®I)C American Volunteer. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING * BY BRATTON Sz. KENNEDY, OFFICE—SOUTH MARKET SQUARE. Terms Two Dollars per year If paid strictly la advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if paid . Within three months; after which Three Dollars will be charged. These terms will be rigidly ad hered to In every instance. No subscription dls : continued until all arrearages are paid, unless at •V the option of the Editor. 13tofe»0lonal - TTI.E. BELTZHOOVEB, ATTORNEY %■'' Jh , aitd Cotrnssxoß at Law, Carlisle, Fennn. !•■.. omoo on South Hanover street, opposite Bonu a ; ’ Store. By special atmugoment with .the Patent t Office, attends to securing Patent Bights. Doc. 1,1865. p HERMAN GOETZ, A T TO It NE Y AT LA W, NEWVILLB, PENN’A. Patents, Pensions and other claims attended to. May 28,1808. JOHN E. MILLER, Attorney at Law. Office In Hannon’s Building, opposite mo Court Souse, Carlisle. Pa. ' . Nov. 14,1867, JOHN LEE, Attorney at Law, North Hanover Street, Carlisle, Po., i«eb. 16,1806--ly. ? TAMES A. f DUNBAR. Attorney at fJ Law. Carlisle, Penna. Office a few doors west of Hannon’s Hotel. Doc. 1,1805. MC. HERMAN, Attorney at Law. . Office In Rheem's Hall Building, In the rear of tho Court House, next door to tho Her ald” Office, Carlisle, Peunft. * Dec. 1, J. M. WEAKLET. VXTEAKLBY & SADLER, I ATTORNEYS AT LAW, NO. IS SOUTH HANOVER ST. Doc. 10, 1807.— 1 y WT KENNEDY, Attorney at Law VV » Carlisle, Penna. Office same as that of tho ‘‘American V olunteer,’ 1 South side of the Pub* JJc Square. Dec. 1. 1800 ■JJKITED STATES CLAIM AND I? REAL ESTATE AGENCY! WM. B. BUTLER, s<' ATTORNEY AT LAW, .. Ofllco lu 2d Story of InhofTs Building, No. SSouth DIGESTIVE ORGANR Eobfland’s German Bitters Is compos'd of lh« pure juices (or, as they ate medld nnlly termed, hx .--■i ■■ j (rads) of Roots, RerbsutiO Parks, HUH_JM~ making a prepara tion, highly com-en |rS tmlcd, and cnUrvJy frrr from Alcoholic mmw OiuSS admixture of any lin<£ HOOFLAMD'S GERMAN TONIC, Is a combination of all the Ingredients of the Bitter*, with the purest quality ol Santa Crux Runt, Orange, nuikimt one of tho most pleasant and agreeable rvrni-d.'* over offered to the public. Thimv profeiring a Medicine free from Alcoholic ad mixture. will nso Hoofland’s German Bitters. In caeca of nervous depression, when some alcohol!* stimulus Is necessary, HOOFLAND’S GERMAN TONIO should Iks weed. The Bitters or tlic Tonic arc both equally good, and contain the same medicinal virtues. The stomach, from a variety of enuseg, such as Indi gestion, Dyspepsia, Nervous Debility, etc., is very apt to fjdf w/fek have Its functions deranged. The result of which Is, that the natlcnt Buffers from several or moro of tho following diseases Constipation. Flatulence, Inward Piles, Fulness of Blood to tho Head, Acidity of the Stomach, Nausea. Heart burn, Disgust for Food, Fulness or Weight In the Stomach, Sour . Eructations, Sink ing or Fluttering at tho Pit of the Stomach, Swimming of the Head, Hurried or Difficult Breathing. Fluttering at the Heart, Choking or Suffocating Sensations when in fl tying Posture, Dimness of Vision, Dots or Webs before the Sight,. Dull Fain in the Head, Deft" olency of Perspiration, Yel lowness of the Skin and Eyes, Fain In the Bide, /OTVm Back,Cheat, Limbs, eto., Sudden Flushes of Heat, Burning in the Flesh, Constant Imaginings of Evil, and Great Depression of Spirits. These remedies will effectually cure Liver Complaint, Jaundice, Dyspepsia. Chronic or Nervous Debility. Chronic Dmrrnica, Disease of the Sidney*, and all DlMTOtii.arlslng from a Disordered Liver, Stomach, or Inlealiaeo. DEBILITY, Resulting from any Cause whatever; PROSTRATION OF THE SYSTEM, induced by Severe Labor, Hard ships, Exposure, Fevers, eto. There Is no medicine extant equal to tlieeo remedies In such cane#. A tone and vigor Is Imparted to the whole System, the rv_—Appetite IsStrongth emid, food 1* enjoyed. the stomach digests promptly, the blood - j|sc» Is purilied. tho com plexion pec o m a e wSS sound and healthy, the yellow tlngo la eradicated from the eyes, a bloom Is given to the ebeess, and the weak and nervous in valid becomes a strong end healthy being. Persons Advanced in Life* jjofl feeling the hand of time welching heavily npon tlium, with nil lu attendant Hie. will find In the nee of this BITTKUB, or the TONIC, an elixir, Unit will Instil new life imo their v.'luhj rrntnre In a mvuaure the energy and anlor of more youthful day*. lml:d up their shrunken forms, and give health ana happiness to their remaluttig years. NOTICE. It Is a well-established fact that fully one-half of the female portion of our population are sel dom In tne enjoyment 1 T(53 of good health; or. to use their own ex ijß _n a predion,.'* never feel well.” They are lan geld, devoid of all energy, extremely nervous, and have no appetite. To this class of persons the BITTERS, or the TONIC, Is especially recommended. WEAK AND DELICATE CHILDREN Are made strong by the use of either of these remedies. They will euro every case of MARASMUS, without fail. . . Thousands of certlllratcs have accumulated In the hands of the proprietor, hut space will allow of the publication of nut a few. Those, It will be observed, are men of nolo and of eueh standing that they must be believed. .......250,000 200,000 .1,250,000 ....i«W,UOO ....100,000 .1,200,000 1,000,000 TESTIMONIALS. .5,010,000 Hon. Geo. W. Woodward. Chief Justice of £Ae Supreme Court of Pa., writ**: Philadelphia, March 10,1867. **l And ‘Hoofland's «=» German Bitters Ms • good tonic, useful /QnX In diseases of tho dhtcsllveoruans,and of great benefit la eases of debility, and mtm want of nervous ac tion la tho system. Tours truly, GKO. W. WOODWARD.” Hon. James. Thompson. Judge of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania. iViOadeJpWa, April 23.1866. «I consider ' Hoofland’s German Bitters * a valuable medicine In case of attacks of Indigestion or Dyspepsia. 1 can certify lids from my experience of lU Yours, with respect, From Eev. Joseph H. Kennard, D. D., Pastor of the Tenth Baptist Church, Philadelphia. Or. Jackson— Dear Elr : 1 have been frequently re quested to connect my name with recommendations of different kinds of medicines, but regarding tho prac tice as out of my np r===. 55a prop 1 "* 010 * have In all cases de j|\?< Jj dined; but with a clear, proof In vari OM Instances and particularly in my own family, of the usefulness of Dr. Iloolland’s German Bitters, I depart for once from my usual course, to express my full conviction that, for general debility qf the system, ««a especially for Liver Complaint, it is a safe and valuable preparation. In some cases it may fail; but usuallyj 1 doubt not, It will bo very beneUcial to those who suffer from the above causes. Tours, very respectfully, J. H. KENNABD, Eighth, below Coates fit. From Eev. E. D. Fendall, Msitiani Sditor Christian Chronicle, Philadelphia. 1 have derived decided benefit (ram the dm of Hoof- Isnd's German Bluer*, and fee! it my privilege to re* commend them u a moat valuable tonic, to all who an mlWlng from general debility or from diseases arising from derangement of tho liver. Yoon truly, CAUTION. Hooflaod's German Ecmodlee are counterfeited. Be* that tbe denature of O. M. JACKSON U on the wrapper |EI °t bottle. All other* are coin) IHJa Ul l cil ‘„ , . PrtiiclnaJ Ofllce frm *** and Mann factory at tbe Qennm Medicine Store, No* 681AROB Street, Philadelphia. CHARLES hL EVANS, Gorman Drugslst, Proprietor, Formerly C. U. Jaoksok 4t Co. Wat p»tf» by &_ druggists and Beaten In Medicine*. 3?HXCLEIQ« Hoofland's German Bitten, per bottle u •* “ half dozen ...6 00 Hoofland’* German Tonic, put up In quart bottles, 1 60 per bottle, or a half dozen f0r.,,,.......*. 1 60 KW Tvt notfory*. to examine well the article yem bail In order to got wio genuine. Jan, 1888.—ly AND When Evo had led her lord away. And Cane killed hla brother* The stars and flowers, the poet says, Agreed with one another. To cheat the cunning tempter’s art; And leach the race its duty. By keeping on Its wicked heart Their eyes of light and duty. A million sleepless lips, they say. Would boatlcasta warning— And so the flowers would watch by day, The stars from night to morning. =On hill and pralrlo, Gold and lawn, Their dowey eyes upturning, The flowers still watch from reddening dawn, TUI Western skies are burning. Alasl each hour of daylight tells A tale of shame so crushing, That some turn white as sea-bloached shells, And some are always blushing. But when the stars look down On all their light discovers— The traitor’s smile, the The Ups of dying lovers. They try to shut their reddening eyes, Am! lu the vain endeavor. We see them twinkling In the skies— And so they wink forever. ‘ What was that?' exclaimed Mrs. An drews to the lady who was seated next to her, as a single strain of music vibrated for a few moments on the atmosphere. , ‘ A violin, I suppose,” was answered* * A violin I* An expression almost of horror came into the countenanceof Mrs. Andrews. *lt can’t be possible.’ It was possible, however, for the sound came again, prolonged and varied. * What does it mean?’ asked Mrs. An drews, looking troubled, and moving un easily in her chair. ‘Cotillions, I presume,’ was amwered carelessly. ‘Not dancing, surely I’ But, even as Mrs. Andrews said this, a man entered, carrying in his hand avio lin. There was an instant movement on the part of several younger members of the company ; partners were chosen, and ere the pious Mrs. Andrews bad time to collect her suddenly bewildered thoughts, the music had struck up, and the dancers were in motion, ‘I can’t, remain here. It’s an out rage ” caul Mrs. Andrews, making a mo tion to rise. The lady by whom she was sitting comprehended now more clearly her state of mind, and, laying a bund on her arm, gently restrained her. 1 Why not remain? What is an out rage, Mrs. Andrews ?’ she asked. ‘ Mrs- Burdick, knew very well that I was a member of the church.’ The la dy’s manner was indignant. ‘ All your friends know that Mrs, An drews,’ replied the lady. A third per son might have detected In her tone a lurking sarcasm, but this was not per ceived by the individual addressed. — * But what Is wrong?’ ‘Wrong! Isn’t that wrong?’ And she glanced towards the mazy wreath of human figures already eliding the floor. ‘ I could not have believed it of Mrs. Burdick ; ami she knew that I was a pro fessor of religion.’ ‘ She does not expect you to dance, Mrs. Andrews,’ said the fady. ‘But she expects me to countenance the sin and folly by my presence.’ , ‘ Shi mid folly are strong terms, Mrs. Andrews-’ JAMBB THOMPSON,” ZL D. FEND ALL. .poo CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY. NOVEMBER 19,1868. Iforfical STARS AND FLOWERS, BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMEJ. f)$ll s i* nTT anco ns. TUG nTUBLGD PHARISEE. * I know they are, and I use them ad visedly. I hold it a sin to dance.’ ‘ I know wise and good people who hold a different opinion.’ ‘ Wise and good !’ Mrs. Andrews spoke with strong disgust. ‘ X wouldn’t give much lor their wisdom and goodness— not I V ‘ The true qualities of men and women are best seen at home. When people go abroad they generally change their attire —mental as well as bodily. Now, I have seen the home life of certain ladles who do not think it a sin to dance, and it was full of the heart’s warm sunshine; and I have seen the home life of certain ladies who held dancing to be sinful, and I have said to myself, half shudderingly: * What child can breath© that atmos phere for years, and hot grow up with a clouded spirit, and a fountain of bitter ness in the heart?’ ‘ And 8Q you mean to say,’ Mrs. An drews spoke with some asperity of man ner, * that dancing makes people better— is, in fact, a means of grace.” * No ; I say no such thing.’ ‘Then what do you mean to say? I draw the only conclusion I can make.’ ‘One may grow better or worse from dancing,’ said the lady. ‘All will de pend on the spirit in which the recrea tion is indulged. lu itself the act is in nocent.’ Mrs. Andrews shook her head. ‘ In what does its sin consist?’ ‘ It is an idle waste of time.’ ‘Can you say nothing more of it!’ ‘ I could, but delicacy keeps me silent.’ ‘Did you ever dance?’ *Me ? What a question 1 No!’ ' I have danced often; and, let me say, your inference on the score of indelicacy as altogether an assumption. 1 Why, everybody admits that.’ ‘Not by any means.’ ‘ If the descriptions of some of the mid night-bails and assemblies that I have heard of,the waltzlngandall that,be true, nothing could be more indelicate—noth ing more injurious to the young and the innocent.’ « ‘ All good things become evil In their perverseness,’ said the lady. * And I will readily agree with you that dancing is perverted, and Its use as a means of social recreation, most sadly changed in to what is injurious. The same may be of church-going.’ „ A , ‘ You shock me, 1 said Mrs. Andrews. ‘Excuse me, but you are profane.’ • ‘ I trust not. For true religion—for the holy things of the church—l trust that I have the most profound reverence. But let me prove what X say, that even church-going may become evil. ‘ I am all attention,’ said the incredu lous Mrs. Andrews, ‘ You can bear plain speaking ?’ * Me!’ The church memberlooked sur prised. ‘Yes you.’ , . , ‘Certainly I can. But why do you ask me?’ « . ... ‘To put you on your guard—nothing m °Don't fear but what I can bear all the plain-speaking you may venture upon. As to church-going being an evil I am ready to prove the negative against any allegations you can advance. So speak o *After a slight pause, to collect her thoughts, the lady said: ‘There has been a protracted meeting i in Mr. B ’s church.’ ‘ I know it. And a blessed time it has been.’ * Yon attended?' ‘ Yes, every day; and greatly was my soul refreshed and strengthened.’ ‘ Did you see Mrs. Eldridge there?’ • 1 Mrs. Eldridge ? No indeed, excepton Sunday. She’s too worldly-minded for that?' , * She has a pew in your church.’ ' Yes; and comes every Sunday morn ing because it la fashionable and respec table to go to church. As for her relig ion, It isn’t worth much, and will hardly stand her at the lost day.* ‘Why, Mrs. Andrews! lou shocls mol Have you seen into her heart? Do you know her purposes ? Judge uot, that ye the-divlne-fnjunc tion,” ‘A tree is known by Its fruit,’ said Mfs. 'Andrews, who felt the rebuke, and slightly colored. ‘ True; and by their fruits shall y© know them,' replied the lady. 'But come, there are too many around ua her© for this earnest conversation. Wo will take a quarter of an hour to ourselves in one of the less crowded rooms. No one will observe our absence, and you be freed fr< m the annoyance of these dan ces.’ The two ladies quietly retired from the drawing-rooms. As soon as they were more alone, the lost speaker resumed. ‘ By their fruits shall ye know them.— Do men gather grapes of thorns, or flgs of thistles? Let me relate what I saw and heard in the family of two ladies during this protracted meetings One of those la dies was Mrs. Eldridge. I was passing in her neighborhood about four o’clock, and as I owed her a call, thought the op portunity a good one for returning it.— On entering, my ears caught the blended music of a piano and children’s happy voices. From the front parlor, through' the partly opened door, a sight, beautiful to my eyes, was revealed. Mrs. Eldridge was seated at the instrument, her sweet babe asleep on one arm, while, with a single hand, she was touching the notes of a familiar air, to which four children were dancing. A more innocent, loving, happy groupe I have never seen. For nearly ten minutes I gazed upon them unobserved, so interested that I forgot the questionable propriety of my conduct, and during that time notan unkind word was uttered by one of the children, nor did anything occur to mar the harmony of the scene. It was a sight on which angels could have looked, nay, did look with pleasure; for, whenever hearts aro turned to good affections, angels are pres ent. The music was suspended, and the dancing ceased as I presented myself.— The mother greeted mo with a happy smile, and each of tbo children spoke lo her visitor with an air at-oncc polite ami respectful.' * E’vo turned nurse for the afternoon, you see,’ said Mrs. Eldridge, cheerfully. 4 it’s Alice’s day to go out, and I never like to trust our little ones with the cham bermaid, who isn’t over fond of children. We generally have a good time on these occasions, for I give myself up to them Entirely. They've read, and played, and told stories until tired, and now i've jifat brightened them up, body and mind, with a dance.’ ‘ And bright and happy they all look ed.’ 1 Now run up into the nursery for a lit tle while, and build block houses,’ said she, * while I have a Utile pleasant talk with my friend. That’s good children. — And I want you to be very quiet, for dear little Eddie is fast asleep, and I’m going to'lay him in bis crib.’ Away went the children, and I heard no more of them for the half hour during which I staid. With the child in her arms, Mrs. Eldridge went with the'*.,— As she was laying him in the crib, I took from the mantel a small porcelain figure of a kneeling child, and was examining it when she turned to me. * Very beau tiful,' said I. ‘lt la,’ she replied. ‘Wo call it our Eddie saying his prayers.— There is a history attached to it. Very early I teach my little ones to sayan eve ning prayer. . First impressions are never, effaced; I therefore seek to implant, in the very dawning of thought, an idea of God, and our dependence on him for life and all our blessings, knowing that', if duly fixed, this will ever remain, and be the vessel, in after years, for the recep tion of truth flowing down from the great source of all truth. Strangely enough, my little Eddie so sweet in temper as ho was, steadily refused to say his prayers. 1 tried in every way that I could think of to induce him to kneel with the other children, and repeat a few simple words; but no, his aversion thereto was uncon querable. lat last grew really troubled about it. There seemed to bo a vein in his character that argued no good. Ono day I saw this kneeling child in a store. With the sight of it came the thought of how I might use it* I bought the fig ure, and did not show it to Eddie until he was about going to bed. The effect was all I bad hoped to produce. He looked at it for some moments earnestly, then dropped on his little knees, clasped his white hand, and murmured the prayer I had so long and so vainly strove to make him repeat.’ ‘ Tears were in the eyes of Mrs. Eld ridge as she uttered the closing words. I felt that she was a true mother, and loved her children with a high and holy love. And now, let me describe you a picture that strongly contrasts with this. Not fur from Mrs. Eldridge resides a lady who is remarkable for her devotion to the church, and, I am compelled to say, want of charity towards all who happen todif fer with her—more particularly if the dif ference involves church matters. Itwua after sundown: still, being in the neigh borhood, I embraced the opportunity to make acall. On ringing the bell, I heard immediately a clatter of feet down the stairs and along the passage, accompanied by children’s voices, loud ami boisterous. It was some time before the door was opened, for each of the-four children, wishing to perform the office, resisted the others’ attempts to admit the visitor.— Angry exclamations, rude outcries, ill names and struggles for the advantage continued, until the cook, attracted from the kitchen by the noise, arrived nt the scene of contention, and, after jerking the children so roughly as to set the two youngest crying, swung it open, and I entered. On gaining the parlor, I asked for the mother of these children. ' ‘ She isn’t at home?’ said the cook. ‘She’s gone to church,’ said the oldest of the children. ‘ I wish she’d stay at home.' remarked the cook in a very disrespectful way, ami with a manner that showed her to be much fretted in her mind. ‘ It’s Mary’s day out, and she knows I can’t do any thing with the children. Such children X never saw! They don’t miiidSjj&word you say, ami quarrel so aniotfglffhem selves, that It makes me sick to hear them.’ ‘At this momenta headless doll struck against the side of my neck. It had been thrown by one child at another; missing her aim, she gave me the benefit of her evil Intention. At this the cook iost all patience, and seizing the offending little one, boxed her soundly before X could in terfere. The language used by that child as she escaped from the cook’s bands, was shocking. It made my flesh creep V ‘Did I understand you to say that your mother had gone to church?’ I asked of the oldest child. * Yes ma’am,’ was answered. She’s been every day this week. Therp’s a protracted meeting.’ ‘Give me that book !’ screamed a child, at this moment. Glancing across the room, I saw two of the little ones con tending for possession of a large family Bible, which lay upon a small table,— Before 1 could reach them, for I started forward, from an impulse of the moment, the table was thrown over, the marble top broken, and the cover torn from the sacred volume. The face of Mrs. Andrews became in stantly of a deep crimson. Not seeming .to notice this, her friend continued: *As tho table fell, it came within an inch of striking another child on the head, who had seated himself on the floor. Had it done so, a fractured skull, perhaps instant death, would have been the consequence.’ Mrs’. Andrews caught her breath, and grew very pale. The other continued. ' In the midst of the confusion that fol- lowed, tho father came home. ‘ Where is your mother?'he asked of one of the children. ‘ Gone to church/ was replied. ‘Odear! I can hear his voice now, whh Its tone of hopelessness—* This church-going mania is dreadful. I tell my wife that it is all wrong. That her best service to God -is to bring up her children in the love of what is good and true —in filial obedience and iraterunl af fection. —BuHtravailsnot; J “— i And now, Mrs. Andrews,’ continued the lady, not in the least appearing to no tice the distress and confusion of her over-pious friend, whom she had placed upon Jthe radb, * When God comes to make up his Jewels, and says to Mrs- El dridge, and also to this mother who thought more of church-going than of her precious little ones, 4 Where are the children I gave you?’ which do you think will be moat likely to say, 'Hear they are, not one Is lost?’ ‘ Have I not clearly shown you that oven church-going may be preverted in to an evil? That piety may attain an ordinary growth, while charity is dead at the root? Spiritual pride, a vain con ceit of superior goodness because of the observance of certain forms and ceremo nies, is the error into which two many devout religionists fall. But God sees not as man seetb. Ho looks into the heart, and judges his creatures by the motives that rule them.’ And, as ebe said this she rose, the silent and rebuked Mrs. Andrews, whose own picture had been , drawn, followed her down to the gay drawing-room. . Many a purer heart than that of the humble Pharisee beat there beneath the bosoms of happy maidens, even though their feet were rising and falling in time to witching melodies. imOTHER CRAWFORD’S SERMON. A Southern exchange gives this as the first sermon of a now minister in a vil lage in that section. He began apologet ically as follows: “ You don’t see me to-day in the dress X allers wear; I come among you as a stranger and am now tricked out in my store clothes* lam not a proud man, but I thought it would be more becoming among strangers.” After this he raised a hymn in which the congregation joined. He then began his sermon. » My dear brethren and sisters, first and foremost, I’m guine to tell you the affec ting partin’ I had with my congregation at Bethel Chapel. After I had got thro’ with my farewell sermon, as I com© down outch the pulpit, the old gray-beaded brethren and sisters who listened to my voice twenty years, crowded around me and with sobbing voices and tearful eyes, said—Farewell, brother Crawford ! As I walked down the aisle, the young ladies, tricked out in their finery, brass jewelry, gewgaws, jim-cracks, paints and flounces, looking up with their bright eyes, and pronounced with their rosy lips —Farewell, brother Crawford 1 The young men, in their tight pants, boots, high collars and dasby waist-coats —smelling of pomatum and cigar-smoke —with shanghai coats and striped Zebra pants—they too said—Farewell, brother Crawford! The little children—lambs in the fold lifted up their tiny hands and small voi ces, and with one accord, said—Farewell, brother Crawford! The colored brethren of the congrega tion now came forward (black sheep who bud been admitted to the fold under my ministry,) with tears rolling down their cheeks, they too said—Farewell, brother Crawford! As I got on my horse and bade adieu to my congregation forever—l turned to take a last look at the church where I bad pleached more than twenty years— and as 1 gazed at its dilapidated walls and moss covered roof—it too seemed to say— Farewell, brother Crawford! As I rode through the village, the peo ple who poked their heads oaten the win dows and the servants who leant on their brooms, all seemed to say—Farewell, brother Crawford! As I passtd along down the highway, through the forest, the wind, as it sighed and whistled through the tree tops, play ing on the leaves and. branches the bur den of salvation, it too seemed to say Farewell, brother Crawford I Crossing a little creek that was gurg ling and singing over Its pebbly bed, as it rejoiced on its way to - the great ocean of eternity, it too seemed to say—Fare well, brother Crawford I As I rode down a hot, dusty lane, an old sow that was asleep in a fence-corn er, jumped out of a sudden with a loud broo-too, broo-too; she io»* seemed to say Farewell, brother Crawford! My horse got frightened and jumped from under me, and as he curled his tall over bis back—kicked up bis heels and rau off; be too seemed to say—Farewell, brother Crawford! A Virtue of Necessity,—Phellm was a young Irishman who wanted to marry Kitty, who was a young Irish girl. XCitty’s father would not consent to the match, and the story runs thus : All of these things was Phellm cogita ting as ihe was walking pensively along the river on the afternoon alter his refu sal. A splash awoke him from his reve rie—ho sprang toward the place—he looked into the water—and, good heav ens! up came the bald head of Kitty’s father! Here was vengeance for him. — The old gentleman could swim a little, j ust enough to keep above water for a few mi nutes. There was nothing for him cling to, and Phellm in sight. Should he let him drown, and go marry the girl? No, be would save him. Irish generosity overbalanced his love, and seizing a long but very slender pole, lying near by, ho reached the end to him. The old gentle man took It. Phclim commenced haul ing in, when a thought struck him, and he shoved him back into the water, allow ing him still to' hold on to the end of the pole. “Do you know me, you old black guard ?” “ Av course X do I Pull me up V* " Are you entirely comfortable there in the water?” “ Pull me up, ye spalpeen I” “Faix, air that I won’t. It’s the furst time I iver sec yo in the water, an’ it pleases me.” “ Puli me up!” Zt “ Will you consent?” “ Consent to what?” “Kitty —ye know well enough what I mane!” “ Nlver!” “ It's all one to me; ye may drown;en tlrely, and who’ll stop me thin? Think twice. Will ye consent?” The old gentleman was becoming ex hausted. “Yes, I consent. Pull mo up.” “Will you give us a sitting out?” said Phellm, who knew his advantage, and wtos disposed to improve it. “Yes; pull me out?” The event proved that the old man was us good as his word. Tb© young couple were married, and moved, with a very suitable outfit for housekeeping, into a comfortable cottage which the father of Kitty possessed. Foil —An aged negrsss, whose eminent piety had secured for her an extensive reputation, in walking her usual round of vNit, dropped In upon a neighbor, who was equally well known us u tempeaule man ami ii hater of tobac co. After being courteously received, the negvess pulled from hor pocket* a long pipe, and commenced smoking some very strong tobacco, to the infinite disgust of her host. The man maintained his com posure several minutes, but the fumes and smoke soon became too powerful for him, and rising from his chair, he said ; “ Aunt Chloe, do you think you are a Christian?" “ Yes, brudder, I ’epects I is.” “ Do you believe in the Bible, aunt}’ ?" “ Yes, brudder." “ Do yon know there isa passage in the Scriptures, which declares that nothing unclean -iiaii mlicr.t the kingdom of heaven ?". “ Yes, I’ve heerd of It." “ Do you believe it?" “ Yes/V : “ Well, Chloe, you smoke and you can not enter the kingdom of heaven, because there is nothing so unclean as the breath of a smoker. What do you say to that?" 1 bind me when I go to heaven*” VOL. 55.—N0. 33. BE PLEASANT. “A fretful temper will divide Tbo closest knot that mny bo tied By careless Sharp corrosion: A temper passionate and fierce May suddenly your Joys disperse Alone Immense explosion." CO HTKR. '“Yes do be pleasant, Mr. Grumbler: and don't delight in making yoursel/ and every one around you miserable. Learn to smile, whether you really feel good tempered or not. Others have troubles and disappointments as .well as you, but you don't seem to know It. When you leave for your daily toil, don't do ft with a growl; don't for the sake of your oivn comfort and happiness, Mr. Grumbler; for how can you expect your care-worn wife to go about her dal ly work cheerfully, and make things comfortable for ‘papa,’ when your part ing words IUI ber heart with, gloom and bitterness?' When a half-loving word escapes you to the woman you so often make unhap py, don't try to cough it down s as if you were ashamed to speak kindly to her; for their is no weakness in pleasant words and loving smiles. The strongest na tures love best. At evening come home pleasant, even if you do feel weary. Trouble not your family with your business cares; you do not want to be troubled with their ‘pet ty' domestic affairs. Help your wife and children to make home bright and beau* tiful—why can't you, Mr. Grumbler?— Do try to, there’s a dear, good man. And you, Mrs. Fretful, ought to have something to do beside fretting and snarl ing. Don’t sit clown and count over the joys you have not, but try and * make the most' of the small blessings you have. Caro and disappointment may have saddened your life, and thedeatluof cher ished friends may have darkened it; but when peace, like a golden ray of sun shine, steals over our gloomy life-path, don't turn your face from the light, and refuse to be comforted. * May there be. who, through tho vale of life, With velvet pace, unnoticed, softly go who are burdened with cares as heavy to bear as yours, Mrs. Fretful. . When a friend comes to you with a smiling face and joy in her heart, be above trying to look heart-broken be cause she forgets that you are 1 in mour ning.’ Be pleasant though you feel sor rowful, for there may come a day when you will not care to see her face cold with indifference when turned toward you. Speak pleasantly to your husband.— Don’t worry him nearly out of his senses with your fretfulness and ill-temper. — True, he may not bo * perfection'—are you, madam? The kindest and tho happiest pnir Will find occasion to forbear; And something, every day they live, To pity and, perhaps, forgive. Make yourself loveable and your homo attractive; be forbearing and forgiving, and your husband (if you have notcrush ed all the manliness out of him) wii) prefer the social fi re-sldo to tho bar-room and billiard saloon Butif you continue to bo selfish, exacting, and fretful, you 7nust expect Au ago of discord and continual strife. Men swear at thealtarto-takea woman for ‘better or for worse,’ but bow few take her for worse! Women take‘good care to appear, if they are not, all that is loveable and beautiful before marriage, and as a lover’s eyes are usually enchants ed, and he believes all he sees, he is very ready to promise anything on the bridal morn ; but after marriage, after months and years have glided away, ami he finds that his 1 angel’ is only a woman—a sel fish, jealous.fretfui,ill-tempered woman— he very quietly creeps from under ‘pet ticoat government,’ ami madam la left to whine and pout at the firesid alone. When your husband cornea home with dim eyes hud unsteady steps, who is to blame but you, Mrs. Fretful ? When he sometimes stumbles Into one of chose holes of iniquity which the devil digs for unhappy men, who's to blame? Some body beside Batnn. Be pleasant, If you would wiu your way to his heart, and have him * turn to tho light of home.’— Loving words, kind acta, and cheerful smiles will keep him at your aide when tears and prayers fail to do it. Many wives are crying. What shall I do to win ray lord again 7 Good friend, go to him; by this light ol heaven X know not how 1 lost him. Yes, you do know how you ‘ lost him you know that your fretfulness has filled his home with gloom, and bis heart with misery. ‘Go to him,* yourself, and ask’ (what tears) his pity and forgiveness, and if the 'Sweet Intercourse of looks and smiles’ cannot make him a better or a kinder man, ho is little better than a brute , ma dam, and the less you trouble yourself about him the happier you will feel. Be pleasant—not only wives and hus bands—but everybody to everybody.— Good humor makes homely men and wo men charming, old maids endurable, old bachelors tolerable, and home delightful. Every one can bestow a kind word and a friendly smile on his neighbors and friends—the % cry poorest of us can do that—and it is our duty to give smiles and cheering words as” freely as ‘ God gives us light.’ 'Pleasant wordsl Oh! Oh, lot uh strive To use them very often: Other hearts they will delight, And our own will soften.’ * and when mother earth bears her. bosom and takes us to our last rest, wo shall not he forgotten. When the golden stars shine out in their ‘ far oft*depths,’ 1 vlug eyes will watch them through gathering tears, and true friends will think of the absent one they can never see again till they, too, have passed over the cold, dark river of death. Do be pleasant, * and be kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.’ ” most amusing story is told of Judge B , now occupying a high post in the Pennsylvania Slate government. Travelling, some years since, by rail to Harrisburg, on a blazing hot day, with some friends, the iron horse bud slopped to water, when suddenly he drew his white handkerchief from his pocket, and waving it vigorously in the air, at the same time bobbing his head out of the window In a very energetic manner. “What are you about, Judge?” asked Mr. Q., without rising from his seat. “ •Why don’t you see yonder? There’s a lady waving a white handkerchief, and I’m returning the salute.” “ Who is siio, Judge?” asked Mr. Q., as he lounged in one corner. “ Well, the fact is, I donCexactl y know; I l ® quite near-sighted, ami I can't re cognize her; but she la dressed in gray silk, ami stands yonder, under a big ma ple tree, near my friend, John li.’s house.” ' Mr. Q. hobbled over to the Judge's side and gazed in the direction Indicated, but saw only that the Judge bad been ex changing salutes for leu minutes with uu Iron-gray mure, whose long white tall, as it flopped away the tlies, bad been taken by him for a white handkerchief, waved by a lady iu u gray»ilk dress. The buttons that were subsequently picked up in that cur are said to have heouexceedingly numerous* The Jm>gu didn’t swear; hut ho changed the subject to saw-mills, the only Intelligible portion of which being the Irequent repetition of the word “ dam." BgF* Life does hot consist altogether in pushing.' That is good, efficient, excel lent, splendid; but it is not all. We have to pull* • Nothing goes steadily on, even love, the pleasantest of ' human einotio.i.-, :.*, nut a loud of when you can’t pull, push. Having u hand at one or the other, you.aro sure to eventu tato in progress. Push; utter that, pull; after that again push. The two teil—ap.U tell well. Bgy At Clermont, iu France, a woman, determined to commit suicide, recently saturated her .dress with kerosene and then set" Weld It." Bates for.^bnertisins. ♦ADVEnnsmcKiTTa will be inserted at Ten cent* per lino for the first Insertion, and five cent per lino for each subsequent insertion. Quar terly .half-yearly, and yearly advertisements In serted at a liberal reduction on the above rate Advertisements shoold bo accompanied by the Cash. When sent without any length of time specified for publication, they will be continued until ordered oat and charged accordingly. ’' JOB PRINTING. Gauds, Handbills, CmctjiiAßS, and every oth er description of Jon and Oabb Printing execu ted In the neatest style, at low prices. WISE AND OTHER WISE. —An old salt—Lot's wife. —A fiery steed—Horse radish. , —Time on the jump—Leap year. —A lightemploymont—candlemaking. —A trade always on thestrike—ablack smith. Drees material for the dog days—muz zlln. —Most liquids run; but we have seen ink stand. —Solitary employment—clerk In a loan office. —What kind of tea should Good Tem plars use—Charity. —The child's idea of a smile is “the whisper of a laugh." —Can a man who gets drunk on oxy gen be said to be air tight? —The oldest business in the world—the nursery business. —The first star engagement—when the morning stars sang together. —What part of a gan la fit for wearing apparal—the breech Is, —The original inhabitants of the globe —the Poles of the earth. —A muff—a thing that holds a young lady’s hand without squeezing It. —Over head and ears in debt—wearing an unpaid for hat* —Prentice says tho present serfs of the South like the surf of the sea, are white. —Wliy are people who stutter not to be relied on? Because they are always breaking their word. —Those who drink wine and tea show that they can stand an attack of grape and canister. —Mrs. Muffles says it is " dreadful bard to lose a busbpnd.” She never got used to it till she lost her fourth. —Why is a washer-woman the most cruel person in the world? Because she daily wrings men's bosoms. —Some one called Biobard Steele the “ vilest of mankind.” He retorted with proud humility.. “Itwould bo a glori ous world if I were.” —Hood, in describing the meeting of a man and lion, says: “ Tho man ran off with all his might, and the lion with all bis mane.” —Because & man who attends a flock of sheep is a Shepard, makes it no reason that a man who keeps cows should be a coward. —Young man, don't ’ flatter yourself that a cardamon seed, a kernel of burnt coffee, a bit of flag root, or lemon pec), a clove, or anything of that sort wul dis guise the “nip” that has gone down your throat. —A notice of a recent steamboat ex plosion in a western paper, ends as fol lows: “the captain a warn ashore. Sodld the chamber maid; she was insured for $15,000, and loaded with Iron.” —A Yankee wishing for some sauce for his dumplings, forgot the n&mo of it ami said: “Here waiter, fetch me some of that gravy that you swallow your dumpling in!” —Burlesque and satire often accomplish what v reason, logic, and good sense fail to effect. It is only by making men, man ners and institutions absurd and ridicu lous that these qualities in them can be reformed. are exceedingly good weapons, but are to be Judiciously used. —“How Is It, my dear, tbat.you hare never kindled a flame in the bosom of any man?” said au old lady to her pretty niece, who was portionless. “ The rea son, dear aunt,” replied the young lady, “is as you will know, that I am not a good match,” —When lovely woman stoops to frolic, And riles the ruso, alas 1 too late. What balm shall heal her melancholic? What art shall set her back op straight? The only thing for her disaster— The only way her woo to end— Is to apply a mustard plaster; If she won’t do it. lot her bend. —A clergyman, observing a poor man by the road breaking stones, and kneel ing to get his work better, made the re mark, “ Ah! John, I wish I could break the stony hearts of my hearers as easily as you are breaking these stones.”— “ Perhaps, master, you do not work on your knees,V was the reply. —Lamb and Coleridge were talking to gether on the Incidents of Coleridge’s early life, when be was beginning bis career in the church, and Coleridge was describing some of the facts in bis usual tone, when he paused and said; “Pray, M r. Lamb, did you over hear me preach ?” “I never heard you do anything else,” said Lamb. —An ardent young couple called upon a Chicago minister the other evening and were made one. Half ah hour after wards a Chicago banker rushed into the minister’s house, learned the facts, and went away very red in the face because his daughter had married “ that fellow.” Half an hour later still a Chicago broker rushed into the minister’s bouse, learned the facts, and went away very red in the face because bis son had married “ Mat Kiri.” —Somebody says editors are poor, whereupon an exchange remarks: “Humbug! Here we are, editor of u country newspaper, fairly roiling In wealth. We have a good office, a paste pot, a double-barrelled gun, two suits of clothes, three kittens, a Newfoundland pup, two gold watches, thirteen day and two night shirts, carpet on our floors, u pretty wife, one corner 2ot, have ninety cents in cosh, are out of debt, and, have no rich relatives. If we are not wealthy, it is a pity.” —ln a certain' family, a pair of twins made their appearance, and were shown to their little sister of four years. It hap pened that whenever their cat of . the household had kittens, the,prettiest wuh saved and the rest were drowned. . When the twins were shown the child by their happy father, she looked at them earnest ly, and at length putting her linger tip on the cheek of one of them, looked up with all the seriousness possible, ami said: “Papa, I think we’ll save this one.” —A “ Gbowin” Iteji.-A woman in Detroit bos been arrested for smuggling tea in her stockings.— Express. In North Carolina the women carry nails In their stockings. —Jtateigh J*ro gress. Nothing wonderful. The ladies of For sythe carry calves iu their stockings.— Salem Observer, And one of our ladles carries her corn In bora.— Home <7a., Cbm*. The ladies In this section who sympa thize with Andy Johnson iu his tight with the Radicals, carry V-toea In theirs, which are very seldom, passed over their heads.— Vincennes hun. ■ All the woman down our way carry splendid elegies (legß,) in their stocking*. —Kentucky News, The ladies’here all carry ’eels (heels,) iu their stockings.— St. Joseph Vindica tor, . Down this way some of them not only carry calves in their stockings, but they also carry bran to fatten them.— Mexico Messenger. Almost all the ladies hereabouts carry Sunyan's work iu their- stockings* W»*. consider this a 44 sock-dolager!” Tho ladles of Scranton are nm very pa* Ucularwhst they put in their stocking* —keeping there souls there—ami are n awkward they often 44 get their foot in it." — Jicoisier.