The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, September 08, 1854, Image 1
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VOL 1. '
, Cljt latitjirni (Enttrprist,
ja iirflkx of rorulah events.
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. f
Xi AW. P. Prico, Publishers.
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' ., v,. BT aBWBvnavB.
? 1
. Couu> I, I would give thee a barque of Love,
Gently stirred with oars of Happiness,
I Wafted by Hope's unceasing gale,
Which would glide smoothly o'er
life's troubled sea. s: 4
G aided it should be, by a fair hand.
Whose smiles afepuld be snnlighta of gladness,
a _ _ VI! Jilt -L* 1.1 - AV.. 1!#.
m oumiui urcnm biiuuiu wjy ui^
With this giiUd'On* of tartb. Y?*?
One of anrth's brightest, traficure* ;
"Whoac happineM would bo only in thy smile*,
Whose took 't would be to beguilo
Thy weary hour*, and m a meteor bright,
She'd be, who would safely guide tliee
To the portals of bliss.
JHiBrtlliiHtmia 1R raiting.
D?tn?; ? litriUfng Isle.
Among the woudrous sights on the earth,
?the volcano of ./Etna will always hold a just
'pre-eminence Renowned by past and present
history, sublime by its elevation, its form,
and the awful secresy of unknown terrors
which lie concealed within ita bosom, the Sicilian
volcano will always b^ viewed with the
deepest, the moat solemn awe..
It was with such feelings aud with such
thoughts as these, that I began to ascend the
volcano on the morning of the fifth of May,
1849. . I had left Cattania on the day before,
in order to visi*this wonderful spot. I
did not wish to glanoc carelessly upon it?
no : for to me there was alwava something
(reverend, something almost divine, in connection
with this great mass of imjjfnaved lava,
which led me to look earnestly at^ts rugged
sides. I wished to ascend, to view from
its summit the fairest regions on earth ; to
glance down, down into those unfathomable
depths where fire, fire in all its terror,
forever, dwells forever struggles 1
It was with slow steps that I ascended the
cone, after the patient and hardy ponios had
been dismissed.. I had been an invalid and
the fatigue of climbing up the steep and
rocky declivity might well have daunted me.
But after many resting* and baitings, I was
.able to attain the summit
The summit 1 good, heayens I can I ever
forget the* delirium, the transport of joy,
which the boundless prospect there awaken'
ed within me I Can I ever forget the glimpse
which I first caught of all the glories and all
the horrors of nature mingled together in
such fearful unison I ; .
Far away on one side spread the fertile
explains, the green meadows, and the gentle
valleys of Sicily. There were streams glancing
and flashing in the sun as tlioy wandered
to the sea, with ten thousand labyrinthian
iliminrw lulros u/IiAOA rvlauSw anvfooa hotwAil
oat & rufflo, not, a rippfe ; thero terraces upon
the sides of a hundred hills, where vineyards
were planted, and where the trellised
? vfflcfjflriscd long, all green, all blooming ;
there wore groves of orange trfes, amid the
dark green Jotiage f which the golden I
oranges peeped forth like the Hashes of phos'
-,n z midnight sea*, there
wero long avenues of cypresses, of acacias,
of noble trees of many kinds, amid which
kingly assemblage at times could be seen
?h9.jioble summit of some stately palm, as it
tttitijtad on high above the others.
F ^Wid the sea?th* wide, the boundless, the
deep blue Mediterranean?there it spread
away, pn the other side, as far ss the eye
SeulU reach, spreading away as far as the
thoughts could run?glorious ss
IHsdsAii*,
Silver-flasliiug
Surgoa of 8an-fj??lvftdor.'
But turn aaide*Hutd there, beneath, far bencath,
lies an abyss like that of which Milton
has sung ip sublimest mortal strait#!
Jpaused upon the brink, and,shuddering,
I gazed dpwu?down 1 The thiok and fun
ondHRPM of I ii|fn.i?lj mundiifl amokf
| c^irtrroetbing upward a* from a cauldron.
It &c#ped from a myriad ere*ice* in the rocky,
precipitous side*; it poured forth from behind
projection*^ npd united with the vaat mass
?which cam* aubfimeiy upward from the un,
fnOioniiWodaptW. .* * !
Her* upon the sandy, t#y edge, where
* sulphnr, and crumbled l*f?.and guwice%
jkk.
' " ' '"^ 1 '"1 ?' -.1-" ' ? ' '
* ' GREEifv I]
atone, woro all mingled together to form n
horrid soil, hero 1 sat, and looked down.
From the scene beyond, from that glimpse
bfearth, which made it seem like heaven;
from that vision of all that was most lovely
and all that was most over powering.; to turn
and gazo. into a volcano's awful depths?
what a change!
Involved Fn a thousand thoughts I sat
there, thinking myself alone, when a sudden
grating Rtruck my ear. I was startled exceedingly,
and turned routul. The place
whero 1 had been sitting was a peninsular
projection of the cliff which formed part of
this infernal chasm. Upon the narrow strip
of land which joined it to the other cliffs-^
upon the isthmus?I saw a mild looking"
middle aged gentleman approach me.
He was dressed in plaiu black clothes, and
in hi9 hand ho held a light Btick.
"I beg your pardon, Signor,' said ho, in a
polite maimer, and with groat soflnoes of
tone; your pardon Tor intruding myself
upon your company. But it is not often
thai I see any visitor so far up.'
'My dear sir, I beg you will makes no excuse,'
I replied; 'I was just admiring this
scene below.'
'Ah! yes, 't is a glorious sight.'
'Glorious 1 Bay, rather, a torrible one.'
'Terrible, perhaps, to you; but do not be
surprised if 1 say that to mo it is lovely, absolutely
lovely 1
And as he spoke, a smile of bewitching
beauty crossed his foati .ee.
'I suppose your tastes are different from
those ot many people, Signor. I have not
such feelings. But may I ask you if you
1 S?
mo u1u xicre t
Oh, yes! I livo here,' he repied, waving
his stick around. 'I live here."
I thought that he moaut mo to understand
that his home was on the mountain, where
very many villas arc situated.
'And I should suppose,' I continued, 'that
you are often on the summit.
Oh, yes, I am hero always.'
'Always! what a strange fascination it has
for you !
'It has ! it has!' said tho gentleman. Oh!
a fearful'?and. his voice grow low and hollow?'a
terrible fascination 1'
I was silent.
'I will tell you, said he, sitting closely by
my side, and turning his eye full toward
mine, '1 do not wish you to inform any ono.
Promise me that you will not.'
I had not noticed his eyes before, but I s?Hnow
that within their depths there gleamed
a strange and sinister light.
1 promised him; and at the sAme time I
uneasily drew back farther from the edgo.
'Well then, Signor,' said he, 'I am king
here 1 I rule Mount *d?tna !'
'Yes!' I answered, a little alarmed at liis
words, and attempting to smile.
"Yes! I am king here. In mo you soo
tho being who causes tho lava to pour forth,
and overwhelm the region^ bolow. I have
lived for centuries. The spirits of the deep
obey me: see!'
lie leaped up from tho ground. There
was a fearful fire in his eye, his nostrils were
dilated, his paloface became as whitens marble,
and as bloodless, save that on either check
there glowed a deep red spot.
See!' ho shrieked wildly and loudly;
spirits of the deep arise ? Ha J?yonder?
see them!?they are coming?in clouds?enrobed
in thunder-garments?see!
I leaped up from the ground: I gazed at
He threw off his hat wildly, and it fell far
down in the abyss. He flung off his coat
and throw it away.
Signor,' said I, in hopes that a mild tone
might make him calm, 'Signor, the winds
obey you. Let us go.'
Got Where! It not this my home ? Is
not this my palace f Saw you not my servants
I You are my ghost /
Will yout not sit down and tell me about
your home?' said I shuddering,
j 'No ! there are secret* that can never be
spoken. Can you understand themf Who
are you, a mortal, that you dare to ask?'
I I walked slowly toward the narrow passago
of land?the bridge. But he saw me,
I and stood upon it. 1 could not go.
' fan ?h?a all be pleasantry}' thought I.
An awful thought passed through mo, which
1 froze my hoart's blood.
rioaaantrv I There he stood, my wild
companion, his eyes blazing, fixed piercingly
on me, his hands clenched, his mouth foaming,
every sinew in his body worked up. Re
stood, screaming, laughing. O God ! I wax
alone with a maniac !
fit* Yon are to go with me,' he cried.
- 4Where f
There. I havo come to carry you -to my
home.' lie pointed with a cold, snaky smile
<down toward the unfathoraable abyss wlienco
ascended the terrible column of inky and sufi
foeating smoke.
1 gazed at him: for there- was some element
of fascination in his glassy stare, which
forced me, compelled me to gaze. There was
a cold smile upon his lips, which were all
bloodlesqpthd disclosed, as they parted, his
mouth and tightly-shut teeth.
There is my home?there; and I li&vo
tome to take you with me. Ha 1 ha 1. how
happy you will be! Como P
Htill'l gazed; while ray heart throbbed
with slow but terrible pulsations. Uc
advancod one step toward me. 1
I *' ? -dh
ii'*??i iifci y -i ?*( ?'% i*j
LLE, & C.: FRIDAY
I looked *11 around. ThtW^cil was broken
which enchanted my gilze. I looked all
around : at the blue sky above, at the scorched
earth around, at the horrible cliasm beneath.
There was no hope. Oh 1 could I
but leap the space which separated me from
the mam cliff! Could I but do it?but I
could not ! There was no hope !
4 What I do you not answer V he cried, suddenly
lashed into fury by my silence, and
stamping hi* foot in frenzy upon the rock.
4L)o you not answer I Then I must carrtyou
with ine!'
The maniac sprang toward mo !
With all my energies roused into frantic
action, with even* sinew braced, and every
muscle contracted, I placed my foot backward,
against a small angular rock which
projected above the sandy Roil, and endeavored
to meet the shock. With a wild scream,
which projected above the loose sandy soil,
and endeavored to meet the shock. With a
wild ft&dim, winch arose thrilling into the
air, his eyes all Wood-shot, his mouth foaming,
on ho came. He struck mo?his arms
surrounded me in a fearful embrace, his hot
breath came burning upon my check. I stood
firm: for despair, and all the bitterness of
death, had given no place to fear and timidity,
but had bestowed upon mo the coolness
of one in an ordinary situation. I throw;
my left arm beneath his, my right I passed
over his neck ?rw? urnun/l '?'- 41? 1
uj<wII Ilia Uill'K, IUUS
seeking to press hiin to the earth.
Jt was a moment of horror such as no
mortal tpngue could ever tell. A struggle
with a maniac 1 To he on a small surface
of a rock, while three thousand feet beneath,
lay the abyss of untold horrors! At tins
hour, my heart beats more forcibly oven as
I think upon the time.
Thus stood, breast to breast, face to face
?the madman and I?he with his arms encircling
me ; I seeking to save myself. lie
pressed me toward the edge of the cliff. Ilo
plunged his feet deep into the ground ; he
tried todesfi-oy me. But against that rock
my feet wero tlnnly braced; and I held hiin
tightly, and I pushed him, I sought to hurl
lnm from me. Ilurl him from me !-? as well
might the hungry tiger be hurled from his
! the agony of that struggle! I know
not how long it was, but to me it secmod like
many hours. The wild eyes of the mailman
glared at mine nil the time, and I found it
impossible to look away. His fearful face,
all white, all ghastly, was upturned toward
mc, as he shouted in his fiendish mocking
laughter.
40 Heaven ! Oh ! horror! Can this, will |
this endure for ever!' cried 1 in the agony
of my fear. The maniac howled with den- J
siv? shouts. I felt that I was growing
weaker. But ho was a madman ; and would
. 1 1? 1
uwjjiun nva&w #WI I A UHUISAnU (DOUgllU
fled th rough me.
Suddenly the maniac gave one fearful
plunge. It was with the strength of a giant
that ne seized me. Ilo raised mo from my I
feet. The rock, the saving rock?I had lost
it; I was gone. I threw my arms high into
tho air, ami my scream of terror ascended
in unison with the maniac's mocking yell.
'Down 1 down! to tho tattomless pit!
To the home of fire and brimstone ! To the
endless horror of burning lakes !' ho screamed,
as he gave a bound toward tho edge of
tho cliff.
Inspired by a sudden gift of superhuman
strength, by a partial possession of even a madman's
power ; I caught him by the throat,
and even on the very edge, even when in sight
of the abyss, I sprang back, I liore him back;
It brought him to the ground. Falling heavily
upon him, I held his throat still in a
fierce grasp while his own arms were wound
tightly around my neck, and his open mouth
as my check lay pressed against his face ; I
heard them grate harshly, and drew my
head violently away, as he sought to seize
me with his sharp teeth.
In our frantic struggles on the ground, we
rolled wildly about, and tho dust from
[sulphur and from pumice-stono asconded
around us in suffocating clouds. I was halfinsane.
I was struggling for life. I caught
up a handful of the fine choking dust, and
[rubbed it violently over his??en mouth." It
went into his nostrils and lungs. Ilo gave a
jerk forward in agony. Amid the clouds of
dust around, I could not see where we were.
He held me by the hair as he sprang; a moment
after, and a fearful force was straining
there, holding my head down with irresistible
force. Another moment, and I arose \
while wild and high arose tire shriek of the
maniao, as he foil?down down?into the
abysa.
An exchange tells a story of a miserable
drunken sot who staggered into a Sunday
School, and for a few ruinates listened very
attentively to tho question# propounded to
n o Kiiuiore, uui ueing anxious 10 ?now tin
knowledge of the "scriptur," he stood up,
leaning on the front of the pew with both
I hand*. 44 Parson B ,M said he "ask roe
some of them hard quas'shuna." "Uncle Joseph,"
said the dominie, with a solemn face,
in a drawling tone, "don't yon lrnow you are
jn the bonds of sin and tho depth* of iniquity
T' "Yos'ir audio Aa gali of bitterness too.
Ask me another qitSmhun f
The "thief of Time," has noter been ar'
rested.
?
I
' '> - ?,>?*
MORNING, SEPTEM1
I be SqirK Side.
Thero are some people who arc always
looking on the "dark side" of Life. They
seem to see the world through "colored
and tliua everything bright aud glorious,
takes a sombre-tint froui the medium
,1 1. ...l.: l. A) *
impugn miiBn nmy gaze. iney nave not
strength and courage to strugglo with tlie
t actual ills of existence, for these are wasted
in grappling with imaginary evils. If in the
, springtime they sow amidtho budding love[
liness of nature; they do not believe that
when autumn comes their fields will be filled
with "plenty sheaves,*' and plenty will sit
smiling at the household hearth. They
think of the devastating march of the tornado,
And the withering breath of the forest king,
rather than the crystal dew-drop, the refreshing
shower, and the cheering sun-light,
that shall ripen the fruit, and give a golden
hue to the waving grain.
When tho liar vest lias been gathered in,
amid the merry songs of the reapers, they
do not offer a prayer of thanksgiving for
those mercies. On tho contrary, tlicy borrow
trouble concerning tbe winter, and fear
that during her long and dreary reign want
shall chase abundance from their dwelling.
If tlicy have white-winged vessels floating
in far off seas, thev listen, to every rising
breeze, as if it were the herald of a coming
doom, and fancy each ship a thousand times
wrecked. Do they possess richly-stored coffers
? they are in constant fear of burglars
and assassin*. Friendship, they do not trust,
because there is a possibility that a smile
may conceal a deceitful heart, and kind
words be used to lure another to ruin. They
visit homes, that seeins to them like emblems
of Eden. Peace, and joy, and love, throw
over them a halo of light, but even there a
shadows floats up from tho murky atmosphere
which enshrouds the distrustful soul.
They wonder if this apparent happiues9 is
not assumed in order to make an impression,
and give them an idea of real domestic bliss.
There are those to whom tlicy nro bound by
a thousand ties, but instead of enjoying tbeir
society, they spend the hours in gloomy
forebodings of death and misery.
I >ear reader, you have seen just such persons,
so have we, and parked how they have
not only rendered themselves wretched, but
cast as dismal spell over all with whom tlicy
come ill contact. It is well to look uj>on lite
as it is; to realize that it has sorrows and
sufferings, and prepare for them ; but it is
?wa (kim PlIUUl IV 1UV& V.VUUIIU<lli^ VII I III*
dark side.
If want fulls to your lot, remember tliat
lie who sent the ravens to feed his servant,
will not forget Ilis trustful children. If friends
become your foes, do not think that the
whole human race are of the same stamp.
"Angels are bright still, though the brightest
fell; and so it is with mankind. True, there
are thousands of wretched, fallcu, guilty heings;
but thero are, also, hearts that throb
nobly with their wealth of pure and generous
impulses. It is pernicious doctrine which
too many are teaching when they portray
friendship as "only of name," and truth but
the fair semblance of what she ought to be.
Heath may sever us from thoso to whom wo
must not repine in every hour of trial and
suffering; we must remember that there is
One guiding the affairs and destiny of the
world, and that "lledoeth all things well."
The End of ' Great Men.'
Alexander, after having climbed the dizzy
heights of ambition, and with his tcmplee
bound with chaplets, dipped in the blood of
countless nation*, looked upon the world,
and wept that there was not another world
for him to conquer, sot a city on Arc, and
died in a scene of debauch.
Hannibal, after having, to the astonishment
and consternation of Home, passed the
Alps, after having put to flight the arms, of
4 the mistress of the world,' and mado her
very foundation shake?fled from his country,
being bated by those who once exaltingly
united his name to that of their god und
called him Hanni llal?and died at last by
poison administered by his own hands, uulanvmted
and unwept, in a foreign land.
Caesar, after having conquered eight hund
i 1 J ? i.: . ?.i - i-i?i
n**t uiivni| IUIU ujou IH? trui uuiiu* UI uie DUHMI
of one milliap of his foe#; aflei having pursued
to death tho only rival he had" on earth,
whi miserably assassinated by thoae l?e considered
his nearest friends and in that very
place the attainment of which had been his
greatest ambition.
iionaparte, whose mandate kings and
popes obeyed, after having filled the earth
with the terror of his name?after having
delugod Europe with tears and blood, and
clothed the world in sackcloth?closed his
days in lonely banishment, almost literally
exiled from the world, yet where he could
sometimes see his country's bannor waving
over tho deep, but which would not, or could
not bring him aid 1
Thus these foULPion. who, from the peculiar
situation of Tn&r por tails soeraod to
stand aa tho representative of all those whom
the world called yreal?those four, who each
in turn made the earth tremble to its very
centre by their simple tread, severally died?
one by intoxication, or, as some suppose, by
J poison mingled in his wine?one a suicide?
I ono raurdifcd by his friends?and one a
' lonely exile 1 * How are the mighty fallen 1
4 t.
I * 4M-- * . .
5? TO
3ER 8, ISM.
* 7
Cljc Wnrking-3l!im. 1
Jqbolr qijO Jibe.
. When Mnn was driven from the Garden
of Edon, it was decreed that he should earn
his bread bv tho sweat of bis brow. If the
history of tho age is credible, that edict has
never been altered. Either from the corruption
of man's primitive tastes, or the force of
wants consequent upon the change^ the earth,
though mellow and generous to toil, has,
steadily refused to yield spontaneously the
fruits, of Edon. To satisfy InfUger and thirst,
to defend tho body from heat and cold, and
to shelter it from storm and danger, man has
been obliged to tax his invention and to exert
powers, which his original simplicity
might have avoided. Gcd did not turn him
from his earthly paradise without making
good provisions for his new wants. Sterilo
as tho unbroken turf seemed, it yielded to the
stick iron.: and and when tho dry seed
, < :i *1-- ?i *
I umi niiu iu, uiu rains, uews anil sunshine,
nourished them into plentiful harvests.
But necessity?the ever recurring calls of
human wants, which aro as angel infirmities
?have allowed him no cessation from lalror.
To live, to generate and fulfill a being "faded"%ut
not lost," ho has been forced to toil
from (lay to day, providentially permitted,
in the average, to accumulate little beyond
supplying immediate wants. In tho perpetual
summer of Eden, nature provided all
things ; out of that man came as a savage,
without plan or capital beyond the capacity
of his hand*, or tho fruitfulncss of the earth.
Step by step he oiuerged from tho dependence
of ignorance and folly?ho smote the
forests?furrowed and drained the earth?
reared his dwellings?while broad fields filled
with flocks and herds, and populous cities
crowned with domes and spires, rose before
him until he is what we now see, thegonius
| of civilization, by toil mastering the elements
to do his bidding.
Nor will man ever be exempt from toil.
| All that is fair and noblo in this picture of
his triumph has risen from the motion of active
hearts and hands. Garden and grainfield,
cottage and palace," temple and monument,
tho shrines and alters whereon the
highest faiths and holiest affections are consecrated,
are the creations of toil?toil, which
in the wilderness, in tl^g van of armies, and
111 liulta *?Af *'
... *?<m?0| iivk iw^cuin^ uic giunuus
birth of man, has bowed to the first edict of
God. By sweat, and in pain, the great, the
true and the heroic liavo wrought out their
lives, and their brows bear the only crowns
that sparkle with imperishable diamonds.
Lot no man scorn labor?labor, which fate
has dictated as the basis of our earth-life,
and with which the Supremo Being rolls and
rules tlio universe in its immensity?A'. Y.
Mirror.
?t|#ii)6$3 ifqbifs.
Tt is an awkward thing to begin iu the
world without a dollar?and yet hundreds ot
individuals have made fortunes from a single
shilling. The stone obelisk which the citizens
of London erected in Fleet street as a testimony
of their respect for the political conduct
of the late Mr. Worthtnan, had been
better dedicated to his capacity for business?a
capacity which euahlcd him, as it
did Stephen Girard, to create thousands oi
pounds from a single bank note. I know s
gentleman, a builder, in an extensive way ol
businces, now worth 100,000 who wits a
brick-layer's lal>oror some six years Ago at 1
por day. lie bocamo rich l>v acting upon
principle. lie has frequently assured me
I -.1? :ii ?J i c '
uuik v?vu wucu nv; in juiiu, uu conantieii
to save fifty cents per day, and thus laid by
$182 the first year. Krotn this inomeht his
fortune was made ; like n hound upon the
right scent?the game, sooner or later won,
was sure to become his own. Another very
extensive firm?one of whom has since died
and left behind him an immense property?
the other is still alivo, and has realized a*
much ; and, yet both thoso men camo tc
New York without a cent, and swept the very
shop wherein tlioy both afterwards made
their fortuuea. Like the builder, whom wc
have just mentioned, tlioy posses-ed an indomitable
spirit of industry, anil
frugality, and the first half crown became in
consequence the foundation of a- millioi
more.
The world at large would call theso indi
viduals fortunate, and ascribes their property
to good luck ; but the world would lie ven
wrong in doing so. If there was any luei
at all in the matted, it was the luck of pos
sensing clear heads am I willing hands, liavi
carved out their own fortunes, su? well as tho*
instances above citod. By the wool, "6tm
jwm,' means habit. Paradoxical as it maj
appear, at first sight business is nothing it
the world but habit?the soul of which i.<
regularity. Like the fly wheel upon a steau
engine, this last keeps the motion of life sten
dv and unbroken, thorebv enabling the ina
chino to do its work without obstruction.?
Without this "regularity," your notions as i
merchant may be capital, but they never wil
i be profitable.
.Picture to yourself a ship jwithout a com
a lock without a key ; or a carriag
without wheels. These are all typos of
mat* of business without regularity?m$eles.
v. " Trfei c fif
%
I II ?
j? <?
SBVv vEav w
' ;? _i-i?.11 1 II IT I UUAIJJi?B?=lW'll?>U ?
NO. 17.
The force of examples the greatest force
in the world, because it is the force of habit
which has beet! truly and appropriately called
second nature. Its over whelming influence
is so great that honest men become
rogues by contact; a fact which every alder-*
man in Hie country, who is acquainted with
the insido of a prison will contirin. If strong
minded men have frequently fallen victims
to evil exninplo, how shall the weak escape ?
I Very easily !?the philosophy of success lies
in souiuijiidgement an<f correct business habits.?Merchant'.t
Guide.
i'nfe' JOfjjnrtmfiit.
No Mother.
" She lias no mother!" What a volume of
sorrowful truth is comprised in that single utterance?no
mother! We must go far down
the liard, rough paths of life, ami l?ecomo inured
$o care and sorrow in their stcrnost
forms, before we can take homo to our own
experience tho dread reality?wo mother,
without a struggle and a tear. But when it
is said of a fragile young girl, just passed
from childhood toward tho life of women,
how sad is the story summed up in that one
short sentence 1 Who now shall administer
tho counsel?who now shall check the wayward
fancies?w ho now shall bear with the
errors and failings of the motherless daughter
? . ^ ?
Deal gently with the child. ""'Let not the
cup of her sorrow be overfilled by tho harshness
of your bearing, or your unsympathizing
coldness. Is she heedless of her doing f
Is slio forgetful of duty > Is she careless in
her movements ? liomeinber, oh remember,
she has no mother ! When her young companions
are gay and joyous, does she sit sorrowing
? Does she pass with a languid step
and a downcast eye, when you would fain
witness the gushing and overflowing gladness
of youth ? Chide her not, for she is
motherless; and the great sorrow comes
down upon her soul like an incubus. Can yuo
gain her confidence ? Can you wiu her love ?
Como then to tho motherless with the boon
of your tenderest care, and by tho memory
of your tenderest mother, already, perhaps,
passed away; by tho fullness of your own romcmbcrod
sorrow : by tbo possibility that
your own child may yet be motherless: contribute
so far as you may to relievo tho sorrow
and repair tho loss of that fair, frail child
who it written motherless.?fort Eclectic.
Female Love.?Wo tliink the following
remarks must be more applicable to English
than American society. In this country,
marrying "for love" is certainly, the rulo
and not tho exception, Mrs. Crowe to tho
contrary notwithstanding. This lady says:
?"llow very few women have ever been in
love. How very few even marry from election
! They marry lxicauac they are asked,
and because the marriage is suitable. It is
their vocation to lie married; parents approve.,
and they lovo 110 other attachment.
' Any observant person living in society,
1 where thoro is continued marrying and given
in marriage, must be struck with this
fact. Cupid's quiver must be exhausted, or
his arrow blunt?he pierces few lioarts now.
1 1 am inclined to think that a girl really in
love?one who bore the symptoms of tho
: malady?would be thought very improper;
f yet I have often fancied that there must ho
i a man born in tin* world for everv woman
f one whom to see would bo to love, hi revcri
once, to adore; one with whom our sympathies
would so entirely blend, that she would
i recognize him at once her truo lord. Now
, and then these pairs come together; and
1 woe to her that meets this other self tot) latel
Women would be more humble and mercii
ful if thoy did not, through ignorance and
i thoughtlessness, measure tho temptations of
others by their own experience."
A Shout Romance.?Tho following ro
mantle incident is said to have occured a
1 few years before tho Russian conquest of
' Armenia. The Sirdar fell violently in love
' with a beautiful Armenian maiden, and dc!
tnanded her from her parents. Their sup1
plications, and those of the girl herself, wero
' unavailing; for, although she had a lover,
L she was not formally betiirotb?l; she was
1 consequently carried oft* to the harem. T*h?r1
ing the night, her lover entered tho palacegardens,
and, in a low voice, commenced
singing beneath the windows of tho harem, ^
f in the nope that she would hear him. Soon
' a window was opened, and some ono leaped^
uuv. A-vmiiig nmi UClTftjCW "
- him, ho fled; but as he heard nothing moro,
3 he crept back, and found hi*.beloved caught
3 in the branches of a tree, which had broken
her decent to the ground. IIo helped hor
' down, and they prepared for flight, but bc>
ing overheard, they were pursued nnd caught,
* and in tho morning they wore brought bc1
foro tlic Sirdar; when tho latter had heard
" tho circumstances of tl?o case, he exclaimed,
* "I sec that in tho sight of Uo?l you were nl"
ready betrothed. Lovers so true sliould
3 ncvor Ihj parted ; live happily together, and
J God bo w itli you!"
[Baron Yon Jlajcthttusm^H Skclche*.
'* ?? ? ?
0 Wasbivoto* IaviNU is cultivating hi*
a grounds and gardens at Sunn wide. IIo says
' Lis potatoes cost him nl?ottt sixpence apioc\