Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, November 07, 1862, Image 1

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~ @he Democra
an. “
‘ : -
VOL. 7.
NO. 43.
Slut Posgtry,
tains to the other, and the advantages aris-
ing from a proper observance of the mutual
claims which all persons have upon each
[From the Columbus (0.) Crisis. ]
Tramp! rush! crash and rattle!
Booming thunder! battle! battle!
North and South and West and East
Carve at Death’s infernal feast !
Powder! powder everywhere !
Clouds of powder in the air!
Dead and dyirg strew the earth,
Men of every land and birth—
Father, brother son and friend,
In the ghastly conflict blend.
Age St beauty, youth and mind,
Crushed by war and left behind ;
Tramp! rush! crash and rattle!
Boom like thunder! battle ! battle!
Battle onward o’er the plain,
Battle backward might and main ;
Plumes all nodding in the smoke—
Cannon carriage crushed and broke—
Furious steeds and furious men
Crush and wheel and crush again.
Hoarse- voiced captains onward” ery,
Dust-dyed soldiers do and die.
Rider falling with his steed,
Horse and man together bleed !
Here another war-horse, free,
Seeks, confounded, hoy to flee—
Plunging thro’ the surging wrath,
Finds from war no open path.
Soldier, dying, prays to God,
Wild steed tramps him in the sod,
Nothing left but mashed remains,
Last prayer scattered with his brains.
Beardless youth, with broken gun,
From the ranks attempts to run; soldier. riding on,
Crushes down his only son—
Father! father! shouts the child,
But the father, battle wild,
Hears no sound but rattle! rattle!
Boom and thunder! battle ! battle !
Crushing, shocking, surging on,
Vicrory is his-only son .—
Viet'ry! Viet’ry ! hear him cry,
Bee it glitter in his eye—
See his gray hair, by the flash
That kills his fellow with a crash—
See it streaming as he flies
On to victory—or dies.
Thundering cannon kills his horse ;
He gets trampled in the course,
Of the legion late he led —
Struggles! struggles! dying! dead!
Dead and trampled in the plain,
Son and soldier battle slain.
Thus the battle, men and mettle,
Strews the plain with quiv’ring death,
Till the death-birds ‘‘ caw’’ and scttle
In its foetid, putrid breath.
Thus, when frecmen grapple freemen,
In the glow of hating hearts.
Death stalks quickly, like a demon,
Hurling #// his fatal darts.
Down beside the bloody river,
All along the mountain streams,
Here they sleep and sleep forever,
Far {from home and all its dreams—
Or they writhe in wounded sorrow,
Hoping, waiting for to-morrow,
On the night's plutonian shore—
In the fens and bogs and brushes,
In the dry, hot, summer field,
By the trees, the roads and rushes,
Where the wound has made them yield—
In the hollows—on the side-hills—
In the churches, sheds and stobles—
In the dwellings, barns and grist-mills,
Stretched on floors and boards and tables,
Where the surgeon plies his steel ;
Where the brothers, once fraternal,
Writhe beneath the battle’s heel;
Or stiffen into infernal
Bond of hate forevermore,
Signed and sealed by death eternal—
Stamped in red—and all is o’er.
While all the devils, in their revels,
Laugh till Hell is all a glee—
Laugh and shout—the joyous devils—
¢ Hail Columbia! The free!”
God Almighty! Oh! how rng
Shall this abortive work roceed ?
God of life and love! how long
Shall maddened freemen freemen bleed ?
Is there no sense, no hope, no healing,
No great thought the hate to quell ?
But, drunk with blood, must we go reeling,
Down to rain, death and hell ?
Cannot freemen see that freemen
Can't be quelled to rise no more?
Read your Ls: men and women,
Read how * crushing’ failed of yore.
Parched with thirst and stiff with gore;
other, she would unquestionably have ren-
dered justice to all, and secured her own
cltimate good, but she was too reckless to
be under any very. frigid moral restraints,
that is, to make reason and conscience the
arbiters of her conduct. Of necessity, in-
tention to another, one engagement to
a succeeding one.
Still Mary Awwill had s> many redeem-
ing qualities that her want of stability was
over-looked. She was lively and witty in
conversation, polite and affable in her de-
portment, kind in her feelings, at least for
the moment, and always ready to meet her
friends and acquaintances with a smile. In
her personal appearance, too, she was a
charm—fascinating even the most phleg-
matic. Not to know her was to love her,
for at first sight, rather than after a more
intimate acquaintance, the eye was greatly
pleased. The stranger, even was taken
with her beauty—such an image was she to
fancy—such an idol to admire.
Accordingly, Mary never felt the want
of admirers, she always had them at com-
mand. Still, on noone of them could she
fix her eye, and retain it there. All pleas-
ed her more or less—none absolutely. To
make a selection, therefore, was quite im-
possible for her; or if for time she made
one, she could not adhere to it, even in her
own mind. If this one urged his suit, she
required delay; if that one, she did not like
to commit herself to accept for a time.—
Many a one hoped, all were disappointed ;
and yet Mary was not a coquette ; she did
not encourage her suitors wantonly ; she had
no desire to disappoint them ; her objec-
tions seemed to her to be real, and for the
time insurmountable ; she longed to marry,
if she married at all, to please herself ; if
her admirers did not suit her on inspection,
she sat them aside. Perfection was her mo-
del, fancy her guide !
For a few years she thus continued to en-
courage and to disappoint the expections of
her suitors.
At length, having become more mature in
judgement, she concluded to listen with a
willing ear to the solicitations of a young
gentleman living in an adjoining village.—
This young man was highly esteemed by
all that knew Lim. As to property, too, he
was in comfortable circumstances, and could
easily maintain a family and live in genteel
style. No reasonable objection could be
made against him as a proper candidate for
matrimony. Many a young lady, indeed
would have thought herself highly honored
to have received his attentions.
In point of education, too, he was superi-
or to many of his associates, having prose-
cuted his studies, in his youthful days, be-
yond bis compeers. Already had he taken
a commanding position in the community in
which he lived, and he bid fair to become a
man of superior influence. In person he
was likewise dignified and prepossessing.
With William Randall a young man pos-
sessed of so much to commend him to her
favor, Mary, a short acquaintance, was _ de-
cidedly pleased. True, indeed, she had one
objection to him —he was a mechanic; but
this circumstance she resolved to overlook.
No one had ever pleased her so much and to
every one there had always been something
objectionable. 7
Mary Atwill was a young lady of an am-
inble disposition, but of little stability of
miad. In many respects she was worthy of
imitation and praise—not in all. She was
80 apt to recede from her engagements, and,
therefore, too little reliable as a companion
or friend. Now she was of this mind—now
of that—to-day one thing, to-morrow another.
At one time she would accede to this or
that proposal. at another she would fly from
the eonsequences,
only for a transient period.
however of sundering the engagement.
they thought proper.
“But why,” she said, “should one ad-
here to what he despises ? why, if he has
A lady, at
“Jeast, should have tho privilege of being free
to act in these matters as inclination may
A-gentlemar, too, should never
So Mary
reasoned, whether rationally or not, her fu-
made a rash promise, break it.
marry if averse to the union.”
ture shall decide,
But such were the principles of Mary’s
conduct in matrimonial anticipations, and
these principles originated from her fickle-
Had she duly reflected on
her relation to others, the sensibilities of
her admirers, the obligations which each
individual of tha same olass in society sus-
ness of mind.
Such was the character of Mary Atwill,
and yob she had many admirers. Some-
times they admired, indeed only to execrate
afterwards—but whilst she captured with
her charus she neglected her Vvictims—she
conquered to kill not to save the captive.
Broken hearts were never a source of un-
happiness to her, for she considered the
loss of others rather their own loss than
They admired on their own respon-
sibility, and were of course answerable for
‘She did indeed encour-
age the attention of her suitors, still it was
not with a fixed design, or, if'so. with one
She was wil-
ling to be engaged, with the tacit privilege
didn’t think that matrimonial promises
were binding, though she was willing that
others should regard them in this light if
Mere accident, it is true, had caused him
to become acquainted with Mary. Still
these two persons seemed to have been de-
signed for each other, 80 easily and so nat-
urally did they take a fancy the one to the
other. .
Some few months pass away, each con-
gratulating the other on their happy antici-
pations, and each becoming more and still
more interested in the other's future wel-
The world around, it is true, always in-
credulous, and frequently 2 little too much
80, had no great confidence in these wo00ings
for they had known Mary Atwill before, at
least so they said. Of course they did not
expect anything else than a rupture between
these two devoted ones. Mary had not
constancy of purpose enough to adhere to
any engagement. She looks, too, they ad-
ded, a little higher than a mechanic.
But William Randall had no fears; he
was sure of the result. Mary had, it was
true, disappointed others, him she would
not, she could not.
Thus hope spreads her brightest bow be-
fore him, and he believed her promises.—
Among the spectial on this point, Mary had
a particulargriend who, to confirm her into
resolution to adhere to William, thus ad-
dressed her.
Mary do you think that you really love
William Randali ?”
¢ Most certainly I do,” Mary replied.
« Your friends imagine otherwise”
“They do! well, they are greatly mista-
ken.” :
« But he is a mechanic, Mary.”
«J know that, but he has many redeem
ing qualities to make up for that evil.”
“ Do you think it an evil ?”
“ Why, I think it is a misfortune at
Now, Mery, what is mechanism ? Is it
not the result of genius?”
+ Certainly it is, and so I regard it.”
“ Well why should any one object to a
« Why, the world, you know, apt to look
down upon mechanics, and to say of this or
that one, * he is a mechanic.” ”’
“But some of our greatest men were me-
chanics, Mary.”
“That is true; but I do imagine that it
would be my good fortune to marry a great
«’ {you not think that William Ran-
dall may one day become agreat man ?”
“ No, indeed !”
“ And why not, Mary?”
«Oh! I couldn’t expect any such good
luck as that.”
« Others have had such good luck, Mary,
and why should not you have?”
«Others have had the good luck, too, to
draw a prize in a lottery, but I never had.”
“You have never tried the matrimonial
“No; but we judge of the future from
the past, and as I never had any good luck
in any one thing, sol expect none in any
other.” :
“Mary, lot me tell you that William
Randall will one day be a great man!”
«“ Ah my dear friend you flatter me too
much! Ie may be, but it will be only as
by a miracle.”
“ Why do you say so?”
« Because a mechanic has no one to ele-
vate him in the world. An eagle needs
wings to soar, and a man needs friends to
“Thatis true but there is another way of
“ What is it 2”?
“By one’s own genius:
one any where !”’
“ And do you think William Randall so
“Indeed I do and his future life will
show it.”
The friends parted, but Mary was still
sorry that William was a mechanic. She
would much have preferred thathe werea
merchant or a lawyer or even a gentleman
at large. Still, as she was then engaged,
and, as all the world said she wouldn’t ad-
hereto her engagement, she only resolved
the more determinedly to do so.
Time passed away and the wedding day
approached. William Randall was delight-
ed that the world was this time to be disap-
pointed in Mary, and that she was hereaf-
ter to be regarded as possessed of u less
fickle mind. She was now to re-stablish
her character for stability. He too, was to
enter upon a new scene of enjoyment.
Matrimony had beenin his eye for years.
All his plans had been rendered subservient
to this one great end. He had accumulated
property—he had toiled diligently—he had
been economical in his mode of living—he
had concentrated all his thoughts and wish-
es on this one most desirable and most de-
lightful result. The day had come in which
he was to realize his utmost expectations.—
The knot was not indeed yet tied, but whai
could intervene now at this late hour to pre-
vent this last act in the scenery? Mary
was still of the same mind—her wedding
dress was made—the cards of invitation
were sent out—the preacher had been noti-
fied, and things were ready. Only the ap-
pointed hour had not yet come—it was just
at hand.
William now called for his Mary to enter
the consecrated room. Alas! as he stepped
in, to the adjoining room he overheard the
word :
«Oh! I cannot marry a mechanic, indeed
I cannot.”
William cred out, * Marv.” Not anoth-
ea word was heard—silence reigned supreme
He repeated. *“ Mary!” all was silent, still.
He took his hat and retired.
The next day he received a note from
Mary, that she desired a few more days for
consideration. William consented to it, yet
not without the utmost chazrin and disap-
pointment. Nor did he escape the taunts
and jeers of many a one who had befor»
prophesied this result, nor worst of all, the
pity of the kind-hearted and sympathetic.
The few days passed away, and with it
Williams entire anticipations of nuptial
bliss. He was like a dismasted vessel cast
ashore and left to the mercy of the winds
and the waves!
But Mary Atwill was not forgotten. He
did, so far as he was able, eject her from
his mind and his memory; but the world
kept an eye upon her. They thought she
would at length be rewarded, in what they
did not dare to conjecture ; still such abuse
of confidence, such trifling with one’s affec-
tions—such blighting of his dearest hopes
and anticipations, they did not believe
would escape punishment.
talent will carry
After a time William Randall recovered
to some extent from the shock, he entered
again into the scenes of the world and be-
came still more successful in his business,
and in a short time quite a wealthy man.—
His early education, in connection with oth-
er favoral circumstances, rendered him
the associate of the most elevated in society.
—He was at home anywhere. As a politi-
cian he became extremely popular and was
soon sent to the State Legislature as a rep-
resentative. This served only as an intro-
duction to still higher offices. By regular
graduations in political life, he was, after
a few years, raised to the dignity of United
States Senate. The mechanic was now a
great man, and perhaps, if the circumstan-
ces would have admitted of it, Mary Atwill
would have been extremely happy tohave
received the offer ofhis hand. But no, the
scene was now entirely changed ; she her-
self was no longer Mary Atwill. To her
history, therefore, we must again revert.
Two or three years after her rejection of
William Randall she was again solicited to
enter into the Eden of matrimonial life.—
Her suitor was a young gentleman from the
city of New York ; he of course was no me-
chanic, his father was a millionaire—the son
of a young gentleman at large. Ie drove
a fast horse—he spent money as if directly
from the mines! In his personal appear-
ance was more than ordinary fascinatings
at least, he was so in the eye of Mary Ran-
dall. Now, to be courted by such a distin-
guished youug gentleman was a great hon-
or: whut prospects must await one who
should be his bride—how happy—how high-
ly favored of fortune should s ian
To a young lady in the country, so great
a change was of course enough to concern a
fickle mind. Mary now began to think, too,
that her time had come to settle the matter ;
that dubiousness would incur an immense
risk ; to live a maiden lady was never her
ambition, whatever else might have been.
She therefore conclnded this time to be true
to her engagement. Samael Hoppin, too,
intended to be to his. The village was again
also agog at the new scene now enacting.—
Another grand event was about to transpire,
and there was to be a face about it. Some,
too, thought that Mary had been amazing
wise in rejecting all her former suitors and
taking up with this one, so grand, so rich
so handsome. Others were of a different
opinion. “Allis not gold that glitters,”
they said.
« There is some coin that is bogus!”
Things however moved, forward—the wed-
ding day was hastened—tne young gentle:
man was urgent to get back to the city, for
his affairs required it (of course); he was a
young man of business, and his business al-
lowed no delay, even though a short time
since he was a young man at large ; his va-
cation had expired I”
As Mary was reputed to be wealthy and
as the transfering of property “to its pros~
pective owner would cause some little delay
young Hoppin suggested that this business
should be transacted prior to their marriage,
that event being now no longer a contingen.
cy. To this she readily consented.
On looking into the state of her affairs,
howevor, the young gentlemen was inform-
ed 0 his great surprise, there was a mort”
gage on his estate that would swallow up
the whole !
« Whew !’ the fortune seeker * cried—‘a
mortgage; a mortgage, faith | that gives a
difterent hue to the scene !"
His countenance fell-—his love died within
him—his beautifal Mary lost all her charms
—the flower faded away, no longer did it
emit any fragrancs,
And what was to be done? The wedding
was hourly expected—the delay was occa.
sioned only by the negligence of the preach
But lo! the telegraphic wires relieve our
young hero. He recieves a dispatch that
his mother is dying, and that he musi has-
ten home instantly, if he would see her
Alas! for Mary ; her beau ideal flies—he
must go—he flies! And who can pity her
now ? the neighbors ? no ! her friends? not
one save the mechanic. Indeed her sym-
pathy was that only of & friend that sticketh
closer than a brother. She pitied her much,
but condemned her more-—condemned her
for losing the golden opportunity of marry~
ing to her advantage—marrying the only
one who could have rendered her happy
through life, and perhaps prospectively ‘so
beyond the grave.
Of course young Hoppin was never heard
of again. He was disappomnted in his ex-
pectation of a fortune. He had heard that
Mary Atwill was very rich—when he found
that she was not. his love ceased, and ke had
no motive to veturn.
In the meantime Wm. Randal had become
quite a distinguished man. His sphere in
life consequently, was greatly enlarged, and
included men of influcnce and talent. As a
poltiician he was very popular, and rose
from one office to another until he reached
the United States Senate.
Nordid he remain unmarried—he sought
a partner of intelligence and influence, and
forgetting the history of his first love, and
devoted his effections to the more recent ob-
ject of his choice, and 18 now passing this
life happily in ber society ; being favored
with a lovely and interesting train. of sons
and daughters worthy of their parental
name. :
As to the unfortunate Mary, we bave ¢nly
to add tat she afterwards gmarried—if - in>
deed that 1s marriage where the hand is giv-
en without the heart—and that she confesses
with bitter tears of regret, that she lost the
golden opportunity in the rejection of the
only one that traly loved her, the fortunate
And in conclusion, we hope the reader
may pot think it mal apropos that we ex-
press the wish that he may not lose his gol-
den opportunity, and especially, that more
important one which, if lost involves not
only his happiness in the life to come.
ttn ly A AA.
Kings play at war unfairly with re-
publics ; they can only lose some earth, and
some creatures they value as little, while re~
publics lose in every soldier a part of them-
ee ———
=Generally the office secker who gets
nothing, gets what is good for him and ex~
actly what he 1s good for.
GEN. Fremont oN Himserr.—Fremont
has been making an egotistical littie speech
at St. Louis, in which he compares him-
self to the builders of the walls of Troy;
to the Trojan “whose spear against the
treacherous horse made the clang of arms
resound ; to Laocoon attacked by servants,
and to Antxus, who rose refreshed every
time he touched the earth during his strug-
gle with Hercules. These classic allusions
are most unfortunately apropos of ¥remont’s
fate. The work of the builders of Troy
was all in vain and ended in ruins. The
Trojan only mvoked punishment upon him-
selt by striking the Grecian horse. Lao-
coon was killed by the serpents. Hercules
perceiving whence Antweus derived his
strength held him aloft and strangled him
to death. Fremont therefore is not success-
ful in classical comparisons than im his mili.
tary campaigns. In attempting to euologize
himself he metaphorically admits that he is
a decea sed general.
Tre American Adgriculturist takes up the
cudgel in defense of the poor, despised but
seldom kicked ¢kunk, and gives him a good
notice. Our cotemporery says ;
+ All summer long he roams your pastures
at night, picking up beetles and grubs, po~
king with his nose potato hills where many
worms are at work. He is after grubs, not
tubers, He takes possession of the apart
ment of the woodchuck, who has ggartered
himself and family upon your clover field
or garden, and makes short werk with all
the domestic arrangements of that unmitga’
ted nuisance. With this white backed sen
tinel around you can ‘grow clover in peace,
and the young tarnips will flourish, Your
beans will not be prematurely snapped, and
your garden sauce will be safe from other
vermin. The most 2areless observation of
his habils shows that he lives most exclu- |.
sively upon insects. While yon sleep he is
busy doing your work, helpmg to destroy
your enemies. Inany fair account kept
with him the balance must be struck in his
ere een
VaLvasLe Recerprs.—To make a nice jam
—lay your head under a descending pile
To see i a man is your friend—malke love
to his wife !
To get the frost out of your fingers—put
them in hot water.
To see if a girl is amiable—tear her dress
in a ball roum.
To keep yourself warm in bed—set it on
fire. 3
To be ahead of time—carry your watch
behind you’ :
To see how hard a man strikes—tell him
he lies.
To keep poor relatives from troubling you
—commit suicide.
To keep from being dry—stand out in
the rain.
To do away with spectacles— pnt your
eyes out.
J The National Tax law reaches about
everything that one can eat, driuk, wear or
use. There is hardly an article of the sim«
plest every day use but comes under it
wide spreading provisions.
ApvANTAGES oF WONEN.—A women says
what she chooses without being knocked
down for it.
She can take a snooze after dinner while
her husband goes to work
She can go into the street without being
asked to “stand treat’’ at every saloon.
She can paint her face ifit be too pale and
powder it if to red.
She can stay at heme in the time of war.
and get married again if her husband be
Ste can wear corsets if too thick—othey
fixins' if to thin
She can get divorced from her husband
whenever she sees one she likes better.
She can get her husband in debt all over
until he warns the public not to trust her on
his account. That’s sum.
ee lll QA mie.
A UseruL Dor. —¢T say, stranger,” said
a cottage urchin to a peddler, dont whistle
that dog away.”
«Why, he ain’t no use, no how ; he’s too
«Oh, but he saves heaps of work."
“How 7
“Why, he cleans the plates and dishes,
go they never want washing, and mothe:
says she wouldn't part with him no how;
or cur new dog ain’t got used to mustard
ely A AA pr
077A young iady in one of our rural dis
tricts was once escorted home from an evens
ng party by a young man to whom she was
not particular partial. On taking his leave
he remarked-~
«J guess I'll come and see you again
pext Sundy night.”
« Well, Bill Smith,” replied the lady:
«you can come as a friend, but not as a fel-
I7Don’t put your watch under your
pillow ; a man should never “sleep upon his
meet A A e—.
[=~There's many a slip between the cup
and the lip, and not a few between the first
kiss and the ring.
Veet ll fren cares.
(7 Peaches are very plenty this year in
every part of Pennsylvania.
[Talking to boys in public meetings
getting to be an art and science. Billy Roos
is a great Temperance lectarer,and at Rush-
ville, Illinois, was preaching to the young
on his favorite theme. He said;
‘Now boys when 1 ask you a question
you musn’t be afraid to speak right out and
answer me. When you lock around and
see all these fine houses, farms, and cattle,
do you ever think who owns them all
now ? Your fathers owns them all, do they
not 1”?
+ Yes sir!” shouted a hundred voices.
‘Well, where will your fathers be twen-
ty years from now ?”
“Dead I"
“Thats right.
property then 2’
«Us boys !”
«Right, Now tell me did you ever in go-
ing along the streets, notice the drunkards
lounging around the saloon doors waiting
for somebody to treat them ?”
« Yes, sit ; lots of them !"
“Well, where will they be in twenty
years from now.
“Dead!” exclaimed the boys,
«And who will be the drunkards then 2”
"Us boys!”
Billy was thunder struck for a moment ;
but recovering himself, tried to tell the boys
how to escape such a fate.
te ® © pm
And who will own all this
Drops of Wisdom.
Too much company is worse than none.
To set up for a cntic is bullying man-
The modest man is seldom the object of
Don’t judge by one view of person or
Truth endures man’s purpose with some
what of immutability.
Thought is the wind, knowledge the sail,
and mankind is the vessel.
Fortune may favor fools ; but that’s a
poor reason why you should make a fool of
Some women are born to scheme and
some to love, and I wish some respected
vatchelor that reads this may take the sort
that best suits him.
Women never truly command until they
have given their promise to obey.
Death, to a goed man, is the goming of
the year of its blossoming time, Do we
call it dying when the buds burst into flow.
ers ?
There are some points on which no man
can be contented to follow the advice of an-
other, sore points on which he can consult
his own consience only.
To bave tarts for tea—let your wife see
you kiss the waiting maid. A sure thing.
To prevent a headache when getting sober
— keep drunk.
To tell if you love a girl—have some tal-
low headed chap go to see her.
To see if a girl loves you ask her like a
ret) AO Er
«Agour Tuirry.—Madam, at what age
shall I put you down?”
No direct answer.
‘How old is your husband?’
"Sixty one.
« And your oldest son ?”’
“Twenty five.
«And the next 2”
“Twenty one.”
«And how old do you call yourself 1’
I do not know my age exactly, but it is
about thirty
“Did I understand you madam, that your
oldest son was twenty seven ?
You must be surely, then, be more than
«Well sir, (quick and sndppingly,) 1
told you about thirty. I can’t tell exactly:
it may be thirty one or two, but I'm posi-
tive its not over that”
—— Perm
1t is the degenerate love for taking short
cuts and little fallacious rascalities that has
in 50 many parts of the world created gov-
ernments with arditary powers.
The fight at Baton Rouge extended ove
an area of about one mile square, and the
centre was a graveyard, where lie the remains
of Zachariah Taylor, once President of the
United States.
it po
Adam was fond of his joke, and when he
saw his sons and daughters marry one an-
other, he dryly remarked to Eve, that if
there had been no apple, there would have
been no pairing.
a a —
[77The gate of a gentleman’s door-yard
is always neat and tasteful. In more sen-
ses than one you may know a gentleman by
his gait.
I LS iad as
The 1rish definition of an open countena-
nce” is not a bad one; “A mouth from ear
‘0 ear.”
Surley that man may be envied who can
eat pork chops for supper and sleep withou
a grunt.
Sm —— RO —————————
¢Caught in her own net,” as the man said
when he saw one fair sex hitched in her
—————— OP ———
0 Why are chicken’s necks like Joor
bells # Because they are often wrung for
ompany. 4
eer AO Bmnpt—
[~The most valuable help a man ever
A Horrip Picrure.—The Continental
Monthly for October in an article on “Lon
don fogs and London poor,’” has the follow=
ing on the heart situation of the poor amd
afflicted in the great Babel of the British
Kingdom. It is strange that such he'lish
neglect should occur right under the noses
of the guardians of civilization, while they
snuff up far less crimes to cant and whine
over, three thousand miles away from the
loathsome scene we now refer to.
“In the streets of London I have seen
women and children contending ifor the
possession of a bone drawn from the slush
of the kennel. I have saw boys fight and
bruise each other for a crust of bread drop«
ped upon the pavement, and covered with
wet mud, or even unsightlier filth. I Thave
entered the abode of this desperate poverty
led thither by children, who elamored at my
my side for alms and found such misery as
1 am incompetent to express ir words.—
I have seen the living unable to rise from
sickness, in the same bed with tho dying
and the dead. TI have known an instance
where a living man in strong health, bating
the exhausting effect of privation and sorrow
has been compelled to seck repose in the
straw beside the body of his dead wite, his
children occupying the floor, and there be
ing in the room neither chair upon which
he could seat himself, nor table upon which
he could seat himself for rest, / have seen
an infant crawl for nourishment to its dead
mother’s breast and there was not in all the
house the valae of a cent to buy it food.—
I have seen a wife in following her husban’s
bedy to the grave, drop in the road and die
before medical attendance could be procu.
red. Apost mortem examination, proved
that she had died from hunger.’
———# $m
A capital story is told of an old farmer
in the northern part of this county, who
had:been saving up to take up a mortgage of
$2,000 held agamst him by a man near the
sea shore. The f.rmer had saved up all the
money in gold, fearing to trust the banks,
fn these war times. Week before last he
lugged down the money and paid it over,
when the following colloquy ensued :
«Why you don’t mean to give the $2000
in gold do you ?”’ said the lender,
“Yes certainly said the farmer. “I was
afraid of the pesky banks, so I've been sa-
ving up the money in yellow boys for you
this long time,”
<All right,” responded the lender, <only
I thought you didn’t take the papers, that’s
all 1?
«Take the papers! no sirnot I. They've
gone on so since the war’s been a going
that T won’t have one of the devilish things
about. But the money is all right isn’6
‘Yes, all right, $2,000 fn gold.
right ; here is your note and mortgage.”
And well might he have called it all right,
as the premium on gold that day was 22
percent., and the gold was not only worth
the face of the bond, but 440 dollars bex
side, enough to have paid for his village
newspaper for himself and prosperity for at
least three centuries. It pays to take the
papers.—Norwalk Gazelte.
eee OO
The law for the Abolition of Slavery in
the Dutch West 1 dies passed the States
General of Holland by a majority of 45 to 7.
The following are regulations adopted re-
specting the Abolition at Surinam; «1,
The abolition of slavery on the 1st of July,
1863 ; 2. The owners to recieve a compensa~
tion of 300 gwlders (120 dollars) for each
slave ; 3: The supervision of the State not
to continue for more than ten years at the
outside : 4. The government encourages im-
migration, and offers for that purpose for a
period of five years premiums not to exceed
a million of guilders (400,000 dollars); 5.
Fixed labor to be obligatory on all the em-
— lpm
—At a dinner cf the Worcestershire Agri-
cultural Society, Sir John Packingten said
he thought the time was come when not Ena
gland alone, but England in conjunction
with France, and possibly with Russia,
ought to offer mediation in America, on the
basis of seperation, and on the clear under.
standing that, if mediation was not accep-
ted recognition must follow. The night Hon
gentleman referred to Mr. Gladstone’s speech
at Newcastle on the success of the South,
and said the words, as coming from a cab-
wet minister were of great signification. —
He hoped that the present feeling of her
Majesty's government did not differ very
ad from the feeling he had taken the
liberty of expressing.
ren ree mean
Z"Heaven sometimes sends a famine,
sometimes a pestilence, and sometimes a
conqueror for the chastisement of mankind
—noue of them surely for our admiration.
057A full heart is as difficult to carry as
a full cup—the least thing upsets it.
J5" Drafted men have the right to become
volunteers for the three years or during the
War. :
fr7=Man leads woman to the altar, in
that act his leadership begins and ends.
IZ7If a lawyer is 1m danger of starving in
a market town or village, he invites anothers
gets is when he helps himself,
and both thrive,