The Anaericail Volunteer PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, John B. 'Bratton, L/ OFFICE-SOUTH MARKET SQUARE. Tkrms.—Two dollars per year If paid strictly la advance. Two Do'llars and Fifty Cents If paid within three months, after which Throe rollers will bo charged. Those terms will bo rigidly adhered to In every Instance. No sub scription discontinued until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. • ' ■ fttfsceUneous QALE OF THE k MOUNT FLORENCE ESTATE WITH CASH FUND, total valuation, $350,00000 IN, .SHARES OF One Dollar Each A magnificent property on the HUDSON RIVER, uear New York City, overlooking •• HIGHLAND REST,” the celebrated country sent of the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Large and Elegant MANSION, Fully aud Richly'Furnished, and containing all modern Improvements. Eighty Acres of Superior Land, highly Improved and ornamented with Sh&de Trees, Fountains, Statuary, Hodges, Lawns, AVenues, Graveled ‘Walks, Ac. Twenty Buildings, Fifty Building Lots, Hot House, Bowling Alley, Billiard Room, supplied with water, heated by steam, lighted with gas. - • BLOODED HORSES, ALDERNEY CATTLE, CARRIAGES, SLEIGHS, and CARTS, WAGONS, FARMING and GARDENING IMPLEMENTS, and everything'desirable either for a gentle-, man's flrst-class residence, or modern farm. ALL TO BLL DIHI 818 VTED AMONG SHAREHOLDERS, AS A. MAJORITY MAY DETERMINE, ut n meeting to bo held In the clly of New York, On the 1 5th Day .of May, 1872. The hour and place of mooting will bo given thfough the Public Press, at leastTEN DAYS In advance. Thus ufTordlng. ample time lor all to be present In person or by proxy. The “Real and Personal Property,” with the Gash Fund, Is divided Into 350,000 SHAKES, which are elaborately embellished, sold at ONE DOLLAR EACH, and are numbered and Regis tered from Ito 350,(KW, inclusive, in the style of United States Bond to guard against loss or fraud. Special Attention Is called to the fact that this is not a “Gift En terprise, "Charity Concert,” nor any mere scheme for disposing of tickets, but an absolute honajiile an I’EREMPTORY sale of valua BLE PROPERTY, full description of which is given In Chcularn ami the exact truth of which every Subscribe! la earnestly requested to verify for himself, to which end the undersigned will afford all rea sonable facilities, ' It liub been propoaed that tlio Property an Caali Fund should be divided Into 2,457 Prizes! Hut this matter mua t bo decided by thoShar e holders themselves* We are, by apodal permission, allowed to re fer to the following gentlemen, whoa© names nro iu themselves a sufficient guarantee that t*ie most scrupulous oaro will be exercised In coaductlngThe affairs of the Sale. They have also consented to act as an " ' ADVISORY BOARD. n. CLAY PRESTON, Now York city. ZENAB C. PRIEST, Utica, N. Y. 1 Q EO. PRANK GOULEV, St. Louis, Mo. OIWIN WELCH. Symouso, N. Y.’ THOMAS J. CORSON, Trenton, N. .1. L. BTO WELL, 01 can, N. Y. °EN. M. N. WISEWELL, N. Y. Olty. p -H. PALMER, N. Y. City. 1 Daniel sickles. N. y. city. Sort. s. BRUNS. Charleston, s. c. LIBERAL inducements offer- ED TO AGENTS AND CANVASSERS. Special Terms madb with Clubs. F ’orfuUp aT tiq a i arBf Shares, Refcronpes, De- Au!fi tIVO Clrct *lurs, Illuminated Vlewa, do., da' r . - JOHN A. LEPPERTH,' " Ceneral Mnno £er, 085 Broadway, N. Y„ Box 3150. JollS 'X-SIMONS. Secretary, ehanto. S’ Trooouror, Mow York M Apif, Bxohlul,e , 60 an ' l M pmo Street. BY JOHN B. BRATTON. ISarmim’s Sijoto. CARLISLE! Saturday, May 11. F. T Barcmm’s Great Traveling ■ USEUH-t Menagerie AND WORLD’S FAIR, .IN Six Separate Colossal TENT! MUSEUM. MENAGERIE,,CARAVAN, HIPP O DROME, POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE. INTERNATIONAL ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN a ND Ii AN GAS TELLO’S Clmstc aud Refined CIRCUS. CARLISLE, SATURDAY, MAY 11. GIVING THREE EXHIBITIONS. Doors open at ten A. M., and one and se v en P. M, Hippodrome performances commence at 11 A. M.- and 2 and 8 P. AIT. Admission to the seveu colossal shows only Ilfty cents. Children under nine years half price. A low reserved seats twenty-live cents extra. This Is positive ly the largest;and most attractive combination of exhibitions known, and remains abso lutely without parallel Ih the history of the world. In addition to THOUSANDS 6t NOVEL and INTERESTING ATTRACTIONS never be fore seen, sulllclent of themselves to constitute a first-class exhibition, the groat collection em braces also FOUR- WILD ■ FIJI CANNIBALS captives, of war. lately ransomed from King Thoramban by Mr, Barnmn, at a cost of 813,000. Cold Grapery Udire Bigger . Indians, .'from the Yo Semite Valley. THE ONLY LIVING GIRAFFE. Ih AMERICA. Tho only groupe of Living Monster Sea Lions, bn exhibition, kept in massive walfej tanks. . The Famous . MORSE RIDING GOAT “ALEXIS.” The Wonderful AFRICAN SNAKE CHARMER. Mttgnillcpnt representative specimens of . RARE CITING 'WILD ANIMALS, Birds, Pishes, Insects, Reptile A NIJ MARINE MONSTERS, and In the department of the Hippodrome and Circus, which Is strictly moral and high-toned. 100 of the best per formers in the World! All ilrst class Bareback Riders, including the ‘ Great MELLVILLE & STOKES FAMILIES Every Feature will be Exhibited as Advertised. an „ -ior proas, and dully vlaltod by eminent clergymen and divines. - • A The first nncl only show in the world that uses a DOUBLE CIRCUS RlllC. and requires a Doubio Circus Troupe of Performers, Acrobats Gymnasts, etc. FREE ADMISSION to all who purchase the LIFE of P. T. BARNUM, written by himself: nearly UOO pages, B‘2 full-page engravings, Steel Portrait of t he Author; muslin gilt; reduced from 83.50 to fel 50. Chambr’g May 10. Harrisburg May 13. fflu Irnttkan Bolnnteer Consisting of WILL EXHIBIT 4T ' laical. NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP. In the quiet nursery chamber, Snowy pillows yet impressed, See the forms of little children . Kneeling white-robed for their rest, All In quiet nursery chambers, Where the dusky shadows creep, Here the voices of the children— “ Now I lay mo dowu to sleep.” In the meadow and the mountain Calmly shine the winter stars, But across the glistening lowlands Slant the moonlight’s sliver bars. In the silence and the darkness. Darkness growing still more deep 1 listen to the little children Praying God their souls to keep. •• If we die,”—so pray the children. And the mother’s head droops low, (One from out her fold Is sleeping , Deep beneath the winter’s snowj “ Take our souls,” and past the casement Flits a gleam of crystal light, Like the trailing of His garments, Walking evermore In light. Little souls that stand expectant Listening at the gates of life, Hearing far away the murmur Oftho tumult and the strife. We, who fought beneath the banners, Meeting ranks of foeman there, Flml a deeper, broader meaning In your simple vesper prayer. When your hands shall grasp this standard. Which to-day you grasp from far, When our deeds shall shape the conflict In tills universal war— Bray to Him, the God of battles, Whose strong eyes can never sleep, In the warring of temptation. Firm and true your souls to keep. When the combat ends, and slowly Clears the smoko from out the skies, When, far down the purple distance* All the noise of battle dies; When the last plght’s solemn shadow Settles down on you and mo. May the love that never faileth Take our souls eternally. likdlaws. INSIDE THE DOOR. Yes! the small brick house on the corner did need something more than the bay window which occupied nearly •4ho whole width of the building; some thing more than the luxuriant wisteria' which wreathed and draped the win dow ; something more than the pretty iron balcony, and the exceeding neat ness suggested of the interior, to make it the home it seemed to be to foot pas sengers, who often found themselves lingering as they approached the place, enchanted by the scent of mignionette that flourished in the grass plot, and by the lovely tints of the Wandering Jew, which seemed to diffuse themselves like a, pleasant atmosphere, around the in closure. But did the organist of St. Jame’s Church, who lived three blocks beyond, suspect it? HoW could she? Hurry ing past the house, on'her way to music 1 lesson and rehearsal, she often found herself slackening her pace and taking 1 in the attractive sttene, and going on ward, felt refreshed by what she had perceived, and still more, perhaps, by what had been suggested ; for give the woman a single thread of beauty, and in her hand it was equivalent to a cine to all desired delight. The only diffi culty with her was, that she never ftmnd time to follow its leading far— else, times over, she had discovered heaven upon earth. The outside of .the house suggested to her no end of interior beauty. Some times, in passing, she heard a violin, sometimes a piano, sometimes a voice that, .as.she declared, electrified her—it was so genuinely sweet, rich,’and so unworn. So that, turning the corner wearied and rasped to impatience, the mere sight of that small abode was a refreshment. She hailed it as a pilgrim hails the green spot in the desert—and, alas! not seldom the mirage also. Within tile little Bird’s Nest, as the organist, with more poetical feelings than originality, was. wont privately to designate the house (she had some secret sources of comfort, this hard worked creature, which wore not for every ear), within this little Bird’s Nest, on a sultry June evening, behind the bay window, and the wisteria and honeysuckle, Wandering Jew and raig nionette, stood a desperate hearted wo man, with as playful and composed a countenance as some of the martyrs, let us believe, have shown eie now on their tvay to the faggot. " This woman is thirty-five, perhaps., but she looks older. Find her up stairs any hour of the long day, when she is alone with her sad thoughts for compa ny, and you shall see a woman who is looking towards tlie future with dis tracting fears, lint who, in the effort to withstand their drift and pressure, is foretasting all tiie bitterness of disap pointed age. She has now bright rib bons in her hnir'and around her neck, and, by gas light, she looks almost happy, almost young. At the piano -sits her husband. And now the story is nearly, told. It is Saturday evening, and what is she doing If not endeavoring, by every artifice, to keep at home the half drun ken man who sits in the piano stool ! So she lias persuaded him to the piano, and he has been singing, and they have talked now for at least an hour about their favorite compositions.and discuss ed, as critics, one work and another, and in their judgments they have agreed with each other so constantly as to make the conversation • tiresome.— But the talk is proving too much of a good thing to the husband ; evidently, he is wearied of it. He has allowed himsoif to be persuaded into playing and singing a good deal and into much talking, but during the last half hour he lias betrayed increasing restlessness, and begins to speak at last with undis guised impatience. An indfferent lis tener might almost ssy, in the blunt speech of indifference, that he was getting cross and quarrelsome, and awfully disagreeable. Is he becoming suspicious of Jits-poor Louisa? Does she design to keep him at homo when she knows very well about Ills Saturday night engagement to go to the Archi tects’ Club ? Poor architect, whose own foundation seems to he tumbling in, he CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, MAY 9,. 1872. must be faithful to his (Hub, though to everything else unfaithful) ' Ho even begins to suspect (he pleas ure Whichjio knows Iris wife takesand always has taken, in his music. Does he need to be reminded of the many timesshe has said to him that a single melody from him is worth more to her than ttie loud and splendid perform ance of a well directed orchestra feeding a more subtle need, and sus taining a diviner life ? He talks in h way that would make one suspect his intention to atlack her soon on the ground of that one’delight she has found in him, which has remained un questionable. His wife understands these symptoms well enough to know that In thirty minutes, at furthest, lie will somehow have passed beyond her reach. Is It not a sad, sad conviction to be pressing on the heart of the woman ? You know now why I shook my head as I looked at the pretty bay window and the out side green and perfume. : Anybody who knew the old Pharaohs intimately, in the days of their glory, would grieve, l am sure, if coursing over the sands of modern Egypt, on a swift Ara bian charger, he came across the great Pyramid stripped so bare of its external beauty. To-think of the hopes with which that young woman set Up house keeping in that little brick house, and the track by which these hopes .were retiring, one by one!, What is to be wondered at, and admired, is the way the good girl stands her ground and tries to be agreeable,and to outrival the gin barrel. ’Tis not her fault that her husband is where he is—without work —drinking hard—at intervals, all too brief, rallying again—hating himself, and sliding down to ruin. No, believe me, she has not to arraign and convict herself for all this misery. All at ottce, as he is rising from the piano stool, a ring at the door bell. Who comes? They have so little company out there it is really a question. Rogers hopes it is Dixon. Dixon and he are hale fellows well met, about once a week all night in theclub room! They listen ;is it ■ Dixon? She fearing, he hoping, that it is. But, it, Dixon were out there, botli would feel it beyond fear or hope, )ie comes so valiantly when he does come. No, it is not Dixon’s voice, but a woman’s. Husband and wife look at each other. He means oo escape while his wife receives her company. She sees his purpose, and knows that he will accomplish it. “ Oh, Lord!” she says to herself. Will she be thinking sadly, an hour from now, when she sits alone, that but for this untimely call all would have gone smoothly, Pierce, perhaps, salely asleep by this lime ? “ I beg your pardon for intruding,” says a strange voice—and ho w.is Rogers to get out of the room ? Here is a wo man six feet in height, at least, who looks ns if she might, if she took the fancy to do it, go off, carrying the hus-< band on one shoulder and the wife on the other. “I beg your pardon,” she says again, “ but T have come here in the greatest distress.” Pierce Rogers, hearing himself actually called upon as the champion of weakpess, begins to look grave and to feel himself''equal to the occasion. “ Pray be seated,” says the lady of the house; and what can the gentleman of the house do but sit down with the careful deliberation of a man whom no body is to suspect of inability to rise, or sit, or go where and when he pleases. The stranger, though not a pretty wo man—and,. in fact, she is quite the reverse—has, nevertheless, made an impression, and Pierce is a gentleman, if not perfectly sober. “ I have been waiting outside,” she says, taking the seat indicated by his action as well as his glance, “ hoping to hear the voice which I have heard so [often in passing this house. I have waited ten minutes, I suppose, till I was afraid I might be arrested ns a va grant, and, as I was not rewarded for my patience, I etermined to put on a hold face and ring the door bell—l don’t exactly know how to go on. May X tell you what I want, as if you were a couple of friends ?” “ Do, I beg,” said Louisa, and her husband politely seconded the entreaty, though not under the devo.ut, convic tion ilia wife felt that there was a god send. If that woman would only say something interesting she might stay and talk for hours in welcome; indeed, the longer the story the better. Wouid that she might even prove to haye the gift of Scheherazade I “I am the organist of st. Jamo’s Church,” the stranger began, “ besides a music teacher.” “ Indeed I” said Pierce, but lie stopp ed there, though it was evident to his wife that he was interested, and she smiled—oh, how intetestedly she did smile upon the organist, who, like an angel, had condescended- to visit her abode. “ I have had a hard time with the church music,” continued this angel.— “ Everybody who knows anything about the church knows that, so X am not telling tales out of school.' The music committee have, Anally, put the choir entirely into my hands, and I shall have good music from it some time. But I have been obliged to take an extraordinary step. I have dismiss ed the tenor singer this evening, and everything at present looks like chaos —to the choir, not to me.” , “ The tenor of St. Jamo’s choir is the best in the City,” said Pierce, almost soboreejf by his surprise. “ I k|ow that.” ■ “He has sung there ten years to my certain knowledge.” “Yes, and made everybody believe that lie was more necessary to the wel. fate of the church .than the minister who servos and the gospel which is preached there. All things must come to an end, and I have dismissed him.” “ I heard ho had a salary equal to the rector’s,” sai.cl Pierce. *' I don?t doubt it. Xle is like an in stitution, always ready to bo endowed. No end to his receptivity. Well, sir, you will take his place ?” “I, mndamo?” If his brain did not reel at this sud- den, most unlocked for opening of a way of escape from debt and disaster, his wife’s did. But she said quickly, before ho had time to rally from Ids amazement: , “ My husband is surprised that you should think him capable of filling Mr. Armitage’s place, and no wonder. I am myself. And I think better of his voice than he does.” , “ Fiddlestick!” said he. “ Armitage does very well, but I know him; his range is limited.” “Exactly,” said the organist, “It is. I don’t dispute his voice, his exe cution, and all that, but his imperti nence and presumption I will endure no longer. I have said that if we mu,st have congregational singing to-morrow, instead of a quartette, congregational singing we will have. But may I not hope, sir, that you will come over and help me?” Pierce Rogers still looked bewildered, and Louisa doubtful, . He could not conceal his embarrassment and perplex ity. Here was an opportunity, and the painful consciousness that ho had not steadiness of nerve and potence of will to make'‘the‘most of it. To be 1 a first rate singer in the choir of a first rate church might not be an ambition wor thy of the man who, five or six years ago, was thinking of himself as an ar chitect who, possibly, might some day be regarded as the peer of Sir Christo, pher Wren, in the judgment of the world ; .but then had he not from that height of aspiring hope, descended to attune himself with Tom, Dick and Harry, in dark places underground ? And then how often had Armitage snubbed him in old times, when (hey sang in the same glee cjub ; and in later, years by entirely ceasing to recognize him ! If—oh, if he conld only feel so certain of himself as to dare close with that woman’s proposal at once! “Do come,” she urged, perceiving his hesitation. “ Come to-morrow ! I am sure you will not need a rehersal even. But here, I have the'music with me which we are to sing. Let me try your piano. 1 would so like’ to have a success right away, and show Mr. Ar mitage the truth for once. Why, it would be little short of a miracle! Don’t you think I may ?” She addressed Louisa now. Had she comprehended* the situation of affairs in that little household ? * “ Pray, Pierce,” said Louisa, “ try the music for the fun of the thing. Did you ever hear of anything so odd ?” She spoke In an undertone to her hus band. She bad enough confidence in him, then, to wish him to make the trial. If she had looked at him dismay ed, or regretful, he would never have made the effort, but now he got up and walked unsteadily to the piano. In that moment the two women exchanged a glance, and so they understood each other. “It seems ridiculous that J should attempt church music,” said Pierce, sit ting down at the instrument with an air that brought tears into his wife’s eyes. “ No, Ido assure you,’ said the de- lighted organist. “ You remember how ea#-.y it used to be about five yeais ago, and how pleas ant it was,” said Louisa, ner voice full of reminiscence. ‘‘That was very different,” beanawered; “ A small country delegation Is cot ex pected to require what a fashionable church must have, whether or no. Now, I must say, madame, X wonder that you dismissed Armitage.’ He leaned against the piano as he spoke,ami.looked as if prepared to enter into a long argument. “I don’t,” she replied, with spirit. “ Just you help me to prove what I know is the fact, that there are voices, not many, perhaps,. but one or two, at least, quite equal to bis in quality and cultiva tion.” How well that was said, while she had her back to him, aud was drawing off her gloves and arranging her music, and, apparently, as far from an intent to (latter him into her service us the sun is froin.auob intent when be makes the way-side flower blush into its best beauty. Well, now—was the battle fought, the victory won, because guest day one-half of the worshippers in Bt. James did not know whence came the “superb tenor” who sang instead of Mr. Armitage? Be cause Pierce Rogers stayed at home that Saturday night and became sober, and really seemed to fqrget bis engagement at the club? Who will believe it that known any thing of human 'flesh and blood? Mon day night Louisa might.an well have un dertaken to control Niagara us Pierce; and for three days that “ superb tenor" i was speechless as the dead. Nevertheless he has never, since his first Sunday, lost, a service in the church where lirst*clas9 music iu a foremost necessity ; and I iim certain that hh my friend the organist never did a braver thing than to dismiss Mr, Arm Huge, so also she never perform ed an act for which all Christians wor shipping In bt. James’s have so great cause to rejoice, as that which led a fall ing man In among them to exalt “the Lord’s song’Mn what was, to him, “a strange land/’ indeed. If you had not this woman to help you, Louisa, I would cry aloud to Christen dom for prayers In* your behalf. But I remember that “he prayeth best who loveat best;’! so ten to one you and the organist will give back to the world yet, if not a Sir Christopher Wren, a man who has repaired bis own foundations, and gone on with the erection of at least one notable structure. . Domestic Confection.—Tills is the season for.oranges. The peel of the fruit, presetveil in sugar, la one of the moat de lighilnl confections which a family can use, tur superior to the extracts sold in the shops. Tljp peel should of course be perfectly clean, and should iu long thin strips. iStew in water till all the bitti-mean is extracted. Throw away the water aud stow away foi*half au hour in a thick syrup made of a pound of sugar tootle of peel, with just water enough.— Put away, in a cool place, for flavoring puddings, pies, &o. Por tills purpose it should he chopped very flue. No belter or cheaper flavoring can be furnished to a household. THE WAY OF THE WORLD. Basil Reed clambered over rocks and fallen trees, among which blackberry briars ran riot, flinging their long arms here and there and everywhere In wild and rank luxuriance* ft was tiresome work climbing the bill. But (here was a flue view from the top of it, they told him, and being an artist, not from neces sity, but from choice, fine views were precisely wljat ho was in search of; and so he clambered bta, tearing bis clothes and scratching bis hands, until he reach ed the top, and sat down to rest and take a look over the landscape. It was really a beautiful picture which spread itself out before his eyes. Below him wpaacharmiug little valley, through whose green, sunshine spangled mead ows a river ran singing on its way to the sea. Willows leaned down from the low banks to dip their lithe branches in the limpid waters.. Farm bouses were nest led here and therein clumps of gnarled old apple trees, and lilac bushes grew beside tho gatewoys, odorous- now with bloom. Beyond the valley, mountains lifted their purple summits to the soft blue sky of summer time, shutting it in like a wall from the world outside. ‘ It is Jiko Acadia,’ be said. I must make a picture of it. He beard a crackling in the dry leaves of the last year’s growth, and turned to see from whence the sound proceeded. A girl was coming towards him, un conscious of any presence save her own. She bad been gathering ferns and flow ers, and had wove herself a crown of trailing arbutus and feathery maiden’s hair. * Basil Reed had-a keen eye for the beautiful,.and he watched her intently. Her face was a beautiful one, fair, clear •aud oval, with tints of the wild rose in the cheek, and stains of the strawberry on her Ups which curved away from teeth like ivoryl Her eyes were like a child’s, deep blue and beautiful. Her hair rippled at Us will over her shoulders, and the delicate ferns wound themselves out aud in among its meshes, wherq the sunshine seemed to have tangled itself ‘She would make a beautiful picture,’ thought Basil. I wish I could sketch her just as she looks'now.’ % She sat dqwn an a fallen tree and be gan sorting her ferns and (lowers, and ho opened his sketch book and began to sketch her.. For half an hour be was busy ; stroke by stroke his pencil trans ferred the scene to paper, and wrought out the features and> form of that girl who imagined herself the sole occupant of the wild, lonely, beautiful spot* ‘There,’ he exclaimed, as he added the last touch. ( I will work it into a picture some day, and call it the ‘Nymph of the Woods,’i or something like that.’ Bo absorbed had he become m the fin- ishing touches of the sketch that he bad forgotten the presence of the girl. She sprang up as he spoke nnd.sturted to run from the spot. Hearing her stops, be hastily recollected himself, and called to her not to frightened. She stopped at the sound of bis voice, and be came toward her with bis sketch- book. He held it out for her inspection. She took it shyly, and glanced o ( ver the sketch. A pleased look came into her eyes. n *Oh, it’s beautiful!’ she cried, ‘Did you draw it?’ ‘Yes, I drew it,’ beanawered. ,‘I am glad you like it. J am going to paint a picture from it some time.’ In that way Basil Reed begun his ac quaintance with Cassie Farle3% An ac quaintance which developed at once into an ardent admiration for the artist on her part, and an interest in tho ignorant country maiden on bis. *1 want to get board in some family near by,’ he said, as he rose and began to descend the hill, after an hour had slip ped away,in couversatiou. . ‘Gan you tell mo where lean find it?’ ‘Perhaps mother wouhLtake you in,’ she said. ‘That’s our place,’ pointing to a picturesque old farm house in a nest of trees. ‘I wish she would.’ He smiled at her artlessness. It was something be was not used to, coining as he did from the city. ‘T think X will go home with you and see,’ he said; and they went down the hill together. Mrs. Farley decided to ‘take the fellow to board,’ after much deliberation. She hated to be bothered,’ she said, then one didn’t make much difference anyhow, and she liked to ’commodate she coujd.’ Bo Basil Heed became an inmate of tbe Farley family, which consisted of Mrs. Farley and her .daughter. Mr. Farley had been dead for some years, aud his widow with an energy which few poseas ed, carried on tbe farm, with hired help, and ‘made it pay,’ she said, with a great deal of pride in the assertion. I'aall Reed discovered that there was not much similarity of tastes between mother and daughter. Mrs. Farley was a born ‘calculator’ as the phrase goes in the country ; one who liked to work for the sake of the money it brought in.— She cared little for the higher things of life. Books and flowers never 'bothered .Cassie had a mind and taste for other things than the life of work and schem ing drudgery. She liked to read, to tend her flowers, to dream. She knew noth ing~of the world outside the hills, save what she had learned from books. It was like a fairy land to her imagination. Coming directly from this world of which she knew so little, it is not to be wondered at that Basil Reed impressed her with a. sense of superiority to the men and women she knew. He was ed- ucated, cultivated and fascinating. short, he was her ideal, and she loved him- Lot mo do Basil Reed Justice, and say hat I do not think he tried to win her love. Ho pitied her, and tried lo make her life more pleasant. He could; feel how barren it was, and he tried to put a little sunshine in it, by giving her Ills friendship. Oh those summer days. They were so sweet, so dangerously sweet to Cassio.— She thought he loved tier. His voice was tender and soft, his face gentle and kind. She could not know that ho was always as deferential to other women as ho was to her. Ho had an Intrinsic gal- lantry in his nature that womanhood culled Into action But the Bummer of CassieVlove, like all other summers, ended at last; and one VOL. 58.—N0- 48 day Basil Heed announced his intention of going back to (be city next (Joy. ' And the next day ho went. He bade Cassie goddbye by the maple tree at the gate, The girl’s face was white with the pain of parting. Something in her eyes told him. how much she dreaded to let him go. ‘You mustn’t forget me, Cassie, little friend,’ he said ; l it has been a pleasant summer to me, and among its pleasantest memories Is your friendship.’ ‘Oh, I won’t forget you,’ she said, simply; but ho knew she meant whatshe said. ‘I shall come'book next summer,’ he said, holding her hand In his for a mo ment; ‘I shall get tired of the city again, and the memory of your pinks and roses will prove irresistible, and—you will see me back again.’ Her ©yes lighted up radiantly. He was coming back again. ‘Well,.good by, and—don’t forget me. And he was gone. Gone! but be'had left such a sweet promise behind him. He would come again. Amid her loneliness, that tho’t was like a ray of sunshine. Caasie got to thinking, by-and-by, only of the time when the man she loved would come back to her. It was always of next sum mer that she dreamed. That was to be the golden summer of her life. . The winter ended and the spring came, and violets blossomed on the hills, and arbutus made bright the shady hooka.— And—‘Summer is near,’ she said, ‘and when summer is here, he will come.’ And Summer came. Caasie made her little garden bright with bloom and beauty. Her face was full of glad, eager expectancy. Her eyes shone like .stars. She went about the house singing like a bird all day. Her mother ‘couldn’t think what hud gotJnto the girl,she was so chipper. 1 And one day Basil came. The stage, stopped at the gate, and he alighted, and with him a woman, young and beautiful. Something made Cassie shive. ‘I told you I would come back,’ he said, gayly* ‘ I have brought some one with me, Cassie; this is my wife. I want you to like each other for my sake.’ His wife! and she had looked forward so eagerly to this coming of the man she loved! liookingin her face, be lead the struggle which was torturing her, and knew she had loved him. ‘Poor child,’ he thought, ‘she knew so little of the ways of the world. lam sorry for her. It was a hard and bitter lescon which Cassie learned of the world’s ways. That night she sat beside her little window, and wondered if she was the same girl she had been that morning. She felt, so changed—so old—so weary of everything. ‘Oh, I loved him so!’ she sobbed. *1 loved him so!’ God pity her and us I We have some of us had just such lessons to learn, and we know how they wrench the heart, and make every string quiver in exqui site torlure. It is so bard to wake up from our dreaming to find thalour dream iug was nothing but a dream.— Saturday Evening Post. Hats. —There is considerable character in the manner In which a person wears a hat. Yon sometimes meet n person whose hat has a knowing tip, just the least bit suggestive of the careless, cheer* ful disposition of the wearer* It seems as if ho has tipped.it back so that all the world may see his jolly, good-natured face, and understand that he is at peace with all the world. You meetanother of a different type. He pulls hla hat low down over hla .brows, and seems to bo continually taking the measure of bis boots. You feel at ouce that .he la not the sort of a man with whom you can ex change confidence. Here cornea another, and this kind always wears a ‘stove pipe,’ and set evenly upon the summit of the crgniutu, as if an inch to the right or left would destroy their equilibrium. Re careful of such men; put them in band boxes; Up them up tightly; label them ‘first class to be kept In lavender/ and put them carefully away. Here is anoth er hat which has seen Us better days, but is now at its worst. Its glory has long since departed, and from the worn and shabby baud to the napless crown it speaks of the days which are gone* Per haps tiie wearer of that hat was the life and soul of our young folks parties—the great catch—the model young man ; but now worse faded and, worn than his shapeless tile. Poor fellow! ‘Whiskey did it/ You meet other hats as different in shape and quality as the habits of the wearers. Hals which have long passed the season of their usefulness are gener al! d looked at with disgust. It Was Done.— Piggy got into a large yard where he did not belong, 'and* try ing to get out again, he stuck fast under a high board fence, and there began to kick and squeal in the good old way.— His owner, a big, fat Irishman, hearing the hubbub, ran out of the house near by, and caught his pig by the ears/endeavor ing to pull him through the hole before the trespass was detected. But this treat ment had no effect but to make the pig yell the more* An old ram in the yard, hearing the noise, and seeing piggy’s hindlegs and tail nourishing away in a menacing manner, accepted what be thought was a challenge, aud lowering his head, charged with all his might.— He struck his mark squarely and fairly, aud the pig shot through the hole like a pork canuou hall, and striking his mas ter full in-the breast, knocked him fiat on his back. The only person who witness ed the closing scene was just entering the yard, and not being aware how many actors were engaged in it, was very much surprised to hear what he supposed to be the pig, swearing In Irish on the other side of the fence. Don’t Get Drunk in Wisconsin.— The Wisconsin Legislature, just adjourn etl, closed Us labors by an unique liquor law. Section four provides that ‘it shall bo unlawful within this State for any person to become intoxicated.’ The of fence is punished from one day to two months with a contingent Imprisonment at the discretion of tho 'court. Any per son found drunk may be taaen in charge by any good Samaritan until sober, at which time the little bill for expenses; with a fee of per diem, must be paid. Under this law, which will not work at all, a man is liable to arrest who becomes intoxicated In his own house. Bates of Advertising, j (1 aq. 13 sq. 18 sq. 14 aq. \*4 o |3 00 S 3 U 0 14 00 S 7 00 812 00 $22 00 300 400 600 000 14 00 20 00 400 600 600 11 00 10 00 30 00 475 675 675 12 60 18 00 32 60 660 060 J6O 14 00 20 00 SSOO 060 760 860 16 60 2360 3700 760 860 960 27 60 25 00 43 60 860 960 10,60 20.00 ,80 00 60 00 10 00 12 60 10 00 SSOO 40 00 75 00 ;15 00 20 00 25 00 40 00 75 00 100 00 iDeaconsUtuto a square. muffs’ and Aclm'rs’. Noticed, 1 $1 00 Itor’a Notices, 3 00 *nocs’ and similar Notices, 3 00 ly Cards, not exceeding six lines, 7 00 jonneomonts five cents per lino, unless .•d for by the year. isincss and Speciat Notices, 10 cents per I w 91 oo •3" 160 3“ 3 00 4“ 2 60 5“ 3 00 0“ 360 3m 400 3" 5 00 0“ 7 50 ly 10 00 Twelve II For Exec For Audi For Arslj For Year] For Anne contracted lino. Doubloce iluion advertisements extra. How tu Pick a Good Hobs, Pirst.— Let the color bensorrel, a roan, a red, a gray, a white, a black, a blue, a green, a chestnut , a dapple, a spotted, a cream, a buckskin, or sum other good color. Scckond. Examin hiz ears; see that he •haz got 2 ears and pound a tin pan oluss tu him, tu find out wether biz hearin iz good. Awl bosses are dum, but a deff & dum boss ore not desirable. Third.— Hpok well to hiz ize ; see that he has got a pupil in biz ize, and not tu larg a one neetber ; bosses with, tu larg pupils iu their ize are nere Sited, & kaqt see otes, and hav to wear grean goggeis, and grean goggels, make a boss look tu much like a trakt pedler. Fowrth.— Feal ov hiz neck wijh the in aid ov yure wright band ,* see that the spinal colum iz well fatted, and runs the hole lenth ov him from for tu aft—a boss without a good phatt spinel colum frum for tu aft aiut woth—spekin sudden ant woth a well defined cuss ; Five.— Put yure hand on biz brest {this iz allowable in the kase of quadriped); se ef biz hart kan beat 70; squeeze biz four legs tu see ef he iz well mussled ; lift up hiz befor feat & see if thar iz enny froggs in them—froggs keep a bosses feet bool sweet just az thay du a well or a spring ov waiter. •Six*.—Look well tu hiz sliuze; see what number he wears, number eight iz about right. jSci'cn,—Run yure hand along the di viding ridge ov his boddy, fronj the top ov hiz wbithefs tu the kominensement oy hiz tale (or doorsill vertebray), and pinch him,az you go along, tu see if he nose how tu kick. .. • Eight.— lnvestigate hiz teeth; see if he dint 14 yearz oald last May, with teeth filed down, & a six year oald black' mark burnt intu the top ov them with a hott iruh. . ‘ ‘ iWnc.r-Smell ov his breth tu see if he haint got sum glanders; look just back of hiz earz for signs of pole-evil; pinch him on the top ov his whithera for phistoola, and look sharp at both shoulders four a sweany. Ten. —Hook him tu a waggon that rot tels, drive him tu an Irishman and hiz wheeibarro, meat a rag murchant whith bow bela strung acrost the top ov hiz cart, let an expres trane pas him 45 miles tu the our, wen he iz swetty heave a buf falo robe over him to keep oph the kold, ride him with an umbrel higbsted, and le.rn hiz opynion ov these things. Eleven— Prospekt hiz wind, search diligently for the fieaves, ask if he iz a roarer, and dont be afraid, tu phind out if be iz a whistler. Iwclve.— Be ahu re he aint a krib-bitor, aint balky, aint a weaver, and dont pull at the halter. • " A Good Story. In Washington city, recently, a genial young gentleman, unwilling to omit-re cognition of an acquaintance at a wed ding reception,-caught sight of a gray whiskered and rather stately person, and being satisfied by inquiry of his inden tity, immediately edged along to his side. ‘Good evening/ said he, extending his hand with cordiality. 'I am delighted to see you! I believe we haven’t metsince wo parted in Mexico/ ‘I really fear/ said the gray-whiskered magnate, 'that you have me at an advan tage/ . ‘Why, you don’t recollect? But then I was very*muoh younger/ said the oth er, ‘when I was with my father in Mexl- 'And, to tell the truth/ said the other gentleman, 'my remembrances of ever having been in Mexico are very indis tinct/ 'Excuse the question/ said the young man, rather desperately; 'are you not Sir Edward Thorutop ?’ ‘By no means. lam Judge Poland, of Vermont.’ 'A thousand pardons I’and the diseom fltted youth moved away. But a few nights atterward, at another reception, his eye was similarly caught, and the edge of his mortification having been worn off, he could smile at his mis take, and.he accordingly made his way once more to the sidfrof a gen tleman with gray mutton-chop whiskers, and after a\ word or two bn the weather and the aceq&J he suddenly said: That was an awkward thing of me the ( other night, when I took you for old Thornton. 7 » who do you take me for now, may I ask ?’ said hia companion. ‘Why—why/ said thej embarrassed young man of society—'you told me you were Judge Poland, of Vermont/ ‘On the contrary, my name is Thorn ton/ was the rather annihilating re sponse; aud the young man to this day calls it a case of diabolic quality. A oihl of sharp wits.in a western city discovered recently that her lover was about tp.take another girl to a bail,. Bifb thereupon bribed hia hackman to permit her to/tuke the reins at the proper mo ment, and instead of taking the pair to the ballroom, she took them several miles out of town to a dense wood, where she left them exposed to a pelting rain storm—the young lady in a low-necked muslin dress, and kid slippers, and her escort in full party toggery and thin boots. Their situation was not comforta ble, they found shelter in a ueighboiing farm-house, where there happened to be an accommodating minister, and the two being lovingly disposed by reason of their misadventures, were married* The other young woman now sits in sackcloth and ashes, brooding over her misadven tures Horace Walpole describes a scene as having taken place In Queen Anne’s tir ing room which actually occurred in that of Queen Caroline, wife of George ll,' who dressed and transacted her morning worship at the same time she, and her nymphs being in one room while the Chaplin, was alone In the next. Occa sionally the maids closed the door, when Whiatou, the Chaplain ceased to pray, and meditated on the mysteries proceed ing within. This nettled the Queen, who one morning Undluu that, lie had not proceeded with his dovotlous while the door had been closed, angrily asked why ho stopped. Whlston replied: 'I stopped because I do not choose to whis tle the word of God through u key-hole.’ O | 1 00
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers