Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1852-1852, November 12, 1852, Image 1
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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.