{ title: 'Herkimer County Democrat. (Frankfort, N.Y.) 1843-1854, June 29, 1853, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031097/1853-06-29/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031097/1853-06-29/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031097/1853-06-29/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031097/1853-06-29/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: New York State Library
Betkimef dl0unto imffffa) TE RM S-12 A YEAR. “ lilb e r t y , F r a M r a lty, a n d E q n a llty ” 50 IN ADVANCE. YOLFIfE II. HERKIMER, WEHIESDAY MORIIIH, JUNE 29. 1853. lIJMBER 43. © o m t t s PUBLISHED EVfeay •WEDNESDAY MORNING At Herfeimer, Hcrfe. Co., IX. Y , C.^cf ^ than six months no other topic of con versation was heard in the house—all, however, otherwise continued as usual, Edward going regularly to his oflSce, Alfred attending domestic duties o f the ____ interior. Generally of an evening they TERMS.—The Democrat will be left at the assembled together, and spent the hours ;rIbersat$2,oo a y e a r . ' in reading, talking, and sewing, accord ing to their several tastes; but towards the end of that time Edward would of ten go put of an evening, and so soon would Alfred. The former always re turned about half past nine, to sup with his sister, but Alfred would often stay until near midnight. For some time ’KTillbe made to those 1 this Change excited no remark, but one residence o f village subscribers at $3,00 ayeai Mail subscribers, $2,00 per year, or $1 50 i advance. __ Rates of Advertising. One square or less, one insertion,. . .$0 50 Each subsequent insertion,.............. 0 25 One square 3 m onths, ........................ 3 00 [uare 6 m onths,. . . . . . . . . . . . 5 60 rear,............................. 8 00 One square one year,. liberal deduction who advertise by the year. BOOK AND JOB PRINTING In ail its branches, executed with neatness and dispatch, and on reasonable terms. Sg!,E(lT POETRY. From Dicken’s Household Words. DIRGE. A fallen angel here doth rest; Deal gently with her, Me noty! lest In after years thou com’st to know God was more merciful than thou ! She cannot; rer hej She hears not—she that lies there sleeping, Whoe’er, accuse! feel the timid peeping flowers—^the small moss creeping iring Over her grave—the qui Of saltless dews-, 1 weeping She hears not how the wild winds crave A d entrance to her sheltered grave: ]Vor heeds how they bewail and moan, That one door closed to them alone. She nothing recks the cold rains’ beating, The sw.ithed turf-sod’s icy sheeting, Nor hears nor af.swers she the greeting. Of such cold friends! * Nor more, of summer suns unweeting, To them attends. Alas I no reason now has pow-er To charm her for one little hour! Each change, and chance that men oppress Pass o’er her now inapressionless. On Time's \wide sea for ever surging Till Heaven nears. The light is parted flora her eye, The moisture on her lips is dry: No smile can part them now, no glow Ever again those cheeks can know. Harsh world I oh, then, be not thou slow’r The ugly Past to bury o’er! Time yet may have some sweets in store For our poor sister; Life cast her offj that self-same hour Death took and kissed her I THE TAlE-TilllH. From the Illustrated Ma X H E XW O BRC jazine df Art. X H E R S . AN j ENGLMH ta l e . in the outskirts of A Small town in Devonshire there stands .to this day a small farm house; o f picturesque though ruined aspect. It had once been mr more extensive, but its owner, a care less and energetic man. morning at breakfast, Edward address ed his brother: “ My dear. Al,” said he, gently, “how comes it we never see you of an eve ning now? You never come home until we are asleep.” Alfred blushed to the eyes, and tried to answer carelessly. “ Why the fact is,” he replied, really glad to bring about an explanation, “ I am thinking of getting married.” “ M a rr ied!” cried Edw ard, him self coloring violently. “ Married!” repeated Sophia in un feigned astonishment. “ Not to-morrow, nor next day, hut soon, when I get my two hundred pounds,” said Alfred, with some hesita- “ Well, my dear Alfred,” continued Edward, “ I am glad you have made this confidence to me, for I myself had in view a marriage. But listen to me Living narrowly as we do, our rent free, growing our own vegetables, keeping cows, pigs and fowls, with thirty pounds a year to buy clothes and iuxries, we are able just to live and no more.- The moment we part the six hundred and odd pounds, take each our own share, and sell the house and ground, we shall have only a small capital with which to commence the battle of life alone, but not sufficient to support a wife, and by and by a family. We all hope to do better than we are doing now. If we were content to be farm laborers, or shopmen, or artizans, I should then say marry. We have a capital sufficient to purchase a cottage, buy furniture and start fair. In that station wives would ^id instead Of hamper us. But we, who aspire above this, should, before we take a girl from her home, have anothey to give her. Now, Alfred, for months I have made up my mind. England I Tdve, but she is a country better suiied- to skilled artizans, laborers, who find ready employment with men of capital. In America we find a new country, where we have land for little or no thing, where the field widens every day, where professions find new outlets every hour,____ and where, a man tunities which he would not miss. He was almost engaged to her, when I step ped in and won her affections. And you, are you certain, that your lady will wait for you two years?” “Yes!” cried Edward, warmly; “ you know Mrs. Enderby, the widowed sis ter of ray employer. It is her sister Iseek to wed. We have been almost engaged a year, and last night I was finally ac cepted. She will reside with her moth er until I send for them, living on their small pittance and upon their joint la bors. Though brought up to better things, they enjoy a certain number of hours a day in various profitable ways. Mrs. Enderby is clever at her needle, and Emily gives easy lessons on the pi ano to young girls. Sometimes she teaches mere children to read, to write, to use ibeir needles, and they live com fortably. When I am ready, they both will come and join me, and Emily’s four hundred pounds will be added to the common store. “ Oh, how happy we shall he !” cried Sophia, gladly; “ If Alfred would only come with us, it would be delightful.” “I shall stick to old England. I shall make ray fortune here. I have my plans too,” exclaimed Alfred, somewhat sul lenly, “ and we shall see who will do best in the end.” “ You must do as you will. We should have done better united, but I seek not to force you. Whenever you are ready, the two hundred pounds are at yofir command, and this house ; as Sophia, brave girl, accompanies me.” “ Thank you, Edward. Though too serious and starched by half, you are a kind brother. Let us be the same friends as before,” And Alfred hurried away. Edward remained with his sister to discuss with her at full length his plans of emigra tion. Having once made his sister a confident; the young man found ample subjects of conversation relative to Em ily, and it was resolved that she shauld come over on Sunday to the farm with her mother, to dinner and tea, that the family might make better acquaintance. Edward regretted much that he had pot been more open with bia brother, who might at an earlier period have entered into these plans, but shook his head gravely when there was talk o f his mar riage. Ha would-even haye thought his immediate union with Alice more wise, had he resolved to emigrate, but to this Alfred said he an insurper- therefore, put all thbughts of this aside, and began arranging their own plans.— They were to start in two months, and had everything to prepare. They had saved a few pounds by extreme econo my, and next day Edward ordered his things to be sold out, and found himself ___ _ ___ .. _________jay venture, even without , money, but where, with | in possession of seven hundred and our resources, we should in the western thirty pounds. This he divided into settlements be rich. I have long re- three equal portions; one for Alfred, to fleeted on this, and I had hoped that be kept until the wedding day, which you would accompany me. I mean to to take place in two months, the go over, settle myself on some moder- day previous to their departure; the >wner, a care- peopled ’ocality, culUvate a farm, second re-iiivesfed for Sophia, wishing Had gradually . practice as an architect and sur- to reserve her share until be saw how ; isrils? IHfas S r « remained habuable a kitchen and . ^ , you. A h w h a t could not bo done without. two bed rooms. More addicted to sport ing and belting on horse races than as siduous attention to hisinterests Edward Sargent had become a distressed farm er, not from bad harvests or misfortune, but from thoi^btlessness or love of pleasure. It was in vain,that his wife strove to supply his presence. She bad a young family to attend t o ; and besides, good, true, prudent Esther was a towns man’s child, whom he had married for her beauty and personal good qualities, but who, though an excellent wife and better mother, was not the woman to replace the absent agriculturist. She had, as I have said^a family—two boys and a girl whom she bad brought up as well as she could.. They had not much ©ut-dGor-educatiim, because, at the very time when they should have gone to school, the income of the farmer de creased in consequence o f heavy losses, and then came death and took away the head o f the house. Mrs. Sargent found herself, at thir ty-seven with a bouse, a few acres and .thirty pounds a year, derived from mo ney in the funds of her own, and with these limited resoiaxies she determined to do battle for her little ones, and to rake them to as high a moral elevation as possible. The clei^yman o f the pa rish, fortunately, was a simple, good man, who willingly aided hm-, and when Edward was twenty-one, Alfred nine teen, and Sophia seventeen, they had made much progress. Edward was learning the business of an architect, Alfred attended to the farm, and Sophia to the details of the house bold. Their characters were very different. Ed ward was very thoughtful, looked before him always, and scarcely ever acted from sudden impulse. Alfred, bn the other hand, was more lively, very thoughtless, and’possessed by an ardent desire to rise from his obscure and hum* We position, but without ever beginning anything which might lead to bis suc cess. Sophia was a good little house- keeper, aided her mother in-doors, worked at her needle, and made the house light and merry with her sweet voice and gentle smile. At this epoch in their life their moth- eroded, and Edward found himself at twenty-one a t the head of the house- her mother. Now what say you, A l,, and Sophia dear, will you follow me ?” \'On Sunday Mrs. Enderby and her “ That will I,’’ exclaimed Sophia. j two daughters came, and found a hear- “ Six mouths ago, I would gladly said ty welcome, Sophia was a middle sized, the same,” replied Alfred, with a sigh round, rosy cheeked country girl, beam- he could not restrain. “ I cannot leave ing with health, and quite ready for the England noW, My plans, too, are all made. Now that you mean to leave the old house, I shall propose to you to let me have i t ; I will take a little more ground near it, and begin forming on a large scale. I shall buy a horse and cart, and employ a couple of laborers, then 1 and Alice need do no put door work,” “ .^ice who—not Alice Hawthorn? said Edward. “ Y es; what objection have you to her?” a^ed Alfred, somewhat angrily, though respect for bis elder brother still WAS evidpnt in the tone of kis “ None to hew. But her father, you know was a respectably tradesman, who ruined by drink, took refuge from bank ruptcy in a small beer shop, where he lives in hopeless misery,* drinking al most as much as he sells, his house, the reftige of bad characters, and where it Is said that be allows gambling, al hours when other places are completely shut op. Such a connexion can scarcely do us credit. “Edward!” exclaimed the other, pas sionately, “ you are unjust. Hawthorn has his faults, but Alice is'an angel, and no power on earth can induce me to give her up.” “ I have neither the desire nor the power to prevent you marrying this girl,” replied Edward, gently; “ but listen to me. She may prove an excel lent good wife, if you will it. Should you be determined to pursue the path of patient industry, here or elsewhere, she would profit by your exam|>le. But why not come with me? You are both very young, und surely can wait two years, ff she loves you, you will find her waiting your return with gladness, and proud to accompany you to a home where competence, even wealth if you will, may be ypurs.” “She wpiddbe married to young Ful ton,” e:|claimed Alfred. ^\Then she does ppt really lar.e you,” observed Edward. ' * **Tes she dqqs. But then two years of absence would give my rival oppor- rough contest she was about to enter on ; Emily was slight, and rather deli cate, but still with a good constitution. She was rather serious in character, in a great measure because in her change of existence. Having been brought up in the lap of luxury, the falling tq a po sition which needed her earning her liv ing, could not but be felt by the most philosophical, Emily had no pretensions to being a philosopher. She was grave, too at the thought o f parting-with Ed ward, whose manly, couragous and up* rigftt character had won her heart com pletely. But he spoke so cheeri^ly and hopefully of the future, h e^seribed their new life in such glowing colors, he talked of two years as nothing, he laid down plans already for their journey, and seemed so ardent in his faith a? to success, that none could resist his elo quence, and they spent,a really happy day. Time passed rapidly; thetwo months were soon flown, Edward and Sophia were soon ready. They to>k a gun, some cheap tools, his books, instru-* Amongst rest, a dozen shirts made by Mrs. En derby and her daughter, who had neg lected music and drawing, to make this present to her future husband. On the wedding day, Edward and Sophia were spoken of oddly, because of their plain appearance; but they looked handsom er in their plain good things, than ma-. ny of those present in their finery.— Bpt they tried* to spend a happy day, and gave np formal possession of the farm to the new married couple, to whom they wished all joy and prosperity. Al ice was a showy, handsome girl, vain to the last degree, and, as is often the case, very ignorant, want of knowledge being precisely the chief ground work of van ity* And then they parted, jraye, tparful, but full qf hope and courage. ^ Tfipir fu ture hoii^e wasto.be Wkcpnsln-::j-irs|ate of great promise, with a good cliinatp, and every qualification winch the'emi grant can desire. A secret feeling of liking for the extreme personal liberty enjoyed in America, with a passion for hunting bad carried Edward in this di rection. They sailed from Plymouth to Quebec, and thence by the lakes, to the State of Wisconsin, without losing an hour in the towns. Arrived in the promised land, Edward left Sophia at a hotel of modest appearance and price, and rode forth to reconnoitre. The land lord learning his object, had directed him to follow the banks of the Wiscon sin river, where were several “ desira ble locations, first chop, and ‘no mis take.” Edward followed the landlord's di rections and found himself going thro’ a well wooded, fertile country, part quite wild, with here and there a log house, sometimes a farm, and in one or two instances, several together. To wards night, after visiting several wa ter lots, that is locations on the banks of the river, he found himself near a sol itary house of rude but comfortable ap pearance. It was a log cabin, built with a view both to symmetry and com fort. There was evidently two rooms in front, one on each side of a portico, over-run by flowers'j Behind was an enclosed space, devoted to the purpose of a farm yard, with a boat close by the shore. About three acres of potatoes, Indian corn and otheb vegetables, were under cultivation, and the whole pre senting the appearance of being the property of industrious people. Edward vode up to the door, deter mined to take a jessemif possible, from tbe owner. The bar|u^ of a huge dog soon brought out a ta^A*^rican, whose dress proclaimed at o |c e me indefatiga- ,blehunter. .1 “Well, stranger,”’said he, in a tone of voice which though rough, was good hu mored. “ I am an Englishman,” replied Ed ward politely, “ in search of a location. Having ridden fuctheilf than I expected, I have ventured to ask your hospitali ty.” - “ Unperch thyself from thy beast, friend Britisher, shove the horse in the stable, where thee’ll find corn stalks and a considerablejfew beans, and bring thyself to anchor inside, Job Potts is about to comfort the inner man, and don’t be long considering he’s waiting.” Edward followed tlw other’s extraor dinary direction^, anff Soon found him self before asteamingjness ofDpta±a( -« « k e s - c o f f e e , whicb *Was truly pleasant after his long journey.— For some time both ate and drank in si lence ; then Job Potts brought out some Monongahela whiskey, and prepai-ed ev idently for a big talk.* “ Now, stranger, let’s hear your, in tentions, and mind you speak up con siderable plain, as Job Potts is your man. He aint one of your high flyers, but a up and down sort of a chap, as I’ll put you up to more in half an hour nor a member of Congress in a week.” Edward smiled at his host’s way of talking, and then briefly put him in pos.session of the facts of h is c a s e told him his hopes and wishes, and his means. ' “ “ Now, my ! That you should come into these parts just now! This here’s my reply. The country’s too thickly peopled for me, I got neighbors dose up on five miles off. When I come here fust, thefe-warn’t a loafer within fifty miles. So I’m off to Texas. There’s plentv o’ room and tn spare there. Re sides, its great hunting out in them dig gings. And then there’s war, and Job Potts amt fit. the Mexicans yet, but he mean? to. Give me five hundred dol lars for the house, improvements, cat tle, fowls, geese, ducks, furniture, and all the traps, my gun not being counted, and to-morroiY we’ll go down to Bnrne- villp and transfer the location. If it answers it’s worth five thousand, and if ever I come to ax it, you must give me another five hundred in ten years.— What say you, friend?” . . “ That I accept with all my heart, if half an hour’s inspection in the morn ing pleases me as it did this evening.” The affair is settled then. I know you’ll like it, so ji shall pack up and start for Texas to-morrow. I only wanted to find a. stranger who would buy. I’ve fojmd one, and Job Potfo is “ What does that mean?” asked Ed ward, laughing. “ Why, when a man can’t pay his debts, he sticks that on bis door and -elopfi?. It saya. Oone To Texas, \'bank God, Job Potts ^ ( is too confined in-tl Next 'day Edward went’ over ground. , He found one hundred acres, o f which*five were under cultivation.—‘ The house was .substantial, the farm weU supplied, the river handy to go down to the neighboring villages, or even to New Orleans, if necessary, and Job Potts was about to start on thi» stupendous journey in. a skiff. In fact it was quite clear that the enterprising American ^ q J4 hi? property for pn? fifth its real value; but then he was one of those restless spirits that can neter fix in one place, and to get rid of his property, at however great a loss, was d eli^tful. His title deeds were good, the trans fer was effected, and the same ni^ht the. brother apd^sister slept in tbeir new home. “They had with them an Irish-; man, his wife, and - two children, emi- ^ grants « f thepooiasfc’class, whom h eea- mge^ fer thirfte to work ;.nn fifie farm. Edward devoted himself for some time exclusively to his new property, improved the house, enlarged the fields, laid out plans for corn fields, meadows, and other necessary works, and thus a year sped rapidly, That^:time sufficed to prove to Edward that he need have no doubt about the future ; and then after writing to Mrs. Enderby and Em ily to come out as soon as they pleased, he added to his resources by hiring a boy, and then procured sonje sheep.— During- the twelve months nearly a doz en houses arose in the immediate neigh borhood, and the country became peo pled with that wondrous rapidity which is the great characteristic of America. It was soon found that more than a hun dred families were congregated within a distance of ten miles, taking Edward’s house as the centre, A meeting was accordingly held, and it was after some discussion determined that a church, •chapel, and a school room should be built about half a mile from Edward’s residence, he being the person charged with the management of the affair, the drawings which ornamented his house having betrayed bis profession. The young man was quite elated, and set to work with enthusiasm. After a month’s study and labor he had completed his plans, his duties demanding much of his time, and they were submitted to a com mittee. Unanimously- they were ap proved, and Mr. Sargent was elected architect and surveyor for tbe district of White couftty. From this hour his prosperity was insured. He soon found enough employment out of dqors, to need further assistance on his farm, he had rich settler’s houses to erect, ground to survey, and soon rumor spoke of his laying out a new town, one of the first inhabitants of which was to be a young doctor, who towards the end o f the se cond year proposed for Sophia, and was accepted with the hearty consent o f her brother. It was agreed that the mar riage should take place the same day as that of Edward and Emily. In the meantime the doctor, who was already pretty well off, had a house built at a point where the future town was to be, the laud being his own, and laid out in tempting lots for all who chose to settle in GrahamsvUle. While Edward is rapidly advancing towards a bright and happy future, events went on in the old country. Al fred bad taken possession of the old farm house, hired additional land. t>ogtitU.brorse and cart, auU employed wo laborers. His efibrt were at first praiseworthy in the extreme, and there was no reason why, with industry and patience, he should not succeed as well as Edwar d, even under the disadvantage which a poor man finds in England com- ith ----- -f— -------- taxed land. At the end of tue year pared wit new, fertile, raising, un- At the end o f the year he found himself a father, the greater part of his money spent, and his farm not over productive. He read with secret envy, his brother’s letter, and sighed as he reflected how he had hopelessly thrown away the chance of such rapid success as he clearly saw would be his brother’s. His capital was spent, he had A wife and child. A journey to A- merica was, therefore, now impossible. But the worst part of his position was the state of his home. A petted girl, used in her lather’s house to do nothing, to be waited on all day, to dress smart ly, no matter if she went in debt or not, ybung and very frivolous; Alice was, at the end of the first year, a querulous, ill-tempered woman, complaining of hjaving anything to do, grumbling be- oauae Alfred expected her to dress like a farmer’s wife, and to do what Sophia had always done, attend to the meals, while he was out of doors with his la borers, Alice did it, for she had no choice—-she knew be could not afford otherwise —butnever without fault find ing. But it worse when she had a baby. ^i^h§artless at bottom, she had little of4i mother’s feelings, and this addition to The family, of which Alfred was very fond, really loved his child, made her only dissatisfied and un happy, b.ecauise o f the additional work. Allred was naturally angry at her coa- and so on—and soon. took refuge from scenes of discomfort apd apnoyance at home in visits to her father’s beer shop. At the end of the second year Alfred sold his horse and cart to pay his rent. Up to this time he had written to Ed ward, but Emily and her mother de parted for America at this period, they took out the last letter which Edward received from him for years. Emily and. ijfos. Enderby were met at Quebec by EdjWard, whom the^ found much changed in look, but the same heart.— He was ruddier, had rougher hands, and was more manly looking than when he left, but it was pjeasapt to see on •that healthy face the same frank, hon est smile, which Emily so well remem bered. He hurried them on however, and never gave them any rest till they eanae to Madison. There they found at. an inn a handsome covered cart, be- tweeit' a van and a carrif^e, which he announced as having jpst purchased, with a pair o f horses, to make his pro fessional visits in, and take about his workmen, as weft as fetch necessaries from the town. As they drove along, the new arrivals were' delighted with the picturesque and fertile countrythey passed' through-^biit inore surprise .awaited tbeni. ^ A happy dinner was that, abundant in materials a? usual In America, but rich in joyous smiles and happy inter course. When it was over, though nearly night, Emily would go out to see her future domains, to be initiated into the.secrets of the farm yard ; where fowls, ducks, and poultry of all kinds reveled in abundance. She admired ev en the pigs, kept at a distance from the bouse, and the beautiful drove of sheep just entering their pen. She saw with pleasure, too, a neat^ little boat for wa ter excursions, fishfng, and wild fowl shooting, and felt that under such cir cumstances she must be happy with such a husband as Edward was sure to prove. And he did so. To record erentsrdu- ring ten years would be useless. At the end of that tim e; at thirty-three years ago, he was the richest proprie tor in the neighborhood; owned twen ty houses in the now flourishing town, had bought over a thousand acres of land, built a mill on the river, where he ground all his corn, and most of that of his neighbors- He now exported flour by tbe thousand barrels to England, had his correspondent in an American port, and in Liverpool, and drew drafts on English banks. At this time he was elected as a member of the local legis lature. In fact fortune had favored him, as perhaps she favored fevv, al though all may with his qualities, attain a part of success. He had five child ren, Sophia four. She was very happy. Both were happy. But to return. It was in the year 1850 that he heard of Alfred. He then wrote a sad and fearful letter. He had sold the farmhouse from sheer necessi ty, lost all his furniture by a seizure for rent, and, at the death of old Hawthorn had taken his beer-shop, where he now was ill, almost dying, in the last stage of misery, with a wife and five children, two having died. Two months after Edward received this letter, he was by Alfred’s side.— Very little was said—both were too much moved—but a week later, they were on board a packet, sailing for New York. The husband was better, the wife decently clad, well fed, hopeful, was surrounded by five children, to whose cheeks hearty hues were return ing. The sea voyage did them all good. Edward did nothing by halves. He put his brother into a handsome house, gave him a hundred acres, tools, stock, eve rything he required. Deep gratitude to -JA ih - ib I iq Ji-aU «ucJi_fiariiest fra ternal affection, and to Providence worked upon Alfred with power and force. He set to work almost sternly, as did his wife. Still they are glad at heart, and thank God every day that such a brother was found to snatch them from the last stage of misery. Alfred bids fair to rival his elder brother in energy, and one day in prosperity. But he never omits to narrate his fortune? to his children, and to show them how one step to the right or left, one wise or one false start, may influence a man’s future fate. Without Edward, he would probably have died in a work house, while he^probably would have suc ceeded in life under any circumstances with bis character. He stift believes in the wisdom of youthful marriages, but ever advises his children to be sure of what they are about and not to mar ry without a home and sure living.-- But Providence is good, and the pride of the whole White County, Wisconsin, are the Two B rothers I P6ETBY. WHAT I LIVE FOE. I live for those \vho love me, For those I know are true, For the heaven that smiles above me, Apd awaits my spirits too; For all numan ties that bind me. For the task-by God assigned me. For the bright hopes left behind me. And the good that I can do. I live to learn their story Who’ve suffered for my sake. To emulate their glory, And follow in their wake; Bards, martyrs', patriots, sages. The noble of all ages, Whose deeds nrown histoiy’s pages, And Time’s great volume make. e by reason, e by gold,— nan united, r ihing righted, When men shal And not alont When man to n And every wrong thing righted, The whole world shall be lighted. As Eden was of old. B I l Y l L i m . Sorrow is essential to penitence.— We have not been partakers of peni tence if we do not feel inward grief on the review of our transgressions. We read of “ goodly sorrow which worketh repentance unto salvation.” If we have injured a fellow creature, tbe in dication of a right sense of the aggres sion, is a sincere regret that we should have so acted. How much more nec essary is it that we should be unfeign- ingly sorry fpf our innumerable offences against God. Sorrow for sin is not, however, to be estimated only by vio lent emotions and copious tears. The passions are much stronger in them selves, are much more excitable in some than in others; and therefore the same degrees of inward efnotion or outwarii grief is not to he expected, from all.-r The degrees of sorrow, as well as the outward mode of expressing it, will vary, as. belonging more to the sensi tive nature than to the rational; and for ^avoiding all scruple and doubtful ness, on this head, it may be laid down for certain, that the least degree of sor row is. sufficent, if it produce reforma tion ; the greatest insufficient if it do not. There are dark hours that mark the MsEoryijTffieTjfighTesr year. TFor-upfr a whole month in any of the millions past, perhaps, has the sun Shone bril liantly all the time. And there hare been cold and stormy days in every year. And yet mist and shadows of the d^fkest hours, were dissipated and flitted heedlessly away. The cruelest of ice fettprs bare been broken and dissolved, and the furious storm losfs its power to harm. And what a parable is this, all of human life, o f uur inside world, where the heart worj^ at its destined labors. Here, tpo, we have the overshadowing of dark hours, and many a cold blast chills the heart to its core. But what matters it? Man is born a hero, and it is only by darkness and storm that heroism gains its greatest and best de- velopement and illastration—when it kindles, the black cloud into a blaze of glory, and the storm bears it more rap idly to its destiny. Despair not then. Never give up; while one good power is yours use it. Disappointment will be realized. Mortifying failure may attend this effort and that one—but ba honest and struggle on, and it will all work well. A L egal D efinition .—” An attach* ment,” says Lord Cooke, “ is a compul sory process to bring a man to court.” After reading this fact, as we did in an old law book which fell under our no tice the other day, we were struck with the merciful character of the law con fining this arbitrary power to the dis- ' cretion of the wise and discreet judges,! after. , ^ instead o f leaving it free for the use of' ^toast, _the mol impatient widows and desperate spin- 1 gave ^ ought to be hustled out of tors! Wouldn’t the bachelors have a pretty time o f it, if they were subject ways before and alter marri^e. ^^ The^ to such “attachments” as these—^‘com- A G ood T oast .—T hs L adies —Our stars before mf.rri^e, and our stripes pelled to court,” and then compelled to marry, or punished for courting by a breach of promise s u it! JT** During a discussion between Drs. Draper and Watson, at Boston, Dr. W. stated that in the coutse of four years and a half, he had taken from the citi zens of Boston and vicinity, one hun dred barrels of blood ! and had admin istered forty-nine pounds of mercury.— Wheugh! Dr., Sangrado! ITT* “ My German friend, how long have you been married?” “ Vel, dis a ting I seldom don’t like to tauk apout; but ven I does, it seems to be so long that it never vas.” are the stars that lead us on to brighter, better deeds—stars that throw gleams of joy and happiness over lifels dark pathway. What i f one now and then does disappear amid the clouds of pride, Dr is dimmed by the mist o f famine?— they phly make tiiose that remain the d^arCT to Us. Stripes, indeed I Posri- bly, the chap'who gave that toast is ^ infernal ugly and cross-grained, that his wife has to become a stripe to be even with him.— N. ¥. Mirror. When the “Barkers” sung at Os wego, a dog, in search o f hts master,got upon the platform, in order to survey the audience. The incident was slight ly laughable; but a little boy among the company brought the house down by the pun— He’s one o f the Barkers,” p;:?\ A ll the gold in the world m l^t, if melted into ingots, be contained in a cellar twenty-four feet square and six teen feet high. All our boasted wealth already obtained from California 'and Australia would go into an iron safe nine feet square and nine feel high. 0O\An Irishman in speaking of a relative who was hung, says he died during a tight rope performance. ID* What do you use to make youa;self look so delicate?” said one young woman, with an eruption on her foce,. to another who looked like one of the departed. \ Why,” said she, \sometimes I eat slate pencils and chalk, and then for a change drink vin egar an^ chew green tea. When these fail I lace tighter and wear the thin nest soled shoes I can buy.’* tD*' The man who returned Ms neigh bor’s borrowed umlwelia, was h day or two ago, walking in company with the young lady who passed a lodking-glass without takii^ apeepA t herself. It is believed they are en gaged. May every blessing attend ’em. • (D“ Banning after happiness is like chasing the horizon jO* When men try to get more good than comes o f well-doing they alwafs get less.
