®I)C Volunteer. J'UBIjISIIKI) EVERY THURSDAY MORNINU BRATTON KKNNKBY Di m'K-SOtTH MARKET S^UARK Terms;—Two Dollars per year If paid strictly I a advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents If paid within throe months; after which Three Dollars will ho charged. These terms will ho rigidly od. hered to In every Instance. No subscription dis continued until all arrearages are paid, unless at thoontlon of the Editor. protesßionai Caros. | JNITED STATES CLAIM AND nEA L ESTA TE A GENO Y. wm! b. butler, ATTOUNKY AT LAW, t ’ , "o'lflco"Tii T-Valilclm’troTisSl’Soul’irtTanbvoFSlivei’ Carlisle,Cumberland comity. Fomin. Applications by mall, will receive Irtimodlnto attention. Particular u( lon I lon given to the selling or rent ing of Real Estate. In town or country. In all let ters of Inquiry, plcAso enclose postage stamp.. .Inly 11. IS7o—tf * 171 E. HEI/rZBIOOVER, 'ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, O.VRLISTjK, Pa, ajr-omco oh South Hanover .Street, opposite Benfz’s dry goods store. Pec. I. )*««. .rfUMRICH & FARICER, ' ATrouxjsrs at la ir. Ofllco on M.vlu Street, hi Marlon Hall, Car lisle, Pa. Doe. 2 IS*E . Q E (). S. E ICI ATTORNEY- AT-L A W, OlUtu: with H. Hepburn. Jr. . Mist Main Street, nAHLISLK, PA. Fob. 2,71—ly WKEN’N'EDV, Attobn'my m-Law , Carlisle, Pnnna. Ofllco sumo ns that ol tlio "Amorloau Volunteer.” Deo. 1. IK7O. DR. GEORGE S. BEARIGHT, Den tist. From the BnUhnnre CnUene of Dental Suraor.u. Oniconttho residence of his mother East Leather Street, three doors below Bedford Carlisle, Penna. Doe. 1 IrflTi. ihats auir «Hai)S U R I V A l 7 OP ALL TIIK A FAV STYLKti OF ll A T 8 AN D CAPS I'lig subscriber has'.Hist opened at i¥b; 15 North flunover direct, a few doors North of the Carlisle Deposit Bunk, one of the lamest and best Stocks nf 11 ATS and CAPS ever ollbred In Carlisle. rfllk Hal*, of all style# and qualifies, Stiff Brims, different colors, and every descrip tion of Molt. Hats now made. The Dunkard and Old Fashioned Brush,con stantly on hand.and made to order, all warrant ed to giro satisfaction. A fall nssot tmont of MEN'S, ROY’S, AND CHILDREN'S. HATH. I nave also added to my Stock, notions of dillor ent kinds, consisting of LADIES’ AND GENTLEMEN’S STOCKINGS Xcck yi.-’v, Ninpemters, Collar. t, Gloves, Pencils, Thread, Scwinu Silk. > Uinbrelhu; Ax PRIME SEGARS AND TOBACCO ALWAYS ON HAND. *>lvo mo ft cull, and examine my stock ns I fool ccmllclent of pleasing all, besides saying yon mo ney JOHN A. KELLER, Agent, No, loNprlh Hanover Street. Get. 1870. pATS AND CAPS T lit) YOU \V,IST NICE HIT OB CAP ? IP so, Don’t F.vtn to Call on .r. g. callio, •iVO. 29, WESI MAIN SVRIiET, *Vti«re can bo seen the finest assortment of ■H ATS AND CAP S. over iwonght to Carlisle. Ho takes great pleas ure In Inviting ills old friends uud customers, and all now ones, to his splendid Just re ceived from New York and Philadelphia, con sisting In part of line SILK AND OASSIMERB HATS, besides an endless variety of Hats and Caps of the latest stylo, all oUwhich ho will soil at the T.owiut Oath Prices." Also, his own manufacture flats always on hand, and HATS MANUFACTURED TO ORDER. He lias Co best arrangement for coloring Hats and nil klnns of Woolen Goods, Overcoats, &c., at the shortest notice (as ho colors every week! and on the most reasonable terms. Also, a fine lot of choice brands of TOBACCO AND CIGARS always on hand. Ho desires to call thoattentlon of persona who have COUNTUY FURS to sou, as he pays the highest cash prices for die same, , , , , •., Give him a call, nt tho- abovo number, his 'ld stand, as he feels coulldeut of giving entire sa .is faction. f'et. IS7O. . ____ i?[RUIiUVSi, SCC. K JAMS OAMt'BELL. \ W. l'\ lIENWOOU ELEN WO OJ), PLUMBERS, in thetown.nllof which we arc selling cheaper and at smaller prollta than any other big store in the United States. . , . . Give us a call and you will savo a good deal of moneyluybur purchases. & No. IS North Hem verSt. | NoT - 10 n - GAS AND STEAM FITTERS, CARLISLE, PA. BATHTUBS, WAT UR CLOSETS, 'WASTE BASINS. HYDRANTS, LEFT AND FORCE PUMPS, CISTERN AND DEEP WELL PUMPS, GAS FIXTURES. GAB SHADES A ND GLOBES Act., Ac. Lead, Iron and Terra Colta Pipe, CHIMNEY TOPS ami FLUES, All kinds ol BRASS WORK lor steam ami Water constantly on inuul. WORK IN TOWN OR COUNTRY promptly attended to. attention given to orders for inaieriai-or work Irom a dlstunce.- bo returned. Also the following well known COOK STOVES: NIMROD, IRONSIDES. FARMER. DIAMOND SLA I E and others These are all warranted and may bo relu f l *®£ If unsatisfactory. Hundreds of thorn have been pm «,) by mo in this community, and their PO A P nffis“rc 3 V raayb=an fi aonat my .slab- Bailment and references can bog Won to parlies using them. SPOUTING AND ROOFING, attended to In town or country. iU'lmlrlng done on Oct. 18,70—0 m No. Kl. South Hanover 81 mHE OLD ESTABLISHED "Purnitifro and Bedding Warerooms, OP H. U. LEWIS nro tin) cheapest In «io oily. Ho Is now selling I’urlorSults In Plush, tlalr Cloth, Pops or ler ry; Walnut Chamber Suits In oil Chtlago Furniture, all styles , Bedding and Mat tresses various sizes; cheaper than Auction prices, Carpets, every variety, • 1 Come and seo and bo convinced. You will save money by giving us a call before pm chas* ing elsewhere. «. n. LlflWlß. No. H3O and 1431 Market St. Next door to corner of Fifteenth Street. March 2,71-8 m IEI IpoeticaL THE HAWK'S NEST. BY BRET HAUTE. ~NYo_ch,qcli;,C(l..O).u;..paccrT-tUe..red road-sharply. rounding: Wo hom'd'tho tioublcd ilow^ Of tho dark olive depths ef pines, resounding • A thousand feet below; Above tho tumult of the canyon, lifted, The gray hawk'breathless hung, Or on tho hill a wing shadow drifted Where furze ami thorn bush clung; Or where, half way, the mountain side was fur rowed With many a seam and scar, Or some abandoned tunnel dimly burrowed— A mole hill soon so far: Wclooked In silence down across tho distant Unfathomable reach, A silence broken by the guide’s consistent f R,And realistic speech; •'Walker" of Murphy’s bleu* a hole* through Pe ters For telling liim ho licit; ; Then up and dusted out of South Horullea Across the long Divide. “Wo ran him out of Strong’s' and up through Kdcn, ' And ’cross the ford below. And up (his mountain (Peter’s brother leadin’), And mo and Clark and Joe. “ Ho fou’t ns game ; somehow, I-dlsremeraher Jest how the thing Kem round ; Horne say ’twns wadding, some a scattered ember Prom Arcs on the ground. ■ “ Hut in one minute all tho hill below him Was Just one sheet of flame; Guardin' the crest, Sam Clark'mid I called to him, And—well, tho dog was game. , “ H’o made no sign- the Arcs of hoi! wore round him, Tho pit of hell below; Wo sat and waited, but we never found him, And then wo turned to go. “And then— 5 ou see that rock that's grown so briskly With chapparel and fan— Hnthln’ crept out—it might have been a grizzly, It might Uov been a man. “Bn thin that howled and gnashed Us tcetli nml shouted In smoko and dust and flame; Bathin’ that sprang Into the depths about U, Grizzly or man—but game. “That’s all. Well, yea, it does look rather risky And kinder makes one queer And dizzy looking down. A drop of whisky Ain’t a bad thing right hero I” ffikcltacm THE TREAD DF INVISIBLE FEET. ‘ Yes, Elsie, 7 lie said, and he ahrugget} his shoulders. ‘ I don't want to conceal anything from you* Twice it disturbed me before while I was with.yon; but I did not think it worth talking about,and T didn’tkriow that you observed anything strange in my manner.’ . *Oh,.yes; T have quick eyes, dear, for airthot concerns you.- Shall I tell you when it was that you had this fancy be fore In my company?’ : ‘lf yon can, Elsie.’ 'The next tinje,’ the girl went on, low er! timber tone, nnd lookingon the ground, ‘was the evening here, when—you know —when yon told me-’ ‘When I told ymi that I loved you,- dear girl, better than all the world !’ said Cleveland, shaking off In the excitement of the recollection all thegloom and pain of the moment—‘when I told you the truth, my love, which I will say' now again and.again. If you willonly listen to me. What do I care about such non aeneical whimsies .ns these imaginary footsteps I am ashamed of myself, Elsie; and I don’t know what vou cun think of me. Never mind—and forgive me, Elsie. You have chased a-way-the ghost, I don’t hear a sound of her confounded footsteps any more:’ , ‘//er footsteps, Christe? Is the ghost a woman, then ?’ b ‘Why, yes, dear—at least a light.,trend, you know; something like the tread ot a woman, or a child, perhaps. 1 suppose all ghosts trend lightly, don’t they ? Be sides; there is no mischief, they say, but there is u woman in it; and X suppose the snme rule holds good with ghosts.— But, man, woman, or fiend, it’s gone now, Elsie; nnd, please. let us- not waste our lime hy saying any more about it.’ And he began to speak rapidly and ve hemently about their approaching mar riage and their prospects; but in the midst of his talk he paused every now and then for a*moment, and seemed as he was listening nervously for some sound. it wns—growing dark, ami the lovera soon returned to "the cottage, ami Cleve land presently had to make his way to the house in the village where he had taken a bedroom ; and so Elsie and ho were separated. He was very tender and affectionate to her on their pa: ting ; and she returned Ids affection with frank, maidenly acknowledgement. And, why; then, did she go up lo her bedroom with a sad and soared face, and shed some sil ent, bitter tears? Why did she do this? She herself probably oonld not have told the reason why in any distinct, intelligent words. She was a girl of education and sense, and she no more believed in gliosis than does Prof. Huxley or Herbert Spencer— But there was something in the manner of her lover which surprised, puzsled and pained her. Why was he scared by im aginary sounds 7 Why did he not speak more fully and freely to her ? Had he not entire confidence in her? Whyshouid lie feel pain of any kind which she must not bo permitted to assuage? Wns there any secret meaning in all this which she must not yet know; and would that se cret endure after their marriage ? Lei me do Elsie Ireland justice. No mean ami miserable suspicion of the man she loved entered Into her generous soul. Brought up not in city life, she had not learned the Ignoble lessons of universal suspicion and distrust; ami having given her heart to Christie Cleveland, she had given him her confidence ami faith to a degree which would doubtless appear unspeakably ridiculous and preposterous in the eyes of a young lady from Fifth Avenue. New York, or Park Lane, Lou don. But It was enough to bring tears to her eves that there should bo any source of dlaquletudo to Cleveland which evidently might not ho fully set forth and explained to her. And so, loving him and believing in, him no less than ever, she felt that a heavy shadow, the first during their courtship, had thing itself ondnouslv over her; and being, afler all, only a girl, she could not repress her emotions, ami she wept. When next the lovera met, however, Cleveland made no illusion to the occur rence that evening, and Elsie said noth ing, and began gradually to think but Mlllo about It. Some happy days and weeks passed uwny, during which these two met evening after evening’, ami talked over their future and their love without any disturbing sight or sound to mar the sacredness of their association ; ami Elsie felt more closely drawn to Cleveland than ever. At last came the evening when, the final arrangements being made, and it was to bo in the following week; ams CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 30, 1871. th© lovers left the house' for a short ram ble towards the sen. From the moment they left the cottage Elsie saw with pain and alarm that Cleveland’s face grew haggard and gloomy, and that his manner was distrait . At last ho stopped suddenly on the strand ami groaned out. hea'v€ii' > "El&l6rl dfth‘ , t'~heaT lf aTiy’ longcrl Human nerves could not stand It. The horrid visitation is sent fo pub lish me and take me from you, or perhaps to save you, poor child, from me I' Elsie looked up into his face with an expression of' horrified wonder. A ter rible doubt was working in her mind, and must have signified itself through her eyes, for Cleveland replied to It: ‘No, Elsie ;I am not going mad. lam quite sane—so much the worse for yoil and me! Inin ascoundrol, not a madman. I am not fit to marry you, and the angels have senttheir visitation to preserve you. I thought first It was sent by devils to torment me.’ ‘Whatisit? What doyou mean ? Why (Jo you talk so? Do you think I could believe anything bad of you ? Not if all the ghosts came out of their giaves to swear against you! Not I, dearest, I know you better than any of your ghosts.’ , She was endeavoring to talk cheerily, poor girl, and thus to reassure him, and herself as well. But she was. much alarmed ami shocked, for'all her conll-, dent words. . ‘Listen, Elsie, no man. like me could care much about the visitation of a ghost, even were it n ghost, unless something .within his own - heart ami conscience .made his nerves weak. This..wretched Round which I fancy I hear just at’this moment—only the sound of a girl’s feet, child—isonough lomakoa pitiful coward of me; and I have not led a coward’s life for the moat part. No, Elsie, my love, you must not marry me, you must have nothing to do with mo. I wish for your sake, that I hud been down at the bottom of the sea before ever I saw your sweet, beautiful face, before ever I was tempted into forgetting the past by loving you and thinking that you could love me. Good God I have I destroyed your life too ? J For Elsie turned too. pale, and seemed so like one about to fall in a swoon,' that Cleveland bad to catch her in his strong' - arms, and allow her to rest there a moment. But she quickly grew firm again, and spoke with .Bometldug like coherence, if not composure* ‘Christie, Christie dear, can you not speak to.mo frankly? Tell me what all this means. Let mo judge. Am I not to be—was I not to bo—your wife, and can you not trust mO? Oh, E entreat you ' —tell me all, I am no child, arid before you send me away from you I ought at least to know the reason why. You shall not break off In this way, for I love you, Christie!’ That Seemed to the poor girl to give her a supreme aud resistless right—to be the utterance of a command that 1 might not be questioned. But Cleveland only looked at her with haggard face, and eyes that were almost void of meaning; and his lips trembled, and Ills whole aspect was that of one who »s unmanned by supernatural terrors. It was a strange ■and a sad scene. The sea-shore, with its heavy, gray,slumberous waves coming lazily in; the sultry dark clouds of a •summer evening, when the air is over charged with electric fluid, aud a storm is near; the two lonely figures on the strand-the dark, pale, haggard manj and the imploring girl clinging to his arm. Suddenly voices were heard, and two other forma appeared in the distance. ‘Your fat her. and mother, Elsie/Cleve land whispered. ‘For Heaven’s sake do not say a word to them. Not now—oh, not now!’ ' Recovering something of composure, with n strong effort lie gave Elsie his arm, and then walked slowly and silent ly.: lo meet the Roland pair. Then Cleve land murmured some excuse about hav ing to go into the village to keep an ap pointment, and ho left Elsie with her parents. She watched him as he strode along the strand. His head was bent; once lie stopped for an instant, and al most turned round, but he' evidently would not allow himself to look hack, and he presently disappeared. That was a sad walk for poor Elsie— the saddest she had over had. But she would not submit, at tiro cost of any mental torture, to allow lief father and mother, as yet, to know anything of what had happened, or of her state of mind.— Mr. Roland was a sweet tempered, placid feeble man, ut'erly useless in any crisis or hour of. distress. Mrs. Roland was a plain, practical sort of a woman—what people call a sensible woman—who could hardly sympathize with any but mate rial and tangible sufferings. There was nothing yet which Elsie felt that she could possibly confide to her mother. ' Oil, how tedious, tantalizing ; tortur ing, that long evening was I How dis turbing the noise of the children ! How disturbing their endless questions I How weary everything seemed! How weari some everybody! How profound a ro : lief poor Elsie felt when she could escape to her own room I All through that ag onizin'? evening it had seemed to Elsie that life had left lo her no higher hope, ambition, aspiration, Ilian a wish lo bo once more in her own room alone. At lust raised to tiio height of this poor sad ambition, she enjoys it by throwing herself on her bed, and pouring out plen teous, passionate tears. Suddenly she starts up—she had not undressed—and luns to the window. For site bad Just heard sung, in a low, veiled tone beneath, the air and some of the words of of a song she loved, and which Cleve land used to sing to her in ins full, sweet tenor. She knew it was Cleveland's voice which now sang in low, suppressed notes under her window. Yes, ho was there. The cottage was low, and he could almost touch her win dow. He sang to summon her. She raised up the window, whispering, ‘Oh, my dear Christie!’ and Jeaned out ‘Elsie!’ ‘Love!’ 'Child, don't call me by such a name until you know ail. Yes, I have made up my mind, and I will tell yon all. This is what I came now to say. Then you shall judge and sentence me. If you oau endure mo I shall believe that God, too, will forgive me. If you condemn mo and cast mo off, I shall only say thatyou ore right and just. To-morrow you shall hear from me. Good night, and God bless you!' He was goue. Does it seem otrango tint Elsie drew back inlo ber room Willi a sense of re lief, almost a feeling of delight? Cer tainly site went to her feat hopeful and almost happy, for she could and would not believe that ber lover bail done any thing which could render him forever unworthy of her. This Innocent Judge could not believe in utter guilt, and was already prepared to pardon. "Next morning brought—not Cleveland —but a long letter from him, written in ids clear, manly hand - the hand of one to whom writing is no pleasure or light task, and who, when lie says much with the pen, must bo profoundly in earnest: ‘This is a sad stoiy, dear Elsie, but I must tell it. I shall feel the better for telling it, whatever comes; and I. shall be belter able to bear the worst. Two years ago, Elsie, I was in one of the Pacific Islands trading. A nativeglri was foolish enough to fall in love with me. She had been educated a little by some of Hie American -missionaries, ami could talk English well. I liked her,' too T was fond of her in a sort of a way, but I could not bring her with me and bind myself to her for life. I was glad when tire lime came for me to go away ; and I am ashamed to say I did not tell her, fearing scones. But she found it out, poujicreaturo, and hid her self somehow on board the ship, and she came out when we were far away to sen, and ran to me. I was ashamed and Sur rey and angry; and I am afraid I spoke some sharp words to lief. Him looked me full in the face—l shan't soon forget that look—and then ran to the side and leap- ed overboard. As I sprang to the bulwark I saw her face again rising out of the sea, and her eyes met mine again* and there was the-same look in them—so full of disappointment and despair. The sun was just down, the sea was running high. I saw the poor thing’s face that moment and never again,.. "'"’pf cburaoTThrew myself in to the sea —riot many better swimmers than I, and I .did iny best to find her and save her; and they had the boats out in a moment. Ail to no -pmpose, we never saw a lock of her hnlr again above the waves. There was hard work enough for tbe men to pull mo out of the water—l did not want to bo saved. But they dragged me but somehow. were tho footsteps that of even ings. just after sundown, haunted mo when I was most happy with you. I don’t—at least I didn’t- believe In such things any more than you do. But say it is only my guilty conscience haunting me, and not a ghost, is that enough, Elsie, to mak.e me unworthy of you ? For though I never wished to harm that girl; though I never thought sho would take the thing to heart —I am her murderer ail the same. She killed herself because of me! • 'Tills is the story. Elsie, But for this I have not been a bad sort of a fel low ask any one who knows me. , If you do notshudderat meand hatemo, and shrink away at the thought of touching my hand —if you could still bid me hope, could lell me some time—any time—l‘may be for given by j’ou. by heaven—then I shall feel my smil lightened of a fearfiil‘load find I think, perhaps, after'nil, I might yet make not such a bad husband; But if you are otherwise resolved, lAhnll how my head and say that yon are right, and that I am rightfully punished,and Ishall not repine; and shall always think that but for my own crime you would have loved me. ‘Elsie, take your own time and think of it; and if you can still love mo send rne one line, one word; say Come! If not, send me back this letter of mine without a word, and I shall accept my sentence, and own that it is just. *1 am either way, one who loves and blesses you. •Christie ( leveland.* Many, many tears did Elsie Roland let fall over this letter. But sad though it was, it brought her deep relief. Shecon sulied no adviser, but her own sou) and Heaven. Neither told her to reject the manly heart which had poured out its penitence and made its appeal to her. She wrote to him at once: ‘Come tome me, dearest! Tins story is your, secret and mine. No one else has any right to know it. Let it be my happy task to keep painful memories and haunting footsteps from you for the fu ture.’ And Elise succeeded. Never more did Cleveland start at the sound of a ghostly* tread. The love of his wife encompassed him, and the shadows of the past faded away. AH ALPINE HORROR. The English papers publish accounts of a terrible catastrophe in the Austrian Tyrol, as follows; ‘‘Theßchlosberg,” a Vesuvi'an moun tain overlooking the small market town of Hobenems, Tyrol, fell in, burning two principal streets of the town and burying over 900 persons; also destroying the principal church. If this telegram is genuine, the disaster will prove to ho hot volcanic as reported, but the falling of an avalanche. Hohon* ems is a pretty,little town in the circle of Vornrlberir, in' the Austrian Tyrol, It contains 2,000 inhabitants, and is built in a valley at the' foot of the Schlossberg, a projecting crag of one of the immense peaks of the Noric Alps which gird the Tyrol,-and extend beyond Vienna and past Lemberg, in Oallioia. The snows of this year have been deep in Europe. Of late there have been heavy rains*, and the water courses haVe been full. The indeed, of the higher peaks, do not melt until the summer; but those in the viol*, nityof the Selllossberg melt much earlier. It is probable, that by these means the 'foundations of the huge mass wore’ loos ened, Ami that tli.o whole crag slid down upon the town over which it hung. This lias happened before in Switzerland, and Is always liable’to happen whenever the stralnilcallon of the crag and the slope of the mountain incline in parallel lines. It must bo remembered that in the con figuration of the Alps the liases are of sandstone ami limestone. Then come the slates and the metaphoric rooks, ami the primeval unstratified granite towers hlghestof all in theceutrul peaks. When ever a landslip does occur, it is always the stratified rocks, that'is the sandstone, wblch'slide away from the mountain ami break Into huge fragments, which again break Into smaller ones, ami -cover the valleys beneath the waves of lava. This has probably happened to Hohe neins.and the shattered houses have been sot on fire by the burning hearths and ovens. Managing a Husband —‘‘ How do you manage your husband, Mrs. Croaker? Such a job as T have of it with Smith !” “ Easiest tiling in the world, myjlear; give him a twitch backward when you want him to go forward, For instance, you see. to-day, I had a loaf of cake to make. Well, do you suppose because my body is in the pastry rooip that my sou! need bo there, too? Not a hit of it. lam thinking of ail sorts of celestial things the while. "Now, Croaker has a Way of lagging round at my heels, and of bringing .me plump down, in the midst of my terlnl flights, by asking me the price of the su gar I’m using. "Well, you see, it drives mo frantic ! and when I woke up this morning, and saw the furious storm, I know I had him on my hands for the day, unless I man aged right ; so I told him that I hoped lie wouldn’t go out and catch his dealli such weather; that if he wasn’t capable of taking care of himself, I should do it for him; that it was very lonesome rainy days—arid that I wanted him lo stay at homo and talk with me ; at any rale he mustn’t go out; and I hid his uriibrel.a and India rubbers. Well, of course, he was right end up, (Just as I expected !) and in less than ten minutes was streak ing down street at the rate of ten knots an hour. p..- “You see there’s nothing like under standing human nature; and no woman should he married fill she Is thoroughly posted up in this branch of her educa tion.” Young ladles contemplating matrimony should ponder well this advice of lire ex perienced Mrs. Croaker* . A New Game.—A hand of rustic wor thies were seated round the tavern lire, ono winter’s evening, consisting of the blacksmith, the shoemaker, the tailor, the constable, and the school master.— After they had drank and smoked to their heart’s content, as well as uxhausted all the ordinary, topics of conversation, the pedagogue proposed a now kind of a game, in which each ono was to propose a question, and whoever proposed one that lie himself could not solve, was to pay the reckoning for all Dick Dolt, whom every one thought a fool, was picked out for I lie first question. "Neighbors," said Dick, drawling his words, and looking ineffably stupid, "yon have seen the way squirrels dig boles; can you tell why tboydon't throw any dirt?" That was a poser; and after a long cog itation, even the schoolmaster was com pelled to give it up. It then devolved on Dick to explain. ‘ Tile reason is,’ said lie, • that they be gin at tile bottom of the hole.’ ‘Stop—stop!’ cried the pedagogue, who was surprised out of all prudence iiy so monstrous an assertion ; 'pray, how does tin-squirrel get there?’ ■All!’ shouted Dick, • that’s a question of your own proposing. You're In for the drinks, master.’ WEDDING CUSTOMS. [From Hearth and Homo.] Tho hytpcnlal customs prevailing now and hitherto among various nations, are ■as novel -as they are numerous. Sir John Lubbock and Edward Wood have devot ed mqch attentlon-to ’tbQ...aubjflct,,.amt communicato raany«entertaining facts in thejr published works. At*'The Jarrow Church, in Northumberland, England, there is a chair In which all in the vicin ity becoming brides'set themselves when the marriage ceremony is concluded, that they may be happy wives and mothers of many children. .In Derbyshire and Wiltshire, breo*hTves were formerly deep rated on the occasion of a wedding, the supposition being that the bees were knowing to the ceremony, and wished to participate in tho festivities* In one locality of Yorkshire, when a newly-mar ried couplollrst enter their home, a friend brings a hen, and makes it cackle, “ lo produce good luck to tho pair.” In tho north of Eneland, it is considered most ominous of misfortune to ho married in groom. If there Is an odd number of guests at a wedding, one is sure to die within tho succeeding twelve mouths. The sneezing of a cat was anciently considered . by some Englishmen to ho a lucky omen to a Indy who was to bo married the next day. Inthesixteer.th century, a wedding sermon was preached at the marriage of almost every person of consequence. In the Insc.cenUiry, celibacy was frequently, punished in some parts of. England. • Under date of 1731), the parish register of Hilton, in Dorset, contains the following mandate : “ Ordered that all young un married persons above seventeen years of age do forthwith go to service or he pro ceeded against according to law.” In the re’gn of Edward the Second, a toll was exacted from women married at Skipton, The order read: “.Every bride ■coming that way should either give her left shoe or 3s. ‘id. to the forester of Orook ryse, by way of custom,of g’aycloys,” In the days of Mary. Queen of Scots, (In. bridesmaids carried the bride In the bed chamber, undressed her and lay her in bed. They were then compelled to throw, away all tho plus taken from her cloth • iug. “Woe be to tho bride if a single one is left about her; nothing will go right. Woe also to the bridesmaids if they keep one,of them, for they will not bo married before'the Easter following at soonest.” The Irish peasantry, when too poor to purchase tho wedding rings, hlr« them, of jewelers, who keep them to loan for such occasions. Formerly, the Irish bride presented to her betrothed husband a pair of bracelets made of her awn hair. The natives of the Isle of Mali always curry salt in their pockets when being married, under the belief that it brings luck. .“ Bundling,which at one time pre vailed in Pennsylvania, was Introduced from Wales, where It Is said to have ori ginated in a scarcity of fuel. During the last century it was custo mary in Prussia to throw broken crockery ut the doors of newly married people, In ’ancient times the French were married on the doorstep, and not. as now, within the church at the altar- A few years ago, marriage brokerage was quite extensive ly carried on in Paris, and the brokers regularly advertised in the papers, also guaranteeing to suit every taste and tern pe,rnipnt. Formerly, a- young man was held in great reproach in Belgium who should marry a woman much older than himself. The bride always wore red gloves with three pieces of silver in each of them. In . Genoa, a young man, oh becoming engaged, was compelled to pre sent his betrothed with a boquet every morning until they were married. In Venezuela, when a young man formerly asked for the hand of a gir/, her fatffer gavehim a very hard stone to pierce. On his completing the.task, the lover’s request was granted. Home of the marriage customs of the old Puritans of New England were not Fss novel than those of their English -ancestors. Mr. Wopd tells us that in 3605,' the h'cal aulliorities at Eaatham, (Mass.) voted that every unmarried man in the township should kill six blackbirds or three crows yearly, while they remained single, ami Hint, as a penalty for not obey ing the order, ho should hot get married until he hud destroyed the requisite num ber in arrears. In 17fi8, the Assembly of Maryland laid a tax of five shillings a year upon all bachelors above 2> yt-avs of ago who were possessed of one hundred pounds. In Malabar, the marriage ceremony consists simply in tying a thread round the neck of the woman. In Benares, in the East Indies, uncouple, wishing to be united, would formerly wado into a deep stream, along with a priest and a cow, and the priest tied Che man and woman together by their ,dollies ; they then, on walking round the cow, were pronounced man and wife. According to Herne, the •Hudson Bay Indians have been in the habit of wrestling for wives, the strongest currying off the fairest. “A weak man. unless ho is a good hunter, and well be loved, is seldom permitted to keep a wife that a stronger man thinks worth liis notice. The custom prevails throughout ail their tribes, and causes a great spirit of emulation among their youth, who,' upon all occasions, from their childhood, try their strength and skill in wrestling. Among the Chinese and Abyssinians, lifting a bride over u door stop constitutes the ceremony. In Australia, no man is permitted to marry a woman whose fam ily name is the same as his own. Persons bearing the same family name, although not related, are strictly interdicted from marrying each other in China. In Wes tern Equatorial Africa, father and son arc frequently married to the same woman. In his journey to the shores of the Polar Sea. Capt. Franklin says, that among Die American Indians of the fa,r North, it is considered extremely improper for a mother in law to speak or even look at a i-oii In law, and when she has a commu nication to make to him, it is the polite thing for her to turn her buck upon him, and address him only through the me dium of a third person. And among-the Mongols and Calmucks of Asia, a woman is not allowed to apeak to her lather In law,or to ait down in hlapresence. Some of our Indian tribes formerly killed one Infant on the birth of twins, probably on the supposition that one strong child was belter than, twq weak ones. SUKSirisu and Shadow.—Hero we are subject to continual change; ournnthway, at present, inayneem brightly illuminat ed l>y the glorious rays of hope, and fond anticipation ot a more glorious future ; ere long comes the bitter frost of disap pointment ; our hopes are blighted, and our prospects forever destroyed. Thus sunshine and shadow. If we trifled witli the merriments of yesterday, to-day we droop among the shades of discontent; ns flowers bloom but to fade, so do we live awhile, subject to the sunshine and the shadow of life, and finally fade fer tile tomb. Sunshine causes shadow, and we, in Ilio voyage of life, are subject to the same vicissitudes: the mirth and jolily of onr -ay companions may have enlivened our minds in the past, and onr being render ed happy in their presence ; at present wo move in a dill'erent circle, and lie shaded by the frowns and the deceptive smiles of a deceitful and.selfish commu nity ; it seems, too, Hint they who seem to enjoy tbo most sunshine are the first to lie shaded by its shadows. Numerous tilings convince us that all arc alike subject to the sunshine and the shadow of Hie; the wise, the good, those who have the highest stations in life, oven down to the most degraded, those whom grim penury stares in the face. All tilings convince us that none are free from the vexutionsof tillsdoubtlul world. Would we then trifle.with the worthless bubble reputation ? No ; give us rather purity of character, and mind, glowing with pure knowledge, that would leach ns to hear the toil and heat of our jour ney here, and not to recoil, if we observe a shadow across life’s pathway, but letus remember that hero we must have the shadow, if we eujoy the sunshine. VOb. 57.—N0. 42, FRIGHTFUL SCENES IN THE JURA. Her von Wlckedc, of the Cologne Ga zette, describing an excursion ho made from Belfort fo Pontarlcr, says : “Heaps of forsaken corpses mouldered away among' the busheu and in ditches -by..UiQ-.blgh..road. ..far~fro m-Moat? beliard, a doctor and myself fobnd eight Frenchmen dead in one house,'and they were already in an advanced stage of de composition. Among them a wounded man, still alive, and who cried'out for help in a most lamentable voice. We took him out with some ditllculty, and laid him in the open air. He'was a little; man. scarcely seventeen years of age, a student.of Avignon. A Prussian grenade had torn his two legs helow the knees. Ho had remained in this state seven days without being attended to; wlthout.water, and entangled among all these coipaCa. He had wrapped up his wounds In the rags of his uniform, and the cold had stopped the hemorrhage. Ho had crawl ed up to his companions, and had taken bits of biscuit out of their pockets, which aullicod for his subsistence, and ho had slaked his burning thirst! by drinking the groat. Hakes of snow that fell In at the window. He had Jived thus a week.— The unhappy man has been taken to Switzerland, and the doctor thinks that lie may recover. “Horseflesh is now the principal article of food of the inhabitants of the (*minlrj ? ; and I have myself seen a bevy of famish ed women throw themselves upon a dead, horse like a pack df wolves, and tearing it with all sorts of instruments, swallow morsels quite raw. I have even been U Id hut T do not vouch for tho-truth of this —that the unfortunate people have eaten human flesh, taken from the remurns of the dead soldiers. • This is the eighth campaign I have been through, but in neither Algeria, nor in Italy, nor in Bo hemia, nor even in Sleswick, have I seen sights so humble.” A Haskkt ok Cidkil—Many years ago, in the .State nf Rhode Island, there wisa tribe of Indians called the Narragansetts. They were a shiftless net. In summer they lived cliielly on potatoes and such other food as they could raise; but in the winter they hud to beg from\ho white people. One cold afternoon in December, an old •Indimit with a willow basket in Ilia hand, came to the door of a funnor, uiul naked for a drink of cider. The farmer had often given him cider before; but this time beseemed to have had already move than was good for him, and he told him, with a smile, that ho would give him all that his basket would hold. Without saying a word, but with a shrug of his shoulders, the Indian turned from the door and went away. Pie knew well'enough that a willow basket would not hold any older, but be knew also Low to make his basket bold cider in a very short time. Going straightway to a running stream near by, ho dipped Ida basket in the wa* ter, and'then hung it up in the air until it was frozen hard. Then he dipped it in the water again, and let it freeze a se cond time. This process was repealed until the basket was so thickly coated 'with ice that It did not leak u drop. The next morning ho presented him self again at the farmer’s door, and asked for his cider. Much surprised and amus ed at the Indian’s ingenuity, the farmer tilled the basket as ho had promised, ami the Indian curried oil’ his prize, and was greatly pleased at the successor his plan. Alone.—Alone*! ah, bitter sundering of the golden bands and liiiksthatfonned the chain of joyous homo circle, whose oft-tried tenure love ami goodness render ro elastic ami so firm. Alas ! the boltsof death and the cankerous rust of earth's deep sorrows have liven and destroyed the mystic cordon and Its mortal couplets! Alone! nay, not alone; for .still in memory I wander the homes of those whoso loving hearts beat in unison aud fellowship with mine, ami whoso tears mingled with my sadness. Oh, happy cottage homo of childhood's sunnyduys, when visions fraught with joy and pleas ure wove their’beauties ’round each soul, ami thrust out cares and tolls that sought to dim and sadden boyhood’s merry morn ing! Alone! .not all alone; for each little turf home, made and fashioned by bauds that knew them not, cometh the sweet spirit voice of those whose wanderings have led them onward to- their immor tal ami glorious possessions,- A mother’s prayer, a father’s kindly chiding, and a sister’s tenderness, are all remembered, and thoirsweet memories create a friend ship that bad its birth,with angels. Thus ami not alone, for in thedark and chilly night of earthly pilgrimage, the star of eternal hope ’illumines my path way, and the sacred teaching of that heavenly home-group rekindles the smouldering embers ofaflectlon Upon my heart’s altar. .String Fashions.— There is nothing of novelty or interest (o remark In even ing dresses at this reason, but Ihedinncr (oiiotles strike one ns models,of simplici ty ami elegance, A demi-trained skirt of rich, heavy silk, or Irish poplin, a jacket cut with basques, and flowing or mlTleil sleeves, a oolhuelto of rare old live, and ruOLa of lace at the wrists, or lace under sleeve#. The spring suits will consist mostly of walking skirt and new casaqiie, which is arranged with basque lappels at the back, and fullness winged at the sides. We shall not have long walking dress es for the street, that may ho depended upon. I believe an attempt of that kind would create a rebellion. American wo men all over the country would rise eu masse to resist it. The* long reign of the hooped skirt Is over: very few are worn now, and the few .that are in use are so small that they are not perceptible to the naked eye.— The Victorian hulr.cord skirt,, which con sists of haircloth, into which cords are woven, has superseded them, to some ex tent, and is really a very pleasant rand convenient substance A Desirable Trio.—Some sensible person has eiven publicity to the follow ing waif, which Is cerfalnly appropriate anil beautiful: Three things to love—Courrgo, gentle ness and affection' Three things to hale—Cruelly, arro gance anil Ingratituile. Tlircc tilings to admire—riitelleetual power, dignity and gracefulness. 1 Three things to delight in—Beauty, frankness and freedom. Three things to w|sh for—Hcallh and friends, and a cheerful spirit. Three' tilings to avoid—ldleness, lo quacity and flippant jesting. Three tilings to pray,for—Faith, peace, and purity of heart. ■ Throe tilings to eiuilend for—Honor, country and friends. Three things to govern—Temper, and tongue and conduct. Three tilings to think about—Life and dentil and eternity. A Sivoui.Aß Iti:i,ATioNsmi‘.—A friend who man ted a widow, explains how ho got mixed up in relationship; ‘1 married a widow who had a grown up daughter. My father visited our house very often, foil in love with mv slop daughter and married her. Ho my father beoamG. my son in law, and my step daughter my mother, because she was my lather's wile. Sometime nlterwards my wife had a son —lie was my father's brother in law and my uncle, lor lie was the brother of my step mother. My father’s wife, that was my step daughter, had also a eon; lie was of course my brother, ami in the mean time my giaudehlld, for he was the son of my daughter. Bed is a bundle of paradoxes; we go to it with reluetancetyel quit it with regret: and wo make up our minds every night to leave it early, hut we make up our bodies every morning to leave it late. Bates for Advkrtisem ENTfI wui bo inserted at Ten Con pet lino lor the first insottton, and five cen per lino for each subsequent Insertion. Qnat crly half-yearly, and yearly advertisement* In-' ortqd ata liberal reduction on the abovo rate! Advertisements should be accompanied by th • Cash. When sent without any length of tlm specified for publication, they will be continue* until ordered oat and onarged accordingly. | JOB.PRTNTXNG. CAUD3, handbills, oibovlaiis, and every oth er description of Joi?Hnd Card Printing. ©bus artu 3SuD». What metre is best for a valentine' Meet her by moonlight alone. Why nrc our ironclads like unmarried Indies? Because they are open to engage* .menu What weapon does a young lady ro : semble whose.acquaintances pass with out noticing her?—A cut-taas. A sharp girl wants to know If the woman’s rights movement Includes the right to do the courting; If it does; she is in for it. as the men in her vicinity are very bashful. A little boy, returning from Sabbath sch- 01, said to his mother, ‘This cate chism is too hard. Ain’t there any kit ty-chisui forlltty boys?’”' ■ What cord is It In which you can find knots Hint no man living ever tied, and no man living can untie? Why, a cord of wood. ‘ HF.RK’b the banisters but where are thu stairs,’ ns the drunken fellow said when he felt ids way around the bed stead in tbe dark. . Ax eastern man lias sued his barber for cutting off* Ida moustache. The barber said ho didn’t see it. Several similar casualties are liable to occur here. Mauv had a little lamb, , It Jumped up to thosky And when It landed on its foet Cried, ‘ How is that for high?’ Tin: editor of the newspaper, out tow ard Buko Champlain, has discovered a wav of keeping eggs from spoiling. His method Is to eat them while they are fresh. - A C.»a lksuuko farmer, whoso pew rent was raised to Si’o, exc/aimed; ‘Great Ctcsnr, here’s a nice state of affairs—the Gospel going up and pork going down, — What’s to become of us?’ In answer to a correspondent, writing to a country editor, asking If he might 1 send him something to ‘ fill up with,’ the editor replies, 4 Certainly, let it be a bar rel of Hour and a quarter of beef.’ •l>Af»X, ought a teacher to flog me for ; what I did not do?’ ‘Certainly not, my hoy, replied the father. .* Well, said the Jlttlo fellow, he did to-day when I didn’t do niy spin.’ An exchange says: ‘ A white man in one of the bar rooms of Alabama, the other day, oilered to pay for d quart of whisky if a negro present would drink it. The offer was accepted, aud the dar key is now a colored angel.’ Ax old bachelor says that giving the, ballot to women would not amount to anything pracllcally.because they would keep denying that they were old enough to vote until they got too old to take any interest' in politics. A* little boy, in the; infant class of a Sunday-School was asked by his teacher if ho had learned anything dur ing the past week., 'Oh, yes,’ said he. — •What have you learned ?* ‘ Never to trump your partner’s trick,’ was the reply, . .. . The following epitaph may bo found on u tombstone in Vermont: Am she went, and be she gone, Ami are I left here all alone?- OH! cruel fate, thou bo’ot unkiAUV' To take she Urst and leave I behind. ‘ Can’T you manage to give my son one of J.ho prizes dt the' exhibition ?’ asked a mother ol a teacher. ‘No, madam, was the reply. ‘Your son will stand no chance; 1 ho obstinately persists in Idle ness.’ ‘ Oh, hut then,’exclaimed the fond mamma, * If that’s the case, you can give him-a prize for perseverance. Lawyhh- 1 How do you identify this handkerchief?’ Witness—*Jiy its general appearance and the fact that I have others like it,’ Counsel—‘That’s uo proof, I have got one in my pocket just like it,’ 4 1 don’t doubt that. I bud more than one of the same sort stolen.’ The other day, in a rural town, an in quest -wps held over the body of a man who had been killed by a horse. After hearing the testimony of several witness es, the jury retired and soon returned with the following -verdict: ‘That de ceased came to ids death from the effects of a wound in the head, caused by ahorse shoo in the hands of a horse. ‘lsay milkman, you give your cows too-much salt.’, ‘Why, how do you know how much salt I give them? ‘I judge from the appearance of the milk you have brought us lately. Salt makes the cows dry, and then they drink too much water—that makes their milk thin you, know.’ An irascible old gentleman was taken with sneezing in the cars lately. After sneezing iu u most spasmodic way eight or ten times, he arrested the paroxysm fora time, and extracting Ms handker chief, he thus indignantly addressed his nasal organ : ‘ Oh, goon—goon ; you’ll blow your infernal brains out presently,’ A Dutch woman kepta toll gate. One foggy day a traveler asked, ‘Madam, how far is it to B : ?’ • fshoost a leetle ways,’ was the reply. ‘Yes, but how far?’ again asks the traveler. . ‘Shooata leetle ways’—more emphati cally. . • . • Madam, is it one , two, three, four, or five miles The good .woman ingeniously replied, • / tinks it is /’ The testimony of s a daughter of the parties to a recent Indiana divorce suit seems conclusive : “ Father got mad be cause mother starched his stockings.— Mother picked up the stockings and bit father on the head with them, and it sounded us though they were sticks of wood. Father than stuffed a hot wheat calc© down mother’s throat, and then mother bet the dog on father, and twisted the dog’s tail to make him bite harder.” When Horace Greeley traveled In En gland ho was impressed with the value of drainage, ami immediately got off an antithetical agricultural proverb to the effect thutjfa man don’t drain bis farm, his farm would drain him. Then Horace went to Lombardy, where he witnessed the fructifying influence of Irrigation by means'of dams; whereupon he added artof her proverb to his store of terse say ings : “If a man don’t dam bis farm, his farm will d—u him.” An old lady, who was in" the habit of declaring alter the occurrence of an unu sual event that she had predicted it. was one day very nicely 1 sold by her worthy spouse, who had got tired of her contin ual * I told you. so. 1 Bushing into the house, breathless with excitement, he dropped into his chair, elevated his hands, and exclaimed, ’ Oh, wife, wife, what what do you think? Theold brlndlecow lias gone ami ate upourgrindatoue! 1 and the old lady was ready, and hardly wait ing to hear the last word, she broke out at the top of her lungs, 'I told you soi X told you so! You always would let it stand out.’ A bright young lady of Indiana, on hearing of the approaching marriage of a friend, gat down and dashed ofl the fol lowing, ‘ to rid her mind of the conscious ness Of neglected duty’: ■My Dear —r : 1 hear you and will soon ho joined by the holy bonds of matrimony, and erb yon have quietly passed iijtn his.hadda I wish to give you a few words of advice. Ho-kind to him, for Irani! one Unit must ho treated tender ly or fiulu awiiy. ■ Jjovo iiliu nuicli, for lie is worthy of ail trust, honor, and love. ♦And when' you'stand to be united, he ever , ready with your own strong arm ; In the excitement of the scene he may ex'lmuM his sensitive ugturo, and, unless viirt lend him your aid, ho may faint away. Treat him ca,reful|y. Make the tires for him. Saw his wood for him. Wmk for him. Walk for him. Kill vourseif foil him. .Then, if onyourdeath lied ho thanks yon, humbly .accept his thanks, and depart in peace!' Admirable woman ! . i