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.’
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