The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, May 17, 1860, Image 1
^ A_ REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS.
Quoted to- fnrgrqsB, the gltghts of th^ ?outh, and lite giftttsioit of ulftcfnl |inoalcdjjc among all glasses of "Solorjung $tyt.
^ ureenvilu; south Carolina, Thursday morn^O. may 17, isoo. ~~" number s.
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IS
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Gray Hairs.
BY MRS. L. R. SIOOUR5KT.
.Gray hairs! I marvel why they strike
Such terror and dismay I
No mark of wickedness or chaise, Or
foul disgrace, are the/.
As silent as in infant drcnros /.
, Steal o'er tho cradle-down,
They wears their sparkling silver threads
Into the black or brown.
Gray hairs! ibo waning beauty shrieks
Before her mirror's face,
And forth the 'umblest invader flies
_, Uprooted from its place.- ^
Oh, lady, stay .that lllly hand?
, If one such geaet should fall,
They aay a doaan more will come
To attend tho funeral.
Gray hairs 1 I saw tha Quocn of France,
Arrayod in rogal state,
Eeeeire the elite of the land,
The titled and the great;
And whilo her dignity and grace
Were praised by every tongue, .
The.long, white ringlets, o'er her brew
In fearless clusters hung. .
Gray hairs 1 when sprinkled here and there,
Id board mad whiskers too,
Inspire respect and confldonco, r
Mure than tha youthftil hue.
Of knowledge, of manhood they toll,
* Perchance of serious thought,
And loos at the expansive school I
Of sage experience taught. <
Oray lialn! 1 think them beautiful ^
Around the ancient fhoe; <
Like pun unsullied snows that lend
The windry tnndsoapee grace i
When found in wisdom's way they crown
With wealth's sghansUess store?
A prelude to that home of joy
Where change is known noenore.
Sin Stotrrrutittfl ^tarq.
THE TQIUMB "KLCT
Not many month* ago, in one of my
summer rambles, I found myself, on a
beautiful Sabbath morning, the guest of
a woitby and intelligent family, in a
quiet cottntty village.
The early breakfast was over; parents
and children had joined in reading a
chapter in the Bible; Mr. Sedgwick,
the head pt the family, had then offered
op a fervent prayer, at the conclusion
of which we all arose from our knees.
when our earn wero gfeetod by tho clear
deep peels of the ringing church bell.
"So latel" exclaimed Mr. Sedgwick,
looking at the clock. 44 Ouf time piece
roust be wrong."
44 That is not the first bell for church,"
replied her husband, solemnly. 44 There
has been a death in the Tillage. The
be!! is going to toll for Martin Lord."
44 Such, then, is his unhappy end I"
roused his wife. 44 Well, it will be
wrong to mourn, his death. If death
? mm o niArnifnl nmridanA* it ia an
in tliis CMe."
" In it a>ptraon who bas been long
sickf" 1 asked.
Instead of answering my question directly,
Mr. Sedgwick Mid :
' " There Is a vary melancholy history
t s connected with that young man. It is
nne ronrfltlma ijsM the n?.
casioned by hie strange tragedy died
away; but the tolling of the bell this
_ morning must bring It back forcibly to
every heart, Perhaps you would I*
sen much interested to bear the story fn
i 1 expressed my desire to listen to the
narrative; upon which he gave me the
detail* of the following atorr, which I
relate with only a alight variation from
the original:
" Martin Lord waa once the flower
and hope of one of the moat reapectable
% families in the village HU amiable
disposition and wparior intellect procut*
ed for him universal love and eateem.
" Although a alight figaro and pale
faeterna, which indicated a conatitution
by no meanb robtot, Martin waa
naarfcable for Ma uncommon beauty,
and* indeed, a floe, noble forehead
shaded by locka of soft brown hair, hfa
large, ecpreaeive blue eyea, straight
noae, with the Grycian noatrila, and voloptueoa
mouth, entitled him fn aome
meeaera to thai conaideration.
* Martin waa a great favorite with
- the ladiaa, old and young; but he nerer
showed any marked partiality to any
i , .. ,i \d ^
one, until he became intimate with Isa
belle Ashton, the daughter of onr laU
clergyman, who died of grief about i
year ago.
MNo two beings were more differ
eot. Isabella was young and the raoel
thoughtless girl in the village. She
could bate little sympathy with a per
son of such deep feeling and intellect at
Martin; and beautiful as she was, il
seemed strange that he should have
given his love to her.1 There' is nc
doubt but she was attached to him, per
haps she loved him; but in this in
stanoe, as in all others, her .affeetiont
were secondary to her love of sarcasm
and mischief.
M Martin and Isabella had been point
ed out as lovers by the village gossips
for several months;'he was nineteen,
and she of the same age, when the trag
edv occurred, which the tolling of the
boil has recalled to my memory.
" It was an autumn evening, nearly
five years since, that Isabella took advantage
of the absence of her father, to
have a social gathering of young people
at their house. Martin, of course, was
present, with the fairest youths and
maidens, and being under no restraint
from tho gravity of the clergyman,
who was not expected home till late, the
company enjoyed themselves freoly in
jeeU, songs, and social games.
"The hour at which such parties
usually broke up, had already passed,
and there was no relaxation in the
gaiety of the young people, when some
one foolishly mentioned the subject ol
ghosts, something of that-description
having been Yeportod to have bocn seen
in the church-yard. .
"'It is a sjlly report,* said Martin.
' Nobody can believe that a ghost has
raaliv been seen there, and 1 doubt if a
person here belivea at all in the existence
of a ghost.*
"' You do, yourself?you know you
do, Martin, although you are ashamed
to own it,* cried Isabella. But Martin
only laughed. ' Come cow,* continued
the thoughtless girl, ' I can prove that
von have some idea that such thinga
may exist. Go to the church-yard alone
in the dark, and then declare, if you
can, that you have not fell fear ?'
"'And what would that prove!'
**' Why, you would be frightened,
though you would see nothing. Your
feara would put your belief to a lest.?
How could you be afraid if vou did not
feel that'there waa something to be
afraid oft*
1 uo Hot tlnnk your logic is very
?00*],' replied Martin, laughing. 4 Men
are often troubled with fear, when their
reason telle them that there is no cause
to fear. But ( denv, in the first place,
that a journoy to the church-yard, even
at midnight, would frighten me in the
least P
u 4 IIow bravely you can talk !' said
Isabella, indulging in her customary
tone of sarcasm. 4 But nobody here
believes it?I don't, at any rate. Why,
you hadn't courage enough, the othei
day, to help kill a rabbit; your uiothei
told me so!"
MI never like to cause or impresi
Giin, if it can be avoided,' answered
artin, blushing.
44 4 II a 1 ha ! what a poor excuse
You are brave enough, to be sure, bul
tender-hearted ! Come, now, you dar<
not go to the cburch-vard this mghi
alone. You are not lmlt so courageoui
as you would have us believe. Wheth
or you think there are ghosts or not
you are afraid of them.'
Martin was extremely sensitive ; bu
the sarcasm of nobody but Isabelh
could hare stung bim to the quick
Scofning tho imputations of cowardice
he.was ready to do almost any deeper
ate ast to prove his courage. 4 But,
said he, 4 although I have no more fea
of churcb-vards and ghosts, than I hav<
of orchards am) apple trees, I am no
going to walk half a mile merely to t?
laughed at."
44 * Ha 1 ha I but yon shall not oscap
merely so l* laughed Isabella. * Here
before these, our friends, I promise tha
this ring shall bo yours,' she continued
displaying one given bv an older lovei
which Martin had desired her to par
with, 4 provided you go to tho church
yard alone, in the dark, and declare, oi
your honor, when yon return, that vol
W>f?_nr.t jtj lli? tops*
444 Agreed,' said Martin, buttoninj
his coat, for the night was chilly.
44 4 And, as an evidence that you g
the enlire distanco, you can bring bacl
with yon, the iron bur, which you wi
find doee by the gate,' said Isabella.
" Thus driven by Unta to the coin
mission of follv, Martin took leave <
the company, Alii of courage and spiri
and set out on his errand.
" It was near a quarter of a mile t
the church yard, which wju approach?
by lonely, dreary path, seldom travel
ed, except by mourners.
u It is impossible to relate precis*
ly what happened to Martin oil lha
gloomy rood. I judge front the oil
cumstnocee which afterwards came t
light, and conjecture his adventure mui
have been, as I am about to relate it.
14 Slight as be was in frame, and ter
der in hie feeling, he ?u not deelilut
of courage. I do not think be wa
frightened by the aighing of thw win
and the rustling of the dry autum
leaveg, as many stronger man might has
boon. He approached steadily to tii
ehurch y ard,stoppod a moment, perbaf
. to gaxe sadly, but not fearfully, at the
5 white tombstone glimmering faiully in
t the dark and desolate ground, for the :
stare shone brilliantly in the clear cold
- sky ; then shouldering the iron bar of
t which Isabella had spoken, he sat out to
) return.
1 He had proceeded about half way,
i when in the gloomiest part of the road,
t ho saw a white figure emergo from a
j clump of willows and come up towards
) him. It looked like a walking corpse,
in a winding sheet, which trailed on
the ground. All Martin's strength of
i nerves was gone in an instant. Cour
i age gave piaoe to desperation, ins Itair j
standing erect and his blood running
chilled with horror, still he stood his
giound. The spectre drew nearer,
seeming to grow whiter and larger as
it approached. We cannot tell what,
frenzy seized upon the brain of tho unfortunate
youth at that moment. The
guests at the clergyman's heard terrific
screams. Dreading some tragic termination
to the farce, they rushed to tho
spot, one of tho number carrying a
lantern. They found Martin kneeling
on the prostrate figure, his fingeis
clutching convulsively its throat, while
he uttered frantic shrieks for help. His j
wild features exhibted tho extremity of
toi ror.
" Only two of the most courageous '
young men dared approach him. One
of thein forced Martin to release his
hold on tho throat of the figure, whilst
the other tore away the folds of the
' sheet. At that moment tho bearer of
the lamp came up. Its light fell on
the blood-stained, distorted features of
Isabella! Martiu uttered one more unearthly
shriek and fell lifeless ujron the
corpse, lie never spoke again, bat
lived?an idiot I
M A frightful contusion on Isabella's
temple bore evidence that in his fienzy
be had struck the supposed spectre with
the-iron bar. The blow was probably
the cause of her death, although such
a grasp with his hands must have deprived
her of breath. lie nfcver knew
afterwards what he had done, for never
a gleam of reason illuminated the dark
i new of his soul; and now the tolling
bell has told us that lleavon in its mercy
has finally freed the spirit from its
, shackles of clay, and given it life and
light in a better world."
: Jfiifittllnnrona jhrn&ing.
Drifting.
One calm summer's evening I sat upon
the river's bank, gazing listlessly
i down the stream,* watching the current
, as it eddied and whirled along over its
i rocky bed and listening to the low muri
muring of the waters. I was thinking
of the world?of human life, its responI
sibilitica, its cares?of the various in
fluences at work, and their manifold rei
suits. Just then a little boat, which
, had been moored near tho shore, left its
? fneinninnre anil lu^nron fn rlrift Ant inlA
r the stream. Slowly and almost imperceptibly
at first, it floats along, Lome
) onward by a gentle evening breeze, its
I speed gradually increasing as it nears
the current into which it is soon drawn ;
! and now, with increased velocity, it is
t impelled forward and out of sight by
3 the resistless waters,
t Ilow strikingly, thought I, does this
i resemble some phases of human life.?
- A boy, the pride and joy of his fond
, and doling parents, endowed with a
good intellect aud an amiable disposi
t tion, brought up thus far within " the
i charmed circle" of parental influence, is
; to-be educated. lie is sent to college,
i, For a while everything goes on well.?
w He is attentive to his studies, and ex
>' emplary in his deportment. The prer
cepta instilled by his parents are still
e fresh in his memory, and he is enabled
t to resist the allurement incident to col0
lege life. By-and by a change comes,
scarcely to be observed at first, but soon
n mill a ADnnrcnL' 11a it nAt ha r^milnr in
' 7 ?
i, las attendance at las recitations?they
I are not quite so well prepared?lie dress,
es a little finer?may be seen usually
, with the "fast boys"?carries a cane?
t frequently has a cigar in his mouth?
. lakes a drink occasionally?swears a litn
tie, just a little, once in a while?neg
j lects church and sabbath school, and so
on. That l*>y fi drifting, llis little
g barque, freighted with the Hopes and
anxieties of his foiid parents, and the
o interests of his own immortal soul, both
k temporal and eternal, is drifting out upon
II tho broad river of immortality. Soon,
unless its course is arrested, it will be
i- drawn into the current aud borne on to
\f ili'Klruclinn?In (inli Lannol) llm <lnrL
I, wavcs, to rise no more, or wrecked upon
the rock of crime and disgrace- (>od
o help that unsuspecting boy ! <?o-J "pity
d hit loving parents, tlie stay and prop of
I- whose declining years he was to have
been I
y A young man starts on in life, lie
it is handsome, talented, and lias means
r- enough to begin with. He engages in
o business?is industrious, attentive and
it polite. Fpr a while he gets on finely,
his business increases, and bis heart beats
high with hopes of success. Soon, how*
e ever, his attention to business begins to
is slacken; instead of always being si his
d office, you now frequently see him down
n town {be dresses more elegantly, smokes
v a finer segar, and drinks finer wines and
? mom of them?goes more into fashion*
is ebie society?drivss fast horses?hell
*
quents tbo theatre mid opera?neglects I
cliurch, the pubJic lectures, the lyecum, j
and other means of mental and moral 11
improvement?spends his evenings at j
drinking saloons and club-rooms?may j ,
occasionally he aeon Hushed with liquor , ,
at the faro table in a " gambling hell ;M , j
or, what is iuSnilely worse, paying hom- j ,
age to a Cyprian goddess in some u gild- , ,
ed temple of infamy." Tliat young man ,
is drifting, llis little boat, which was ,
moored so safely to the niossy banks, |
where the flowers of linppincsa, Content- |
ment and success bloomed, and which j
is laden with a priceless cargo?a car* ,
go of eternal hopes and interests?has |
left its fastenings, and is drifting out ,
upon tho turbid stream of fashionable j
dissipation. Slowly ar.d gradually it
glides from the shore, cariied along a by 1
the soft breeze of popular applause; by I i
degrees it near* the current?enters it ' ,
?and with irresistible force is, hurried I |
to destruction, is inevitably stranded up 1 i
on the inhospitable brnkers of everlast- ' ,
ing dishonor. i
There is a young girl, upon whom I i
centre tlie fondest affections of her pa j |
rents?the light of whose eve, and ' i
the joy of whose heart die is.? f j
Nature has liestowcd her blessings on I j
her with a lavish.hand. She is heattti 1 <
ful, kindhearted, has a mind suscepti
ble of a high degree of cultivation, and ,
is surrounded by all that wealth and i
luxury cnn supply. She nitwit be educated
iu accordance with the station in
life which she is ex|>ccted to occupy.?
She is sent to g " fashionable boarding
school." lining a little self-willed, and
freed from the restraints of home, she ;
docs pretty much as her fancy dictates j
?pays but little attention toiler studies, ,
except those branches termed "ornit- I
mental?" begins to l>e vain of her (
beauty, which has been indiscreetly i
praised in bearing?may be seen fro- <
quently pot ing over the pages of a " yel
low covered" French novel, which, i
somehow, she managed to smuggle in- ,
to her room?carries on a clandestine |
correspondence with one or two beaux i
?at the expiration of the usual time I
returns iioine 10 ner parents, Willi n ,
smattering of drawing, French and .
music?accomplished. She makes her
debut into fashionable society?attends i
all the balls and pailies?listens to Die
poison breath of flattery?accepts the
attention of men who, though they move
in fashionable circles, are of question- 1
able morals?permits such an one to 1
lead her in the giddy dance, andyields- j
her form to his lascivious embraces as |
she whirls with him in the passion ex- <
citing waltz?feels no thrill of startled ;
purity and virtue as his inoustached lip 1
touches her hand as he assists her into
her carriage, hut rather a thrill of grati- ^
fiod vanity and dangerous excitement? Ar
eschews church and church going pcr-'bi
sons (except when she wishes to exhib- 0
it herself in a new and fascinating JJ'
toilet.) That young lady is drifting.:?^
ller little barque, with silken sails, has 1
left the haven of purity, whore it was so |
securely anchored, and is drifting, drift-"]*
| in^ out into the stream of fashionable j1
lo.iy ana excitement. siowiy ana mimost
unobservedly tlie distance widens I
between it and (he shore; driven on by i
the breezes of vanity and admiration, '
it wiil soon be in the current; and w hen '
once there, unless through the rid of
some powerful interposition, will be
urged onward, by the relentless tide until
it is landed, a wreck, upon the daik
shores of eternal ruin and disgrace.
Header! whether youth, young man
or young lady, let me a-k vou, where
are you I Are vou drifting upon the I
tide of human life, at the mercy of wind
and wave, without pilot, or ruddor, or |
compass ! There in a haven where yon
can moor iu safvtyj; an anchor " sure |
and steadfast," which, if you cast out,
neither wave nor wind nor tido shall 1
set you dtifling again ! W. j
The Wife.?It is astonishing to sec j
how well a man may live on a small in j
come, who has a handy and industrious
wife. Some incn live and make a far ,
better appearance on six or eight dollars
a week, than others do on fifteen or I
eighteen dollars. The man d<xja his 1
i part well, hut his wife is gottd for nothing.
She will even upbraid her hitsI
band for not living in as good style as
| her neighbor, while the fault is entirely '
Iter own. His neighbor lots a neat,
capable ami industrious wif?, ami dial
makes the difference. His wife, on the
other hand, is a whiilpool, into which
I a great nrany silver ctijw might be
thrown, nnd the appearance of the watei
i would not l>e changed. No Nicholas,
the l>iver, is there to restore the wasted
treasure. It is only an insult for such
a woman to talk to her husband about
her love and devotion.
[Soul/urn Homestead. j
A Motiiku Teaching IIkk Ciiii.o to ;
Pit a v.? It is at once an object the most
sublime and lender the imagination can
well conceive of. Klevaled above earth
ij things,'she seems like one of those
guardian angels, the companion of our :
earthly pilgrimage, through whose min- j
istralion we are inclined to good, to
turn from evil.
Many a true heart that would have
coine back like a dove to the ark, after
its Hrat trunsgrossion, haa been frightened
beyond recall by the savage charity
of an uuforgiviug spirit.
Courtesy.
The innumerable line and dclicAtc
thread which Uue courtesy weave?, as
eoof and warp, constitute the strength
of the social fabric. / Courtesy is love
embodied, and rendered active and visible
; and love attracts into union and
oneness, and when ooutiguoua water
drop* rush into mutual bosoms and forin
river and lake. Conventional observances
may drive men into combinations,
as externni hoops forco the staves
to become the barrel and the cask.
Hut the drawings of love will attract,
even through impediment and barrier,
like the magnetic influence that ope
rates through iho vessel upon the mimic
floating swan.
Courtesy is essentially different from
politeness, etiquette, manners. These
may become mere marks of supreme
tcltishiicfs and batted ; and they may
he only exhibitions for praise and profit.
Courtesy has, indeed, no special form
t?r manner, and yet never wars with
mitable and decorous conventionalisms.
Courtesy is inherent, and ever thesatno;
hut forms of politeness arc shaped by
? evident; hence the etiquette now reigning
may he dethroned in lime, and the
politeness of lo <.lny become rudeness or
Ooutt^y cannot l>e taught or learn
i?d, it cannot bo jnit on or laid aside.
Courtesy is f<-h?tnerc politeness seen.
The former wins love, the latter respect.
The one bows gracefully and profoundly
; the other would lay down a life.
To become polity, read Chesterfield ; to
become courteous, read the llible.?
Abraham, the father of lli6 faithful, and
Paul, the Apostle of the Gentiles, bowpd
indeed with courtly grace, respfcet"iilly
; but it was their courtesy, tnanicsted
in look, word, tone, manner, that
revealed their heart love, and melted
sther hearts.
The writer was passing once along a
narrow pavement. A young man, in
foarsc apparel, at our approach, stepped
aside, with great alacrity, and into
ihc mud edging the path, lie did not
bow, lie waved no hand, ho moved
w ithout grace, and yet the whole was
evident couttesy.
After passing, the thought arose,
should we not acknowledge and thank
for the behaviour so unusual in a voting
man in this brazen age. We went
back. Otlering our hand, we said:
* Young nus iATs'd v.Jiands with me H1
"Certaiiil * flnost Engtj|,y d0 yOU wiab
it P L"' n,8? ,1,u r'"^TA a Lind-henrted
'l,* 4rd Joseph Johns# * kiua-neariea
lellotuc^uimoii Watch, and tlDSD \ J'OU gave
ill The above Wntehes aro 'o WUr J y/ould
. cr Cas?*. Hunting, and Open Yhl . m?nt*'
*uhc will rtuirunt to keep the best f/ . '
"?u-w-mrT-m? -*- -a?* -inn I May
V\7 FIT Lord
J?a* a groat variety of JKWELlf f
styles. Ho (htiat it needless toineilu P10
tides of Jewelry^ but says ho has gotptvon, if
ing you uoed. ^ *
will keep soon, ^ . flnd
ilvor and Plated Ware,, t?t.
jl? to the market. 'y 0JJr
REPAlRl;NG?i |bnienl
kinds of RKVAIRINO done in WatcliiSicans,
t> tin<l Jewelry in n workmanlike maniik or Qf
)t the shortest notice.
> llie Shop may be found at the (W
iusc. 42-tf Pelf
V N TAL O PE RATIO
Sad Va Fall.
About k ^/nii was
SCIlt to 1*1 N ANDERS Ce a car
S> of B?re*]>eetfnlly inform tlio e^t'ortiklld,
itine. cenviile that ho has to. j t t,
, 8, and is prepared to air
bouse a>. ln ?n the hmncbef. if ears, and
iMissesKedesidinj; in tlio countryr'nfidoncc of
lis Cinphtf comin* so aa to a^Ion to Now
Orleans lid v, trusted with
sufficient moi, PRICE/ the cargo of
sugar, but wi^ $ |U duo on a
previous c*rVj[ j ^ g q house had
This your i iry competent
in his lniftine.~~t . . ]{ ^!nn ordinary
intelligence, and (F, i^Uractivo np
]rcarnnce withal, one sin, ami
that, alas! was a\generic. He had
(T1T11ritl'lhl tllO lialltaVO iMamklinn ".!
fell, it would seei V to the
II e XT-- anr <fI J
gamblers of ?acTUKKI1f? He lost every
dollar of his wjon llAlr's money, and
a few days since of his being
fatally slabbed,?ik-'l,,i-uWcc-liouse affray,
' ?WIumi tvo gallant follows have run out n
friend.
'flu-r?-'s nottiiup; ?except to run bini
through."
A brother in-law (long a resident ol
New Oilcans) of tiie wretched young
man, passed through the city on Saturday
with liiscoflincd remains. A weeping
sister had placed white flowers up
on the ignoble yet mourned dead ere ii
started for the place which had knowr
it in life, in a onco happy cottage
now how desolate ! in a grandly pic
turctrfpio spot, within sight of tliesilvei
foaming surf which beats alonor lh<
ocean coast, a widowed and heart-brok'
en mother awaits the coming of hci
dead sou. And we pity her, and mourn
the fato of a young man, who in eariiei
days was our companion and friend.
[Cleaveland 1'lain Dealer.
A Mrs. John IUid is advertising it
the 1'liilndelphia North American, hi
" infant's retreat," established for tin
accommodation of those babies who*
alfectionato parents desire to trave
without encumbrance*.
Tiir tongue of the patient develope
I to physicians the disease of the hoti)
ami to philosophers the disease of lb
| mind.
"I Wish I Had Capital."
This war the exclamation of a stout,
hearty, but Inry young man, Iho other
day.
Now, suppose you had capital?what
would you do with it f Ixst nie tell
you, you have capital. Haven't you
got hands and feet, and body and mus
cle, and bone and brains, and don't call
them capital! Oh I but they ate not
money, say you. lfut they aro more
than money. If you will use them, tbey
will make money, and nobody can take
them front you. Don't you know how
to use them ! If you don't, it is time
you were learning. Tako hold of the
first plough, or hoe, or jack plane, or
broad axe that you can find, and go to
work. Your capital will soon yield you
a large interest* You don't want to
work, you want money or credit that
you may play the gentleman and speculate,
and end by playing the vagabond
; or you want a plantation of negroes,
tbat you may hire an overseer to
attend to lliem while yon run about
over llto country and dissipate and get
111 ucui ? ur |u?i wnui iu marry hoi lie
very rich girl, who may bo foolish
enough to take yon for your fine clothes
and good looks, that she inav support
you.
Sliamo on you, young man ! Go to
work with tho capital you have ; you'll
sx>ii make interest on it, and with it to
givo you as much money as yon want,
and uinke you feel like a man. If you
can't make money upon what capital
you have, you couldn't uiako it if you
hnd a million of dollars in money. If
you don't know how to use bone, muscle
and brains, you would not know bow
to use gold. If you let the capital you
have lio idle and waste and rust out, it
would be tho very same thing with you
if you had gold ; you would only know
how to waste.
Then don't stand about like a great
helpless child, waiting for somebody to
come aud feed you, but go to work.?
Take tho first work you can find, no
matter what it is, so that you be sure
to do it like Billy Gray did his drumming?well.
Yes, manage the capital
you already have: vou will soon have
plenty more to manage ; if you can't or
won't manage tlie capital God has given
you, you will never havo any more
to manage. Do you hear ?
Woman Without Religion.
A man without religion, is, at best, a
poor reprobate, the football of destiny,
with no tie linking him to infinity, and
to the vronderoua eternity that has begun
within him ; but a woman without
it is even worse?a tlamo without heat,
a rainbow without color, a flower without
perfume. A man may, in some
sort, lie his frail hopes aud honors, with
weak shifting ground tackle, to business
or to the world ; but a woman without
that anchor, called Faith, is a drift and
a wreck 1 A man may clumsily con
tinue a kind of moral responsibility out
of his relations to mankind ; but a wo
man, in her comparatively isolatod
sphere, where affection, and not purpose,
is the controlling motive, cannot fiud
any basis for any system of right action,
but that of spiritual faith. A man nifty
craze his thought and brain to trustful
ess in mien a poor naroorage as fame
and Reputation may stretch before hint,
but a woman?whero can she put lier
hopes in storms, if not in lieaven ??
And that awect truthfulness, that abid,
ing love?lightening them with the
pleasantest radiance, when the world's
storms break like an army of smoking
cannon?what can bestow it all, but a
holy soul-tie to what is above the
storms, and to what is stronger than
army with cannon ? Who that has
enjoyed the love of a Christian mother,
but will echo the thought with energy,
and hallow it with a tear!
Consolatory.?There is nothing
more in consonance with our notion;
and sympathies when an " old maid "
is the topic of our meditation, than the
apostrophe of Jean Paul, who thus expresses
his sentiments : u Forsaken and
patient one ! Misknown and mistreated
1 Think not of the times when thou
k hadst hopes far better than the present
arc, and repent the noble prido of thy
heart never 1 It is not always oty duty
p to marry, but it is always our duty to
p abide by right, not to purchase hnppiI
ness by the loss of honor, not to avoid
unwedtledness by untruthfulness. Lonely,
uadmired heroines! In thy last
" ? l. >11 i:#. j ii. > i
^ nour, wiivd k?" mo ?uu me oj-gono pos
t sessions and bulwarks of life shall crum
ble in pieces, ready to fall down?in
) that hour wilt thon look back on Jhy
p unlcnated existence?no husband, nc
j children, no wet eyes will be there?bul
one high, pure, smiling angelic, beain
r 'no figure, God like and mounting U
, the God-liko, will hover ovor and beck
r on thee to mount with bcr?the figun
is thy virtueI"
It make* a great difference wliethe
glasses aro used over or under the nose
1 If the former, the person can see an<
1 go straight ahead?if the latter, th
e ^head is rather apt to go where it can1
e see at all. A glass before the eyes, i
I apt to lUto a roan a philosopher?oft
before the uiouth will most likely tuak
him a fool.
s '* * ?r,
Wiibn Pride and Poverty marry tc
e get her, their children are Waul an
| Ciiiue.
The Word " Selah."
The thoughtful reader of the Psalms
cannot havo failed to ask himself what
the word 44 Solah " means. It Is a lie* .'
brow word or sign, which the translators
of the Bible have been forced to
leave as they found it, from their igoorance
or disagreement as to its correct
signification.
The Targum and most of the Jewish
commentators give' to jhe word the
meaning of eternally forever. Rabbi
Kimchi regards it as a sign to elevate
the voice. The authors of the Septusgint
translation appear to have regard- *
fed it as a musical or rythmical note.
Hern or regards it as indicating a change
of lone; Matheson, as a musical .note
equivalent, perhaps, to the word repeat.
According to Lutber, and. others, it is
equivalent to the exclamation eilenee /
Gcsenius says that " Solah " means,
'* Let the instruments play and the singers
stop." Woe her regards it as equiv.
alcnt to eurenm cordal (up, my soul!)
Souuner, after examining ail the seventy-four
passages in which the word occurs,
recognizes in every case 44 an actual
appeal of summons to Jehovah ;
they are calls for aid, and prayers to he
heard, expressed either with entire directness,
or, if not in the imperative
M Hear, Jehovah f* or u Awake, Jebovaf.
i" 0...1 ?i,? i;i-~ .<;ii ~ ? ~.) i
?WM HIIVI IUV IIAV^f Oil 11 OOI IIUDk PUUIV?"
es to God, u tbat be would remember
and bear," etc. The word itself, he regards
as a blast of trumpets by tbe
priosts. Sclah, itself, be thinks, is aa
abridged expression used for Higgfcion,
indicating tbe soHnd of stringed instruments,
and Selab a vigorous blast of
trumpets.
A Mathematical Phenomenon.?
A young man has up-sprung in New
York, who lias been gifted with unprecedented
powers of calculation. He '
cariies about will) him, for their exhibition,
a wooden slate and a piece of
chalk. On this slate, in one instance,
five columns of ten figures were plaoed,
which were replete with the heavier
numerals. Mr. Hutchinson (this it the
phenomenon's name) was not permitted
to see the figures until they were all
marked down. He then seizod the
chalk, and, with a convulsive jerk, put
down at the bottom the correct sum
total, with a rapidity that scarcely allowed
him time to glance at the figures.
The youth does, with the same lightning
rapidity, sums in cube and square
root. He is engaged by Barnaul, and
will give lessons at the museum. The
Po9t says that it has been suggested
u that any one wishing to 'stump' this
remarkable but not vem mous ' adder,'
has only to ask him to add up the
enormities of our late-Legislature, or
the profits that the 'Gridiron speculators
will uiake out of the city Railroads."
A Fadlb.?A young man once picked
up a sovereign in the road. Ever
afterwnrds, as he walked along the road,
he kept his eyes steadily fixed on the
ground, in hopes of finding another.
And in the course of a long life he did
pick up at different times a good amount
of gold and silver. But all these days,
as ho wns looking for them, he saw not
i that Heaven was bright above him, and
nAturo beautiful around, lie never
once allowed his eyes to look up from'
the muddy filth in which he sought the
treasure; And when ho died a rich old
man, ho only knew this fair earth, of
ours as a dirty road to pick up money
as you walk along.
Every man who is the head. ef a
family, and who has his home in the
country, and who is anxious to make
' that home a place of happiness that
' shall be looked back to with fond recollections
by his children, when they
, come to leave him and go out into the
[ wild world, should by no means neglect
> the cultivation of fruit. In the days of
, childhood and youth, the appetite is
keen, and the tasting of a good apple,
pear, peach or plum, imparts a most
pleasant sensation to the palate. Aud
although we may like to partake of
those fruits in after life, their pleasant
taste w ill never give such a thrill of enjoyment
as was experienced in our ju,
veuile years.
JE3TINQ UrON ScKJITUR K. Til6 Ovils
arising from this practice are greater than
[ appear at first. It lends, in general, to
. irrevorence for Scripture^ No man Would
jost with the dying words of his father
i or his mother ; yet the words of God are
' quite as solemn. When we have beard
> a comic or vulgar tale connected with a
L text of Scripture, such is the power of
. association, that we never hear the text
> afterwards without thinking of the jest.
. The effect of this is obvious. He who
> in mnoli oti<vorvo/1 in (Kie Ltnr) nf fulon ears*
J ? ?? HVII K n MIIIM v? iwinv v v f
will come at length to have a large f>or*
tion of Holy Scrjpture spotted over by
r hit unholy fancy.
^ 'At a recent sale of autograph letters
in liOndon, a letter of Washing tnt'i)
s rvrlttcn when a subaltern in the service
e of the Colonial Government, to the
0 Governor of Virginia, sold for ?15.10.
A wike man will dread the begin*
> ning of quarrel*. None of us know
d how much of the qyil spirit is either in
I hiiuself or his adveraarv.
_ i