m MVol. m. EiiICAN VOLUNTEER • % —r~ ypDLISHRD EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BT ( JIOUS fit. BRATTOJI. 1 TEeHiS: ■ SojAnin’TTon. —Two Dollars if paid with'm th Two Dollars mid fifty Cents, if not paid rithiu the your. Tlieso terms will be rigidly ad- in every insli-nce. No subsc'riptiou dis ontinued until are paid unless at ihS'fMlion of the lidiioV. . the CASH, and biib squarct, Will bo inserted three im&sfor $2.00, and tWonty-livo cents for each .Witiomil ffisertion. Those of a greater length in iroportion, ' -Joi/RiV-Vting—Such as Hand-hills, Posting-bills ’junphleW. llhinks, Labels, &c. Ac., executed with aon racy ahd.at the shorlcst-notico. M"' THE WEll-DIBGER. OWO-lIIUI BALLAD listen nil, while I relate recently bcfol a farmer down in Mnino> : digging °f a well BY JOHN a. SAXE, 3faU , many a yard ho dug and Jgul still bo dug'in vain; ■** Ajaok V’ quoth ho, “ o’cn water Prohibited in Maine !" j still ho dug and delved awoyj hd still the woll was dry 5 'only water to bo found r us in tho farmer’s eye. iby tho breaking of tho bank Oiat tumbled from its station, [sudilunly his hope was dasho d [f future liquidation ! I now Ms sands were running fast} !rid he had died, no doubt, [that just when tbo earth cavod in} [0 happened to fjo out 1 •i . j .♦•.alia! — I have a happy thought I * ; -T i ; 'S.\eliiimud this wicked man— ' - anew this cursed well ■>;)®sco a pretty plan ' 'mi 1 ■ ‘'’>*ll hide mo straight, and when my Wife e’en my neighbors know happened to my digging here, ? )-? ; Ihoy'll think that I’m bfclow ! so to Save my precious life, : ilhoy’ll dig tho woll, no doubt, fiwi deeper than 'twas dug at first} ; ..hut the lady retreated' instantly and remained giggling outside th e door. ‘ My dear sir/said the landlord, ‘ you must gb down. They won’t g 6 off till they see Ye-’ ‘ They ? Who arc they V asked I. ‘ The people around hois/ said he. l lt hain’t often such fin extinguished character comes hero, and taint no uso to try to pdt ’em off!’ ‘l’m obliged to them—much dbliged tb them/said I,‘ but really— ’ ‘Taint no use/ Said ho, doggedly, ‘Jyou must go down, or the Washington House will go down, Thoy’ro sure to do it I’ ‘Oh, well/ said I— ‘ in that case I will go down, surely’—and I began to dress. In a hurry I knocked over the candle and' was obliged to comoioto my adornment in the dnrk. I got into my pantaloons with the hind part in front, but there was no time'to i’emedy the error ns the vociferous palls of the landlord for mo to hurry assured mo. I flow down the stairs two at a time—stepped on my suspenders, went half way down, and was precipitated to the- noxt floor, where I brought up in the arms of a plump ohamber maid, who was evidently wftitiiig bn purpose to catch me. Before I could resist, She had planted a. sounding smack on my blonde moustache— and cried delightfully to her companions— ‘ There 1 I’ve kissed him first!’ I mentally rejoiced that Matty Baker was not present, and resolved that she should never know anything about it. Matty is red haired, and folks pretend to say that she has a temper. I freed myself from my saluting female and advanced to tho door. My appearance was greeted by yells and shouts, and cheers perfectly deafening. Men, women and children to tho number of sever al score, were congregated in front of tho ho tel, waving their hats and handkerchiefs and hurrahing. * There ho cornea I that’s him ? three times throe for the conquering Sheridan !’ '* I’m obliged to you, gentlemen and Indies —greatly obliged to you,’ said I, modestly making my best bow. ‘lie conresj’ cried tho crowd, fcwaying frantically about, and swinging their hand kerchiefs most lustily. And I, not wishing to ho behindhand in tho enthusiasm, pulledf out my handkerchief and swung it, crying at tiro fop of my Stings : . * Yes, ho conics, ho comes ! Hurrah !’ ‘ What a martial air,’ exclaimed an ancient female, surveying mo through her glasses, ‘ he resembles the Duke of Wellington.’ *1 wonder if ire’s-married ?’ said a rosy choekcd girl, in a cloud of yellow curls and pink ringlets. ‘No, my darling,’said I, ‘but I want to bo.’ ‘Suclr a cdstumo,’said the.ancient lady, ‘Army blue, and such an original out to, tho —the—coverings of tho lower extremities; ‘ B o'd massy 1’ exclaimed an eld lady in a poke bonnet, fixing her eyes on my suspend ers which hung down in front, ' do sco Iris shoulder straps. X’yb hccru dttr Bavid toll a sight about them tilings;’ ‘ Y'es, but they look ail amazing lot like Jerry’s givllcrsos !’ whispered another old la dy to wirom the rcorark was addressed.’ ‘Sir,’ said u sallow faced gentleman, ad vancing to my side, ‘ I wish to mention to you something which I have heard said of you. I deem it my duty as pastor of the Pinoville meeting house, to robuko sin, al ways. I have heard it remarked that you are profane among tho soldiers.’ 11 do not cumnrchcifd you,’ said 1. ' All tlien I will bo clearer. I have heard that you were addicted to the habit of uding profane language, and I hog leave to present to you this tract on the Sin of Profanity hop ing you will peruse it, ami profit by it.’ ‘Thank yoii,’ said I, ‘you nieitn Well doubtless, but X must say I don’t exactly soo thb point;’ ‘ What is your opinion of Sherman ?’ rtsk ed a brusqno little dandy, swinging his rat tan, and removing hia cigar from his mouth long enough to propound the question. 1 Sherman’s a trump 1’ said I with enthu siasm. 1 Ah me;’ said my tract distributing friend, * he plays cards as well as swears;’ ‘What do you think of the negro face?’ asked a dark comploxioned nian. ‘ X think they smell stronger . than the deuce,’cried X, beginning'to loose my pa tience. ‘ Merciful heaven I’ exclaimed the sallow faced man; ‘ ho is pro-shivery.’ 1 Sir,’ said the landlord—who had been in earnest conversation with a half dozen ladies for the last live minutes—‘ those-ore women folks wont bo satisfied without kissing-uf ye! ■Theyawant to have it said that they’ve kissed Sherrydan.’ •* X blushed up to the roots of nly hair. ■ 1 Law; bow modest bo is,’ said one of iny feminine friends. ‘ He’s as red as our gob bler;’ The prospect of being'kissed by some of those pretty girls was decidedly agreeable— I felt delicious over it—’but those vinegar yis aged old women. I shrunk from the ordeal. But I am naturally a gallant man, and re flecting that I could wash my face abundant ly—l consented. . * Como one, come all 1’ said I. They obeyed. They flung their arms around my neck, and surrounded mo on ev ery band. I felt like a pickled sardine,- I smelt musk, onions pnitehouly,“snuff, jockey club, hard cider, cologne dough-nuts, boiled mutton, cinnamon, mustard seed-, cardamon buds and every other odor under the sun; -Kissing is h grand invention, but there is some choice in it, X think. At lust, they hud all kissed itio but od'o, rend .she was standing a little apart, making pre parations. I noticed her with a mighty trembling. She*was ugly as an ogre, and the look of dogged determination on her wiz ened face convinced me that.l need hope othing from her mercy. ' [ never could tasto anything with my teeth ip/ she exclaimed in an undertone* and instantly came a full set of teeth, and she rushed towards mo, I grow giddy with the prospect, and turning I fled before her like, the billows before a hurricane. I had no thought fur,the figure I cut, my only object was to got Out of her reach.— Through the entry—down a flight -of back stairs, knocking over the hostlerand the cook who wore giggling together on the stops— through the yard, where I left the larger part of ray coat tail in the possession of a covetous dog—and' over a fence into the open country. And all tliff time I could hear the steps of my pursuer close' behind mo. ‘ You may run,’ cried she, f but I'll catch yp. It shan't bo said all the Wiraen in Pine viJJo kissed General Sheridan but rao. I'll do it or die.* , gracious!.so I had,been .taken* for General Sheridan. No wonder the people had turned out eu manse to welcome mo. And still I hurried on. Tho snow was deep—l was nocrly blown away, and ! sunk, doopor and deeper at every step. My 'female “OUR COUNTRY-MAY XT ALWAYS BE RldfllT—BUT RIQUT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY." friend gained on me, and .just ns I fell head long into a concealed mudholo, she grasped: mo by the collar. And before I could oloar myself, she had done the deed. She hud kissed mo. The landlord had followed just behind, and I offered him ton dollars to get me to my aunt Nabby’a that night. He accepted the bribe, and just before day break I sank at the feet of my rosboctod rel ative. 1 lay abed for n week uftowurd—too much exhausted to stir ; but I say a copy of the Pinovillo Earjle, and in it tbo following par agraph : ‘ Gross Imposition. —A low lu cd wretch passing himself off ns General Phil. Shcrinan, arrived in our village, and put up at the Wash ington House, on Friday evening. There was quite a demonstration among our citi zens bofoco tbo imposter was discovered. The bogus General has gone to parts unknown.— It is supposed he was some drunken lunatic, from bis conduct.’ I make no comments, but judgo ihy sensa tions. . Courting in Right Stvle. —‘ Oit eout, yon nasty puppy—let mo alone or I will toll your ma?’ cried out Sally . to her lover, Jake -, who sat irhout ten feet from her, pull ing dirt from tho chimney jam. ‘ I aren’t tcehiu you, Sal,’ said Jake. ■ ‘ Well, perhaps you mean to nuttier, do y,or ?’ ‘ No, 1 don’t.* ~ ‘ Cause you’re 100 trifnal scary, you long legged, lantern-jawed, slab sided, pigeon toed, gariglokneed owl, you—you haint got a tarnel bit of sensegot along homo with you.l ‘ Now, Sal, I love you arid can’t help it, and ef you don’t let mo stay and court you, my daddy will sue your’n for that cow ho sold him t’other day. By jingo ho said-hb’d do Iti’ ‘AVell, look hero Jake—if you want to court me you’d bettor do it as a white man dobs that thing—don’t set off there as if you thought I was pisen.’ ‘ llow on airth is that, Sal ?’ ‘ Why; sit right up hero and hug and kiss riie ns if you really had some bone and sinner rif iriau about you. Co you s’poso .a. woman is only to look at, you fool you? No, they’re made for practical results, as Cossuth says— to hug and kiss and sioh like.’ _ ‘ Well,’ said Jake, drawing a long breath., ‘if I must I must, for I do lovo Sal —— and so Jake commenced sliding up to her like n maple poker going to battle. Laying his nrni gently upon Sal’s shoulder, wo tho’t we heard Sal any— ‘ That’s tile way to do it, old lioss—that’s acting like a white man orter.’ ‘ Oh, Jerusalem and pancakes 1’ oxcln'med Jake; ‘ if this ain’t better than any apple sass over mrrm made, darned sight! Crack oe, buckwheat cakes, slap jacks, and ’lasses ain’t no where’long side you; Sal! Oh, how I lovo you.’ Here their lips came together, and tho report that followed was like pulling a horse’s foot out of tho mire. Wo left. Plausible Arguments.—Tom t B is a listless, vagabond sort of fellow, who hangs ■about the stores in our village, and lives by bis wits, which, bo it said, do not bring him in any stupendous gains, nor, in fact, enough to insure him always three meals per diem. Hero is ah argument which won him a good dinner, once upon a tiipe, and which, lor its ingenuity, deserves embodiment: Oue noon, a number of the villagers were seated in front of the hotel door, and under the shade trees, when Tom made bis appear ance; looking lazy and hungry. Mr.— - happened to hold a twonty-flvo cent stamp in his hand at the time, and as soon as Tom’s byes rested upon it, bd said : ‘ Jlr. : , Let mo have that for rt moment, and I will show you something with it.’ Innocently enough, tho currency was Handed him; which he immediately pocketed after which unsatisfactory exploit ho went off in Ills usual slouching gait toward tlio ho tel refectory, undoubtedly intending to pur chase with the newly acquired fortune a sav ory dinner. The following dialogue then ensued ! ‘ Whore are you going, Tom ?’ ‘ Going to dinner, I. reckon.’ ‘ Give mo back niy money before you go.’ ‘ Let mo see, it was yoii who gave it to mio, wasn’t it?’ asked Toni, inquiringly. ‘ Of course it was,’, replied Hr. ‘ Then, if you gave it to me, I shan’t giro it tiijpk.’ ‘No, I only lent it to you.’ ‘ Then,’ replied Tom, with a grin, ‘ I’ll repay you when I’m able,’ and ho went to dinner. ‘ Tho argument was unanswerable. A Court Scene.— 1 William, look herd ; toll us, William, who made you. Do you know ?’ William, who’was.considered a fool, screwed up his fade, and looked, thoughtful, and somewhat bewildered, slowly answered, ‘ Moses, I s’spose,’ ‘That will do,’ said Counsellor Gray, ad dressing tho court. ‘Tho witndas says ho supposes Moses made hint. That certainly is an intelligent answer, more than I thought him capable of giving, for it shows that ha Ims some faint idea of Scripture, hut I sub mit that it is not sufficieut to entitle him to be sworn in ad a witness capable of giving evidence.’ ‘ Air. Judge,' said tho fool, * may I at the lawyer ft. question V * Certainly/ said tho Judge. * tVal, then, Mr. Lawyer, who d'yo s'spqsri made you?'. . • wffe ‘ Aaron, I s’poae/ said cohnsollo'r Gray, imitating the witness. After the mirth somewhat subsided, the witness drawled out. ‘ Wei noow, wd do road, in the good hook that Aaron once made a calf, hut who’tj thought kho darned critter had got in hero ?’ Tho Judge ordered tho man to be sworn. JohN Adams*—Mr, "Webster visited Mr. Adams a short time before his death, and found him reclining on a sofa, evidently in feeble health. Ho remarked to Mr. Adams: '* I api glad to see you, sir, and I hope yon are getting along pretty well/ Mr. A., replied in tbo‘ following figurative language r. - * Ah, sir, quite the contrary. I find lam a poor tenant, occupying a house much shat tered by time. It sways a ; nd trembles with every wind, and what is worse, sir, theland lord, as near.as I can find out, don't intend to make any repairs/ “ What a fine head your Jboy has," said ,an admiring friend. “Yes," said the fond father ; “ ho is a chip of the old block ; aint you sonny!" “ I guess so, daddy, 'causo tenoher said yesterday I was a young block head I" OjF* Always giyo a narrow-minded man a wide berth.- CARLISLE, PA.. THURSDAY, JULY 6,1865. , HIVE SUMMER DAY. BY SYDIL PARK. Wo bad found a pleasant foot path, Loading out into tho wood, Where tho oaks like mighty warriors In their giant beauty stood ; Where tho patches of warm sunlight Shimmered down in waves of gold, lighting up tho lonely fores 1 ., Like a picture quaint and old ,And wo followed all tho windiaga Of that foot-path 'ncatb the trees, While the summer-winds were singing ’Mid tho restless shining Iparos—• Still it seemed to us tho music Floating through tho woodland diifa, Must have caught tho holy sweetness Of some grand cathedral hymn. I can sco tho brilliant splendor Ot that glowing sumpor-day, As it cbtiios in rifts of lioAuty Whoro the dreamy shadows lay, •I can hoar tho music drifting Very softly ’mid tho troos, But my heart is keeping sacred Dearer, brighter dreams than these I remember that you gathered Oaken loaves and blossoms rare, And wo wovo a wreath between Us, Which you placed upon my hair, Saying words whoso earnest meaning I had never caught before,— % "I have loved you fondly, darling; May I loVo you ovormoro V* THE TWO COWARDS. * I wag a coward! Wo weto botli 6ow : ardg !’ So spake oar law tutdr, Moses Drake, and thus ho continued: Wo had graduated from Harvard, Laban tied myself—and had oomnlenoed the prac tice of law. We were neither of us married, though wo wore anticipating that event. We had a case in court—a case of trespass.— Adams was for the plaintiff and I for the de fendant. It was a weak and foolish coni plaint, and Adams should not have taken it fipi It .was merely a case of extortion. The plaintiff hold a rod over the tack of the de fendant in the shape of a bit of knowledge concerning a private misstep of a former time, and the present complaint was only a seemingly legal way in which that other .power was to bo used for the purpose of opening a poor man's purse. At the trial I exposed the trick, and obtained the ruling out by the court of a scandal which Aduni/i had planned to introduce as testimony. Of v.iurso I was severe, and as my opponent bad entered upon a very bad case, my strictures cut home. I gained the verdict for my cli ent, and people laughed at the foiled plain tiff, and spoke lightly of his lawyer. ‘Thus it commenced. Adams cculd riot forgive me for the chagrin I had caused him. Ho had laid it up against mo and talked openly about being revenged. This was on the first of August. A month afterwards we mot at a party, where the gentleman drank wine, L ite in the evening Adams and I nitot and a third person made some remark upon the old trial, whereupon a fourth person laughcd.and said I had done a great thing. Afe flushed and made .an impu dent reply, The reply was addressed to mo and I answered. The two outsiders laughed at the hit I had made, and Adams said something more.-severe than •before. X re plied to him. lie deliberately told mo that I was a liar I ‘ I had been drinking wine and my blood wrts boated. As that harsh, hard, cowardly Word fell upon my ear my passion overcame me. I struck Laban Adams' in the face, and knocked him back against the wall. It was a cowardly thing for mo to strike him there in that Qompauy ; but X was too much excited to reflect. I expected Adams would strike baek but he did not. I was stronger than he, though this consideration may not have influenced him. His friends drew away and I went out into the open air. As soon as the cool breeze fanned my brow and eased the heated blood away from my brain, I was sor ry for what I had done, but it was too lato to help the matter. I might have gone to Adams and asked him to overlook the wrong I had done, but I had not the’ Courage for that: ft / On the following morning 'ivfri.egd, named Watkins, called upon mo and presented a note from Laban Adams. I opened it and found it to bo a challenge. I wap requested to give satisfaction for the blow Iliad struck. If I was a gentleman I would do so. If I was willing, I might designate the tide and place,-and select the weapons. What should I do ? What 1 ought to do was very plain; The lessons of life which fond mother had taught mo did not leave mo in doubt. I ought to have gone to Adams and made such an offer of conciliation ns one gentleman may honorably make to another ; and if ho reject ed that, I could have simply turned from and refused to do a further wrong to right the wrong already done. But 1 had not the courage to do that- 1 —! was a coward. I fear ed that my friends would laugh at m'e and especial friends of Adams would point at mo the linger of scorn; So in the cowardice of my heart, I thought I would be brave before the world, and I ac cepted the challenge. . 4 The sooner it is over ttio better/ remark ed Watkins. 1 Certainly/I responded. • Let it be bn this very day, at sunset; upon the river's’ bank, directly beneath' .tho Heart Ledge. I will send a friend to you to make further arrangements.' ‘ And tho weapons ?' ‘ Pistols/ And so it was fixed. An hour afterwards 1 found John Price, a young physician, who agreed to act as njy second. He did not urge' mo to abandon tho idea, nor did he enteFllio' work as though he loved it, but ho did it be cause ho fancied that 1 was determined, and in case of aooident his professional service might be of value. . 1 knb’w that Adams was a good shot, atfd he know that I was tho same,- for wo had practiced much together, so that there was no advantage to either party in the weapons. After dinner. Price came to me, and told me all was arranged. Everything had been, fixed as 1 bad planned, and Adams and his second would bo on the ground at tho ap pointed time; After Price had gone I sat down ■ a’nd wrote two letters. "What a coward 1 \uas to write to them; Oho’was to my mother and the other to tho gentle being who had prom ised to be my wife. As 1 sit now and think of that hour! shudder with horror—tho hour I. wrote to ,my mother and my--bctrothed. : —' What was.l about to do? lo fob them of all earthly joy forever! And for what ? Berouse I'hadnot the courage to be a bold, frank man ; to obey my God and tho laws of my country ! I was to bow before a wicked spirit-—to offer my blood to folly, and my hand to murder 1 • White Heart Ledge was a light, perpen dicular wall of granite rising above the river, the top crowned with dark spruce trees. It received its name from a peculiar mark, where a mass of white quartz appeared, half way up Ihe ledge, in the form of a heart. ’Late in the afternoon I was upon the san dy shore beneath tho ledge; and almost at the same time Laban Adams made his ap pearance. Wc.wcro both anxious to be thought brave men. He did not speak to me. Our seconds conferred awhile together, and then Price came to my side. • , * Must things go on ?’ I told him I did not know how it could bo stopped. I lied ; for I did know. He informed mo that if I would make tho lease overture of petfee ho felt sure tha*t Adams would accept it. . " ‘X think/ ho said, ‘ that Adams is sorry for what has happened. You struck him, and ho cannot retract/ * And ho called mo a liar P ‘ 1 know ho did, and I know he did wrong. In fact, there was wrong upon bdth sides.— Offer him your hand, and I think he will'take it without explanation. 7 No; I would not do itl And why not ? I wanted to do it! My heart urged mo to.do it. The spirit of my dear mother, speaking in those old lessons of love and blessing urged mo to do it. God speaking through His son, urged me do do it. The law of the land urged me to do it. And yot I would hot. t vVas afraid that men would s*\v I was a coward. 0, what a precious coward I was 1 • i , 4 Yon arc both good shots/ added Price ‘ 4 and if you fire together you may both fall/ But I dared not oiler tho hand of concilia tion. I told him I was ready, lie went back to Watkins, and pretty soon they measured off tho ground—-twelve paces. Wc were to stand back to back, those twelve paces nphrt. We Were to turn at tho word one, we were to raise our pistols at tho word two, and at the word three wo wore to lire. I caught the eye of Laban Adams as I took my position, and I was sure no angry pas-' Mon dwelt therein. For an instant tho im pulse was in mo to drop my pistol arid offer him my hand, I was sure he would nob re fuse me. But I had not tho courage to do it. I would rather do tho deep, damning wrong, than do that simple Christian act of love. , Our seconds Hesitated, as though they saw whnt was passing in our thoughts ; but wo offered no word, and they proceeded. Tho word one was given. X cannot tell tho feel ings that came crowding upon mo at tliat moment. 1 st ,- od face to face with my broth ers ; in a moment more wo were to offer our hands to the infernal stains! I thought of the holy love thet had beamed upon me since I had grown to man’s estate; and I thought that in one short moment more tho black pall might cover it all. Watkins was a long time in pronouncing tho word two. Ho evidently hoped that one of us would relent—but ho hoped in vain.— Only n breath held back the last fatal word, but that word was never spoken. As wc raised our-pistols, n sharp, agonized cry, from a breaking heart; burst upon the air, and in another moment two light shadows flitted upon tho scene. I was a prisoner— Laban Adams was a prisoner. Our pistols ay. undischarged, upon the ground. Two gentle maidens, who loved us bettei* than wo loved ourselves, and whose love had led them to deep anxiety in our behalf, had guessed our secret. Lnue has sharp eyes.— Clara Wolcott know Laban’s hot temper,when under strong excitement, and she feared something of tins kind from tho first. She hud only to whisper her suspicion to Mary, and two sleepless sentinels were upon us. These twd warm spirits, with their cries and their tears, molted the joy crust, and our hearts found the surface.’ 4 0, in God’s name, bo enemies no mure!’ implored Clara. 4 By the love you bear mo—by tho memo ry of all you bold dear on earth, and all you hope to moot in heaven cast forth the demon from j’our heart!’ prayed Mary. In an instant I resolved to bo a man.— With thoarms* of my beloved still encircling mo, I stretched forth my hand; but I was notin advance of Laban. As though one, spirit had moved ns, oiir hands mot mid way. 4 I hove boon a fool/ said Laban. 4 And I have been a fool and a coward, be cause I dared not do right/ 4 Aye - / I added, 4 had it not been for those blessed angels, wo might have been some thing worse/ , . Wo returned from the dark ground just as tho day was softening into twilight, and from’ that hour Laban Adams and myself were vast friends; and they who had saved us from great crime entered upon tho life path with Us, and have blessed us ever since. Tun World Can Go On Wirnout Us.— A brjuichj broken from the tree by the tem pest, rode on the rapid current of the swollen stream. 1 See bow I lead the Waters/ ho cried to the banks.* ‘ See how 1 command nod carry the stream with me," lie cried again. AJutting rocky ridge, over which the tor rent dashed, caught the branch, and kept it, shattered and. impris'on’od, While th‘o waiters flowed on and on. ‘ Alas !' cried the branch, * how can you hold me thus.? Who will govern tho stream ? how will it prosper without my guidance ?’ 1 Ask the banks,' said the rocky ledge. And tho banks answered : ' ‘ Many, like you, have been carried by the stream, fancying that they carried it. And as to the loss you will bo to the waters, don’t bo uneasy. You are already forgotten, as IftTb those who came before you, who came "before you, n’nd as those will soonbo who >may follow.' An iNTEriESTiNO Dialogue. —Stephen Whit ney, who. died in New York, recently, leav ing ten millions, was once met by John Ja cob' Astor* when tile following dialogue en sued i • 1 Mr. Whitney, I hear you have retired from-business' . This, was after his retire ment,in 1837. * Yea,' replied Mr. WhitnoV. ‘ I have re tired.' ‘ And how much ate you worth ?' inquired Mr. Astor. ... - ‘About 55.000,000,' replied Mr. Whit ney. / After standingnnd thinking in silence for a moment, ‘ Well/ said Mr. Astor, ‘I don’t know but it.is just as well to retire on that sum as it is to bo rich.' A coachman, extolling ho sagacity of one of his lioraos. observed that ‘ if any body was to go for to use' him ill, lie -would bfcaf malice like a Christian/ Wild RANKS? Tho Now York Herald publishes the fol lowing anecdote. It relates it ns a matter of history : When General Grant was about to leave Washington to enter upon that sublime cam paign which began with the battle of tho Wilderness nnd ( ended with the downWl of the rebellion', h ; o called upon Secretary Stan ton to say good-bye. The Secretary was anxiously awaiting him. During the two and ivhalf years that Pre sident. Lincoln and Secretary Stanton bad managed the Eastern armies it was the firsts point in their plans to keep Washington heavily garrisoned with troops. Large bod ies of men were stationed in the fortifications around tho city and other large bodies were kept in supporting distance. Now that Grant had come into power Stanton wanted to see that the defence of Washington was not over looked. Accordingly, after a few prelimina ries, tho Secretary remarked ; ‘ Well, General, I suppose you left us enough men to strongly garrison the forts V ‘ No; 1 said Grant, coolly, ‘I can’t do that/ ‘Why not?’ cried Stanton, jumping ner vously about. ‘Why not? Why not?’ ' ‘ Because I have already sent tho men to tho front/ replied. Grant. ‘That won’t do/ cried Stanton, 9101*0 ner vous than before. ‘ It’s contrary to my plans. I’ll order them back/ ‘ I shall need them there/ answered Grant, ‘ ami you carv’t ordbr them back/ ‘ Why not?* inquired Stanton again. ‘Why not? Why not?*. ( 4 I believe-that I rank the Secretary in the matter/ wag the quiet reply. 1 Very well/ said Stanton, a little warmly, 4 wb’U see. the President about that. I’ll have to take you to the President/ . ‘That’s right / politely observed Grant, 4 the President ranks us both/ Arrived at the White House, the General and the Secretary asked to see the President upon important business, and in a low mo ments the good-hearted face of Mr. Lincoln appeared. >. 4 Well, ‘gentlemen/ said the President, with a genial smile, 4 what do you want with me V 4 General/ said Stanton, stiffly, * state your case/ 4 f have no case to state/ replied Grant, 4 I’m satisfied as it is thus outflanking the Secretary, and displaying the same strategy in .diplomacy as in War. 4 Well, ,\vell/ said the President, laughings 4 state your enso Secretary.* Secretary Stanton obeyed : General Grant said nothing ; the President listened very at tentivedy. When Stanton had concluded, the President crossed his legs, rested his elbow on liis knee, twinkled his eyes qudftitly and said: • ' • * 4 Now, Secretary, you know we have boon trying to manage this army fop two years and a half, and you know wo haven’t done much with it. Wo sent over the mountains and brought Mister Grant—as Mrs. Grant calls him—to manage it for us, and now I guess we had better lot Mister Grant have his own way/ From this decision there was no appeal. — Nobody ranked tho President. So General Grant went off with tho army, and Secretary Stanton went back to his office. A Little Deaf. —ln tho olden time, be fore Maine laws wore invented, Wing kept the hotel at Middle Granville, and from bis well stocked bar furnished “ accommodations to man and boast/ 7 lie was a good landlord but terribly deaf. Fish, the village painter, was afflicted in tho same way. . . One day they ,werc .sitting by themselves' in the bar-room. Wing was behind tho counter waiting for the next customer 1 ; while Fish was lounging before tho fire, with a thirsty look, casting sheep's eyes occasionally at Wing's decanters, and wishing most de youtly that some one would come in and treat. A traveler from tho South, on his. way to lirandon stopped in to .inquire the distance. Going up to the counter, lie said : ‘ Can you tell mo, sir, how far it is to Brandon V . * Brandy V says the ready.landlord, jump ing up ; ‘ yes, sir, I have some,' at the same time handiugdowu a decanter of tho precious liquid. ‘ You misunderstand mo/ says tho strang er. ‘ I asked how far it was to Brandon,’ ‘ They call it pretty good brandy, says Wing. * “Will you take sugar with it?'— reaching tis he spoke for the bowl and toddy stiek. . The despairing traveler turned to Fish. ‘The landlord/ said he, ‘poems to be deaf; will you toll me how far it is to Brandon V . ‘ Thank you,' said Fish,. ‘ I don't care If I do take a drink witli you !' Tho stranger treated and fled. DD" ‘ That’s a very knowin’ hanimal of yours/ said a Cockney gentleman to the keep er of an elephant. ‘ Very/ was the cool rejoinder. *'E performs strange tricks and hantics, does ho?' inquired the’cockney eyeing the animal through the grass. ‘Surprising;' responded tho keeper, ‘we've learnt him to put inunoy in that box you sec away up there. Try him with a dollar/ Tho cockney handed the elephant a dollar, arid sdro enough he took it in his trunk'an'd put it in a ho:£ high' out of roach. ‘ Well, that's wery hextraordinary, haston-- ishing truly I ‘Now,-let’s see him take it out and 'and it back/ ‘ IV O never learnt him to do that,’ replied tho keeper, with a rogiiish leer, and then lurned to stir up tho monkeys and punch ,the hyenas. ; ■ , A Love Lettek. —Ooh, Paddy, owatc Pad dy, if I was your daddy, I’d kill ye wid kiss es entirely; if I was your brother, and like wise your m'uthor, I’d see that ye wont to bed airly. To taste of your bretb, I’d starve mo to death, and lay off me hoops altogether.— To joost have a taste of yor arm on me waist, I’d larf at the meanest of weather. Dear Paddy, be mine, mo own swate valentine ; find me both giatle and civil, qurdifo we’ll snind to an illegant ind, and care' rt:iay go dance wid tho divil. IC7" There is a very droll story o t a doctor who went to settle in a village out west and the first night on his,arrival was sent fur to attend a sick child. Ho looked at the little sufferer very attentively, and then delivered this oracular opinion: “ This hayr babe’s got the small pox ; and I ain’t posted oh pustules. Wo must ap proach the case by circular treatment. You, give the little cuss this draught. That will set him into fits. Then send fur mo. I’m a stunner on fits.’ O*Light infantry movements—Agitating a cradle with a baby in it. Wlmt Can I Do? BV ANCIENT SIMEON. Arthur, a little boy six years old, being out for a walk with his mamma ono morning, they called on widow Grant and found her in great trouble. • • Her oldest son, George, had boon knocked duwirftnd run over by a heavy cart, nnd was so much hurt it was doubtful whether ho' would recover, so sho was crying, ■ and felt very sad, ° Arthur could not help crying too, when ho heard the widow toll how tho accident hnn pened, and the pain her boy suffered Ar thur’s mamma often sent him down to tho oottngo to ask after Georgo, and take him Iruit, jellies, and other little comforts, and one ddty ns she was filling a small basket for him to take, ho said, “ I wish, ma, I could do sometlung.for George—make him jellies, and cake, and other nice things as you do/’ ' W ell, Arthur, I do not suppose you could make jellies, hut do what you can : there aro other things ynuffcan do.” l? can I do ? I cannot cook at all; X think perhaps I ootild make a rica pudding, hut not custards and beef tea. and such things a? you send him.” “ You seem to think, Arthur,” said Ins mother, smiling, “ that eating and drinking juid cooking are all important matters, but 1 was not thinking of them ; you can road ” “ Oh, yes, ma j I am top in the third class at school.” 44 And you have a half-holiday twice a week/’ “ Ves, tna; Wednesday and Saturday.” “ AVoil. now, would you. not liko to go ami road to Goorgo on your Half holidays ? ho is too weak to road himself, and Idaro say fools rather dull whilst his mother is out at work,” “Just the Tory thing !” cried Arthur, who was delighted to find tlicuc was something ho could do, and as this was one of his half-holi days, ho ffekod if ho might begin at. once. • To this his mamma consented, and having out “ Ministering Children” as a book likely to interest George, Arthur was soon on his way to the cottage. Arthur’s proposal to road°was gladly ac cepted by George, and as Arthur read slowly, George yvna able to lollow him and listea without soon getting wearied. And for sev eral weeks Arthur gave up part of his play time, that ho might read in the sick room, until George recorbrclj and went to work again ; and when Arthur grow up to bo d| man, ho used often to refer to this, liis first * lesson in doiit/j what 7m could, and sniilo at his boyish folly in thinking that because ho coulilaiot cook, therefore he could not do any thing. 44 D0 good! do good there’s ever a way, •A way where there’s ever a will ; Don’t wait till to-morrow, but do it to-day. And to-day when the morrow comes still. 41 Do good ! do good ! wo arc never too young To be useful in many a away j I or all have a heart, and a hand, nncl a tongaoj To feel, and to labor, and to pray.” ID" " Have a drop of tho crathur, Micha el ?" *' No, suro I'vo joined the timporanco pledge." ."Yea; but didn’t St. Patrick advise Ta mothy to take a little wine lor Ida stomach's sake?.” “ Maybcs he did ; but my name isn't Ta mothy, and tbere’a-no throuble with ray stim* a'ih." J ID* “ Julius, can you toll mo how Adani got out of Eden ?" , " Weel.l 'sposo he climbed ober de fence/' “ No, dat ain’t it." 'j .. ‘‘Well, den ho borrowed wKec-barrow and walked out." “ No." “ J it up don." “ lie got snakedout." There is a young lady in Henry coun-i ty, Missouri, not yot sweet sixteen, who is this year cultivating fifteen acres of corn.— She does all tho necessary .work, including plowing, and has undertaken this piece of work to obtain money with which to educate herself. JC@T“A cute Yankee,’in Kansas, sells nor in a gun-barrel instead of a glass, that ho may avoid tho. law, and make it appear beyond dispute than ho .is selling liquor by the barrel. Of course the cute Yankee's cas* turners are liable to go off half cocked. ID* “ Doctor/' said a person once to a sur- "my daughter had a terrible .fit thl* morning; she continued half ah hour ntfc* out knowledge or understanding," ‘‘ O,". replied tho doctor, never mind that 4, many people continue so all their lives." OCT 7 * A fellow who took tho mantilla from tho jjoudoir