SUBSCRIPTION TERMS, , Pa. 3?rofa*tauil & gSajtfiutf €xxis. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. lOflS T. EKAGY, .1 ATTORN KY-AT-LAW. . Office opposite Reed A Schell's Bark, t'neusel given in English and Uerman. [apl26] i ' IMMKLL AND LIN'OENFELTEK, JV ATTORNEYS AT I.AW, BEITORD, ra. Have formed a partnership in the practice o! ;he Law Office on Juliana Street, two doors South • the Jlengel llou.e. [April 1, 15(54-tf a I . A. POINTS, jVI ATTORNEY AT LAW, BEDFORD, PA. Respectfully ter. iers hi professional services t„ the public. Office with J. W. Lingenfelter, H- ... ,n Juliana street. recollections promptly ma lc. [Dee.9,'64-tf. HAVES IRVINK, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Will faithfully and promptly attend to all bust intrusted to his care. Office with 1864.—tf. , r. merefts w - DICKERSOS MI. VERS A DICKERBON. ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BEDFORD, Pisi'L, Office nearly opposite the Mengel House, will practice in the several Courts of Bedlord county, pensions, bounties and back pay obtained and the rrchaseofßeal Estate attended to. [may 11 ,'66-ly | B. CESSNA, ,J . ATTORNEY AT LAW, See with JOB* CESSNA, on the square near the Presbyterian Church. All business ci.trusted to his care will receive faithful and - .inpt attention. Military Claims, Pensions, Ac., ,-peedily collected. [June 9,18(55. J/ B. STUCKEY, 11TORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW, and REAL ESTATE ACiENT, Office on Main Street, Itetween Fourth and Fifth. Opposite the Court House, KANSAS CITY. MISSOURI. Will practice in the adjoining Counties of Mis r• and Kansas. July 1-ttf -.1. It -ttU 4- U- LOSOEXEf KER ! ) i SSELL A LONGENECKER, [ V VTTORVEYR A CM SSELLORS AT LAW, Bedford, Pa., M ; I attend promptly and faithfully to all busi • entrusted to their care. Special attennon „ to collections and the prosecution of claims I'ack Pay, Bounty, Pensions, Ac. "wyOflice on Juliana street, south of the Court lb.use. Apriiatlyr. J■ M'D. SHARPS *• '• KRRR CJHARPE A KERR. 0 A TTORSK YS-A T-LA H . Will practice in the Courts of Bedford and ad joining counties. All business entrusted to their care will receive careful and prompt attention. Pensions, Bounty, Back Pay, Ac., speedily col lected from the Government. .... Office oil Juliana street, opposite the banking house of Reed A Schcll, Bedford. Pa. mar2.tf j. n. I.I'TZ. DU RBORROW A I.UTZ. ATTORNEYS AT "LAW, BEDFORD, PA., Will attend promptly to all business intrusted to their care. Collections made on the shortest no- Thev are, also, regularly licensed Claim Agents i'v ill give special attention to the prosecution :.:s against the Government for Pensions, B k Pay, Bounty, Bounty Lands, Ac. Office on Juliana street, one door South of the •Men 'el House" and nearly opposite the Inquirer .-. ~e April 23. lS65:t. PHYSICIASB. AUM. W. JAMISON, M. D., Eloocv Rrx, PA., Respectfully tenders his professional services to the people of that place and vicinity. [decSilyr DR. B. F. HARRY, Respectfully tenders his professional ser vices to the citizens of Bedford and vicinity. 1 iffice and residence on Pitt Street, in the building formerly occupied by Dr. J. H- Hofius. [Ap 1 1,8.. | L>i ARls' >l' K l '. M. In. J . Having permanently located respectfully tenders his pofessional services to the citizens of Bedford and vicinity. Office on Juliana street, or-■ site tbe Bank, one door north of Hal! A Pal mer's office. April 1, 1864—tf. i\R S. G. STATLER, near Schellsburg, and ) Br. J. J. CLARKE, formerly of Cumberland juuty, having associated themselves in the prac tice of Medicine, respectfully offer their profes sional services lo the citizens of Schellsburg and vicinity. Dr. Clarke's office and residence same a- formerly occu.vied by J. White, Esq., dee d. S. G. FTATLER, -chelLl nrg, A jrill2.-!y. J. J. CLARK K. HOTELS. UWASHINGTON HOTEL. This large ami commodious house, hacing been re.taken by the subscritver, is now open for the re ception of visitors and boarders. The rooai-* are large, well ventilated, and comfortably furnished. The table wili always be supplied with the best the market can afford. The Bar is stocked with the choicest liquors. In short, it is my purpose to keep a FIRM-CLASS HOTEL. Thanking the public for past favors, I respectfully soli, .t a renewal of their patronage. N. B. Hacks wili run constantly between the Hotel and the Springs. may 1T,'67: ly WM. DIBERT, Prop'r. 1 I ORRISON HOUSE, i>J HUNTINGDON. PA. I have purchased and entirely renovated the large stone and brick building opposite the Penn "-Svsntß Railroad Depot, and have now opened it for the accommodation of the travelling public. The Carpets, Furniture, Beds and Bedding are all < ' rely new and first class, and I am safe in say ing that I can offer accommodations not excelled i.'. Centra! Pennsylvania. I refer to my patrons who have formerly known while in charge of the Broad Top Ci'v Hotel • . i Jor kson House. : ,; 25 if JOSEPH MORRISON. MWCELLAIEOVS; 1 >UPP A SHANNON, BANKERS, i I BEIIFORE, PA. BANK OF DISCOUNT AND DEPOSIT. ' lections made for the East, West, North and t atL. and the general business of Exchange '.rans.o ted. Notes and Accounts Collectevl and Remittances p.romptlymade. REAL E>TATE 1 gbt and sold. * feb22 | \ A NIEL BORDER, 1J PITT STREET, TWO boobs tn OF TBK bsd • Kti HOTEL, BEZFJHD, PA. WATCHMAKER AND DEALER IN JEWEL RY. SPECTACLES. AC. lie keeps on hand a stock of fine Gold and Sil ver Wwtches, Spectacles of Brilliant Double Refin ed Glasses, also Scotch Pebble Glasses. Gold M ati h Chains, Breast Pins, Finger Rings, best quality of Gold Pens. He will supply to order any thing in his line not on hand. [pr.28.'65. OYES! 0 YES!—The undersigned has taken out miction license, and tenders his services ! who have sales or auctions to cry. Give I n., a call. Post Office address. Spring Meadows, Bedford eounty, Penn'a. April com' HENRY B. MOCK. DI'KUORiiOW A LI'TZ Editor* and Proprietors. §f.ciirg. IMHAM StTSMUU BY EM KLIN K Y. STTLTU. Just after the death of the flowers, Aad before thej are hurled in snow, There comes a festival season, Vf flea nature is all aglow— I A glow with mystical #plcndor That rivals the brightness of spring, Aglow with a view more tender Than aught which fair Summer could bring. Some spirit akin to the rainbow Then borrows its magical dyes, And mantles the far spreading landscape In hues that bewilder the eyes. The sun, from bis cloud pillowed eb. mbcr, Smiles soft on a vision sy And dreams that bia favorite children, The flowers, have not yet passed away. FIRMNESS. Wei! let. hiin go, and let biiu stay— I do not mean to die; I guess he'll find that I can live Without him, if I try. lie thought to frighten me with frowns, So terrible and black— He'll ?tay away a thousand years Before I ask him back. He said that I had acted wrong. And ftoliably beside, I won't forgive him after that I wouldn't if I died. If I was wrong, what right had he To he so cross with me? I know I'm not an angel, quite— I don't pretend to be. He had another sweetheart once, And now, when we fall out, He always say 3 she was not cross, And that she didn't pout. It is enough to vex a saint— It's more than I can bear: I wish that other girl of his Was—well, I don't care where. lie thinks that she was pretty, too — Was beautiful as good; I wonder if she'd get him back Again, now, if she could? f know she • uU, and there -he is— She lives almost in sight: And now it's almost nine o'clock— Perhaps he's there to night. I'd almost write to bun to come— But then I've said I won't; I do xot rare so much—but she Shan't have him if I don't. Besides. I know that I was wrong And he was in the right: I guess I'll tell hiin so—and then— I wish he'd come to night. GOSSIP ABOL'T WHITERS. JAMES PATRON. Of all American writers few are more strict ly national than James Parton. or more de serving the praise of Americans. Born in England 1822, he came to this country at an early age, and after teaching for a short time began the life of a journalist, lie has been connected with -everal newspapers ; but first attracted notice as a writer of brilliant articles for the Home Journal, and as editor of the Phrenological Journal. His connection with the former paper led to his acquaintance with Fannv Fern, whom he afterwards married, j About the same time be began his Lije of Horace Greeley , which proving successful, led him to adopt lit-rature as a profession, and with the exception of a number of review articles, and a series of short biographical contributions to the Ledger, he has since de voted himself to book-making. His history I has had few incidents. Like Sonthey he has led the life of a recluse, closely occupied with his literary labors, and only closing them for visits to collect materials for his works. His resemblance to Soother is still further shown in the most successful work of each. Mr. Parton's Butler at Xeic Orleans, like Mr. Southey's Life of Xelscn, was a piece of hack work, written to supply an emergency, and like the latter, proved most successful, and had an enormocs sale. The character of Mr. Parton, like that of most men, has been largely influenced by circumstances. Compelled to subsist by news paper writing, where success depends so much on expression, and where the '' art of putting things " has reduced to a science, he has been forced to study style, and expres sion. and as a result displays in all his writ ings a sometimes excessive tendency towards brilliancy and effect. We do not mean that be wilfully misrepresents anything, or alters the truth to suit his purpose, but simply that like Mac-aoley, and all similar writers, be has been tempted, in order to put things in a striking light, to exaggerate, or understate the truth. Probably from intention his sub jects have all been suited for the display of his : peculiar taunt. Among so many works of contemporary writers, perfect impartiality is hardly to be expected. The life of Greeley and Butler, pre suppose a strong faith in their subject and are, perhaps, as fair as was possible under the circumstances. In the case of Aaron Burr, it was natural that the odium attached to his peculiar facination, should induce a strong sympathy in bis biographer, and an apparent partiality. In the main, however, Burr's | character is fairly expressed, and his faults I properly reprobated. The life of Jackson was a task beset with ■ difficulties, which it wili begenerally acknowl edged Mr. Farton has fairly overcome, and i produced a standard work which has already ' reached deserved popularity. Mr. Parton has I expressed the opinion that his life of Irank lin is his best work, and posterity will prc i bably confirm his choice, though its sale has I been less than any other of his writings. It t isf however, an admirable work, written in I his best style and with few defi-cts. j His latest, and in some respects best work Famous Americans of Modern Times, con- Lsists of various magazine and review articles. A LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWSPAPER, DEVOTED TO POLITICS, EDUCATION, LITERATURE AND MORALS the most prominent of which arc on Clay, | Webster, Calhoun, John Randolph, Good- J year, Girard, Vanderbilt, and James Gordon j Bennett. For condensed information, per- j spicuity, and artistic finish, these are unsur passed by anything Mr. Parton has written. ; The article on Bennett is a masterpiece of | mental bisection, and did full justice to its subject. Since these were composed he has written an ndinirable series of articles on the three great cities of the West for the Atlantic Monthly, which have received deserved atten tion. lie will continue his articles for this periodical and the Xorlll American Jlevieir, and is also prepared for his favorite work, a Life of Voltaire, which he desires to make the coming work of his literary career. His aim has been a laudable one, viz., to elevate biography into a floe art. Whether he has succeeded in doing so remains to be seen. No one will deny that he has shown some of the most important traits of the bio grapher—conscientiousness, thorough knowl edge of his subject and an active want ofdul ness. lie has a shrewd knowledge of human nature, but not such as can pierce down into the very depths like Hawtho-ne. He is the perfect antithesis of that writer. He prefers the tangible to the bidden, and has little taste for subtile requirements or delicate analysis. Ilis best qualities are his love of right and hatred of all that is low or mean. He has a strong faiili in,human progress, and especial ly in that of the American people. His style is clear, flexible, and picturesque. He is apt to be careless at times and indulge in slip-shod expressions, but in his best work he is careful and accurate. He is conscien tious and unceasing in labor and research: to use his own w v ords, " never beginning to write on a snbject, until be had exhausted every source of information connected with it." He is one of the few American writers who live entirely by the pen. In appearance, Mr. Parton is small, with a slight and somewhat delicate figure. -His head is small and from the front appears nar. row, but is highly developed in all the moral faculties and also in the propelling forces, which would be imagined from his untiring energy. His complexion is sallow, which givee his lace an inert expression, but when auimated his eye flashes with the fire of intel lect. and his whole appearance changes. He is very affable in conversation, and talks as brilliantly as he writes. DICKENS AND BL'LWER. Translated from a German Work. Bulwer lives in his beautiful villa in Ful hau>, a quiet, lonely village above London. A tranquility disturbed by nothing, reigns in the house. Notwithstanding the warm spring day, Bulwer sits near the fireplace, where a bright coal fire is burning. Outside the brauches of a cherry tree, covered with an exuberance of blossoms, bang down on the window, and the low, chirping notes of the birds penetrate into the room. The cele brated author a tall, slender form, wrap ped in a sky-blue, soft lined, silken morning gown, which is fastened with a strong cord around his waist —sits at his large empty table, and has before him only a blank book, in which he writes his new novels. His large, light blue eyes cast longing glances out of the windows : his auburn hai r flows iu the ringlets down on his high, narrow forehead : the large, slender nose bangs over his small mouth, and his read whiskers fail from his long and narrow chin on ' is breaG. The whole face looks decidedly too long, lie i has a sickly appearance, and is abstracted. His family affairs are at the bottom of his melancholy, which no one can fail to perceive. His little daughter died ; bis son, the heir of his baronetcy, is estranged from him : and his wife, lady Bulwer, has long since been sepa rated from him and lives in the city. Let us enter her room. She -its on her writing table, for she is likewise at work upon a novel. Her corpu lent form, her round face, her radiant, deep biue eyes, her raven hair, every thing forms a striking contrast with the appearp.nce of her husband. She contemplates the portrait of her son : she charges her husband with an other Lovelace, and refusing to pay her debts. Her large eyes look at us languidly : her full cheeks con lain a number of dimples, such as Rubens liked to paint; her lips are still as swelling, fresh and red as those of Titian's daughters, and yet she is much over forty. On thinking of this our suspicions are arous ed : the crimson on her cheeks is too fra grant : the heavy braids surmouutiug her fore-, head are 100 black, her manners are decided ij* too kind and polite, and cannot be sincere —we escape from hc-r, bearing in mind the bleeding heart of ber melancholy husband, and the mournful tone of his novels. Let us now go to Charles Dickens. There are several aristocratic carriages and plain hacks in front of his elegant residence, where a numerous party is assembled. Ihe celebra ted romaneist has returned from an extended I trip to Switzerland and Genoa, and gives to i night a soiree, such as are the order of the | day, at his h spitable house. He is blonde, ! his eyes art light blue, hts face flushed with Iwine, neither meagre nor ronud, but brimful of good humor and kind-heartedness. He is conversing with two ladies, who cannot re ; train from bursting into loud laughter. You can tell at once, on looking at his face, j which is by no means expressive in itself, i when Dickens describes, recites or satirizes. | Dickens is precisely as he writes—lively, ! sanguine, a bon vivatit, now iu a poetical mood, now observing, all seemingly superfi cially, and yet what a deep heart is concealed under this restless surface ! If it is said that i the currents of the world are injurious to genius, Dickens' example proves the con trary : for his creations spring from the ob servations of life : he would be nothing with out seeing, observing, and living with what he beholds. Informer times his wife, a stately lady, was to be teen on such occasions. Het black eyes, her full fonn, her measured conduct, were iu striking contrast with those of ber husband, and we regret to say thai the quarrel which disturbed their relations and their hap. | piness after a blissful wedded life ol many BEDFORD. Pa.. FRIDAY. NOVEMBER 1.1867. years has not yet been settled. 1 hey are yet reconciled. The husband drowus his cares in his literary activity, and in his noisy bustle of the world. . BACHELOR'S PERILS. Marriageable men are beginning to be wary. Even if a man is allowed ta visit in the guise of a friend, the chances are that he will eventually drift into matrimony. Sup posing there are several daughters in the fam ily where he visits, he will look on the num ber as his greatest safeguard. He may imag ine that he will never attempt to single out one, from the difficulty of discovering which one to single out. The girls would, of course, lead him to believe that they looked upon him as a brother, and that- papa and mamma looked upon him in the light of a son not a son-in-law! The lucky bachelor would thus be lulled to sleep. He would become un guarded in his actions, and would allow his feelings to lead him whither they listed, and as a sequence, he would eventually single some one rose from these flowers of woman hood, as being a li'tle fairer, having a little more charming manner, or for in some way or other coming nearer than her sisters to his ideas of all that is excellent in woman. If a bachelor of middle age, he would most prob ably have selected the youngest of the family, cheating himself into the belief that he did so simply out of a sort of fatherly regard fo r her. He would christen her the "baby'' of the house, though she might be a fine grown maiden of eighteen summers, and have all the airs and ideas of a woman of three times her age. He would more frequently address his conversation to her than to her sisters, but at the same time he would rarely talk sweet speeches, talking more like a school master than an admirer, that she might be in structed somewhat. He would prefer walk ing with her, that he might point out the beauties of nature, or illustrate the harmo nies of creation; and in effect, he would not fail to show his preference in spite of his awk ward apologies aud grotesque effects at con cealment. The sisters would be careful not to check legitimate sport. They would man cenvre so that the lovers, as they would joke ingly call them, always sat next one another at the family board, that they were partners in all amusements, and that in party drives or walks they should either be left behind or be left iu front. Of course this style of pro ceeding would not fail to be observed. The lady friend of the family would feel in duty bound to tell her husband, and the husband would have no other alternative, than to inform his friend that, owing to the talk of the neighbors, he must either cease his visits altogether, or continue them on a diffcrt nt footing. The poor bachelor has but one course open to him —w a man of hrmnv and a gentleman, he must as speedily as pos sible raise the "baby" of the family to the dignity of matron. MATTERS Of FACT PEOPLE. It was said of an ancient poet, that he was so thin and light, that lead was fastened to his shoes to prevent his being blown away. The story is told by a writer, who at the same time in the gravest manner discredits it, for. says he, "How could he car ry about sufficient weight to prevent his being blown away, if he was so weak as to be una ble to resist the sea breeze ?" This matter of fact way of regarding a humorous fable is ex ceedingly amusing, and recalls a somewhat similar criticism upon the following Ameri can story: A traveller, after a long journey, anxiously looked about for some inn where his jaded borse might have a bait, but no ac commodation being found, he sought a grassy i spot for pasturage, but without success. In i this dilemma be produced a pair of green glass spectacles, end placed them on the horse's face, and led him into a carpenter' s yard, where the deluded animal immediately commenced his meal upon shavings and saw dust. The absurdity of this story produced a laugh in all but one hearer, who after a few moments of solemn abstraction exclaimed, "I beg yonr pardon, sir; but I doubt your sto ry, for I cannot understand how the specta cles could have been fixed on the horse's nose."* How true is the saying, " the pros jrerity of a jest lies in the ear of him trho hears it.'' THE SMILES THAT HIDE GRIEF. Some one said to Dr. Johnsou that it seem ed strange that he who so often delighted his company by his lively conversation should say he was miserable. "Alas! it is all outside," replied the sage; "I may be cracking my joke and cursing the sun; sun. how I hate thy beams!" Boswell appended a foot-note in which he remarked that beyond a doubt a man may appear very gay in company who is sad in heart. His merriment is like the sound of drums and trumpets in battle to drown the groans of the wounded and dying. It is well known that Cowper was in a morbidly des pondent state when he penned "John Gil pin," of which delectable ballad and his cog er.ers he himself bears record: "Strange as it may seem, the most lndricrous lines I ever wrote have been when in the sadest mood, and but for that saddest mood perhaps would never have been written at all." In the height of his ill fortune, 1826, Sir Walter Scott was ever giving vent, iu his dia ry or elsewhere, to some whimsical outburst of humorous sally; and after indicting an ex tra gay jeu rTesprit in his journal just before leaving his dingy Edinburg lodgings for Ab botsford, he lollowsit up next day by this bit of self-portraiture: "Anybody would think from the fal de-ral conclusion of my journal of yesterday that I left town in a very good humor. But nature lias given me a kind of buoyancy—l know not what to call it—that mingles with my deepest afflictions and most gloomy hours. I have a secret pride—l fan cy it will be most truly termed—which im pels me to mix with my distress strange snatches of mirth which have no mirth in . them. A WAX connot possess anything that is better Ithan a good woman, nor any thing that is worse than a bad one. OL'R THOUGHTLESS WORDS. Reader, did you ever think how much a word can wound? Perhaps some borrowing mortal is near you even now, thirsting in her heart for a single gentle word. Every "heart knoweth its own bitterness," but how few of us ever sympathize in another's wee. We pass and repass the mourning, sorrowing one and perhaps a few common-place words of condolence fall with a cold, unmeaning, life jess expression from or lips, and we think our duty done; and often, very o'ften, a smile of derision, an unkind word, aud a rankling, festering wound is afflicted which burns the heart as long as life lasts. Ah! how little do we think how our thought less words influence the destiny of others for time and eternity! A single harsh expres sion falls from our lips, which is forgotten by us almost as soon as uttered, and a mildew blight falls npon some heart, which had our words been fitly spoken, might have budded and blossomed in an eternity of happiness. Then, reader, let your words be those of gentleness, and your actions ever kind. The human heart is easily touched, and from its hidden fountains will gush forth snch a stream of gratitude and love, that you, will never re gret the effort you have made, nor forget to thank God for the good yon have been the means of doing. "A lit tie word iu kindness spoken. A motion or a tear, Has often soothed the heart that's broken, And made a friend sincere." Givixo JOT TO A CHlLD.— Blessed be the hand that prepares a plersure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may again bloom forth. Does not almost every body remember some kind-hearted man who showed him a kindness in the dulcet day 6 of his childhood? The writer of this recollects himself at this moment as a barefooted lad, standing at the wooden fence of & poor little garden in his native village: while with long ing eyes he gazed on the flowers which were blooming there quietly in the brightness of a Sunday morning. The possessor came forth from his little cottage. He was a wood cut ter by trade, and spent the week in the woods. He had come into the garden to gather flowers to stick into his coat when he went to chnrch. He saw the boy, and break ing off the most beautiful of his carnations— it was st reaked with red and white—he gave it to him. Neither the giver or the receiver spoke a word, and with bounding steps the boy ran home. And now here, at a vast dis tance from that home, after so many events of so many years, the feeling of gratitude which agitated the breast of that boy expres ses itself on paper. The carnation has long since withered, but now it blooms afresh. A Pno MAX'S Wisn.—l ajked a student what three things he most wished. He said: "Give me books, health, and quiet, and I care for nothing more." I asked a miser, and he cried: "Money, money, money." I asked a pauper, and he faintly said: "Bread, bread, bread!" I asked a drunkard, and he called loudly for strong drink. 1 asked the multitude around me, and they lifted up a confused cry, in which I heard the words: "Wealth, fame and pleasure." I asked a poor man, who had borne the character of an experienced Christian. lie replied that all his wishes might be met in Chris'. lie spoke seriously, and I asked him to explain. He said; "I greatly desire three things: first that I be found in Christ: sec. ondly, that I may be like Christ; thirdly, that I may be with Christ." I have thought much of his answer, and the more I think of it the wiser it seems. CHEIRFCLSRRS AXD MOROSEXESS.— If we are cheerful and contented, all nature smiles at us; the air seems more balmy, the 6ky more clear, the ground a brighter green, the Jrees have a richer foliage, the flowers a more fra grant smell, the birds sing more sweetly, and the sun, moon and starsappear more beaut* ful. We take our food with relish, and what ever it may be, it pleases us. We feel better for it —stronger and lovlier, and fit for exer tion. Now what happens to us if we are all ill-tempered and discontented? Why, there is nothiug which can please us. We quarrel with our food, with our dress, with our amusements, with our com panions, and with ourselves. Nothing comes right for us: the weather is either too hot or too cold, too dry or too damp. Neither sun, nor moon, nor stars have any beauty, the fields are barren, the flowers are lustreless, and the birds silent. We move about like some evil spirit, neither loving nor beloved by anything. TALEXT AND TACT.— Talent is something, but tact is everything. Talent is serious, so ber. grave and respectable; tact is all that, and more too. It is not a seventh sense, but it is the life of all the five. It is the ope n eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, the keen smell and the lively touch; it is the interpre ter of all riddles —the surmounter of all diffi culties —the remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places and at all times: it is use ful in solitude, for it shows a man his way into the world; it is useful in society, for it shows him his way through the world. Tal ent is power—tact is skill; talent is weight— tact is momentum, talent knows, what to do — tact knows how to do it: talent makes a man respectable—tact will make him respected; talent is wealth—tact is ready money. For : all the practical purposes of life, tact carries it against talent —ten to one. NEVER make use of a woman's name iu an , improper time, or in mixed company. Never make assertions about her that you feel she herself would blush to hear. When you meet with men who do not scruple to make use of awoman's name in a reckless manner, shun them, for they are lost to every sense of honor. i TRUTH. —There is nothing as pleasant as I the hearing and speaking the truth. lor this reason there is no conversation so agreeable as that of the man of integrity, who hears : without any intention to betray and speaks I without any intention to deceive. YOU MK (0; SO. 13. 1 >I-.U TY. -Socrates called Beauty a short lived tyrant; Plato, a privilege of natuie; 1 hcophratus, a silent cheat; Tlieocrituß, a de lightful prejudice; Cameades, a solitary king dom; Domitian said, that nothing was more graceful; Aristotle affirmed that beanty "-as better than all the letters of recommendation injthe world; Homer, that, was a glorious gill of nature; and Ovid calls it a favor be stowed by the gods. But a.- regards t>e ele ments of beauty in woman, it is not too much to say—and who will not agree with us'.'— that no woman can be beautiful by force of fea tures alone; there must be as well sweetness and beauty of soul. JONATHAN'S HI NTING .EXCURSION.— "Hid you ever hear of the scrape that I and Uncle Zekel had duckin' on't on the Con necticut?" asked Jonathan Tirnbertoes, while musing his old Hutch hostess, who had agreed to entertain him under the roof of her log log cottage'for and iu considera tion of a bran new tin milk pan. "No, I never did, do tell it," was the re ply. "Well you know that I and L'nc-le Zeke took it into our beads on Saturday afternoon to go a gunnin' arter ducks in father's skiff; so in we got and skulled down the river, I tell ye—a slew of them lit down by the marsh and went to feeding on muscles. 1 catched up my powder horn to prime, and it slipped right out of my hand and sunk to the bottom of the river. The water was amazingly clear, and I could see it on the bottom. Now, I couldn't swim a jot; sol says to Uncle Zeke, 'you're a pretty clever fellow; just let me take your powder horn to prime;' and don't you think the stingy crit ter wouldn't. 'Well,' says I, 'you're a pretty good diver, and if you will dive and get it I will give you a priming." I thought he'd leave his powder horn, but he didn't, he stuck it in his pocket, and down he went —and there he staid." Here the old lady opened her eyes with wonder and surprise, and a pause of some minutes ensued, when Jonathan added: "I looked down and what do you think the critter was doin' ?" "Golly!" exclaimed the old lady, "I'm sure I don't know." "There he was," said our hero, "settin' rite on the bottom of the river, pouring the powder out of my born into hizzen !" WE WERE AMUSED yesterday (says the J Virginian Enterpriie) at a story told upon himself by a mau who is notorious as a long winded talker. Said he; "Seeing my friend Jones being bored by a man who had him button-holed, and was talking him blind. I called to Jones that I wanted to see luiu at once, on particular business. He came to me, when I explained to him that I had no business, hut was merely calling him away to save his being talked to death. 'Very much obliged,' said Jones, 'but (looking anxiously about him) who in thunder will I find to save me from you?" TIES DlFFEß.—' There is your railroad tie —useful but not ornamental. The Ma sonic and Odd Fellow tie —mystical and queer. The tic of love —rose and poetic. The highty-tighty tic—uffy and morose, in dulged by ladies often. The tie of nation ality—the burden of song and sentiment, and principally confined to them. The tie on a shoe—very pleasant for a lady who wants some young fellow to fumble round her foot and fix her purposely loose string. The tie up half way home about midnight a tie young men illustrate with too much frequency. THE Bishop of Wurtzhurg onee asked a sprightly shepherd bay: "What are you do ine here, my lad?" "Tending swine.' j "How much do you get?" "One florin a ; week!" "I, also, am a shepherd," eontin- J ued the bishop, "but I have a much better salary." "That maybe; but then, I sup -1 pose, you have no more swine under your care," innocently replied the boy. THE Boston Pott is responsible for this; —At a printer's festival recently held in Lowell, Massachusetts, the following toast was presented : ' 'The Printer—The master of all trades —he beats the farmer with his Hoe, the carpenter with his rules, and the mason with setting up his tall columns; he surpasses the lawyer and the doctor in at tending to his cases, and beats the parson in the managemens of the 'devil. PREACHING. —A minister, in A highly elab orated sermon which he preached, said, sev eral times, "The commentators do not agree with me here." Next morning a poor woman came to sec hitn with something in her apron. She said that her husband had heard his sermon, and that it was a very fine one. and as he said " the common tators did not agree with him," he had sent some of the best kidneys! AT Lynn, Mass., a Sunday School teacher asked a little girl who the first man was. — She answered that she did not know. The question was put to the next, an liish child who answered loudly, "Adain, sir, with apparent satisfaction. "Law," said the first scholar, "you needn't feel so grand about it, he wasn't an Irishman." THE Mississippi Sentinel sums up his cot ton crop intelligence thus: " The accounts from all sections of Mississippi are so dis heartening that we do not think it necessary to go into details. Suffice it to say, that the crop on many plantations throughout the State is totally destroyed by worms, and on others not over a bare to the hand will be raised. ' You No man, you are waiting for some door to open into a broad and useful futnrc ? | Dqn't wait. Select the door and pry it open, even if you have to me a crow-bar. ORATORY.—Persons who think that the careful preparation of the language of speech despoils it of its right to be consid ered really eloquent, either forget or have never known, that the Grecian and Koman orators, who have ever been considered the greatest models of eloquence, always wrote out their speeches and committed to mem ory. Demosthenes and Cicero both did so. Indeed, the most eloquent speech of the great lloman was written out ready, but was never delivered. In English Senato rial history we have a still more remarkable example of the paradox of the most elo- quent speakers preparing carefully the points and illustrations with which their most famous speeches were apparently on the impulse of the moment adorned. Richard Brinsley Sheridan was sarcastic ally taunted with being 'the right honora ble gentleman who is indebted to his imag ination for hi.-, fact;-, and to hie memory for hi- wit, which simply! meant that the pungent .-an.-a.-ni which he seemed to throw ofi .spontaneously in the heat and excite ment of debate, had lieen generally thought over and modelled before, and kept in his memory, ready for use when any good op portunity presented itself. This may hive been carry ing preparation a little too far. But the example ot ancient orators of the greatest eminence all go to prove that the title of orator must not by any means be limited to those who depend for their lan guage on the impulse of the moment. ETERNITY. —"Eternity has no gray hairs." The flowers fade, the heart withers, man grows old and dies; the man lays down in the sepulchre of ages; but time writes no wrinkle on the brow of eternity. Eternity! Stupendous thought. The ever present, unborn, undenying, the endless ehoin. com passing the life of God, the golden thread, entwining the destinies of the universe. Earth has its beauties, but time shrouds them for the grave; they are but as the gil ded sepulchre; its possessions, they are but toy 3 of changing fortunes, its pleasures, they are bursting bubbles. Not so in the untried bourne. in the dwelling of the Al mighty, can come no foot steps of decay. Its day will know no darkening—eternal splendors forbid the approach of night. Its foundations will never fail; they are fresh from the eternal throne. Its glory will never wane, for there is the ever present God. Ita harmonies will never cease, ex haustless love supplies the song. HAVE you ever noticed how an icicle is formed? You notice how it froze, one drop at a time until it was a foot long or more. If the water was clean, the icicle remained clear and sparkled in the sun; but if the water was but slightly muddy, the icicle looked foul, and its beauty was spoiled. Just so our characters are forming. One little thought or feeling at a time adds its influence. If each thought be pure and right, the soul will be lovely. ALWAYS BEAUTIFUL. —At a festival party of old and young, the question was asked, Which season of life is most happy? After being freely di.-sussed by the guests, it was referred for answer to the host, upon whom was the burden of fourscore years. He asked if they had noticed a grove of trees before the dwelling, and said: "When the spring comes and in the soft air the buds are breaking on the trees and they are cover ed with blossoms, I think, how beautiful is spring! And when the summer comes, and covers the trees with its foliage, and singing birds are all among the branches, I think, how beautiful is summer! When autumn loads them with golden fruit, and their leaves bear the gorgeous tint of frost I think how beautiful is autumn! And when it is sere winter, and their is neither foliage nor fruit, then I look up, and through the leaf less branches, as I could never until now. I see the stars shine through. A SILVER MINE has Been discovered on the farm of Mr. John J. Larew, ten miles south west of Stanton, Ya. Surface specimens of the ore have been analyzed, which arc said to be very rich and to promise a fine yield upon going deeper into the bowels of mother earth. A SCHOOLMISTRESS, while taking down the names and ages of her pupils, and of their parents, at the beginning of the term, a-ked one little fellow : " What's your fath er's name?" "O, yon needn't takedown his name ; he's too old to go to school to a woman," was the innocent reply. A LITTLE Swedish girl was walking with her father one night under the starry sky in tently mediating on the glorious to heaven. At last looking up to the sky, she said, " Father, I have been thinking if the wrong side of heaven is so beautiful, what will the right side be?'" A Sox OF Eaix, driven to desperation by the stringency of the money market and the high price of provisions, procured a pistol and took to the road. Meeting a traveler, he stopped him with, "Your money or yonr life." Seeing Pat was "green," he said, "I'll tell you what I'll do—l'll give you all my money for that pistol." "Agreed." Pat received the money and handed over the pis tol. "Now," said the traveler, "hand back that money, or I'll blow your brains out." "Blaze away, my hearty," said Pal; "never a a drop of powther there's in it." LAUGHABLE.— The following amusing inci dent is related in the Cortland (New }ork) Gazette: A very amusing affair occurred last Bab bath morning in a church not far from this village. The clergyman was discoursing as eloquently as the state of the weather would permit, yet one of his auditors—a young lady —was so overcome by the heat as to fall asleep in the midst of the discourse. Those behind her were somewhat amused, observ ing her efforts to keep her head in a perpen dicular position. The superintendent of the Sunday School happening to look around just as the lady's head was going over backward, supposing she had fainted, and springing to his feet called out to the doctor to stop and send down from the desk a tumblers of water, which request was immediately complied with and a copious supply of water was adminis tered to the somnolent young lady before she recovered. _ IT is a good thing to have utility and beauty combined, as the poor washerwoman said when she used her thirteen children for clothes-pins.