Huntingdon Journal

              BY JAS. CLAllK.
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, APRIL 23, 1850.
VOL. XV, NO 17.
Written for the Iluntingdon JournaU TO CARRIE.
And is it thus, am I forgot 7
Then welcome givc my bones to rM;
My only hope of heavcu has fled,
Come hours that mourn mc with thc dead.
It is, I see it in my dreams.
My after days in darkness teems;
Svvee't, fonil rcmembraucc, roust it bc
'fliat I must bid farewell to thee /
My inmost soul must then forget.
And help my sun of life to set.
And bill a long farewell to bliss.
To teach tbyself forgetfulr.ess.
Cakrie, my days ofjoy were few, Vntil my heart beat but foryou; JMy dawn oflife is novv o'ercast. By that request, "roauET the past."
Takc back that unkind wish of thine. And let me worship at thy shrine; / can't forget I 1 will aot try I I dare not—will not—say, good bye !
Why should rcmcmb'rance give thee pain, Since we can never meet again / A mother's love, a brother's pride. Has marked thee for another's bride.
I know, if thou liad'st thy ovvn vvill. Thy virgin heart vvould lovc mc still; I know thy heart o.nce beat for me. As fond as mine now beats for thcc.
My shipwreck'd heart has struck the reef. The hull must soon go down wilh grief; The stranded cords cling round the mast. The ruined emblem of tbe past.
SELECT MISCEM^AIVV.
A TilRILLllVG SKETCH.
THE  BATTLE OF  DRESDEN. BV J. T.   HEADLV.
On the evening oflhcir npproach, St. Cyr wrote to Nnpolean the following lelter :
Dresden, flfld. Aug., 1813 ; ten at niglit, " At five this afternoon the enemy npproachcd Dresden, afler having driven in our cavalry. We expected an atlnck this evening ; but probably it will take place to-morrow.—Your Majesty knows better than 1 do, what lime it requires for henvy nrlillery to beat down enclo- siires, walls and palisades."
The nc.vt nighl, at midnight, he dis¬ patched another to him, announcing an immediate attack, nnd closing with "VVe nre determined to do all in our power bul I can answer for nolhing more with such young soldiers."—Immediately o the reception of the first lelter, Napoleon surrendered his command to McDonald, nnd turned his face toward Dresden. Murat was dispatched in hot haste to nnnounce his arrival nnd reassure the beseiged. In the middle of his guards, which bad marched nearly thiriy miles a day since the commencement of the war, he took the rond to the cily.
To revive his sinking iroops he order¬ ed twenty thousand bottles of wine lo be di^l^ibuted among them, but not three ihousnnd could be procnred. ile, how¬ ever, marched all next day, having dis¬ patched a messenger lo the beseiged to nscerlnin the exact amount of danger. Said Napoleon, to tbc messenger Gour- gaud, " sel oul immediately for Dresden; ride as hard as you can, and bo there this evening—see St. Cyr, the King of Nnples, and the King of Saxony—en¬ courage every one. Tell them that I can be in Dresden lo-morrow ^^-ith forty thousand men, nnd thc day following with my whole army. Al daybreak visil the outpost and redoubts—consult the commander of engineers us lo whether they can hold oul. Ilurry back to me to-morrow nt Stolpen, ond bringa full report of St. Cyr's and Mural's opinion ns to theVeal state of ihings." Awny dashed Gourgaud in hot speed, while the Emperor hurried on hi* exhausted ormy. Gourgnud did nol wait lill day-break be¬ fore ho returned. lie found everything on the verge of ruin—the allied army wns slowly enveloping the devoted city, nnd when, nt dark, he issued forlh from the gales, the vvhole snmtTier henvens were glowing wilh thc lighl of their bivouac fires, while a burning village near by, threw a still more baleful light over tho scene. Spurring his panting Bleed through tho gloom, he nt mid¬ night burst in a fierce gallop into the squares of lh3 Old Guard, and wns im¬ mediately ushered into the presence of the nnxious Emperor. The report con¬ firmed his worst fears. Al day-break the weary soldiers were roused from their repose, nnd though they had marched n hundred nnd twenty milcs in four duys, pressed cheerfully forward } for already the distnnt sound of henvy cannonading was borne on by the morning breeze. At eight in the morning, Napoleon and the whole advanced guard, reached an olcva- tion that overlooked Ihewhole plain in which thecity lay embodied ; and lo ! what a sublime yet lerrilfic sighl met their gaze. The wholo valley was filled wilh marching columns, preparing for an assault; while thc beams ofthe morn¬ ing sun we'e senl back from countless hel¬ mets and bnyonets that moved nnd shook in their light. Here and there volumes of smoke  told   where the  batteries wcru
firing, Vvhile the henVy cannonading roll¬ ed like thunder over the hills. There, loo, was the French army, twenly thou¬ sand strong, parked behind ihc redoubts, yet appearing like a single regiinent in the midst of the host lhat enveloped them. Courier afler courier, riding ns for life, kept dashing into the presence of the Emperor, bidding him mako haste if he would save the cily. A lew hours would settle its fate. Napoleon, lenving his guard lo follow on, drove avvay in a furious gallop, while a cloud of dust a- long the road, alone lold where the carnage was whirling onward. As he approached thc gales, the Russian bat¬ teries swept the road with such a dendly fire that he was compelled to leave his carriage and crawl along on his hands and knees over the ground whilst the cannon balls whistled nn incessant show¬ er above him.
Suddenly and unannounced, as  if he had fallen from the clouds, he  appeared atthe Royal Pnlace, where the King   of Saxony was   deliberating on   the terms of capiuilation.    Waiting for no rest, he look a single page so  as  not to atlract the enemy's fire, and wenl forth lo visit the outer works. So near had the enemy approached, that the youth by   his side was slruck  down by   a   spent   musket ball.    Having   finished   his inspection, nnd settled his plans, he returned to the Palace, nnd hurried off couriers lo   the different porlions of lhe army thnt were advancing by forced marches toward the cily. First, the indomilable guards and the brave cuirassiers, eager for the on¬ set, canie pouring in furious haste over the bridge.    The overjoyed inhabitants slood by the streets, and oflered them foodnnd drink; but though weary, hungry and ihirsty, the brave fellows refused to take eiihcr, and hurried onward toward the slorm  that was ready to burst on their companions.    At  10  o'clock  the troops eommenced entering the city— infantry, calvary, and artillery pouring fonvard   with   impetuous     speed—till there nppearitd to be no end to tho rnsh- ing thouaands. Thus wilhout cessation, did the steady columns  nrrive all  dny long, and were still hurrying in, when at 4 o'clock the attack commenced.  The batteries lhat covered the heights around the ciiy opened wilh their lerrible fire, and in a inoment Dresden   became the target ofthree hundred cannon, all train¬ ed upon her devoted buildings.    Then commenced one of war's wildest scenes St. Cyr replied wiih arlillery, nnd thun¬ der  answered  thunder,  as   if   the hol August aflernoon  was ending in a real storm ol" heaven.  Balls I'ell in an   ince nnt shower in thecity, while the blazing bombs traversing the sky, hung  for a moinent like messengers of death over the streets, and  then dropped wilh an explosion that shook the ground, among the frightened   inhabitants.    Amid   the shrieks of the wounded,   and  the slern language  of command,   was heard the heavy   rumbling of   the   nrtillery   nnd ammunition wagons through the streets; aud in  the intervals, the steady  tramp oflhe marching columns, slill haslcning to the vvork of death—vvhile over all, as if to drown all, like successive ihuniler- claps wlicro the lightning falla nearest, spoke the fierce balleries that vvere ex¬ ploding  on each other.—But the   con¬ fusion and death nnd terror th.it reigned through the city, as the bnrning build¬ ings shot their llames heavenward, vvere not yel complete.    Tbe inhabitants hnd fled to their cellars lo escape the balls and shells that came rushiug every mo¬ ment through their dwellings; and amid the bustlo of   the arriving nrmies, and- their hasty tread along the streets, and the roll of drum.?, and rattling of armor, and clangor of trumpets, and thunder of arlillery, the signal  vvas given for the assault—three   cannon   shots from   tlte heights of Racicknitz. Thenext moment six massive colums, with 50 cannon nt their  head,   began   lo  move dovvn  the slopes—pressing strnight for the cily. The muffled soundof their heavy,measur¬ ed tread was heard within the walls, ns in dend silence and awful majei^ty they moved   sieadily forward upon the bal¬ leries.
It was a sight lo strike terror to the heart oflhe boldest, but St. Cyr marked their advance wilh the calmness of a fearless soul, and firmly awaited the onset that even Nupoleon trembled to behold. No sooner did they come with¬ in range of nrlillery than the ominous silence was broken by its deafening roar. In a inomeni the heights about lhe ciiy were in a blaze ; and the fifty cannon at the heud of these columns belched forth fire and smoke, and amid the charg¬ ing of infantry, the bursling of shells, thc rolling fire of musketry, nnd the ex¬ plosion of hundreds of cannon, Sl. Cyr receivod the shock. For two hours did the baltle rage vvith sanguinary ferocity The plain was covered with dead—the suburbs overwhelmed with assailants, and ready lo yield every moment—the
fifteen rods of the ramparts—the axes of the pioneers were hoard on the gales; and the shouts, nnd yells, and execra¬ tions rose over the walls oflhe city. The last of Sl. Cyr's reserve were In the bat¬ tle, nnd had been for hnlf an. hour, nnd Napoleon began to tremble for his army. Bul nt half past six the Young Guard nrrived, shouting as they came, nnd were received in return vvilh shouts by the nrmy, llmt I'or a moment drowned the roar of batlle. Then Napoleon's brow cleared up, and St. Cyr for the first time, dreiv a sigh of relief.
The gates were Ihrovvn open, and the impetuous Ney, wiih the invincible Guard, poured Uirough one like a resist¬ less torroiiion the foe, followed soon by Murat, wilh his head-long cavalry. Mortimer sallied forth from anolher ; andthe Young Guard, though weary and travel worn, burst with loud cheers on the chief redoubt—which, afler flow¬ ing in blood, had been wrested from the French—and swept il like a tornado.
Those six   massive colums,   thinned and riddled through, recoiled before the fierce onset  like the waves   when   they meel a rock ; and   slowly   surged   Onck from the walls,    lu the meanlime, dark and heavy   clouds   began to roll up the scorching heavens, nnd   the distant roll of thunder mingled with the  roll of ar¬ tillery.    Men   had   turned this hot Au¬ gust aflernoon into a battle  storm,   and now the elements were lo end it with a fight of their otvn.    In the midst of the deepening gloom the allies now for the firsl time aware lhat the Emperor was in the city, drew offtheir troops for the night.    The   rain came dovvn  as if the clouds wore falling, drenching   the liv¬ ing and the dead armies; yct Napoleon, heedless of the storm, and knowing what great results depended upon  next day's action,    was    seen   hurrying   on   foot through the streels  lo the bridge  over which   he   expecled   the corps of Mar- mont and Victor lo arrive.    With   nnx¬ ious heart he stood and listened, lill the heavy tread of tlieir advancing columns through tbe darkness  relioved his  sus¬ pense ; and then, as they began to pour over the bridge, he hastened  back, and traversing the  city passod  oul  at   the olher side, nnd   visited the  entire lines that wore formed without the vvall.   The bivouac fires shed a lurid ligbt over the field, and he enme at  every   step   upon heaps of corpses, while groans and lam¬ entations issued from the gloom in every direction; for   ihousands of the   woun¬ ded, uncovered and unburied, lay expo¬ sed *.o the storm, dragging out tho night in pain.    Early   in the morning. Napo¬ leon vvas on horseback, and   rode out to the army.    Taking   his place  beside a hugo fire that was blazing and crackling in the centre of the Old Guard, ho issu¬ ed his orders for the day.     Victor   was on the right ; the   resistless Ney on the left, over the Young   Guard,   while   St. Cyr   and Marmont were in the centre, which Napoleon commanded in person. Tho ram fell in torrents, and the thick mist shrouded tho field as if lo shutout the ghastly spectacle its bosom exhibit¬ ed.    Tho cannonading soon commenced, but with liltle effect, as the mist conceal¬ ed  the armies from each other.    Ahun¬ dred   and   sixty thousand of the allies, stretched in a huge semicircle along lhe heights, while Napoleon, vvilh a hundred and thirty ihousand ina plain below vvas waiting thc favorable inoment in which to coinmonce tho altack.    At length the batlle opened on the right,   whero a fir¬ ing was heard as Viclor   pressed firmly againsi an Austrian battery.    Suddenly Nupoleon heard a shock   like  a  falling mountain.    While Victor was engaging the enemy in front, iMurat, unpcrceived in the thick mist, had   stolon  nround to the roar, and without a note ol warning burst wilh twelve   thousand cavalry on the enemy.    Ile rode straight  ihrough their broken line^, trampling under fool the dead and dying.    Noy  was equally successful on the left,   nnd aslhe mists lified, it showed the allied  wings  both driven   back.    The   day   wore avvay in blood—carls, loaded with the wounded, moved in a constant stream into the city ; bul the French were   victorious   at   all points, nnd   when  night  again  closed over the scone, thc allied armies had de¬ cided to retreat.
AX CLOaUKJiT PASSAGE.
THE PULPIT ON   DISUNION.
[n?"Mankind are more what they are made by manliind than they are made by their Creator. The wolf is ferocious, because hunted from a whelp. The snake lurns upon you, because you dis turb and pursue it. The child grows surly, because unjustly coerced. Bul abovo all, mun becomes unjust and cruel, because pursued with cruelly and injus¬ tice by his brolher man.
(]3?"Some one says that the dissolution of the Union is a Chimera got up wilh the design of frightening the North inlo a Compromise.    Exaclly I
(tir The citizens of Boston have raised
enemy's baltcrics were playing within | i}i'^o,000 for Prof. \^ cbftot'e lamily.
The following eloquent nnd patriotic sentiments were delivered before tho Arcb Street Presbyterian congregation, on Sunday morning last, by the Rev. Charles Wadsworlh, in his inaugural sermon :
Paul's principle as set forlh in the text, applies as well to the Civil, as lo the Social and tho Ecclesiastic. A Christian minister amid the partizan¬ ship of a community's politics, is to "know nothing savo Christ Jesus und him crucified.'' His duties as a preacher are superinduced diilie.o. As God's Ambassador he comes to man divested altogether of factitious differences. To the sovereign nnd the slave—to the mighty man and the menial—to the creature fawning on the fool-cloth of a thro.ie, and the freeman sianding proud¬ ly before kings in the glory of immortal manhood—to all alike, he comes, bear¬ ing the samo flamingcredentialsof God's anger and God's love ; sianding in his high place of embassy, he is not lo look thut the Holy Ghost will descend from Heaven lo give poinl lo a lesson of statesmanship, or poiver lo an axiom of polilical economy. He is to look oi\ man ns a spirit vvhose nationality is but a decaying garment, a spirit winged for soaring to that high world where men of all kingdoms and peoples aro one in Christ. He is to forget all minor in¬ terests. He is to forget all human dis¬ tinctions. Ho IS to " lel the dead bury their dead." He is lo " knovv nothing save Christ Jesus nnd Ilim crucified."
Meantime we would not bc misunder¬ stood here. Far be it from us to bow be¬ fore this most foul, yea favorite infidel clamor, whereby a Christian minister, by the imposilion of Ecclesiastical hands, is held thereafter divested of all rights as a man and a citiiion ; even under the shadow of the cross, he will not—he may not—he cannot forget his counlry. Paul, amid thc surpassing glories of a commonwealth like ours, would have cried vvilh evon more than his Roman exultation, ^^ I am tm .American, citizen." Our beloved land, vvilh its boundaries tbe broadest—its government the freest its institutions the noblest the world ever savv, is God's greal gift lo every man who breathes ils blest air, and exults in ils sunshine. And woe be to that man, wholher Civilian or EccleBiaslic, vvho dare lay dovvn nt a fools bidding llis great birth-right, or prove recreant to one of its ennobling prerogatives— who daro leave American liberty, an un¬ prized thing, to be marred by the hand of unskilful legislation, or wrecked amid the conflicts of self-seeking nnibit'on — vvho dare fail in one title of all he can do to give steadfast strength to Ameri¬ can name and-American  natio.iality.
God's pity on the creeping thing lhat can liston unmoved lo the whisper of Disunion that rises even now upon the ear ! Perish the heait that throbs not in an-onizing desire that this glorious sister¬ hood bo nover broken ! Palsied be the right arm that feels not its sinews lighl¬ en like sleel, lo speed our soaring eagle iniis flight to the sun ! Siricken bc the bosom tliatbaresnolilself in full strength lo roll back this desolating surge that would sweep all those glad and godfu! and glorious tilings avvay as wrecks upon tbe billows I Not knovv my country !— not honor my country!—not struggle for my country! Why then would 1 be a cretituro without soul, unworlhy my ministry—uf.worlliy my manhood.
Nny, nay—such political wisdom, I will knovv—I musl knovv—because ab¬ solutely in It, I am toknow Christ crucifi¬ ed. For, my audience, dear as lo every American Christian muat bc hiscountry —dear, because of the prayers of its consecration, and the blood ofits baptism —dear, because of ils great breadth and mighly power, and glorious fame—the home of the free—tho hope of the op¬ pressed—the beacon lo the nations—the cradle of that infant liberty, which yot, when its limbs shall have waxed strong, will leap from its swaddling bands in great manhood, and go forlh in a giant's path, to shake tlown ihe despotisms ofa vvorld in rushing Omnipotence ! Yet lo his loving heart is it dearest of all, as the greal instrument under God to bear on lo ils consummation his adorable Gospel ! Hc sees Christ in American nntionality 1 Christ, the God of all Providence^ presiding and preserving it —as the great spring in lhe mechanism ofa triumphing Evangel. And tohim it seems that to sever this blessed Union, vvere to loose the silver cord of man's hope, and lo break the great wheel al the cistern. And every Christian minis¬ ter will stand hy the Union—and pray for the Union—and struggle for thc Union—and preach Christ nnd him crucified as the cement of iheUiiion, till his right arm is withered, and his tongue dumb III death \—Phila. Inquirer.
A Daughter's Love.
There is no one so slow to note the follies or sins of a father as a daughter. The wife of his bosom muy fly in hor¬ ror from his embrace, but his fair hair¬ ed child cleaves to him in boundless charity. Quickened by the visitation of pain to the parental dwelling, her prayers are more brief bnl more enrnest — her efforts donbleil and unliring—and if she can but win a smile fron- that sul¬ len and gloomy facc, she is paid, oh, hovv richly paid for all her sleepless cares and unceasing labor. The father may sink Irom deep to deep, from a lower to yel a lowor depih—Satan's kinsman and Satan's proy. Those who in a happier hour received largely of his benefactions may start when they behold his shad¬ ow, and accelerate their pace lo gel be¬ yond it; all may forsake him—God and the world—all but Satan and his daugh¬ ler. Poorchild! il thou canst not save, thy feeblo torch mado as bright as thy power cansl make it, throws at least a flickering liglit upon thc path, lill the object of thy unquenchable love has for¬ ever left thee, and is shrouded in the thick darkness ; and when undone, when gone from thee, nnd gone furever, though thou mayst wed tby early love and know all in hitn thy young lieart pictured, yet, again and again, in the midsl of thy placid joy, even with thy smiling infant on thy knee, the lost ono vvill nol be forgoiten. Seeing the past as it were only yesterday, forgetful of thy liltle darling,thou wilt exclaim, from the depihs of thy ever-mindful nnd af¬ fectionate spirit, "My father. Oh, my falher !"
now to Increase Deauty.
There  is  a divine  contagion   in  all beauteous things.  We alternately color objects with our fancies and aflections, or receive it from a kindred hue, "Like the sweet South,
That brcatlies upon a bank of violets,
Stealing nnd giving odor." This principle pervades all nature, physical and moral. Let those who would trace an expression of serenity and tenderness on a human face, watch a porson of sensibility as he gazes upon a painting by Claude or Raphael. In contemplating a fine picture, vve drink in its spirit through our eyes. Ifa love¬ ly woman would increase hcr charms, let her gnze long and ardently on all beauteous images. Let her not indulge those pass ions which deform the fealures but cnltivate, on the contrary, every sofl affection. It will soon becomo an easy task, for one good feeling suggests nnd supports anothor. We insensibly and involuntarily adapt our aspect to our emotions, and long habilt of thought and feeling leave a permament impression on the countenance. Every one believes thus fur in physiognomy, nnd acts more or less decidedly upon his behalf- But even the clfect upon the features of a transient emotion is truly wonderful. A fierce man often looks beaulifully tender and serene wlun either caressing or caressed, and deceives us like the ocean in a calm, which, at times, is'ihe genlltst of all things.'—Richardson's Literary Leaves.
Perils of Falsehood.
"When once a concealment or deceit has been practised in matters whore all should be fair and open as the day, con¬ fidence can never be restored nny moro than you can re,«^lore the white bloom to the grape or plum that j'ou have oncc pressed in your hnnd. How true is this, and what a neglected truth by a great poriion of mankind.—Falsehood is not only one of the most humiliating vices, bul sooner or later it is most cerlain to lead lo the most serious crimes. With partners in trade, vvith partners in lifo —with friends, vvith lovers, how impor¬ tanl is confidence! Hovv essenlial lhal all guile and hypocrisy should be guard¬ ed ogainst in the intercourse betweon sucb parlies I—Hovv mnch misery would bo avoided in the hislory of many lives, had truth aud sincerity been their guid¬ ing and controlling motives, instead of prevarication and deceit 1 ' Any vice,' said a parent in our hearing a few days since, ' any vico, at least aMiong the frailties ofa milder charaeter, but false¬ hood. Far bolter that my cbild should commit an error or do a wrong and con¬ fess it, than escape the penally, however severe, by falsehood and hypocrisy. Let me know the worst, and n remedy mny possibly be opplied. liut keep tne in the dark—lel me be misled and tl jceived, and it is impossible to lell at what un- prepared hour a crashing blow—nn over¬ whelming exposure—may come."
ffir^n importer in Nevv York atlempt¬ ing to smuggle diamonds in a letter, lmd them forfeited lo tbe Governmeul.— Their cost was 1^600. This is rather more than the ad valorem.
Griimbiiitg Against Editors.
It is amusing to hear thc contradtclo"ry complaints which arc sometimos made against a newspaper. A prefers o quarto sheet—B declares hecould never got tho hnng" ofone. C admires the elegance and ncatne&s of rine type—and old JMr. D abhors a paper lhat requires a micro. scope. E wonders you insert do few sen- timentitl ghost siories—F detests your abominable lies and cock-and-bull-sto¬ ries. G would like to see an exact and minute account of Congressional and Legislutive proceedings—H curses the journal that contains the endless hodge¬ podge doings and undoings of selfish partisans and demagogues. 1 won't sub¬ scribe because your news department ii so contrafted—J takes the "cily" pa¬ pers, and has read your slale items a week ago. K bus a mortal antipathy to a paper crowded wilh riots, horrible ac¬ cidents, frighlful robberies, and olher demoralizing statements—L is mad as a hare because his iniserable paper conr tained no account of that bloody mur¬ der last week. M detests your stereo¬ type advertisements—and all N wants of the paper is lo ."oe whal's for sale.— C threatens lo discontinue because'your editorials lack ginger, and don't lash pri¬ vate vices—P, a leaden-head,points you
to 's paper, and wonders you never
moralize like him. Q hales the rascally abolitionists—R holds in perfect cihp- tempt the dastard edilor who is too Cow¬ ardly 10 avow his abhorrence of Slavery. S demands long nnd solid articles—T wants the close packet essence, and not the thin diluted mixture. U extols a journal that reaches him "a week before it is printed ;" and V tells you he is not quite groen enough to be gulled by such despicable humbuggery. W is aston¬ ished that you never print sermons—and all that X cares for i.« fun. Y is on fire because you Will not deduct more for ad¬ vance pay—and Z is amazed ot the im¬ pudence of a publisher who duns him for threo years' subscription and yef ob¬ jects lo being paid in trade.— Yankee Blade.
[C?' Pleasure is lilio a cordial; a little ofll nol injurious, but too much destroys.
TIMEr
Beyond the mere definition of lhi* term, hovv lillle can be said of its mean¬ ing. Time is an indefinite part of an unfathomable whole—it is a fraction of eternity—of vvhose laws vvo know noth* ing, Favo lhat they are regulated by tha celestial bodies and by the imperfect understanding of man. Time, then, is so mysterious that of its laws we knovv comparatively nothing, and our progress is such that, striclly speaking, it is never present. "Let us work vvhile it is day, for thc night cometh when no man can work." Of all the subjects broughl belore us, none is devoured wilb more engerness than that illustrating the vvays of lengthening the time, or leni' poral life, of man. Thnt this subject ex¬ cites universal interest we need but one day's experience to prove ; discuss upon it in public, and you hnve exclusive at¬ tention ; dwell upon it in private, antf you become lost m conjectures : and yet, with what recklessness and apatny ia existing life squandered ! Time is not given to us for an animal gratification ; il IS given to us lhat we may educate, mature and enoble our minds, by reflect¬ ing on the knowledge and virtue of sociely around ; nnd, finally, that tve may prepare ourselves to receive the mysterious Irulhs of time, nnd the hnppi¬ ness of eternity.
Social Virtues.
Kindness, forbearance, meekness, ten-i derness, lovc—sweet virtues! let them be cultivated in every bosom. VVbo would feel like fretting or scolding, if he had in exercise a forbearing spirit.— Who vvould seek for opportunities for revenge, if love reigned in his bosonm Oil, be kind, and tender, and forgiving. Sludy to possess and cultivate the bles¬ sed social virlues—those virlues thnt make up the happiness of heaven. If a'l vvere as amiablo as it is in their powef to be, we should nol feel like saying— "There's somethin; everyday to make
The changeful spirits sad ; .\ word to cause the beart to ache, Wben it is sweetly clad.
But in evory face we should rCad tho lessons of love and kindness, ff we should feel tho wing of sorrow pressing one hour, a dozen hands would be exten¬ ded to our relief, and a ihousnnd smiles would fall like sunshine on our path.
[]3i*"How short the years are when wo are gelling old I Till we are oul of ouf teens, Time notonly " hides his scythe among the flowers," but actually seems to bo mowing by thc dny. No sooner, however, do vvc turn lhe cornor oflhirfy thnn he is ofler us wilh a swarth lhat cuts into our years as if they wero mnde up of weeds or wet paper. -
(O* Mnssachuseli.t has about three millions of dollars invested in School house:;.    A gootl investment,