POETRY.
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. HOME.
BY BERNARD BARTON.
\Vhere burns the lov’d hearth brightest,
Cheering the social breast?
\Vhe.re beats the fond heart lightest,
\Vith humble hopes possess’d ?
\Vhere is the smile ofsatliicss,
Of meek-eyed patience born,
\Voi'tli more t.lian those of gladuess
\Vliicli mirtli’s bright cheek adorn ?
Pleasure is mark’d by flectness
To those who ever roam?
\Vliile grief itself has sweetness
At Home! dear I~Iome!
There blend the ties that strengthen
Our hearts in hours of grief,
The silver links that lengthen
.Ioy’s visits when tnost brief;
There eyes in all their splendor
Are vocal to the heart,
And glances gay or tender
Fresh eloquence iin part ;
Then, dost thou sigh for pleasure,
0.’ do not widely roam;
But seek that hidden treasure
At Home l dear Home !
Does pure religion charm thee
Far more than aught below ?
\Vouldst thou that she should arm thee
Against the hour of we ?
Think not she dwelleth only
In temples built for prayer?
For home itself is lonely,
Unless her smile be there :
The devotee may falter,
The bigot blindly roam ;
If worhipless her alter
At Home.’ dear Home !
'.-
Love over it picsidetli,
\Vith meek and watcliftil awe,
Its daily service guirlctli,
And shows its perfect law ;
‘If there thy faith shall fail thee,
If there no shrine be found,
XVhat can thy prayers avail thee,
\Vitli kneeling crowds around I
' Go I leave thy gift uiiofli2r’d
Beneath Religion’s dome,
And be her first fruits pi'o!liai"d
At Heine.’ dear I:Iomn'
DEFENCTIC OI?‘ I-IOlC—(fAl§l§S.
Dinah, in her kitchen seated
By the oven's vapor fanu’il,
To herself these words repeated,
Sambo’ letter in her hand:
“Hang de fellow !—dis is no cake,
Lorry marcy—wliat I say?
' He has sent iue dis here lioe—cakc,
' To eat upon de wedtliu’ day 3”
Then she sigh’d, and mix’d the flour,
Roll’d the stubborn, dough, and then
Nothing said, for near an hour,
Save—“Heiglio—dem irien—dein men l"
Fiddle notes——tlie wat.cl:man’s, l1]l‘.‘~.~:lt)l]-—-
Fun and fi°olic——hopes and fczirs—
Crowded on her mental vision,
Till pots and plates dissolved in tears!
Simple girl l—but, see, she raises
Her greas’d face-—all’.s i‘v_'too::siii.\'i: now,
I\Iarvel not——she loves like blazes,
Gaze ttpon that sable brow.
Now she pulls her knotted 'riti-:ssi~:s,
Smiles, and turns the lioe—eake o’cr,
To the smoke her love confesses,
\Vliieli she ne’er has done before.
Hush !—she speaks again !—oli, hear her,
“Sambo, I am ALL yer own.‘
Tink my’ fcction more siiicerer,
For lioe-cake and you alone!”
Sambo sought the dusky maiden,
Pressed her to his heart for life——
And witli love and hoe-cake laden, —
'.l‘l1ey,becatne——LiitE M.~\.\‘ AND wins!
Do my readers ask, “Sir poet, ’
\Vherefoi'e spin a yarn so long?”
To instruct you—aud l’ll .sliow it ;
Mark me well, ye wooing throng;
'Dot1’t send your fair a sugar-show cake,
If you truly, fondly feel;
Send your love a real lioe-cake
Made 0’ the very best of meal!
XVAR AN D LOVE.
Var and Love have various cares:
Var sheds blood and Love slieds te.rs;
at has swords and Love has darts ;
Var breaks heads and Love breaks hearts.
Var makesfocs, Love makes friends,
Var’s soon o‘cr, Love never ends;
_ Var makes wrath Love makes strife:
7
Var takes wealth, and Love takes life ;
\Var moves bold, Love moves sly;
\Var makes us rave, Love makes us cry;
\Var’s ruled by men, Love ’s rul’d by tlie’fz-tit";
\Var nfeeds many soldiers, Love needs but a pair.
Orrin II.-tR'lt‘i'Zl.
A LEGEND OF NUMBERNIPS,
(A VERY CELEBl’.;\'I‘]iD Gi-ziut.-'t.\* F.-'llP.Y.)
'I'ra7islatccl from the Cr'crmrm..
One day as Nuinbernips was suimingliimself
in the corner of his old garden, which was now
like any other part ofthe I‘ItIl'lZ mountain, there
ne trotting gaily along a woman who attrac-
liis attention. She had one child in her arms,
, carried one on her back, she led one by the
A d and a somewhat larger boy bore along a
vy basket, which was to be filled with greens
the cow. A mother, thought Nuiribernips,
is a good creature to be sure, she drags on her
four children, waits upon them without a mur-
mer, even if she has the weight of the basket be-
side. These thoughts madchim wish to have
some talk with the good woman. She set the
children down on the grass and stripped some
leaves from the bushes. In alittle while the
baby began to grow tired and to cry. The moth-
or left off her work, played and frolickcd with
the children, took the little one tip, jumped about
u sang to it, at last rocked it to sleep in her
riifis and returned to her work. Soon the flies
i the little sleeper and he began his music
in ; but the mother did not grow impatient;
went into the woods and picked strawber-
.s and raspberries, and put the smallest child
her breast. This motherlv management
eased Numbernips much, but the little cryer,
to had ridden on his mother’s back would not
contented, he was a nauglity, violent boy,
row away the berries that his kind mother of-
ed him and then cried for them to eat. At.
tshe grew impatient, and called out, come
umbernips and take away this screamer. Im-
«fllalcly Number-nips took the figure ofa coal-
an, stepped tip to the woman aiid said--Here
flma What Wmllll )'0u have ? The woman
3 very much frightened attliis sudden appear-
ce, btit she was a brave hearted woman, and
pn gathered courage. I called you just now,
id she, to still the children, but as they are
w quiet Ido not need you, though I am much
ligcd toyou for your kindness. Do you know
d the old follow, that people do not call me
re unpuiiislied ? I hold you to your word,
e tne the screamcr that I may eat him, I have
tmet witli"'so nice 21 bit for a long time. As
said this, he stretched out his hand to take the
A‘; a hen when she sees a hawk hovering high
the air, or the wicked wolf creeping into the
rd, first calls her chicks into the secure hen
p, then ruffles her feathers, speads out her
I gs and begins with her strong foe, an unequal
3051. So did the woman seize the black coal-
n fiercely by the beard, doubled her fist, and
d Out, monster, you must first tear my moth-
. heart from my body before you take away
child. Numbernips had not expected so vi-
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by WLEE‘ G‘ PIIINCIPLES AND MEN.
Vain. 18. F~'?€'I9E%.""”'.-‘%.EiE§'i'., 's‘sr.r3:s;§f:-.%ir«:, stresses: iv, 13,9,
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olent an attack ; he stepped back, having never
li(»f)t‘C felt the strong gripe of a human ltand.-—
Ile smiled kindly on the woniau; do not disturb
yoursclfsaid lie, I am no flesh eater, as you stip-
pose, and will do you and yotir children no harm
but let me have the boy, I like his looks, I will
bring him up for my own, I will clothe him in
satin and silk, make a brave knight of him and
he shall grow up a brave knight, who one of
these days will support his fatlier and brothers.
If you ask a hundred crowns for him I will pay
it now.
Ha, ha, laughed the woman you like the boy,
do you, he is one ofa thousand, that I would not
sell for all the treasures in the world.
You fool answered Numbcriiips, have you
not besides three children who give you trouble
and pain, wboin you can hardly feed, and who
plague yeti day and night?
lVontruz—Ol1 well I am a mother. and must
follow my calling, children give pain btit they
also give pleasure.
.I‘.’zu;zbc7‘2zzf/is--Finc pleasure to bear with their
bawliug, to drag them and feed them.
I‘l’I)I7I./l7Z——Il1 truth, sir, you do not know a mo-
ther’s_joy, all her labor and fatigue is sweetened
by one friendly look, the pretty smiles and lisp-
ings of the little innocent crc:it.iii'es. .lfI look
only at the little gold headed follow as he hangs
on me, the little flattcrer, he is not crying now
4--.r~-<_1;,='_.,—..-“——- .
gained her courage, and as she 1‘{ll.‘\.'CI%IlGI' eyes
she saw lying at her feet a leaf wliicli shone
bright and yellow as gold. Quickly she spiiiii/_:
tip, ran ‘.‘.“ll,ll it to her iiciglibor, the .Iew’s wifd,
sliowcd her wliut. she had found, with great jov.
The .Iewess owned it to be pure gold: took the
usury and paid her for it. two thick t’ollars down
upon the table. Every lieart’s sorrow was now
forgotten. Such a treasure in money the poor
woman had never before had in hand. Slieran
to the baker and bought bread and butter and a
shoulder of mutton, that she rriiglit prepare sup-
per for Stephen when he came home at night tir-
ed and hungry. How the little ones jumped to
meet their motlicr when she came in arid brought
them such art unusual break.fast. She gave lfcr-
sclf up to the joy of feeding liuiigry Ellll(ll'Cli;
and then it was her first care to get rid of the
goat, which Sl1C‘.li()Ugll[ killed by witchcraft, and
to hide this family misfortune as long as possi-
ble froiii her husband. But her astonishment
exceeded every thing when she by chance look-
ed iuto the manger and saw a whole heap ofgold-
en leaves. Ifslic had read the Greek popular
tales she would liavc quickly supposed that her
dear goat had died ofan indigestion like that of
King Medas; as it was she supposed soinetliing
of the sort‘. Slio sliarpcncd her knife, cut opcii
the dead goat, and found in its stomach a lump
of gold as big as a greening apple, and anothe-
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two, from two, four, in time a whole acre, and
at last a fa_i'm, and then shall Elsy have a new
growii. _Ile had got thus far with his project,
when l\'uinberi'iip-.=, raised a wliirl-wiiid around
him :u;d overthrew at once his basket of glass,
so tli:-tribe broken wares fell into a thousand pic-
ces. Ttiis was a thunderbolt. to Stcpben’s heart:
at the same time he thought he lieard at a dis-
tance a loud laugh; perhaps he was deceived,
and that it was only the echo giving back the
sound ofthe breaking glass. He thought it was
malicious triumph, and as the whirl-wind seein-
cd to him_supcrnatural, be easily diviiied the au-
tlior ofifs misfortunes. Oh, complained be, oh
I\Itlllll.‘(‘i'_l‘.i]1S, what have I done to you that you
take away from me my morsel of bread, my‘bit-
tor swctit and blood--alas I am a man dead while
I am yet alive. He then got. up in a kind of
rage, aiid uttered all sorts of reproaclies to the
mountain spirit—villain, said he, come and mur-
der me, since thou hast taken away from me,
all that Iliave in the world. Indeed his life was
of no more value to him in that moment than a
broken glass. Numbcrnips lioweverkeptout of
his sight and hearing, Poor Stephen r-;-solved,
iflie would not carry his basket home empty,
that he niust gather up the fraguiciits of glass,
that he might exchange them at the glass-house, ,
for at least a pair of glass dishes fortlic beginning‘
ofa new trade. Melancholy as the merchaiit
smaller one in the stomach ofthe kid,
. H-
whose shin and its lading, its men and mice
0......‘
This tender and faithful mother lived to a
great old age inhappiness witli her children, and
Numbcrnips’ favorite grew to be a brave man,
served fora long time in the Einperor’s arrziv tin-
dcr \Vallestein in the thirty yeaits’ war, arid be-
came in time a very celebrated officer.
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TI-IE .I1yY.I'TITE IVEASEL,
A v:~:r.'r i.\'Ti~:n3=.s'1'i-3:5 T.-XL}-‘. or-‘ 'i'r.U'rrI.
In the reign of King George III, there lived a
boy in London, who was born in the !]€l!TlllJOl‘-
hood of St. Paul’s Cathedral, bv the Ylllllle of
Ciirtiss. He was left an orphan child atthe age
of ten yetzrs, destitute--n-it a penny in the world.
The question was with him, altliougn so young,
wliat shall I do? He resolved that he would
run errands for any one who would employ him,
and early in the morning he sallicd forth from
the hovel where he had slept the night before, in
quest ofcinployiiieiit. f-lo walked but a few
minutes in the strand, near Somerset House,
when agt-iitlcirian met him and accosted him
thus, “My lad, would you oblige me by C()X‘l‘V'll1!_7
this iiute to Chancery Lane?” at the same time
handing the note, with an Ilngliz-:lt shilling, say-
ing, ‘‘I will give vou this shilliiig for so doing.”-—
Ctirtiss instantly took the money, and punctual-
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this convent in gratitude for an opportune stip-
ply of water and provisions; and (as the monks
assert) gave them a firman, written by All which
confirmed to their order J ustinian’s grant of the
Peninsula. Not being able to write, Justinian
spread ink over his hand and laid it on the pa-
per as his signature. This firman was sent to
Constantinople, where Sultan Selim collected
all the relics ofthe Prophet; and the monks re-
ceived anotlier to the same effect, which, they
say, is new at Curio. It appears the monks of
the convent are very ill used by the Arabs.—-
Thc gardens are spacious and highly cultivated;
vines are trained on trellises, and form shady
walks. The apples and pears are excellent, and
are sent to Cairo; melons, apricots, pomegran-
ates, almonds, and niulberries are in great inim-
ber; so also are oranges and lemons. There is
a_Greek church on the mount, which glitters
with the golden portraits of saints and worthies.
Fhe floor is of mosaic gold; and the hands and
skull of St. Catharine, to whom it is dedicated.
are carefully preserved; but the great object of
interest, “the Holy of Holies,” is the spot where
tradition has placed the burning bush, and over
which :1 small chapel has beeii erected. This
bush is called Seneh, which means a thorny
shrub, and may be the species of aceacia called
lens by the Arabs, of which there are many in
the desert. The word Sina is probably derived
from Seneh ; and as the Lord says to Moses.-—
“Put offthy shoes from off thy feet, for the place
wltereon thou standest is holy ground,” this cus-
tom is strictly enforced by the monks; and the
Major and his party entered the chapel barefoot.
I-Ioreb and Sinai form but one mountain ; and
this is the reason they are frequently confound-
ed in Scripture. A chapel has been built over
the cave which the prophet Elijah is supposed
to have occupied during the forty days he was
miraculously supplied with food. Mass is some-
times said, and pilgriins perform their devotions
in it! The author compared the account of Mo-
ses with the present aspect ofthe mountain, and
observes, he and his party had the satisfaction
ofreflecting, that the features ofthe country could
not have changed since the adventof the Israel-
ites; for though the general face of nature is ev-
er varying, atid destruction or decay efliices the
works of man, the firm and lonely desert, and
the granite mountain remain the same through
time—-undisturbed, uushakeii, Leaving Mount
Sinai, the summit of which the author reached,
I . . . . .
to raise his hands, and against such a wile?
you see. Oh. ifI hurl *1 ‘W
tpt.r . ..
lift atid carry any thing in working for you, dear
little creatures.
."i':12:27;ci'21.[ 123-13 uthas your husband no liauds
to work ‘?
lI"omcn2—O,'Iiideed he has, I feel them seine
times.
I‘-'zo/tlzernips-—\Vliat, does your liusband dare
I
will break liitn of that: trick, the inurderer,
lE/butrm—(laugliing)—You will have a great
‘ mzuiy necks to break if you break the necks of
lall the husbands who abuse their wives—they
fare. a poor race, and those who wed take sorrow
! to bed, but it nnist be home, for why was I mar-
rictl.
N112.‘-il2crIzz'}2s—If indeed you knew that the
men were a bad race, yeti were much to blame
when you married.
ll-'7;.*:t..'r/i——t‘.Iay be so, but Stephen was a brave
lad, who had agood trade, and I was a poor girl
‘without a dowry. He came to me and asked
me to marry him, gave me a. wild 1i1ai1’.stl0ll%11',
and the bargan was niadc. He afterwards took
the dollar away from me, but I have the wild
man still.
Ni./.n.-Tbcrizfps-—I’erliaps you have made him
wild by your obstinacy.
I'Vt/iIZ(Ul—-Oil he has driven that all out of me
I assure you. He is a violent fellow. If I be-
haved like an angel he would be more furious in
the house than you good Nuinbcrnips are in the
mountain, and then he tells me of my poverty
aiidthat stops my tongue. IfI had brouglitwith
me a portion, I would stand my ground better
with him Iassure vou._ _ g . .t. .. 7
1\'u//iocrwqzs-—\-V hat is your husband s trade .
lvl7oman-—I-Ie is a glass trader. IIis calling
makes him cross, sonictinies. The poor fellow
bears his heavy loads from Bohemia, year out,
and year in. If he breaks a glass on the way I
and the poor young ones must suller, but love
blows do no great damage.
jfutnlim-nips——'But can you love your litisbaud
when he abuses you so?
ll«,'7mi«.'/z——\Vliy' not? Indeed, he not my
r:liildrct'i’s father. That makes tip for all, and
they will pay for all our troubles when they
grow up.
f\'itiiibci‘222'ps—I’ooi‘ comfort, children rew.'ird
their parents with trouble and care indeed! The
last drop of comfort will be drained from your
cup, when the Emperor sends them far away in
his army to be killed by the '.l‘tirks.
lVa/min-—Oli tie! that does not t.reuble me:
iftliey die, ’tis for their lflinperor and country, in
their proper calling. But. iftlicy live, they get.
booty and glziddcn their parcnt’s hearts.
Upon this, Numbernips began again to traffick
for the boy ; but she gave him no answer, crowd-
ed the leaves iutolier basket, tied the little screa-
tncr fast to her belt, and Nuuibcruips t.urned as
'l' he was going to leave her, but as licrload was
very heavy, she called him back and said, I
have called you once before, be] p me up. and if
you would do me any ftirt.lier kindness, give the
boy who pleases you so much a Good Friday
penny to buy him a couple of biscuits. To—inor-
row the father comes home, and will bring us
seine white bread from Bohemia. I will help
you up, said Nutiiberiiips, btit if you will not
give me the boy, you shall have no peimy.—
Very well said the woman and went her way.
The further she went, the heavier grew her
b:-isket and every ten steps she had to take breath.
She tliougbtfisomething was out of the way, and
that perhaps N ninbernips had played her a trick
and bid a heavy stone among her leaves. So
she put her basket down on the next fence and
emptied it. But their fell out leaves only and
no stone. Then she filled it half tip, and put
as many leaves in her apron as it would bold,
but soon it grew too heavy again, and she was
obliged to throw away seine more, which made
‘the stout woman wonder greatly, for she had of-
ten carried home much larger q uaiititics of grass
and never felt such fatigue. Nevert.licless she
set her household in order when she got home,
threw the leaves to the goat and litt.le kid, gave
the children their supper, put them to sleep, said
1101‘ CVCDiHg prayers, and quickly and gailysunk
herself to slumber.
The first red of the morning, and the waking
baby, who called for his breakfast with aloud
voice, disturbed the healthy slumbers oft.he bit-
sy wife and called her to her daily labor. She
went first, according to her custom, with her
milk pail to the goat’s stall--what a dreadful sight.
The good old goat, who notirislied the fariiily
with milk, lay there still" and cold, her feet.
stretched out already dead, but the kid was roll-
lug its eyes in its head, stretched out its tongue,
and showed by many signs that. it. was near dy-
ing. Such a misfortune had never happened to
the good woman since she had been a housekeep-
er; sstruck dtimb with fear, she sunk down on a
bundle of strziw, put her apron before her eyes,
that she need not. see the pain ofthe kid, and
sighed deeply. Unhappy woman, thought she,
and where will my ritdc husband begin when
he comes home; the blessing ofGod in this world
is gone from me. In a moment she drove this
thought from her mind—Iftlic dear goat was thy
only l)lCS.‘5ll'lg from God what. is thy Stephen, and
what are thy children I She was ashamed that
she had been so hasty. Let all the wealth in
the world go, s.'i.ir.l she, I have my hi_isbaud and
my fotirchildrcn-—-The foi.intain of milk for my
nursling is not dried up, and there is watcrin the
well for the rest.-——And if Stephen is angry and
treats me ill, it. is no matter, I shall lose nothing
by it. The harvest is near at hand, I can go
“Dd 1'9?-‘P. and in winter I will spin till lat.e mid-
night,-—soI shall be able to buy another goat,
and ifl get her, I shall have the kid without
doubt.
As she thought thus, she dried tip her tears,
'1 ‘ 1 IV:“‘fI2T ‘\‘r\rIlIl
'
possessing it, she began to feel a care how she
should keep it. She became uneasv, fearful,
felt her licart. beat, knew not whether she had
better put her treasure in the chest, or bury it; in
the cellar. She began to be afraid of thieves
and treasure tliggei‘s. Slte was not willing that
Stephen should know all, since she feared that
he would be carried away by avarice, take pos-
session of t.lie gold, and leave her and her child-
ren to starve. She reflected long how she should
manage the matter, but could not come to any
conclusion.
The priest of the village was _tlie patron ofall
good \\ ives who were oppressed—-wlieni he al-
ways supported, either out of kindness, 0rbe-
cause he considered them the weakest party, he
gave tltein all due honor, Z1I](ll1C\'(31‘$lllll.‘l'C(I those
liusbauds who were strikers to misuse his spirit-
ual tlaiigliteis, but ifcoiiiplaints ofsiicli treatment
reached his car he laid a lltll‘-‘l penance upon the
unruly house tyrant, and always took the side of
the wife. Tlius he had never spared the stalfof
penance over the griimbliiig Stephen, hoping by
means ofit to drive his ill humor out ofthe house.
The good woman hastened to this comforting
soul curcr, repeated to him her adventure with
Numberuips, told how he had helped her to a
great lI‘CItSUl‘C,D.l'lLl what. anxiety she felt about it—
she proved the truth of her story by showing the
whole treasure which she had brought along
with her. The I’ricst crossed himself at the
wonderful occurrence, rejoiced heartily at the
fortutie of the poor woman, and ttii'ned his cap
Sidqlsillglfdi tl‘tt;v’itt‘il: s‘flt5l?‘.'.l‘l.llélS1ft‘tl'§§8s€5 at Cfllllr
wealth, and also to find tncans to prevent the ill-
humored Stephen from getting it into his hands.
After he had considered the matter for some
time, he said, listen tny daughter, I will give you
good counsel. \Veigli the gold that I may keep
it fttitliftilly for you. I will then write a letter
in the Italian language which shall say, that your
brother who years ago went into foreign parts
was in the Venitian service, and then sailed to
India, where he died and left all his wealth by
will t.o you, on condition that the Priest ofthe
parish shall take care ofit. for you, that it inay
be for your sole use. I tlesirc neither pay nor
thanks from you, only consider that you owe the
holy Churclt a tliauk oflci'ing for the blessing
heaven has bestowed upon you, and dedicate a
rich mass robe t.ot.lie vestry. This advice pleas-
ed the woinau greatly; she promised the Priest
the robe, he weighed couscientiotisly in her pre-
scnce the gold to the last draclim, placed it in me
Church treasury, and t.hc woman took leave of
him with a gay and light heart.
Numbcrnips was no less the patron ofthe wo-
man than the parish priest, but it was with this
dil'l'erencc——tlic latter honored the female sex
particularly (as he said) because the virgin Ma-
ry bclonged to it, without having any predilec-
tion for any individual iuaiden, which might
have brought reproach on his good naine—Num-
bcriiips on the other ht-ind, hated the whole llll-
mati race on account of one girl who had jilted
him, though his humor had now t.akcn a mild
tone, and iiiduccdliini to protect and be gracious
to one singlelittle woman. As much t.|ic good
wife had won his heart by her feelings and her
conduct, so much also was he displeased with
the rude Stephen, and felt. a great longing to
revenge the good woman upon him, to play him
a trick that would vex and worry him, and
thereby make him so htimblc that the good wife
should have her wish and get the upper hand in
the house. For this purpose be stttltllctl the
morning wind, set out and gtillopcd over 1rioun-
tain and valley, spied like an outrider all the
roads and cross paths of Bohemia, and when he
saw a wanderer with :1 load he was behind him
and watched him as narrowly as the owner of a
basket looks after its contents. In this way it
was impossible for the heavy laden Stephen t.o
escape. At the hour of vcspcrs came along a
stout man with a great, pack on his back. U 11-
der his heavy steady stcptlie burden that he car-
ried was lieard to sound. The wat.clier was re-
joiced as he saw him at a distance, that his prey
was now secure, and roused himself to do his
best. The panting Stephen had nearly gained
the top ofthe mountain, the last swell ofit alone
reniaiued before him, and then his way home
would be all down hill. So he strove to gain
the .summit:, btit the mount.ain was steep and his
load heavy. He was forced more than once t.o
rest, and put; his knotty .stafl'underthe basket to
t.ake olliits heavy weight. while he wiped ofl't.hc
sweat that. stood in great. drops on his foreliead.
After st.ret(:liing his strength to the utmost, he
reached the top, and a fine straight pat;li led
down the other side. In the middle of the path
lay a pine tree, which had been cut down, but
the sttimp was left stzinding as straight, as it can-
dle, and as smooth as the top of a. tablet {mil all
around it was the green grass. This sight was
so inviting to the traveller and so convenient for
a resting place, that. he immediately deposited
his loaded b:2:~'kct:on the stump, and stretched
binisclfopposite to it on the soft grass. I:Iere he
thoiigbt. over how much clear gain his wares
would bring him this time, and found after a
close calculation, that ifhc. did not spend a sin-
ple penny in the liouse, but depended on the
skilful hands of his wife fbr food and clotliiiig,
he .<:.hould make enough to buy him an ass in the
Scliinoidl,ierg Market, and to load him. The
thought. of how gully in future he should load
his beast. and trudge along by his side, came to
him at. the time when his shoiilders were smar-
Iing under the pain of the load, and was so
agreeable to him that he continued the train of
it. lfI once get an ass said he, a horse will
soon follow, and when I get a l'10l'St‘. in the stall,
Itslnall soon geta_patc’.e-of groizrvl to raise
hay iipnn---from one fitld I shall come to have
V t"-1;;-1-v “""é.—.v- '_ ——-~j-I_IU-
Kow she knew no end to her riches, yet in
have
ocean, he descended the mountain bearing with
him many hard thoughts and occupied with ina-
ny speculations as to how he should make tip
his loss and continue his business, Ile at last
recollected the goat which his wife had in the
stall, yet she loved it like her children, and wil-
lingly he knew she would never part with it.——
He resolved, however, upon this trick to prevent
his lossbeiiig known at ltome. I-Ie determined
not to go back to his liotise in the daytime, but
at iiiidniglit: to steal in, drive away the goat to
the Sr.-luneidberg market, and spend the money
for which he sold it in ptircliasiiig new warcs—-
buton his return he would reproach and tip-
braid his wife for having through carelessness
suftcretl the goat to be stolen in his absence-—
Vvlitli this well arranged plot, lie threw the bro-
ken fragineiits in a heap near the village in a
lictlge, and awaited with great anxiety for the
hour of miduiglit in wliichlie might rob himself.
\Vhcn twelve struck, he took his theivish path,
climbed over the low gate,opened the innerdoor
and went in with a beating heart to the goat’s
stall; he was fearful lest his wife should find
him eiigagetl in such wicked doings. Contrary
to the tistizil custom, the stall was open, which
surprised him, though it gave him pleasure, for
he found in the neglect a sort of justification of
his designs. But he found the stall all empty
and bare; there was nothing there with life
and breath, neither goat nor kid. In the first
terror he tliought seine more adroit tliicfhad been
before. hill, for misfortunes_>s_cldpm__cgpi,e_ S_l_l_]:
.'s’ili°z1t~;’la'h(t ‘it— heavy sadness came over him that
this last attempt to renew his trallic had failed
him. ' - ~
AfI.Cl"llIC busy Elsy had come back from the
priest, she had employed herself very carefully
in making preparations to receive her liusbaiitl
with a good feast, to which she ha-il invited her
friend the priest. Ile was to take along with
him a mug of spiced wine, and at the cheerful
feast to announce to Stephen the news of his
wife’s lcg:icy, and upon what COll’illlt)llS she
was to sliare it. Towards evening she looked
anxiously out at the window, to see wlietlier
Stephen was coming, wentout of the door in her
impatience, looked tip the street with her black
eyes, and wondered what kept him so late; and
when night came, her care and anxiety follow-
ed her into her bedroom; and she thought not of
her supper, and no sleep visited her eyes until
rnorriing, when she fell into a restless slumber.
Poor Stephen was not less tired and troubled
in the stall. He had so lit.tle strengtli and spir-
it left, that he dared not knock at. the door. At
last he arotiscd himself, knocked. and said in a
sad tonc——Dear wife, awake and open the door
to your husband. As soon as Elsy heard his
voice, she sprung like a dart from her coticli,
opened the door, and eiribraced her husband
with joy, but he rcttirned her hearty embraces
in a cold and hasty manticr, set down his bus-
ket, aiid threw liimsclf sullciily on a bencli.-—
\Vhcn the gay wife saw his sad countenance, it
went to her heart. \Vliat troubles yoti, liusband
said she, surprised, whatis the matter? He an-
swered only by sighs and groans. She contin-
tied t.o question him about the cause ofhis trou-
ble, and his heart was so full he could not long
conceal his misfortune from his trusty wife.——
\Vhcn she found that Numbernips had been
playing him a trick, she understood the good in-
tentions of the Spirit, and cotild hardly repress
her laugliter, which would have displeased, poor
Stephen. He did not take notice of her seein-
ing gaiety, but asked anxiously about the Goat.
This amused the good woman still more, for she
saw he liadbecii spying about the house. \Vliy
are you concerned about my Goat, said she:
you have not yet. asked about the children? The
goat is carried off to pasture, pei'li:ips-—lcave oil
vexing you rselfabout the malice ofiV umbcrnips;
who knows hitt he will still make up your loss
to you in seine other and better way? You
may wait long enough for that, said the despe-
rate man. Oh! said the wife, good often comes
unlooked for—-take cotii‘agc, Stephen, to be sure,
you have no glass, and I have no goat, but we
have four stout children, and four stout. arms to
feed them and ourselves: these are all our wealth.
God have mercy, cried the sorrowful man, if the
goats are gone; then throw the four babies into
the water,I can never feed them. V'\'cll then, I
can, said Elsy.
At this moment the good priest came in; he
had heard the coiivcrsulion while he stood at
the door. So he took tip the worth flml Pl"3f1Cl1'
ed Stephen a sermon on the text that the love of
inouey is the root of all evil, and after he had
with stillicient sharpness explained the law, be
annouiicetl t.o him the good news of his wife’s
legacy, took out the Italian letter and interpre-
ted the contents of it, that the present priestof the
parish was to be the execiitor of the will. and
that he had already received the money into his
safe liantls.
Stcplicn stood st.upif'ier.l at thencws, anti t‘."‘:.Il€l
do nothing but how, as the priest from titizc to
time nientioued the l]’ll_;'1lli_V Republic of Venice.
and took offhis cap as he did so; at last he etu-
braecd most tenderly his wife, and from that
time Stephen ms the most pleasant l'illSb.'1lltl. the
l(ll]flGSi. father, and most careful provider. for idle-
ucss had never been his fault.
The honest priest from time to time changed
the gold into money, and bought with it a good
farm on which Stephen and Elsy lived the rcstof
their life. The remainder of the money he put
to interest, and guarded the capital of his parish-
ioner as carefully as the treasures ofthe church.
never taking any rex -gird for his services but the
Mass Robes; which E1syt.ook care to make so
splendid,tlm?,au.A.rc bieliep woi..d not have been
ed of them. ,
,¢r—n\.._ 1“? ._‘.__> ‘ . ’ 1 _
all been swallowct up "Ir1‘*1-..rd3-.'ré'r'i.'t!"rf't'ig
'1: 'leliverc_r_l_'l‘:c note to whom directed.
On his
and proceeding northward, he came to Sargijgffi‘
cl-Ixliadan, where, on a sin:;l‘l,,v3,‘,-,3’, hé found a
.._a_, . H -
return. he met a poor woniaii near the Tem;;dT:-““"‘§.__r._.‘;__fi,. :.«—--—~- . .
number 0 . idstone I.‘-ll)lCl.S, front five to eight
Bar, who apparently was in want, and, although
but a boy. she solicited charity from him. Cur-
tiss asked the supplieant whatit was she had un-
der lierarm, to which she replied bysliowing him
a little white kitten ; he immediately olli-red her
all the tnoney he ltatl for it, being the shilling
he had just eariied, with which she was mttcli
pleased. Curtiss then set off with his kitten for
Chariiig Cross: on his way thither, a gentleman
met him near Exeter Cliange, not far from the
Adelplii, who esnying the kitten asked the lad
what it was he had under his rugged blanket?——
Curtiss told him it was a kitten. The gentle-
irian l‘C(p_t£‘.-‘.=i€(l to look at it, which lie_ did, and
examined it most critically: then said be ‘my
lad, you are very in ucli iiiistaken, it is no kitten,
but a white weasel; will you sell it?’ Yes, sir,
said Curtiss, what will yoifgive? Five Guin-
eas, said the geiuleinrtn. The Kitten, sir, is
yottr.~s. Curtiss received the money, delivered
over the kitten to the stranger, t.heri walked off
with his guineas in his pocket. The day follow-
ing, Curti.-is (who b_v the by, was a very handsome
little boy,) liastened to Cautbourn alley to pro-
cure fiir l'iimsclfpi'opei‘ and respectable clothiiig
that he might appear as well dressed as any of
the respectable boys in London, which he fully
accoinplislicd with two guiiieas. Being thus
gcntcelly cquippcd,4and hearing the bells ring-
ing fordivine service at \Vhite Hall, where King
Charles the first was beheaded by that arch hy-
pocrite and tyrant, Oliver Cromwell, he rep.'tir.—
from the lips of the Lord Bishop of Durliain,
who on that. occasion delivered an excclleiit. ser-
mon. On leaving the Royal Chapel, a lady,
apptircntly ofgreat. (ll.'\.‘llt'r('ll(>l‘l dropped her white
caiiibric lion! kereliief, wliicli young Curtiss ob-
served as it fell. I-Ie instantly picked it tip, ran
to the carriage just as it was (roing to drive off,
and presented to the owner the liandkcrcliief,
(who proved to be her grace the Dutcliess ofDe-
voiisliire.) The politeness and gallantry ofthe
boy was highly pleasing to her grace, and she
directed him in take a place in her (-at-t‘i:tge, that
she niiglit inquire into his situation and circum-
stances. Tlic bov most readly accepted of this
kind offer, and hail the honor ofremainiug in her
(7‘rrace’s Palace until she placed him in the
\Vestniiiiister Scltool—whcre by her bounty and
goo..iicss he received an excellent education.----
As he grew up, be was distinguished for lt‘.lt.‘lil.‘é
and wortli, so much so, as to become a mcrnber
of Parliament, where he did himself great. hon-
or, particularly in advocating the abolition ofthe
American slave trade. In the recess of I’arli;i-
mcnt, Mr. Jurtiss visited the wat'erin_g place at
M:i.i'gutc, where by mere accident he fell in coin-
puny with a most beaiitiftil and accomplislicd
you rig lady, about. twenty years of ag'e--by name
Deodama, who possesed every grace and virtue,
that man could wish or desire, to make him hap-
py. On declaring to her his passion ; -)(‘.OtIfl!l’lZl
was equally pleased with Mr. Ctirtiss, who was
of an elegant form-—graee, nianner, and most
manly l.ic.'.ii.ity. It was agreed bct.weeii them
that it s..ould be made kown to the fat'hcr of the
lady; which was done. The father not only
gave his consent to their tiniou, but also settled
upon his daugliter twenty tliotisand pounds ster-
ling, and appointed Mr. Curtiss her triistec. On
the day of her marriage, he put a diamond ring
on the fiiiger of his beloved daughter, ofthe val-
ue oftwo fl10llS£ll'l(l guineas, as a token ofhis love
and allbctiori, which ring had some time previ-
ously been presented to him by the g1‘0at_Cath-
arine, Empress of Rtissia. To Mr. Ctirtiss, he
presented a Bank Note of the Batik of England‘
offive thousand pounds, observing at the same
time, “i‘\Ir. Curtiss, Iverily believe that you
have the greatest. love and €.':‘.l‘.C(_‘1Tl for my belov-
ed Deodaina, my only child, and she having
signified to me her at.tacliment for you, I give
her to vou for your wife. But first I iiinst tell
vou, Mi. Curtiss, that, indepeiident ofyour great.
ivortli and talents, you have stronger claims to
me for my beloved (Iaugliter, than any other geri-
tleman wliomsoever.
“The facts are these-—wlien Deod:-ima coin-
munictztcd to me, that an attachment subsis-ted
between you and her, I applied to her grace the
lDllt(:llCSS~t)fI)€‘.'()nSllll‘C, your friend and patron-
ness, to make some en<p.iir_v of her grace into
your history and ‘.:l'lE1l'(lCl.Cl'. The Dutchcss gave
me, with other matters perfectly satisfactory, the
most it't‘eii'agil:le proof of your being the identi-
cal boy of whom I purcli:-ised tlie\‘7liite ‘Weasel,
nearIilxeter Cliangein the Stt':ntd out of which I
tirade n v fortti:'.c,Ias follows :——I disposed ofiny
'\Vhite lvleasel to the great Ba;-:lta\\*<ifl£gypt in
exe-han2'c for ten liogslicads ofopiuin, whichl
sold lllIl.l'i8 old city ofBy7.ai‘ititnn, which was
built by a colony 6:‘ At.l1eniI-1111*‘, fl‘-0'-'\' ""~ll§3”hV'
called iConstantinople,) to a great tea-merchant
of Canton, in the East Indies, and received teas
and spices of that country in payment for the
opium-—my tea and spices I shipped, and brought
them safe to Londou,(tbe queen ofall cities,)
which in a short time after their arrival I.hacl the
good fortune to sell to a London East India Com-
pany‘, for one plumb, alias one hundred thousand
pouiids .st.crling, which was paid me in specie at
the Bank of England. Under all these circum-
stances, Mr. Curtiss, I could not refuse you my
beloved (laughter, and at my death shallleave
you and her all my fortune, which IS considera-
ble.——Go and be happy.
JOURNEY TO l\IouNr SINAI.--The last two
chapters of l\'Ia_‘,or Felix’s account of a Journey
to Mount Sinai were read. The convent on the
mount was founded by Instinian, who endowed it
with the whole peninsula of Sinai. When Ma:
home: was spreading his religion with fire and
so-oral eve: the east, heirs said to have spared
feet in height, three feet in width, and two in
tliickness. The greatr-.r number was enclosed
by a wall, part of which remained, btit some
stood on mounts on the outside of the wall;
within were several small chapels, erected at dif-
ferent periods. one of which had columns. The
tablets were covered on all sides with hiero-
glypbics; were erected by different kings; and
recorded some event that had occurred in a par-
ticular year oftheir reigns. The enclosure had
certainly the apps-araiice of a biirying ground;
but the nionuiuents were not sepulcliral, nor was
there the slightest reference to the well known
form:-: which are found on every tr-nib and on
every niuininy-case. They appeared to be me-
morials not of victories or national events, but of
some private act of the Pharolis, who set them
up.——Pi‘oceedings of the Geographical Society.
II\I1‘OSSIBlLI'Z'Y or .\i.i.\"s I<‘L1'i:~:o.—~ Ve are
soin the habit of seeing birds fly, and they fly
with such apparentease that we are apt to over-
look the many mechanical difficulties that have
to be overcome by their organization, _ But
when attempts have been made by men to con-
struct flyiiig apparatus, or even accomplish the
apparently mticli simpler object of directing a
baloon, which floats buoytintly without any ef-
fort, bccaitse it is filled with gas specifically
lighter than the atino.spliere,tl'ie atteinp_ters found
that they would require to go a long time to school
listen tgtesiieptelili°'tiiose'ilii)‘eéis:" Alriyirig‘ zip-
paratus, to be moved by the human arms, is,
like the kindred fancy of a perpetual motion, a
physical impossibilty; and the attempt to con-
struct one, is one of those absurdities into which
men are apt t.o fall in the infancy of knowledge
when they have vanity enough to lead ‘them
wrong, but want the requsite knowledge for keep-
ing them riglit. Even if the aims could he trim-
med to perfect wings, bearing the saute propor-
tion to the weight ofthe hiitnan body as those of
the bird of powerful flight have to its weight,
there are not in the human body any muscles by
wliicli such wings could receive any thing of a
flyingiuotion. Then, iftliat ditficuly could be
got the better of which it is evident it could not;
the spine would bend and the body cant _ over
and tumble to the ground on whatever part hap-
pened to be the heaviest. Or ifthis again could
be got the better of, man is not adapted for breath-
ing on the wing, and thus the circulation would
stop, and there would be an end of the flyer in
the very beginning of his flight. In short, it
rnay be said without fcarof contradiction, that no
addition to the human body cotild make man a
fiver. Ifthe study of the structure of birds had "
nb other effect than the preventing of such fati-
cies as tlicse—-fancies which, like the other ab-
surdity mentioned, still useless—it would be
worthy of our attention. The author of this
sketch reineuibers long ago, a case in which a
voung man, in a small cotintry town, had got
so mdch ofthe formal and colloquial part of sci-
ence, that he was looked upon as a prodigy, and
among other things, a very Archimedes in me-
chanics. Earth could not set bounds to his am-
bition, and he would needs fly; so after months
of labor, he produced a pair of wings, and
mounting to the top ofa barn at his father’s farm
yard, spread them for flight, and shot boldly in-
to the air; but no shot pigeon, or even pig of
lead, was more true to the perpendicular, for the
wings barely saved him from a dangerous fall.
Mudie’s Natural History of Birds.
In medicine, the chief tonics are bitter. The
misfortunes of life are intended to act as such.
‘\Vlien a long series of prosperities have left the
energies of our nature iriaetive—-when the sun
has shone so long and so brightly that we bask
thanklessly in its beams and with scarce a con-
sciousness ofits beauty——tlien comes on the low-
ering sky of the approaching tempest-—-their
comes on sickness, the loss of friends, pecuniary
losses, disappointment hopes, unexpected fears
——and then it is that the dormant powers of our
noble faculties are stiinulated—our sympathies.
our fortitude, our reliance on Gen.
SUBS'I‘1'1‘UE roit Iiiii-3oso'ri:.—-The Boston
Medical and Surgical .Iouri1al states, that a
French Phvsieiau has discovered that obstinate
cutaneous affections, and cancerous ulcerations,
,n_-(V be Succesgfuuv treated \\'ll.l1 SOOI. instead Or
thevexpensive article of Krcosote. The lotion is
made by boiling two large handfuls of soot in a.
pint ofwatcr for half an hour, and then straining
it. . This is applied four times, 01‘ ofmer. 11 day-
":‘
Siuimzr.--‘1 hope I don’t intrude,’ as the knife
said to the oyster. ‘Come in,’ as the spider said
to the fly. ‘Come on,’ as the man said to his
1 I . 9 as
uoot. ‘You make me blush, as the lobstencrie
out in the boiler.
‘Do you like novels 3’
said a Miss Languish to
her up country lover.’ ‘I can’t S3)’-’ answered
be, ‘for I never ate any; but I tell you what.
I'm tremendous at a young ’possum !’
If you will destroy your own repose.
that of your neighbor.
In marriage, prefer the person _'before wealth.
virtue before beauty, and the mind before _thI:
body—-then you have a friend and a companion.
disturb
-
Since Colonel Crockett has. made known In!
determination not to be a candidate for the Pros-
idency, he has‘ taken the cognomen of the Gfldl
Declined.
'—'
The field of battle at \Vai§;_la0. after a 18139?
of 19 years, is remarkable for its eX_t1’°m0 I0?“-la‘!
ityand‘ the dark rank color ofgta rich Cm?‘
grain, niirturei by htiman_.g9l’8 l
l
Norwalk Chronicler