Semi-Weekly Journal, Volume 3, Number 263, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 October 1841 — Page 1

BY DOUGLASS & NOEL.

Indianapolis, Saturday, October ie, i84i.

VOL. 3. NO. 263.

PUBLISHED THREE TIMES A WEEK DURING THE SES- . 8ION OF THE LEGISLATURE TWICE A WEEK FOR THE KEMAINDER OF THE YEAR. Tirms.Focr Dollars a year, payable in advance, and considered due at the date of the subscription. If not paid in ad vance, however, Fiv Dollars will be the price. .....' Advertisements will he inserted at the following-rates. Ten lines or less for one or three insertions, onk dollar, and twkn-TY-nv tents for each continuance. Or, will be continued on contract one yeer,for t15, and will be altered occasionally f desired. On longer advertisements, a reasonable deduction win be made. (Jj-SINGI.E COPIES 6 Cents,

From the Lady's Book. GENTILITY. ' T S. AETHUH.

'Didn't I see you walking up the street with a young

lady yesterday, William?' said Anna fcnheld to tier brother, who had but a few days before returned from New York, after an absence of some months. 'Perhaps you did; I was in company with a young lady in the afternoon,' replied the brother. 'Well, who was she? I did not see you until after you had passed the store I was in, and then I could not see her face.' , , T , It was Caroline Murry; you know her I suppose. Caroline Murry! Why, brother! what were you doing in her company V and Anna's face expressed unfeigned astonishment. , . . 'Why, really, you surprise me, sister! I hope there is no blemish on her character. ' But what is the matter? I feel concerned to know.' ' - .mu.t t mn.v. thf matter, brother, but then.

m,,-.,, ; nm o-pnt.ee . We don't think ot

Vjaruuuo luunjr .o b

Keeping nei uuiupimj , . , . ,

"'Indeed! and you uon t she is not genteel. Well, if I am any judge of gentility Anna, Caroline Murry is about as genteel and ladylike as any girl I know-always excepting, of course, mv own dear sister.' 'Why brother, how you talk! You don t certainly pretend to compare her with Ernestine Eberly and Zepherine Fitzwilliams, whom you have seen here several times.' , , No, I do not,' replied the brother, emphatically. Well they're what I call genteel; and Caroline Murry wouldn't be tolerated in the society where they visit' 'And why not, sister? , . , 'Havn't I told you? Because she is not considered genteel; that is the reason.' 'But I don't understand what you consider genteel, Anna Tf I know whai gentility means, Caroline, as

far as that is concerned, is in every way superior to Ernestine Eberly and Zepherine Fitzwilliams 'Now, William, that is too bad! If any other man had said so to me, I would never have spoken to him again as long as I lived.' .,. 'But seriously, Anna, what do you mean by gentility?' asked the brother. , ' 'That's a question more easily asked than answered; but you know as well as I do, what is meant by gentility. Every body knows.' -'I know what I mean by it, Anna. But it seems that we don't agree on the subject; for I call Caroline Murry genteel, and you don't; so you see that different things may be called bv the same name. Now, what I wish to know is, what precise meaning you attach to the word; or why do you think CaTohne not genteeVhy, in the first place, she don't go into genteel y company. People of the first rank won't associate with her.' , , , ., . , Here ensued a pause, and the brother said--. 'Well whv don't they associate with her, Anna. 1 hope she has'not been guilty of improper or immoral conduct.' ' ' , , ,. . . 0 no' nothing of that. I never heard the slightest reflection on her character,' replied her sister. 'But then, genteel young ladies don't work in the kitchen, like hired servants, and she docs. And, besides this, call on her when you will, and she is always doing something. Why, I am told that she has even been seen at the chamber windows, fronting on the public street, with her head tied up, sweeping and making the beds! And Clarissa Spriggler says that she saw her once, with the parlor windows open, sweeping and dusting like a servant! Nobody is going to associate, or be seen in the street with any one who has nt the spirit to be above the condition of a hireling. And besides this, whenever she was invited to balls or parties, she never would stay later than ten or eleven o'clock, which every one knows to be vulgar, bornebody had to go home with her of course; and the choicest, beau in the company was almost sure to have

his good nature and nis politeness iu pose. Once I heard her say that she considered the theatre an unfit place for any young lady: she offended the whole company, and has never been invited to a party among genteel people since.' 'And is that all?' said William Enfield, taking a long breath. . ,, Yes, and I should think that was enough, in all conscience,' replied the sister. , 'So should I, Anna to make me respect her. Why, William!' Why, Anna!' . , Bat seriously, William, you cannot be in earnest? And seriously, Anna, are you in earnest?' 'Of course I am.' Well, sister, I'm afraid my old fashioned notions, for such I suppose you will call them, and your new fangled notions, for such I must call them, will not chime well together. All that I have heard you allege against Caroline Murry, raises, instead of lowering her in my estimation. So far as a genteel and truly ladylike deportment is concerned, I think her greatly superior to the two friends you have named as pinks ot 66 AnnaUioked up into the face of her brother for some moments, her countenance exhibiting a mingled expression of surprise and disappointment. 'But you are not going to walk with her in the street ny more, I hope,' she at length said. And why not, Anna?' 'Because, as I have said before, she is not gen Genteel, you were going to say. But that allegation, you perceive, Anna, has no weight with me; I do not consider it a true one.' . . Well we won't talk any more about it just now, for it will be of no use,' said the sister, changing her voice and manner; 'and so I will change tne subject. I want you to make a call or two with me this morning. 'On whom?' , K3n Miss Eberly and Miss Fitzwil iams. It wouldn't be right for me to do so would it? You know I don't consider them genteel, said the k-nthPT with affected gravity. b nonsense, brother! why will you trifle?' " .But seriously, Anna. I do not consider that those cu . ,..... opr.strnnac aims to gentility;

' ?T?i 7 Id; 'not wish toWiate with those

.u'.. urn rffinteel.

wnu mo . .Tf vou talk in that way, William, I shall get angry withy. I cannot hear my most intimate friends

spoken of so lightly; and at the same time accused of a want of gentility. You must remember that you are reflecting upon your sister's associates.' 'You must not, and I know you will not, get angry with me for speaking plainly-and you must do me the justice to believe that in speaking as I do, I am in earnest. And, you must, also remember, that in saying what you did of Caroline Murry, you spoke of one with whom your brother has associated, and with whom he is still willing to associate.' . Anna looked very serious at this nor could she frame in her own mind a reply that was satisfactosy to her. At iast she said 'Jjut seriously, brother William, won't you call on those young ladies with me?' 'Yes, on one condition.' lll'.ll ..Lot !o tl.ntV

Whv! on condition that you will afterward call with

me and see Caroline Murry.' . -r . i . . " 1 . 1 J Ir, TlOLltlUO

'I cannot do that, W illiam, sue repneu m a pun... tone. 'And why not, Anna?' 'I have already told you.' 'I cannot perceive the force of that reason, Anna. But, if you will not go with me, I must decline going with you. The society of Miss Murry cannot be more repulsive to you, than is that of the Misses Eberly and Fitzwilliams to me.' 'You don't know what you are talking about, William.'.' That is my impression about you. But come, now, sister, let us both be rational to each other. I am willing to go with you, if you will go with me.' 'Yes, but, William, you don't reflect, that, in doing

as you desire me, 1 will De in oangnroi losing my pic-

sent position in society, arourm murry i "ul' teemed genteel in the circle in which I move, and if it should be known that I visit her, I will be considered on a level with her. I would do any thing to oblige you, but, indeed, I would bo risking too much here.' 'You would only be breaking loose,' replied the brother, 'from the slavery you are now in to false notions of what is truly genteel. If any one esteems you less for being kind, attentive and courteous, to one against whom suspicion has never dared to breathe a word, and whose whole life is a 'bright example of the pure and hio-h toned principles that, govern her, that one is unworthy of your regard. True gentility does not exist, my sister, merely in a studied and artificial elegance of behavior, but in' inward purity and taste, nnl n trnp pnSP Or what is rierht. all exhibiting them

selves in their natural external expression. The real lady judges of others from what they are, and neglects none but the wilfully depraved. True, there are distinctions in society, and there are lines of social demarcationand all this is right. But we should be careful into what social sphere we are drawn, and how we suffer ourselves to be influenced by the false notions of real worth which prevail in some circles that

profess a high degree of gentility. I hold that every one,-no matter what may be his or her condition in life, fails to act a true part if not engaged in doing something that is useful. Let me put. it to your natural good sense, which do you think the most deserving of praise, Caroline Murry, who spends her time in 'doing something' useful to her family; or yoar friends the Misses Eberly and Fitzwilliams, and those constituting their particular circle, who expect service from others, but never think of rendering any, and ' who carry their prejudices so far as to despise those who work?' Anna did not reply, and her brother said it m ; onmput sistpr. when I sav. that vou cannot

confer a greater favor upon your brother than to go

with him to see uaroune lviurry. vauuui muuc you to comply with my wishes?' - 'I will go,1 she replied to this appeal, and tnen hurried away, evidently no "little , disturbed in her feelings. "-. . In half an hour she was ready, and, taking her brother's arm, was soon on the way to Miss Ernestine Eherly's residence. That young lady received them with all the graces and fashionable airs she cculd assume, and entertained them with the idle gossip of the day, interspersed with an occasional spice of envious and ill-natured remark. Knowing that her brother was a close discriminator, and that he was by no means prepossessed in her friend's favor, Anna herself observed her more narrowly, and as it were with his eyes. It seemed to her that Miss Eberly never was so nn;nt0.oBiinn nr so mala nroDos in what she said. The

call on Zepherine Fitzwillisms came next in turn. Scanning her also with other eyes than her own, Anna was disappointed in her very dear friend, bhe

looked through her, and was paineu w see nmt .i.eic ...no a h-illniinp.3i and want of any thing like true

strength or excellence of character about her. Par-

ticularlv wis sne aispieaseu wuu a yiaiunu o.,.

thrown out at the expense or Garonne iuuny. And now with a reluctance which she could not i 1 .1 . ,1 . . fkrt

overcome, Anna turned wun ner oruuier iuwmu mo residence of the young lady who had lost caste because

she hnd good sense and was inousrrious. ladv-like character will prompt

her to right action, in our next call,' said the brother,

looking into Anna's face witn an encouaging smue. She did not reply, yet she felt somehow or other pleased with the remark. A few minutes walk brought them to the door, and they were presently ushered into a neat parlor in wliich was the young lady they were seeking. She sat near a window and was sewing. She was plainly dressed in comparison with the young ladies just called upon; but in neatness, and all that constitutes the lady in air and appearance, in every way their superior. 'I believe you know my sister,' said Enfield, on presenting Anna. . We have met a few times,' she replied with a pleasant unembarrassed smile, extending at the same time her hand. , Miss Enfield took the offered hand with less reluctance than she had imagined she should, but a few hours before. Somehow or other, Caroline seemed to her to be very much changed for the better in manner and appearance. And she could not help, .during all the visit, drawing contrasts between her and the two very dear friends she had just called upon; and the hlf to the latter. The

CUIlirasi was " "J . , conversation was on topics of ordinary interest, but

did not degenerate vuo irivoiuy or i-eiisruusi.c. Good senseB manifested itself in almost every sentence that Caroline uttered, and this was so apparent to Anna, that she could not help noticing and involuntarily approving it. 'What a pity,' Anna once or twice remarked to herself, 'that she will be so singular.' The call was but a brief one. Anna parted with Caroline under a different impression of her character than she had ever before entertained. After her return with her brother, he asked her this abrupt question. , Which of the young ladies, Anna, of the three we called upon this morning, would you prefer to call your sister?'

Anna looked up, bewildered and surprised into the face of her brother, for a few moments and then said, ' 'I don't understand you, brother William.' ' Whv. T thourrht I asked a very plain question.

BdU will makeit plainer Which one of the three yoiiug' Qies we called upon this morning, would you aih se me to marry?' f N'eit her,' replied Anna, promptly. ' i'hat is only jumping the question,' he said smiling. iBu' to corner you so that there can be no escaps, I will confess that I have made up my mind to marvy one of the three. Now tell me which you would ra-

Caroline Murry,' said Aniia emphatically, while her clunks burned, and her eyes became slightly suffused. W,iliam Enfield did not reply to the hoped for though lint stoonins? down, he

ki.ved her glowing cheek, and whispered in her ear: 'Then she shall be your sister, and I know you will love one another.' 1 e said truly. In a few months he claimed Caroline Mu ry as his bride, and her good sense, and winning gemleness of character, influenced Anna, and eft'ectunih counteracted the false notions Which were beginnii.'g to corrupfa good heart and to overshadow a sound judgment. It was not long before she was fully sensible of tho real difference which there was between the characters of her two friends and that of her brother's wife; and also between true and false genMurrv had been proscribed

bv a certain circle in which false pride, instead of J. . . . . ..... ..i.u.i.,:ni,.nn

principle, was the governing motive, srie imu bum esteemed among those who knew how to look beyond

A thf wifp. of Enfield, she at once took

Vim oui iuvi.1 --' ' a position in circles where those who had passed her h nu unwnrihv would have soufht in vain for admis

sion, and in those circles she shone as a bright partic

ular star.

THE WEDDING RING. A TOUCHING AND BEAUTIFUL INCIDENT

Tn n.,o .if tim eu;pptpt croiitions of his fancv. the

Kr ,if T.nlln Eonk-h sino-s of the wanderings ot the

Pnri, and their precious" offerings at the portals of Filpn. n the nrice of their re-admission to their ce-

A tho crate onens. vou almost seem to

hear the glad hymns of the blessed iridwellers as they their lost sister back to her

blessed abode. .It was not the young lover's sweetest

0 nf hnantv. in all Us

mellow virgin bloom no; nor the glorious heroism of the dying warrior,, as he lay on the field which his own true arm had defended, and his own warm blood had crimsoned nor yHjie gushing tear of the young soldier at seeing pass from his dying visions forever the glorious banner of his country, which had so often waved over him and cheered his brave heart to N.it it wn not the offurinp-s of these boons,

priceless as they are, at the gate of Paradise, that could secure the celestial wanderer entrance through the golden portals. Can it be possible that earth, in its wide circuit, or the human heart, in its loftiest 1 .1 Aw nil flf

range, has a treasure more ucar man uno

them? It was not (if we remember tne strain oi me poet) till she bore alofi on her dazzling pinions the

bitter, burning tears of a penitent child or earin,

weeping over his guilt and his deeds ot blood, mat

the glad creature of heaven was greeted wun a wel

come3 to her Eden home. How beautiful this orien

talism! It is not merely a'spUmdid conception or tne ... . . l . C Actnrt onnrf

poet, gilded with gorgeous arnpery ui

but what is far better, it is in nannony wim. tuc i: . u: . . ;r,ar,;rntion. And vet- and vet.

there ore feelings within that impel us to ask it the

tears of the penitent, remorse-stricaen ?ui..t. , mg warm up from the heart, be the only or the most precious boon that can be borne to the gates ot Paradise? Does the wide earth, with its heart-jewels, its .i,i:.i ,nnA, on its hpavpn-descended attributes,

contain nothing, from the magnificent palace and the happy mansion, to the rayless hut, that may be deemed as an acceptable offering to the spirits above? W e

may err, but it appears to us mat me u . the husband to the wife of his bosom is the golden thp nffpr.tion is the holiest and

dearest of nil other passions. Indeed, it embraces within itself, and centres upon the very heart's shrine, of them all. The undy-

inr strenrth. the tenderness and gushing ardor ot

other affections is admitted. Their deveiopemeets are

delightful, and what a sweet, mellow radiance, uu they spread over the pathway of life, as it were a golden ray from the throne of heaven itself. The love that exists between young hearts, in the hey-day ot life, has been sung and felt, and pronounced extatic the love of sister for sister, of brother for brother, of a brother for his sister, his early playmate and the sharer of his sports, and little griefs, and the return of that love from the sister's heart, the love of a mother for htr child-aye-and above all, the love of a father for his daughter-how sweet, how endearing are they all! But that affection which exists between a young wife and the object, of her earliest love, the -creature of her thoughts and feelings, as well as the, centre of her virgin heart, is chaster, purer, holier than them all. Indeed, it is all. in one, and when the tie that binds them is broken, when the young mother is stricken down to the cold earth, and death feasts

upon her lips, her dimples and her smiies-wnen younrr father is snatched away from the side of her, ihe mother of his children and the being of his tendered love-what a void is left! What agony, wha grief presses upon the spirit of the surviving one! We feel as though a golden harp, to whose seraphic tones we are listening, had suddenly stopped, as we strain the ear to catch the magic sounds. The survivor for Ahe moment seems to die, and the living heart to lie in the cold tomb with the dead and gone. The presiding spirit is gone from the family circle, and the bereft as "the household goods lay scattered around," no longer to be gathered up by that presiding one, just removed from earth to heaven, exclaims, in the touching language of Ruth, the beautiful gleaner of Bethlehem "Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest 1 will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest will 1 die, and there will I be buried." Ah -it must be so. If either of the affections which; nurtured and ripening this' side the grave, animate the frame that, springing from earth, at first, mingles with each again t last be heaven born, it can be no other than that which binds the husband to the wife of his bosom. It was but yesterday that a friend a young gentleman of fine intellect of noble heart, and one well known to many of our readers, was suddenly snatched by the hand of death from all the endearments of life Surrounded by every thing that could make existence pleas nt and happy-a wife that idolized him children that loved him as they only can love, and friends devoted to him; the summons came, and tie lay upon the bed of death. But a few short years sgo, she to whom he was wedded placed a bridal ring

upon his finger, upon the inside of which he had a few words privately engraven.. The husband would never permit the giver to read them; telling her that the day would come when her wish should be gratified, and she would know the secret. Seven i:.i.i nn,l ,1n nr two sinnn. when COn-

scious he must soon leave his wife forever, he called her to his bed side, and with his dying accents told her that the hour had at last come when she should see the words upon the ring she had given him. Tho youmr mother took it from his cold finger, and, tho heart-stricken with grief, eagerly read the words " have loved tkee on earth lirill meet thee in heaven.

How touchingly beautiful this simple incident: The garnered joys of years rush into that single mo-

merit, as the worus len upon me yuaia ui m. -B wife. Sorrow and' wedded love, and the brightest dreams of the world the heart's dearest treasures the endearments of the life that is past, and the.bhss

of the life that is to come now mey mingie hour, as the widowed mother lays aside the ring and weeps over the lifeless form of tho husband of her

bosom!

V, WOMA N. Wnmnni rrnlir shn is a miracle. Place her amid

flowers, foster her as "a tender plant, and she is a

thing of fancy, waywardness anu sometime v. annoyed by a dew drop, fretted by the touch of ;a butterfly's wing; ready to faint at the eight of a beetle. The zephyrs are too rough, the showers are too heavy, and she is overpowered by the perfume of a

rose bud. Sut let real calamity come lun'uac .n... fections, enkindle the fires of her heart, and mark her then. How her heart strengthens itself how strong 1 .1 1 4 C knttln rvivo

its purpose, i'lace ner in me neuri ui w.uc, j,"her a child, a bird, any thing she loves or pities, to protect, and see her, as in a recorded instance, rais-

ino- her white arms as a smeio, anu as ner own u. crimsons her up-turned forehead, praying for life to protect the hopeless. Transplant her into the "ark places of the earth, awaken her energies to action, and her breath becomes healing, her presence a blessing, she disputes the stride of the stalking pestilence, when nmn, the strong and braveshrinks away pale and at-frio-hted. Misfortune daunts hern .t; she wearsaway a We of silent endurince,-or goes forward to the scaffold with less timidity than to her bridal. In prosperity she is a bud of imprisoned odors, waiting but ., ,v, ,.,;,! nf n,li7Prittf to scatter them abroad

1U1 UJO WlllUJ vl umvi.j pure gold, valuable, but untried in the furnace. In short, a woman is a miracle, -a mystery.

From the New York Mercury. TOKENS OF AUTUMN. The sweet spring birds away have flown, The summer flowers are mostly blown, The summer grass is nearly mown, The pumpkin vines are fully grown, The cricket chirps at night, alone, The owlet hoots with sadder moan, A light is o'er the landscape thrown, And more than ever I have known Of katydids are here: And various other things foreshow That summer's "going for to go," And autumn's drawing near. Dame Nature's changing her green gown, For one that's sprigged with blue and brown, Ternona throws her basket down, And pippins roll around: The days are growing shorter fast The nights are rather cool at last, And every breeze that murmurs past, Has an autumnal sound. Jack Frost will shortly pick the flowers That blossom now in summer's bowers, And strew them on the gale; The hills that kiss the painted skies, And daub their cheeks with various dyes From read to yellow pale. I know that Autumn's nigh at hand, By signs in air and things on land, So let it come apace; For I, for one, have always found, That every season coming round,

Comes with a smiung iace.

Spoonb.

c