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IADERTISINC RATES. If A dv rt iem eni inse edn athe rae f $ 1 EvEr~Y WED ESDAX I S for each s.useqnent inetionI. D)oshM * 15PCBISH D G column adve rements sen percent on abo s. EVERY EDNeSDAy MONI G , n ceso me s rdnar Aspecial notices in local column ceNS ByTh- H -per li r-nc. ic-ofr f4flf,U By F. & R. H. Greneker, aersemented her of insertions will be kept in till fubMd Editors and Propre'ors. and charged accordingly. Speiy, cntactemsd wihsarg uw, Invariably in Advance. ~yTh, p:per iq step;.cd :i the expiration of TVUN ~ A T Y J, ~ .~ 'it is pd. Vol. VH. WEDNESDAY MORN IN G, JAN 2. 7 The / mark d^notes expiration of sub irition. - - - WINNING AND LOSING A WIFE. The young crescent moon hung, r like a-cnrved thread of silver, in the orange hnrizmn tf at still burn ed and glowed where the sun had set more than an hour ago. From the woods that crested the gentle slope, :ame at intervals the plain tive cry of the poor whip-poor will, znd the whole scene was full of delicious repose. The windows of the little inn that nestled among .the bills, as if it had grown up 41here among the oaks and beeches, were draperied with roses, whose N;rimson cups swung to and fro in the fragrant wind that had been stealing perfume from a thousand sheltered copses and blossoming wild flowers. It was a pretty, picturesque spot enough-not a Sashionable hotel by any means, but merely a stopping place for the stages that performed tri weekly journeys over the steep roads to the mineral springs that 'lay eight or ten miles beyond. In the white curtained apart ment, dignified by the title of "la -dies' parlor," one passenger was ,quietly sauntering up and down, - waiting for the arrival of - the aforesaid stage. By the light of the solitary lamp on the table, she looked very fair and delicate in her dove-colorel travelling dress, and the pearly edging of lace r,un i her throat and wrists. Her hair was just that shade of pale brown thit verges into gold, and the brilliant hazel eyes, fringed by long curled lashes, gave an expres i.ion of winning softness to the whole faee. You never would have suspected that this girl was i belle an: a beauty in the draw ing rooni of the metropolis-she seemed so formed by nature to deck the quiet solitude where she was at this moment. Thus capri ciously does Fate scatter her girl blossoms over the face of this earth! A. she paced the floor, playing with a sprig of roses she had gath erec from a saucy branch which fairly hung into the room, and singing softly to herself, the door opened and a ru,ldy-f:teed old gen tleman, armed and equipped with p carpet-bags innumerable, made his appearance. "T'he stage is ready,~: Mary !" "So soon, papila ?" "So soon ! I should think it was timue! Here I've waited a mortal half-hour in this savage place, w-here a body can't so much as get a good cigar or a wveek old news * paper! I, for one, shall be glad to get away from it. Give ine your travelling basket, my love-take care of the turn in the steps ! Here we are, safe inside." And away went the lumbering vechicle. * * * * "Hold on, driver, here's a pair of belated passengers for you !" The officiating Jehu drew in his horses with a jer-k, as a merry voiced hailed him f:om tile road side. "Room for two inside ?" "Just room, sir." The door swung creaking on its binges, and closed again. Miss Vere's heart had involuntarily quickened in its pulsations the moment those clear, pleasant ac cents had chimed through the beavy night. air, and she knew that two rival lovers, whose com pan she had beenl disappointed in not having in the stage, were about entering on the scene. But, * with all a woman's perversity, she sat &ilentiy in her corner, and was secre:ly rejoiced that "papa" was sleeping soundly in hi.s corner. The two youngr men,. (Alfred Gor don and Frank .Milbro'oke,) wvho had walked ahead to a command ing point to see the sun set, soon came into the stage, which again went jolting along until it sudden ly stop)ped once more. "W\hat are we stop)ping for now?" exclaimed Gordon. The stage-door was opened with an abruptness that had nearly pr1e cipitated Mr-. Gordon out upon the green turf, and the driver shouted " 'Gentlemen and ladies, can't you make room for one more ?" The exp)ectant passenger pre ~ented harsel on the stens. By the uncertain glimmer of the boy lamps, she appeared to be a shriN eled old woman, of nearly seventy with a crumpled black bonnet, pair of rusty cotton gloves, and a umbrella that must have been b( queathed to her from the day when there were giants upon th earth ! Alfred Gordon viewed he tout ensemble with dismay. "Room, driver? what are yo talking about? we are crowded a ready !" "I know it, sir ; but her darter sick, and she wants to get to h right away. It's old 'Siah Smith widder, down to "I don't care whose widow sh is-there isn't room. Look at hc camphor bottles and mustry crap -nice -companion to be jamme into a close-coach with. Go aheat driver; judging from the looks her shoes, a walk of four or fiv miles won't hurt her !" -'Gordon ! for shame !" exclain ed Milbrooke, reprovingly. "Hav you forgotten that she is a wea and aged woman? I'll ride ou side myself. Madam, will you at cept my seat ?" HIe alighted as he spoke, an courteously offered his aid to th venerable relict of 'Siah Smitl who, being half blind, and mor than half deaf, bad been balancin on the steps in a state of hopele: bewilderment. In vain Alfred Gordon shrugge his shoulders and curled his lip the close vicinage of the camphc bottle and big wicker basket. Mi brooke arranged the old lady worn shawl as carefully as if had been the cashmere of a duel ess. "I don't know who you may b young sir," said the old creatur in a tremulous voice, as he f at I e n g t hi withdrew, "but know you're a good son to you mother." There was no reply. The hear door was closed, and the pondei ous vel:icle slowly got in motio once more Mary Vere had sat perfectly s lent during the whole of this bri< episode, but her cheek had glowei and her eyes flashed, more tha once. And now that it was ove her heart pulsated with a curiot medley of emotions. It seemed if, uuring those few moments, sli had obtained an insight into t} natures of the two gentlemei which the months and years < her previous acquQiutance wit them had failed to supply. "lie who is wanting in polit ness to the oldest and humblest< my sex, lacks respect for myself' reflected Miss Vere, with an ii stinctive straightening of her litd form, "and the man who trea1 the poor and aged with courtes; is one of nature's princes !" There w-as no more puzzling < the little brains to decide the in portantt question which had grea ly perplexed her a short time bi fore. She was quite certain, nov wrhich of her t wo admirers she pr< ferred. "IIeigrho! I must have bec asleep," yawned old Mr. Vere,t the stage stopped in front of ti Union Hotel, and his daught< gently reminded him that the were the only remaining occupani of the cumbrous old carriage. Frank MilIbrooke had c-ourteou: ly- assisted the old lady with thi crump)led bonnet to descend, an seen her safely under th a escort< her son-in-law, a tall young mai with light hair and very expret sionless eyes, w~ho wvas w~aiting t receive her, while Gordon we walking up and down the piaz: engag1ted in igrnitingv a eigar. Ne ther of them were quite incline to believe in the evidence of thei own eyesight, wshen the brilhan row of gas-lights over the hot4 door stre-amed full upon the face of the two last passengers, as Mis Ver-e spr-ang lightly from the stel follwed, morec slowly, by her f: ther. '-Miss Vere, is it possible thn we had the pleaure-pray, tak my arm." But Mary turned haughtily: war. "Excuse me, Mr. Gordon-fror wiat I this evening witnessed, conclude you had rather not trot ble yourself to extend courtesie to a ladyr!" And she had accepted M-il brooke's proffered assistance cre the astonished Alfred had fairly a comprehended the fact of his tacit a dismissal. "Why, boys !" exclaimed the s cheerful voice of 1r. Vere, who e had just succeded in c-ollecting the r bags, baskets and magazines whieb had been his travelling compan. ions from New York, '-how on l- earth came you here ?" dUpon my word, sir," said Gor K don, "I was not aware we were r fellow-passengers!" s Nearly a fortnight afterward he chanced to meet Milbrooke, who e had just been accompanying Miss r Vere home from the most enchant e ing of greenwood pic-nics, and was d now returning to secure some miss I, ing fan or parasol. >f "So, it's true, that you are then e acknowledged lover of the golden haired 11ary," said he, lightly, "Well, Frank, accept my sineerest e congratulations. But one thisg 3 k will insist on, my boy-if it hadn't been for that old hag in the store in bonnet, I'd have entered the lists with you and given you a d I pretty even combat !" e .Milbrooke smiled-it was impos i, sible not to do so. e "And I'll tell you what, Frank,' g pursued the discomfited suitor, 1 "hereafter I intend to be extra po lite to all the old women with um ii brellas and camphor bottles, when t I ride in stage coaches. I find it" r a paying business !" s The Unruly Member. t The tongue is called in the Bi ble "an unruly member." Otr own experience accords perfectly with the statement, and the ob. t servations on the tongues of oth I ers have satisfied as of the fact. r We think the following rules, iJ carefully followed, will be found of great use, in taming that whieb has not yet been perfectly tamed n 1. Never use your tongue in speaking anything but truth. The i. God of truth who made the tongue. ; did not intend it for any other use 1, It will not work well in falsehood n it will run in such inconsistencie. as to detect itself. To use the or gan for publishing falsehood is as .s incongruous as the use of the eyc e for hearing or the car for smell. e ing. ~*2. Do not use your tongue toc it much. It is a kind of waste-gatt h to let off the thought as they cot lect and expand the mind; but i y- the waste-gate is always open, the if water will soon run shallow. " ary people use their tongues toc i. much. Shut the gate, and let e streams of thought flow in till the .s mind is full, and then you may let r, off with some effect. 3. Never let the stream of pas >f sion move the tongue. Some pee :- le when they are about to pui t- this member in motion hoist the y wrong gate-they let out passion r, instead of reason. The tongue, a- then, makes a great noise, dlistur bJe the quiet of the neighbors, ex n hausts the person's str-ength, but .s does no good. The whlirilwind has e ceased, but wvhat is the benefit ? r 4. Look into the pond, and see y if there is water enough to move s the wheel to any purpose, before you open the gate; or, plain ly, s- think befor-e you speak. e 5. Never put your tongue in mo d tion while your respondent has >f his in motion. The two streams~ i, will meet, and the reaction will be s- so great the words of neither will o r-each the other, but come back in s a blinding spi-inkle upon himself. t, 6. See that your tongue is hung i- true before using it. Some tongues d we have obser-ved are so hung that r they sometimes equivocate con t siderably. Let the owners of such 1 turn the screw of conscience until s the tongue moves true. s 7. Expect that others will use , their tongues for what you do - yours. Some claim the privilege of reporting all the ne. -s, and t c-har-ge others not to do so. Your c neighbor will not allow you to monopolize the business. If you -have anything to be kept a secret, keep it to yourself. I Texan ladies wvho feel aggrieved by anything in the papers, go to s the office and smear the editor's fac with printingr ink. A Brave Girl. Our heroine lived in Bartlett, Ne Ilampshire, and was a de scendant of the old Crawfords. Iicr father was a Crawford, and followed the profession of a guide among the mountains. Ier naenc was Bessie, and she was the only daughter remaining at home-a dark-eyed, brown-haired girl, of slight, but compac't frame, just en tering her nineteentb year. Ier mother had been dead several years, and upon her devolved the whole care of the household. One day late in Summer, Mr. Crawford went with a party of travellers, away to the headwa ters of one of the many mountain streams tLat empty into Saco, and Bessie was left alone. Even the dogs had all gon-, with the pleas ure-seekers. Near the middle of the afternoon, while the girl was sitting by an open window in the front room, engaged in sewing, a man came up from the road and asked for a drink of water. Bes sie had seen this man before, and had not liked his looks. iIe was a stout, broad-shouldered, ill-favor ed fellow, and the bits of moss and spikes of the pines upon his clothes indicated that he had slept in the woods. But Bessie did not hesitate. She laid aside her work and went to get the water. When she came back the man had entered the room. She did not like this, fur she was sure he had come in by the window; but she handed him the tin dipper without remark. The man drank, and then sat the dipper down upon the table. Then he turned upon the girl and drew a broad-bladed knife from his pocket. 'Look ye, my young lady,' he said, '1 know there's money in this house, and I know that you are alone. Show me where the money is? Ifyou don't I shall kill you, and then hunt it up myself. I'm in earnest, and there aint no time to waste. Don't make a fuss, for if you do you'll feel this knife quick.' Bessie shrank back, and looked into the man's face, and she could see that he meant just what he said. 'If I show you where the mon ey is, will you promise not to do me harm ?' 'Show me, honest, and I won't har mi you.' 'Then come with me,C But vou will take only the money-you won't take my father-'s papers ?' 'Olyt the money, girl.' Bessie led the way to a small bedroom on the ground floor, where was an old mahogany bu recau, the upper drawer of which she unloc-ked. The man, when he sawv this, thinking, doubtless, that Crawford's gold was within his grasp, shut up his knife and put it into his pocket. The girl open ed the drawer, and quick as thought, dr-ew for-th a large navy revolver-one with which she herself has killed a trapped bear -and cocked it. 'Villian.' she exclaimedl, plant ing her back against the wall and aim ing theC weapon at his bosom, 'many a wibtl beast have 1 shot with this good pistol, and now~ I'll shoot you if you do not instantly leave this house ! I will give you not even a second. Start, or 1 fir-e!' The r-uflian could recad human looks as well as could the maiden. and lie could recad ver-y plainly in the firm-set lips and in the flash ing eyes-but more clearly in the steady hand which held the pis tol--that she would not only tire, as she had promiised, but her' aim would be a sure and fattal one. And ho backed out from the bed-room-backed in to the sit tin .r room-then leaped from the openi window and disappeared. Biesieii kept her pistol by her sid u tihe father and hiisguests camre home, and when she had told her story search was made for the ruffian. But he was not to be Iound. Our heroine had so thoroughly frightened him that he never came that way again. A pair of tights-Two drunk N EWBERRY, S. C., Jan., 1871. MESSRs. T. F. & R. I. GRENEKER : DEAt Sias :-You will greatly oblige me if you will find place in your columns for the following from the Mo.ntgowery Adrertiscr, which appeared some months since: Life Association of the South. We have purposely refrained from publishing any of the rumors which have come to us in relation to the recent action of the Life Association of the South until we could do so with a full knowledge of the facts. We felt satisfied, from what we personally know of the gentlemen composing the board of stock holders and directors, that they would not fail in doing anything which honorable men ought to do under the circumstances. They are not ooly gentlemen of thefirst position among us, in a social and intellectual point of view, and es teeme.l as men of the highest in tegrity, but they embrace in their number most of our wealthiest citizens, and we have therefore al ways been entiroly confident that whatever disasters might overtake their enterprise, no policy-holder, or other person who had reposed contilence in them would be al lowed to suffer loss, even should it cost the sacrifice of their pri vate fortunes. We are now grat ified to be able to say that the es timate which we have ever placed upon them has been fully sustain ed by their recent action. They have determined to wind up their affairs, but be it said to their hon or, before doing so they have fully secured each one of their policy holders on most favorable terms in one of the best companies in the United States, if not in the world, and, as we learn, ata heavy individual cost to the directors. Br refe;ronce to a circular issued to their policy-holders, which we have been permitted to examine, they say: "That owing to what some of the stockholders conceived to be a ra.lical defect in the law under which the association was char tered, they thought it inexpedient to continue business longer, and .letermined upon effecting reinsu rance upon all outstanding poli cies--which they have done with the 'Equitable Life Assur ance Society of the United States." They further say: '-In selecting this company they had in viewv, as paramount to all other considerations, the safetyf of the policy.olders, as well as the desire to secure to them, as fully as possible, all the be:efits and privileges gnaranteed by the terms of the policy of the Life Associa tion of the South. Trhis they feel satisfied they have done through the ai-rangement entered in to with the 'Equitable,' whose soundness, immense business, large means, and wise and pi-udent manage ment, offer the highest evidence of its pci-feet and permanent sceu rity, as well as the sure promise of fair and steady dividends." By a careful perusal of their cir cular-, we ar-e entirely satisfied that the directors have done evc rything in their power, or that was necessary to be done in or decr to guard and protect to the fullest extent the interests of their policy-holders. This cireu lair. which we are sur-e must be entirely satisfactory to their pol icy-holders, concludes with the following manly paragr-agh: 'IJn thus withdrawing ft-em an entrprise which we had sincere ly- hoped would be a pcimanent benefit to the Sou'h, but which circumstances have comipeiled us relue t antly ~ to abandon, we have the sat isfactioni of knowing that we, the directors, will be the oDly losers, and trust you wvill fecl that we wereC determinedl, at any cost, to merit to the fullest extent, the confidence which you have re posed in us. .\ppr-ci;atinmg fully the patri otic and kindly motiv-es which induced you to come to the sup p)ort of our- company in its infan cy, we beg to r-eturn you our grateful ackniowledgmnents of the same, with assurances of our deep ense of obligation. W. 0. BALDWIN, G rO. GOLDTHWAITE, W. P. CIILTON, P. T. SAYSE, CIIAS. T. POLLARD, Committee." h Whilst we regret the circum- s stances which compelled them to t abandon an enterprise, the success b of which, we agree with them, b would have been a great and last- s ing benefit to the South, simple g justice requires us to say that, c whilst in withdrawing from it, they have not only been true to a their policy-holders who had con- ii fided to their honor, but they b have also been true to themselves, t in maintainingat a heavy pecuni- o ary cost, the confidence reposed in them by the people of our p State, over which they are wide- e ly known, by placing their risks t in a company known to be one of' ti the soundest to be found in any v country. The circumstances which per- y haps contribute most largely to 0 the success of the Life Association of the South, and would undoubt- e edly have guaranteed its rapid r growth, but for the defect in the n charter, was the desire on the part of the Southern people to keep n their money at home. t Whilst we are prepared to en- s dorse this sentiment as fully as any one else, we must do the t Equitable the justice to say, that. S unlike some other Northern com- e panies it has always pursued a i very liberal course towards its Southern pulicy-holders-particu- a larly in that after the war it rein- L stated all without reference to "loy- r ally" so-called when asked to do so, c upon paying up back premiums." r I ask this because I have chosen insurance as a business, and rep g resent the "Equitable" as my choice n of all the good eompaaies doing business in the country, and I n wish its many policy holders to s read this just tribute to its woith. s Respectfully, t ;Your ob't serv't, 1 WM. F. NANCE, Agent. i Words for Boys to Remem- u ber. At a public :'innur given to the e news-boys o f Philadelphia o n Christmas, by Mr. George W. a Childs, of the Public Ledger, the following "Words for Boys to Re. 11 member" wvere distributed amongt them. Liberty is the right to do what ever you wish without interfering with the rights of others. Save your money and you will P find it one of the most useful friends. Never give trouble to your fa- 0 ther or mother. Take care of your pennies and they grow to be dollars. 0 Intemperance is the cause of I nearly all the t.roubie in tL is world; a beware of strong drink. P The poorest boy, if he be induB trious, honest, and saving, may reach the highest honor in the h land. - Never be cruel to a dumb ani-t mal; remember that it haa no! r. power to tell how much it suffers.: IIonesty is always the best poli cy. 5 You must be a friend to your- P self and others wvill be.a You had better pass a danger at C once, than be always in fear. Every man is architect of his y own fortune.o You had better pay the cook fa than the doctor.. p A sure way to wealth :Spend i only half you make. Every man knows best where his own shoe pinches. A bad workman quarrels with Ihis tools.P A wild goose never laid a tame ~ egg. A white glove often covers a dirty hand. A girl ini Calhoun County, Wiseon sin, attempted to look into the muzzle d of her brother's shot-gun, and at the same time pull her dress away fromb the trirger. The jury rcndered a ver dict of "D)eath from infernal careless ness." A "self-threading needle" having been invented, an anxious old bache- m i Ior wants to know if some one can't Iqi design a "slf-swing shmr 1uo." k Keys to Success. OPINIONS OF MILLIONAIRES. Man is like a snow ball. Leavc im lying in idleness against the nny fence of prosperi,y, and all be good that is in him melts like utter; but kick him around and e gathers strength with every lccessive revolution, until he rows into an avalanche. To sue -ed, you must keep moving. The world-renowned Rothehilds scribe their success to the follow ,g rules: Be off hand; make a argain at once. Never have any. ing to do with an unlucky man r plan. Be cautious and bold. David Ricardo, the celebrated olitical economist, had what he illed his own three golden rules. ie observance of which he used press on his friends. They ere: Never refuse an opinion hen you can got it. Cut short our losses. Let your profits run n. John Jacob Astor, when request l to furnish incidents of his life, -plied, "my actions must make iy life." Stephen Girard's fundamental iaxim was, 'take care of the cents, be dollars will take care of them :lves." Robert Bonner, who made a for. ane in four years ont of the New ork Ledger, attributes his sue ess entirely to his "persistent, re cated, and generous advertising." Amos Lawrence said, w b e n sked for advice: "Young man. use all actions upon a principle of ight; preserve your integrity of haracter, and in doing this, never eckon the cost." "Many a man has lost being ta reat man by splitting into, two iiddling ones."-Phillips. John Freodley's never-varying lotto was: "Self dependence and elf reliance." HIe says: -'My ob ervations through life satisfy 'me hat at least nine-tenths. of those ost successful in business, start life without any reliance except pon their own heads and hands -hoe their own row from the imp. Nicholas Longworth, the Cin. innati millionaire, says: "I have [ways had two things before me; o what you undertake thorough. Be faithful in all accepted custs." P. T. Barnum, the noted exhib. o;, ascr-ibed his success in aceu iulating a million dollars in ten ears, to the unlimited use of rinter's ink. John Randolph s ai d: "Mr. peaker, I have found the philos. p her's stone ; it is, 'Pay as you 0.' A. T. Stewart, merchant princec f New York, says: "No abilities, owever splendid, can command access without intense labor and ersevering application." "Half the failures in life arise om the pulling in one's horse as e is leaping."--Chapin. "The world estimates men by icir success in life ; and by gene. dl consent, succss is evidence of iperiority."-Everett. There is nothing like a fixed, eady aim, with an honorable urpose. It dignifies your nature, id insures your success.--Beech The oft-repeated declaration that omen are brutal towards each ~her, receives some proof in the et that female justices of the riee in the Weost punish the err ig of their own sex with cruel gor, while male offenders escape ith light penalties. "Are you not alarmed at thec ap. roach of the King of Terrors?" Lid the minister to a sick man. 2h, no ! I have been living six d thirty years with the queen terrors--the king cannot be uch wvorse !" The other day four young ladies, Lught.ers of William Cross, of al lon ia, Indliana, attacked and ~at a man whom: they charged ith writing under their father's le bills a notice that they, too, ould be sold with other property. It is often a pretty good matri onial that consists of three uarters wife and one quarter isband. The New York World thus gives its views of Carlyle s'a writer: "All who speak the English tongue are ready to devour any fresh exhibition of his phantasma goric inteleet. A faithtul paint ing of a catamount and a -wolf done by ever so skillful an agtiAt, is a dull picture compared with their images on a transparent slide, projected upon a wall by a powerful magic lantern. Welook at the huge - images not fat in struction, but- entertainment. It is the magnitude, the coloring, the strangeness imparted to them by the optical apparatus, that make them noticeable. A land surveyor, 'whose object is truth, would no. choose to look at ils and dales through a prism or a colored glass; but seekers of a musement love to turn their eyes from the landscape as it lies in simple daylight to the brilliant distortions and coloring thrown upon it by curious optical appli ances. It is not in Carlyle's na ture to shed upon any object what Lord Bacon called the 'dry light' of the intellect. Whatever. inter ests him sets his mind into &.-tu multuous whirl. The lashing of the waters stirs up so much sedi ment that the waves lose all transparency in their tossing, tumbling magnificence. N.oo of us read Carlyle for what we4arn from him. The pleasure he gives us is like that of being 't sea when mighty waves heave beneath the ship. They exhilarate us with a sense of their power, while they drift hither and thither without any progress towards the end .of of our voyage. "Mr. Carlyle's admirerswill;re joice to find how little, in his old age, his wonderful powers of eon vulsve rhetoric are abated. ITH is one of the most astonisAing masters of the English language that ever wrote it. I\o elephant, hugest-of all creatures, ever sue eeeded in performing - so many gambols of a monkey. No writer ever combined such massive e'ti bitions of elephantine strentlt with so much monkey-like agility and grimace. So much power was never before united with -so much caprice. It is as if the- ri bald soul of Thersites had foupd expression through the poie rage of Pindar. Hie has souge thing of the jerky, jagged abrupt ness of a magniSed George Fijnu eis T wain, united with the .de matory splendor of' Chatham, and the knowledge of Burke, with.a bumor as grim as Swift's and gro tesque as that of Rabelais. A meat surp)rising intellectual phenome non ; a dumb-founding comt, whose glare astonishes the na tions, because it is so d ifer 'it from the the steady lastre of ihe stars. It moves in no regular or-. bit, and conforms to none of- the settled harmon-ies of the solar sys tem. .Not a pole-star to guide.the. navigator, but nevertheless a may niifeenrt accession to the scenery of the firmament. Every true man has some great cenLral object of life-some central career thich he honestly desireE honoiably.:o filh -The .ivorld&hafes the profligate, the wanderer, one who has nothing himself to .dos yet looks with scorn on h:m who labors for his daily bread. H6n' est hibor is holy I' 'Tis a gloiodsj thing!' And that; man wh~oscorr,a to soil the tip of his fingers in the honest toil for bread and mneat,i not ,vorthy that which he con sumes. If a man finds his& capa bilities ar-e not sufficient to enabk him to occupy a place in the high. er ranks of the universal work shop, let him work where he can ; '"is not unjust, 'tis not unlawful 'tis not unholy, fur him to long fo,r wshat is above him, and strive for it with all his might, if he b3 hon. - est in.his endeavors to reach the position to which his ambition di Irects him. George. Elliot says, "half the sorrows of wojnen would be avert edl if they could repress the speech Ithey know to'be useless; nay, the speech they have resolved not to Iutter." . Be not all sugar, or* the world worm-wood, or it will spit theo out