University of South Carolina Libraries
1 W &WSMLS SMISSL ; TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM.] "THE 3?nICE OP iiibjeH.TY XS ETISII3sr A.U -VigiiiANOE." [PAYABLE IN ADVANCfi BY DAVIS & CREWS. ABBEVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 1, 1859. VOL. XVT ivo ?*> ??8T0BrMI"Q 0F TH? BABTI0If< ~"7 ~ " r~ iii uiio ui .mo concluding chapters of Charles Readc's great atory 4 White Lies,' occurs the following description of an attack by the French upon the Bastion St. Andre, dtiriVig tho wars of Napoleon. The picture of the event has no superior in the language for graphic description and fearful interest: 4 I'll is won't do, comrade, must go. I shall attnek from your position. So I filial I go down tho lino and bring men up. "Meantime pick up my detachment. Give mo a good spices of veterans. I shall get liVe word witli ...... jvu UCIVID w? go out. Uod bless you !' 4 God blccss you, Raynal ?' The moment Raynal was gone, Cam?lie be?koned a lieutenant to him and ordored ba'f the brigade to form a strong column on both sides of Death's Allry His eye fell upon private Dard. Come here,' said he. Dard came and saluted. 4 Have you any one at Beaurepairo who would be sorry if you were killed V 'Yes, colonel, Jacintha that used to make your brolh, Colonel.' i 4 Take this lino to Col. Ravnal. You will 6ml hitn with the 12th brigade.' | He wrote a few lines in pencil, folded i them, and Dard went off with ilium, ] little dreaming tliat the colonel of his brigado was taking tho trouble to save his life because ho came from Beaurepaire. Colonel Dujardin then went into his teut and closud llie aperture, and took the good book the priest had given him, and prayed humbly, and forgave ail the world. Then he sat down, his head in his hands, and thought of his child, and how hard it was to die and never see him. One 6ad sob at this?one only. Then he lighted a candle, sealed lip his orders of valor ; and wrote a lino begging that they might be 6ent to his sister. life also sealed up his purse and left a memorandum that the contents might he given to disabled soldiers of his brigade upon their being invalided. Then ho took out Josephine's letter. 1 Poor coward,1 ho said,4 let me not ha unkind. See, I burn your letter, lest it should be found, and disturb the peace you prizo so highly. I, too, shall soon l e al peace, lhaiik Uod!' Lie lighted it and dropped it on llic ground; it burned slow )y nviky. lie eyed it despairingly; 'Ay, ^6u perish, last record of an unhappy love, and as you pass away so I am going?my soul to my Creator, my body to dus*t-? ay, poor letter, even so passes away my !ife,-wasted by generals not lit to command rt cbrporal's guard?my hopes of glory and my di earns of love?it all ends to-day, at nine and twenty.1 lie put his whi e handkerchief to bis oyes?Josephine bad given it to him. He cried a little, not ?rt dying, but at seeing his life thrown away. When he had done crying lie put his white handkerchief in his bosom, and the whole man was transformed beyond the power of language to express. l'owder does not charge more when it catches fire. He rose that moment, and went like a flash of lightning out of the tent. The next he came down like a falcon between the lines of the strong column to Death's Al1 '?* 1 Attention !' cried tho sergeants, ' tbe Colonel.' There was a dead silence, for tho bare sight of that erect and inspired tigme liuide tho men's bosoms thrill with the eer. tainly of great deeds to come ; the light of battle was in his eye. No longer the moody colonel, but a thunderbolt of war, red ho?and waiting to bo launched. ' Officers, sergeants and soldiera a word with you.' La Croix?' Attention.' Do you know what passed here five minutes ago.' 4 The Attack of the bastion was settled,' cried a captain. 4 It was, and who was to lead ibe assault?do.-you know i' fNo!' * A colonel from Egypt.' A^groan from the men. (}fc^pHjpenls from other brig! an angry roar. Colonel Dti^ar4in walked quickly down )>0tween the two lines, locking with hie ?ery Py? into the men's eves on tbe right. ? J)? came back on the otbcr side, and as ite went be lighted those men's eyes with bis own. It was t} l^rch passing qlong ft'-line of ready gas lights. The work to us,' be cried in a voice like a c|qrion, (& fired tbe hearts as bis eye had ' efi) *l',e triumph to strangers! Mp fttigW and onr losses have not .gained lUo brigade tlie honor of going out at those fellows that have billed so many of dur comrades.' ^ fierce gr|>an from tho men. ^Tj^irt&shnll tl^e colors of another brig ^4 noA ours flj ftfiux Uiat bastion this y afterrn?n |V ^ ' , -k^o^no d> o.fi lfcnndar. . ?r.. All! rou aro of my qtytydt. Attention ! the attack is fixed for 5 o'clpufc. Sy^oso you??nd Ij-Wero to carry the bastion ten ,ijf|butQfc-before the colonel from Qgyftt can bring his men upon tbe ground ?*' ' * w * VI jyjy III1U iiuiglltcr strange laughter of voter,ins nnd b invincibles. 4 That was ft question 1 put to your lie: ?your answer ?' The answer was ft yell of exulting sent, but it was half drowned by anot response, tho thunder of tho impali drums, and tho ralllo of fixing ba nets. Tho colonel told off ft party to I battery. 4 Level the guns at the top ties. Firo my signal, nnd keep firing over < heads till you seo our colors on I place.' lie then darted to the head of t column, which instantly formed belli him in the centre of Death's Alley. 4 The colors ! No hand but ntino sh hold them to-day.' Tli? ? ncm in-?i:iiiiiy Drought to him, 1 left hand shook them free in the afteino Sill). A deep murmur of joy from the c hands at the now unwonted sight. 0 i Hashed the sword like steel lightning. 1 waved it towards the battery. 1 Hang! bang! bang! bang! went tl cannon, ami the smoke rolled over tl trendies. At the same moment went l! colors waving, and the colonel's claii< voice pealed high above all. ' Twenty-fourth demi brigade- forward They went so fjuickly out of tl trenches that they were not seen throuj their own smoke until they had run sou sixty yards. No sooner were they se< coming on like devils, than two thousar muskets were levelled at them from all tl Prussian line. It was not a rattle of sin.' arms?it was a crash, and the men fell fas but in a moment they were seen to spre; out like a fan, and when the fan dost again it half enciicled the basiion. It wi ., J.' ? ...,.!. -i> j ivih.ii iiiiack. j. hit swanneil nl it from like bees, part swept rouiul tlie glao and flanked it. Tliey were seen to fall numbers, shot clown from the embrasure But the living took the place of the <leai and the light ranged evenly there. Whe are the colors? Towards the rear. The the colonel and a hundred men are fiijhtii hand to hand with the Prussians, who ha' charged out at the back doors of the ba lion. Success there, and the bastion mu fall?bolh sides know tl.is. All in a moment the colors disappcare There was a groan from the French lin No! lliere they were again, and close u der the bastion. And now in front the attack was so lie that often the Prussian gunners were set to jump down, driven from their post: and the next moment a fierce hurrah fro the rear told that the French hud won sou great advantage there. The fire slackenii told a similar tale, and presently dou came the Prussian flagstatl'. That migl be an accident. A few moments of thirs my cajjuciaiions anu up wont llio Colo of the 24tli brigade upon tho liastion Aiulre. Tho whole French army raised a sho that rent the sky, and their cannon beg; to play on the Prussian lines, and betwet tho bastion and the nearest fort to preve a recapture. Then shot fr< m the earth a cubic ac of lire where last the b'arstion was seet it carried up a heavy mountain of ri and black smoke, that looked solid marble. There was a heavy, sullen, trei ulous explosion, that snutfed out the sout of the cannon, and paralyzed the Frew and Prussian gunners' hands, and check the very beating of their hearts. Tliir thousand pounds of gunpowder were in th awful explosion. War itself held its brenth, and bo armies like peaceful spectators, gazed wc derstruck, terror struck. Great hell seem to have burned through the earth's crust, a to le rushing a heaven. Hugo ston cannon, corpes, and limbs of soldiers, wc 8fiP.il llril'Oll fir f,illin/? 1 ......... tillvu^ii mo amui Sumo of Uk se last came quite clear of t ruins, aye, into the French and l'russi lines, that even the veterans put their ban to their eves, ltaynal felt something spi tor on him from the sky ! it was blood a comrade's pearhaps. Oh! war! war! The smoke cleared. Where a momc before the great bastion stood and fougl was a monstrous pile of blackened blou< stones and timbers, with dismounted cann Sticking up here n?d there. And rent find Plashed lQ ntoms 1 Death the smoking mass, lay the rel of the gallant brigade and their victoiic colors. A man never appre?^c8 the imporlar ot " Hi inking twice before speaking on< until lie is a candidate for otjjce, Qive a wise man health apt} ho v give himself everything else. A nowried lady ii}.<London co.tnty, M ginid, fa sant to weigh five hundred a fifty-three lbs. Prentice says her 4iu?bfl is a great lady*if Man. i 4?. A person Recently Hstiihibd (roip IhoC il Service Conimissiolier's,-iCngl/ind, in ply to a question of where heli&dbeon, plied, " I have been after nti *ppoiutui< and got the nfusal of it.-' tlio J'Yohi t/it A'cw York Mercury. orn " OUR EARLY YEARS." lrj BV DAISY IIOWAUD. as "Would I could recall them ever, with all I their dewy freshness ! I love to lose myself in dreams of niy early years, and feel vo. a strange joy in their retrospect, even though at times the burning tears o'erllow the ,n^' e-V08' a3 * lisle'1 some olden melody warbled joyously in my hearing, once sung by loved lips which may be silent now, or, sadder still, changed by the world's rude ,j contact. To inc there is a deep, calm joy in the past; its memory comes to me rej freshingly, like tho cool-night air to a fe. vercd and lltrobbinc brow?lirinnrlnf* ?.v?.r HU O f>'"5 sweet orders of green, flower stmilled fields j| and shady by-lanes, where happy, restless feet once wandered joyously, sometimes merrily weaving an anticipation of our on SlnJ full,rc?again watching with qui.-t heart the glorious evening clouds sailing so jj dreamily onward. The rustling noise of the fragrant summer foihige, whispering j ^ sweet music to our girlish hearts, and awakening new and strange feelings?fated I never more to sleep again ; wearying onrj,e selves with the vain effort to aniialyze the ,e restless feelings and intense longings horn of the hour?lutijiing for we know not i jii . what?only conscious of a yearning wish r for something higher, better, more glorious J than the present; yet feeling, through all, 1 a new happiness added?unquiet it might < ' be still happiness ! Oh, yes, I recall the past with pleasure indiscrihable ; were the < Ml ' power mine, I would not shut it out; lever : keep the leaves of my heart lightly folded, I ,, and unclose them oftentimes at twilight to dl . ? admit pleasant thoughts of past and present i ' joys. Sweet as the perfume of flowers the 1 j sound of running waters, the tinkling of mil- ( sic bells, enter thoughts of' the playmates of t the heart.' Some there were whose com- i m . _ .. .. mg loot;talls made my pulses quicken. keeping time with the love-music my heart?even now throwing a deep joy far " * through iny spirit, striking the 4 harp' strings" of mr soul with music like a liv 'e injr, breathing lvre, touched hy unseen finre " . gers. Long years have passed since these ? happy hours?but my heart-strings are c firm and brave j'et. It may be, one or two perhaps have been too tightly stiung, and therefore 'jar upon the ear,' but they are not broken, only slightly out of tune; l^' they could not break with so clear a sky above me, and 60 many joyous hopes crowding into my heart, and loving friends making life's path around me. I may nevermore gather flowers so fresh and 11 beautiful as those among my uaiive hills ; 1' I may tread never more upon the velvet 1,1 turf my girlish feet pressed so heedlessly, 10 crushing thoughtlessly the sweet wild '=> (lowers to death?flowers which I would 11 now press lovingly to my lips and heart, ',l' for surely in no other land (and my feet ,l~ have wandered far and wide) do the flowrs ers bloom half so early, or so sweet, and sl" no other moss carpet was ever so fresh and green as that around the 'spring,' our favorite trysting place. liut my restless m wing grew weary there, and I pined for ? ouier scenes, wtncn, when reached, brought j r*t 110 new happiness; and I now pine for my j old home?hut, alas ! the sad words mererc ly echo tho vain wish. The hluo waters of 1 ? my native river are rippling as musically ( along as when, a little child, I laved my . ft8 tired feet in its clear depths. The pendant | n* branches of the tall trees shadow lovingly i - i 1 the rustic seat whore ' suiter,' and I used ' to spend our idle hours ; the flowers (I'm L'^ told) are still as bright?but the coin pan- j jonsof my youth, 1 where are they ?' Upon t al a few, the storms of life beat heavily; otli- | ers have joir.ed hands with the chosen one lh of their heart, and are pleasantly floating ,u* down life's stream ; and upon fair, young brows the seal of motherhood has been ,K> set, and the dreamy worship of girlhood e8, has found a' shrir.e' upon which is lavishes ed the heart's rich wealth. se. One there was, whose blue eyes faded he early?ere the noon of her life was reached, nn 1 1 ^ * * {jcuuy isno j>asbt'u away, j^eep was the ds grief swelling our hearts, as wo Blood for ] nt- tlie last time above the beautiful, still form, i ? Not like unto death Bhe looked, with flow- i ers folded in the email bauds, and lying 1 :nt upon the hushed heart?fresh, dewy leaves In, had fluttered in at the open window, nnd dy rested upon the uncovered face of the on sleeping girl. Undisturbed wo left ihem, and buried thus our beautiful one; but it >e- was hard to Iny her in the cold earth, even ic8 though we knew the spot was a sunny one, t\nd the flowers would bloom, and the morning dew,drops sprinkle with diamonds the green sod above her reeling place! ,co Oh ! yes ; I was wrong ii^jsnying the mem -e' ory of the past brought all of joy ; but does not the rain foil with the &unbeam . close on its track 1 Thus, with life; and " oh 1 when the heart wearieth, and the world falls upon us, how sWegt is life's oariy jr. years renewed by memory ! But'tis late ; lu} and the light is passing away from tlto lIJ(j river and the high hijls?and I must write no more, lest I wear/jpy readers, but never ngaio Jto.y that,,thoughts of our early !iv- years bring only, ' the heart's most bitter re- rain * t v . .. - f H '' ra. Do. we but mingle the joy with the sorent 'r*w our -bark float' bravely-on and wiwt tfnlteritly, tha ware* .Tifg will bear us gently into a safe harbor, ami the hand of (jod will closo us in from too great sorrow. Wo must not murmur that u bright dream hero and tliero should looso its spell. The flowers lie thick around us, though we I > ? cannot, at tunes, see them with our earthshadowed eyes; still, wo know, when the clouds have passed away, wo shall find them again iu renewed beauty. A kind good night to all. THE LIGHT OF A CHEERFUL FACE. I There is no greater eveiy-day virtue than ] cheerfuIiKss. This quality in man among l men is like sunshine to the day, or irentle i renewing moisture to parched herbs. The I light of a cheerful face diffuses itself and i communicates the happy spirit that in- I spires it. The sourest temper must sweeten ? in the atmosphere of continuous good hu? i inor. As well might fog, and cloud, ami y vapor, hopo to cling to the sun illumined s landscape, as the blues and moroscness to s combat jovial speech and cxhilerating r laughter. l?o cheerful always. There is t no path that will be easier traveled, 110 I load that will bo lighter, no shadow on c heart or brain but will lift sooner in pres- si ence of a determined cheerfulness. It t may at times seem diflicult for the happiest n fempered to keep the countenance of peace t und content; but the diiliculty will vanish L when we truly consider that sullen gioom I nml passionate despair do nothing but mul- t Liply thorns and thicken sorrows. Ill ji :oines to us as providentially as good, if 21 we riyhtlj' apply its lessons, why not then t ;hecrl"ully accept the ill. and thus blunt its s ipparent sting { (Cheerfulness ougt to belie fruit of philosophy and of Ch rislinniiy. r What is gained l.y peevishness and fretful- 0 :css ??l?y perverse sadness and sullenncss ? t [f we are ill, let us be cheered by the trust () hat we shall soon be in health ; if mi?for- I' uno befall us, be cheered by hopeful vis- ti ons of better fortune ; if death robs us of the r lear ones, let us be cheered by tho thought g hat they are only gono before to the blissful p lowers where we shall all meet to part no a nore forever. Cultivate cheerfulness, if s' jnl}' for personal profit. You will do and jear every duly and burden better bv be- &i ng cheerful. It will be your consoler in ^ lolitune, your passport and commeiuhitor j, u society. You will be more sought after, more trusted and esteemed for your steady cheerfulness. The bad, the vicious may j, jo boisterously gay and vulgarly humor- ? >us, but seldom or never truly cheerful.? a, Jenuinc cheerfulness is an almost certain | ? ndex of n happy mind and a pure good , learc. a ^ ?? 9m 1 The Tomb of David Hume.?David v Hume, who produced in his tinio so much ikepticism as to the evidences of Christian- " ty, dues not seem to have convinced his o )\vn relatives. A correspondent of tho c [Veshvterian says : |S 'By tho way, speaking of Edinburg, '< vhile thero I act?d aa guide to a brother l! nmister from America, on a visit to tho t( omb of the Infidel Liu me. It is a circu- ft sir stone building; over its iron grated * loor there is inscribod his name, with tho fi lates of his birth and death. No doubt* r ike Voltaire, he flattered himself that he c lad given tho death-blow to Christianity 0 liut behold, there on the wall of his tomb' 0 .hose who were flesh of his flesh and bone c >f his bone, bear testimony to tho fallacy v :>f his expectation. On its outside, and n mmediately abovo the name of Hume liiinself, there is a tablet containing an in? v icription, by a David Hume, to his wife, F lane Alder, dated 1817, closed with these v words, ' Behold, I come quickly. Thanks L?o to God, who giveth us tho victory I through our Lord Jesus Christ.' Also, in r llio interior, there is another tablet, sacred to the memory of David Hume, one of the '' Barons of Exchequer, and his two sons, v miicu in lo-to?me wnoie surmounted by 1 llieso encouraging words, 'I am the liesu- c rection nnil the Life.'" ^ More Discoveries in Central America.?Dr. i Livingston, under date of 1st of June, 1859, c writes home lo England, the following account of his Ai'ricau discoveries : 1 "We have lately dixcovcrcd a very fino lake by getting up this river in the Meutn launch' ' ubnut one hundred miles, and then marching jome fifty more on foot. It is called Shirwn, r and Luke Ngami is a tnere pond in comparison. ( It i.?, moreover, particularly, interesting, from t the fact reported by the natives on its rhores, \ that it is separated by u strip of land of only I five or six miles in width, from tfyanja, or Lake ' N'yiuycs:?the stars?which Burton has gone 1 to explore. Lake Shirwa has no nutlet, and itB water#f*are bitter but drinkable. It abounds in fishes, leeches, alligators and hippopotami. We discovered also, by examining partially a branch ' of the Shire, called Uuo, that one partioii oj | Shirwa ia not more than thirty miles distant ^ from a point that may easily be reached by this 'uuncli, which by newspaper measurement draws 13 inches, and actually 31 inches. The -Lake nmrwa is very granu. 11 is surrounded oa all sides by lofty greet} mountains. Dzomba^^r as lhe people nearest it sny, ftomba? if over 0000 feet high, of the sume ahftpe as Table Mountain* bat inhabited on the top; others ore eqtmlly higli(?but inaccessible. It is a high laud region ?the lake itself being about 2000 feet above the sea. It is 20 or SO miles wide, and ?t) or 60 miles long. ' On going some way op hill* we*saw 'ii Uio fur distance two mountain tops, rising like little islands on a watery horizon. At) inhabited monntiin Ulapfl stauda ne4r w^bere we first name to it.'* HP/em the fijfe/fef the wavss it is supposed to be deep. ,^The ?$bntry is well peopled, and very much like Ldahdo. In . the middle of the month many atrearfifcjige out of-bogsi the vegetation ia nearly iJertticdl afno. * j \_irom lUr. Soiilltni Field and Fireside.J MUSIC AT NIGHTFALL. Music lias with truth been styled " sphere-descended inaid for its first cat ly note was struck when tho Universe, fr< from tlio hand of tho Creator, hymned Maker's praise with its ten thousand ex< lent voices?when " tho morning stars sr together and all the sons of Clod shou for joy." The echoes of that glad cvan liavo never ceased ;in silvery, rippling to they still givo expression to the raptures Ituman hearts, or in softer strains sool their hours of sadness, until, beneath l inspiring inllueuco, feeling is oncc ag inged, prism-lined, by tlio light from I ainbo.v of Hope, and " wo walk atno .he sun-beams, as with angels." The sj >f music owns all places and all seasons ts magic influence ; but at nightfall is vucnmg power most prevalent ami univ tally acknowledged?at that hour, whi iwakens all the poetry of genius and t oinance of emotion ; which imparts to > urc a most touching beauty, and gives ler tones and a language unknown at a thcr hour. Then that spell is wov iround us l>y the breeze that arises out ho West, with long solemn swell ; soletr is if it blew from tho Jiorder Land to 1 he sun-forsaken earth to everlasting slui icrs under the glowing eyes of myriad sta t is no wonder that ancient poets fanci he evening wind a chorus of departed sp Is, who thus poured tender lameutatio long the air of their native homes. \VI hat has loved and lost, ever heard tli ound, unmoved by memories of the der Music at nightfall is heard, too, in I oar of falling floods far off in the fore r in the "sonorous llow" of rivers glidii o the sea. It is wafted by in the warblii f those biids that give songs in the nigl iverv pulsation of the great licnit of n; ure semis forth a thrill of melody, eve iwtling leaf and waving flower adds to I rand symphony. lJut perhaps even mo oteut than this unwritten music is that udiblu words and harmoniously tun trains. It is not so unearthly in the thoughts tirs; it links one less with the spiritu; ut it seems more allied to our mortal syi athies. When 0110 aits alone in the grey, drear ivilight, the shadowy moonbeams stealii 1 wavy lines of beauty along the lloor ai p the walls, the cares of bustling day : ilently banished to soiuo oblivious corn f the heart, just then let an old famili une fall through the distance upon thee; nd how will it strike " the electric clisi therewith wo are darkly bound It m e only a snatch of sonio unprelendii lelody, a simple lay of childhood, or o f the quaint by pins heard .jn the lit ouuiry church, long ago. lint its chat I lUif Inccnnoil l?v tUnf Af "4 < .v.. jv..w\i wj fctiuv* ilk ur? luiiuu " i saves of our past existenco unfold and ;i urned backward, till the later record ears and toil and world-wearintss vanish nd onco again the spirit claims fellowsl rub Youth, and Hope and Love. At rst sound, memory enters into tho hall eHeclion and displays a panorama-like si ession of pictures upon its walls. Soi f them are colored, ah, how briglil] [hers are of a neutral tint, others still r overed by black clouds, and tho figui k-hicli compose tliem stand in spccli rray. Slowly thoy flit along ; in iiunginati ire revisit the place where that tune w ilayed, perchance years agone. The frier yho then surrounded us, re-appear. V tush our breath and listen, till every qui mlde tluobs with the mournful bliss eeollection. Fancy hears voices, whose (luto-like tor r>ng since died away through tlie shadot alley?sees loving, earnest 'faces, win learning glanco was shut out from us in ruel moment by the touch of Death's i ingers. The final ochoes of vtiumc se< :aught up among the eternal stars, even he pearly gates through which wo si >ur sainted ones borne. Thus, 1 When twilight weeps 'neath the nzure veil, V.iid the sweet flowers sigh na the day gru pole, Vngfls liover o'er us on silver wing, \ml golden harps iu their bauds tliey bring" And when the nightfall of Timo arriv ind tho soul prepares to render itself bn o the Ood who gave it, let music, rich a Ieep,'blending the pathos of parting lo vitli the clear, firm notes of expectant fai trise beside tli? dvinnr couch. Sr? alml! ' greet us last on earth to meet us first leaVeri'." Z16iA. f . ?? ^ m*' . Influence of the Smile in giving Bean )/ Kxpresaion.?A beautiful smile is to t Female countenance what the'sunbeam is the landscape. It embellishes an infer face, and redeems an ugly one. A smi however, should not bee >me habitual ; i nipidity is the result; nor should the mot break into a smile on one side, the oil l*emaining passive and unmoved, for t imparts an air of deciet arid grotesqnen to the face. A disagreeable smile distc the lind of beauty," and is more fepuls than n' frown. There are many kiiula smiles, each having a distinctive charxct some announce goodness and aweetnt others JJjelra^r . sarcasm, bitterness, s pride; stfnae soften the countenance by U languishing tenderness, others brighten by their brilliant arid spiritual vivacity Gazing arid poring before a frflilrror cgn aid in acquiring beautiful smito3 half we'd aMoturji the gaze inward, to wa that the l&art keeps imsulliod from the flectioh/of evil, and illamineft'anU beau ,cd by ow'ce^ thoughlk." \ _ "T X* JJjfc; ORIGIN OF WORDS BLANKET, WORSTKD, &c When Edward III, in 1337, repeated ^,c liis invasion of Scotland, and " ravaged th< country with great fury, burning Aherdeei os'' and similar towns," as tho historian tolls l* us, and while ho was engaged in raising at army to invade France, in 1338, exacting l"o from the impoverished English people all lo'' their wealth to waste in tho war, ami ?c' when ho was wasting Kranco with war, horlies rowing money from all foreign princes who ' ?' wonld lend him, pawning tho English crown which had inailo him king, that lie might still fatrher extend destruction ove! Fun fertile France ; when, in the battles which ^ie our historians and poets have so mii.utely "" recorded and loftilvsnnj; out, swords clashed M*ll " * against swords, and hat tic-axes rung upon coats of mail, the warrior heroes ol Franco, lls there was a servant of mankind making a cr noise in Ihistol, which was of infinitely 'greater service to England than tho entire 1 n conqnest of Europe would have been. t ;i - Y Tliis was Thomas I?lauket. Tlie noise lie made was not of tIhj clashing sword, hut of tho clashing shuttle. I Lis purpose j. not to destroy what his country already possessed, hut to give his country what ' it ilid not yet possess?blanket*, a covering of comfort to go to l>cil with, to sloop un111 <ler, th'it it might be refreshed in souml r?. I J sleep, and rise in health and strength to its daily work of making mankind happier 11 by being happier itself. Thomas IMauket ^ was soon imitated by hi3 neighbors, Who, like him, set up looms in their own houses, ' and made woolen cloth like that which lie made. The cloth was named by his name; UC and to this day, through all time in this ' country, will the name be known, though l,=> nothing el?e is known of this weaver than that he was the Grst to introduce the blanlcll* ct manufacture into England. a- .. ... rv Xo cloth of any kind bad been wove in he England before the reign of Edward IIT. ,re We read that, in 1331, John Kempt, from ()f Flanders, introduced the weaving of cloth in England ; that the king invited fullers, dyers, and so forth, to come from Flani ? > - ' " ' tier* iiiiu scuic more. iJns policy, 011 the ,t] part of Edward, was discreet ; and, viewed in connection with some other of his actions, prove him to luivo had some per? jv ci-ption of the real sources of national well'(r being. But he no sootier allowed the cloth ^ manufacture to be implanted in England. riU than he almost rooted it up again by re( strictive enactments and oppressive taxes to carry on his wars. The manufacture of twisted double thread of woolen, called worsted, was iulroduced into England about lid ' 3 ay this time, or soon after. ng The village of Worsted, about fifteen n*? miles from Norwich, was tne first place tip where this thread was made, and it look 111 tho name of the village. There is no spinhe ning nor woolen manufactures at Worsted ,vc now, but from the tombs in the grave yard, ot and tho bonofaetions left to the parish, ea? which are recorded iu the church, we have "I' proofs that tho manufacturers of worsted "" were numorous opulent, aud lived there in successive generations, duriug soreral cenlu,c.' lies. ne 1^ It may also bo noticed here, that after (re inquiring into the history of the parish ,es and manufacturers of Worsted, we visited I Linsey, which gave the namo to the fabric known as linsey wolsey, and the Kersey ' and the Mere, close to it in Suflblk, where ,ls the work-shops wero situated, in which (js the cloth called kcrseyniero whs first made. lTe The cloth so callcd now differs from the ck original, and there is but little trade of an)1 of kind in Kersey now, liut, as at Worsted, tho grave-yard and the church havo many lCfi records of manufacturers lonj* deceased.? vy Their namas, though now Anglicised, are )Se common in Suffolk, and are all of Flemish H origin. cy !m Never do too Muck at a Time.?Sir Ed lo ward Bulwer Lytton, in a lecture recently delivered in England, gave the following history of his literary habits: ws Many persons seeing mo so much en gaged in active lite, ami as much about the world as if I had novor been a student* cj.' havo said to mo : " When you get time nd to write all your books? llo* on earlh do ve you contrive to do so much work 3 1 shall l)' surprise you by tho nnswer I make. The answer i'k thrs, 4I contrivo to' do so much 111 '| > by never doing too mueh at a' time. A man to get through woi*k well most not over-work himself; for if ho do too much ]10 to day, the rccreation of fatigue will come, to and he will lie obliged to do too little to: ior morrow. Now, since I began really ami 'e? earnestly to study, which was not tJJI I left college, and was actually in the world, H*r I may perhaps rfrty thatf have g'ono througli his ^ large a course of general reading an most men of my time. I have traveled ;'ve much and J have seen touch,. I U^ye mixe<] of much in politics, and the various fc'uihiesi er; of life,' nnd in addition to nti this', I have iaH- published somewhere, about atfirtSjr volumes l,,j) somo upon euljfels requiring much re-, , searah. And what time do you think, ai agerfern! rule, I have devoted to suidy not to reading and wriljmg. Not/ftjort^thai three hour^ a-day. and when Pprlinmen^i 1 re siting noi'always that. " B.orthen, fdunu1) tig. .those-houra, Ihavegiyen my whole-Mien . tWri td;^atT w^?~nbodl.r . . MR. MMASTER ON THE CHARACTER OF THE I GREAT DISCOVERER. "The Catholic Library Association held ( their quartoly mooting Inst night (at tliejr room?,No. 809 Broadway, Mr, James A; | Me Master, editor of tho Freeman's Journal, embodied the results of much rare j reading and industrious research in an improvised address, the purpose of which was to rectify certain historical vilifications of tho personal character of Christopher CoI <i in bus. "VVhat had n airily contributed j he thought, to the neglect into which, for three hundred years after his death, Columbus' name has fallen, was the imperfect appreciation of the value of his discoveries.' It was only after these United States, that portion of the New World which was evidently the most dominating and influential,' had declared their independence, that Co lumhus' pt.-rs.mid history began to be investigated. In 13'2u Navarette, an infidel of tins Voltaire school, which believed in ihc virtue of no man, nor in tho chastity of any woman, was retained by tho Spanish Government, not to vindicate Columhus, hut to construct the bent possiblo plea for the gross ingratitude aftd injustice which Spain had practiced towards him.? Washington Irvhigatid Alex, von Ilumbolt,' taking Navarette as authority, had reiterated tho charges against Columbus of superstition and bigotry, cf having compared his discoveries to the trick of breaking an egg and making it stand on its end, and of his having maintained unlawful relations with a certain lady of Cordova, Beatrico Itcnriquez, the mother of his second son,* Ferdinand, who was also his best historian. The lecturer met theso charges in a very lawyer-like way, and in the course of his argument presented many curious facts," drawn from historical sources l'emoto and uncommon. Amorigsome of tho most interesting details connccted with the great (ienoes, he mentioned the fact that one of his crew was an Irishman, nfrid( that previ- ' ous to his second voyage tho Pope, at his earnest entreaty, issued a Bill appointing ono Bernard Boyle, a learned and pious J' *' r runci.iuiin, as liisliop lo accompany him to ihe laud lio had discovered, which Ferdinand, the Spanish sovereign, ignored by appointing to the office another Boylo (Boil/ a Benedictine, and but a poor sort of Bish" op any way, for ho was a courtier. This Lioil gave Columbus immense trouble, and l>y the first ship homeward bound, ssnt on letters to Ferdinand, asking him for God's sake to recall him, for, not knowing tho language, ho could be of no us<? where lie was. It was otherwise with the Franciscans who nccompanicd Columbus. They at onco began to learn the native tongue," and in spile of countless obsticles.nnd in the face of innumerable perils, gave themselves entirely up to tho conversion of tho Aborig* ines. " Iti suramin? un tho character of Co lumbus tho lecturer doscribed liirn at a man called by Gud fur the groat miiiion of opeuing up this groat continent for the development of humau capacities nod th? spread of Christian fait 1*1 and truth-" SCENERY OF JAPAN. The scenery of Japan is grand i.n 1 lovely; at least that portion which I visited? the Southern?and it is. said to be so throughout tho whole Empire." It is, in fact, a grand garden, with hero and there an indenture of some arm' of th^ sea, dividing the terraced* mountains and blooming valleys into shining highways. There is not probably ini the whole world another, expanse of territory, the abiding place of any ono nation or people, which possesses so much fine, grand, picturesque scenery as the EnVpire of Japan'. Never did I see," in all my extended travels over the fair regions of the East, any series of views thatwould approximate in beauty to those of Southern Japan. Tho many-hued brightness of the terraced hills and mountains,' I-? t. V" ? waters, revealed | icturcs fairer by far than Claude ever painted on canvass. Tliero is, I be? liove, no fairer scenery in the world than the li:?y of Yeddo, few more pictureF^ie than the environs of Simoda. Qn6' things adds to tbo pleasure of the. student! of nature in gazing upon a landscape ?n Japan ?tlio spiiit of peace seems to rest like ft sacred thing upon,Hs fair 66fcotfk itl. thq season of the year T was ther'i^?August ai)?l September?there was an almost unclouded sky all the time; a light blue liAze rested on soa and hand, kill and dale, re/ minding me of Indian summer in my .own' tand, tending its aid to beautify hi) already beantiful landscape, and every sound .from' a distance would come to the ear mellowed , and soft, musical and harmonizing -with' the wondrous beauties of Niphon. Japan might consistently be called aland of stillness. for tho^liarsh aottttds ilioidental to' the life of a higher cmjiznUoh' are not heard.' Life there seems lo move on quietly aud calmly ; even conversation is car' _ J. .1 /? . 1 ni'ii uii ?i Huusuiwi ione j uie en on of a 1 shoutis not called for. , * 1 Doubtless, n further rhsight rnto the mani nt'va ?n?l customs of tliis strange .people Will reveal Inteht tniihir, of whose existence . yfa are now ignorant. Their 'existence wilt' 4 he nia(le'?hnnijMk l>y contact'with' foreigrj1 era. We now have, if) thi$ nineteenth cenJ tury, the privilege of witnessing Mt,experr, men? on a grand , scale. We thall' see' whether a people. nfVead/,hjj?Kon fli^ scale F of bumanityfllre ^o.l>e elevated higher byt ' prnm