The Lancaster ledger. (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, March 28, 1855, Image 1
'* ** St- * * * "3
I
*$2 PER ANNUM. itic way. IN ADVANCE j
NEUTRAL IN POLITICS?DEVOTED TO LITERA1V, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, SCIENTIFjC, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE.
VOLUME IV. LANCASTER. C. H.. SOUTH CAROLINA. WEDNESDAY MORNIN'u. MARCH 23,1855 ' NUMBER 7
m ? _
UPI PPT TH PC i IihiI uii>thkvii for dure!. Tliu dingy look All tlieao ?r>u crowd* *r? inv vUitom ?ml ?lnnltl??r. Ii?? tnm.-.l Inn .???? fn.m il.~ I v. ?..? .......i .. .n ? -?
0MjUU1_ lflLmu. ;;
from WolftrC* Hoott. ,|
THE COHTEN TED MM. \
HI
by wasuinotun ihvino.
tl
In the garden of the Tuilcrie* there is *'
* tunny corner under the wall of a terrace
wliicu front* tho S..utli. Along the ^
wall is m range ul benches votiiinaiiiling h
view of (lie walks and avenue* of the gar
den. This genial nook is u place of great
resort in die latter part of the miiiuiiiii,
Mini ill tine in wither, us il mciiih tu
t f
7r??;u the tiswr of r!?q?arted summer. On
vul|ii, bright 'Horning ii in quite alive tfitli J
linrsery-iiiahJs utni their playful little (
charges. Hither also icsort u imnih.r ot
ancient ladies Mini gentlemen, who. with
laudable thrift ill small |il?.iMiru ami
small ex|?eH?c*, for which the French are
to lie noted, come here to enj >y sunshine
ami save firewood. Here in iv often lie j
seen some cavalier of the old sclio-l. when .
11
the sunlieiuus have warmed his Mood into
something like a glow, Muttering about ^
like a frost bitten ill all, Ihawed helore
w
the tire, putting forth a feeble show ot ^
gallantry among the antiquated daines (
and now ami then eyeing the Luxoni nursery-maids
with what might almost he j
mistaken for All nir of liltertiuism. ^
Among :he habitual freipicutcr* of this ^
place, I Iim<I often remarked an old g?*nllcuiau,
whose dra*s wh* decidedly amirevolutions!,
tin wore the three-cornemd
a
cocked hat of ihe auciem regime', his hair |j
ww frisxed over each ear into uilet tie jntfeon,
a style strongly savoring of lb air- r
bouistn; auJ a qurue stuck out behind, (lie (
Innhy of which wan not to las Ji*puleJ.
II Miu-ieni, Itao im nl? or ^
d cayed gentility, ami I oltserved that Im ^
took his snutf from an elegant, though <>! I j(
fashioned gold la?X. lie ap|k!Hr?*d to Iks
the newt popular tuaii oil the walk, lie q
hud a compliment for every uM lady, lie R
kinaed every child, and he palled every (|
little d??g on the head; f>r children and f/
little dog* are veny iiu|M?rtaui mnnlwr* t
of society in France. 1 must observe, c
however, that he never ki**ed a child with...
*
Out, at llmsatne time, pinching the nursery
maid's check; a Frenchman of the old
school never forgets his devoirs to the j
sex.
c
I had lakeu a liking to this old gentle- H
man. There was an hahitaal expression (
nf benevolent** in his face which I have f
very frequently remarked in these relics t
of the politer days in France. The con- ^
slant interchange of those thousand little r
courtesies which imperceptihly sweeten n
life, hare a happy eft eel up?H the features, j,
....I - I - II i - -l
wini ipicnu a Miminw weillllj? CHlirill OVCT |j
(lie wrinkle* nf old age. |
Where ther In a favorable predi*po?i- c
(ion, oue won form* u kind of tuoit imimw?
by often meeting on the*>itnc walk* c
Once or twice [ nccmuodated him with c
? bench, ?fter which we touched li.it* on ?
pa*?iug each other; ?l length we got no c
far n?to tnke h pinch of muff together out I
of Iim l?o*, *v|iich M equivalent to eating a,
mI( together in the Em; from tliHl lime ?
ftur acquaintance khi e*l?bli*h *1. r
I bow tuwutne hi* frequent companion n
jin ht? moniing promenade*, and derived (
,iuitc)i nmuKoiiietit from hi* good humored r
remark* on men nnd manners. One u
^Qoiuing tit we were mrolling through the fi
alley of the Tuileriew; with the nuiitmiiMl c
.breexe whirling the yellow leave* nlnmt li
our path, my companion fell into m |?e- u
culi*r communicative vein, and gave me li
everal jiarvicularaof hwhwtury. He had a
onee Uhmi wealthy, ami pn*Mw?cd of a fine *1
Mate in the coiintrv, and a nohle h .let L
l?t Farts; but thu revolution, which J
U*l hi* tunny <h r?Hit dt?titaf.ti, ?tr?j>|t?.l ?l
ihim 14 every tiling. II? wan wflly de- '
noun<i?l hy his own steward tlnrtnif a r>
san/niiiary |?wo?hI uf lit* revolution, ami n
41 number of tint Woodhounda of iha Omc ?
trillion ?m *hM to irrwi him. II* ru - li
t*ivnl |?rit?lM iiilt-lli/riii-e *4 their sj?- V
^tftwti'li in litn# U> rtfrcl his escape. II*- f<
J?n*l?d in Ku/Untl without money or I.
friend*. but ctniMtlrrrtl himself ait^fularli '
tmunata m having lib head upon hi* '
ItouMera; several of his ueigMatta having f>
bene guillotined as a punishment for be* h
in/ neb. *
Wlwii ho reached London ha had hut I1
ft iMii in ?*?- ?<*! m <4 ?
getting nnodivr. U? My ulintry dinMf
??t? Wftfctnnk, ftfttl mm ftkno?t powno- ?>
?) !?j pan m$*_ "liiftk, bum kft nolo* ba
*
Vr?" :i zfti-M? .,r * w*. v'
I **
*w
? **.. '?, 'H^HP ~*y?
f the chop-house, and of the little ninogony
colored l?ox in whieli he ate his
inner, contrasted sadly with the gay
?lonnn of Paris. Everything looked
loomy and disheartening. Poverty
tared him in the fa:e; tie turned over
lie few shillings he had of change;
id not know what was to become of
im; and?went to the theatre.
lie took his seat in the pit, listened at?nlively
to a tragedv of which lie did
ot understand a word, and whieh sceind
made lip of lighting, ami stabbing, and
LViie-shil'lilig, ami began to feel his spii,s
sinking within hiin; when, casting his
yes into the orchestra, what was hisstiirise
to recognise an old friend and neighor
in the very act of extorting music
loin a huge violoncello.
As stain as the evening's |?erforniaiice
ras over, he tap|>ed his friend on the
lloiildcr. tliev kissed each hiIi.t .... ......I.
llCl'k, Milt) lilt* lllllH CIMll took 111111 III >1110,
lit) shared Ins lodgings with liim. Ho
a*I learned iiiusit* an mii accomplishment;
y liin friend'* udvico lie now turned toil
st a means of support. lit* procured a
iolin, offered himself for the orchestra,
'Ms rerfivpil, mid again considered himelf
one of the titual lortunale men upon
itrili.
Here, therefore, he lived for ninny years
urin f the ascendency of the terrihie Naoleou.
lie found several emigrants livig
like himself, hy the exercise of their
dents. They H*.*?eialel together, talked
f France Mild of old times, and endeavre<l
to keep up a semblance of Parisian
fe in the centre of London.
They dined at a miserable cheap French
estnurant in the neighborhood of Leiccscr
Siptare, where they were nerved with
i caricature of French euokerv. Tlu*>'
or k their promenade in St. J hih-'h Park
nd endeavored to fancy it the Tuilertos;
ii short, they made shift to accommodate
liemselves to everything hut an English
inn lay. Indeed the old gentleman
eetned to have nothing to aav against
lie English, whom he aftii med to U* brave*
m*; and he mingled so much among
nem. that at the end of twenty years, he
oiitd speak their language almost well
tioiigh to he understood.
This downfall of Napoleon was an *thr
e|NK-h in his life, lio had con fide led
liinself a fortunate man to make his est|ie
penniless out of France, and he cot.*
dereil himself fortunate io lie able to reurn
penniless into it. It is true that lie
onii<I his Parisian Hotel had passed
hrougli several hands during the vicissiudes
ot the lime*, to as 10 be beyond the
each of recovery; hut then lie had lieen
loticed Unignantly hy government, and
iad a pension of several hundred francs,
IIM>11 lsbieh tt'illi ?..ir..f.il ....... ............
| ? VII.VIH. MHIII I^VUIl'IK,
le Ii\ e> 1 iude|>ciidenilv, and, no fur as I
otild jud^e, happily.
A* Iii* oiioo splendid hotel wha now oe*
npied us u hotel 'furni, lie hired n small
hainber in I lie attic; "'It w** but,'* na lie
Iiiil, "changing hi* bedroom up two pnir
if stairs?lie was *till ill his own liou r."
Jia room wu decorated witL picture* ol
e vera I beau tie* of former limes, wit'i
rliom lie professed to have been on favoable
term*; anion;* them wa* a favorite
ipfm dancer, who had been the adtinraion
of Pari* at the breaking out of the
evolution. She ha<l laseii a protegee ol
nv mind, and one of the few of liia youthIll
favorite* who had survived the la|?*e
f lime and it* variou* vicissitude*. Tin y
iud renewed their acquaintance and she
iow niiiI then visited him; but the beauiful
Psyche, once the fashion of the day
ml the idol of the parterre, wn* now a
hrivelled. little old woman, warj?ed ill the
ack, ami with a hooked t)o?e.
I lie old g?-iu It-iMMti who n devout Htten
Imiii n|H?n Irm*; lit* *m iium ;?hIdu> in
i? l?* ally, hihI could not ?|m*aI< of llie
oval family, without burxt of etilhuvi
hd, for lie null fell towards llieni a* hit
?411puiiion* in exile. A* to hi* poverty,
e made liglit of it, and, indeed, had a
pood humored way of eoiiMoiing limiM-lf
r every en aw and |>rivati*>u. If lie had tout
is chateau in tlie country. lie had halt a
keen roynl palaeea, ? it were Ml liweonin?mi.
lie had Vertailiea and 81. Cloud
*r bi* country tenor it, and tlie ahady a!?
rye of the Tutkxiat and lb* Luxembourg
r bin Iowa verreauo*. Tliua all hw
eM, jet cuai nothing.
"Wbtu I nntk through th?M fln? g#r?m,n
mm) bo, M1 hn*o only to fiwey my
If tbo owner vf tboot, and U??jr am win*.
^ f* r* ' \*
jMte*
* , W
I I defy the grand seignor himself to dis- (I
I play h greater variety of l?eauty. Nay, I
what is lajtter, I liave not the trouble of <1
entertaining them. My estate ia a perfect
Sunn Sonri, where every one does as ii
he pleases, and no one troubles the own- t
er. All Paris is my theatre, and presents
me will) a continual spectacle. I have a a
table spread for me in every street, an-' ti
thousands of waiters ready to fly at my 11
bidding. When my servants have wait- t
ed upon mo, I pay them, discharge litem, h
and there's an end: I have no fears of their t
wronging or pilfering me when my hack '
is turned. U|m>ii the whole" said the old
gentleman, with a smile of infinite good- v
humor, "when I think of the various rfcks o
I have run, and the manner in which 1 i'
have escaped them; when I reeoile?t all "
that I liave suffered, and consider all that 11
I at present enj -y, I cannot hut look up- <'
on mi sell as a malt of singular good fortune."
ti
Such was the hrief history of this practical
philosopher, ami it is a picture of v
many a Frenchman ruined bv the tevolutiou.
The French appear to have a irreat- h
er facility than most men in accotnmodu
ting thentseWes (?? the reverse* of life, ami
of extracting honev otit of the hilt' r thing*
of this worhl. The first shock of calami
tv is apt to overwhelm them; hnt when it
is once past their natural buoyancy offee'ingsnon
brings them to the surface. This
may lie calle'1 the result of levity of character,
hut it answers the em! of reconciling
us to misfortune, ami if it l?e not (rue
philosophy, it is something almost as efficacious.
Ever since I have heard the
story of my lit de Frenchman, I havetreas
ured it up in my heart; ard 1 thank mv
1 stars I have at length found, what I had
i?nij4 eoMftltlered as not to l>e found on
> earth; a contented man.
P. S ?There is no calculating on lot
man happiness. Since writing the 'ore*
1 going the law of indemnity has l?een parsed,
anil my friend restored to a great part
' of his fortune. I was absent from Paris at
the time, but on mv return li tsiened to
congratulate him. I fotird him m tgnifi
ecntly lodged on the first floor of his ho
tel. I was ushered, by a act van! in liverv.
through splendid saloons to a cabinet
richly furnished, where I found mv little
Frenehtnaii reclining on a couch. He received
me w i.li his nsiul cordially; but I
saw the gavetv ami benevolence <>f hi*
eonntenanee had fled; he had an eye lull
of care and anxiety.
I congrnl.ilu.ed him on his good for
1 tune.
"(iood fortune?" echoed he, "hah ! I
have l?een plundered of a princely fortune,
' and they give me a pittance as an indent
' nitv."
Alas! I found my Ute poor nnd coaten
ted friend, one of the richest and ntoat
miserable men in Paris. Instead of re
joieing in the ample competency restored
to him, he is dailv repining at the super
niMtv withheld. He no longer wander* J '
ill happy idlenena about Pari*, but in a re- ' <
pining attendant in the Hnte-cliHinl?cr? of 1
tnini*ier?. Hi* loyalty ha* evaporated '
with hiegayety; be screw* hie in..tub when
the Ilourbon* are mentioned, and even '
ahrng* lit* shoulder* when he hear* flic '
praise* of the King. In h wool, Iih is one '
of the inanv philonpher* undone by the '
law of indemnitr. and hi* oa*e ? de*|?er- '
Ate. for I doubt whether even Another re- '
verse of fortune, which should restore him *
10 poverty, could make him again a liAje '
py men
A THRILLING NARRATIVE.
In the fall of 18:0, I was t'?M-l iiig
eastward iu a Mage coach from 1'ittshurg <
over the mountain*. Mv (Mho* I
ger* were twu gentlemen and a lady.? j
The elder gentleman'* Mp|HV?ranc? inlerea- |
led ine ent'mliiiKk 111 )??r? lie *eented ,
about thirty?in air ami manner, lie t/a* .
onIiii, dignified and poliahed, ami the con- t
tour of liia featmea w?? singularly inlel- i
k'ctual. I!? con vented ln*h on different i
topic*, until the road became more abrupt <
and precipitou*, but on my directing bin I
attention to tbe great altitude of a precipice,
on the verge of which our coach I
wheel* were lenoirely rolling, there came i
a marked change of his countenance.? i
Ilia eyee, lately Ailed with the light of in- I
telligenre. became wild, roalleaa and anaioua?the
month twitched spaainodtcally,
and the forehead waa beaded frith a cold <
perapiratioe. With A tharp, oeavuJaive
dkt- ' i
ft
, t- ? 1 *
y height, aiul clutching my arm with j (J
>oth his hands, ho hung to me like a ii
rownitig itnn. s
"Use this eollogne," said theladv, hand- Ii
ug me a Imttle, with the instinctive good- ii
icss of her sex. I
I s rinkled a little on his face, and he I
won became more composed?hut it was c
lot until we had entirely traxersed the
iiouutain, and descended into ill i couu- v
ry beneath, that his tine features relaxed
roin their pertubed look, and assumed v
lie placid, ipiict dignity that I first no- a
iced. r
"I owe an apology to the ladv," sahl he <|
riili a Id a nd smile and gen le inclination I
f the head to lair companion, '"and some I
xplanatioii to my feiiow traveller, also;
ml perhaps I cannot better acquit mv*elt c
if the double debt than hy recounting the ti
nu>e of my r?*eciit agitation."
"li mat pain your delicately '
irjiCi I tin* Italy. '
"On the contrary, it will relieve them," "
tan the respectful r"ply. 1
Having signified our several de-ires to I
ie.tr more, the Iritveller proetetletl:? <
At the age of eighteen, I was light of <ieart,
light of f h?1, ami I fear (he smiled,) ?'
iglit of beat!. A fine property on the li
>.uik* of the Ohio acknowledged inc the r
ole owner. I was hastening home to en- li
y it, ami delighted to gel free from a h
College life. The month wiw October, li
he air bracing, ami mode of conveyance c
i stago coach like tbi*, only more nun ii
irous. The other passengers were lew? s
inlv three in all?one, an old grey-head- n
id plainer of Louisiana, his daughter, a a
oyoiw, bewitching creature at tout seven- li
een ami his son, alioul ten tears of age. *
They were just returtiin t from France, ?l
U wlnelt eottirin- the young lady dis- ?
: iiirsed in terms so eloquent as to absorb
iiv entire attention. I
The father was taciturn, hilt the dangle- ?
er vivacious by nature, ami we soon he- l
lame so tuiiiu .lit pleased with each oth
ir,?sin? as the iitlker and I as the listen- ?
r?that it was m?t until a sudden fia-h ?
if lightning and a heavy dush of rain - |
jaiiist the window elicited an exclninnion
I rum my ?harming eompaiiiou, tliat 1
knew how the night passed u?. I're? j '
nillv there came a low rtini ling sound, I
ind the,, several tremendous peals o I
htimler, H.cuiijiaiiied liy successive llasli- ?
is of lightning. The rain descended in |
oircnl-, and an angry wind Ix-gan to
n?wI ami moan through the forest trees.
1 looked from the window of m.r veliele.
The night wan dark as ebony, hut
he lightning showed the danger of our
oH'l. We were on the edge of a frightul
precipice. I can Id see at intervals,
nige jetting rocks far away dotvu it
iide, ami the sight made me solicitous
or the safety of my fair companion. I
.bought of the mere hair brcntl.v that
were lietwcen us ami eternity; a single
ittle rock in the track of our conch wheels,
v tiny billet of wood, a stray root of a
>*iii|?est torn tree?restive horses, or a
jareless diiver?any of these might hurl
is froin our sublunary existence with the
ijieed of thought.
"Tis a ja-rfeet tempest,*' observed the
ady, as I withdrew my head from the
ffimlow. "How I love a audden atnnn I '
,lu?re in aoinelhing s?> grand among the ?
wind* when fairly tooae among the hill*. "
1 never encountered a night like thin, hut
liyron'a inanitWht description of a tliun- *
l< r storm ii> iIm- Jura wriim to my mind. '
11in ?n are <>u ilie mountains yi-t I"
"Yw, we ha?e begun the H*oent." I
"I* it not naiil lo Ikj dangerous)"
* Bv n?? means,'' I leplted ill as easy a '
,one ? ? I coin*! assume.
"I only wish it wa* daylight,*o we might >
'iijoy the inonnta n scenery. Bui what's I
li.it !" ami she co\ereil lief eyes from the '
jlare of a sheet of a sheet of lightning i
.hat illuminated the rugged mottiiiniii <
villi brilliant intensity. lVal after peal
if crashing iliiiader inataitlly succeeded; J
here was a volume of rain coining down j
it each thunder burnt, and with the deep *
loaning of an annual breaking ujkhi our
Mn>, 1 found the coach had come lo a dead t
jalt. c
Louise, my beautiful fellow traveler, (
lecame aa pale aa ashes. She fixed her t
tearclung eyes on mine w,th a look of <
in&k>UH dread, and turning to her father, <
lurriwlly remarked: >
MWe am on the mountains." ?
*1 reckon wd*are," was the unconcern- ?
id rti\>\y. '
With iaslineti/n activity I |??t mj ImmI I
i .,* ?
inni^ii uiu miuu/w itIIU CNII^U U# 1110 j
Iriver; but the only answer was thenioam
iig of an aniin??l borne past ine by the
wift wind of the tempest. I seized the '
inndle of the door, and strained in vain? '
L wot Id not yield a jot. At that instant
felt a cold hand on mine, and heard
a mine's voice tainlly articulating in my
ars the following uppaling words:
"Tim coach is being moved back
rards!"
Never shall I forget the, fierce agony
villi which I tugged at the coach door;
aid called on tlm driver in tones that
ivalled the force of the blast, whilst the
Ircadful comietiou was burning on my
rain that the coach was being moved
ackwaids!
What followed was of such swift oeurreiice
that it seems to me like a
rightful dream.
I rushed against the door with all my
tr v, but it withstood niv utmost efloits.
>ne side of our vehicle was sensibly gong
down, down, dot* n. The moaning ot
I e agonized animal became deeper, and
knew from his desperate plunges against
lie traces that it was one ?f our horses.
'rash ii | m in crash of coarse thunder ml I til
>ver tin? mountain, ami vivid sheets ot
ightning played round our devoted cariage,
as if in jfli-e of our tuiseiy. By this
ijrht I could sec for a moment; only for
i moment; the old planter standing, with
lis hands on his son and daughter, his
yes raised to Heaven, and his lips inovng
like those of one in prayer. I could
ee Louise turn her ashv checks towards
ue as if imploring protection; and I could
ee the bold glance of the young boy
lashing defiance at the descending carriige,
the war of elements, and the awlul
laiiger that surrounded him. There was
i loll; a des|airaie plunge, as of an aui
ual in ihe last throes of dissolution?a
iarsh, grating jar, a sharp, piercing scream
it mortal terror, ami I hail but time to
jrasp Louise tirmly with one hand around
he waist, anil seize the leather fastenings
ntached to the coach roof with the oth r,
when we were pieeipilated over the
recipice.
I can distinctly recollect preserving
'onsciotisne.se, for a few seconds of time,
?ow rapidh my breath wa? being oxlaiisted,
but of iliat tremendous descent
I smut lost all further knowledge bv a eoie
;us?ioii so violent that 1 nas instantly de.
rived of sense and motion."
The traveller paused. His features
sulked for a minute or two as they did
vhen we were on the mountain; he
Messed his hands across his forehead, as
f in pain, ami then resumed his intersating
narrative:
"On a low couch, in a ' limbic room of
i small countr\ house, I next opened ii y
;\es in this world of light and shade, joy
iiui sorrow, of mirth ami sadness, Oenle
hands ? m?ihed my pillow, gentle leet
lided across my ehamher, and a gentle
one hushed tor a time all my questionng.
I was kimlly attended by a young
prl about fifteen, w ho refused for a length
d time to hold any discourse wit. me.?
\t length, ulie lii-irnimr. tiudinir meutlf
. ;--- ? |
iithcieiill* recovered to sit lip, 1 insisted |
>11 learning tin* result of lite accident."
"You were discovered," said she, "sitting
>11 ? ledge of roeks, amidst the brauehcs
if m shattered tree, clinging to the iUmjlilt
>le f?>r ill of a Itdy ^iili ilie oilier."
"And lite lad)," I gasped with mii earn
sihess that caused her to draw Lack and
ill all.
"Slic was laved, sir, l>y the means
hat saved tou?the friendly tree."
"And her father and brothel!" 1 iinpaieiittv
demanded.
"We lound them liothc tubed to |>ieees
it the lioliom ?>t i> previp ve, a great mm)
s low where my liittier ami Uncle Joe
utid the lady. We buried their I as lies
n one grave, close by the clover patch,
lown in our meadow ground."
"(iod | ily li?-r, indeed, sir," said the
roung girl, with a gush of heartfelt ay ill*
lathy, "Would you like 10 see her!" she
aided.
I found the orphan bathed in tears, by
lie irrave of her htiru-d Liu lied. Klo >?
wived mo witli sorrowful ?*eelm>? of
n*nu?r. 1 net-d not detain your allenioo
by detailing the effort* I made to
in her from her grief, but briefly ac|u?iiil
you, that at lavl I succedvd in
uducing lie* ?o leave her forlorn ho we
n the Kuntiy South, ami that twelve
notilha after the dreadful occurrence
toidi I have related, we stood at the alar
as Mian sad wife, &b* still lives to
*
uicss my love with 8miles, and my childreu
with her good precepts; Imt on ilu>
anniversary of tlmt leirible night, slits secludes
herself in her room, and devotes
the hours of darkness to solitary prayer.
"A3 for me," added the traveller, while
the faint flush tinged his noble blow at
the avow d, "that accident has reduced
inc to the condition of a physical coward
at the sight of a mountain precipice."
"But the driver," asked onr lady pass
cnger, who had attended to the recital of
the story with n.uch attention "what became
of the driver? or did you ever learn
the reason of his deserting his post f"
"I lis body was found on the road, w ithin
a few steps of the spot where the coach
over, lie had heen struck dead l?y the
same flash of lightning that blinded the
restive Imrses."
Faliacies*A^out Editors.
BY "ONK OK 'E>1."
The popular idea of an editor is, a mi erahle
man, perpetually tormented with
the ta>k of finding material to "till up"
a newspaper?a bottomless abyss, that
is as incapable of overflowing as the cup
of happiness. Out of this pawning gulf
there is supposed to issue periodically a
devil. Day and night the insatiable fiend
is said to haunt him, and scream 111 his
ears for "Copy, more copy."
It is no such thitnr. There is 110 such
man. There is no abyss, and no devil.
It is a humbug?every word of it. The
last apprehension that ever flits through
the brain of an editor?and there are a
great many?is the apprehension that
'there will not bo enough to All up
with."
Not enough to fill up! Does not Congress
sit nine months of the teat ? Ilo
they not spend three-fourths of the time
in making long speeches of not the slightest
interest to anybody in the world ??
No body listens to them when they are
made. Nobody reads them afterward.?
What then are they for? Clearly to
print?to fill up new-pap< rs.
Are there not telegraphs in operation
all over the land, bringing in ini|>ortntit
rumors of startling events to-duv, to be
followed by equally impoitant contradictions
of them to inoirow ! If there is any
one thing the public like la-It*r than hating
a mystery explained, it is being mystified
over again with a new one. Now,
how could this I e done so frequently and
effectually as bv having newspapers to
disseminate telegraphs, and telegraphs to
till up newspapers.
Are there not conventions, and convocations,
and assemblies, and meetings?
some benevolent, some indignant, some
hilarious, and all large and enthusiastic?
constantly going ou, and devising all
maimer of short cuts across lots to the
millennial, which it is of the utmost importance
that the world should take immediately
? Do not the eloquent gentlemen
who invariably address them always
happen to have in their pocket an elaborately-written
rough draft of what they
said, w hich they would not have published
for any consideration i 1 >o they not
always kindly consent to waive their personal
feelings, out of regard to the editor
ami the public, not withstanding it is so
defective ? What is this but u method
of filling up newspajK-rs?
Are there not piles and plies of exchange
pa|>ern lying on the table, lying
Oil tbe cludr- W innr on ll<? lt.<? nf
? ' v ?e> "v-" ' "v
editorial sanctum, everv one ??f which
presents Us renders this week willi the
V|rv 1h**| and latest original and selected
matter ? Are there not scismrs lying at
the editorial elbow ?
And above all, are th-rc not hosts of
k ?id friends who every day send in long
communications, eaeli one of which relates
to the most im|ioriaiit topic in the world
and therefore the one which ought to tie
written about first i I >o they not generally
allow them to lie published for notl
nig i i?o liiey not <10 till tins solely with
a view to save tin: editor trouble, and to
fi'.l up hi* |?:*|x?r ?
Instead of tliere not being enough to
fill up, it ia just the other way. Tliere is
i.x? much. The trouble is to cut it down
ptro off the edges, shorten in the ends,
and leave out the middle so as to get it
all in. Show me an editor and I will
show you a man that, twelve time a day
laments that his paper is uio small. More
things happen in a day than can be published
in a week. Them is no limit to
news; but newspapers, also, are bounded
by feet and inches.
From the Home Journal.
What the Doctor has to Say.
W1IAT UK THINKS OK WOMEN; ,
TI1E WIFE.
Tbi'ivV many a shaft at random sent,
Finds inurk the archer little meant;
There's many a word at random spoken,
J/av soothe or wound a heart that's broken.
Many is the jest the young man is sub
ject to who d?K*s "a wooing go," and
sometimes even does he speak lightly of
the rivitiug process of the heart which is
to make him whole i but it is better to
(title with the lightning, or t magazine
of gunpowder, than to woo a termagant
or a faithless one.
To be mistaken in tbe one we choose,
once for all, to go with us in the journey
of life?to take to the heart a fair one,
and find we have wed a charmer that
sought us as a prev?is .o regarded
I... .t;^ ....i..i._? i. voi - i...
I iiiv vmvnfc vnmuiiij klitll Vtlll ui'lilll i! UUIIIHU
being.
11uMian nature is iike a landscape, pleasant
to look upon only in a certain light;
and married life is like a picture fair and
beautiful, but with an ugly, unpaiuled
back, that is sometimes turned to view.
The world is not all made up of love
hope, and happiness: neither is married
life all a honey-uioon ; and it is better to
be true to nature, like painting a picture,
than to depart too much from it for the
sake of effect.
The wife in tho truest sense is but the
part of man. Each, separate, is but a
fragiueutof existence between which there
is a strong affinity and when united, they
form a whole. In chemistry we often
see the combination of ultimate elements
forming a body of great strength ; but let
adverse influence lie brought to bear, and
it crumbles into dust. The tree, springs
up from the union of individual particles;
and the winds strip it, and it totters and
falls, to moulder again into earth. So
too, if, when the ultimate elements of human
existence have been once united, the
affinity between them becomes weakened
and they repel each other, and separate;
then, like the tree, they may endure for a
while the blast, but sooner or later, the
heart w ill die out, hope w ill cease to find
nutriment, and \anish; ami desolation
will mark the spot where they once existed.
II ?\v few of those who are united in
wedlock ever enjoy the full measure of
happiness that is meted out for their acceptance.
The affections spring up in
good soil, but they arc not properly cultivated?where
the soil is deepest, tales
grow most speedily. The young wile is a
tender plant, and needs the fostering care
of every day devotion. This is at lit r
command. No one is more sure of their
reward, than tho truly affectionate wife.
The husband cannot always be the lover
by profession ; be may l>c at heart?but
he has something else to do. How many
a young wife mistakes this for indifference,
and thus opens her heart to the Jecoying
words of the artful tongue, and
| iiiiitiiy iiicuuHies?inongniics* ol the con*
sequences?that if, |>erhaps, she had choa*
on differently, it would Iihvo Wen Ix-lter..
Wlieu one such thought as this has ontered
(he henrt, love, hope and happiness
tier, and distrust, inditforviico or jealousy,
; Jake tlioir placet; the genial glow of affection's
flame is (pi nched, and (he fire*
side grows cold and cheerless. It is hard
to rekindle the tire that has once gonn
out u|k?ii tho hearth-stone of attection?
the llaniu that is fed only hy fuel floor
loving hearts?when these havo grown
cold and forbidding. Better, indeed,
would it have la-en that they had never
met. Who dots not say that the "pro
ventive is easier than the cure I" But
who shall point it out? It is the work
alone of the heart; and the two hearts
concerned must work out, unaided, tho
prouieni 01 nappineHt or inner?. The
?eeds of sorrow may I* town with * lifsht
h-art, lint the harvest must be seeped in
bitter tears.
Show me the wife that is blind to her
hu?bm I'm faults, and I will show you ft ^
happy woman ; and a roan who It it lean
to answer for, than were cran the tru h
believed.
If Kuth couhl mt to her husband's
mother, "Whither thou gnest I will go |
ami where thou lodgnet! will lodge: thy
people shall be my people, and thy (W
my (Jod i where thou dtest, will I dniW
there will I buried : the Lord do so to nt
ami anore ale?, tf aught but death yaH
*