The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, December 20, 1855, Image 1
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VOL 2=
lotttjjtra (girterprise,
A REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS.
h>- .
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
ii 50, payable in,advance ; $2 if delayed. I
CLUB3 of FIVK and upwards tl, the money
In every instance to accompany the Order.
ADv ERTISKMEXTS inserted conspicuously at
the rates of 75 oents per square of 3 lines, and ,
25 ceuts for each subsequent insertion. Contract*
for yearly advertising made reasonable.
Ihe ifeoPt.
Ir thou hast crushed a flower,
The root may not be blighted ;
If thou hast quenched a lamp,
Onee more it may bo lighted ;
But on thy harp, or on tny lute,
The string that thou hast broken.
Shall never in sweet sound again
Give tothjr touch a token.
If thou hast loosed a bird,
Whose voiee of song would eheer thee,
Still, still he may be won
From the skies to warble near thee;
But' if upon the troubled sea,
Thou host a gem uriheetftd,
Hope not that wind or wavo will bring
The treasure back when needed.
If thou bast bruised a vine,.
The summer's warmth is healing,
. And its clusters still may glow
Thro' the leaves their bloom revealing;
But if thou hast a cup o'erthrowu,
With a bright draught filled?oh! never
Shall give earth back that lavished wealth
To cool thy parched lips' fever.
The heart is like that cup,
If thou waste the love it bore thee;
And like that jewel gone.
Which the deep will not restore thee;
And like that strain of harp nnd lute,
Whence the sweet sound is scattered;
Gently, oh! gently touch the chords
So soon forever shattered!
Com in the
Am Irishman tells tho following incident
of hit first experience in AmericA :
I came to this country several years ago,
and as soon as I arrived, hired out to a gentleman
who farmed a feu acres.
IIo showed me over the premises, the stable,
cow, and where the corn, oats, Ac., were
kept, and then sent me in to get my snpper.
After supper he sAid to me, 'James, you may
feed the cow, and give her the corn in the
ear*
I went out and walked about thinking
what could be mean?tiMU i unuereiooa mm:
I scratched my head, then resolved I wpuld
inquire again; so I went into the library
where he was writing very bu?ilyt 'I thought
I told you to give the cow some com in the
ear.1
t I went out more puzzled than ever.?
What sort of an animal must this Yankee
cow be 1 I examined her mouth and ears.
The teeth were gpod, and the eais like those
of the same kind in the old country.
Dripping with sweat, I entered ray master's
presence once more, 'Please sir, you bid
ma atve the cow some corn in the oar, but
dfdtfvyou mean in the mouth P
He looked at me for a moment, and then
burst into such a oonvulsion of laughter, I
made for the liable as fast as my feet could
take roe, thinking I was in the service of a
crazy man. ... ^
A* Importakt Bill.?Judge Cone, the
learned and indefatigable Senator from
Greene, brought forward a bill to authorise
persons to submit aii cases at issue to arbitration.
The bill proposes that each party
- shall choose one arbitrator, and these two
choose a third ; that these have power tc
compel the attendance of witnesses, to administer
oaths, and to compel witnesses to
testify before them; that when the arbitra- J
tors have made their awtjjpit shall be entered
on the mi mites of the Superior Court,
and ahall have the force aud effect of a
judgement or decree of the Cotftt, and be
enforced in the same way. It appears to us
that tbia is one of the moet important movemenu
towards preventing litigation that has
ever been made in Georgia. We hope the
bill will pees; and if it doea, we believe that
fall three fourths of the pecuniary difficulties
between neighbors will be settled by arbitration.?Ftd.
Union.
It was raaelved in the Virginia House of
Delegates on Friday, that the Committee of
Courts of Justice inquire into the expediency
of so amendiogfl9th section, 176 chapter i
of the Code of Vl^nia, fipto admit the testimony
of dferoaa against white persons I
ebwmgd with the aMuctiofc, or attempt to i
abdElp slaves from theooWlmonwsaith, when
suoh'flutes as admit testioanny in cases in *
?^1?h ^1.11^ lanswAiiw' vefttew tut ^ ^.
wdiou Willi? penoof ihrj
'V^Ylhlgj, ?
110ft?
. w. . I ! I W?
GREENVILL
!M HiMMHI Mi NHBMHMMBMMM1
a irlfrt itortj.
Ibe Clrih)5oi)ed
BT 3. K. DOW, BSQ.
"Thiri is blood tipon your hAnd, John,"
said a tall, masculine-made woman, in a
homespun dress, as she swept np the hearth
of the solitary farm-house, iu the interior of
England, at the close of a cold December's
day, in the year 18?.
The person thus addressed, was an ironi
..r nk.,.ii iu ?:.u
IOWU miiucif VI nvrvui* ?I1U llllUUiU OI?Cf Willi
dark eye* peeping underneath a palf ofshaggy
eye brow*. Ilis cheek was flushed, as
though old age had been coursing like wild
Are through his swollen veins, and hie braw
ny hand, as he looked at the clot of fresh
blood that stained it, seemed to have been
made for a descendant of Cain.
"There is blood," said Brown, for such was
the man's name; "but it is all off now?
bring me my supper."
The wife?looked him long and anxiously
in the face. Horrid visions seemed to be
floating before her eyes, and murder almost
escaped from her compressed lips.
"Why, what in the name of nature ails
the woman ?" said Brown, endeavoring by
an ill-contrived laugh to silence her fears.?
"If people go where sheep are slaughtered,
they must expect to get bloody."
"The blood of sheep has not been on your
hand t" said his wife flrmly. "There was a
melancholy looking man on the hill to-day.
He had tnoney and a valuable watch. lie
offered ine a piece of gold to direct him to
. a. 1 a L: ?-L 1
wits iitsai viiih^v, ituu um which vy our
clock. Have you aeon tlio stranger, John f'
The iron feature* of the hardened husband
now contracted into a fearful aoowl.
"Woman," said, he "what have F to do
with travellers on the hill side! Mind your
own affairs." Then changing his tone to a
sort of a whine, he said, "Give me my food,
Meg. I am cold and hungry, and cannot joke
with you any longer."
"Joke with me!" said the poor wife, with
a countenance agonized with horror, "God
grant that it proves a joke."
The supper was now placed upon the table.
The farmer ate bis food in silence, nnd
then went to bed. In a few minutes he
was lost in a deep, though terrible sleep.?
Having seen that every thing was quiet, the
good wife put on her hooded cloak and went
out upon the lawn. It was a cold and
cheerless evening. The hills seemed turned
into misty shadow, before the wand of an enchanter,
and the waving tree-tops seemed
like the bosom of the midnight deep. The
bleak wind howled sadly amid the elm trees
by the wayside, and the bark of the distant
watch dog came echoing up the vale. The
unhappy wife followed the track of her husband
about a mile. She now was startled
by a deep groan. Scanning narrowly the
hill-side, she perceived a place where some
persons had apparently struggled together
in a snow drift, and beyond a littlo distance
she beheld the melancholy stranger whom
she had directed on his course several hours
previous, lying upon the ground, with a
dreadful wound upon his pallid forehead
Brown's wife was a strong and resolute woman.
She raised the wounded man, and
wiped the blood from his eyes. Finding
that life was not extinct, she bore him upon
her shoulder to her dwelling. Having laid
him down in the passage, -she opened the
kitchen door where Brown was sleeping.?
His thick heavy breathing gave evidence
that the sleep of drunkenness was upon him.
She carried the stranger through the kitchen
to a little bed-room, where she usually
retired when the abuse of her brutal com
panion become insupportable. As the head
of the wounded man brushed by the face of
Browa, bis hand instinctively gripped the
bed-clothes and carried them over his head.
Having staunched the wound?the bleeding
of which had been checked by the coagulated
blood?the good wife dressed it in a
manner approval by medical men, gave her
patient a composing draught, and then returned
to her seat by the Jcitchen fire.
The farmer now began to be himself.?
He moved like a wounded snake in his unqniet
aleop.4*There is no blood upon mv hand,"
said he. "Meg, it waa all a Joke, tin! ha!
a good joke !* As he said this, conscience felt
the dreadful gnawing of the worm that never
dies. The femes of debauch arose like a
mist upon his brain, and he slept again.?
His wife now paid the stranger another visit,
and finding every thing working as it
should, retired to her desolate couch.?
Morning came and the sobered fanner arose
from his pillow of remorse. His face was
haggard, his eyes blood-shot, and his hair
like that of fanes, seemed changing into that
of serpents.
He said but little and went out immediately
after breakfast. His wife saw him go
up the hill-side. She knew that he had
?me to bury the body, and she rejoiced to
ink that he would labor in vain. Noon,
and night, and morning came, but no hoaband
appmachetl the farm bouse. Weeks
rolled on and John Brown erne seen no more
on the hit! siddforin the ham sly dwelling.
His whistle was %oshed on the moor, and
the foot-fell awoke not the echoes of the forest
way. >> .. , j
? ? J / J*; ^, ., MirrO '" f Hv 'o .;( i*4 ?i'
1 t
u^a^upy
E, S. ,: THURSDAY
The stranger, in the meantime recovered ;
a lattice of tne peace wan sent for, and an affidavit
was made of the facts in the case.?
The murderous wretch was discribed. with
fearful correctness, all? all but the face.?
This was concealed by a slouched hat, and
could not be described. The wife breathed
again. With a woman's wit, she spolco but
little of her hmband's absence, and when she
alluded to it, she spoke ef it as an absence of
short duration, with her advice and consent.
The stranger, who proved to be a nobleman
of wealth, endeavorod to cbeer -the
gloomy shades of the deserted woman's
heart, but it was a vain attempt. There is
no cure for blighted love, no peace for a rifled
heart. God alone can be tho widow's
husband?God alone can gladden the widow's
heart
"You never shall want Meg" said the
nobleman, as he sat by the fanner's wife a
few evening* after he was able to walk. I
must go to London : business of importance
urges me there. When you are in distress,
n hint of the fact to me will produce instAnt
relief."
A carriage, with an Earl's ooronot, now
drove to the oottage door. The wife said
nothing*,she seemed to be lost in unfathomable
mystery.
"Will you not accompany me, my faithful
nurse I" said tho stranger, as he prepared
to depart from the dwelling of charitable
lore.
Nay, sir," said the wife, MI cannot thus
suddenly leave the spot of my early hope.?
Hero, sir, I was bom ; here I was married ;
on yonder green hillock I danced away the
sorrows of childhood ,* in yonder church
whose spire now gleams in the dying sunlight,
I gave my guilty spirit up to God.?
On yonder plain sleep my children, beside
that old oak rest father and mother, the first
born and last upon the catalogue of life.?
Here, Bir, I have smiled in joy, and wopt in
sorrow, and here I will die.
Entreaties and prayers were all in vain.?
She withstood every kindness of her guest,
and finally accepted only a reasonable charge
for his board. As the Earl whs about to
take a seat in the carriage, the desertod wife
Approached him.
"Stranger guest," said she, with much feeling,
"I have done you good service."
" Vou have," said he, while a tear of grat
itude stole down his cheek.
"Will you do ine one favor in return I"
said she.
"Most certainly will I," said tbe Earl.
"Then write upon a piece of vellum what
I shall dictate," said she with a hurried voice.
He took up his pen, and wrote in plain
the characters as follows:
"Circumstances have convinced me that
an attempt to murder me on the night of the
10th December, 18?> on Stone Xlill, Lincolnshire,
would have been successful, had it
not been for tbe kind interference of John
Brown and his wife, of llopedale.
"This paper is left as a slight memorial of
an event which time can Dever efface from
my memory. J6ak Earl or?."
She read it over, after he had signed it,??
"It will do," said she. "Now farewell."
The grateful Earl sprang into his seat.?
He threw his purse into her bosom. "Farewell,"
said he, in a husky tone, and away
rattled his carriage with the swiftness of the
wind. The coronet flashed in the.sun beam,
and the vehicle, with its outside riders, was
lost in the winding forest way.
Ten years rolled away, and the wife of
John Brown suddenly disappeared from
Hopeda'e, and then the farm-bottse, like a
deserted thing, stood solitary and silent amid
the smiles of auturar. A middle sized stranger,
with a sailor's jacket and tarpuaHn, and
a.bundle dangling at the end of a stick over
hie shoulders, rested before the door of the
deserted farm-house of Hopedale. The
stranger though somewhat intoxicated, appeared
to be very sad. He looked in at the
wasted doorway. He saw the planks worn
by the foot of the thrifty housewife, and
marked a portion of her dress in a broken
pane of the kitchen window. The nail
where the good man's hat had hung for
years, was there with a circle around it of
unsmoked paint. The crane bung sadly in
the comer, and the music of the singing kettle
was not there. The stranger raised his
hand to his eyes, but what causes him to
etart like a frightened bird I "It is bloody
aqaim," said he, -with a look of horror.
"Ob, that I oould wipe out that foul?
that terrible stain from my memory. Ha!
it is on my hand as fresh as when I murdered
that poor, melancholy stranger. I can
f_ * i? 4 M rrn _ SB . s
noi wip? u ouw. ine stranger uaa cut nu
hand with a broken pieoe of glass^and a clot
of fresh blood ?m upon it in reality. He
felt not the pain of the wound in his horror;
and satisfied that Heaven had marked him
in its own terrible way, he wiped off the
blood and tamed to depart.
The sheriff was beside him, and he was arrested
for an attempt to murder. He preserved
a sullen silence. He followed the officer
to his carriage, and was soon on his way
to London. The prison received its victim
?and the gay world smiled as brightly as
before.
The day of trial oame. John Brown who
had taken another name, waa tried as Samuel
Jones, and the case brought together a
That concourse of people of both seaes. The
MORNING, DECEMBE
prisoner wm soon placed at the bar. The t<
jury was duly enfpanneled. Tlie advocate f
for the crown was in his place. The prisoner's
counsel was beside him ; and tho judge t
was upon the bench. Brown as he cutered r
the dock, had been so much agitated by the ?
dread reality of hio guilt, and the prospect of r
speedy punishment, that ho had not cast his t
eyes upon tho judge. lr now looked cautiously
at him. lit ?. v ' syeof the judge t
fixed upon him, and '.. . ?: : ed with horror, c
"Oh, Ood !" said hy. with a lound voice, <
while the sweat roiled down his chalk-like 1
face. "It is the murdered man. 11a! he
has come to judge the guilty I rice t -?, (
his forehead is scarred ! Hack, back, I say ;
let tho dead man look his fill f There's 1 ]
blood upon my hand ; seo there ! thou unquiet
spirit! that hand was reeking in thy! <
Kre ; 'twas merciless when thou criedst out;; <
merciless now in thy turn, thou man of; t
the spirit land." j I
Here the prisoner fainted and fell upon >
the floor. A great sensation was caused in '
court by thissingular circumstance, and it was <
not until "order" had been shouted for some
time that the trial was suffered to go on. It
appears that Brown's neighbors all consider
ed him guilty of the crime of endeavoring to 1
murder the individual named in the beginning
of thin tale, and wlio was now tho presiding
judge of tho Old Bailey. The affidavit
was kept in green remembrance, especially
by one old farmer iu the neighborhood of
llopedale, who had appropriated Brown's
farm to his own use, and who constantly
watched the muidbrcr'a return, for he knew
human nature so well as to be certain that
no wretch cau be so callous as to forget the
spot sacred to childhood, innocence and early
love. The robber seeks his homo, the
murderer seeks the shades of his onco happy
valley, the seducer wanders amid the i
bowers where passion, like a dark torrent, <
burst away the barriers between his soul and <
hell. The uufortunate man, ignorant of his i
wife's actions, and unconscious of the certifi- i
cate in her possession, ignorant of her exis- 1
tence even, after a long cruise in the navy of 1
England, returned to view the pleasant I
homestead?the green valley?the quiet hill- 1
side, and the sunken graves of his parents
and children. He had met the urgus-eyed
speculator on his way. The old affidavit
hung like tlje sword of Damocles over his
head, and the informer, at sunset, saw the
poor broken hearted sailor horno away to
Loudon, and, as he trusted, to a felon's
grave. Man carelessly feeds upon the fruits
that hang over the church-yard wall, and
gathers roses from the sacred plains? i
"Where once tho life'# blood warm and wet, i
Had dimmed the glittering bayonet."
The trial then proceeded?the evidence I
was strong, and the jury without quitting \
their seats, pronounced the prisoner at the 1
bar "guilty !" i
"Guilty?" said Brown, rising to his feet, '
"can it be ? Ah ! I must die a felon's death j
' ?and my poor wife. Oh ! that pang!?
How tender endear.nenta iisj up in judge
ment against me ; her soft words, how they
thunder npon my soul! Her smiles of beau
ty -and innocence?Great God, how they
sear my heart; most I then dio without her
ftgiveness! Oh, the thought is torture, aye
torture as dreadful as that experienced bv
i the vilest of the damned I"
Here the prisoner became unmanned, and
burying bis face in his fettered hands wej>t
like a child. The strong passion of grief
' shook the prisoner's limbs, and rattled the
chains with terrible distinctness. A short
silence ensued, and then the judge put on
his black cap, and prepared to pronounce
that awful sentence which never can be pronounced
without awakening the dormant
sensibilize* of the most degraded ?which
none in fact but the condemued, ever heard
without a flood of tear*.
"Prisoner at the bar," said the judge,
"stand up." Prown rose. "What have you
to say why sentence of death should not be 1
pronounced against ye ; said the judge i
continuing his remarks. "A clight rustling i
noise was now heard at tli6 bar, and a fe- i
male in widow's weeds, leaned her head over <
to speak to the prisoner. I
"Stand back, woman," said a self-.>uffi- <
cient tip staff, who, like some of our cousta- '
bios, imagine the old adage, "necessity has <
no law," to mean "law has no necessity."
The woman threw back her veil, and look- >
ing the judge fully in the face, said?"May '
it please your worship to permit me to aid <
my husband in his last extremity?"
The Earl thought he knew the face, and
tone of voice, and therefore comanded them c
officer to place the wife beside her husband. ;
" said ltrown. while the tear* stream. '
ed down bis face, haggard with guilt, "it is
very kind of you to visit mo thus. Can yon
forgive jour guilty husband I"
"John," said the meek-eyed woman, as 1
she raised her countenance of angelic sweetness
to heaven, "I was forgiven by the son |
of Cod ; I can and do forgive you."
The wretched prisoner fell on hit wife's <
neck, and the minions of criminal laws, with |
faces like tanned leather, and hearts like the <
paving stones before the Egyptian tombs, t
stood pity struck, and waited for the end of <
Ike extraordinary scene. ,
"Woman," at length said the judge, while r
a tear rotted Lis eye "it is lay dreadful lot <
-?** <*'' 1 OfcT <M ii I' il.ll > f V?l- '. "f. |
I'S $? AH
R 20, 1855.
o pass the sentence of the low ttpoti the
risoncr. You had better retire.**
"The wife started, and looking him full in
he face, said, "John Earl of ??, do you |
ecollect the pArcliment scroll you gave ine j
it llopcdale i" handing at the same lime a '
>iece of vellum to a constable, w ho passed it,
o his honor.
"Mv noble hearted, long lost nurse,'" said
,l.o j-: 'ge with a look of joy ! "well do I re:oiiect
you, and your last request, but in this
'ase the law must hare its course. 1 will,
lowever, recommend the prisoner to mercy."
"Mercy! wild Brown, "who talks of inerjy
here ?? tliero is blood upon my hand !"
"Silence ln said the judge, "remnnd the
prisoner."
The court adjourned ; the prisoner, guarded
by a throng of soldiers and tipstaff, inovm!
along to his cell, and the wife followed
.he judge to his chambers. The next day a
sard on for John Brown passed the seals;
ind the beginning of the week saw the husband
and the noble spirited wife at IlopeJale,
with the jud^e for a noble guest.?
Tears of peace and joyous plenty rolled on.
Long and fervently did the pardoned criminal
pray for forgiveness, and at last, in God's
own time, the blood stain upon his hand
was washed away. The farmer of Hopedale
for many years, was considered the example
of the countiy around ; and at last
when he died, which was shortly after his
wife had departed for another rest, he was
placed in the same grave with her, and over
their bones a marble cenotaph was raised,
upon which was inscribed 111 deep and lading
letters?
"They loved iu life?
In death they wore not divided."
The farm house at Ilopedale has fallen
into ruins. The gray owl hoots upon its
moss tipped chimnev. The snake rustles in
Ihe grass br the door-sill, and the cricket
tings in the oven. At evening the truant
ind belnted plough b >y shuns the spot; for
many a white livered loon, if you can be
lieve him, has seen John Brown upon the
liill side, at the hour of dusk, with a clot of
[>lood upon his hand, and a hundred traveller
at his feet.
' j
Jliisrtllntrmts JUuiiiug.
I
From the Spirit of the Age.
Ihe Sabbqth.
Sweet day or rest! The morning sun
rises over a hushed and quiet world; passion's
impulses are calmed; thoughts and
longings of business-racked minds have relaxed
their intensity, and the hand of industry
hath ceased to wield the implement of
labor. The wayward child of fashion awakes
to thought and reflection, while from the retrospect
comes the memory of early, lessons.
genue teachings ana holy counsels wlncli
were given by loved lips, perhaps long, since
clothed in eternal silence, to be faithful guides
in futures years ; but which were forgotten
and deserted in the pursuit of seeming pleasure,
which, rose, with its exposed skeleton
hands stretched upon distorted minds, phantoms
that glare hours of agony in moments,
and will not vanish. The peaceful home,
the simple song,"the smiling children, the
guiltless sport?joys which once formed a
paradise?that paradise, like tho first, de
sorted, swells out before them as a mockery
of their present woe and discontent, while
tears and tremblings follow the threatening*
which probe the memory with ruthless hand.
The votaries of ambition, who have been
hurried on by a thousand novelties, occupied
in chasing shades which elude instantly
their grasp, daxaled by the prospect of ever
retreating with happiness to her haunts of
beauty and pure wisdom, which shine in
undying brightness over a mind contented
with, a:id thankful for that which a Divine
Creator has alloted him, find in reflection no
soothing to the heart, no halm to the troubled
conscience. Thoughts are to them ever
like the threatening thunder cloud, pregnant
with destruction and avenging wrath?the
tempest which envelopes them in gloom and
lashes from their vision that pure sky, the
?ky of faith, which we must ever behold or
slse despond.
But, there are others, to whom memory
is a beautiful, cslm firmament ot stars, twink
ling hope nnd thought, like the glorious ray
jf moonlight dancing over the expanse of
waters, on which the bark of life gently rides.
To them, the holy day of rest and thought
some* as a glad messenger, with sweet, seriphic
inspirations, for it approaches like an
traversal being, delivering captives from the
liand of bondage, striking otf the chains in
which the spirit is bound, and finds their
trugglus nobler, purer and more advanced
n the paths which lead to eternal peace.
With them, the images which thought
tketchea upon the canvass of memory, are
t>nght promises, which cause the heart to
brob with hapnine**. To them, the deeds
>f a well apept life come back, giving the
lues of hope to tbe#fulure, and fortningythe
ratlines of holy promise*, winch are just to
hem who obey the laws of. God? Then i*
he pure life of contentment and hdpe, sure
ind safe amid worldly temptations for the
iches of faith hold them safe hi the haven
>f purity. 1
a? :
?? ^? - -WW?
??& "
NO. 32.
Bire Jjoti Xehipfed.
Are you tempted t I Ins Satan folded Ilia
pinions in your path, in tlie guise of an An*
ge! of Light, just sent from the mercy seat?
Hurt he then ventured upon your admiration,
and shaken pearls from his plumes, tike dew*
drops from the wings of an eagle, and offered
you all, and more, for one vow of allegiance
and ?cr\ico? Has the world drawn nenr,
as a maiden in her first bloom, showering
roses at your feet, holding the sparkling chalice
to your li|>s. and claiming, in blandest
tones, a sharo in your affections ? And,
more to be dreaded than either or both,
have you heard the silence and solitude of
your soul startled by tho voice of your own
passion, prompting you, with all earnestness,
to take the pearls, and drink the wine, and
| live as your tempters bid f And have you
i boon troubled liv dnr ???.t * i
-v , ...... >v> IHCIIKU L'V
night, until you are almost ready to yield
?but still resisted, looking toward heaven !
If so, I beseech you, turn away from the
sublime contemplation, blessed be God, I
I have "good news'1 for you, from that "far
country." There is no tempter in heaven 1
j On earth, every land, every city, every house,
t is open to the evil violation. Nay, every
heart is constantly exposed to some insidious
solicitor. Even Eden?the garden of the
Lord?and the heart of Evo?the purest
that ever beat in the bosom of woman?w ere
not safe from the foul incursion. Alas for ?
I us, that the tempter succeeded ! Hence all
| our sin, and shame, and woe. but, in lioav:
en, the eye never sees, the ear never hears,
j the mind never knows, and the heart never
i feels the form or voice, the thought or sense,
of any temptation. "Fear not!" says he
who was once "tempted in all points !iko as
we are, yet without sin "Fear not!" says
the Savior; and his joyful people march
along, on the hill-tops of glory, singing as
they march?
"The message we hear,
j Aud we will not fear,
| For a Templer in glory ahall never appear.*'
be of good courage, therefore, O tempted
one ! Say to your soul, "the Lord is my
light and my salvation ; whom shall I fear f
the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom
j shall 1 be afraid ?" Ouly resist the devjl,
and he will flee from you. Only neglect
the world, and the world will soon resign
you to the company of religion. Only depy
yourself, and the Spirit of Christ will safely
conduct you to tho bowers of perfect peace.
Stockton.
?? ?
Stipeirqbmjdqoce of SlfiMs.
Professor La Borde, of the South Carolina
College, in his recent work on Physiology,
says: ^ :
"I know not whether it is a matter for
congratulation, that corset with their accompaniments,
within the last few years hare
declined in favor, for they have been followed
by a substitute, which probably is not less
injurious. This substitute is the common
multinlicalion of ~
? , VII nun us. II1CSC,
in number, must reach from six or eight to
a dozen, and some of the higher models of
fashion extend the list to fourteen or fifteen.
There seems to' be a sort of notion,
that the good taste of the lady is to be measured
by the number; and, accordingly, many
? poor,sickly, woman is to be seen, "dragging
her slow length along," under the
weight of a good dozen. The reader will
bear it) mind that there are no shoulder
straps as in the days of our grandmothers,
when honest women thanked lloaven if they
conld get a single petticoat. The uninitiated
may inquire how is all this weight of
skirts fastened and supported ! It is tied
tightly round the waist and spine, thereby
heating it and creating a dangerous pressure
u]>on the addomen. In all this,less wisdom,
is exhibited than by the brute. Do they
employ, says Huchan, any artiBcial means to
mould the limbs or to bring them to a proper
ehapef Though many of theae are extremely
delicate when they came inC .he
world, yet we nevor 6nd them grow weak,
or crooked, for want of swaddling bauds.
We take the business out of nature's hands,
and are justly punished for onr arrogance
and temerity. Fathers should attend more
to the physical education of their children,
and especially of their daughters. Snre
I am, that no mother would think
none the worse of I hem for it. Let
them, like the father of Charlotte Elizabeth,
?**er<*isA onfK?ri#?? -11 **
... an Hjmiers a treeting
their henlth. Plutarch tells us that
when Cato governed Home with so much
glory, he would quit his business tb be present
when the nurse washed and dressed bis
children.
How to Slkep.?The Phrenological Journal
says that in sleeping, that posture should
be cho-en which is promotive of deep and
full inspirations, because nature renders the
latter doejKT when we are asleep than
awake, except in action. Hence a high
head, by cramping both the windpipe and'
the hi.rod vessels, is bad. The head should
real on a line with the body.
On the line of the jersey Railroad
in a grave yard, in which stand* a tombsfmie
with the following touching and simple,
yet exquisitely poetic epitaph :
,%UE a Wl>OD ruu,n
K ^ 1 f ' I r?