equal to her own, since his lofty soul shrunk from dependency, and burned with impatience to distinguish himself from the grovelling fortune-hunters, who ever beset a beautiful heiress-and such was Emily Howard. to seem ashamed of any fashionable gaiety. He will sip his wine on the importunity of a friend newly come to town, and is too polite to spoil that friend's pleasare, by refusing a part in the game. They sit, shuffle, deal; the night wears on, the And here we leave such minute details, and clock telling no tale of passing hours; the prudent trust to the imagination of the reader to portray liquor fiend has made it safely dumb. The night the joyous return, the two happy bridals which is getting cold; its dark air grows fresher; the followed, the transport of the parents, the travels cast is grey; the drinking and gaming and highon the continent, the still-increasing affection of larious laughter are over, and the youths wending Sir Edward for his charming bride, and her flat-homeward. What says conscience? No matter tering reception by his English friends; and above all, the entire reform of the now happy Emily, and the delightful seasons passed by the parties in pleasant, and often laughable reminiscences, among the quiet groves of Mr. Dalton's sweet country home." BIOGRAPHY. TITIAN OR TITIANO. TITIANO, a celebrated painter, descended from the ancient family of Vacelli, and born at Cadore in Friuli, 1477. His fondness for painting was early observed, and he was placed under the care of Bellino; but he improved himself more by the laudable emulation between him and his fellow pupil Giorgione, than by the instruction of his master. His abilities, and the execution of his pencil soon recommended him to the notice of the great; he was patronised by Charles V. who knighted him, made him a count palatine, assigned him a pension, and bestowed on him several handsome presents, which he gave him as a mark of esteem, and not for his pictures, which he declared to be above any price. He died at Venice, of the plague, 1576, aged 99. His character as a man as well as a painter, was so universally respected, that he received the strongest marks of esteem and friendship from the greatest and most eminent persons in Europe. His pieces are much admired for their coloring, delicacy, and correctness. His best pieces are the Last Supper in the Escurial-a Christ crowned with thorns, at Milan-and a portrait of himself, with his mistress combing her hair, in the Paris collection. MISCELLANY. GAMBLING IN FOUR SCENES. AGENTEEL Coffee house whose human screen conceals a line of Grenadier bottles! and hides respectable blushes from impertinent eyes. There is a quite little room opening out of the bar, and here sit four jovial youths. The cards are out, the wines are in. The fourth is a reluctant hand; he does not love the drink nor approve the game. He anticipates and fears the result of both. Why is he here? He is a whole souled fellow and is afraid SCENE FOUR. Upon this bright day, stand with me if you would be sick of humanity, and look over that multitude of men kindly gathered to see a murderer hung.At last a guarded cart drags on a thrice guarded wretch. At the gallows ladder his courage fails. His coward feet refuse to asceud-dragged up, he is supported by bustling efficials-his brain reels, his eyes swim, while the mock minister utters a final prayer by his leaden ear The prayer is said, the noose is fixed, the signal is given-a shudder runs through the crowd as he swings free. After a moment, his convulsed limbs stretch down and hang heavily and still; and he who began to gamble to make out a game, and ended in stabbing an enraged victim whom he had fleeced, has here played his last game-himself the stake.-Rev. H. W. Beecher. what it says; they did not hear, and we will not. SECOND SCENE. AUGUR HOLE. THE proprietor of a tan yard adjacent to a certain town in Virginia, concluded to build a stand, or In a room so silent that there is no sound except sort of store, on one of the main streets, for the pur. the shrill cock crowing the morning, the forgotten pose of vending his leather, buying raw hides, and candles burning dimly, over the long and the like. After completing his building, he began lengthened wick, sit four man. Carved marble to consider what sort of a sign it would be best to could not be more motionless, save their hands. put up far the purpose of attracting attention to his Pale, watchful, though weary-their eyes pierce new establishment; and for days and weeks he the cards, or furtively read each other's faces.was sorely puzzled on this subject. Several devices Hours have passed over them thus. At length they were adopted, and on further consideration, rejectrise without words; some with a satisfaction that ed.-At last a happy idea struck him. He bored only makes their faces brightly haggard scrape off an augur hole through the door-post and stuck a the piles of money; others, dark, sullen, silent, a calf's tail into it, with the bushy end fluanting fierce, move slowly away from their lost money.out. After a while he noticed a grave looking The darkest and fiercest of the four is the young personage standing near the door, with the specfriend who first sat down to make out a game.-tacles on, gazing intently on the sign. And there He will never sit down so innocently again. What he continued to stand, gazing and gazing until the says he to his conscience now? "I have a right curiosity of the Tanner was greatly excited in turn. to gamble; I have a right to be damned too, if I He stepped out and addressed the individual : choose; whose business is it?" "Good morning," said he. SCENE THIRD. Years have passed on. He has seen his youth ruined, at the first with expostulation, then with only silent regret; then consenting to take part of the spoils he has himself decoyed, duped, and striped them without mercy. Go with me into that dilapidated house, not far from the landing at New Or. leans. Look into that dirty room. Around a broken table, sitting upon boxes, kegs or rickety chairs, see a filthy crow dealing cards smouched with tobacco, grease and liquor. One has a pirate face, burnished and burnt with brandy, a lock of grizzly, matted hair, half covering his villain eyes which glare out like a wild beast's from a thicket. Close by him wheezes a white-faced dropsical wretch, vermin covered and stenchful. A scoundrel Spaniard and a burly negro, (the jollies of the four,) complete the group. They have spectators, drunken sailors, and ogling, thieving, drinking women, who should have died long ago, when all that was womanly died. Here, hour draws on hour, sometimes with brutal laughter, sometimes with threat, and oath and uproar. The last few stolen dollars lost, temper too, each charges the there with cheating, and high words ensue, and blows and the whole gang burst out of the door, beating biting, scratching and rolling over in the dust. The worst, the fiercest, the most drunken of the four, is our friend who began by making up the game. Morning," said the other without moving his eyes from the sign. "You want to buy leather?" said the store keeper. course he is bent on pursuing seems to be hedged up, he does not stop to fret and murmur, but takes off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and goes to work, and in a short time removes the obstacles from his path. When the clog is comparatively light, instead of dragging it along, he takes it up and carries it with him, and is as light-hearted as if all had been smooth. Sometimes he encounters moral evils-vice descends in various shapes in his path. But he does not get angry and rave like a madman. He loses not sight of the evil in a torrent of hard words; he removes it not by untempered zeal; but coolly and calmly he goes to work; he strikes easy but effectual blows, and finally succeeds in his efforts, while few around him are aware of what he is about. How unlike the man who wishes every body to see the clog in his way. He will drag it up hill and down, over pavements and door steps, making all to noise possible, so as to gain notoriety. Some look upon him as a great and wonderful man, and rally around him, as if he were a god. When he sees the moral evils of the world, he gives notice to all that he is going to remove them. He commences his work high among the branches, that every body may see what he is about. As he cuts off one branch and another, he throws it among the crowd, that they may shout gloriously his triumphs. Have you not seen such men? Look into the ranks of our modern reformers, and tell us. We have found it the best and the easiest course to take things by the smooth handle; when evils come, to remove them as noiselessly as possible. A stout heart will not quail. A Christian heart will not sputter, pour out vials of wrath, or fight.— upon her arm. They had come up the river to MY WIFE-IN-LAW. "GOING the wrong way John," cried a young mechanic to his friend, as he met him in the street. “Got hungry,” rejoined the other. "Going to "Has your wife gone away?" the turnips raw; this morning the eggs were cooked the interdict of the children of Isreal in the wilder. ness. I have had no levened bread." Well, John, I am in the same predicament. hat I have got, what a fine blue jacket and trowsers, and what a nice pair of shoes! It is not every one who is dressed so finely as I am!" "Indeed, sir," said the little girl. "I think I am dressed finer than you, for I have on a silk pelisse, and a fine feather in my hat; I know that my dress cost a good deal of money!" "Not so much as mine," said the boy, "I know." "Hold your peace," said a caterpillar, crawling into the hedge, "you have neither of you any reason to be so proud of your clothes, for they are only second-hand, and have all been worn by some creature or other, of which you think but meanly, before they were upon you. Why, that silk has first wrapped up such a worm as I." "There, miss, what do you say to that ?" said the boy. "And the feather," exclaimed a bird, perched upon a tree," was stolen from or cast off, by some of my race." "What do you say to that, miss ?" repeated the boy. "Well, my clothes were neither worn by birds nor worms." "True," said a sheep, grazing close by "but they were worn on the backs of some of my family before they were yours, and as for your hat, I know that the beavers have supplied the fur for in that field, were not killed merely to get their that article; and my friends, the calves and oxen, flesh to eat, but also to get their skins to make your shoes." See the folly of being proud of your clothes, since we are indebted to the meanest creatures for them; and even then we would not use them, if God did not give us the wisdom to contrive the Whatever be the clog in your path, go to work Lucy don't know how to cook, so I tried it yester- best way of making them fit to wear, and the right; you will remove it or carry it easily away. Pound it with tinkling cymbals, and you but make a great noise and accomplish nothing. RUSSIAN CUSTOMS. and In this desolate region I saw men old with grey hair and ruddy faces who had lived through sixty dark winters and as many shadeless summers, seemed contented, if not happy. But utter forgetlessness seems to be their highest pleasure. When the Russian peasant has earned enough to afford the luxury, he goes to town when all the church bells are ringing, to hail some saint's day; he solemnly attends the ceremony of worship and gocs through all the required forms of kneeling, prostratism, and making signs of the cross. This done, he hastens to the brandy shop, (and some. times the priest goes with him)-there he wastes no time but pulls out his money and buys as much brandy as he can afford. He does not toy with his liquor, but swallows it at once, and in a few minutes falls senseless upon the floor. The tavern keeper takes his satisfied customer by the heels and draws him out into the street, there to lie until the next morning. Frequently as we entered a town after the celebration of some festival, we saw a score of the brandy drinkers lying by the side of learn, and I shall send her forthwith one quarter and have their servants. means of procuring them for our comfort. OUR MOTHERS. "If your wife is willing to learn you'll do well AROUND the idea of one's mother, the mind of enough, and are a happy man. You have a wife, man clings with fond affection. It is the first dear whereas I've only a wife-in law, for a woman who thought stamped upon our infant hearts, when yet takes no interest in her husband's welfare is not a soft and capable of receiving the most profound wife indeed, or a wife in need. She is only a wife-impressions, and all the after feelings are more or in-law. Emma is'nt willing to learn to cook or less light in comparison. Our passions and our mend either. She says her mother told her it was wilfulness may lead us far from the object of our quite vulgar now-a-days to know any thing about filial love; we may become wild, headstrong, and domestic concerns, especially for a young wife.- angry at her counsels or oppositions; but when That the latest fashion is for wives to be ladies, death has stilled her monitory voice, and nothing That she must tell John but calm memory remains to recapitulate her virshe was not made to be a drudge, and he must not tues and good deeds, affection, like a flower beaten be so selfish as to want her to work. Fine times to the ground by a rude storm, raises up her head these, George. A man that don't stand ready to and smiles amongst her tears. Round that idea support his wife, two or three attendants, and as as we have said the mind clings with fond affccmuch company, in extravagance, is directly a nig-tion; and even when the earlier period of our loss gard. Don't know what will be done. Men can't all be thriving business men and become independent at once; we must have some laborers, and they, poor men, must all take the vows of perpetual celibacy, for aught I know, like the Catholic priests. forces memory to be silent, fancy takes the place of remembrance, and twines the image of our departed parent with a garland of graces, and beauties, and virtues, which we doubt not she possess. ed. AMBITION. THE pursuit of ambition may be aptly compared to ascending the Andes. The greater the elevation attained, the more is the aspirant removed from the common sphere of his fellow men. As he who climbs Chimborazo attains a region of perpetual coldness and barrenness, of eternal solitude and loneliness, while he who remains on the plains below inhabits a region of constant warmth and ver www dure, in the midst of society and sympathy,-So he who ascends the mountain of ambition, will find himself alone, without sympathy or reciprocal attachment, in the company of a few as lonely and isolated as himself; while he who is content to remain as one among his fellow men, in the common sphere below, will have his heart warmed and fer. tilized by the invigorating rays of reciprocal attachment and affection, and be enabled to drink in pleasure and enjoyment from a thousand springs unknown to the man of ambition.—Wright's Pa. per. A WAGER. BEFORE the war, says the Nautical Magazine, Captain Carden and the Macedonian were at Norfolk; Decatur was there too, and a warm intimacy soon joined in friendship two kindred hearts. While discussing naval affairs one day, Carden said: "Decatur, your ships are good enough, and you are a clever set of fellows, but what practice have you in war. One of these days we will probably have a brush together and if I catch your ship at sea, I will knock her into a cocked hat, Stephen." "Will you?" said Decatur? "I will bet you a hat on it." The bet was agreed on, and the conversation changed. But a few months clasped ere the war that had been threatening commenced, and the two captains, by some singular coincidence met. The results of the action are known. Captain Carden, on going on board the United States was received by a Lieutenant at the gangway, to whom he tendered his sword. not step over it shall have the offer of my hand." They passed from the splendid saloon to the grove some stumbled over the broomstick, and others jumped over it. At length a young lady stooped and put in its place. The promise was fulfilled; she became the wife of an educated and wealthy young man, and he the husband of a prudent industrious, and lovely wife. He brought a fortune to her, and she knew how to save one. It was not, easy to decide which was under the greatest obligation; both were rich, and each enriched the other. Young ladies remember this. HONEST SIMPLICITY.-One day last week, an elderly lady, with two huge boundles in her hands came into the depot at Springfield, and planted herself in a chair, directly before the delivery box of the ticket office of the Conn. River Railroad.After sitting composedly a short time, she accosted a gentleman standing by, and inquired with evident concern-" Can you tell, Mr. if I'm near the injine where I shall get blowed up?" madam," replied the latter, "you are safe there." Well, then," rejoined she, after a short pause,— "when shall we get to Northampton?" "Oh no, On being informed that she must get into the cars to go to Northampton, she exclaimed, with astonishment-" Du tell if this 'ere thing (meaning he depot) don't all go."-Northampton Gaz. GIVE NO PAIN. BREATHE not a sentiment-say not a wordgive not an expression of the countenance that can affend another, or send a thrill of pain through his bosom. We are surrounded by sensitive hearts, "Not to me, sir," said the officer, "but to the which a word, a look even, might fill to the brim captain." with sorrow. If you are careless of the opinions "And where is the captain ?" said the embar- and expressions of others remember that they are rassed Englishman. "He is standing aft, there; that is the gentleman, in a tarpaulin hat and round jacket." Carden went aft-and his feelings on meeting, under such circumstances, his old friend may be imagined. As he offered his sword to Decatur, that officer said: "No Carden, I never take the sword of a brave man-you have fought gallantly. But," said he laying his hands on the other's shoulder, "I will take that hat, my dear fellow." In transferring to the United States the suite of Capt. Carden, a fine band was included. In the afternoon when dinner was announced in the cabin Capt. Carden said to Decatur : differently constituted from yourself, and never, by word or sign, cast a shadow on the happy heart, or throw aside the smiles of joy that love to linger on a pleasant countenance. Dow Jr. in one of his late sermons, gives the following advice to young ladies: 66 "My young maidens-I know you want to get married as soon as you enter your teens; but it is better to remain single, and live upon the cold soup of solitude, than to marry misery and wed woe. I have but a poverty-stricken opinion of the majority of my sex. They are corrupted by the mis-called refinements of the age, so inflated with pride, so fooled by fashion, so afraid of the soil on which "Those musicians are very skilful and I have they live, so given to cultivating whiskers and always had them on deck while at dinner. moustaches, while their morals are in the most Very well," said Decatur, "we will have them wretched state for want of weedin, and so over. grown with hair, vanity and laziness, that scarcely one in twenty is worth being entrusted with a wife." up." The band was ordered on deck to play, and Commodore Decatur was asked what air he would like to hear. "Let them play,' Britannia Rules the Waves,"" said he, with a slight laugh. HOW TO CHOOSE A WIFE. "A PLACE for everything, and everything in its place," said the patriarch to his daughter. "Select a wife, my son, who will never step over a broomstick." The son was obedient to the lesson. "Now," said he pleasantly on a gay May-day, to one of his companions, "I appoint that bloomstic to choose me a wife. The young lady who wig LIVE WELL. THEY only are truly happy who live well-who have taken the volume of inspiration as their guide, and are beckoned on by the hand of virtue. Do you wish to die happy? Live well. Let no hopes of gain tanish your honor; no praise blind your yes. The man who pursues a correct course-i firm in his integrity-is a being that all respect and look up with reverence and love. The wealthy may be courted-the talented may be followed and honored and man of sed, but the cares -is real virtue is loved with true affection. He may not excite the crowd or draw after him a train of noisy admirers, but silently he exerts a good influence that will be felt as long as God exists. Letters Containing Remittances, Received at this Office, ending Wednesday last, deducting the amount of postage paid. L. V. V. Pleasant Plains, N. Y. for Vol. 25. $1,00; W. B. Greenport, N. Y. $1,00; R. C. Roundout, N. Y; $3,00. MARRIAGES. In this city, on the 19th inst. by the Rev. Dr. Gosman, Shubael C. Bingham, to Almira Parselt, all of Hudson. By the Rev. Dr. Gosman, Peter Condit, to Catharine Brundage, all of Hudson. DEATHS. In this city, on the 1st inst. Frank, son of Wm. and Christina Maize, aged 9 months. On the 1st inst, Mary E. Hadden, aged 67 years, 9 months and 6 days On the 2d inst. Franklin, son of Charles Winchel, aged 1 year. On the 4th inst. Charles, son of Chancey Juquins, aged 6 months. On the 14th inst. Montgomery, son of Henry and Maria Roraback, aged 10 months. Mary Dawson, aged 6 months. On the 18th inst. Catharine, daughter of Casper and Maria Winters, aged 6 months. On the 18th inst. Eilen Elizabeth, daughter of James and Eliza Phillips, aged 1 year. 6 months and 19 days. On the 17th Charlotte daughter of Marcus and Jane Curtis, aged 21 years, 5 months and 7 days. V. Hammond aged 4 years and 11 months. On the 20th Charlott E. daughter of George and Ann Payne, aged 1 year and 7 mouths. On the 21st Anna F. daughter of Samuel Snow, aged 1 year and 3 months On the 5th inst. Frederick, son of Edward and Emily Lambert, aged 2 years and 1 month. "No bitter tears for thee be shed, Blossom of being seen and gone! Oh had'st thou still on earth remained, Sweet spirit! visit our repose, Edgar, son of Rev. Ferdinand Rogers, aged 4 years and 5 months. In Greene, Chenango county, on the 10th instant, Newell At Stuyvesant Falls, on the 30th of July, Phebe Ann,daughter of John L. and Deborah Hutton, aged 1 year, 6 mouths and 28 days. At Chatham 4 Corners, on the 4th inst. Medora, daughter of John H. and Margaret Mesick, aged 1 year and 1 month. In Kinderhook, on the 1st inst. Mr. John Dederick, aged 72 year. In New-York, on the 16th inst. at 7 o'clock. P. M. John Cornnell Pease, aged 27 years, 6 months and 16 days. In the death of John C. Pease, we behold the triumph of the Christian. Although suffering from the severest pains that earth could give through a long and protracted sickness, he submitted patiently, and passed away to another world to find a happy immortality, in the arms of his Saviour. In the village of Poughkeepsie on the 15th inst. Eliza Jane Rose, wife of Elias G. Hopkins, and daughter of Samuel Rose of this city, in the 26th year of her age. She had been an acceptable member of the Congregational church for the last three years. Her disease was consumption. She was perfectly concious some time previous to her up all to Christ and taken him for her portion. A few hours departure that she could not recover, and said she had given before her death she requested the writer of this to sing with her and while singing a favorite hymn of her's. Alas! and did my Saviour bleed, And did my Sovereign die, &c. She united in singing it with an audible though broken voice. Truly it was heaven on earth begun, after this she desired to see her friends, and as we gathered around her bed, she took her husband by the hand and said Farewell! Good Bye, soon after this she sweetly fell asleep in Jesus. May this providence be sanctified to the salvation of her surviving husband, father, mother and all her numerous relatives and friends. L. J. H. Original Poetry. For the Rural Repository. LOVE-MEMORIES. "THOU who did'st teach my youthful muse to sing, Strung her new harp and claimed her earliest strain." MELGAR GARDNER. Dost thou remember of a summer even, Resting, long silent by our trysting tree? The gleaming fire-flies threw their starry light, To full of beauty, like a long lost song. A Future lies before us, wide and fair, And this is love? was it to mortals given The last, best gift of the Unchangeable? From the Saturday Evening Post. I WOULD NOT BE A CHILD AGAIN. BY HENRY MORFORD. Felix. l'er [IN sending us the following poem, Mr. Morford writes as follows:- I send you, as you will perceive. an off-set to 'Ella Elwood's' beautiful poem, I Would I Were a Child Again, in the Post of the 29th ult. I presume she is in earnest in her wish. I am fully as much so in my disclaimer. haps we represent the phases of happy and unhappy childhood. Perhaps, as I have hinted, in her mind the past may seem brighter than it was; perhaps, in mine, it may be colored by after suffering. Choose ye between these philosophies."] I would not be a child again, Oh, never call me back To tread, with fettered heart and brain, That long and weary track. To see all things with fettered eyes, To bear a mastered will, To gaze, far off, on Paradise, I would not be a child again, I hear the fond wish breathed in vain To breathe once more the cheerful air And play, without a thought or care, sunny vales. I would not be a child again, To pour the soft and welcome rain Not even to recall my life, As if it had not been; Unload my heart from pride and strife, And bleach my page of sin. I would not be a child again, Even to feel once more The glorious throbbings in the brain That early manhood wore; That once from out my spirit burst, I would not be a child again, I hear no word of kindness now, I bear no sadness on my brow I would not be a child again- Harsh laughter from the careless flung, And torture, when my heart was young, I would not be a child again, That those who mourn o'er childhood's wane, I feel, I know, a happier child I would not be a child again, I breathe no prayer to retain I envy Time no more his wings, Stand firm for all the future brings, From Godey's Lady's Book. THE WORLD WEARY. BY CLARA MORETON. "This it is to feel uncared for, like a useless wayside stone, This it is to walk in spirit through the desolate world alone." BUCHANAN READ. HOME! home-there is no home for me- And day by day I journey on, Through pathways dark and drear and lone; In vain I gaze into the skies, And seek their mystery to read; They come-the inmates of the Jomb. And sometimes from their midst there shines One instant, then, my heart throbs wild- I turn to earth, I am alone- 1 feel on earth I am alone, But turn to Heaven with sweet belief. W. B. STODDARD, BOOK, CARD, JOB & FANCY PRINTER, AT THE OFFICE OF THE RURAL REPOSITORY, One door above the corner of Warren and Third-sts. W. B. S. would inform the public that he has the greatest variety of the newest styles of type, cuts, and embellishments to be found in this or any other city; and that he is ready to do all kinds of PRINTING in a superior manner, and at the most reduced prices. He would also state, that he has a BOOK BINDERY connected with the above establishment, and persons wishing Books printed can also have them Bound, by making one contract for the whole, thereby making the expense come considerable less. JUSTICES' BLANKS, DEEDS. MORTGAGES, LAND- Hudson, April, 1848. New Volume, September, 1847. RURAL REPOSITORY, Vol. 24, Commencing Sept. 25, 1847. EMBELLISHED WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS Price $1-Clubs from 50 to 75 Cents. THE RURAL REPOSITORY will be devoted to Polite Literature; containing Moral and Sentimental Tales, Originul Communications, Biographies, Traveling Sketches, Amusing Miscellany, Humorous and Historical Anecdotes, Poetry, &c. The first Number of the Twenty-Fourth Volume of the RURAL REPOSITORY will be issued on Saturday the 25th of September, 1847. The Repository" circulates among the most intelligent families of our country and is hailed as a welcome visitor, by all that have favored us with their patronage. It has stood the test of more than a score of years; amid the many changes that have taken place and the ups and downs of life, whilst hundreds of a similar character have perished, our humble Rural has continued on. from year to year, until it is the Oldest Literary Paper in the United States. GONDITIONS. THE RURAL REPOSITORY will be published every other Saturday in the Quarto form, containing twenty six numbers of eight pages each, with a title page and index to the volume, making in the whole 208 pages. It will also be embellished with numerous Engravings, and consequently it will be one of the neatest, cheapest, and best literary papers in the country. TERMS. Great Inducements to Agents. Those who send $5 or $7, for a Club, can have one of the above mentioned Volumes (gratis ;) those who send $10, or $15, two; those who send $20, three; and those who send $25 or over, four. Any town that will send us the most subscribers, for the 24th volume, shall be entitled to the 25th volume for half price, each subscriber in such town to receive the Repository puring that year for half the sum paid for the 24th volume. Names of subscribers with the amount of Subscription to be sent as soon as possible to the publisher. No subscription received for less than one year. All the back numbers furnished to new subscribers during the year until the edition is out, unless otherwise ordered. WILLIAM B. STODDARD Hudson, Columbia, Co. N. Y. 1847 EDITORS, who wish to exchange, are respectfully requested togive the above a few insertions, or at least a notice and receive Subscriptions. I Semi-monthly Journal, Embellished with Engravings. ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM. VOLUME XXIV. TALES W. B. STODDARD, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. BREAD UPON THE WATER. BY T. S. ARTHUR. and listened. The street door bell had rung, "Mr. Page," replied the old man, with a feeble The visitor grasped his hand, and shook it PAYABLE IN ADVANCE. free. Approach her as a man, and win her if you have the power to do so. It is your only hope." As if stung by a serpent, Page started from his chair. "You will repent this, sir," he angrily retorted -"and repent it bitterly. I came to you with honorable proposals for your daughter's hand; you listened to them, gave me encouragement, and promised me an answer to-night. Now you meet me with insult! Sir! you will repent this." "Sit down Mr. Page." Mr. Mason ventured no reply, but merely bowed The man took a chair, and Mr. Mason sat down his head in token of his willingnces to meet and near him. bear all consequences that might come. A LAD was toiling up a steep hill near the city, under the weight of a heavy basket, on the after-offered his hand. noon, of a sultry day in August. He had been sent home with some goods to a customer, who warmly. lived a short distance in the country. The boy { turn. was lightly built, and his burden was almost beyond his strength. Many times he sat down to rest himself on his way up the hill. But it seemed as if he would never reach the summit. Each time he lifted the basket it felt heavier than before. The boy was about half way up the hill with his basket, when he stopped, and turned round, almost unable to proceed, when a gentlemen overtook him, and said kindly "That's a heavy load you have my boy; come let me help you." And the gentleman took the basket, and carried it to the top of the hill. "There. Do you think you can get along now?" said he with a smile, as he sat the basket "or shall I carry it a little further?" "You promised an answer to my proposal, to For a long time after his angry visitor had re. tired, did Mr. Mason cross and recross the floor with measured tread. At last he rung a bell, and directed a servant who came, to say to Florence that he wished to see her. There was an embarassing silence of some minutes, after which Page said "Mr. Mason, I have made an honorable propo. down,{sition for your daughter's hand. For weeks you have evaded, and still evade an answer. This seems so much like trifling, that I begin to think that just cause for offence existed." "Oh, no, thank you sir," returned the boy, with a glow of gratitude on his fine young face. "I can carry it now, very well-and I am very much obliged to you." "You are right welcome, my little man," said the gentleman, and passed on. When Florence came, she was surprised to see "Sit down, dear," he said in a trembling voice. "I have something to say to you that must no lon ger be concealed.” Florence looked wondering into her father's face, while her heart began to sink. Just then servant opened the door and ushered in a stranger. He was a tall, fine looking man just in the prime of life. Florence quickly retired, but not before the visitor had fixed his eyes upon her face, and marked its sweet expression. "None is intended, I assure you," replied Mr. Mason, with something like deprecation in his tone. "But you must remember, Mr. Page, that you "Pardon this intrusion, sir," he said, as soon as have never sought to win the young girl's affec- the young girl had left the room-" but facts that tions, and that as of a consequence, the offer of I have learned this evening have prompted me to marriage which you wish me to make to her, will call upon you without a moment's delay. My be received with surprise, and it may be disappro-name is Greer, of the firm of Greer, Miller, & Co." val. I wish to approach her on this subject, with proper discretion. To be precipitate, may startle her with instant repugnance to your wishes. "She loves you, does she not ?" inquired Page, Twenty years from that time, a care-worn man, well advanced in life, sat motionless in an old arm chair, with his eyes fixed intently upon the glow. ing grate. He was alone, and appeared to be in a state of deep abstraction. In a little while, how. ever, the door of the room opened, and the light form of a young and lovely girl glided in. "Papa," said a low, sweet voice, and a hand with a marked significance of manner. was laid gently on the old man's arm. "A child never loved a parent more tenderly," "Is it you dear," he returned with a low replied Mr. Mason. sigh. "Yes papa," and the young girl leaned against him, and parted with her delicate the fingers, the thin grey locks that lay in disorder about his forehead. "I would like to be alone for this evening Florence," said the old man. "I have a good deal to, think about, and expect, a person on business." And he kissed her tenderly; yet sighed as he pressed his lips to hers. "Give her, then, an undisguised history of your embarrassment. Show her how your fortunes are trembling on the brink of ruin, and that you have but one hope of relief and safety left. The day she becomes my wife, you are removed from all danger. Will you do this ?" The old man did not reply. He was in a deep reverie. It is doubtful whether he had heard all that the man had said. "Will you do this?" repeated Page, and with some impatience in his tone. The girl passed from the room as noiselessly as she had entered. The old man had been calm be-answered with great firmness and dignity. fore her coming in, but the moment she retired, he became agitated, and arose and walked the floor uneasily. He continued to walk to and fro for nearly half an hour, when he stopped suddenly, Mason aroused himself as from a dream, and "Mr. Page, the struggle in my mind is over. I have no idea that Florence will favor your suit, and I will not use a single argument to influence her. In that matter, she must remain perfectly Mr. Mason bowed, and said— "I know your house very well; and now remember to have met you more than once in business transactions." "Yes, you have bought one or two bills of goods of us," replied the visitor. Then, after a moment's pause, he said in a changed voice "Mr. Mason, I learn to-night, from a source which leaves me no room to doubt the truth of the statement, that your affairs have become seriously embarrassed. That you are in fact, on the eve of bankruptcy. Tell me frankly whether this is indeed so. I ask ftom no idle curiosity. Nor from a concealed sinister motive, but to the end that I may prevent the threatened disaster, if it is in my power to do so." Mr. Mason was dumb with surprise at so uncxpected a declaration. He made two or three efforts to speak, but his lips uttered no sound "Confide in me, sir," urged the stranger."Trust me as you would trust your own brother, anu lean upon me, if your strength be indeed failing. Tell me, then; is it as I have said ?” "It is," was all the merchant could utter. |