HAS ZAEWSS @AZE"i ' licenses" oonnlisn, can eomiinnosni. nnonnnisnn. Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Wednesday, April 27, 1853. Established 1823. New Series. No. 28. Basses-d's Gaxstts. GEOIBI T. IIASZIID. I’rsiprIsInr' Published as Wedsrsohy Oflce. loath siiira-ieu run 7- 3- "5""- TI 8 IUII ‘"- Discusst for cash reuse or alvllflalli. on "an l='orisslrsiiouruos.cucIs~i-I 9-tlw . iucluiiag b-ail. la.—C line. Is.d.I.—O liurs, Is._-ll lines. In. II.—l[li-no.0 -N lines. &. 0l.—fl lines. §s.l-- Illliass. Gs. Ii.—$liues,&.—anil2 l. foresii-.h udalitioaal lino. Ousllimthnfeks uhovs Iir each cootinusare. . -- - '* — hscostiuued eaeil Isrbid. * uscas roit's casts. (Clasp. I9. concluded.) Dllsrenees and Resemblaucee—Ststcof the hi- glish Labourer-—A Scntimentalist—A shaking of theNstious—Con nostb Kindness—'I'om‘s Letter IIome—Kitc en timstion of bliss Ophelia. For to go back to my histor , said St. Clair :— " When father died, he sit the whole pro- perty twin boys, to be divided as we should agree. There does not breathe on God‘e earth a nobler-souled, more generous fellow, than Alfred, in all that concerns his equals; and we got on admirabl with this property question. without a sin e unbrother y word or feeling. We undcrtoo to work the plants- tion together; and Allked. whose outward lie and capabilities had double the stren th of mine, bccauic an enthusiastic planter, an won- dsrllilly succeuful one. " But two years’ trial satidcd me that I could not be a partner in that matter. To haves great gang of seven hundred, whom I could not know personally, or feel any indivi- dual interest in. bought and driven, housed, fed. worked like so many horned cattle, trained up to milimr prccisien—tbe question of how lit- tle of life s commonest enjuyments would keep them in working order, being a constantly re- curring problem. the rieceuuy of drivers and overseen. the ever-necessary whip. hrst. last, and only argument-the whole thing was insuf- ferably disgusting and lo.iths.rme to me: and when I t.‘ioug‘it of my mother's estimate of one )0I' s ml, it become even frightful. “ t's all nonsense to talk to me about slaves enjoying all this! To this day! have no pati- ence wit‘i the unutterahle trash that some of your patronising Nertlierncrs have made W, as in their soul to apologise for our sins. c all know better. Tel me, that an man livin wants ti work all his d.iys, from .iy-dawn til dirk, under the constant eye ofa master, with- out the power of putting forth one irresponlible violation, on the some eary, monotonous, unchanging toil. and all for two pairs of pants- loons and a pair of shoes a- ear, with enough feed and shelter to keep him ii working order ! Any man who thinks that human beings can, as a gineral thing. be made about as comfort- able that way as any other,I wish he might try it. I‘d buy the dog and work him, with a clear conscience !" “ I always have supposed," said bliss Ophelia, “ that you, all of you, approved of these things, and thought them ri‘gIil—.iccording to Scrip- ture " " Iinmhu 2 we are not quite reduced to that yet. Altk , who is as detarmineda despot as ever walked, does not pretend to this kind of dlfsnce ; no he stands, high and haughty, on that good, old, res table ground, the rigid of the strongest; and c says. and I think quite sensibly, that the American lanter is‘ only doing. ii another form, what t it English aris- tocracy and capimlists are doing by the lower classes ;‘ that s, I take it, iip_propmili‘ng them, body and bone, soul and spirit. to their use and convenience. lie defends both—and I think, at least. consistently. Ie says,that there can be no high civilisation without cnsiaveiiicnt of the masses, either nominal or real. mist. he says. he a I iwsr class given up to phy- sical toil and confined to an animal nature; and a hi her one thereby uircs leisure and wealth or a more expand intelligence and improvement. and becomes the directing soul of the lower. reasons. because. as I said, he is burn an aristocrat; so I don't believe, because I was born a democrat." " ow in the world can the two thinpbs compared!" said bliss Ophelia. " The English labourer is not sold. traded, parted from his familly, whip .“ " e is as much at the will of his employer as if he were sold to him. he s vs-owner can whip his refractory slave to dcath—the capital- ist can starve him to death As to family secu- rity, it is hard to say which is the worst-—tu have 0li0';°o-I|I"d’I’OI| sold, or see them starve to cath at s. " But it's as kind of apology for slavery, to more that it isn't worse than some other it " " I didn't give it for sse—-nay. I'll ss , that ours is the more bold and palpable in Inge- msnt of human rights. Actually buying a msnrup :‘i_kc_s. horse-d-loekilnghst his teeth one in is ints, an tr is paces, a then paging own for him speculators, breeders. traders, and brokers in sman bodies avid sosls—ssts the thing bslhre the eyes of the civilised wor d in a more tangible form. than is the thlpfidone be, after all, in its nature. same: t is appropriating one set ofhuissn beings to the use and improvement of another, without any regard to their own." - " never t ‘it of the matter in this light." said Miss ‘ hells. " Well. I've travslfdd in llng‘snd some. and I've everagied many documents as to the state of their lower classes ; and I res Iy think there is i no denying Alfred. when he siys that his slaves as better of than a large class of the ‘pppulstlon , you must not r, from as he would shoot a bust. it he applied in Int. in aerial, takes a rnrto ha slaves coiuformbly fed an accom- ms ---was’: i was with him, I insisted use be r thlt %u‘!,"‘£.""ah“;«. .i.'7i3!‘1"i.i‘.‘.'il ‘tat Alfred Is what is‘ ride in ' l to have them mtcchissd Sundays. though I be- lieve, in his heart. that he thought it would do about as much good to set a chaplain over his dogs and horses. And the hot is. thata mind stupeded sud snimsliscd by bad lslaeacs from the hour of birth, spending the whole of every week-da in unreflecting toil, cannot be done much tii b a few hours on Sands . The teachers of nday-Schools among lac manufacturing population of England, and among plantation-hands in our country,cusld perhaps testif to the same result, there aid has. ct some str ing exceptions there are ammig us, from the fact that the negro is naturally more impressiblc to religious sentiment than the white." H Well," said Miss Ophelia, “ how name you to give up your planmtion life!” “Well. we jo on together some time, till Alfred saw iuly that [was no lsntcr. He thought it a surd, after he had reormed, and gltercd, and improved everywhere, to suit my notions, that I still remained unsstislisd. The fact was. it was, after all, the -rams that I hstsd—ths using these men and women, the perpetuation of all this ignorance, brutality, ust to make money for me! " Besides, I was always interfering in the details. lleing myself one of the lasiest of mortals, I ihad altogether too much fellow-feeling for the la: ; and when poor, shiftlcss stones att bottom of their cotton baskets to make them weigh heavier, or fill their salts with dirt, with cotton at the to , exactly like what I should do i couldn't and wouldn't have them do for t. Well, ofoourse, there was an end a ' discipline; and Alf and I came to about e same point that I and my respected father did, years before. he told me that I was s womanlsh sentimentalist, and would never do for business life; an scd me to take tlllc nk-stock and the New Orleans family mansion and go to writing poetry, and let him manage the plantation. so we parted, and I came ere. ‘- But why didn't you free your slaves"’ “ Well.I wasn't up to that. To hold them as tools for money-making, Icould not; have them to help spend money, you know. didn't I.n'< quite so ugly to to me. Some of them were old house—servants, to whom I was much attached : and the younger ones were children to the old. All were well eati as they were." lie paused, and walked reIcctivc- ly up and down the room. “ There was." said St. Clare, “ a time in my life when I had plans and hopes of doin some- thin in this world more than tclcat a drift. Iha vague, indistinct ysarnings tube a of emanci tor—to free my native land from this spot and stain. All young men have hell such fever-lite. I suppose, scins tiinc—hut then" “ y didn't you!” said Miss Ophelia; you on tnot to put your hand to the plough. and loo back " 4 “ Oh, well. things didn't go with me as I ex- pected, and 1 Fit the despair of living that Solomon did. su it was a necessary in- cident to wisdom in us both; but, somehow or other, instead of being actor and re nerstor in societ , I became a piece of dri w , and have nlloating and odd ngabostcversince. Alfred scolds me every use we mset.snd in has the tear o me, I grant; for he really does something. Iiis lil_'c iss logical resultot his _opinons. and mine is a contcmptible acts ur." “ My dear cousin. can you be satisfied with such a way of spending your prohstioni" “ Sstislled! as I not just telling you I des- pised itl But then, to come back to this in! —we were on this liberation bnsines. I ou't think my feelings about sla are peculiar. I llnd many men who, in their rte. think of itjustas I do. The land groans under it ; and as it is for the slave , it is worse. il'sny- thing, for the master. It takes no spechclss to see that a great class of vicious, improvident. degraded people, among us. are an evil to us as well as to themselves. The capitalist and aristocrat of England cannot feel that as we do. because they do not mingle with the class they degrade as we do. are in our houses; they are the associates of our children. and they form their minds faster than we can ; for they are a race that children always will cling to and assimilate with. If Eva, now, was not more angel than ordinary, she would be ruined. We might as well allow the small-pox to run amou them. and think our children would pot take t, as to let them uniiistruo vici- ous and think our children will nctbc shctcd by that. Yet our laws positively and utterly for- bid any eficicnt neral cducatimial system and they do wise y. too: iior just bogs: and thorou til educate one generation, an the whole thing would be blown sky-hi ii. If we did not give them liberty, they woul take it." -- And what do you. tuiuk will be the end of this?" s. id Miss Ophelia. -- [don't know. one this: is certsis—ilist there is s uiusti-riug amuse ill‘ """°0. lite world over; and liners is s ' iris cuiuiul fill. 0000!! or Isirr. The same ttuug is working. in Europe. in England. and in this country. My mother used to tell use of s uiillesuiuiu that was raising, wbuii Christ should reign. and all men should be free and happy. And she taught use, when I was llsss . I» pray. ' 'I‘tiy kingiloni cums. _ slums- iiuaesli ink all iliia siiiliina. sod grossuig.sud Ilrriug aiming the ry buues furutela what she used its tell me was cuissittfl. list who may skids the day of llis sppsatiunl" _ -- Augustine, sometimes lthtak you are not far from the kiuudmis." said Miss Ophelia. laying d .wu liar kaiti up, and looking ssaiously at hot ctstillti. -- 'l'haiik you for your good opinion; but it's up and tlnwit with ius— up to iiosvsu‘s gate is theory, tltrwtt Its Oarllsll ‘III R practise. lies INC.‘ II! If! It ll—-tin lrlil l0t—lId dttttil III. “. lisvi~u'i trail was duwarinlii serious tslk foresee in my life." Ai table. Mere alluded to the incident of Prue. N I gunman putt." lllitti, cunsln,"aka Id‘, " I“. we are all barbarians." Well. sue." soul Unit. 9‘ hheen,-.l'e.lr p-seltls tsget eieeg with seat It westerns. They are sobsd they ought not in live. idon'i fuels particle of sympathy for such cases. if they'll only behave themselves, it would not apps-n." " But, msmms.” said Eve. “ the poor creature was unhappy; that's what made her drink.” “0 'dtiiesticli! as if that were any excuse! I'll unhappy, vi-rv often. I pr-raiune." she said, pcneivi-ly, ‘* that I've had greater Irisls than ever she had. It's ‘ust because they are so bad. '|'hsrs's souls of’ tin-in that you esuuui break in by any kind of severity. I remember father had a man that was so Iziay lie would rim away just to get rid of wuvk,aiid lie round in the swamps, sterling and doing all sorts of liurrid iliiiuis. 'I' t n was raunlit and vi-liipped, time and stain. and it never did liiin stir good: and the last time he crawled utf. llltmgll he cmil-ln'i but just go. he died in ilie swamp. 'l‘hcri- was no sort of reason for it. fur faIiier's bands were always treated kindly." "I broke a fellow in. once," said St. Clare." “that ail the uveissers sud mzisicrs had me their hands on in vain." “ You!" said Marie; "well. I'd be glad to know when you ever dill snytliiiiz ufthe sort." “ Well,dio was is powerfiil. gigantic l‘iilluw—-n nslivo-horn African; and he appeared to have the rude instinct of freedom in him to an unconiiviun degvrs. lie wassreciilar African lion. 'I‘lie_v clilnil ltilll Scipio. Nuhudy imild do anything will! Illlll: AMI be WI! nultl rmmtl from IIVQfIe1(',r inuvsrseer. till all but Alfred lmughi him. because he Ilioush' he could miiiuiue him. Well. one llitV be knocked down the uversccr. and I'll fairly ufi tutu the swmaps I was on a visit to r\ll's plau- |II_ton, for II was iifier ii-e ii id tlissulretl pariu~-r- ship. Alfred was aisle-ly eiuisperuieil. but I told lttrn that II was his own fault. and laid him any wager that I could brake the man; aml finally it was agreed Ihiit. if lcautzlit him. I sliuuld have him to experiment on. So tlii»_v rniisieri-d mii a party of some six or sew-u. with guns and door. for lien bunt. People, you know, cm gel iipjiist as iuucli eiiihiisissm in limiting :i imii er a deer. if it is only flloltsnl -r_v: in fact. I out .1 little excited myself. though I li:iil uuly pill in as a sun of lledistnr. in case he was Ctllulll. " “'1-ll. the (lugs buys-cl mid Iinuled, and we rude and arainpi-ml. aid liimlly we started liim. Hn ran and is-ouiiil-.-i like .1 bu--k. iiiid kept us well in the rear I'm suiue tiivi ; but ill .sisi he not cnuultlin an iiiipe.-i.i-trnlilu IIlI('IIt'I of i-tine: Ilisii linllsrnrtl In hay, and I tell you Ill‘ fuiiyzlil the dues right galls-uiiy. lie II:|Plll'.tI them to rig.-Iii and left. and ai-tiinlly kil'el ilm-.i-ol them with truly his iiiskcil li-Is, ii-iievi xi sit.-i fruiii at gun 5l'0tt|_|ltl liim dis iii, and he fell. ivuiiuili-d mul "'¢1'd|||II. liluiusl in tiny lmrl. 'I'lu- puur fellow ed up at me with manhood and despair both in his eye. I kept back the do and the party, as they _imiiie pressing up, an claimed Aim as my prisoner. It wiis all I could do to keep them from shooting him, in the flush of success; but ‘ persisted in inv bargiin. and Alfred sold_ him to me. Well,I took him in band, and in _on_e fortnight I had him tamed down as submissive and tractable as heart could desire.” “What in the world did you do to him?” said Marie, " Well. it was quitea simple process. I took him to my own _room, had a good bed made for us, his wounds, and tended him my self, until he fairl on his feet again. And in process 0 time I _ ad free papers made out and told him he might go where he “ And did he go 1" said Miss Ophelia. “No. The foolish fellow tore the paper in two, and absolutely refused to leave me. never hada braver, better fellow--trusty and true as steel. lie embraced Christianit after- wards. and became as gentle iisa chi d. lie u _ to oversee my place on the lake, and did it cipitally, too. I net him the first cholera season. In fact, he laid down his life for me. For I was sick. almost to death ; and Wlltill, through the panic, everybody else tied, Scipio worked for me like a giant, and actunll brought me back into_ life a in. But. poor fe low ! he was taken, right a ter. and there was no saving him. I never felt anyhody's lose more." vs. come gradually nearer and nearer to her father, as he told the story—her lips apart. he: eyes wide and earnest with absorbing inter- cs . As he finished. she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, burst into tears, and soblied cenvuisively. “ Eva, dear child ! what is the matter?” said St. Clare. as the child's small frame trembled and shook with the violence of her feelings. " This child," he added, “ought not to hear any of this kind of tliing—she‘s nervous." I-I “ Pic, papa. I'm not nervous." said Eva, - trolling e_rself suddenly with it stren%-e- solution singular in such ii child; -* not nervous, but these things sink inlo my heart." “ What do on mean. Eva!“ “ I can't tel on. papa. ltbink II great nia- ny tlyoughts. erhays some day I shall tell u. " Well, think away, dc:ir—only don't cry and worry your papa," said St. Clare. “ Look here -ece.what is beautiful pouch I have got for In took it, and smiled, then b there was stills nervous twitching about u corners of her mouth. " Como. look at the gold-fish." said St. Clare. hklng her hand and stepping on to tho veran- dah. A few moments, and merry lau he were heard through the silken curtains, as Ms and St. Gare were peltlng each other with roses. and chasing each other among the alleys of the court. 'I'heI'n is danger that our humble friend Tom be neglected amid the adventures of the higher born; but ifcur readers will accompany us up too little loft over the stable. they may. per- haps, lulu a little of his nliirs. It was a de- cent room, eonminiii a bed. a chair. and a small. rough stand. w ere liiy 'I‘oni's Bible and h I-book; and where he sits. at present, with h s slats Bibs him. intent on something that seems to cost him a great deal of anxious The fact was, that 'l‘um‘s home ycairnings had become so stron . that he had begged a sheet ol wrtiug-pa r 0 Eva; and mastering up all his small awe of literary attainment acquired by Mas‘r Gcor ‘s instructions, be conceived the bold idea 0 writing a letter; and he was busy now. on his slate, getting out his lirst draught. Tom was in a good deal of trouble, for the forms of some ol the letters he had forgittevi entirely, and of what he did remember he did not know exactly which to use. And while he was working,aiid breathing very hard in lair! earnestness, Eva aligh like a bird on the round of his chair beuind him. and pooped over his shoulder. “ 0 Uncle Tom ! what funny things you are making there!" “ I in trying to write to my poor old woman. Miss Eva, and my little cniln." said Tom, drawing the back of his hand over his eyes; ~‘ but, somehow, I‘m feared, I slnin't make it O I: “ I wish Icould help you, Tom ! I've learn't to write some. Last your I could make all the letters. but I'm afraid I've forgotten." So Eva put her little golden need close to his, and the two commenced is rave and anxious dis- cussion, each one equally earnest. and about equally ignorant; and, with it deal of consult- ing and advising over every word the composi- tion began. as they both felt very sanguine, to look uitc like writin . “ es. Uncle 'I‘om,- it really begins to look beautiful," said Eva. sing delighted on it. “ llow leased your wi e ll be,and the poor lit- tle chil reu ! Oh, its a shame you ever had to go awu from them. I ineau to ask papa to let you go ck. some time.‘ “ hlissis said that she would send down ino- ney for me. as soon as they could get it toge- ther," said Tom. “ I'm ’spectin‘ she will. Young Mss'r George, he said he'd come for me : and he gave me this yer dollar as a sign ;” an Tom drew from under his clothes the precious dollar. ‘- Oh, he'll certainly come, then !" said Eva. “ I'm so lad!" “ And wanted to send a letter, you know.to let ‘em know whar I was, and tell pour Cl-I to that I was well oil’, ‘cause she felt so drelfel, poor soul !" ' “ I say, Tom 3'’ said St.Clnrc's voice, coming in at the door at this moment. Tom and Eva both starte . H Whut‘s here l" said St. Clare, coming up and looking at the slate. , it s Tom's letter. I'm helping him to write it.” said Eva; “ isn’t it nice !" “ I wouldnt discourage either of you." said St. Clare. “ butl rather thi'iik.'l'oui, you'd bet- ter t me to write your letter for you.- I ll do it, when I couie home from my ride." “ It's very important he should write," said Eva. “ because his mistress is going to send down money to redeem him, you know, papa ; he told me they told him so." St. Clare thought in his heart that this was probably one of those things which od-natured owners so to their servants, to a leviate their horror of ing sold. without,any intention of fulfilling the expectation thus excited. But he did not make any audible comment upon it- o_n|y ordered Tom to get the horses out for a ri e. Tom's letter was written in due form for him tliirat evening, and safely lodged in the post- o cc Miss Ophelia still persevered in her labour in the house-keeping line. It was universally agreed among all the hoiisehould, from Dinah down to the oungest urchin. that Miss Ophelia. was decid l “ curis"—a term li which a southern servant implies that his or her betters don't exactly suit them. The higher circle in the fainily—to wit, Adolph, Jane, and R.os.t—iigreed that she was no lady; ladies never kept working about us she did; that she had no air at all; and they were surprised that she should be any relation of the St. Clares. Even Marie declared that it was absolutely fisti uing to see Cousin Ophelia always so busy. find. in fact, Miss Ophclia's industry was so incessant as to lay soiue foun- dation for the coin liiint. She sewed and stitched away from uylight to dark, with the energy of one who is pressed on some imme- diate urgency; and then, when thelig'it faded, and the work was folded away, with one turn outcamc the ever-read y knitin work, and there she was again. going on as briskly as ever. It really was a labour to see er. IIBOELLAIBOUB. REMAINS OF ANTIQUITY AT CUMA. (I-‘mm the I-'.uropeain Times.) A friend visiting Naples has sent us some interesting particulars of the opening cl'a Roman tninb, one among the many which, together with the ruins ofs Grecian teinple, havcbcen lately discovered ill the ancient city ofCumn. A labourer, going to plant trees, struck on stone work, and so it came toliglit. The kinghi brothel-,tlie Count of Syracuse, on whose ci-lsteit was, set men to work. and is still prosecuting tho search with interest and eagerness. The writer goes on to say that one hundred men are at work on it. and the sfsir is iniiking a noise lit-re. Asking leave of the prince to attend, we were invited to his palace in see what he had of it there, and next day by appoint- ment, we met him at the vineyard at Cums, where the tombs are found, and spent four hours with him overlooking the workmen. After examining the site ofthetrinplc, called of Diana-s statue of the goddess having been found tlicre-we siiw various other ruins of houses, tombs, unshapcn large masses of of Roman brickwork which lie about the round, remains ofthe ancient city ofl‘iirns. Alter oing down into one tomb, in which are no umbsria or suisll niches all round, to hold cinsrsry st-us with the burnt house. wetsskspessetstien sssrthsseere er more of men who were digging where there were reason to expect a tomb. Experience uiding them they demolished a tree,- and shove-llin otfthe soil we presently came to atoncwo that sounded hollow. This pro- ved to be the mouth oflhe lamb, and clear- ing fest away, and picking and breaking through one ofthc large tiifii stories that formed it, we made a hole big enough to creep tlirougli. First letting down a candle to see that the air was fit for respiration, in bowled three or four workmen, the prin- cc’s attendant, who is it zealous sntiqusry- our party of live, included your humble ser- vant and my friend and eventually the prince himself. Conceive my interest at the mo- ment; we fouiid ourselves in a dry arched chamber or vault, constructed of solid and large pieces of stone say 12 feet by I0 feet, an nrched doorws of entrance on one side walled up; round the other three sides, per- titions of strong stone-work, raised above the lluor of length and width to receive the bod- ies. Raking up the loose send usually lound in such receptacles, and the stucco that lind fallen down from the wells and roof, which had been thickly plastered with it, we soon came to human bones, ivory combs (one precisely shaped and made like those in pre- ent use), parts ofnu ivory flute, alabaster smelling-bottle, lucernm, streaked glass and terrn-cuttn buttons, small elegant vases of iilnssiind terrs cc-tin, but no money, tlieugh they found in the in: iitli of one skelc-tr.n lately ii coin of Diocletian, proving that the tomb was used down to his reign. \Ve had not time, though four hours there, to inves- tigate clnscly ; they have to riddle the ssiid, &.c.. for the smaller objects. We came iiwny at 4, p. m.. much delighted at this nu- th. ntic actual revelation ofllie funeral vaults of such bygone times—bygonc, I may say, for Cuinn was foiiiidr-d 3000 years ago, \\ as once liii-ger thiinNnples, and now there is nothing ribovc ground but vineyards. in which rise llflllllllt’.-clt\'0l'8(I mminds, hiding mun brickwork, masses still uncoveic , wells, Inc. In one ofthe tombs were fitind skele- tons with \\'flX(‘ll heads! the aniiqunrios iiic greatly puzzled thereiit ; no such lliiiig wiis ever belbm seen, nor can they give nny,ex- pliiiistion of it ;souic say one thing, some unntlier ; srcimdusn nior-ins an.'i'qucrii.rusu- It is thought by many of the learned that they were the bodies of victims to Dinclr-tisiihs persecution, decapitated for being Chris- tians, and re-cupitnted, as well no they could be, by their friends after death, and interred in the Pagan fiimily vault. I must repent my thanks to the prince fur his oblig- ing conduct. “In England," said he, “a men is n mun.--Correspondent of The Builder. Whilst engaged in wiilcliing the sen, neither the eye nor the mind ever liecoines weary. Each successive wave. as it curves its silver foam and dashes on the shore, l.ns some novelty in it. There is no monotony in the motion oi the waves, and the mind speculates momentarily on each variety of motion and form. finding in all an inex- Iinuslible fund for lllIllIr‘.f‘IIll‘IlI, excitement. leiisui-e, and wonder, It is no less tine than reiiini-kiihii-,tlint the ocean is the 4 n!_v subslunce which, in its movi I1lt'lIII', has not ii wearying elfect upon the giizer. All ivtlii r forms, animate or inanimate, may emu.-c furn moment, it minute, or an hour; buttlieir charm is quickly gone. It is only Piinciples and Truth that the true and wise Pro re-siiive will never give up or compromise. bees are God's. The life nfniunkiud is in Principles. Ti iitlis are the isrteriesin which the world's blood circu- lules. He who yields the truth betrays his nge. Till: Msissrnir¢o.—Conlinusl regard to the will of God should he the regulating principle ofevcry Christian, and not the con- duct of others. Of him who is regulated by any other principle than regard to the will of God, it iney be said, "that man's religion is vain." I(sowi.iinos is not wisdom. A person may know, and yet have no claim to be called wise. Wisdom is the practical application of knowledge. Old mcn ni-c iisueily conservatives. Scmc there are Illiil csiicsiiy ilu-. tiic oi yu-Iii rp to old age, but the cases sic iui-e. Eutyit all are needed, the young and thc cid,Ilie warm hearted and the cool headed, the pro- gressive rind the cnnscnvstive. I-‘rom cnnsi-rvslisni springs aristocracy; conservstii-in is often caused by laziness. Lounging sluggnrds are always conserva- tives, und persons of too keen sensibilities are also of the same character. as all ad- vanccrrmits ire ii-suglit with iuiperfreticn, and lheiefore they cannot hear any inno- vations.—Bic. II. Ward Beecher. Always have a bunk urs paper is-illiia your reach uliicii you may cult-li tip at your i-dd l|iI' uutes. ilesulve moilusiii a_ little nrrioliuu i-wry itny, if it is lmi a seuieuci-. ll‘ _\'utt enu cur film vi rrmiuii-s a day it uill bafclt si the vmlul il-e _\‘esr.—'I'i«-uulustaks up no tw'Iu. \\‘lii'ri Iliiy are right they umud s poiisble plrssurv, with strict use may Intel or labor wiiluset any trouble es ssssItrsi.ss-