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^ ^ A. REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS. ... . IM** i*tl,c of tty ?auth, and the Diffusion of linodcdgc among all glasses of Morhing \ffitiMEVlI. . GREENVILLE. SOUTH CABOUNA. THimSMY^BM^SAY 17, 1860^ ?'f?^ - . BOMBER 8. | jje #iratjient Cnttrprine V' w MnOtnUtT TKOISDAT MOBMOro, McJXJNKIN & BAILEY, FkOPB/JBTOBS. CL.M, MnJnnlrln . . . . J. O. B?Uey. W. P. PBlcffEdlUr. TERMST * m DOZXAR A TSAB. in Advance. OMDolUrnd?S*U; If Delayed. -Jr" ^ ADV1RTI8EMKNTS l-J .1 kl ?. fl?>.M ?f 1 1Uu I (?r M foe the flrst Insertion j W foe tV sei- 1 onAf.il tor tho kKtrd to the thirteenth ; 20 for . the fourteenth to the tweptj-sUth j 1ft tor the twenty-seventh to the thirty-ninth ; 10 for the fortieth to the Afty-second. C Teorty or half-yearly contracts made, and a ( liberal doilootion fit)in the above eaten given. Advert IseaaonU not subject to contract should have the number of insertion* marked upon ! C them. They will be published and charged for ( till ordetad onU - vV ItltrlA *^ottrtj. J Gray Hair*. j . * ' by mrs. l. h. i00ctb5bt. j. .Gray halm! I marvel why tbey strike \ ' Buck terror and dismay i C No mark of wickedness or shame, - j ' Or foul disgrace, are they. ^ As silent M la iafant dreams t , Steal o'er tho eradle-down, -a They weave their spaikling silver threads ? Into the black or brown. Gray hairs! tbo waning boanty shrieks B Before her mirror's face, . b And forth the 'nmhlest invader flies ii . Uprooted from its place. Oh, lady, stay that lilly hand? 4 If oh soeh guest should fail, r They say a dosen more will come p To attend the funeral. a ' Gray hairs 1 I saw th? Queen of France, Arrayed in regal state, ^ Receive the elite of the land, - b The Utled and the great; o And whiio her dignity and graoe t! Were praised by every tongue,, V The .long, white ringlets, o'er her brew In fearless clusters hang. . , ii Gray hairs! when sprinkled here and there, c . In beard and whiskers too, Inspire respect and oonfidonco, , More than the youtblfcl hue. " Of knowledge, of manhood they tell, ^ * Perchance of eeriona thought, And loss at the expansive school . * Of sage experience taught. A Qray hairs! 1 think them beautiful ^ Around the ancient fkee; Liko pure unsullied snows that lend a The win dry landsoapos grace | r< When found In wisdom's way they crown ^ With wealth's eghaastless storey ^ A prelude to that home of joy A Where change Is known nosnoro. _ It 3ii Stotmating ftanj. << THE TGLUMG BELL, S Not many months ago, In one of my summer rumbles, I found myself, on s p beautiful Sabbath morning, the guest of K a woitby and intelligent family, in a quiet country village. \ The early breakfast was over; parents t< and children had joined in reading a n chapter in the Bible { Mr. Sedgwiek, a the head pf the family, had then offer- a ed up a fervent prayer, at the conclusion o of which we all arose from our knees, y when our ears wero gfeeted by the clear , deep peels of the ringing church bell. t! 44 So late lw exclaimed Mr. Sedgwick, c looking at the clock. " Ouf time piece ? must be wrong." h 44 That is not the first bell for chorch," n replied her husband, solemnly. "There has been a death in the village. The o bell is going to toll for Martin Lord." c "Socb, then, is his unhappy end!" c mused his wife. 44 Well, it he f wrong to mourn, liis death. If death was ever a merciful providence, il is so r in this case." I 44 Is it a<i>treon who has been long t sick t" I asked. # <i Instead of answering my quests <11- i rectly, Mr. Sedgwiek aaid : > ? There It a Cerj melancholy history j y* connected with that young man. It is now sometimo since the excitement occasioned by his strange tragedy died away; but the tolling of the bell this _ morning must bring ii bach tb?wibl\ la every heart, Perbape you would l?e very much interested to hear thestory f" s I expressed roy desire to listen to the narrative; upon which he gave me the details of the following story, - which I relate with only a slight variation from the original: H Martin Lord was once the flower and hope of one of the most respectable % families in the village. I]is amiabio disposition and superior intellect procured for him universal love and esteem. u Although a slight figure and pale | leaturw, which inuicaieu a constitution bjr no means robait, Martin vu ro> markable for his uncommon beauty, and, indeed, a fine, noble forehead shaded by leeks of soft brown hair, hfs large, etprosaiie blue eyoe, straight note, with the Grecian nostrils, and voluptuous mouth, entitled him fn some measure to that consideration. "Martin was a groat favorite with , the ladies, old and young; bat be neves i showed any marked partiality to any >ne, until he became intimate with Isat>ella Asbton, tbe daughter of our late dergyman, who died of grief about a pear ago. " No two beings were more differ unL Isabella was young and the roost .boughtlosa girl in the village. She jould bate little sympathy with a person of such deep feeling and intellect as Martin; and beautiful as she was, it teemed strange that he should have Eiven his love to her.J There' is no oubt but she was attached to liiro, perlape she loved him; but in this initanoe, as in all others, her .affections *6r6 secondary to her love of sarcasm rod mischief. M Martin and Isabella had been pointid out as lovers by the village gossips ftr several months;*he was nineteen, rod she of the satne age, when tbe tragdv occurred, which the tolling of the ,jl I II J ? /vii it mm recalled 10 my memory. 44 Xt wot an autumn evening, nearly Ive years since, that Isabella took adantnge of the absence of her father, to inve a social gathering of young people it their house. Martin, of course, was resent, with the fairest youths and naidens, and being under no restraint rom tho gravity of the clergyman, vho was not expected home till late, the ompany enjoyed themselves freely in seta, songs, and social games. 44 The hour at which such partioe isually broke up, had already passed, ind there was no relaxation in the ;aietv of the yountf people, when some >ne foolishly mentioned the subjeet of [hosts, something of that description laving beeo reported to have boon seen n the church-yard. . 44 4 It is a sjlly report,' said Martin. Nobody can believe that a ghost has ealiy been seen there, and 1 doubt if a erson here belives at all in the existnco of a ghost.' 44 4 You do, yourself?you know you lo, Martin, although you are ashamed o own it,' cried Isabella. But Martin nly laughed. 4 Come now.' continued be thoughtless girl, 4 I can prove that ou have some idea thai such things nay exist. ' Go to the church-yard alone i the dark, and then declare, if you an, that you have not felt fear!' u 4 And what would that prove t' 44 4 Why, you would be frightened, bough you would see nothing. Your jars would put your belief to a test.? low could you be afraid if vou did not ?ei that "there was something to be fraid oft* u 4 I do not think your logic is very , ood,' repliod Martin, laughing. 4 Men re often troubled with fear, when their oason tells them that there is no cause > fear. But t deny, in the first place, liat a journey to the church-yard, even t midnight, would frighten me in Hie sast 1' 44 4 now bravely you can talk 1' said labella, indulging in her customary me of sarcasm. 4 But nobody here elioves it?I don't, at any rate. Why, ou hadn't courage enough, the other ay, to help kill a rabbit; your mother aid me so 1" 44,41 never like to cause or Impress ain, if it can be avoided,' answered fartin. blushing. 44 4 Ila ! ba 1 what a poor excuse ! rou are brave enough, to be sure, but ander-hearted ! Come, now, you dare ot go to the church-vard this night lone. You are not half so courageous s you would have us believe. Whethr you think there are ghosts or not, ou are afraid of them.* Martin was extremely sensitive ; but be sarcasm of nobody but Isabella ould have stung him to the quick, icortiing tbo imputations of cowardice, te.was ready to do almost any deeperte a?t to prove his courage. 4 but,1 aid he, 4 although I have no more fear if church-yards and ghosts, than I have if orchards and apple trees, I am r.ot ;oing to walk half a mile merely to be aughed at." 44 4 Ila 1 ha 1 but yon shall not escape nerely sol' laughed Isabella. 4 Here, >efore these, our friends, I promise that his ring shall be yours,* she continued, lisptaying one given by an older lover, vhich Martin had desired her to part vith, 4 provided you go to the churchraid alone, in the dark, and declare, on our bonor, when yon return, that you j vere-not in the least afraid.' M * Agreed,' aaid Martin, buttoning iia coat, for the night waa chilly. "1 Ar?l, as ar. evidence that you he entire distance, you can bring back irith voo, the iron bur, which vou will Ind close by the gate,' said Isabella. 44 Thus driven by lanta to the cotnniasion of follv, Martin took leavo of he Comnanv. full of eoanm and mint r?/? ? * T"'*? itid Mt out on his errand. M It ?u near a quarter of ft mile to he church yard, which was approached >y a lonely, dreary path, seldom travel hJ, except by mourners. u It is impossible to relate precisey what happened to Martin on that gloomy road. 1 judge from the cir:ninstance* which afterwards came to ight, and conjecture his adventure must utve been, as 1 am about to relate it. ' 94 Slight as be was in frame, and tenler in nie feeling, he est not destitute >f courage. 1 do not thftik be was tightened by the sighing of ther wind ?nd the rustling of the dry autumn eav% as many stronger man might have ma. lie approached steadily to the sburch-yardTstopped a moment, perhaps to gaze sadly, but not fearfully, At lite white tombstone glimmering fnintly in the dark and desolate ground, for the | tars shone brilliantly in the clear cold sky ; then shouldering the iron bar of which Isabella had spoken, he sat out to return. ' * He had proceeded about half way, when in the gloomiest part of the road, ho saw a white figure emerge from n clump of willows and come up towards him. It looked like a walking corpse,' in a winding sCoet, which trailed on the ground. All Martin's strength of nerres was gone in an instant. Courage gave place to desperation, his hair standing erect and his blood running chilled with horror, still he stood his giound. The spectre drc'w 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 creams. Dreading some tragic tci mination to the farce, tbey rushed to tho spot, one of the number carrying a lantern. They found Martin kneeling on the prostrate figure, his fingers clutching convulsively its throat, while he uttered frantic shrieks for help. His j wild features cxhibted tho extremity of tci ror. * Only two of the most courageous ' young men dared approach hirn. One of them forced Martin to release his hold on the throat of the figure, whilst the other lore away the folds of the sheet. At that moment tho bearer of the lamp enmo up. Its light fell on the blood-stained, distorted features of Isabel(at Marliu uttered one more unearthly shriek and fell lifeless upon the corpse. -He never spoke again, bat lived?an idiot I ** A frightful contusion on Isabella's temple bore evidence that in his fronsy ho had struck tho supposed spectre with the-iron bar. The blow was probably the cause of hor death, although eucn a grasp with his hands must have deprived her of breath, lie nfever knew afterwards what he had done, for never a gleam of reason illuminated the darkness of his soul; and now the tolling bell has told us that Heaven in its mercy has finally freed the spirit from its shackles of clay, and given it life and light in a better world." JHiflrtllantntia probing. Drifting. Ono calm summer's evening I sat upon the river's bank, gazing listlessly down the stream; watching the current as it eddied and whiilcd along over its rocky bed And listening to the low murmuring of the waters. I was thinking of the world?of human life, its responsibilities, its cares?of the various influences at work, and their manifold results. Just then a little boat, which had been moored near tho shore, left its fastenings and began to drift out into the stream. Slowly and almost imperceptibly at first, it floats along, Lome onward by a gentle evening broeze, its speed gradually increasing as it nears the current into which it is soon drawn ; and now, with increasod velocity, it is impelled forward and out of sight by the resistless waters. Ilow strikingly, thought I, docs this resemble some phases of human life.? A boy, the pride and joy of his fond and doling parents, endowed with a good intellect and an amiable disposi lion, brought up thus far within u the charmed circle" of parental influence, is to-be educated, lie is sent to college. For a while everything goes on well.? He is attentive to his studies, and ex emplary in his deportment. The precepts instilled by his parents are still fresh in his memory, and he is enabled to resist the allurement incident to college life. By-end by a change comes, scarcely to be observed at first, but soon I Quite Apparent. Ho is nol *n rf>rriilnr in | i# < a " ?*""* """ bis attendance at his recitations?they are not quite so well prepared?lie dresses a little finer?may be seen usually with ibe "fast boys"?carries a cane? frequently baa a cigar in bis mouth? takes a drink occasionally?swears a lit- ! tie, just a little, once in a while?neg j lects church and sabbath school, and so on. That boy is drifting, llis little barque, freighted with the Hopes and anxieties of his fond parents, and the interests of his own immortal soul, both temporal and eternal, is driftingout upon | the broad river of immortality. Koon, 1 unless its course is arretted, it will be j drawn into the current ai:d borne on to destruction?to sink beneath the dark waves, to rise no tnore, or wrecked upon the rock of crime and disgraco- (?od help that unsuspecting hoy I (JoJ pity uu luvmg parema, inc. slay and prop of whose declining years be was to have been I A young man starts on in life. lie is handsome, talented, and lias moans enough to begin with, lie engages in business?is industrious, attentive and polite, fyr a while be gets on finely, bis business increases, and bis heart beats high with bopes of success. Soon, however, bis attention to business begins to slacken; instead of always being at bis office, you now frequently see bim down town; be dresses more elegantly, smokes a finer segar, and drinks Oner wines and more of them?goes more into fashionr t~ - "?"J quents the theatre and opeia?neglects ; church, the public loctures, the lycoum, j and othor means of mental and moral t> improvement?spends his evenings at j y drinking saloons and club-rooins?may j 0| occasionally be seen flushed with liquor , c, at the faro table in a M gambling hell ji or, what is iufinilely worse, paying hoin- j c, age to a Cyprian goddess in some " gild- , d, ed temple of infamyTliat young man rj is drifting. I lis little boat, which was v, moored so safely to the mossy banks, t; whero the flowers of happiness, Content- I ^ ment and success bloomed, and which J is laden with a priceless cargo?a car- | e, Kof eternal hopes and interests?has j |j] t its fastenings, and is drifting out ril u jrvil lira lUIINU SUClllll Ul IHHIIIOnnOIti jC dissipation. Slowly nr.d gradually it glides from the shore, cartied along > by p, the soft broer.c of popular applause; by : m degrees it near* the current?enter* it 1 R0 ?and with irresistible force is, hurried ' l? to destruction, is inevitably stranded up 1 <j, on the inhospitable brakers of everlast-' 0i ( ing dishonor. | Ml Thero is a young girl, npon whom (J centre the fondest affections of her pa ( |? rents?tho light of whose eve, and ' n< the joy of whose heart she is.? ; jn Nature has l?eslowcd her blessings on ; j* her with a lavish.hand. She is beauti v< fill, kindhearted, has a mind snseepti blc of a high degree of cultivation, mid ct is surrounded by all that wealth and i C luxury can supply. She must be edu- T cated iu accordancewith the slat ion in '|' life which she is ex|?ecled to occupy.? |> She is sent tog " fashionable boarding ! 'f( school." Heing a little self-willed, and I bs freed from the restraints of home, she ; A does pretty much as her fancy dictate* j pj ?pays but little attention to tier studies, oil except those branches termed *' ortm- fu! mental?" begins to be vain of her fa beauty, which has been indiscreetly re< praised in hearing?may be seen fro- oil quontly poiing over the pages of a " yel low covered" French novel, which, nn somehow, she managed to smuggle in- co to her room?carries on a clandestine po correspondence with one or two beaux ih ?at the expiration of the usual time be returns liome to her parents, with a \ wi smattering of drawing, French and | ev music?accomplished. She makes her I debut into fashionable society?attends | sli all the balls and paities?listens to the fo poison breath of flattery?accepts the in attention of men who, though they move b> in fashionable circles, are of rpiestion- " able morals?permits rucIi an one to u lead her in the giddy dance, andyields- it her form to his lascivious embraces as fe! she whirls with him in the passion ex- al citing waltz?feels no thrill of startled purity and virtue as his moustnehed lip " touches her liand ns he nssists her into y her carriage, but rather a thrill of gratifiod vanity and dangerous excitement? eschews church and church going persons (except when she w ishes to exhibit herself ill a new and fascinating"1 toilet.) That young ladv 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-1 ing out into the stream of fashionable : | folly and excitement. Slowly and al- J i rntm unooscrveuiy tuc distance widens between it and tlio shore; driven on by tbo breezes of vanity nnd mliniration, j it will soon bo in the current; and when 1 ^ onco there, unless through the aid some powerful interposition, will l?e (g< urged onward, by tlio relentless tide tin- ^ til it is landed, a wreck, upon the daik jl( shores of eternal ruin and disgrace. Header! whether youih, young man j(j or young lady, let ine ask you, where q aro youT Are you drifting upon the ! 8|] tide of human life, at the mercy of wind 1 M and wave, without pilot, or ruddor, or ) compass ! There is a haven where you i [!! can moor iu safety]; an anchor M sure ! and steadfast," which, if you cast out, ;n neither wave nor wind tior tide shall 1 set you drifting again I W. J jH The Wife.?It is astonishing to sec (w how well a man may live on a small in j fc come, who has n handy nnd industrious wife. Some men live and mako a far , "r tatter nppearnnce on six or eight dollars j (l a week, than others do on fifteen or | f;l eighteen dollars. The man does his j part well, hut his wife is go?nl for nothing. She will even uphraid her litis- Tl hand for not living in as good stvle as her neighbor, while the fiiuli in entirely Iter own. Ilia neighbor has j\ neat, ^ capable and industrious wit-', and that 1,1 makes the difference. 11 is wife, on the 'J1 other hand, i* n whiilpool, into which ,ri a great nrnny silver ciijw might he 01 thrown, nnd the appearance of the watei would not Iks changed. No Nicholas, 11 the Diver, is there to restore the wasted n< treasure. It is only an insult for such 11 a woman to talk to her husband about I her love and devotion. j 0< r C al wr t ? l^uvHHtrrn /mmcMieau. | A Motiikb Teaching IIkhCiiii.d to l.' Phay.? It is nt once an object (lie most i 1 Hubliine and tender the imagination can , well conceive of. Elevated above earth i ly tiling*, she seeina like ono of those ' guardian angels, the companion of our j earthly pilgrimage, through whose min- I " istration we are inclined to good, to n turn from evil. * Many a true heart that would have come back like a dove to the ark, after its first trnnsgremioa, baa been frighten- t< ed beyond recall by tho savage charity a of an uuforgiving apirit. " Courtesy. Tito innumerable fine and delicate trend which true courtesy weaves, ft* 1 oof and warp, constitute the strength < f the social fabric. / Courtesy is love nbodied, and rendered active and visile ; and love attracts into union and iicncfw, and wheu contiguous water ro|>s rush into mutual bosoms and form ver and lake. Conventional obsertnces may drive men into combinaoils, as external hoops force the staves l become tho barrel and the cask, ut the drawings of love will attract, en through impediment and barrier, i Ice the magnetic influence that ope ties thronirli til A voftitikl iiitnn ?l,? mim. I floating swan. Courtesy is essentially different from j|itenv*ft, etiquette, manners. These ay become more marks of supreme Itishiies* and hatred ; and they may 3 only exhibitions for praise and profit. ' ourtogy has, indeed, no special form I manner, and yet never wars with | litnblc and decorous conventionalisms, curtesy is inherent,and ever thesaine; it forms of politeness are shaped by roidcnt ; hence the etiquette now reigng may he dethroned in time, and the iliteness of to day become rudeness of ilgaiify. Courtesy cannot l>o taught or learn 1, It cannot bo put on or laid aside, onrtosy is f?-lt?mere politeness seen, he former wins love, the hitter respect, lie one bows gracefully and profound; the other would lav down a life, u become polite, read Chesterfleld ; to come courteous, read the llible.? brahatn, the fatlicr of the faithful, and . nil, the Apostle of the Gentiles, bow- < indeed wilb courtly grace, resptct- ' lly ; but it was tlieir courtesy, mani- 1 'ted in look, word, lotto, manner, that t rented their heart love, and melted ' Iter hearts. I The writer was passing once along a irrow pavement. A young man, in ' arse apparel, at otir approach, Rtcp- < d aside, with great alacrity, and into c mud edging tlio path, lie did not i ?w, ho waved no hand, ho moved ' itliout grace, and vol the whole was ' ident couitesy. After passing, tlic thought arose, lould wo not acknowledge nnd thank r the behaviour so unusual in a voting an in this brazen age. Wo went ick. Offering our hand, wo said: Young ni'- Jiands with mo !" Certain 1 lhy do you wish P u L '0 a kiud-hearted llo?- jpman ; you gave I <jr, I would ^rlv man!" jnnnl May fn our Lord profess nven, if w; and P hands \r our foment dicans, ? or of ^tnenccr. Sad st's Fall. bout a Ann wras nt to ) >o a car> of s' , "l'ortiand, nine. Vhcd to the 5use a. wears, and messed jfnhdonco of is einphi., #1011 to New 1 leans he \ trusted with ifflcient mo- |?ho cargo of igar, but wj y. duo on a rev ions carj. bouse bad >uglit. This your try competent his bit sine. . inn nrifin# telligcnco, hw! o Ittractivo ap araiicc withal. 1 fl one sin, and ihI, alas I wa* hrt 'inc. He had >ntrncled the hab:" , rambling, and II, it would seer . )?rey lo l',e imhicrs of N Ho lost evy dollar of his *. fr's money, and few days since .? of his being tally stabbed ?? ooilce-house ntfray. ? When we gallant follows havo run out a friend, liere's nothing left?except to run him through.*' A brother in-law (long a resident of e\v Oileans) of the wretched young inn, passed through the city on Satur?y with hiscotlincd remains. A weepig sister had placed white flowers up1 the ignoble yet mourned dead ere it arted for the place which had known in life. Jn a nnco happy cottage, jw how desolato ! in a grandly picircoquc spot, within sight of the silver Hilling suri. WHICH bCAts along (lie :ean coast, a widowed and bcart-broki mother awaits the coming of her cad sou. And we pity her, and mourn 16 fate of a young man, who in earlier ays was our companion and friend. [ Cleave laud /'lain Dealer. A Mns. John Kkio is advertising in ic Philadelphia North American, an infant's retreat," established for the ccommodation of thoso babies whose iFectionato parents desire to travel d'.hout encumbrances. Tub tongue of the patient dovelopes 5 physicians the disease of the body, nd to philosophers the disease of the jiud. "I Wish I Had Capital.'' Tlii# wa* (lie exclam.ition of a stout, hearty, but inzy young mnn, Ibo other day. Now, suppose you had capital?what would you do with it f Lot nio tell you, you have capital. Haven't you got hand# and feet, and body and tnu# cle, and bone and brain#, and don't call i them capital! Oh ! but they aie not money, any you. Lfut they are more < than money. If you will use them, they will make money, and uobody can take them from you. Don't you know bow to use them 1 If you don't, it is time you were learning. Tako hold of the first plough, or hoe, or jack plane, or brond 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 VOU mav nlav the frontIpmon an/1 ??. < -/ D ? -f~v ulate, and end by playing the vagabond ; or you want a plantation of negroes, that you may biro an overseer to attend to them while you run about over the country and dissipate and get in debt; or you want to "tnarry some very rich girl, who may bo foolish enough to take you for your fine clothes .-.ad good looks, that she may support you. Shame on you, j-oung man ! Go to work with the capital you have ; you'll sx>n make interest on it, and with it to givo you as much money as you want, and make you feel like a man. If y ou cau't make money upon what capital you have, you couldn't make it if you had a million of dollars in money. If you don't know how to uso bone, muscle ind brains, you would not know bow l :o use gold. If you let the capital you tave lie idle and waste and rust out, it >vould be tlio very same thing with you if you bad gold ; you would only know iow to waste. , Then don't 6tand about like a great , Helpless child, waiting for somebody to ( jorne and feed you, but go to work.? , Take the first work you can find, no | matter what it is, so that you be sure lo do it like Billy Gray did bis drum- , ming?well. Yes, manage the capital you aheadv haver vou will sonn h??o plenty more to manage ; if you can't or won't manage the capital Go<l has given you, you will never have auy more to manage. Do you hear f 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 wonderous eternity that has begun within him ; but a woman without it is even worse?a flamo without heat, a raiubow without color, a fiower without perfume. A man may, in some sort, tie his frail hopes and honors, with weak shifting grouud tackle, to business or to the world ; but a woman without that anchor, called Faith, its a drift and a wreck I A man may clumsily con 1 m M-.? UMUO n JV1IIVJ VI lllVI It 1 rcsjiOUSlUUUy OUl of his relations to mankiud ; but a wo man, in her comparatively isolatod sphere, where affection, nnd not purpose, i i3 the controlling motive, cannot fiud any basis for any system of right action, but that of spiritual faith. A man nfhy craze his thought and brain to trustful I ness in such a poor harborage as Fame I and Reputation may stretch beforo him, but a woman?where can she put her hope* in storms, if not in Heaven ?? And that sweet truthfulness, that abiding love?lightening them with the plea9antest 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 stornia, 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 notions and sympathies when an " old maid " is the topic of our meditation, than the apostrophe of Jean Paul, who thus expresses his sentiments : " Forsaken and patient one ! Misknown and mistreated ! Think not of the times when thon hadst hopes far better than the present arc, and repent tho noble prido of thy heart never I It is not always oty duty to marry, but it is always our duty to abide by right, not to purchase happiness by the"loss of honor, not to avoid unweddednessby untruthfulness. Lonely, uadmired heroines! In thy last hour, when all life and the by-gone posr* AC cl/\n<l nti/1 Kill ? ? wb" lif* ov.'viviio onu i/ui rw rti an VI IIIU MIWI1I CFIIITI" hie in pieces, ready to fall down?in that hour wilt ihon look back on J,hy unlenated existence?no husband, no children, no wet eyes will be thero?but one high, pure, smiling angelic, beaining figure, God like and mounting to the God-liko, will hover over and beckon thee to mount with her?the figuio is thy virtue I" It make* a groat difierenco whether glasses are used over or under the nose. If the former, the person can see and So straight ahead?if the latter, the m cad is rather apt to go where it can't see at all. A glass before the eyes, is apt to a man a philosopher?one before tho mouth will most likely make him a fool. ?? i ? i ?? Wiikn Pride and Poverty marry together, theii children are Waui and Crime. I The Word "8elah." Hie thoughtful reader of the Psalma cannot havo failed to ask himself what the word " Solah " means. It is a He- * brow word or sign, which the translators of the Bible have been forced to leave as they found it, from their ignornnce 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 Kimciii regards it as a sign to elevate the voice. The authors of tb? Septuagint translation appear to have regarded it as a musical or rythmical note. Hcrnor regards it as indicating a change of tone; Mathpson, as a musical .note equivalent, perhaps, to the word repeat. According to Luther, and. others, it is equivalent to the exclamation $ilenee / Gcsenius says that 44 Selah " means, ' Let the instruments play and the sing. ers stop." Wocher regards it as equiv. alcnt to #tirsum cordaf (up, my soul!) Souimcr, after examining all 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 44 Hear, Jehovah f or 44 Awake, Jehovah !" and the like, still earnest addresses to God, 44 that ho would remember and hear," etc. The word itself, he rogards as a blast of trumpets by the priosts. Selah, itself, he thinks, is an abridged expression used for Iligghion, indicating the sound of stringed instruments, and Selah a vigorous blast of trumpets. A Mathematical pnenomeno#,? A young man has up-sprung In New York, who has been gifted with unprecedented powers of calculation. He cariics about with him, for their exhibition, a wooden slate and a piece of chalk. On this state, in one instance, live column's of ten figures were placed, which were replete with the heavier numerals. Mr. Hutchinson (this is the phenomenon's name) was not permit* ted to see the figures until they were all marked down, lie then seized 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, lie is engaged by baraom, and will give lessons at the museum. The Post says that it has been suggested " 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 make out of tho city Railroads." A Fable.?A young man once picked up a sovereign in the road. Ever Afterwards, as he walked along the road, he kept his eyes steadily fixed on the ground, in hopes of finding another. I And in the course of a long life he did pick up at different times a good amount oi goia ana stiver, uut all these days, as ho was looking for them, be saw not that Heaven was bright above him, and I naturo beautiful around. He never once allowed his eyes to look up from' the muddy filth in which be sought the treasure; and when bo 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. Eveky man who is the head qf a family, and who has hit home in the country, and who is anxious to make that home a place of happiness that shall be looked back to with fond re* collections by bis children, when tbey come to leave him and go out into the wild worid, 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 roost pleasant sensation to the palate. Aud although we may like to partake of those fruits in after life, their pleasant ' taste will never give such a thrill of en* joyment as was experienced in our ju* venile years. J RUTIN O U PON Seal PTC RE.?The Ovilrt arising front this practice are greater than appear nt first. It leads, in general, to irrevorence for Scripture^ No man would jest with the dying words of Ma father or his mother ; yet the words of Ood are quite as solemn. When we have beard a coinic or vulgar tale connected with a 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, lie who is much eugaged in this kind of false wit, will come at length to have a large por* lion of lloly Scrjpture spotted over by his unholy fancy. At ft recent b*1o of autograph letters in I^ondon, A letter of Wafthin^ton'Mf written when n subaltern in the service of the Colonial Government, to the Governor of Virginia, sold for ?10.10. ? j A wise man uyUdread the beginning of quArrek^Bponeof aa know how much of the afaflfehwilicr in or adt^^^B^^B^^^^^^