®I)C American Volunteer. lU , |Slir ,D EVERY THURSDAY MORNING ■ D y B OBATTON * gIWKTOY. 0 f fICE-HOH™ MtBKEI N«IUAUE. „„._Two Dollars per year If paid strlcl.y 1 two Dollars and Fitly Cents If paid l,i advance, . fter w ulch Three Dollars WltU l“ lar«d terms win bo rigidly ad WI " ;:“ ,W Instance. No snbserlptlon d.s “'■rMnned until all arrearages are a ald, nnlcss at M°i" option of the Editors. ■ cratps. '7.'b,'q.>Al.AM. I .1. n. GRAHAM, Jr. j m JI. GJtA HA 31 & SON, Attorneys $ Counsellors at laiv }(o.HJSoiill>Hono v onnV Office name na tlmtol 1110 A*norlcan Volunteer. Doc. I- • ; ~ PAR. GEOHUR SS \J tisi. S’rmn ti e 4aU,mare^ o[ / moUler SSutbe“at?eetftbvee doors below Bedford Carlisle, Ponnft. Dec. 1 1800. '39ato-anli vEaus. T> AIiCiAINS IN HATS AND CAPS At KELLBK’S. 17 North Hanover B‘rcet "! e CAPa "hkHatll'Siw Ynr“k tlud WiHntloi: prices, « atß ‘’'..fT"'Vt vet' Lo=llng, Mixed np. Cloth Bute, in Bio of u £ yll , autl at till prl- MEN BOY'S, b ®fiATS d orn P ny lt"Sd mado y and repaired to order, oa short ““M’S". * KBt/LEB, Agent, No. 15 North Hauover Street. Sept 2S, ’7l—tf. , JJJATS AND CAPS T DO YOU WANT A NICE HAT OE CAD ? IF SO. DON'T FAIL to CALL ON J. G. GALLIC), NO. 20. T VESI MAIN STREET; Wbeve can be seen the llaest asaorWQon^ of . SA T S AND. LA r o .. r-oriinle. Ho tates great pleas over brought to friends auM customers, aere la Inviting uls solemUd «-'OClc lust re -Ba‘f“moNmvmoNmv Vort aSd Phliadelplik. con- HATS, besides an nTth iTkna °'™ n “ mufaoturo rials always on hand. ana HATH MANUFACTURED TO ORDER. and all Itlnusof Woolo 9 j every week) and Aisofa dno iot of choice brands of • tobacco and cigars .ways on band, Ho desires to ball thoattontion , ol .ersonswbohave TKYFUKs loseii, as ho pays tbe highest cash prices for bo same. . »h« above number,his »!d of giving entire sa-lfl 'aClLtt. 28, ,71—tf. - iHf GOODS ,REAL VALUE HARPER’S ! SOUTH HANOVER STREET. If vou vnnln nice ( ’ T^ l' 1 S,?,^*\v"RAPPER, "SS^ R It you want, a ".."optilllA FLiANNKL, if you waul a lilco m ' SHAWL, If you want, a COL LAR If you want a Hanoso Handkerchief If you wll “ l f;„"C r u kuuings CHEAP, If you wan t Hamburg l LAUI ,- B CHEAP, OAL L A T . barfers. ■ n |?7 l n l D.S" l tsL«£l e kola. Ila mols, wait f i M r f no shins and S^fe-AiiS'irjaffii SS-SSS^w«B on this stilo of tho i-ustoiu Llt ,{f; A , haRPER. Joseph Kills, Sl.o®. Oct. 5 71—Ow. pOOD NEWS FOR THE PEOPLE J. ELLIOTT, (Successor to J. W. Smlloy,) No. M NORTH HANOVER STREET, CAItLiaLK, PA. Has Just, opened a large and splendid asso.t MIL AN II WINTER GOODS, CONSISTING OF OLOTHB 6,VBSI M l i REB ( ATiNGi , ’ VESTINGS. &G ° f tho BEST PRACTICAL OUTTEBS In PdrllHlo together with a number of the Beat MRnmene Block of , BEADY-MADE CLOTHING, „> ~„m e manufacture, which ho will sell ns cheap n« Overcoats on hand or made to 5? for. I will lot no man anderaoll mo. A largo Sad complete stock of prime Winter Boots. Shoes* Gaiters* ’ nf Bverv variety, style and quality, for gents files' SM’. lidy»’ and oh.ldron, made to fader 'All to bo sold cheap, cheaper, cheapest. Also, *a great variety of HATS, - inicnt Ktvlos and best qualities, together with ?ff?,f.oUai‘ortmontof Motion’s and oont's a Beiiorulaa oruji Uo not mil to give me a call Famlwhln« l Ba i eHa ncl Hinull profits.” s. Mymotto la Quick «*** . JOHN E £ LIOTT# Sept. 21.1871— Bm. -r-»rvn rtcnTTbe large Becoud-aUtry .'•. . . . . . . , . . . . • . ,- • . . . ~.-• * . . . , . . . , . ... . . .e , 111 . eti.,,A . --,...: .-, . . , ~ F -• ' • ~ ~ ~ 4 , , ' ' . ii 11 1.,:1/4" ) ~,, 1 4 ..... _. 4....„, • .. • . . \N''A. * r ; . . I IpoclicaL THE OtDEST CHRISTIAN HYMN. In Book lit. of Cloraont of Alexandria, Is given (In Greek) tho most ancient hymn of the p.rJmlllvo and fifty years after the apostles) asserted to bo* oft much earlier origin, it may have been sung by the “beloved disciple” before ho ascended to hla reward. The” following Aslou will give some Imperfect idea of its spirit: Shepherd of tender youth, Guidjng in love and truth, Through devious ways j Christ, our triumphant King ! Wocomo thy name to sing, And hero our children bring, To shout thy praise. Thou art pur Holy Lord ! Tho nil-subduing Word. Healer of strife I • Thou didst thyself abase. That from sin’s deep disgrace f Thou ralghlest save opr race, And give us life. How dare you play such a trick on me 1 she exclaimed iu turn, grasping the sign which hung at her door, and cast ing it at him with all her might. ‘ “ I, hnadam ;-wouldn’t pick -up your sign in the street, so don’t imagine that I would put it at my door.” ‘‘And I would as quick touch aaiiake ■ as anything heiriogyour name'" Ever bo thou our guiae „ wenk sllbter(U ge, madam.!’ Our shepherd and our pride, 1 Thou art wisdom’s high priest! Thou hast prepared the feast. Of holy love! And in mir mental pain NonecaHs on, thee In vain Help thou dost not disdain, Help from above. Our stuff nm! song! Jeans I Thou riirlst of God! By the perennial Word, Lend us where thou linst trail, our faith strong. fcio now, and till wo'die, Sound wo thy praise ou high, . And joyful sing. Infants, and the glad throng, Who lathy Church belong, Unite and swell the song ' To Christ our King! IPsdlimtmis. the doctor AND THE dressmaker. ' BY BKI-LA FRENCH. The Doctor came first to our village. He tvaa a tall, dark, aour-looking indi vidual, a little on the shady aide of forty. He called himself a widower, and waa rather handsome too, but for all that the girla failed to set.their caps for him, asria generally the case where single gentle men take up their abode in our place. I don’t think that he' got many pa tients at first, for all ho bad a sign with A. M. Rose, M. D., in gilded letters, above the door of his office. He had hot been in our village more than a month when Mrs. Wivgius, the dressmaker, arrived, and fitted up a shop just opposite the doctor’s office. The dressmaker was also tall and dark, ;but unlike the doctor, she had a peaked nose and sharp black eyeS. They were a strange pair, for, though they never spoke to each other and neither owned having made the otherls acquaintance, they took care to throw themselves in each other’s way and by their actions to show their contempt for each other. If the doctor chanced to be passing the dressmaker’s shop slam would go the door in his face, and if the dressmaker chanced to bo passing the doctor’s office, the worthy M, 1). would turn away as though disgusted beyond measure. People soon saw the two were trying to annoy each other, and some of the mis chievously inclined resolved to help them. One morning we were all astonished at seeing the doctor and dressmaker had exchanged signs. This made considers-: ble sport, for neither of the two seemed to Know anything about the matter, and of course no one took the trouble to in form either. Now it happened on that day that a couple of strangers came into our village from the country. They had been mar ried but a tew weeks, and the.foud hus band, as soon as lie came to town, pur chased a new dress for his bride. ‘I think Charles,’ she said, 'that I will have It cut by a dressmaker before going •home, for X miaht not get the chance again for a mouth.’ ■Very well, my love,’ returned the husband. 'There is one just ahead of us; you can step.in there.’ ‘And there is a doctor’s sign on the other side, Charles. While lam getting my dress cut you ean’drop in at the doc tor’s and get that medicine for Mr. Groh.’ ‘So I cun, Julia, for I am glad you re minded me of it, or T should have torgot eu it.’ And tlie two parted, one going into the doctor's' ofllce with her dress, and the other into tho dressmaker's shop to pro cure some medicine. •Hern !' coughed tiie latter, bowing be fore Mrs." Wiggins; is your husband at home, madam ?’ ‘And pray who told you I had a hus band ask ed-i n-relurn ■Hem l a mistake—your brother, I mean,’ apologized the young man. ,‘XIy brother? I have no brother.’ 1 VVell, it is tho doctor I wish to see, madam.’ ‘The doctor, sir!' Do you mean to lusult me ?’ 1 Why, no, I saw the sign and—’ ‘ You must be drunk !’ she exclaimed, ‘ why mine is a dress- indignantly ; maker’s sign.’ ' I beg your pardon, madam, but lei me request you to read for yourself, and you will find that —* ■ As'lf I don’t know what is on my. own sign!’ she interrupted, rising hastily, and going to the door. ‘ The wretch !' she cried, as her eyes rested on the doctor’s name.’ - 1 To think that he dared do such a thing! I'll tear his eyes out 1’ While this interesting scene was being enacted at the dressmaker’s, another no less.to that was transpiring at the doc- tor'9. When Julia left her husband, she tripped up stairs arid knocked lightly at the door of the doctor’s office. The worthy M. D., answered the sum mons in person. •• • Supposing him to be the husband of the dressmaker, she made known her business at once, by saying, ‘ I came sir to have a dress cut.’ . A dresk out!’ ho repented in astonish ment. ‘I don’t out dresses.’ *Ah L air, I beg pardon, - 1 thought thal Mrs. Wggina resided here.’ * Mra. Wiggins! No, indeed, ma’am. that amiable person holds forth on, the. other side of the street. Though If vou don’t want your dress spoiled you’d bel ter keep away from her-’ , , , ‘Doesn't she have any sign,’ asked the little lady wondorlngly. • Why yea, don’t you see iiVf The doctor popped out his head, but Instead of reading Mrs. Wiggins, he read A. M* Kona, M. D. ‘Thuuder and lightning!* he ex claimed, ' she has been stealing my sign!’ . ; • . ' ■ - .‘And .you.Jiave..been_ateal,i.pg 7 hers, judging from the name at the door, re turned Julia. x . Down went the .doctor in a heat of passion, and giving one glance at the dressmaker’s sign, he tore it from Its fastenings, and bearing it in his haudrf made his way acr*ss the street, and the very moment that Mrs. Wiggins made the discovery Of his sign hanging at her .door. ' * How dare you, madam’—he cried, ‘ how dare you play Such a trick on me?’ throwing the bit ol painted tin at her feet. “ A weak subterfuge, sir." “If you put your sign at my door again, I shall throw it into the street, madam.” "If you. put your sign at my door again, I will put it into the fire, sir.” "And you need not mind gaping at me all'the time from your window. Your face is not so attractive, as to charm me, though goodness knows I can never look out hut J see it the first thing.” ' “ Which proves, sir, that yon are look ing lor it. Indeed you are always sprawl ing out before that Aiiidow, and if I try rtiy best to keep my eye? away yon will hark, so that I will take notice of yon.” "lain not a dog, madam, though you must be a cat, judging from the way you pirn- about your customers. I detest cats.” 'Not more than I detest you, sir. 1 ‘ I want none o( your slang.’ 1 Aud 1 want none of yours.’ ‘Go into the house and mind your business; don’t you see what a great crowd your long tongue is drawing here?’ Mt is your own touguo that is calling them this way.’ ‘I should I hint that it was both of your tdngnes, said the-farmer.’ ‘lndeed!’ exclaimed Mrs. Wiggins, flouncing into the house. ‘lndeed!’ echoed the. doctor, turning away in disdain. ‘ I think dear,’ said the farmer to his wife, ‘ that we will go elsewhere for what we wish.’ ‘Yes, Charles, I* will, not patronize either of them.’ And the young wife took her husband's arm and the two walked away from the crowd of tittering villagers. This incident was the town talk for a whole week, and, in the meantime, the people made up their minds that Mrs. Wiggins and Dr. Rose must ho in some way related, but how they could not decide. , All were anxious to learn something ol the two, consequently Hie doctor found more patients and the dressmaker more work in her line, than either would have done otherwise. But the mischievous one who had changed the signs had succeeded so well in making sport, that he resolved to try again. Accordingly, one morning, the dressmaker received the following notei .'Will the. fair Mrs. Wiggins pardon the writer of this epistle for daring to address her?’ fie has seen and admired her, and wishing to make lier acquaint ance, takes this way to introduce him- ‘ If the fair Mrs. Wiggins is inclined to look favorably on his suit, she will please address a reply to Hers truly And the same morning that the dress maker received the above, the doctor came in possession of a neat, perfumed note, which informed him that a lady of mt village had become charmed with is personal appearance and wished to sen a correspondence with.him. The ote was signed ‘ Agues Avery.' Of course both these epistles were an swered, and both answers fell into the hands of the hinny man who happened to be the clerk of the pt.sl-olTiee,. A correspondence between him and the two followed, which, of course was very amusing ; but lie was obliged to end it at last, for b itli the doctor and .dressmaker were anxious ■ for an interview; alio, with tlie Adonncs who had become enamored by her charms, and lie with tlie fair lady who felt suah an interest in The correspondence had been earned on about three weeks, when’ one day the dressmaker received a letter full of love and such nothings, but which ended • i wish very much to see you; dear Mrs. Wiggins, but tho doctor over the way keeps sueli a sharp watch 'that I have been fearful lest lie has a prior claim. Indeed, bo lias been known to declare that be would murder the man who would dare marry you. Bo you see, my love, wo must be very careful. I will await you twilight at precisely 8 o’clock, on the road near the one-mile bridge. Como disguised, for fear the doctor might be following. Wear a blue veil and I shall know yon. Good-by until then, dearest lady. ' From your admirer,’ ‘ A. P. Bpaiue.' While Mrs. Wiggins was gazing smi lingly upon the bit of .note paper which she held before her, the Doctor sat In bis office, reading the following : ‘ A® you seem to be so anxious for an Interview, I have resolved to grant you one to-night. Meet me at 8 o’clock, on ibe road near the one-mile bridge; I shall come disguised, and wish you to do the same, lor fear that wo may be watched. I will wear a blue veil, and you may put a rose In your cop. Thus each may recognize the other without trouble.’ ‘Till to night, good-bye. A. A. The Doctrr rm bed his hands as ho finished reading. . I am glad 1’ he exclaimed ; ‘ glad thot everything happened Just as it did ; glad that wo hud the quarrel; yes, glad about everything.’, -i That evening the Doetor'left his office precisely half-past seven;:’o’clock, and ' took bis way toward the one- mile bridge, ">1 win bo there curly.’ he mused us he walked along. * It is very. uncomfortable for a lady to have to wait onion a lonely road at night, and then she might be noticed.’ - ■ - Fifteen minutes after the-doctor had left tiis olllce the dreeamaker, attired in a suit of deep mourning, ghded out of lief shtip aud tool? herVay up the-same dlreo'ion that the doctor had, taken. ‘I have the blue veil safe in my'pocket, 1 she said to herself, ‘ hut I will udt put it gh until 1 got beyond the village, for (bar I may attract attention. .1 do wonder what sort of a chop that Blaire is ? A good looking one I dare say, and if he is well to in the world, X shall cease to regret that quarrel with— pshaw, I never did regret it.’ ~ On she walked in the soft summer twi light, thinking of the past, the present, aud the future. It was nearly a mile to the bridge, and the shadows had deepened,,and the stars had come,out in the clear sky above, ere she reached the trysling place. (At last a bend in the road brought her in sight of. the bridge aud also of the doctor, who was walking along momentarily expect ing to greet the lady who had become so interested in him* As soon as kits. Wiggins distinguished the form of a man on the road before her, she thought of her veil, aud, Inking it from her pocket, she tilre\v *it over her bonnet. . As the doctor observed tin. token of recognition, ho rushed forward with ex tended hands itud exclaimed : 1 My dear Agnes, this meeting gives me the greatest of.pleasure?’ ‘Agnes!’ echoed Mrs. Wiggins mental ly. ‘Surely the man must be. going cra/.y. 'My name is not .Agnes and I never signed myself so in the world. However, I will nut pietend to notice the mistake; for mistake it must he.’ Then aloud, ‘ I am sure Mr. Blalie that the meeting is as great a pleasure to my self as to you, and—' ‘Mr. whom did.you say?’ interrupted the Doctor.’, v ‘Why, Mr. Blaire of oqurse,’ returned itis companion. ■ I lear you are making game of me Miss Avery.’ ‘ My name is not Mias Avery.’ • ‘ And mine 1s not Mr. Blaire.’ 1 ijut you wear the blue veil, madam*' ‘You told me to wear it, sir.’ ‘ I tolii yon to wear it? Why you in humed me that you would wear it your self, and desired me to wear a rose, as I have done.’ ‘You are mistaken, sir.’ ‘ I tell you that you are the one who Is mistaken.’ ■ And you are not Mr. Blaire V’ ‘ No, but y,ou roust be Mias Avery-’ ‘ I tell you I am not.’ ‘Ah! now I recognize your voice. How could I be mistaken when hearing tile squeaking voice of Bess Wiggins.’ ‘ And how could I be mistaken when, bearing the bear like growl of that de teslable Dr Bose?’ • Madam, this is-a piece of impudence which I will never lorgive. How dare you write to.me?’ • How dared yon write to me ? I never would have answered the letter if I had supposed Mr. Blaire and' i'ou were the same ?’ • How dared you address yourself to me under a false , name ?' ‘I did hot address you under a false name, but you addressed yourself to me under a false name.l Here a giggle,- which came from a clump of .bushes'near at hand, startled the two. ‘ Hu! wo are watched,’ exclaimed the lector. ‘ Bay, ruth.er, tliat we are the victims of a stupid joke,' said Mrs. Wiggins. * Why someone must have been wri ting to both of ns.’ ‘Zounds, i believe that you are'right.— They are even now,enjoying our discom . liture.’ ' ‘ A. P. Blairi: • Ami I-shall not dare to show my face in the village again.’ And Mrs. Wiggins began to cry. Her tears seemed to efi'ect the doctor, who said. 1 lira's, I have often thought that wo were very foolish to quarrel on our we ding night-’ I So have I, 0 she sobbed, you who ran away.’ ‘X know it, but I loved you, else should nut have, followed you.' >'[Vue, so you must. Strange the thought never occurred to me before.— Why didn’t you tell me.’ ‘Me tell you! Why it would have been very unladylike.’ • 1 So it would. Of what was I thinking, X any, Bess.’ I am glad some one look the business in baud lor us. Aren’t you ?’ • And now let us commence where we -lofUdton_lhß_uighLwu-.quar.reled=:oiLlu. Ollier words let us go hack to the village and unite oV destinies as we once in tended to do,’ < 1 But you will not get angry and run nfT again if I chanco to wear a rose givnn to.ino by another gentleman. Will you?' “ No Besa, neither will you wear a rose givbn to you by another gentleman. TakeofV your blue veil and accept my arm, and wo will walk back to the village. 1 The dressmaker dill as alio was request ed and the two walked away together. The next morning there was a mar riage in our village, and before night ihe dressmaker's sign was down, ,or rather replaced by another, whose neat, gilded letters were so arranged that the passerby read TirE ceremony of tying the marriage knot ia much simplified In Indiana, as the following will show : • What is your ua'me, sir?’ A New England paper announces that a ‘Colchester, Vt„ former Ims rais ed n potato weighing three and a half pounds this season. Tho reader will naturally wonder how much it Will weigh next season. v “ but it was Mas. A. M. Eosb, Dicssmakei * Malty.. ' . 1 What Is your name, Miss? 1 ‘Polly.’ • Matty, do you love Polly ?’ ‘ No mistake.’ • Polly, do. you love Matty • Well, I reckon.’ ‘‘Well then. •I pronounce you man and wife All the days of your life.’ THE LOADED DICE. It was in 1 the Fall of 1830 that the writer of this sketch, while detained at Louis ville awaiting the rise of the Ohio river, to begin hia- journey to New Orleans, first mad« the acquaintance of Mr. Har ris, a wealthy young merchant of the above named city, who had Keen spend i¥g thTSummer in Cjuoiuuatl-wlfero he had gone to settle - up some accounts of He was now on ids way home, carrying with him a large amount of money which he collected for the firm of which he was a junior member. The season had been remarkably dry, and in consequence the river was lower than could be recollected by .the oldest settlers ; but as the autumnal season ad vanced, when-the semiannual rise of water might be confidently -expected, many travelers arrived at Louisville to take advantage of. the earliest- boats for the lower country. After many disappointments the river began tq swell in good earnest, and ail hurried ph board of their respective steamers to secure their passage homo., , Mr. Harris and I, after having selected our spite-room, and seen to the safety of our baggage, had leisure to look around us aud make the acquaintance of our fel low travelers. We fotlud to our intense disgust, it had been our misfortune to take passage with'-as large and accom plished a set of gamblers as ever disgraced decent society, .They were bound dotyu tile river on a ‘professional tour’ through the Southern States. As soon as we were well under way, tlie implements of their nefarious trade were brought forth. ‘ Faro’ ‘rogue et noir,’ and various pther games, were ex hibited to tempt the unwary to risk money. At first many of the gentlemen on board objected to having the cabin turned into a gambling hell ; but the professionals loudly protested that they played on the square, and furthermore declared'should one of their number be detected in cheating, the stakes should be lorfeited, and bo put on shore at the nearest land. After this no more was* said, and the numerous games went on .without interruption. For some time Harris, who was known to have a large amount of money in his p< s session, and who was ths object of the gambler’s especial regard, firmly declined all invitationb a to try his luck. But one evening after the supper table had been cleaned, he, weary of their opportunities or yielding as lie afterwards told me, to a nalural.love for the excitement to play, consented to,make one of a party of four who were about to sit down to a game of cards for small stakes, ‘just to pass away the time.’ For a while my interest in the fortunes of Harris induced me to remain at his side and watch the chances of the game, but as the sums staked were small, and as the parties seemed evidently matched in point of skill, I soon tired of such un interesting employment, retired to a distant part of the caldn to amuse myself . with a book—iu the cohteuta of which I almost immediately became absorbed. — I read for an hour and a half; hut while pausing to cut the leaves (the book was a new one), I became conscious.that an unusual stillness pervaded the room.— There was no longer to be jreard the rat tie of dice, the eharp clique of the.ivdry ‘faro nock’ or the subdued murmur of . the players, raising my eyes to see what could be the cause of the subdued still ness, I saw that all the ‘banks’ had been ( deserted, and the' players were standing motionless around the table at which I had left Harris and iris companions en- gaged iu euchre* . . Wondering what could induce men ( who were accustomed to risk the largest stakes on the turn of a card to lake such an interest In so small a game, I threw down my book, and approaching the party, soon made way to the table. I miw at once that a great change had taken place since I lin'd been a looker on. The stakes were largely increased and (WO of the parly either tumble or too timid to risk such largo amounts, had, withdrawn from the tnhle. Harris and one of the gamblers, 'however, still re tained their seats and with eager faces and shaking hands, shuffled the cards. Fortune seemed to have-favored Harris for just as I reached Hie spot he marked the last point in-a closely con tested game, while the professional, with a deep oath dashed down the cards and challenged him to give him his revenge with dice, to which proposition,' after a moment’s hesitation, Harris assented. The dice and the cups were produced and the,excited gamesters again belting their money, hut no longer with- the same result. Harris’ good luck seemed to have deserted him, and ids antagonist won stake after stake, r. Harris seemed now wild with excitement. He doubled overyHimeTiVutil-no-less—tlmn-ten-thou—| sand dollars lay upon the table to be won or lost at a single throw*’of-the dice Again the gambler was successful. Har ris now sprung from his chair, and call ing on his,antagonist to remain where he was, repaired to his stateroom, and, returning in a few minutes, ho dashed down upon the table a large rollof bank notes, saying at the time to the gambler ; ‘ You have already won from me over fifteen thousand dollars. The bank bills represent double the amount; dare you risk a like sum, and let the ownership of the whole bo decided by a single cast?' The gambler at once expressed his w' lingness to do so, but/leelared that lie had not 60 much money in his possession, phe deficiency was, however, made up by others of the fraternity, and they pre pared to resupie the game. There'was a | lin .a carving fork tying near Harris, which «the wallet had neglected to re move when he had cleared the. table that evening, This Harris, with a careless and apparently {as ho took his seal) accidental movement of his arm, drew close to his side. All now drew near in eager expecta tion. Harris seized the cup. and shaking the dice violently lor a moment, dashed litem down before him I could hartMy suppress a cry of exultation when I saw lie hail thrown double fives, within one of the highest number It ,ta possible to inuUe. The professionals oast uneasy glances nponeaoh oilier, but Harris’ antagonist only smiled scornfully and drew the Ivory cup towards him- Just, however as ho was placing them in tho box, they slipped through hla lingers and Ml on the floor. Ho stooped and recoyered them In an instant, but ns he rewhed forth bis baud to take the cup, Harris, whose eyes bad a fixed, determined look, which had never for a moment been ofl him, suddenly seized the fork, and with a movement quick us that of the deadly rattlesnake, stuck the sharp prongs through ills wrists, literally pinning it to tire table, at the same lime presenting a cocked pistol full at his head, There was a yeUTrofn the wouhdeil' mnn, apd a volley of imprecations burst.from his associates. A dozen weapons were planted at the breast of Harris- He, however, was equal to the occasion. Not. a muscle ol the 'face moved, and his voice woo not lolsed the least when ho spoke. .‘One moment, geullemdu, said he, 1 You yourselves have declared that, should one.of your number ho detected in foul play, the slakes should be forfeited and be summarily punished. If the dice under the hand I now hold impris oned be not false, then do with me us you will. If, however, I prove correct in my assertion I demand the lultilmeut of your threat.® . By tills time every mole passenger had co/lecled around the table, and the gam blers saw by their looks, and Uiawu weapons, that they were not to be trifled with. Bo they were forced reluctantly to admit the truth of what Harris had said. ‘ . ’ The gambler was held .secured in his el,air, and fork withdrawn, the dice ex amined and found to be loaded-tbe truij 'pair were concealed in bis sleeve. Hi 3 fate was sealed in spite of bis desperate resistance. Btrong arms stripped him of' weapons, forced him' into a boat .and rowed him to the nearest laud—a low sand bank entirely surrounded by the 'river, and w hose rapidly rising waters promised soon to submerge it. Upon this Island, deaf to bis piteous appeals, tbby forced him, and the steamer resum ed her course down the river. But long after we bad lost sight of him in the darkness there came to usout of the black night, wild cries, that soun ded in out ears high above the dash of the mighty .river.' Screams for mercy, fearful imprecations, and chilling blast pbemiea. Harris hid his face in bis hands, and wept like li child. Strong men turned pale, and the very gamblers look ed at each other with while cheeks and taomlping lips. ■ • Of his fate there can be no doubt. The strongest swimmer could not for one moment stem that fearful toncut, and to remain upon the land was but to clmose a lingering and. more fearful death. There was no more playing on board is boat that trip, and at the first land ig most of the passengers left her, flee ig from it as from a place accursed. Among those who left was Harris. Years had passed when we met again, but be trembled when he spoke of that fearful night on the Ohio, and said he had never touched a card since then. FORGOT HIS RAMROD. There is perhaps no man who has hun ted much but that has.at somo time left the ramrod of bis gun at home, and found it out after getting several miles away from home. There is a story told of Gen. Kellogg, of Wisconsin. There was a lime when he used a muzzle-loading gun,— When begot the new one he loaded a lot of shells, and early one morning he shouldered his gun and walked up above Onalaska. He was going to make a whole day of it and have fun. Ho put his dog into a field and soon got a covey of .chickens. He killed two and marked down the balance of the flock in a piece of nieadow -the nicest place in tire world for nice shooting. He Was excited and perspired like a butcher. After picking up'the two chickens he felt in his pocket for his powder flask, when lo! it wiis missing. His eyes stuck out so that you could hang your hat on them, and lie became more excited, when glancing at the gun, lie missed the ramrod. This was 100 much. He may have sworn.— He thought of the thirty chickens in the meadow, and decided in a moment. Hastily calling hia dog oil, he started for Onalaska, aud proceeded to a livery Ga ble, tils face red with walking and sup pressed emotion. He told the livery man if he would take him to Ha Crosse arid back in an hour and a half he would give ,1m a ten-dollar note. The livery man hitched up in a moment, and then dust was soon dying on the toad to La Crosse. On the way the driver couldn’t get half a dozen words out of Kellogg, and made up his mind he must have escaped from some asylum. However, they arrived in a little leas than forty minutes, and Stopped at Kellogg’s house. The general rushed in, leaving the door wide open; Ills hair was filled with dud, and charged into the room where ho usually kept lYJOljputingTools. Tlio lady of the house was,somewhat alarmJd at his ac tions, aud with much interest in hia case, she said : ' ’Why, General* what is the matter*? What has happened?’ •Nothing, my dear.' says the General between hla clinched teeth, as he pulled down an old game bag, looking for the lost ramrod. ‘Nothing, only I left the ramrod of my gun at home, and there are forty acres of chickens at Onalaska, wait ing for me. Please help me find It.’ The lady began to laugh. The General looked at her in astonishment. The idea that levity should bo Indulged In at such a trying monieut, was too much for him. He was about to go down to the cellar to see if the rod hadn’t fallen that way, when the lady said: ‘Why, General, with your new breech-loading, one hun dred and seventy-five dollar gun, yoh don’t need a ramrod; you loaded the cartridges yesterday.’ The General fainted. It Just then oc curred to him that he had supposed all the time he had hla old gun along. The re- gctlon was so great, that he concluded not to return to Onalaska; sohe wont out and gave the driver eleven dollars—the extra dollar If he would never mention the circumstance. Those chickens may ho waiting for him in that field yet. A clergyman wan once ehdeavorln to get a subscription in aid of some char liable institution out of a close-fisted par ishioner, who attempted 10 excuse him self on tile ground that be already owec a great deal of money. ‘But,’ said the minister, ‘you owe God a larger debt than you do anyone else.' ‘That la so parson, but then he alut pushing me, like the balance of ray creditors.’ k. A OEM FROM SAMUEL, 8. COX. SVio Most IMtrrstina texture, of the Srfmm 7he Marveh qf Fire —A nmrjlt/or the O