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of i
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VOLUME VH. r GREENVILLE, SOUTH CAROLINA/im BSD\V MORNING, MAV 10, I860. 1 ! NUMB' R 1.^
Jr ^nntjicnt (gnttrpriat
, , n r'' i .
> isaoax> mvwi TXUarftDAT mobmaro,
MCJUN?j?*SAILEYC.
X. MoJunkai. ... J. O. M?r>
W. P. PBICC, Editor.
' o
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^7~ 1 1
Oh! Where are My SehoolmateeY
Oh! where are my schoolmates gone f
The shy, the dull and the gay;
They have left me all heart-sick and lane,
To drag out life's shortening day.
The house yet remains where it stood.
When it's mass-covered roof I first saw;
The playground?my eyes 'giu to flood.
When I think of lite play ground of
yorel .
The ^>?re, too, that pointed to truth,
And the fall in its habldfng rage.
So r??i I" the days of my youth?
Ho small in the night uf my age.
Oh ! where ft re my fclioolmiUi gone ?
Do they yet toes on life's stormy wave*!
Or (MMefclly sleep sli alone,
'Neath the flowers that bloom o'er their
graves? ' . |.Wlist
dav-dreams are mine to enjoy,
As I *it and gaze into th? past, I
Till again I'm ohatiged to a hoy:?
Hut dreams are too airy to last.
Farewell I scattered friends of my youth,
Tie your memory dime these old eyes; 1
liny your thoughts, like yon spire, point
to truth.
And we'll talk o'er the past ia the skies. 1
?J- ?L -J1JJ* LL ;
Sin 3ntrrrsting ?tnrtj. ;
from the Home Journal i
THE PHANTOM BRIDE. ]
44 Wijlvott love me even beyond the
tomb r
The qm-stion came from the vermil- 1
lion lips of n young girl mi a-fancy IvmII
in Paris during the reign of Louis XV.
She was a brilliant brunette, with wbundant
raven hair, and wore the Spanish
veil and mantilla which she had assumed
for the occasion, with all the
grace of a daughter of Andalusia. Iler 1
iuterlocuter, a young -viscount of twenty,
arrayed as a page of Mary Stuart,
in Scotch plaid and Highland bonnet
and feather, had been persuing the fair
unknown all the evening with protesta
tions of loCe and eternal fidelity. Ilia
answer was prompt and unhositating. <
41 Yes, 1 swear u. If I die, I will
dream of you in the sepulchre, and a
thrill of^oy will welcome you if your
f. ot but press the grass over my head."
" And if 1 should die I" inquired the
young girl, in a sad tone.
** It ypu should die, I will be as faithful
to you dead as Iking ; and if you
should Ad permitted to visit me, I will
kiwi your cold,hand with a* 4??uch love
as at this moment?snd he Erased io
l.8? K. _ ?.!fj I ? ? -!- I - V.J I
m? up* uie nine nuiio nana 01 me ueauliful
tyftnUrd.". "Ah,
well! I will permit vou, then,
to love me. We ?hntt eee if you will
? be ooiiauuii. Farewell; we shall meet
gain."
' where? whenf" demanded llie
viscount, anxiously. 1 cannot" tell.?
l'ur|tHD>? h*ro?perhaps else where?but
ydu will see nie." And with a geaiyre
which forbade him to follow her, ?ht
^ ^ dimppeaeud lit the crowd.
Two year* passed, during wltich Vis
count liilpb sought vainly at Mady, nt
Versailles?in every place of public re
?ort?for hi* beau11ful unknown, lie
M7?e gk. kmit/iiunun l?u Kirifi ami lil'A 1
many of bii countrymen, bad enl 335!
the tervice of the King of Fiance. Hut
a court life did not coinjHtrt very -voll
with lii? slender fortune, and ho become,
ere long, deeply involved in debt.
" You must find aotne rich heiress,"
aid hie sympathizing ftienjs?it wm
the Usual resource of embarrased gentlemen
qftthat d?y. Hut the v count J
had not fo Jtowii clung An
datuejen, and was in uo mood for the
March, lie. vm altered the troubit,
however. Ilia uncle, who was arch
b>?bop in partibut of au Assyrian cUy
destroyed by the Romans, itifbrtitfd
him oprr day, that it tb time for him
to marry, arid that he had found a wife
fbrhiro.* ?- >$% * it
- I? aire rich T Ralph. . " I
do not aak Ifabo ia proUy?it ia ail Urn
Mine to me." I
Very rich am) mr pretty."
The Vtaeouet thought of hiildtiMown,
and sighed; theo thought of hie credifotu,
aa4 fonefled. The uncle arrang
ed everything, nil when all was settled,
be gave the nephew his benediction and
two hundred pistoles, and >ent him oft*
to Burgundy to pay his respects to
N'lle de Roche Noire, whom be waa to
marry-in a fortnight.
A gloomy journey of several davs
duration brought him at length to tfie
ancient feudal manuor house of Boche
Noire, situated in the heart of a forest,
on a lofty rock, from which it derived
its name. lie was srpeci^,., tlie
grand door of the mansion was open,
an'd an aged servant met him at the
ilire?hhold, and conducted him tea largo
hall; at the extremity of Vhich sat an
old man and a yonng girl. The former,
whom he divined at once to he the
Baron of Roche Noire, rose at his entrance,
and, saluting him in the somewhat
formal fashion of the day, present
ed him to his daughter lleroiiue. The
latter had the delicate beauty of the
flower which has unfolded under a
northern sun. She was pale, with fair
hair, and eyes of the deep bine of an
ftnlinn ?Vv ll?w fimtr.* u?t. liwln !>>??
graceful, her lunula exquisitely shaped,
and transparent as alabaster. So much
the viscount Raw as lie bent low b?-fote
Ida betrothed, and in spite of Ids pro
fessed Indifference, he inwardly congrat
ulated himself on hi* good fortune.
The viscount and baron exchanged the
usual reciprocal complimenta and en
quiries. Ralph was accustomed to so
ciety, and understood well the art of
making himself agreeahle ; the baron,
spite of bis seventy winters, bad no*,
forgotten how to be n courtier, and llernriiife
had the simple grace, the*dignity,
die modesty without pronderv, of a
young girl of high birth, religiously ed
ucaed, but 'without any rigidity. The
conversation soon l?ecainc animated and
sparkling, while Ralph watched Hermine,
and now and then murmured to
himself, " She is charming ! blessings on
my uncle for finding me a wife at once
bo pretty and so rich."
When sup)>?r was nnnonnced, lie of
fered his hand 10 the young girl, who
accepted it with a blush, while the
baron led the way to die dining. It
was a lofty apailiueiit, fatnidied in the
massive style of I>>uis XIV., and upon
die walls v/ere suspended ancient aiui
ly portraits. As Ralph's eye glanced
over these, it was attracted by ooe
whose freshness formed a striking conI
runt ii\ f liA enwil-r r*unt/uccc of lis** At*
funct Barons of Roche Neire. ft. repre
rented a young girl of dazzling, but
foreign beauty, such as is only found
under the southern skies. A more brilliant
daughter of Spain never danced
the fbtlero in the perfumed gardens of
the Albambra. The eyes of Ralph w ere
fixed immovably u(ton the canvas*; the
first glance had told him that it was his
long lost unknown of the fancy ball.
* Come, my dear viscount," aaid the
luron. "* let ua be seuted"
Kalpb slatted and obeyed, then
tinned bis eyes from the portrait to Her
mine. In contrast with that glowing
beauty she appeared to biiu utterly insipid.
He made some remark about
the picture. The Baron did not reply,
but a cloud passed over bis face, and
Mermiue turned pale, and sat silent
with downcast eyes '
A chill seemed to be thrown over
these three persons, just now talking so
joyously. Brief remarks were made occasionally,
in a constrained tone, and
the *ii|>per ended almost in silence. At
ita close the viscoutu made the fatigue
of bis journey an excuse for leiiriitg
early. Aw the Servant was conducting
11itit to .his apaiimeiil, lliev passed again
through the dining lsitll.
"Whose pot tail is this?" he a*ked,
pointing U> the picture of the lady.
The servant lie-bated.
" Sjteitk !" said the viscount, inipeticandy.
" It is the portrait of M'lle Fulmeii,"
aid the old in.m, tieinblhig.
" And svliu is she ?"
"The elder sister of M'lle Ilei mine."
. " Hut hlio is drtved in Spanish costume"
* Yes, her mother was a Spanish
lady."
" And Fulinen, wheie is she now |"
" She is dead," said the old inan,
solemnly. "She lies at the Feft of the
nltar in the chapel of the ek'iUati /"
Fatigue had no power thnt night to
biing sleep to UalphV eyelids. It was
in vain that be extinguished the can
dies, and burifd bis bead tinder the
blankets} the image of Kidmen still
pcisued linn. Now, it wh* J*'ii|tncii ih
with beauty, asdic wax representcd
iii the picture, and a* he had m??ii her
ht the fancy hull; again, it wax Fulmen,
pate Mild cold. extended in her
coffin Under the pavement of the chapel.
Then he reineinbied hi* oath, to love
. her as well dead a* Jiving, and u cold
went bathed hi* brow. At that mo
' tnetit, it light at the opposite extremity
of the apartment attracted'his attention;
a door, whowe exist vine he had not sua
{reeled, turned iioi?ele?>l\ on it* hinge* ;
the candles relighted ih*ui?elvn* sponi
tanaously, and a figure, draped in a
! wiuditig'wheot, entered the room and
! approach* d his lied. It advanced alow1
ly; the most acute ear could have detected
no aottnd of footstep*. Brave as
ho was, the vtwootmi trembled at lh?
apparition. When the figure was within
a few feet of the hud, the winding
beet was thrown back, and revealed a
young girJ dressed in Spanish costume. D
" Fulmen !" he murmured ihe pic- r1
lure has descended from it* frame 1"
I{. was indeed Fulmen, just as she g
was painted, save that the lips were
pale, the eve mournful, the whole ex- *1
predion uuspeaknblj? sad. a
u Fulmen !" repealed the viscount, tl
with a tone of terror, in which was
inipgled a sort of feverish jov. *<
"It is I," she said. "f>o you re- h
member vour oath ? They havo told <a
you mat 1 iuu dead. *i
The teeth of Ralph chattered ; hut ti
the voice was bo pure, ao inelodiou?, p
that it aided him to shako off the torpor
which was creeping over liiui.
" No, you are not dead," he exclaim- ti
cd, with an effort.
14 I have been dead ? year," replied g
Fuhnen, sadly. They buried me in the w
chapel. You can read iny epitaph on p
the marble slab, the third from the high e
allHr." 11
Ralph could not detach his eyes from y
this singular creature, whose marvel y
loua beauty countered in some degree
the terror which the apparalion would
otherwise have caused. u
, 44 Alas I" resumed the spectre^-drap- b
ing the shroud about her form with all
the coquetry with which a living belle
might wrap an opera cloak around her, h
" I am dead, really dead, at seventeen ; y
when life was full of light, and peifumc, p
and music; when tears, e\en, were so
sweet that they resembled smiles ; when y
the present was so happy that the future v
was quite forgotten. And then. I loved
you. 1 trusted in your oath ; but you y
did not eare for me. You have come
here to marry my sister." n
" Fulmeu 1 murmured Ralph, who ii
felt a pang of remorse at his heart, " I V
have loved you; I love you still."
She shook her head.
u The dead are never loved," she
said, sadly. h
Ralph trembled. lie felt his blood
curdle in his veins, lie remembered
his oath. Yet Fuhnen did not complain.
She did not overwhelm him d
with reproaches. She seemed resigned, si
He saw her lean Iter head upon hei p
hand ! a tear shone ill her eve. and a V
shiver passed ihrough her frmne. fi
44 I hiii cold/* she suid, and, lising
from the chair in which she had seated i
herself, she approached the fiie-place, <i
and bent as if to warm hen-elf by the
halft-cxiinguished brands. 44 The dead t
are always cold," (.lie murmured.
44 Heavens," exclaimed Ralph, 44 you are
not dead; but, dead or living, you
are beautiful, moie beautiful than any
living woman, and I love you at on the
day T first saw you."
44The dead are never loved," she re- I:
peated, mournfully.
44 Hut you are not dead. The limb* fj
of the dead are rigid ; the flesh corrupt; n
they cmiuol apeak ; you are not d >ad ?
it is i hi possible."
44 I am dead," repeated Fulmen. iu a
tone of authority which admitted of no tl
question ; 44 dead?and yet 1 sutler."
44 You suffer !*' the viscount exclaim- p
cd.
44 Yes. Because I died with a rruiltv l<
thought in my heart. I remembered li
i lie hall where I met you. It was earth i
ly love, not penitence, that engrossed o
my last hour*. Yet, if you wuo are ii
alive can love me still, God will perhaps
pardon me, and I "hail sutler no longer."
" I do love you,*' cried Ralph, gazing
at the young girl ?o beiiuliful in her m
sadness. Yet a secret voice said within
him, " Ah ! if she were onlv alive I"
A pale smile pas ed over the face of u
lite phantom. It. rose and advanced to
ward him. Ralph iuvoluuiarily shrunk <
back at ita approach. |
" You see," she said mournfully, "it
is always so. The living fear the dead.'' r
" No, no V said. he. eagerly, ashamed I
of the momentary terror ; " uo, Fultntn, |i
my beloved, come 1" / I
She oxtended her hand, and took thai I
of lite young man. Ralph uttered a
try. Ilis I and was press* d hy the cold. \
clammy Angers of a corpse. She let v
his hand fall. ji
" No," she repeated, in a half suffo v
cated voice, "You see it cannot be; ^
1 shall auHVr always!" '
And she Aed; while Ralph was so c
overwhelmed- that he had no power to
speak or move. The candles went out q
mhI.I. nly ; silence leigncd again in tlie n
chamber; the phantom bud vanished, v
Tim iiexl day dawned bright and
l>??uuiif'nI. T1 e Union de Roche Noire, t
who did not appear m notice the pallor >
and aliMriictinii of lii? guest, projiosed a I
hunt. The day whm spent in the open I
air ; and if, amid the excitement of the c
chase, the viscount thought of the occuriencuH
of the last night, they seamed a
to him only as a bewildeiiug dream,? I
Hut with the return of daiknees, and as
pvcially at the sight of the picture, the a
apparition again seemed to him a leali i
t\, and he determiued to ascertain the I,
truth, l'lvading.a headache he retired I
to liis room, and, extinguishing the can li
dies, ha called, softly ; li
Kidmen ! Fuiuien I1' There was no
answer. Again he called :
* Kulmeu ! 1 love you, though dead !" c
Immediately the candles were re- t
lighted, and Fulmen again appeared.? I
She threw off her winding sheet and I
i seated herself in a chair by hi* side.'? 1
i Her face bad the cadaverous paleness of s
the tomb; her eye was sad; her step ?
low aud painful; yet her exquisite beau- s
i ty exerted the same fsstyuetion ever t
In1|?li as wlieu sparkling with life Mid f?
ivacity. F
44 Kidmen, I loVe yon P* lio repented, s
axing at her with admiration. f
* Yet if my hand should touch yotrr?,n
lie replied, with a end smile, "you f
-ould utter n cry as you did last night; l
tie dead are always oold."
"Give me your band, and you will I
pe," said Halpli, extending re*olutely e
is own. She took it, and again there b
sine Over him the same terrible sen- s
uion as before; but he bad self-con- f
rol enough to conquer it, and again re- t
eat: .. (
" 1 love you !M ?
A bright smile illuminated the fea- *
iires of Fulmen. t
44 My poor friend," she said 441 would r
ladly believe yon ; but if your love
rould end my hiitiering*, it must be so v
rufouud, so ardent, that it can conquer p
ven the desire to live. A tomb with a
ie must have attractions for you. Atid
ou are but twenty-two, Ralph. At
our age, life is sweet."
The viscount shook his head.
44To live without you is death ; to be ~
nited to you, even in the tomb, would
e life."
,4Take care, my friend."
44 Of what, dear Fulmen f" exclaimed
Lalpli, over whom the smile of the
oung girl seemed to exercise an over- j
owering fascination.
44 Do you know," she said 44 that if
on utter such a wish, God may hear
our prayer!'*
44 Ah 1 if he would I An eternity by
our side would be infinite happiness."
44 Ralph, my fiiend," interrupted Fuluen,
while a smile of celestial joy shone
ii her faoe, 44 take care; you w ill die it
ou love me."
44 I wish to die."
44 Hut you are betrothed to my sister."
An exclamation of anger escaped
ira.
441 hate her!" ho said, vehementlr.
Why!"
44 Because she is alive, while you are
ead. What has she done that she
liotild enjoy the light of the snn, the
erfume of flowers, the melody of birds !
Vas she any younger or more beautij|?"
4 Ralph, you are unjust. My sister
ad no control over her destiny or
une."
" Vou are right, perhaps; but I swear
> vou thnt I will never inarrv Hermine.
wish lo l>e tour's, and . nlv your's, | *
rever "
" You are mad, my friend ; I cis"'
?ept lin|i|iinHM at such a sacrifice."
SIih rose ^'owly. . ,
* Adieu, Ralph," she said, " Mar
lerniine and prav for tne."
" Fulmen! Fuluten ("exclaimed 1
dling on liit* knees at her feet,
ot abandon me?I love) .t
" But your iove is det
" It is happiness. It
His tones wis so ear^uelj
Ital tiie young girl hes
" Let niu live oleriutfou,
ersisted. j j
" Listen, my frien
?nrrlli Aft if ulin fVkiiM nrt hmir??r r#
lis entreaties," in this ca>ket," point t. 0
o a richly carved box which stood up>n
the table, " there is a phial containng
a dark liquid."
"And thin liquid t" 1
" Is death I"
" It is happiness," exclaimed Ralph, 1
eixing the casket. 1
Fijlmen slopped him by a gesture.
4 Not yet," she said ; bv-and-by?at '
nidnigbt?but first?reflect!"
Immediately the candles were extin- '
pushed, and he found himself in coin- 1
lete darkness. <
If Viscount Ralph had been n French- '
nan, as soon as Fnlmen disappeared, '
ie would have opened the window. and 1
ct the cool night air play upon his !
irow. Then, the fever fit being over, *
ie would ha\e said to himself:
* All this ia folly, i am twenty two I
ears old, an officer in the king's ser 1
ice, and am about to marry a young *
fill, blond as Madonna, fair as a lily, 1
vho will bring me an income of a luin* 1
Ired thousand livres. I have only to
>e quiet, and let things lake their 1
ourse." . 1
After which lie would lime sb-pt J
jiiietly. and tireamed no inure of Kill j '
nen. Hul Ralph was ? ^wtebiniui '
ulli an imagination as susceptible of | 1
xulutlion an most of his countrymen of '
lie land of mountain nnd mist. As J
oon as the phantom vanished. lie reiglit
the candlo hy the nid of a half or- '
iiigiiiidii-d firebrand, and, opcuing the '
asket, he took out the phial.
44 Fuliiu-u ! Kuhneh ! wait fur me ! I '
mi coining!" he murmured, and swalowed
the contents at a draught.
For u inonieiit he experiticed a strange '
irid iuexplicahle seii>aii<>n ; n coldness 1
n the chest, a heat in the head ; thou '
lis eyes became heavy ; his limbs trein
led ; an extreme languor crept over
litn, and he sank ii|>on the floor, still
nm iiuning faintly :
Fiiltnen wait for me?I love yon."
When Ralph swallowed tlx- contents
>f the phial lie expected to awake in
he other world, lie was mistaken.?
t he phial contained only a narcotic, and
ie was very much astonished on opening |
lis eves, to And himself in lied, and to
?e the sun shining through the curtainsi
windows. A woman sat hy the bedide.
It was Fnlraen I hut no longer
he pale,sad Fulnr-*t with livid lip*, and ;
M
>roi .^nvel?n< cl in a winding-sheet; Inn
'Uhtt*n, lVe*h, radirnt, joyJdif, in the
Hnie oonttnue which she wore ?i tiie
snoT-ball ?"
The reader will understand the oxdanatioti
of nil thin more readily than
be young viscount, whose head was stilf
oiuewhat confused from the effects of
he narcotic. The toung girl had wish<d
to |>ut the sudden passion of her
all room lover* to the test; and with
ouio ditliculiy she had persuaded her
olid old father, and her cousin llennine
0 lend themselves to the mystification.
V little ingenuity, some invisible nasi*ance,
a ttansparenl glove, of seipent
kin, aided hv the native superstition of
he young Scotchman, were all that was
iccessaiy to the success of the scheme.
We need not sav that the viscount,'
vhun he recovered his senses, was very
;lad to exchange his phantom bride for
1 living one.
ftlistrllnnrntur Urniing.
From the Georgia Tetnperauue c rueader,
"I'm Tired."
M I'm tired,'* said Ilie little urchin, as
10 threw down his liat and ball, and
rour.d up Jtis kite slritig and went and
ast himself upon the carpet at his timber's
feel. " Tired of what!" asks the
bnd parent, a* she gazes with maternal
iride upon the prostrate foim of her
iarling son, as ho seeks to regain the
strength that had been wasted by en
piging too freely in his boyish s]iorts.
O, I'm titcd of playing with my ball,
tnd driving tny hoop and flying my
cite ? how I wish I was a man and had
omcthiug to do besides piny with these
hiugs from morning till night."
u If 1 tt . 1_ _1. 1 h ... ? I
i in ureo, says me scnooi uoj , as
ie throws aside hi* books and escapes
rom the dull routine of-school room,
ind cools bis brow in tbo sparkling
vaters of tlie neighboting brook?" I'm
ircd of poritig over these dry studies?
see no use of conjugating Latin verbs
md worrying my brain with the lire
oine details of Euclid. How 1 long
or the manly sports pf the field, where
can exercise my limbs at my will, or
ango th" ** ^ady woods in search
)f tho> iL that are forbidden
vithi ? the school room."
the bright-eyed lit
le freed from the re:n^r
room, and en'jt.in
the ruder
? the grassy
or so straight
* had much
' nrlie, and
fall fiom
t
fcml (lash
V tl>e gay
VeK upon
/ to seek
'o the clev
k\ of this
r.d dressing
fcaori of findWorn
McFliin%remo
good
fo Bs of a tnore
M mine."
^Khnr.t, as he
clc ^Bres to leave
his ^Fbe sighs for
the Jnod to arrive
wb wbalance sheet,
tnd no is a million
lire. 1 ?
" 1 m l^mation of the
nwyer. 4>rief for the
next a? 'glorious ?n;erlar
r\ he looks forward
|p*tlofta of the
future I. Vie shall be en
rolled on the of fame,
md shall ha- Iruling pasdon
of his m
* Pin tired, /jorer, na he
^tiUhes his d? \ prepares to
return to hi* r>tiage, there to
teek rest at. it order that he
may go fort* '-his accustomed
toil. " I'm* .ng coin|>elle?( to
work for tl ies of liie, while
ihoitsand.s of t- teliow beings are surrounded
with all of its luxuries."
" I'm tired," says tire preacliet, as he
-lose* his labor of preparing bis di*
,i.? ...i ... t
iroiirau i*> iiivci uiu pj'nii wm wnin.i ??i
iiis clutjg?. TirvJ of piaying and
preaching when I fear there w ill bo so
low brand* plucked frotn the eternal
burning as tbe fruit of his labors, and
again lie renews Ids vow lliat bo will
Eotiliiiue to labor in his Mauler's vine
yard and win souls from death to eteriuil
life.
" I'm tired,*' says llio gray-haired sire,
ss he leans upon In* staff and looks
back upon a life of three score year*
snd ten, and reflects that lie has allowed
so many of those precious years to
mn to wasie ; fired of life, and longs
for the time tu come when he shall lay
Ihie body down to aieep the *leep of
death.
Ala*! ala*! thought f, is there no
reeling place in (hi* life where the wearied
*0111 shall find repose, where we
can say man i* truly bleat. Every
pha*e of life return* the mournful an
?wer?None, none.
I opened (hat Messed Book?God'a
beat gift to fallen and polluted man?
and there I found the guide to that
place, where "ihe weaiy are at reel."
Bl*a*ed auuraace, thought X, there ie a
place where poor tired mortal-* can find
that rest that is sought for in vain here
below. And yet how few are seeking
to obtain that haven of happiness, where
" Tile weary are at rest,"
whore innocent childhood shall no longer
tire, while engaged in something
more than harmless sports; where bud
ding youth shall' acquire knowledge
that will last when the sun shall cease
to be otaervant of the hour. There,
too, in that land of re*t, the watchman
npon the walla of Zion shall see the
frttlts of his labor, where he was almost
rfcady to faint by the wayside.
Yes. theie is a place of rest, but it is
beyond the confines of this world : it is
that liotirne from whenco no traveler
has ever yet returned, whose portal is
the tomb, through which all must pass
to reach the haven of eternal rest.
Teach kr.
The Fable of the Wandering Jew.
The legend of the Jew ever wander
ing and never dying, even from the cru
oi fix ion of Jesus to this day, spread over
many European countries. The ac
counts, however, as all fables, do not
agree. One version is this: When Jesus
was led to death, oppressed by the
weight of the cross, he wished to rest
| himself near the gate at the house of a
shoemaker named Ahasnerus. This
man, however, sprang forth and thrust
him away. Jesus turned toward him.
saving, " I shall rest, but thou shah
move on till I return." And from that
time he has had no rest, and is oblige;!
incessantly to wander about. Another
veision is that given by Mathas I'arisiensis,
a monk of the thirteenth century
When Jesus was led from tl?e tribunal
of Filatus to death, the door keeper,
named Cartafilious, pushed him from
behind with his foot, saving. " Walk
on, Jesus, quickly; why dost thou
tatry?" Jesus looked at him gravely,
and said, " I walk on, but thou shalt
tarry till I come." And this man, still
alive, wanders from place to place in
constant dreau of the wrath to come.
A third legend adds that this wandering
Jew fails sick every hundred yea is,
| hut recovers, and renews his strength ;
hence it is that, even after so many
centuries, he does not look much older
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 thine is a monk of the thirteenth
t century, when, a* is known, the wot Id
I was filled with pious fiction even to dis'
gust. However, the story has spread
far, so thai it lias become a provuih,
"He runs about like a wandering Jew.'*
There aie not persons wanting who as
seit they have seen the wandering Jew.
But when their evidcuce is examined
by the test of historical credibility, it is
found that some im -oster had made use
of this fable to itnpoae upon simpleminded
people for some purpose of his
own. However, the legends are not
altogether untrue; there is a wandering
.lew who roves about Europe, through
out every country. This imperishable
being is?pkkjudick againhtthk Jews.
Boys.
The bov is a small specimen of masculinity?but
he is not a man ; tliougl
now a days he thinks he is. lie is >
sort of a one dog man. Now, we lik<
to see bovs lively?rattling?full of life
yet we liko to see tbem polite, respect
t'ul to th*ir superiors, obedient, nnd dis
posed to keep themselves within proper
bounds. We have no objections to
l>oys flying kites, shooting marbles,
spinning tops, eating gingerbread, but
we do object to their smoking cigars,
chewing tobacco and cursing like sail
ors. We like to see boys go to Sunday
School, and to Church; and we
like to see them behave themselves;
hut we don't like to see them wriggling
and twisting in Church, getting up and
going out, slamming the door, or com
ing to the door nl the close of service,
pushing it open and rushing back with
a wild noise; or 10 near them taiKin.'
and laughing aloud, disturbing tliw congregation.
Now, many boys conceive
this to be the very (dement of smartness.
and the high road to distinction;
well, it does seem so. All great men
onco learned their A. 13. C.; yes, very
distinguished men have commenced life
this way; for instance. John A. Murrei,
Monroe Edwards, John 13rown, Captain
Kyd. Jack Shepherd, and a host of others
equally illustrious. One thing cer
tain, however, their rush light whs ex
t ngnished by a piece of Acr/tp,-attached
to a wooden structure?called a gallows.
Look out, bovs-?you smart fel
lows?you aro certainly on the high
road to distinction?and, from appear
ance, yon will go out in a Blaze a)
Glory. O, Solomon ! Solomon ! thou
Ifiror itf tlu> .Imuc I llow trim tlm ra.
iiimiIch; ' 1
"Spare the rod and yon spoil the child."
Lovk can excuse anything but mean
ness; but meanness kills love, and crip
plea even ruiural affection.
" Thrrr is only one thing," any* the
proverb, *' easier than flogging a coward
; it is to frighten him.
Rrmkmiiv.r, young ladiee. that oranges
are not apt to be prised afier being
squeezed a few time*.
|Aflr
The Sea-or Lire.?Much iaeaid and
sung of ihe treachery of the " waves of
the dark blue sea," out how much mora
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 sail*
are set to catch the breezes of pleasure
and enjoyment, the murky clouds of
disappointment scatter our brightest anticipations
and bury them beneath the
waves of chagrin and mortification.?
In msnho d'a early inorn, when the b< a?
con fires of prosperity and popularity
lure us to the desired haven, the rocks ,
of dissipation and ingratitude intervene
and we are wrecked and stranded upon
their desert coast. And when our craft
seems in full view of the harbor of su?coss,
(he storm of uncurbed passion and
apj?etite buries her beneath tho dark
waves, with crushed hopes, blasted prospects,
ruined intillects and blackened
characters. In a word, nil that is noble
and good report are " in the deep bosom
of the ocean " of dissipation and iiapiety
sunk and lost forever !
IIow important then that the Pilot atthe
heltn be of a clear bead and undimned
eve?how important that every
thing that would rob us of our power
to rido tho waves of danger and peril
j 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 sunk its millions of uoMe
spirits to irretrievable woe! Let
the living beware in time, ere a similar
Into befall them.?Spirit of the Age.
1 ^ |
Livr Without T ,nvp?\V? ?amn
limes meet with men who seem to think
that any indulgence in an affectionate
feeling is weakness. They will return
from a journey, mid greet their families
with a distant dignity, and move among
their children with the cold and lofty
splendor of an iceberg, surrounded by
its broken fragments. There is hardly
a more unnatural sight on earth than
one of those families without n heart,
A father had better extinguish a boy's
eyes an take away his heart. Who
dia i experienced the joys of friend-bip.
and values sympathy and alfectionr
would not rather lose all that is beautiful
in nature's scenery, than be robbed
of the hidden treasure of his heart f
Cherish, then, your heart's best affections.
Indulge in the warm and gushing
emotions of filial, paternal, aud fraternal
love.
Aoe dims the lustre of the eye, and
pales the roses on beauty's cheek ; while
crow feet, and furrows, and wrinkles,
and lost teeth, and gray hairs, and bald
head, and tottering limbs, and limping
feet, most sadly mar the human form
divine. Hut dim as the eye is, as pallid
and sunken us may be tbe face of
beauty, and frail and feeble that once
strong, erect and manly body, the immortal
soul, just fledging its wings 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 forbear1
trice towards the follies and foibles of
' our race, and feeding day by day on
* that love to God and man which lifts
1 us from the brute and make* us akin to
angel*.
oats to uk uorn on.
Horn on u Sunday, a gentleman.
Morn on a Monday, fair in faco.
liorn on a Tuesday, full of grace.
Morn on a Wednesday, &uur and
grum.
Morn on a Thursday, welcome home.
1 Morn on a Friday, free in giving.
Morn on Saturday, work hard for
: your living.
We do not remember the day we
were born on, but, according to the
' above, ii must have been on Saturday.
?ExehaWfft.
We wuie born on Saturday, certain,
if there's any truth in the nbove.
A Mischievous Parrot.?One day
a party of ladies p>tid a vidt about.t,
and several had been hoisted on deck
by the usual means of a " wien' .11
the main yard. The chair had descend'
.1 t .. ... 1? n 1 ...
CU lur lllI'Mlin I MIL M'HIt.t'lV
had its fair freight been lifted out of the
boat alongside, when the unlucky pnrrot
piped, *' Iyet go 1" The order being
instantly obeyed, the unfortunate
lady, instead of being comfortably seated
on deck, as hod been those who preeeded
her, was soused os*er head in the
-ea.?Autobiography of a Seaman.
Tuk remedy of to morrow is too Ut?
?vi mo cviio vi
The worth of a thing is best known
by the want of it.
' Th* shortest Answer is doing the
thing.
Thj whet von owe, *nd wh*t you are
worth yon will know.
A man of word* and not of deoda is
1 like a garden full of weeds.
* One hour's sleep before midnight is
worth two after.
Worn- i.nd uot words are the pi bf
of love.
We have forgotten more than we rc*
member.