The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, June 15, 1854, Image 1
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VOL.1. GRKF.NY1LLJE, S. C.?: FRIDAY MORNING, JUHE 15, 1854. SO. 5.
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t;1;; Jie .fmitljtrii Cntfrjirtst, !
L A REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS.
r h>? 2>iaauai9 I1
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
I ' ,
J. & W. P. Pfice, Publishers.
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51 T\iirr (Prm Jlc-frt. !
0\\t Elrientahip '3 Kjfff % ?bcrgircco. fl
XJV ELIZA COOK.
f
Sovk liken their love to the beautiful rose,
And some to the violet sweet in the shade; 21
Rllt tlm Kloui>r-Oil*pn 3io* lh? <
And the blue ?ye shuts up when the spring bios- t
some fade! ^
So well choose for our emblem s sturdier thing, ,
We will go to the mountniu sud worship its tree;
Then n health to the Cedar?the Evergreen King,
hike that Evergreen so shall our Friendship be! s
The perfume it carries is deeply concealed, [part; *
Not a breath of rich scent will its branches im- '
But how lasting and pure is the odor revealed )
In the inmost and deepest recess of its heart! j
It growoth in might and it lireth riwht long ;
And the longer it liveth tlio nobler the tree ;
Then a health to the Cedar, the true and the strong 1
Like the Evergreen so shall our Friendship bel
It remained* unsealed ia the deluge of light.
When the flood of the sun-tide is pouring around
And as firmly and brnrelv it meetoth the night, 1
With the storm-torrent lsdeo,nnd thunder-cloud 1
crowned I
And so shall all change* that fortune can bring, 1
Find our spirits unaltcr'd and staunch as the tree .
Then * health to the fed or?the Evergreen King, '
Like that Evergreen so shall our Frludship be! I
51 Colt of tl)t 5lutillrs. I
Stole H "S lr i 9 e.
BT MBS. U J. FBOST.
CHAPTKR I.
At the close of a sultry day in golden Au.
gust, a carriago might have been seen slowly
wendincr its wav over a roturli and droarv
r W ^ C5~" J J
road, that led through deep ravines, and j
wild mountain passes, .up to the city of M.
???. The vehicle contained Lord Manviile
and lady, their daughter Eleanor and her
accepted future husband, Sir Charles l>clton.
A shadow of anxiety rested on ejich countenance,
for the shades of night were fast
falling, and the darkuees of eveuhig was deepened
by thick, angry clouds that shaded the
still mountain path, threatening to shower
their contents upon the travellers. Suddenly
a bright flash of lurid lightning gleaming
tor a moment tlirough the jiass, but only to
render the darkness moro mstense after its '
departure.
" Nero," wild Lord Mnnville to the coachman,
"how far have we to travel before reach- ]
ing the city!" (
u Ten miles, sir; over ascending road, so ,
that for the next two miles, at leant, tlie ]
horses can do no better than walk P' (
"Use all possible speed, for I don't much l
like the thought of passing the night iu this I
lone place, especially since the last reports of ]
its inhabitants reached my ear." 1
" Of whom do you speak f not the Ban- ]
ditti 1" exclaimed the terrified ladies.
"The samel but we hope they aronow i
far from here," said Lord Manville, noticing ]
their alarm. <
At this moment a r?eal nf thunder that
seemed to rend the very mountains rolled
over them, and a flash oven brighter than its 1
predecessors for a moment lighted up the
dreary pathway. What was trie consternation
of the driver io see before them, and
standing directly in their way, an armed
horseman! be was evidently waiting their
2roach. It needed not a second view to
the watchful servant that the Brigands
were before them. Anxious, if possible, to
si.d act wkLLsg io ahisusthe
of the carriage sooner than necessary, he
quietly and quickly turned about, and with
lightning speed daahod down the hill. 80
sudden and unexpected had been this move,
incut, and so deep the darkness that succeeded
the flash that only by the noise made bv
the descending carriage did the robber know
ox taeir retreat; but another flash allowed to
the pursuer the pursued, and blowing a shrill
whistle, he was joined by eight or {en of his
confederates, ^<1 together they dashed wildly
after their victims. However, that moment's
delay gave to the carriage the adVantage,
and nope sprang op in the heart of
"its occupants, who by this time were apprised
of their *dangerous situation. Again the
vivid light flashes I Again rolled the miglir I
tv thunder. Then came a fearful crash, and
the horsee could be urged no farther.
Lord Manvitle sprang out, and the servant
tow him that a huge tree had fallen across the
road, and that th*Brigands were upon them.
The iadias war* Nwrim from fear, and Sir
^ ~
me
w
:
'buries was about to propo^o a retreat into i
be forest, when tlie sound of the robber's i
lorscs prancing on all sides, told theraany <
iteinpt to e'scape would prove fhtile $ a' monent
more, and Lord Manville utid Sir Chares
wero roughly bound.
"What want you Sir Bngaud, of us be- i
ated travellers?" asked Lord Manville, "if it
i our money/tike it, aud let us go safely on
?ur way : our lives could be of no service to
ou, qpcept to wl<l another Plain to your aleady
black soul f"
* Lord Manvillo, I am no stranger to you,
hough in this thick darkness you may not
ecognizc me. Tis not your life or cold of
vliioh I would rob.you, but something that
0 you may be, and to me certainly is, of
ar greater value. Do you not remember
>011 Pedro, the rejected suitor of the fair
Sleanor Manvillo I 1 am he, and the time
>f my revenge is at hand ; mine she shall be,
ind never another's."
"Mereiful God ! save my child !M exclrtiin>d
Lord Mnnville, while the hue of death
estod on his lip and brow, for ho well knew
nto whose hands his daughter had fallen?
md that her captor was not better than the
riiest miscreant. Don Pedro now seized J
1 ; ;ii p - r i.-t , . , !
n*j niMjiKuuie iunn 01 Eleanor, mm springing i
ipon h.ia fiery steed, thus addressed Sir Char- j
es and Lord Muuville ;
"You, gentleman, can now be liberated,
ind proceed unmolested on your journey, or
urn you homeward, for of what use is the
vedding Without tho bride ? Ila! ha ! ha !
rou see I am aware of the intent of your
oumcy. But, Sir Dalton, you may chooBe
mother bride if it please you, for her you
ivill never wed !n
" Nor you, vile wretch, while Dalton lives !
tnd were I not thus pinioned, your worthess
life should pay the forfeit of your instiling
hands," replied Sir Charles; but the
nst sentence was lost upon the ear of tho recreating
Don Pedro, now known as Captain
1)a Castn niiiaiin liiu
? ?a ~~ *1,0 ?'"
ess steed was fast bearing away the tiger
md his prey uuto liis mountain fatness.
O, JSleanor! would that the puro heart
might he spared the wild grief of thy dread
waking!
Two years previous to tire date of my story,
Don Pedro had visited the village of
ll , with the assumed name and garb of
i gentleman ; this village was about twenty
miles from the before mentioned city of
VI , and was the summer residenco of
,he fashionable, who wished remission from
lllO foihlos /if tli*> fitv lilo XlnnirillA
?V """ |
rod family were among the number who I
ind sought this calm retreat. qAt
Don Pedro's gentlemanly appearance and j
ieh drew, lidded to really line features, soon
enderea liiin the favorite of the fashionable
ircle ; and at a grand levee given by the
bo elite of the place, ho first met Eleanor
Manville. lie waa captivated by her beauty,
rod delighted with her maimers, but more
jy her reputed wealth ; and he determined
jo carry off tho prize.
lie was never a favorite with Eleanor, for J
Yom the first timo they met, sho had ever !
pell an instinctivo dread of his presence,
rhey mot often at gay parties, and his very
jbsequeoiLs attention always greatly annoyiil
her ; however, she was obliged to receive
"em kindly, though from close observation
>f his character, she discovered many obser- 1
runda which were disagreeable to her. At
ength he proposed to tho father for his
laughter's hand. Lord Manville replied
bat his daughter's good sense must decide
the case?and referred him to licr. Don
Pedro a little chagrined at his cool reception
from the father, delayed a few days before
proposing to the Lady Eleanor herself; but
when he did so, what was his mortification,
anger, and disappointment, at receiving a
prompt and full denial i Eleanor, at the
uune time, expressed a wish that he would
intrude no more into her presence, especially
in her father's mansion, and if they met
elsew hero they must meet as strangers.
Don Pedro left the house forever,. swcAring
vengeance und revenge 011 the imitates.
The following day lie left the village, and tho
Munvilles had heard nothing of him up to
tho eve we first introduced him to the reader.
Shortly after his departure, Eleanor met
the noble Sir Charles Dulton, a man every
way worthy of her esteem, and after a short
acquaintance, they were betrothed. On the
evening they were overtakeu by tho robbers
they wero on their way to the city where the
marriage ceremony was to l?e performed on
the following morning. Don Pedro, it seetns,
Vtitrl ininnl liiniiolf" ti? <l\a liri.rtn/lt *!...? k
? - ?' MU
might tho easier carry out his plan of revenge
: and lurking near the village, lie had
heard the plan of the journey tow the city,
and determined to intercept them on tho way.
The reader knows well how hia fiendish plot
has succeeded.
CHAPTER II.
We t|jH now return to Eleanor, whom we
left being borne rapidly over the mountains
on thoawift charger of Captain De Cost?.
When she returned to consciousness, she
could not realise what had passed, and
thought it some terrible dream ; but the delusion
was quickly dissipated. The apartment
in whieh st* found herself was fitted i
up and furnished w ith costly magnificence,
mm M 1
, ,
and
wax tapers shed a brilliant light through- j
out the room. Sho was lying upon a lich ,
orimson sofa, and a shawl of rare material, j
brilliantly wrought, enveloped her' slender j
foiui ; whatever might have been her doubts
us to her situation, she wis not long left in >
suspense; for suddenly a door opened, aud
De Oasto Btood before her.
lie was richly dressed, and evidently had
nmlo his toilet with inucb care. Had'
Eleanor met liim a stranger, elsewhere, she !
might have thought him, at least, good looking,
hut the last evening's tragedy was yet
fresh in her remembrance, and she looked
upon him with utter hatred* and contempt,'
not 31 together unmixed with fear. As soon
as he entered, she sprang from her recumbent
position, and thus addressed him :
"On, Don Pedro ! if one spaik of humanity
yet lingers in your hardened heart, he not
all stone; by that love you once said you
bore me, I conjure you, take me to my father,
if he be yet spared from death by your
bloody band."
" Fair Eleanor, henceforth call Do Casto, |
if you please, for that is my rights name; |
your miner is living, and safe, in his far-off
homo; but you, fair one, cannot .go to him.
I once said 1 loved you ; I did/ but my love
was rejected, and I swore revenge; you are
now wholly in my power, so much so, that i
nhand on earth can free you from me !,
Listen, consent to be my bride."
"Never ! Never !" cried Eleanor, "will I be
the bride of L)o Casto^ She drew up her
slender from to its utmost height, and a wild
fire flashed from her sparkling eyes, beneath
whose glance even l)o Casto quailed. lie
threw upon her a look of mingled passion
and admiration, love and hatred, and left
the room, saying, as he did so?
" I giyc you two days in which to decide
your fate; consider!"
Eleanor firmly resolved never to yield to
his design; and failing upon her knees, she
implored her Ucavculy Father to give her
sut-ngiu u> resist eacn temptation, and her
(lelivcrance from this living tomb.
Time flew quietly, far too quickly for the
wretched Eleanor, who dreaded the expiratiou
of the two days in which she was coiijlnaudcd
to ''consider." At length the third
morning came, bright aud beautiful, though
no rays of its light or beauty entered the
dreary cave of the robber. The taper's gleam
still fell upon the pale features of Eleanor,
ami as she rose from her morning devotions,
she seemed like a stray angel rather thau an
imprisoned child of earth-land !
With one fair baud she swcj>t back the
heavy tresses of dark, wavy hair from her
marble brow, and calmly sat her down to |
awuit her fate. An hour had not elapsed
when tho massive door opened, and JL>e
Ca.sto stood before here.
As he entered,ahe paused midway of the apartincnt,
and gazed imploringly upon her.
She, too, arose, and fixed her sparkling eyes
full upon him, met his gaze of admiration
unmoved, while there flashed over her
features a look of determination, that told i
him he had not a feeble, frightened Voinan j
merelv, before him. A moment passed thus
and the better feelings of his heart were stirred
; but those feelings soou gave way and
the demon of revenge again rankled iu his
bosom. He thus addressed her :
'Beautiful Eleanor,listen ! the time has arrived
that must decide your fates I love you
truly, and will gladly make you my bride?
think well ere you reply."
Eleanor's pale features seemed lighted up
with more than angelic radiance, as clasping
her thin, white hands, and raising her dark j
a.?i- ?:J
Wjvo uvwrviiHUi%a} PIIU filling
"As Heaven is my witness, 1 will die, ere
I become yours!"
Frantic with rage, De Casto sprang toward
her, and clasping her slender form, ho was
at?out to pollute tho.?o pure lips with a kiss
of passion, when suddenly the sound oftnany
voices fell upon his car, and immediately tho
door was thrown open, and a large number
of anned men entered tho room.
Eleanor gave one wild scream, and fell
faintng in the anns of Sir Charles Dalton.
On the first alarm De Casto had fled through
a secret door; ho was immediately pursaed
by Dalton who left Eleanor in the carC of
her delighted father. De Casto took refuge
in a small private room of the cave, from ;
which there was no outlet except the one by '
l._ 1 i?-i J '
ifuivu iiu mificu, uutiu* ihimj ureiujirn mat ,
his retreat would be discovered. iJuiion i
soon found him, and commanded him to1
draw hi* sword; ho did so, and a dread-1
ful contest ensued. The one fought for his i
allianced bride and the protection of innoeenco,
the other was spurred on by the doj
mon Keveujje.
hut tho former was fated to bo the victor,
i and by a skillful tlxrust of bis swori he
brought Do Casto to the earth a Homing
coriise. Ills last words were a curse upon
Dalton and tho victorious Eleanor.
A .1 11.. A. A l l -t :l. 1
i ix ucuu\y nuiMTiK. unu iiiomimuie ihwii currjcti
on between Dalton's men and L>o O'asto's
band, but a9 the latter had not the presence
' or voice of their captain to chotfr them on,
the former were successful. The few remaining
Brigands fled over the mountain*
j and were never after scon. Lord ManviUe
; and Sir Charles carried home the peerless
Eleanor in triumph.
14 Thank Heaven, I see my dear home
if" ^
<H?cc more r exclaimed Eleanor, an they rode
leisurely through the nark that surrounded
lifer father's stately mansion, and she udded,
father! why did you and Charles leave
ir? so long in that dreadful place ?w
W Mv child, we came as quickly as possible
to your reacue, but we had hard work to
fiuS out the rillian's retreat. The lion chose
wof-his den within that mountain fastness
?Out we baulked him of his prey, and clearOil
tKn 24? ? 4 ?? W
v.x. vi v wuuu^ ui i u> grtrmwi pamrg?,
ftltsrellmtnms 3R tnbitig.
o h) q i) J i c 1 n c i 0 c q f.
THE LOST HAND.
A paper printed at Eliznbothtown, New
Jersey, gave an account last fall of a grievous
misfortune to a young girl 13 years old
named Meta Taylor. She was running to ;
cross the railroad track, when she stumbled
and fell. Just at that moment the cars of
the New Brunsw ick road came up, and the i
locomotive cut off her left hand which lay i
over the mil. In the confttsion of the moment,
the hand was not"* picked up; and finally,
when it was looked for, it could not
bo found. It was feared some animal had ,
carried it off, and this thought was very
distressing to the mother of the girl, as well
us to Meta herself. Last week the lost hand
was recovered as follows: A young man
from Elizabeth tow n happened to call on a
1 |? 1 ? * ? *
menu 01 inn tu a Doarclmg house in Eighth
street, New York. On the shelf in the room
ho saw a glass jar with a pretty little hand
suspended in it, preserved in spirits. It had |
a ring 011 the third finger and was in I
every respect a lady like lookiug hand. lie j
thought at once of the lost hand iu Eliza-1
bcthtown, but he did not suspect that this j
was the one. On asking his friend whoso
hand it was, he was told that it came from
the Medical College, as his room-mate was
a medical student The young man thought
no more of the matter until he got home,
when he mentioned what I10 had seen.?
llis sister told him that Meta Taylor's lost
hand had a ring on thf third finger, which
she described. This ring was exactly like
that on the hand iu the jar. The sequel,
may be told in a few words. Meta Taylor
came over to New York along with her
mother and the young man above alluded
to. Proceeding at once to the house in
Eighth street, she recognized the preserved
hand in the jar as her long lost member.?
The Student gave it up very cheerfully, assuring
the young girl that lie had bought it
of a person who supplied bodies to thu Medical
College. It is suspected, howover, that he
stole the hand himself as ho was known to
have been down at New Brunswick about
the time the hand was cut off, and was probably
a passenger in the cars that very day.
Altogether this is the most siliirulnr uncn
we ever recorded. No prosecution of the
young student will be made, as both parties
sepe rated on the most friendly terms
after the hand was given to its fair owner.
?+?
jL o h ft gclr 3.
Laziness is a great evil. The truth is
clearly evinced by the conduct of two many
of our species, idleness is bad enough of itself
in all conscience, but when men are not
satisfied with idling away their own time,
and are found annoying their friends and acquaintances
by frequent and lengthy visits
to their places of business, it ia intolerable.?
Young men, you who are just starting out
oil the theatre of life ?lo not let it he uui.l
you as it lma1>een truly said of some : "He
has no energy." If you nre out of employment,
seek tor it again; and if you do not
succeed, still keep trying, and, our word for
it, you will not fail to prosper. At any rate,
do not worry the patience of your friends by
sitting about their counting-houses and
shops, yawning and wishing for that which is
impossible. Depend upon it, a life of industry
is the most cheerful and enviable situation
in which you can be placed.
Comr wiibw the Birds Sino.?Prof. Caldwell,
of Dickenson College, a short time before
his death, said to his wife: "You will
not, I am sure, lio down upon your bed
and weep when I am gotio. And when you
visit the spot whore I lie, do no choose a r,nd
mournful time; do not go in 4)ie shades of
evening or in the dark of night. These nre
no times to visit the grave of one who hopes
and trusts in a risen Kedeeiner 1 Come, dear
wife, in the bright sunshine, and when the
birds are singing P* What a beautiful illustration
these words contain ! Coino in the
morning of sunshine, when the notes of the
harmless birds are beard ; come not in the
dark shades of evening, when tho mournful
notes of frogs and the troubled Whippoorwill
will fill the graveyard ! The former representing
the glorious resurrection of the
righteous, and the latter that of the wicked.
TI.UL , t li I
lUIUJk UI II i
-JmUBL '
Thk mouth oft wise woman is like a
money box which is seldom opened, so that
much treasure comes forth from it
it "Vise wife opposes wroth with kindness.
A sand-bog will stop o candon-ball
by its yielding. "
? d u c q 1 i o i)..
"lie knowcth not the fearful risk
Who inward light contemns,
Mr-. 8e?a Smith.
The only object we have in view in treating
upon this common subject, on the present
occasion, is simply to iinptos* upon those
who have the management of children, the
vast importance of cultivating their minds
Hiui morals. v> e <io not intend to enter
into a discussion of tho advantages of instructing
them in the higher branches of
knowledge, so much as imparting to them ,
a plain, practical and useful education. The <
enlightened rich, as a general rule, are careful
to bestow upoh their children all the ad- <
vantages which they cau receive from the |
highest and best sources of mental cultivation.
But how many others, with sufficient J
means, suffer their children to grow up,
leaving the rich jewels of their minds to be ,
obscured by the darkness of ignorance.? 1
How many forget that tho experience of the |
world has shown, that the proper culture
of mind and morals affords the only founda- \
tion for enduring virtue, and solid happi- ,
n ess. I
It 3a exiomatic, that the prosperity and
stability of a republican State depends more <
upon the morality and intelligence of its poo- ;
pie, than upon standing nnnies and cannon- j i
mouthed fortifications.
t x ? ' ...
imii we coine directly to our mam object ,
and appeal to parents and guardians, and ,
ask them if they do not owe suitable intellectual
culture to the longing spirits of their
children and wards. Up' a principles of
personal loss or gain, or political economy,
no intelligent man will doubt that education
is cheeper than punishment. Ignorance and
vice go together. The child may involve
himself in crime, to rescue him from which
may require a far greater sum than would
have been requisite to have bestowed upon
him suitable mental and moral culture,
which would have placed him beyond the
reach of criminality. The mind of the un- r
educated youth is dark, growling and timid,
lie associates perhaps, with those who have
j tasted of the sweet waters of knowledge, and
; feels ashamed of his iguoranco and stupidij
ty, when perchance, his own mind may have
1 been susceptible of a brighter polish than
those of any of his companions. Why is it
that parents will condemn their children to
this intellectual inferiority, amounting almost
to social bondage.
We are not 11 o\^ urging it upon them
that they should educate their children with
a view to literary fame. We are not appealing
to those who would probably have
any aspirations for intellectual superiority,
but to those who can and ought to appreciate
the benefits incident to a good practical
education. Such an education if ottered to
one, whose genius and natural abilities entitled
him to sway the judgments and passions
of men, would devclope its rich resources
and give it the foundation upon which to
build its fame and Morv in after life
# O J 1
The ignorant youth growls around the
low objects of his grosser souses, while the
intelligent one looks abroad upon iuan and
nature, and discovers a thousand cheering
beauties all along the pathway of existence.
The former gropes along the obscure track
of vulgar ignoraee, the slave of another's
opinions, while the latter thinks for himself
; and enjoys the pleasure and privileges of an
I nn.l Tl?? a/Iiiaa
li^\i HUM J?UH IV'V. J IIC UUUttl" j
tod cl?iId is free from vice, more dutiful to j
his parents, more respectable to the proper j
usages of life, and, us a citizen, will be infi:
nitely more valuable to society than he,
whose mind has been left to be overrun with
the weeds and brambles of ignorance.
"O, there is moral might in this?
My mind to mo a kingdom is
Bound it in the ears of ngc,
Stamp it on the printed page.
Gladden sympathizing youth ^
With the soft iuusie of its truth,
This echoed note of heavenly hli*s
My uiind to me a kingdom is."- -Tcrrnn.
J Parents, who possess the.ability to educate
their children, ought certainly to feci the responsibility
which rests upon them, as well
I from a duo regard to society, as parental af
faction. We give food to the body because
it is essential to life. We 6l>ould also give
sustenance to tlio mind, that our spiritual
life may enjoy those fine, those delicate nud
subtile pleasures, which are unknown to in,
tciiecis starved to burreueos. The cultivated
! ruind possesses an innate sweetness of existence?an
active, stirring, joyous principle,
that cheers it alike in prosperity, in misfortune
and adversity.
" Mind, mind nlone,
Is light and hope and power."?Elmot.
[Georgia Horns Qazeit*
Hand of Heauixo.?An old trick, says
an Albany paper, was played on the sheriff
I nt the present term of the court. IIo was
I short for juror*, and made a descent on the
> street. lie aocosted agentlemen well known
t in town, with, "I want you in court for n juror."?"
11a," replied the man, "speak a little
louder." The sheriff pitched his voice
1 into a iHgh key, "1 want you for a juror."*?
' "Yea, yea," noddiughU head 'very significantly,
"it is a veryTirflrflny." The sheriff,
taking hiutfojr^ deaf man, bolted. The man
placed hit thumb to bb ncxe^nd went thro'
the motioiwr
* Wk ...
HcfVcctiof?#
To (leconplixh much in tho wny thai lie
has c!io8Cii, a man must l>c willing to bo reproached
with accomplishing little in other
ways. During his Kfo, people may complaiu
of his omission; but after he is dead, they
will praise what ho haB done.
Men begin lifo hoping to do better than
th<$r predecessors, and end it rejoicing if
tliev have done as well.
ftenson asks, can prayer influence God,
who alone knows what is right, and never
deviates from it i But it is certain that
[iod sees only one right way of acting T
Diversity of languago springs from difficulty
of intercourse and languages become
blended as intercourse becomes easy.
To compare living men with dead ones, is
ike comparing fresh fruit with dry.
Men slowly learn how little they can do.
?nd liow careful they must be of their faculties
and opportunities in order to do that
little.
The world may be making progress, but
he progress which principally concerns
tach one is that which tits him to exchange
this world for a better one.
There are many good things in 'this
world, but it is often difficult to get them,
;md easy to lose them and dangerous to use
them.
Excepting virtue and vice, the pointt of
difference between men arc trifling compared
with the points of resemblance.
A man sometimes retains his youth by doing
little to make his manhood noticed.
Never dotoo ucch at a ^ Time.?Sir
lUlward liulwer Lytton, in a lecture, lately,
in England, gave the following history of his
literary habits :
Many pereons seeing me so tnuch engaged
in active life,and as much about the world
as if I had never been a student, havo said to
me, "when do you get the time to write all
your books? How on earth do you contrive
to do so much work ?" I shall surprise
you by the answer I make. 'Hie answer is
this: " I contrive to do so much, by never
doing too much at a time." A man, to get
through work well must not overwork himself?or,
if he do too much to daj% re-action
of fatigue will come, aud ho will obliged to
do too little to-morrow. Now, since I begun
really and earnestly to study, which
was not till 1 had left college and was actually
in the world, I may, perhaps, say, that
I have gone through as large a course of
general reading as most men of my time. 1
nave travelled much?I have mixed much
in politics and in the various business of life,
and, in addition to all this, I have published
somewhere about *i*tv rnliimoc
.... J > v??MMVO| OVIUVi
subjects requiring much rpoefJtl research.
Ami what time do you fhiuK, as a general
rule, 1 have devoted to study?to readkhg
and writing? Not uiore than three hours'a
day ; and, when Parliament is sitting, not
always that. But then, during those hours
I have given my whole attention to what I
was about.
A Cheat Traveller's Eyperience op
Woman.?I have observed among all nations,
that the women ornament themselves moro
than the men^that wherever found, they aio
the same kind, civil, obliging, humane, tender
beings ; that ^ they are over inclined
to be gay and cheerful, timorous and
modest. They do not hesitate, like men, to
perform a hospitable or generous action ; not
naughty, nor arrogant, nor supercilious, but
full of courtesy, and fond ofsociety; industrious,
economical, ingenious ; more liable, in
general, tcF err than man, but in general also
more virtuous, and performing more good
actions than he. I never addressed myself in
the language of decency and friendship to a
woman, whether civiliy.ed or savage, without
receiving a decent and friendly answer. With
man it has often been otherwise. In wandering
over the barren plains of inhospitable
Denmark, through honest Sweden, frozen
Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, qyprin
cipied lttissta, and the wide-spread regions
of the wandering Tartar, if hungry, drv, cold,
wet, or 6iek, woman has ever been friendlv
to me, and uniformly so ; and to add to tLis
virtue, so worthy of the appellation of benevolence,
these actions have been performed
in so free and so kind a manner, that, if T was
dry, I drank the sweet draught, and if hungry,
I ate the coskv morsel, with a double
relish.?Ledy? rcrs Ltittrs,
The Wife.?It is not unfivqucnt that a
wife Ins to mourn over the alienated affections
of her husband, because she has made
no effort herself to strengthen and increase
his attachment. She thinly ^because he one?
loved Htr he ought MtfoveJier ;?tind
she nOgjlects those attenfrons wIiiwTe;tg.ng^J
his fetart. Many A wife the cause, of
l\pr Awn
miM nviIVIT, A J1U WUIXUtU
deserves not a husband's love wl 10 Drill not
^rrcthim with smiles when lie returns homo,
j trom the labors of the day ; who"*?!! not try
1 to chain him to his homo by the 'fwcot en|
chnntmentlmf a cneet ful heart. Thdro is not
wne husband in A thousand so unfeeling as
fto be capable of withstanding sueh un in*
! tlucnce, and of breaking away from such a
| home.
J To be employed ia t/?be happy.