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McCKUM & DERN,
VOL. T-
PEWWSYLVANIA’S dead.
In Pennsylvania's History
There’s many a noble name
Of statesman true, or chieftain bold, V
Whoso deeds rank hiftli in fame 5
Krow the great and Christian sage,
Whoso first gave glory to the pago,
Down to tholaet soul-stirring hour,
Winch saw hot dad in hope and power-
A star too bright to dimmed bo
By : othpr OT the envied free.
Where’er a valUant deed was done-
Wiiere’cr a vict’ry proudly won
Ilqr sturdy son, tliolr valor lent,
Arid of their life’s-blood freely spent.
And marched through mis’ry’s fiercest throes,
Tu hurl tjefltniclion ’mfcnget bur fjee.
VVfaore greet Ohio cullun flows.
By Schuylkill’s mucky flood,
On Siwquehiinua's lovely shores,
i'holr deeds arc writ iu blood.
\Ali hallowed Is the sacred clay.
Mado mellow with their botes,
Where more than Roman warriors lay,
Breed from the battle’s tones. ’
Why cross Atlantic’s surly waves,
And pass old Europe o’er,
To search for places of renown,
N When here is brighter lore ?
Europe’s field hat© drtthk_nmch blood
To aid tyrannic aims
But Liberty led pn our hosts,
Aud consecrates our plans.
At Valley Forge’s noted mouhd
WUst thoughts ennobling rise—
Ste how the sutTring hero paves
His pathway to the skies.
Wyoming’s rich aud blood-bought vale—
Where is the eye so .bold
That has not shed the pitying tear
When her sad tale was told f
poult's marble marks the fate
Which crushed* gallant band,
But, oh! their loader lived *o servo
With valor great the land!
ttevenge, deep-seated on his brow*
Gave vigor to his frame—
The British soldier trembles now,
When told of daring Wayne.
Oh, thelr’s were proud—aye, holy fates,
Who, in the gallant strife
Gbd yielded up their richest boon—
ban’s dearest jewel—Life!
Xo compass limits marked their course,
Js’or bar their deathless fame,
For Freedom’s flames when truly felt,
permit no selfish claim.
They need no monuments—those men
Of sterling worth and patriot deed,
Fbr first in glory’s rank they stand,
A|od none deny the rlch-oarued meed;
Each freeman’s heart a casket is,
Wherein their actions deeply lie,
And never will they be forgot,
’T|U Liberty herselfshall din!
SUBDUING A REBEL.
\' ;
A STORY OF THE TIMES.
There lived in a certain neighborhood;
not far distant from here, a royslering,;
rowdy bully, Jim .Blander. Jim wasi
“some”,on a fight, a kind of pugilistic ;
Napoleon. Many and bloody were the;
affairs-be had in his lifetime, and invaria
bly ihe came off best. Jim not only con
sidered himself invulnerable, but all the.
fighting characters conceded it was no pse
in fighting Jim, as. he was considered to
be a patent thrashing machine, that could
not be improved on. In Jim’s neighbor
hood had settled quite a number of Qua
kers. From some cause or other, Jim
listed the “shad-bellies,”. as he called
them, with his entire heart; he oftert de
tlafed that to whip one of these inoffensive
people would be the crowning glory of Jus
life. For years Jim (Waited for a pretext.
One of Jim’s chums heard a young Qua
ker speak in disparaging terms of him.—
The report soon came to Jim’s ears not a
little magnified. Jim made desperate
threats what he was going to do with Na
tlian, the meek follower of Penn, .on sight,
besides various bruises and contusions he
meant to inflict on Nathan’s body.-' Ini
this chaste language he meant to “ gouge
out” boih his eyes and “ chaw oft” both
his ears. ;
Nathan heard of Jim’s threats, and
very properly, kept out of his way, hoping
that time would mollify Jim’s anger. It
seems, however, this much-to-be-desired
result did not take place., One day friend!
Nathan was out riding, and in passing ,
through a long lane, he espied Jim enter*
ing at the otherend. Nathan might havC
turned and'fled, but his flesh rebelled at
this proceeding. <
“I will pursue my way peaceably,” said
die Quaker, “and I hope the better sense
of the man with wrath will not perjnit
him to molest igp, or allow him to do vir
olence to my .person.”
Nathan’s Calculations as to the lamb*
■ qualities of his adversary were doomed
to be disappointed. ’
■‘‘Oho,”- thought bully, as he recognized
-Nathan, “I have him at last. Now I’ll
make mince-meat of shad-belly. * I will
suit him and pickle him, too.”
, ilt thou please to dismount front
«y horse ?” said Jim, seizing the’bridle of
horse, and imitating his style )
my soul yearneth above all things to
pve thee the hipest mauling man ever
received.”. ;
“ 1* riendJames,” replied Nathan, “thou
must not molest me, but let me go on my
way m peace.. Thy better judgement will
surely tell thee that thou cannot possibly
be benefitted by personally injuring me.”
“Get down in a moment,” thundered
Jim ; “g6t down, you canting, lying, mis
chief-making, cowardly hypocrite. . Til
drag you down if you don’t dismount.”
“ Friend James, I remonstrate against
thy proceedings and against. thy lan
tguage,” replied Nathan. “My religion
[teaches me sincerity; I am neither a liar,
I; a mischief-maker nor a hypocrite; I am
|no coward, but a man of peace; I desire
I to pursue ray way quietly—-let me pass
ion.”
“Get down,” persisted Jim, “down
with you; I want to beat some of your re
ligion out of you; I must, give you a flog
ging before I leave you; I think by the
time I am through with you, you will
pass for a tolerably decent man; i’ll teach
you a short and easy lesson on the impor
tance of minding your own affairs, and the
risk you run in slandering your neigh
bors.”
“ I will not dismount said Nathan,
firmly; “loosen thy hold from thejnidle.”
“You won’t, won’t' you,” said Jim;
“ then here goes,” and be made a desper
ate plunge to collar the I Quaker.
■ Nathan was on his feet in an instant
on the opposite side of the -horse-,, The
! Quaker, although of much smaller propor
tions than his persecutor, was all sinew
and muscle, and his well knit form denoted
both activity, and strength. His wrath
‘was evidently kindled. ' .
[“ Friend James,” b e implored, “ thy
; pertinacious persistence in persecuting me
is annoying; thou must desist, or perad
, venture I- may so far forget myself as to
do thee some bodily harm;”
“By snakes! I believe there is fight
; enough in Broadbrim to; make the affair
interesting. I wish some of the boys
' were here to see the fun. Now, Friend
Nathan, I am going to knock off the end of
your nose; look out!”
Suiting the action to: the word, Jim, af
ter various, pugilistic gyrations with his
fists, made a scientific blow at the nasal for
mation of our Quaker friend ; but .Tom
Hyer could hot more scientifically have
warded it off.
Jim was evidently disconcerted at the
ill success of his first attempt; he saw he
had undertaken quite as much as he was
likely- to accomplish. : Jim, however
straightened himself out, and approached
Nathan more cautiously. ■ The contest be
gan again Nathan stood; his ground firmly
and warded off the shower of blows skil
fully, which Jim aimed at him.
“Friend James,” said Nathan in the
heat of the contest, “ this is mere child’s
play. It grieves me that thou hast forced
me into resistance, but I must defend my
self from bodily harm. I see there is but
one way of bringing this wicked and scan
dalous affair to a close, and that is by
conquering thee; in order to do this I will
.inflict a heavy blow between thine eyes,
which will prostrate thee ” Following
on the suggestion, Nathan struck Jim a
| tremendous blow on his’forehead, which
I brought nim senseless to the ground.
“ Now,” said Nathan, “ I will teach
thee a lesson, and I; hope it will be a
wholesome lesson, too. I will- seat myself
astraddle of thy breast; I will place my
knees upon thy arms, thus, so that thou can
not injure me when thou retumest to con
ciousness. I hope I may be the humble
instrument of taming thy fierce, warlike
spirit and makihg a better and more res
pectable-man of thee.” ;
As the Quaker concluded, Jim began to
show some signs of life, i: The first impulse
of Jim, when he fairly saw his condition,
was to turn Nathan off. He struggled
desperately, but he was in a vice—his ef
fort was unavailing. -
“Friend, thou must keep still until !
am done with thee!” said Nathan. “T
believe I am an humble instrument in the
| hand of God to chastise thee, mid 1 trust
when 1 am done with thee thou wilt be a
I changed man. Friend; James dost thou
' not repent of attacking me t”
“No,” said, James, ‘Get me up and I’ll
show you.”
“ I will not let thee up thou impious
wretch,” replied Nathan; “darest thou
profane the name of; thy Maker—l will
punish thee for that—l will check thy
respiration for a moment.”' f
Nathan, as good as his word, clutched
him by the throat. ! He compressed his
grip, and a gurgling sound could be heard,
Jim’s face became distorted; a terror ran
through his frame.' He was evidently
undergoing a process of strangulation.—
The Quaker relaxed his hold, "but not un
til the choking process; had sufficiently, as
he thought, tamed the perverse spirit of
Jim. It took some moments for Jim to
inhale sufficient air to address the Quaker.
“I’ll knock under,” said Jim; “enough,
let me up.”
“ No, thou hast not half enough,” re
plied Nathan. “Thou; art now undergo
ing a process of moral purification, and
thou must be contented to remain where
thou art until I am done with thee.—
Thou just profaned thy Maker, friend
James,” continued Nathan; “ confess, dost
thou repqnt thy wickedness?” ;
“No, hanged if I dojf growled Jim.
“ Wilt thou not,” replied ,the Qiiaker,
\ ■ •
ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 24, 1862.
“must I use compulsory means? I will
impress thy windpipe again unless thou
givestme an answer in the affirmative—
say quick, art thou sorry?”
“ No—l—y-e-s! shrieked Jim in gurg
ling tone, as the Quaker’s grip tightened,
“ yes, I am sorry ?”
“Is thy sorrow a godly sorrow,” in
quired Nathan.
Jim rather demurred giving an affirma
tive answer to this question, but a gentle
squeeze admonished him he that had better
yield.
“Yes,” replied Jim; now let me up.”
‘‘l am not done with thee yet,” said
Nathan.
“Thou hast been a disturber of the
peace of this neighborhood, time out of
memory—thy hand has been raised against
every man—-thou art a brawler. Wilt
thou promise: me that in future thee will
lead a more peaceable life—that thou will
love thy neighbors as thyself?”
“Yes,” answered Jim, hesitatingly,
“ all but the Quakers.”
“ Thou must make no exceptions,” re
plied Nathan. ! *~
“ If I say yes to that—l’ll die first ”
A struggle now ensued between "the
two, but Jimhad bis match. _
“Thou must yield, James,” said Nathan
“I insist on ilj,” and he again grasped
Jim by the throat. “ I will choke thee
into submission; thou must answer affirm
atively ; say„aftcr me, * I promise to love
my neighbors as myself, including the
Quakers.’ ”
“I promise that!” said Jim; I’ll be
cursed if I do.”
“ I will check thy respiration if thou
don’t’, replied Nathan. “Wilt thou
yield ?”
“No, I Won’t, I’ll be blasted if I do,”
answered Jim.
“Thee had. better give in,” replied Na
than ; “ I will choke thee again if thee
does not —see, my grip tightens.”
And Nathan did compress his grip, and
the choking process went on. Jim’s face
first became distorted, then purple—his
tongue lolled out, and his eyes protruded
their sockets—his body -writhed like a dy
ing man’s. Nathan persisted in holding
his grip until Jim became entirely passive,
he then relaxed his hold. Jim was slow
in recovering his speech and his senses;
when he did, he begged Nathan, for mer
cy’s sake to release him.
“ When thee will take the promise I
exact from thee, I will release thee, but
no sooner,” replied Nathan.
Jim saw that he was powerless and that
the Quaker was resolute. He felt it was
no use to persist in his stubbornness.
“I will give in,” he replied “I will
promise to love my neighbors as myself.”
“Including the Quakers'?” insinuated
Nathan.
“Yes, including the Quakers,” replied
Jim.
“Thou mayest arise then, friend James,
and I trust the lesson thou hast learned
to-day will make a more peaceable citizen
of thee, and I hope a better man.”
Poor Jim was completely humbled ; he
left the field with his spirit completely
cowed. Not long after this occurrence the
story became, bruited about. This was
more than Jim could bear. He soon after
left the scene of his many triumphs and
his late defeat, and emigrated to the “far
west.” The last I heard from him he was
preparing to make another move. Being
pressed for his reason why he again emi
grated, he said a colony of Quakers were
about moving into hia neighborhood. He
was tinder an obligation to love them, but
he was of the opinion that distance would
lend strength:to his attachment.
Old Abe’s Last Stohy. —An old friend
from Springfield lately called to see the
President. “Lincoln,” said he, “when
you turned out j Cameron, why didn’t you
turn out all the rest of your Cabinet?—
“That,” said the President, “makes me
think of something that took place near
home, in Illinois. An old farmer had
been pestered with a colony of skunks that
depredated nightly on his poultry. He
determined to be rid of them, and finally
succeeded in getting them all in one hole,
where he could kill them at his pleasure.
He drew one forth by the tail, and execu
ted him,” but, said he in telling the stoiy,
“ this caused such an infernal stench that
I wa# obliged tjo let the rest run.”
Tub Poison of the Toad. —The most
deadly poison | known to be used by the
slave in Brazil, is that of the toad. The
skin of this reptile contains glands which
secrete in abupdance a milky, glutinous
fluid when die toad is put to pain or irri-.
tated. This is scraped off and dried. If
produces incurable obstruction and en
largement of tfle liver, and a speedy death.
Some beat the toad with rods to make it
secrete the venom; others place the crea
ture in an earthen vessel over a slow fire.
gar “Mother I shouldn’t be surprised if
Susan gets: cho|ked some day.”
“ Why, sou l!”
“Because John Wipsy twisted his arms
around her neck the other night, and if she
had not kissed him to let her go, he would
have strangled her.”
[independent in evebything.]
“I will skin you alive if you do that
again,” exclaimed a mother to a naughty
child. It was a sort of hyperbolical ex
pression that has crept into frequent use,
with the multitude of expressions of simi
lar character. She did not mean that she
would flay her little one as a butcher
would a calf or lamb. 'Hie execution of
her own tlireat would fill her own soul
with horror. She would not have strength
to make much progress in the very barba
rous work of skinning her child alive.—
It would not be motherly.
“ I will whip you within an inch of
your life,”, said a father to his erring son.
This would be a terrible whipping indeed.
Coming so hear death’s door with the rod
would be revolting. But he did not mean
this. He only meant he would adminis
ter a very severe chastisement- No one
would be more careful than he not to
jeopardize the life of his son. His expres
sion was only a form of exaggeration
which society seems to tolerate.
How many precisely such speeches are
made in almost every circle. “It was
done quick as lightning.” “Itis as cold
as Greenland.” There is no end to such
expressions. And they indicate that' the
habit of exaggeration in the human family
is very strong. Human natures seem in
clined to “stretch the truth.” That is
the reason that such strange stories are
told, often becoming magnified to such an
extent, after passing through several hands.
“ A story loses nothing by traveling,” is
an old saying. It usually grows, like a.
ball which school-fellows roll. Every
tongue that repeats it gives it additional
turning-over, by which it accumulates.—
None mean to exaggerate.
It is a fault however, is it not? May
it not be a sin ? It is entirely deceptive to
tell a child that you will skin him alive,
when you have no idea of perpetrating the
infernal deed. Should we not talk as
we mean? Lot our yea be yea and nay
nay. At least this should be done to
children.
A Big Thing on the “ Hem Geakds.”
—The war is prolific in humorous scenes
as well as bloody honors- For instance,
a brave volunteer is introduced by the fol
lowing :
liev. Mr. —, a man about six feet
four in stockings, and of proportions worthy
a granadier, and whose heart is as stout as
Ids frame, a thorough Union man, and in
for the war, until treason, is thoroughly
crushed out, was recently conducting a re
ligious meeting, when a brother arose to
speak, who after alluding to his hopes and
fears in a religious point of view, branched
out in reference to the state of the coun
try, saying that so great was his devotion
to the Stars and Stripes, that he had en
listed; and after a few further patriotic,
remarks, begged an interest in the prayers
of the church, that he might be protected
by Divine Providence on the battle field,
and if he should fall a victim to the bullets
of the enemy, he might be prepared for
the change.
Such a speech at any time would thrill
with patriotic fervor the brave heart of our
worthy minister, and he consequently
spoke in a few words of encouragement
to the hero. When the wife of the en
listing man volunteered her experience, in
the course of which,' alluded to her hus
, band’s enlistment, she expressed a willing
ness to give him up, even unto death, in
the service of his country.
In a few moments after the meeting
came to a close, when the minister, all
anxiety for the welfare of the patriotic
volunteers, proceeded to make some in
quiries in reference to his regiment, com-,
mencing with the very natural question as
to its name and number, when he received
the startling reply—
“l’ve joined the Home. Guards."
Flowers. —How the universal heart of
man blesses flowers! They are wreathed
round the cradle, the marriage altar, and
the tomb. The Persian, in the far East
delights in their perfume, and writes his
love in nosegays, while the Indian child of
the far West clasps his hands with glee as
he gathers the abundant blossoms—[the il
luminated scriptures of the prairiesj The
Cupid of the ancient Hindus tipped ar
rows with flowers, and orange flowers are
a bridal crown with us, a nation of yes
terday. Flowers garlanded Grecian altars
and hung in votive wreaths before the
Christian shrine. All these are appropri
ate uses. Flowers should deck thb brow
of the youthful bride, for they are in them
slves a lovely type of marriage. I They
should twine round the tomb, for there
perpetually renewed beauty is a symbol of
the resurrection. They should festoon the
altar, for their fragrance and their beauty
ascend in perpetual worship before the
Most High.
When the furious Orson saw his own
image reflected from his brother’s, shield he
startled back and stayed his blow; and
many of our own attacks on our Mothers’
faults might be arrested, if there Were a
mirror on his bosom, to show us ojir own
likeness there. j
HABIT OF EXAGEfiATIOH.
SUBSTITUTES,
A correspondent of the New Orleans
Crescent, at Richmond, writes as follows j
Our chief article of commerce; now-a
days is commodity known in the market
as The article has risen
from $lOO to $2OO, again to $5OO, and
from that to $lOOO and $l5OO. The
cheapest kind now offering command? $5OO
readily., A wretch named Hill has bejen
making enormous sums, las much as from
$BOOO to SSOOQ per day, by plundering
substitutes, some of whom are the very
scum of the earth,' while others ape pov
erty stricken Marylanders of high social
position at home, and men of real moral
worth. A friend of mine bought a' substi
tute from Hill for $5OO. He saw Hill
give the poor devil $lOO and put the re- 1
maining $406 in his pocket, -ils my
friend went out the door he met a gen
tleman who told him he had just paid
$l5OO for a substitute-
Of tliis sum it is possible the substi
tute received $2OO, and Hill the other
$l3OO. To-day he went up Main street
with at least fifty men at his heels. You
may therefore infer that he coins money
more rapidly than the Yankee distiller,
Stearns, now in jail with Botts, who used
to make $l6OO a day by furnishing his
vile stuff to Southern soldiers. The fact
is, this buying and selling substitutes is
abominable all around. The men who
cojne here from the country to buy them
run mad until they get them—they are
absolutely crazy with fear lest they should
fail to obtain them —and seem willing to
spend their last dollar in the effort. On
the other hand, the exhibition of his per
son, to which the substitute is subjected, is
ridiculous and disgusting. He is stripped
to the skin, percussed, ausculated,; exam
ined from top to toe, like a horse showing
off paces. A lovely business, truly!
A Waggish “ Dkuggee.”—To hear
George tell the drugger story is worth a
quarter any time. The story is a capital
one,'but it takes the man to tell it- This
he does in some such words as these :
“ Be you the drugger?”
' “Well, I s’posa so, I sell drugs.”
“ Wall, hev you got eny uv this ’ere
scentin as the gals put on their hanker
cheers ?”
“O, yes.” '
“ Wall, our Sal’s gwine to be married,
and she gin me a ninepence, and told me
to invest the hull ’mount in scentin stuff,
so’s to make her sweet, ef I could find
somethin to suit; so ef you’ve a mind; I’ll
just smell around.” i
The Yankee smelled around without be
ing suited, until the “drugger” got tired of
him, and taking down a bottle of harts
horn, said: . . *
“I’ve got scentin stuff that will suit
you. A single drop on a handkerchief will
stay for weeks, and yOu cannot wash it
out. But to get the strength of it you
must take a good big smell.”
“Is that so, mister? Wall,jist hold on
a minute till I get breath, and when I say
now, you put it under my smeller,”
The hartshorn, of course, knocked the
Yankee down, as liquor has many a man.
Do you suppose he got up and smelt again,
as the drunkard does? not he, but rolling
up liis fists, he said:
“You made me smell that tarnal ever
lasting .stuff, mister, and I’ll make you
smell brimstone I”
Affection.— We sometimes meet with
men who think that any indulgence of af
fectionate feeling is weakness. They will
return from a jburney and greet their fam
ilies with a distant dignity, and ipove
among their children with the cold and
lofty Sfflendor of an iceberg, surrounded
with its broken fragments. There is
hardly a more unnatural sight on earth
than one of these families without a heart.
A father had better extinguish his boy’s
eyes than take away his heart. Who that
has experienced the joys of friendship and
values sympathy and affection, would not
rather lose all that is beautiful in nature’s
scenery than be robbed of the hidden treas
ure of his heart? Who would not rather
follow his child to the grave than to en
tomb his parental affection? *Cherish,
then, your heart’s best affections. Indulge
in the warm and gushing emotions of fra
ternal love. Think it pot a weariness.—
Teach your children to love, to love the
rose, the robin; to love their parents, their
God. Let it be the studied object of their
domestic culture to give them warm hearts,
ardent affections. Bind your whole fam
ily together by these strong cords. You
cannot make them too strong.
Maukiagf..-—“ I never,” says Mrs.
Childs,' “saw ! a marriage expressly for
money that did not end unhappily. 1 Yet
managing mothers and heartless daughters
are continually playing the same unlucky
game.! I believe men more frequently
marry lor love than money, because they
have; free choice. lam afraid to conjee- j KT “ Sal,” said lisping Sam Snooks, “if
ture how large a portion of woman parry | you don’t love me, thay tho; add if you
only because they think they will inever love me, thay tho; andif you love meand
have a better and dread becoming! don’t like to thay tho, thqeethe my hand.”
dependent. Such marriages do sometimes | Sal put her hand upon her buestm, Sam,
prove tolerably comfortable, but a greater j felt a gentle pressure of 'her Pother paw,
number Would have been and was as happy he a poUy xcoggk.
EDITORS AND proprietors.
OBJECT TEACHHfO.
It ia a well known feet, that during the
period prior to five of age the toild
does Littlcmore, iatelectually, than to ex
ercise its senses upon the objectsabontit;
or, in other words, to use its perceptive
faculties in learning their form,color, sixe,
weight, position, &o. During this period
therchild is almost entirely occupied with
the present Observe it in the street, in
the field, in the shop, and about the house.
How intently it looks, and listens, ami
wonders; and how earnestly H desires to
handle everything around it! The child
observes constantly; such is its instinct of
nature. By this process the development
of the senses goes on- rapidly, so that by
the time when the child comes to begin
its school education, it has acquired con
siderable skill in the exercise of its senses,
and also obtained much knowledge of things
through the exercise. '
Now, the object of the teacher, as he or
she receives the child into the school,
should be to: continue the work which na
ture has so well began in developing the
senses, with a view to increasing their
acuteness and powers, and to give habits of
accurate and minute observation; alto to
evercise its perceptive faculties upon the
various properties and qualities of things
so that they may furraish materials for
thought. —Connecticut Common School Jour
nal. . ..
Piunteks. —By the way, says a writer
in The Philadelphia Press, it is right for
printers to ..know that for awhile until a
recent period, actors were legally desig
nated “vagabonds” in England. A stat
ute’ passed in the reign of Queen Anne dis
tinctly declares that .printers, like attor
neys, are gentlemen t The distinction arose
in this wise : \VTien swords formed a
part of genteel attire, they were worn by
many who neither by birth, education nor
calling, were’‘entitled to be considered
gentlemen. To place the matter out of
dispute, an act of Parliament was passed,
in which was set forth the various classes
authoized to wear swords or rapiers, as a
part of their costumes, and in this statute
printers are expressly named as entitled to
what at that period was considered a priv
ilege. The word “printer,” in Queen
Annie’s time, meant a compositor who out
of a chaos of type, put men’s thoughts into
the form which preserves them, if worthy,
for the future as the present.
Advantages of Buying Goods on a
Credit.— We never understood, the ad
vantage of the credit system till .we got
the following story from a Wisconsin con
tributor :
In one of the interior villages of this
State is a tavern-keeper, and in the same
place an honest old German .blacksmith, of
whom the former relates that he employed
him to do some iron work, and paid him
cash for it at the time, but afterward
learning that a neighbor had some similar
work done on time for a less price, he in
quired the reason therefore, and the reply
was as follows;
“Tou zee I ’ave zb much scharge on
my book, and I sometimes lose uni] and zo
ven I ’ave got a cash customer I scharge
goot price, but ven I puts it on my book
I do not like to scharge zo much, zo if he
never pay min, I no lose zo much.”—Har
per’s Monthly.
Splitting Haibs.— — Two Ohio lawyers
got into a warm dispute in court, when
one called the other a prevaricating, dou
ble dealing wretch.
The latter replied as follows:
“ I will not take notice of personal lan
guage here. We will settle that by and
by outside. I will discuss law, chop logic
or split hairs with you in court—that's
all.”
“Ifyon will split hairs, split that,”
said the opposing lawyer, puffing a hair
from his head and handing it toward the
speaker.
“I can’t do it—didn’t offer to split
bristles,” was the reply.
Everybody in court laughed out loud, of
course. " .
Good Lvck. —Some young men’ talk
about luck. Good luck is to get up at six
o’clock in the morning: good luck, if yon
had only a shilling a week, is to live upon
elevenpence and save a penny; good luck is
to trouble your heads with your own busi
ness, and let your neighbors alone; good
luck is to fulfil the commandments, and do
unto other people as we wish' them to do
unto us. They must not only plod but
persevere. Pence must be taken care of
because they are the seeds bf guineas.—
To get on in the world, they must take
care of home, sweep their own doorway
clean, try and help other people, avoid
temptations, and have faith and tenth and
God. —De Faire's Lecture.
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NO. 12.