The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, July 17, 1856, Image 1
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V0L :i' '.RERXVIUE, St ('.: T[||;I!M)AY MOtpNg, jUI^Y 17. ' gjjifr
<?ift f mrtjjtru (Bnterprisr,
M( * KEFLEX OP POPULAR EVENTS
r*di 11 ' j: - *yj* " .
' v taigeflBtt&ttiE s>? iPHiac&ii,
* - EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
* 1 60, parkble in p<lvanc? ; (2 if dulnyed.
CLUTW ?f FtVK and upward* 81, the money
(a evbrv ih?tano'ti in accompany th? order.
* ' ADVERTMKM15YT3 ineertel eoViepumounly at
tii-t i-ita* of lf> Mi its j> t apine ttf |:t Knii, and
&V ogitte for each *uh*or|'lo:it insertion. Co.v
ti'AiU lor yearly a Ivoi'twinj made reasonable.
ACIKJtTR.
?.. W. Oft**, N*. W. oor. of Walnut nud Third-M,
Philadelphia, U our authorized Ajfuut.
\V. W. SValkkb, Jr., Columbia, 8. ('.
l'unca SrRADu:v, Esq., Flat Rock, N. (\ki
A: M. Pmx, Fair view I*. oViDrtftivilh T?irt,
Wh.uam<\ Bvkrr, Pleasant Orovo, Orecnvillc.
t!.\rr. R. Q. Akdkuvih, Cedar Fall*. Greenville
jOtltttrt ^nctnj.
From the New York Dally News.
"JjbeHi Clout) ifstb 3 Silbcf
' XhUf.
VY J. W. WELCH.
llo y all ye weary ronis who grope
. Along this vale of tears,
Your hearts ne'er filled with buoyant hope,
Hut with forboding fears;
Look upward, onward as ye go,
And cease litis dull repining,?
' I here's never si cloud how e'er so dark,
lint hath a silver lining."
ilo 1 all ye sa l and mourning onus,
Who wander broken-hearted,
From cherished friends dissevered long,
Frcnn nativo homes long parted ;
K iise ye your eyes to lienren above,
Where faith this wreath is twininir.?
"There's ne'er u cloud howe'or so daik,
But hath it silver lining.'
And should misfortune drape your sky
lu clouds of deepest black,
Or sorrow a rnih fait thick and fa?t
O'er life's uneven track,
Look upward, and those words ye'll see,
. In golden letters shitting,?
'' There's ne'er a cloud howo'er so dark.
But hath a silver lining."
And should the wealth which re have gained
Tako wings ami fly away,
And adverse winds blow cold, around
Thy tenement of clay,
Still upward look, and onward press,
"Otve o'er your dull repining,?
"There'* ne'er a cloud howe'er so dark,
But hath n silver lining."
lift ftmotig tljt 9iibinit5.
9 JL eg^n 0 of ifeto ?pglqnO.
nv JOIIX O. WUITftKR.
Shrieks?-fiendish yells?they slab thoin in their
deep.
One (IUXDuku tear* ng<?!-~ilio hunter
who rafigcd the bills and forols of New
England, fought against oilier enemies than
the brown bear nttd the panther. The
husbandman, as ite toiled in the plain. Or
the narrow iMtiim hWu ? i??
wvw ? ?? - w? !? VIWOVI f nw IM?* OIU v f % 1
loaded weapon ; and wrought diligently ami
firmly in the n>id?t of peril. The frequent
crack of tho Indian'* rifle w?i hoard in the
till depth* of the foront?the death knoll of
(ho uawary'lmnler ; and, ever nn?l anon, the
flame of aotus*devoted f;;rir. house, wh&?
dweller* had b?.vu slaughtered hy a merci
lew foe, rose redlv up mi the darknes" of the
night limo. The wild and flory eye* of the
heathen gleamed through the thick underwood
of the forest, upon the paaaing of the
worahippers of the only true <>od; and the
war-whoop rang shrill and loud under the
very walls of the sanctum y of prayer
Perhaps-no part of New England affords
a wider Held for the researches of the legendry,
than that portion of Maiwachusett*
IIay, formerly known as the province of
Maine. There the ferocious Norridgewock
held his stent council*. and there the tribes
of the Peaobscot went forth with aong and
upvn IffU WIIHO IIIIMI.?"
Thera^ tho romantic mid chivitlrous U*?ii?e
imimuod Hmatlf m the aoliiudo*, find
thefn tho high-hearted lyiljc?tlie n>il?l giftod
Jeaui'.?ttbfier&t together tho broken
Htiengili of In# NorriUguwock. hikI boilt up
in tho great wiWeniWn tetrode to tbe trno
(iwfc There, too, Ifo pemhed in the d,,.k
oiislaiqgty jof tliarX'oiohi'*!*- perjihed with
there the tfiorfidgowo^s. fell- one afyr ?notnVrW''?WB
?pd VnW>mj>b?ining pride
LIZ J
neither iisking nor- giving quarter, as they
resisted the whito spoiler upon the tbreshliold
of their consecrated plHCe of worship,
and in view of their wives and children. |
The following is T>nc among many legends
of the strange encounters of the Whito Man^
and the Indian, which ato yet preserved in
the ancient records and traditions of Maine.
The simple and unvarnished narrative is only
given:
It was a snitrv evening towards the la?t
of June, 1722, that Cafrl. Herman and the
Eastern Kanger* -urged their canoes up the
Keimel.ee river, in pursuit of their enemies.
For hours tliev toiled diligently at the oar.
The last truce of civiiixati- n was left behind,
and the long shadows of the skirting forest
met and blended in the middle of the broad
stream, which wound darkly through them.
As OVOrV VOUIul from tin- ji.!i-us>nt. ?lirwi-?c?l
... y
llic rustling wing of tome night-bird, or the;
quick footsteps of some wild beast?the dash
of the oar was suspended, and tho ranger's
grasp tightened on l>w? i?tl?*. All knew the
peril of the enterprise; and that silence,
which is natural of jeopardy, settled like a
cloud upon the midnight adventurers*
'Ilush?sofi'y men !' said tlie watchful
Flcrmou, in u voice which scarcely rose
j above a hoarse whisper, as tho canoe swept
I around a rugged promontory, 'there is a
; light ahead !'
| All eyes wcie bout towards the shore.?
| A tall Indian lire gleamed up amidst the
great oaks, casing a ted and strong light
upon tho daik waters. K??r a single and
breathless moment the operation of the oar
was suspended, and every ear listened with
painful earue.-Uiess to patch the well known
sounds, whi.h seldom failed to indicate the
propinquity of the savages. Hut all was
[now silent. With slow und faint movements
of the oar, the canoes gradually approached
the. sU-pecteJ spot. Tho landing
was nftvejed in "iience. After moving cautiously
for a con iderable distance in the
dm 1c shadow, the pa-ty at length ventured
within l}ie li.oad circle ol the light, which
at Ibst attracted their attention, llcnnon
was a*, their head, with.an eye and a hand,
quick a? those of the savage enemy whom
he sought.
The i?otlj of a fallen ire- lay across the
i path- As the ranger* were mi the point of
, leaping over it, the coarse whisper of Hcrmoil
again broke tire silence :
j 'C!>h! of heaven !' he exclaimed, pointing
I to the tree. 'See here I?'.is the work of
the cursed lerl shins !'
A smothered eiir*e growled (>n (ho lip* of
; the ranger*. n* they l>eiit dimly forward in
| the direction pointed out by their coalman
l dor. HI.?od whs spiiukled on the rankgrasR
'and n human hand? the hand of a white
j man lay on the bloody loo.
There was not a word *j> Icon, but every
coiintetini.ee worked witli terrible emotion.
Had the ranger* followed tin ir own de?j?erate
inclination, they would have hurried
recklessly onward to the w...k of vengeance;
but the example of their leader, who had
regained bit usual caltnncr's and self command,
prepared them for a le? speedy, hut
more certain tiittinpli. Cnu'iouslv passing
or or the fcaihd obstacle in '.he pathway, and
, rlotclv I'H"'ved by Itia companion* ho ad-1
vanced a:ealiliily and cnttliottaly upon the
light, hiding himself and hi - party as much
a* possible behind the thick trees. In a few
moment* they obtained a full view of the
object of their search. Stretched at their
length around a huge fire, but a convenient
distance from it, lay the p unted and halfnaked
form* of twenty savages. It was evt
dent front their appearance, 'hat they had
passed the day in ?>no of their horrid revel*,
and thai they wore now sutleiiug under the
effects of intoxication. Occasionally, a
grim warrior among theni started half upliglit,
grasping his tomahawk, as if to coin*
bat some vision of his disordered brain, but,
unable to shake oft' the stupor from hjs senses,
uniformly fell back into his former position.
The rangers crept nearer. As (hey bent
their keen eves along their wcll-Hed rifles,
each felt perfectly sure of his aim. They
waited for the signal of Heimou, iho wa?
endeavoring to bring bis long musket to
bear upon the bend of the most distant of
he snvnges.
'Fiie !' he at length exclaimed, as the sight
of his piece interposed full and distinct be
> tween his eye and the wild scalp-lock of the
Indian. 'Fire, ami rush on 1'
The sharp voice of thirty rifles thrilled
| through the heart of the forent. There was
a groan?a smothered crv?a wild and con'
vulsive movement among the sleeping Indians
; and all again was silent.
Tlio ranger* sprang forward with their
ollllklin/1 iniial/ota o oil 1 A
VIMUUVU ll.un?vw <??VI HIIIIUIIV KlllVira , OUl
their work was done, The Red Men had
gone to their last audit, before the Great
Spirit, and no sound was heard among them
save tho gurgling of the hot blood from
their lifeless bosom*.
1 They were left unburied on the place of
' their revelling?a prey to the foul birds of
the air, and the ravenous beasts of the wilderness.
Their scalps woro borne home?
ward in triumph bv the successful rangers,
I whose children aud grand children shuddered,
long after, at the thrilling narrative of
midnight adventure.
I ttlisttllflttrmis llcabiug.
Ji)c ^C3()0i)3ibilif[j of dli ofor
tiiis iieai/rn or mem orrdfkikti
Mr. Editor -A medical writer has remarked,
that "Perfect health iu civilized society
is unknown; it exists only as uii ideality."
This startling truth, which any one of
observation cannot dispute, lends to the inquiry,
Who is in fault I A full and impartial
answer would require us to examine the
duties of both sexes. At present, however,
we shall only consider the manner in which
woman discharges her high responsibilities
as mother of the race.
From report* published by Miss lleeclier,
and ollieis, we learn that our towns do not
aver ago one healthy woman. Nevertheless,
lie who teaches that the sex arc in fault for
t'ueir bodily infirmities, is often regarded as
blaspheming; for has not Providence seen
fit to afflict them !! Thus, by making Supreme
Power the scape-goat, tliey piously relieve
themselves of all re?pon*ibility for their
own sufferings, and those which they inflict
upon the race.
When we consider that id out overy third
woman has a diseased sphie, that at least
every fifth one is scrofulous, consumptive,
or possessed of some other disease transomsable
to her offspring; and making no estimate
of general debility and various weaknesses,
liiat not one iu a bundled can boast
of having no deformed bones, we are led to
ask, what kind of Providence is that who
thus delights in disfiguring his noblest work?
Providence establishes laws?those who violate
them suffer the penalty. If we look from
effects to their causes, we can trace to the
habits and customs of women many of the
evils which havo vitiated the human family.
It cannot be expected that infirm parent*,
groaning under a load of disease, will give
to the world an hop. race. It should not be
expected that women who shut themselves
in from the inspiring air and sunlight ofj
heaven, confining their labors entirely to the
house or living in indolent luxury .will "stamp
their race with signatures of majestic grace."
or transmit to the world offspring possessed
of sound mental and physical organizations.
As reasonably may we look for pure sparkling
waters to flow from a malignant moras*.
There arc thoso of the sex that have observed
and reflected much, who know and
acknowledge that women aro in fault, criininallv
so. for scores of the comnlaints from
which the race buffer. With such lies the
weighty duty ofcommencing ft reform, which
shall restore to the human constitution some
of it? pristine tone. At the present time few of
our g'nls reach the ago of twenty in a sound
condition. Large numbers inarry and become
mothers?-'give to the world a suffering off|
spring, and/hemsotves drag out lives of pain.
| So it will ever be until education and fash
ions accord belter with thedictatcsof untuie,
until parents observo the laws of health them
selves, and retpiiro them to be observed in
i (he treatment of their children.
| Take n fair girl of Revonteen or eighteen,
who has been so fortunate as to inheiit no
| disease, and to pass through the periods of;
i infancy and school with no other misfortune
than to come out rather delicate, tench her
by example to submit to fashion*, however
opposed to the dictates of sound sense and
the demands of sound health they may be.
encircle her waist with whalebones and
steel ; load her hi|* with skirts, corded,
quilted, hooped and stArched, tied tensely
around the person to keep litem in position ; J
have her adopt the sedentary habits of thou-'
sands of our women, and then in a few years ;
look at the woiuau you have re-crtutcd from
the noble gill.
ller whole body is in an abnormal state.
Weakness and disease prey upon a form,
whioh.;had a reasonable course been pursued,
would have been bounding with health.
Thus it is that Providence sends afflictions !!
Were they not imiied ?
If women would rejoice in the fulness of
l!f> . ? tI'.i".' vnillil ffivp to lti? ivArl.l an oft. I
# V # o " "
spring benuiifnl and noble, let them make
the laws of henlth the groat study of life ami
I the instruction of thoir children theiein one
! of their great duties.
Lel'them throw aside whalebones and steel,
I and make easy but elegant costumes. Lot
them untie tiio sliings which nro doing a
work as fatal as the hangman's cord. Let
every garment be subtended from the shoulders
?let every limb have scope for actionlet
them spend several hours per diem ip the
invigorating air which Ood has adapted for
their lungs.
Teachers are grossly in fault fur not bringing
these things forcibly before their pupils,
both in practice and in theory. The long
processions formed to take exercise in measured
pace, for balf-an-honr in the twentyfour,
leave no vivid impression upon the pupil,
CKcept a remembrance of the stupidity
of the performance. Let scholars feel the
pleasure of living at least three hour* per diem
in the open air, and they will readily 00111
prebend when instructed that it is an agree
able duty to do so.
The health of morals and intellect sympathies
with that of the body. If the latter
becomes prostrate, the farmer may l>ccome
enfeebled. It would therefore sectn appro
priate for our eloquent divine* to inculcate,
occasionally, lesson* upon the important subject
of health, and the responsibilities of eve*
rv IntelKgefit Wing. The eft'ect would,
doubtless, be as bonettcinl to the human fan)
ily as homilies upon natural depravity or
original sin.? Correspondent of the Plotigh.
the Loom and the Anvil.
I be -Blind lirigbhMMt.
"I do not like reading," said little Johnny
to his mother one day ; "1 wish you would
not send me to school. It will be time 1
enough to learn wlu-n I am a great boy."
'Well," said his mother, "if you do not ,
like going to ncliool, what do you like? l>o
you like to hear stories which people thai
can rend find in book ?"
"Yea, mother, you know 1 like to licnr
them."
"Well, ns it is not yet school-time, if you !
will bring your little stool, 1 will tell you a!
story : and then you mint go to school wil (
lingly. When you are older and wiser you
will know the use of learning ; now what
you hare chicfiy to learn is to believe tliat I :
know better tlian you, nud to do everything
I wish."
"Yes, mother, I will go willingly ; and now j
I have got iny little stool, and there is room |
for you to rest your feet on one corner, while
you nurse baby, and 1 shall have plenty of j
room to sit also."
"Well, John, some years ago a clergyman (
who was travelling in Ireland met a blind !
man, who parliy guided his steps with a!
large stick, and partly by the aid <?f a little; '
dog, which ho hold by a string. j (
" *You are very old, my poor friend,' said J f
the clergyman.
'"Ay, sir,' replied the old man ; 1 am near
a bundled tears old. and a good thing it i> j
for inc that I have ltved to be old ; but,' he (
added in n low lone, 'it was a bad thing for
Solomon.'
" 'Why so said tho clergyman.
" 'Why sir,' the blind man repl'ed, 'if Sol
union had <uou Ueioro he win old lie would
Imvo been now remembered as one of tin*
holiest men that ever lived. Hut if I had
died before I was old, I should at ibis time
bo in hell. Solomon lived to disgrace him
self, an.I I have lived to obtain eternal glory.*
"'Why do you expect lo obtain eternul i
glory ?' said the clergyman.
"'liecause,' replied the blind man, 'I trust
for my salvation to the blood of Jesus Christ, (
shed for poor sinners like me. And 1 know
that the holy spirit of (rod dwells in me, and |
has brought me to the knowledge of heaven .
Iv things."
Whom have you heard speak of these
things ?" said the clergyman.
" 'No one,' replied the hlitul man. ,
'' 'Then how came Jou bv the. knowledge
of Sciipture which you possess I" I
" 'Sir,' replied the old man, 'about a year
ago I began to be quite blinJ. I took this (
as a warning that 1 was drawing near the ,
grave, and 1 thought it time to prepare mv
soul for another world. 1 knew of no oue |
who could teach me; hut one of tny little ,
grand children had gone to school and team
ed to read. 1 thought if I bought a Hil>le 1 ,
could make my little grandson read to me |
constantly. 1 did so; the little boy read ;
v iilingly, and through hearing tho Scripluies .
the Lord opened my heart to feel hU love, ,
to know myself u sinner, mid to know that
my sins were forgiven.' Here the old man j
broke forth into many expressions of praise ,
to (Jod for his goodness. I
"Now, my dear Johnny,' said tho mother, ,
"if that little boy had not gone to school, and (
if he had not learned to rend, Ids poor grand- |
father would have had nobody to tellliimof ,
Cod's love in sending Jesus to die for sinners. ,
Perhaps the poor old man would have gone ,
to the grave ignorant and wicked. Instead ,
of that, the grandfather learned tho way to
heaven through the lessons of his little grand- ,
son ; the little boy himself, in reading to his ]
grandfather, learned from n child thoso holy
Scriptures. which are able to tnnke him wise |
unto salvation, through faith that is in Christ j
Jesus, aqd I dare say grew up to be u good ,
man. ; ,
"0 mother! mother!" cried Joliunv, ''1 ,
know why you told me that story. You
want me to bo a useful little boy, and read ,
to othe.' tM'onle when I can roiul mvself. And
i # y v i
so I will. I will go to school directly, and
tiy to learn like a good boy. Hero'* my
hat and bag. Good bye, mother ! good
bye, baby ! I'm gone! Good bye, till dinner
time!"
GoiHrting ill SlroflOtofltJ.
A vkkv singular wedding, says a New
York paper, transpired hero this week. A
young and very pretty Irish girl?the sinter
of one of onr common Councilman, was
walking up Itroadwnv, New York, when
she attracted the attention of an elderly gen
tleman of large wealth, who had lived all
his life a bachelor and an ascetic. Humor*
says thai ha was foiled in an affair du cctur
and carried thenceforth in his breast a heart
impenetrable to the sweet influences of the
tender passion. Well, this gentleman on
tbe promenade was attracted by this Irish ?
girl to sudh a degree that lie Hrrcsted his
ateps and ventured to address her :
".Will you pardon the liberty, Mis*, if I
ask tour name?"
'l ire girl timidly surveyed him, and apparently
satisfied that not mere curiosity
prompted him in the query, and that he
was a gentleman, aho nceedcd.
"My name is Mary 0*K??, sir."
"Dare I n*k you another question, Mary
? 1 menu Mis* O'K?? ?"
"Proceed, sir," she replied, very good liumorpdly.
"Then I should liko to ask you?and you
will confer an infinite obligation upon me
by answering truly?whether you are engaged
in marriage to any one, or whether
vour ft?elinrrn mi?> ii?lf*rpRt.?rl in fine nAPtftn *'
The question was decidedly a home one,
hut there was so kind and gentle an expression
in the old man's eye, and such an evident
earnestness in his tone, that she answered
him freely?
"Not in the least, sir."
' Then allow nie without any further ceremony,
to place my card in your hand and
with it the ofter of myself and fortune.?
Commission any friend you please to make
whatever inquiries concerning mo you may
deem proper, and let me know your determination
to-morrow."
The girl, overwhelmed with surprise, deposited
the slip of pasteboard in the reticule
Mid passed ou. Ou Wednesday afternoon
lior brother called at the hotel where her
admirer resided and informed hiui that Mary
had concluded to adopt him. They woro
married the same evening at the residence
i>t the bride's mother, and the old gentleman
settled on her otto hundred thousand
Jollars on the spot.
This gentleman?ho would not like mo
o give you his name?has held a great
nnny public offices in liis time, was formery
a major in the United States army, and
ifierwarda assistant Indian Commissioner.?
His real es'atu in this city is worth more
ilian two hundred thousand dollars.
Mary and the Major started the next
morning for New Oi leans, where the latter
lias a brother who is sort of pecuniary nuhob
in that city.
U ci me 000 i oyctyitig Incident.
Wk clip the following from the Frodricksburg
(Vii.) Christian Banner:
A young matt and his wife were preparing
to attend a Christinas a party at the hou.-o
of a friend some miles distant.
"Henry, my dear husband, don't drink
too much at the party to-day ; you will
promise ine, won't you ?" -said she, pulling
tor hand upon his brow, and raising her
jyes to his face with a pleading glance.
"No, Millie, I will not; you may trust
ne."
And he wrapped his infant boy in a soft
olanket, and they descended.
The horses were soon prancing over the
turf, and pleasant conversation beguiled the
way.
"Now don't forget your promise," whispered
the young wife as she passed up the
lens.
1'oor thing! she was the wife of a man
who loved to look upon the wine when red.
Hut his love for his wife and their babe,
whom they both idolized, kept him back,
....t ;> ....... ..... .a., i... .1? n?..i.
?'?u iv iiwi uiicii lie juiuuu in bile iJiitu*
uiHliuu revel l ies.
The party passed off pleasantly, the time
or departing, drew near, and the wife de
icended from the upper chamber to join her
liusbund, A pang shot through ihe trust
\ng heart as she inet him for lie was intoxicated?he
had broken his promise. Silently
they rode homeward, save when the
drunken man broke out into snatches of
icng or unmeaning laughter. Hut the wife
rode on, her babe pressed closely to her
tpieved heart.
"Give me the baby, Millie, I can't trust
you with him," said he, as they approached
a dark and somewhat swollen stream.
After some hesitation, she resigned her
liist born, her durling babe, closely wrapped
in the great blanket, to his arm-*. Over the
Jul k waters the noble steed safely bore them
Hud when they reached the bank the mother
asked for the child.
With much care and tenderness he placed
the bundle in her arms, but when she
clasped it to her bosom, no babe t?/tr there !
It had slipped from the blanket, and the
drunken father knew it not.
A wild shriek from tho mother aroused
him, and he turned just in time to see (be
little rosy face rise one moment above the
dark waves, then sink forever!
What a speotnclo the idol of his heart
gone forever, und that l>y his own internIterance.
The anguish of the mother, tho
remorse of the father, are boiler imagined
than described.
This is no fiction but the plain truth.?
The parlies were known by tho friends of
tho writer, and it should be a warning to
those who indulge in intoxicating drinks
and resist the pleading of loving wives.
Few things are impossible to skill and industry.
Give your heart to your Creator,and your
Alms to the poor.
Quarrels aro easily begun, but with diffi
culty ended.
EastoionoMe 3JUctnf if..,1
Fashion kills more women than toil *a J
sorrow. Obedience to fashion is a greyer
transgression of tlie laws of woman's nature
?a greater injury to her physical constitution,
than the lianjsbip* of poverty and neglect.
The slave woman at her tasks will
live and grow old, and see two or three generations
of her mistresses' fade and pate away.
The washerwoman, with ?Cnrco a
ray of hope to cheer her in her toils, will
live to see her fashionable sisters all die
around her. The kitchen-maid ia hearty
and strong, when her iady-mistrcte has to
be nursed like a sick baby !
i. - ?i . ? i- .1 - -i ? '
jv la a Bau iruiil VDHl me IMSIIlon pRtlip^
ed women are almost worth lew for all the
great ends of liiunnn life. They have but
little foree of character?thev have Mill less
power of moral will, and quite as little physical
energy. They live for no great purpose
in life; they accomplish no worthy ends ?
They are only doll forim in hands of milliners
and servants, to be dressed and fed to
order. They drew* nobody, they feed nobody,
they instruct nobody, atul?save nobody
! They wiile no books?they ret no
rich examples of virtue and womanly life.
If they rear children, servants and nmebsdo
it all, save to conceive and give thcuf bittli.
And when reared what are they ? What
do they amount to but weak scion* of the
old slock ? Who ever heard of a fa-l.humble
woman's child exhibiting any virtr.g or
power of mind for which it became eminent?
Head the biography of our great aud good
men and women. Not one among them
hud a fashionable mother. They nearly all
sprung from plain, strong minded women,
who had ubout as little to do with fashion
as with the changing clouds.
11)6 Useful and 11>e Bcaul'if
u 1.
The tomb of Moses is unknown, but the
traveller slakes bis thirst at the well of Jacob.
The gorgeous palace of the wisest
monarchs, with the cedar, and ivory and even
the Temple ?>f Jerusalem, hallowed by
the visible glory of the l>eitv himself, are
gone: but Solomon's reservoirs are as perfect
as ever. Of the ancient architecture of the
Holy City, not one stone is left upon another
; but the jxarl of Belhesda commands the
pilgrim's reverence to the present day. The
columns of the Perscjrolis are mouldering
into the dust; but its cisterns and aquaducts
remain to challenge our admiration Ti>?
-13- '"v
golden house of Nero is a mass of ruins; but
the Aqua Claudia mill pours into Knwie ft*
limpid stream. The temple of the Sun, at
Tad'nior in the wilderness, has fallen ; but its
fountains spaikle as freely in his rays as
when thousands of worship]*!* thronged it*
lofty colonnades. It may I e that London
will share the fate of Babylon, mid nothing
be left to mark its site save mounds of crumbling
brickwork, but the Thames will continue
to flow as it does now. And if any
work of that art should still rise over the
deep ocean of time, we may believe that it
will neither be palace nor temple, but some
vast reservoir. *.nd if the light of any
name should still flash through the mist of
antiquity, it will probably be that of the
man who, in his day, sought the happiness
of his fellow-men rather than glory, and liuked
his memory to some great work of national
utility and benevolence. This is the
glory which outlives all others, and shines
with umhing lustre from generation to generation,
imparting to its work something of
its own immortality.
One of i be .
The story subjoined was told of one of
the heroes of Doniphan's California band,
at a recent festival in Sacramento. Jake
Grooms is the man thalinnde the mistake
of asking for tbe tune on the four post bedstead
:
"He had come to the countrv amoncr the
very first whites, In eaily childhood, and
had never known anything of the luxuries
of civilization. After a while emigrants be
gan to Hock in, and among others ?h? a
family who brought quite, uu assortment of
furniture, and among other things a piano
forte. The fame of this new fangled instrument
was noised about and produced great
excitement; it reached Jake's ears. Some
time afterwards passing the house, he
thought he would call and see them. Jske
was receiver! by the lady in the absence of
her husband with great ]>o))t*?e**. Aft***
sitting sometime ho looked round for the piano.
Against the wall stood an enormous,
old fashioned, four-point bedstead, the curtains
to which were drawn. Jake had never
seen such n piece of furniture before, and
Concluded that this must be the piano.?^
: Pointing it out, be told the lady that he had
I uudetstood that she was very skillful in per
forming ou that kind of an instrument, and
would he very much obliged to her if sho
would favor him wiih a tune."
Happy u lie who limits hit want* to hU
neceMitiea.
Good education \i th* fuopdniiou o? hap
pinets,