Weekly Reveille, Volume 38, Number 17, Vevay, Switzerland County, 17 October 1855 — Page 1

thi; au.'kki.v u i: v c 11.1.1:.

DEVOTED TO POLITICS, EDUCATION’, AGRICULTURE, TEMPERANCE, LITERATURE, MORALITY, AND VIRTUE.

VEVAY, INDIANA, WEDNESDAY,. 0CT0BER.;17, 1855.

VOLUME XXXYIIL

■ .NUMBER 17. 1

THE WEEKLY REVEILLE,

with magazines and LooIck;.it was rare to see newspapers in this old kitchen, and rarer any volume ’ save the ose. Thei old man had stuqicd thit some lime, and carefully replaced it. The Bible did not thon,.aa now,' grow dusty while other books ; wore-thumbed to pieces. Ho had eaten his'apples, drank his cider, and cracked some walnuts lor his wife, whose teeth were sounder than his own;‘nnd now sat close aa he could draw himself to the flames without scorching his homespun garments, nodding gopd-hye to the skybound eparks. The old lady had rolled up her knitting, and with; her broken fork—in those days, they had not heard of^nut-picks—with her two-lined. York, which had lost one .of iti members/'sat digging out, with h jiatiencp worthy the 1 goldminers of th.csp times,.the rich, sweet kernels. ‘ : - . ■ '■

our darling baby; we shodld die 1 without her,’!. ‘ •

be/pro the Arc. There was no lap for her to rcfct her head upon—Iho old arm-chair was empty. The hearth-stone was haunted by m) other spirilla spirit that had tinned, evjfertd and ittn forgiven. [■

■ (Fran PatnamU MenUtly Magalioe. T Life in (he noon. •

Two taws IbrTouug ffled. 1. Before you bow to a lady in the street, permit her to decide whether yon may do so or not, by at Iccst a look of recognition. 2. When your companion' bows .to a lady yon* should do the same. When a gentleman bows to a lady, in yonr company, always bow to him in retarn. Nothing is so ill understood in America, as those conventional tows of society, so well ’understood and practiced in Fiiro’pe. Ladies complain that gentlemOb pass them by in the streets nnno- ’ (iced, when in 'fact, the fault arises from their own breach Of politeness. It is their - duty'to do tho amiable Ant, for is -a 1 privilege which ladies enjoy of choosing their own associates or acquaintances.— No gentleman likes to risk' being cut-in the street b/a.lady through a premature salote. Too many ladies, it would Becm, ‘'don't know their trade" of politeness.— Meeting ladies in the streets, whom one ’ has casually met in company, they seldom bow-unless be bows first, and when A gentleman never departs from the role oT good breeding, except by way of. ex* ■perimenl, his acquaintances, do not multiply, but-he stands probably charged., with : rudeness,; The rule is plain. A lady‘.must fco’civil to a gentleman in whose company she is casually brought;, but a gentleman is not npoh this to pre-. sume.tipou acquaintanceship the first lime, '[iff afterwards, meets- her in thO street, If it bo her will, she gives some token of re-cognition,-when the gentleman may bow; otherwise ho must pass on and'eonaider himself a stronger. No lady need hwits teto a gentleman; for ha will promptly and politely if he has for-, gotten his fair saluter.—None but a brute . cad do otherwise; should he pass on rudely • his character is declared, and-riddance.— Politeness, Or good breeding, is like—"tho ' reason of things.' ;. ‘ .

: fa Pttbliahcd B««ir Wedncidir, l\ J. WALDO, PROPRIETOR, AT 4l PBR YEAR, IB ADVANCE. •„

' Great drops gathered on the still pale brow, while tears rushed down her cheeks, and her lips quivered with a fearful agony*. She wrung her hands, .she beat her heart, slid ■ lashed her limbs—she seemed like dlft who Is half. mad. "Give me the child one uiomeiitj!’ she exclaimed, and, wildly td her bosom, sbb bathed ita srailing face with drops wrung •from its keenest woe, then kissed it pastionatelyand beld-it out to them. Both stretched their hands,’and the little one, with an equal love, gave to otioits right and to the‘other its left-hand, and, upheld between 'them,, crowed and -screamed In baby glee; - . . . • ‘ ’ i ’* "S.ho vis: the child qf sin,’' .said tbo mother, with a solemnity that aWedfoj* i moment, tjio carol of her baby;; "the child of fin,’ but herself pure, and holy as the offspring of a wedded lie. Will yon keep licr so if I leave her here?.. If eho goes with me she will not long bo an angel, unless, indeed, God tak(}s he r; would he, had-taken' her mother when she waa o young! If she . plirys wjith. you dw ■may ever be one. -Will, you keep' her?" and she screamed the words into their ears bk though sho .would bavo 'their inmost nerves awpkcn. ‘

| What a curious almanac those good i people in the moon would-have!. There days are as long as day and year art equal, lb one nionttfs,-29 days,T2 hours and 45 mibutes. The seasons differ but very little from' each other, f On,the equator there reigns eternal summer, for the'snnis ever in the zenith; the poles are bnrzed in eternal winter." .The days are of edual length tbroughont'the year, all nights equally dark. The absencb : of an atmosphere, deprives the moon of .the sweet charms of a twilight,-and glaring 'day would follow gloomy night witHjbe rapidity of lightning, if iho slow rising and aettiab .of .the sun did not slightly break the suddenness of the’ Huraan eye,- however, could not bear jibe fierce contrasts pf light, ami shadow; they would lopg in vain for the soft-materiala : between thei two extremes, thb; other coljoys which beautify obr world with their tjoyous variety and soft i harmony. The sky* there is not?blue, .but even in the jtime black, rimd by the side of| the dazi jzling sun, the stars claim .their places aud | ligl\t; in thel heavens., Near the 1 poles the | mountain' tops shine in unbroken 6pieh ; i jdort year. After year,; tut thevalleys know tneftbes day nor night,'scantily'lighted Os' ithey ever are by the fainf glimmer of the I surrounding vale. , • , : : / v- : j The side o! themoonf which! -js turned ■fi'oiu-tis has a nigjit of nearly lihcen days; [the-sturs only/ and planets slnno on its | ever dark sky. The fiide wc sec) on tha | contrary, knows no night; the earthlights it up With never-ceasing earthsnine, a | light fourteen times stronger than'that :which we receive from the raoon.VWe recognize our own light lent to bur mend in the faint grayish glimmer of that-por-tion of the moon which before bad after the full moon receives no light from jibe sun, but only from the earth and refl ets it back again upon us. 'Mornings in fall show it mote brilliantly than; evenings in spring, because in autumn the'continents of llm earth with their brighter light illuminates the moon, while in spring she only receives a fainter light from our oceans* Out orb ?ppe«« vo tbo itaw in the Mobb as changeable as his home to us, and ho ' mightrppeak of the first or fast quarter of the new caith or full earth. The whole ■ heaven moves before him once in twenty? bine -days around its axis? the sun and stars'neb- and set once regularly-in the long day, but tbp vast orb of our earth is - nearly immovable,': All around- it is ,un- • ceasing motion; the mild face of earth alone, rfgorgeousiiioonof immense.mag-, nitudo, never sits nor . rises, but remains ever fisefl in the zenith.- * •* J It there appears sixteen fames larger than the moon to us,- and daily-exhibits Us vast panorama oToccanS, continents and islands, Bright light and jJaf!c shad, ows' ate seen in every varied chapgo’of Und'or water, clearing of forests appear new with every cloud or fog, and diher at different The man in I the moon has thus pot only his watch and bis almanac daily before him in the ever changing face oft the earth, but he may, for all we kno w, have maps of pur globe which many a philosopher would envy on account, of their -fulness pud accuracy.— Loilg before Columbus discovered America, 1 aud Cook New Holland, our lunar neighbors. kAew most’ correctly thoform and 5 the .outlines oft the new 'coniinents.--Thei e was' nu pew world for him, and there is none left.. Me .could tell ns the secrets of tha .ihterior bf. Afiica l and;.re- : veal. to us the fertile mysteries' of the Pq- , lar seas. But how.'Le on liis pide must marvel at opr ' vaitfields -|of snow; bnr [ volcanoes and tropical-'storms and tempests—he ;whb;k*nbws neither tire;.: nor . sno w, nor clouds. ; v r- ?.V; ‘ , V , 1 What strange fables he may-bqye : invented to explain, the.’shadows '■ of bur clouds as they’ chase each bther over sea and land; and bide/fom him jnstant the.sunset landscape! -And stranger still; bn the sidepf the moon which, is; tnmed jfrom. the earth, he .knows nothing,at all * about us, unless newspeach him from the '-happier fiide.' .Or -he may undertake—{Ihe greatest bveht inhislife—a long and ( painful jour hey to the bright half of. ibis ;globe; to. stare at the wpnderously-brill-iant tar, ;wilh its tin read, rhiyatc ri e-cf and' marvelous'changes of'flitting lights - and shadows. Who knqwa'wbat earnest ’prayers may rise froni Ihomoon, lull.of jhaoks for the floods., of .light and heat 1 we: poor u p o fatlie m,. o r pf, o hlo n( wishes that their souls might hereafter'be allow- : ed. ’ to dwell jin the bright' homes oft the beauteous stair.' . • ‘ ■ •' ; : . * , AVbll don’b Amentia ; neighbors over the river sunjc to tbit jip-; flamy which il deieriJs/lbe ohl line ia 'SHHUertahd'coubfy— a.parly &b Icpt lb pripci- : pie as to cbargt bne of the most repaUbie' nien jn the county; because he wasipbi forwanffor of&ce, wijh the crime .of thereby (o btisst Uiecharactef.Apdfepuufioh ofa whpte family. Such.Jnfaijwus aiid dastar6iy'corij»hct iholild'be ed' bye V cry good feHiicn'.'lj The "partf'that would reaoVt'lo sbch-TiW means UJ'itieDglheo ilacaasc, dcscji-’ ved the condemuatiqov pt an intelligent pomrounily, andVimithiiiJDslance the have nobly done their duly.— Cornlton ' JTy,, Unton. ■ - ■ .■■■.*■

wrrica, on th« rotxiK or <il». **» f««RT aitgjtyt, - OY«* OIUkH'l BAIOWAM aTOM..,

Dangers ol ttic Future. >

■Tend* of AdwerlUIng.

In ilaino.'jOut of every tea thoUand, there are fivp foreigners, in our rfrisons and penitentiaries, to one native. | ' In Kentucky, six to one. ; In Mississippi,-tch to two. ■ In New York, three,to one. . In Tennessee, fifteen to two. ' ' . If Vermont, olghi to one,' : It South Carolina, twenty-eight to one. - In Alabamtj, fifty to one. ■ ; In Georgia, six to one. . 1

AVe hard adopted, ami ihall itricUy adhere (0 the following rate* fur a JvertUcracnU: . Onerquare. (of 10 Unci or lot*,} for one Insertion, 50 cenWcaeh additional ln-ertioD,25e<liti.' . 1 Yearly aJvcrtlren may change Uietr adrcrtliemenU quarterly at the following fate*: .. ■ One »>juare, 3 month*, - • • 53,00 One npiare, 1 J car, - - . * *- * - 5.00* ■ Onc/'>urthofor*lDmn f lycar, • - 12,00 -One.half of a column, I year, ■- • 20,00. Djio cotnmn, I year,* - »,W ‘One rolomti, I year, with not alteration, • ( 32,00. AdrcnltcnrenUl on thi liuhlo excluilyoly, to be charted at the rate of 5(1 i*er cent, t» edranee of almvo inti**.’ —So Urge cu|» will ho adntlifed In i landing 'advrrtlMiiioni*, and no uihwoal d 1*[ lay made wtlhoui *oatncharge therefor. -Legal ml renin: menumuil fjc Wahl fo/In advance. - . ’ ' ‘ ■ MaitUgca, Death*, and Itctlgtona Sottcca Inserted (grail*, when imtarrwnpamtd by ro inert*. — UbUua■rtet, Public Meeting*, 1'ersonat Ktyln nation*. Ac., M., * *5 rent* per vpiare for each liirertioti. — Special. Sor;iix* in*.rr(i’il at Stent* r-crllliv: -and n> m-tlci landing t.„ tin: advatiremetil or individual fiik-rprat/will be ,'iublidivd Without pay iJitfefer. ••

• * .Ip ludiapo,;four to one. v The average, in’all the States, is a fraction less than six (o r one. .For Capital Offences, but of two hundred‘and twenty cohvictions which took place in abonfiS monthsj in seven Stales, viz: New. York, Pennsylvania, Missouri, Louisiana, New Jersey, Alossachusctts and Marylnnd, there were IflS of foreigners to eighly-twb of. na> iyes*; ,. '. * - • Of the 623 poisons arrested; at the North Station, Ju Boston,'daring (lip last month, 52$ were' foreigners; This; .is a fair proportion of (ho;bther six 1 stations, y AYlth the, above facts, .and; * thousand mpre which could be namcil, we feel that n cloud, . big And dark with threatening evil, hangs over, bur happy land.- ' Wo have-enough, & tliousaud fold more (linn enough of. palpable reality oftho presence and power of a foreign priesthood and a forcign influencc, fo jiwakcn serious ;npprthcnsioiis, and arbueo tho.'ccascljKs hud active- energies of ' a iriio, .nntraipellcd press, oml n jgenuine American patriot-. ifim,P-A r . i r . Crusader:; , / •' •- The criminality' of foreignqts above referred to, and ; the danger arising thence to our country, is aim o*st entirely from the , unciluontet! classes.; Tho educated Gcnnaus ufakc gobd citizens,— Ed. 'Jour ‘ml. *. : ;*

. .Suddenly she dropped both fork and tint, and-in another-instant slatted to her feet, her pan. falling from her lap and threatening many a spot 6u the well-scoured- floor.Hastening to her husband, the shook his shoulders, say>»g“ ' .; ‘ ! ■ /'Wake'upiqdick, and listen!" - . .'■■■*

JiKhKt'VJ’KD TA 1.15.

THIS llAtATED iieauih-stom;. , Home tlfif, or a I’tcii llic Thro*!iglJ.] ‘lid I believe in haunted houses?’ said theaged u’ptiion, speaking rather to herself than to the frir/sweet grandchild, who nestled at licr feet/a looked up so earnestly into ilhat, wrinkled face. t ‘‘Vcs, indeed I do. .There’s not a'hou.' 1 c m this whole village,-not for miles'around, , but tbaUtb mb is Jiatmied—though none so much as'this. Haunted," continued she, speaking so slowly, that a .solemn empha6is seemed to rest upon each Miter, 1-yes, there are such things'as hAunted spot?." And-then shodropped her knitting, took off her glassed wipfi<U' cr eyes, and lean: ing hack on her arm. chair, seemed lostiu ix sad yet holy .communion with tho, earlier passage of life. '* -It was .a dark, stormy, winters night, 'Tlie wind howled fiercely around tho old farm-home, drifting the (now high 'on’.llie window sills,* fastening it to the ; rough panels-of the door, sifting it through the crevices’ of the mossy roof, and heaping it up like giants’ graves through the pathways ia the garden. But indodrs all was bright and of a summer waiinth. The huge, backlog; had been dragged in ere twilight, aud. was now,slowly dropping into coals,,while the flamesof the light which evfery now mid then was wist ou wllh so free a hand,' blazed high and ruddy, and cast a genial light and; glirc in the darkened corner, and scintillated 6n e the time-darkened ceiling, like polar flashes on the midnight sky; It was one of those bitter nights that makes the hearth-stone the holiest spot on nil tho earth—a night when tho sheltered life up their hearts ia thanksgiving, when tho homeless bow in supplication;!n nigat when the children kneel Infers the file and read, bright prophecies in the living coals; when thonged draw their chairs yet nearer to the blaze and warm their bhivenng m< moricS; a night when all tuiii tlipir h.ieks 'to the darkness, their tycca to the light. . ■ v ; U was 'a night to ioake ghost stories relish well—Jo, g fandmofEec/flclToiie. ’ The head of the young girl rested on the knees of therold.lady, and as ter lust the thread of her dream and looked down, she could see an enthusiastic car genuss pifiuicd in thebright blue, eyes, a longing forlsomoTido of romanco, that, dropping her Impart, should vvaripest parous. She hesitated a moment, onil ihep tenderly caressing thopne lone pet of her bosom, she-said: 1 “I will tell you a Idle about a haunted lwt,rth-slone; and. Jjizzie. it will be no •(tola .of fiction... Xho pfot is drawn froni Jiving mcraori ’s; the scene is laid—here, here," '* N . I / . I. .* • Bnt here her treratflons voice now qril vired with } tabled hales, nhd after a* momem's stern, hut timeless effortot self-con-trol, it hurst.into' sobs so loud and wild ilhat they- rivalled thb cries of the winter wind. > ’ The ydang girl seemed not innch frightened and spoke, no ; soothing wools,: bht jonly clashed the hand she -had taken/ as .she asked the story, with a tighter grasp.' The paroxyrm did not continue long; hut; ns it passed she rose and'turned her tnjmblin'g steps towArdthc dark/cold bedroom, and,'going-in, closed the door, .and.wns obfiont n long while.' The tears (dreamed down Lizzie’s cheeks when iefl alone, and it was evident that the aged relative ibid some secret sorrow over which she mourned intensely. When she retomod and again seated herself in her usual chair, only drawing it a little closer to the fire, there was such a calm, beautiful, spiiitaal look, expressed upon her countenance, that you oould nut hut fancy she had been conversing with-the angels. Without any allnsion to the past, without any. preface, she "began,. after a tiUnco of perhaps half an hour, the prom- • isod story. Handed down'lo me, it reads •like, this;

Hall frtgMcned, he jumped, and camg near spiting.his.stbekiAg feet' upon liviijg coals; hnMiis watchful; wife drawing him off the hearth, .whispered a little wildly, '‘listen, did yon hear it?" 1 \ ‘‘Hear what?” said he, still half asleep • “Why, the tound like a child crying. Tncre, .there, 1 now it go 6 again. I)o go to the door. v . Thc;oId maii, novy fully roused, stood with’ hisjiondto his car—the right one; the lcft|hsd been deaf for many a long year. i: ■ •/ -' “It's tho wind, wife; don’t you-know it? It is a fashion it Iias vvlien il’s fold.” "It wasn't the wind," said she solemnly, with a little nervous agitation .yet visible on her face. ‘T know the cry of the wind; it never ninkes a sound like that: There!".aud she clung jo him,' quivering likeja dead leaf;/'don’t you hear it?” Ho ;ccrtiiiuty did hear something that sounded I ike the cry oTa child hand now it did nut die as ,when his wife had noticeji it, with a single sob/Lut lengthened into screams.' But how'it could sound so near, or wltenco ff came,;was a mystery, for the homo their >tdod far away from any other house; but it n os a' child’s cry, that was certain. ‘•I’ll go and we," said hp, summoning courage to his somewhat faint heart, and he turned’to I hi* door, * H is wife- followed close; aud loston his steps,- ; As ho with-, drew thu little slip of worn! that.fastened the door—there wa.oi’t lhcii a bolt or tuckin the ‘town—and opened the floor, a bundle, so. it though ol what, it was hard to guess, fell into the *room with it heavy, lifeless sound. - The wind blew a whitd sheet ovVr it ere they,- cojibl again fasten tho lately: Half honor, lialf wonder struck, they dragged the c'o.areo Him* ket to tho hearth, and, unrolling U, discoverefl a 1 woman and it* child; (tie latter struggling to free; itself-from its many wrappers, /imd screaming with all its might; t!.e, former hfoiitmlesVas n corpse, with lips as ashy and cheeks sunken. A hiiinio h r Ti-cha fiiy ed to have seen it twelvemonth, completely revived it, and it lay on its pillow with its little white feet stretched to the lire, as hippy as luvo could have made ir.cuoing as sweetly as though nestling on a mother’s warm IwHom. , But it took longer tp bring back a pulse to its pale protector; and many a time did the good. Samaritans turn from her having tho-sliest drawn Over: her as if she ti corpse. ■’ But a sigh; so faint -that it .seemed q dying breath, 'at length linconraged them, and they applied restoratives till satisfied shq would live, • 1 • ■

"Wp will, wo will i” said they;, “and more; we will keep yon, too. Stay With US' —stay!—you. shall he: to ns a* daughter acotheon c ;wo have lost -‘.wo .'will; be your parents; ■. "It shall bp home to us four.*’/ .■/;■■■■. y. •;f ■ V ■ ‘T cannot,” said slid/-wildly.- -‘‘Your dmightWwas a stainlessgirl. I am dyed in sin I” ’and she shook with agony. ; And: so did ■ those slip ; spoke to, and tears as hot as those that' had scalded tier face, now flooded-. theirs., ’Awhile they wept as though* their hearts would break; then gathering -calmness, and I while the old' lady‘cl a sped the two hands of the Mogdalcni the'old man placed his hand upon her head- add spoke; ; ''' “ 0tir- daugl 1 1 er Ucd from hs; while -in the beauty of her girlhood—fled with ’ a strangbr, who wooed her by false: words into aTearful sin. The child of our old age, it almost brake our hearts; and wo came here,, far away from the haunts of early '.years, to the remainder of our days m a stmgglo to forget; Wo cannot fprgo.t, hut we. long since forgave; aye, before we heard she was dead. We have lohrncd to-he happy; even with the memory of trial Vypr before us; But wo miss the werc born whU her. imd wp would cliicrh|lt you and ybur child as we should her .mid hers, had she come hack Ore she’repented, as they told its, and died”i: - *The| old in tin’s -.voice was hushed.— Therpijvaa .ho stitihd but . that of sobs/ sove when • Uie'babe'cooe<l its Httle lovesong; ; A 1 cry of ag luy, buret. from the, while lips of the stranger, as, loosing the hands that held'he}; sao. feil at the feet of those t w|io had bcen so : true/ a pry and then wonts— -

- I Blau and Ini mortality. . Man. is a KeJ, sod birth is planting.—* Hois iVlife for cultivation, not oxhibi- - tion; ho is hero chiefly, to bo acted on, hot._ to be .choractemtically an agent. For though' man’ is also an .actor, ho is yet morb a- recipient. Though he produces reflects, ho receives a thousand-fold'more than ho produces. - And he is to bo estimated by bis'capucity of receiving, not oC doing, lie hits his least value in what he can do, it all lies in what he is capable of having done to him. The eye, the ear, tho tongue, the nerves of touch, are all simple receivers, . The understanding, tho affections, tho morel sentiments, all are, primarily and characteristically, recipients of influence, and only secondarily agents, Now, how.different is.tho value of-ore, dead, in its silent waiting-place, from the* wrought blade, the alt but living engine,, and the carved and curious utensil 1

Crbiil Cities of (lie World.

London 1 is the greatest, city on the jglobc. Including the cities- and. to\vos which it has "swallowed --up; and made 1 a part of itself, tit covers an area of thirtytwo square miles, thickly planted with hPuses, most of which; arp', four-and-five stories high.. It has about two -millions and a half of inhabitants. New York, reckoning among its inhabitants all.who habitually do business within: sight of Triniiy steeple, is, in point of.pop illation,’ tile speond/city of-the world,.embracing atdenst'a million people. Within its chartered limits iti Inis now - probably ahmA eight hundred thousand inhabitomtv In this view it is the fourth city, Pjirtyand Constantinople being more populous. . ', /The estimated population of the cities of) Asia have been most extravagantly exaggerated.: It is confidentially stated ’that thesis not one of them 1 that has a‘papula ton exceeding a million. The largest ciiyfiu not oversix hi udretl thousand inhabitants; whim the great cities of 'Clnna—Pejcin, Nankin and C lmo$—instead of their three, two, and die millions/are nci.her of .them estimate | to.contain a population of over six or ei; Jit hundred thousand.; : * Philadelphia has 'about ; half a million in JybitanU; Vienna and-Borlinnearlyas an my; Naples, threo hundred ( ami fifty ih msand; Brooklyn, more than two haar dnd thousand;, and the city pf Mekico about the same. ■ Baltimore -has now : pi abahly a population of nearly or quite or o hundred and; ninety thousand; Cin- f ciiinati, one hundred and -seveuty-fivo th msand; New Orleans and Boston, about ons hundred and fifty tbo us ami each; Vi oipe, one-hundred and tciJUiOnsaml; St .Louis) one hundred •thousand. —lAfe JU'htraicd. \ j. v . Selfishness lliichi lsilnu. . ' for sofno purpose m the ‘world.— 1 Fill up. the measures of duty to others.! Conduct yo.urself so tliat you shall be-; .missed with sorrow wherf you!, arc gone; 1 iTultitudes of our species aroliijiug in such I a. selfish manner that' they arc nut likely to|bb reracmbered aftpir .their disappear-1 aheo., ; They leave behind them "scarcely any .traces of-their existence, but* are forgotten as though they haA.ueyerbcco;— Tbiy are, while dhey live, like.ono pebble 1 unobserved, among a million on the shore,! and when they did they are Hko the saijio; pebble thrown into the. 6ea, : which just’; nifties' tho- surface/sinks; and is forgotten without -being- missed from/h'e bench.— They, are neither regretted; by .the rich, wanted .by. the/poor, nor}celebrated by the learned. Who : hiwj hech 'Interior j their life? Whoso teare/)av« tKpydried) up? Whoso miseries hayo they - healed ?; Ay ho so wants supplied ?-}\yho.wpuld unbar the gate of, life to re-adm|t them, to existence, or what face would grbel.thdra back to our world with a emilo?!-Wretch-ed’, unproduct* ve mode of. 'existence!-—■ Selfishness is its own cu ree/ it'hjf star y ing vice. The man tv ho doesnogood, gets none. He is like the heath in the desert, ndithor yielding fruit nor seeing when good comclh; a stunted, dwarfish, miserable shrub. ' ■■*,/

• Of how little value-is a,ship standinghelpless on the stocks—hut half built and jet! bailJing-to ono who has no knowledge of the ocean or of what that helpless, hulk will become the moment,she slides, into her clement, and rises arid falls upon, the flood-with joyons greetingl \ - The value of an ncom is not what it is, bnt what it shall bo when nalnreh&s Vobded it, and'brought it up, and' ahundred jcarehave sung through its branches and ’left thcirstrehgth' Iherol ' ; ' ‘ He, then; that judges man by what he 'can do, judges him in the seed. We must > seb him through some.tonsos—we must prefigure his immortality. While, when b]s iiUhtslrial value; in- life f must depend - oh what ho can "do, wo have here theboginnlng of amorW valno which'bears' ifo relation-to his 'power, hot to hia fotoredestiny,.—Henry Ward Beecher, ;;- r i

' , ‘‘I’atlicr! mbthcH she (lid not lives! I am she—your idzzie-~your lost, fond child!” :' > 'r-

Let the curtain drop.V'It is a scejae too Toly for any but the 6 1 ght“bf r angels. / . V:. ,. ‘ ' ,. * "Yes,” said old grandmother, ‘"it was thoi r long lost and dead Lizzie. .She her' sej f hid forged the,, story of her. death 1 ,* to wcuredierself In .flin hid learned,to love. ?Apd of wretchedness and ‘ crime,; she became herself; felt upon her; breast the touch of pure and holy dips—then she became herself again, and* felt how much, how decplyshn had-sinned i and alio loured to have her baby nurtured;os she bad been. It was.long ere she could escape from her sinful but’ she at .length sucond reached, as I have told. you, her fu'ther’shouso,-. She tneant to. conceal herself .till they were, asleep, arid .then leave and go ayray; for Ob/she was very vile,. Bat the cold was so in: tense she- 1 dared not leave the chi|d r but was forced to£ccp;i it to.her breast; and, worn ( and worried with her long and tedious struggle with the: drifts; at length became benumbed, and could no longer still (be:-cries of- her little one; and thus, was brought;back to.'love; to home, to Christ; by the vdico ofanangelon* her heart.” ;■ ■ Thpr old : lady ceased her story, and' there iwas no • word'spoken .for a long whiles Then the young maiden broko.it, saying, * ‘And what became-of them, all?” ■;: i ‘.‘The two- aged V parents .lived 'near a score of years, happy in the lovoioT their restored child, and in the caresses and tender * care of her little. one. .They lie buried in the old church-yard. The*grandchild lived to be a bloisipg to her mother for twenty-fire ycats,' thou passed away, leaving a little one to make good her; place. Motherless ere it had t seen the loco of her who gave it birth, it wasfolh- 1 crlcss ere the year was out." . Another long pauss, i "Yes, it was a haunted bcarlh-stono, this. Those aged Christians, that beautiful young mother—that nohlo father—they haunted it; not as did ghosts of olden time, making it a wierd spot for the heart, but with such holy memories that the Lour spent in communion with them seems like a visit to the better land. "Hearth-stones are over haunted, but few, like this, have angels lor their guests,”

Blit if was many a weary day cro she could leave her bed. -Wliea ut last she Slole’froai itj [and sat up in the old lady's rocker, and I fills! her baby with old songs, die seemed to her waUhers more like a spirit than a'sick stranger; * Blit 'gradually, though through their tender nursing, shp recovered strength; and not only-ten-ded her child,'but assisted the bid lady in many of her domestic! duties; Buffilie 'said very little;' less 'thhn they could have wished; for in their hearts they longcd : to know her story. - They knew she was a sinner—knew it : by tho ' meck patient way. in which .she-* hnng bar head' when they read the Bible, at monL-dnH night—know it by the stained faoo sho raised to them after each prayer.' ; ;Bnf they loved hc’rall the more, or,' rather, were hlljjte; kinder to her; And though she retired memories that it was agony to bear, they folded her to their affections as they wonld their own lost Iamb, had she not gone ere they conld [each her. The-winter passed and still the stranger lingered, filling with her little one a small place in the house, but a large one in eath:agcd heart. One golden spring morn, after assisting in the morning ds hod become Ifcr habit, she went into the bed-room with licr babe, and soon reap'peared wrapped in the same coarse garments they Lad worn on that frosty night of their arrival, “tlive her onoddss, grandma, andyflu, grandpa," said she, holding the child first to one and then the other’s wrinkled faces; “and now father, mother—do let rao call you this once! give tKa nnwedded mother one, and we'will go; and wherever I go I will pray for yon, and she shall be taught to; and she rushed wildly to the door. They stopped her, caught her child, and pleaded with her to stay. “Be to ns still what you have been so long, onr daughter, aud *do not toko from us

■ ... EuropeanrLd/e. - v. ; From a-letter of an American lady; ‘ published in the ,Olol«, wo clip the following extract; , , - , ; ; , . . ’ ‘ . 1

In Franco, Switzerland .andAus Iris, X have seen the. field . covered with : women ploughing,''getting out or spreading.mapure, digging and ditching, woriingoa mil roads, and -carrying loads' of ‘ dirt or manure oh their heads fn bags or baskets; they are so bunburnt os olten to be block-; er than many .colored perepnaj twrinkledV aud.tsad looking'as if they bad old hefiare ibeir time, and bad never a happy feelingi miserable hovels are usually surrounded with mndand fillb;.with pigs or cows before dhe -door;'the and house are mostly .together, 1 sc&reply a alight partition dividing* tbein; When the poor women have finished their hard day,Vrwork v : (hnd:ibis, I observed, 1 was .prolonged’ till they pickupthmr ; children; - and -go to > their .comfortless homes.-; Thesepeopledo : 'not ; ‘ land; they; .work be turned dwayfroni theirpoor hbmes/when iora&i; ■

" ‘ ‘‘jar 8mj th' ? iftf d A BW{wii rqnlttmg'oppo’ silo wiyi'AiiiSiji'coraWBttik er. }'01i, dearl” said madtf inrhwd-nngl I'Thel'e a sign it'i ’ ijpUpy/’said Brown, ‘‘Don’t yonre riogt : 8ai(T8triifb\ ' ; J a sigh it’s cracked 1”. ■ • *' ••

It woS a night much like this; forty or fifty years hare passed since itai winds blew 1 and its snow" drifted—since its cold palsied, and its darkness frightened. -Beside the' same hcarth-stohe—the saffie, only that it was not worn for had then tested hut thirty, in-

' r ' JGF-Tha woman-wbd'telgna the queen of; the; ball-room , is very seldom ■' found - capable of being tbogoveraeaa ofjwf # children.

■ stead now, scvenly-and-odd winters 1 —an aged man and his wife sat before the fire, striving, to while away *tho long erefiing hoars,. .There was not then, a4 now, daily mails coming into oar little - village,’ with* nevye, in shape. The pitas’did nOt Jeem l( as now,

■ (£r : Pleaeu re : wlpch caunot 1», obtain* ed but byunseasonable and: unsuitable expense, most alwaysend in pain.: ,

The love of public opinion is often mistaken for the dictate of genuine bravery. . ' ‘ •

.Tile anniversary of that bleak winter’s night came round.. Thfi'fire burned as brightly as before, the room was warm and cozy; but the young girl kneeled not

: ;J3r{Ago without cheerfulness, is a Lapland without,* sun. , .

‘ jf3T To abstain from a small ttrag it more difficult than to.qndetUkt a gitate ’ ope. - -

swift* est \risgod; tliq duljer*J»g'behind,