The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, July 27, 1855, Image 1
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gVOL. 2.
Cjie^antliertt (gntrrprise,
A REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS.
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^ 6 I) q P g c g.
^ Whom first we love, you know, we seldom wed.
Time rules us olL And life, indeed, is not
g&CThe thing wc planned it out whon hope was dead.
S tE&> And then, we women can not cliooso our lot.
v'^Thuch mutt bo borno which is hard to bear:
Much given away which it were awcet to keep.
God help us all! who need, indeed. Ilia carc.
And yet> I know, the shepherd loves his sheep.
My little boy begins to babble now
Upon my knee his earliest infant prayer.
He has his father's eager eyes, I know,
And, the) -ay, too, his mother's sunny hair.
But when he sleeps and smiles upon my knee,
And I enh'feel his light breath come and go,
I think of one (Heaven help and pity me!)
Who loved me, and whom I loved, long ago.
Who might have been ah, what I dare not
think,
^ Wc are all changed. God judges for us best
God help us do our duty, and not shrink,
And trust in Heaven humbly for the rest
But blame urnot, if some appear
Too cold at times; and some too gay and light
Some griefs gnaw daep. Some woes are hard to
bear.
Who knows the post ? And who can judge us
right!
Ah, were we judged by what we might liavo
been,
And not by what wc are, too apt to fall!
My little child?he sleeps and smiles between
These thoughts and tne. In Heaven wo shall
know all!
? i
51. I^rpffir &tnnr
).
[Written for Ballots tectorial.]
I be of the ouot^idby
j. b. cook.
A Lorrr mountain rose before us, and after
the toil of the day's travel seemed rather
unwelcome, yet being desirous of seeing nature
in our own New England, in her wildest
forms, we were not disposed to turn back
to the village, about five miles distant We
commenced our ascent with as touch cour
age as possible, hoping, before the deep darkness
of night was upon us, we might D6 able
to construct some rude shelter for the night,
J among the rocks and crags on the mountain;
the ruder, the more to our minds. Being
each of us provided with a travelling
sack, we had made some provision for the
wants of nature, and were anticipating a fine
relish for our evening meal, when an inci
dent which put far from our minds
all thcpPSs*>f self or weariness. A shriek,
and tlB BBf female in distress * did vmi
not biijr ft* Charles t Who can it be, and
at thin'ajar, in such an unfreouented spot ?
Hark! milt is again. We both turned
our eyes in the direction of the sound, and
through the dark mist beheld, on a lofty overhanging
crag, the form of a female.
William Motly?for that was my friend's
name?was one of those impulsive beings
who never wait'for a second thought, and,
with one bound, was off and away, from sleep
V9 svoep, to wNove, if ptpsible, the distress
of one who, to us, seemed iti fiUC^ danger,
\ little dreaming that our presence was the
oause of stieh fright, as we afterwards learnmJt
With great difficulty we succeeded in
re&diing tpl&srock, often wondering liow it
wft* posnibloAie could ever have gained, unassisted,
so olmgerous a point Judge, then,
of-our surprise when, on reaching toe summit,
she wm no where to be found. We
groped around, and wero on the point of
giving up in despair, when I was nearly
thrown to the ground by cuming suddenJ?
upon the apparently lifeless form of her
whom we sought, as she lay prostrate where
n her fright, when attempt*
WojTaised her from the ground, and end^t^2^^^^to^e^r^M^ciousne??,
but
to rw*> some
*9* now wholly derCtSSflEd sleet was
Wingjwhlch,to o*?fS?^Kuncomforta|
ble. TJjbfiiat were wfe^lJw||h the fra
Ate *"
I MW?W?
p GKEl
gilo being who was thus providentially
thrown upon our proteotionf We knew
not where to go. We thought of the aching
hearts that probably at tliat moment
were mourning hcr<#bsence, orscearchingfor
her. We nduressea ourselves in kinlv tones
to her, but she heeded us not; she was con- ;
versing with one who was invisble to us, but
who alone occupied her thoughts.
At last she commenced losing her favorite
air :
"O, Willie, tarry not so long;
My heart is aching now 1"
A voice 4p sweet, so plaintive, I had never
listened to before, and when I would
have spoken to niv companion, he seemed
wholly unconcious of me, and only exclaim- i
ed : Gracious 1 what do I hear 1 Am I
mad ! What spell has come over me !' i
Again that voice ;
"How can I sing my evening song,
When thou art far away !"
What was there in that song that so affected
my friend! Could it be bo had over
heard it before, and that visions of past
jovs were thus brought to his mind ?
When the sweet sounds had died away,
I felt that it was our duty, if possible, to find
some shelter from the Chilly dampness of
the night, though I knew not whither to go. '
A darkness that could almost be felt was '
upon us; hut to remain where we were
was not to be thought of. We made an
effort to lead our friend down the steep rocks;
but she only said : 4 My Willie's not here
now, and I must go alone.' And wo silent- (
ly followed, only knowing where sho was
by the gentle rustling of the bushes, as she j
passed along. At last the sound was no
I T ? ? - '
lunger ucuru. v> e epoice, out spoke in vain;
we called, no answer came. Again wo were
bewildered ; we listened, not a breath save
the moaning wind and storm. We gatherel
some sticks and lighted a fire, and, with
our simple torches, searched about to find .
the fairy licing we had lost. At least I discovered
a slight path, and following its windings,
soon found myself at the door of a rude
cave, which I was fully determined to enter, ^
not knowing but it was the abode of some
wild beast that would meet me with
anything but a welcome embrace. William
was near, and with our torches wo lighted
the rude hall, made in nature's roughest
manner. We had not proceeded far, when
we found the object of our search, standing
like a statute of Rtone, seemingly parnlyzed
with fear. Heretofore her palace had been
sacred to herself ;"for five long years bad
she reigned alone in that forest, and not once
had been greeted by a human voice. Now the
sound thntmet her ears seemed to awaken
dreams of the past. She listened; her eye
wandered from one to the other, as we addressed
her ; but when William spoke, the
change of countenance told a tale that words,
at that time, could not tell. I had not known
him long, therefore all to me was mystery ;
not so with him, and unable longer to restrain
his feelings, he sprang forward, and. .
seizing her hand, exclaimed :
' Tell me, thou long lost idol of ray
heart, do3t thou know ine once again! Thy
Willie has come home ; speak, speak, and
tell him thou art all his own j'
She stood unmoved, and in a low monotonous
tone soliloquized !
4 Why has he staid so long ! One year,
he said, was all, and then, O then, what joy
would bo mine! But no ; the weary years
have passed, and J am still alone.'
He spoke again :
* This is indeed too much ; how can I
bear it! Mary, my own ; look, look upon
my face, and see that I am come !
She raised her melting eyes, and said :
4 I dream, and hush ! did I not hear his
voice ? did he not beckon mo and say,1 I
come!' O yes; I knew he would be true !'
and she elapsed her hands in ectncy of
joy.
1 T was indeed a painful scene to me;
reader do not think I could stand unmovod
and witness that almost agony of iny friend,
and that dreadful losa of reason in one so
lovely, so true to him she held so dear.
The night had nearly passed, and I proposed,
with the early dawn, to go to the
nearest villinge, procure a conveyance, and
having taken the direction to her father's
mansion, ?:occo^de immediately thither (a
distance of about fifteen miles,) muu 'uiii'
the glad tidings to those parents who had
ldng mourned her as dead. As I have before
said, wo were five miles trom the nearest
village, and thither, with hurried ste)>s,
I proceede, scarcoly having a thought save
that of spetd, lest some unseen cloud might ?
cover the bright vision that wholly absorb j
cd me. (
Long before the sun reached its meridian t
height, I drove ur> to the door of thepaternal
mansion, and witn a trembling hand rung 1
the beU, Jt was answered by a servant, who 1
| ushered me in and to myi nquiry if Mr. and (
Mrs. Metcalfgrere in, replied they were, hot ?
that he was now at the l?od*ide of his wne, I
who was dangerously ill of fever. I gave I
my card with the name of a stranger, but 1
solicited the attention of Mr. Metcalf for a I
few moments, on business of utmost impor- i
tanco. i
He soon entered the parlor. I arose and ,1
introduced myself aa Mr. Charles Montagper 1
at the same lime making a sincere and heartfelt
apology for thus intruding upon his lime I
ENVIttt, S. C.j FR
and attention at such an hour; and th
aa delicately as possible, made known tl
objectof ray mission. The father bow<
his head and wept; the heart that was w<
nigh bursting before codld throb in silen
no longer. I sat "a silent witness of>Jltl
scene; words, alas! are weak hfftuch i
hour. Joy and grief sure mingled
his cup. His first thought; when he cou
express himself, was to fly to his belove
and, before it was too late, unite the moth
and daughter again on earth; but the flic
ering lamp seemed too near its close, and
was despatched with many blessings, whi
he returned to the bedsiae of death, as *
thought, were lib found his wife in a qui
slumber, and as she slept, she breathed tl
name Mary. The father knelt, and in eari
est prayer, poured fourth his soul to Hi
who watches over all, and giveth strength i
all who ask it.
While I was gone, preparations were g<
ing on at the mansion, as far as practical)
for our return. Mary's room was put in o
der ; everything arranged as nearly as posi
ble as when she left it, and a bright ligl
stood on the table, with an open book bcsu
it, as though it had been left but for a m
mcnt. The piano, whose keys had nev<
yielded to the touch of gentle fingers sin<
she left, was opened, and one of her favori
sirs placed upon it With what anxiet
we thought of the effect the sight of horn
would have on her mind.
It was about ten o'clock at evening whe
we arrived, and sho had not spoken durin
:he ride, except an occasional murmur, an
)f the name of Willie. As we drow ne?
ter home, she grew restless, but we ventu
id not to speak. At length we reached tl
loor; she sprung from the carriage, like or
?t home; with one bound entered the houai
?nd stopped not till she had reached her ow
oom.
Her mother was again in sleep, after a
tour of great distress, and we feared lest tl
toise might disturb her. What could w
lo I Mary's next thought might be of h<
mother, and, with the swiftness of a faw
the wbuld fly to embrace her.
\1T * 1 ? 1 ' ' *
>?b wuueu an nour; notning was lieai
save her gentle step, as she walked abo
her room. At last the father could rostra
himself no longer ; he felt he must embra<
lis long-lost child, jet much prudence w
lecessarj. lie called a servant; reoueste
lim to knock gently at the door, and, as i
ormer years, present his wish to hear hi
day and sing. O, who could tell,at tbatm
nent the deep feelings of that father's hear
Lie had taken his easy chair, which,for veai
ia4 been his favorite seat, when listening I
Iter song, and William, with his flute, place
himself, as he was wont, behind her sea
eady to accompany her in playing.
Iler light step was soon heard on the stai
ind in a moment more shfi stood before u
obed in white* a picture of grace and low
iness. The scene before us was a reallitv
eason, for a moment, was restored, and m
'ather 1' was all she could sav. ere he cau<A
V ? o~
icr in his arms, as she fell, fainting, to th
loor.
Wo bore her to her room, but were oblit
id to call medical aid, before any signs <
ife again appeared. Anon the delicat
:int was seen upon the cheek ; it was bi
"or a moment, and all was blanched agai
ind thus it was for long and weary hour
It seemed as if the casket was really brokei
ind the jewel roust be lost O what a nigl
n the memory of those who tarried beneat
:hat roof!
The physician obliged all to leave th
oorn, whom she had ever seen before, an
ihe was left in the care of a lady, who wx
topping there, from a distant part of lli
sou 11 try, while he remained in an adjoinin
oom, that his assistance could be given i
i moment's warning. Again the brokei
learted father is at the couch of his wife
he wakes, and smiles: ' 1 havo dreamed
he said, " and Mary stood befor me."
vas all sho could utter, and sunk into a f<
reriah slumber.
Thus passed the night; but the dawn <
ho morning s^oroH to herald fcright<
lopes; the crisis was past, and althoug
here scarcely appeared sufficient strength t
uipport life, yet now there was hope, and th
lusband wed tearcs of gratitude.
Let us now look in upon Mary. SI:
niii !iee insensible ! she breathes, and thi
s all we can say. Tho slightest change t
ler might extinguish forever that little giiu
nering spark. Thus she remained for nea
y two days, when she opened her eyes, an
with a look that gave hope to aching heart
miled, as though conscious of being agai
n her own dear home. The shock had ii
leed been severe, but we itow felt that m
j i .i- ? ; ?
iun> wmuiu aavg iifHngin iu survive.
Week# passed, and from William, wh
ind remained at the mansion, I al$tost dail
teard of the slow but gradual improvernet
>f both mooter and daughter. Mary's re.
ion wis restored, but she was yet as send
,ive as the delicate bare-bell that drops i
he slightest touch. She was now able 1
:ear her father and William oonverse for
ittle time, a* they sat by her; bat she ha
tiQkjfC^p?Jjf? %er mother. She had bee
jttj^
^iiTiiT ."?* ?-i ~ <***
yw*
'
IDAY MOPING, JUL"
en tag. I will not attempt to describe the
he scene. The mother bad mourned her child
ed as dead, and knew not till the day previous
ell that such was not the case. Now she bece
held het, ^tad exclaimed: ' This my child
he was dead and is alive again !'
in A few evenings later and you might have
in seen a liappy^ group in that parlor, whore
Id sadness so long had reigned. I was ngain
d, with them. Mr. Metcalf sat in his easy
or chair; Mrs. Metcalf and Mary snt opposite
k- on a lounge and William at her side, eager,
I to catch every sound of her voice. At
le length she turned'suddenly to him, and ask
re ed:
et 4 Will you not tell us now the story of
ie sufferings, when we thought you were sepaa
ted from us forever ? I have long wished to
m know, but till now have not dared trust myto
self to ask.'
An unbidden tear moistened every eye,
>- as William briefly told his story. It ran
le thus:
r- 4 Five years ago, as you well remembered,
ii- our ship left its mooring bearing me on a
bt proposed voyage to Europe, that I might, if
le possible, regain my health, which had beo
come somewhat impaired by too close appli-'
er cation to study. I tried to feel cheerful, but
:e a dark cloud hung over me. I had not suf
to fered, as many do, from that horribio seatw
.:~i. ?i.i-i -A- j
v ?ivikii?a wuiku oo uiicii destroys tne pleae
sure of a sea voyage, and was hoping, in a
few days more, to welcome the shores of Enm
gland,when a cry was heard that sent a pang
S through every heart
4 It was at midnight, and the cry was loud
ir and shrill: 4Fire, fire, fire 1* In a moment eye
r- ry man was roused, and all that human powie
er could do was fruitless, towards saving the
ie ship. To sav$ life was now the only thought.
8, The boats were lowered and filled as rapidly
n as possible, bat some were burfled, so as to
be unsafe ; all could not be saved, if saved,
in indeed, any might be in that way, and I,
ie with many others, remained on deck, till the
e la*t boat left the wreck, and then fastening
sr myself to a spar, launched forth on the open
n, sea, trusting alone to the mercy of Him who
holdeth the waters in the hollow of his hand,
rd Ask me not to describe the awful horrors of
ut that night; fain would I blot them from the
in tablet of my memory, and the shrieks and
ce groans of those that were engulfed, as that
as burning wreck went down,still ring in my ears,
id O, merciful Heaven, spare me the rembrance !
n Of the fate of many of ray companions,I have
cr never learned; but with the dawn of the
o- morning I beheld a distant sail. It was
t! outward bound ; I was discovered by them,la's,
ken on board, and treated with all the kindto
ness I could have asked, but must be borne
id a long way from home, unless we should
t, chance to meet some vessel homeward
bound.
tn a il ' * 1 ' 1
'i - v>aiuon was uio pori ior which iney were
b, destined, and I must submit. After sailing
a- two months we bailed a merchant ship on
; its return to Liverpool; they willingly received
y mo on beard, and, to my great joy, I now
it felt that my face was once more turned toe
wards home.
4 Our voyage was prosperous, and in little
J- more than two months we landed safely in
?f Liverpool. I waited not for rest, but that
e night, mailed the first letter to 4 my dear
it Mary,' since leaving the shores of Boston,
n, It told all that wordt could tell, and the
* hope that the next steamer would bear me
n, again to my native shores. That letter
it your parents received. When I returned,
h you were not here, and all was blank. I felt,
for a time, that life was wearisome to me,
i6 and almost wished I had never known your
d parente' grief.
w 4 But now, ray own Mary, now that we are
ie all happy together again, let us sing one of
g our songs, as in days long past, before we
it separat for the night.'
?- Reader, I will now tell you all that was
>; known of Mary, after William sailed, until
I,' the time our simple story commences.
It An only child, tho idol of her parents,
&- she was the light and joy of home, and their
fear of the dangers of the voyage was the
>f onlv obstacle in the way of her being mar?
riou and accompanying her husband to Lull
rope. He left, and she thought of the long
o months before he would return ; but one
ie year was the promised lime. How Kttle wc
know or can dream of the fUture!
>6 The first tidings they received was of the
?t total loss of the ship, as we have already
o been told, and that many lives were lost. A
i- list of tho names of those saved, as far as
r- could be ascertained, was coven, but the
d name of William Motly was not among
s, them. Ma had been unusually cheerful a
n few days before the arrival of this sad inteli
ligence, as was almost bonrly expecting the
? promised and much wished ?for letter.
The steamer came, but the letter came
o nob What could it mean! And when by
y the early despatches in the papers, she read
it the awful tidings, sank into an insensible
i- state, in which she remained for several
h hours, and from that time until the evening
it we brought her home, she had never been,
? heard to speak, except in low murmurs to
,d One morning, abouta month afUr^^^
in one of her hours of
w W
f it
TB $0 A:
V 27, 1855.
deep despondency, she hud destroyed
self.
A few evenings after' the one in which
William recounted his troubles, Mary said to
him : 4 Can it be five years since you left
us on that eventful voyage ! Is it indeed a
reality ? To me it seems a long and troubled
dream, from which I have been but a short
time awakened, and as your look expresses a
desire to hear, I will relate it.
4 All was bright with me after you left,
and I was counting the days when I should
hear from you; when I dreamed you were
wrecked, thev told m?Jvnn wow> ln??
at first, I believed them. fiutsoon other tidings
came to me. You called me; I heard
your voice from the distant mountain, and
thither I hastened to meet you. I knew
you were not dead, for often I heard that
voice, vet still you were nowhere to he found.
I wandered, it seemed, long weary months
in search of you, often climbing almost inaccessible
rocks, that from their summits
I might, if possible, see you in the distance.
1 At last, when, almost in despair,! climbed
the highest crag nnd sung, in tones loud
and shrill: 4 O, Willie, tarry not so long!
You heard and answered in tho distance.
My joy was so great that, for a time, my
senses were l>?wi!dered, but atlAst, I became
fully conscious you were near me, that I
heard your pleading accents though, as yet
I could not see you. Other remembrances
are indistinct, compared with the all-absorbing
thought of finding you. Sometime,
hunger almost overpowered me, and then
some fairy hand would bring the nicest berries
and fruits, and when cold or weary, that
little being would lead me to a place made by
nature, and then leave me to repose. Thus
mw my uremii. ai last t wokc ; you were
standing by my bed-aide, and all was bright
again.'
The next morning being a lovely one in
June, I proposed a ride, which was readily
assented to by all, and we were off at an early
hour. Our ride lay through a fine country,
and we were all in excellent spirits when
we came to the foot of the mountain. We
left our carriage at the base, and commenced
the assent As we proceeded, I observed
Marry grew thoughtful, and disposed to say
but very little.
Iu a short time we came near the cave,
when she bounded forward towards the entrance,
exclaiming: 4 Here, hero is the
place of my dream,and here let us spend the
remainder of our days.'
The thought was not an unpleasant one
to William, and he was able, before the close
of another year, to take her, as his wife, to
one of the most beautiful homes in that region.
The house was surrounded by fine
walks and avenues; but tho little path to
the cave was left untouched. An observatory
was erected on that lofty crag where
we had first seen her, and there in after years,
trmilr) olio otf ^ 4' -
nvum ous aII nun IMCIIU.1, 1?UU rupCMIi lue
story of the 1 Maid of the Mountain.'
?111
There aro people in the world who physic
themselves to death. We have known men
to flee to pills for relief from every kind of
ill. They had what may he called a pillmania.
Some of those pill devourers would
present a startling sum total, could they give
in round numbers the amount taken during
a life time. We recollect of one man, in
the western part of New York State, the total
of whoso pill taking was recorded as follows
: In twenty-one years he took 225,934,
which is at the rato of 10,900 per year ,
or twenty-nine per day day. lie began however,
it would seem with a moderate appetite,
which increased as he grew older ; for
during the eight years proceeding his death
of course he died?he swallowed pills at the
rate of seventy eight per day ! In one year,
just before he shuffled off his pill-coil, he
took not less than 51,590 1 The most surprising
part of the story is vet to bo told ;
ill ulrlitinn (/i oil ilia rvillo oi?Af? >
... w Mil HIV JMMO nuviu ICWIUUUf
the victim swallowed, at various times, some
50,000 botlie* of mixtures. These facts
were obtained, we would add, from a respectable
apothecary, near where our mcdicine-man.ac
lived from boyhood to death,
and who furnished him with all he wanted
in his line. There is a question in our inind,
whether the respectable apothecary, as aforesaid,
was not an accessory to the murder of
his profitable customer! for, that ho was
murdered, would seem to be a fixed fact.
What Real Courage Is.?It is real
courage to wear old garmonia till vou can
afford to pay for new ; to say no when ask
ed to lend ' half a dollar' to even a suffering
loafer ; to refuse to drink toddy when
you are tip to an<* cars >n >l 1 to
be honest w hen il ls moro profitable to be
a knare; to do right.against the current ;
to be. indifferent to groundless slander ; to
remain unchanged by rosy compliments and
girt edged solicitations of female beauty ; to
walk in the ?*the of godliness,;,, when both
feet'are pitched another way n to ao near a
brilliant oyste* w*)oon at twoJW~llie morning
hungry aa a bear, and,, n'fct go in ; to
keep your patience with a chambermaid
just from Ireland; to be a nun among fools;
to do your duty if it takes yoa to the Almshouse.
Try and see.
V. V
4
I
m>r I
NO. II. ]
???????? 4
3trtrosting Jflisrtllomj.
U'g fttl q|) Ireqto.
They tell a story of the m^n who introduced
the spinning-jenny into this country^
that after coining here nnd inducing certain
capitalists to invest money in his enterprise,
1 A "
ana auer gome on and getting machinery to*
gether according to draughts which he
brought from England, when it waa death
by its laws to impart the secret hi other
lands, he found that ho had forgotton how
to adjust a part of the machine, and it would
not work. Tie was almost mad with anxiety,
nnd did not sleep for some nights. A
panic took possession of the capitalists interested,
nnd tliey would have sold out at half
price. At length he fell asleep, and dreamed
that the inventor of the machine in England
caine and told him how to put together
the unadjusted part, lie awoKe, and
went and did as lie dreamed, and the machine
was instantly put in motion. True or
false, this 6tory is alike appropriate to our
purpose. Suppose some one had come and
said to him, 'O it's all a dream; it amounts
to nothing,' could he not confidently point
to his running factory, earning its thousand
a week, and say, 'is that all a dicam t' So
we may say of Christian experience,' Is that
all a dream which produces these surprising
transformations of personal character, these
benificent results upon society!' By ita
fruits be it known.?AT. Y. Chronicle.
Btoelricqn ?icHIe3.
Do not keep pickles iu common earthenware,
as the glazing contains lead, nnd combines
with vinegar. Keep pickles only in
ston6 and wood ware. Anything that haa
held grease will spoil pickles.
v inegar lor pickling should be sharp, but
not the sharpest kind, as it injuries the pickles.
If you use copper, bell metal, or urtu?A.
vessels for picking, never allow the vinegar
to cool in tliem is poisonous. Add a table
spoonful of nlumn and a tea-cup of salt to
each three gallons of vinegar, and tie up a
bag with pepper, ginger root, and spicea of
all sorts in it, and you have vinegar prepared
for any kind of common pickling.
Stir pickles occasionally, and if they are
soft ones take them out and scald the vinegar,
and pour it hot over the pickles. Keep *
enough vinegar to cover them well. If it it
weak, take, fresh vinegar, and pour on hot.
Do not boil vinegar or spice over five minutes.
Eight of a clan of murderers known as
Murrelites have been arrested in Georgia, and
are imprisoned to await their trial. They
are a portion of a band long infesting the
conntry, who arc too indolent to work, and
whose chief employment and characteristics
arc to steal aud harbor negroes and commit
other depredations somewhat similar to
thoso of the notorious highwayman
man from whom the band derives its nr me,
but whose examples they have failed to imitate
on a scale as extensive as that adopted
by the renowned John A. Murrcl. Two
others of of the band had been previously
arrested, but the leader has not yet been taken.
Never ask a lady for her heart and hand
just before dinner. An ampty stomach is a
poor basis on which to seek divinity, sunshine,
and prospective population. The chances
are, if you violate this rule, that, instead
of a rose tinted, delicate yes, you will receive
a startling, burning, Big no. Beware.
IIenrt, believe you could once-command
a large snm of money 1' 4 Not a bit
of it?1 never could command it?it always
commanded mc. Money, si*t?a;my
ruination. Lend me a V., if you please.?
I'd like to be ruined again, sli ghtly.'
Female Piety.?The gem of all others
which encircle the coroneffcf a lady's character
is unaffected piety. Tf at tire may lavish
much on her person?the enchantment of
lie countenance?the gracefulness of ber
mind or strength of her intellect ; yet her
loveliness is uncrowned till piety throws
around the whole sweetness and power of
her charms. She then becomes unearthly
iu her temper? unearthly in her desires and
association. The spell which bound her affections
to things below is broken, and sha
mounts on the silent wings of fancy bod
hope, to the habitation of God, where it w?H
be her delight to hold communion with tha
spirits that have baen ransomed from tha
thraldom of earth, nn/t mronil.iwt ?.:?u -
garland of glory.
M'lle Rachel is to receive.il is said,for playing
two hundred nights in America, two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, besides
all the travelling expenses of herself and ber
suite are to be paid ! all the salaries V>f her
chambermaids, and she is to have a carriage
aud the requisite servants always at hev disposal.
If there are the terms, KjU Felex's
share of the profits will be small mdeed.?>
There is but iittle dependence however
to be plaoect upon these previous annoueements.
They are done for effect and to cre!
ate a public interest in the enterprise, fct
' the manager to turn to his profit.