University of South Carolina Libraries
% w ?- _U??LJ 'J.I- - ?? . I. I.I m.mmmmmm?m~mMmm?mmmm?^----?mmm~lm.m?~mmmm-m???m-mm---mmm*mmr:^mm.m? __ ill M?ff@-M?ilAI. WmWWB S@ JJU*." VOL. :i gREEStlltiE, S. ft: TIIUK^i^yORSIKG, JCTE 12, 1856. ........ ... .KQgjr' ,<?tic iwitljcrti Cnttrjirist, A. RKFLKX OF POPULAR EVENTS wai&TMii&rifl JP- xpaa^is, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. Tr?3*IWi?? " n,Vr 80. payable ia ad vance ; $2 If dflnywl. CLUBS o( FIVE aud upwards #1, tho money lb every instance to acecmpany the order. ADV.Ett'ClSEMENTS inserted conspicuously at the rates of 76 oents per square of IS lilies, and 25 oents for eaah subsequent insertion. Contracts for yearly advertising made reasonable. AORNT8. ? j E. W. CARP., W. W. cor. of Walnut and Third-st, Philadelphia, is our authorised Agent. W. W. WALKER, JR., Columbia, a C. PETER STRAOLEY, ESQ., Flat Rook, N. C. A. M. PEOEN, Fairvicw P. O., Greenville Dis WM. C. BAILEY, Pleasant Grove, Greenville CAPT. R. Q. ANDERSON, Cedar Falls, Greenville I he Star and the S-ily. This sweet production is from the pen of one of the gifted correspondents of the Louisville (Kentucky) Journal. Its merits will be readily appreciated by every reader into whose hands it may fall. It was an evening clear and still. As e'er hold earth in silvery fold ; The azure curlaius of the sky Were fringed with gleaming gems of gold : The wandering airs of uight grew faint Upon the silver-lighted stream; The fragrant breath of rones came, Like thoughts that weave a poet's dream ; Soft clouds were floating off to play, Like glorious birds just loosed from Heaven, While high above their deecy folds There gleamed a loving star of even. Each night his smiling eyes came out, And sought a lowly inurtnuriner stream. Along whose banks, Roft fleeced with light, Fair lilies drooped their heads to drcnin, One lily, pale and dewy-eyed. Wou'd hv the moonlight colored air, Poured from her heart the wistful love 'Hint long had lain entangled there, 'Mid odors, gleams, and murmurings, That to the shrine of night belong, She breathed in fragrant, passioned sighs, The love that thrilled her soul to song. That loving star, so pure and bright, Seemed cold and coy as maidens fen*1*; Yet still she raised her lirtavenuiur.l ox-na And brimmed her lily cup wilh tears I And when hie beams came trembling down To kiss the waves that laved her feet, She slowly drooped her snowy brow, Till wave, and star, and lily met, That loving touch so widely thrilled. She wished nor prayed for greater bli?s Than fondly look the love she felt, And nightly bend beneath his kiss. When morningc amo with blushing hues, The star would pale upon her heart, But not the memory of his beams? They grew to be life a part, E'en in the garnish hours of moon ; But daylight's veil of golden hue Concealed his loving smiles from her, Thus passed the weary, lagging hours? Pale flower below, and srnr above, Till pitying angel from the sky Stooped down and blessed their dream of love. He took the star beams from their throne And placed them in the lilyV breast, Where now no more they wandering roam, But there forever sweetly rest, A liny vase of fragrance rare Contains that glowing star of love Unfold its leaves and nestling there, Behold a snowy, spotless dove ; Enshrinod wiihi* -? " - ?up? '^itb^blded wing and dowy eyes, \?, vli seems to mo a sacred thing, An emblem sent from Paradise? A boautoous tvpo of wonian'i lovo, J>e?p bidden froin the world apart, A dove that never tries its wing, Hut broods and nestles in the heart. Making Vinegar.?The cheapest mode of making vinegar is to mix five quarts of warm rain water with two quarts of Orleans molasses, and four quarts of yeast In a few weeks you wi|l have the best vinegar you ever tasted. Ml Urooltitinnnrtj ?>ketrlj. From the Edgefield Advertiser. JlHU SqiD iOqUeir. Mr. Editor: Knowing the disposition of many of your readers to see examples of patriotism, and the solicitations I have had, is my only apology for giving you a narrative which came under my own observation, which you can use for what it is worth. It will bo remembered that war was declared by the United States against Great onwio, in June, 1812. Shortly after, General Orders were issued in Georgia for a draft of Militia for regular service. I then resided in Lincoln county. A general parade was ordered, a company volunteered, and I was soon after electee] to command the saine. For some ten months nothing occurred worthy of note, only a regular course of drill and discipline. I think is was on the 12th August, 1818, l>y order of Col. Walton Har ris, my company paraded at Lincolnton for review, and preparatory for entering service, at which time three or four substitutes were offered by those whose business would not permit of their leaving at that season. And among the rest, the hero ofiny story, "Little Sam Walker," with whom I was then unacquainted. lie had not volunteered, for his age and size twelve months before, had not brought bim into notice ; but now he had grown up and become very anxious to go into the army. He was net yet seventeen years old, of sallow complexion and feminine voice, and weighed about one hundred and fifteen pounds. After the review, he offer ed as a substitute, wheu the following dialogue ensued : Col. Harris. Young man, how old are you ? Sam Walker. About seventeen, sir. Col. II. Sir, you are very small to go in the army. S. W. I ain, sir, but i am very willing to try it. Col. H. Do you suppose you are able to carry a musket, knapsack, &o., and march thirty miles a day 1 S. W. I do not know, sir, but I think 1 can go as far as any of the others. Col. II. Are your parents willing ? S. W. I have none, sir?they are dead. Col. II. Then is your guardian willing? S. W. I have no ctianfiun Col. II. Have you no friend or relation who would ol>j??ct i S. W. Squire Bond, sir, is my uncle, and I lie Ensign is my brother. Col. fi. ChII Ensign Walker. The Ensign was accordingly and critical ly examined about the age, health, &c\, of his brother. lie said he had no objection to iiis brother's going, but feared that he was rather young and feeble to undergo the many hardships incident to a soldier's life. Whereupon Col. IIarris observed, "Young man, you must stay at home a while longer, and cat more mush, and grow fast, and watt for the next tour of duty. I regard you too small to take?you are therefore dismissed." Sam Walker turned oft' reluctantly and mortifted. I then received instructions to have my company equipped and paraded, at Lincolnton, in two weeks from that time, to take up our line of march for the Creek Nation, which was accordingly done on the 26th of August, 1813. Previous to my departure, I was accosted in the street by Sain Walker, who said : "Captain, will you let mo go with you in the ariny f" To which I replied in the affirmative. "But w:ll you see ine paid and draw iny rations ?" "Certainly I will, sir," was my prompt answer. "Well, Captain, where will you camp tonight ?" " .t Freeman's Spring, five miles off." "That's all I wish to know. Now say nothing about it, and I will be with you before day," whispered my roung friend, as we parted. Some time after, Joseph Walker, the Ensign, asked me confidentially what Sain intended to do. I told him He then observed if he would go, and if I would let hiin I go as a substitute, that he knew one who I would give him all his equippage and thir- ] ty dollars, and that he might as well have it ' an nothing. I consented, and Sam was soon I after presented to me as a substitute ?;nd ac- ; cepted, to the gratification of the eorapany, i and marched off from Lincoln, with his com- i panions, in regular line to Fort Hawkins, I where they soon drew their guns and bay- \ onels, and the sentinels posted. I On the third night Sam Walker was put t on guard. And here I must observe that I the GeneraU had not arrived, and Col. Har- I ris, by seniority, had command of the whole i army. The Colonel, in company with one < Major, three Captains, and two Dootors, i walked out that evening in the neighborhood of Fort Hawkins. During their absence I the officer of the day ehanged the counter- ( sign. On their return, at a late hour of the I night, they were accosted by Sam Walker, i just after his being placed on guard, who qailed, " Who comes there ?" < Co). Harris replied, "The grand rounds." I S. W. Advance, *ir, and give the countersign The Colonel advancing, gave a sign. S. W. 8top, sir, that is not the countersign, and yon are a prisoner, sir, Col. II. You dare attempt to stop me ? 8. W. Yea, and you dare to pass me, sir. and I'll put my bayonet through you (at the same time charging upon the Colonel.) Col. II. (In a bold ami commanding tone)?Sir, nothing but your ignorance prevents me from taking your head off. S. W. You can try it if you like, but if you attempt to pass hero I will kill jou if I ; can. Ool. H. (more boldly and enraged) you G?d dainn'd little scoundrel, do you know who you are talking to, and that 1 mn the Commander of this army ? If I don't pass, I'll have your head taken oft' to-morrow. S. W. Well, sir, if yon pass here I'll i have my bayonet in you to-night, and so all I of you set yourselves down as prisoners for ; the guard hotiso. I know you, Col. Harris. I They all obeyed the orders except tlie one i in the rear, who during the confab, stole back and went round, and by some other sentinel got through the lines. lie then immediately applied io Maj. Groves the officer of the day, to go to the relief of his friends. Tho Major, on encountering Sain, was hailivith nAtnop !?/-??... I'' Maj. G. The grand round*. S. W. Advance and give the countersign. 9. W. Right, sir; pass on. Maj G. But I come to release the prisoners you have. S. W Pu?? nn c?r? viMi nnn'l hav? Muun from the nearest market town. And calm ?tid quiet were the low-roofed cottage* that teemed to hare fallen asleep upon the gras>v sward, around which scarce a sound hut the monotonous hum of the bee, broke upon the stillness of thesummer air. It was June? bright, glorious June?with its wealth of roles, and its soft, silvery nights; when the ast spring beauties grow with a rich, warm tiue, ere yet the more gaudy colors of sumner have usurped their plaoe, and theaouth- i srn breeze comes laden with the perfume of i tropical clime. A group were gathered in a held not far Yom the pretty parsonage. Ok! men were there, whose hair was silvered over with the Yoets of many winters, and whoae tottering neps seemed fast leaning to the grave.? There were bright eyed matrons with howid heads, and tow, whispering voices; and , he sunny curie of childhood, with its round, Maj. G. But I must have them ? I am j the officer of the day, ami have a right to1 take tiicm. 8. YV. I tell you to i?a?s, on, air, f>?r you j shall not have them till t deliver tliein at the guard house. The Major then passed on, anil the piiso* j nere saw no prospect of relief, until the two ] hours passed round. They then lesorted to a stratagem. One of them said he was very thirsty, and proposed going to the spring, close by, and all rose to their feet, for that; purpose, when Sam cried out, "stop, not a man leaves only at the risk of his life." Find j ing they could n >t scare Sam, one of them appealed to his liberality and humanity.! Whereupon Sam saiJ, if they would pledge j their honor as gentlemen, and leave thenswords and hats in his custody, they could go. This was the hardest trial of all; bull finding themselves so completely foiled, and i thinking yet to succeed, they submitted and drew off their swords and lints and went to the spring, where a consultation was held, which resulted in the belief that they could never succeed. And they returned in time for Sam to march them up to the guard house, at the expiration of two hours. Soon in the morning Sam came to my lent and related to me the whole circumstance, and expressed some fears from the threats of Col. Harris ; but when 1 told him tha t he had done exactly right, ami that 1 would stand between him and all dangeis, he assumed a confidential air. The whole affair went like electricity, and Little Sain Walker was sought after, ami soon became as noted in the army as Col. Harris. He served a faithful tour through the campaign, and at the battle of Colleba, the 27th of January, he received a ball in the shoulder. When the battle was over, and the wounded collected for surgical operation, I went to see them, when Sam's first salutation was, "Well, Captain, they have give it to me, but thoy have not got rue yet." We soon had the ball extracted, when Sam claimed it of the Doctor, and said if the Indians returned, he intended logivuit back to them. Lie did his duty like a hero, and returned to Lincoln, the theme of pruise in every crowd. li. 1'akks. Intthij llraiiiug. Ibe Coirqelr-Stone. BY KATE CLEVELAND. A duiiti little nook was that country village, with its winding road stripped with lines of grass, seldom it ever disturbed by the passing of any other vehicle than the simple wagon of the fanner as he iournevod to or glowing cheek, laid lovingly against the wrinkled face of age, and its dimpled hands wandering amid the thin gray locks. The little flock of Woodside were gathered aronnd their minister to lay the cornor-stone of the first church that arose in that humble village, llithcito their mooting had been held at the parsonage, 01 in the loom of some willing member. They had changed about from place to place, for the people of W nod side were poor ; they had never heard of churches with glowing crimson cushions and pillars covered with gilding, wlu-re the light comes soft and subdued ihronorh liclilv Htaine<l windows, and sermons, never meant for the poor, fall soothingly on the hearts of those who chii afford to pay tor them.? | They were n plain and stern people ; pet haps mingling with their religion too much of puritanical harshness?too little disposed to seek enjoyment in the humble events of their quiet life, or the glorious teachings of the wood and stream, the sunset's golden halo, j or the pale, still beauty of even. Ihu theirs was the right path, though they stopped not I to cull the flowers that bloomed beride it. Long self-denial, and frequent additigs to their little hoard, had increased it so that now they were aide to erect a house of wor-1 ship. With glad hearts they clustered a-; round their pastor, who had liorne with them u........i. ? iiiniir wwnry sciuniis, even us a , father bears willi bis children?who had toiled unwearied through tlie numerous hard-j ships that attended their first efforts. No murmur or word of complaint had passed i his lips; ever ready to soothe and coiufort j others, while scarcely a soothing or encoura- j ging word fell upon his own ear. There is something inexpressibly solemn in the lay- j i 11 g of a corner-stone ; to reflect that while j the yet unfinished edifice resounds with the j steps of breathing life, and the voices of an- j other generation, we shall he sleeping thai! sleep which knows no waking save in an other world ; thai wlim fro;;: its crumbling foundations arc raised tlio names of those who witnessed the laying of firmly imbedded stone, the hands that traced will be mouldering in the dust. The minister spoke of these things, and a solemn awe crept into the hearts of his hearers. "We may indeed," said ho. "first lay the hand to this good wotk, hut we know not the end. We cannot ga/.u forward into the shadowy future, and read what is there inscribed. Many," he continued, with faltering voice, "many may have passed from this eaithly life, when the first anthem of praise shall swell upward from the temple we are now erecting." Ilere every eye was turned on old Mary Elton, who had long passed the nlloled age of man ; and as she heard toe words she bowed her trembling head ; and cast those aged eyes on the foundation of that building which she never expected to behold. With saddened hearts it., i:..i i niv nine congregation jm-s.se>i siowiy to inetr homes, ;Hi'l the family circle was a quiet and solemn one, as they mused on the trembling voice of their pastor iin<l ealleil to mind the paleness of his brow, and the sharpened feautares?sharpened by toil and eare. lie too mused, hut it was of the pas:.? Slowly and distinctly lose up those many images ; they were shadows that hung about his path and darkened ever his clouded way. They showed him a boy with clustering locks and happy, careless face, whoso laugh burst forth in clear, ringing tones, as an am bitious father told hint of future greatness and countless honors?of talents that would shine splendidly foith upon the great world, and wealth that should tdl be bis. Then they showed him a youth who set out upon a journey to pursue a delusive phantom, and lo 1 in the deceitful chase he found a price less pearl which he placed within his bosom. But there were those whose eyes were blinded; who, instead of a precious stone, saw only a common pebble, and tliey laughed and jeered at him for treasuring the worthless thing. Then he held it up to the light, and it was pure and faultless, and he flung it not aside. Then came the father? he loo saw it with blinded eyes, and coin manded the wayward youth to give up to [ his foolish pebble, and pursue the glorious journey. Hut a voice was in his pearl, and it whispered: "Thou shall give up father anu mother for my 5>akeand he was a wanderer froin hi* father's house. PART II. "i'in hack me curtain*, Anna, tnut l tnav gaze upon the sunset once more. How glorious are it* purple clouds fading to the soft rone-tint. And anon glowing with those tloods of liquid gold ! Pure and lovingly gleaiu* forth that heaven of rest to which my wea ry soul is hastening." Pressing resolutely back to their source the scalding tears that trembled in her eyoe, the fair And noble-minded wife rate from the bedside where she had sat for hour* with her hand locked in his, listening to that low and fluttering breath, and drew aside the snowy curtains, and calmly put back the clustering roses. that twined about the casement. She shed i no tears, but her heart was breaking. She ! arranged the pillows around tho dying man, and then bont down low, very low, to oatcli his faltering word*: "I bad hoffed to soe Mm once inore, to feel hi* hand upon my brow a* in times of old, for lie was my fa ther 1 Noiwithstanding nil his harshness I loved him; and when 1 am gone, you most go to him, Anna, and he will love you and the little ones an ho loved uiu. lie will not refuse There was a low, convulsive sob of agony, and the dying man started as the sound fell upon his ear, "My poor, poor Anna !M Footsteps wcro coming up the little gravelled walk in front of the house. Slowly and reverently the two elders shut the small wicket-gale, for a solemn quiet was round the house of death. Sabbath after Sabbath unci tiioir gray heads bowed in prayer, while their hearts echoed to the woids that fell from lips soon to he closed in death. The world was passing from them, and little had they thought that ho would go before them; for the hair that shaded his brow was not yet streaked with silver, although care and suffering had stolen from it the lustre of earll> vnnll. c. .1.......I.. ?.. i.i?i V ; v,,bU* w/iviuiMj iiiv* CIIIVK'U UIO Uliaill- I I?or of sickness, and stood by tho beddde.? To-morrow would be tho Sabbath?and the little church was visible from the lialf-clo-ed windows. Not yet had its empty walls been consecrated by tho voice of worship ; and while others, like worthless weeds, remained. he, their prop and dependence, was passing from them. What would become of the little flock when he whs gone ? Who would so piously, faithfully fulfil ihis charge as he had done I We cannot see the fail reality of a thing that blots, as it wore, the sunshine of our existence, until its fearful presence leaves no room for doubt; and still the people of Woodside hoped on, deluding | themselves from day to day. lint the elders saw that an icy hand was laid noon his brow ; they saw the life-blood pale us it coursed through the shrunken veins, and beheld tho dim and fading eye lie bade tlicm come closer?still closer, for lie saw thorn not * nrwt wlion with atirt^.l voice they*said, "We are hero," lie answered, | "It is well." There was a solemn pause?no sound arose in the little chamber, anu the I sick man lay with closed eyes, while awe1 stricken, they gazed at each other, fearful that the spirit had passed from earth. But the end w is not yet ; rousing himself with a strong effort, he said : "My friends, when the corner-stone of that church was laid, I told you that some then present might never see the finished pile. There were those whose weight of years seemed bearing them to the grave; and I believed that many of them would not be spared till now. But here they ate?all here, while I am has telling from you. I ain ready for the journey?it has no fears for ine, hut I looked not for so speedy a summons. Who among you will stand in my place?1' The elders wero silent; they dared not take upon themselves so great a responsibility. They felt that they were unfit to assume the place of the dying man, who, through sickness and agony, had preserved a high and noble feeling, losing all thoughts of in his care for1 others. But placing a hand upon the head of each, lie continued in a solemn and impressive voice: "Unto you I bequeath the Hock over whom I haveso long watched and praved. 'Tisa hclv trust. Oh! mnv rnn ornorP ^ J - J J ? ?* ~ it well!" When tho elders left the bedside of their pastor there was a light within their hearts?the light of high and purifying thought; and passing into the lonely forest where the golden sunset was fast fading into even, they communed together upon their solemn trust. It was the Sabbath morn, and all was quiet around the little parsonage. There is a hushed and holy beaut}' in the Sabbath morn of summer, while the dew still sparkle* on tho bended flowers, and trembles like threaded pearls upon the blades of grass? when the notes of the forest songsters, or the limn of distant worshippers, is the only sound that I reaks tho stillness. The voices of the assembled congregation fell upon the suti'erer's ears blending together in a solemn strain. lie listened to the well-known tones till they died away in silence, and then he knew they were at prayer. lie covered his face with his hands to join with them for the last time; and as the words died upon his lips he fell into a sweet and refreshing slumber. The old clock moved quickly on ?his hour of Life was waning; but still by the bedside sat that faithful watcher. When lift awoke thero was a sound of Robbing in the little room?not low ami stilled like suppressed grief, but the voice of a strong man's agony. He rceogni/.ad the haughty brow on wh cli Time had furrowed many a deep line; and his last wish was granted?be once more laid his head on his lather's breast. The proud man had re turned to his desolate home with his heart full of anger against the disobedient son who forsook him, and chose a life of poverty and toil for the sake of his foolish whim. But as time woro ou, the haughty spirit was subdued, and he resolved to seek the jewel he ] had once despised. He sought earnestly and found it; and to the cyo of faith it look ed pure and bright. But he had lost his i son?banished him by his own harshness and cruelty ; he set out on the second journey with a ^Hastened spirit, and again clasped lh? wanderer to his bosom. But the dying pastor forgot not tho companion of his clouded life; placing her hand in that of his father, he gazed tenderly upon them both? and soon after was at peace. He slept at 1 last: how beau'ifnl was tlic . pnle brow, which even Death coukl not mar, and the face on which a bright smile reeled ! Thev caine, a sad and weeping group, to gaze upon him once more. Again and again was the white cioth lifted to take a last look at those pale, calm features, that seemed so cold hik! quiet, with tho hands folded on tho bosom, and the eyes closed forever. Old Mary Elton was there ; and as she gazed upon the lifeless body sho asked herself vhv he had been taken while she was still left; he, whose life was valuable to all, while no no* would tnouru her loss. Slowly the IiMI UartV of mourners unnm! alrm !??< I ? ; - ?.? fi? ?!!cing stream with the body of In id whom they had loved. There was a gray-haired man, who, pushing aside those that crowded around, stood alone by the solitary grave. He gazed with a tearless eye as the first shovel-full of earth fell upon the coffin, ami seemed striving with painful emotion.? Long after the others had depailcd. stood the solitary watcher, till the lirst p;:'e star gleamed out amid the twilight, lie returned to his cheerless home with the widow and her orphans. Together they would speak of the dead as of a sweet vision that had glanced upon their path ; and tin* memory of his virtues dwelt within their hearts. From the Olive Urnneh. Gqo 1 if elf> 'Can I help you ? Just say the word.* There speaks the whole sonled, whole hearted max?the mail whose very shadow is worth more than the body, soul ami estate, personal and spiritual, of two-thirds of the human race bearing that nainc. 1 lowhe lifts the desponding spirits of his brother in trouble. All day he has met with cold eyes and cold smiles, cold words, cold bows, and colder sympathy. Men My him be cause iiiev nave neard that lie whs unfortunate?and?*uo a villain?a thief :: murderer,' says the world, in notion?but don't he unfortunate. I'll lend you tent housuud, if you are worth fifty ; if you're unfortunate ?I'm very poor myself?would like to help you?could have done so three days ago, or three hours ago?but positively havn't got three cents nor shan't be in possession of that amount, while?your misfortuno lasts. If vour old aunt dies, or your old uncle, or, in fact, anybody who chooses to leave you a fortune, whv just call upon me; I'll manage to have a 'i'tle loo-y change on lend. But look ! yonder comes a broad shouldered, frank browed man, who meets his poor brother, with a hearty slap on the shoulder, and 'Can I help you ? .lust say I ho word, Don't be afraid now ; what's your trouble! Out with it, and if you'd like a little cash, just say so. Don't be down cn.-t ?what if you have failed in your expectaI lions once, twice, or thrice? Havn't some of our most successful merchants done the same thing??made the same mistakes?? And where would they have been if tliev hadn't found friends ? Come?the elements of success are in you?cheer up?what do you want?how much?' He didn't clap Iiis hand on his pocket with a styxlike frown that savs as rdainlv it* l>? !? >?? n..i --- J ? -y " I your ear, 'no entrance, here.' lie is not one of tlio.se dyspeptic, cross-grained and surly, monied Mechanics, that squeezes a sixpence until it squeals, and reads a newspaper with a g.'ecdy, voracious eagerness, for fear lie shall not get his two cents' worth, llo lives for something else, that man, than gain.? IIis passport to Heaven is written on his face his religion on the hearts of the down-cast and the sorrowing?in the homes he has made by Ids benevolence. 'Can I help you ?' Write the words in gohlon letters, for they aro only heard on rare occasions, 'i ho sneer, the scorn, the doubt, the refusal ?tliev come with every night-fall and sun-risiug.? Niggards grow liko mushrooms, but angels are scarce. Niggaid* can never look beyond themselves?their own comfort, their own convenience; no matter who starves next door?they scatter curses in discouragements and blight, ?>n. Hod only knows, how many gentle hearted. They never say 'Can I help him,' but, 'lie's down, let's kick him.' Hut the angelic ministry of those helpers of humanity?men who beiievo iiiey were entrusted with powers the gods might envy, that they might be used to some good purpose? whnt shall we say of them ! how givo them the burning praise they merit? f><>od, whole-souled, generous man ? the angels and Ood himself, smiled approvnl, when with beaming eyes, and hopeful words, you said to the dispirited brother, 'Can I l.olp you V An Eoo Put into a Phial.?To accomplish this seeming iucreuihlo act, reotim-s the following preparation : 'You must take an egg and soak it in strong vinegar; and in process of time its shell will become rpiile soft, so that it may he extended lengthways without breaking; then insert it into tho neck of a small bottle, and by pouring cold water upon it, it will re-assume its former figure and hardness.? This is really a complete curiosity, and baffles those who arc not in the secret to find out how it is accomplished.