Polynesian., 1858-07-03
n..veloek,s Family pi.cipline.


The following, from on vino eninvad much
personal communion with the deceased General.
w'll be regarded aR il.uS ration of the mans
cH1ractar, n1t without significance. During his
s.y IL England, the narrator or this arecdota
ven one evening to Ihe house Of the Colonel IN
compliance with au invitation In the course Of
conversation. Mrs. Harrlock turned suddenly TO
~ husband and said, By the way, ny dear. where
= Harry referring - her son, whom she had
not seen during the afternoon. The Colonel started
70 bis feet Well poor fellow he's standing on
london Bridges and IN tRIs cold too. told him 10
wait for me 5here a ~ O'Clock TO-DAY and in the
pressure of business at quite forgot the aD-
polntment.' The father and son were t have met
al IL VI. and II now after O'Clock IN the
evening". Yet the father seemed to have no doubt
that Harry would not move from bIs post until he
appeared. The Colonel at once arose and order
ed cab To be called. and aS he went forth to de-
liver his son from his weary watch on London
Bridge he turned to his visitor, saying Yon seP
SIR. that's The discipline of a soldiers family
In the course of an hour the Colonel returned with
poor Harry. vino. although he appeared somewhat
affected by the cold WATCH and glad to see the
tire IN the comfortable paTlnr az home seeuIrd tn
nave passed through the lltIe afternoon expert
ence with the greatest good humor. and the feel
ing that all was Flght.- Edinburgh DAILY Express.
A LOVING OLD SOUL No longer a loverl''
exclaimed an aged patriarch ''ah y, u mistake me
if you think age has blotted out my heart Though
silver hairs fall over a brow all wrinkled and a
cheek all furrowed, yet am a lover STILL love
the beauty of the maden's blush the soft tint of
flowers, the singing of birds, and, above ALL the
silvery laugh of child love the star-like mea-
dows where the buttercups grow, with almost the
same enthusiasm when, with the ringlets flying
loose in the wind, and my cap in hand, years ago.
| chased the painted butterfly. love Won aged
dame. Look at her. Her face is care-w0rn, but
il has ever held smile for me. Often have shar-
ed the bitter cup OF sorrow with her-and so siar-
ed, it almost seemed sweet. Years of sickness have
stolen the freshness Of life; hut like the faded ruse
the perfume OF her lnve is richer than when in the
! full bloom Of youth and maturity. Together we
have placed hISrrs in the easements. and folded
hands nf the dasld together wrpt over little graves
Throu-h sunshine ard strrms have cung togeth-
she Sis with her knitting. her cap quaint
ly lrllei, the old style kerchiel crossed white and
prm, above Ihe heart that has heat 50 long and
truly for me-. the dim blue eye that shrinkingly
fronts the glad day: the sunlight throwing her q
parting fare ell. kisses her brow and leaves upon
It's faint tracery Of wrinkles, angelic radiance I
soc, though one else can, the bright glad young
flee that FIRST. and the glowing love of for
" y-ar- thrills my heart till the tears come Say
MT again | can no longer be a lnyer. Though this
firm be bowed. God mplanted eternal love within.
Let the ear h. deaf the eve blind the hands palsi-
ed, the limbs wItheFed. the brain ciOuded-yet the
heart the true heart, may hold such wealth of love,
that all the power Of death and the VICTORIOUS grave
shall not be able to put out the quenchless fame.