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r -V.V JM ? & A THE CAMDEN JOURNAL. VOLUME 3. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA NOVEMBER 12, 1852. NUMBER 91. 1 THE CAMDEN JOURNAL VUDLISHKD SKMI-AVESKLY AXD WEEKLY UY THOMAS J. WARREN. _ TKHTIS. The Semi-Weekly Joerxal is published at Three ? Debars and Fifty Cents, if paid in advance, or Four Dollars if payment is delayed three months. Tub Weeklt Jocrxal is published at Two Dollars If paid in advance: Two Dollars and Fifty Cents ifpavment be delayed three months, and Three Dollars if not ; uaid till the expiration of the year. A D V E It TIS E M E NTS will be inserted at the following terms: For one Square (fourteen lines or less) in the semi-weekly, one dollar for the first, and twenty-five cents for each subsequent insertion. In the weekly, seventy-five cents per square for the first, and thirty-se?-?van and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single insertions one dollar. Semi-monthly, monthly and " ti^rtnrlir advertisements chareed the same as for a sin *i?? j < gle insertion. ?j?;"The numberof insertions desired, and the .edition to be published in must be noted on the margin of nil advertisements, or they will be published seini-weeky until ordered discontinued and charged accordingly THE RAINY DAY. BY H. W. LONGFELLOW. Tlje day is cold, and dark, and dreary,. r It rains, and the wind is never weary; The wind still clings to the mouldering wall, And at every gust the dead leaves /all, And the day is dark and dreary. nr.. l!fU !? maU /Jtel' on/I /^fonrr. iuy 1 lie in luiu, anu uam, It rains, and the wind is never weary ; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past, And the hopes of my youth.fall thick on the blast, And the days are dark and dieary. He still, sad heart, and cease repining, Behind the clouds the sun's still shining; Your fate is the common fate of all, In every lifescme rain must fall, Some days musl be dark and dreary. p ; THE SUNNY DAY?A PARODY. BV F. B. F,\GE, M. D. The day is bright, and fair, and cheery, It shines, and the sun is never weary ; The rose in bloom, and the orange flower, Scatter their sweets o'er hall and bower, And the day is bright and che ery. My life is calm, and bright, and cheery, It shines, and the day is never weary ; Xf? frlill nn ffto trlnrltnn.w nnst. luy uiuuguio o>an u??v.. v.. |-? And the hopes of the future rise full and fast, And the days are bright and cheery. Be calm, light heart, and when repining, Behold the clouds when the sun is shining; . Your lot is the common lot of all; ' With every breeze some sweet must fall, When the day is bright and cheery. A FATHER'S LOVE. Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek. It would not stain an angel cheek 'Tis that which pious fathers shed TTt,m> n rtntpmis daughter's head. ~ = A MOTHER'S LOVE. A mother's love! Oh ! thou kuowest not How much of feeling lies In those sweet words; the hopes, the fears, The daily strengthening ties; It lives when first the infant draws Its earliest vital breath, And dies but when the mother's heart Chills in the grasp of death. A Good One.?Ludicrous blunders will occasionally occur in cases where ignorant persons attempt the use of language about which they know nothing. The following is in point: Not long since while travelling from Pittsburg to Cincinnati, two rather verdant specimens of the female sex came on board of the r boat at one of the landings, who, for ihc sake of distinction, we will call Mary and Jane. Now Mary had cut her eye teeth, or, iu other words, was accjuainted with the rules and regulations which govern genteel society. Jane, the younger, had never mixed, to any great extent, and was, therefore in blissful ignorance as to any of the rules which govern more refined persons.? ^ Iler language, too, was only such as she heard among her rustic associates. Mary was aware -f *!.:? <V.?* orwl l,n,l thnrofniw P'llltinrifwl linr tn U1 UII9 IclCf) MMVt, ?uv. V.v.v, observe how she (Mary) acted, and to govern herself accordingly. Jane promised implicit obedience. Shortly after, while seated at the dinuer table, the waiter asked Mary what part of the fowl she would have. She informed him, in a very polite manner, that it was "perfectly immaterial." lie accordingly gave her a piece, and then inquired of Jane what part she would choose. The simple-minded girl replied, with all the self-assurance imaginable? ''I believe I'll take a piece of tlie immaterial too." The scene that followed this declaration is beyond our pen to describe. The assembled company were compelled to give to their surcharged feelings in peals of boisterous laughter; whilst the poor girl, her face suffused with crimson blushes, left the table, declaring as she fled to the ladies' cabin, "they won't ketch me aboard of those pesky steamboats soon again." . ** , The Washington Republic says: Wo have the satisfaction to announce that the President has appointed the Hon. Edward Everett, ofMassaehusetl^Secretary of ?tate, to succeed the Hon. Daniel Webster, lately deceased; and that Mr. Everett has signified his acceptance of this office. / *" . - - ' i? -*.^1 _ _ .Loi- ffi?j Tlic Passionate Father. ji BY FANNY FERN. C "Greater is lie who ruletli his spirit, than lie who 1 takcth a city." j o 'Come here, sir!' said a strong, athletic man, as he seized a delicate-looking lad, by the shoulder. s: 'You've been in the water again sir! liav'nt 0 I forbid it? ; 0 'Yes, father, but? ! ' 'No huts; liav'nt I forbid it?hey?' 'Yes, sir, I was?' i 'No reply, sir!' and the blows fell like a bailstorm about the child's head and shoulders. j ? Not a tear started from llarrv's eye, but his face was deadly pale, and his lips firmly compressed, n as he rose and looked at his father with an unflinching eye. j P 'Go to your room sir, and stay there till you ; 11 are sent for ! I'll master that spirit of yours, bo- j ?' fniK vi?ii nrr> mnnv rhivs nlih<r ' I 't Ten minutes after, Harry's door opened, and . e: his mother glided gently in. She was a fragile, . gentle woman, with mournful blue eyes, and 11 temples startingly transparent. Laying her hand < al soothingly upon Harry's head, she stooped and ; ( kissed his forehead. 1 The rock was touched and the waters gushed 111 forth. 'Hear mother," said the weeping boy. *\Vln? sli/1'tif vaii *4.11 fitliiir tlmt vau II II) Uiu III. I VII IV II I Ulll HUIIVI IlltlV J vu plunged into the water to save the life of your playmate!' ff lDid he give me a chanceT said Harry, spring- ^ ing to his feet with a flashing eye. 'Did'nt he sl twice bid me be silent, when I tried to explain? c.( Mother, he's a tyrant to you and me!' n 'Harry, he's my husband and your father.' P 'Yes, and I am sorry for it. What have T ever had but blows and harsh words? Look at your pale cheeks and sunken eyes, mother.' c* 'It's too bad. I say; he's a tyrant, mother,' fr said the boy, with clenched ti-t- and set teeth, ; b< 'and if it were not for you, I would have been b leagues oft'long ago.' ll 'And there's Nellie ton, poor sick child! What tl good will all her medicine do her ? She trem- w bles like a leaf when ?he hears his footstep. I 01 say, it's brutal, mother!' 'Harry, (and a soft hand was laid on the im- h petuous boy's lij?s.) for my sake?' tt 'Well, 'tis only for your sake?yours and poor tl Nellie's?or I should be on the sea somewhere? hi 1 any where but here.' hi Late that night Mary L<*e stole to her boy's p bed-ide, before retiring to rest. ' 1 'God be thank* d he sleeps,'she murmured as d I she shaded her lain]) from Jus lace, i lien kneelj ing at li)^ bedside, she prayed for wisdom and ' patience to bear uncomplainingly the heavy cross on \vhicb4ierslcp< were faltering: and then I she prayed hwJiini. N?., no, not!' said Harry, springing from his pillow and throwing his arms about her neck, '1 ; j can forgive him what lie lias done to tne, but I ( i never \v;!l for what he has made you suffer; don't pray for him; at least don't let me hear it.' Mary Lee was too wise to expostulate. She knew her boy was >pi;it sore under the sense ol recent injustice; so she lay down lieside him, and resting her tearful cheek against his, repeated in a low. sweet voice the story of the crucifixion. 'Knthei, forgive tlnni. they know not what they do!' fell upon his troubled ear. lie yield- 1 od to the holy spell. 1 lI will!' he sobbed. '.Motheryou arc an angel, and if I ever get to heaven, it will be your hand that has led me there?' b There was hurrying loand fro in Robert Lee's ti | house that night. It was a heavy hand that p j dealt those heavy blows on that young head. t< The passionate father's repentance came too il . I - I - late?came with a word that his hoy must die. e< 'Be kind to her.' said Hairy,as his head drop- w ped upon his mother's shoulder. n It was a dearly bought lesson ! Beside that st lifeless corpse Hubert Lee renewed his marriage 01 vow; and now when the hot blood of anger rises ti to his temples and the hasty word springs to his v< lip, the pale face of the dead rises up between p him and the offender, and an angel voice whis- c< pers?Peace! be still/' tl The Pursuit of Knowledge. g There are certain subjects,?and he who reflects si on the matter will concede that their number is ni by noineattssmall,?which have been written and ct re-written upon, until, to use a common ex- n; prcssioti, they tire fairly " written out." To pro- tl duee any valuable idea upon them, which litis sr not long been stereotyped, is utterly impossible, a But there are other topics to which this rule will not apply, though there may have been an w equal, or even larger amount of brain work ex- fe ponded upon them.?Such an one is the pursuit n of knowledge. Though much has been written ol upon it, the subject is so vast in extent, and so 1} immeasurable is the ground it covers, that the fe mind in contemplation of it is no more confined e: by bounds and limits, than when it is soaring far E away in the unexplored fields of imagination. si The pursuit of knowledge is one of the most b' dignifying and ennobling objects that can actuate p the mind of man. It oilers inducements alike b to wealthy and poor; to exalted and humble ; p1 to old and young. The fresh and vigorous mind T of youth, strong and active though it may be, is ai rendered ardent ami enthusiastic by want of ex- w perience and the warmth of young and bounding 't blood. To such the pursuit of knowledge is w what the mental organization requires; it is just g that indispensable which is properly to discipline , tl the mind, and the heart, and to lit them for a : ti high and noble contest in life. I tl The aged have spent a life in t his pursuit; for ' cl the mental and moral organization of man is such, that he must be continually gaining knowledge, whether he will or no ; and when the time _ of "the sere and yellow leaf" comes on there is p leisure afforded to calmly arrange and digest the p I ideas mai were niisi11y iwcm-u ?uni tut? aim c: was strong, and the hand was active in tin* pur- P( suits of tin* prime >f life. ! t| The pour man lias in this a possession that a places hifh above the wealthy and the proud, ii 1 .ist so far as mind is superior to matter. lie an sc-cufe that wealth of mind and of heart bewecn which and the wealth for which the masses f men strive, there can be no comparison. The enjoyments that gold can procure are pleaant for a time ; the pomp of circumstances and f outward show may, at least while the charm f novelty is upon them, afford satisfaction, ic.ugli they never can bring genuine happiness, lut that enjoyment springing from the pursuit f knowledge, ensures the expansion of the facnlcs, and powers of the soul, and continually rows purer and purer, and higher and higher. In the words of one whose name is svnonv ions with noble thoughts and correct ideas: Pleasure is a shadow; wealth is vanity, and ower pageant; but knowledge is ecstatic enjoy lent ? perennial in fame?unlimited in space, nil infinite in duration. In the performance of s sacred offices, it fears no danger?spares no ipensc?looks into the volcanoes?dives into ic ocean?perforates the earth?wings its flight ito the skies?enriches the globe?explores sea nd land?contemplates the distant?examines ic minute?comprehends the great?ascends to le sublime; no place too remote fo- its grasp? o heavens too exalted forks reach. When the spirit is freed from its tenement of ay, and no longer clogged by its earthly prison ouse, we have full reason to believe that the >ul will still love all that elevated and ennobled on earth ; and ever expanding, ever progresng, through the ages of that space which we unprohend not. but call eternity, will still, while sing higher and higher, ever continue in the ursuit of knowledge. __ 0 Rising in the World.?You should bear instantly in mind that ninetcnths of us arc, oin (lie very nature and necessities of the world, >rn to train our livelihood by the sweat of the row. What reason have we, then, to presume iat our children arc not to do the same? If icy be, as now and then one will be, endowed itli extraordinary powers of mind, those extrardinarv powers of mind may have an opportuity of developing themselves; and, if they never ave that o portunity, the harm is not very great > us or to them. Nor does it hence follow that le descendants of laborers are always to be lasers. The path upward is steep and long, to e sure. Industry, care, skill, excellence, in the resent parent, lay the foundation of a rise, utier more favorable circumstances for the cliilren. The children of these take another rise: iid by-anil-bye, tbe descendants of the present borer become gentlemen. It is by attempting > reach the top at a single leap that so much liserv is i.rudtieeil in (be world. Society lliav il iii m;ikin^r the laborers virtuous and happy, v bringing children ii]> to labor with steadiness, ith care, and with skill; to show them how to 11 as many useful things as possible; to do them il in the best manlier; to set them an example i industry, sobriety, cleanliness, and neatness; > make all these habitual to them, so that they ever shall be liable to fall into the contrary; to t them always see a good living proceeding oin labor, and thus to remove from them the nuptntioti to gi-t at. the goods of others bv vio nt and fraudulent means, and to keep far from icir minds all the inducements to hypocrisy and oc< it. Tiif. iFt'i..? I low sweet to our rememratice are the things we have enjoyed in our me, because of their loveliness. Few things resent tlnmselves to the observation unassocia>d with this felicity, could we only separate from icin the corruptions which they li ivc engendcr.1. Our vision derives its charms from the things hich are in harmony?the picturesque and the niform contributed largely to its advantage, and ) do the things which arc brilliant; and the coirs of which are light. It is usual for the mind > experience two orders of circumstances, the faarable and the unfavorable. From the unhapv constitution of things in general, it is compcll] to draw more largely from the one than from io other; but the more we seek to raise it above ie common level of surrounding influences the reater elevation will it achieve and, therefore, it lould be to the former we should adhere, and ot to the latter. Nevertheless, it is highly tic ssarv that every mind should comprehend the - - ? i ... \v:?i?? ,1.:, :iture or surrounumg onjeci*. ?luiuut mm lore is 110 right application of reason, tlie ab nee of which entails continual discomfort and want of correct judgment. When the great Author of Nature created the orld and all that is in it, he made all things perct; the absence of which has arisen through inn's indifference, want of education, and want [benevolence. Distant nations, actingconjoint with our own have been affording opportunity ir a more powerful development of the organs of tcellency, bv adding their treasures to the great xhibition. If due attention be paid to this conderation much good training will lie derived oth to the mind and the vision. For the imrovomonts which will bring comforts to our carts we have little to hope for, whilst we deetid upon the efforts of a proud aristocracy.? lie fire; ides of the rich, and these of the people, re too much separate considerations witli those ho take the lead, anil a better state of tilings ?garding the human family will rest very much it.li I lie operations of a wise and benevolent leislature. The people are hotter aware of what ley need than those who are better eo-operang for them. It is. therefore, highly essential iint they should not he interfered with in the iioicc of their representatives. PucAsuiKs.?What is pleasure ? Cheerful hours ?peaceful entertainments?hopeful blessings.? ii every land, ill every age, and among every eople hours have been reserved from daily avoiilion and devofi'd to pleasure. By doing this dIciiti and mournful feelings are banished and lie gloomy tides of life which impetuously swell 11< 1 Insli tlio suiiiiv cliirs <>f our existence, arc ever needed and subdued. It is then that the mind is lightened and relieved from all the stupendous and harrassing cares that gather thickly around the pathway of man, and is restored to j its full bloom and vigor. Then it is that the clayey tabernacle of mortals, crushed down and worn out by fatigue and suffering, springs forth and imbibes deep draughts from the fountains of pleasure. Many and various are the pleasures which this world lavishes upon man. Fashiou and Dress. In morning dresses are now all made high to the throat open fronts being exclusively confined to demi-toilette. It is long since any form of corsage has been introduced at once so elegant and convenient, and no doubt it will be long ere it loses favor. Sleeves are now made a longer aud a little less wide than heretofore. This change somewhat improves the graceful effect of the sleeve, which, however, requires to be very carefully shaped and well set in at the soulder. It slioukl be borne in mind that neatness and taste are all-important in dress. The same materials may be converted into garments either very graceful or unbecoming; all depends on the hands by which they are arranged. With high morning dresses, collars of worked muslin are worn a size somewhat larger than those which have been made for sonic time past. With morning wrappers of cashmer, white undersleeves must always be worn. Cashmere wrappers are frequently made with sleeves reaching somewhat more than midway down the lowarm, and sufficiently open at the ends to admit the undcr-sleeves. These under-sleeves, at the present season of the year, are frequently made to fasten closely down to the wrist. The plainest kind are made of Nansouk. The wristband is worked, and above it is a row of needlework having the edge upward in the manner of a turned-up cutf. A cap of worked muslin is almost an indispensable accompaniment to the cashmer robe dc cambre. A cap of this decription has a character of elegant simplicity when worn quite plain and without any trimming, and by the adsl'.ti.-.vi rA* ptliVw^nc if in?jv lu> ronflniwl ns gay and showy as can be desired. For trimming a morning caj> of worked muslin nothing is more fashionable than the narrow plaid ribbon pattern in a variety of brilliant and well-arranged shades of color. For in-docr the present chilly weather has oc casioned the revival of polkas and jackets of silk or velvet. The paletot is also a favorite garment. It should fit closely to the waist, below which it decends about a quarter or half a yard. Within it may be worn a gilet. The paletot is made of cloth silk, or velvet, and ornamented with embroidery in colored silk. This colored embroidc; ry has a very pretty effect. We have seen some I black paletots tmbroidcred with blue,green, violet or inarooii-colored silk, forming elegant indoor envelopes. One of these paletots, with, a cap of worked muslin, a chemisette and tindcrslecves of Xunsouk, and morning slippers trimmed with lace, constitute a morning dishabille. Apprapos of slippers, we may mention that they are now made with heels, as in the days of our great grandmothers. Those good ladies it is true, did not move about quite so actively as the belles of the present generation. They were not great walkers, and they wore slippers of a pecu bar make, which were called mules. These slippers, having very high heels and no hind quar tcrs, rendered any kind ot rapid movement lm- , possible and the fair wearers of them were necessarily obliged to walk at a very slow and digniged pace, and even then to observe the utmost earn ion in order to avoid sprained ankles. The liability of this accident is, however, infinitely diminished by the make of the slippers now introduced in imitation of those worn by ladies of fashion about the middle of the last century.? The new slippers have high heels, but the height is moderate and they have hind quarters like shoes. They are made in satiu or velvet, either black or colored, and are usually ornamented with embroidery 011 the fronts. We have observed some made of black satin, trimmed with lace, having red heels. Boots with small military heels have, as our readers are aware, long been fashionable, but in a boot the foot is well sup- . ported, high heels may then be worn without danger; how it may be with slippers it is a question which can best be determined by those ladies who are inclined to try them. For out-door dress, cloaks have now the preference over shawls or any wrap. We noticed last week the prevalence of black cloth cloaks, , which may be worn either in or out of morning. The morning already partially worn for the l*te Duke of Wellington, will doubtless, be general in London on the funeral day, and for some little time after it. This anticipation occasions a great demand for cloaks of black cloth, with which the principal mourning establishments of the metropolis asc already largely supplied.? These cloake should be made of the very finest lady's clo h. A variety of new shapes have been introduced. Some of these novelties we described in a former number. The round cloak with the hood at the back is still worn, though now almost passe dc more, floods, we may observe r..?. on/1 nrn iricinrv t/t/vil. arc- uiKij?|>i-.i.u.g .?v. 61....v. lars. The black cloth cloak are of course suited only to ordinary walking dress. For a superior style of costume velvet is preferable. London Lady's Xcwspapcr. Longevity in Canada.?The Montreal Herald mentions some singular instances of longcvi' tv brought to light by the late census. It says: "We understand that more than twenty persons arc returned whose ages exceed one hundred years. The most venerable patriarch of those, if we make no mistake, resides in the township of Grey, Sincoe county, aged 115 ! years. Ninety-fire years ago he scaled the elitis I of Quebec with General Wolf; so that his residence in Canada is coincident with British rule in the province. lie has attached himself to the Indians, and lives in all respects like them. This veteran is named Abraham Miller. Gal? - ? - - lantry will nut permit us .<> omit iiouo. lie mention of an almost equally distinguished person of the other sex. llelen Maguire is one hundred and six years of age. She still diesses without help, and walks out for air and exercise whenever the weather is sufficiently fine to tempt her from the chimney corner. She still has ail her faculties, and can thread a needle without spectacles. Good Humor.?Good humor, which is good nature polished and consolidated into habit, consists in the amiable virtues of the heart, and in suavity of manners. A person of good humor is pleased with himself, he is pleased with others? lie cherishes humanity, bene\olence, candor, and these qualities, infused in his disposition and conduct, shed around him a chastened gaiety and lie feels complacence in general happiness. Mirth is the glaring solar beams of summer, wit is the gleam of departing clouds on the autumnal plain? good humor is the balmy and genial sunshine of spring, under whicli we love to recline. Mild and genuine good humor has a peculiar simplicity, frankness, and softness of expression; fashion puts on its semblence, but as is the case with every species of hypocracy, it fails by its overacted efforts to please. This amiable quality is consistent; no latent frown befriends with its smiles. uo feigned officiousness contradicts the language of the lips; its expressions are faithful to its sentiments and it is perennial as the source whence it flows. Good humor is estimably a social virtue?is equally estimable as a personal quality. High reputation and superior attainments have naturally a dazzling splendor, which is only approachable by confidence, when subdued by the refreshing softness of good humor. Moderate abilities with assumed pretentions, provoke censure or excite ridicule; but adorned with good humor, they insinuate themselves into esteem even more than eminent but austere attainments. The show of distinguished qualities humbles mediocrity, and generates the dissatisfaction of jealousy; the display of witty and confident assurances silences modesty, and produces a feeling which has perhaps a tincture of envy: a vein of satire; which elicits occasional hilarity, arms all with the precaution of fear. iMr. \v ebster's Tomb.?Some time before hist death, Mr. Webster expressed his wish that his remains should be deposited in a tomb on the soil of Marshfield; and such a receptacle he prepared for himself and family, at a cost of at least one thousand dollars. It occupies the summit of a comma? ding hill, overlooking the ocean, and the site of the first church ever built in the town of Marshfield. and is enclosed with an iron pailing. It is stated by a gentleman who visited this sacred spot in company with Mr. Webster, that the only words which he uttered during the visit, were uttered while pointing to the tomb, and the greensward, and were as follows : 4,This will be my home, and here three monuments will soon be erected; one for the mother of my children; one each, for Julia and Edward; and there will be plenty of room in front for the little ones that must follow them." .! Beggars.?New Orleans, unlike New York, is but little infested with street beggars. In fact. it is :i rare thing to see one at all; and when you do, it is always a foreigner. There is little occasion, in any of the large cities of the United States for mendicancy; but in the most prosperous communities there will always be some individuals who prefer the rags of destitution to habits of industry. If beggers were oniy as ingenious in, and inventive of, schemes of industry as they arc procreant in devices to avoid labor, what a valuable addition they would be to the com' mnnity they now disgrace. There is a fashion in mendicancy as well as in other things; at one time "destitute widows, with seven children," are the rage. Then, "distressed mariners who assure your honor they have not a shot left in the locker." Deformities of every degree and variety, for a time excite your sympathy. Blindness is always in season, because it is a real subject of charity; but even in this, there are so many calls of similation, that one is never quite positive that he who appeals to you is not a natural eyosed citizen, and as far-seeing as yourself.?0. Dcltcr. Public Schools in Philadelphia.?In the city county of Philadelphia, comprising a population of 409,000, there arc 279 public schools, taught by 83 male and 741 female teachers. The number of children attending the schools during the past year was 49,635, whilst 8*946 applicants could not be admitted for want of accommodations. Nine schools were organized during the year. The schools are thus enumerated?54 grammar schools, 40 unclassified, 34 se condary, 149 primary, 1 high 1 normal. The total expenditures for school purposes during the year was ?446,106,50, exclusive of interest on grounds and buildings. The average cost of each pupil for the year was ?8,18. The cost of supporting the High School, with an attendance of live hundred and fourteen pupils, is $19,225,71; being ?37,40 for each pupil. The cost of supporting the Normal and Model Schools, with an attendance of 525 pupils, is ?6,469,31; being ?12,34 for each pupil. The cost of supporting the Grammar, unclassified, Secondary, and Primarv Schools, with an attendance of 48,596 pupils is ?326,645 55; being ?6,72 for each pupil. Model Women.?The greatest women are those who aro never heard of; who, in the perfection of womanhood, are true friends, pure christians, fond devoted wives and mothers.? Such may not be called great intelligences,' but they are great women. To be all this completely, requires, it need not be said, no mean mental endowments, as well as the noblest traits ofsoul; but the lives of such, who aro the happiest as well us the best of their sex, can rarely challenge the attention of the world.