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* ^ f *t? ' ? ' > . . 'imi. lui'i'i i i, i 1 i11 apes ; mm " til jl"J I;' I'.'V i ' I yoi, i. L." ' . <f ' '" ? ' Clje 5>autljcrn (Enterprise, %,,|iEFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS. < ^Tw^&jsa s>. s>aacgia, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. j|M rmv .. i 50, payable In advance ; $2 If delayed. . j " CLUBS of FIVE and upwards 81, the mousy in every lnsrauce 10 Hccuinj>?ny vim; unior. , ' VElfTlSEWENTiJ inserted conspicnousTv at 0 the r?teaof 75 cents per square of 8 lino*.* "and 35 cents for each subsequent insertion. Contracts for yearly advertising made reasonable. [w. T. PUICE a BROTHERS, PRINTERS.] I he ? q "if e3." "Yesl" I answered yon last night "No!" this morning, sir, I say ; Colors seen by candle light . ? Will not Ipok'the same by da^ When the tabors played their best, IiAiighs above and laughs below, "Loves me," sounded like a jest, Fit for "Yes" or fit for "No!" Call me false, or call me free? Vow whatever light jnay shine; No man on thy fall shall seo Any grief or change on mine. a ' Yet the ?in is on us both? Time to dance is not.to woo; Wooer light makes fickle troth; Scorn of me recoils on you! Learn to win a lady's faith Nobly-, as the thing is high ; Bravely, ns for life or death, With a loyal gravity, Lead her from the festive Wards, Point her to the ftnrry skies; Ciiiard her by your truthful words, Pure from courtship's flatteries. Jly your truth she shall be true. Ever true us wires of yore; And bar "Yes!" once said to you. Shall l>o "Veal" for evermore. t o b c! Love is not the fickle aueen of fortune, or tlie ghost-shadow fairy of the imagination, not the transparent and etherial fancy of the ideal world, that rides on the wings of tho arcadian rainbow ; that builds her airy habitation on thfe extreme verge of the romantic clouds ! Nor is she the grave, sedate, time tutored and well-disciplined child of art, culture and education. She knows not the learned labyrinth of technicalities ; nor the seductive sophistry of polished philosophy. She builds not her nest in the tall flourishing tree of lucre ; nor makes her strong hold in the opulent castle of Mammon. Hor hopes rest not on the intrinsic value, and angelic accomplishments of moral excellence the secret lever of her motive power. She weighs not in the balance of worth and equity the object of her attention ; she sacrifices not by measure, on tho altar and shrine of her devotion. Love ! is a mystery, an insol cable enignuk; reason fails to compreliend her; language reels and staggers in the attempt to describe her; she is among the passions, as themouoisin to the mole-hills; as the occean to the rivulets; as the majestic orb of "the day to twinkling stars of night. Love 1 is both wise and foolish ; weak and stronflf- fparful al,ft Mii?AAn.u _.~-Qi ??? > >< ?? vvum^uvu^ ciun uiiu swift, blind Hud omniscient; it is incomprehensible in its nature, inexhaustible in ful?es*; immaculate in purity; eternal in durability ; known lib East, no West, no North, no South; grasps the world and reaches to I infinity ; is the triple refined concentrated ?]uinteecence of the soul, a perfect paradox without a parallel.?Dr. J. Hane. Co MP KN RATION OK MkMDKU8 OP CoN II ?RE88.?Senator Badger's bill to increase the compensation of members of Congress, will V fail, if not altogether, at least so far as dating l?ck to the Commencement of the present session of Congress?so that those members who expected to make a haul upon the Treasury for back pay will bo sadly disapnionted. It was proposed by one member, that tl^f sum of $'2500 l>e allowed members uiimialflj in fieu of their perdiem and roileaff* This [ would bo rather unequal and unfair in operI ?\ion, u thoMO mem ben living at a distance would receive leas pay than tho*e residing near the seat of Government. We desire to see the constructive mileage swindle abolished altogether, and to have members paid for ft the actual distance they travel. -Give thein & ms milage, that will he amply auiKdent to jft nay their expenses, and in additwg fifteen A linndrod or two tlmusand dollars fffwnnum, and they should be content. Tb?f would be handsomely compensated for their services - ?and twine of thfrn would |>e greatly over Jy paid for all the good thai they do to the jC country. At tliat rate of compensation the m l>esta talent* ma la had in batfe houses of ^ Congress. 1 .H???? j ^" v^yv, , GREENVI . 3 ii (Englisji ,?tnnj. From the New York Dutchman. I>e if igtoto*(jMif 3 Bride. by mrs. heslkr taffktah. Mink were the days for gallant robbers, whoso fine clothes, high bearing, reckless hardihood, nnd (frequently) good birth took away from the superficial observer, innch of j the darkness of crtine actually surrounding i their deeds and lives. You were divested I of your rings and nurses, poften with a de; meanor so polishes, that really it rather re > sera Died paying toll to good manners than , submitting to a highway robbery ; a robbe1 ry it is true, yet still it was more soothing to the feelings at the time, than being knocked down with the butt end of a pistol, or bullied as well as plundered. Fashion, too, capricious in this as in all else, affected . some kuights of the road above others, and fine 1 ladies interested themselves amazingly about the deeds of highwayVncn, conspicious for handsome persous and brave conduct, or rather daring villany. These fair dames also were ihutm concerned iu their heroes final incarocrations and exits at the fatal tree of Tyburn. Hut highwaymen had, as everybody knows, been still more popular in the proceeding reign yet ever and annon as the profession seemed to bo on tho verge'of decay, and likely to dwindle down into more commonplace theft and murder, some new candi uate was sure to start up aiul revive the dy ing embers of tlio road of chivalry. One in particular was notorious enough in his brief day, for most of the qualities I hare described, as~8ometimes attributes these knights of the road. He was well connected, too his uncle being a clergymen in a high church appointment. Ills person was elegant his manners courtly, and he was rush in an extraordinary degree. Mingling freely in fashionable society in his real name, his deeds of I robbery were the talk of the town under his assumed one. His proper designation was Richard Mowbray, tliat belonging the road, his sole source of revenue, wa* Captain de Montmorency?a pntronymichigli-sou tiding enough. I do not mean, however to infer that any suspected the man .of fashion und his highwayman to be one and the same person ; that was never, known till the event which I am going relate took place. Richard Mowbray bad spent his own small patrimony years before the period at ' which the narrative commences, in the picasI ures of the town ; it had incite J4 in ridottos, ; playhouse*, faro, horse-flesh, and hazard ; he ' had exhausted the kindness and forbearance ! of his relations, from whom ho had borrow! ed and bogged, till borrowing or begging bcj came impracticable. He hud known most ; extremes of life; and,moreover, when debts and poverty stared him grimly in the face, he , knew not one useful art by which he might ' support existance, or pay dividened to his J credits. What vt as to be done / lie eluded a jail lis long as he could and eventful night ridi ing on horseback,and one meditating gloomily on his evil fortunes, he met?covered by ! the darkness from all discovery?a traveller well mounted?plethoric?laden with moneybags and bearing likewise the burden of excessive fair. It was a sudden thought?acted upon as suddenly. Resistance was not dreamed of, Mowbray made oft' with his booty, considerable enough to repair his exhausted finances, and to pay his most pressing' creditors. It wps literally robbing PetKf'to- pay Paul. And so by night, under shelter of its dark ness, did the ruined gentleman become the highwayman. Pedple who knew his circumstances whispered their surprise when it i became known that Richard Mowbray had paid his debts, and that he himself made more his customary* appearance. Now his tine person was ever clad in the newest bra j venea 01 uie any, ana in ins double charac[ ter many a conquest did he make, for he dis| burtheucd ladies of their jewol* and jairse* i with so fide a manner, that the defrauded i fair ones forgot their losses in adiniraiion of j their charming aespoiier, and kichnrd in ; both his phases drank deep draughts of pleasure, till he druined the Circenn cup, to its veriest dregs. Just as even pleasuie be. came wearisome when festive and high-bred delights palled on his sated passions, and the Tower extremes of licentiousness and hard ; drinking, ruffling and fighting, diversified by j the keen excitement and threats of danger, 1 1|hick distinguished his predatory existence pt^gttflNo saqhle, a new light broke on the I feverish atmotfpfteui of his life, lie loved. Yes! kit-hard Mowh^av, the rained patrician. Do Montinorecry, tlie gallant high! j way man, who had hitlierto resisted every gqod or evil influence w hich Love, pure or earth-stained, offers to his votaries, succumbed to the simple charms of a young, unlearned, unambitious girl; so youthful, that even Iter tastes and habits, childish as they wore, could be scarcely more so than suited her years. Flavin Hardcourt had pint attained iter sixteenth year?had never been to a boarding-school, and loved nothing so much s?even her birds and pot rabbits?ns her dear old father, an honest country gentleand a woi thyffpagistrate. Fl'avia had never been even to London, for Mr. Hardcourt^feuded at Aveling, a retired Tillage, & \ * # -w ^ HUSKS LUi, S. FRIDAY i about twenty miles from the metropolis. Barring fox-hunting' and hard drinking, the old I gentleman on his side, took pleasure only in | the pretty gentle girl, who, from the hour 1 of her birth, which event terminated her t mother's existence, had made her his t constant pnlymate and companion. And it t was to this simple wild flower that the ( gay man of pleasure, haughty, reckless, un- \ principled, improvident, irreligious, and t rash, presumed to lift his eyes, to elevate his heart; and, oh, stranger still, to this being, a the moral antipodes o? her pure self did Fla- j t via Hardcourt surrender her youthful, mod-: 1 cii, inestimable love. It must have been her | * very childishness and purity that attracted t j ted desperate robber?-the hardened libertine,! f now about to commit his worst and most j i ! inexcusable crime. He liju.1 acidently met: < Mr. Hardcourt at a county liuht?and with < others of his companions, being invited by that's honest gentleman to a J*ustic fete, in honor j i of littlo Flavin's natal day?a day, he was : woti? to observe to him, remarkable for com-'t inemorating his greatest misfortune, and his j 1 interest and happiness, and then and there j' the highwayman vowed to win and wear'] il.. ..... I 1-4*: . e 1 --J >' 1 me puicuuu ui liiiiucuiiiirmiiiieiM ana rare 1 fragrance, or to polish in the attempt. Mas- ' ter Richard Mowbray ! unscrupulous de < Montmorency! I will relate how you kept i your vow. lie haunted Aveling Grange till the chaste young heart, the old father's beloved darling, surrendered itself into the highwayman's! i keeping. Perhaps Mr. Hardcourt was not! altogether host pleased at Flavia's choice; ' but then she was his life?his hope, and . i husband, that her love and doting affection , he trusted, even when he gave her a would still be his own : besides, Mowbray I was well connected?boasted of his wealth ; j i whereas,a very moderate portion would be j hers?was received in modish circles, into j < which the good old magistrate could never i pretend to penetrate; and, in short, what j with his high bearing, bis handsome person, | and, in short, what with his high bearing, < his handsome person, and insinuating tongue, Mr. Hardcourt had irrevocably promised to bestow his treasuro into the keeping of the profligate, who numbered himself almost years enough to have been the father of the young girh w hom be testified the utmost impatience to call wife. It was during the time that Mr. Mowbray was paying his court at Aveling, that the neighborhood began to be alarmed by a scries of highway robberies, which men said could have been perpetrated but by that celebrated knight of the road?Captain Do Montmorency. No one could stir after night- j fall without tin attack, in which numbers cer- <, tainly were not wanting. 'Cudgel me, hut we'll have him yet, said old Mr. Hardcourt. 'I should glory myself in going to Tyburn to see the fellow turned Off. Av, and 1 would take my little Flavin ; to see him go by in the cart; with a person and a nosegay ; eh !' my little girl V Oh, no, father,' snid Flavin, 'I could not j abide if, though ho is such a daring wicked i mail whose name makes me Rhrink, with 1 few and terror whenever I hear it. I could ; never Dear to see such u dreadful sight?it would haunt nie til! my death.' l>oca the gift of prophecy, involuntary though it be, lilrk withiu us yet ? Does the soul dimly shadow out its own fate, of that of its frail and perishable habitation? Sweet Flaviu! unsuspecting innocent girl! your lips then pronounced your own doom, as irrcvovcably as though you had been some -stern Sybil, delivering inscrutable unquesti >?ed oracles, not a fair child as vou#wero when I j fir?t saw you in your girlish frock and sash. Your brown hair curling down your straight grossy shoulders, your soft eyes shining through your blushes, like diamonds glit tering amongst the freshest of roses' Swcot 1 Flavin, I havo lived to see my kindcrd dust heaped on your fresh young form, and old ' and withered now, I'cannot but remeinlrer 1 the glow of your sweet, unstained youth, ra- i diant iu unforesecing love, happiness and 1 tor The betrothed pair were together to visit < j London. J ''k?uL 1 niifeil iioi Ciare, ?aiu liifc girl, as ' I walking together in the old fashioned Dutch < ! garde?i, she leant her young sinless head on 1 I her guilty lover's breast; *1 shall not dare j take Mich a journey, for fear of the highway- j man, Do Montmorency "Fear not, my sweet Flavia; this breast i shall be pierced through ere De Montmor- J I encv shall cause one fear in thine.1 j 'Richard, sweetest, why do you leave us [ so early evor, evening I At sunset, I have i ! remarked. These are not London habits, i ! Alj, doe* any other than your poor Flavin at- < ' tract you ? Oh, Richard I must die if it t ; should l>eso. I could not live,- and know yon were false." "Sweetest, and best? my purest love, could ahy win me from you, were it a queen? i think it not. I?1?the truth is Flnvia, I have a poor sick friend not far from here ; he is )K?or, ill, I?I-?1' 'Say uo more, dearest. Oh, how much more , I love you every day. How good, how nobit, thus to Mondce^ Au^lhu blushing girl threw herself into her lover!* ^rras. Ah, how ^lidorently beat iSose two human hearts., Ope^pregnant with Jove, gooses*,. churity, sympathy; the fyhejr rank with W>} pocrisy, dark with unbefcef. A ' 1 W* V, . '* I , ,. V t iW ' '5 tfopHLm* HORSING, FEBRUAlt ? / They cauie to town, unmolested, you may >e sure ; the stranger, because a few days ireviously a terrible affair hnd occurred. Old xird St. i]ilary,tho relic of the beau *yarcous >f former days, had been robbed and malreated. Men were by no means a favored is the beau-sere. Above all, a family jewel if immense value had been taken from his vounds and fright, he swore vengeance. He ook'active measures to fulfil his vow. Flavin came to us, to be measured for wed-1 ling clothes. She was then the i n person n,ion of radiant happiness. I was much with ter; and with the handsome, dark-browed i iwarthy gentleman who accompanied her j md her friend, an old lady cousin to her j 'ather, nt whose house tlie nuptial ceremony ! vas to take place. The clothes were finish-1 hI ; saffron satin robes according to a fancy I >f the bridegroom's who was fond of the el as-r iics in his youthful days ; orange blossoms \ vrcath. The wedding was to take place at the old elations, Mrs. Duchesne's house: and on ; agging wings, that day at length arrived. I l'he marriage was celebrated, and the happy i pair were in the act of being toasted by tho father of the bride, when a strange noise was heard below ; rude voices were upraised; oaths muttered ; a rush towards the festive saloon. The company rose. 'Who is it?' said Mr. Hardcourt. The door was broken open for answer. The officers of justice tilled the room. Two advanced. ' 'Come, captain,' said they, 'the game is, up at last. It's an awkward time to arrest j a man on bis wedding day; but duty my no- j ble captain duty must be done.' ? j 'My Richard, what is this ?' 'Scoundrels,' said Mr. Hardcourt, 'release 1 my son.' The men laughed. One of them was ex ' amining a necklace of Flavin ; it contained a , diamond in the centre, worth a ransom. j 'Where did you get this miss ?' said he, . Her friends answered, for the terror-strick-1 en girl was inarticulate, 'Mr. Mowbray's; wedding gift.' 'Ob, oh 1 This was the diamond Lord St. I Hilary was so mad about. Hy your leave,'1 and the gem removed from the neck it encir-; clcd. She comprehended something terrible. She found speech, 'whom do take Mr. Mow-1 bray for ?' said she. *W limn 2 tultir tho rnnAu-nn/l /In I Montmorency.' A shriek?so fierce in its Agony as to I cansc the criminal to rebound?struck on J he ear of all present; insensibility followed, and Flavin was removed. So v/as her bride-1 groom?to Newgate. The trial was eoucluded.?justice was ap i peared?the robber Was doomed. And his J innocent and unpolluted?. For days her j life had hung on a thread. Hut youth j and health closed for a short time the gates of the death. She recovered. Revived as from a dreadful, dream she could scarcely believe the terrible event which, ternado-like, had swept over her. She desired her father j to repeat its circumstance. Weeping, and his i venerable grey hairs whiter with sorrow, Mr. j Hardcourt complied. She heard the recital j in silence. Presently clasping, her father's hands, 'Dear parent,' she said, 'when?1 when ?' she could utter no more ; nor was it; necessary, lie comprehending her meaning but to well. * 'The dav after to-morrow' he renlied. ' Father, I must bo there.' 'My Flavin, my de.nre.-t daughter !' 'Father I nyist be there. Do tqu remem-i ber your jest? All it has come to pass in! bitter earnest. I must be there.' Nor would she be pacified sho persisted.1 Her physician at length urged them to give 1 her way. It would, ho said, be less dangerous than denial. Near Tyburn seats were erected. Win-1 dows, balconies to l?e let out on hire. One . of these last the most private was secured ;! and on the fatal morning Flavia was convey- \ ed thither in a close carriage ; accompanied by her parent and her aged cousin. She died no tears, heaved not a single sigh, and suffered herself to be led to the window with itraftgfc immoveable eJmness. Soor. 'bouts and the swellingtnurmur of a dense crowd readied her ears. The procession was ar-: riving. The gallows was not in sight, but; the fatal curt would pass close. It came j nearer,?more like a triumph, that dismal; sight, than a human fellow-man hastening to eternity. She clenched her hands, rose up, straining J her fair white throat to catch a glance of the criminal. Yes, there ho was, dressed gaily, the ominous nosegay flaunting in his breast, dull despair in his heart, reaching from thence to his face. As the cart passed Fluviu's window, by chance he raised his hot bleared ; eyes th$y rested on his Vide, his pure virgin wife. The'wretched man utter-; . I - 11 1 r I * t < t cu h veil ui ngouy ami cnu nunscii (town oil tire boards of the veliiclo. Klic continued gazing, the smile frozen on her face, We* oyea glnry, motionless; fixed. Thej ncvef recovered their natural intelligence. Fixed and stony, thoy l>oro her, stricken lamb from the dismal scene. Her old father watched f-of dayajby her bedside, eagerlj waiting for e my of light a token off scene, t-r sound. None came. She had been strickci with catalepey. and it wis a blessing J when tpe enchained spirit wee rehfcted from YWr ** WB W? M ,Y 1 1855. ngBBHHMnBn its frail habitation, when the pure soul was! permitted to take its flight to a happier re-1 gions. Poor Mr. Hardcourt sank shortly nf- j tor into a state of childish imbecility and j soon father and daughter slept, in one grave. Sntmsting Jllisrrllnmj. if o 6 o D ij' s Child. ' What Not," a charming volume by1 Mrs. Mary A. Denison, is published by Lip pineott, Garinbo <fc Co., of this city. It is I made up of a great variety of articles, ent-: bracing a wide range of subjects, and is il 1 lustrated with fine ability. We mnko a brief extract, and give one of the illustrations ' iu this number of the Homo Magazine. 44Nob<*!s Chilli."?The daylight plays j in the, old alleys as well as it can for the | dust heaps and t/dl black houses. Here; and there through the tan of wind, sun, and I layers of dirt, gleams a white spot like the f leaf of a lily, telling that beauty is not wholly banished, even from hero. A child has j fallen over vender broken doorsten. It . sleeps, but not tin watched, for the homely | mother leaves her suds to steal now and ! then a quiet look, and wish ho may sleep j till her toil is over. From little tongues the ! roll of the blasphemer summons kindred spirits, and begrimed imps play loss-penny i and root the dirt deeper into their sallow ; cheek. Nought distuib* the old alley save poverty and crime. Intemperance swaggers and drunkenness staggers, throwing its lean hand against the rattling window panes, and crushing in the old hat crowns that i line'broken apertures. Here comes a group worth studying. A I boy with sunny locks, leading, hi.* sister from the parish school. Poverty may l>e j his heir-loom, hut virtue locks hands with 1 its meagre mate, and may carry him safely through a perilous life-journey. "Well, my boy, whose child are you ?" ' Please, Pin Peggy's little boy what takes] in ironing and washing. 1 and sister goes to school." Behind them, with a slower step, an eye like a hawk, his short, crisp curls clinging close to his brown forehead, come another little urchin. His eve has brightened?per1.?... !... ........ ? ..? _ ..i ? _ ) Ilftf/?* Ul WHO 9UU iiu UI U t \uiv;c illJ'l lie nervously ringers Lis old rags. Who can but give a kindly wish to the neglected one? So we pait a smile between tliein and ask him too?'And you, my little fellow, whose child are you V See! his head droops; the bold light fades from his eye; the joyous curve of his lip changes to grief. lie half looks up agum, and a fearntreinbles ou his dark lashes? ki Please, / aint nobody's child."1 How often that plaintive voice rings vl?, inv ear, like the low cry of the turtle dove! Visions of neglected graves it brings, heaped in the poor's corner; of children clinging to the skirts of strange garments, weeping at the harsh voice of forced charity?crouching from the uplifted hand of the cruel talkmaster. Nobody's child ! What if his shiinkiiig limbs stiffen Wtn the cold ? Who will tear the tattered gar menus from lier own perishing body to gather about her child i Nohody ? Who, when the sneer anil taunt sti ike colder than death against the grieving heart, pours the soft balm of a divine love on,the truH wound ? Nobody! Who, when the vile lay unholy hands upon him. aud drag hiin to the dark haunts of sin, will snatch hiin froin ruin at the peril of her own life ? Nobody C i&W The poor day-worker may hover like an angel about her treasures?even in the midst of misery and pollution?saving them from all; but he who is nobody's child? "O! hcven pity and guard him."?Arthurs Jfovw Magazine. Gkai'Iiic.?Mrs. Swisshelm, in the Pittsburg Gazette, flunks that the sterner sex had better devote their attention to their own ridieulous fashions in dress, rather than to find so much fault with the ladies. The gentlemen of Pittsburg must be rather a comical looking set. if Mrs. {>orlrait of them is correct. She snvs: ?m. "llerc for two winters they have been stalking around, looking for all the world like no many pumpkins with two cornstalks stuck in the hlossiu end, and a ?bit of stem left on the other?in coats jus! the length of a farmer's wainus,.a half a yard too wide, stuffed out with Wadding, and drawn up around their cars?sleeves like meal sacks, and pantaloons as tight ffldJe atrings.? To see them handle th^ir druYn sticks in this outiit was ir natural curiosity. This wi**?r tii? utilt liko supporters mysteriously disappear; pantaloons are invisible, and cofitt bid fair to rival ladies' skirts In the sublime art of street sweeping." Km ? , Thk Howard Association of New Orleans has voted 2,000 for th* r?!i?f of the Poor in New fork. ^iL '? i NO. ^9. There is nothing sheds ho tine n light upon the human mind as candor. It whs cafted w hiteness by the ancients, for its purjtv ; and it has always won the esteem due to' the most admirable of the virtues. However little sought fyr or practiced, nil do it tho homage of their praise, and nil feel the power and charm of its influence. The man ? whose opinions make the deepest mark tip- ? on his fellowronn : whose influence is tire most, lasting and clHcieut; whose friendship is instinctively sought, where all others have proved faithless,?is not tho man of brilliant parts, or flattering tongue, or splendid genius, or commanding'power. but he whose lucid candor and ingenuous truth, transit the heart's real feelings, pure and without refraction. There are oilier qualities which jirt.- snore snowy, ami omer traits Hint Dave a higher place in the world's code of honor; hut none wear better, or gather less tarnish by use, or 'aim a dqeper homage in that silent reverence \vh icJi the mind must pay to virtue. : ? # As it is the most beautiful, soil is the safest of moral qualities. None fall into so few mistakes'?none darken and deform themselves with so little falsehood and wrong ?none so free from the pain of doing wrong, | as those who walk amidst the pitfalls and miasmas, passions and errors of our tainted 1 life, clothed habitually with candor. The rare and come union of prudence and priit' ciple, of firmness and forbearance, of truth and zeal, of earnestness of feeling, a d'scriinj iuutioti of views, is to be found cnly ib minds pervaded ami enlarged by candor. To love, and to seek in ell things the truth?to chose and adhere to, before all the solicitations of passion, or the power * of prejudice}' or the three of public opinion, or the claims of in-' terest or power, whatever is right and true; to believe, at every juncture of experience of ^ thought that nothing is so gmul.or desirable or trustworthy, ?s tiulh ; to scent the truth ; amidst all the unpopular disguises which too t often disfigure it in this woild?this must be i safest and best, w hat ever we may think of it, I if God really reigns, and there he an eternal . distinction between truth and falsehood, right ] and wrong. In nothing have men so vital an | interest as in truth. Nothing should we so ! earnestly strive to get at. or hold fast when obtained. "Key the tiutli and sell it not." (tran Leu vet. Ax exchange tells this good story: A Yankee and Frenchman owned a pig in co j partnership. When killing time came they | wished to divide the carcass. The Yankee > was anxious to divide so that he should get ! both hind quarters, and persuaded the j Frenchmen that the proper way to divide was to cut across the hack. The Frenchman agreed to it. on condition that the Yankee would turn his hack and take choice of the I pieces at'ler it \Mp- cut in two. The Yankee 4 trunod his hack and the Frenchman asked . Yfch piece vill you have: 7.e piece wid 7.e , tail on him, or zo piece vat aint got no tail on , hint ! .a. , 'The piece with the tail !' shouted the Y ankee. l>en by gar v<>u take lijin, and I take ze Other,' said the Frcuehmitn. Upon JocF.mg round, the Yankee fbund that the Frd dnn^n had cnt olt'tke tail and ; stuck it in the pig'* mouth ! Decidedly Sensible* j Mrs. Swissiioi.m, of the Saturday ! Visitor, noticing the publication of * new love story, nays: * "All that stuff about woman's love has been said over and over ngnm fifty thousand times, to the great detri- ^ mcnt of the best interests of humanity. There is no hind of necessity for using the press to persuade silly girls that it % I is romantic and womanly to love a j scoundrel?to leave her affections unj guarded by ryason or experience, and i driftjielplessly into sin, shame am I despair as an evidence of her unsuspecting j womanhood. It is not true that Roman's affections tare stronger or more durable than i man's. \Vethink the very opposite is the ease arft that two-thirds of all the , women "who pine or die of love, do so for want of something letter to doi? Everything calculated to make lovcsickness a booming feminine accomplishment $ a great injury: but to strew the path of the suicide with the | flowers of poesy and romancft is in a ' very high degree reprehensible. ? * 'fhe best motto to jruard a YOtnur girl thro' the mazes of love is^ "Do i right and trust in God." A girl who<> lias done nothing wrong has little causo to mourn over the fickleness of a pretended torer. Hotter that ho shonhl change his mind before marriage than after. ? ? -? -, A vac am Tnind invites dangerous inmates as a deserted mairuhn tempts wandering outcasts to take up their abode in its desolate apartments. * #