tzi
wimAms
sps>.
t w<Tiy taiten
iitW«(ciCi the Htrdvar* Ju u ,
uuaina th*lr rtoc*.
jWttfcJtoU, Oaufcon OU,<*t«l»U>*r
tbaw artielM.aUt nail »d-
Idaathe
fe BUSINESS.
Bjapd *d BMortment frost vUeh f.nj'
RESeleetißstttoe to prts^t&oMkaqj.
► SHEET IRONWARE,
md WILDOW-WARE
mik^owde
■Eoprooiplly \ •
m And spouting
sbe in tbebest rtjle.
W GOODS. :
igned would respectfully in
prof Altoona and MtmnadUMicviiii
iWrnal from the £ast, wfepMi* baa
WINTER GOODS.
R bitty* and price, cannot be aurpaaaed In
ry. (lie atock ia much larger than
■ it ia quite air oltfbct, Id theee exciting
cry buo to purchoee where Ujtey can gat
tods and at the Lowest Prices,
U lie can and will sell m
any other house in this place. 'wlbos
this stock before porch
*nt he can offer inducements Which toll!
.'.•JBBs Wjock consists of
JSSS GOODS of every description,
BOM’ yi.NTKR WEAR, -
AND 1 iiISSKS’ DRESS SHOES,
I AND BOYS’ BOOTS AND SHOES,
HEN’S lUM HOSE
S AND iMISSKS’ WOOL HOSE. ;
0 AXO UXBLKACHKP M«?WN.
INCUIAJtS AHB HKATX BRIIiUNI}S.
Jftewed, Heeled Bootew
3RTS, iaj low
GBOCEHIES
lira Sugar, Rta Ooffeee, Strop*, leaa, ,*c.‘
bat U n*o»Tlj feept in a Dry flood* ptore,
.hr chwport. 3. A, BPRARICLK.
.iM3. r ■ .j mp
F I)YE COLORS,
ited October !3th, 186&
ScM*,
TMtiurs,
-d of Wearing Apparel.
SG OF 80 PEB CES& -**
cut color u manj good> aa wonld Mil
dm that in®. Tarjona ahadea mhe
> *uw dje. The proeeaala nude ‘ and ',
a dye with perfect aaceaea. Wecttou
1 aod German. intide ofeach package,
nation in Dj eleg, and gftfeiff apatnct .
dace are, bart adapted to dye oaaroth-
Inahle receipt*,) pnrchaae Howe hSta-
Mag and Coloring. Sait hy than ou
loeata. Ilanabctnred by .
BOWS * STKVENB,
280 Bmudwat, Bobo.l
ndMenieiienlly.
QYES,
SHEET-IRON WAKE.
ONER JVOUJUP BE-
,Y »o-
ratof
JUMP*.';
«6»- •
tiM on 1
Pt*J lof
Bocnu, «
i sf lII*
■ A large tqpply wjll aJwmj» to
<-ntdir WAJIE, in. great witty.
O & SPOUtING
;* room to bi*
Mipoabum! ao lanrtnnloTcop*
TOrtjiftnapUj «U*nO«l »>■ ■ : '
tf r yngyoiits. •
rand Sheet JtotTWaw.
—llfc'
j4 ?S?.*‘£ k «r jn» ww> sfr*-
* U - v
An*.
set
(Er.l
iT
I ■
HsCBUMADERN,
VOL. 9.
THLB ALTOONA TRIBUNE.
*, «. MeCRVM- H. C. DKRK.
,BUD**. *>!>
inT»ri»*»ly in •d™no. ) ) $1 60
111 ** ***• expiration of the time
paid tor
fiias or A#wwuuifl
1 ioMrtiofti 2d0.; 8 do.
year lineeer lew —•••■ • “ ' * *, *9
.« iIS . 1$
IT" .. m - i so a oo a so
or«r three week, and lem than tb*« amntba,24 cent*
mumm (Af ficb iDS^ftiOD.
B* r 3 month.. 6 month.. lyear.
*•» l« $ 1» .$8 00 $6OO
•“ *" ... a 60 4 oo T oo
One aqaare 4 00 , i « 00 10 00
„ ho s oo ia oo
p*** 8 00 10 00 14 00
... io'oo 14 oo ao oo
® llf .... 14 00 I 38 00 40 00
Out coluDD-. .. i ■<
Administrator* *nd Kiecotors Notice* I 7o
Merchant adrertWng by the year, three aqnarea,
prof'mWnMor ßMinewCani noteiceedingittiit #
CommmSttoM ” a poUtjcal
late reel, will be charged »^ ln * ..
Il0 «”S e wUl”t continual till forbid and charged
cenU*per line for «»ery iwrtlo^
Obltnnr* notice* «xc«dlng ten l|n«*flftyc«nU * square
THEBE OOM*S A TIME.
There comes • time when we grow old.
Ami Jike a sunset down the se»,
Slopes gradual and the night wind cold
Comes whispering sad,and chillingly ;
And locks are gra-.
At Winter’s day.
And eyes of saddest blue behold
The leaves all dreary drift away.
And lips of fadedeoral say
TbefeGMMhA.li<De when we grow old.
There come* a time when joyous heart*
Which leaped the laughing main,
And dead to all save memory,
A* prisoner in his dungeon chain ;
And dawn of day
Hath passed away.
The moon hath into darkness rolled,
And by the emblems wan and gay.
1 hear a voice in whisper eay.
There conies a time when we grow old.
There come* a time when manhood's'prime
U shrouded in the mist of yajrs.
And beauty fading like a dream,
Hath passed away in silent fears;
And then how- dark I
But oh ! the spark
That kindled youth to hues of gold.
Still burn* with clear and steady ray,
And fond affections lingering say
Tbare come* a time when we grow old.
Then comess time when laughing Spring
And cold in Sommer cease to be;
And we put on the Autumn robe
To tifad the last declivity^
But now the (dope.
With rosy hope.
Beyond the sunset
Another dawn, with fairer light,
While watchers whisper thrp’ the night,
There comes a time when we grow old.
TRIBUTE TO WOMAN
shall woman’s worth be held disgraced,
If beauty fail the lip or chedk
Shall stainless merit stoop abased
To those that will not sleeper seek ?
£acb look of thine is worth therms
Bound many royal diadems.
Of simple manners, nobly sad,
Lore-winning eyes for sick or poor,
ifitent to succor, making glad
The poor man by his cottage door,
I see thee more, I see thee go,
A light amid the gloom below.
stltd Ipswllauj).
LOVE IN A STAGE-COACH
BY A BACHELOR
How it poured ! Rattle, rattle,
against the casement; splash, splash
on the ground underneath, all night;
and now, when I awoke here, it was
raining away harder than ever, as if
a second deluge .were ; at hand.—
Confound the breakfast bell! I do
wish {here was no suck thing as a
breakfast on a rainy morning; for
then one might lie abed all day, or
until the storm cleared -off. Phil-’
osophers tell us that rain is neces
sary for the economy of nature; if
may be true, though .[never tabbied
myself much aljout such things, but
if so, men ought to be made like
dormice—to sleep in unconscious
ness until the rain sees fit to cease.
Nature never intended us to be out
in a shower, or we would have been
bom with patent oil-cloth or India
rubber skins.
Down it poured ! What on earth
was I to do ? The day I before had
been die brightest one of the bright
month of May ; and as jl had a pas-
for walking in this country—
more fool for it !. —I had ' trudged
sw#y*off here, eight mjiles or more
, ftmntown, toseea country wedding,
the order used among
aneada.’ I must say tj|iat the thing
.handsomely done, and that I
was much' edified.. So much so, that
one of these days I shall tell how
the parties deported themselves—
how many new hats'there were in
the wedding company, who drove
the finest horses, and all other mat
ters of, gossip, so interesting to
young misses and old bachelors like
myself. The .day passed off, .with a
bright blpe sky, until towards dusk,
when a thunder shower came up
that lasted till bed-time ; hut 1 re
tired fully resolved that the morn
ing would see a clear sky over my
head ; but the morning had come,
and here it was, pouting down in
one dark, splashy, continuous stream
for all the world like an old maid s
objugations when her longue gets
waggin. ;
Down I hurried to the breakfast
table. I had just buttered my bread,
and was swallowing the flr.-t mouth
ful of coffee, wdieu the horn of the
coach to town was heard, and look
ing out of the window, I saw the
vehicle, with its four smoking
horses, dashing down the turnpike.
It was my only chance to reach the
ci: ,■ that day. I bolted my bread,
gulped down the coffee till my
tnroat scalded, jammed my hat on I
my head, and made, a dive through J
the door. ; The driver did not see j
me, but cracked his whip with a ;
flourish and went on. I shouted ; 1
still .the old villain did not. notice!
me, but with another flourish of Ins |
whip, set ' his four-in-hand on a :
brisker trot, and rattled down the ;
hill. I
Desperate with the fear of bein';
left, I pitched after, him, seatteriug
the mud amuud at every step, and
shouting; at the top of my lungs;
hut I might have shouted on till
doomsday, had not a passenger seen
me','and stopped the old sinner.—
Out-of breath, wet to the skin,
covered with mud from bead to foot,
and not in thy best humor from the
loss of my breakfast, I mounted into
the coach ; but the instant 1 placed
my foot inside the vehicle, all my
sulkiness vanished, for one of the
loveliest augels tluft ever blessed a
rickety old coach, or warmed the
soul of a sour, breakfastless bache
lor with her presence, sat upon the
back seat.
Did you ever fall in love ? Of
course. And the lady was the love
liest of her sex ? To be sure. Then
the stage-cpach beauty was twice as
handsome as your sweetheart ; and
if, after this, you don’t think ray
fellow passenger a cherub, then I
give up all hope of making you ap
preciate her. Her eyes, such teeth,
and then lips—egad I it almost
makes me crazy to think of them.—
I put myself down for the luckiest
dog in the world. She was dressed
in a plain straw cottage bonnet,
with a green veil—“just such a cos
tume,” said I, “as a real lady wears
•when traveling”—and then she gave'
me such a sweet,- bufhalf roguish
smile, as I tumbled into the coach
in the plight I have described, that
I knew her at once to be a paragon
in the way of education, taste, for
tune, and all that ; and I resolved
—what knowing one would not V—
to make the agreeable oft-hand, for
there is nothing like meeting an
heiress in a stage-coach, where she
thmks abe is unknown, and dreams
that every attention paid to her
springs from true love—ahem !—on
your: part.
I wrb in.; clover. What cared I
for rain ? Splash, splash,
aye! rain away there, like blazes—
who cares ? One doesn’t get a
tete-a-telc with a pretty girl every day
of the week—so I determined to
make the most of it. j*S*Lnd faith,
with a few sly compliments, and my
extraordinary good looks, I soon
got as cozy with my unknown
beauty, and she with me, as if we
had been acquainted since the days
of Noah. We .talked of the wed
ding, for she too had been there—
of toe scenery—of the rain—and
■of whatever came uppermost; and
there was such :a charming frank
ness in all she -said, that I really
thought her the most winning little
creature I had ever seen ; and I
verily believe if the floor had been
softer, and ! had known the accurate
number of houses of which I would
be tenant, in courtesy, I should have
gone down' on my knees -to her at
once, I hate stowing one’s learn
ing.off in public, so I avoided any
thing like literature, though I saw
ALTOONA, PA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1864.
by the intelligent eyes ofthe charmer,
that she had a soul alive to, all the
finer sensibilitv of nature.
At length we got on-the subject
of house-keeping. Row, if there is
anything I hate," it is a woman that
can’t keep house, and I trembled at
every word, lest my charmer should
confess her ignorance of these mat
ters.- Shade of .Apicius 1 how my
heart leaped when she told me that
hardly a day passed in which she
did not make bread, or pies, or
sponge-cake, or some other of those
slumshaws that delight the heart of
man,; and in expatiating on such
delicacies she rose to a pitch of elo
quence that I never heard surpassed.
I could not resist my feelings, hut
snatched her hand to my lips ami
kissed it. ‘ «
Yes ! I felt that she was destined
to Vie mine, for if there is anything
that a wife ought to know it is this.
Iconic of a race of • caterers. Mv
grandfather lunched on half a dozen
rabbits, and died at last of a surfeit
produced by eating two roast pigs.
My father can break his fast on a
•brace of capons, or devour a pair of
turkeys without having to pick his
teeth ; and a brother of mine can
tuck- in a hundred oysters and
dishes of chicken-salad, which does
honor to the family. M y own ex
ploits in this line-my modesty for
bids me to mention.
No wonder 1 loved this rosy little
beauty, wlio could get up Midi a
dioiee fry, and bake such delicious
cakes. Ah ! • wbat a life of doiuestie
happiness ror-c before my vision,
when I pictured myselt' returning
home from court at night, to meet
a beef-steak ready broiled or a bowl
of the richest turtle soup served up
by the fair hand of the angel at my
side. 1 resolved, if there was any
virtue in a’ pair of whiskers, in an
eloquent tongue, or in my new blue
coat, to win this >oraph of pie
bilkers.
There is m> [>laee like a stage
coach for making love. Jt comes
natural I Vmrdo it. egad, in an
easy, don't care for anything style,
that you can't fm’ the life of yon as
sume in any other place. What be
twixt sitting on the same seat to
talk more conveniently, and putting
your arm around her waist to keep
her from Jolting,off. yon soon get to
be woiiderfnl cozy, and ten to one,
if yon don't eateb yourself squeezing
her hand, or varying tije entertain
ment in some other way. before yon
are aware of it.
Fyr-my part, as I hare said, I was
ready to surrender at discretion, and
I already fancied myself lightening
the dear creature beside me of the
troublesome duty ofi collecting the
rents of her various fine houses. It
was charmjng to think of the pro
gress I had made in her affections.
What a delicately rosy cheek it was
that!just then slily, kissed—she
blushing the deeper at my warmth.
And then her saucy, pouting lips :
and then her figure, Just file size for
a Ilian who hated your thin weasel
shaped young misses as he "hated
epidemics. Ah, what a wife she
would make ! How I thanked my
stars that I had hitherto set my
face like a flint against every tempta
tion to marry—for now my firmness
was rewarded by this beauty and
heiress dropping into my mouth.—
And then I preached to myself a
mental ■ homily on the short-sight
edness of man, as I ventured to steal
another kiss from the conscious and
blushing little angel at my side. I
was about to pop the question itself;
when the coach stopped, and .the
driver descended and opened the
door. My charmer rose. *1 was
taken all aback.
‘T)o you get out here said lin
surprise. -
-‘Yes I” said she, “1 see Mr Pow
ell is waiting for me."
“Mr. Powell,” said I, for that was
the name of a friend of mine, who
lived up this very lane, not half a
mile from the turnpike ; “do you
then live with him '! Perhaps you’re
a relative ‘r Strange I muttered to
myself, “I never heard him speak of
this charming creature.”
Before I could answer, Powell
approached, and while he halted
me, my fellow passenger sprang to
the ground as if by magic, and the
next minute was in iny friend’s
vehicle.
‘‘For heaven’s sake,” said I, halt'
mad that the hearty grip ot Powell
{independent in evebytiung.]
prevented me from hastening to his
ward’s '.assistance, “who, is that
angel ? Is she a relative, a ward, or
what ? I'm dying for love of her I
Powell burst into a laugh, and
laughed on till tears came in his
eyes. Confound the fellow, what
did he mean '{ I began to look angrv.
“Come, my dear boy,” said he,
“don’t get into a passion, but con
sider how odd it is that you, of all
men, should fall iu love with my
cook.”
I never make acquaintance in a
stage-coach now. until 1 have ex
changed cards.
Gathering and Keeping Apples. -
—ln order to secure .soundness and
preservation, it is indispensably ne
cessary that the fruit should be gath
ered by baud For winter fruit the
gathering is delayed as long as pos
sible, avoiding severe frosts, and
the most successful practice with
our extensive orehardists is to place
the good fruit directly, in a careful
manner, in new, tight Hour barrels,
as soon as gathered from the tree.—
These barrels should be geutlv sha
ken while tilling, and the head close
ly pressed in ; they are then placed
in a cool, shady exposure under a
shed open to the air, or on the north
side of a building, protected by a
covering ot boards over the top,
where they remain for a fortnight,
or until the cold becomes too severe,
when they are carefully transfered
to a cool, dry cellar, in which air
ean he admitted occasionally in brisk
weather.-
A eellarfor this purpose, should
lie dug in dry gravell y or sand v soil,
with, it possible a slope to the north,
or. at tiny rate, with opening on the
north side lor the admission of air
very rarely in weather not exces
sively cold. Here the barrels should
by .placed oh tiers on their sides,
am! .the cellar should he, kept as
dark as possible, in such a cellar,
one of the largest apple-growers in
Duchess county is able to keep the
Greening apple, which, in the fruit
room, usually decays in January
until the lirst of April, in the fresh
est and finest condition. Some per
sons place a layer of clean rye straw
between every layer of apples, when
paekiug’them in barrels.— iJoicnl/u/.
ego Augustus Preston,, engineer of
a freight train o.n the Galena branch
of the Northwestern Kailroad, noblv
saved a child’s lile at the risk of his
own. The train which Mr. Preston
was driving"had just passed Belvi
dere when he observed an infant
close to the track, creeping in the
grass towards it. He immediately
reversed the engine, whistled “down
brakes,” running along the
engine, jumped oft’, rushed up to the
infant, then on the track but a few
feet from the fast approaching train,
and snatched it from certain death.
The mother of the child had waited
breathlessly the peril of her babe,
unable to help’it. On seeing it res
cued, her feelings overcame her,
and she fainted at the feet of the
noble rescuer of her offspring.
General Sherman is descri
bed by a chaplain- as -> a man who
has a gaunt look about him—as if
he got hungry when a boy and never
got over it. A nervous man, never
quiet, pulling his whiskers, or but
toning his coat, or twisting a string",
or rubbing a linger—-never quiet,
but with a kind of look in his face
that reminds one of a panther, if he
gets angry, fiery, keen, powerful—
and,a genius.”
K3U A country girl coming in
from the field was. told by her
cousin that she looked as fresh as a
daisy kissed with dew. “Well, it
wasn’t any fellow of that name.—
Bill .lones kissed me, and confound
his pictures, I told him that every
body would find it out.”
The sun is best at it’s rising
and setting. So man’s native dis
position is the most clearly perceived
when they are children and when
they comb to die.
Weep not for me, my hus
band deaf, I am not dead but sloep
eth here; The time will come when
you must die, Therefore prepare to
follow I.”
A Noble Action.—A few davs
NOBLE LETTER PROM QEN’L
SHERMAN
The following letter, dated Head
quarters Military Division of the
Mississippi, in the Field, Atlanta,
Ga., Sept, 12, was written by Gen.
Sherman in reply to a letter from
the Mayor and City Council of At
lanta:
Gentlemen: I have yotif letter of
the 11th in the nature of a petition
to revoke my orders ; removing all
the inhabitants from Atlanta. I
have read it carefully,* and give full l
credit to your statements of the dis
tress that will be occasioned by it,
and yet shall not revoke my order
—simply because my orders are not
designed to meet the humanities of
the case, but to prepare for the fu
ture struggles in which millions, yes,
hundreds of millions of good people
outside of Atlanta have a deep inter
est. We must have peace, not only
at Atlanta, but in all America. To
secure this we must stop the war
that now desolates our once happy
and favored country. To. stop war
we must defeat *the rebel armies
that are arraypd against the law's
ami Constitution w'hich all must re
spect and obey. To defeat these
armies we must prepare the Way to
reach them in their recesses provi
ded with the arms. and instruments
which cuahle us to accomplish our
purpose.
Now, I know the vindictive, na
ture of our enemy, and that we may
have many years of military opera
tions from this quarter, and there
fore deem it wise and prudent to
prepare in time. The use of Atlanta
for warlike purposes is inconsistent
with its character as a home for
families. There will be no inaiiu
laetures, aimmgjje or* agriculture
here for the maintenance or families,
and sooner or later want will coin
pel the inhabitants to go. Why not
go now, when all the arrangements
are completed for Abe transfer, ■ in
stead of waiting till the .plunging
shot of contending armies will renew
tin - seems of'the past months Of
course I do not apprehend any such
thing at this moment, hut.do you
suppose this-army will be here till
the war is over ? I cannot discuss
tbits subject with you fairly, because
I cannot import to you what I
propose to do, but I assert my mil
itary plans make it necessary for the
inhabitants to go away, and I can
only renew my otter of services to
make their exodus as easy and com
fortable as possible. You cannot
qualify war in harsher‘terms than
I wilh , .
War is cruelty, and you cannot
refine it; and those who brought
war on our country deserve all the
curses and maledictions a people can
pour out. I know I had no hand
in making this war, and I know I
will make more sacrifices to. day
than any of you to secure peace.
But you cannot fiave peace and a
division of our country. If the Unk
ted States submits to a division now,
it will not stop, hut will go on till
we reap the fate of Mexico, which
is eternal war. The United States
does and must assert its authority
whenever it has power; if it relaxes
one bit to pressure it is gone, and I
know that such is not the national
feeling. This feeling assumes vari
ous shapes, but always back to that
Union. Once admit the Union,
once more acknowledge the author
ity of the National Government, and
instead l of deyotiiig your houses
and streets and’roads to the dread
uses of war, I, and this army, be
come at once your protectors and
supporters, shielding you from dan
ger, let it come from what quarter
it may. I know thtat a few indivk
duals cannot resist a torrent of error
and passion such as has swept the
South into rebellion: but you can
point out-so that we may know those
who desire a government and those
who insist on war and its desolation.
You might as well appeal against,
the thunder-storm as against these
terrible hardships of war. They
are inevitable, and the only way
the people of Atlanta can hope once
more to live in peace quiet at
home is to stop this war, which can
alone be done by admitting that it
began in error and is perpetuated
in pride. W,e don’t want your ne
groes or your houses or your land,
or anything vou have; but we do
want and will have a just obedience
EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS.
to, the of the United States.
That/we will have, and if it involve
the destruction of tout improve
.menta We cannot help it. You
have heretofore read public senti
ment in your newspapers, that live
by falsehood and excitement, and
the quicker you look for truth in
other quarters the better for you. -
I repeat, then, that, by the origi
nal compact of Government, the
United States had certain rights in
Georgia which have never been
relinquished, and never will be;
that the South began the war by
seizing forts, arsenals, mints, cus
tom houses, &c., long before' Mr.
Lincoln was installed, and before
the South had one Jot or tittle of
provocation. I, myself, have seen
in Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee
and Mississippi, hundreds and thous
ands of women and children fleeing
from your armies and desperadoes,
hungry, and with bleeding feet In
Memphis, Vicksburg, and Missis
sippi, we fed, thousands upon thous
ands of the families, of rebel sol
vliers left on our hands and whom
we could not see starve. Now,
that war comes home to you, you
feel very different—you deprecate
its horrors, but did not feel them
when you sent car loads of soldiers
and ammunition, and moulded shells
and shot, into Kentucky and Teu
nesee, and desolated the homes of
hundreds and thousands of good
people who only asked to live in
peace at their old homes, and under
the government of their inheritance.
Hut these comparisons are idle. I
want peace, and believe it can only
be reached through Unipn and war,
and I will ever conduct war with a
view to perfect an early success.
But my dear sirs, when that peace
does come, you may call on me for
anything. Then will I share'with
you the last cracker, and watch
with you to shield your homes and
families against danger from every
quarter. Now you must go and
take with you the old and feeble,
feed, and nurse them, and build
for them in more quiet places prop
er habitations to shield them against
the weather, until the mad passions
of men cool down, and allow theUn
iou and peace once more to settle
on your old homes at Atlanta.
Yours, in haste,
W. T, Sherman, Major Gen.
“Bridget,” said a lady to
her servant, Bridget Conly, “who
was that man you were talking with
so long at the gate last night ?”
“Sure no one but me eldest brother,
ma’am” Bridget, with a
flushed cheek. “Your brother! I
didn’t know you had a brother.—
What is his name?” “Barney Oc
toolan, ma’am.” “Indeed! how
comes it that his name is not the
same as yours ?” “Troth, ma’am,
he has f been married once.”
We have lately seen it com
puted that if the women would cut
their dresses to escape the ground
one inch, instead of trailing two
inches, as is now the fashion, a
saving of $1,000,000 would be annu
ally effected.
“I shall be,” and “I might
have been!”—The former is the
music of youth, sweet as the sounds
of silver bells; the latter, the paint
of age,'the dirge of hope, the in
scription for a tomb.
Enjoyment soon worries both
itself and us; effort never. That
man is happy who devotes him naff
to the cultivation of an island, to
the discovery of one that is lost, ojr
the extent of the oceam
A physician has discovered
that night-mare, in nine cases out of
ten, is produced by owing a bill for
a newspaper, and that the best core
is to pay up.
Dead Men Tell no Tales.—Doc
tor . Bolus, who wap a yery angry
when any joke was passed oh his
profession, once said: I defy any
person whom I ever to ac
cuse me of ignorancp orneglect."
“That you may do safely, Doctor.”
replied a wag, “dead men JgHi ho
tales!" .•
tar. Why should tbe.ii§hest
apple on a tree be a gOod «j*l
Because it’s
♦ -
NO. 28.
7 . l '\ :