.istmarreiras* 
THE FARMER’S DAUGHTER. 
Shk may not, in the merry dance, 
With jewel’d maidens vie, 
Siie may not smile on courtly swain 
With soft bewitching eye. 
She cannot boast a form and mien 
That lavished wealth has brought her, 
But ah ! she has much fairer charms, 
The farmer’s peerless daughter. 
The rose and lily on her cheek, 
Together love to dwell; 
Her laughing blue eyes wreath around 
The heart a witching spell: 
Her smile’s as bright as morning’s glow 
Upon the dewy plain, 
And listening to her voice, we dream 
That spring has come again. 
The timid fawn is not more wild, 
Nor yet more gay and free, 
The lily's cup is not more pure, 
In all its purity. 
Of all the wild dowers in the wood, 
Or by the crystal water, 
There’s none more gay and free than she 
The farmer’s peerless daughter. 
Then tell mo not of jewel'd fair, 
The brightest jewel yet 
Is in the heart where virtue dwells, 
And innocence is set 1 
The glow of health upon her cheek. 
The grace no rule has taught her— 
The fairest wealth that beauty twines, 
Is for the farmer’s daughter. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
BENEVOLENOB. 
Days passed in indolence and unrestrained 
luxury cannot be compared with those 
spent in carrying out a true spirit of benev¬ 
olence. Tho happiness produced by the 
former course, hears tho same relation to 
that resulting from the latter, that moon¬ 
light does to tho undimned glare of midday. 
Tho more bonovolent an individual is, tho 
moro happiness ho will have at his disposal. 
Our natures aro so constituted that wo 
cannot feel a sense of real happiness with¬ 
out doing good in some avenue of philan¬ 
thropy. 
As a proof of this fact, give an individu¬ 
al access to every means of earthly enjoy- 
men—place within his reach the pleasures 
and luxuries of affluence—removo every 
restraint that could have a tendency to 
chock his freedom of action—and you will 
see before you a speciman of perfect misery 
—the perfection of unhappiness—suffering 
in its last oxtremity of endurance. The 
knowledge of this explains why the plans of 
tho selfish never provo a moans of enjoy¬ 
ment. They may plan and carry them out 
with wisdom and prudence, still no unde¬ 
fined feeling of dissatisfaction turns their 
happiness in tho channel of misery. They 
invariably anticipate beyond what can be 
attained, and tho depression is as far below 
as their anticipations were abovo tho mark 
of human attainment. 
“ Tliis know ; benevolence and love, 
When youthful hope and joys have gone, 
Will come like angels from above. 
Nor leave in the dim light of dawn : 
B ut ever present, and serene, 
They’re ever felt, but never seen; 
And at the setling of Life’s sun, 
Mark the good deeds that we have done 1” 
An individual guided by such guardian 
spirits as Benevolence and Love can never 
bo unhappy. Tho remembrance of his good 
deeds, will linger around the memory of 
his namo long after tho “ planet has gone 
down.” w. e. k. 
A BEAUTIFUL LESSON. 
What a boautiful losson tho simplo cir¬ 
cumstance, related in the following, teaches 
us. Wo clip it from an exchango, and have 
forgotten tho author’s name. How fow 
such hearts are to bo found in this world! 
Touching Delicacy. —Thero wero many 
littlo occurrences which suggested to mo, 
with a great consolation, how natural it is 
to gontlo hearts to bo considerate and deli¬ 
cate towards any inferiority. One of theso 
particularly touched me. I happened to 
stroll into tho littlo church when a marriage 
was just concluded, and the young couple 
had to sign tho register. 
Tho bridegroom, to whom the pen was 
handed first, made a rude cross for his mark; 
the bride, who came next, did tho same. 
Now, 1 had known tho girl when I was 
last there, not only as tho prettiest girl in 
tho placo, hut as having distinguished her¬ 
self in tho school; and I could not help 
looking at her with some surprise. She 
came aside, and whispered to mo, while 
tears of honest love and admiration stood 
in her bright oyes : 
“ IIo’s a dear good fellow, Miss, but can¬ 
not writo yet; he’s going to learn of mo— 
and I wouldn’t shame him for tho world.” 
Why, what had I to fear, when there was 
this nobility in a laboring man's daughter ? 
Marrying for Momey. —Thero are hun¬ 
dreds of idlo young men who expect to keep 
themselves out of tho workhouse by marry¬ 
ing a fortune ! They don’t caro for beauty 
nor mind, but they idolize money. Only 
think of a man planting himself down, and 
living on his wife’s monoy. 
There aro many things that aro thorns 
to our hopes, until wo have attained them, 
and envenomed arrows to our hearts when j 
wo have. i 
THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON. 
A correspondent of the New York Times 
gives the following description of the tomb 
of the only truly republican hero, tho world 
has yet seen. - 
Tho tomb in which the remains now re¬ 
pose, is erected at the odge of tho forest, 
in tho bank of a slight acclivity fronting to 
tho south. Its walls are of stone, very 
thick, and faced with brick—the entire 
structure being about thirty feot front by 
fifty deep. In style it is severely simple.— 
Tho front is about twelve feet high, and 
presonts no traco of ornamentation. Over 
the entrance is set a plain marblo tablot, 
which informs us that— 
“ Within this enclosure 
Rest 
Tho remains of 
General George Washington.” 
Massive double gates of iron aro hung in 
the front wall, guarding tho entrance.— 
Looking through theso, we see a room about 
twelve feet square—its walls whitewashed, 
and its floor of gravol. And hero, exposed 
fully to the view, are placed the marble 
sarcophagi, containing tho ashos of Wash¬ 
ington and his excellent consort. That on 
our right is his resting place. Wo need not 
be told that it is so, for on its marble top, 
finely sculptured in alto relievo, are the j 
arms of the States whose independence he 
did so much to achieve. Beneath this de¬ 
vice wo read the namo of 
“ Washington.” 
’Tis enough. Thero can be no error here. 
One Washington only has lived, and it is his 
ashes that aro before us. Tho other sarco- 
phogus, at our left, is perfectly plain, bear¬ 
ing upon its lid tho simplo inscription— 
“Martha, consort of Washington.” 
Over the centre of the rear wall of tho 
apartment in which these sarcophagi aro 
placed, is anothor tablot, on which is in¬ 
scribed a text of Scripture, so obscured, 
however, by time and dirt, as to bo quite 
illegible. Tho reader will have already dis¬ 
covered that tho tomb is divided into two 
parts. The rear apartment is closed, as 
usual, with sepulchral vaults, and is the 
burial place of tho Washington family.— 
Hero already lie tho remains of Judge Bush- 
rod Washington and others. Just in front 
of the tomb, at the distance of a few feet, 
stand two plain marblo obelisks, each twelve 
feet high, and surrounded by an iron pal¬ 
ing. From tho first of theso wo learn that 
Within the tomb lio tho remains of Judgo 
Bushrod Washington and his wife Anna 
Blackburn. Ho was son of John Augustine 
Washington and nephew of General Wash¬ 
ington, who appointed him ono of his execu¬ 
tors, and bequeathed him Mount Vernon.” 
The other shaft is reared to tho memory af 
“ John Augustine Washington, son of Cor¬ 
bin and Hannah Leo Washington, and neph¬ 
ew of Bushrod Washington, who appointod 
him one of his executors, and bequeathed 
him Mount Vernon.” Tho present proprie¬ 
tor of tho Mount Vernon estato is John A. 
Washington, son of him whoso memory is 
recorded on the last mentioned shaft. At 
tho sido of the tomb, and betwoen it and the 
river, stands a smaller shaft, erected to the 
memory of “ Mrs. M. E. A. Conrad, wife of 
Charles M. Conrad, of New Orleans, daugh¬ 
ter of Lawrence and Eleanor P. Lewis, and 
grand niece of General Gcorgo Washington.” 
C. M. Conrad will bo remembered as the 
lato Secretary of War. 
Tho tomb cannot bo seen from the river, 
because of the intervening forest. Its sight 
is not so pleasant as several others in its 
vicinity. But it was chosen by Washington 
himself, whose modesty and love of retire¬ 
ment found expression even in selecting his 
grave whero it would not present itself un¬ 
sought to the eye of tho passer. A littlo 
effort at improvement, however, would de¬ 
velop those touches of beauty and natural 
adornment with which a refined and tender 
sentiment so naturally seeks to surround 
tho graves of tho loved and lost. Already 
several small red cedars have shot up their 
graceful pyramids of green from tho top of 
tho tomb; tho arms of the old oaks, and tho 
shelter of tho broad-leaved sycamore, aro 
stretched out to protect it from the sun’s 
burning rays; and tho dogwood, in the spring 
season, presents its pure offering of white 
blossoms at a little distance. The ground 
itself is beautifully diversified ; and a slight 
effort of art will suffico to clotho it in all the 
beauties of Mount Auburn or Greebush.— 
Theso attractions aro not wanted to give in¬ 
terest to tho scene; but would certainly bo 
most gratifying to the heart of 6very pil¬ 
grim who drops a toar at this honored shrine. 
TOMB OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
At intervals wo find in print a reference 
to tho obscure corner whero lies hidden from 
public notice, the remains of the illustrious 
statesman and philosopher, whose labors 
hero in our own midst are among tho proud¬ 
est memories of our metropolis. Tho fol¬ 
lowing, which wo find in tho New York 
Evangelist, presents tho subject briefly, yot 
strongly and truthfully : 
“ A dilapidated dark slab of stono, at the 
southwest corner of Fifth and Arch streets, 
Philadelphia, marks, or did a few years ago, 
the spot whero rest tho romains of Benjamin 
and Deborah Franklin; but you cannot seo 
their grave nor read the inscription without 
scaling a high brick wall, in violation of tho 
law, or securing a good opportunity and tho 
favor of the sexton, each of which is said to 
he attended with difficulty. So well hidden 
is this grave, and so littlo frequented, that 
wo have known many native Philadelphians, 
of men’s and women’s estate, who could not 
direct ono to tho locality whero it may be 
found.” 
To take events cheerfully, and to promote 
tho happiness of others, is the way to ensure 
an enduring spring of existence. 
A “FINISHED” YOUNG LADY. 
The following is ono of Fanny Fern’s 
latest hits, being a dash at French Boarding 
Schools, and a “ would bo fashionable young 
lady 
It is to go to a modol boarding school, 
kept by an ex-Fronch milliner; to be put 
in a room with four promiscuous young la¬ 
dies, and to learn in three days, more mis- 
chiof than her grandmother ever dreamed 
of. It is to stay there at the tune of thirty 
dollars per week, for soveral quarters, and 
como home “finished” and superficial, with 
a taste of Latin, a touch of French, a smat¬ 
tering of Italian, German, and Spanish, and 
a portfolio of crooked horses, distorted 
houses, lame sheep, and extraordinary look¬ 
ing abortions of cattlo and fowl in general, 
the types of which wero never found in 
Noah’s menagerie. It is to sit in tho draw¬ 
ing room in a flounced silk dress, with a 
waist half a yard in circumference, be-curled, 
bo-scented and be-jeweled ; to receivo calls, 
while mamma looks through her spectacles 
and trios to mond Mademoisello’s stockings. 
It is to have Mr. Fitz Humbug, some fine 
day, got on his knees, and request Mademoi- 
sollo to mako him, what sho has all along 
been desirous to do, “ the happiest of men.” 
It is to wear a wliito satin dress, or orange 
wreath, a long fleecy veil, a diamond pin, 
and respond Amon ! to any quantity of 
things, of which Mademoiselle does not un¬ 
derstand tho full import. It is to commence 
housekeeping where tho “old folks” leave 
off; it is to patronize fast horses, ruinous 
upholstors, operas, concerts, theatres, balls, 
and fetes of all kinds. It is to bring a few 
sickly children into existence and bo tor¬ 
tured into eternity by careless hirelings.— 
It is to find aftor a fow years’ probation, 
that Mr. Fitz Humbug is just what his namo 
imports. It is to have an “ execution” in 
tho house; it is for Madamo to go into hys¬ 
terics, and on coming to, to find herself in 
tho sixth story in “ lodgings.” with a “ tight” 
husband, an air-tight stove, a looso wrapper 
and a crying baby. 
GOOD ADVICE TO THE YOUNG. 
Be industrious and economical. Waste 
noither time nor money in small and use¬ 
less pleasures and indulgences. If the 
young men can be induced to save, tho mo¬ 
ment thoy enter on the paths of life, the 
way will over become casior before them, 
and they will not fail to obtain a competen¬ 
cy, and that without denying thomselves 
any of tho real necessaries and comforts of 
life. To industry and economy add self- 
reliance. Do not tako too much advice.— 
Tho business man must keep tho helm and 
steer his own ship. In early lifo, every ono 
should bo taught to think for himself. A 
man’s talonts are never brought out until 
ho is thrown to some extent on his own re¬ 
sources. If in every difficulty he has only 
to consult his principal, and then implicitly 
obey the directions he may recfcfve, he will 
never acquire that aptitudo of perception 
necessary to those who hold important sta¬ 
tions. A certain degreo of independent 
feeling is essential to the full devolopnent 
of tho intellectual character. 
Attend to tho minulice of the business, 
small things as well as great. See that the 
store is opened early, goods brushed up, 
twine and nails picked up, and all ready for 
action. 
Remember that punctuality is the mother 
of confidence. It is not enough that the 
merchant fulfils his engagements ; ho must 
do what ho undertakes precisely at the time, 
and in tho way agreed to.— John Gray. 
A SHORT AND PITHY SERMON. 
“ Owe no man anything.” 
Keep out of debt. Avoid it as you would 
war, pestilence and famine. Hate it with a 
porfect hatred. Abhor it with an entire and 
absolute abhorrence. Dig potatoes, break 
stones, peddle tin-ware, do anything that is 
honest and useful, rather than run in debt. 
As you value comfort, quiot, independence, 
keep out of debt. As you value good diges¬ 
tion, a healthy appetite, a placid temper, a 
smooth pillow, pleasant dreams and happy 
wakings, keep out of debt. Debt is the 
hardest of all taskmasters, the most cruol of 
all oppressors. It is a millstono about tho 
neck. It is an incubus on tho heart. It 
spreads a cloud over tho firmament of man’s 
being. It eclipses tho sun, it blots out tho 
stars, it dims and defacos the boatiful bluo 
sky. It breaks up the harmony of nature, 
and turns to dissonanco all the voices of its 
melody. It furrows the forehead with 
premature wrinkles; it plucks the eye of 
its light; it drags all nobleness and kind¬ 
ness out of the port and bearing of man. 
It takes tho soul out of his laugh, and all 
stateliness and freedom from his walk.— 
Como not under its accursed dominion. 
ELOQUENT EXHORTATION. 
A keveremd gentleman holding forth to 
tho sinners of Placorvillo, Cal., on a late oc¬ 
casion, dosed his addross with tho following 
exhortation to his hearers to loosen their 
purse-strings: 
“ And, now all ye merchants and money 
exchangers, and traders, and minors, and 
doctors, and lawyers, and printers, and es¬ 
quires, and gonerals, and colonols, and cap¬ 
tains, ye tradesmen of every craft, yo post¬ 
masters, ox-postmastors, and assistant post¬ 
masters. and ye office-seekers, ye landlords 
and landladies, ye auction men, yo peoplo 
of Placervillo—all of you—up to tho new 
church on Sunday ! Yos, yo bowling-alloy 
men, yo Reservoir men, and yo Empiro, yo 
South Fork men—como, ‘from busy care 
awhilo forbear.’ Como tread the courts of 
tho sanctuary, and bring unto tho Lord 
God an offering of gold and silver and pre¬ 
cious things.” 
Right is a dull weapon, unless skill and 
good sense wield it. 
■:::*■ > t g a: j ssssssssssssss 
jfur % Jafric-L 
GOOD AND BETTER. 
A father sits by the chimney post, 
On a winter’s day enjoying a roast; 
By his side a maiden young and fair, 
A girl with a wealth of golden hair; 
And she teases the father, stern and cold. 
With a question of duty trite and old; 
“ Say, father, what shall a maiden do 
When a man of merit comes to woo ? 
And, father, what of this pain in my breast ? 
Married or single—which is best r” 
Then the sire of the maiden young and fair, 
The girl with the wealth of the goldeu hair. 
He answers, as ever do fathers cold, 
To the question of duty, trite and old: 
“ Site who weddeth keeps God’s letter; 
She who weds not doeth better.” 
Then meekly answered the maiden fair. 
The girl with the wealth of golden hair: 
“ I will keep the sense of the Holy Letter, 
Content to do well without doing better.” 
[Literary Mv.sucm. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
ADVICE TO THOSE WHO NEED IT. 
“ Mind your own business.” 
Well, what if Dr. Munn’s daughters have 
SLANG WORDS. 
Miss Leslie, ono of tho most gifted and 
pleasing authors of our country, reads tho 
following lecture to her sex, in hor work 
entitled “The Behavior Book.” We shall 
he glad to see hor suggestions more<general- 
ly attended to, oven among those consider¬ 
ed as of tho “ higher circle 
“ There is no wit,” says the author of tho 
Behavior Book, “ in a lady to speak of ta¬ 
king a ‘ snooze,’ instead of a nap, in calling 
pantaloons ‘pants,’ or gentlemen ‘gents,’ in 
saving of a man, whose dress is getting old, 
that he looks ‘ seedy,’ and in alluding to an 
amusing anecdote, or a diverting incident, 
to say that it is ‘ rich.’ All slang words aro 
detestable from tho lips of ladies. We are 
always sorry to hear a young lady use such 
words as ‘ polking,’ when sho tells of having 
been engaged in a certain dance too fash¬ 
ionable not long since; but, happily, now it 
is fast going out, and almost banished from 
tho best socioty. To her honor bo it re¬ 
membered, Queen Victoria has prohibited 
tho polka being danced in her presence.— 
How can a genteel girl bring herself to say 
‘Last night, I was polking with Mr. Bell,’ 
or ‘ Mr. Cope came and asked me to polk 
with him ?’ Its coarse and ill sounding 
namo is worthy of tho dance. 
We havo littlo toleranco for young ladies 
got white bonnets, and did wear tho first who > having in reality neither wit nor hu- 
bishop sleeves,—it’s none of your business. U P f ? r botl b and > havin S nothing of 
You needn’t vent yonr spite by telling how ‘ l n ^V • t0 ,- g ° Up0n ; su ( f tute c ? arse - 
peitectly horrid thoy look, just because you donee) and try to oxcite laughter and at- 
didn’t happen to wear them first,—nor doom tract the attention of gontlemen by using 
yourself to wear a red hat, because young slan g- Whero do they get it ? How do 
‘ladies will wear white ones. Lot them be. tho ? P 5< * **' l JP \ Sure u 1 - V ™ fc from lo ff c L om - 
r. ,, , . , , . , panions! Wo havo heard one of these 
e lat your hat is a becoming one; bo ladies, when hor collar chancod to be pinned 
sure that you like your own slooves, and your awry, say that it was put on drunk; also, 
own dress, and your own actions, and let that her bonnet was drunk, meaning crook- 
other people’s alone cd on bor head. When disconcerted, sho 
.Supposing pretty N-u, I*, didn’t got ^ 
a silk dress to bo married in, or a white scratch.’ Sometimes ‘ she did things on the 
satin hat, as all other brides you overheard sly.’ Sho talked of a certain great vocalist 
of did ; and supposing Frank didn’t happen ( singing like a beast. Sho helioved it very 
to sit with her tho first Sabbath; and sup- smar ^ and Piquant to uso theso vile ex- 
, , . ..... , pressions. It is true, when at parties, she 
posing io went to work in his shop the day always had half-a-dozen gentlemen about 
after the wedding, instead of flaming off her, their curiosity being excited as to what 
to Now York, or tho Falls; is it any of she would say next. And yet sho was a 
your business? When you get married woman of many good qualities, and ono who 
you can do as you please. You can spend boaste d of alwa ? s having Hived in so ciety.” 
in dress what you ought to save to got no- DUTIES OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
cessaries with, and in a wedding tour, tho - 
time you might better employ in darning The education of womon, like that of 
your own stockings ;—yes and you mav, if should tend to prepare them for their 
t f . duties; the difference of their cmplovments 
you like, cause a platform to be raised at will of course render their studies different. 
one end of the church, for you, and your It is the duty of woman to educato her chii< 
adorahlo Herbert Augustus to sit upon, af- dren, tho boys until a certain age, and girls 
ter being publiclv introduced to tho audi- until they are married. How much wisdom 
once,-but you’ve no right to mako ill- is V e( l ui f 13 manage the mind and dispo- 
’ , . , , sition of each child, so as to guido their m- 
natured remarks because every body don t tellects, manage their humors, to anticipate 
do tho same. the effects of their growing passions, and to 
Don’t work yourself into a fit of atlover- rectify their eraors. How much prudence 
ishness because tho “ writing master” goes should a mother have in order to mantain 
in enn TTvr,.rvv t ivirnAi. •* .. her authority over them, without losing their 
to see Hetty Linwood, nor pity him so r ■ i i- J i ^ ~ , s . 
. ’ p j friendship and their confidence. Surely 
when he marries that artful creature. May tho mother of a family ought to possess a 
bo she didn’t sot any moro traps than you religious, mature, firm mind, acquainted 
did. Perhaps tho difforenco was all in the with the human heart. St. Paul attaches 
bait. Don’t wasto your breath trying to ® ucb importance to tho education of cnil- 
„ , , ,, , .'' , . ... t dren, that he says it is by “mothers the 
mako out they re going to bo miserable, but souls of childrcn J are saved .” 
sot your wits to work to increase your own I shall not attempt to specify all that 
charms. Twist another lock of hair into they ought to know, in order to educate 
whiskeretls ; put another ring on tho hand their children well. . To do this, it would be 
that never wears a glove,—tie on a fow nocessai y to enter into an entire detail of 
... „ . j , „ their studios ; but we mtst not omit the 
moro ribbons, “mind your own business, sub ject of economy. Women in general aro 
and try again. Aunt Huldah. apt to neglect it, and think it proper only 
" -„-' for tho lower classes ; those women espe- 
FRETT Y INC IDENT. cially who are brought up in idleness and in- 
T tt ■, , e , dolence, disdain tho detail of domestic life. 
We hoard of a very pretty little incident Ti • ’ , e • ?, . 
,r i , • v J , , , , It is nevertheless, from ignorance that the 
no nthpr (lav whiph wp rainnftt h« n roln_ . . > . & . _ _ 
PRETTY INCIDENT. 
the other day, which we cannot help rela- 
.. , iv n ., 0 - science of economy is despised. The pol- 
tmg. A young lady from tho bouth.it • , , n , „ , v. ° U 
® J & v , .. I , ished Greeks and Romans took caro to m- 
seems, was wooed and won, by a youthful . . , „„ . ., . , , . , 
, . ’. ... r, ,.r. ’. J -.vf, struct themselves m this art. I hat mind 
physician, living m California. When the • ? v v , . , , , ,, 
i j ■ o * is rit a mv nvilpv TA-hj/vh r>«n nn vr cnool- viroll 
engagement was made, the doctor was rich, 
having been very successful at San Francis¬ 
co. It had not existed six months, however, ,v , r • 1 
, , . . . . > v , ’ theless, are verv frivolous in their conduct, 
when by an unfortunate investment, he lost J _ 
his entire “ heap. r l Ins event came upon THE WOMEN OF GLASGOW. 
him, it should bo added, just as he was - 
making ready to come and claim his bride. A correspondent of tho Baptist Register 
What does ho do : Why, like an honorable, j who writes from Glasgow, makes the follow- 
chivalrous young follow, as he is, he sits 
down, and writes tho lady every particular 
of the unhappy turn which had taken place 
in his fortunes, assuring her, that if the fact 
biblo inscription, engraved in distinct char- sole being thin as a^sheet of paper, as is of- 
acters on the inside : ten the case in America and Portugal, they 
“Entreat mo not to leave thee or to re- are made verv durable and substantial; and 
f 'turn from following after thee; for whither I can safely say. that the ladies of Glasgow, 
thou goest, will I go ; and where thou lodg- Greenock, and Paisley, wear stouter gaiters 
est, will I lodge ; thy peoplo shall be my and shoos in the summer, than aro worn by 
people, and tliy God my God; whero thou the ladies in the United States in the winter, 
diost, will I die ; and thero will I be buried; Whatever may bo tho attainments of the 
tho Lord do so to me and more also, if ladies of Scotland, in other sciences, one 
aught but death part thee and me.” thing in them is, in my mind, very praise- 
The lover idolized his sweetheart more worthy—tho care they take of their health, 
than ever when ho received this precious I am informed, by competent and very re- 
evidenco of her devotion to him, both in spectable physicians, that multitudes of the 
storm and sunshine. We may add that for- ladies of Scotland seldom tako a toaspoon- 
tune soon again smiled on tho young ful of medicine, or enjoy the privilege of 
physician, and that he subsequently return- beholding tho face of a physician, in his 
ed to tho North, to wed tho swoot girl he official capacity, till somo months or years 
loved, and who loved him with such an un- after marriage. * 
dying affection. Nay, more, tho happy --—---- 
bride and bridegroom passed through our None of us know what wo can livo past 
city, not long sinco on their way to the till wo havo proved it. God sends us strange 
homo of the latter in the golden State.— strength to carry us on from ono groat trial 
Reader, this is all true. Young ladios who to the next that is reserved for us. We live 
read the bible as closely as the heroine of through them—and past thorn. So that to 
our incident soems to havo done, are pretty the world they seem over; so that strangers 
suro to mako good sweethearts, and better cheerfully obsorvo to each other, that “ we 
wives.— Church’s Bizarre. soem quite ourselves.” 
is of a low order which can only speak well, 
and cannot act well; we often meet with 
women who utter wise maxims, yet, never¬ 
ing reference to the health of the women 
there, and its causes : 
Many of the people here are very healthy 
—young girls, and married ladies, and even 
produced any change in her feelings to- elderly ladies have rosy cheeks, and a youth- 
wards him, sho was released from every ful, “healthy appearance. The ladies are 
promise she had made him._ And, what fond of exercise; somo of them walk from 
does tho dear good, girl do t Why, she threo to six miles per day. Thoy love to 
takes a lump of pure gold which her lover jump from the healthy mattress bed into 
had sent to her when in prosperity, as a the bathing-tub every morning. The lady 
keepsake, and having it manufactured into shoemakers hero deserve a premium, for 
a ring, forwards to him, with tho following making shoes and gaiters. Instoad of the 
. 
