The World We Live In (Newspaper) - February 4, 1860, Cincinnati, Ohio
»Coíuíucted by B. F. íSAXFüRD, Editor and Proprietor
Otlice, North-east corner Fourth and Walnut Streets.
C’l.Xt’lXNATI, OHIO: FOR THE WEEK ENWXG SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 4,
A JOTLRNEY FOR A WIFE.
yi-as—wo arc sorry to say—a real piggish sort of
WHIteuJktr <Jm H'orU »'« iirt Tm.
A, LESSON or LIFE.
DM w* Bat kattw wbat li«i hryomá This varMI. «haJuwy i>»th w* trMd, ■o« «Am would our muIs <l«apoa<l, •«r «fSM tha taan of aorruw «Bid f
One (l!?p morning in June, Albert Fairchild so-lecfcd from his wardrobe his most beautiful suit. »nd-,|Vom his bureau a Roodly supply of linen, an4 with a countenance glowing with joyful anticipation. commenced packing a capacious valise, and making other preparations for a jojirney.
' Mr. Albert FailNihild was going to visit a young whom H is necessarv to say a Jew words,
“ You may travel the country,” pursued the velvet, waistco.'tf, “and you will not find a more beautiful, and fertiledistrict than th s.”
“ grimted Albert.
“We are now in Pekin,” pursued the old g< man, after a long pause. “There is a fine tavisl over the hill.” “ J
These remarks caused Albert to start, but too proud too betray an interest in any thing the gentleman sakl, he maintained a studied silence.
' w^ra w« UM Mr trmtt BmB ««wm, w« 4km ttewNwhig tajra Hay inMVMBaaaAlaMtaAMt.
«•mb ar awi»5 ghMow
Aa mB> hém to pkaMwa*» track;
lr«». éay «WM Mw-b«ra promlM tetags, taraa ■» «fa of sorrow BMk:
TBs *pwary OsMs •(« aU Bsfors,
■la sM aome Bright atar ar« sM t XtHB U la Btai a auuay akurs,
Ha’U laara tt kaa iu afcatfaua yat.
' Ts-aaorrew t la iU aacrat ahada I liUie kiMW what U tor iu«!;
1 aaay ba with say tethera laid.
Or wrsckad oa dlra mlalortaaa'a aaa, But fiw bayoad It&’a BMadary Urea Tha er»rU#»in* anay Bright;
Aad ha aioae who tahra ur givaa,
Oaa guide aay waadaring faet aright. Jan. 3tat, IMO.
IIVMra For Tkt Worid Wo Lim /a.
BT Wu SOWAED rSEElQ^s
A atona it bowUag 'round me— Loud roars the tampsst bhwt; And sosabrs an tbs abadows— Which *bon an gathering faat. Bat darhar Siwoerars the atonas, Whhdi n#b within the bnaat; IBr ftsnsr MS ths tampaat of The apitit’s srild oarast.
Tas thsn an aSorma which nga Uaaaen within the bnaat, Coaaparud with wbioh tba elamanta;
Saaat paaoaful and at rest;
And tha darkeat wild-atucwi cloada. O'er aarth that orar roHed;
An calm and aaallimg bright and flair. To the teaapaata of the soul. r«, «p., Jan. ISeO.
Pbr Tko WorU Wo Lkm fu.
BT CAXOL&A M. CBM
1 think sTthaa whaw from the aarth datdlniag. , Tha aw ainka at >wiy 'naatb the wsatarn ae« And whM tha eUrar atan are Irighily shining Hy darUng Kate, I fbndly think of thaa I
X thing of thaa whan o'er the aiM of hansan tea Mds hw'Bbím *»«Mth tba nHht orb’s ray.
Whan on tha nlaeSJnws at anrly montag Tha dlnmimd daw daCh t^rneUle brilUnntly, IHeh Baw’nt srUd with fre.úou« gaaaa adorning.
Hy hawla Sana, I Smdly think af thaa I
Whan to thy wrntarn hosss my thenghunn stmyiag. Thy hams of toes bMnsd tha !
Tor thy hast wslBrs nuntally I'm praying— Than darting Sata. Ohl ha than tona to me!
^ SBa PseU Wo lim tm.
CABBOULA B. CBnWBAL.
Why do I w«g whM thon'rt naany. Why sv'iy minato aaam a day, Andas*ry day a srsary year,
When than, losad aaa. art not near I Tea, I rtjaiaa whan tboa art nigh. Thins nbmncs monrn—srby -is H, why I
Why hass I Joy when thou art glad T Why da 1 awarn whoa toon art aad r Whan silaat tiae|> doth stoit am.
Why do 1 asar dream of thee T Whan oana a tear badlmaaad tbina ays. Why did I wsepi Oh tell gm why t L. I.
J«kn Bmll Onsrds hi# Pudding.
Jnha BaU he baa booace, John BoB he haa lands,
■a tai basC b* ban mnttoa baa padding aad has f-fi
■a ao doaht tala it hard, aa ha stands npoo guard. Bato to pay hto pottee ratoa aad watch for bimaelf, “Bat thana Msabs," aays tba cook, befon one caa
Thay wbipa desra the araa aU of a andding,'’ ta to hasp what ba'a got flnm toe araa aaaab'e pot. Jsha M il datormlnsd to gaard Ua padding.
WRb hto Bast aad Wrat Xadias. his AaatnlLis, and
I asOibraltor. snto enmata aa Malta, I ahoMd long for a alioa.
data la Kb’ral at glstag. aa aay nmn Ustag:
Tba taato af MapnddlBgtha world he’d iasite;
■M toeas wta toy will Sad ha la wakiag.
■iBtaad IB toe trigger, hie eye an Ita togbt I
Why Stei^d a Ibus Swoar.
I aaa «aaeaiba of at reaaoa whj )m sboald, bat of taa raaaoaa wlgr Im alwald aot:
^ ms a mi high moral ataading tajgHnKiaot aa nooa gual a ahoap^ an atroar.
7^ It is Yalgmr. Jatoj^her too ateaa for a do-oBBt ataa.
a it f« oowardly. Intplying a fbar either of BgS Mag Miavad ar ataayad.
nagaarlamaaly. A gaatleman, aoeord-
teg ta Wabatar, in a gantM akaa, well-bred, refined, aa aaa will ao morr^^awear than to go into the
ati aal to threw mad with a clodhopper.
A It is iadocaat. CMfcaeive to dalicacy, and ex-
Iraaialy aaftt fitr human ears.
6. it is foolialL
“ Want of decency is want of •aasc.*’—Pope.
7. It ia abuaiTa—to the mind which eoneeires tha oath, to tha tongue which uUera it, and to the person at whom it ia aimed.
A It ia YeaOiiious; showing a man’s heart to be a nest of ripcrs, and every time he swears, one of tesas sticks oat its head.
A It ig eantea^itiblc; forfeiting thm respect of tha wiae aad good,
10. Itiawickad; Yioiating the dWine law, and provoking the dtapleaaure of Him who will not hold him goUtMM who takas his name in vain.
Bb OBMTMt. Beaver gentle with the children God Y,mm given yaa; watch over them constantly: reprove them eameatly. bnt not in anger. In the teraible laaguage of the Scriptnre, “be not bitter thcai.” “ Tea, they are good boye,” I once heard a kind fittharaayi “ 1 talk to them very much, but do not like to beat my children—the world will boat them.” It was a beautiful thought, though not elegaatly axpreasad. TgP) i* °ot one child in
the eirele reoad tta tahto, healthful and happy as they kmk now,on whoaehead, if long enough spared, tee storm will not beat. Adversity may wither them, siekaeae may fisda, a cold world may frown on them, hat amid all, let ammory earry them back to a home where the law ef kindBees onoe reigned, where the mothers reproving eye wag moistened with a tear, aad the father ftrowned, “more in sorrow than in anger.” _ _
é village she had never journeyed far, ex-oept on three acoasions. She had made three visits to relations in town, with whom she had spent months. Here, Mr. Albert Fairchild saw her, admired her, and ended by loving her devotedly. 6Uitisfled by her beanty and excellence, Albert offered hie hand. But she said :
“You must come and see me at my home, and become acquainted with my parents, before exacting an engagement from me, for it may be you will not like them, and it is possible^they may not fancy you; in either case I should hesitate to accept your gracious offer.”
Miss Marvin had returned ,to Pekin, and now Albert was intending to visit her family. Confident that Josephine was inclined to favor his suit, and blessed with a tolerably good opinion of liimaelf, whiqb told him the Marvins would not probably object to either his station in life or his personal ap-' pearance, Albert set out*on his journey with excellent spirits.
The first forty miles of his journey Albert accomplished in the space of two hours. At a small town he found himself compelled to wait for a coach to convey him to the village of Pekin.
Impatient to proceed, Albert became ill-humored, and grumbled at the delay. To while awny the time he drank a cup of coffee, ate a penny’s worth of peanuts, read a few paragraphs iu a paper, and walked the parlor floor of the inn with impatient strides.
“ Are you going to Pekin ? ” asked a quick voice. Albert glanced at the speaker, who was a middle aged gentleman, in a loose drab coat, a well developed waistcoat of worn and faded velvet, a hat that had evidently been used for years, and who presented a rough and careless appearance altogether.
Alb«4 had one fault, which is common to travelers. He had no intention of being sociable or civil in the company of strangers. If an unknown person asked him a question in the politest manner, he waa^ure to answer shortly or give no answer. Moreover, Albert's motto, when traveling, was “ Every one for himself, ’ and this he made his rule of option. A proposal to put himself out of tho way to aoeommodate a stranger he would have ridiculed as the higbt of «taurdity.
Knowing this disposition in our hero, the reader will not be surprised that Albert, instead of giving a simple affirmative answer, or even a responsive Bod, regarded the rough-looking man a moment, and passed on without a word.
But the old gentleman with the drab coat and faded velvet iraistcost, in spite of his rough appearance, evidently possessed a patient and good na-tured disposition, which was sot easily distuifoed. Without appearing to notice Albert’s incivility, he quietly remarked, as he came in his way again:
“ You are gsing to Pekin, I should judge ?”
“ What if I am ?” growled Albert.
“ Oh. BothiBg,’' Muireied the old a Irood natiirSffsffiilTe, adviseffotnoWSY
Íour name for a seat in the atace at once, if you are not done so, for I have no doubt but there will be half a dosen mo're passengers than the coach can accommodate.”
Albert had not booked his name, and he ought to have thanked the old gentleman for his suggestion. So -far, however, from manifesting any sense of obligation, be replied with an insulting “ Hem!” and abruptly turned upon his heel. ^
Albert found there was but one seat in the stage coach left unengaged, and that outside. He had scarcely booked his name when two other gentlemen came np in haste, manifesting much disappointment on learning there was bo room for them in the next stage. Albert was thqeefiye fully conscious that he owed his chance to (he old genQe-man whom he Úad treated so rudely.
Albert placed his valise on the fldor in the public Toom and sat down by his property to beguile bis impa Lienee ^with a smoke. He hhd-been thus employed for a few moments, when tl|B gentleman in the velvet waistcoat came and sat down by his right hand. Albert looked at him throujte wreath of smjke, as if the gentleman had bsfn nothing but smoke himself, of a disagreeable quality, and puffed aWay without noticing him further.
“Will you be so go^ as to give iws the time,sir ?” ■ civily asked the gentleman glancing at Albert's showy fob chain.
! “ Give you what ?” muttered Albert, as if he had
not understood—at the same lime puffing a volume of smoke in his good humored face.
“Tbs time, if you please, sir. Is it eleven o’clock ?”
“ I don’t know,” replied Albert, without a look at his watch.
A moment after, the young man moved his chair to another part of the room, and sat down, his back turned towards the drab coat and velvet waistcoat.
The stage coach drove up shortly after, and having discharged its passengers, and changed horses,' m^e ready for the return to Pekin.
Albert and another traveler occupied a seat designed to accommodate three, directly behind the driver. Both were slender men, ywt they^managed to spread themMlves so as to give the seat the ap-pearanoo of being already full. The sjtage was nearly ready to depart, when the old gentleman in the drab coat came ontjéf the tavern, with a heavy earpet-bag in his hand, and lucked very inquiringly at the outside passengers.;
“ Room for another up there ?'’ he asked, smiling at Albert.
“We’re crowded now,” responded Albert sharply, will have to get up there, sir,” observed the addressing the drab coat, “ that seat ought accomodate three.,”
Then I must take my chance with the rest of you,” cried the old gentleman, with a good humored laugh, as he climbed up the stage. “ Sorry, young gentlemen, to trouble you to make room,” he added when neither Albert nor theother traveler attempted to move; but 1 believe I am entitled to a seat here I Ha! a tight fit, ain’t it ?”
The old gentlemen,.who was rather corpulent appeared to take no notice of theyoung men's unaccommodating manner,but settled slowly and deliberately upon the seat in order to avoid an unpleasant pressure, to contract their dimensions, and give him his share of the room.
“ This is an imposition.” cried Albert to the driver. “What is an imposition?”
“ IxK>k for yourself, this seat is too short for three men of ordinary size; this corpulent fellow will crush usi”
“ Dear me! I hope not,“ exclaimed he. I shouldn’t like todo that, I declare. But it is a close fit, isn't it? Ha I ha! too much flesh is sometimes inconvenient to be sure.”
“ Men over twenty-six inches broad should buy two seats,"” said Albert.
“ Ha! hat” laughed the good humored old gentleman . “ I don’t know but what we fat fellows ought
to pay for the extra rooiiL.we occupy.
“ You ought to ha»e somKregard for other travelers ,” said Albert, advocating a principle which we had never as yet considered himself
'rftfrgers, little knowing how much usefitl information is sometimes gaia^, ^ow much one’s insight into human nature , is Improved, how much good feeling may be cultivated by the use of common and familiar politeness among people who meet in stage coaches and hotels.
Arrived at the hotel Albert, little caring what became on his excellent friend of the velvet waistcoat and drab coat, leaped off the coach, and ordered his valise carried to his new apartments. While . dressing himself with great care, the young man forgot his ill-humor in the glowing anticipation he entertained of a speedy and happy meeting with Josephine. Having partaken of a slight repast, he engage«l a buggy to transport him to Mr. Maf*fin's resi<ience.. t
The boy who went with the buggy drove up before a spacious and elegant white house, which had a remar'Kably neat and comfortable appearance.
“This is Marvin's,” said the boy;“ the big gate is locked, or I would drive in, but j'on can pass up this right hau^path, which will take you to the door." ,
Albert gave the bpy .Vshilling, and leaped lightly to the earth, entered the grounds hy a smaller gate and with a beating heart hastened to meet his Josephine. ‘
.\s Albert was passing up the avenue a circumstance occurred which occasioned him considerable mortification. A laboring man in a slouched hat and low frock, who was at work round some young pear trees near the house, turned as theyoung man approached, and discovered the familiar features of his old friend, the corpulent gentleman of velvet waistcoat renown. ^
“ Such,” thought Albert, pa.ssing on without deigning to notice the good naturedman; “such is the impudence of people. This serving man, having by some means got permission tb leave his work for a few hours, gets into respectable company away from home, and endeavors to establish himself on a friendly and sociable footing with geatleinen. Now, suppose I had been familiar with him what a fitiie thing it would be to meet him at least iu his true capacity ! I wonder if I shall suffer from his impertinence in Mr. Marvin s house ?’ i * With these thoughts running through his brain, Albert struck the heavy knocker and brought a I j^irl to theadoor. He was shown into a neat parlor ' immediately, where he hud not long to-wait for Josephine.
j To describe the meeting of the lovers would be to t write á great many things which is well enough for young people of tender sentiments to say, but which do not sound quite so well repeaíted to less passionate ears. Suffice it that both Albert and ’ Josephine were very happy to meet again, and that 'the former took great delight in praising Mr. Mar-, ’ Tin's residence, while The latter was quite as well + pleased at haviag it praised.'
I “You have really a lovely home—so quiet and tasteful JoaephiBe,” said Albert; “and my heart ..mnk« wil4un
i hope you may some day leave it for me T But your , parents—I am anxious to see them'.*’ i “Oh, you shall soon be gratified. I am proud of i my parents, Albert. They are plain people ; but so ‘ good!”
“Just the sort of people to suit me,” said the en-. tbusiastic lover.
Mrs. jMarvin entescd presently, and Albert was not disappointed. He immediately set her down as the paragon of elderly .ladies, and was admiring her genial countenance and unaffected manners, when Josephine announced her father.
Albert rose suddenly and turned to greet the father of his beloved with becoming reverence and civility.' Reader, O, reader! can you imagine the young man's consternation and despair when he saw coming into the door the drab coat, velvet waistcoat and familliar countenance.
“Mr. Fairchild, father, ” s.aid Josephine.
Albert felt himself about sinking through the floor, ^
“I—I believe—” he stammered, “we have—met before.”
“Ah! my young friend of the stage coach ?” exclaimed the old gentleman, giving Albert's hand a hospitable shake. “Certainly we have met before.” This was like heaping coals of fire upon Albert’s head.
His face burned with shame ai^d his tongue stammered with confusion..—Making a very awkward and ineffectual attempt to say something civil, he sank bivck upon a chair with sick and gha^^ly looks which frightened Josephine. (
“Indeed,” pursued the old gentleman, ab ifhe remembered nothing of Albert’s rudeness. little anticipated meeting j-ou again so soon, how do you like the appearance of Pekin ? ’
“Oh, w-e—well!" stammered Albert.
“Glad to hear it! And the appearance of the iu-
anr of you; you. entertain him as hold. He is the that you grumble you, and none of to see iu him the fault is in your-,
iple of perpetual eat Life itself,the endless ages of
Little Eddie is no stran have all seen him. Manj the dearest treasuTe of the little-noisy, troublesome c at, yet worlds could not your friends covet. If most wonderful workma self, n^ in the m,
iDotion that'emanates froBi mystery of which reaelna intti eternity.
The Eddie I speak of ki tiM\' half-alive little creature, a bundle of inheritedtiaflrmities and vices, that looks as if a generation l>r two would bring the race down to a parallel with the “ Aztec chil-dreif,” but as one has said, ‘%i stout little fellow with a sort of twill in his make a boy that breathes and laughs and gets mad in earnest, with an affectionate, trusting heart, a lai^e brain and hody, equal to each other. 1
Eddie has no idea of dyliig. He calculates to live here nt least a hundred y^te's. and if nature is not thwarted, he will. If he itíilks of Heaven, or the angels, or any such thina It is not that he is tired of living, but that theiVfcre hopes even in his young, pure heart of a “ bett|r country,” and the love of all that is beautiful, b^d the spirit of advancement and exploration is a part of his life.
If he gets weary of one thing, and wants change, it is not tjiat he is discontented, but the whole world is before him, and his mind expands with thp growth of his body; and if you are not watchful and careful to teach him aright, he will let^rn more of evil in a few days than you can counteract in many weeks. Lay one of his little garments bj-, and in three months he has outgrown it; yet all this time you will not see him grow, nar even believe he has grown—especially if you ara with him daily—so with the inner boy, before yon know it, he is too great for what once fitted him.
Eddie is a reality—there's bery little haze and vapor, and poetry 'about him; you have to hear and see him, whether you want to br not, a-hether you like him or not. You see himflfteiier iu mudholes, or hanging on the backs of oafriagcs and wagons, or making a din on an old tin^Jan, than in pictures and poetry. Artists don't him for a model—^
he's not pale and thin and^uiet enough; poets don’t want him, for he don t generation of children. His boy too many in the family, by their actions and genth would be a good enough |* for Eddie; and you would sort of folks if you didn't there was a place of safe-k
His uncle makes him a p: mounted on a “gallant grey time he is delighted, but e gallon takes hint, a¿d hé and gives the pieces to stick, and gallops up an^do any cavalier.
He comes the seventh tin^ an apple, and contrives and trades one away to ' and then cracks the marble MitlTA stone to see what is inside of it.
Withal, £ddi« reasons weR^ ani wo might take him for our teacher in manyt Ihingb. He loaros a
i«a that Ml 9JB.eaAhvi9Ma..tjiíat,he that run«-nmy. road< Attgug.
house plants of both their boys and girls, and train ) them 80 delicately that the slightest exposurq is liable to dismi.ss them to another home. As neither boys nor girls can go tlirough life without exposure, it is clear that,they should be so hardily brought up as to enable them to meet it without fatal resv^Its. Child or adult who cannot reach this point, has no very secure hold on life, and is liable to<f be blown away by the first stirring breeze he meets.
But that the adult man ^lOuld die prematurely is not sodifficult of explanation. The reasons, in truth,
these are eating, drinking, and yielding to enjoyments in excess—wine,, tobacco, gluttony at table, licentiousness. (Mher reasons, however, arc not so obvious. Temperate men also die. With these, the common destroyer is probably undue nervous excitement—brain-work in disproportion to handwork, i The mercantile and speculating classes, lawyers, doctors, clergymen, editors and literary men generally, and many mechanics, suffer and die from this cause. Ten, twelve, sixteen hours of head-w.ork, to one or a little more of air and halfexercise—exercise of the legs! Who can expect to preserve health under such a system? Walking is not excTcise, in its full sense, and has no business to pass for it. The grand, vital organs are in the
The Evils of Trades’ Strikes.
We take the following from the last number of the London Quarterly, it being part of a most able article called forth by the late “strike” among the building trades in London:—
“If strikes and combinations cquld elevate the condition of labor, Dublin must noW have been the paradise of working men. The o|feratÍTes there, with true Celtic vehemence, have thrown themselves heart and soul into the Vniqns, and have fought « ahOMwtabtOea wHh a mt m ilBMiea
cause. Moreover, they W^nwen almost uniformly
chest^ and cannot be fully aroused, brought up to their capacity and thus energised, without the action of the aims. Work or play, with the hands, sufficient to fully open the chest, and call into complete activity nil the parts and functions within, daily repeated, is indispensable to health—to the maintaining of the balance between muscle and nerve, body and brain.—'-N. Y. Ei^ening Post.
lo the fabulous ts think him one visitors imply your house ij at if it wasn’t <djever, sensible and'they wish r him.
“ soldierinan,” rse, and for the irit of invesii-reciouB toy, unts a stout and brave as
to ask for :yqU^7e him two, a marble,
“Ytnt ^dpirer, i to aocora
• “Oh, very—very well!” <
“Indeed I I was afraid you would have no fancy for us plain people.”
Thus the old gentleman went on, conversing in the most easy and amiable manner as if it was his only study to entertain his guest. Albert listened with a faint heart and upbraiding conscience, leel-ing keenly the contrast between the old gentleman's excellent nature and his own ill-temper and incivility. J
In a short time Josephine’s parents withdrew, and she was left alone with her. miserable lover. Albert threw hims^f at her Yeet, and there refusing to rise, he confessed his ill-treatmept of her venerable paremt, and besought her 'both to forgive him and intercede wit^ber father for his pardon. Astonished and shocked at first, Josephine knew not what to think or say ; but, to relieve her repentant lover, she took pity on his wretchedness, and promised all he asked.
Indescribable was Albert’s anxiety of mind until Josephine had seen her father, and became walking into the room where the young man was alone. Mr. Marvin’s countenance wore the same good na-tured smile, which even the insolent treatment he had received at Albert's hands could not disturb, and be advanced towttrds his prospective son-in-law.
“Well, well,” he exclaimed, before Albert could speak, the past eannot be recalled, and 1 suppose the less said about it the better. For my own part I freely forgive the rather ungentlemanly manner you used towards me. In fact, I care nothing for it now, yet I must say that it gives me pain to think that you are in the habit of giving way to ill-n’aturcd feeling while traveling. Don^t speak! I know what you would say. You are not always uncivil. 1 readily believe it. But like so many young people, you think that while traveling you owe no man politeness, and ought neither to grant nor receive favors. ’
“Oh ! but after this lesson sir-”
“You will act more like a sensible man. I believe it. But now I must confess that I am a little to blame in this matter. I knew you at the first, from Josephine s descriptiom You can, perhaps, imagine my motive for persecuting you with my unwelcome society.”
word on the street that smitiByour heart like a was alwaya in..
it, aa if he baikachieved wonders, and when roprovea. Dr, Thomas Brown, the faiMfcW'i'VrofleS be answers,/“ A man said it. 1 tfapught it was a great word. He seemed to like to say it so well; and why does a man make a word, if it is wicked to say it ?” Surely, what wise men can answer the questions of the simple, little child,?
■When one of those days come, when all is clouds and darkness, when the body is weak and the mind distractctl, when the burden is heavy indeed for weak shouldei-s to bear, when you have been unjust to yourself and all around you, and little Eddie asks you so seriously and inno *ently, alter a long study in the corner, where he wejit to ^y, “ Mamma do you like to abuse me?” you feel that be has reasoned well, and he teaches you a lesson not soon to be forgotten.
Are you forgetful of the good Father who supplies your wants so bounteously ? Eddie is your teacher then, for, as he looks on the table, he says; “O, what a good dinner God did let us liave to-day!”
And his mother is, in his estimation, the handmaiden of the Lord, and, if others do net appreciate her,
' or have forgotten to compliment her, he does not forget, for he adds, in the same sincere manner, “God gave me the best of mammas, she know» how to make the good thinga.
He is honest, toofln his religion; “You know,’" mamma,” he says, “when I askotir Father in Heaven for daily bread, I always mean gingerbread.'^
■Who are willing to acknowledge thus when they •pray, or tell tlie intent of their prayers?
But little Eddie is fast growing out of himself, and the mother sees her baby receding further and furtlier froifi her, and she sighs at the change, even if she sees him all she hoped he would Ije in man-* hood; and yet he is always little Eddie to her. It is not for him that she has chiefly lived. His existence brought new life to her spirit, and she never forgets the little curly headed boy. her life's great treasure. She lays his baby garments by, with a soft curl of hair, in a drawer, but she keeps more sacred and secure the keepsakes of the past in her heart, the treasured remembrances of her baby; and though age may gather upon her, and she forgets all you told her an hour ago, or the name of the child standing by her side, the glance of its eye, or if her sight be dim, the clasp of its tiny hand, the touch of its curls, or its breath upon her cheek, makes the long ago—when it waa spring-time with little Eddie—seem as it were the present.
Authors at Work.
^ One of the iateresting chaiptera in the Curiosities of Literature, rehitcs to the peculiarities of difl'erent authors in their habit of composition. Some literary men can only write under peculiar excitement,^or at certain hours, while others can exercise their vocation without regard to time or place. One of the most charming poems in tho language, addressed to bere.4vrxl parents, was bitten in Boston by a native bard, in the back part of a grocery store, where the poet first heard of the death of an infant child of a friend.
One of the most eminent poets of America, who re.slded near Boston, finds his best hotirs for writing td be between midnight and sunrise, when complete silence reigns.
' Col. E. G. Parker stales that Mr. Choate found his best time for work in December, to be an hour before sunrise. He rose at six o’clock in the win-i ter, and maxle himself a cup of tea, which sustained him till breakfast, and found the interval to be the best part of the day for hard work.
Sir Walter Scott's usual hour for beginning his task was seven o'clock in the morr^g, and he continued to write, saving a brief time for breakfast, till ofre, sometimes till two o'clock. He averaged sixteen pages of print each day, aad made few corrections of his manuscript.
William Hazlett wrote with great rapidity, and when at home always had the breakfast things on the table. When he was writing a book he invariably went into the country, and selected a house standing alone, and away from neighbors.
The night has been the favorite time for composition with many of the most gifted nietrtif genius.
Pope, when visiting a friend, called the servant out of bed four times in one night to supply him with paper.
Bosseut, ths volumiBous Frfrnch author and orator
foc..;iiiUtr«siÍBg ' tot
rofleSaor of Moral Philosophy, wrote all his lectures between and sunrise. ' f
One of our Boston bards wrote his best poetical production between two o'clock and sunrise. He retired at midnight, but could not sleep, and after tossing about iu his bed a couple of hours, dressed himself, and wrote with a power he never could recall.
Thomas Moore wrote his best poems in retirement.
Cowper praised his fiivorite resort for composition as “ secure from all nofise, and a refuge from all intrusion.”
Maturin. the draaaatist, could bear interruption when he was engaged; in literary labor, and would stick a red w«fer on his forehead, as a warning to his family that the fit of t^riting was upon him.
Byron, Thompson, and many other^ritish poets, found the night to be most favorable time for composition. *
Goldsmith loved to write in his dressing gown and slippers.
Gibbon, the historian, and Dr. Wm. E. Chanuing, walked up and down the room when they were engaged upon apy great thanie, and did not commit their thoughts to paper until the sentences were perfectly formed and arranged.
Very many persons who fill a large space in the public eye, have composed orations between bed time and sunrise, which have been decided to be their most masterly efforts.
successful; bui their victcries have been even more disastrous than defeats. Dublin was formerly the seat of numerous, extensive and highly prosperous manufactures and trades. One after another these various branches of industry were ruined by strikes. Flannel, silk, lace, gloves, almost ceased to be manufactured, and the best Irish workmen migrated to England and Scotland. The wretched and poverty-stricken “Liberties” of Dublin—untroubled by machinery and capital, but infested with pauperism in its most revolting forms—still testify to the ruin inflicted on the trade of Ireland by the combinations of her operatives. O'Connell himself admitted that Trades’ Unions had ^rought more evil to Ireland than even absenteeism and Saxon mal-Í administration. The monopoly and restrictions en-: forced by the Dublin Unionists wers most rigid; but,
‘ as usual, their heaviest pressure was upon the I' working people outside of their combinations, who were sacrificed without mercy. Unskilled labor was paid as low as 6d. a day inThevery shops in which the Unionists were striving to keep up their own wages at an unnatural rate. They prescribed a minimum rate of wages for themselves, so that the worst workman should receive the same as the
■ best. They left little or po cjioice to the employere in the selection of their men; and the master in want of an additional band had to go to the Trades’ Union and take the person who stood first on their register. ‘ Knobsticks,’ or non-L nionists were rig-
I idly excluded; and if any unprivilege<l man ven-! tured to toork at any Union trade it was at the peril of his life. Indeed, several poor wretches were assassinatetl at the expense of the Unions, and the tnurderers remained undiscovered. No or-; ganization could have been mOre perfect; and its j result was ruin. The shipwrigh' and sawyers
■ carried every point with their masters; and in the course of a few years there was i ot a single master-shipwrighe in Dublin. If vessels frequenting the port required repaire, they were merely cobbled up so as to insure their safety across tjie channel to Belfast or Liverpool. The" Dublin iron manufacture was ilestroyed in the same way. Mr. Robinson, an iron-master, was prohibiteil by his men from using a machine which be had invented- to meet the competition of English-made nails; and the trade in consequence left Dublin, never to return. .\nother manufacturer, anxious to execute
: some metal works in Dublin, in order that Irish industry might have the benefit, found to his dis.may that he was precluded from competing wijh England, not by any local disadvantages, or want of 1 coal or iron, but soloiy by the regulations enforced I by'his own workmen.^ It waj|.ithu8 that the iron trade went down. O'Connellestimated that at least half a million a year had been lost to the Irish cap-, ital in wages alone, through the combinations of the Unions. Almost the only branch of trade in Dub^' lin against which strikes failed has been that of : coach-building; and it has accordingly been pre-' served. The Messrs. Hutton held their ground ! ■with heroic perseverance. The Unionists battered f théir eairiages, cm the iliks and laces, beat their foremen, and compelled their masters to ride home sunset i armed and guarded; nevertheless, they persisted in ’’i carrying on their business in their own way, and by this means kept up their splendid coach manufacture, which doubtless otherwise would have been driven out of the island. The strike infatuation ruined the trade of other districts in Ireland. An Irish capitalist erected a costly manufactory at Ban-don, and succeeded in obtaining a large contract. He bought machinery; the workmen worked till it had been erected, and then struck for increased pay. ‘We know,’ they said, ‘that you have gota cotvtiaci in Spain and Portugal, and you must, therefore, give us higher wages,’ The proprietor gave the increase demanded, worked out his contract, and then abandoned the manufactory, % consequence was a loss to the Bandon work-p0o-ple in wages of about £12,000 a yeas;. Dr, Doffs stated before the Irish Committee of 1830, thaftes almost total extinction of the blanket trade of ICil-kenny was attributed to the combinations of the weavers. No sooner was it known that any manufacturer had taken a contract than the weavers immediately insisted on an advance. The conss-quence was that manufacturers would not enter into contracts; they withdrew their capital, the blanket trade was ruined, and weavers became paupers, and had to be maintained at the public expense. . Such are only a few illustrations of the triumphs of strikes in Ireland.” , '
Everybody has heard^of “ Old Mother Wiggins,” but everybody don’t know where Mother Wiggins lived. I knew her like a book when I peddled tin and niok-na^s, long time ago. She lived ia Csbbot, Vt., where the farmers do their spring work ia June, and their fall work In August. (They do It then because at that Üme of the year there is usoeliy b«d tittle snow qpoB I t ^sd quits l&r a recent journey, she might not have until dootnsdey, nor even then, weald I expM fe meet her. I think at thet time that she will net he called for until all good Christiena have getm above.
Mrs. Wiggins was a marvel of e thing tOlaek WL A little spud of a woman, bigger round waa high. Waa she a Tegeteble women T Let na ^ see. She had a reddish (kce, her eyes were two oblique triangles; short, frizzed, caroiy heir; trump nose, protruding upper teeth, and a “horseshoe mouth.” Either of these marks would take the divinity from, any lady, or doom an angel to perdition. (Mrs. Candle had the “horse-ehoe mouth in the sharpest form.J Mrs. Wiggins’ hne-band, as in such eases made and provided, for this kind of women are early in selecting their Tictims —was a small, round shouldered apology of a man, who scarcely dared speak iñ the presence of hhi wife. He looked for all the world like a hen with a sore head. This gave him the name of “the hen-peeked husband.”
Mother Wiggins’ children were a “chip of the old block. ’ Every mother’s son of them wonld steal like pirates. WLen I used to stop at her log shanty to trade, I calculated to keep an eye on ’em; but they were all around me and on the oart as thMt as ants upon sweet cake.
One day I was trying to sell her a pepper box, and to get her good will, or rather to get on the “ blind side of her ” and divert her mind a moment from the great sum of 6^ cents to be paid for in paper-rags at 4| cents per pound—rags were higher then—I said, “ Mother Wiggins, what a hsap of boys you have! How many children hare you. Mother Wiggins'?”
“ La me ! ” said she, Fve got—Fve got—why, 1st me see—I’ve got/our-icen children, smm% boys and girls.”
When I was going, two weeks since, from Chicago to Rockford, a lovely town in lUinois, I found one of those “ moatly boys,” on the ears as Conductor. When I was returning last week, it-Bias an fortune to meet “another of the soh,” Sm
brother. Their eyes were forever pnnriag iatto
Frizzed hair betokens a passionate termagant. ^ A tprned-up nose shows a bull-terrier spirit.
Protruding upper-teeth are calling for your ] strings if you are not submissive.
And rute Of ntin is ever before the mouth.”
Poor apologies of humanity for Conduetsirs were those two "motUy boys.’!
^ . CqsiforouTn.
The Lapps an<] Norwegians.
The present condition of these I.app8, their peace- i
“That’s a fact replied the proprietor of the velvet aistcoat. “We have no right to disregard the feel-
Abvktb to a* Bfrnon.—In a eonvorsatiofa had with a meiqbsr of Mr. Madison’s Administration, Mr. Galea, the senior «ditor of the National Intelli-
Koer, in his diary, relates, that .the Seeretary gave
. . , . ....
lim, then youag in the proflceeton, a piece of ad vice, vldnk was as follows: “Above all things, avoid aUnreations with other editors—it is alwnys disa-
grenakls to readers; and a j^per is more respected Zmt cnrryiug haelf above it."
“You ought,” said the Cabinet officer to the ed-Umtc, “no more eondescsnd to it, than the Secretary ef Btoto would.”
ings of others. 1 believe I must diet my corpulency for the benefit of society. But we will be obliged to get along the bejit ‘way we can to-day, for my substance i% rather solid. Ah I 1 amaorry to discommode you. I only wish for your sake I was smaller.’’ 'This last remark was followed by a good natured laugh from all the outside passengers, except Albert who had become most decidedly sullen.
The Bftage coach rolled heavily off with its loud the driver cracked his long whip, and urged tbehorr ses into a rapid pace. For some time neither of the outsidrrs spoke, each appearing busy with his own thoughts. At length the gentleman in the drab cout, whose patience it seemed nothing could ruffle remarked addressing himself to Albert:
“This is really a fine day, sir. Were you i*ver in this part of the country l>efore ?’’
“ No,” was the ahrjipt r§ply.-“ Don't you think it is afine region? Observe those hills, which the spring has spread with green
“Oh! my dear sir!” cried the tortured Albert.
“All! ha! It isn’t a very bad joke after all?” cried he, the velvet waistcoat undulating with his peculiar happy laugh. ‘‘Come I come! don’t look gloomy now. I tell you the past is forgiveu—but mind 3'ou must not forget it. You must learn not ti^irn the cold shoulder to corpulent old gentleman you meet in strange places, even though always as disagreeable as the one you met to day. Hu! ha! Let's have a good hearty laugh at the affair, and say no more about it.”
In his gratitude for the kindness with which the old gentleman paid his ill-treatment, Albert kissed his hand with tears glistening in his eyes. Josephine entered presently, followed by her mother, and in half an hour Mr. Marvin was showing Albert about his farm, and all were as happy as if no unpleasant occurrence had ever troubled their minds.
In a week Albert returned to town, a wiser, happier and better man. He had gained the consent of Josephine s parents to his marriage with the girl of his choice, and the wedding day was appointed.
carpets, and remark how beautiful yonder forest j For this and other good reasons, .\lliert's heart was looks in the sunshine! This is an excellent soil ! overflowing with joy.
for a variety of agricultural purposes—-well wa- In conclusion we nmy rema.rk that on his journey tered as you perceive, by a river, which yonjnay j honiA All)?“rt attracted general attention, and won see glimmering through yonder clump of . thqjtood will and esteem of everybody by the re-
trM>H ’ ite. .V- t spect and civility nt his deportment
The only repl.v .\llK»rt gave to ibese obaerv^tions
Comparative Mortality of the Sexes.
In the Eastern part of the United States, and p(frticularly in New England, the statistics show that the number of females is greater than the number of males. The large migration Westward of young and grown-up men is the commonly received explanation of this inequality. But thi^ we think, is only one cause, and another is that the mortality of males is considerably in excess of that of females.
Why is it that male children should have fewer chances of life' is a serious qnestion, and perhaps will have to rest, for the present, with other unsolved mysteries. With respect to adults it may be conceived that accidents, casualties of one kind and another, and bad habits, to which wom?n are not so much exposed as men, may account for the excess of deaths. But children under ten do not destroy themselves by dissipation. Up to that age they remain innocent of rum and tobacco, and indulge in no enervating vices. The fragility of American women has been deplored, both at home and abroad. Compared with the wotnen of Europe they are deficient in bone and muscle; many of them, from the lack of a proper welding of soul and body during the period of growth, perish lite the leaves in au-tomn; nevertheless, our men manage, iiv some unaccountable way, to drop off even faster than the women.
In the labors of teachers and Ailanthropists to disseminate a knowledge of corr«t living, of ar-\^ ranging our habits so as to secure health and longevity, and the greater amount of instruction, an appeal has been made to women, because"their necessities were supposed to be greater. Reforms in dress, air, exercise, less mental excitement and more bodily activity, at work or plaj^ have been prescribed for them. All this is wellV But from the facts at which we have glanced it would appear that our men are in no less need of a knowledge and proper applications of the laws of life; indeed their necesrity is the móre urgent, for notwithstanding all their advantages of ouUdoor life and physical development, they are on the whole living less in accordance with vital principles.
The greater average size of male children at birth may account in part for the greater mortality at that j^riod. More than that, our city boys seem to inherit a precocious nervous development, not so marked in girls, which may operate against them before birth, at birth, and after birth; and is only, if ever, overcome by a training particularly favorable to physical hardihood. But how are we to account for the fact that the mortality with boys under ten is greater than with girls? The boys clearly have the advantage in strength and stamina —why should they die most rapidly,? The nervous precocity already spoken of may haive something to do with it, but this cannot be all. Girls, it is true, are more watchfully cared for snd shielded in the house, while boys expose themselves to all sorts of weather; yet this exposure, if Imbitual, and with proper safeguards of clothing, should only increase the tenacity of their hold on life. The lack of it is an a'cknowledged deficiency in the i raining of girls. Man.v people, indoe<l, in roistakeu tenderness, make
ful, undisturbed existence, their freedom at all periods from persecution or oppression, is a grand evidence of the high moral character of the Norwegians.
I aia not aware of any other instance in the world s history of a people so weak, so helpless for self-defence, remaining for centuries in contact with an energetic civilized, and altogether stronger people, and never attacked, pillagjed, enslaved or interfered with, except for the benevolent purposes of education,, nnd moral and religious improvement.
The Norwegians have recently converted them from their strange old paganism, the worship of Thor, with its conjurations, magical drum», and sacrifices to the stone effigy, of, the hammer-bearing god; have taught them to read and write, and when they foil into the habits oif dunkenness sent apostles of temperance amuhg them. The efforts of temperance missionaries hqve been highly successful, and the drunkenness so common among the Laplanders when Mr. Laing resided in Norway in 1834-b, is now very rare. Thoae who talk about a law of nature enforcing with unrelenting fataliam the »ub-jugation and deatruetion of an inferior race, when a aupe-rior emd more highly civilized people come in contact with it, should visit tha part of Xorwag, and study the present relations of the Norwegians to the Laplanders. They would then, I think, modify the expression of this law, and rather say that when a strange, brut^al, selfish, and unscrupulous people come iu contact with another people weaker than themselves, the self-styled civilized men endeavor to rob, murder, enslave or oppress those whom they please to call the inferior race; and if the difference of strength is sufficiently great, the “ civilized ” people succeed .in their efforts.
If I were a Norwegian, I should point to the encampments of these peaceful, defenceless, little people, as the noblest monuments* of ray country's honor; monuments more worthy of the nation's pride than the trophies of a thousand victories en the battle-fields.—From through Norway with a Knapsack, by ir. M. Williams. t
First Tea on Nantucket.
The Nantntiket Inquirer relates this laughable historical incident:
Edward Starbuck, the Miles Standish of our Island, who came from Salisbui’y with Macy and oth-. ers, had a grandson, Nathaniel .Starbuck, Jr., who was engaged in making voyages to Cliina. Prior to 1750, he returned lo Boston from one%f these voyages, and thence to Nantucket, bringing with him the first box of tea that wa.s ever landed upon the Island. The town wa.s then we.st of the present site.
The Starbuck.s lived upon a farm near Maddaket. The owner of the^ship to which Mr. Starbuck was attached, came here from Boston to make hiin a visit. Mrs. Starbuck was desired by her husband to make a cup of tea. She said she knefrmo way to cook it.
“Neither do I, said he, “bnt make it the best way you ean. "
Site took a bell-metal kettle, and boiled up about a gallon. She arranged the table like a gooti wife,\^ with a silver porringer for each guest, sugar, cream, etc. On came the tea in a silveif tankard. When they were aW seated at the table, Mrs. Starbuck said to her distinguished visitor:
“ I have made a dish of tea for thee, but I fear I have not done it as it should be, and would like to have thy opinion.”
“ Well,'’ said he, “ as you have desired my opinion I must say a spoonful of this beverage would kill either of us at the table."
He then iustructetl her how to draw it, having been accustome<l to its use. When done, they re-turiietl to the table, and had one of those jovial sittings usually on,K»yed by our convivial ancestors.
From tho Xeu> York Herald.
Macaulay’s Conversation and Habits of Composition.
Although Lord' Macaulay wns not accustomed to enter much into general society, being mtber a monopolist of convers.ation, he was much vakied in the circles in wjiich it was his pleasure to move. At the Johnson iClub he will be greatly missed, for his conduct was of the richest order and suited to the tastes of the intellectual members of the Club. It has been supposed that Macaulay wan only great at a sf^ech, and could never reply. This a mistake. In the many discussions whinh. took place at the Club, none were so ready aa LoSd Macaulay to grapple an adversary. In an animatted conversation on any interesting literary topic lie would pour forth the rich stores of his memory in wonderful profusion, illustrating bis positions by numerous quotations from the Greek, Latin, French and Italian classics. He never was to be beaten, because he would always have the last word, and indeed his hearers, such as Hallam. the Bishop ot-Oxford and similar men would prefer listening to him, at the expense of being overcome in argument, to have their own particular say.
At Kerseyte Lord Macaulay led rather a r«|.ired life, bnt went frequently to the British Museum and the Crystal Palace, where he indulged in literary and fine art research to the fullest extent. His judgment in sculptre and paintings was unimpeachable. As" a writer,1ie was rapid, but he rarely put pen to paper until he had completely mastered his theme, and then—cúrrente calamo—he would fill sheet after sheet, and never make a single alteration. The writer of this remembers that when in CalcutU, where Lord Macaulay passed three years and received £30,000 forarranging the preliminarries of a civil code, he wrote an essay for the Edinburg Review on the life of Sir James Macintosh. To ensure its safe arrival in England he had six copies of it printed at a Calcutta press, but he would not allow any portion to be printer! in a Calcutta paper, lest Napier, the editor of the Edinburg, should excise portions of the article, which, in the exercise of his vocation, he did to a considerable extent. In the manuscript of that long artice there is not one alteration. ^
Lord Macaulay did not márry. He was much attached to a sister, who accompanied him to India, and who married the present Sir Charles Trevelyn, the Governor of Madras. Trevelyn was then a secretary to the Bengal government; but as Macau-lay's party was in office when the historian left India, he prevailed on his brother-in-law to resign his appointment in India and accompany him to England, where Trevelyn was appointed Under Secretary to the Treasury, at £l,5l)i)l) a year, afterwards augmented to £2,.5Ul). Macaulay did not die rich, yet the copyright of his history will, for years to come, yiehl a handsome income to hih heir most probably Lord Trevelyn.
insolently dentanded the
A Newspaper Auto*^a-te.
The Pou^keepsie Eagle publishes the following ¡etter;
OtxJoQDAN, V’a., December 2ti, 1859.
Dear Sir: You will discontinue your paper direqt-qd to J. Yelvertou; the magistrates Aa»e burned it, and say they will contmue to do the same \f sent.
Yours Respectfully, L. A. Lynn, P.M. ^
Editors Poughkeepsie Eagle.
The Springfield Repubkean has received a similar ' token of southern favor, and the Albany Evening Journal says tliat Vine of the most estimable farmara in Virginia has been driven from that state because a copy of the Evening Journal was found in his possession.
If, in instructing a child, you are vexed with it for want of adroitness, try, if you have never tried before, to write with your left hand, and re«nemV>or that a child is a>l left kand.
A Sooflér Babnkéd.
A few winters ago, while iraYéliag South, I halted late one' evening at a village inn, in North Alabama, to spend the night. Quite a company af travelers and viUage gossips were sMted around the glowtnjgfire in the barroom, when I made my entry. I wns scibn seated in the midst of the motley assembly, and during the interval employed by miné host in making certain demands on his larder for ifiy especial benefit, I listened to their chit-chat.
A vauntincL self-iqapprtant disciple of Blackstone was hoRH|í¿ forth in a» ql^uent (?'tirade against religii^ ana ebristianity in generaL The cireum-stance torhs somewhat similar to one irhtoh happened to JbHa Marshall, of Virginia, while traveling tbrough.lm .^«atorn portion of thfr^‘ Old Dominion.” I seated hut a few moments, when
the atto'rfre'y wothid up with the following:
. “Yes, gentlemen, the whole system of religion is Vine grand humbug, and its votaries are either monomaniacs, or poor, illiterate, deluded beinga. It is the poor and unlearned alone who are the most numerous of its disciples. Why is it, I sak, that the poor man is more snsceptible than the rich man to religious influences? One hundred poor men Become converts to the theory to ten wealthy. Would you have the proof? Look around you. Why is it, I ask ? What say you, stranger, in answer to this interrogatory ?” said the attorney, turning abruptly to an elderly, rather distinguished» looking gentleman, who sat quietly smoking his pipe in a far corner of the room, and who \had arrived at the inn but an hour or two before ms-“ What is the reason, you ask ? Why it-is sintoly because the wealthy are too much occupied with the business, the cares and pleasures of kfe to givs a thought to religion. They won’t také time to give the subject a prions thought One said: ‘He bad a yoke of oxen, and that he wished to prove them, therefore he prayed to be excused; another a piece of land,’ etc. The minds of the poor are not- thus absorbed with the trash of the earth, to tite exelu-sion of that which is priceless. True, God has chosen the weak and foolish to confound the sireag and wise, in many instances; yet, believe msi, it is not the illiterate alone who are sÁMenned of Oed as to be the recipients of his graoe ai^ mereita The wisest men the world has ever seen l^q^ aoktVMrl-edged His supremacy and power w'ite a william knee. Where is aa unb^evsr ;now in this anlii^t» ened country, whers the mpjesty, and goodness, and glory of God have been manifestad sa often, and aa clearly demonstrated, but that he is a weak, vain upstart? The worldi, frwm supevntitian, nhl ftem chaos, has been changed by the same religion (wkioh you, anon, reviled), to be almost a paradise. Thi dark places of the earth hav« been lighted up, the dominion of the devil has btefr subverted, and civilization, by its instrumentnHty, now blooms where ferocity once reigned, akc the sound of the Gospel is now heard among men where scenes were onoe enacted too dark and re^c^ting for gentle ears; and nations which were onc^ ssantled with superstition, and whose streams were ever tinged with human gore, and stained even with the blood of martyrs and of innocence, now waft in peace the glorious banner of the cross. Beware, young man, how you* ‘ sneer at that which, to secure for us, a Savior offered up his life a wllliug sacrifice. Did I not know, young man, that it was through ignoranoe on your ’ part that you thus revile, I WQuld exclaim to you, in the language of Paul: ‘0,'**full of subtlety, and
all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou enemy of all right-eousness, wilt thou not cease to perrért the righteous ways of (he Lord?’”
“lit. ha, ha!” interrupted the lawyer; “had I known that I had waked up an old Methodist preacher, I would have taken ‘ time by the forelock,' and run in time."
“ I am not a Methodist preaohsr, sir; I havn’i that honor; they are a pious, a useftil, a rsvered class of people, whom ITove<and respect.”
“Who are you, then?”» insolentlv demai attorney.
“ Sam Houston, sir, of Tsxas.”
Had a thunderbolt fallen in their midst, then . would not hsve been a more eleetric motion in the crowd. In a second the old hero was surrounded, and twenty welcome hands were extended. I made my exit just then to the dining room, and as I looked back over my sho'uMer I saw the Uttle crestfhllen attorney sneaking out of the i^posite oorner.
A SaoKT Got.—-At a mseting held daring the late protractod meeting of our ehuroh in this city, a sailor, in relatiag tho circumstances attending his oouverskm, said:
“ I was greatly distressed on account of my siss, I conversed with s minister. I did everything I
could, Ibut folt no better, till one day T read ia a newspaper a piece on ‘ Coming to Christ,’ in which
Iiewnpjftper a pieoe on ' uomins to UUrist,’ in which the sinner was directed to-go So the Bavior, just as he was, without any further preparation. It struck me, ’ conteiued the son of Neptune, as the tears of joy rolled down his cheeks, “that was the short cut to the blessing, and blessed be God, I tried it, and He forg.xv« me ray sin», and blessed me with Hie h»vo '