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* ' ' ' ' ' ' uu>? mi-It Ilium mir<winiw - , . . ? i - ; - ? ' /* ', ' ^ ' ' ' O '. ' ' VOL i. l I III il.ll in WW?? <?ljc ?mit!]rni Cutrrprbr, A. UKFLKX OF V< >ITL vi; KYKNTS. - f r "i,. v/a TAiiajM ??* EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. "V-i r*7Jt?3*?Li?*?B. 51 .50, payable in advance ; $2 if delnycd. OfATBd ?>f FIVE and upwards 51, the idoncy in everv instance to accompany tho order. AdVERTISE.MEXTV; inserted conspionously at. the rates of 15 cents per square of 3 linos, and 23 cent* for each subsequent insertion. Contractu for yearly advertising made reasonable. fw. r. sum a mtorirKits. F1UKTKM.1 ' " J'J L 11?! _J '"* (.Original ^artrtj. For tho Southern Enterprise. S iQlrcqft). TO MY MOTHER j. ^ I mad a drcaiu last night, mother, ^ And I'm thinking of it etill; far tdrcinpt we dwelt- onec more, mother, j In the cot beside the hill. I wrts l?oy again, mother, Tit at boy you thought so fair Wh#n you kissed nty rosy cheek, mothor, ^ Or curled my golden hair. And 1 sported once again, toother, Upon the fair trrcon lawn, Where you know I loved to piny, mother, Af eve un<l early dawn. < And I rwtcJ in thine nrnw, mother, Where ?o oft I loved to be. And you entiled upon me then, mother, As I sot upon thy kneo. , . Then I.bowed onee more with thoe, mother' ] - ' And mid my evening prayer, Where I ofteti bowed before, mother? Beside thine old arm ehuir. 'then you kissed me fond good-night, mother, t >, -my heart was full of joy! A* von threw vour aVmsoiiee more, mother, Around your darling boy. Then 1 took my ltftlelunip, mother, And I sought, my tittle rooto. Where so oft wo used to sit, mother, in our pleasant cottage home. But when at dawn I woke, mother, >< ..11 .. -i ? I ?uj an ? iurv:,7i i Jllit it wn? n pleasant d '"(tflffi, mother. It was a pleasant drcoti*. UNTON-FIKLD. . March 2?1, 1853. SI Itonj of tljr Sttiiimw. Ifrc I o3i Si3fcI* of 10 (joIni p g; oh, . THE CAPTIVITY OP FRANCES SLOOTJM. ?,'> ' i Amokh the inhabitants of the beautiful j valley of Wyoming, at the-period of its in- j fusion by that blood-thirsty band of (dries j %t and savages who, with a barbarity seldom ; - vijualled, laid waste and destroyed every ves- j L *igo of that lovely settlement, murdering tho 1 inhabitants and driving off their cattle, was! a Quaker by the name of Jonathan Sldcunr, j whose peaceful disposition arid many acts of kiiHlnesH to the Indians, saved his dwelling from the torch, and his famillv from annoy- j Mica, whilo his neighbors were bufchftred.J their houses burnt, and their children taken captive. This impunity, however, was of short duration. Mr. Slociun had a. son, Giles who was in the battles, and it is aupposed that the Indians, becoming aware of the fact, determined on a bloody revenge. In the family of Mr. S. was the wife of a neigldror, W'ho had becu taken captive by tho Indians, and her two sons, ojn fifteen, the other twelve ? years of age. Oof morning in November,, ? wane four months after the bloody massacre, which nindc tlio valley a desolation, a party cf rod skin warriors was seen prowling around , the vicinity of Wilkesbnrfc roru The tw<? ; W>T? lmd gone to the grindstone to sharpen ,n knife, and tho women were engaged in . in their domestic duties, when Mr*. Slocuin , was startled by a shot, and a shriek frtfrn one' 5>f the boys. Wfepping to the door, she bohold a swarthy Warrior, in the act ofacaUnag the oldest boy with the knife ho lmd feenj grinding. llorror stricken at the right, she ; c** HtnggereJ back, and was followed by the In- > V ftMhv witlythc *''d warm and reeking ?c;dp in hi* hand*. /poking about bitn for plpi*?ler,hodi*oovered nothing to temi.thiscupirb I1?'* Wurt'? tiie rink of currying orf, but *. lit tie ton of Mr$. tflooum, who blood in his >+ way nn'bo turned V> tbVi door. Seizing him Siiis nnii^ lie ua- abont to deput, when n*; R, with tflha mother's fading cuugirt tit by the itria and besought him, in toiui . . ??f earnest entreaty, not to (lepricio her other , V^T- "Woe r **id*lu?, "Ike can do thee no . /good, hnia lnine." I dropping the boy, the. In; to >'rf up a lit. fte daughter'of flvo who had crouob/ iM jft fW Wjiixl a lugh-i>:w:)t'od chfi^ and w$* making hi# way oOt when the mother btofpcd hitn, rgid plcad foj Urn <ddld. In t!?? in..-I pitlntic. tones, ..he 5?p!o;c.l ? Jjfr [iT.; -r ^7^" ^ ;'A f;' ]. '.:" 7.V . f .' uj f iHMlu-.'&j.mmi tmmmi mn.ujfi u| *rl 'y " A .* -*^r- . *' ' ** . J, rt-l'f*-** - -> -V v3* v - * fjM gkkijj " " >"- -' .. 111 - 1 1 1 J . ' biit) to leave her bright-eyed darling, the. Jight of hor home.,ana the joy of hor household. A? well might she have wasted her words upon tlie stern recks or the idle wind; tho rugged nature of the savage was not to moved by tho earnest appeals of the palefaced squaw. Grasping with one hand tho mantle which enwrapped hint, and with tho dress of her child, tho clung to both with a tenacity which had well nigh accomplished her purpose. Finding himself impeded in his exit,- and fearful of approaching assistance, the aavage drew his tomahawk and raised it to finish at a blow her importunity atid her life. Heading in his eyes his stern determination, and wrought tt> a pitch of of agent* beyond which her system refused to go, she yielded her grasp, and sank in a swoon at his feet. The Indian, relieved of her annoyance,. now took his departure vfltli lifflr* KmnaaQ in Km inane an/1 no 1m passed through the yard, seized upon the other son of Mrs. Kingsley, whom he also bore oil" a prisoner. All this was but the scene of a few moments, yet how much of terror and heart-breaking agony was embraced within that short period of time, llow many years of terrible suspense and deep despair had their birth in those few brief iuuffieuU. Mrs. Kiog>h y who had stoc?J a terrified beholder of tire scene, when she saw lier second and only living child torn from her and carried intocantivitv, sank under the affliction and gave lierseif up to a-stolid apathy, little short of despair. One of Mrs. Slocutn's children had, with a sagacity, beyond her years, at the first appearance of the savages snatched up the youngest child nnd lied to the fort, where she gave tho alarm, and a party started at once for the house, but the Indiana were already beyond the reach nfauccesaful pursuit. Ju a short time after the above melancholy bereavement, Mrs. Slocuni was called upon to part with her husband and father, who i were both shot and scalped by a party of Inj dians, while foddering cattle near the house. ! Thus, in the short space of si\ weeks, was I that happy household broken up and destroyed, and its surviving members wrapped in mise.ry, as with a mantle. Iler religion sustained Mrs. Slocuni in her day of trial, and she threw herself and her nine remaining children upon the mercy of her Hcayenj ly Father, and bowed 'her head, without a ! murmur, to His decrees. For the dead she ! did not mourn ; they were nl rest, and no sorrow or useless renininrrs could re>f<?ro i thorn to herngain. l>ut Iter lost daughter, i her darling Franco*, tvas over present in her j thoughts. Like Kachacl weeping for l$r j children, she refused to bo eoitiforfed , riiid entertained n lively hope that she would one day l>e restored to her amis again. Her spirits seemed buoved tip with this hope, and j she lived in the anticipation of again seeing ! her and pressing her to her bosom. Days, mouths and years rolled on, and the 1 .nip of hope still burned : s brightly as ever. Xo tidings had ever reached her of her child, and all gave her up but her poor Heartstricken mother. When peace was declared, and many captives returned to their homes and families, she sent two of her sons to Canada in search of their lost si-ter. They spnght her wherever there was the slightest 'chance of her presence. They offered rewards for her recovery, but all vain ; and they returned to their Mother with the eheerlcss tiding, convinced of her death. Not ho with her. She felt s^ti>fied that Iter Fi.ar.cvs still lived, And would uot listen to any other supposition. At length hor long cherished hope teemed about to bo realised?a wohinn wti? found among the Indians, who had been carlied away when a child from tbo Susijuehanna, and the was sent for by Mis. Sloemn, who cherished her, and endeavored to feel that her child was restored. Hut die Invisible link which.binds n mother to her offspring was wanting, ayd the bereaved mother was bereaved still. The foundling, too, f;' that she was not the long lost find looked for daughter, and ultimately returned to her Indian friends. Years rolled on. Time had whitened the locks of the confiding mother with age; her sous had passed the meridian of life, and their children had grown to manhood, and vet she still entertained the belief that her harncc* lived. At length she was called n way to join hov husband i\i another world, and slio went-clown into the, grave inou?ning" that she? wifc not permitted this side the grave to embrace hep darling. Some years after death, when law brothers were g.cv-haircd men. and when all had ceased to entertain a thought of tho loft sister, their feelings weio aiqU*cd hy an ,annou nee incut which placed beyond question the fact that aim lived, and mie-mW-. ed her former home and f. rii<U. An .Indiau agent in Ohio wrote to the editor ntnna./if tlio nnuumtios in 1'Cflllivivuliia. infbrmtiijr ltiio tlint ho had soon and tuked with 4 whrto^wotuan ninohtf tho F'wli.in-, who had i<?>-! hiin that her nam? w.m Slurrom, that her father was ft t>'iak>" and v,<.iy a broad hr Inured JuiU That Uc lived At w j>lae?oii Iho Sin(jaelijrnn?< fiver, which wan near ft town where thereVnsndbrt, an.l that' ah? was tftUon from thence while a ohildf by the Indian.*. TUl* letter th? editor- wh<? deemed tho matter a h<>a.\ -throw ainoii# hi? wasl?T>aper^ wheio iUjUd ^ iwyear <ir more* until his. wife, on? ntfm forcing (hqus or<& cawo aef** if 1 fo*. vm;?nthatlwi?%> * ' T'W\ **-F /f-V ^ * n I tjL. >? . * ' v^'V- -V*' V . ' ? ? "T. s T : >;.* ,W>. , ^ 4,v?- v 'J' i * . [ V< * a ,-% ^ --?i . " ^-46'^ ^ ' *q^f^m&qm?3mmrcmmmccanBrimmm?imm.u i n i jmrntmee. ' ;v> ,s . ' ?4. '/ r%. c ji-rvii W|p| 8. (\: FRIM feeling wero aroused, and she sent it to the Intelligencer, in which it was published. It happened that, on account of a temperance address it contained, an extra number was j printed, one of which found its way to Wyoming, and the two brothers-and a sister immej diatolv started for the West to tind the long ' lost Prances. They found her, but oh, how j changed ! Sho was now hu aged woman, with grand-children about her, nnd fast aj>-1 ' preaching the gravo. Tho interview which ' took place between the long separated broth ers and sister was affecting in the extreme. Sho informed them through an interpre; ter, (she had lost her native.language) that nuer uer capture slie was treated in the most J | tender manner by the Indians, who took her i to their towns, when she soon beeamo at- i tachcd to their roving, romantic life, and came to dread being discovered by her friends. j When she grew up,*and her foster parents j died, she married a young chief of the L>ela- j wares, (the tribe to which her captors bo- i longed) and after his death she joined the ! , Miami* with her people, and married affaiu. ' ; She had been a widow now for many years,! ! children and grand-children were growing I tip around her an 1 her life was passing pleasantly away. She was comparatively wealthy, having a large stock and all the rude comforts of nn Indian life in abundance, besides one thou and dollars in specie that she had ; saved from the annuity which jis an Indian, ! she had ?lrn\vn f.oui Ch;vorment. After ! spending several days with her, her friends bade lier a final farewell. She died a few i years Miieo, and was buried with eonsidera; Me pomp, for sho was regarded as a (ptecn i among her people. C i) a iv i i y. Tiik lord loveth a cheerful giver. The wid! ow's mito is as acceptable in 11 in sight as j : great donations are from the rich. It is not I (he bestowment of goods to feed the poor 1 alono which is required of those who are ! living in affluence or indigence?but it i* neameti sympathy for the sick and needy, 'good deeds impelled by angelic sentiments that constitutes gospel charity. To weep 1 with those who weep, and rejoico with those ! who have been made better and happier by ! our sympathy and solace. The good Sntnaitnn is a pieturo of the past, which stands out in bold relief upon the gospel's g<>ldeu pages J as a pre-eminent lesson for our imitation ; one which should bo the motive power for thought with every member of the world's '< ' fraternity. Witliin that mngnauimous bo. soin beats a heart that could not pass by on i the other sidd aud turn a deaf ear to the cry i i of distress on account of sectarian bigotry? i I but he was ready to administer to his neces-! si ties with his money and his sympathy ;' , his aluvolant aspirations and humble saneti- | ty were blended in tlic immortal act of char ity, which is an everlasting memorial of a ' great and a good man, a praiseworthy , Christian. j () charity J thou seraphic visitant from the i sanctuary of the great I Am, how drearv f j would be life's career without the potent ; ministrations aud lucid rays crowning the | soul; how unreconciled should we bo lit he ! jenvetnyilts to whisper to tlie troubled wa'cvs of tlie spirit, ' ponce, 1>C still." i Kvery benevolent deed which is perform- 1 ' cd with the right spirit by tho Order of Odd ! 1 Fellowship, i<* rtt?e additional link in the ! ( chain of fiiuiidship which is dcatihod to en-! j circle tho world in one hand ofbrother hood, j , All that is done by individual* comes bitok to the palace of the mind as a recompense 1 which is felt to be better than .silver or gold. ' Sisters.it is our m-ovince to assist. in turn. : ir.g the current of thought from v?-1 1 vo:i?tf to IiC|)ov<>ioiico \ from scoff*, to com| migration of the fallen of tho race?t ? wi]?e! , tho tear of sorrow from the ragged aiul for- j ; sukeu, and to food and clothe them. lie who hold* myriad* of words in vacancy j by his inscrutable power an.I wisdom ; feeds i the ravens; and the little child'* heart tliat j throb* tinder tattered garment*, is as pre now in his sight hs those who are drosel , ; in Embroidered vestments. We are commanded to love one^piuther ; to overcome i evil with <o?>d. Thin-IxMvcnly principle is t llint which rhoitM govern all associations for ; rofirro?it is this principle which trarmnat- : 1 cd tlio threatening Saul of Tarmitt to the ' ! meek and eheyicpt preacher of peace and j giKxl will to men; and making charily the | ' all conquering element for its dissemination. I Its tendency is to check the waning elements i that would renderxstH, and that is not satisDodl with the new covenant precepts, hut must have life for life. - Charity hopcth no mora than if Wlieveth, , hut it-hopoth aJi things, and hclieveth all thing*. It is tiot limit oil to a favorite few,', A Or to a?v partidnliir wet of Christians-?it. knot* (*iicIo that ift eircmn>rri!>o?l, and van ' nnver expand beyond such and suvli deitOna|in:Ui<?t?; but gox\vl charity is moi l.l-wi.l.-, j and ^hiring as the t!n?of C'Hfcjijpotcm-c. ' Jf'.y jlJiHt heavenly jittlvtm that in-pi-oil ' the oartv (i'lirktian, t<> f.>11 >\v i.jj "tho to.,tI *tep? of thrt^ tiroatt^yrtacbcr :a*sisft eveuv j n?enil>er of tho Order of < Kid fellowship m ! evefj: go?d word and deed, their of- [ I forts nvecj? widow,*f heflii siwxv >qjvc<S Mini | r every iU?orpiyU| LptotiaHjptmie intwfo,i uoiii> o.,intoi?:.bli,.;?t? happy wltldp th; 1 I > ^ V / # \ X*"2",:r* itv' Y* *AP v-:-W' -. .. J!!l...Ji'. - 1 I-V-.... ^ -?. : r*7- . ^..-3^ 1^ ?$?-T "-i lY MORNING, 31 ARC! ..fl r< q,'^\ t - 3utcrrriting llliorrllmuj. jLilt.U jLnljj. A AYOKY V"R' TJK TOQMl. 1 hadn't visited nt the. Tompkins' long, before I noticed that little .-'Lilly," as they called her, vviU uiie by livrsolf; that is, she was not a favorite with the rest of the family. At first, I didn't understand how it was, and felt very much like saying 1 didn't like it ; for Luly seemed to he' a nice little girl, and playful! as a little kitty. She was always laughing, singing and dancing?now in at one door, and now out at the other, like a will o'-tho-wisp or jack-o'-lantern. Why on earth they didn't like Luly, I couldn't see.? Being an old maid, of course 1 could'ut rest easy till 1 found out tlie reason of this; and I soon did it, as you'll see, if you read on to tho end of the story. One day Luly cauio tome saying, "Tell me a story, there's a good Kizzv, I ain tired of running round." Well, i knit to my scem-tieodio, and then I took her on my lap and began : Once there >va? a little girl whose name was Yioletta. She never k'-pt ' t:'! Svo minutes since she was born, and I suppose the shoemakers were very glad of it. She was ! as much like a little squirrel as n little girl j could be?nibbling and semnpering, scain! poring and nibbling, from sunrise to sunset. When Yioletta camo into the rootn, cve! rybody looki d uneasy. If her papa was j writing, he'd lay one hand over his papers, i and push his in lest and as far us possible into ; the middle of the table; her mamma would catch up her work-basket and put it in her lap; her little brothers and sisters would all scramble up their playthings and run ; even the little baby would crawl on its hands and knees as fast as it could, and catch hold of its mother's gown. You might he sure if vou laid a thing out j of your hum), von never would find it in the sumo. spot where you left it, if Yiolottn was ! in the room. She would run off with your ! scissors, your bodkin, your kneedlo-book, j nivj your spool of cotton; she would stuti your handkerchief in her pocket by mistake; she'd break the strings of your bag, trying to open it; she'd try your spectacles on to the kitten, and tie your ucw tippet on to the 1 dog Ponto's neck. Then she would run into the kitchen and dip her fingers into tho preserves, and upset the egg-basket, and open tin* oven door and let the heat all out when tho pies'were linking, and leave the cover oft* the sugar bucket, and dip into the milk to feed her kitty, and disturb the cream, and nibble round a loaf of fresh cake, just like a little itiou e. Welt, of course everybody didikod her, and hated to see her come wlierc they were. She never got invited anywhere, because nothing was safe from her little Paul Pry finger*; mid when ootminnv carao she. was w - k J generally sent out of the room. It was a great pity, because .slut wa* really u pretty little girl, uiul a very bright ?>ne, too. "< >h, Miss Kiz/.y,'' said Lilly, "i never will Jo so any more, 1 " Why, l.uly, I didn't say you did .so ; I \va> talking about Violetta. 4*Oh, but it's just liko me.n ?aid rhc honest lit Me girl: '"I hare <! ie nil there things, Miss lvizr.v?every <?uo of them ; but 1 didn't think it w ould make everybody hate me. 1 want t > be loved, Miss Kizzy; but you don't kt. how hard it is for a little girl to keep slid."' Yes I do, I.ulv; and you needn't "k?vj> still.'' as you eall it, but you mu-ui't meddle with things.that don't belong to you. I sec how it i?; you ate a very ' active little girl, and waut .something to Jo all the time. I'll ask your mother to let you go-to school? Lilly frowned?to tno, lady. "Oh, that's so nice," Said Luly. faI)on'l get a bench?will you? Don't make me sit up straight. Don't make me fold up my hands and keep uiv toes still, will you,' Miss Kizxy ?" Well, Lilly came to my school, find stood up or sit down, just as she liked. She was the only scholar i had, so I was not particular about that; but after she had learned to reud, whe would keep still for hours tog? tijcr without minding it, if you'd only give her n book. l'oor Luly ; ah^tWJh't mean to be naughty ; she only wanted something to do. S!ie is one of the boat little girls now that cvei cariiod a satchel.?-J>\inny Fern. . ijK Ar.WAYs Dlhv.?The lit ore a man aeoojiiplrshefc, the mom ho inny. An active tool never grows rusty. You alWsiy find those men, who are most forward to d??guod, or to impun-e tlie tint oft and maimers, always l#U9y. Who starts our railroads, our st?nmboat?s our luachincr shops, and our in an u factors I Men of industry- jpb.l enterprise, hmg as they live, they work?doing sondcthing to Is-uetit thorn selves and others. It i., just *<> with a man who is Urn ovolent ?the more ho gives, the more he fooW lik<* giving. We go for activity ? in body, in mind, up even tuitijg. Let the gold gioiv not dim, rthririo tnon^iis i. -< ?tno i:i!c. K. j all lliiMtfsin motion. It i* butter thrtl Khowlfl tfint 0**$1itl<r a SwU}>* ?; i11 tli.'tn ?? ;i nuiv. ** r*r * * * ' r ,vj- 4 ^ ^ 'v' . . ..'ji JAii - J.- X?... !&s m? jy TU 1. Jw ? ? > -? IP. IS -L- K-f TP 'jSSHbW -V/ . .,-' " . It ' -* w rr.^ti/v-u. ft |MfAMy' r wWHl r** ^- 2* VX * i->?? :. 11 1855. ?? II II I I ? e c 0 q Co 10 ^ii0 Ktafe The above is one of a class of pujruhir "eny- i ings" ffjiicli bare eomo to be regarded as j truisms, but inanv of which are founded en- j ! tirelv in error. It won Id be nearer right to J say, starve a fever. We believe there arc j comparatively few of the common ailingsl ! which may not be entirely overcome by ul-' j lenlion to diet. Take a cold for example.? ! 1 Uv improper exposure to inequalities of \ ' temperature the system becomes disarranged, i and the different functions of the body arc j performed imperfectly. The circulation of, ! the blood, especially, is disturbed; usual so; crctions do not go on; headache and gencr-! ! ul dullness throughout the system are ex-j porienced, and unless a reaction hikes place, I I local inflammation of the.throat, lungs, Arc., i J and a partial or general fh>cr is the result. | Now, to ''feed" the stomach, and thus add I more material to the already overloaded blood is the worst thing that can be done.? On the contrary, let. the diet and drinks be greatly or entirely diminished, and give the blood an opportunity to throw otV the super i abundant matters. Avoid wet or cold feet, ! and sudden changes of temperature, and one | or two nights' sleep with an empty stomach, I under a double supply of bedding, will geui erally cure au ordinary cold. The same j means, persevered in will "break up" almost any cold, however severe. There is nothing i bettor for a cold tl^an thoroughly soaking the feet in hot water just before going into i an extra warm bed. A word or two more in regard to "catching cold." It is generally thought that a I cold is taken by changing from a warm to a ! cold atmosphere. Tins is hardly so. A cold lis morelhc rc^lt of inequality of temperature in mBvreiit parts of tjie body. A person I may go from a waitn bed and plunge ! naked into n snowbank, and not take cold, ! and yet become ouite sick from merely hold...... ....... ..?.. i ?i.~ ..i ?i.i "'to .n 111 HI illiu lliv t'lUUI III CU1U ! water. The body may be warmly clothed, and yet a ooM be taken by having the feet ; wet, or a slight current of air blowing upon jnn arm, or upon the head or neck. So a per| sou may take cold by the side of a blazing ,; tire, because the draft toward the chimney I coals that part of the body awav from the i fire. One part of the body being clothed j warmer than another part, will disturb the I circulation of the blood, and induce somI form of disease classed under the general I name of a "cold.'' One of the mod common sources ofa cold j ' is getting a part >f tin* clothing wet, audi ; thus cooling that pat t of the body below the j 'general temperature of tho system. On the! contrary, a person may be entirely drenched I with rain, and by drying the clothes uniform- I ly, or changing them entirely, no difficulty j will be. expetieticcd. bet it he kept in mind that tho greatest danger of "catching cold" . is from an in?'/utility of warmth in cijf'creut \ ! ixtrti <f ihc hv.hj.?American Agriculturist. Tub OllX.AMISKT of a Week ax!) ql'ikt ; 8i?jrit.??It is a natural desire to he pleasing to 1 others, says tho Albany Excelsior, and there ; fore many are the efforts tuade to decorate thi human form in such a manner as to gain the ! admiration, and how many forget "thcoruue : U)cnt ofa met k and tpiiet spirit." However attractive mav he the external ! appearance of an individual, without this | precious jewel the attire is imperfect. Meek- i ; ness is a^virtiie which is ever admired by the I ; good,.adds a rich lustre to the character of : all. Wh<> Joes n ?t love a gentleness of spirit, especially when combined wish youth ami beauty ' < hie who quietly perforins the will; of HetCeu, and seeks not the applause of (he ' world, unostentatiously proves a blessing i to all with whom he assooia testis an object w orthy of our highest coimnendatiou. 1 *ut 1 the most conclusive reason for desiring this, ornament is that in the sight of Mod it is of I great pi ice. It gains the approbation of the Ivittg of j I kings,and it is one which w ill throw its (channs ground the scenes of fctcrnitv. > 1 When if we could gain the favor of our lfeav; en!y Father, and the good on earth, wo must j I have this gem sparkling bright in the midst of other excellencies. i We love the quiet oni< of earth, Who hiovh in virtue's path. No n rider'being earth can boast, No purer ones it hath : 'linoi they who seek to do no ill. Hut are uouformcd to .fesn? will.?lit.u.v - Tilfv. EoyitmS' I >??i ki;a.? Huvard Tay-. , lor tliiin destffiliefc thin interesting article : j ' "The appoarafion is very flinch like broom corft, Hut instead 6f a long, looso panicle of, l-rul seeds,>? topped- bv a compact cone of ; grains, smaller tlian that of maize, but rcsem: Ming ihciu ill form and taste. The stalks are from ten to fifteen froj high, ami the i heads frequently contain ;w much snbatanoe ? as two oars of maize. It is planted iu close ' rows, and when ripe is cut by the hand with i ! a short sic,klc. after whu*h tho liouds are tu-1 ken oil' and threshed se]Kimto!y. The grain ' fa fed to h<vi?s, dohkeVn and fowls, mid itt ! , upper Kgvpt is uSfd ruinost uuivorsfdly ^for i bread. It rs, of course., very imperfectly | ground, ami unboiled, and the l?iouJ is I coarse and dark, though nourishing. In the middle and Soutlient fifates of VtnerKa, (hi frrwtld lhrir o wtjl, amf might b'' MltiO ' .iu-'c.| vrith fnlv intai^u . , , , . c v *' <** X V w ** MlJjlJ.^-fW- 11'.. I 1. -jP". \>5 ^^~?&'?iZj,r* ?''{': : ;* ??" i?.0'fa$frt}s' Jk *- <Jw* <&? L*&?*:'" * '*"' Vi >~*-\ .*. '. .** v \^. _t ,^f -i*-c ?1 ^ ' - V - ' ' ' ?> 35^ ?tel% ' ^ NO. 43.: 1 gy ,; fhtiiiiatj limiting. ' '' ,' tfahic of yoiiif)g ?ffet) to 1t)e ^ Thk strength of the yonng men is opo of < the richest treasures of power the church possesses. Her old men may .be rich in chri?thin experience ; rich in large material resources, and rich iu the priceless wealth of a * truly benevolent lieart; but it is her young men and her sons that are reaching up to the prime of manhood, who mainly embody the enterprise and the spirit that is to em uoav uic uospet ot Christ through nil the channels. along which flows the njighty .. % stream of humanity, at homo .and abroad.? That very euteipiise, that youthful ardor that courage and ^hntpowOr of ripe manhood, . declare tho nature of their mission, as truly as if Jesus was heard saying to their possesj sors : "Hun, speak to this young man; run to ; proclaim tho tidings of my grace far and i wide; run to instruct the ignorant, to rej form the vicious, to recall the wanderiug, to ' lift up the desponding, and guide the anx; ions sinner to the cross." ! The young man who imagines that he is ' redeemed by the blood of Jesus, and yet feels ami cherishes no scuse of obligation to use i his power so as to advance the cause of roli1 gion, is but a withered branch of tliia heavJ cnly vine, on which no clustering foi!ag? gathers, and no fruits of heavenly benefij cence ripen for glory. If angels run to rain* i ister to men, how ought the reedemed to run on missions of mercy to their fellowmen ! For what are christian young men l strong, if not to serve as missionaries of the j cross, and ministers of llitn, who for their I sakes endured the agonies of Calvalry ! ; That strength, that animation, that courage, i that buoyant energy will soon decline..*'It : is a talent given but for a season and if you ' use it not for Christ within that season, the ; passage of time will bear it from you forevI er. Then, as you stand on the other 6ide of life's meridian, the consciousness of negleci ted opportunities and wasted powers will op1 press your heart. Then when at length you | come to judgment, and you are challenged 1 to account for all the strength of your early ! and ripened manhood, you will carry in your heart, not the blessed fruits of the seed you have sowed and reaped not the memories of sinners saved and ignorance enlightened? not tho deeds of heavenly love. Which have ministered benedictions wide as heaven to the souls of the miserable?but the ashes of burnt out passions, the withered stalk of a fruitless branch, the memory of neglected opportunities and souls lost forever.?Dr. Fi(h' cr. & f a i? lv to d fl ? h ? n v-* i v v 11 i if i; v i[ v H[ A few years aero, a j>oor emigrant fell from a steamboat on the Ohio river, and was drowned, leaving his wife and one or two small children who were on board in destitute and distressing circumstances. On coming into port, the case was spoken of I among a number of "river men" on the wharf, when one of them with characteristic bluntness observed, "Come boys, let's take a little stock in heaven," at the same time taking from his [rocket a couple of dollars as his part of a contribution for the benefit of the ]>oor widow, llis example was followed by others, and a handsome present was the result of this rough, impromptu exhortntion. My we not hope that, like tlie alms <5f Cornelius, this act came up as "a memorial before Cod 7" It is a glorias truth, whether our generous friend of the steamboat understood st properly or not, that we are orivil oged to take stock in beaten. "Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven," said Christ. The iM)or widow \\ ho threw in two mites, became u large,stockholder, and certificate is recorded hath theio and hero. Come, let us take u little stock in heaven.?Chris. Mirror. inflections. How suggestive of human life arc the seasons of the \eu! Spring with its warm and genial sun, bursting buds and opening flow ers, its Mod?*owirig and song of bird*, suggests 'he infant whose intellect is iust ex panding in the son light of knowledge, whose pure and guileless nature, unsuspicious of coming ills, sees hut the brightness of tho present, and he rejoices with the songbird of the woods?and from his flight first learns ambition. The summer comes with its sunshine and rain to mature the foiUga of the trees for the protection of Toutig fruit from the fervid heat? offering a mast gratsful shade for weary man, who now in his meridian is subject to strong?matures *tho ambi? lions plans of youth?and form new projects which may never be perfected. In his de- w e'.ine? the autumn of his existence, the fruits of his labors are gathered home to enjoyed here but a short space, and- he like the veneutble world lies down in the icy cmbranco of the winter of deathXushviih tr'uzcttv. PiiKsKKYk !! JJy ??ojt romcniber that * your charsK U'.r ought to shine brighter than ycrir hoi 's." 4*{Stiji|^sc 1 hl.ack&t. it ibvn falluT.*1