University of South Carolina Libraries
C5? il N \ <1 fTvKh _ i ill |l % mlm n H > ^ 7] ; [V>"] |1 ^ j\ ^|% y M 4 -jW Jf# ,:(? 5;j*T 4-A^y' *> ky 4" 4Ki t-y-Xy (>. <i- a>'-^y 0p (ipP-?> * DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, THE ARTS, SCIEKCE, AGRICULTURE, HEWS, POLITICS, &C., &C. TERMS?TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM,] "Let it bo Instilled into the Hearts of your Children that tho Liberty of the Press is the Palladium of all your Rights."?Junius. [PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.] Volume 6--n0.5. Abbeville c. it., south Carolina, Friday morning, june 4, im wiiole number265 jtiaxiiS OF ADVERTISING Tlic Proprietors of the Abbeville JS'tuiit r mi Independent I'reux, have established 'lie follov ng rates of Advertising to be charged in bot papers: Kvery Advertisement inserted for n lws Iim llion three months, will be charged by the ii -'ertion at. One Oollnr per Square, (li inc ?the space of 12 sol id lines or less,) for the fir; 'nsertion. and I-'ifly Cent* for each aubsi 'pient insert ion. , EST The Commissioner's, Sheriff's, Clerk ind Ordinary's Advertisements will be inserte 'n both papers, caeh charging half price. Sheriff's Levies, One VollstX enel , Announcing a Candidate, I'iv<; ftol i it I'M. t Advertising an Kutrnv, Two I>oIllir? -i> l>e jciid by tlitt Magistrate. . Advertisement* inserted fwr throe inuntlis, c 'oiliror. lit t-lio mIog >' square 3 months $ 5 (i I ^fiin'rc i> months 8 0 I ?'|ilrtiv t? months 10 0 1 4>|'j:ir?! 12 months 12 u 2 djunrca 15 months 8 (i 2 sqvurcs 0 months l j a 2 squares 9 months ISO 1 squares 1*2 months *20 0 3 squares 3 months 10 0 :i squares 0 months 10 M :t squares 9 months '21 o 3 squares 12 months ?,'< 4 squares 3 mouths 1*2 ?>i j Bijiiures o mounts - ;" '? 4 squares 9 months 2(5 in 4 squares 12 months ?" ?' ( 5 squares 8 Months 15 0< 5 squares 6 months 25 Oi 5 squares 9 months - 31 ot '? squares 14 months 35 Hi <i squares 3 months "" f? squares 6 months 30 ( < <? squares 9 months 3ft 0( i squares li months - - - ..40 Of 7 vquares U months -"> o?. 7 squares G months 35 C?? T Cilllfll'.^ U mnnlko .11 I'll 7 square* 12 months 4."i <H K squares 3 mouths 30 t~t< R squares G months 40 Of a square* 0 months ...... 4rt C?< 8 squares 1*2 months .r>o <)' Fractions of Squares will be charged in pro portion to the above rates. EST business Cards for the term of nut year, will be charged in proportion to th< pace tliey occupy, ut One Dollar per lint t^paee. car For all advertisements set in tUmhlr column, Fifty per Out. extra will be added to the above rates. DAVIS ?fc CREWS, For Jlauiirr; LEE & W11,SOX, ^ For I'r'-ss. MISCELLANY. ~ A TALE FOR FICKLE LOVERS~ 'Emily, Emily, my darling is it true: bay it again?only onoe again, Emily!" Emily lifted up her face, with a soft, Ircmulous smile, as her hazel eyes answered the ardent questioning of her lover's glance. 'Yes,yes, Edward,' she replied, and the words were sweet to his eager ear. 'Again, and again, Emily ! I could hear von sav it forever, mv love !' said the vounn man. . He bent his handsome head to kiss the lips that iiad said, what no other lips had ever said to him, 'I love.' Hut liis caress was given back with hair-timid, yet earnest tenderness, and his soft bine eyes beamed with happy emotion. It was Edward Vane's first wooing, and the pleasure lie experienced was as rare and delicious as it 1 . ? / il ? * injvt;i, ior, io me young lover declaring hi* earliest attachment, is not (lie timid 'yes,' and the kiss of her lie loves, the sweetest thing he lias ever known? Under the leers, in the garden of the old parsonage, they walked together in the sunset, after this sweet confession?walking bide by side, Edward holding Emily's hand, And talking tenderly to her as they went, with his wnnn heart beaming in his handsome face, and Emily listening silently, ivith a ha]>piu4f? whose very silence manifests its 3ejidi; and the Jott'er, and I lie shadows grejy j^^'i 'he pleftsaut mo invuM avay?golden rjjonjerita io nn>l Emily; and, finally, as ilie ?.\vi]iight began to gather, they heard the voico of Emily's father, calling her from his study, ' Tliey wont back ; and now, standing folia single instant longer in the old stone j?orch, under the curtaining viues, Edward ?lrew Emily to his breast again, and pressed itis lip> ga?tly to Iter cheek. 4A few moments, my darling, before you go to him,' 6aid Edward. 'LetHKJseo him first. 1 must tell hitn? ^happy thrill ran through Emily's heart, She laid her head quietly on tier lover's bo. ?om, and kissed softly the beloved hand that held her own in a lingering clasp. ' 'Yes, tell him,1 she said, with a blush : *nd thea loosing herself from liis umbrace she went away, while KJward Vano sought her father's stndy. It wai no new thing to the good old pastor that Edward and his daughter loved cachjother ; he had seen it long since?had i i l._v. >i 1 : it. kiiuwii u vuujiv tucv kucw it liicin ficlvejL Ed#*fl!*Was not, it may be, tht l?usban<f%er?7iithof would have chosen fdi her; affectionate in disposition, with an nf de^tlehiporanieoi, but impulse?changing?uncertain of pqrpose?all ibis the olu man hadfeflpfclmn to.be. But he himncl bad gpaqjr yean to liv^f lliey lovec eaclf Oilier, and it might'be, nftor at!, for th< best At any rate, l?e oould not And it it io eroM' their love, and so liii consent was given, and Emily and her lovci And n6w-H^e-o|d parsonage seemed an other Eden; in whose garden dwelt onll ^ppi^^t' SuBot EJen k scrMnlt It came in darfc. hut. tiMlifiilaiii # I shining guise; it cainn in tlie shape ol <1 Emily's lovely cousin Helena, who, with lj* lior sweet, bewitching face, ?liik'<l in unon the happy lovers and brought fascination ,P with her.' ih It was not that Helena Wyndham, with her beauty and her pride, cared tor Kmilv's lover, that she left for awhile the score of * suitors at whose expense she had been j amusing herself, coquetting with them all ' by turns, and giving hope to none: but ' Kdward was handsome, and winning, and '? | elegant ; nnd, above nil, he had never knelt ,r at her shrine?the insatiable heart-hunter! And so, for the trial of a new conquest, she ,, ; came daily over from her father's magnifiu cent estate to Iladley parsonage, to win n away, with her bewitehing smile, the lieart. <? of her cousin's lover. II j T- -I ... - I r-iuiiv saw tier, ruling liglttly along on i) ; lier white steed, with her dark locks braided, atul her miowv plume waving to the breeze, ii her red !ijr< .^milling, and Iter dark eves [> . beaming with (lie delight of anticipated ii , triumph. Ktnilv, sitting with her father I " 11 and her lover in the old parsonage study, . saw this brilliant cousin, and thought was ' not mingled with envy, ^lie had won a , heart without Helena's fascinations; and > j her soft cheek colored, and her clear hazel i eyes beamed with innocent happiness ashlic i looked at her lover. | i A moment mote, and the quiet of that ? little circle was broken by the appearance ' of this beautiful enchantress-cousin. Kmily > ; i | and her father both knew Helena's hollow ' i heart, yet they gave her kindly greeting. I She was their kin. They never dreamed ; I with what.intent she had come. They, in ! ' their charity for others, couid not conceive i that she had an idea of evil regarding them. , j Hut Helena Wyndham laughed at their i charity. She did not scruple to abuse it ! when it served her purpose so to do; and j she glided in, in her elegant attire, with j her soft, yet brilliant beauty, her captiva: ling manner, her keen, delicate, light-Hashing 1 wit, and placed herself in bewildering, daz! zling contrast to her fair, simple, unworldly, ! and yet noble cousin Emily. It was. not j the first time Kdward had seen her ; but he , had never viewed her so nearly, never ! spoken to her before this evening. Helena ' j tooK care that his earliest impression of her should bo only an agreeable one. She was peerless in her loveliness, her I grace, her menial gifts ; she would have adorned a royal court. Edward was a scholar and a gentleman, cultivated and a passionate admirer of beauty. It would have been a marvel >f one like had resisted her enchantments, for she was the very spirit of beauty. 'IIow incomparably lovely !' was his menI tal exclamation as she sat near him, gavly j and carelessly chatting with her uncle and I Atniiy, and now and (lien turning her i bright, yet softened glance n|ton liim, with some Piniliiicj wor.l of remark, or of qacs i lion, tli.it <lrew liiin ere Ioii? fr?>m silent adi miration into animated converse with the ; ' rosl* . . I He did not mentally compare her with j Kmily. lie was not thinking of Emily j ! when he said to himself that the world j could contain no face more enchanting than I that of this charming guest; but during the hour that Helena stayed "tie experienced i a pleasure, the nature of which ho ':ould j 1 hardlv have defined. had lie trio.) nn.l ! depth of which he never sought to fathom. i lie .'?n!v knew that he admired Miss Wvnd' ! haw very much. ! And 5vo the heartless beauty lingered as j long w it suited her, seeing plainly, and J with secret delight, how Edward Vane was I ? ' attracted, until she was tully satisfied with j her first attempt, and bidding the party a graceful adieu, vanished like some brilliant I star, that, while we are eagerly, deligtcdlv i U';it/-llillfT it lliiloc koiilrwl lli/1 I - O "I ! And Etnily never dreamed whose eyes thai ; star had dazzled. When next she met Iter beautiful cousin, it was after service at the little village church ; and as Emily lingered near the ' | door, awaiting her father, Helena, in passing, slightly lapped the young girl's cheek with her gloved hand. ''IIow came you ever to attract so ele gant, hodiatingue a lover as Edward Vane? ' she asked. "Do you know that I atn quite pleased with him ? and that is danjjeous for I you, you know ? Take care my pretty cousI in, that I do not win him away from you. I Uy tho way, dear, ray brother Frediok has also become acquainted with him, and, I bei lieve, cultivate his acquaintance most sedu. ' lously. At any rate, he has invited him to - spend a day or two with us this week.? You can afford to lose him for that time? I can't you, ?mily dearI' i rinisning uer nearness speech with a soft I langh and a kiss on Iter cousin's lips, slio ' passed on to ber carriage ; and Emily loo&1 #>d after bar an instant, wUh a sudden Ire* ? inor at ber heart, a startled pallor ovefr spreading ber cheektf, saying, in a !fcrtf,lialfUitt#r ions/ "Helena, Helena t was thai whpt . you camfcjfor*\ ? r Emily only sau*-to Ed r?ard tf hen V? t*roc> 9 again, yotf Fredrick V^yntibm^, I Biwardf f I 'Yes, Emily?I was iutroiluccd to Iiim iiol long a?*o?did I nut niotilimi il ? I am ' forgetful of everything but yon, my <)ar I linsf V he added, with a beaming smile. ; Then he continued, "Ye?, and only y osierj day, he made tile half promise to come and I pass a day or two with him at his lather's. I do not know whether 1 shall go, though lie is very urgent, lie seems to like me.' A dull pain went through Emily's I heart ; but she would say nothing, nor let I 11 i 111 klKlllU'l ,,'lml ulin f..l? ! 'N\ ill he go ?' she asked, mentally ; ami ; ! vvilli alow and unhappy suspense .she wailed i to sec. I'M ward did go. If lie h:i<I foreseen the i result he might have been wiser ; but with ! him, as is the case with many others, wis- | j dum was purchased with experience. During the days that he spent with l'red' crick Wyudham he was thrown frequently ! j into the society of the beautiful Helena; j their acqiiaiiitauce matured, and his a lmi; ration grew deeper with every hour that ' passed, revealing some new beauty, : I some new grace in the variable, wayward, ' yet ever enchanting Helena. When Emily met him again she h>n<;- 1 ; ed to a.?k him, "Do you not like my beauti ful coumii 3" lint she refaitied. 'I will > ' not mock my.self,' she thought ; 'iiow can i lie help liking?nay even loving her V It was not I'M ward's la<t visit at his i friend's. Hfli'iia chose to win liiin, and i ! there was little insistence made. Frederick ; was a pleasant IVicnd, and IMwai-l Vane, j neglecting to (piestion his own heart too' closely, said that it was because of tliis that ; ho liked so well to^o there. 1 | lint he always saw Helena. They played i | and sang together?together rambled over i ' the fine grounds around the mansion, and j , read from tlm ssinie linnl- Ami 1! I voice had wondrous sweetness in its tones, j and tlie gi title glance of her dark eyes, in : ! licr subdued moments, was one of most en- I : chanting softness. And I'M ward listened to j ; the sweet voice, and met the soft glance of [ ! the lovely dark eyes, yielding each day' j more completely to their delicious fascia a- | ! tion, until his heart was won unite away j | fr?>m Emily. i Yes?lie loved Helena ; he acknowledir- ! I . I , ed it at last to himself; and now, unable to ! llOT /Irji-nlif./. 1 ' I - - - vi* <_ ?<?? II ' IKJ llll'l'L I # 1 ? ! Emily's sight, lie weut no more to Had- ! ly parsonage. J Te gave himself up now to this new hap- ; , pin ess ; it was strange, too, how bitter lie \ j found it ! For whenever he sat l>y Helena's , ! side, and looked into the beautiful depths ! of those dark eyes, the thoughts of his lie- ' glected love rose up. lie seemed to see Emily's sweet, pure face before him, pale and sad. Self-reproach wore upon him? | but he hated to listen to it; and, finally, ; bri vinnr ;inj defying it, in very desperation, j ; lie declared hi> love to Helena Wyndiiam. | ; II was a moment of triumph for which she had waited and watched with suspense and impatience. Despite herself, a blush of pleasure rn*e to her cheek, even while she as ' sumeJ a little air of mingled annoyance ' ano regret, ; 'My dear Mr. Vane V she said, shaking her beautiful head?'how.sorry I am that I this has happened?that you have iiungin- I ed?that you have mistaken?I have been' engaged to marry Mr. Carrutlicrs since last | week !; Eilward Vane saw the dupe?the playi tliiii!; lie had been. Incensed almost be- ! yond endurance, he left tlie scene of infatu- j j ation, of his blind folly, for the Jast time. j It was bitter repentance for his fault that ! led him back to lladley parsonage, to seek j j lorgivenets and reconciliation fiom Emily, j j 'Emily, I have been mad?insane, I be-; i Jiuve V he said. 'I have forsaken your sweet j j face for a will-o'-the wisp that has led me j In UTi'lfliP/litote ft .i- llw> c-il-n /.f old love, will you forgive me ?' 'For the sake of our old love?ves," answered Kmily, extendint; Iier hand to him. She was quite pale, but there was no trace of imhappiness in her calm, fair countenance. 'Ves the pain you have caused me I will not remember ; but the pain is over now?and the love has died out with il, Edward.' 'Emily, I desire it,' lie uttered, with a cry of anguish ; 'I deserve it! But 0, do j not say it, ttmily I May I not liope?' No?there is no hope,' she replied gently, but ftrrnly. 'I forgive the pain you have given me, but i dabe not risk that PAIS AGAIN, Wo can never bo anything more than we are uow each to other." riM. _ i- t a n?? wurus were sacreu?uicy proved true. He went out from her presence. a?ham ed, and their paths uever were the same again. W a3 hk k Gentleman A young lady jfaked a gentleman the meaning of the word wirrogate. '"It i?,n replied he, "a gate tbrotigh which partly pW on their way to gelro(aitte<L" f'Thep, I tuppose," replied ah* W(Ji?( if ia a flnrriintinn a/ ? - '? "Ybtfare ri?ht, informant# 'as orator afrt iat)bV?fvialTobv bf W<y to' l A #! ' ' ?r" 4 < ' Good-night and Ploasant Dreams. 1 When <>n its couch of rosy clouds Tin? burning sun lias sunk to rest, And tired of song, t Ik: woodland liird Is sleeping in it,? ?piiet nest? \Ylieu evening lavs its misty hand < In dewy llow'rs and prattling streams? llow sweet to hear from lips We love, j Good-night! good night; and pleasant dreams, ll'.?w sweet to hear from lips we love. Cood-night, good-night, and pleasant dreamy | ()! hitler the exile'.* fate, Who wander* fr??m liis peaceful eot ; No pontic wish, or soothing word, Can mingle iti his lonely lot.. On some still batik of mioss mid llow'rs JJeneath the star's inconstant brains, How sweet to hear from lips wo love, (iooil night, irood-nijrhl, nnil pleasantdreams, lliiw sweet to hear from lips we love, <lood-ni^lit, good-night and ph-asant dreams. Tho Woman who Lives Without Eating. Wo liave published several letters respecting this extraordinary rase of sitfVeriii'_j: tlicv are important to scientific nvn, ami painfully interestinji to all. Tiro following is written by I lev. S. ]'. Williams to the Christain Advocate: "Mrs. 11 ayes is not vet dead. I have seen her several times. And after leading all !...? 1..? 1 ; .1 ? i null, na> ;ij'[M*ur<'<l 111 111 r: .Advocate 111 IVgard to her, vctilure to communicate a few thoughts upoii her case, In-fore she pjissed into this peculiar and oHlictive condition, her health was for souks length of time extremely poor. She ate hut little, and that little occasioned a considerable amount of suffering. Sometimes it threw her into spasm*. For nearly a year before slie ceased to lake iviVeshuients altogether, she Iiv- j cd wholly, or nearly so, upon the juice of dried raspberries, until that became a source i of suffering. Then, lor a time, shu took1 occasionally a small quantity of cold water ; | and it is now nearly a vcar since she sw.il- 1 luwi'il any liquid lo the knowledge of any | one. Indeed I Iiavo no doubt that a tea- j spoonful of lii|iii(] put into her mouth would j he (he occasion of her death, unless the i spasmodic action of her throat should expel it. Any person to see her ten minutes must he satisfied there is no deception in her case, ller head and shoulder.", one or the oilier, are in perpetual motion. She is j frequently thrown forward until sho is nearly doubled together, and then the head thrown hack, and her neck literally doubled,and the body forced hark, and the whole face, ciii'i and all, entirely buried in the pillow. This is done several times successivelv Ui timo fltsiti T it* U The last time in tlic series t'-.v. face will remain nearly buried in 1 lie pillow, and she does not breath fur ten or fifteen minutes. Once she remained sixty-two minutes without breathing. When this is over and the spasm passes off she struggles for breath, and her head is rolled from side to side almost with the velocity of lightning for a moment or two ; the face becomes red with the rush of blood to the head and skin ; quite moist with perspiration. Then the . spasm subsides into a gentle motion of the j iiiw and slli">llld?r.<? L-nnrkini? limn oe would think, with action of the heart.? Iler skin about the face, neck, chest and hands is delicate and healthy as the skin of an infant. The pulsations of her blood about the chest, neck, head and arms, though exceedingly delicate, are quite regular.? Iler hair does not grow, nor is worn otVthe head, as one would naturally suppose, ex- : cropt a little just upon tlie crown. The action of the liver is entirely suspended, of course. The action a*id state of the lungs are pel feet! v healthy. They have been thoroughly examined by skilfui physicians, with the aid of a stethoscope, and arc supposed to be perfect. Iler uourishmet is wholly from the atmosphere. The last nutriment. indeed the last swallow of water site was kwown to take, was in the last of June, 1857. The last time she wns known to be oonscious was last December. When she comes out of these long spasms she seems to cry for a moment, like an infant in distress.? At such times her husband thinks she may be conscious. It is most distressing to hear it. She is not nlinvit tlif> nrdiimrv laws ni" disease. S!ie lias recently liai] a thorough case of (lie mumps, precisely as others have them. Iler nails upon her lingers, like her hair, do not grow at all. 1 >vspkpki.\ Cl'keo iiv Music.?A correspondent of the Musical World savs: ' About seven years ago I suffered as severely iis.miy one could do from indigestion.? I was months under otir own family doctor, and one of tho most eminent surgeons iu the town in which I live; several months again under two others medical men, besides trying almost all kinds or things that friends recomeoded. I scarcely dared to cat anything ; and llie most simple drinks would rack me with pain. Now for what cured me: One evening a friend called and asked me to go with a musical meeting. I told her I could'not, as 1 was in too much pain to enjov ever such good singing. However, after much persuasion I went, and when there was induced to become a subscriber. Every member of tbe society was supposed to be a good reader of music; and as I knew nothing of it except tho names of tho notes, I commenced taking lessions in singing.? After that mv indigestion gradually left me, and in a short lime I was quite well of it, and have been ever since. It might not do good to every one, but I am suro it would to some. If it ?nly does one person good it is worth trying. I cannot tell how it was it did me so much good, but I know it made me very hungry?what I had never Iipen fi-,r two or three venrs before : nor did I ever in my lifo enjoy my food so much before I sang |s I-iifige since." A New Wast of Stkwino Steaks and Chops.?-rut ^ern into a stew-pan with water, sufficient to make gravy. Add grated carrot, turnip cut in small squares, pepper and jib It. Slew (prone hour. When, done, . thicken with A little flour and ketchup. A little macaroni or vermicelli,' which tequires JVonV to' (vVenty nvipntes boiling r>long Wfii ftostiteW carrot abided/ v:, v- * - ' 1 ' | Anecdote of IIenuy Clay.?Tho nnI uiversary of the birth of Henry Clay was j celebrated bv a festival at the Commercial I Hotel, Mi injili'w, 011 the evening of the 12th | April. Hon. II. S. Fuote presided. Tliero ; was a good time generally. Among those | who made speeches were the I'rcsideiit, and II. II. Stunlon, of Kentucky. Mr. 1'oote . related an interesting incident as follows : j 1 shall never forgel a scene which occur: red in the city of Annapolis, in Maryland, dti- | . ring the summer of I.S.jO. Mr. Clay had ; i become irreal.lv <'*b;Mwl??l will. il.? - o - J ?; ? ,v- j | labors through which h(! h:ul been passing; ! i those labors, a continuation of which was ! I so sooti afterwards to terminate his valuable l life. An ol<l and valued schoolmate of my j I own. Senator Pratt, of Maryland, invited J I Mr. Clay and a few others of his friends to ! spend a day or two at his hospitable man- 1 j sion. Mr. Clay accepted the invitation, j I and proceeded to Annapolis, attended by , I several gentlemen quite well known to the ! country. Mr. Dickinson, of New York, ! ' was among the invited guest*, Mr. l>right, 1 1 O. Indiana, and Mr. Dawson, of Georgia, whom you all know so well, and valued so ' highly. 1 had the honor of being in coin- 1 > pany aUo. 'l he day after weg"' to Senator ! 1 Trait's, it was proposed that we should ' ! t-il-i. > .....ii .1 1 -1 - ' 1 ....... ? >.../i i, .mi uiu cuy, ami vis- i ; it that ancient, time-honored building, with- I , i in the precincts of which tho lo-vohitionary ! ; Congress held its session at the close of the i i War of Independence. j ' i We went thither accordingly, and enter- ! s ; ed the venerated room where Washington ! , ! performed one of the most striking acts of) , i his life. I allude to the surrender of his sword to the Continental Congress. ^ licit ; J Mr. ('lav entered the hull he inquired for j 1 i the spot where Washington stood when ' j this scene was enacted. It was pointed | , out to him. lie stepped forward and occu- i | 1 pied it for a moment, gazing solemnly and j earnestly around tho room, which is pro- ' ciscly in tho condition it was in when occu- ' pied hv Congress. A cowd of citizens i gathered auont him. I never saw him when his appearance and bearing were altogether j so ?????! *miw..'...- 1 I- 1 y-w^.v 111! MJCIIICII j really to be tor tlio moment tlic grand per- ; sonage upon whose glories his mind was I ' meditating. The multitiiile assembled do- j i manded to hear iii.> augu>t voice. JIc ad- j , dressed them. The speech was short but j ^ impressive beyond any oratorical eO'ort I i have ever witnessed, lie took a rapid view | of the condition of the country; tho com- < motion existing ; the danger of the hour ; ! ( the expedients necessary to be resorted to \ in order to rcscue the Republic from des- j traction, lie especially enlarged upon the j danger of showing too much respect at such ! a moment to party and its behests; closing s with the memorable declaration, ltThat | , parly shut I in future by my jtarty which | shall prove most faithful to the Union. j Religion in* all Things.?"It. is a false 1 view of religion that makes it consist mere- I ly in the belief of certain doctrines, and the 1 practice of certain Sabbath observances. I TrtlP rolirrinn is cnmofl?in?? r* 1 0 .... UK|>CI. ?V I is a living principle of the heart, habitually 1 influencing us in the discharge of our duty both to God and man. It is not a garment j ! which we wear, but a part of our very na- ' ture. If we are under its influence, we will 1 carry it with us to our warehouses, to our 1 | factories, to our shops, to our desks, and to ; 1 i all our places of business, employment or !1 | resort. It will regulate every transaction of the merchant according to tlic strictest in* j j legiity, It will measure every ell of cloth. I and note every figure in the ledger, with a ! j correctness that fairs no fuluro iuvestiga- j j tion. It will produce an unshakable fuleli- j j ty in the clerk or woman to his employer's , | interest. It will not take upon itself en- j g.ngcments that it does not intend, and see its way to fulfil. It will not squander in prodigality what does not really belong to it. It will not launch out i>;'o reckless schemes, heedless what disaster their failure | may work lo others. It will take no unj due advantage of other men's misfortunes. ; I And, in fine, it will walk by a rule that j | bends to no chicanery, to no slipperiness, j j to none of the equivocal devices that even j i respectable worldlings free enough satisfac- i ! t - \t ?i I uv/M, A r>n? , u IlltlOtl a JUdlliUIUir^ UIMil|;* I ping ami pleasure-hunting generation may ! <lo, (!iis, O Christian, is what is expected of i you."?lie v. John Isdule. Oil EAT OajKOT OK EDUCATION*. Sulf instruction is the one great cffcject of rational education. In mind as well as body we i are children at first,only tlmt wo may af; torwarda bccomo men; dependent upon i others, in order that wo may learn from thein such lessons as may tend eventually to our edification on an independent basis A r /VI1W AlttM TK? *%t ' fnAlfl AM ui vui v>? ii i lie ttiiomuu^o v/? invyi^j \ji what is generally cnlleil learning, however much wo may possess of it, is useful so far only as we erect its material* inj^a mental frartjework ; but useless so long as we suffer it to lie m a heap, insert and' without form. The instruction of other*, compared with self-instruction, is-like the law com par- : ed w.Ub.faith; a dwcipHua of preparation, beggarly .elements, n.*choohna*tor to lead I us on to a state of greater worthiness, and there give up tha charge of us.?Butoer. Many friends, life?; card?, are flung down upon ibe ground,vaf soon aa those vjrbo ijave been.plnyiog with , t!w?; h#v&..pot. all tjiey cared for out of there.. ./! .. t-, ' atl>'. ' t fli < - V ( .The i^ort ffl^ionaJbla-m'arriagea at the . present timW aWui'oM fihkh are wedded xm sbcottt^ty aYttffc- ' I Talcs of The SoDth. I:V A SOL'TIIi:RN JiAS. THE roitTUNATK DUE AM. Who can explain truly the philosophy of j dreams? The metaphysicians, from Aris-J ' lotleto Hamilton, have tried their hands at , the problem, and have all. as we think, fail- I lid in its solution. Tliey give us specula- I ' tion, theory, conjecture, in abundance,show- j ing how, l>y th<! laws of association and suggestion, active even in the somnolent brain, the phenomenon may he produced, lint which one of them all has dropped the sounding line of a true analysis into the : depths of the mystery and drawn up the truth, so palablc in essence and proof, as to command and receive the recognition of a universal acceptance ? Wo venture to submit, that a true and satisfactory theory of those airy creations which people the brain of the sleeper, is sliil a deside ratum in mental seiene. Some new Kant or Locke has yet to arise who, j seizing the true elements of the. problem, and i conducting the inquiry by the processes of j T l -:? -1->| ' I . i*?\<i(i|nitoiU<ll ivr^njt auail jiJUOl'Ill the woiM with the needed suppliment to its love of the intellect. ]5ut until the white sails of this perhaps yet unborn Columbus ' A the mind come shininrr on the intellcctu * 1 d seas, we must be content to accept the received philo'ophy of dreams, dividing them into two great classes, the normal and the ' ibnormal?the former including those "of which the known laws of mind seem to afford a satisfactory explanation, and the latter embracing that exceptional class, such 1 is monitor)' and prophetic dreams, of which 1 no adequate solution has yet been otTerid. j Were I to attempt to chronicle a tithe of the dreams of the latter class which I have collected and jutted down in my commonlilil/ifi.tinr.V llm i?ri]limn aP tlm T ^ I V,. V. nnl allotted to these tales, would shimmer ' lor months with the hazo of dream-land.? 1 Let me select one almost at random, and ' transcribe it with some verbal additions anh- to the original entry. Moses a negro man belonging to a respectable citizen of Mobile, was a staid, sobersided gentleman of color, a little past middle Jge. lie labored faithfully for bis master, md was rewarded with a large share of his ^onfiileiw?" mill a liberal nrnnnrfinn r>f l?i? uwn earnings, lie was, consequently, never without pocket change sufficient to make liis frugal purchases anil gratify his simple tastes. One day the scheme of a prize loiter}-, published on flaming handbills and posted up at the corners of the streets, attracted the attention of Moses. He was seized with a sudden passion to hny n ticket and try his chance for one of the prizes. Full of the projcct and of the emotion which it excited in his breast, a stranger, till now, to the fever of speculation, he retired to his bed at night, more to ponder over his con tern pin- | led, novel investment of a portion of his sur- j plus cash, than tosleep. Not, indeed, that he had any eoncienlious scruples as to the morality of the purclisc of a lottery ticket; I but lie felt a sort of money scruple at the idea of a possible loss of both prize and price of a chance. Nature, at length, asserted her rights, and Moses slept the fevered sleep of a troubled brain. In the visions of the night he saw unrolled before him the j identical handbill wlncu iiau attracted Ins j attention during the day. The eye of his j mind wandered over its column of prizes, and rested, at length, upon one, opposite to which he saw, distinctly, the number "2,000" inscribed upon the margin of the bill. The impression was exceedingly vivid and remained quite distinct in his memory the next morning, when ho awoke. Lie went immediately to the agency office of j mo luiiciy, nna, uy permission 01 ins master and the agent, bought tlio ticket numbered '2,000'' in tho scheme. The day for the drawing came, and it was found that Moses had become the owner of a prize of ten thousand dollars in cash. Number "2,000" had qnintuplcd itself, and ttin innllinU r\f 1 noroocn tuuo oali?t His master offered him permission to purcliso his freedom ; but lie declined to do so. The money was put at interest in tho ftands of a trustee, and Moses, who is vet alive and living in Mobile, draws from the deposit whenever he needs funds to pay for the annual hire'of himself, or to enah the hills for iiis purchases. A strange feature in the case is that Moses buys, every year, a ticket in jwroe lottery numbered "2,000n and lias nerer yet'failed to draw a pri^e, generally small in amount but dwelling, one year,to the-sum of two thousand dollars' / Can f|ll. the metaphysicians in Christenexplain the mystery ojf tliU dream and its literal fulfilment I * Verily, tberenre m6re wouders sUut in by tbo curtain ofsloqp than have yet been solved by the analysis of our chide intellectual philosophies. ' ' . ' .?f ,MJ? >* < ' : Dickens's Sbory of the Origin of Piek ''' wick. Mr. Dickens litis latterly been issuing what is called a popular edition of his works; in which he treats its to this little account of the origin of Pickwick: '*! was a young man of three and twenty when the present publishers, attracted by some pieces l was at that tune wnuog in the Morning Chronicle newspaper, (of which jne series had been collected and published in two volumes, illustrated by my esteemed friend, Mr. Geo. Cruikshank,) waited upon me to propose a something that should-be published in shilling numbers?thdn only known to me, or I believe to anybody else# by a dim recollection of certain iuteruiinable novels in that form which used to be carried about the country by pedlers, and over some of which I remember to have shod innumerable tears before I had served my apprenticeship to l"fe. "When I - ;.jned my door in FurnivaPa Inn to the managing partner who representoit Ilm T ?:?1 i.:? ?i. ? w.v in, m. ivv/u^ui^u 111 nun vuc jicr^uii from whoso hands I had bought, two or three years previously, and whom I had never seen before or since, my first copy of ihe magazine in which my first effusion? dropped stealthily one evening nt twilight; with fear and trembling, into a dark letter box, in a dark office, up a dark court in Fleet street?appeared in all the gldry of print; on which memorable occasion?how well 1 recollect it!?I walked ^down tcy Westminster Hall and turned into it fotf iialf an hour, because my eyes were so dimmed with joy and pride that they could lot bear the street, and were not fit to l?o ;een there. I told my visitor of the coinci lence, which we both hailed as a good omen/ ind so foil to business. "The idea propounded to me was that :he monthly something should bo a vehicle "or certain plates to be executed Mr. Seymour; and there was n notion, either on' llio part of that admirable humorous artist or of my visitor (I forget which,) that at "Nimrod Club," the members of which were to go cut shooting, fishing, and so' forth, and getting themselves into difficulties through their want of dexterity, would' be the best means of introducing these. 1? objected, on consideration-,, that, although' born and partly bred in the couotrv. I wa? 110 great sportsman, except in- regard of alT kinds of locomotion ; that the idea was not' novel, and Lad been already much used that it would l>e infinitely better for tho' plates to arise naturally out of the text; and1 that I should like to take my owri' wa)V with a freer range of English, scenes and' people, and was afraid I should ultimately do so in any case, whatever course I might' prescribe to myseif at starting. My views' being deferred tOj^I thought of Mir.. Piclv?-'" wick, and wrote the first number,, frond th& proofsheets of which Mr. Seymour made Ulaf drawing of tlie Club, j#nd that happy pdrtrait of its founder by''which" ho is always" recognised, and which may bo said to have made him a reality. I'connected Mr. Pickwick with a club because of the original1 suggestion, and I put in Mi*. Winkle expressly fur tlie use of Mr. Seymour. aVg started with a number of twenty-four pagea" instead of thirty-two,-, and four illustration in lieu of a couple. Mr. SeymDUtr'asuddW' and lamented death before the second nUfcrfbcr was published, brought aboutcf^iiicli decision upon a point already in- agitatidi';* tlic number became one of thirty-two pfejjwv with two illustrations, and remained'sb'to' the end. My friends"told me it. jyai aloW. cheap form of publication, by whidb.'Bslibilld ruin all my.rising hopes;- and hbW rigWi my friends turned out to be cteryb&iy. ilbw known. "413oz,"my signature in' the Mbf'blng Chronicle, appended td'tbe mbt^tbly cover of this book,- and retained long afWiVard,was the nickname of a get child, a'ybiihg*r brother, whom 1 htd^dubbed Mote&ib'bonior of the Vicair of VVi^^eld, wljjtH'^ hfeing facetiously pronounced through!; tbfe ooti, became Hoses, and being sliort4riad^I$&|MB 1"fc I.r* H . , ~ L ' 0 ill ?li'k.A <v? i>oz. "j>oz wns a very lammsir uoywnoiu won! to me long Mforo I Was aVL'.dw&oit,and so I came to ndojpLii:" * 1 . ' r" Hysterica.?Dr.' Marih aajj-a' tlife beak euro for hyatoribtf U to discharge th? servant girl. In his oplnfoh', there is rtbthlng like work to keep the^Dorrouis s^sterti" from' becoming unstrung:- 6i)fn'e Woriptt^JJunk they Want a ph^ai^ab. when^ a scrubbing-brush. . ^ ; _ r?., Tumps dwhionabla countess asking a' jbtirig n'^imaa whicb b? thought the p^UlA 'uptrf he **? *, W*Omt "Voyr in the worKTP ^ r'j?* '"J^l 7-*"'<v?*a ' " Cornier ftrf?d. of eqa'Afiy of Bib lnVUi