• J -'l
1,
lAN VOLUNTEER,
jVERY THURSDAY HORNING JIY
TOM & KEMMEWY.
™ S: .
■ rrt 1 oN. —Two Dollars if paid .within the.
Two Dollars, and Fifty Cents, if not paid
:iittSßKe year. Theso terms will bo rigidly i>d-
every instance.; No subscription dis-
Icl until all arrearages are paid unless at
f>£ .o/'the'jßdJtor*,.«/ j .j /J .; *
tisbments- — Accompanicdby tbb cash, and
oding one square, will bo inserted three
r $2.00, and twenty-five cents ■ for each
d insertion; Those of a greater length in
EBdroftNa—Such- ns Hand-bills, Posting-bills
Blanks, Labels, Ac. &c., executed with
at the shortest notice.
’ -rifSp: W®* **• BUTIiE
AT LAW,-
■ WepSi ! CARRISUE, PA.
• .S2Bffeß : wwn IVm. J. Shearer, Bsa.
ISO5—Xy.
Gi ;GRAH AM,; ■.
3J O'R K y ;.A Jf UWa I
: ‘ ■ formerly occupied by. Judge Graham,
street, 1 Carlisle. • [sept. t, ’63-ly
W. lO A I )~LE R,
JTTORNEY M T LJI JV i: .
. , CARLISLE, Pa.
' Volunteer, Building. Hanover.
XSOl—ly.’.
|....... f'j. M. WEAKIEY, '
TOXIN, E X ,A-T LAW,
on South llanovor street, in thtj
formerly occupied by A. B. Shorpo.;
'
3ia||fe';n~ n ews n a m.,
T TORN BY" AT RAW.
'witli Via. 11. Miller; Esq., smith
;&ajSp:t&'at pornor of Hanover end Pomfrot street?.
22, 1882^-tf
K»wU> ns> c> HEUHArS,
• ATT ORNEY AT LAW. .
(TICE in Elieent's' Hall Building, in
oftUo Court House, next door to
,H«aflWV'Oflice, Carlisle.. [Feb
1 i ■rJiffS.P. —; : 1 ‘ “
A. DISBAR,
f IOHET'A! LAW.
■ ■■ PABWSI*, pa.
-.Office next door to tho American Printing oflio
“Tife.'fedobrs'-weat.W Hannon’s hotel. .
13CXr-ly
V F. B. BBtL'ZaOOVER,
' ! s rAfKORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LA IF,
CARLISLE PENN’A.
South Ilapoyor street, oppo
• H store. '
arrangement.with, the Patent Office,
to .securing; Patent Rights.
\;32,.186‘1-ly
'E. : -MA«IiAU«nfiIW,
M K V. Y-AT-L A W. “
■ XnhoiFa-buildings just opposite
* S6BB& Market House-. ' • *
.» 13,. 1862-—ly.
Jtjjfeo/Tico with James B. Smith, Esq., Bheom s
JproßirWßSmcsa oiAfus*cd to him will bo prompt
-1 to, • - Fob. 6. 1863.
■ —- -
H*W*^
(Re Saltwiore- College, of Dental Surgery
attho residence of Ms mother, East Loutli
floors holow Bedford- 7 ■
22(1862.
? L Mar ~ i
£ Tc. LOOMSS, DElS
from South. -Hanover atrcot to-West
I PWfftVstrooti-'oppoaitoaiio-Fomalo; High School,
i K J ‘ ; '.' J ; --[April 28,1864.
! • riiHmsu bs c rib o v liavirip; Joaaed .the Yard
■ JL-i>form<3rly occupied by Armstrong & IXofibr,
k:■ • /toft of ; f]v*j
j> rtifyQU* lt 4tN&,& VM B,:E;R , . p ,
%■ .together with an Ammonso now stock*
have .cop§ tnjjtly on liaiulcind furnish to order
of soaartncdV ' * 1
[k-". :>; aSppß, ...
BOARDS*'/., , /. 1 „
; * Shingling
I and f\Voat|iorbqaraing, Posts and Hails,
|;’ r \
! ■ ;. : rs?isssindB of Shingles,/to. wit: ;Whitopinc, Ilcm
< v of different qualities. Uaving oars
ofjfi^owfi l P J oan* furnish «UilU to tmiorof any
1 ‘ I: 'notice and on the
moßCtodsonablo t9?pifl., ily worked hoards will bo
- keßtandor qoverso they can bp furnished dry at
i • ntt-flmoM * 1 ‘l ’l ‘ u 1 / 1 ,■/«'.«• ) u
f'Y-havo.<ftilalJanl;ly oplhapd albkmda ;oJf .-F;cVML
} ■ \ undercover, which I will deliver clean
1 • tbjwqr part of 1 ' T6 : #itV ‘Lykons Val
vEgg, Stoiorand,.Nut, : Luke,Fiddler,
Locust* Mountain, Lobbory, which X
to sell at tliblowost prices. '
I ‘ ,
liirmhurnevs’ and*Black smiths’. oal .
qn'bfirid which X will .poll at the lowest fig
aro, c , w *arU‘ west side of Grammar School, Main
'IOE.- 1 -! still retain the same position
rm : of-DELANOY «fc BLAIE, which willho
oir aa energetically as ever at their old
jaftho Gas house. As our-purchases -will
together at tho head of the market, wo
ifidont hy so doing to ho able to Eccommo
ir icastomers and tho public on the most
ible -terms.' * having relinquished tho tan
will 'doorto my-entire attention to tho Coal
uhlio*“business. All kinds-.of Coal and
■koptcoastantly on hand and in the -host
m.- - The Lumber Yard will bo managed by'
whoso experience and- skill is well
to'the community. ! - By strict attention to
Short and a desire-to do right wo
; floduz*o'a liberal share of*public patronage.
ANDREW H. BLAIII.
"I6i'lß6Q-tfr -
JIT J&reat
Buchanan’s History of the Ad
7.', ''M'misira'tion oh the " ■
EVE OE THE .REBELLION. 1 ’
:y. iiocriitSlibuld Have It
bsieription Price, $3.50,
'All’ordorß will receive'prompt attention.
Address 1 " J * 1 ; '- ‘ ■
' • 1 -A. T. GOODMAN,
- . f Pdtrfof and Union Office,
■/.Mil# ,' 77 Hißwsinmo, Pa,
ANDEEW 11. BLAIR.
forfifal.
IffiliE IS i\'() BElm -
There is no death! The stare go down
, To rise upon some fairer shore ; /
And bright in Heaven’s jeweled crown
: They shine forever more.
Thoro is no.death ! The duet wo,trend
i Shall change beneath the summer showers,
To golden grain or mellow fruit,
Or rainbow tinted flowers.
The gentle rooks disorganize
j To food the hungry moss they boar ;
The forest leaves drink daily life
From out the viewless air.
Thoro is no death I The leaves may fall,
1 Tho flowers may fade and pass away—
They only wait through wintry hours,
The coming of tho May.
Thoro is no death ! An angel form
, Walks o’er tho earth witn silent tread,
lie bears our best loved things away,
And then w r o call them “ dead.”
tie loaves our hearts all-desolate—
Ho pi neks our fairest, sweetest (lowers ;
Transplanted into bliss, they now
Adorn immortal bowers.
The bird-like voice whoso joyous tones
Made glad this scene of joy and strife,
Sings now in everlasting song
Amid the trees of life.
And where lie sees a smile too bright,
; Or hearts too pure for taint and vice,
lie bears it to that world of light
: To dwell in paradise.
Born into (hat undying life,
They leave us but to come again ;
With joy wo welcome them the Same,
Except in sin and pain.
And over near us, though unseen,
The dear immortal spirits tread ;
For all the boundless Universe
Is life—there are no dead.
HlWlnnmm
UNCLE OBED’S VISIT.
It would, have required no very powerful
stretch of imagination for Mrs. Amber's
guests to have fancied themselves amid the
light and fragrance of some tropic isle on that
festal night. The stately balustrades were
wreathed with deeply-tinted blossoms, the
air was freighted with the perfume of helio
trope and tuberose, and tho chandeliers that
hung from tho froseood ceiling, like coronals
of quivering fire, threw noonday brilliance
over the crowd.
At the further ond of tho superb drawing
room, stood Mrs. Amber herself—a stately
matron in sapphire velvet, illuminated by
the pale glimmer of pearls. No ono would
over have imagined from tho smiling solf
posscssion of her manner that this night was
tho crisis of her life.
Through all tho hum and murmur of the
aristocratic assemblage—through all tho
crash of arriving carriages, and the stormy
melody of tho band beyond, Mrs. Amber’s
quick ear caught ono low, hesitating step on
tho threshold. It was her husband’s. Sho
beckoned to him with her iewolled fan, and
whispered in scarcely audible voice.
“ Well?”
“ Justus lexpootod. Wo are ruined, can’t
keep above water a week. Norris has failed
and wo shall follow suit 1”
“A week,” murmured' Mrs. Amber
thoughtfully, “a week 1” One can accom
plish a.good deal in a week; ■ “Have you
noticed how attentive Young Gold is to Ce
cillia?” she added musingly.
'■ lie won’t ho after—”
“ Hush!” Mrs. Amber exclaimed with a
quick glance around, as if apprehensive that
tho vcry walla would hoar their whispered,
colloquy. “If she wins a rich husband be
fore -the world- learns of. your distress,
we shall be tolerably safe. For your own
aako keep a cheerful face; mingle with our
guests—throw off that perturbed frown. I
tell you all will be'right."
Mr. Amber shrugged his shoulders and
whistled half a,bar. of some popular strain,
then turning away to obey his wife’s behests .
to the best of his ability, while Mrs. Amber,
her smooth lips all wreathed in dulco’t smiles,
resumed the task of receiving her gay friends.
' Suddenly there was' a sort of thrill and
filter.’ through the “apartment—the crowd
opened as if to make way for somebody, and
Mrs. Amber came forward expecting to greet
some distinguished arrival.
"Good evening, Tildy. ~I kalkilated you’d
all bo'gone to bod, at this time o’night, but
I sob'you don’t keep Now Hampshire habits.
Han’t forgotten mo, have you ? Why, I’m
your Uncle Obod Jenkons 1”
Mrs. Amber turned pale through all her
artificial bloom al/tho unexpected addition
to her company that stood before her, his
honest features beaming with dolight. It was
a ruddy-faced old man, in a suit of butter
nut-oolorod cloth, carrying in one. hand n
neatly-tied hankerchiof, containing his ward
robe, and in the other a crooked walking
stick, full of knots and gnarla—such-a stick
as grows only in dense swamps, where, the -
young sapling have to twist, their little,arms
in every direction to get a bit of sunshine,
and gvow'.up.in the. most unheard of .shapes.
“ I declare,” pursued Uncle Obod, “ you’re
fine as. a fiddle, Tildy—and where’s them
little gals you sent up . sumner bofore.last,
to got red cheeks at their uncle’s? Grown
up to be young ladies—well, if I .ain’t beat
en.”
And Uncle Obed extended a bony hand to
Miss Oeoillin, who drew , back and put'up a
golddnoiwted eye glass with an air of well
bred astonishment.
“ I never heard that any thing ailed Co
cilly’s eyesight, Tildy,” said Uncle Obod in
extreme perplexity. “ And that young fel
ler in the yellar waistcoat is her beau, I sup
peso? "Well, young folks wilfbo'young folks,
and we old ones had’nt ought to interfere:—'
That’s what I always said when,, you , and
iJim Amber used to walk in the old side-hill
orchard; after you’d-done the milking."
This unluoky allusion brimmed the already
overflowing veins of Mrs. Amber’s wrath—
she drew her gloved hand from the old man’s
cordial grasp; with an energy which puzzled
him and, and spoke with compressed lips:
,“I am really sorry, .air, that were are not
previously made aware that you proposed
honoring us with a visit. In that case wo
could have prepared ourselves for the pleas
ure ; now, I regret to say, it will be incon
venient to, receive you.”
“'What?” ejaculated the astonished old
1 man; who was uncertain whether or not ho
had heard aright the words of his only niece
—tho girl whom he had brought up and
cared for when others rejected the charge of
the penniless orphan.
Mrs. Amber repeated /the frigid sentence
with that emphasis avirroTPonly a heartless
woman of tho world can give.
“Thisas a big house, Tildy,” said tho old
man, in slightly tremulous accents, “and I
should ha’ thought thoro was a corner in it
big enough for Uncle Obcd. I wasn't cal
culating to stay long—not over a week at the
furthest; but i’ll go homo to-morrow tho very
first train that leaves, if I’m in the way.”
Mrs Amber made no answer, but tapped
lightly on her mosaic bracelet with one slen
der finger, and Undo Obed turned away with
moisture in his eyes that made curious rings
of mist around tho glaring jets of flame in
tho chandelier.
Uncle Obcd was wishing himself well out
of the heartless scone, w'hon suddenly a pair
of plump little arms wore thrown around his
neok, and a chock fresher and pinker than a
damask rose was pressed to. his brown face.
It was Mrs. Amber’s youngest daughter—his
own niece—the'incorrigible romp, who had
dimed cherry trees and stolon bird’s nests
innumerable in tho meadows of tho old home
stead, two or three years ago. And thoro
she was—a young lady in pink silk and cam
eo-bracelets 1 -
“ Dear Uncle Obed, I have only just heard
of your arrival. lam glad to see you if no
ono else is!”
And another shower of kisses succeeded,
greatly to the discomfiture and onvy of tho
young man who had escorted Miss Amber to
tbo spot, and stood surveying tho pretty lit
tle tableau. ’
“Go about your business, Harry!” sho
exclaimed gaily, “ I’ve got over so much to
say to Unolo Ohod 1”
And Harry Latimer obeyed, hut rather un
graciously.
“ Just tho same little Fanny as over 1” ex
claimed tho old man, patting tho curls with
dolightedjfondnoss. “ You haven’t changed,
though Tildy has 1”
“No ; and I will never change for you,
Undo Obcd,” paid theghd. “ I haven’t for
gotten how kind you were to mo, up at tho
old homestead, how you shielded my trans
gressions,. concealod my faults, and always
bad a smilo for naughty little Fanny.
And sho chatted ou, entirely unheeding
:hcr mother’s frown of displeasure. Fanny
had always been the least manageable of
Mrs. Amber’s daughters, and tho worthy.ma
tron secretly resolved to looturo tho young
lady at her leisure.
Uncle Obed was by no means deficient in
observation, and while he related the chang
es which throe years had wrought in tho vi
cinity of tho old homestead, ho perceived the
rosy blood mount to his niece’s chock every
time Mr. Harry Latimer passed.
“Now little girl,” said ho, “who’s that
young fellow thoro by tho.window?”
Fanny looked up and then-down, played
with tho middle button of Uncle Obod’s coat
and answered very softly:
“ Mr. Latimer.”
“ Humph 1 I suppose that isn’t all you
can toll mo about him ?.”
There was a minute's hesitation and then
Fanny hid her aheek on the old man’s shoul
der and told Unolo Ohod all.
“ Then why on earth don’tyou marry him 1”
ejaculated the old gentleman, at the close of
the little life romance.
“ He’s oqly a poor lawyer,” sighed Fanny,
“ and papa will never consent. But one
thing I am resolved on,” she added with
'sparkling eyes, “ I will not marry any ono
else, least of all that odious Colonel Woodall,
not if ho were worth twenty times twenty
thousand dollars. I’ll marry the one 1 can
love—not for money.” ;
, The stamp of her fair fyot gaye emphasis
to the determined words tvs she spoke. Fan
ny was very much in earnest, arid if Colonel
AVoodall had happened to be present, ho
would have concluded that his chances wore,
to say the least of it rather small.
“ Twenty thousand dollars, elr?” slowly
repeated Uncle. Obod. . " Well, Fanny, it is
a hard world w.o live in—a hard griping,
grinding world. I never thought'so afore,
but somehow, to-night has borne it upon mo.”
AVhen Uncle,Obod wont away next day he
was comparatively'cheerful. The kind words
and loving: smiles of little Fanny, had, fallen
like drops pf balm upon, the pore spot in his
heart.
There it was nestling in the hillside, the
gray old farm house, with giant sycamores
tossing their silvery branches above, it and
the lilac bushes nodding before the narrow
windows. Uncle Obed thought it never look
ed so pleasant as now, in the level,gold of
sunset, with.the purple woods rising against
the bright far-off horizon. ~
But ho did not .stop in the cozy room whore
the eight-day clock ticked, away as peaceful
ly as if its master had not been absenf two
whole days—a, thing which hadn’t happened
before in half a century ; ho .wont straight
up stairs, to a tiny, nook under the oaves,
where he kept'an old.sort of trunk, curious
ly scented with camphor, and bound togeth
er with strong clasps and rivots of brass.—
From this receptacle ho took, a bit of paper,
and, held it so the light fell on its contents.
‘i Twenty thousand,” ho muttered. “ Well
I am an,old ingn, and that gal is just the
light of my eyes. ~ It shall buy her happb
ness, the blue, eyed bird, instead of lying use
less in .the garret 1 She deserves it ,all 1” ~ ,
Uncle .Obod pocketed the,document, locked
his, precious, trunk, and wont down stairs
wiping, the glasses .of his/spectacles. , .
.The financial crash came, and the house pf
Amber & Co., :was among the first on .'the
list. It wau true that Mrs. Amber had been
expecting the failure, but the blow fell none
the loss heavy for the anticipation. Some
how her plans all prove’d futile,. You’ng'Gold
had in ' Bomb unaccountable ■ manner discov
ered-the state of the Amber exchequer,- and
wisely, concluded, that it was not best to waste,
his personal charms and, elegant, stock of
small talk on so ineligible a fair one as Miss
Cecillia. Colonel’Woodall had also shown
unequivocal signsnf withdrawing' his suit,
not at. all to Miss Fanny’s displeasure. In
short, overliving seemed to bo, going wrong
and the only satisfied members of the confed
eration wei'tf Harry Latimer and Miss Fanny.
■ It was a gloomy morning of-rain and
tempest, and, Mrs. Amber sat in a sort of.
slovenly dishabille, in,a narrow room in. ono
of bur third-rate hotels. Her own stately
house had fallen "prey to’ grfiody creditors
'.some-time-since.- Mr. Amber at an opposite
table.was slowly oponingiaud glancing over
his letters.
“ Hallo 1’ ho suddenly exclaimed, dropping
one and catching it up again. ' '
’■ How you do agitato one’s nerves 1’ groaned
Mrs. Amber.
* Hang your nerves, here’s something to
sot them in a flutter—a letter from a Now
England lawyer, announcing that your Uncle
Obed Jenkins has made Miss Fanny Amber
a present of twenty thousand dollars, to be ;
oome hor property on the day she' marries
Harry Latimer."
“OUll COUNTRY—MAY IT ALIY AYS BE RIGHT—RUT RWIIT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY."
CARLISLE, PA.. THURSDAY, JANUARY 18,1866*
“Twenty thousand dollars,” shrieked Mrs
Amber and Cecilia in chorous, “and nothing
for us 1” i
“Twenty thousand dollars I” murmured
Fanny, with a crimson spot tn her cheek ;
“Oh, how floppy wo shall bo 1 Dear, kind
Uncle Obed 1”
'' Vou'rc a nice manager,” (snarled Mr.
Amber, turning sharply to his wife. It was
for this, was it, you treated Mr, Jenkins so
rudely on the night of your last jjarty V’
“ I didn't know—l didn't (suppose”—
sobbed Mrs. Amber. ” lie novel told mo ho
had any property.”. A, ;
"Of course not 1” ejaculated Mr. Amber,
“ it’s enough to make a man rajm to hnvo
such an idiot as you for a wife!, Twenty,
thousand dollars would bavo bceu everything
to mo, just now, when there is such a scarci
ty of ready money in the market.. And what's
worse, the enm is so tied up that nli one but
Fanny can touch a cent of it." , i
Mr. Ambor strode out of , the room, giving
the door a very, energetic slam,, and Mrs.
Amber went gracefully into hysterics, while
Fanny sat looking at the letter which had
been a messenger of so much happiness to
hcr/with scarlet lips half apart and the light
of deep gratitude in her eyes.
“ What will Ilarx-y say ?” she pondered.—
" Will ho not think it a blessed dream? Kb
more weary waiting—no more proorastina,.
tiou. 0, how can I over thank Uncle Obed
sufficiently ? ■ ■ '
But Uncle Obed waq already thanked.
When upon Fanny’s wqddiug day, the
deed which oonatit.ntod her a small., heiress
was delivered into her hand, it was inclosed
in a narrow strip of coarse blue paper, which
the old man commonly used in bis correspon
dence. _ Upon this was written one single
line, and tears Suffused the fair young bride’s
eyes as she road the words, “ In memory of
Uncle (Jbod’s visit."
Stars.— lt is questionable if pny of the
constabulary force who sport n silver or bra
zen star on the lappel of. his wqistdoat, has
any idea of its origin as a token of his offic
ial position. It was the distinguished badge
of tho old order of tho Star, founded by King
John in memory of the star which guided tho
Kings to the Cradle of Divinity. The old
chronicle Brantomo wonders at what ho calls
tho abuse of tho order, that it had become so
common, that the badge—a, silver star—was
to bo seen on tho hat and mantle of half tho
men in Franco. Louis XI, in abolishing tho
order, conferred its insignia, as an ornament
of dross upon tho Chevaliers do Ouet, or
‘‘Gentlemen of tho Watch,” who looked in
to the safety of Paris when tho stars wore
shining, or at least that it was tho hour for
them to do so. This appears to have been
its first use by conservators of tho peace.—
Before tho dignity of tho order was humbled
tho members took pride in displaying tho
star, oven in battle, although they wore put
to high ransom if captured. Some Knights,
howoyer, with more prudonoo than valor, oc
casionally concealed tho insignia before go
ing into alight—a custom, which “ Nagrom,”
to whom wo are indebted for this informa
tion, assures us not unfroquently prevails
with those who still wear tho emblem.
The True Man. — Ho la abovo a moan
thing. Ho cannot stoop to a mean fraud.—
Ho invades no seorots in the keeping of anoth
er. Ho betrays no seerdts confided .to his
keeping. He never struts in borrowed plum
age. 110 never takes selfish advantage of
our mistakes. 110 never stabs in the dark.
110 is ashamed of inuendoes. Ho is notono
thing to a man’s faoo and 'another behind
his back. If by accident ho comes in pos
session of his neighbor’s.counsels, ho passes
upon thorn an act of instant oblivion. 110
bears seated packages without tampering
with the wax. Papers not meant for his eye,
whether they flutter at the window or lie open
before him in unregarded exposure, aro sa
cred'to’him. 110 encroaches oh no privacy
of others, however the ‘sentry sloops. Bolts
and bars, looks and key's, hedges and pickets,„
bonds and notice to trespassers,
are none of them for him, 110 may bo trust
ed himself but of sight—hear the thinnest
partition—anywhere. Ho buys no office,,
ho sells none, ho ■ intrigues for none. Ho
would rather fail of his rights than win by
dishonor. He will‘.'eat honest bread. Ho
insults no rutin.Ho tramples on no'sensi
tive feeling.. If'ho have'rebuke for another,
ho is straight forward, open, manly. In what
ever hojudgos honorable ho practices toward
every man.
A of thp ,lndependent tells
this little story of tbe late President:
. “ It is not generally known that the speech
nlways niado by the President upon the pre
sentation of a foreign minister, is carefully
written for him by the. Secretary of State, A
clerk in- the department, ignorant of this cus
tom, ‘was one day sent, to the White House
by Mr. Seward, with the speech to, bo deliv
ered up'On such itn occasion':' Mr. Lincoln
was widting at his. desk as the'clerk entered
• —a half-dozen. Soriators.an'd Representatives'
occupying the sofas and chairs.' Unable to
disguise a feeling of delicacy, in the discharge
of such an errand,' the young, man approach
ed, arid in a low tone said to the' President:
‘ The Secretary has sent the speech you aro
to make to-day to the Swiss minister.’ Mr.
Lincoln laid down his pen, and, taking the
panusoript,' said in a low tone i ‘'Oh, this
is a speech Mr. Seward has, written' for me,
la it ? I guess'l will try it before'these gen
tlemen arid' sea how'it it goes.’' Thereupon
ho 1 proceeded to fbad it, in a waggish manner,
remarking, as hocoricludod, with sly humor,
‘ There, I like that, 1 it'has the merit of orig
inality.’ n
j A Nice Gibi;.—There is nothing half go
sweet.in life, half so beautiful or delightful
or lovable asa “nice girl,'"—not a pretty
Or clashing or elegant girl; but a nice girl. "
One of those lovely, lively, good, good-heart
ed, sweet-faced, amiable, neat, domestic creat
ures mot within the sphere of home, diffusing
ground the domestic hearth the influence of'
her goodness, like essence, of swoetflowors.
7 A nice girl is not'alavishing beauty dand
ling dn the sofa and discussing the last novel
or ooorn, or the giraffe-like creature sweep-,
-ing majestically through the drawing room.
iTho “ moo girl” may not even dunce, or play,
land know nothing'about using her eyes, or
coquetting with a fan. She never languish,'
ies; slio is too active. ■ She is not given to
sensation novels, ;she is too busy. At the
opera she is not in front showing her hare
'shoulders, hut sits quiet and unobtrusive—
at the back ot the box, most likely, in fact
it is not often in such scenes wo discover her.
‘Home is her place. . .
“What is the world'coraing to? “said
a kind hearted hut simple old lady, as she
throw down her newspaper. “ Only to think,”
she continued, “ that therein Now York they
allow a parcel of french dancing girls to ex
ecute their grand pan on the stage, with the
people all looking at ’em, and applauded of
’em-too I” -
One by one the days go out. Saturday
night comes.
One one the hopes go out. Eternity
comes. Like hail stones, the days drop from
tho clouds of time, to fall cold and dreary in
to the fathomless past. Each day is a life—
is a history. Tho hopes of tho morning aro
tears by night—tho air castles of Monday ate
tho graves of Saturday night, alas, too oft.—
God gives us.sun, life, rain, health, friends
and that which is more blessed than all, gol
den Hope. All tho rest desert us, butllopo,
twin sister ol Immortality, is ours through
the week—into and beyond Saturday night—
into the grave to bear us dry and happy
through tho Stygian Hood and on to God.—
Blessed bo Hope, and blessed bo tho nights
which call us to kneel at her altar.
Changes have come durittg tho interim be
tween this and’ Inst Saturday night. Many, a
mound church-yard or cemetery marks
God’s bruises oh the desolate human heart.
Many a heart of joy has been dippedin sad
ness. 'Many a dross which one week since
was white is now tho deepest mourning.—
Some mourn. _ Some .wear mourning while
tho heart rejoices. Some there are whoso
hearts are darker than tho grave, for tho
lamp of lovo is broken and tho joy of years
has gone homo. - Scarlet buds.and.sombre
blossoms. Such is life.
Who of ns all is nearer Heaven than one
week since ? Who of us have laid up treas
ures abovo? AVho of us have mellowed tho
earth in which all must rest? Tho account
is for or against us! Wo all thought and
vowed one week since to do right, but alas
for temptation ! All of us have argued with
tho subtle reasonor—few of us have eomo off
victorious.. Prayers have been uttered since
last Saturday night. Curses have boon in
voked. Tho record has been perfectly kept,
and some day ’twill bo opened to our eyes.—
Let us rest from labor and renew "our vows.
By tho.family fireside—by tho family altar—
by tho cot and tho couch there is much to do
this night. Look back down the dark lane.
See what a wreck is there strewn. Hopes
which have died. ■ Promises. b»dl_y broker,.
Good intentions and noble resolutions lie
bleeding and torn as far back as tho eye can
roach. Hard words lio whore soft ones
Would have been better. There are disap
pointments and betrayals, bitter words and
wioked acts strewn thick over tho, ground.—
Ruins—ruins—ruins 1 Here and there a
fragrant flower lifts its silent voice and roars
its peiu-ly leaf to gladen tho dobris.around.
Hero and there a blossom. Hero and there,
but too far apart, can bo soon tho beautiful in
strange contrast to the ruins and wrecks.—
Life is a dark lane. Would to God there
wore more flowers and fewer ruins 1 Would
there wore more loves and lower hates. More
white and less red.
How tho changes come over us ! What
tgavo joy is now a pile of ashes 1 Tho lips
!we loved to kiss a week since, now have no
nectar! The hand which onoo thrilled in
rapture at the alight touch of lovo, now for
'gets to answer back 1 Tho oyo has grown
cold or worse than indifferent 1 Who is to
blame? Someone. And why? None but
God, can tell truly 1 As tho sun goes down
and tho Sabbath rises, let us strive again !
Atpther 1 clasp still closer to your heart tho
pledge you now caress, for God may want' it
back before another Saturday night is yours.
The pet you kissed and caressed one week
ago, has been taken away--who will go next ?
Deal gently with those who have erred.—
Heaven is forgiving. God is lovo. Strive to
bo happy. Lot kind words, good wishes, and
liberality of sentiment, expand all our hearts
this night, for they aro blessed influences—
none too plenty.
If you have a friend draw him closer to
your heart. If you have a life in your keep
ing, do by it ns you would be done by.—
Pause ere you do evil. Think of tho reward
there is for those who resist temptation;—
for those who love. Look hack. Liston !
A little, prattling voice,'now stilled in death!
—a mother’s gentle tones, perhaps well nigh
forgotten I —a sister's plaintive eye is calling
you to happiness ! Look over the past—tho
blessed memories—tho mementoes of tho
heart—and tell us if you' are not glad
that Heaven is nearer.by one more Saturday
Night. —La Crosse (IFi's.) Democrat.
The Brooklyn Eagle philosopher, in his
effort to keep up with the amusements of the
ago, has slipped into the base ball sport.—
lie thus explains the science,of the game:
The gamo is a great invention. It is easi
ly understood. AH you have to do is to—
keep your oyo on the ball.
. It’s all about the.ball.
They also usoa .bat. The hnt is a , club
built on the model of the club Barnum killed
Captain Cook with."
This is why the organization is called a
club. ■
One fellow takes a club and stands on a
lino, and another stands in front of him, and
fires the ball hack at him, 1
The chap with the club hits back.
The ball flies in the other direction
The first fellow drops the club as though
he was soared, and runs like a piok-poekot
with ail M. P. after him.
Several fellows run after the ball; .some
body catches it ami fives it at somebody else,
when tile ohap who had tho club stops run
ning. . . ' . .
Another follow then takes the club and
the same irian wlio'is called “ pitcher,” pitch
es on 1 him, fires the ball at him, and ho hits
back, knocks the hall, drops his club and
cuts Ins stick for. the,first base..
Ualf a dozen follows out on picket duty
scramble for the hall. '
One reliable B.' B. is posted behind the 1
club man,Jin ease the club man misses the
ball, to see that it don’t go by and hit the
Umpire.
When one side is out the other side goes
in, and when both.sidbs are out it is called
an innings. '
.It is.quite an intelligent : game, depending
entirely on the, use of your,legs. The first
principle of the game is running.
' When you are “ in” you' run away fnm
the hall ; when you are “ out” you run af
ter it.
It is splendid exercise", keeps you so warm,
consequently is always played in the sum
mer time.
HI?" A newly married couple went to Niag
ara on a visit, and the gentleman, in order to
convince his dear that ho was as bravo as ho
was gallant,- resolved to go down into the
‘Cave of Winds.’ She, of course, objected ;
but finding that ho was determined, affec
tionately requested him to leave his pocket
book and watch behind.
Mormon Women. —A Chicago paper says
the women of Utah have recently altered the
orthography of their creed. They now spoil
it Moremvu
SATURDAY sight.
DUSE BALI.
s.'
WGBRBBER,
An explanation pf tho method of maim-,
factnring larger beer may bo interesting;
but first wo must toll what tho article is,
chemically speaking. Lager boor is a fer
mented liquor made from malted grain, most
generally wo believe, from barley. Hops
and other bitter flavoring matters are added
to improve tho taste and impart their peculi
ar tonic and otherwise,-to the
liquor. Beer is undoubtedly a very nourish
ing drink, from tho. gum, sugar, and starch
held in solution ; and in Bavaria its use is
almost an essential'article of diet with tho
laboring classes, and in some instances takas
tho place of animal food. Lager boor, prop
erly made, if analysed, will give about the.
following result; Water, 01.80; malt, 4.C5
alcohol, ;;.dd ; carbonic acid, 0.11.
The lager browing season begins' about
tho close of October, and ends about tho first
of April. In tho manufacture of beer, tho
barley, wheat or other grain is selected with
much care called steeping, which is effected
in largo cisterns-with a depth of some six or
seven inches above the surface of tho grain.
When tho grain has become fully soaked—
usually absorbing about forty or forty-live
pounds to the' hundred weight of barley—it
is taken out, allowed to drain for six hours,
and then spread upon tho malt floor, whore
tho next process of the-operation is termed
couching. Lying in beds of twelve or sixteen
inches in depth, the grain soon becomes
moist, through chemical changes, and germi
nation commences. When this has gone
sufficiently far, which is known by the grain
becoming white and crumbly like meal, tho
process is changed and germination immedi
ately arrested by tho grain being spread on
tho floor of a malt-kiln, and- tho temperature
raised gradually, from 00 to 140 degrees ;
during tho operation of drying the malt being
frequently stirred.
Thon cornea tho brewing process which,
like the first stage, embraces several different
operations. The malt ia first ground Or
crushed to a coarse powder, which is after
wards shaken into largo mash-tubs, contain
ing water at a temperature of 100 'degrees,
ivioro'water is'aaaeav arm vne 'turnperurtmj
carefully raised several degrees higher,,after
which the infusion is drawn off. More wa
ter is thon added to the crushed malt in the
tub, drawn off and added to tho first ; still
another wotting takes place with tho water
at tho boiling point. The next process, is the
boiling, whiph is done by placing the infu
sion in largo copper vessels furnished with
steam valves. During tho boiling operation
tho hops are introduced. The boiling over
the liquor is strained and allowed to cool,
.when it 13 placed in huge wooden vats, and
I'ycast added. After having fermented long
enough the liquor is drawn off into largo re
ceptacles and stored in huge vaults, where it
js allowed to remain for several months.
.This is called lagering.
How f l iiey Do in Maine.— Quaker young
ladies iu the Maine Law State, it is said, still
to kiss the lips of the young temper
lance men to soo if they have been tampering
with liquor. Just imagine a beautiful young
'temperance woman, with all the dignity of an
'executive officer, and the innocence of a dove,
i with tlm charge: “Mr.—, the ladies believe
you are in the habit of tampering with liq
iiior, and they have appointed me to examine
,you according to our established rules; arc
iyou willing.?" You nod aoriuiosoenoo. She
! gently stops closer up to you, lays her.soft
■white arm around your nook, dashes back
(her raven curls, raises her sylph-like form
i upon her round, tip-toes, her snowy heaving
bosom against your own and with her angel
ic features lit up with a smile as sweet as
Heaven, placesJtor rich, rosy, pouty, sweet,
.sugar, molasses, liily, baby jumper, rosebud,
'cream,'taH; ftppldpid,' peach puddinh,'apple
dumpling, gingerbread,’ nectar ilps 'agdinst
(yours and,(Oh, Jerusalem!! lioWusl ) kisses
!you, by craokoy ! Hurnib for tb,o gals and
;tbo Maine Law, and dcatli to all opposition.
Taking lli.msei.t Orp.-jPoote wag in the
habit of,.imitating the peculiar manner of
General Smith, whom he introduced into the
comedy of “The Nabob,” under the name ,of
Sir Matthew Mite. One day the general sent
for Foote’. ■ ' —"
“Sir," said.ho, “I hear you hnvoan excel
lent turn for mini iory, and if find I, among
others, have been the subject of your ridi
cule."
“Oil,” said Pont, gaily, “I take all my ac
quaintances off at times, and what is more
wonderful, I often take myself off."
“Pray let us have a specimen," said the
gnu end.
Foote put on his hat and gloves, took his
cane, made a short how and retreated from
the house without uttering another.’ word.
, Helioiun of the Presidents. —The reli
gious belief of the deceased Presidents of the
United States, as indicated by their attend
ance upon public worship, and evidence
afforded in their writings, may ho Bummed
up as follows; Washington, Madison, Mon
roe, , Harrison, Tyler, and Taylor, .wore Epis
copalians'; Jefferson, John'Adams and John
Quincy Adams, wore Unitarians' 1 ; Jackson;
Polk and Lincoln wore Presbyterians ; Van
Buren was of the Dutch Deformed Church.
The surviving Presidents are Fillmore, a
Unitarian'; Pierce',’h Trinitarian Congrcgif*-
tionist; Buehauau aii Episcopalian; and the
present. Chief Magistrate Johnson, who is a'
Presbyterian. j, . . ■,
Hi; . Knew Him.— Come here, m;, little
fellow,' Raid’ a gentleman to a, youngster of
five years, while Bitting in a parlor where a'
largo company .were assembled. ‘Do yon
know who I am V ‘ Yoth, thir.’ ‘ Who am I ?
Lot me hear.’ ‘ You ith the man who.kltebed
mamma, when papa watK in New York-" •
DfT" A Siato fair is a queen ; an agricul
tural fair.is a farmer's daughter,; a church
fair is a parson’s wife ; an editor’s fair is the,
host-looking girl ho can got hold of; a chari
ty fair is a female pauper ; and the most un
popular fafe in the-universe is hoarding faro.
OfT’A dashing young bachelor lately ap
peared in Central Park with two handsome
ponies,whoso tails wore done up to look like
a lady’s waterfall, and cooped up in small fish
hots. 'The resemblance was capital, and the
team created a great sensation. ‘
O" '1 ho lawyer’s motto—ho brief. The
doctor’s motto —he patient. The potter’s
motto—bo ware. The typo-setter’s motto—
bo composed.
J6g?“ Owing to the high price of meat of
all kinds, a company has been started to
manufacture pork out of pig-iron.
O” Woman is said to ha a more .delusion,
but it is sometimes pleasant to hug delu
sions.
r
51 g mu I final
OLD PHDIT TREES RENOVATED, , ,
; There,.were old qpplo, trees,in,- .profusion;
with, nearly'a hundred pear trees ot superior ;
vigofous'growth, but utterlyi neglected iand;
reported as yielding.small.crops Of.indifforent
fruit’. Tlitj oiUifoing'sellor df'tbe fdrin' 1 Hid
intonddd.to’ cut .;thom down.. Iltj kpew.jtho,
riiarkot value of pickles, but the pear culture
was a sealed brook, i Thq Buyer, ediioated in,
a different school, believed that there mob
yet a money value in these
they could bo resuscitated. Ho stood among
them ,aiid debated the question, ijjippghL
,tliat hero was a begin upon ail'd
that an investment of money in reviving
them would yield a far quicker return than
in waiting for the product of ,a now-planted
orchard. Among other facts and experience,
reference was made to’ the memorable ac
count recorded in this journal, nearly twen
ty years ago, of tho complete renovation of
two outcast pear trees. ~tiiko all,these, they
had once borne excellent crops of frujtj
but for several years had only produced-'
worthless specimens. The owner was told
that tho trees—for thoro wore several in like
condition—had exhausted the -proper ele
ment in the .soil and that it must bo re-intrp:
ducod by artificial means. That autumn lie
carried out the suggestion and scraped off all
the rough outer bark from' two 1 trees then
coated them with soft soap : out,' about -one
third of all tho poorest branches and short
ened tho head of tho trees ono-tliird,By cut
ting back the principal limbs paring the
wounds and covering them with tho shellac
solution. Tho preparation being made, n
trench'was dug around each tree, throe feet
from tho same, four foot wide and twenty
inches deep, tho soil being carted away. "In
making tlup trench, about a third of tho roots
wore cut away. Tho trench was"then filled
with soil from a good pasture field, there-be
ing added at the time of filling two bushels
of refuse scoriae from a .blacksmith’s, forgo,
two of well broken charcoal, and two pounds
OC [juljotimjj jtwfuoli, - dll ll>«o0 ' Tror() ’ tbiOV''
oughly intermingled ‘after tbo : ‘trench 1 had
boon filled, by frequent overturnings with the
spado. The result of this cheap and simple
operation was manifest tho following summer.
Tho luxuriance and vigor of tho.foUage.vyoie
surprising for formed roots wore'
wandering into fresh and vrholosolno pas
ture. Tho next there was a moderate blooni,'
but every blossom produced fruit. The third
year thoro was a fine crop, tho two trees pro
ducing six bushels of superb fruit. It was
■ convincing evidence that the failure of the
I old established pear trees to produce good
I crops is owing tom want of proper nutriment
in tho .soil; and that instead of being.out
I down wfism they cease, to Dear, they should bp
i taken in hand and rouovatod.—HoriicuKuri
■:St. ' ‘ ' ' ' ''' '' ' '
Bareev and Rye for Horses. —A oortes-.
pendent of. the “Country Gentleman” writes
as follows:
; “My first experience in feeding barley to
lihoraoa was in California, where there was no
jobber grain raised tor feed, at the time I was
there. All our horses wore fed'on it-for two
iycars without any change and never got tired
■of it, always thriving and looking-remarka
bly fine' fur the amount of labor they perform
icd. This induced mo to raise'it to feed alter
;ray return from that country and. I.have
learned to esteem it. higher than any other
■grain, (when ground) for horses, It is too
hard to feed in the grain. It is less liable to
founder than corn, wheat or rye yet Contains'
! hut verry little loss nutriment than either of
ithoso grains.. I, have raised. a great to any,
colts apd have,made,.the bropdilg,of.{rotting
j horses a study, and in all my experience'. I
ihavo found nothing equal'to barley modi to
make a mare give milk. -’I have found it Uo
disadvantage: to a mare getting with fonl.aud'
and not any .while she, was so, : ■ Oats are. a.
’bettor food, for celts from Weaning time until
i they go to work. / I' 1
i “Eye is a dangorotia grain-to feed alone ■;
it is more liable to founder than any other
grain 1 ! "but ’■ to 1 mix with-shorts, or to grind
i with: oats and food,without hay. or str. w, it,
’ makes an oxo.ollopt, food .for-houses,.. i
Tue'OaTTI.E PeaGUE MEDICAIii.V Alti) ISdtWNt
tificai.lv “Treated:— Dr. : Hamilton; ■ an-
English physician, who. wont to HoUnndto
investigate, says ho found that soTO,nty:threo.
percent, of the cattle attacked, and treated
homccopathically, were cured; The medi
cines used chiefly were arSeniottffl; rhus, 1
phosphoric acid and; sulphur, according to.
circumstances, —doses, five, or ten,drops, re
peated four-or five times a day, .but treating
tho symptoms of the disoase'ns they appear
ed, according to the indications, by different
remedies; ns no two ooivs hadthe diseiiao.ex
aotiy alike?. , . , ... -. r ,. ~
The killing,system is , entirely exploded,.
The panic has'quUb subsided, as the - farmers
find now that the greater part-of-their oottte
can be saved by.treatment; :Tho diet should
only, he linseed or pther. farinaceous ,gruel
until, the animal is convalescent, and then
hay'and turnip-tops, in small quafititieS.
Orairis’ and distillor’swash should boavoided
as injurious, both to sound.and diseased ani
mals. The eyes, nosn.-lips, and all affected
partsumist bo washed with' tepid:water! The
preventive homoeopathic, treatment ..was-ar
scnipuuv chiefly, ton drpps of thc, third dilu-,
tion to be given-tQ.eaoli cow pros,daily.’* ,
■ JllS’dh Pies.—Take ■ n p'ohnd ofbeof free'
from string and skins, audehep itiiine ;,then
two,.pounds of ppot,.which likewisOjpick, and[
chon ; then add three pound of currents nicely
cleaned' and perfectly dry, and' a
half' apples,' the peel and juice- ofa lemon, :
half a pint of sweet wino, half a nutmeg, and
a few cloves apd maoo,;with pimento,in lino:
powder ; have citron, orange, and lemon pool,
ready, and put some in each' of the pies when'
made.;' •
Mince Meat.. —Six pounds., of currents,
three, pounds of raisins stoned, three pounds
of apples chopped fine, four pounds of sue*
two pounds of sugar, two pounds'of hoof, thh
peel end juice of two lemons, a pint of'sweat;
winfl, a quarter of.a pin: of brandv, halt [an.
ounce of mixed spioo. Press the whole into
a deep pah when well mixed;
Little Plum Cakes to Keep Long.— Di-y
One pound of-flour; and mix with six ounces
of fmoly-powdercd sugar ; boat six ouuooSiof
buttor to a cream, and add to thrpo eggs
well beaten, half a pound of currants washed
and nicely dried, and the flour and sugar ;
boat all for some time, then dredge flour'on
tinplates, and drop the hatter on them the
size .of a walupt. If properly mixed, if will
he a stiff paste. Bake in a brisk oven.
EOr What is the difference between' a
drummer boy and a pound"of meat f. Ono
weighs it pound, and the other’pounds away.
NO. 30,