The Newberry herald. (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, January 11, 1871, Image 1
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'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