Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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' -J??... ' '-sgj-s-gg? - ; ssssssssa -=-==ssssssssssss '' sahxV^lton jProprietor*. An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. J lewis h.gbist,puwrnwr. VOL. 2. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1856. NO. 46. Utafttng for % THE LIGHT AT IIOHE. The light at home! how bright it beams When evening shades around us fall; And from the lattice far it glenms, To lovo, and rest and comfort call. When wearied with the toils of day, And strife for glory, gold or fame, How sweet to seek the quiet way, Where loving lips will lisp our names Around the light at home. When through the dark and stormy night, The wayward wanderer homeward hies: How cheering is that twinkling light, Which through the forest gloom he spies. It is the light at home; he feels That loving hearts will greet him there, And softly through his bosom steals The joy and love that bauish care Around the light at home. The light at home! when ere at last It greets the soaman through the storm; He feels no more the chilling blast JL Kllll ucao U|;vu UIO uiamj ivum Long years upon the sea have lied, Since Mary gave her parting kiss, Bat the sad tears which then she shed Will now be paid with rapturous bliss, Aroand the light at home. The light at home! how still and sweet It peeps from yonder cottage door? The weary laborer to greet? When the rough toils of day arc o'er. Sad is the soal that docs not know The blessings that the beams impart, The cheerful hopes and joys that flow, And lightens up the heaviest heart Around the light at home. HOW TO BUY A HOUSE. "I tell you, my dear, it is utterly impossible 1 Save three hundred dollars a year out of my salary ? You dou't understand it," said Charles Converse to his young wife. "Perhaps I don't" replied Mrs. Converse, "but my opinion is very decided." "Women don't understand these things. You may think my salary of eight hundred dollars a year a fortune.' "No such thing, Charles." "But eight hundred dollars, let me tell you, won't buy all the world." "I had no idea that it would ; yet if you only had the habit of saving what you spend for things that you can get along without, you would be able to build a house in a few years." "Build a house ?" "Yes, build a house, Charles." "Well, that's a good one ?" The young man laughed heartily at the idea?too chimerical, to absurd, to be harbored for a moment. "How much do you suppose it cost us to live last year ?" " Wbv, eight huudred dollars of course. It took all my salary ? there is none of it left." The young wife smiled mischievously as she took from her work-table drawer a small account-book. "You did not know that I kept account of all these things, did you ?" No; but how much is it ?" And Charles was a little disturbed by the cool way iu which his wife proceeded to argue the question. "Four hundred and ninety-two dollars." answered Mrs. Converse. "Oh, but, my dear, you have not got half of it down." " Yes, I have?everything." "My tailor's bill was sixty-five dollars." hnvft it her<v" "Hat, boots, and " "I have tliem all." "The deuce you have ?" r" "When you had any new thing, you know I always asked you what you gave for it." " I know you did; but I will bet five dollars I cau name a dozen things that you have not got down." "Done !" said the lady with a laugh, as she took from her drawer a five dollar bill, and placed it on the table. Char'es Converse covered the money. "Capital idea for you to bet against me with my money ?" said he, good-humoredly. "If I lose, I will do without that new barege I am to have." "Nay, my dear, I don't want you to do that." "But go on." "Pew-rent, six dollars," said the husband, promptly. "Here it is," answered she, pointing to the entry in the book. "Try again." "Season ticket ou the railroad, twenty." "I have it." "Sawing the wood." "Entered." Charles reflected a moment; the case began to look desperate." "Now lining for the cooking-stove." "Here?two dollars." "Cleaning the clock." " One dollar?here it is-" "My taxes."' "Well, I have not got that." But that was the only thing he could mention of these necessary expenses that was not found to be regularly entered on his wife's book. Still Mr. Converse was not satisfaed. "Your figures cannot be correct, Mary," said he. "My salary is all used up, and you can'l account for only four hundred and ninetytwo dollars of it." "You must explain the balance." "I! Why, Mary, I have not been extravagant. It is true, I buy a great many little things in tho course of a year, but they are hardly worth the mention. " Ah ! there's the mischief. That is where the money goes, you may depend upon it." " Nonsense! You women don't understand these things." " Of course we don't ? ? Well, your figures show that you don't Where has the three hundred dollars gone tc then?" "I don't know, Charley. I haven't th< least idea. I am sure that I have got dowi all the items that came within my knowledge I am positive that you have brought hom< no article of any description that has no boon entered upon the book?I mean the articles of food and clothing, and tkiugs for the house-" "But just look at it for a moment. You don't mean to say that I have spent three hundred dollars over and above our necessary expenses ?" Said Charles, a little warmty "I don't mean to say anything about it, for I don't know anything about it." "Xow I thiuk of it, there's my life insurance?have you got that down ?" "I have" not." "There is forty of the three hundred." "But it leaves two hundred and sixty-eight dollars unaccounted for." "It would take a great while to collect money enough to build a house, even if the whole of this sum was saved." "Not a great while, Charles. You know my father has promised to give you the land when you have the means saved to build a I house unon it." "It will be a long while," laughed the husband. "Five or six years, perhaps, if you are prudent. Hasn't the president of your bank promised you a thousand dollars a year?" "Yes." "Then you can certainly save four hundred dollars a year." "There isa thousand things we want when my salary is raised." "But we can do without them." "I suppose we can." "Just look here, Charles." Mrs. Converse took from her pocket a circular issued from the "People's Savings' Bank," in which the accumulations of several small sums deposited weekly and quarterly, were arranged in a table. "Fifty dollars deposited overy quarter will net, in five years, one thousand one hundred and forty-one dollars and twenty-five cents!" continued she reading from the circular. "Bah !" added Mr. Converse. "That sum would build a very comfortable house; and when your salary is a thousand dollars a year you can save more than fifty dollars a quarter." "A five percent institution, is'ntit" asked the young man." But he was much impressed by the reasoning of his wife, and in the course of the evening he carefully read the circular of the "People's Savings' Bank." Certainly he had every inducement for being saving and economical. lie had lived very cheaply in a small house belonging to his father-in-law, for which he paid a merely uominal rent. His wife's futher was a wealthy farmer, or rather he had been a fanner, before his domain was invaded by the march of improvement, and his pastures and mowing lots laid ' out in into house lots. As it was, he still, from the force of habit, improved a few acres, kept a couple of cows, a "henery," and half a dozen pigs. Charles Converse found his proximity to the "old folks at home" rather satisfactory, in a pecuniary as well as a social point of view, for his larder was partly stocked from the farm ; and, of course, no account was ever made of a barrel of apples or potatoes, or a pair of chickens. Milk and eggs were I so much better from "pa's," that of course the young couple never desired to obtain them from any other source. They lived cheaply, and lived in clover besides. Charles never liked to talk about financial matters with "pa," because the worthy old gentleman used to tell how he lived on a hundred and fifty dollars a year after he was married?thought he had a fat salary, and supposed, of course, be saved four hundred dollars a year out of it?and always wouud up by saying that he would give j him a lot?might take his pick out of all he owned?whenever he got ready to build. All these things rather worked upon Charles Converse. He hadn't saved a dollar, and, what was more, there was no present prospect that he would ever do so. The promised advance in salary was already ap! propriated to sundry luxu^ps. The idea of 'taking Mary to the opera, or a pleasant trip to the Niagara, and other amiabilities, had taken possession of him. JJUb IUC lUtl3U(llU? VI UIO miv 1IUU piu* duced a strong impression upon his mind. She had been brought up in the strictest habits of'economy. Here father, though rich, had an army of children ; but they were all wealthy in their thrifty habits. Charles read over and over the circular of the Savings' Bank in the evening, figured up the statistics, and wondered what had become of that two hundred and sixty-eight dollars. Before he went to bed he had matured a resolution, though he did not say a word to his wife about it. The next day Charles Converse received a quarter's salary, and his first step was to visit the People's Savings' Bank where he deposi, ted fifty dollars. , But the hundred and fifty dollars which . he had left burned in his pockets. It was all he had to carry him through the ensu> ing three months. There were a dozen litthings that he wauted, and a dozen big ones ; for that matter. Against the latter he resolutely set his face, though, in consideration of the fact that his salary would be a thousand dollars a year, after the next pay day, he had a week before made up his mind r to have them. Among other things, his cigar case was empty, and he stepped into Seavy's, in Con! gress Street, to have it replenished. Segars were a luxury?in iaoi, a necessity iu uim, . in his own opinion. The gcntlemany proprietor of the establishment, placed a box of the fragant rolls . upon the counter. ) "Something new/' said he. Charles took up a handful and smelt them. 3 "Bast segars in the market," continued the i veuder. "Tip-top," replied Charles, inhaling the 3 grateful odor. "How do you sell them?" t "Four cents apiece." "Six of than wore transferred to the case, < a quarter thrown down, and as it was not 1 magnanimous to pickup a copper's change, . he left the store. But then a little fellow inside seciued to say: "Charley, you can't afford to smoke such segars as those. They will hardly last you ! two days If you must smoke buy a cheap- ' er cigar than that. You will not be able to build your house iu ten years at this rate." "He did not pay much attention to the monitorial voice, however, and as he passed along lie drtfnk a sherry cobblerhituself and paid for three friends, whom he could not help asking to drink with him, at Barton's. " At Vinton's a Charlotte Husse was disposposed of, and so on to the end of the chapter. And these were his daily habits. It was onlv a sixnence. or a ouarter at a time, y f / - A r and those so ridiculously siuall that they never caused him a thought. The idea that they absorbed any considerable porlion of his salary, never occurred to him. He had always gratified his appetite or inclination in these matters, till they had come to be regarded as necessities. Still, Charley Converse had turned over a new leaf, lie refrained from purchasing a great many articles which lie had intended to get when he received his quarter's salary, and as he seated himself in the cars he congratulated himself, on the firmness with which he had carried out the resolu- j tion of the previous evening. "You are late, Charlos," said Mary, wheu ^ he reached his sunDy little cottage. "I have been paying my quarter bills," replied he, with a smile. "Here they are, my sweet accountant." lie threw the bills upon the table, and 1 while she was examining them he threw his i bank-book in her face. "What!" exclaimed she, in astonishment, . as she saw the book. "Fifty dollars !" "Yes, my dear, woman's influence?the influcucc of a wife"?and the husband play- ] fully kissed her. "I am convicted of sin, j and converted too, which is better still. I j am resolved to be prudent, economical, saving, even parsimonious." "I am glad to hear it." "And the house will be built in just five ' years, according to the programme of the Saving' Bank." As be spoke, he took from his pocket there of the city evening papers. "Not quite cured, Charles," said Mary ( with a smile. "What do you mean ?" " Journal, Transcript, and Traveller, two cents each," laughed Mary. "You are determined the publishers shall live." "Why, Mary, you wouldu't have me live without a newspaper, would you? That would be a depth of barbarism to which I would never descend," replied Charles, with a look of astonishment at the interesting mentor. "Certainly not; but is not cnepaper a day enough?" "That is but a trifle." "The rain falls in drops, but washes the whole earth. Four cents a day, for a year, amounts to about twelve dollars." Charles scratched his head. It was a most astounding revelation to him. 'You are right, Mary, one paper is enough.' Charles ate hissupper, but was moody and abstracted. A new idea was penetrntinghis brain, which, he began to think, had been rather muddy on financial affairs. As he rose from the he took cut his cigareasc, and as he did so, the little fellow within, who spoken to liini when he came out of the cigar-shop, began to upbraid him pretty sharply. lie burned his fingers in attempting to light the fragrant roll, and then relapsed into a fit of deep musing. "What arc you thinking about, Charles ?" asked Mar)*, after she had cleared away the tabic. "Eh ? Oh, I was thinking how much twelve times three hundred aud sixty-five yf arc. "Twelve means twelve cents, I suppose?" said she, performing the problem on the margin of one of the newspapers. "Ilcre it is ? forty-three dollars and eighty cents." "For cigars," added he, blankly. "Which added to the sum paid for superfluous newspapers, makes fifty-six dollars and twenty-eight cents." "And twenty for slutving?which I may do myself, are seventy-six dollars and twentyeight cents," continued he, taking the pencil and ciphering away with all his might for a few moments.' " Gleasons's Pictorial, Hume Jou rnal, and Saturday Courier, and your country paper, come to " "But, my dear, we can't do without our country paper," exclaimed Charles, looking with amazement into the face of his wife. "I don't want you to do without that," said his wife. "Sherry-cobblers, ice-creams, and oysters, over a hundred dollars, by thunder !" continued he, turning to his figures again. "Indeed !" "I begin to see where the two hundred and sixty-eight dollars have gone to," said he. "And sherry-cobblers are worse than use ' < i 77 r\\ i _ _ it less. I naci no idea you a rants, unaries. "Say no more, Mary; I am done." And he was done. The idea of "saving up," something took complete possession of him?not so far as to make him niggardly? but far enough to make him abandon the four-cent cigars, three evening papers, Vinton's compound, and especially sherry-cobblers. On the next quarter day one hundred dollars was added to his deposit at the Savings' Bank, and as his habits improved afterward, his salary still further increased, much greater sums were added. In four years the house was built, new furniture bought and paid for, and now Charles is considered one of the most thrifty young men in the town?all of which propitious events, we honestly believe, had their origin in the Savings' Bank, whose circular had opened his eyes and stimulated ' liim to carry out his resolution.?Hunt's I Maxims and Morals for Merchants. ] H?? ] "WHAT IS WOMAN?" , We have never seen the question better inswered than in the subjoiued verses by < Max," of the Spartanburg Express: j What 13 woman ? Not a bauble, ] Lightly to bo toyed and played with ; , But a partner of man's bosom, Whom he goes through light and shade with. ! I What is woman ? not the creature j Of a day or joyous hour; But a Sun beam brightly gleaming, When the darkest tcmpv>?*:lower. 1 What is woman T JNot the being Of to-day or of to-morrow, ' But through life the patient sharer < Of man's sunshine, of man's sorrow. I What is woman? A fair flower Whom our gracious God hath planted 1 In this beauteous Earthly garden, * ^ Till in his own palace wanted. What is woman ? Hark ! the angels < Come their choral anthem singing, While the golden bells of heaven, Loud their joyous chimes are ringing! I Thus they're singing: She's an angel, Sent to man from God above him From the shining courts of glory, I And her mission is to love him. i WOMAN'S RIGHTS. A young southern Lady addresses the fol- , owing communication to the Edgefield In- ; farmer. It is written with much spirit and ; lisnlnvs n fine ,'innrenifltinn of the onnnhlincr - r i o luties of woman as wife and mother : , "What are Woman's Hioiits ?"?To itand in the public hall and let her voice, raised above the lovcd-toued key of home vibrate through the eagerly listening crowd, who smile, shrug their shoulders and feel so comfortable under the knowledge, that, she is not their wife, sister, or even anybody with whom they are acquainted. It is fine sport for them to sit and listen to her, a stranger, descant upon a nation's affairs, a subject of which she knows so little that her half-formed ideas do not even meet with criticism, contempt, ridicule, and pity, are the only feelings which woman can excite is an orator. It is a task for which she is not fitted, nor indeed ever can be, even were they to mingle daily in the society of men, and hear hourly expressed their ever changing views. No, t/u's is not "Woman's Right," nor should it ever be her pleasure. To dress her smiling baby in the morning, and then feeling that she has discharged her duty towards it for the day consign it to the care of a hireling ? Smooth the bright curls cf her three year old daughter, and send her off to school, when s^e had so much rather play in the green shady park and recite those few easy lessons to her dear mamma? Hurry off her husband before he has finished lighting his morning cigar, tell him as he goes down the steps that he has overturned her work-box and left his hat brush upon tho bureau? Give a few hasty and half intelligible direction to the servants, then draw down the blinds, and throwing herself upon a couch, commit her husband, her children, and her household affairs to the Goddess of chance, and bury her thoughts in the contents of some light indifferent novel !?These arc not 'Woman's Rights' (for they are trampling upon the rights of those who arc nearest and dearest to her heart,) but they are alas too often her pleasure. Proud man asserts, that 'Woman' has no business with political matters, that 'home i 1 J \r? i > is ner s^pnere. ics, 'iiouiu 1a net spu^m, and a true hearted woman would wish for no other; but home is composed of husbands, brothers, sons, and if she has no business with these relations in life. Where is the American wife that does not wish to be the intelligent companion of her husband ? or the mother who does not wish to be the first instructress of her children ? Where is the wife who had not rather be capable of entertaining her husband at home, in preference to having him seek the constant companionship of his male friends ? The husband sits down to his table, asks the blessing of (rod upon his food, and then, feeling in good spirits, he commences his dinner and a capital cotton story, both at the same time; his wife does not much relish the joke because she cannot understand it, but she will not be so selfish as to tell him so, his mind and all its energies arc constantly devoted to honest labor, and if he talks at all, he must speak of what he is thinking, so she raises her eyes now and then to his face with a half curious, half amused look, and answers yes or no, at regular intervals, but sometimes she says yes, when she should have said no, and then feeling that he has only been wasting his breath, he pushes his plate away, with an impatient shaw ! its no use telling you anything. But cotton is a dull subject to those whom it does not concern, there arc matters of deeper import, and which create a livelier interest even in the heart of a woman. TUl.or. or/%?.?!./?!nilVipnto viftinnt. nnrl H HC 11 tUV OlUi IUV?V - V. MVMHU *f 1VMVV.V even when it does not, the husband puts on his slippers and draws his chair up to his fire-side, evincing by this simple act that his desire is to spend the evening there. Pie commences one subject after another, but his wife has not read 'Harpers,' she has not seen the last papers, and does not know what he is talking about?perhaps he has nothing to read, so 'poor fellow' he must either listen to the petty annoyances of a day, slander his neighbors, or mope and do nothing until bed time. This is a dull way to spend the evening after all the wearyiDg vexations of the day's business. The wife feels it, she looks upon his broad and manly brow already shaded by lines of care, she thinks how kind it was of him to spend the evening with her instead of going out of doors. She views the broad opening before her, how easily her influence might bo wielded for good, and sighs as one opportunity after another glides past her unimproved Let the world sneer on the young wife, but if you love your bnsband seek to make his home happy ; make his fireside one at vvhicb lie will love to lin?rer in the Ions: win- < O O ter evening3. He is young now, he is kind, : loving and true, by your influence he may re- 1 main always so. Remember what he may 1 zomc to through your neglect. < The inebriate, the vagabond and the scoun- i ilrel, do not, all at once, descend from their c proud manhood down to the grovelling platform of ignominy and crime. He finds no 1 /duality, no entertainment at home, he t jtcps out for aid and exercise, he drops into t the public saloons merely for past time; to ? look on scenes of revelry, may satisfy for a < (vhile but not long. He, who prayed?'lead i as not into temptation, but deliver us from i ill evil,' knew better than any other, how 1 jasily led astray was the human heart. It is ? lasicr to keep out of the way of temptation t than to resist it when we meet it face to face. It it easier to keep the love of a bus- i band than to win it back. It is easier to ? retaiu your influence over his mind and hab- < Its, than to regain it when once it has pas- t """JThink nothing too much trouble or too 1 Lrifling, that will add to your husband's happiness. If you have not a taste for politics, < mltivate one, make yourself mistress of all 1 the leading topics of the day, talk with him < of what interests him, not with yawns and 1 indifference' but let the tone of your voice, < the light in your eye and the smile upon ? your lips, express a lively interest in what < you are saying. Think as well as read, and 1 advance your own opinions, bo they ever so i weak and humble; man loves superiority and 1 he will take a pleasure in enlighten you.? It is 'woman's right' to make her husband 1 happy and entertain hira at home, even if she has to study politics to do it. ! The bright and happy looking school boy ] who walks so proudly by your side on the 1 Fourth of July, will ask you why that day i is_honored above others; you can answer him that?and you take a pleasure in doiog 1 so, but if he is an American boy he will not i stop at one question ; he will carry you back | through the past history of your country, 1 and then onward to the future. The mother cannot grow weary of that bright questionnr elm roimnna in tlm V\1noeo/1 AnnrtrftlTMfv Is I J Ijuv A V/J UiUV/O IU blIVs UIVCOVU vpyvi ww??wj of giving the first bias to his youthful mind, and directing his unformed ideas in the right channel. It is 'Woman's right' to gain all knowledge that may help to guide her children in the path of rectitude and honor, for boys need sensible mothers now-a-days more than anything else. Home is indeed 'Woman's sphere,' but she should not forget how broad and deep are its boundaries. Sophie. TELL YOUR WIFE. 'Yes, the only way is, to tell your wife just how you stand. Show her your balance sheet. Let her look over the items. You think it will hurt her feelings. No, it will not any such thing. She has been taught to believe that money was with you, just as little boys think it is with their fathers?terribly hard to be reached, yet inexhaustible. She has had her suspicions already. She has guessed you were not so prosperous as you talked. But you have so befogged your money affairs that she, poor thing! knows nothing about them. Tell it right to her, that you are living outside of your income. Take her into partnership, and I'll warrant you'll never regret it. There may be a slight shower at first, but that's natural. Let her see your estimate; when you come home again she will show you that you have put her bills too high. True she had rather a costly bonnet last winter, but it is 'just as good as ever; a few shillings will provide it with new strings and refic it a little?the shape, she says, is almost exactly as they wear them now.' And you will be surpri sed to see how much less expensive she can make your wardrobe. She will surpise you with a new vest?not exactly familiar, somehow, looking as if in another shape you had seen it before?yet new as a vest, and scarcely costing a dollar where you had allowed five. Old cravats will experience a renovation in her hands, coming out so rejuvinated, that nobody but those who are let into to the secret would suspect that they arc old friends in new shapes. The dressing gown that you were going to buy? out of what forgotten chest she has gathered the material you cannot imagine?but there it is comfortable and warm, and just the thing you wanted for the long winter evenings that arc coming on as fast as the almanac will let them. You will find a wonderful change in her tastes and appetite. Whereas, she always fancied what was a little out of seasons, or just coming into market?now if beef is dear, she thinks boiled mutton is delightful ?as tender as chicken. If lambs rise, and fish are plenty, she thinks a striped bass, or a friend sole good occasionally. Before you have thought much about it, you find yourself spending most of your evenings too, so full of domestic enjoyment and fireside pleasures, that you will look with wonder on the record of last years' expenses, and marvel that you found time or relish for the costly entertainments that seriously taxed your pocket. If, too like many, your outgoes threaten to exceed your incomes, be sure and tell your wife of it.? il.i ?Ml 1 J 1 ISOt ID a lone or manner mat win leau tier to think you don't want her to buy what is really necessary for winter, but just as if you wanted a counsellor in the day of your trouble. And if she does not come up, heart and soul, and most successfully, to your relief put me down for no prophet. BE KIND TO YOUR WIFE. Be kind to your wife. Think how in the first blush of maiden beauty she turned aside from the haunts of pleasure, and the caresses of fond parents and brothers and sisters, to follow your fortunes through the world.? Think with what blended hope and agony you followed her from place to place, watching her every look, and pondering the meaning of her most careless tones, until, won by your importunity, she placed her hand all trustfully in yours and said, "I am all your iwn." Think of the cares and anxieties, ind the physical suffering she has incurred lor you, aud do not desert her now, when icr cheek has faded, her step has lost its elasticity, and she sits an uncomplaining catcher over your best interests, a self-injarcerated prisoner in her own home. Merrily the music sounds, young feet trip ightly in the mazy dance, and joyous laugher rings along the walls?but she is not ;herc; the curtain rises aud the far-famed irtiste comes forth to charm the listening jrowd with her melodious song?but she is rot there. The orator arises before his wrapt ludience, his rich deep tones of eloquence 3oating away along the crowded passages, ind curliDg upward as a voiced incense ;o the vaulted roof; but she is not there.? \rt opens her new stores and displays her vonderful creations on the glowing canvass, ind in the speaking bust; your wife is a lover of the chaste and beatiful, but she is not here; literature presents new leaves, fresh from the fascinating pen of genius?the vifc ind mother has but little time to read. No; there she lingers at home, a Codcommissioned watcher over helpless childhood ; singing the babe to sleep, bending to catch the lisping voices of those dear ones ivho have a thousand imaginary wants, encouraging the quiet and soothing the fretful. She is weary, but does not complain, her :emples throb, but she heeds not their throbbing, as ever and anon she turns a wishful glance towards the door, for she expects her iiusband. She expects i/ou ; and her whole world of happiness will be there when you arrive. Will you enter that room with cold indifference ? Will you utter a hasty word in her presence? Will you sit down with that frown upon your countenance, or complain bf the burdens which t/ou are called to bear? Will you thoughtlessly remind her of her faded beautv, or manifest surprise at her ig norancc of many thinj?3 now parsing in the1 great world from which she has been excluded by her peculiar duties? Will you suffer the recollection of any face more youthful, or more beautiful, to haunt you in home's hallowed precincts, or cross the white leaf of conjugal fidelity with one unhallowed thought ? Oh! remember your early love, your early promises; think how faithfully she has kept hers; lo\'e her as you ought, and she is still beautiful?beautiful in her pure, motherly affections, her self sacrificing devotion to you. Realize that she is all your own ; that throughout the wide world you are sure of but one heart, whose every chord is linked invisibly to a counteipart in yours; realize that upon her bosom alone you may weep out your sorrows in the day of * >1, without the fear of beiug mocked. Husband, love your wife ! Gather her to your heart of hearts, as if in her were all your hopes of happiness combined; bless her daily for her patience and truth; stand up like a man between her and the rude cold word, and teach your children to honor her, that God may honor you. In all the relations of life there comes a parting hour; and we beseech you so to live that, if it should be your lot to kiss her elay-cold lips and lay her away iu the grave forever, you may lay your hand honestly Upon your widowed hearl and say?I never wronged you!? Olive Branch. Energy.?"The longer I live," says a great writer, "the more certain that I am that the great difference between men, the great and the insignificant, is energy?invincible determination?an bouest purpose nnoo fixed, and'then death or victory. That "J. i" ~ . r " * quality will do anything that can be done in the world ; and no talent, no c:rcurastances no opportunity, will make a two legged crea'ture a man without it." THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. ' Smilingly fronting the mirror alio stands, Her white fingers loosening the prisoned brown bands To wonder at will?and they kiss, as they go, Hpr brow and her cheek, and her shoulders of snow, Hor violet eyes, with their soft changing light, Growing darker when sad, and when merry more bright, Look in at the image, till the lips of the twain Smile at seeing how each gives the smile back again." Doi.n Swift proposed to tax female beauty, and to leave every lady to rate her own charms. He said the tax would be cheerfully paid, and very productive. The intimate relations between woman's beauty and her toilet glass, render it impossible for the fair possessor to be unconscious of her endowment, and consequently it would be always at a premium. "We remember a young surgeon once professed he would any day prefer a good dissection to a good dinner; we question his taste, and if the dinner challenge were presented to us, in behalf of beauty, we would greatly prefer to accept it. A good dinner, it is true, makes its appeal to the hungry, but a vision of beauty is delectation to the eye, if less substantial, far more refining. Beauty is flexible. It appears to us a dream when we contemplate the works of - 1 the great artists; it is a novcring, noauug and glittering shadow, whose outline eludes the grasp of definition. Mendelson, the philosopher, grand-father of the composer, and others, tried to catch beauty as a butterfly, and pin it down for inspection. They have succeeded in the same way as they are likely to succeed with a butterfly. The poor animal trembles and struggles, and its brightest colors are gone; or, if you catch it without spoiling the colors, you have at least a stiff and awkward corse. But a corse is not an entire animal; it wants what is essential to all things, namely, life?spirit, which sheds beauty on everything. Lord Bacon observed justly, that the best part of beauty is that which a picture cannot express. Beauty is indescribable and inexplicable; it fascinates, dazzles, and bewilders us with its mystic power. Woman has been defined something midway between a flower and an angel, as the sunny half of the earth. It has been well said that woman's beauty dots not consist merely in what is called a pretty face. An old lyric writer of the seventeenth century thus apostrophizes it: J 'There is a garden in her face, Where roses and white lillies grow; A heavenly Paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow; These cherries grow, that none may buy Till 'cherry ripe!' themselves do cry. "These cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, * Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rosebuds filled with snow; Yet these no peer, no prince, may buy, Till 'cherry ripe!' themselves do cry. "Her eyes, like angels, watch them still; Her broTrs, Itk* b?n<l?ct bows, do stand, ? Threatening, with piercing frowns, to kill All that approach with eyes or hand Those sacred cherries to come nigh, Till 'cherry ripe!' themselves do cry." "Women are the poetry gf the world, in the same sense as the stars are the poetry of heaven. Clear, light giving, harmonious, they are the terrestrial planets that rule the destinies of mankind." "I saw her, upon nearer view, A spirit, yet a woman, too, Her household motiona light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet, A creator, not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Traise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles." Wordsworth's charming portraiture of womanly sweetness is worthy alike of the subject and the writer; it is doubtless familiar to the reader. Another pen has dilated upon it in prose, as followeth: "Those who arc accustomed to enlightened views of female beauty well know that < there are different kinds of personal beauty, among which that of form and coloring hold a very inferior rank. ' C "There is a beauty of expression for idv. stance of sweetness, of nobility, of intellectual refinement, of feeling, of ar imation, of meekness, of resignation, and many other kinds of beauty which may be allied to the plainest features, and yet may remain to give pleasure long after the blooming cheek has faded, and silver gray has mingled with the hair. And how far more powerful in * their influence upon others, are some of those kinds of beauty. For, after all, beauty de-. pends more upon the movement of the face,^ ' ,, than upon the form of features when at rest; 'A and thus, a countenance habitually under the influence of amaible feelings, acquires a beauty of the highest order, from the frequency with which such feelings sfre the . originating causes of the movement or expressions which stamp their character upon it. "Who has not waited for the first opening of the lips of a celebrated belle, to see whether her claims would be supported by 'the mind, the musio breathing from her face ?' and who has not occasionally turnod away repelled by the utter blank which the simple mcvement of the mouth in speaking or smiling has revealed ? "The language of poetry describes the loud laugh as indicative of the vulgar mind; and certainly there are expressions, conveyed through the medium of a smile, which need not Lavater to inform us that refinement of feeling or elevation of soul, has little to do with the fair countenance on which they are impressed. On the other hand, there are plain women sometimes met in society, 'every movement of whose features is instinct with intelligence; who, from the genuine heartTwariu smiles which play about the mouth, the sweetly modulated voice, and the lighting up of an eye, that looks as if.it could comprehend the universe, becomes perfectly beautiful to those who live with them and love them. Before such pretensions as these, how soon does the pink-andwhite of a merely pretty face1 vanish to nothing V* Among the many tributes to beauty is an old epigram, that may be new to some. It runs as follows: "The world's a prison, a sad gloomy den, Whose walls are the heavens to common; The jailor is Sin, and the prisoners men, And the fetters are nothing bnt women." Fontenelle thus daintily compliments the sex when he compares women and clocks? the latter serve to point out the hours, the former to make us forget them. LAST ISLAND SUFFERERS. Extract from a letter written by a lady residing near Last Island, Louisiana. "People are recovering in a measure -from the effeots of the storm. There never was seen in the world a more awful calamity. You would hardly credit what I could tell you concerning it. Oue of the rescued dined with us the other day?a Mr. It., who had been given up as lost irrecoverably. A reward was # offered for his body, and friends mourning for him, when by the strangest chance he was discovered. He had floated upon a billiard table and landed upon the marshes, which, on this coast, are as uninhabitable as the sea itself. There for ten days he subsisted on snails and one dead rat, which came swimming along too. There, in the blazing August sun?not a tree for miles and miles, not a shrub?nothing but the impassable and impenetrable caue brake, he survived every horror, and lived on lice In the providence of his unsearchable Maker, he was sought out by one solitary fishing boat and re~cued hy its humane master, who doubtless, m the generosity within : mm, naci ocen cruising odouc in tne nope 01 doing some chance good. The scene which occurred upon his unexpected arrival home, ; was truly affecting. The news reached home a few moments before his own landing, when every negro rushed from the plantation, some jumped into the bayeu and-swam to meet the boat. They shouted, nay, laughed, danced, and seized their master by the feet, legs, arms, neck and hands, kissed him wherever they could touch hira, he kissing them in return. Atlast the oveijoyed creatures, elevating him upon their shoulders, ~ carried him off in triumph to the house. I thought to myself, could Henry "Ward Beecher, his sister and all his relatives, do more ??Journal of Commerce.