Crawfordsville Review, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 7 February 1857 — Page 1

a Guitar Teacher.

todr*iwr.nauis.

.yrr.j v-'-n! VAMZ

Henry Clarendon was a guitar teacher HU lttUve home was in the southern park ofltfcly." It,wastoward thc'niiddlc of the day tBatTBftnr^: silt at his desk engaged in composing, a lesson for. bis fa-vorite instrument.. He was of medium teight and gracefully formed, about twenty years

a8e

with ft 'facc fall of sparkling' intelligence and natural, goodness.. He had' been in America about three years, andduring that time ho had made quite ainumber of friends, bat how those friends camc was a mystery to him. Henry had just.closed his portfolio, when the door of his rooio. was thrown openan/i.a, young and,gaily dressed man entered. "Ah! Henry," said the new comer, carelessly taking a seat, "I amglad I've caught you. "Whai say you in taking, your guitar and giying.our fair friends a serenade." "I do not know about that Charles," repliedHenry thoughtfully. "But why not," asked Charles Clyde, who was one 0,f tho most gallant young men ofthe gay. American circlc's, 'fwe can't:get alotig without you just take your guitar along, for we intend to have a glorious time to-night and youmust join us. Come, don't say no." K, ., .' „t

"I believe must." -:'1 "Why, what is the matter with you, Hen-

7 I "Nothing, only these gay sccncs don suit mo. I am not used to them "M "Henry, by the way, now that we are alone," said Charles, "why can't you give me a sketch of your .history. You've kept IUC in the dark on that subject." "My history could be of no interest to 3'ou." '}. "0, yes, it will be," replied Charles. "Well," returned Henry, half reluctantly, "if you think an outline of my life would interest you, am sure I've no objections, though you may use your own judgment about telling it to others." "Go on," said Charles. "T was born," continued llenrv, in Tlivoli, Italy. M}- father was a music teacher. When .T was eighteen years old, I went, to Paris to tench music, and during that time I saved enough to bring me to America. About three weeks after I came here I was strolling along the banks of the Hudson, when I was starlled by a loud tramping behind me, agdon turning round I saw ahorse coming towards 1110 at a fearful rate of speed on bis back was a young lady who was shrieking loudly for help. The whole course of my life had tended to make mc bold and reckless, and dropping my budget, I sprang forward just in time to seize the animal by the bridle. He at once settled back 011 his haunches it was fortunate I caught the bridle as I did, for in another nomcnt the frightened steed would have plunged into the- river. The lady quickly slipped from her saddle and inHtantly turned towards me She was a beautiful creature, not over seventeen or eighteen years of age, but her face was pale, and she would have sank upon the ground had not a gentleman at that moment dashed up to the spot, and leaping from bis horse caught her in his arms. 1 still Held the beast I had caught by the bridle, but the noise of the other starlled him and with a furious plunge lie dashed from mo. I never saw the young lady again, and over nince I have been teaching music. So, now, you havo my history."

That evening Henry had a lesson to give, and'as soon as it was dark he took his guitar and started off. It was a splendid mansion where he stopped, and upon ringing •he bell a servant appeared at the door aud nt onec showed the applicant into an elegant drawing-room, where he was soon joined by a girl who might have been nineteen or perhaps twenty years of age. She was of that cast of foaturcs that would at once tftriko the beholder as beautiful. She was ft tall and 6uelv formed brunette her abundant and shining black hair was woven in heavy braids around her classic head but the beauty of that matchless face was the large black eyes with their long dark" fringes so dusky, and brooding one instant so fierce and flaming with anger. Such was Julia Carlton, the only child of a wealthy and aristocratic family. "I declare Henry you look as though youtiad lost all your friends," uttered Julia, as the noticed her teacher's melancholy look. 'Tis true I do feel sad, but the secret of my heart cannot tell you now.'!

Julia then brought her guitar and endeavored to give her attention to the instructions she was receiving but it was some time ere she could understand the rules. At length, however, she became herself again and ere the lesson was closed she had begun to sing and play as £t was

"Now/' said. she, aa her teacher was about to take his departure, "when you come again, I want you to come good naturcd, for I declare I never shall learn anythii^if you carry along face all the time."

Heniyeould not but smile at this request "There, there," cried the laughing girl, ''jdit'firfag &at smile back with you, and 1 11 to be as diligent .a sctolar possibly desire,"

ITjBOnth passed away, and dufring that time Henry Clarendon continued his IOH-

sons to Julia Carlton. One day when he visited' her, he found indeed that his .heart had beea taken captive. Circumstances, one after another, trivial in themselves,, had fejen gradually and insensibly throwing the strong cord of laye about his heart and now as he gazed into Julia's beaming, happy face, and heard her pleasant words, his fingers'fcremBled upofci the vibrating strings of his'guitar, and he dared not look his pupil in the face. "Come, come, Henry,. I could play that rondo better myself. Why what is the matter with you again? You look so sad!'' /'„"Pardon me, Julia, if I have forgotten my promise. Come, we will try that part again." Henry played better the second time. "Th'drc," cried Julia, laying her guitar on .the table, "I think I've learned enough for to-night. Now I want to, show you my drawings." .W-'

Thus saying, Julia tripped away and so&ii returned with a portfolio of drawings,, and sitting down by the side of her teacher she began to look them'over and ask his opinion of eachioufi as it was passed. Now this was a dangerous occupation for poor Henry, and lie felt it to be so, but he could no more have resisted the charm than a drowning man could have let pass a floating plank. For an hour he sat thus, and at the end of that time he took his departure. One truth was now opened to him, he was almost madly iu love with Julia Carlton. But why should ho allow his thoughts to dwell on her. He was only a poor music teacher and she was one of the richest heiresses of C—: He resolved that he would not think of her but ah! it was like the poor bird that tried to turn from the burning vortex which dwells in the eyes of the charmiug serpent. %. "Only two more lessons," he murmured, as lie turned towards his sleeping apartment, "and then I shall sec her 110 more but I will overcome this."

Again Henry was by the'side of Julia Carlton, and another lesson was finished.— "One more lesson will complete the term," said Henry, as he laid aside his guitar. "Yes, mother was speaking about it today, and she said I must have another course of lessons." "Then 3'ou will have to get, another teacher," said llenrv.' ,« "Another teacher!" echoed Julia, looking up in astonishment. "Yes," replied Henry. "0. you arc jesting?" "I am serious, Julia," replied the tcach-

"And have you got above teaching "No." said Ilenry. "Then what do you»mcan?" "I am going to. leave the city." "Then I shall wait till you return, for I shall lose nothing in practicing sonic of my old lessons over." "I never expect to return again,'' said the young man.

Julia gazed into his face to see if he was in earnest. It required but a single glance to settle that point. "But why do you leave the city," she asked. Surely j'ou must have formed some ties or some friendships in our city. Is there nothing that can induce you to stay nothing that will give a pang to your heart in the separation." "I cannot say that, Julia," returned Henry. and with his eyes bent to the floor to hide the emotion that worked in his countenance, lie continued: "there is but one tic here that can bind my heart to this place, the memory of that I shall ever cherish iu my heart."

Julia played with the strings of her guitar as it layed on the table—her bosom heaved, and in the depths of her black eyes there was gathering a tear.. "Tell me of that tie," she at length uttered in a half tremulous voice, at the same time looking up into his face. "And will you not bo offended, Julia?" "Certainly not," replied the anxious girl. "Then, Julia, there is one in this city who has ever been a true friend to me.— At first, I felt a peculiar satisfaction in that being's company, and then as I became more acquainted I experienced a strange thrill of pleasure. When I found myself by her side, that feeling ripened into love —a love so intense that my whole soul became wrapped up, and now I think of leaving the city but I feel that love with its charms upon me—the silver cord must be broken."

Julia bowed her head till her tresses swept her grntar strings. "You have not told me all," she murmured. "And would you know more," said Henry, "Yes," quickly responded Julia. "That person of whom ..I spoke, is Julia Carlton,"

Julia raised her head and looked into the face of the speaker there was a bright light in her eyes and something like a happy smile broke over her face.__ '-'And you would have gone

away,

perhaps forever,

and not told me of this." "Not told you of it," replied Henry, starting with a sudden emotion, "I who have always been a. homeless wanderer, a poor music teacher, love one like you, and then dare breathe the thought what mean you, Julia? I thought lore would dare itself, and so would mine, but it would not dare

insult and a hopeless refusal "It might not have suffered so much as that," returned Julia, again bending her Kola: 1, "What! do I understand you,,or .docs some demon rack my brain. You do not mean you could love me?" v-'5

"Yes," she replied. Henry started as that word. fell, on'his ears. "O do.net trifle with me, I love you but you would not become my .wife." "If my mother consents," replied Julia.

Henry's htipes sank.in a moment. "Ah! Madame Carlton will never do that."?..' "But you have not asked her!" "And if I should she. would only refuse me," replied he.

If I will send her to you will you try the experiment,", said Julia. "Yes," returned 'Henry, without Jreally knowing what he saidi'~:

tho room'!

Julia tripped lightly from while Henry stood utterly confounded.— He tried not to reason upon the juatter, but only placed hishand on his breast as if to assure himself if he was awake. He was sure he was in his right mind,_but ere he had a chance to think, the door was opened, and Madame Carlton entered.— She was a proud, stately looking woman, but yet there was much of humanity in her still handsome countenance.

Good evening Mr. Clarendon," said she. My daughter says you would like to speak with me."

Heury was dumfounded, he tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. At length, however, he made a desperate effort. "You will.not be offended Madame Carlton." "I assure you I will not," said the lady "Then I love your daughter. Do not blame me." "Surely I could blame no one for 1 her," replied the noble woman, "Ah! Madame! but I love her deeply fondly I would even say. Spurn me not. I would asfrof you her hand "And do you think Julia would consent?" asked Madame Carlton, in a calm tone. "Yes, yes," eagerly replied Henry, "she bade me ask your consent." "Well," said the ladv, gazing calmly upon the young man before her, if you are both contented I see not why I should object." "But remember, Madame, I am poor

But ere she could reply, Julia entered the drawing-roon i"Julia," said her mother, as she turned towards her daughter, "would you marry Henry Clarendon." "Certainly I would," returned the fair girl with a joyous look gleaming over her face. "Then your request becomes mutual," said Madame Carlton, "and believing you will make cach other happy, I shall make this my answer!" And that answer was this: She led her daughter forward and placed her hand within that of Henry. "Can this all be real," murmured Henry, looking first upon Julia and then on her mother. "Don't you sec it, with your own eyes and hear it with your own ears," remarked Madame Carlton. "Ah! Henry," uttered Julia, "I loved 3*ou because you saved the life of my dear mother."

"I do not comprehend," said Henry. "You shall not be loft in the dark any longer," said Madame Carlton. "I was the young girl whom you saved from a horrible death, and it was rnj- husband who camc up and caught mc in his arms. We had been married then but about a week, and as soon as I recovered from my fright we camc here. I have often inquired for you, tho' you never knew it, and I never failed to learn that you was an honest and upright youth. I never heard anything from you until about six months ago, when one of my friends spoke to me of a mail who was giving her daughter lessons on the Harp. She recommended him very highly to mc. I requested her to send him to me as I •wished to procure a teacher for ulia.— Tho moment I saw you, I knew you was the one who saved my life. Julia was pleased with you, and so I determined to let matters take their own course without revealing myself and," continaed the mother with a smile, "I think they have come to a crisis now." "And is it not a happy one?" asked Julia, looking up into her lovers face with a roguish smile.

Happy!" cried Henry, while the bright tear drops gathered in his eyes, "0 "tis hap" pmess almost too great." "Then keep part of it for the future," said Madame Carlton. "No, no," said Julia,.."I'll find him happiness for the future.""And if God spares my life it shall be spent for you my dear girl," exclaimed Henry, and with abounding heart he clasped the fair girl to his bosom. "I suppose you will not leave the city IKW remarked Julia.

Henry only smiled and drew his arms lovingly around the priceless jewel he had won.

J9* There has been a fall of snow this winter at Villa Clara, near Havana.

10-The British army in Hindostan number* 215000 men.

THOMAS PAINE, THBAUTHOIt-IIJERO ..OF THE AMERICAN NEVOLUTIOX.

It waS itf'Bie tinie wheti"^ band of Rebels sat in Carpenter's Hall, when the smoke of Lexington and jBunker Hill was yet in the sky,' and tlie undried blood of Warren and all the martyrs was yet upon the ground^—-it was in this time, in the blcfodred dawn of our Revolution, that a scene of some interest took plaice in the city of William Penn. i' 'r'" y."'

Look yonder, and tJehold that solitary lamp, flinging its dim light through the shadows of a neatly furnished rooiru

Grouped aroUnd'^the table, the glow o^ the lamp, pouring full. in their faces, arc four persons—a Boston Lawyer, a Philadelphia Printer, a Philadelphia Doctor, and a Virginia Planter

.....

Come with me to that lonely room. Let us seat ourselves there. Let us look into the faces of these men—that man with the bold,brow and resolute look, is one JOHN ADAMS, from Boston next to him sits the calm-faced BENJAMIN RUSH tlierc you see the marked face of the Printer, one BENJAMIN FRANKLIN and'last of all, your eye rests upon a. man. distinguished aboye all others by his height, the noble outlines of his form, and the solemn dignity of his brow. That man is named WASHINGTON —one Mr. GEORGE WASHINGTON, from Mount Vernon.

And these men are all members of the Rebel Congress. They have met hero to. talk over the affairs of their country.— Their conversation is deep-toned—cau-tious—hurried. Every man seems afraid to give utterance to the thoughts of his bo

Confiscation—the gibbet—the axe These have been the reward of brave men before now, who dared spc:ik treason against his Majesty by the grace of God.Therefore, is the conversation of the four patriots .burdened with restraint and gloom.

They talk of Bunker Hill, of Lexington, ofthe blood-thirsty British Ministry, of the weak and merciless British King

Then, from the lips of Franklin, comes the great question—Where is this war to end Are we fighting only for a change in the British Ministry Or—or—for the Independence of our native land ,,•

There is silence in that room. Washington, Adams, Rush, all look into ch other's faces, and are silent. Bound.to England by ties of ancestry— language—religion—the very idea of separation from her seems a blasphemy.

Yes, with their towns burnt, their people murdered—Bunker Hill smoking there, Lexington bleeding yonder—still, these colonists cling to the name of England, still shudder at the big word that chokes their utterance to speak—INDEPENDENCE

At this moment,, while all is still, a visitor is announced. A man somewhat short in stature, clad in a coat of faded brown.— He takes his seat at the table, is introduced to these gentlemen by Franklin, and then informed of the topic under discussion. Look upon his brow, his flashing eye. as in earnest words he pours forth his soul.

Washington, Adams, Rush, Franklin, all arc hushed into silcnce. At first, the man in the brown coat startles, horrifies them with his political blasphemy.

But as he goes on, as his broad, solid brow warms with fire, as his eye flashes the full light of a soul roused into all its life, as those deep, earnest tones speak of the Indcpcndcna:of America—her glorious Future—her People, that shall swell into countlcss millions—her Navy, that shall whiten the uttermost sea—her Destiny, that shall stride on over the wrecks of thrones, to the Universal Empire of the Western Continent!

Then behold— They rise round the table—they press that man in the brown coat by the hand— nay, the Virginia Planter Washington, grasps both his hands, and, in a voicc deepened by emotion, begs him for the sake of God, to write these words in a book!

A book that shall be read in all the homes, and thundered from all the pulpits in America.

Do you sec the picture, my friends That man in the brown coat, standing there, flushed, trembling with the excitement of his own thoughts—that splendidlyformed Virginia Planter on one side, grasping him by the hand, those great-souled men encircling him on the other, John Adams, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin!

Their'gleaming eyes shine with one soul, written these great

and read on the great cloud of the future, this one word—INDEPENDENCE

Let this scene pass: let us follow this man in the brown coat through the year 1775.

The day! after this scene, that modest Virginia Planter, George Washington, was named Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army.

And in the summer days of '75, that man in the brown coat was seen walking up and down in front of the old State House, his great forche.ad shone in full sunlight, while, with hi$%ind placed behind his back, he wenK#l»*ly. along the pavement. Then he would hurry to his lonely garret, seize thc jujll and, write

down the deep thoughts of his brain. Theh forth-again for a walk in the State House Square-—up and down under these old trees, he wanders all the afternoon— at night, there is a light burning all night, till bl-eak of day. wr

Lei us look in that' garret window— what see'you there? 1 A rude and neglected room^a man short in Stature sitting beside an old table, with scattered sheets of paper all about him— the light of the nnsnuffed candle up"n his brow—that unfailing quill in his hand

All! my"friends^ you may talk to" me of the sublimity of your battles, whose poetry is bones and skulls, whose glones arc like the trophies of the butcher's shambles: but for me,' there is no battle so 'awfully sublime as' one like this, now being fought before your eyes.

A poor neglected author sitting in his garret—the world, poverty, time, space, all forgotten—as with his soul kindled into one steady blaze, he plies that fast-movirig quill. That' quilj writes down words on paper, which shall burn into the brains of kings,—words like arrows, winged with fire and pointed with vitriol.

Go on, brave author, sitting in your garret alone at this dead hour—go on—on through the silent, watches of the night, and God's blessings fall like breezes of •June upon your damp brow. Go on, in the name of God and man, for you are writing the thoughts of a nation into birth.

For many days, in the year 1775, was that man in the brown coat seen walking up and down the State. House Square.— The proud Tory passed by him with scorn. Yet lie was thinking great thoughts, which would eat away the throne of that Tory's king! The Tory, the vulgar'rich man, the .small dog in office, passed him by with scorn, but men of genius took him by the arm, and called him BROTHER. Look yonder There in a lonely garret,' night after night, burns that solitary lamp, burns, and burns on, till break of day.

At last, the work is done. At last, grappling the loose sheets in his trembling hands—trembling because feverish from the toil of the brain—he rushes forth one morning. His book is written it now must be printed—scattered to the homes of America. But, not one printer will touch the book, not a publisher but grows pale at the sight of those dingy pages.— Because it ridicules the British Monarchy because it speaks out, in plain words, that nothing now remains to be.done but to declare the New World free and independent.

This shocks the trembling printers— touch such a mess of treasonable stuff?— never! But at last, a printer is found, a bold Scotchman, named Robert Bell!— Write that name on your hearts, for it is worthy all reverence! He transformed those loose pages into types, and on the 1st of January, 1776. CoiMJtoN SENSE burst on the people' of the New World like a pro

phecy Yes, that book bursts on the hearts and homes of America, like light from Heaven.

It is read by the Mechanic at his bench the Merchant at his desk the Preacher in his pulpit reads it to his people, and scatters its great truths with the teachings of Revelation.

It burst from the press," says the great Dr. Rush, "with an effect which has been rarely produced by types or paper, in any age or country

Ramsay, in his History of the Revolution, and his brother historian, Gordon, solemnly state the fact that this book was a most important cause of the separation from the Mother country.

Thomas Jefferson, Joel Barlow, George Washington, unite in their praises of this work. Long after its publication, Jefferson sent a Government ship to bring the author home from France Washington invited him to the shelter of his own home Barlow described him, yes, the man in the brown coat, as "one of the most benevolent and disinterested of mankind endowed

with

In the full prime of early manhood, lie joins the army of the Revolution he shares the crust and the cold with Washington and his men-*-he is with those brave soldiers on the toilsome march, with them by the camp-fire, with them in tbp hour of bat-

Why is he with them? ... Is the day dark—has the battle been bloody—do the American soldiers despair? Harli! that printing-press yonder, which moves with the Amorican. camp in all its wanderings, is scattering pamphlets through the ranks of the aijiiy.

Pamphlets written by tho Author-Sol- land.

dier: written sometimes on the head of a drum—or by the midnight fire, amid the corses of the dead. Pamphlets that stamp' great hopes and greater truths, in plain words, upon the hearts of the Continental Army.

Tell mc, was not that a sublime sight,- to see a man of genius, who might have shonp as an orator, a poet, a novelist, following, with uniiring devotion, the bloody-stamped footsteps of the Continental Army

Yes, in the dark days of '76 when the soldiers of Washington tracked their footsteps on the soil of Trenton, in Hie snows of Princeton, there, first among the heroes and. patriots, there, unflinching in the hour of defeat, writing the "CRISIS" by the fight of the camp-fire, was-the Author-Hero of the Revolution.

Yes, we will look into the half-clad ranks of Washington's Army, we will behold each corporal surrounded by a group of soldiers, as he reads aloiid the pamphlets of the Author-Soldier. What hope,-what joy, what energy gleams over the veteran faccs, as words like these break on the frosty air?— "Those arc the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sun shine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country but he that stands it noic, deserves the love and thanks of men and women.- Tyranny, like hell is not easily conquered, yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder th conflict, the more glorious the triumph."

Do not words like these stir up the blood? Yet can you imagine their effect when read to the groups of starved and bleeding soldiers, by the red watch-fire, in the cold air of the wintcr-dawn? ,•

Such words as these stirred up the starved Continentals to the attack on Trcn ton, and there, in the dawn of that glorious morning, George Washington, standing sword in hand over the dead body of the Hessian Rhol, confessed the magic influence of the Author-Hero's pen.

The vilest enemy of this Author-Hero, a base hireling of the English Court, yes, even he, the libeller of Jefferson and Franklin and 3Iadison, as he was, even he, a thing so small, in soul that his very masters were ashamed of him, was forccd to confess that:—"The cannon of Washington teas not more formidable to the British, than the j)cn of the author of Common S

Is there a heart that does not throb at the name of the author of the Declaration, THOMAS JEITERSON, the Statesman-ITcro of the Revolution?

And do your hearts throb at the mention of his name, and yet refuse to pay even the tribute of one solitary pulsation of justice to the memory of his brother-pa-triot, his forerunner in the work of Freedom, the Author-IIero of the Revolution— THOMAS PAINE

6©* The Christian Intelligencer (Dutch Reformed) rakes down the Independent for its "irresponsible puffing"—for allowing its editorial columns to puff what its editor docs not approve. Summing up a statement of the late Hymn Book controversy, the Intelligence thus sharply remarks:

Mr. Bccchcr (Rev. II. W.) owes Mr. Bacon far more than a mere rctration, and has not exculpated himself from his criminal attack upon a brother clergyman and a gentleman. Mr. Bacon has retorted in an article with a pungcncy of truth that would be sufficient to break down any man of less wrong-headed eccentricity than his opponent and Mr. Bccchcr submits to it all in a silence which under the circumstances gives consent. This is something else than

Christian meekness. Wc do not envy his

position, nor would any man who values per-1

sonal honor more than vulgar applause. Mr. Beecher, who is flying all over the country to lccturc, may yet defend himself when lie has time. But wc do not see how he can do better than to continue silent.— He cannot, with all his power of words and wit, extricate himself from the unpleasant dilemma in which he has entangled himself. He has, in a coarsc, unscrupulous

manner, charged another with meanness in

puffing

the clearest perception, an uncommon! bcen doing the same thing." Mr. Bacon jlis „.rcat

share of original genius, and the greatest! has vindicated himself from the charge of 'having puffed his own book, but it still blister to the man who pro-

breadth of thought. In August, 1785, after the battle was fought and the empire established, Congress in a solemn resolution, stamped the author of Common Sense with their approbation, as one of the greatest of the great men of the Revolution.

This book was the cause and forerunner ofthe Declaration of Independence. In this book, for the first time, were )rds :—"The Free

and Independent States of America."' j! Let us follow this man in the brown coat through the scenes of the Revolution.

sticks like a nounced it a meanness. Wc do not bring it Mr. Bccchcr has, with his editor's aid, fastened it on himself

chap in Aberdeen who had just come home

from a years absence in Nicaragua. Un

his way'up

'Why, brother, Miss A isn married. I

ll—J

JTIIE NOBLE REVENGE. Tlie cofiiri was rf plain erablc pine coffin. No flowers on it$ top, no lining of rose-white satin for the pale brow nosmootlvribbons^bout.tlie coarse shroud. The brown hair was laid .decently back, $.dV, ti/ere wa$'. no ,'?«}rjuhpld cap, with its neat tie beneath,.thc^ chin). .Tnc sufferer from cruel poverty smiled in her sleep sh'c Jiid found bfcad,' rest and health. ,' j,. "I want to scc'my mother sobbed a poor child, as the city undertaker screwed down the top. "Yoti! can't—g6t oht 'of' the waij', 'boy why don't some onettako therbrat?" "Only let mc Seo hcr one minute,'lorifcd the helpless, hopeless orphan, clutching tlie side of the charity.bbxr 'and as He gazed into that rough face, anguished .tears streamed rapidly down the check on which no childish bloo,m ever lingered/ "Oh,I* it was pitiful to hoar him cry, "'only oncoyiet me sec my mother otil£:oriC(i!" ',

Quickly and,brutally tbc hard hoar ted monster struck the poor boy away, so that he reeled v.'ifh tjie^ bjo.w. Ivor A moment the boy stood'panting..yrith grief and rago his blue eye distended, Ida lips sprang apart, afire glittered through his tears, a* lie raised his puny arm, and with a moat uncliildish accent, scrcamed, "When I'm a man I'llldll you for that." "There was a coffin and a heap of earth," botyve.cn the'mother and _th e, poor:forsake11 qLjild, and a monument stronger thau graii-i ite built, in his boy-hcartlo then rhcnioFy of a heartless deed. inff «s isd

The Court House was crowded! to suffo4 cation. "Docs any one. appear nj thi^ counsel asked the Judge. .Hi

There was a silcnce when* lie finished,* until with hisJips tightly pressed tog6th-: er, a look of strange ^recognition, blended with haughty reserve upon his handsome, features a ypung man stepped forward withal a firm tread and kindling eye, to pfoAd 'lbrt the erring and the friendless. He was »f stranger but from his entrance there was n,' silcncc. The splendor of'his genius en-' tranced, convinced. The man who could1not find a friend was acquitted.

"May God bless you, sir, I caniTot.": "I want no thanks," rcpHed's'the' the. stranger, with icy coldness. "I—I believe you are unknown to mC'.f'vl "Man! I will refresh your memory.— Twenty years ago you struck a broken-j hearted boy away from his poor mother'rt coffin. I was that poor miserable boy."-

The man turned livid. "Have you rescued.inc..then to take my.

No, I have a sweeter revenge saved the life of the man whose brutal deed has rankled in my breast for twenty years. Go! and remember,the tears of a friendless child and the heart that can wrong him.".

The man bowed his head in shame, and' went out from the presence of a mngnanimity as grand to him n.s incomprehensible, and the noble 3'oung lawyer felt God'a smile in his soul forever after.

KNOCKING DAYLIGHT INTO CHI.\A.—Tho New York Herald takes the John Quincy Adams side ofthe Chinese question, and says .,

We submit that tho world is to small, and life to short for us all to wait.till blockheads of this dcnscncss learn common sense by experience. We humbly protest that bombardment is the only argument 1 lint' should be brought to bear

an(1 cfltcr

Order—gentlemen of the religious press order let there be no personalities. Sec how members of the lay press love one another.

C§P* The last Okalona, Miss.. rainu News, has the following paragraph, which the ladies will please "skip:

Nobody seems to have heard of that, „a

011

of Din tIl0

°priso

them. Bom-

bardincnt with thirteen inch shells, and Paixhan guns likewise minic rifles, carrying the detonating ball, which explodes at twelve hundred yards with extraordinary power of combustion congrcve rockets, fired low, and aimed especially at the bamboo and cane houses such arc the only arguments by which the minds of the Chinese can be reached. Wo regret to counsel bloodshed, it is a consoling circumstance, however, that there are in China nearly four hundred millions of people, and that lusty boys arc not worth over four dollars at the seaports, and good-looking girls three. When the material is so plentiful and so cheap, a little of it may be wasted without much injury. And if the loss of a few thousand Chinese could be the means

„reat

rivcrs

„f China to trade

favQr of

know of no better in-

tcrprise,

vestment in the world.

EMANCIPATION IN MISSOURI.—The Missouri Democrat has become an earnest advocate of the emancipation of the slaves of that State. It suggests that the State buy them, and ship them to Liberia. The whole number of slaves in Missouri is about 80,000. In concluding its argument in

jlis

his own book, while he has himself "Wc trust OUT fortune and our fate to

,casur0. the Democrat says:

„sc emancipation."

Madame George Sands, the cele

brated French authoress, has expressed her wish to be burned after death. Prentice, of the LouiSville Journal, thinks she will be very likely to have her wish, but that the burning will take place in quite, another region than La Belle France, and that, old "I forncy" will have something to do with lighting the fire-,-a a

INVOLVING THE UNITED STATE? IN THE ANGLO-PERSIAN WAR.—At a public meet-

Xewcastlo-on-Tync, "to protest

with Persia, and to consider

rC(

from the landing he met quite a singular statement, made by one of the number of ladies. After kissing his sister, speakers, Major S. E. Rolland^Thc^ &c., 'pray,' said he, 'arc all the girls iiiij^j. j(] ,. xVberdcen married I met Miss A

idea, 'that's nothing but hoops. bound themselves to sup-

CST The three traitors to the democracy |Jowcvcr

of Pennsylvania, who voted for Simon hj

Cameron, for U. S. Senator, have been christened, Judas Tscariot Tjcbo, Benedict Arnold Wayonsiilcr, and'Gcorgey Mcncar.

VST Bayard Taylor has gone to Lap-.

3rcss," wc find the following

new

'Not married Nor MissL nor MissJt contained three clauses the first of -.nor 3Iiss——. 'Oh, pshaw. J»roth-1whieh* was, that the United States, being a cr,'said Sis, just beginning to catch

tllC

treaty bad been entered into be-

tweeJ1 lers a

and the United States, which

jmar tjmc natjon nnd

Pcr«ia not being "one.

inort l'ersip a^inst any maritime attack*

a war witll

i.crsia ia-

nuitoj

The thermometer at Lecou*ptonV Kansas, on the 18th inst.. indicated -twerity

degrees

below zero.W AV« should hardly

think Sambo would flourif-b1 there.