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‘ Minimum . TO MY DAUGHTER. A beautiful garland thou’rt twining. Sissy, 0f rosy woodbine and jessamine fair; Whose flowers o’er thy sweet face shining, Sissy Shall sparkle like stars in thy golden hair. All! their fragrance shall die. and their splen- dour. Sissy, She“ soon be scattered and trampled to dust; . 80 thy soul may at length surrender. Sissy. Its charms to the spoiler with loving trust. ButI pray for thee, Sissy. I pray for thee. That it may not be, Sissy. it may not be! Asweet song of childhood thou’rt singing. Sissy An thy clear voice thrills with each golden word; As thy shadowlessspirit were winging, Sissy. LIts way to the land where the seraphs are heard. . ,But the more thou art merry-hearted. Sissy. The wilder may beat the world’s sharp rain; When the goldenhour’s have departed. Sissy. And for death’s loue comfort thou callest itt vain; Oh. I pray for. thee, Sissy. I pray for thee. That it ntay not be. Sissy, it may not be! And now in the garden thou’rt playing, Sissy. With frolic toutstep and laughing face; Or behi rd the tall IULOIJUSII waytaytrg, Eli-t.) . The little one printing to Win the Wind rac-t. Ah! too soon, Time shall touch thee, and error. I‘Sissv. The springing foot and the bounding limb; Yeal thy spirit may quail an. falter. Sissy. With Sorrow and \Vrong. ere tltine eyes grow ' dim, Oh, I pray for thee, Sissy, I pray for thee. v_ That it may not be, Siss‘ . it may not be! By thy .tIt-rtllol‘m knee thou art. praying. Sissy. To the Gotitio Shepherd that watches above; And the simple words thou art saying, Sissy. Like the dew to the flowers rim return with Love. And yet thou mny’i-t cause to remember. Sissy. 'I'hyfathor‘s teachings. thy mother’s care: And thine heart may grow cold its December. Sassy, Nor'thrill to the charm of the old sweet prayer. Oh. I pray for. thee. Sissy. I pray for thee. That it may not be, Sissy, it may not be! And now thou art quietly sleeping, Sissy, And smiles softly flit o’er thy beautiful face; As the Angels of Light were keeping, Sissy. Sweet watch over one of their own bright race ‘Venld that life with its sin and sorrow, Sissy. Might never chase fond sleep f'om thine eye; May the light of each flying morrow, Sissy. Bring peace to thine heart, as the years steal by! 0h, I pray for thee. Sissy, I pray for thee. That this may be, Sissy, that this may be! l ‘w'fi‘. :. .. __ _._‘_.‘ :LZ._“_._..___J‘ ‘=_-. m: a... _.,_______ Jib/1 1r 1' .7710]: BIS; 0R ' Loaves from a Gentleman’s Diary. ____. Continued. A month clapscd, and yet Mr. - Morris had not made his appearance at.th_c cottage. His daughter, though secmcd nowisc disturbed on account of his absence. but always received me with a cheerful countenance, and tlté course of our love seemed to be . running as smoothly along as the anClcss little stream that meander- cd by the door. My father, mother, and ‘thc famlly still continued at the Springs, where [ likewise lept and breakfastcd, but seldom anything more, for l was generally at Mary’s side by ehvcn in the forcnoon and there until ninc at night. Thus pleasantly had passed a month and a week, when one after- noon, as we rose from the dinner- table, I proposed a ride to \Vilming- - ton and a visit to the old Swedes’ Church, built, as may be seen by the 1 figures on the bclfrcy, in 1608. She acquiesced, and we were speed ly Upon our horses, taking the road by Newport in preference to the short- er bridle-path through the woods. It was a summer dayâ€"warmâ€" but'a genial breeze was constantly in motion. In an hour's time We were riding down the shady lane that leads to the dilapidated building. The building is not now used for pub- lic worship. nor has it been for seve- ,ral years. We fastened our horses ,- to tire fence beneath the. shade of a large oak, and entered the precincts of the grave yardâ€"~th long grass of which waved to and fro with the wind, and glistcncd in the sunshine. .. “ Sec,” said Mary as we paused to view the distant scene of the Delaware dotted with white sails " sec l ‘ ’Tis distance: leads enchant- mcnt to the view.’ ’.‘ " And robes the mountain in its azure hue,” I added, finishing the couplct, and pointing back to the highlands above Wilmington. ‘ . “ A beautiful spot l" whispered Mary, contemplating the scene with delight. " Yes there was indeed something hallowed in the Spot, that old graVc- -yard ! We read the names upon the tombs. and pcruscd the verse or verses that occasionally commemo- _ rated the virtues of u mouldering occupant. We sat upon one grave togetherâ€"wwe spoke of the dead, of the past, of the prescntofthc future “and lingered there till the shades of the evening began to close around LIS tale of my While thus seated my thoughts . wandered to Euphrasia, and I relat- edto the maiden at my side the sad sister’s unhappy fate. She wept as she listened; tears were -in my eyes, too; and, ere we arose AURORA AL EX. SC OTT, Proprietor. Vol. II. N... 177 ed to be minc ! hometvard was pleasant. tcred the pai'lor;"._Mr. Morris was there! tttcly locked in his embrace. said he, extending his hand kindly towards me; and Mary, recollect- it‘rg that she had forgotten in her joy to introduce me, appologizcd and of- fered to do so. “ There is no need of it,” said he playfully. as he kissed her forehead; “ we are not unknown to each oth- er.” “ \Vhat.” inquired Mary, with surprise, looking from one to the other, " have yov ever met before I" " We have,” was his reply, and I stnil'ctl an allirntnttt’c. " But.” cutt- ttuucd ho, “I have traveled first to- day; I am fatigued, and will thank you for some refreshments." * She left the room to give the in - ocssary orders, and I was beginning to detail the circuitistnticcs which had tmntbittcll to bring me into the cornpauy of his daughter and be- lfcnlll the same roof with himself, when he stopped me short by say- ing that Lcmucl had already told him. “ Nor was I surprised," soid he; “ l have had a presentment of it for some time pastâ€"in fact. evor :iucc that fracas in the woods." “ That man," said I, " who at- tcmpted your life is my brother-in- law.” “I know it, sir, I then know it.” “, Indeed I” “ When lcame home, (which was but a few minutes sincc, fifteen or twenty, perhaps.) the servants told me that Mary was out riding with a Mr. Allan from the Springs, I knew at once who you were, and ' listened patiently “to” Lcmucl's nar- ration of the storm upon the even- ing you became acquainted here, of your shelter beneath this roof that night, and your subsequent visits. But no more of this at present. You are welcome, sir--â€"wclc0mc.” As he said this he shook mo heartily by the hand. " As for my daughter,” he continued “ she is an amiable girl, though I say it; and I am confident she will never misplacc hcr affec- tions. Woo her. and win herâ€"you have her father’s consent.” “And her motherâ€"" “ 18 dead l” these two word! he it with a sigh, “ how unfortunate l uttered with a deep emphasis and an almost choked voice. The three of us sat down to the tca-tablc that evening; I left as usu- al at nine; and that night, before she retired to her chamber, Mary inform- hcr father that Iliad wooed that I had won. CHAPTER VI.â€"-â€"LOVE AND PIETY. It was about an hour past noon on the following day when I dis- mounted at the cottage. Upon en- tering the parlor I found Mary and her father seated in conversation with a gentlcn‘tan, apparently middle aged. who was introduced to me by the name of Vuux. To judge from appearances, he was very precise in matters pertaining to his outwitrd gear. His liuon was scrpulously white and smooth; so much so that he did not appear at case about Illl.‘ shirt-collar and cravat. A glossy black coat. white vest and nankeen pztntalOons, with highly polished boots, together with a closely shavcn ('l‘tit‘t, small whiskers._and harsh black hair, (like Daniel Webster's), will, equate idea of his tout ensemble. Mary and I did not remain in the ride. at three o’clock. Nr. Vaux dined with us. arrchd by the steamboat that morn- ing from Philadelphiaâ€"so I inci- dcrrtallv learned by his conversation at tile table. Notwithstanding the niccty of his dress, it in no degree interfered with his appetite, for he ate heartin and drank freely. I wondered who he Was. Though he drank gloss after glass of charnpai- gas, it by no means loosened his tongue, but I believed rendered him more taciturn. Mary, in answer to an inquiry of mine, after We had risen from the table and were walk- ing to and fro in the hall, said that had never seen him before. or to depart, Marry Morris had promis. presume." she continued, l . _ why are ycu so curious 7” she play It was moonlight, and the ride fully asked, We cn- er I shoulo ccrtai ' v t quiriesâ€"but it "His daughter exultntgly an arch smile, “ you arenot, s rang forward, and was uffccttoh- jealous I” she added. "Sit down, Sir; you are welcome," deed 1" | l AND . RICHMOND £1" “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” RICH “ But adorned with the most gorgeous col- ors imaginable, and dazzled the eye “ Were it in my pow , with “ one unclouded blaze of living) ' _ .3 ' its not. ."1 ijtl with;it sped the water seemed to make I hope, 1 tie silence numeral. isound was heard-wnot eve-u the note "Jealous! I! not Il jealous in~ l of a bird; every warbler hztd retired ' {to rest. Twilight began to shade Still I wondered why he was there ! i the scene as we landed again; and But, surely, it was no business ofl the town-clock at Wilmington chim- mine, and of course I refrained from I ed the hour, as, arm in-arm, we bent making any inquiries that might be ‘ our steps to the cottage, and we loit- dcemcd in anywise imperiincnt. lered aloug so thoughtfully that it MON!) HILL, FRIDAY, MARCH 23. 1860. nly satisfy your in lllglll; and the ripple of the boat as) I trust, convey to the render an ad- room long; and having nothing par- ticujar to engage our attention dur- ing the two hours that must elapse bofore dinner. We concluded upon a Alter a pleasant cxcurston in- to the adjacent country We returned He had Ovcr their wine and cigars we left was almost dark when we reached Mr. Morris and his friend, and cn« thcrc. joycd, what was to us of infinitely more consequence, 1’ ourselves. She and a light shawl; we then directed our steps to the river, and unuroored off, and a neat little pleasure barge, (belong- mgfto the place.) beautifully decorat- ed and cushioned; and upon the Stern of which, in giltlettcrs, spark- ed the name of her for whom An- toay‘lost a World. \Ve‘ were now adrift and with a son“ I guided the boat to a deeply tote. l shaded spot of grecnwood. which Mary pott'rtco' obliquely to on the opposite shore. On either side of river. tall moss-covered (alts crown- cd with forest trees, towered into tho sky and cast their long shadows over the wave. The sun, as yet. Was far away from the south, and his beams scarcely penetrated the thick fiiilage. It was a soothing scene! And as she sat there. so airy and sy lph-like. in the bow of the barge, my thoughts reverted to the Queen of Scotsâ€"of hcr escape at night in a boat from Lock chcn castle. There Was a nameless some- thing win: l: I:.‘:;=HTFF(‘.(I that sccuc up- on rny mind at that moment. ] do not remember now, but, pcrhapsl had recently been reading a history of the unfortunate queen, and the my memory that it required no great stretch of imagination to invest the scene around me with the romance of that. I mentioned to Mary that such thoughts were passing in my mind; and with a sweet smile she thanked me for the compliment, (as she called it.) and, as we were now touch.ng the shore, with a light foot shc leaped from the barge upon the green st'ard. Imadc the barge fast and follotvcd her. “ You Speak of the Queen of Scots,” she said, as I rejoined her; “ how beautiful. and yet,” she spoke With her distinguished birth and all her acmmplishmcnts, how sad a fate was reserved for her. Deprived of a throne by the unnatural intrigues of a brotherâ€"imprisoned eighteen years by a sister queen-and finally brought to the block! I never look upon the painting of her in the pur- lor at home but that the tour starts. ,and I am lid to think of the muta- 't)ility of all that is earthly. “ But love, Mary-â€"lovc is not learthly,” I fondly whispered, as l fondly whispered, as I pressed her to my bosom and fi‘ll tin: palpitation of her heart against miuc. “ My love for you can never change; on earth it shall last till death’s dark doom divides us and be renewal in Heaven with nugumentcd strength." She 'as my affi:n.ccd bride. yet this was the first time that I had vcn- ,turcd to strain her to my bosom. 'Uur intercourse had hithcrlo been like the unrufllcd bosom of a stream -â€"clear and placid; no emotions had been visible on its surface. Yet. though this was the first ebuhtion of feeling that had been permitted by usâ€"â€"-I would not have it be under- stood that there had herett‘.=fi‘)t'e been any lack of it upon the par; ot'eith- or. On the contrary it had existed, with a daily increase, since the very first evening of our acquaintance, with a deep but silent current. and in this instance. like a sWollcn river, had OVcrflowed. Three hours had nearly passed we entered the barge to return. incident was was then so fresh in, , Morris and his We found Mr. .29 society oflfricnd‘seated out upon the pizza, in put on her bonnetl earnest conversation, which, at our approach, was immediately broken ordinary matters were brought. on the rapis, as Lemuel handed us chairs and we seated our- selves alqzrt‘r with them. Tea was soon after announced, and there were now four to sit at the table in- stead of two of us, who for the last month had dined and suppcd tote-a- ;This addition to our society renderch it by no means agreeable to me, and for a moment Ientertain- expectation of being absent two days. , . As we rose from the table he asked a» few minutes of private conversaâ€" tion with me; I acquiesced, and be Not another led the way up to his chamber, se- curing from the possibility of any- abrupt intrusron by locking the door. “ Briefly, sir,” be commenced, “ let me inform you that your bro- ther-in-law and myself mcct upon the boundary line between this state* to Fairfax in the bar-room I con- jectured it to be a challenge. "IfyI fall, Mr. Allan,” be, con- tinued, and I observed that his voice was slighth trernulous. “ protect her. She has told me of your,be- trothal._ Protect herâ€"love herâ€"â€" and be at once her father and, bus- band. Give me your hand and pro- mise me this." , “I will protect her, sir, with my life I will!” was the resolute answer Ignve, whilst we shook hands 'to- gether. “I will neither break the ed on involuntarily reflection of promise given nor flinch from its ful; chagrin, but the next moment de- tested myself almost for admitting such a thought into my bosom. I left the cottage early that evening. but the parting kiss between Mary and me was longer, closer than it had hitherto been. CHAPTER VII.-~'I‘HE DENOUEMENT. Tar: next morning, (I had risen very late I remember,) aftsr break» fast, and while I was reading news- paper in the bar-room of th hotel, in came the person to whom I had been introduced at the cottage the day before. He-walkcd vp and ad- dressed the bar-keepcr. I was near enough to hear wh'ztt he said. i , “Mr. Fairfax is staying here at present, I believe i" “ Yes, sir” "Can I see him 7” “ He is in his room sir. name shall I announce ’l” “ Mr. Vauxâ€"orâ€"its no matterâ€"- incrcly state that there is a person here who wishes to speak with him.” " Yes, sir." The bar-keeper then pulled a bell which brought a servant to the spot and to whom orders were given. So far I had not been observed by Mr. Vaux, and to prevent him from noticing me at all, which I thought would be the proper course for me to adopt, I screened my face behind the paperl held, apparently absorbed in its contents, but in reality not be- stowing a thought thereon. My curiosity was inordinately excited. nor was it at all abated, it may be readily supposed. when shortly after- tvnrds my brother-inâ€"law entered, and Mr. Vaux handed him a note. What were the contents of that note? I surmised; it was only conjecture, however. Eurncstly did I hope that my conjectures might not be reali- Thoy entered an adjoming I'OUII] and ('l.)St'{l the door. At the instant Mr. Vaux came in l was upon the point of rising to go to the cottage. but having wit- nessed thus much of his movements I now resolved to sit where I was until he returned from the apart- ment into Which they had just gone. I. had not long to wait, for in about five mmutes' time. he rc-appeared followed by Fairfax. They coldly nodded (as if it was a condescen- sion upon the part of each) as they separated. What 1 1th}, much agitatedâ€"his pale countenance and restless eyes were not otherwise to be accounted for. I went to the windowâ€"saw Mr. Vaux was there when I arrchdâ€"he was in the par- lor with Mr. Morris. lcncountcr- ed Mary in the hall at the foot of the stairs. which she was just do- scending; and ere her foot had roach lilmcnt under any circumstances.” " I believe you,” he replied, grasp: mg my hand with additional'warmth. “ I have written to my attorney, Mr. H , at New York, giving him a statement ofthc facts as they stand and should it be my fate not to suro vive the meeting that will take place toomorrow, you, (as soon as matri- mony is solemuized between Mary and you.) will find voursclves‘ of forty thousand pounds more conse- quence in the eyes of the world than you now are. If he fallsâ€"one or the other mustâ€"4f your brother-in- law falls, I shall not return to this cottage, but hasten on to New York and there take the packet for Eng land. which sails on the twentieth of the month. In that event, too, if she becomes your wife, her dowcr shall be ample.” “ If you please, sir, speak not of that,” said I, interrupting him, for {disliked the subject. “My motives are not mercenary. In obtaining your daughter’s affections, I sought for them only. Think not, sir, that wealth was an inducement.” To be Continucd. .SNApenAooas.-â€"Human worldly life is a game at snapdragonslâ€" Reader. cast up a few of, your ac- quaintance on your fingers and thumbs, and say,â€"â€"have We notpr0~ pounded a truth subtle as light. and " deep almost as life I” Have we not by the magic of the sentence. brought to your memory the push- ing. elbowing, scrambling, success- ful folks, who,iutent upon the plums. have dashed their frauds into the world's bowl, and clutched the savo- ury fruit? And do you not now remember the weak and luckless,who have been pushed and posited away from the feast, who have now plucked up heart. and tried to scramble to the bowl-have. now grasped the hot plums. have carried them within hair’s-breadth «f their lipsâ€"and lo! they have been and- denly jerked, or pushed, or elbowed hence; the plums have dropped from their fingers. and, dejected. worn out, they have retired from the struggle, feeling that it was not for them that plums were gathered lhelf young. and the bowl was filled? “-W Unless you have the nature ofa gentle- I saw at a glance that Fairfax was 53‘“, V0“ 9“” "We" al'l‘ll'v‘ at the PH“ tcction of good-blooming. True gentle- tnanliness. like true manhood or true cour- age, has its foundation in the very nature ofa man; and if the foundation be deâ€" fective, the superstructure will always rest I, EHLL .ADVOCATE .AND ‘ADVERTKHHL and Marylaudvtoornorrow, with hos- tile purpose. I have sent him a challenge, which be has accepted.” “As I surmised.” thought I; for when I saw Mr. Vaux hand the note \M/xj\r\ A‘M /AJ\N TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. W“... Whole N o. 69. FARM OPERATIONS FOR MARCH. From the American Agriculturist. March is here, with its rude winds, like a busy blustercr clear- ing the way for the advancing seashn. Unpleasant as the sweep? ing blasts are, they perform im- portant service, rapidly freeing the surface of the earth from moisture and enabling the awakening vege- tationi to push its Way up to light. Already at the South the fields are green and the gardens planted. Cultivators in this latitude often wish for the advantages of such an early season. Though we can notrcontrol the sunshine, we may do much to make it more effec- fcctive. A properly sheltered and thoroughly drained farm may be worked many days earlier than one where the winds are uncheck- ed, and the soil saturated with tnoisturc, with no way of escape but by surface evaporation. Much too, may be gained by system and full preparation. Let the en- son’s work be fully planned, all necessary implements prepared and faced procured now, that there be no hindrance when the time or- rives for active operations. Buildings need careful inSpection to secure weak timbers, loose boards, and open joints from the drtviugwinds of March. Carsonâ€"This is perhaps the worst month of the season for an - mals. Keep up their appette by change of food, alternating cut coarse fodder with grain and roots. Look well to breeding cows; give Working cattle should be gradually Introduced to heavy work after their long inactivity. Keep them well carded and In good trim. ‘Cnnmnsrâ€"Opeu for thorough ventilation as early as possibleâ€"â€" Remove fill refuse and decaying vegetables. Sort potatoes, apples, etc. Prescrve beets, carrots. cab- bages, etc., for seed. Whitewash the walls and posts at an early day. CLovntr.-â€"â€"-Sow upon light snow, or when the ground is well open- ed by a morning frost. Use plenty of seed. . DriAr‘SmEâ€"Lay tile drain as early 'as’ fros‘t will allow. If' these can be procured. subsoil wet lands intended for grain. Clear out open ditches, adding the muck to the ma- nure heap. Fusionsâ€"Put in repair. or as soon as frost is out of the ground. See particularly to line fences.--- Plant hedges, m, l, in localities not too cold. Prepare posts, rails and gates in stormy weather. Fonssrsâ€"Devote wsSte rocky spots to locust, black walnut, maple, or other quick-growing trees. GRAINâ€"Examine bins to exclude vermin. Keep from molding."- Shcll and market corn. Select or procure seed if neglected until now. Hodge rotvs near fences, and scrubby bushes in meadows and pas- ‘turcs, or by the road side, should be rooted out. Tidiness adds to the market value of the farm, and im- proves tltc taste and pleasure of the occupants, Hoar-Breeding sows need at- tention. Give a little animal food and charcoal or Cinders occasion- ally. Give liquor enough to intoxi- catc to those inclined to destroy Litter the pens freely to make manure. Keep all tidy. Houses.â€"â€"Commencc working gradually and increase feed with the labour. Give carrots with oats. Avoid exposure to winds, when heated. lcn-nousn-â€"Complcte filling if not done, and keep properly secured. Examine drainage and ventilation. Mascarasâ€"Work over compost on an infirm oasis. Manv a scion of no- heal’i" 0“” thin already Prepared] biltty, on whom the utmost arts of'culti-'.l" llle fields. and Cover lllc heaps ration have been lavished, has lived and Willi "melt or soil and plaster if ac- died a vulgar man; while, on the other cessible. Remove contents of pri- ~.«,««,.;w-::. W rietics, Try new kinds sparingly. POULTRYâ€"Give Chopped meat and green food with grain. Sup- ply with wntcr, gravel and tubes, or chip dirt. Remove accumula- tions of droppings. Save eggs for setting. For earliest chickens set. Allow one male to ten or twelVe hens. SEEnflSecure full supply from reliable sources. Change occasion- ally for that raised in a distant loca- lity. Test small parcels of corn and other grain before using largely. SHEIEP~â€"KCCP breeding ewes by themselves, where they may be comfortable and quiet. Allow thorn roots and grain. Watch for early lambs. Read article on Protection from Dogs, p. 75. SUGAR Marnnsw‘l‘ap to in. Use shallow cvaporators. Keep all sufficiently clean to prevent the necessity for clarifying. Sonoerâ€"It may be well to plan for trying a small plot this year for selling, for fodder. or if practi- cable for making syrup. Secure seed early. _ d __._.__._._...._. w..â€" m' SAM SLICK AND THE Lawns»â€" ‘Cousin John how did your wife hurt her back so? I declare it makes me feel awfully to see what a great hump she's got a growing since she cum away from Connecti- cut !’ With that Coustn John look- ed at her and larfcd a little, butI could see he didn’t feel just right, and arter a minute sez Itc, ‘Hush, cousin, you must not talk so loud ; its true Mary has put on rather too much bustle, but it’s the fashion you see.’ I looked round, and as true as you live there waran’t a gal in the room that hadn’t her back stick- ing out jest the sumo way. Such a set of hump-bucked critters I never did put my eyes on. and yit they all stood about smiling and talking to the fellers as if nothing'ailed them, poor things. Some of the gals had feathers in their hair. and some had tlowcrs or gold chains twisted among their curls, and I didn’t 506 One there that wasn't dressed up in her silks and satins as crank as could be. As for the men I thought I should haw lutwkcd right out a lfll‘fin to see some of 'em; there was one chap talking to Miss Beebe with his hair parted from the top of his head (anfl cach Side of me,“ separate roomy stalls a, night. his face, and it hung down behind all over his coat collar like a young gal's just before she begins to wear a comb ; and there was two bunches of hair stuck out on his upper lip right under the nose. like a cat’s whiskers when gt... licgiur,‘ to get her back up Every tunc he spoke the hair kinder riz up and *ovcd about till it was cit-nigh to make a fcllar crawl all over to look at him. Think. 582 l, ifit Wouldn’t be fun to see that Varmint try to out. If he didn’t get his vii-trials thauglcd up in that bunch of hair. he must know how to aim all fired straight with his knife and fork. Ltvrno 'I‘OO Hron.â€"'l‘he following paragraph reminds us of a little work published here some few years sincc, entitled "i'hree Experiments of Living,” illustrating Living within the Means. and Living beyond the Means, and we select it as not in- appropriate to his meridian :â€" Thcrc is a dreadful ambitiou abroad for being ‘ gcntccl.’ We keep up appearances too often at the ex- pense of honesty; and though we may not be rich, yet we must seem to be so. We must be ‘respcctable,’ though only in tho meanest sense. in mere vulgar outward show. \Ve have not the courage to go patiently onward in the condition of life in which it has pleased God to call us, but must needs live in some fa- shionable state to which we ridi- culously please to call ourselves, and all to gratify the vanity of that unsubstantial genteel world of which we form a part. There is a constant struggle and pressure for front seats in the social amphithe- atre, in the midst of which all self- denying resolve is trodden down, and many fine natures are inevit- ably crushed to death. What waste, what misery, what bankruptcy, come from all this ambition to dazzle others with the glare of ap- parent worldly success, we need not describe. The mischcvious re- sults show themselves in a thou- sand waysâ€"in the rank frauds committed by men who do not dare to seem; poor and in the desperate dashes at fortune, in which the pity is not so much for those who fail, as for the hundreds of innocent families who are so often involved hand, many a poor man’s son, born and vies before warm weather makes it she knew nothing of him, that she ‘ We take no note of time but by its loss.” During this intt-rval the sun had retrolved to the west and was now descending in all his setting splendorbehind the distant highlands; and his beams, no longerintercepted by the foliage, streamed upon the and her father and Mr. Vaux came river so brightly that it shone like out. They smiled as they passed molten gold. Still, notwithstanding us; Mary blushed, and even I half the happy afternoon we had passed, hung my head. They ascended to as Isculled lromeward that evening, the chamber of Mr. Morris and Mary and Iwcre sad. We knew locked themselves in. Why lock ed the floor I caught her in my arms and saluted her with a loqcr's kiss. We were standing thus. in a kind of half-embrace, against the balus- trade of the staircase. conversing, when the parlor door was opened not why, yet both were silent, and I themselves in ? But there they were.- there seemed to be a presentiment and they remained c.osettcd till dinâ€" of sorrow in our breasts, an apprc~ iter-llmC-rfoul‘ hoursâ€"and at the hension rag-m and undefinnble. ‘table Mr. Morris announced that As the sun continued to sink, large , . _ himself and friend were to leave thel “ He 1’ merely here on a vrsit, I‘and red, the western sky became cottage that afternoon, with the wages at night.’ bred in penury, and deprived of ovary more offensive. Cleanse hog pens, 3°Clal damage. has by the inheflm» hcnroosts, kitchen drains, etc., to forces and qualities of gentlemanliness in his nature. (lcvloped into a man; of. the highest good-breeding. The cenlral prin- cipile of good-breeding is, a willingness in social intercourse ‘toprefer the pleasure and happiness of others to your own. A POPLAR AUTHoR says, ‘I have no propensity to envy any one, least of all the rich and great; but if I were disposed to this weakness, the subject‘of tny envy Wutlltl be a healthy young man, in fullvpos session of his strength and faculties. going tourth in a morning to work for his wife l and children, or bruging them home his increase the stock of fertilizers. Msltnows-wRemove rocks, roofs br,uslr..ctc.. as the Weather permits. Keep drains open. Allow no stock to graze upon or trample them up -â€"or down. Plowing done too early is a detri- ment. Wait until the ground will not pack. .Deepen the soil gradu- ally, one to two inches :1 years-v Cross plow ilightly. lands deeply turned last Full. Subsoil when practicable. l I’omrousâ€"sccure early, for borne use at least, as described on page '73. Secure seed of best va- in their ruin. TALES IN SECRET DRAWERI.-I wonder how often the executors of old college fellows, or of hard-faced bankers and bureaucrats, have been aggravated by finding in that most secret dravver, which ought to have held a codicil or a jewelâ€"1 tress, a glove. a flower? 'l'he searcher , looks at the object for a moment, and then i throws it into the rubbislnbasket; with a . laugh ifhe is good-natured, with a curse if lite is vicious or disapcinted. Let it lie thereâ€"though the dead miscr valued it abovo all his bank-stock, and ki-‘sed it of- tener than he did his living and lawul wife and childrenâ€"-what is it worth now 'I’ Say, as the grim Dean of St. Patrick I wrote on his love-token, ‘ Only a woman's ' hairs