The Altoona tribune. (Altoona, Pa.) 1856-19??, December 06, 1862, Image 1

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i of Altoona and-rtelolty that he
O iUOIM of
A&,*xt»w|p Aar tbaßoUdan.
iftr-oßlhaada- nod (tuck*? >UId
am MamtlW«*MA '
■oouoftbe jaar.
gar, Molasses, Boll#*r,
nl> In largo or unall qtumUtto..
ioo mjr stock and yok- will find
iny la town.
i of Altoona and vicinity that his
JTand FRUIT STORE, U always
beet Articles to and in great
iii saloon
which he willaerre up OYSTERS
tdX>' S PIES alwajf,* on head.
red to supply cafces.candks, Sc.
tie*. He invite* a share of public
he can render full satisfaction to
id saloon Is onYirglniasttseMwo
Jews Agency,
$ T t OßA<2<X>,
OH ASKS. I-.; - -.:...
YD A <20.,
Sf. JAGK Sc CO.,
> :
Uek # Co.”)
-» /s *£3
■ 1
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roL. 7.
tjcCHUM,.*. H * C. DBBK,
. ta oum. P*y*W eiuV<kri * W y * dTanc *») lUO.
t i‘»continued at the expiration of the time
1 insertion
IMV - * “ * f.H I W
‘ i S lines) ** 1 00
(16 “ ) l«0 140, 200
* J ... (21 •• j 140 200 240
■ Ill[W weeks mud ten than three months. 24 cents
f or each insertion.
■ M ! 8 months. 0 months. 1 year.
sl 60 t 3 00 $4 00
2 40 4 00 7 00
4 00 6 00 10 00
..... 600 800 12 00
..... 600 10 00 14 00
, , 10 00 14 00 20 00
' M 00 26 00 40 00
KxecnWte Settees 1 74
1 rchmut" advertising by the jrtmr. three .qnar..,
I l ""Mnics'ttons of « political jhnrneierorindieMunl In
-1 Zirn charged according to the shore rates,
urertisemen.« not marked with the number of loser
0, desired, will be continued till forbid and charged ac
"riisew the shore terms.
access notices See cents per line for erery insertion.
iwtoin notices exceeding ten line* fifty centaasqaa
i ,iq«s or !•••
fie Only Place Where a (Jure Can
be Obtained.
Di{. JOHNSON has discovered the
moil Certain, Speedy and only Effectual Remedy In
_i r ii far all Private Diaeaaea. Weakne*. of the Back
Limb. Strictures, Affections of the Kidneya and Blad
- Involuntary Discharges, Itupoteney, General Debility,
- \ ,utneas, Dyspepsy, Languor. Low Spirit*. Confusion
■ Uca* Palpitation of the Heart, Timidity, Tremblings,
v , M ' 0 f Sight or Giddiness, Disease of the Head,
’nt Nose or Skin, Affections of the Liter, Lungs. Stom
i ,r Bowels—ikoso Terrible disorders arising from the
V, t«rv Uabita of Youth—those bicut and solitary prac
acre fatal to theit yictims than the song of Syrens to
• Mariners of Clysaea, blighting their most brilliant
e. ar anticipations, rendering marriage -Ac, impoasi-
1 wiJlv. who hate become the victims of Solitary Vice,
•’ii'jfa&fnl and desfuctite habit which annually sweeps
"ii natimelygrate thouaands of Yonng Men of the most
I lilted taleats and brilliant Intellect, who might bthrr
•i- Kave entranced listening Senates with the tbnnders
frequence, or waked to ecusy the living lyre, may call
filk foil confidence.
\larried Per»on», or Young lieu cotemplating marriage,
a mare of physical weakness, organic debility, defer*
.jrfT* ic., i{>eedily cured. f
le who places himself under the care of Dr. J. may re*
..;Lu«ly coofide in bis honor as a gentleman, and confi
relr upon hi-* skill as a nhysicinn.
r.;jediAt«ly Cured, and full Vigor Restored,
fail DUtressiug Affect ion—which renders Life miserable
-jl carriage impossible—is the penalty paid by the
■ ictiais of improper indulgences. Young persona are to
i.icomiQit exces es from not being awaie of the dread*
: t that may ensue. Now. who that under
.;,rids the subject will pretend to deny that the power of
■ -Ration is lost Riviner by tho«e falling into improper
itjjin than by the prudent? Besides being deprived the
,ri«res of healthy offspring, the most aeridua and de*
symptoms to both body and mind arise. The
<.,t?rn becomes Deranged, the Physical and Mental Fane*
:.-a» Weakened. Los* of Procreative Power. Nervous Irri*
i|ity, Dyspepsia, Palpitation of the Heart, Indigestion
V.rtitutional Debility, a Wasting of the Frame, Cough,
- sumption. Decay and Death.
band side going from Baltimore street, a few doors
;.va the corner. Fail not name and number.
L-tPr* mast be paid and .contain a stamp. The Doc*
■r'i Dlj'to'f&as hang in his office
So Mercury or Siueom Drugt.
■i'uibrr of the Royal College of Surgeons, London, Grad*
•:*;* from one of the most eminent Colleges in the United
tad the greater part of whose life has been spent in
bMpiial* of Lsndon, Paris, Philadelphia and else*
L*re, has effected some of the most astonishing cares
: ut were ever known; many troubled with ringing in the
>ii sad ears when asleep, great nervousness, being
• «r:aed at sudden Bounds, bashfulness, with frequent
"iushibg, attended sometimes with derangement of mind,
•rf* cared immediately.
ur.J. addresses all those who haws injured themselves
:• indulgence and solitary habits, which ruin
’A body and mind, unfitting them for either basin***,
‘liir.tuciety or marriage.
Tatk are some of the sad and melancholy effects pro
k>i'by early habits of yonth, vlt: Wearness of the
Limbs, Palos in the Head, Dimness of Sight,
af Muscular Power, Palpitation of the Heart, Dye*
Nervous Irritability, Derangement of the Diges*
; Fuuctiunt, General Debility, Symptoms of Consump
'hsiiiLT.— The fearful effects of the mind are much to
- dreaded—Loss of Memory, Confusion of Ideas; De
: of spirits, Kvil-Forebodingi, Aversion to Society,,
-'■rDiitrtwt, Love of Solitude, Timidity, Ac., are some of
T -' veils produced.
--:'CUsds of persons of all ages can now judge what is
cnQßt of their declining health, losing their vigor, be*
: aiaj weak, palei nervous and emaciated, having a sin*
c: ' 4r appearance about the eyes, cough and symptoms of
'J ‘ hare injured thomeelree by a certain practice in
;;:s«i in when alone, a habit frequently learned from'
l ; toQpanione, or at ecliool, the effect! of which are
"'■ir fall, eren when aileep. and if not cured rendere
-‘"late impoeible, and deatroye both mind and body,
apply immediately.
"hat a pity that a young man, the hope of hie country,
' darling of hit parente, ahonld be snatched from all
‘ tl«ta and enjoyment* of life, by the consequence of
'hdis; from the path of nature, end indulging in a
;ti;o secret habit. Such pencils HOST, before content
--ct that a sound mind and body are the moat necessary
'■iaiaites to promote connubial happiness. Indeed, with
these, the journey through life becomes a weary pil
■;a'tge; the prospect hourly darkens to theriew; the
~ becomes shadowed with despair and filled with the
-tiiacholy reflection that the happiness.ot another be
cirr blighted with our own.
.., “• misguided and Imprudent rotary of pleaaure
-J-tthathe has imbibed the eeede of this painful dis
often happens that ah ill-timed sense of shame,
_ tread of discovery, deters him from applying to those
. . from education and respectability, can alone be
, : j “!», delayihg til! the • constitutional symptoms of
.;j ““rnd disease make their appearance, such as nlcera
iVt'r t a I rolt ’ diseaeed nose, nocturnal pain tin the head
i hubs, dimness of sight, (leafneee, nodes on the shin
. tt<aQdtrras, blotches oh the head, free andeztremi
i - with frigfatfhl rapidity, till at last the
”f' the mouth or the banes of the noee fall in, and
• of this awful disease becomes a horrid oWect of
~i^ iKr4ti on, till death puts a period to his dreadful
*■ T2?*’ '’F tending him to “ that Undiscovered Country
I I :/" 0 " no Irareller returns.”
"'■duaekoly fact that thousands fall rictime to
Irt-.* , ■.dneaee, owing to the nnskillfntneee of igno-
I who, by the nee of that Deadly /bison,
I'■>.tdin the conetitntion and make the residue of
I “ Oilerable.
*°‘/oor Hr**, or health to the care of the man;
rtz-* *" lnt * Worth **** Pretenders, destitute of knowl*
~' me or character, who copy t>r. Johnston’s ftdver*
!Wi?i ® rrt^c themvelve*. In the newspapers, reeu-
I r;i iSI? 0 ' 1 *' 1 Physicians, Incapable of Curing, they keep
PiaoMn *» month after month, taking their filthy and
|b« )' J u; t L s^ m P° and *» or ** long as the smallest fee can
aa<lin despair, leave yon with ruined health
Df j ,j, €r 7 on . r Ruling disappointment.
Ui, ;* Q,tO P w the only Physician advertising.
HU or Hlptoma* always hang in his office.
! torrid f* 1 * 1 °. r treatment are unknown to all others,
the Sr,. (/JIP a IH** *P?ht in the great hospitals of Knrope,
h*st th«n .^° untry an( * a more extensive Private Prae
i Jfw*** ker Physician lu the world.
T k*i2??hs SEl ! EMT ., or THE PRESS.
’Hr. tad J’thousands cored at this institution, year after
!*''rffi*d h» T°w m ! roa * .important Surgical operations
“Sua* CHi ohn r. ton ‘/ ,tTleaMd by th * reporters of the
raan y oth 7 papers, notices of
r sile *V ls B uS^ da^U * n ? before the public,
i. • a gentlemen of character and re-
J, u a «omdent guarantee to the
Holm,l!J, O| SEASES speedily cured.
“I*** wd con tuning .
rl’iUilf-n i )n *• "p'y Pouom writing aboald «t»t«
i p «wm writlirlklllSi* frti**m.n,d.«rlblDg»,mptoini
l, «*r, to thu T B *Sf?, U b r PwtlcnUrHn directing
.ilVj tlon ' In the following nunner :
° ,tt * BOUanrelock ,
flTfemre fojttrf.
“ 0 w»»P tftfuod dm, boy*,”
And Uy no down to die,
Where the cannon roam around ne
And the carnage rage* high.
Whilo theUtt thooght’iofmx country
And my mother—oh, my God,
Let thy atrong right arm cappurt her
Whilo oho plea ’ncath thy rod..
2 do.
S do.
Thermo a cottage on the WH side
Of the noble " Prairie Btate*
Where a golden willow droppcth
O’er a little rustic gate,
And my grey-haired sire is sitting
With his bible on his knee
By its hearth stone, while be prayeth
Bren now, perhaps for me*
And forther on, another still.
But, oli, themad’oing thought.
What misery to thee, beloved,
Treason's black hand hath wrought;
But thine is not the onlyheart ■
That bows in woe to-night.,
Xor thine the only stricken soiil
That looks above for light.
But be ye strong, and' bear ye up—
We have not bled in vt*in—
The fetters we have stricken off.
Will ne’er be forged again.
And had I now a thousand livta.
I’d give them all for thee,
My native land, my precious home,
If they plight make thee free.
Then w wrap the Flag around me boya.”
The Red, the White and Blue,
In every thought and every act.
To them I have been true;
Living, 1 f»nght beneath Its folds.
Dying, my prayer shall be,
s That every star may typify,
A country truly free.
JM*rt fpswliaag.
Frompderson't Magazine.
‘You know it is your father’s wish, Lu
£ ,Only a wish, auntie, not a‘ command,
and I think it is cruel for you !to try to
force me to marry that hideous man !’
‘He has been very ill, dear, and of
course—he—that is——— ’
‘ You can’t make an Adonis of him,
auntie, so don’t try. And if you could
be would not be much improved,' in my
estimation. Such an uncouth mortal
never crossed my path! If I speak to
him he colors to the hue of a boiled lobster,
and fidgets his hands and feet aS if he was
afraid I wanted to run away with them;
and his ‘ yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am, are
as broad and constrained as if I were his
‘ And yet your uncle says he .is very ac
* Oh Auntie'!’
‘ Quite true, my dear. Youmust take
into consideration his disadvantages.——
His mother, one of the liveliest women
whom 1 ever knew, died when Lionel
was but five years old ; and his father, in
consolable, shut himself up in that out of
the way country place of his and never
went into society again. Lionel's educa
tion has been his whole care, and, a pro
found scholar himself, be has probably
spared.ho pains to make his sob his equal.
Still the entirely recluse fife was calculated
•to make the boy shy and nervous, and the
long, severe illness which followed his
lather's death accounts for his pale face.’
‘I hope his trip to France will restore
■Jlis health,' said Luly, rather coldly.
‘ And you V
‘ I cannot go with him,’ cried the young
girl passionately. ‘My father’s will only
requests us to look upon each other as the
children of life-Jong friends as; he and Mr.
Carle ton should do so. He hopes we .may
lov£ each other well enough to;marry hap
pily ; otherwise, he does not |even desire
OUr union. Ido not love him and I can
not flatter myself with the idea that he
even admires me, so we had ( best part as
good friends, but no more.’
At that instant the subject of conversa
tion entered the room. A few common
place remarks passed beteen him and Mrs.
Baymond and she pleaded some house
hold engagement and left the room.—
The lovers, per contract, sat in silence for
some moments, and a greater contrast can
scarcely be imagined than the two pre
sented. I ■ ’
; Luly Hazleton wes a blonde of the
most exquisite type. Of medium size,
her form was graceful and symmetrical,
and her fair curls and large blue eyes suited
t|ie Grecian profile and fair: delicately
tinted complexion. An expression of an
imation and high intellect saved her face
from insipidity; and as she bent now over
her sewing, the rich color mantling her
cheeks proved her embarrassment. She
was but seventeen, and not at 'her ease
with the lover die intended to discard.
: And Lionel Carleton, raising his dark
eyes from the floor, saw in the large mir
ror this perfect form and face, and his own
figure. He was very tall, and his height
was exaggerated fay the. attenuation of
long illness. The large features, which
Would have been manly and handsome in
health were actually monstrous in the
i thin sallow face ; and his dark eyes looked
! hollow and unnatural with the dark rims
i which suffering had penciled around them.
: They were weak too, and the pink tinge of
; the lids, and a certain; straining look did
: not improve their beauty. ' A close fitting
black scull cap, which concealed the loss
! of hair, sacrificed in his illness, added to
: the grotesque appearance of the young
I man. He smiled sadly, as he studied the
; group in the mirror ; and then with the
I nervous tremor in his voice, and flutter*
| ing of his fingers, which betokened his bash
i fulness, he said in a low tone:
• Miss Hazleton, I have come to you, at
your unde’s request, to tell you that I
leave to-morrow, to ask you if I may take
with me .the hope thtit the engagement
which your father made with mine will be
fulfilled when I return.’
He tried to speak camly ; yet, had Luly
studied bis face, she could have read in
every line the longing hope, the deep love
which mide his voice tremble and blanch
ed his sallow cheek.
‘ T regret,’ she said, quietly, yet not
raising her eyes,. 4 that we were so strange-,
ly bound to each other, before we were old
enough to know what the contract impos
ed. You feel yourself obliged- ’
4 You mistake,’ said he eagerly ; ‘ there
was no obligations on either side. I—l’
She had raised her eyes to his faceques
tioningly, and while he colored deeply, he
stammered and let his voice die away in
Something in the'look he gave her, in
the attitude he took, told the woman’s
heart his love. This lonely boy in his
orphanhood suddenly brought, for the first
time into familiar intercourse with a beau
tiful girl,: loved her with the passionate
ardor of first love, intensified by his pre
vious life. Touched with a feeling of pity,
Luly aroSe and came to his side.
4 We are both very' young, Mr. Caiieton,
and it is better that we should be free for
some years at least. I will speak ‘ freely.
Ido not love you !’ The ghastly white
ness ofhis face almost frightened her, but
she was acting a noble, true part, and con
tinued, ‘I will not trifle with you; and
when you have met others with more pow
er to ■win your love than I possess, you
will thank me for it. Let us part as good
flrends, and, believe me, you will carry my
most earnest wishes for your speedy re
covery and happiness.’
4 Stay—one moment,’ he gasped, catch
ing her hand : ‘ you love no one else V
4 No one ! I have just left school; I
scarcely know what love means,’ she said
‘ Then,' he said, earnestly, ‘ will you let
the engagement stand as it is for a year ? I
shall then return, and, trust me, if you still
feel as yoU do now, no word of mine shall
again urge you to alter your decision.—
We are, as you say, young, and two weeks
is but a short time to make a decision
which affects a whole life time. Let me
write to you as a friend only, if you desire
it, and perhaps in a year ’
He raised his eyes again wi th a pleading
almost childish look, which moved her
deeply. His-love conquered his shy man
ner, and the hope of his whole heart was
mirrored in his large dark eyes.
‘Be it so,’ she said gently. ‘I will
answer your letters, and in a year we
shall meet again. Only,’ she said ear l
nestly, ‘if my heart remains untouched,
you mustacquit me of any charge of co
He raised her hand to his lips.
‘ Believe me,’ he said, *no thought
that is not boni of love and respect can
ever cross my mind regarding you,’ and
rising, he left her alone.
‘ And pray, Uncle William, who is this
irresistible Adonis ? I quite long to meet
Your desire will be granted then, for I
have invited him. to pass some weeks at
Milton, and he has accepted my invitation.
He will be here to-day or to-morrow. —
Take care of your heart, or poor Lionel
will soon have cause to be jealous.’
‘ Mr. Carleton has no right to be jealous,’
said Louisa Hazleton, quickly, ‘ nor is my
heart as Susceptible as you insinuate.—
By the .way, it is now eighteen months
since Lionel went abroad ; and it is several
weeks since he has written. Can he be
coming home V
‘ Not at all unlikely. He writes well.
Luly!’ :
‘Well! He writes the most charming
etters 1 ever read. No published account
of a European trip that I ever read com
pares with the letters for interest, wit, or
grace. - His familiarity with the modern
language gives jnm an insight into the
manners of each -country; while his ready
pen, his keen observation, and alternations
of gravity and wit, make his letters per
fect models of composition, interesting
narrative |and graceful address.’
.‘Well done, Lou!’ cried her unde
She blushed a little, and then said.
‘lf he was not such |a fright!’
‘ Well you can’t make that chage against
the guest i I expect to-morrow. He is one
of the handsomest men! I ever seen. I am
not very expert at portrait punting, Lou,
but I can give you somje idea of him. He
is tall, with broad shoulders, full chest,
and an erect manly carriage. A symmetri
cal Hercules. His features are regular
and he has the most expressive dark eyes.
His hair is very dark, almost black, and
curls all over his head, and his mouth and
teeth are faultless. His smile is the most
winning I ever saw.’
‘Mr. Murray, sir,’ said a servant enter
ing the drawing room.
‘Ah ! Show him in James. He hoped to
get here to-day, but was afraid he would
be detained until to-morrow,’ he added,
turning to Mrs. Raymond:
‘ We are glad to welcome him at any
time,’ said that lady, smiling, and rising
at the same moment to meet the stranger
as hie entered.
i Louisa acknowledged that her uncle had
; not over done the portrait, as she raised
■ her eyes to return his graceful courteous
j greeting.
‘Well might my uncle William warn
;me to guard my heart!’ she said to herself,
ias the afternoon wore om 4 1 never saw
such fascinating manners.’
‘ Now, Luly, some music,’ said her uncle,
as they returned to the drawing room
after tea.
i _ 4 But uncle ’
i ‘Oh !: Mr. Murray is a musician him
j. self ; so open the piano !’
I 4 Permit me,’ said the gentleman, taking
: Louisa’s place at the heavy lid of the
| grand piano.’
4 And now that it is open,’ she said
| gaily 4 let me hear you prove my uncle’s as-
I sertions.’
' 4 Willingly ! This is just the light for
j the dreamy German music which I prefer
! above all others:- Have you ever heard
this, Miss Hazleton ?’ and he began to play
: a waltz which exactly answered his des
! cription.
| Lousia listened to it with crimson cheeks
J for the air was one which she herself had
i often played for Lionel, and which he
had always asked for, when the choice of
the music lay with him
Mr. Murray had not been many days at
Milton, when Louisa perceived that the
young gentleman was making love to her.
There was not the slightest doubt about it.
Every hour was filled with the thousand
attentions which a lover offers to the fair
lady whose heart he hpoes to win ; and
delicacy of his manner, his grace, and cour
tesy, and the mixture of devoted respect
with manly protection, made every hour
in bis presence delightful: and Louisa
whispered to herself, that, if her conjectures
were true, and he loved her, he should be
no despairing swain. She sighed some
times when Lionel's letters came under
.her notice; but one thought of his face
and manner brought the contrasting Mr.
Murray, and she was glad, the year being
over without his return, to feel that she
They were in the library one morning,
Mr. Murray reading aloud, while Louisa
and her aunt were sewing, when Mr. Ray
mond came in.
‘ Luly, I have a letter here which I
want copied, and lam very busy. Will
you do it for me ?’
‘lf I can be useful,’ said Mr. Murray,
‘ pray command me.’
‘Thank you, my dear fellow. Louey
get Mr. Murray some paper.’
She lingered a moment near him, as he
commenced his task, and as he wrote, she
followed the motion of his head as if fasci
nated. Her uncle and aunt both left the
room; still he wrote and she watched him.
The letter was a short one, . and as he
wrote the last word, he pushed away the
paper, and for the first time looked up.
‘ Miss Hazleton! I thought you went
out with Mr. Raymond. You—l -’
She was looking at him earnestly, and he
colored, hesitated, and finally stopped
speaking. After a moment of; silence, he
raised his eyes again with a mute, implor
ing expression.
‘ I thought that the handwriting was
familiar,’ she said; and now your eyes
betray you. ‘Yet you are much altered,
‘ Only inasmuch as I have regained my
health and become more accustomed to
society. Believe me Louisa, my heart is
unchanged, true always to you. You have
discovered,me. Your uncle and aunt
kne# who was their guest before he
landed, and gave their consent to his try
ing to win his wife, unprejudiced by her
old indifference or dislike* Louey, you
know you have long known my love. —
Can you now give me, what you refused,
a word of hope?’
There reader, you and I will leave, only
re-entering with Mrs. Raymond, an hour
later, to find Louey, all smiles and blushes,
the promised wife of that hideous man*
Mbs. Lincoln’s Sisters. —On Monday
last we observed three beautiful ladies
promenading Whitehall street, and were
informed that two of them were sisters of
Mrs. President Abe Lincoln. The ladies
we saw, we are pleased to know are sec
ond to none in patriotic devotion to the
South. They reside in Selma, Ala. If
Old Abe’s wife is half as handsome as her
fair ; eiders of the Sunny South it is not
strange that she is so much admired by
the Yankeas. —A tlania Confederacy.
If, unluckily, you should happen to get
j into a dispute,- the best way is to stop
! short arid ask your antagonist to i enter
| into a consideration of what the point is.
■ This is apt to , have : a cooling effect on
! both parties, and to result in a clear under
j standing of the real question. A" few
| years since we happened to be riding in a
I stage, where, among half a dozen pas
i sengers, there was a Frenchman ahd an
j Englishman. There seemed to be a cat
i and-dog feeling bewteen them, for if one
: opened his lips the' other was sure toi fly at
| the observation with the teeth and daws
iof a dispute. As we -were driving along,,
j the Englishman spoke of a sheep lie had
I seen in somp foreign land with a tail so
j long as to drag upon the ground., There-
I upon the Frenchman shrugged up his.
| shoulders, curled his lip, lifted his eye
, brows, and took a pinch of snuff.
| “ What do you mean by that? ” ' said
j the Englishman, not a little nettled at the
1 contemptuous air of his rival.
| “-Vatdo I mean?” said the latter.—
I “ I mean dat a sheap has not von tail at
“ A sheep’ haint got a tail, ha ?” said
the Englishman.
“ No: not von bit!” said the French-
44 Well, this comes of eating frogs,”
said John Bull. 44 What can you expect
of a man that eats frogs ? You Say a
sheep hasn’t got a tail?” *■;
“Pardon, monseur,” said the other,
with a polite bow, yet with a very sneer
ing expression, 44 1 say a sheep has rio tail
—not von bit.”
By this time the parties were greatly
excited, and we cannot say what might
have happened had not ond of the passen
gers asked the Frenchman what he-meant
by sheep.
44 Vat do I mean by sheep ? Vy I mean
von large ting vit sails and vat
goes upon the sea.”
44 Oh, oh !” said the Englishman, 44 you
mean a ship.”
44 Yes monseur,” was the reply, 44 1
mean von sheep dat. has de captain, aind de
Sailors, vat goes upon the waters.”
44 Very well, sir,” said the Englishman:
“I mean a sheep—a creature with: four
legs, covered with wool.”
44 Ah, you mean one sheep vit ze vool,”
said the other. 44 Yes. yes, monseur, ze
sheep vit ze vool has ze tail.”
After this explanation the parties Shook
What is a Darling ? —lt is the dear,
little, beaming girl who meets one on the
doorsteps ,who flings her fair arms arbund
one’s neck and kisses one with her whole
soul of love; who seizes one’s hat, who
relieves one of one’s coat, and hands the
tea and toast so prettily ; who places her,
elfish form at the piano, and warbles forth,
unsolicited, such a delicious song; who
casts herself at one’s footstool, and clasps
one’s hands and asks eager, unheard-of
questions, with such bright eyes and flush
ing face; and on whose light, flossy curls
one places one’s hand and breathes “ God
bless her,” as the fair form departs. !'■
Share ox the Insurance. —Jacob
Baker, of New Orleans, was a generation
or two ago, a merchant in New York.—
The reputation for shrewdness which he
now bares is no late assumption, as those
who had dealings with him well remember.
The following story, it is believed,has
never, until recntly, been in print: ;
About the time referred to, which i was
before the time of insurance companies,
he applied to another Quaker named H—,
who Was accustomed to insure individual
policies, for insurance on a ship then home
ward bound on a distant voyage. There
were great doubts of the vessel’s safety,
and the premium asked was probably higl ;
and even with a large premium, H-t-
did not wish to make the risk. However,
he promised to consider the, matter, and,
if satisfactory, tp sign the policy the next
day. Early the next morning, Barker,
sent him & note in the following words:
“ Friend H—■ —, if thee has not signed
the policy thee need not, for 1 have heard
of the vessel.”
H——, thinking the vessel was of course
safe, hastily signed the policy and returned
it with the messenger, with expressibnjs of
regret that he could not undo the business.
Barker had indeed heard of the vessel,
and had heal’d that she was lost
A Young Editor.: —In Penfield N. Y.,
there is § precious little.- girl of 12 years,
who publishes a sprightly weekly paper,
much of which is her own composition
every line of which is set by her own fingers.
She was bom on the 21st day of Novem
ber, 1849. Her father an invalid and
almost blind, was formerly a printer. 1 In
this way she came into possession' of her
type and press, Since the death of ; her
mother she has supported her father; and
three younger sisters by her talent; and
industry. i '
or A nothero paper says an Irishman
enlisted in ibe 76th regiment so as jobs
heir bis brother who was in the 75th.
A Knotty Text.— There was once an
itinerant preacher in “ West Tennessee,”
who, possessing considerable natural elo
quence, had gradually become possessed of
the idea that he was also an extraordina
ry biblical scholar. Under this delusion,
he would frequently at the dose of bia ser
mons, ask any member of his congregation
who might have a “ knoty text” to un
ravel, to speak it, and he would explain it
at once, however much it might Ifinre*
troubled “less' distinguished divines.”
On one occasion, in a large! audience, he
was particularly pressing for some one to
propound a text, but no one presuming to
do so, he was about to sit down without
an opportunity of showing “his learning,”
when a chap “ back by the door” an
nounced he had a Bible matter of great
“ concern,” which he desired to be en
lightened upon. The preacher, quite ani
mated, professed his willingness and abili
ty, and the congregation was in great ex
citement. “ What I want to know," saidi
the outsider, “is whether Job’s turkey
was a hen or a gobbler?” The “ex
pounder” looked <rnifpsed, and the con
gregation tittered, sia the questioner capped
the climax by exclaiming, in a loud voice,
“ I fetched him down on the first ques
tion !” From that time forward the prac
tice of asking.for “ difficult passages” was
Whistling. —We believe in whistling
—we love to do it end to hear it. The
boy or man at the plow who whistles in
dicates that he is contented, and he will
plow more than your silent, grum one,
who has no music in his soul or on his
lips. The Albany Times is right when it
says: “The man who don’t believe in
whistling should go one step further, and
put a muzzle on the bobolink and mock
ing bird. Whistling is a great institution.
It oils the wheels of care, and supplies the
place of sunshine. A man that whistles
has a good heart under his shirt front.
Such a man not only works more willingly
than other men, but he works more con
stantly. A whistling cobbler will earn as
much money again ns a cord digester.
Mean and avaricious men never whistle.
The man who attacks whistling throws a
stone at the head of hilarity, and would
if he could, rob June of -its roses and Au
gust of its meadow larks. Such a man
should' be looked to.”
Save Bags, Paper Scraps, ect.—
People should save their rags, scraps of
paper, ect., as they are all of value now,
and can be sold to advantage. If persons
throughout the country were careful in this
respect, the price of printing paper would
in a measure be kept down. Boys can
make their holiday money by attention to
this matter. Old account books, by tak
ing off the covers, envelopes, &c., can be
sold. This is an important matter.
Gambling. —Let every man avoid all
sorts of gambling as he would poison. A
poor man or boy should not allow him,
self even to toss up for a half-penny, for
this is often the beginning of the habit of
gambling ; and this ruinous crime comes
on by slow degrees. Whilst a man is
minding his own work he is playing the
best, game, and he is sure to win. A
gambler never makes good use of his
money, even if he should win.
Rather Foxt. —-A Scotch paper speaks
of a fox having been seen trying to spring
a steel trap by means of a stick which he
carried in his mouth. We know a fox
that took the welt-pole from the well and
pushed the turkey off from the lower limb
of the tree with it, and put the pole back
in its place. At least hi got the turkey',
and the pole was found all right in .the
morning. I
©■A negro preacher was holding forth
one Sunday, and, in the course of bis re
marks, said; V
“Dere be two roads. De fust is a
broad straight road leading to death and
brimstone. The other is a straight and
narrow road, leading to lull, fire and dam
“If dem be de fact,” shouted Sambo, ■
rising from his seat,' “ dis yere nigger’s for 1
de woods.”
A Horticulturist advertised that he
would supply all kinds of trees and plants,
especially ‘pie-plants of all kinds.’ A
gentleman thereupon sent him an order
for “one package of custard-pie seed,
and a dozen mince-pie plants.” The gard
ener promptly filled the order by sending
him four goose eggs and a small dog.
O' “ Father,” said a hopeful urchin to
his paternal relative, “ why don’t oar
schoolmaster send the editor of the news
paper an aepount of the tannings he gives
the boys ?” :
“ I don’t know.” said the fond parent:..
“ but why do you ask such *, queattenl’’
“ Why. the paper says that Mr. Brcrpt
has tanned dine thousand hides at tna
establishment daring the past year, and I
knot? that old Fumey has tanned, our
hides more 1 n twice as many times the
editor onght to khow it” •
NO. 43.