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J' x .. ~- ,_ ,.,__ ».i‘.::,;...-;~> .i , -. . . jotting. OVER THE WAY. Gone in her childish purity, Out from the golden day ; Fading away in the light so sweet, Where the silvery star and the sunbeams meet, Paving a path for her waxen foet,‘ Over the silent way. Over her bosom tenderly The pearl-white hands are prest ; The lashes lie on her check 50 thinâ€"- ‘Vhere the softest blush of the rose hath been Shutting the blue of hercyes within. The pure lids closed in rest. Over the sweet brow lovingly, Twiueth her sunny hair; She was so fragile that Love sent dowii-- From his heavenly gems,that soft bright crown To shade her brow with its waves so brown. Light as the dimpling air. Gone to sleep, with the tender smile Froze on her silent lips, By the farewell kiss of her dewy breath, Cold in the clasp ol' the angel Death-â€" Like the last fair bud of a fading wreath, Whose blossom the white frost nips. Robiii-â€"hushed in your downy bod Over the swinging boughâ€"- Do you miss her voice from your glad duet. When the dew in the heart of the rose is set. Till its velvet lips with the essence of wet In orient crimson glow 'f Rosebud-~under your shady leaf Hid from the sunny dayâ€"â€" Do you miss the glance oftlio eye so bright, Whose blue was heaven in your timid sight X It in beaming new in the weld of light, Over the starry way, Ilearts--'.vhore the darling head hath lain, Held by Love’s shining rayâ€"- Do you know that the touch of the gentle hand Doth brighten the harp in the unknown lend ? Or, she.Waits for us with the angel band, Over the starry \vny. ’iliitniititrt. â€"â€"__._ TIIE Tth OBPIIAXS. PART I . FEW, yct impressive, are the rites performed at the interment of the dead in Scotland. There is some- thing solemi. in the mute farewell, when the coffin is lowered into the grave, and every hat is raised, and every head bent in silent submission to the decree of Providence. The last token of respect towards the departed stnks deep into the heart, and causes even the most cai‘clcss observer to think how soon the same and ritc may be performed for him~ {diff Near a large and populous village in the West of Scotland, is situated the churchyard of Arnock. It is a lonely but a lovely spot, surrounded with large elm and yew trees, which throw out their branches, forming a sombre canopyover the resting places of the deadâ€"so retiredâ€"so quiet and solemn, it is such a place as some sad and weary heart would wish to be laid iii to lasting slumber, free from the cares and sorroxvs of the world. On a clear sunny day in the month of June, 1820, a funeral trainslowly entered the churchyard. The chief mourners were two boys, sons of the deceased. One was about twelve years of age, the othcr about nine : and leading them by the hand was the brother of the deceased. The coffin was lowered into the graveâ€"â€" the last sad solemn furcwcll given, the heavy clots rattled on the coffin lidâ€"the grave was speedily filled up --thc green sod carefully placed over it, and the company dispersed, leaving the chief mourners weeping at the head of the newly covered resting-place of him they loved. 'My dearâ€"dear fathcr,’ subbed the elder boy, ' I will thVCl‘iCC you more !’ ‘Hushâ€"VValtcr hush !’ rcmon- stratcd the uncle of the boyâ€"‘rc ru- latc your future life so that you may flieet your father again in those bright realms where sorrow is un- known. Come with me, my dear childrenâ€"I must now act the part of a father towards you.’ ‘So saying. he led the two boys' from the spot, kindly cheeringr them. as each deep-drawn sob burst from their young bosoms. After walking some distance, they reached the front of a farm house. Though kept in better order than the generality of farm houses in that neighborhood, there was still symptoms of the slug- gish carelessness which is almost iii- separable born the nature of small Scottish farmers and their families. The court-yard was strcwcd with rubbishâ€"dire front of the house be- daubed with mud, and the windows thick with dust. The yard was fill~ ed with geese, turkeys, cocks, hens, and guinea-fowls, which kept up an incessant noise. On the approach of the farmer with the two boys, the front door flew open, and a careless, slatternly dressed woman, with a large wooden ladle in her hand, sallied forth. Rushing through the flock of poultry which flew scream- ing out of her way, she confronted the party, and, in a shrill, piercing tone, yelled forthâ€" ‘ Dear me, John Thompson ! yc’re no bringin’ thir laddics to stop here 7.’ ' Silence, woman !’ exclaimed the farmer stcrnlyâ€"‘go into the house, - â€"‘â€"a‘_r_ _.‘ mc.’ 7 orphans conic to want.’ thcr,’ urged the sulky dame. ‘ The same mother borc us,und lllt sumo bi'cast cherished us,’ rctoi'ICt the farmer angrily ; ‘and it \verc il offspring. ’ fantinc voices arose within doors,and the enraged dame burst forthâ€" ‘ lIcar that-did yo ever hear [he like! Oh, ye little imps, 1’“ brain cvcry skin o’ yc wi’ the ladle 1’ So saying, she darted into the house like a fury, when, screaming and roaring, thch scampcrcd out a host of dirty red-headed boys and girls, followed by their termagant mother laying about her right and left with the ladle, her voice ming- ling in harsh unison with the screams of the children, and thc screeching of the frightened poultry, which were flying about in all directions. \Vith a deep sigh, John Thomson led his two nephews into the house, when the elder boy addrcsing him, saidâ€" ‘My dear uncle, I am afraid that we will be but intruders here. \«Vil- liam andI are willing to work for our foodâ€"we will take it kind if you will aid us in getting employment.7 ‘ Don’t consider yourselves as in- truders licrc,’ said the uncle ; ‘you know your aunt’s foolish fashion, so never mind her. As to work,’ he addcd smiling, ‘ we will talk of that when you are able for it.’ Here they were interrupted by the and fuming, and out of breath with chasing and .cliastising her young ones, sulkcd ten times at her poor orphans. ‘I am going to the more helm park,’ said her husband, addressing iicr, limped 1g ' to see how the hay is looking' these children some food, that you treat. them kindly.’ the apartment as she lllullCl’Otl-â€"- ‘ Treat them kindly, quothal I’ll make a clean house 0’ them crc long.’ ‘Don’t be angry at us, aunt,’ incckly rcmonstratcd the older boy ; ‘wc will not be long here, for so soon as we got work we will lcav you.’ ‘Bomiy is the work ye can do ?’ rctortcd she, scornfully; ‘ if we wait till then, we‘ll wait a while 1’ ‘ As she spokc,she walked towards the fire-place, when the younger b happened to be in her way. 'Uut 0’ my road, you brat 1’ she exclaimed, as she struck him a vio- lcnt blow on the check. Poor little Willie burst into tears, but his bro- ther, starting up, turned angrily to the aunt, and saidâ€" ‘ That was more than my mother ever did, andl will not allow my brother to be illiuscd that way 1’ and scc ‘ Ye impudcnt whclp !’ yelled she, shaking with rageâ€"~‘ do ye set up your beggarly chat to me i Off wi’ yc this moment, and tak’ your bonny get 07 a brother wi’ yo 1’ . As she spoke, slic shoved William violently towards the door, when Walter, catching him by the hand, saidâ€"â€" ‘Comc, brother, we will seek for another home than tliis.’ And beâ€" fore the aunt could recover herself they had left the house. She had no idea that they would have done so, and her first impulse was to follow and bring them back ; but cementing herself with the hepc that they tvould return by dinner- time, she commenced bustling,r about the house, venting her ill nature on everything that canto in her way. In the meantime the two boys pressed forward without any other object in view than to get beyond the reach of pursuit. Through bye- wavs and fields they hurried on- wai‘ds tillhthcy reached the highway, several miles from their uncle’s. dwelling. Fatigucd and faint with hunger and thirst, they here paused. and poor little Willie, who was the first to give way to dcspondency, looked wistluhy in his brother’s face and saidâ€" ‘Dear Walter, what will we do now P’ The angry feelings which 'agi- tated W'altcr’s breast against his MW VVVVV g .. and don’t make a fool ofyourselfand hc proudly answered, as he caressed ‘I am sure,’ sulkcd the dame, ‘yc have plenty to do wi’ your ain bairns without mindin’ other folks.’ 'I’oor darlings,’ said the farmer tcudcrly, ‘ they have neither lather nor mother to look to; and shame befall me if I see my poor brother’s Poorlittlc \Villic sobbcd bitterly as mention of his father’s name, ‘ But he was only your half bro- ‘Dcar me, John Thomson.’ ex- claimcd she, ‘you’vc mair bairns al- ready than yc kcn what to do wi’.’ As if bearing testimony to her doc- Yes, trinc, a yelling and squabbling ofin- fully; ‘ own insulted by anybOGY ) give \Valter raised him 0 soundly slumbcrcd; though, 03’ up, he beheld a carrier’s cart com- his brotherâ€"- cour us.’ the land cxclaiincd,â€"-‘ Oh! if been spared, 3 thus !’ l \Valtcr tried to suppress the chef i ing sensation which arose in it my part to see harm comc met his breast, and, With a strong offer it HELL, FRIDAY, swimwear: 3,18 ‘ We will trust in God, Willie, to! lead and guide us. You know thatl my poor dear father always told us' to cry to God in the hour of our despair, and he would aid atid suc- . ..,c . ., ,,.‘. v. .. J eye. ‘his blessin’ be owrc us a’! Bu puir things,,yc’ll be hungry 'l’ instantly diving his hand into corner of the cart, 0 cat heartily; slowly onward, glancing from tim {â€" is sure, at the inroads the two boy I, were committing on his viands, ‘ A tear rushed into the carzicr’s ‘ VVcel, wecl,’ he answered Both confessed they wcrc~whcn the carrier pulled forth some bread, cheese, and cold meat, and a bottle of beer These he set before the boys, tcll~ he had intr them to then, we would not be left mounting the shaft of his cart,drov to time. with looks of infinite pleu- 60. e to: 15?. GLISH MODE OF FA’I‘TENâ€" ING FOWLS. 'if he were found. He then tOOklEN , Walter to the carrier’s quarters, but t, the carrier had not yet reached ill‘cl'C, and'thcre were no tidings, The food Usually Selected for fat- ol poor Willie. Having inspircdltening poultry is oatmeal, mixed 11 Walter With bcttcr hopes, the ser-1 cithcr with scalding milk or water. Coopcd fowls slioull be supplied with fresh food three times daily; namely, at daybreak, at midday, and at roost- ingtimc1 As much as they can out should be given them on such occa- sions; but no more than can be de- vourcd before the new meal. Should any be left, it should be removed and jcant led him to the castle; and, taking him to his own barrack-‘ ‘- room, treated him with the utmost, kindness, ingratiatiiig ,Jiimsclf _;ltllO-’ .thc boy’s vtfcdtions,”iiiid l'ciaidingl him to look upon him as a sincere friend. That night happened to be the scrjcunt‘s turn to mount guard S with part of his company, and SO‘ C C , , , and pleased was he with VValtcr’s! gulpllicd down his sorrow ; but he cheering them on to cut more. shrewdness, may he wek me hm. Wm “Meat {may The ,,.0u,,hsfo,. hrsi ' H" 4- ' 'r . .z . ,,_ . ~ , ' n J‘lD)’ dlls‘éb‘l‘efl: d X I] t , I l ,l'LlVllll‘o Sell‘blleld lllibllnlliungbl and along uithihim. A s.toiig feeling of the soft meal should be scaldcd out 0 not Wilt)“ , ’Vl lief-W0 Wll flush 119 Cdlllbl at USU lllcm 10 stuccrc religion was a great trait iii daily, which can only be done con- find some friends, to aid us.â€"â€" lie down in the cart; and, covering the character Of Walter’s new venicnfly bV havingasupplyofspure . q o v- I “« “.r i r, .. , a.) . 1 ‘ _ _ .' , ( I know now, he. added Joy tnem yith lllb’LOdl tlld i Lith tug, inwd , 4nd, “hue seated at the onus. In addmon 10%“ food, a SUP “’0 “71” g?) lOme’u’gh m they 19“ Sound “Sleep’ “0‘ mm" gu‘ll'd‘wom file. llC Placed a Bible PlV of clean fresh water must be our aunt Mary. She is a good wo- kcned till the cart had reached the in the hands of Walton and ,.C_ gi'vm, dam. otherwise ,he mp,th man, and wtll get us cmployt’ncnt.- City. ' ' ’ ‘ ‘3 Yes, we will go to Edinburgh.’ ‘ But that’s a rowfully; ‘and perhaps we won' fitid aunt Mary thci'c.’ ‘ Thcii,’ said and get on board of some ship.â€" know we will get in as cabin boys. We will go to sea, Willie, and visi wlicre myrtle grow; and you will see black men and heaps of gold and fine ricl fruits, and everything so beautiful 0h, Willie, you will be quite dc- lighted" Walter warmed into enthusiasm as he thus depicted their intended future life; and Willie, catching in- spiration from his brother, eagerly listened to all his tales of foreign sunny clinics till he forgot his hun- ger and fatigue, and trudged on most manlully, as if eagerly re- solved to secure the golden treasure l clsc could interfere. ‘ Yes,’ we will come great men, and we will not be again 1’ Alas! poor \Villie! his enthusiasm was a bad relief for hunger, thirst, fatigue, and blisteretl feet, and he ll he could limp no further. in his arms and carried him on, but all in vain; “Chill his own strength gave way; and, seating themselves under a hedge, they wept in each othcr’s arms till littlc Willie fcll fast asleep on his brother's bosom. Bittcily did Walter weep the fair face of that lovely boy over as he now and then. a deep-drawn sob, shoch that, even in sleep, his little heart was ill at ease. At this moment Walter heard the sound of cart- wliccls approaching, and, looking ing towards him, and a good- humored-looking man driving it. The carrier paused as he reached the spot; and struck with the ap- pearance of the boys, and the deep to imploring look of VValtct"s eyes as he met the gaze of the boy, he kinle saidâ€"- ‘Vt’hat’s the matter. where are ye going to 1’ "To Edinburgh, sir,’ answered laddie 1â€"- VValter, ‘but we wallth till we were tired, and could walk no farthcr.’ ‘Walk to Edinburgh! Lord pre- serve the bairnsl But maybe yc’vc ran awn fra yer fricns P’ ‘ Alas !’ said Walter. as he burst into tears, ‘ we have no friends.â€" Our father and mother re both dead, and we are journeying to Edinburgh to seek for our aunt Mary.’ ‘What part 0’ Embro’ she live in 'l’ asked the carrier. ‘In the High Street, in a high house,’ answered Walter. ‘ Then we mean try and find her' for yc,’ said the carter good- naturcdly; ‘sac, gic me the bairn. So saying, he lifted Willie in his arms, and, followed by Walter, walked towards the cart. ‘Wo Jock!’ cried he to his horse, and Jock instantly stopped; and after taking a minute survey of the additional. burden he was to bear, gravely shook his head, as if mutely protesting against being overloaded. In putting \Villic into the cart, he awoke; and the poor boy looked up with surprise in the,carriet"s face. ‘Dinna be feared, my bonnie. does mannie,’ said the carrier, ‘l’m gaun to gie ye an’ yer brither a hurl to Embro’.’ great way off,’ said Willie, shaking his little head sor- Walter, ‘if we don’t find her, We Will go to Lcith foreign lands-warm sunny lands and orange trees .iis brother spoke ofbcforc any one ' _ - urged the poor little fel- cntrancc of the aunt, who, fretting lowvâ€"‘ YeS, VValtet’, be- At the entrance to the city they were met by a young lad, one o t the carrier gave charge of his cart quarters. I t 7 l ficiousness, he directed them where to find out the tenement wherein their aunt was said to dWcll. Charging them to come to the carrier’s quaitcrs in the Grass- markct, he pointed out the direction they should take, and left thorn to inquire their way through the crowded streets. Walter had been once on a visit with his mother at his aunt’s, so that he readily found out the tone- ment. It was one of those huge gloomy pilcs’in the centre of the High Street, which seem to have been erected for the purpose of tir- iug out the upper inhabitants by a toil of no ordinary degree to reach the top flats. AS Willie 'was so lfatigucd, and his little feet sorely blistcrcd, he agreed to remain at the foot of the stairs whilst his brother went to make enquiry about their aunt ; and leaving him seated at. the stairâ€"foot, Walter eagerly ascended, full of hope, and confident that his toil would be fully rewarded by a kind reception from his relation. \Vith throbbing heart he reached the landing-place, and tapped at the ,well known door. No thing but a hollow sound reverberath through- out the place. rapped, louder and louder {1 but a dull echo only answered his call.â€" His kneeliing, however, called out the next door neighbor, an elderly" crusty looking female. ‘ Wha did yc want?’ cried she-i ‘Does Mrs. MaryStcnhousc stilli live here?’ inquired Walter. ‘No,’ was the answer, as the he of the female altered to more softness. ‘No; she’s been dcadl and buried these last six months.’ A feeling of sickness pervaded the poor boy’s frameâ€"a sense of‘ desolation, darkness, and sorrow came over him, and he Ieant almost fainting against the wall. Shaking off the sickness, he asked fora drink ’ of water, which Was readily ’ 1 brought. He drank; and, thauk~' ing the female iic slowly descended the stair to inform Willie of the rc- sult of his inquiries, He reached the stair-foot, and looked around for Vv’illic, but to his astonishment, the boy was gone. Terrified and alarmed, ‘vVaitcr searched every corner in the close, but without success. Rushing into the main street, he eagerly enquired at the passcrs-by if-thcy had seen hisl brother. Vth streaming eyes and breaking heart he sought through every quarter, wringing his hands, sobbing and calling on his brother’s name. His excessive grief at length attracted the attention of a Highland seijcant, who, kindly tak- ing him by the hand, asked him the cause of his sorrow. With broken sobs, \Valtci‘ explained to him that he had lost his brother, and iii- formcd him of the circumstances attending their journey to Editi- burgh. Deeply touched by the poor boy’s narrative, the sei‘jcant endeavored to cheer up his spirits ; and assuring him that his brother would soon be found, he took him to the police office, where, giving a minute description of W'illie’s upâ€" ‘ God bless you for that !’ ejacu- ,auut had not yet passed away, and 13th lilo boy “mew-l" pearancc, he caused the police to be put on the alert in search of the “boy, promising a handsome rcwm'di i the carrier’s assistants, and to hiu' ) the as he had several orders to fulfil on the road before he could get to his Strictly enjoining the lad not to lose sight of the two boys, the carrier left them, and the cart slowly proceeded along the streets. More inquisitive than his master, the carrier’s assistant soon discovered the boys’ errand; and, wishing to make a little for himself by his of- qucstcd him to read a ' the Scriptures. \Valtcr was an l excellent reader, and, taking the 1 Bible, he opened it and read part of most beautiful prophecies of portion oft action of the gizzard, which is no- cessary to-the duc digestion of the [the food, does not go on satisfactorily â€"the supply ofa little sliced cabbage or some turnip tops, or a green leaf "’ i ’ w l J ‘ I 7 ' ‘ ' ' ilbdlt’lll. Ibo Scht tones of the to pick occaSionaily, being all that is boy S VUlCe, the beauty of his required. A variation in the diet reading, and the new light thatI reading threw upon the sacred words, attracted the attention of the rude soldiers, who, crowdinzr around him, listcncd with brcatliles: attention to the words of truth, poured forth from his youthful lips. At that moment, Captain Grunt. the captain of the company to which the friendly scrjeant bclongcd, en- tered ; and, astonished at the fixed will be found very conducive to an increased appetite, and, therefore, the occasional substitution of a feed of boiled barley for the slacked oat- meal is desirable. Some feeders have a division in their trough, or better still, a small extra trough, which always contains some grains for the fowls to pickat. Should the birds be required very fat, some mutton suet or trimmings of the loin ., , Brood (3er your misfortuncssâ€"a your lack of talents, and believe at - no very distant day you will come to want. Let the work-house be ever in your mind, with all the herâ€"- rors' of distress and poverty. , Then you will be i‘irisc‘rablc to your heart’s ,contcutâ€"-â€"if we may speak soâ€"â€"â€"sick at heart and at varia ance with the world. Nothing will chccr or encourageyouâ€"«nothing will, > throw a gleam ofsunsliiue or ray of warmthinto your heart, all will be as dark and chccrlcss as the grave. DRINKING AT DINNER. Not seldom'do we hear the opinion adâ€" vanced, that drinking during a meal is an obnoxious habit; btit quite wrongfully; for the gastricjuicc may be diluted with a con‘ siderablc quantity of water without losing its dissolving pOWcr in the slightest degree. Only a supcrabundaiice of water would diâ€" minish or arrest the peculiar actions of the matters contained in the digestive fluids. Large droughts of water, therefore, will be the most inpirious with ailments difficult. of digestion, like the fats; and hence the the drinking of too much water after fat pork, for instance, is properly avoided; but in countries where soup does not con- stitute a regular part of the meal, drinking water is positively to be recommended. given to other (owls, as if kc,” it Beer and wine at dinner are also hurtful . 7 ’ . . . ,3 am to become sour, when the ,,,,.ds only if taken in excess; for in the latter case the alcohol coagulates the iillmrninous substances, not only of the food, but also of the digestive fluids, and thus disturbs digestion. If taken in a moderate quanâ€" tity, these beverages are calculated to cause the meal to hold out longer; for the. fact: that we are not so soon hungry again after a meal with wine than if we have taken only water with it, is to be accounted for by the slower combustion of the constituâ€" ents of our body, inasmuch as the alcohol we have imbibed takes pesscssion of the inhaled oxygen.â€"l lcnce, wine with a meal is extremely useful when a longr journey or work in hand renders it impossible to take food again at the usual time ; so much the more so, as such dctcntiou front food itself usually causcs an acceleration of the me- tamorphosis of the tissueswhich beer and wine efficiently obviateâ€"027's Chemistry of Food and Diet. W... TO IMPROVE cmnu AND KEEP IT S W 15E '1‘. Let the new cider from sour apples, (sound and selected fruit is to be prefer- _ _ [aside and said, Again and again he I manner, attention of the soldiers, paused, and listened with delight to the youngn‘cadcr. When the voice of Walter ceased, the soldiers fell back, and the captain stepping up to the scrjcant, inquiredâ€"â€" ‘Is that your son, ll‘yl’l’hcrson l’ ‘ l wrsh to goodness he were.’ ‘ Whom does he bclong to 'l’ _ ‘Hc is an orphan boy, sir 'l’â€"â€"- And here the worthy serjcant ran over lValter’s history, detailing all that we have previously narrated, whilst ‘Naltcr’s tears confirmed the truth of his statements. Deepr interested in the i'iarrativc. the captain took Walter by the hand and affectionately addressed him. , ‘ " Be of good cheer, my young friend, I Will make every search for your brother; we shall soon find hiii. Be under no apprehen- sion for yourself. I will be your friend and protector during your future career in life; rely, there- fore, upon mc.’ ' He then called- Serjcant the scrjcant ‘Bring the boy to my quarters to-morrow morninn; meanwhile take this, and see tffat he wants for nothing.’ S0 saying, he thrust some money into the hands of the scrjeant, who respectfully declined to accent of it; but a few words of Gaelic,luttct‘cd by the captain in a peremptory soon settled the differencd. From that hour Walter became a favorite in the regimentâ€"offi- cers and men all vied in paying at~ tcntion to him; but the loss of his brother prcycd deeply upon the boy’s heart. Days, weeks, months rolled away, but no tidings WCt‘C heard of poor Willie. The regiment was at length ordered to india. Captain Grant's health being too weak to stand the voyage, he obtained leave of absence, and Walter rc- maincd with him. Walter was soon placed at the military college at Woolwich, and his talents shone so proâ€"eminently that he speedily obtained a cadetship, and after- wards .tccompanicd his patron to the East Indies. But what became of poor little Willie in the meantime? _ ‘thn Walter had left him sitting at the stair~foot, Whilst he went in search of his aunt, Willie was amusmg himself by gazing upwards at the awful height of the buildings, in wondering who had erected them, and what was the meaning or use of the white oyster shells which decorated the sides of the house:â€" Whilst thus ruminating, an elderly, ill-featured female came up to him, and pausing, looked him earnestly in the face. Willie stared at her with surprise. To be Continued. Two workmen passing a nicely cushioned carriage, which was Waiting for one of the great h’lanchester cotton lords at the counting house door, one said to the other. “Bill, I’m darned if] should’nt like to have a drivo out in that era fine coach ’ “ Then thee got in, Jack,’ was the reply,’ “fiend they’ll very soon drive thee out.’ may be chopped up and scalded with the meal, or they may be boiled Willi the milk or water, preparatory to its being poured over the food. and the fatoffowls so fatted will be found rcd,) ferment from one to three Weeks, as the weather is warm or cool. \l'hen it; has attained to lively fermentation, add to each gallon, according to its acidity, from half a pound to two pounds of white crush- cxcecdingly firm. DON’T RUN Aw.n'.â€"â€"D0n’t run away from the world’s temptations and influences. Ifyou are really a coward, go and hide yourself some- where, until you have screwed up back-bone enough to face the enc- my like a man. Don’t run away at the slightest indication of danger, as if you hadn’t the slightest confid- ence in yourself. Nobody ever conquered a fee by beating a retreat. if you mean to fight the battle of life like a here, you can’t begin too early. Would you respect yourself, and win the respect of 0thch lâ€"« Then don’t shrink away from trials and temptations, but encounter them, smite them down, lay them in the dust at your feet. A man who has conquered his enemy is immea- surably greater than the poltroon who creeps away in abject terror. High or low, rich or poor, we are all soldiers in the action that termi- nates only with the sunset of life’s day, and the weak-hearth tremblcr who shrinks back, and quakes at the sound of the trumpet, is yet farin the rear when the light of victory shines on the crest of the warrior who pressed straight on and fang/if his way through, A temptation over- come is better discipline than twenty avoided. No man knows his strength until it has been tried and proven. and the noblest natures have passed oftcnest through the fires of trial.â€"-â€" Life Illustrated. HOW TO BE MISERABLF. Sit at your window, and look over the way to your neighbors excellent mansion, which he has recently built, but not paid for, and sigh out, “ Oh, that l were a rich man l” Get angry with your neighbor, andthink you have not a friend in the world. Shed a tear or two, and take a walk in the burial ground, continually saying to yourself: "' \thn shall i be buried here i” Sign a note for a friend, and never forget your kindness, and every hour of the day whisper to yourself, “i wonder if he will ever pay that note 1”, Think everybody means to cheat you. Closely examine every bill lyou take, and doubt its being genu- ine, till you have put the owner to a great deal oftroublc. Believe every nincpence passed you is but a six- pence crossed, and express your doubts about your getting rid of it, if you should venture to take it. Put confidence in nobody , and be- lieve every man you trade with is a rogue. Never accommodate if you can possibly help it. Never visit. the sick or the afflicted, and never give a farthing to assist the peer. Buy as cheap as you can and screw down to the lowest mill.â€" Grind the faces and hearts of the unfortunate. ed sugar, and let the whole ferment until it possesses precisely the taste which it is desired sliOuld be permanent. In this con- dition, pour out a quart: of the cider,‘and add for each gallon one quarter of an ounce of sulphate of lime, known as an article of manufacture under the name of " anti-chloride of lime.” Stir the powder and cider until intimately mixed, and re- turn the emulsion to the ferm- ing liguid. Agitatc briskly and thoroughly for a few moments, and then let the cider settle. The fermentation will cease at once. \Vhrn, after a fcw days, the cider has be- come clear, draw off and bottle carefully, or remove the sediment and return to the original vessel. If loosely corked. or kept in a barrel on draft, it will retain its taste as still cider. If preserved in bottles, carefully corked, which is better, it will become sparkling cider, and may be kept indefinitely long. CHARACTER is I’owuu.~â€"â€"lt is of- ten said that knowledge is power. and this is true. Skill or faculty of any kind carries with it superiority. So'. to a certain extent, wealth is power, and rank is power, and in- tellect is power, and genius has a tranccndcnt gift of mastery over man. But higher. purcr and better than all, more constant in its influâ€" once, more lasting in its sway, is the pOWcr of cliai'at-tcrâ€"â€"that power which emanates from a pure and lofty mind. Take any community, who is the man of most influenccl To whom do all look up with rever- ence? Not the “smartest” man, nor the clcvcrcst politician, nor the most brilliant talker, but he who, in a long course of years, tried by the extremes of prosperity and adver- sity, has approved himself to the judgment of his ucigcboi's and of all who have seen his life, as worthy to be called wise and good. LIFE Tueuoii'rs.-â€"-‘Nlien God wanted sponge and oysters, he made them, and put one on a rock, and. the other in the mud. ‘thcn he made man he did not make him to be a sponge or an oyster ; he made him with feet and hands, and head and heart with vital blood, and a place to use them, and said to him, " Go! work i” But 1 tell you, if a man has come to that point where he is contented l' c ouglitto be put in his coffin; for a contented livc man is a sham ! lfa, man has come to that state in which he says, “1 lo not want to know any more, or be any more,” he is in a state in which he ought to be changed into a mummy l Of all hideous things mummies arc the most hideous; and of mummies, those are the must iidcous that are fun: ning about the streets and talking.---. Beecher. m In a Scotch parish there was an ancient of‘ the name of Saunders, whose wit was reputed to be very sharp. 'l‘lio laird, who was also a. wag, met him one day drivmg a pig to market. “ Weel, Saunders,’ qiioth he, “ yc’re driving yer liizzen (cousin) to the market.’ V “ Na, na, laird; llCS jist an auld ackuanitauoo i like you‘scl.