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The journal and Republican. (Lowville, N.Y.) 1860-1909, May 16, 1860, Image 1

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i !/-' Vr,i k ellow- 1 will i^g^g ' u '&$mm 1 pjtlSHED KVBRY WKBHIflirAY MORSIKO, IS T AT LOWVILUJ, N. VI, BY W A PHILLIPS, EDITOR 4 PROPR1«TOR. p\ S.'BAILEY, AssociATB EDITOR. wcj Finy Ctnis, In adTance illscootlniAd until all arrearajesare o<|p>o Publisher. T g B jja-Oiie Dollar am N »„«<, will be Ulicoofl pa,J,««e P <.«rt.eo^ JOB PR3NTJHC. Hi nifBS OP JOB-PBnrrnro wora or THE ^ ittt 8TYLE- A,, journal & Republican- Office It now .prepared nt,» new and Laffc aasoiWenl of Job ami Pane *' A u job Printing; will He executed >»llfc ne ,„,!»(! Reasonable Term*. Cjjojce jjwtrg. For the Journul & Republic LIFE. c l(l>c \Vc ore passinc ^way, we are p like ih« rfeivof the morning, the i /j'ke lite fcaveB of the format, we To-day we nre heie, to-mojrrow We are passing awatf, we are p and like tiiciu de- pio-siug away, •l,or the *|>ray i II one by one- re K one. mtn^'itrflB gloom ol the piglit, )ut a; aioment, llicu tiur-l out < i»hr. ate passing away, <we are paaBtng away, ' r manhood scarce gained, wc beg,ln-to decay ; ndsooii thin* our locks,oi blanches Iliem gray. i our years, if tlirc«i/score, seem OHly a duy. • are passing away, wc arc passing away, . were not intended on earth long )o stay ; uupli brief is our life, yet there's ljuie enough li properly used, to prepnr s for lieqven. is prey ; mid with the l'oi die Jouriinl At llepublii- H iff. *.,et month of May' bright laughing Ma; •ill bud-i and flowers Btrew iliy way : • me with llie genial breath of Spring,— . :nne in the joyousuiess and glee-^- \ heart with gladness welcomes theo. e thy H with llo o'er bill and dale, vera the sunny Vale, luty deck the earth, r's blighting dearth; 1 Iflisccllautoits. From All the Year WBITTEH IN MY CELL 5E atten- more f the - POP- pub- Pills. lem as •>ly for n the . been satis* limals -AINTS, SIC K >f .Qui- make ; men- ivaled, en ad- fh the ularity e their TERMS'. $1,60 ™ ADVANCE \ VOLUME i. y g JtfeeHtj ftqhftl of polities, fteto, -•«v pry*! 1 J a^f ft fci w '\ ••]'. . •. 'v- -,.11';, Wm / s* BFUBf,t€A \ ESTABLISHED IW tSSO H% LOMJ-LLE, I^EWIS COUNTY, N. Yi, WEDNESDAY, MAY 16, 1860. yy^j#!±^^i.. ) 11,75 AT END OF THE YEAR Sr the latter resulting from, my comparative isolation from youth of my own age, and of awkwardness Jdkod frPm a consciousness nnid plainness of feature.V I until I became angrily sensitive to them, arid painfully conscious ,of my shame- faJcedness. This, and the repressive in- fluences at homo, induced amorbid/habit of reserve, which my approbatiyeness often burst through, to my subsequent chagrin and mortification. As any indi- cation of temper brought correction or sharp comment from my step-father, I had additional reason for self control, but, until manhood, I never attained much more than the semblance of it.— Then it deceived people, and in some de- gree myself, with respect to my disposi- tion. If rone.of this had been forced upon me, if my \eager ardent nature had been allowed healthy vent'; if what was good within mo had ripened in the sunshine of affection, what bad, firmly but tenderly repressed, I might, at this hour, be an honored and happy man, in- stead of a condemned murderer. But God knows, and He only. Schooldays over, I entered my step- father's office. lie wasi a solicitor in gofod practice. I had no inclination, to- ward the profession, but his suggestion cm-ricd its weight of authority; my mother considered it!''very respectable,\ und 1 had hardly turned my thoughts in miy definite direction. It answered in- differently well, rfhd in due time I was articled. Coming manhood did little toward \pating me from the restraints of | home. I had scarcely any command of money; and this, with a standing requi- sition that I should be in-doors every night by ten o'clock, virtually debarred me from amusements abroad. Natural- ly, I mutinied ; and after a struggle, ef- fected the abolition of the latter priva- tion, and some, but, no considerable im- provement in the furmcr. Both were conceded unwillingly, and after pertina- cious opposition, originating a series of quarrels which, after my mother's death, terminated in the total estrangement o r myself and step-father. She was always weak, 1 think consti- ful, brown eyes; soft,smodth > fair hair, and rosy cheeky That, was all. A mere*girl, less; that) half my age, pretty very pretty, but neither clever nor on both subjects by my Whool-feHowsJ beautffu.1. I had lookod, upon stores of j .... i u — _tt.. »„..„:i.:„ A *...'ik„w, I f ace a more perfect in feature, brighter in' intellect, without any quickening 1 of the pulse' ior more thaa tiansleittA,«bn!ratk)B. Yet I saw and loyed berj If I conld'tety how imperiously the* passion took pos- session of me, how it enthralled/ my whole rfature to tfie exclusion of every- thing but that one tyrannic, idea, the crowning 'horror that grew, out of it might be understood, if not pitied: Jt began innocently enough,God It I went to thje house, as I fiave said, at first in company with her uncle, then with or without him, always obtaining a cordial welcome. There was a good: ness, /ui unaffected kihdJnesfe i n the-little family, manifest in its mutual relation's, its behavior to friends and viuitor$,.whi'ch \von upon'mo in spite of my dislfust of piyself and others. \ I had nevef seen anything like it, riovuvr known how much of affection, of unconscious, self-saeriliee, of mutual esteem and forbearance.might be comprised in the one word home. They were not brillitinlj people, not more highly bred or educated than thous- ands of their class. They ^-oad booes, went occasionally' to the tliQatrc, loved music, dancing, and innocent pleasures, and were glad to admit, their friends to a share of them. The father, a cheery, hospitable man, liked company, and his wife saw only through his eyes. Ifor a time, my shy- ness kept me in the background, but the unvarying kindness with which l wa.< ceived gradually dissipated' my rese I loved the family, and felt better : happier for knowing them. ,' The gills often dang to us of evatags. 1 wonder whether I am unusually s.ensi tive to sweet voices, {that hers should have affected me as ijf did, waking.up some unearthly responsive longing in my soul as for something I should never at- tain, which was delicious^ yet exquisitely painful. . / - } Her girlish ways, her manner as she went about her household-duties, or per- ed the little rtt^s of hospitality, ttidunaHylncnned to'cons'irrtipjjon, and | possbssed an indescribable fascination for i totally -liable ith , I ijicd in my twenty-first year. ?Her h effected me extravagantly, but tempora ily. My step-father's sorrow 1 'was, Like himself, grave and undemonstrative. , I forgot my loss the more rapidly.' Ibience of the passion which controlled ' \•• »a==irm whieh tbe.r. oceii-1 '\f- I knew jt, but I had |no power [strange as i she^ when most under the ! pappose 1 write this in the ile.sperate ..pe of awakening sympathy in some .;ut-.ui heart, albeit-I never sh,ilt : know- It is a'dreadful thing to goto the itilows abhorred by everybody : it is a a.re Jreadful thing to have di*sorved it. N..*L the gallows ! it is not that I am ,t>ai.! -if'. When I heard the words, T.« h- hanged by the neck till you are .end.\ I could have blessed the judge for hi- righteous and most merciful sen- .-•iiiv. Anything to escape from the in iii erable l lathing of my fe 1 low-erea-tiites! fet there is not one of them who, in de- estnuon of my crime, has less of pity •ir mo than ( myself. The thought of lain, of suffering by way of ^expiation is relief, tome ; I would have it cruder, a ore shameful, if it might be. No-'hor- or that could be- inflicted, ^ould com- nire with the tremendous 'vagony of liv- i.g mi. after such a deed. I must hope, is 1 sujipose we ail do, that death will .;'i:.g some change, involving, if notpar- i-..^- and peace, some oblivion of the un- •ndurable present. At times, [ fancy it iii; all prove a dreadful dream ; that I -i.-(r did It. I set out to relate how it happened.— As no eye will read this until the hand wljhh writes it'will be mouldering in the crave. I can have no object to serve but til-. 1 avowed one of soliciting a grain of •V'uipassiou, which I know can not be fi-.rd,d while I live. From my childhood, as far back as 1 en; remember, I was of an eager, pas- ^ >nate nature, impulsive to a degree I which would often have covered me with o •!:fusion and ridicule, but the check for aii unconquerable shyness, partly inher- c:\'. partly the result of circumstances. ! A plain-featured, awkward boy, a pos- f:..:njii, son of my mother's first mar- ruige. (she wedded again in the second \ ear of her widowhood,) my surround- !!ig^ might have been happier. I was brought up strictly, rather than affec tiiniari.jy. under the care of a step-father. He rjk-d his family absolutely^but with a^ :n.i h justice as was consonant with a cerui , narrow-mindedness common to men ,.,f his stamp. I think his creed one of the severest, as regards this life and th,- next, intensified this defect of his na- tur.-; I am sure it did not make him or tny mother, or me, any better or happi- •*' ; Slid hid not.sufficient force of char- '<-:'•••. and respected that of her husband ' • mnoh to attempt or to effect any i: '-di:ication of it. So he had his own way in everything. I never loved my step-father. His re- /'u'jrt to me had, I believe, no share in '\^nciiigmy feelings; they wouldhave w-'-i- the same had he been my real fa- tf> <-; indeed I always considered him ^sueh.^ I may have taken advantage 01 the fact of my paternity in disobey- !l, i- r him in after life, but certainly dared '\\'' do it then. Ours was a dull household : mine was ' l ^ Uii'ore boyhood. 1 had plenty of re- t'l-ssion, little Ibve; that little timidly h -stowed by my mother, the instincts of «'hose heart'were wiser than the dictates \i her husband's head. I believe her j-hild stood paramount in her affections, n 1 that she had given him a step-fa Jier > his sake, rather than her oVn, being - : v . very poor at her husband's decease. >J; she never exhibited this partiality : \ \penly as to excite his successor'a- j ispi.-ion of jealousy. H * might have 2i j.vn kinder if he had had children of hw own ; but, with the exception of a r>aby .which died in its infancy, my moth- er brought him none. I have heard that he seemed sorry and disappointed at this. • - We lived in London, but saw little or no company, went to no parties, bails, theatres and entertainments, my step- father's creed * and inclination disposing him against a!l such indulgemcies. li e s t*nt me to a good day-sebopi, kept me tQ my tasks at home, allowed! 1 , nje no \\y.d play than could be prevenberj, and hated all books, except \serious*'\ ones. A pack of Hea and Uenwffle,\* wa» bis ordinary denunciation of woriaolf Hction. 1 rea d t!le 'n secretly,'whea the opportu- ne offered; they affird me rf^ort the °niy pleasant retrospection I ^ateofj ^boy-days . I mentkm tn«» things Jut in illustration of die oiro-mirtances aniid which my character was fdnned; Passionate, impulsive and »hk these, 1 repeat, were its predominant features; from a youthful passion which then oecu-1 mt> * ' knew {t, but 1 had j no p< pied me for the first time. It is my in- [}V ^ lk th e enchantment. ; tention to speak only of circumstances] She never suspected it—as-how sh. which had a direct influence on my char- slll> ? l w «s so much her elder • that she. acter, and this boy-love may be dismiss- regarded me as out of .the jmje of those ed in a few sentences. I wll ° mi g ll t °e attracted by her girlish T fell in love with a sister of one of| beauty. To her, a girl of sixteen, 1 my acquaintances: a handsome, merry \ an odd-looking man, a visitor, a frier girl, inv senior by a year, a coquette by th e family, nothing more. My intellect- ' aturc.\ 1 submitted to her whims for ua l superiority made her timid. She iJwelve months, when we quarreled our never dreamed of her power over me. [nit quarrel, and parted. The impetu-1 Tho . to, ! c h ° / he r hana \ accident; ' osity The ii_ r th which I urged my suit had I ^t verburne her original distaste for my 0 ness—it was no longer mere plain- ness—and my earnestness frightened her. She broke off, in spite of miserable hu- miliation on my part, leaving me to di gest the pain and mortification of it.— When she hears of my dee<)4(-she mar- \ied and went to India) .she 1 ) i^ill think , «- „ \ - perhaps she j m y llliu d, the trivial words that passed The touch of her hand, accidental con ith her dress, the upturned'glance ot her kind, calm eye, filled me with tremor; my whole nature heca nant to her presence. Wheih i ed, it was always with a secret hope that she would listen or reply. I never spoke tq^ her without a miserable di terest her, and a wretched sense of fail- ufe. I revolved, over and over agar kept by her side, driving m|o mad. He was happy, very hnppy, for,the occasion increased her natural, good' humor and good spirits, perhaps her lilting for her bujish lover. A fortnight 0^daify, al- most hourly intimacy in that idle holi- day time, had naturally,; brought thetfi closer together, and he, jit dnce intoxica- ted by his passion and the sweet influences surrounding him, was more enamored than ever. So he kept by her side, no- body challenging his right to .that posi- tion. I see * them now: he\ with his youthful, glowing face, all admiration and enjoyment: she in her light dress and straw hat, her sweet eyes just raised in answer to him, and a smile on her lips. One of the party jestingly called my at- tention to them once—as if that were needed. We rambled about in the forest until noon-tide, and for an hour longer, pres- ently dining in an. open space wherejof a' chnugt fallen trees and a little spring, glitte << ^EW SERIES—No. 20. f 'BIM FASHIONS. Once or twice before, in words almost identical, \we nave chronicled the Spring Fashions—but of doors; and we delight in tho thought that thero, at least, is noth- ing new ;, thac the rosea will not appear to us in disguise ;i that the old \ wear\ of the robin is unchanged : that the* charm- ing-bird is s^ire to come irf its sobcr brown—^soberjbrown so much more beau- tiful to our accustomed eyes than its gaily painted i cousin, the sparrow from Java. i j Blue velvet will be the favorite style* for all hoursJ morning and eveningL among the Violets. Green, though of infinite variety of shades, will prevail among the Forests. The popular), hitherto distinguished for ts suit of silver, intimates no intentioii and we may expect to see it evcr^mong the more sobeif And so almost thmqgh the entire range of the winged world!, the males are cloth- ed in a perilous beauty, that has 'preserv- ed many a wicker ctjp of song to bo pour- ed into the tide of melody that sljall bap- tise another year. ' Mrs. Peacoek's Philosophy. a The f at Salt Lake. Ile sutiat-her feet, and as much as p< sible engrossed .her conversation. Her brother joked him />n it, and I joined in the laugh. We were all viry merry to- gether, and my conduct excited no sus- picion. I talked gaily, and obstrrved her looking at me more than once it) qui- et surprise. Fury and despair :-were raging in my heart, yet 1 talked lightly and' tnerrily ; and, when the brother prop'osed that wc should try our skill in shooting at an extemporized target, I bore; my part like a boy amongst litem. Tiring of this and other sports, we | rambled hither and thither. Then 11 tendnnts at his miitluees will be expected feigned drowsiness, and they left me, to , to appear in delicate pink or pearl. igs of llielwoVid: ! Lilies, it is believed, will continue to • wear plain wh|ite, and Sweet William to dress in red. , White silk will be very much worn by the Corn, and unbleach- ed linen with blue trimming by the (lax, a wry cool and becoming costume for summer days. • Evening clouds will persist in ther| usual varied and somewhat capriciou; st_> les, wearing everything—from a whit* \ jill wool\ to an inky black : but, bio cade, erimsim ami gold.will prevail, esi- lly at ibe Court of the Sun. and From the Springfield Republican. As I sez to Mr.; Peacock, Mr. Pea- cock sez I, it taint rto use makin : words over what can't be helped. Married folks don't ought to find fault with each other. It don't do no good. They take each other for better or worse, and if they find it's for worse, it don't make ' it better to go thro' the world growlin' | and grumblin'. For my part I th^nk it's 1 a great deal belter ;to make the best ofi i folks, instead of the worst on 'em. If I I they see you remember the j good in ! church trading posts, wh, I them' they feel kind o encourage and j themselves wil* provisions, clothitog,\on keep grwin belter and better; but if) whlltevei . 6]sc , tf )cy ^ CC{ i. T h e Temple, you keep talk in of the bad why they j when cr)mp u. ted j fe U} bo used for the grow.discourage and think their amt a ; ]mh \ ]c mee tings of t|ic. church for relig- bit of use m tryiu. As I sez to Mr. j io(l s p Ur p OS o S> and it is intended to ac- I, you need nt | CO modate several thousand persons.— Hitherto no building erected.has been The Temple at Salt Lake stands in the midst of a public square, ten acres in extent, which is surrounded\ by a high wall. The foundations of this wall and a portion of it several feet above the surface are built of stone. Above- thjs it is made of adobes covered by a coat- ing of cement, and capped with stone. In all it is. about sixteen feet in height, and is just cdmpleted\ The founda- tions of the Temple hav> been laid, and tho basoment above them is now being built. A car.Al about t'wefve mile\s in length is being dug, 'in which boats are to ply and carry the stone from the quarries to. the Temple where it is used. Ordinary mechanics' engaged on this work are allowed three dollars per day lis wages, but are pahJ in orders on the they supply J Squarel we.lt, ^T^^l^u,-^ ! \ ? •' $:*J ? » |, •:. 2 l ,g- aWmha 4,oo 3 I' 8',0O' f \ BfiO 1 year? 12,00 1 45,00 . 20,OJ • 40,00 ' 35,00 . 1 .. \ I -••*, 8^0 i • <\ol'm 1 year, , ..,. 1 \ . 8 raootha, . . I .M- j U # *. ' 4 ^y-4r, . . . : Forl.'eg»l EtotlcM, the rates allowed by Jaw will b« charged Ten ilnmaaiaWe* aqture.aodWber* anolicc la !<•!* ian u fcntareHt* etiarfed w one,' B)U«**a apcrlal agreement it made to Uie contrary. The Journal aod Repot)Dcap baa a' larf e circplaiion^- , Ifup affording a ^etlrable merilnm for adrertlaln;!. Jlllg j back in an hour or so, biddl take care of our dinner-baskets. The brother left his pistol : it-was heavy, and die tired of his plaything. When they had.a'I gone off among the bushes, I sat up^on a fallen tree, and loaded the wea- pon; I declare before Heaven, 1 had no thought then of the dreadful use of which I,was soon to put it; I had an in- clination to play with the-idea of suicide, it was fascinating, in my maddened and morbid state, to 1 put the muzzle be- my teeth, and fancy what pullinglklid dd effect. I imagiuct 1 1 da in black sut.ii The Bolx M '^% she had a happy escape, had. t. I suffered more than cu(n r\ioii from s~> common an experience. H made me doubly sensitive to my, defe'ets, iffctural and acquired. I brooded retrospective- ly, nursed my woundgd .self-esteem into I embittered egotism, yetdes|>ised myselfI fiir my recent failure'.) I Itttored to at-1 tain self control, aiid,as aforesaid, achiev- j ed at least the mask of itt-f At this pc-1 riod the alienation'betwden' myself and; step-father reached a crisis, and termina-, ted in my withdrawal both from his of- fice and home. I was able to keep myself, having ac- quired, with a world of pains and at the exercise of an amount of patience for- eign to my nature,, the art of steno- graphy ; though not a proficient in the craft, i had earned money by it. Be- sides which, I presently began to write for '.. magazines and periodicals, at first poorly)enough, and with proportionate remuneration. Long ago, perhaps in consequence of my step-father's prohibi- tion, I had become art eager reader of j fiction, and this, germinating in a fever- ish, though diseased, teipperament, pro- duced fruit of a sort which yet comman- ded a certain peke. Years passed^ and I prospered, leading a very different life from that endured in my former home, but not a better one. My step father's example had disgusted me with professions of religion ; I had no cheek of kindred or friends to restrain me from vicious indulgence, for my dis- position was not calculated to attract thdfce who could have helped me to purer pleasures, nor was it improved by pecu- niary success. •' That accursed shame-faeodness, always my enemy, now deepened by a sense of impurity—I never went far enough to confound evil with good—impelled me to reject kindly i advances madei by the j better sort of my own class ; among the; worst, I had bad companions, but no friends. My^. employers inspected my ifitellect/but disliked me. Not to ex- agerate my profligacy, let me state that it was rather spasmodic than habitual, nor ever openly defiant of the decencies of society. 1 lived this life for ten years. When, at times, I longed for a 1 wife, a Imgjue, the recoUecti m of past niprtifica- tion, of present unfitness, of my ugliness, deterred me from seeking them.; And, self-indulgence palling upon nfy tfbpetjte, I'presently devoted myself exclusively toirterary ambition. j , j jFour years of persistence ^produced, their results. I come hoW tpjlhe train; (Vf circumstances iyhich braugMime here. It was at Scarborough, wbil$j?r I had n passioi between' us, pondering on the tones which she had spoken, and\ nursing the unrest which devoured me like a burning fever. So it -went on, day by day, week by j week, for-six months. •' • ) There was a handsome'laji of fifteen, a schooL/ellow of her brodicf, who came! to the house, and whose.-fancy selected; •r as the object of a boyisft p\ fe with day-dreams and of no more depth or consequence than I such fancies ordinarily are. }I noticed it at the outset. I believe I discovered it before he himself had any : Bistant con- sciousness of the' feeling. VWhen evident • to all, and something of; a joke in the \ she was secretly pleased, though she affected to look dovyn upon him as her junior—a year,is a great gap in a sstimation. Too simple-hearted to comprehend coquetryy yetjjshe knew she pretty, and her admirer's passion flattered and amused her innTocent vanity., I think she had no ideai thafomythi>>g se- rious would come of it, bufr'she certainly- liked and listened to hini. -.„ That tortured me. The.'jboy was in earnest. I have said he was; handsome, and the contrast,- between .his fresh, youthful face, his buoyant|spirtts and healthy nature, with mine, ifiged mc with <jall and wormwood'. FI^ intsptte of hi. th. in detail. A horrible crash and ness. f should be found, on their re- turn, lying beside the log, dead. How shocked they would he'! how horrified ! What would s//esiiv? .Would she be soVryl *Iow little ,' r imv ore in the woi-ld w-.uld .aspect ih.- ,- ;1 \-. • ..fit! I should carry the secret with n.o into the next world; perhaps I should be at rest, and people would pity mc. The thought grew upon mc, so that ! r0se%nd scrolled off among' the trees, with the accursed pistol in my pocket. 'My bands- behind me, my head bowed my eyes on the gras< slowly, thinking of hi It might have been five minutes, it might have been an hour, when 1 heard a gi.i'l's voice, caroling merrily—a voice and song I knev well. A dizziness was in my\ ears, my heart throbbed tumultu- ously and painfully, r raised my eyes and saw her alone, coming toward me, down & footpath into-which I had wan- dered. , • ' She had'never looked prettier or kind- er. There; was a rosy flush-of health and exercise upon her , cheek, • a sweet light of love in her ey.es, and a glory of afternoon sunshine ;streaming through the booghs upon her fair, brown hair.— j fashions of the y Something told me that -the boy*s ardor I But they will be had won, if not a reciprocation of [his.' passion, at least an unusually .favorable hearing. [ turned, and we walked side by side. ''Where arc the others ?\ 1 a&ked. - - • - \Oh coming, but a long way behind. I have run away from them.\ And she laughed. '-Why?\ ' • ,.. \They teased mc. I am glad to meet you, as yriu will take my part.\ And Harry ?''- She blushed, and. The Sparrow family can not be indud- ed to lay off,their softer brown. ! Robins will wear faded red waisteonte as last year, and dround squirrels villi da^li about one season more in striped jackets. Goldfishes will affect yellow, like so many Austiiins ; the Wood Pmb- • in will come, out in scarlet; pinnies and blue will bethe rage among'the jays- plumes and green among the pines. As. for the blackbirds, they wear their in-ios and red epaulets, as they ar, and the Crp\w family are t yet out of mourning. We should not wonder if the Bantams me out in pantalettes, and >-vetybody ows that the Marlin s o«-\itlways_pn.fef find nltsf wj-H\T;iy \ash er suit's lo r the motley sit .•v delight in; the Wliiiiij. (f'imre in half mourning, a hmrs dance about in th id kilts as bald headed ail amoi IVaeoek, Mr. Peacock 'a married me if yon didn't wan't to, of course you needn't; yon might have married Susan Slasher; sho wanted you had enough, mercy knows. I needn't have itnarried yon. of course I needn't. WiiMt't young Square Tim dead in love •With me? Didn't he look jest as if he were melliu' whenever I kem round { Diln't I look straight ahead, dre'ful un- conscious, just as if nothin' ailed him 1 and aU from principle 1 ? I wasn't goin' to encourage him jiist to disappoint and make him take pisen, for wasn't I in b>ve with you Mr. Peacock? Did 1 have lots of lovers? I, Serepty Ann | ij e \ s \ av s : _«Whil 6 tht? bells of' .... (liven of Greehtown. and never Junked |0 lutrches arc pealing their welcome to at any of them because I loved you, Mr, ' tn c HOllSfi 0 f prayer, while thbusands of P. aeoek? But, sez I. supposed I'd mar-; devout, albeit close-shaved, Christains,' tied Stjuare Tim, and you'd married Su- ' nr e wen ding their way to the sanctuary, san Slasher, Susan, wouldn't have had,j 0 i ; n eV ery by-street a shaving-shop ~iy faults, of course she wouldn't, but, stands open,' and through the glazed door \ i had her mvn. And, sez 1, Mr. vm i soo —what? A human face soaped ck, you wouldn't have liked her ftn j lathered to the eyes, with another any betterthan you like mine. I i m mortal being standing at his side, one Siisan is a cu,t-and-dash sort of a'v mn d grasping his victim's nose and the a put the work through ! ot hcr (kfy'rog-thecemmandnjeat of QuA- n. . g)l . but^-omld..^rJjTfictfpliftcd steel. .Wh o can doubt that a wilful transgression \of the fourth commandment is on .process, and that; tho histtoitie art itself- is called into ex- argc enough for this; purpose. At' pres- •nt, the meetings are held in a struct if re •ailed the Bowery, which ip, also inside, d' the Temple square, and which will ao,-, •ommodate between five and six thousand Shaving Preatheil agninsl.! j A theologian of Cambridge Pniver- Jsity fEiigland) has , published a sermon in wliich he declares shaving to be \a i hindrance to the spread, of the Gospel !\ she'd t than 1 do, like j she have givenj.Jk^=#fe^-flrway''to\yofti i^jcMlriise-n'as''f v do, Mr. Peacock? Ko vou know she wouldn't. Has she got in.y elivated mind ? No, you know she lia'-n't—and inv taste for literatur' ? No, \.,u- know \she hasji't. ir.i't'*' sink's -et a higher head, that vou know, Mr. lViic.K-k\. She'd a taken her own way by storm, not quietly as' 1 do, that vou know, Mr. Peacoek. And there's Square ve*ansvver, stole a-side- hmg glance behind. I looked behind, too. There was no one visible., \ He loves you,\ I said. She blushed deeper than before, and turned her- face away, and we-walked on in silence a few sec< -nds. Then it came. \ / love you !\ I said/,^ \Do'you know what a man's And I poured forth a flood iiV gbne in conseqence of indisposition, that chance made rue acquainted; w^th her un- cle,. You know whom I mean tjy her— thdre is no need to mention natties. ' A watering-plifee intimacy sprank up be- tween us, renewed'at the\ 'lif^/s re- quest on our return to the metropolis.— He was an -old bachelor, fond of books, and curious about author's,. H e invited, me to his ^oaae—iaJro4uc|d ,,tm to hia brother's family, t went there! idly, oqtj of courtesy t«'him, or aut 'of qttriosity. ( wish I had fillen dead on the threshold! They were hospitable peopla,^lwelling in a pleasant house in a London suburb, j with a garden and oonseryatojry owner bad retired from, b^aiwej something more than a compter His family consisted of a son and tw* daafehterst. ^e WJM tt e yiHmfrtt-*-! WT^at did I see in be* Aat ifcioooM Jtghtj up ^uch a fire in my heart f;' F A girl of sixteen, with kmd, thmight- bashfulness and blushing modesty, could find Uipics enough to tatir abont, and could interest her. ThereWere''no*awk- ward intervals of silence fietweeh (hem. She smiled or laughed when he entered the room, and' called him \ Harry.\ I have sat, time after timei, and watched them vyith unutterable; ert*vy and unut- terable misery in my heart. I .wonder now, that-1 restrained myself so wejl, but nobody suspected me—not till the, dreadful end. The family went out of town, in the jnth of June, to a village, eastward of! Londdn, on the border of a forest. They had humble friends there, and generally stayed at the cottage of a woman, who \ had been her and her sifter's nurse.— \ And I;and her uncle had Ijpen invited to' visit them at pleasure: it was barely a; three hours' coach journey. In .August! I did so, as it happened, alone; I met the &ther in the foot-path across ; the meadow which lead to the village, on his way to town, and he—God help him ! I was never again to see his fuce turned toward me in friendship and con- ndefiee—gave me a cheery greeting, and bade me go on and enjoy mys'clf, prom- ising to return at nightfall. ^\Tbe girls! are starting for a pic-nic irf the forest,\ he said; \you'll be just in time.\. I saw her at the window hi the cottage gable; with a garland-of Summer flow-j ers in her hair,-laughing through the honeysuckleat those below. She smi4ed;i and nodded a welqumfr-jio me. TdieraJ yr«n not many present: her; broth,er^l sister, two cou»B8, yrirls ? ) r a couritry- friend, and Hirry. tlcnewh* was stop- ping with them; y** fate presence j^ave »i pang aajf u^r bgyklffll neeftfwd- denly gripped by a «r*ej. human h^nd. They all seetned glad W see -me^ andVi fihiy respects- pittl to ttie^raothe*-, whojdffff not care to be irf --Ihed ptjrte^Jw* set <Mt for the forest together. In spite of ,.^8 sisters* objections, -their brother' took' withdbira a fi^Ksh^hl^r whtohJpc 'If&fa ibir' the purpose of Jgh««t»*Bg •*»'*. WW**--: \L ft -. v ( ,T^m^m%^^^f^m^ pthe ran of which was not to s»^ vijhput j leaving on my forehead the Wwd^] Cain, by dusty lane and^ green hedgerow,\ among the trees in tt)e forest, Harry i0V of paaskmate, incoherent words, such as i'cannot^be recalled or written down,such as mcj sometimes utter once in a life- She •'listened, amazed—affrighted.— ThereIwas more than that in her face.— As 1 seized her hand and told Wr of, my hopelessness and agony. 1 sajsffptfistinct- ly in the girlish countenance a, look of repugn^tfieie and averYron. She broke from mte, and attempted to run away-.— : The next moment I stood with the dis- charged pistol in my hand, a little smoke curling upwards from the muzzle.i j* • * * * What nbed to-narrate how 1 fled from the spot, the long-red bars of sunset streaming r after me' through the wood, j ike the, fifes of hell! How 1 longed for i death, yet: had not the \courage to slay j lyself? How f gave myself np'to jus-Uf my \ ' ' ' ' iW, found; I t is a Blue surtouts w-ill prevail among- th,e ff-trimmed head dressos, and the vill doff their white Marseilles. ' i will pome out like a wood- nymph this spring, in a delicate green skirt, embroidered with flowers. ' In midsummer she will dress like a queen', in cloth of gold, richly wrought, and the fall style will be gorgeous as a year of sunsets, varying with russet and diin sober gray. The Wheat fields will be arrayed in drab corduroy, the Meadows will grow soberer in something- like a brown, and the Clouds will go about im the garbs of gravfr\ Finally, Earth will assume the robe of white nun, -and thus the vanities and will come to an end. id away in the ward bes and closets of Nature. Some in cases nissct and.rude, whera you Would least cx'pecFto find them, some tied up in gay bundles, some in the roughest trunks you ever beheld—trunks with the bark on. We have said nothing about the Jewelry, but there will be ah abundance of that. Not so much per- haps in the summer, except the little pearls that June puts on in the morning for Nature has an exquisite tnste of her own, and knows, that glittering brillants are not becoming to \the gay and parti c.olo.ied appariel of S immer. You never see any of her family blaz- ing in red vests, like a bakers oven, or laden with as many chain as if they had somehow escaped from a gibbet. You never see them walking about with all Goleonda upon their breasts, and a Pla- cer or two in their ears. She waits until the rainbow days are over, and then, arrayed in pure white, with a snow drop or two in her hair, she brings out her gems. Diamonds; glit- ter in a bright morning upon the meek est little trees in the world, that never wear at-other .times anything graver than green, or grander than cherry ru- biejS, The fields exchange their laded gray for silver tu-sue, and the leafless twigs are set i n silver diamonds and pearl. . Bjifr there is one thing peculiar and note worthy in the fashions among the birds; it is the males that go to the milliners: the fellows among the feath- ered gentry wear fine clothes and look theirs, like the soldier's red coat y is fatal beauty ; .it attracts the eye and tice for that murder, guilty, and condemned t> death? Beeehet on Old Maids sermon tnwwiT guides the arrow from the bended bow!' feathered lord is richly arrayed, f for the sacrifice; it perils h r In his 'New Year's Set Ward Beecher-paid the foI^rTwmgf tribute to \Old Maids.\ ;;T* , I J have;no sympathy with th'atrude;' unfbeliijg, and indelicate phrase, old niaid, fh'ich is bandied about in the' months^ o[f rude, unfeeling; and indelicate persons. ' It is true, that a 1 selfishJ'nature, cut off froWall duties and ties, a^8 sink- ing back into the solitary life of a scl- fishlbeart,! becomes most uhloyelv and useless. I But shall the ' few cIofci'd ; the noblenessi of the'jrnany ? ''How many vide* sis^sm unblessed wifli outward eon^iness^ have entered into a brother's orsUter>l fthnily, and- accepted all its carei? as- tike doty ofc their fife, and join- ing 4#d*..wit h their mother given to eaoo,#Udi a* | t were, two soils of Jiove; like <iJod,ito help i? «y ttp with all from weakness and ig*J0»«JB<» to manhood and ,«oW -mm ^«*t«he«rfSHy: u i»*ole lift, oatri nd .paoioB, but sang in >» younglings of ftn- it with toil, wattfcftl knew, frugal amidst itoaM^bjat gooTwdAsl ^ J ^-ini wealth. ' —Atedy was pass- *b4m she wasmet * ' aAed, ^HooM/tokeup wj^ionrtartfcstte: , ,P 4o which m fefly quict-Wiwhile their ^ \Nots o much-ab wWt*cy,HiH ,t — i \^ ' fe, but h e wears bravery—we wonder if ho knows it? ; —for love's sweet sake, ( for the safety 6f 'the sober hued mother uand the young folks at home. ' • The rich a^tjtre blue that gives to our favor .Spring-laird hjs name—a blue a$ if he had been baptized in the softest apd brightest , of heavens—is sobered dokn his niate to •' a rdull leaden tint, With t faint traces of the clear sky. But she is'to sit i'lilher little chamber in the stump; die'charters, of, her rights are hidden in tlie hallow heart, of an oakias charters haYo'bicen before, tiiat helped to make'histittry. ; , . j .,. Nature, in ]hfr apportionpont of gijfts, never forgets to i^hich of ; the twain ^be- longs the pain^jand to which tne'pa'tiebce and the \perTect Jp^re..whicn. casteth .IQJ«* fear,\ andmakesithe^Jitjlewren, otyrifii. it takes four to a handfnl,j as hraye ^s a Cceur'de Dion« ' : The TnolM!rJlfer^s|i. has Vhjte baj^ on herwni^,bntffie^i^r»VT^w.e* 8^»| dim- mer than tfa^^pm.h^aeVb^e.'^^.-^-'- 15fe plumage of the fJrowis rldi ,w Ith [vicjih lot refleetioiii as if- he sported sUk,| ** veV every 'dakfTwoUe ti&ff**- ~ & * J hiHfaelf wi&a sntt ofruaty ft '^, 1 lit>^whl^ii-Ar ,,> - ! \ ; * ket, b^riie^Cmei 6iaek, that'cflte |bl ^elda,^as8ep gnw*,wtiosen atMfn<>edgj^. .,_._ rww a iai.^SpwWl CTC'DSC on the Iwil-v day V \TTtjr evideuec is b'efore you. The begins: the razor is applied, bit the lather disappears ; am ; >k, th. operation' Bit by ifter sntv not unnaturally supposed the boy6 had\ been acknowledging that they £ad par- taken of wholesome reflection, and it flashed upon him that he had already broken his solemn promise to mams. .-- he Tcsolved, at any rate, to clear his con- science, andi therefore,- immediately a'f- ' ter prayers, he rushed \forward burst jjito tears, and exclaimed to the mysti- fied master, \I beg your pardqn,sir— 'ad none / \ • ',','• Twelve main of Snicidcs, 1. Wearing; thifi shoes and cotton stockings on damp nights, and in cool, rainy weather. Wearing insufficient clothing, and especially upon the limbs and extremities. 2. Leading a life of enfeebling,, stupid laziness, and keeping the mind in ™>m. natural state of excitement by : trashy novels. Going ,fo theatres, i ties and balls in a{j sorjsof weather, in the thinnest possible dress. Dancing till in a complete perspiratiom, and then going home without sufficient over-gar- ments, through the cool, damp air. 3. Sleeping on feather beds in seven- ty nine rooms, (without ventilation at the top of. the windows, and especially A ith two or three persons in the same -mall, tmventilated bed-roon. •1. A surfeiting on hot and very stini- lating dinners. Eating in a hurry, . ithout masticating the food, and eating artily before going to bed every, night, , lu-n the mind and body are exhausted of the trial8 of the day,and the excitement f the evening. 5. Beginning in childhood on tea and ofl'ee, and going from one step to an- ther, through chewing and smoking'to. 1,-ieco, and drinking intoxicating-liquors. 'By personal abuse^and physical and men- al'excesses of every kind. -- • \6. Marrying in haste and getting an. mcongenial companion, land living the emainder o.f life in mental excitement. \iltivating jealously and domestic broils, nd being always in mental fermejjU\\-•—- 7. Keeping^hihireit qinet^by giving xiregoric an'a* cordials, by teaching them « »uek \caindy by supplying them with aistiis, nuts, and,rich cake. When bey- a£e_sk'k by giving* them mercury, ^HS^m&' e and arsenie under the mis- akeniiotions that the^are medicines S 'liu—1 spect he's as man v. faults'as vou nvc, Mr. Peacock, if I oVfy knew'em •—you're a dre'kil trial to me sometimes, i\Jr. P*acock; scoldin' around,) but I lo^e, lou better'than- a thousand iSqiiire Tins. Pity if I don't.' A/d if you squint a little, I d'in't goin' to look at it-'f! lsn ; onj bating from a licqntmu? period: till vou squint worse, or till I see noth-!^ atta ched a false idea of. nncleanliness in - but sqnmt; and you mnsu't stare at j t p hai r )]po n tll e raou th apd chin. And t on my chin till lt^coyers my , t o gratify these false taste^ this arbitary w,him, hours of valuable^me must be dry winces and wry faces, and twistings and contortions, this soro-comic pei»fornj- ance is concluded. The lip and chin are deunnded of nature's edifying garb ; and the liberated subject take's this place— too late, alas ! for church now—in civ- ilized society. He is a cleaner, (as the effeminate will talk,) if not a better man. But why cleaner;? Because a That's what 1 1 say to Mr. Peacock,! ; ladi )he and it's just as good for . Only when you get mar- e.you marry for love, and Isc, and everything will come syasted, and (be blessed crated. *r. bbath desc- Another Real Life Romance. From (he Cincinnati 1 ' Gnzrtte. ! The' citizens of Columbus and visitors! at th$ Cepitol will recollect' a young girl, j apparently \sweet sixteen,\ who daily carried about the Legislative Halls and State offices, a handsomely wrought hns- kvt containing the plumpest and sweet- est oranges. Oli,- yes! 'everybody re- member Ettie, the beautiful orange girl, and have wonderedHn what nook she has hidden for the past two months. Everybody about the State House ad mired Ettie, but it was with a respect- ful admiration, and'if a gruff legislator was (empted to jest with the girl or make light remarks, he was restrained by the modest demeanor^and pure soul- look appealing from her heaven blue eyes\ Ettie always brought a full basket and went tripping home with itempty, and her scarlet silk purse filled will silver coin. She, was the sole dependence of a widowed, plasied .mother, and her no- ole efforts, to keep away .want were know, and made the fruit from her basket ten timtft's'weeter. When <the great Union meeting of the Tennessee, Kentucky and Ohio Leg- islttdres was held in Ohio's Capitol, the beautiful orange girl was tripping about, disposing of her fruit to. the \sons of the South/' and receiv ng the homage of ad miring.glanccs from all. At the end of que of the halls, Viewing the rtfible row of princely residences on Third street, stood alone a youthful member ibf the Tennessee Legislature, when he was startled by a silvery voice \ Buy ail orange, sir ?\ \ \Flowed you sell them . ? '' said the stranger, looking into her'eyesf; \ Five cents each,\ said the maiden, holding a large one towards him. \ Cheap.\ ' ',; • \ Indeed they are,' ( This introduction opened the way for a prolonged and,serious conversation, in which the girl, artlessly revealed to the stranger the poverty of -her home,, and the necessity bf her supporting her sick ; m oilier. -Ho was so struck with the girl's manner), and singular beauty, that-ho secretly resolved to visit her h^liomc atid become niore intimately ac- quaintol. He. di.J so,' and.after succes- sive visits, won tlie confidence and love of the ttaaiden; and her motlWr's consent U» their; marriage^ and wheji he went baekjtoibis So.uWejrn^hoine it waa. Wittt a J; prorBlsl to returri in a fortnight f;or his ' *\\ came1andnow.the ! S^u 5 thera. range girl aref'to^ and wisfe.' .ken net- p his Sputbertfi -homey wijsh JN\ 1 * ^ im*&*i i«W*be*4 <*•'•-.- . \ ; v- ! :an indubement for a constahtj, supply ^6f »toi$fiiV virtnous? orailgff 8** !i! . . H_J_1_.._ . lira 'Partmgtoiji having heard her soo iaay'thjsit there We < great many an eeddtes SiMba tteyi AlmanAe, begged him to cn,t. th«n all iut x as.she heard that WHMMI anybody Y**, PJ >ison ^» no'hi»g Bcechcr oo Fault Fimling. __. In a recent discourse on \Bear ye one another's -burdens,\ Mr. Beecher said : \The. spirit of this passege forbids that we should make the feelings ofoth-~| er men a source of amusement to our- selves—and now i am coming to it. I will admit that there is a playful good humor kind of badinage that is harmless. The reprehension prexpnsition of a man's faults in a light, genial spirit, is oRen the best way of telling him of them. I do not therefore say that all innocent railery and good natured reprehensions is to be disallowed. It must be genuine however, producing good not pain. But he th-it makes the mi-takes', foibles, the misconceptionsof men—the subject mat- ter of comment, or jest and social en- joyment, and of personal amusement is. simply a barbarian. He is not a Christ- ian,, he does not belong to that category. It is one of those things that are mon- strous in the sight of God.—Could you 't to your child? A mother may tantalize her child. She may frolic with She may do a thousand things with , causing it to hover vibrating between tear anil a smile, sometimes tin one side and sometimes on the other, just- fur a moment; but she ins'antly presses t to her bosom, and cover its face with cisses, so that there are no shades left upon its spirits. And there is. no' such * as uinocent raillery. But.tojwatch, see what is awkward in others; to go out like a street sweeper, or a univer- sal scavenger, to collect the faults and failings of people; to carry these .things about as if they were cherries 0^ flow- ers V to throw Qiem out of ; your bag or pouch, and make them an evening repast, .or a noonday meal, or the amusement of a social hour, enlivened by unfeeling criticism, heartless jests, and cutting sar- casms ,- to take a man up as you would a chicken, and knaw. his flesh from his ry bones, and then lay him down say- g, with fiendish exultation—\There is his skeleton\—this is devilish. You may call it by as mauy pretty names as you please, but is devilish land you will do nothing w'orse than this when you go )o hell—for you may expect lo go there f yoti have such a disposition and do •not change'it. ' Talk about.canibalism ! •Caniuals never cat ,a man. until ho is dead. ' They'are nearer Christ than you Teat-deal.\ ive him an anec- [»y , sf d the other in olive> ' without peril among the leaves. ^-^BryaBf'aiysj^it \the gr^rea were V fiidVftrot templet.\ A good many jjjf.' tnantkryonrtg lovers unquestionably find them delightful rneeting-houses. •f . , Accidental Coafewioa of gin. Everybody knows that a certain pub- die ; schools,; when the names are. called Offer,; each bojy is required to $howJjis a«qnaintancc, with dead languages by shouting, in proof of bis bodily pjresence, the Latin word adrnim, (here.) Now Jenkins had been va\-y well brought up, .and oh that eventful day whie&,a*V him, for the first time, a mem- ber of the worshipful Society of Public Schoolboys, He had parted froro his mama with a, solemn promise that noth- ing should indues him to tell an Untruth. He arrived jit the'sign of the Bfrcji-rod —a hotel ( keipt not b y a licenced victu- aller^ but a Master of Arts—where he was g< is jto.,put up, just as the inn^atfes:'weife e,jint to tea!'. H e was mvj^*'§£> the meafjand accepted the invitation, though Ms heart was so fiill that he neither ate .nor Hiniwk^F After tea? ftffirolT ^td called [and yoongJ.ei*TOs.remarked that e*ery Woym&m &&&,&,** it sounded mmS^'^^^M^KD^ifA been\ : [pm^fm^-mHm : ^ tfcnel fMijPw h'Omkri'hatnre, qttered a shrill MMtmb But (flow his mind misgave him. H e in.) not irritant poison_s{y 8. Allowing the Icrv^tS gain to absorb • mi- minds,'so as to leave no time to-at- lend to hpaUh.' Following an unhealthy oeeupation because money can be made at it. *< , . 0., Tempting the appetiie w-itj-i bku-rs and nicities when the stomach *ays no, .and by forcing food into .it when nature does'not demand, and even rejects i!.-— Gormandizing between meals. ^10. Contriving to keep in a continual worry about something or nothing. Giv- tng way to fits of anger. l'l. Being irregular in all Our habits of sleeping and eating. Gkoing 'to Fed at niidnight and getting bp at noon. Eatipg too much, too many kinds of food, and that which is too highly sea- -mned. c - 12. Neglecting lo take proper care of ourselves, and- not applying'eai-ly- for . medical advice\ when disease first ap- pears. Taking celebrated quack medi- cines to a degree of.niaki'ng adrug-.-,hop of the. body. ~'_F - . The above eau-r-'s produce more si.-k- ness, suffering and death, than all 'the epidemics, mal.at-ia, nnd'epntagi.ui. com-- bined with 1 wan, pestUepces, .and famine. — Physical punishment\ is sa.'re to visit*. the transgressor-ofc .ha'tnreV Jaws. A 'I e')mn\jt,suieid*..and f cut ..off many 'y«;us ,- of their natural-life, wh.o-do pih ob^rve, the means of preventing disease .and ob- serving 1ieal|h.i*-5far V the Pacific. ; Chrow.JonrPortf.. A great defd.'of\trouble—and misery Vven—arise from the continual changed' employment thirt we sec among young men, especially, in large cities! A boy who begins life as a law-clerk, .often de- serts-his desk for a counter, his counter for a forecastle; hisiorecasUe fefr a \work- - bench'jhis work-bench for a deS^/again. and s(i on— gathering n\o moss, and earn- ing nq>reputation, save that of the Jack if-all-frad.es, maStor-Cjf-none. Tliis arises, in 'a majority of cases; from a too-hasty and ill-considered choice- of employment. Very often'Uncl.'o John or.Aunt Sarah-has more to do with the ehyice than the lad himself; and he is forced into an apprenticeship from which there is no withdrawal; and in which all . his duties are in the highest, degree dis- tastefull A boy thus out of his element /-an never be a useful workman; for no .man does his\ work well without liking it. A great deal of time and investiga- tion should be bestowed upon the selec- tion of a, path which one is to pursue for a lifetime, and' upon which a wholciife- tim'e's-bread and butter depend. The bo)'s character, his tastes, his education thitherto—even his idiosyncracics and prejudices-'-should be taken intoaccount, 1/ this is done, and a choice finally made that suits all circumstances, depend upon it, the selection will be permanent, and the man successful. Laziness is only an attribute of mis- placed persons. The man who has agreeable work to ko is never lazy; and if w'e'ean do away with the idleness, and the thriftless roaming np and down that are now so prevalent, the time and trou- ble expended on a careful choice will have been meritoriously conferred. THE Hoft%Y-MOON:—What is the hon- ey-moon, and whence the name derived ? It is tractable to a Teutonic origin.— Among the Teutons was a favorite drink called 'j metheglin.\ It was bade of honey, and much like the present mead of the same name in European counties. The same; in use among the Saxons, as well as another called roerat, which was also made iof honey; but made .of mul- berries. ' |The honied drinks were used in great abundance at festivals. Among the nobU&r* marriage was celebrated a whole lunar month, which was bUled:a- mooii, during which the festal board Mas well supplied with the honey drink.— Hence, thfs month of festivals waaoillvd the \ honah moon,\ or hpneyjSiooB, which means a month of festivals. . —Till we afeaboat to I»a|e the world we do ho i perceive -kc^r mfteb it contains to exeitebont interest «Bd admiration ; «W atmsete appear ^ wr fir Iovlier then a they]««e^.oJfaer years; .and the tfe]b&ris?tto4o*<*fs;4B)d the clouds, ^}ee^ of cariosity ^o us which they wefe not ^h our early days.

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