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' "U J ' ^ ^ _ _ ' " .. ..___^___v *' * !=B "ffl A REFLEX OP F?OR?XJLAIi EVENTS. aggammmbi . i v ..i. i. .1 ' nniini.' mumm? mi,.. i_n.-!i?a' .' i ' gas--bsgmmah^a!i ?.l i h 1 "* gecotqd to ^rogr^ss, the' Rights o| tty ?touth, and the Diffusion oftB&eflnl ^inmilcdgc among all glasses of Moving gflpt. psssaHcr^'.mi1 .i1 *.ii., ? i .'.? ..'? I,M'I!' ''. '' '!*? '' * .' r ' 1 : 1 ' " = '- ? ? ? ?j? - . ' ' *" 1 ' ' ? . - .I'r 'n1 iai\ * hi t il'i1..- v; . -wr=z=rz j. m , it ^VOLUME VII. GREENVILLE, SOUTH CAROLIN, , till BSD\V MORNING. MAV 10, I860. ' Nl'MB* R 1.^ CJrt ^otrtlftra (Bnttrpriae IS . xjucrsld mvumx laroetoat monknra, ? McJUN^JN^&BAILEY, t>. M. MoJunklrh '!* . . . J. O. Bailey. W. P. PttlCfe H?H?r. TKIlMS: OHE DOLLAR A YEAH, in Advance. ,.Oae Dollar and aHeU, If Delayed. :?? 11 ADVfcRTISVMBXTS r Inserted at 75 o?fi? ^wr Cqaare of It ltnee (or lone) for the ftr?t insertion ; 60 for the ooeond; 35 for the third to the thirteenth ; 20 for the fourteenth to the twenty-tilth i 15 for the twentj-urtnth to the thirtjr-uinth ; 10 for tba fertioth to the fifty-second. Yearly or balf-yearly contracts made, and a liberal deduction fro In tho abuse rite* AdvtrU^mcnU not subject to contract should have the number of insertion a marked upon them. Tbey will bo published sad ?barged for till ordered out.. ?rlcrtri> ^atirij. Oh! Where are My Schoolmatest Oli! where are my school malee gone I The shy, the dull and the gay; They have left me ell heart-sick and lane, To drag out life's shortening day. Tl?e house yet remains where it stood. When it's tncaa-covered roof ( first saw ; The playground?my eyes 'gin to flood, When I think of the play ground of yore! * The epire, too, that pointed to truth, And the fall In Sta hobbling rage, 80 vaet in the daj# of my youth? Ho email iu the night of my age. Oh 5 where are my echnolmalaa gone? . Do they yet tote oa life'* etorrny waveeI Or peaeefally eleep ait aiowe, 'Neath the flower* that bloom o'er their graree? ' r, ... , What day-dream* are mine to enjoy, Aa I ?it and gaze into the past. Til) again I'm changed to a boy? Bat dream* are too airy to la*t. Farewell) eeattered friend* of my youth, "Tw your memory dim* theee old eyea; May your thought*, like yon epire, point to truth. And wa'll talk o'er the pact ia the skiea. I I. ! I ?* 5ln Sntmsting f-tnnj. I From the Home Journal THE PHANTOM BRIDE. 44 Wijl you love me even beyond ibe lomb r The qucation came from (he Vermillion li)pn of a young girl nI a fancy hall in Peris during the reign of Loum XV. She ww a brilliant brunette, with*bun dant raven hair, and wore the Spanish veil and mantilla which the had assumed (or the occaaiun, with all the grace of a daughter of Andalusia. Iler interlocutor, a young -viscount of twenty, arrayed as a page of Mary Stuart, in Sootch plaid and Highland bonnet and feather, had been persuing the fair unknown all the evening with protest a tioua of loCe and eternal fidelity, ilia nnawvr wan prompt ana unhesitating. u Ye*, 1 swear it. If I die. I will dreatu of you in Uie sepulchre, and a thrill of joy will welcome you if your fv ot but press the gnuw over my-head.*1 " And if I should die!" inquired the young girl, in a sad tone. M It y.ou should die, I will be a* faiiliful to you dead as living ; and it you shouM&4 permitted to visit roe, I will kit* your cold bund with as. much love as at thin moment?and he' fueled to Ida lip* the little white buud of the beautiful iHpwtUrd." *"Ah, weiH I will permit vou, then, to love me. We shall ace if you will * be oonmant. Farewell; we shall meet again." "Hut where! when!" demanded the viscount, imxiou*Jy. X cannot tell.? lVrbap* liero? pqrJymv abwiwkerw-?but yAtt wjfl see me." And with a gesture which forbade bint to follow her, she disappeared in I be crowd. Two years passed, during which Vis Wi .mil l/ull.t, ouittlo n \ I . ..!?( a ? Versailles?in every piece of public re j sort?for hi? beautiful unknown. He wn a hcolchinen by birth, end, like many of his countrymen, bad entered the service of the King of Fiance. Hut a court life did not coiiijmrt. very well with his slender fortune, and ho became, ere long, deeply invoked in debt. "You tnu?t hud some rich heiress," aui his sympathising fiiends?it was the Usual feaourca of em bar rased gen ilemcn of that d?y. But tlip recount had not forgotten the bewitching An daiueisn, and was in no niood for the search. lie was snared the troublf, however. lire unclo, who was arch bishop in parti&ut of an Assyrian city Ja - I I_ ,1.. 1> iS to iimrrv, jujJ llist lie bad found n wife Mesbertebr inquire.I Kelph. "I do not nek if ?be is pretty?it is nij ibe ?mM I* m4S J : - /.r, > ; H-j * Very rich mid WT pretty The ViMOWit thought of biu Unknown, adeifbed; then thought of biecreditots, m4 foainatsd Toe uncle arrsng ed everything, am) when all wm settled, be gave the nephew his benediction and two hundred pistole#, and tent hint off to Burgundy to pay hi# respects to M'lle do Koche Noire, whom ho was to marry-in a fortnight. A gloomy journey of several davs duration brought him at length to the ancient feudal manuor house of Roche Noire, situated in the heart of a forest, on a lofty rocV, from which it derived it9 name, lie was expected. The grand door of the mansion was open, atid an aged servant tuet him at the threshhold, and conducted him to a large hall; rft the extreridTy of 'which sat an old man nud a young girl. The former, whom he divined at once to l>e the Baron of Roche Noire, rose at Ids entrance, and, saluting him in the some what forma! fashion of the day, present ed him to h'm daughter Ileriuiue. The latter had the delicate beauty of the flower wliieli lin? iinf.ilfl^d iinilof northern Mm. She ?iw pale, with fair hair, and eyes of the deep bine of an i ftalian sky. Her figure was slight hut I graceful, her hands exquisitely shaped, t and transparent ?s alabaster. So much ? the viscoont n??w as he bent low b?-foie , his betrothed, and in spite of his pro i fessed Indifference, he inwardly congrat t ulated himself on his good fortune. i The viscount and baron exchanged the ' usual rccipr?K'al compliments titid en ' quiries. Ralph whs accustomed to so i ciety, and understood well the art of f making himself agreeable ; the baron, t spito of his seventy winters, had not 1 forgotten how to be a courtier, and Her- \ ndne had the simple grace, the-dignitv, < the modesty without proiiderv. of a I young girl ot'higli bilth, religiously ed ucaed, hut 'without any rigidity. The i conviMnation aoon became animated and I sparkling, while Ralph watched Hermine, and now and then murmured to himself, '* She is charming ! blessings on s inr uncle for finding me a wife at once so pretty and so ridi.H c When Kitjij?er was. announced, he of I fered his hand to the young ?ii I, who | accepted it with a blush, while the ? baron led the way to the dining. It I whs h lofty npaitnietit, fuitii lied in the I massive style of hamis XIV,, and ujMin s the walls v/ere suspended ancient .ami ly portraits. As Ralph'* eye glanced f over these, it was attracted by one I whose freshness funned a striking con- h trnsi to the smoky canvases of the <^e- I funet Barous of Koohe Keire, It. repre a rented a young girl of dazzling, hut foreign beauty, such a* is only found a tinder the southern skie*. A more In il a liant daughter of Spain never dancer! li the txAero in the perfumed gardens of d the Alhambra. The eves of Ralph wore fixed immovably u|w?n the canvass; the p first glance had told him that il *ns his long lost unknown of the fancy hall. u * Come, my dear viscount," said the t hnrnn. " let us l>e seated." i Pulnli klui toil uttil nltoi-oil f lion tinned his eyes from the portrait to Her t mine. In contract with that glowing t, beauty she appeared to liiiu utterly insipid. lie made some remark about e lite picture. The liaroit did not reply, but a cloud passed over his face, and t Henuine turned pale, and sal silent i with downcast even. I A chill seemed to be thrown over i these three persons, just now talking so n joyously'. Hrief remarks were made oc i ca.dotmllv, in a constrained tone, and the snpper ended almost in silence. At n ita close the viscount made the fmigue s of his journey an excuse for leiirtug 1 early. As the Servant was conducting him to.hia apaitmenl, they passed again t through the dining ball. \ "Whose pound ia this?" he asked, 1 pointing to the picture of the lady. Tiie servant hesitated. i "Sjrenkl" said the viscount, impeii 44 It i* the portrait of M'lle Fulmen," 1 paid the old Hi .in, trembling. 44 Ami vviio is she f" 1 44 The elder sister of M'lle Ilei mine." ( "Hut film is dn-iefd ill Spanish cob- 1 tunie." I *' Yen, her mother was h Spanish lady." < " And Fulmen, whine is she now f" "She is dead," raid the old man, wfinuily. "She lies at tfie haft of the ( altar in the cfrapel of '.ho ch'itcau !n i " Fatigue had no power that night to < tiling alcep to ItalphV eyelids. It w*? in vain that he extinguished the can dies, and buried his head under the blankets; the image of Kidmen still i pcimied him. Now, it wait Fniiuen in 1 diatil with beauty, an she una represent, ed ill the picture, and as he lutd seen her i at the fancy hall; again, it was Fill- i inen, pule and cold, extended in Iter coffin under the pavement of the chapel. Then he reineinbied his oath, to love lior us well dead as living, and a cold sweat bathed bis brow. At that mo incut, ? light hi lite oppu*tle vxtitui'iy of ll i apariireui aUrncn J lii- attention; u door, vvhoee esutcuce lie hud not mj* jH-cied. turned iioUale**!} ou it?* binge* ; the chic lit* relighted I Jtciu-clvc* ?|n>uihdoouxly, huU h figure, draped in a winding'ftheet, enlwcd the room and Hppruaclltd Hi* lied. It advanced Jowly ; the tno?l acuta Mr could Imve detected no aound of foou'ej.*. Ura*? as lie ?h, the vincoimt trembled At the apparition. When the figure ?m with* iu a few feet of the bed, the winding beet wm thrown beck, and revealed a 0 noting gir4 dressed in Spanish costume. 44 Fulmen !" he murninred the piclure has Ueseeniled from its frame 1" I(. was indeed Fulmen, just as she was. painted, save that the lips were pale, the eye mournful, the whole expression unspeakably sad. 44 Fulmen !" repeated the viscount, with a tone of terior. iu which was mingled a sort of feverish joy. 44 It is I,* she said. "i)o you remember your oath ? They have told fou l hat 1 aiu dead." The teeth of Kalph chattered ; but the voice was so pure, so melodious, hat it aided him to shako off the torpor which was creeping over hint. 44 No, you are uot dead," he exclaim td, with an effort. 441 have been dead a year," replied Fulmen, sadly. They buiied me in the :hapel. You can read iny epitaph on lie marblo slab, the third from the high illar." Ralph could not detach his eyes from his singular creature, whose marvel ous beauty countered in some degree lta unrnv u Kioli tlio untutrnliitn W^sulrl M V ?V I VI ?* II IV II |UV I | MVIVU ?? VMIU nherwise have caused. , " AIh?I" resumed the spectre?drap ng the shroud about her form with all :he coquetry with which a living belle might wrap an opera cloak around her, I am dead, really dead, at seventeen ; * hen life was full of light, and pet fume, ttid music; when tears, men, were so iweet that they resembled smiles ; when he present was so happy that the future was quite forgotten. And then, I loved rou. 1 trusted in your oath ; but you lid not cure for me. You have come rere to marry my sister." " Fuliueu !" murmured Ualph, who ell a pang of remorse at his heart, " 1 tave loved you; I love you still." She shook her head. "The dead ate never loved," she aid, sadly. Ualph trembled. lie felt his blood nirdle in his veins, lie remembered lis oath. Yet Fultnen did not com>lain. She did not overwhelm him villi reproaches. She seemed re-igncd. le saw her lean her head upon hei land ; a tear shone in her eye, and a hiver passed through her frame. H I am cold," she said, and, rising roin the chair in which alio had seated lerself. she approached tho tit o-place, md bent as if to warm hen-elf by tbe IA ! ! I. .1 I - 1 _ a* 1*1. . J I laiH-eximguituttu unuiu*. iiic ucau ,ro alwayt colli," the murmured. " Lleavent," exclaimed Itulph, " you re 1101 dead; but, dead or living, you re beautiful, more beautiful than any iving woman, and I love you at on the lay 1 drat ?xw you." "The dead are never loved," the related, mournfully. 44 lint you are not dead. The limb* if the dead are rigid ; the flesh corrupt; hey connol apeak ; you are not d Jad? t it impossible." " I am dead," repeated Fulrnen. iu a one of authority which admitted of no [iieation ; " dead?and yet 1 tutfer."* * You tufl'er!" the viscount exclaimd. " Yes. Because 1 died with a guilty bought in my heart. 1 remembered he ball where I met vou. It was earth v love, not penitence, that engrossed ity lat*l lionnt. Yet, if you w"io are ilive can love me still, God will perhaps mrdoti ine, and I shall sutler no longer." " I do love you,*' cried Ralph, gazing it tho young girl so beautiful in her adneea. Yet a secret voice said within lim, " Ah ! if sho were onlv alive I" A pale smile pas ed over the face of lie phantom. It rose and advanced to vard hiin. Ralph iuvoluuiarily shrunk >ack at ila approach. *' You ace," she said na?>urnfully, "it s always so. The living fear the dead.*' " No, no r said. be, eagerly, ashamed >f the momentary terror ; " uo, Fulnttn, my beloved, come I" { She oxtended her band, and took that ?f the young man. Kaiph utiered a try. llisl and was pres*?d by the cold, clammy fingers of a corpse. She let his hand fall. " No," she repeated, in a half so fib cated voice, "You see it cannot be; I shall sit tier always!" And she tied; while Ralph wns so overwhelmed- that he had no power to 'peak or move. The candles went out suddenly; silence leigm-d again in the chamber; lite phantom had vanished. The next day dawned bright and l .1a' I 'IM It - .1 D .1 hj i - - ut'tuiilliil. lie milon ut' nocut; i-?<;irc, alio did nut appear i?? notice the pallor slid attraction of hi* guest, proposed a liuni. The day mhi spent in the open nil'; and if, amid the excitement of the chase, the viscount thought of the oei-urienccM of tlie hut night, they seemed 10 him onlv an ft bewildeting dream.? liul with the return of datkneas, and ea pecially at the sight of the picture, the apparition again seemed to him a leali t), and lie determined to asceitain the truth. Pleading.a headache he retired to liia room, and, extinguishing the can die*, lie called, softly J * Kulinen ! Kulmen!" There was no answer. Again he called : * Kulmen ! I love you, though dead !" iHiinediately the candles were re* lighted, and Kulmen again appeared.? She threw off her winding sheet and seated herself in ft chair by his side.'? Her face bad the cadaverous paleness of the tomb; ber eye was sad; her step low and painful; yet lier exquisite beau, ly exerted the same fasciuation ever Kh!|'Ii :ts whet) gpat tiling with life fttid vivacity. " Fulmen, I lo^e you T he repeated, gazing at her with admiration. " Yet if my hattd should touch yourr," *he replied, with a aad nmile, * ybti would utter a cry nl? you did last night; the dead are alwaya ?old." "Give me your band, and you will ?ee," said Ralph, extending re?olutely hi* own. Site took it, and again there came AVer him the same terrible sensation iw before; but he bed self-control enough to conquer it, end again repeat : 44 1 love you !" A bright smile illuminated the features of Fulmen. 44 My poor friend," !>? said 44 I would gladly believe you ; but if your love would end uiy sufferings, it must be so profound, so ardent, that it can conquer even the desire to live. A tomb with me must have attractions for you. And you are but twenty two, Ralph. At your age, life is sweet." The viscount shook his head. 44 To live without you is death ; to be united to you, even in the tomb, would l>e life." *4 Take care, my friend." 44 Of what, dear Fultnen f" exclaimed Ralph, over whom the smile of the young girl seemed to exercise an over(towering fascination. 44 Do you know," she said 44 that if von utter such a wish, God may hear your prayer !" 44 Ah ! if he would 1 An eternity by your side would be infinite happiness." 44 Ralph, tny fiiend," interrupted Fulmen, while a smile of celestial joy shone in her faoe, 44 take care ; you will die if von liken mo w 44 I wish to die." 44 Hut you are betrothed to my sister." An exclamation of anger escaped him. 44 I hate her!" ho said, vehemently. " Why f" 44 Because she is alive, while you are dead. What has she done that she should enjoy the light of the sun, the perfume of Howers, the melody of birds f Was she any younger or more beautiful I" Ralph, you are unjust. My sister iad no control over her destiny or mine." 44 You are right, perhaps; but I swear t> you thrtt I will tiwer marry Hermine. wish to be your's, and . nlv your'a, rever" ;< 44 You are ruad, my friend ; I cjm?y' j" ..-<-ept happiness at such a sacrifice."' ^0" She rose ^'owly. . /jui * Adieu, Ralph," she said, 44 Mar llertnine and pray for me." ? > ^ . 44 Pulmen! Fultnen '."exclaimed I" falling on his knees at her feet, not abandon nie?I love .t tttie Prac 44 But your iove is dei V 44 It is happiness. It> 4 cj Histories Wis so eari!>Uch?t AT1 that the young girl he* wfo" " Let mu live olenutfoii, i per bis ted. J p j?* - Listen, my frienfnn4. ChroDo length, as if she could no {ongei rxi the his entreaties," in this ca-ket," poinfti^J to a richly carved box which stood upon the table, * there is a phial containing a dark liquid." * And this liquid I" " Is death r 44 It is happiness," exclaimed Ralph, seizing the casket. Fiji men stopped him by a gesture. 44 Not yet," she said : bv-atid-by?at midnight?but first?reflect!" Immediately the candles were extinguished, and he found himself in complete darkness. If Viscount Ralph had been a Frenchman, as soon as Fnlmen disappeared, lie would have opened the window, and let the cool night air play upon his brow. Then, the fever fit being over, lie would bate said to himself: " All this in folly, i am twenty two year* old, an officer in llie king* eer vice, and am about to inarrv a young girl, blond a* Madonna, fair a* a lily, who will bring me nil income of a hundred thousand livres. I have only to l>e quiet, and let thing* lake their course." After which hd would have slept quietly, and <1 reamed no more of Kul men. Hut Ualph was a Scotchman with an imagination as susceptible of exaltation as most of bin countrymen of the land of mountain and mist. A* soon as the phantom vanished, he retight the candle by the aid of a half erlingui.-htd firebrand, and, opeuing the casket, he took out the phial. " Kidmen ! Kul inch ! wail for me ! I am coming f he murmured, and swallowed the contents at a draught. For a moment he experiuued a strange and inexplicable sensation ; a coldness in the chest, a beat in the bead ; thou his eye* became heavy ; hi* limbs trembled ; an extreme languor crept over hitn. and be sank upon the floor, still murmuting faintly ; iMiltnen w*u lor me?i love you." When ICm?]>1i swallowed the content* of the phial lie expected to awalio in the other world, lie was mistaken.? The phial contained only a narcotic. and he WAN very much astonished on opening i hie eye*, to find himself in l?ed, and to see the sun shining through the curtained window*. A woman sat by the bedside. It was Ftilmen ! but no longer the pale, tad Fulnr**, with livid lips and . . jrt. form ^nvjplnni d in a windiug-slu>et; hut Fblfhti), mM, rndiont, joyous, in the same ctMtoiBu which *b? wore at the fancy-hit 11 >' The reader will understand the ox pluftxtion of allthiu more readily thar the young viscount, whose hand w?* ntiii somewhat con fused from the effect* o the narcotic. The y onng girl had wish ed to put the sudden passion of hei bull room lover* to the test; and will ?oine difficulty she had persuaded hei fond old father, and her cousin llenninr to lend themselves to the mystification A little ingenuity, some invisible nasi* tnnce, a transparent glove, of serpent skin, aided by the native superstition o the young Scotchman, were nil that war nnnoauui f 1t\ ilm _ ?m.iooa /\f llw? uvvv\"?*> f ?v itIU vyI Vllv OVUVIIIV We need not say that the viscount when he recovered his senses, was verj glad to exchange his phantom bride foi a living one. Hiisrrllnnrnns H rolling. From the Georgia Temperance crusader. "I'm Tired." " I'm tired," said the liitlo urchin, n> he threw down his hat and ball, and wour.d up his kite string and went and cast himself upon the carpet at his mo tber's feet. " Tired of what ?" a>ks thi fond pareut, as she gazes with materna pride upon the prostrate form of he darling son, as he seeks to regain tin strength that had been wasted by en gaging too freely in his boyish sports 4"0, I'm tiicd of playing with my ball and driving my hoop atfd flying mj kite?how I wish I was a man and had something to do besides pffty with these tilings from morning till night." "I'm tired," says the school boy, as he throws aside his books and escapes from the dull routine of school room, and cools his brow in the sparkling waters of the neighboring brook?" I'm tired of poring over these dr v studies? I see no use of conjugating Latin verbt and worrying my brain with the tire some details of Euclid. IIow 1 long for the inanly sports pf the field, where I can exercise ray limbs at my will, or rango llgioiv 4v*(ly woods in search of thor that are forbiddeu wit hi""18 tk? '<LT the school room.' 'VptSX J$V tUe bright-eyed lit tlejfA May, *n<f ft*. freed from the re uy, 12th Mug. The Cofciuc room, and enmumissioned Officers and ?> vjn the rudei rtll attend the days previous P. . ?rH hV (ruction. > ?,e 8"**) Greenville Band is respectfully stir so straight id. By order of f hmJ much JAS. McCULLOUGftj i;e an,| Col. 3d Regiment, S. C. #[,, , 51 __ _ a fall fioin T. W. DAVIS^ , , , tical Watchmaker & Jewel?! (lash GREENVILLE, S. C. lhe 8:t> ? HE calls attention to his eplefc^' upotl 3fe?)did stock of WATCHES AN to neck / WB JEWELRY, which is of th-^ the dev .JHbext quality. He has the finf, * ,? y^-Article of Watohes that ha. .?d ,of l.h,S [Tt-rcd for sale In this market, uj>dia dressing omprises the finest English and*j0n of find meter, and" also the fine magic fi,.r_ M..VIim i celebrated Joseph Johnson Leve, , ius Jurgenscn Watch, and all othef.rcme goOC r"hn above W etches aro in fine (A t,f (l mort Cases, Hunting, and Open Fact *? Jrill warrant to keep the best of t/. " , sMsn vJ I) f) H t f ll* cJ^A/EIjFLXs to leave Jv/reat variety of JKWELRXm,- fcs?t1H fol hw He deems it needless to ?f?h" !? th?v<" Jewelry, but says km hmd?<*d !o nrrtvt VVIP noed. /balance sheet, PintAS u,milli0" " 1 Wvrkct- Vimtinn of the i?wy?-i>AI-RfNGU >ri<,f for thf next A*PAIRIfttt done in W glor'"?? ?"? cerlniolry in a workmunlike fl he looks forwnrti 1"t noti??* pntton# of the v may be found at tl' , .. . future I.j l"* I?hII bo en rolled on the-_r-^?? cl? of fame, and shall Iia.ERATION ruling paa ttion of hia > * I'm tiredjf^ jorer, na h< j hniuliCM hi* prepare? to | return to l.i^J lDform fMwge, there to i set'k rest Hi-tbat h? harb order thAt he may go tortkPreP&?,e? to una accustomed tuiS. " #Ll%',chaSang compelled la l e .i"1 t 1*7 I -I woik for tlnY, no m to <e* of life, whil* thousands of itf o.'ilow being* are surrounded with nil of its luxuries." 44 l'in tired," bays the preacher, as lit close* hia labor of preparing his di* course to meet the spiritual wants <> hi* charge. Tired of praying am preaching when I fear there w ill be sr few brands plucked from the eterna burning a* the fruit of his labors, ant again he renews his vow that he wil continue to labor in his M ister's vine vnrd and win soul* from death to eter mil life. 44 I'm tired," says llio gray-haired sire as lie leans upon his staff and lookback npon a life of three score yeari I J ...i). ^ I... k.s alio. mm i?-n, nnu fi'inrui mat imt it?> hmuk ed *o iimnv of Ili<mo precious yearn tc luntowante; tired of life, and long> for tlie tiniH lo come when lie nhali lay thin body down to aieep tlie aleep ol death. A!**! hIm! thought f, i* there nc renting pinoe in thin life wliere the wea ried aoui nhall Hud repose, where w< can aay man in truly bleet. Every phase of life return* the mournful an fewer? None, none. 1 opened that bleaeed Book?God't beet gift to fallen aud polluted roan? and there I found tlie guide to thai place, where "the weary are at tWLf ,, bleased auuraace, thought I, there ie i place where poor titWl mortal-1 can find i that rest that is sought for in vain here i l>elow. And yet how few are seeking ?to obtain thar haven of happiness, where ' " The weary are at rest," 1 whore innocent childhood slinll no length er tire, while engaged in something f more than harmless sports; where bnd i * ding youth shall' acquire knowledge i r that will last when the sun shall cease 1 to he observant of the hour. There, I r too. In that land of rod, the watchman ' upon the walls of Zion shall see the frtdls of his labor, where he was almost < * r*ady to faint by the wayside. I t Yes, thete is a ple.co of rest, but it is f Iteyond the confines of this world: it is i * that l>onrne from whence no traveler has ever yet returned, whose portal is I the tomb, throuirh which all must naits [ to reach the haven of eternal rest. r Teacher. The Fable of the Wandering Jew. The legend of the Jew ever wander ing and never dying, even from thecru cifixion of Jeans to this day, spread over many European countries. The accounts, however, as all fables, do not agree. One version is this: When Je, sua was led to death, oppressed by the I weight of the cross, he wished to rest I himsvlf near the gate at the house of a . . shoemaker named Ahasnerus. This j man, however, sprang forth and thrust | him away. Jesus turned toward him. r saving, " I shall rest, but thou shall a move on till I return." And from that time ho has had no rest, and is obliged ? incessantly to wander about. Anoiher veision is that given by Mathns I'arisir ensis, a monk of the thirteenth century | When Jesus was led from tire tribunal ( i of Filatus to death, the door koefrer. ( named Cartafllious, pushed him from j behind with his fool, saving. " Walk ( on, Jesus, quickly; why dost thou tarry?" Jesus looked at ltim gravely. ( \ and said, " I walk on, but thou shalt J tarry till I come." And this insn, still ^ alive, wanders from place to place iu ( constant dread of the wrath to come. A third legend adds that this wjinder, ing Jew fails sick every hundred years, , but recovers, and renews bis strength ; . hence it is that, even after so many 1 centuries, he does not look much older 1 than Septuagenarian. Thus much for the legends. Not one* of the ancient authors makes even mention of such an account. The first who report some . such thing is a monk of the thirteenth . century, when, as is known, the wot Id was tilled with pious fiction even to disgust. However, the story has spread tar, so that it has become a piovorh, "lie runs about like a wanderingJew." I Thero are not persons wanting who as ' sett they have seen the wandering Jew. 1 Hut when their evidence is examined by the lest of historical credibility, it is found that some im;-osier had made use 1 ' of this fable to im)>o*e upon simpleminded people for soine purpose of his own. However, the legends are not 1 altogether untrue ; there is a wandering > .lew who roves alout Europe, through out every country. This imperishable being is?pkkjudick aoainbtth* J kwb. Bojs. 9 The boy is a small specimen of masculinity?but he is not a man ; though r now a days he thinks ho is. He is a j sort of a one dog man. Now, we like to see bovs lively?rattling?full of life; yet we like to see them polite, respect ful to th*ir superiors, obedient, nnd disposed to keep themselves within proper , bounds. We have no objections to boys Hying kites, shooting marbles, spinning tops, eating gingerbread, but | we do object to their smoking cigars, chewing tobacco and cursing like sail yv.. i.l? ..... i c.._ viif. '' v unu IV l/"jrn vu IU OU U" | day School, and to Church; and we like to ?ee them behave themselves; hut we don't like to see them wriggling t and twisting in Church, gating up and , going out, slamming the door, or com ing to the door at tlte close of service, I pushing it open and rushing bark with ( a loud noise; or to bear thein talking , and laughing aloud, disturbing the congregation. Now, many boys conceive this to be the very element of smart, ness. and the high road to distinction: well. It does seem so. All great men f once learned their A. It. C.; yes, very I distinguished men have commenced life , this way; for instance, John A. MurreJ, j Monroe txlvvards, John Brown, Captain I Kyd, Jack Shepherd, and a host of othI era equally illustrious. One thing certain. however, their rush light was ex t ngnished by a piece of Aemp.'Attached to a wooden structure?called a gallows. Look out, boys?you smart fel * lmv? ifiM 11 rn Mtrlainlv An ||?a liirrti ""a ~ %,,v road to diatinctton?and, from appearance, yon will go out in a Blaze of Glory. O, Solomon ! Solomon ! thou King of the Jew* ! liow true thy remarks i f "Spare the rod and yon tpoil the child.* Lovr can excuse anything but meanness; hut meanness kills love, and crip# plea even natural affection. " Thkre is only one thing,*1 says the proverb, * easier than flogging a cowi ard ; it ia to frighten hint.11 I Rrmkmurr, young ladies, that oran> ' ges arc not apt to be prised aficr being k ?<jueezed a few timea. j |r The He a or Life.?Much is said and sung of the treachery of the u waves of the da>k blue sea," but how much more treacherous the sea of life, upon which the bark of man's hopes an<l prospects for time and eternity, is -launched.? In the spring tide of life, when the sails are set to catch the breezes of pleasure and enjovment, the murky clouds of disappointment scatter our brightest anticipations and bury them beneath the waves of chagrin and mortification.? In mauho d's early tnorn, when the bea? con fires of prosperity and popularity lure us to the desired haven, the rocks , of dissipation and ingratitude intervene and we are wrecker] and stranded upon their desert coast. And when our craft seems in full view of the harbor of success, the storm of uncurbed passion and ap)?etite buries her beneath tho dark waves, with crushed hopes, blasted prospects, ruined intillect* and blackened characters. In a word, all that is noble and trood rpimrl flI-A " in tlm rlnan tw. B-- "i - r Kom of the ocean " of dissipation and itnpiety sunk and lost forever! How important then that the Pilot ?!the helm bo of a clear head and undimned eye?how important that every thing that would rob us of our power to rido the waves of danger and peril that beset us in the voyage of life, should be eschewed and renounced forever. The sailor's grog has buried many a gallant craft, and the landsman's glass has stink its millions of noble spirits to irretrievable woe! Let the living beware in time, ere a similar fate befall them.?Spirit of the Agt. Life Without Love.?We sometimes meet with men who seem to think ihat any indulgence in an affectionate feeling is weakness. They will return from a journey, and greet their families with a distant dignity, and move among their children with the cold and lofly plondor of an iceberg, surrounded by its broken fragments. There is hardly i more unnatural sight on earth than >no of those families without a heart. \ father hud better extinguish a boy's ?yes an take away his heart. Who iha 'i experienced the joys of friend-bip, and values sympathy and affection, would not rather lose all that is beautiful in nature's scenery, than be robbed of the hidden treasure of his heart t Cherish, then, your heart's best aflfec i..a..i. ".i. 1 1. uyin. iiiuuigu in Lilt: vinriu iiiiu |?usii* ing emotions of filial, paternal, and fraternal love. Aoe dims the lustre of tho eye, and pales the roses on beauty's cheek ; while irow feet, and furrows, and wrinkles. >ind lost teeth, and gray hairs, and hald head, and tottering limbs, and limping feet, most sadly mar the human form divine. Hut dim as the eye is, as pallid and sunken as may be the face of beauty, and frail and feeble that once strong, erect and mauly body, the immortal soul, just fledging its wiugs for its home in heaven, may look out through those faded windows, as beautiful as the dew-drops of a summer's morning, as melting as the tear that glistens in affection's eye?by growing kindly, by cultivating sympathy with all human kind, by cherishing forbearance towards the follies and foibles of our race, and feeding day by day on that love to God and man which lifts its from the brute and mukcs us akin to angels. DATS TO BB BORN ON. Rom on a Sunday, a gentleman. Horn on a Monday, fair in face. Horn on a Tuesday, full of grace. Horn on a Wednesday, auur and grum. Horn on a Thursday, welcome home. Horn on a Friday, free in giving. Horn on Saturday, work haid for your living. NVe do not remember the day we were born on, but, according to the above, it mint have been on Salnrday. ?Kxchartpt. Wo wuie born on Salnrday, certain, if there's any truth in the above. A Misciiikvous Parrot.?One day a party of ladie* prfid a vi'it ?lnw?.l, and several had been hoisted on deck bv the usual means of a " w?oi.1 . u the main yard. The chair had descend' ed for another ** whip," but hhuciv had its fair freight been lifted out of the boat alongside, when the unlucky parrot piped, * Let go !" The order l?eing instantly obeyed, tho unfortunate lady, instead of being comfortably seated on deck, as had been those who pre .-( ijed Jier, was soused over hem] in (lie .ea.?Autobiography of a Seaman. Tax remedy of to morrow is too late for me evils oi lo ony. The-wortli of a thing is best known by Ibe want of it. Ths short est answer is doing tbe thing. I'hj what yon owe, and what you are worth yon will know. A mun of words and not of deeds is like a garden fall of weeds. * One hour t sleep before midnight is worth two after. Wor*- >.nd not words are the pi bt of loare. We have forgotten mors than we rc? member.