The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, January 24, 1856, Image 1
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VOL. 2.
_ .
jje ^autjjem (ftrttrprisr,
A KEFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS.
[%????' wmMiaMa 2>? sp&asia,
kY?r^ EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
I ih* ?- t.:"
rmrxamm-mmmmm
l Ml payfcblo in aclvnnoe ; $* if delayed.
I . CLUBS of FIVE au.l ..n?.-d? *i n>"
In every instance to accompany tho order.
* ADVERTISEMENTS inserted conspicuously at
tfee rata* of 76 cents per square of S lines, and
If cents for each subsequent insertion. Contrasts
for yearly advertising mads reasonable.
AOBfttrs.
Ei Wi CARR, 3t. W. cor. of Waluut and Third-st,
' Philadelphia, is our authorized Agent.
Wi W. WALKER, JR., Columbia, & C. ,
A. Mi PEDEN, Fairview P. O., Greenville Diet
WM, C. BAILEY, Pleasant Grove, Greenville
CAPT. R. Q. ANDERSON, Cedar Pulls, Oreenville
&rltrteii ^Hietrq.
Sroiu.
BY CLAnUNCB MKLV1.V. 1
Thk snow! the snow how, beautiful
It falls on hill ami plain,
And weaves a shroud fur summer hours >
That will not cunw again, ,
Each tiny flake that parts the nir, i
With measured sweep ami slow,
Jleveals, amid its beauty rare,
A gein no king can show.
The snow ! the snow ! l*ow beautiful 1
Til* tftdils urn luiiiri?l id. ??l.li? I
# I? ?-, (
Where erst the Mlnwnor breezes swept,
Wlt?u trees with low von were bright, |
But now with linked branches tossed,
They rear their giant ??nu.?,
And breast, with stern and fearless heatis,
The wiuier'a bhists and *.'<>: m*.
The anew ! tbe snow ] bow bright, and fair 4
it grnis tlio valley w ide, I
As sweeping on before the w ind
r-: oceah** restless lido. i
h twine* amid tbe witheied leaves <
That mark tlic autumn acre, ^
And wiwret a sad ami faded w loath
To land tbe dying year.
Ztiie snow ! tlio snow 1 how light it fulls, 1
As erst in other hours,
Ere childhood's hopes had pa*?ed away, ^
Or withered youth's giy llowers;
Each crystal flake seems some past joy <
That cheered the morning beam,
Then faded ere the light of noon
Fe'l on the gliding stream. ,
The snow 1 the snow ! how beautiful
It falls on hill and plain,
And weaves a shroud for summer hours ]
That will uot come again; i
Stern wiuter binds tbe sunny Htreaius <
That rippled sweet and low.
And covers earth with llceey robe,
The pure atid f>*iotlc?s snow.
?> ?Mwaotywa????? (
Jije Itoo jell's,
U1 remember," say* tho late Postmaster i
General of the United State*, "the first time
I visited Burlington, Vt., n* Judge of the t
Supreme Court. 1 had left it many years i
before, a poor boy. At the time 1 left, there 1
were two families of special note for their i
standing and wealth. Each of them had a i
son about my own age. I was very poor, 1
and these boys were very rich. During the i
long years of hard toil which pasaed before I
my return, I had almost forgotten them.?.
They had long ago forgotten me.
Approncbfng the court house, for the first I
time, in company with several gentlemen of
the bench and bar, I noticed, in the court i
house yard, a large pile of old furniture 1
bout to be sold at auction. The scenes of i
early boyhood with which I was surrounded t
prompted me to ask whose it wm. I was I
teld it belonged to Mr. J. Mr. Jf I renieui- i
ber a family of that name, very wealthy; i
there was n son, too. Can it be he f I was <
told it was oven so. lie was the eon of one
of the families already alluded to. lie had . I
inherited more than i had earned, and aoent1
jf ^ it all} Mid now hit own family was reduced
to real want, and his furniture wm that day <
to be aold for debt. I went into the court- <
house auddenly, yet almost glad that 1 was ;
bom poor, i was soon absorbed in the business
Wore me. One of the first cases call- 1
ed originated in a low drunken quarrel between
Mr. 11., and Mr. A., Mr. U., thought
1, that it a familiar name. Can it bet In
short, 1 found tbat this was the son of the
other wealthy man referttgLto. I was overwhelmed
| alike with ftttontshment and
c thanksgiving-astonishment at the change in
eur relative standing, andjh*nk*giving that
. J was not born to isheritWeaith without toil.
[ Those father* provide beet fbr (heir children
Who have them with the highest ?dueatioo,
the purest m<w2u, and-tho least
wooer.
I- !*' " ' 'Jv,-",i.. ' " * J
* ' '* a- S
W
t .<i ,y*> -<Ut / '
Ml 111.) . . illIUIL.iin.Ljll I.
i
GREENVIL
3n Sntmstiiig $tortj.
From the Ladies' Visitor.
Coqjii) Sep.
by miriam T. hamilton.
"Visitors!" exclaimed Kate Bennett impatiently,
as she laid aside the book site had
been reading, and in which she had been
deeply interested, and took U*? cards which
the servant presented. I
"I>eai- nie, how provoking ! Just as I nin
in the most exciting part of the story?nud
that pert, disagreeable Emily Archer, too,"
t>he added, rending one of the cards; "who
else, 1 wonder ?"
Was there mnndn in !???# ..! ?? ??L. !.:
-g.w ... % ?!? uiiii|7tV UIl Ul
pasteboard, inscribed only with the two
words, "Richard Warren!" It would almost
seem so, so instantaneously did her
countenance change. The frown that had
disfigured her beautiful brow disappeared,
her eyes sparkled, and without nnothcr
thought of the book, she hastily assured herself,
by a glance in the mirror, that her toilet
was unexceptionable, and left the room.
As she entered the drawingroout, and
greeted her guests with all that grace and
elegance of manner fbr which she was distinguished,
15nmy AlCtiei with
ou? rapid, critical glance; but dress, as well
as manner, was faultless.
"Il must be confessed that Kate Bennett
enters a room like a queen," she thought,
with a pang of envy and jealousy, as in
Richard Warren's faoe she read undisguised
admiration of the lovclv girl before them.
What casual observer, who ha-l marked
the meeting of these young indica, would
have dreamed that, under all their outward
friendliness, each hated tlio other with her
whole heart ?
Vet so it was. Kate aud Emily were rival
twrites, aud their cUiuts to -idiniration
were so equally balanced that it required no
little exertion ou either side to gain the ascendancy
and be acknowledged the victor.
If Kate, with her classical features, queenly
dignity, elegant figure, and exquisite taste,
:rl first sight threw ber tival into the shade,
Emily's piquant style, sparkling animated
joumcnnnce, una sprigutly conversation,
wore by many preferred to Kate1* statesquo
beauty. Il was iinpost-iblu to decide which
was the loveliest; each had her adherents
nud admirers, but as they were equally numerous,
it seemed probable that tho season
would draw to * close without the a'l-imporlant
decision of the question, which had been
itar ejxilliitce, Ike belle.
Just uttliis tiuie, Richard Warren returni?d
from Europe. The arrival of so undeniably
elegant, handsome and wealthy a gentleman
wus an event?nil the fashionable world
was in a duller, nud the rivals saw at once
that the important epoch had arrived. She
whose claim he advocated, whom he favored
with his admiration, would nt once stand itpan
the precarious pinnacle of belle-ship.?
Mich left nothing uiulouo to win him to her
?)d?', though their tactics were entirely ditferL-nt.
Emily broughtMo bear upon him the batteries
ot her sprightly wit, while Kate ad
~.T e
>vut; imu tun iiiiiiu vi ii|ipiireni queeiuy indifference.
As yet, though it was evident
that Uiuhnrd admired both, liit preference
was not known?perhaps he hardly knew
lihnsclf which he thought the most churning.
But during this exposition of the claims of
the rivals, a lively conversation had been gong
on. The last new novel and the opera
liad been discussed, us well as some of their
mutual friends, and in the midst of some
wickedly witty remarks of Emily on a wouldtie
fashionable lady, a loud voico was heard
n. the hall. It came nearer the door, ami
die words could be( distinctly understood.
"You uo brained, impudent jackanapes, |
ril teach jou manners. I'll make you
laugh on t'other side of your mouth !"
The door was flung open, and in walked
? tall, athletic and sun burned young man,
whose really fine form was disguised in an
ll-fiuing suit of evidently domestic manufacture,
and who stood for a moment awkwatdly
looking around him ; then, hastily approaching
Kate, he flung his nrms around
Per, ana gave iter a loud smack oc tiic ;
skeek.
She withdrew herself, quickly and hauglilily,
from his embrace.
4Sir 1" she said, with freezing dignity.
| ilnn't *n Ifnnw f >"
?' ?- - ^ V ? % WO J L'?slaitiftd
the new-comer, in no wise disconcerted
; "Wall, now, I do actual!/ b'lieve
jrou've forgot roe. Don't ye kno?* yer eoasin
Deal Ye see, f don't like farinin' no
liow you can fix it, so I quit that, and come
to the city. Jim Simpson was deown to our
nlaoe, and he'* doin' fust rate here. He *aid
twae dreadful hard work to get a start in
the city, hut I guess I aint a goi?* to slump
through where he gets ahead. 1'li resk ?h|
anyhow."
At llie commencement of this speech,
Catharine had alternately flushed and paled,
for she was deeply mortified that Richard
Warren add Emily Archer should have been
the witnesses of such a scene. 8be caught
a triumphant and scornful glance from ErniR
restored nil her pride. ^ ^
?
TKu ^
* *>
Kl^ir** *v?>? ^.%5"^,'%A*'k?jKS ' ~ *-t *
x j-i- .mmmmmmmsmtasmrn
A
LE, S. C.: THURSDAY
JJ-I- J ' lU-lLl-1.
I
With ail the grace of which she wn mis-,
tress, she turned to the new comer.
"You must excuse mo, cousin Iton," site
said. 4iImU I had forgotten you. A few
yearn make great changes, and I can hardly
retrace in your countenance a feature that
reminds me of the lad who went nutting-1
with a;v. in the dear old woods of Hampton.
Allow me, Miss Archer," she added, turning
to Iter, 'to present Vo you my cousin, Mr. Adsins?Mr.
Warren, Mr. Adamsand with
perfect composure she saw his awkwnrd4>ow
snd scrape.
Emily Archer at once mischievously commenced
a conversation with Mr. Adams, and
was proceeding to draw him out the most
ludicrously when Kate came to the rescue.
"You forgot, Miss Areler," she said, "that
my cousin has but just arrived in town, -find
Im* not as yet had nnv opportunity to aee
the lions. Ho will be better able to give
you bis opinion of them in a few days, when
I shall have had the pleasure of acting as
his cicerone."
Mr. Warreff, liko a well-bred gentleman,
as he was, add rowed some remarks to Mr.
Adams on subjects with which he tvaa familiar,
and shortly after liy, with Miss Archer,
took leave.
Ka?o could have cried with vexation, as
she thought of tlir sarcastic and ludicrous
description of the scetio which Emily would
delight in giving, hut she controlled herself,
fttio <>m a Kt?nllieari'gt1'gTrt, aUU euuM nwt
lorget tbe pleasant .visits vhe had paid to her :
dear uncle and aunt Adams, or Den's untiring
efforts to make her happy when at his
father's house. She resolved to rcpny him
now, and hci grnciousncss of manner quite
fascinated poor Den, as she made all sorts of
inquiries about the old farm.
No sooner had Richard Warren, with Miss j
Archer, left the house, than she began, with I
all her {towers of sarcasm, as Kate had fore-j
seen, to ridicule the scene they had witnessed.
Mr. Warren smiled but seemed absent.
"I had no idea that the Dennetts had such
vulgar relations." continued Emily, well
knowing that the fastidious Richard Warren
would consider this a serious objection in the
woman of his choice.
"Notwithstanding all Kate Dennett's elegance,
there is a certain something about the
family that betrays low blood."
"Yes," returned Warren, lmrdty knowing
what he said; and, feeling that she had
gained one point, Emily walked on, in the
best possible spirits, internally triumphing
over the discomfiture of her rival.
That evening at the opera, who should be
at Kate's side but cousin Den, dressed in excellent
taste, and evidently much interested
in the performance, while Miss Dennett listened
with ]>olito attention to his frank and
sensible criticisms. At parties, too, he was
her attendant ; and this ooen acknowledge-!
mcnt of her relation quite blunted the point'
of Emily's entires. Mr. Dennett insisted the
youth to a situation, and very speedily his
rusticity wore off. lie lind both good look*
nnd good sense. Hud under his cousin's judicious
training, he very soon become to her no
discredit, cvon among the crowd of Hue gentlemen
who surrounded her.
Emily Archer saw nil, and bit her lip in <
vexation. She could but acknowledge the
superiority of Kate's strategy, and that she
had triumphed in the event which she had
hoped would humiliate her.
Kiojn that time Richard Warren was her
constant wltisifast, and ere long he had
opeuly acknowledged his preference by offering
hor bis heart and hand.
"My Dear Kate," he said, shortly after
their betrothal, "I shall never cease to thank
cousin Ben for giving me my bride. I admired
you as a belle, but bis coming and
vonr reception of him proved that you were
something better than a mere fine lady?
that you were a true woman, blest witli the
greatest of all attractions?a heart. Confess,
dearest, that you owe hiin a debt of gratitude, '
also?that you aie a* happy as I am."
Kate sim led ono of ber most bo witching i
smiles. i
**i certainly do not look upon his mal
apropos Arrival as a misfortune at present,'
she said, "whatever I may do in the futnre." 1
Iler glance of loving confidence contradicted
her Inst mischievous word*, and she
listened with downcast eyes and blushing
cheeks to the assurance of her lover that no i
c.w?ions of hi* should be wanting to keep i
her from regretting the event which had I
given him a glimpse into her heart. i
Many year* had passed. In the sober i
matron, Mrs. Warren, ono would hardly
have recofrftiaed the dnshimr belle. Kate
Dennett. "
Blest with wealth, a cheerful liomc. n fond <
husband, and lovely children, she hud led * i
happy life, nod time had but inoieased the
attachment of the wedded pair. Hut cloudless
a* her life hud Keen, a storm wo gathering.
Her husband, always cheerful, grew
inoody, restless and unhappy. She tried
in vain to diaoover the cause of his gloom,
but he made only evasive replies to her inquiries,
and she could only guess at his troubles;
that they were connected with lib
business, she imagined, aud her surmises
wore correct.
He enteiSsd the room where she was sitting,
one day, and exclaimed, flinging him
; self on a sofa
Kate we are ruined. In vaitt' I hare
struggled lor weeln past; it is useless to at*
Si'
<tt5&4^W4e?fe'
r MORNING, J AN UAH
tempt it longer. To-day I shall be known
as n bankrupt?penniless, and worse than
r>nnilen*. In trying to double my fortune.
have lost ull. Vou and my children are
beggars."
"\Vfiy should loss of wealth trouble you,
dear Itichard f said his wife, tenderly, approaching
and taking his hand. ''That is,
after all, but a trifling misfortune. While
we are snared to each other, blest with
health and good children, w hy should we repine
at the mere loss of fortune !"
The husband groaned.
"Ah, to be dishonored, Kate!** he said;
"to fear to look men in the face, because I
am bankrupt? unable to pay my honest
debts. Kate, the very idea of this drives me
nearly mad. To avoid lUia, what would
have I not ilnnn t I Imvn tisuutml hIix>iiI<<m
nights and anxious days, but all -in will."
With fond caresses and soothing words,
his wife strove to; comfort him ; but, nIhs, he
paid little heed to her efforts.
Just then a servant entered, saying that a
gentleman wished to see Mr. Warren.
"Tell him that I cannot." replied his inns- (
ter; "I will see nobody."
"But you will," replied a cheerful voice,
and a gentleman, who had closely followed
the servant, as he entered.
"llow-is this, my dear Dick!" he suid ;
"you are in trouble, and did not apply to me.
That was not right,"
'UoJjj' ultai naejkVQllld it have l?eou ?"
returned Warren. I am wenf'yijt tkrf ro w ing
from one friend to repay Ihv other, day
after day. Even (hat has failed ine at Inst
and I have come hoine to hide myself from
the prying gore of those who will soon be
talking of my disgrace." ,
"J had heard rumors of this, Dick, ami ,
went to your office to see you ; as von were j
not thore, 1 followed you here. Kow, inv
dear fellow, listen to mc: You have two ,
hours yet before bank hours aro orcr. Here (
is a blank check ; (ill it up yourself, and it
shall lie duly honored, ltcpny it at your
convenience. No thanks ; it is only a loan. ,
i know your business well, and that in a !,
little time, with perhaps a little assistance, i
?n .?:n u >?
an mil in; iigdL iij^uiu.
Totally overcome, Richard could only
grasp his friend's hand, whilo his c)ca filled '
with an unwonted moisture.
"liow can we ever thank you enough,
dearest cousin Ben ?" cried Kate. "Ilow ,
can we ever repay you ln
"Tut, tut, Katie; I atn only discharging ,
a pnrt of a debt I owe yon, my dear girl.? (
I owe all I possess?nil I am to you. When ,
1 first came here, n raw, ignorant, awkward,
country booby, you were not ashamed of ,
inc. You took tnc cordially by the band, ,
influenced your father to assist me, nnd,
more than all, by unvarying kindness, offer- (
ing ine a home ami innocent amusements
in your society, kept lire out of the many ,
temptations that beset a lonely, inexperienced ,
lad, such as, w ilhout you, 1 should have 1 (
been. I thanked you tor it then, even ,
when I did not appreciate the snciiflcc it ',
was to a tine lady, to have a bumpkin like i ]
myself about her ; and when I knew more ofI |
the world, and understood the rarity of such J |
conduct, I loved you the better for it, and ] (
felt the more grateful. I have had no op- (
portunitv to show it before, in snv subs tan- j,
tial form. Hut wow you arc under no obli-1
gation ; 1 Atn only getting rid of a little of1
the heavy herd you placed me uudur long i
aco. Dtck, and hereafter
rely on me in nil eases like t lie present.?
Don't get discouraged too easily?business
men, of hII others, should have elastic torn
peraments. Good-bye, now," lie aided, a* i
Warren disappeared, kis-ing the tears from '
Kate's cheek, "and be assured that lk>u Adams,
the millionaire, has never forgotten,
and will try to repay your kindness to your
jroor and awkward cousin."
"Iain richly "repaid, she murmured.?
"Ilow little I dreamed, long ago, that twice
in my life I shoulj owe tny highest happiness
to the trifling acts of kindness towards 1
inv good cousin .Bell."
T lv a. ft .s I .a ? c a ( 111 a til ! a a I a n i
l! ?( ? v v ? v p p ij ? w p ' 'I J] ' v 'I
Iff o q ? ho e n i. ;
The cftsting of the horse for this monument,
nt Munich, is one of the great feats of
modem foundry, as Hfteon tons of bronze .
had to be melted and kept in ns.ale offiutd- j
ity. For several days and nights previously,
a largo tire was at these huge masses; which
required to bestirred at times. When the
bronze was liquified, an ultimate essay was
made in a small trial cost, and to heighten
oolor, some more copper was added. Sue
cessively all the chambers through which
the metal had to How in the form were cleared
of the coal with which they had been
kept warm, and the master examined all
the air spiracles und the iseuen of the metal
; the props of the tubes werotlien placed,
and every man had his duty and place assigned
to him. Finally, the master, amid
the intense expectation of the toony art
amateurs present, pronounced the words,
"In the name of Clod," and then three mighty
strokes opened the fiery gulf, out of which
the glowiug metal flowed hi n circuit
to the large iorny. The eight was magnifi
cent, and inr the little sea of fire stood the
master, and gave hie command* About the
successive opening of the props. Hefittapor
iiriirZ
Jr.
tsrrmrnm ?? >n? 11 <?>? ?????w?a
IY 24, 1856.
gga*""' i L-_! '. '. .UJ.LL
poured from the air spiracle* { in the Cut
tilths, tliejmedtn! boiled fa waves ; still, n
decision yet, as thuiuHux of the bronze in lli
very feWi of fhc figure cn?fd~ b? but ?lov
Al once flaming shower* jumped out of tli
air conduits, and the master proclaimed lit
CMt io have succeeded. A loud clreef f ?]
lowed, when the master &ppVoiR:h'cd ifi
Crawford, th'6 artist of tli'o \V ashingtoi
Monumefitv to congratulate hiiu upou tlii
success. Another cheer was given to M. d
Miller, the chief of the royal foundry o
Muiiich, who hud pdNotially conducted th
work.?The fluildi-r.
flt) ilpfXffcJeO if ir o p o 3 q i o
Mo IrIMqgc.
Pf<vM THE ''WIOCW BEOOTT PAPKRa."
Ma. Cka.vk.?-Well, widdor, I've beer
thinking about taking another compaiiivu?
and I thought I'd ask yon?"
Widow.?-Oh, Mr. Crane, ogseuse tin
commotion ?t*s so ntiexpectod. Je*t hand
me mat arc boltloo' cam tire off the ineiitle
trv shelf-?I'm rutlier faint?dew put a litlh
mite on tny handkerchief und hold it to mj
mut. There?that'll dew?I'm ohleged lev
ye?now I'm rutlier more composed?yoi
may perceed, Mr. Crane."
Mr. Crane.?"Well, widder, I was agoinj
to ??k you whether?whether-?"
Widow.?"Contiuner, Mr. Crane?dew ?
I know ilVturrihle embarri.dn.' I reiueni
her when my dezeaaed husband made hi?
suppositions to nte, he stammered and slut
tered, and was so awfully flustered it diM
seem as if he'd never git out in the world
u?d 1 s'poee it's generally the cane, at leasl
it has been with all (hem that's made sup
positions to me?you see they're giDerails
concerting about wlint kind of an answei
they're ngwino to git, and it kind o' make?
'em nervous. Hut when an individual ha<
reason to s'pose his attachment's reciprotfa
ted, I don't see what need there is o' boin
IIuslrated?tho' 1 must say it's quite cilibar
rasin' to tnc?pray continucr."
Mr. C.?"Well, then, 1 want to know i
you're willing I should have Meliasyl"
Widow.?"The dragon ?"
Mr. C.?"1 hain't said anything to hoi
about it yet?thought the proper way wai
to get your consent first. 1 remember wlter
I courted Tryphcny w o were engaged ?om?
Liine before mother Kenipe knew anything
about it; when she found it out she wasquiu
put out because I didont go to her first. Ss
when I made up my mind about Melisay
thinks mo, I'll dew it right this time and
?peak to the old woman first?"
Widow.?"Old woman, hey ! that's a pur
ly name to call me 1?nmatin' perlite tew !?
Wont Mi>liiKU liov 1 'I'rititu.l.ili. .?i t
v - \
oakes alive! well, I'll give it ?|? now ! 1 al
ways know'J you wb$ a simpleton, Tim
C?rnnc, but I must confess 1 didcnl think you
was quite so big a fool?want Melissy, dctt
ve ? If that don't beat all ? What an ever
iustin'old calf you must be to s'pose she'd
look at you. Why, you're old enough tc
lie her father, and more tew ? Melissy nin'i
only in her twenty onetli year. What a ive
Jickilou* idee for a mano' your age! as grat
as a rat tew ! I wonder what this world is i
comin1 tew ;'t is astonishin' ?)mt fixjls oh
widdiwer* will rnako o' themselves! IIav<
Melissy ! Melissy 1"
Mr. C.?"Why, widder, you surprise m<
?I'd no hleo of being treated in this win
after you'd ben so polite to me, and mad*
*uch a fuss over me and the girls."
Widow.?"Shet yer head, Tim Crane?
nun o' ycr aass to me. There's ycr hat or
that are tabic, an J here's the door, and th<
nwuui ^ VU |fUV Ull Uliu Mini lllilll/ll Ullfc V
t'other (he better it'll be for you. And I ml
viso you afore you try to git married agin
to go out we&t and see 'f yer wife's cold ?
and art or ye're satisfied on that pint, jest put
a little lampblack on yer hair?'t would
add to yer appearance ondoubtedly and bt
of service tew you when you want to Hour
ish round among tho gals?and when ye'vi
got yer hair lixt, jest apPnlcr the spine o
yer back?'t wouldent hurt yer looks t
mite?you'd be intcrely unrexi-table if yot
was a luetic grain straiter."
Mr. C.?* VVell, I never!"
Widow.?'-Hold yer tongue?von con
sarned old coot you?1 tell ye there's ye
hat and there's the door?bo off with yer
self, quick metre, or 1*11 gi\o yo a hvst witl
the broomstick."
Mr. C.?"(Jimnictri!"
iv: i i hp:. ..... t .... r
" iuuw, iimiijj.? vjit uul i ? i urn
Hgwine lo tint here and lx> intuited undo
my own full'?and ho?git ulung?and i
ever you darken inv door agin, or say a wort
to Melifcvy, it'll Ik; wokS for you?that's all.1
Mr. C.?"Tieinoiiijoua ! What a buster!'
Widow.?"Go 'long?go 'long?go'long
you eveilaatin' old gain. 1 won't hear nil
oilier word (slop* her ears.) 1 won't, 1 won'l
I won'l. [Exit Mr. Crane.
Ax incorrigible wag, who hud lent a minij
ter a l?orse, which ran away nnd threw hi
clerical rider, thought he s-hould have aoni
crodil for his aid in 'spreading the goepel.'
i ii
Ito who tells you of another's fau!ti
will tell others of your own.
EE?
' i ?'i ' ymrn+mmm*
so. %
i|!. of flfo Soqjon *. .
e TiiEtiK are single words which conloiiMliorc
emplia?-?, more meaning, than can b? found
* ' 111 iiiunv * Vnliiina ! \UV ailAnl a* ^
v (v the follower of the Crow, and his soul is
*uddeu1y filled with celestial rapture. Sat'
r* "1 tonic" to the exile, and you have recited
" the teiulerest poem that could he ooimtruc4
ted. Say "Mother'1 to the obdurate crimine
al, and his heail will inell iikelead in a fur';
nace. Say "Autumn11 to the poet, and his
c fancy i* Hi urtee uuouihod?the springs of
fyfs pathos are unsealed-^uod' the harp of
his passions is swept by fingers that never
r sweep those chords iu vein.
' Nature dies annually. Habit has rendered
us indifferent to the circumstances, else
vvotrld it move and profit trs. We witoeei
the process and progress of the disease that
conquers her at last?see the burning Siitti,
mer fever that follows the sweet and bealth.
ful Spring of her existence ; observe the Au?
j tumn hectic that Hushes her cheek, and the
. I after pallor that settles (here; watch her dying
I throes, her death ; and finally see her sweet
. i ?iav clad iu the lillv shroud of Winter and
.! her surpassing beauties Cbin'm7tt4d to . the
i tomb; and all this without a' pang, perhaps
' i Without a thought. Oh 1 men are strangely
j hard-hearted. Few there are who wjll leave
th'err business, their ploiisuiea, even for an.
v hour, to attend the funeral of Nature?and
' to enrich themselves with the grave suggee.
i lion's of the hour.
. j Again the time of her death cornea oil.?
, Strength hue departed front Iter lifrttje? her
j sinews Hre enfeebled?her veins are fast dryI
j ing up. Slower and yet slower, pace tlu(throbbings
of her great heart?feebler and ye*
II more feeble aie the ticking** of the bidden
. ; pulse?|>aler and more pale grows her gvft.
tie uheelt?dimmer, niul more dim waxes
J the light of her eloquent eye. Who watches
,! the invalid us she passes away 1 Who loves
. her so well that he will not suifcrher to die
. itIoT|fe I . t . , t ,
The days of the violets are gone; d*1**
. of the heat?when the earth approaches
ncurest to the fuinace of the&un, and warms
f herself thereat, until beads of sweat glitter
upon her forehead?have passed away ; the
harvest is gathered ; the bounties of the year
r aie garnered up. She who dies has be5
queathed rich legacies to the world, which it
. w ill .enjoy w lieu she is not. Strartge, that,
5|.ntheenjoy.ue.il ofthb legacy, tfe dibuld
r | basely forget the source wucnco it ciidiQ?
but we do.
, Let the brown leaves fall. Let tlid her*
bagc shrivel and wither. Let the shrill
I wind whistle over the dead pi aid add thrdiigh
the naked branches. \\V ate filled ifritb
good, and cure not fot- the genferal desolation
bv whicl. we art sthrbutided. We lire
tho' Nature dies.
And vet, there art eyes vrtiibh'nrd bl.tUltetf
by scalding tears as they see the closing
hour draw nigh. For when she whose end
is at''hand, sunk to rest before, she sank not
alone, hot took with ber those who were
precious as life or Heaven. And tlieir
retuiua to tliem how like an atferiglttg fbe,
who having heen once foiled and gathered
new strength for the contest, comes to crushus
with hi* power. Let the dry leases fclltTh?y
shall be tpnnkled aud moistened by
the tears of unnumbered weepers.
'J he death of the year ! It is a time for
solemn reflections, for wtbdued fancies, for
the holy resolution. It is n tititf frrhn truss
, ured, not wasted. There w poetry fa lb#'
j air when Nature breathes her last?
there is admonition in the scene, when
her bosom ceases from iu throbbing*?there
; is joy in her going, for vrt IhiO# that she
will return again.
The hour offers- tlide jewels. Soe that
hou dost place tliem in a setting that is
seemly, and dost wear tliem proudly. Else
wilt thou lose a treasure such as angels cor
^ el.? Buffalo Br press.
5 To AprREXTieEtt.?Tile only way for A
-1 young rami to prepare himself, is to study
i ^during his leisure hours. Jfev'Gf complain
' ( that you are obliged to ork, 1>U< go to it
i, with alacrity and cheei fulness, and it will
i become a habit that will make you respected
i by your employers and the community,?
| Make it your business to see and promote
- j his interest ; by taking care of his, you will
r ; Warn to promote your own. Second, attend
j to your studies. Fen apprentice* irih Cvi'Kli
| plain of * harder master limn Dr. Freuklin,
| who laid the .foundation for greatness while
an apprentice. Success depends not upon
t the amount of leisure we have, but on Uw
r manner in which it is improved,
f ? '>'
1 'Eeoqurnt KxtuaCtt."?Aii exchange
> | ?ny? that a man that w onkl hyatewinticaffy
anil wilfully ?rt about cheating a printer
f, wouM commit robbery on a crying baby and
. I rob it of iU ginger bread?rob a church of
J its counterfeit pennies?lick tho baiter off a
'! blind nigger's Kst "titter"-? pawn bit prand!
mother'* specka for a drink of whialny??
I steal acorns from a blind sow, and take
'* | clothes froin a ?c*re-crow, to make a respea*
'* j table nppearanofctfn society.
"An hontet man1? the noblent work
of God," saith the poet. Yea, smith the
j, sensualist, but women k th4 prettiest?
'tev. 4 . *
. i r*