promising scholar at the university. Three yean were 11 ?w p is?od alter the day of the first ki#a. whim the young man was allowed to give a second one to the daughter of the Governor, as his intended bride. He hecivne, later, one of tho greatest s.-ho! ir#' in S fcdcii, a# much respected for Ins learning as for hi# character. Ilia works will endure forever among the work* of science ; nod from this happy union Sprang a family well known in Swvdoit to the |>te*ent day, nml whose wealth of fortune aud high poeition in society are regarded its small things, comCifed with iu wealth of goodness awl rei ;/ . *#" -MC aid an inquisi ive little girl, ''will tich and poor peopl* lire together whea they go to heaven f* "Ye*, my dear, they will be all alike then?." " . "Thee, ina, erhy don't rich and poot Christinns ytmeiate together here I" - Tiie rich mother did tot answer. .... Cut your coat Mcordtagto year cloth m' mm*? . The Pin and the Needle. > A pin and needle being neither in a 1 workbasket, and both being idle, began to quarrel, as idle folks are apt to do. "I should like to know," said the pin, "what you are good for, and how you expect to get through the world without a head?" "What is tho use of your head," replied the needle rather sharplv, "if you have no 1 cvel" "What is tho use of an eye," said the pin, "if there is always something in it!" "I am more active, and can go through more work than you ctn," said the nec1 die. "Yes, but you will not live long." "Why not?" "Because you have always a stitch in your aide," said the pin. "You're a poor crooked creature," said the needle. "Ami you are so proud that you can't bend without breaking your back." "I'll pull your bead otf if you insult ..ie again." "I'll put your eye out if you touch ine; remember, your life hangs on .1 single thread," said the pin. While they were thus conversing, n little girl entered, and undertaking to sew, she \ery soon broke oft* the needle at the eye. Then she tied the thread around the neck of the pin, and attempting to sew with it, she pulled its head off and threw it into the dirt by the side of the br ?ken needle. "Well, here we are," said the needle. "Wo have nothing to fight about tow," said the pin. It seems misfortune has brought us to our senses." "A pity we had not como to them sooner," said tho needle. > "How much we resemhlo human beings, who quarrel about their blessings till they lose them, and never find out that they are brothent till they lie down in the dust together, as we do." The Thief and the Child. In the iieighl>oring town there was a fair; and therefore all the people were gone from the village to the town, to be merry there, and make purchases. In ' tho village, when evening came, it was , quite silent. No one was either seen or heard there. The draw-well, usually such a noisy p'.aee in the evening, come to fetch water, was quite deserted. The great linden tree, beneath which the poasant lads sit-in an evening, and sing, was also deserted. There was only now a solitary little bird singing among the branches. The very roots of tho old tree, the great play-place of the village children, were deserted; you only saw a few ants w hich had over stayed their time at work | hurrying home ire fast as they could. I Twilight sank down gradually over everything. When the merry noisy birds hud crept into their roosting places, the queer little bats glided forth from holes in the tree stem, and flew gently and softly about through the evening sky. A man came round the corner of a >t burn, lie crept silently and in fear along the wall, where the shadow was strongest, lie glanced around hitn with anxiety, to i see whether any other men were out who would see him. When he believed him- . self unoWrved, he climbed over the wall; ! then he crept along on all-fours, like a cat, till became to an open window of a | house, and then he disappeared through | the window. I I The man had b id thoughts in his heart; he was a thief, ami had detormin, ed to rob the people of the house, i When lie had entered by the window, 1 he found himself in an empty room; and close to this room was a <-liamber. The i door leading into the chamber was not looked. T e thief imagined it possible, that although the people were gone to the fair s tine one might still l?ein the room; there fore he listened with his ear against the door. ile heard a child's voice, and looking in through the key-hole, by the glimmeri ing light from the window, he saw that , a little child was sitting up all by its'e'.f in i it* little bed, proving. The little cliiUI i fras ?aving thi Lord's prayer l>eforo going to sleep, as it had been taught by ita moi iher to Jo. The man wag pondering how he might best rob the house, when the child's clear, loud voice fell upon liie ear, mm it prayed those word*: "And lead ua not into temptation, but | deliver us from ovil I" , e word* smote the man's heart, and his slumbering conscience awoke. He felt how great the ?io waa he win about to commit. He al?o folded hit hands and i prayed?"And lend us not into tempta lion, hut deliver im from evil!'' And our dear Lord hoard him. I By the same road that he had come, he returned, and crept back into hi* eh am her. Here repenten with hie whole heart .11 ?>. ...i i.-.i -i~? i.:. cmv vii ut> imu wuuo in ilia IMC ( IM!* nought Oml for forgiveness, and returned thanks to Him for the protection ha had ant to him through the voice of a piou* child. He has since become an industrious and honeat roan. ^ ~? Desperate cuts mast hav* d>ap?r?tc * caret. ^ ^ * t? * * , Jr ? ^ .".few Honorable Courtship. J fi We heard h pretty little incident the j f other day, which we Cannot help relating. J t A young lady from the South, it seems, I a was wooed and won by a youthful pliys- li ician living in California. When the en- v gagemout was made, the doctor was rich v having been very successful at San Fran- e cisco. It had not existed six months, ? however, when, by an unfortunate invest- o ment, he lost his entire '"heap." This g event catne upon him, it should be ad- c led, just as he was about to claim his f bride. What does he do ? Why, like i: an honorable and chivalrous young fellow p as be was, he sets down and writes the It lady every particular of the unhappy turn fi which had taken place in his fortunes, v assuring her that if the fact produced any li change in iter feelings to.vard him, she is s released from every promise she has made t him. And what does tlio dear, good girl b do? Why, she takes a lump of pupe t gold, which her love had scut her in his v prosperity as a keepsake, and having it e manufactured into a ring, forwards it to ii liim, with tlin following Bible incription c engraved in distinct characters on the outside : "Entreat me not to leave tlicc, a or to return Irotn following after thee; for t whither thou goost will I go, and whither v thou lodgest will I lodge; thy people will t l>e my people,and thy God tny (lod; where t thou diesl v ill 1, and there will I be bur- 1 ied ; the Lord do 60 t6 me, and more also, n if aught but death part me and thee.'' t The lover idolized his sweetheart more than ever, when lie received this precious' evidence of vlier devotion to liim both in storm and sunshine. We may add, thai fortune soon again smiled upon the young physician, and that he subsequently returned to the North to wed the sweet girl lie loved, and who loved hint with such undying affection. i&endcr, this is all true. Young ladies who/ead the Bible as closely as the heroine of this incident seems to Ii ive done, are pretty sure to ( make good sweetheart*, and hotter wives. ?Liverjxytl 11 *< tkl y Journal. ? Sin Isaac Newton?An Example fob v Bovs.?In the middle of the seventeenth ' century there was an English boy of mean and diminutive ap|j?g?riinca, and behind c all other boys of his age. Lie was con- 1 stantly at the foot of his class, and verily * it was believed that this boy would be- J1 come only a bungler of soinc kind, for surely the soul of learning was not in t him. 1 At the age of twelve a change was 1 wrought in the character and fortune of 1 the youth that had never obtained "a ro- ^ ward of merit," and was regarded by 1 teacher and schoolmaster as an inferior. * At this time an altercation took place be- ^ tween this backward boy and the one c above liim in the class, whereupon the v latter treated him with indignity and vio- tl leneo. 11 The pride .?f the l>oy was outraged.? H He could not revenge the insult bv a blow, c because lie was too weak to cope witli his | 1 opponent physically. How, then, shall ' he humble his assailant ? He resolved to 11 surpass him in study, to get aliove him in ; c me class ami mere remain, to look down j upon his eneinv, and clip from him the laurels he so inliscrelly wears. lie resolved?accomplished ; became a most devoted scholar; commenced a career of glory; an<l Sir Isaac Newton appeared with a key to unlock the mysteries of motion, and to draft a true chart of the stupendous universe.?Scientific American. Mormon Wives. Some very amusing letters from Utah i have been recently written by new saints ami published in the Chicago paper*.? One lately acquired brother is in raptures with the institution of polygamy. He has three wives; the latest, he says, which 1 he "took three mouths ago, is from near i Hamburg, Germany. She is larger than j either Sarah Ann or Elizabeth, (the name of my second wife,) and, I say it witho-.u j invidiousness or impropriety, is decidedly handsome. The person is of good size, very round, full chest, bright flaxen hair, ami soft blue eyes. She enters into the duties of Iter new situation with wonderful alacrity, and is very happy, as are also Sarah Auu and Elizabeth. You may be surprised at this, hut you will be still more so when 1 assure you (hat all of my present wives are an sinus that I should get another?one who is fitted by education, and physically adapted, to take charge of the business of the dairy. With such an arrangement of my household, e/ery department of a well organized establishment, on a patriarchal scale would have a head to it, and bo governed in order.? I have no inclination to comply on my own account, as I am well satisfied with those I now hare ; but if I should do so it would he entirely out of regard for them. My daughter Louisa is engaged to ho married to a tnan from Pennsylvania, who has already a wife and three children." Bi.Avaar and Commksck.?The .vhole I commerce of tli? world turns upon the < products of slsve labor. Wtiat would i commerce be without cottsi, sugar, to- ' bscco, coffee, rice and naval stores I All I these are the products of slave labor. It I is a settled tact that free labor ej>nnot i produce them in sufficient quantity to sup ) ply the demands of mankind. It has i been said that one free laborer i* equal to t w .* +*4 ive slaves If that be so, why has no reo labor been employed in the produo ion of the above staples ? It has beet ttempted, but in every case in which i las been introduced, has failed. Tli irorid follow its interests, and if free labo . as more valuable than slave, it would b mployed at this moment, in the Unite< itates, Cuba ami Brazil, which are al ipen to free labor. And lierein note tin greater liberality and self-reliant strengtl f the slave over the free States. Tin iirmer freely permit the Northern capital >t to come in with his free labor and com >ete with slavo labor. The latter pas iws prohibiting the Southern capitalis loin coming in with his slaves to compel) vith Northern labor. Their prohibitory aws are passed because they are afraid o lave competition, whereas, the South, i' he face of the pretence which has beer landed Jown from Wilberforce to thesi imes, that one white laborer is equal ii alue to five slaves, throws her doors wid< pen and invites the free labor to wait 11 and try its hand, and it dare no ome. What would become of England, tin rch agitator of abolitionism, but for c>t on, by the manufacture of which she ha? raxed fat and strong, while she curse.' he system by which it is produced. By he way, will some one inform us why lh< English conscience has never suffered a: nucb from slavery in Brazil as slavery in he United States??Richmond Drs/mtch SUNDAY READING, A Winter Evening's Thoughts. The voices of my home, 1 hear thuin still.' There are m ononis when the spiriti ink too low for human aid?when oui arthly hopes and bright anticipations Ii* n dust and ruins, never to he revived.? >, happy then are they that can I >ok to omtbri from a higher source and say Father, thy will, not mine, be done"? vhile brooding over agonies that bavi eft their deep scars upon the heart. It is night. Darkness has veiled th arth, and ihe snow-king is silently throw ng his mumle over his bosoin ?the win* vails in fitful gusts, then dies sileutl iway, as if to "mock the voice of mirth. Tis the hour of re very, when the sou foes cut upon its wandtflings and love o linger around the dead, and grieve "ii he churchyard lone and dreary," or wan ler to the days of its golden youth?tin tear home of its childhood, its thrillnij ueiuorica, its happy dreams, and its plea tires unalloyed. The home lireside u ol&ved parents, where brother and siste luslcred with true and loving heartsvliere the song of joy and the burst o [ladness came forth from the heart. Ah uemory?how it goes out upon it liadowy wing and looks long upon tin Id brown house, lowering amidst us loin roes, casting its shadow far behind, am lateiis to the world's mysterious inoaii is if bewailing the lost and scattered one f the once happy household. There Irew iny first brea'.h and learned my lira Lildish pra tie. There 1 was taught tin indenting words?lather, mother, brolhci ister. There 1 learned to breathe will levotion the hallowe?l name of Deity ? o read llis holy word, and contemplat liin?with awe and reverence. There leard my mother's silvery voice, com ningled with her children's, float out upo he night-breeze iu praise of Hint, th reator of all, and then knelt around tli ainily altar and heard my father pray.? ?ng years have passed and still ilios roices "vibrate upon my heart like th otinds which the passing wind draw ro<n the trembling strings of a harp lei in some desert shore." There were in; day-grounds, my shady walks, the oh >eech tree with my name cut in child lood'i idle hours?there the sun shon irighter, the moon rode in ore iiiajeslical y, and the "overhanging tirmaueut look id like a roof fretted with golden fires."? There the tlowcrs grew more luxuriaut md tilled the air with their delicious per ume?there was music in the rippling nibbled stream, and harmony in the roa if the river. There the dews of heavei ell more softly, and the birds warble< iweeter. It was paradise to my younj nind. My home! my happy home, am is neioveo inmates:?even now 1 cai ook back distinctly and with emotions pleasure, throiigli the weary stretch < nno, to the gay dreams, the man) brigii tnd sunny spots, along tlie path of h) jonc years; they areas cool and as beat .iful and refreshing to memory as the iun >f everlasting spring. Would that memory could pause Iter n its travel, but no?thf amiter carrf )n the wing of night, and in the midr ?f gayety, like the fearful boom of a Mrtliquake, came a message in ther words?"Sistor, corns, onr mother ia d\ ng." Oh, it is Hlereotypod on my brai tnd heart, and that travel of fifty inih through midnight darkness can nevor I obliterated frog* my memory, and tli twful gfoom that lollowed in its wake.ftiesuii was up, dispelling the mist froi Iris autumn brow, ere I looked upon in home; but oh God 1 where was ni mother, my tender mother, who was woi to meet me at the door and give me mother's kiea t Sfu wa$ d$ad ! Tl morning sephyrn went sighing anaicUt tl * ' % A t folds of licr snow-white shroud. I knelt - beside her, laid iny cheek upon her cold j 1 face, and tried to realize, as I sobbed in l the ngyny of my half broken heart, that e 1 was motherless. r "Blessed arc the dead that die in the i e Lord." Low down in the garden, in a | 1 beautiful green square, there arc many I grassy hillocks, with white tombstones ' 5 gleaming from among the rose bushes ; | i and ball, beautiful Balm of Gilcads, with j a their shining, quivering leaves, stand .as I sentinels around the sacred spot. There | - iny mother was laid to rest, tivc of her j s household having preceded her to that | t "quiet bourne." And then another grave a was dug in a quiet valley "o'er the lulls ' and far away," for the dark-eyed daugh- j f tcrof the house; and another ou a bleak j i and lonely hill, in the pathless pine woods ! i ?young, buoyant, and an active huntsi man when the sun rose, but ere it pealed i in the golden west, a bleeding mass !? u There is streng.li deep in our hearts, of ; which we know little, "till the shafts of t heaven have pierced its fragile dwelling." There was still lift at our home a dear > one to my heart, whose love, like a bright sunbeam, threw out its radiance far into > the night and tempest of my world. i The holy incense of prayer and the music of domestic hymns continued tonss cend from bleeding hearts?for there sat ? the vacant chair! and the sweetest voice i had been hushed. * * * . My father?how I loved liim ! His was . ; a noble and tender heart, kind to every | thing, "beautiful in his relations to his inferiors"?-delighting in the sublime beaulies of nature, an<l worshipping our Crea tor with zeal ad devotion. How often the prayer went up from my ' heart that he might be spared long to dwell with us! How I loved to push s back from his temples his white wavylocks and look into his calm, expressive blue eyes. They made lue think of heaven ! Hut oh, he too, my idolized father, must die ! What unutterable agony ' tided my botoin at the thought. I clasped my hands, but prayed not, for feelings 0 wild, and oh, how desolate! came crowding upon my memory's pathway, seeming to annihilate me with their very intensity. * * " * ' ^ A brief year passed, and, then, llieie ? was hurrying to and fro, lights glancing 1 from window to window?silent footsteps, atid subdued voices, convulsive sighs, and heart-breaking sobs. Oh, Cod ! "temper the wind," for he too was dead ! B From the Albany Shite Jieyioter. \ Tight Times, if This chap is around again. He has r been in town lor a week. He may be - seen on 'Change every day. Ho is over I' on the Pier, along Quay street, up Broadf way, stalks up State street, looks in at a the banks and lounges in the hotels. He e bores our merchants, and seats himself f cozily in lawyers' ollices. He is everyi where. i A great disturber of the public <ptict, a s pestilent fellow, is this same Ttour 1'imkb. i 1 Everybody talks about him, everybody t I looks out 'or him, everybody hates hi n, i? I and a great many hard words and no I I little profane epithets are bestowed upon li him. Everybody would avoid him if - they could, everybody would hiss hiin Q from 'Change, hoot him off the Pier, 1 ! chase him from Quay street, hustle him i- j out of Hroadway, kick him out of the ii banks, throw him out of the stores, out o of the hotels, but they can't. Tin it r Timks a j is a bore. A bur, he will stick. Hints _ are thrown away on hiin, abuse lavished H in vain, kicks, cuffs, profanity, are all 0 thrown away on him. He is impervious s to thoin all. t An impudent fellow is Tionr Tiubs.? y Ask for a discount, and lie looks over 1 your shoulder, winks to the cashier, and . your note is thrown out. Ask a loan of ( the usuries at one per cent, a month ; h i . looks over your securities, and murks two > and a half. Present a bill to your debt- j _ or, Tight Timks shrugs his shoulders, ^ rolls up his eyes, and you must call again. >. A wife asks for a fashionable brocade, a daughter for a new bonnet; he puts his r caveat, and the brocade and bonnet are n postpoueJ. j A great depredator of stocks is Tight if Timks. He stops in among tbc brokers, ij and down goes Central, lie plays tlie n deuce with Michigan Central, with Miclii >1' g?n Soutlioru, with Hudson Kivor, with if New York and Erie, lie goes along the t railroads in process of construction, and - the Irishmen throw down their shovels l- and walk away. lie puts his mark upon ,i railroad bonds, and they tiiul no purchasers, are hissed out of market, become e obsolete?absolutely dead. / A great exploder ol bubbles is Tioitr it Tim as. lie looks into the affairs of gold n companies, and they fly to pieces ; into ,e kiting banks, and they slop payment; f. into rickety insurance coinpiuies, ami n they vanish away, lie walks around coris ner lots, draws a line acrosa 'lithographic kj cities,' and they disappear, lie loaves ie his footprint among mines, and the rich - metal becomes dross. He breathes upon n the cunningest schemes of speculation, iy and they burst like a torpedo, iv A hard master for the poor, a cruel n't enemy to the laboring masses, ie Tioht a T?m?. He takes the mechanic from his ie I bench, the laborer hia'Work, tliahod le [ carrier from hw ladder. If* ran* tip tKe * ?m *\ ?*? * , 0 .? ^fifes' prices of provisions, aud lie runs down tbe wages of labor. Ho runs up the price of fuel, and he runs down the ability to purchase it at any price. Ho makes little children hungry, and cry for food ; cold, and cry for fire and clothing ! Ha makes poor women sa 1, makes mothers weepj discourages the hearts of fathers, carries earn and anxiety into families, and sits a crouching desolation in the corner and on the hearthstones of the poor. A hard master to the poor i3 Tionr Timrs. A curious fellow is Tioiit Tinas, full of idiosyncrasies and crotchets. A cosmopolite, a wanderer, too. Where he comes from nobody knows, and where he goes nobody knows. He flashes along the telegraph wires, ho takes a free pas sago in the cars, he seats himself iu the stages, or goes along the turnpikes on foot. He is a gentleman on Wall street to day, and a back settler on the borders of civilization to morrow. We hear of him in London, iu Paris, in St. Petersburgh, at Vienna, lferlin, at Constantinople, at Calcutta, in China, all over the commercial world, in every great citv. in every rural district?everywhere. There is one way to avoid being bored by this troublesome fellow,Tight Timks. it is the only way lor a country, a city, a town, as well as individual men, to "keep shut'' of his presence always. Let the country that would banish him, beware of extravagance, of speculation, of over-trailing, of embarking in visionary schemes of aggrandizement. Let it keep out of wars, avoid internal commotions, and go right along, taking care of its own interests and husbanding resources. Let the city that would exclude him, be economical in its expenditures, indulging in no schemes of speculation, making no useless improvements, building n > railroads that it cannot pay for, withholding its credit from mushroom corporations, keeping down its taxes and going right along, taking care of its own interestsand husbanding its own resources. Let the in lividnal man who would exclude him j fro in his domestic circle, ho industricu*, frugal, keeping out of the whirlpool of politics, indulging no taste for office, hold- ..3 ing up his dish when pudding falls froin the clouds, laying by sonii.hing when the sun shines, to make up for the dark days ?for "Some iliivs must be dark and dreary;" ? working on always with a heart full of confidence in the good providence of God, and cheerful in the hope of "the good time coining." What the Farmer most Needs. It is not a college endowed by the State, says a coteinpcrary ; it is primary schools i to prepare farmers'sons and daughters for the higher walks in scienco as applied to agriculture. They need organization.? Tiiey want farmers' ciubo, and neighborhood libraries of agricultural books.? They need discussion. They need more intercourse, not only in their own town an 1 country, hut throughout tne State and country, to see and learn what other fanners arc doing, and adopt them. This is the greatest need of farmers. They' need to become satisfied w ith their vocai lion ; to get rid of the prevailing notion 1 that farming is, necessarily, an unmental employment; lhnllB?>th#l the farmer has no occasion to ihink; has 110 occasion for education, and never can become wealthy or what the world would call respectable, while engaged in the culture of the earth, ' and therefore ho seeks the first opportunity to escape from an avocation placed un uwr mm not oniv oy an oiners, out Ins own class also. Tlie great reed of The farmer is, that ho .shall declare himself indepenJ lit of all other classes; at least inure so than they arc of him, and of course he is entitled to etigngo in any other calling whatever; and if he is a man of toil, that is no reason why ho should 11 1 b<* a inati of intellect. The great need of the fanner is organization, and this must he accomplished by a few self-sacriticing men, who will undertake the labor g of establishing and maintaining farmers' clubs in every neighborhood. Farmers need to drop politics, and take up ngri- #| culture. They must talk, read and think and they will be sure to act or their children will act for them.?Vermont statesman. Apple Jei.i.v.?Wash and cut the ap- i pies in two or three pieces, to ace if there Ihj any worms in them ; put them in a bright brass or porcelain lined kettle, and cook until the apples are done ; lake out j auJ strain the juice from them, and put *\0 tliem on the stove again, and boil them until they begin to look dark ; then add , one-third as much suger, by weight, and , boil until they become a jelly ; put into | cups or tumblers, and lie paper orer the | tops. This is excellent for making jelly I cakes. Try it.? Ohio Cultivator. It aiston Cakes.?Six ounces of grated loaf sugar, six ounce* of fresh butter, one ounce of flour, a little ep;oe, and two grains of volatile salts?mix the whole i with two eggs. Hook Disc lit#.?Beat six ounce# t>( fresh batter to a cream, add six ounces powdered loaf sugar, half a pound flur " rauta, one ounce candied pee), and . g MM#.! Stir da est nmnid <tf flhnt lur <U. - A j^i^l mix, ?wd