The Amrican Volunteer, pcimsimd kvxbt thursdat morhino John B, Bratton* owimaso urn market sq vara Txmm—Two d*liara per year if pa id atilotljr la advance. Two DoUara and Fifty Oenla If paid within three months, after which Three Dollars will be charged, These terms .will be rigidly adhered io In every Instance. No auh ■erlptlon dlsoontlnsed until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. |Ntal. TAKING IT EAST. bt aionaz n. obabk. Admit that I am slightly bald— . Fray* who’s to blame for tho 17 - And who Is wiser for the fact 7' Until 1 lift my hat 7 Beneath the brim my harbored locks Fall In a careless. way* , Wherein my waiohfol wife can spy No lurking threads of gray. What though, to read compoctest print, I'm forced to hold my book A little farther off than when Life’s first degree 1 took ? A yoke of slightly convex lens The needful aid bestows, And you should see how wise 1 look With It astride my nose. Don’t talk of the Infernal pangs That rheumatism brings 1 I'm getting used to pains and aches, And all those sort of things. And when the Imp Sciatica Makes bis malicious call, I do not need an almanac To toll me it Is fall. Resides, it gives one quite an air To travel with a eauo, And make folks think you "well to do," Although you are in pain, A fashionable hat may crown Gcnteelesl coat and vest,. But ah! the sturdy stßch redeems And sobers all the rest,- A man dlprlvod of natural rest, Becomes a stupid elf, And only steals from Father Time To stultify himself. So, If you'd be a Jovial son, And laugh at life's decline, Take my advice—turn of the>gas, And go to bed at nine. An oasy-eushloned rooking chair Salta me uncommon well; And so do liberal shoes—like these— . With room for corns to swell; I cotton to the soft lamb's wool. That lines my gloves of kid, And love elastic home-made socks,— Indeed, I always did. But what disturbs me more than all Is, that sarcastic boys, Prefer to have me somewhere else,' When they are at thotr. noise; That while I try to look and act As like them as I con, • They will persist In minister- Ing me. And calling me a'man t ’ IpstElliweoits. THE HEW DBPABTMEHT IH "THE MOBBING GLOBT." BY MAX ADELEB. J.. Alfred Brimmer, Esq., editor and proprietor of The Morning Olory, having observed tbe dispositions of persons who have been bereaved of their relatives to give expression to their feelings In a po etical form, reflected that it might per haps be a good thing to Introduce to hie, paper a department of obituary poetry. He considered whether if, when an in dividual Inserted fifty cents’ worth of death notice, tbe establishment should contribute gratuitously half a .dollar’s worth of mortality stanzas, his paper would not at once become the most pop ular vebloie for the conveyance of that peculiar form of melancholy intelligence to tbe public. And Mr. Brimmer right ly estimated that, as most newspaper readers seem to take a greater Interest In ■uoh sepulchral news than in informa tion of any other kind, tbe journal con taining the largest supply would have tbe greatest number of subscribers. Bo Mr. Brimmer determined that be would au an experiment at any rate, en gage an obituary poet for a abort time, witb the purpose to give blm permanent employment if the plan seemed to take with the public. Acoordingiy he sent for Mr. Remington. Ott, a oonstruotor of verses, who had freqdently contributed to the columns of The Morning Olory poems of what would have been consid ered by a fastidious student of English literature an appalling and revolutionary character. Mr. Brimmer soon effected an arrange ment with the bard, by which It was agreed that Mr. Ott should take a'posl tlon In the office for a short time, and whenever a death notice arrived he should Immediately endeavor to grind out somo verses expressive of the situa tion. “ You understand, Mr. Ott,” explained Brimmer, “ that when the death of an individual Is announced, X want you, as It were, to obeer the afflicted family with the resources of your noble art. I wish you to throw yourself, you may say, Into their situation, and to give them a verse: or two about the corpse which will seem to be the expression of the enfotton of the hearts'of the living." •' To enlighten the gloom, in a certain sense, I suppose 7” said Mr. Ott. " Precisely 1 Lighten the gloom. Bo not mourn over the departed ; but rath er take s Joyous view of death. whloh, after ali, Mr. Ott„is, as it were, but the entrance to a better life. Therefore, I would advise you to touch tbs heart strings of the afflicted witb a tender, band, and endeavor, for instance) to di vert their minds from contemplation of the horrors of the tomb.” “Refrain from despondency, I sup pose, and lift their, thoughts to—”. “JuntßOl And at the same time com bine elevating sentiment with such practiced Information aa you oan obtain from the advertisement. Throw a gla mour of poesy, for instance, over the commonplace detalla of the every day Ilfs of the deceased. People are fond of minute descriptions. Some facts useful for this purpose may be obtained from the man who brings the notice to the office; others you. may readily supply from your Imagination;” “PH throw off atanzas,” said Ur. Ott, " In such a manner that people will want their friends to die for the sake of the poetry.” “ But above all,” continued the editor, “take a bright view of the matter al ways. Hake the sunshine of smiles, as it were, burst through the tempest of tsars; and, If we don’t make The Morn ing Olory hum around among the mourners of this town, my name le not Brimmer.” He was right. It did hum. The next day Remington Ott went on duty, and Brimmer ran down to the seashore for a breath of fresh air. All through the day death notices came pouring In, and when one would reach Ott, ho would seize lb- and study It up to ascertain the particulars. Then he Would rush up stairs, lock himself in his ?lif f BY JOHN B; BRATTON. room, take down Ills rhyming dictionary, run hla Ungers through bit hair, and baok away for hair an hour at a piece of paper until, he cmsldored that he bad that poetry in a shape which would make the Hlih'ken family feel proud of the csrp.e. Wlimii hla day’s work was done, Ott went home with a conviction that 27i0 Morning Qlory bad finally robbed Death of its terrors, and made Ilfs comparatively valueless. In the morning Mr. ' Ott proceeded calmly to the office for the purpose of embalming In sympathetic verse the memories of other departed ones. As he came near ts the establishment be ob served a crowd of five or six thousand people io front of it, struggling to get into the door. Climbing a tree, he over looked the and could see within, the office the olerks selling papers ts fait as they'could handle them, while the mob pushed aud Jammed and yelled in frantic efforts to obtain coplea—the presses in the cellar meanwhile clanging . away like mad. Upon tho curbstone in front of him there was a line ot men stretching down the street fo'r squares, each man engaged in reading The Morn ing Glory with an earnestness that Mr.* Ott had never before ;seou displayed by the patrons of that sheet. The bard con cluded either that his poetry had touched a sympathetic chord in the popular heart, or that an appalling disaster had occurred In some quarter of the globe. He went round to the back of the office and ascended to thebdltorial rooms. As he approached the sanctum, loud voices Were heard within. Mr. Ott determined to ascertain the cause before entering. He obtained a chair, and placleg.it by the side door, be mounted and peeped over the door through the transom. There eat J. Alfred Brimmer, holding Ihe Morning Olory in both 'hands, while tbe fringe wblob grew In a semi circle around tbe edge of bis bald head stood straight out, until, be seemed to resemble a gigantic gnu swab. Two or three persons stood in front of'him in threatening attitudes. Ott beard one of them eay: “ My name la McGlue, sir I—William MoGtiuel I am a brother of the late Alexander MoQluo. I picked up your paper this morning, and perceived in it an outrageous Insult to my deceased relative, and I have come around to demand,sir, what do you mean by the following infamous language: ‘‘The death angel smote Alexander HoQlnel And gave him protracted repose; Be wore a checked shirt and a Number Nino ■hoe. And he had a pink wart on his nose. No doubt he is happier dwelling In space Over there on the ever-green shore; His friends are Informed that his funeral takes place Brooliely at quarter-past four.” “This,is simply diabolical i My lata brother bad no wart on bis nose,, eir, He bad upon bis nose neither a pink wart, nor a green wart, nor' a cream colored' wart, nor a wart of any other colur. It is a slander? It is a gratuitous insult to my family, and I distinctly want you to say what you meau by suoh conduct!” “ Really, sir,” said Brimmer, " It is a mistake. This Is the horrible work of an Incsudiary miscreant whom I trusted as a brother. He. shall be punished by my own band for'tbis outrage. A pink wart!' Awful I sir—awful I The mis erable scoundrel shall suffer for this—bo shell, Indeed!” - ' , “ How could I know,” mnrmnred Ott,. out there by himself, “ that the corpse* hadn’t a pink wart? I used to know a man named. McGlue, and he had one, and I though all the McGlues bad. This comes of Irregularities In families.” 11 A who,” said another man, address ing the editor, “authorized you Jo print this hideous stuff about my deceased sou? Do you moan Jo say that it wnS not wilh your authority that your low comedian -inserted with my advertisement tiro fol lowing scandalous burlesque? Liston to this : •“Willie bad a purple monkey climbing on a yellow stick. And wbon bo sucked the paint nil oiT it made blm deathly sick; And in his latest hours ho clasped that monkey In bis baud. And bid good-bye to earth and weut Into a bet ter land. "Ob I no more he'll shoot his sister with his little wooden gun; And no more he'll twist the'pussy's .tail, and make her yowl for fun. The pussy's tall now stands oat straight; ths gun Is laid aside; The monkey doesn't Jump around since little Willie died.” “ The utterly atrocious character of this balderdash will appear when I say that William was twenty years old, that he never had a purple monkey on a stick, that he never fooled with cats, and that he died of liver complaint.” “ Infamous l-utterly infamous [’’groan ed the editor, as he oast hie eyes over the lines. "And the wretch who did this still lives I “It Is too much I” ” And yet,” whispered Ott to himself, " be told me to lighten the gloom and to cheer the afflicted, family with the re sources of my art; and I certainly tho’t that Idea about.tbe. monkey would have that effect somehow? It Is ungrateful I' Just then there was a knock at the door, and a woman entered crying. •' Are you the editor?” she inquired of Brimmer. Brimmer said be was. •• W-w-well I” she said, In a voice bro ken by sobs, “ wh-what d'ye mean by, publishing this kind of poetry a-baut m roy Johnny ? M-my name la Sm-Bmlth, and wh-wben I looked this m-mornlng for the notice of Johnny’s d-death in y-your paper 1 saw this awful, wicked, y-verse: " Four doctors tackled Johnny Smith— ' ' They pllstered and they bled him; ’ 1 , ' With quills and antl-blllous puis , And Ipeoao, they fed blm. They stirred him np with calomel. And tried to move hie liver; Sat all In vain—his little soul Wes wafted o'er the River." • It's false! false!—that’s what It Is 1— Johnny only had one doctor. And they d-dldn’t try to m-m-move his liver, and they d-didn’t bl-bleed him and bl-bllster him. It’s a wicked falsehood, and you're a hard-hearted brute f-f-for printing It I" ‘•Madam, I shall go crazy If you con tinue.!” exclaimed Brimmer. "This Is not my work. It Is the work of a ser pent, whom I warmed lu my bosom, and whom I will slay with my own hand as soon as ho comes in. Madam, the mis erable outcast shall die I” ’ “ Btrangel strange!” muttered Ott. "And this mau told mu to combine ale- vatlDg sentiment with practical Informa tion. ■ if thflinformatlonconcerning the squills and ipecae. is not practical, I have misunderstood tho use of that word. And if young Smith didn’t have four doctors It waa an outrage. He ought to have bad them, and they ought to have excited bis liver. Thus It Is,” thought Ott, 1 ".that human life is sacrificed to carelessness.” At this juncture the sheriff entered, his brow clothed with thunder.. He had a copy of Ihe Morning Qlory in bis band. He approached the editor, and, pointing to a dead notice, said : 1 “Bead that horrible mockery of my. woe, and tell me the name of the writer, so that I pan chastise him.” The editor read as follows: . . "Wo havo lost our little Hanner la a very pain ful manner,. . • • 1 And we often asked, How oatr hor harsh suf ferings bo borne 7 When her death was first reported hof'aUnt got up and snorted With the grief that she supported, for her feel forlorn. "She was such a Ultlo seraph that her father who was sheriff, Really doesn’t seem to care if ho never smiles in life again. She has gone, wo hope, to Iloavou, at tho. early ago of seven. (Funeral starts off at eleven,) when sho’ll.nov; or more have pa!n.” "As a consequence of this Infamy, X withdraw nil the county advertising from your paper. A man who could trifle in this manner with the feelings of a pa rent is a savage and a scoundrel.” As the sheria went out, Brimmer placed his head upon the table and groaned. ‘‘Really,” Mr. Ott reflected, “that per son must be deranged. I tried, in this case, to put myeelf in this place, accord ing to instructions. The verses are beau tiful. That illusion to tbe grief of her aimt, particularly, seemed to me to be very happy. It expresses violent emotion with afelioltoas combination of sweet ness and force. These people have no soul—no appreciation of the , beautiful art A’ While the .poet mused; harried steps were heard upon the stairs, and in a mo ment a middle-aged man dashed in ab ruptly, and, seizing Brimmer's scattered hair, bumped hie prostrate head against the table three or'four tlmes with consid erable force. Having expended tbe vlo - lenoo of his emotion in this way, be held tbs editor's head down with one band abaklng It occasionally by way of em phasis, and with tbe other band seized 'the paper and said: '" "You disgraceful old reprobate I You unsympathetic And disgusting vampire! You hoary-headed old ghoul I What do you mean by. putting suoh staff aa this In your vile sheet about my deceased son 7 What d’ye mean by printing snob awful doggerel as this, you depravedand disso lute ink-slinger—you imbecile old qutll drivefyou: ” Oh I bury Bartholomew out In the woods, In a beautiful hole In the ground. Where the bumble-bees buzz and the wood peckers sing, And the straddle hugs tunable around; So that. In Winter, Tfhcniho show and the slush Have covered his last little bed. Bis brother Artemos can gn out with Jane And visit the place with his sled. " "I’ll teach you to talk about straddle bugs I I’ll instruct you about slush I I'll enlighten your Insane old intellect bn the subject of singing' woodpeckers I What do you know about Jane and Ar temna, you wretched buocanneer, you despicable butcher of the English lan guage !Go out with a sled! I’ll carry you out in a hearse before I'm dons with you —you deplorable, old lunatic I" ’ At the end of every phrase the visitor gave the oditor’.s head a fresh knock against , the table. When the exercise was ended, Mr. Brimmer explained and apologized In the humblest manner, promising at the same time to give bis assailant a chance to pommel Ott. "The irenchory of tills rami,” murmur ed tile poet, “is dreadful. Didn’t be de sire me to tiirow a glamour of poesy over commonplace details? But for that I should never have thought of ailpding to woodpeckers and bugs, and other chil dren of Nature. The man objects to the remarks - about the sled. Can’ the Idiot know that it was necessary to have a rhyme for ‘bed ?’ Can ho suppose that I write poetry without rhymes? The man is a lunatic! He ought not to be at large.” Hardly bad the Indignant and energet ic parent of Bartholomew departed when a man with red hair and a ferocious glare In his eyes entered, carrying a club and accompanied by a savage looking dog. “I want to see.tbe editor,” be shouted. A ghastly pallor overspread Brimmer’s face, and he said: * ' "The editor is not in,” “Weil l when will he bo In?” "Not for a week—a month—for a year —forever! Ho will never come In ony more!” screamed Brimmer. "He has gone to Bontb America, with the Inten tion to remain.there during the balance of bis life, Be bps departed. He has fled. If you want to see him you bad better follow him to the equator. He will be glad to see yon. I would advise you, as a friend; io take the next boat— to start at once.” ‘‘That Is unfortunate I" said the man with the golden looks; "I called for the purpose of battering him op a little with this club.” "He will bo sorry,” said Brimmer, sar castically. "He will regret missing yon. I will write to him and mention that you dropped In.” "My name is McFadden,’’ said the man. "I came to break the bead of the man who .wrote that obituary poetry about my wife. If you don't tall mo who perpetrated ' the following. I'll break youra for you I Where's the man who wrote this 7 Pay attention : •• Mrs*. MoFadden has gone from this life; 1 She has left all Its sorrowsand cares; Bhe caught the rheumatics In both her legs - While scrubbing the cellar and stairs. They put mustard plasters upon her in vain ; They bathed her with whisky and ram; Cut Thursday her spirit departed, and left Her body entirely numb. ” ’’The slave who held the late Mrs. Mo- Fadden up to the scorn of an unsympa thetic world In that shocking manner,” said the editor, “Is named Remington Ott. He boards In Blank street, fourth door from the corner. I would advise you to call on him and avenge Mrs. Mo- Faddou’s wrongs with a Judicious Inter mixture of club and dog-hltes.” “And there,” sighed the poet, outside the door, “is the mau who told mo to di vert McFaddcn’s mind from contempla tion of the horrors of the tpmh. It was this monster who counseled mo to make CARLISLE. PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1872.. the sunshine of MoFadden’s smiles burs! . through the tempest of MoFadden’s tears. If that redheaded monster couldn’t smile over that Illusion to whisky and ram; If those remarks about the rheu matism in her lege could not divert hi* mind from the horrors of the tomb—wal It my fault? MoFadden grovels! He knows no more about poetry than s speckled mule knows about tbs Shorter Catechism.” .The poet determined to leave before any further criticisms were made upon hie performances. He jumped down from hla obair and crept softly toward the back staircase. Arriving at the landing, he encountered Brimmer, who was moving In the same direction. Brimmer had time enough to utter a profane ejaculation and to lift bis band and strike the poet, when an old lady in a poke-bonnet and silver spectacles suddenly emerged from the etalrway and pinned the editor to the wall with the ferule of her umbrella. After grinding her teeth at him for a mo ment she floored him with her weapon, and seating herself upon his prostrate form, she extracted a copy of Uhc Morn ing Glory from her bag, and, pointing to a certain stanza in the obituary column, asked Ott to read It aloud. He did so. It ran in this fashion ; "Little Alexander’s dead; Jam him In a coffin; Don’t have as good a qhauco For fan’ral often. . Rusn bis body right around To tne cemetery; Drop him In the sepulchre - With his Undo Jerry,” 1 At tha end of every lino the indignant conqueror punched the fallen Brimmer’s ribs with her umbrella, and exclaimed : “Oh you wiliini 1 E'you hear that, you wretch ? What d'you mean by writing of my grandson In that way 7 Take that, you serpint! O! you—you wlllluous wiper you I trylu’ to break' a lone wid* der’s heart with such soand’lus lies as them! There you wiliini I kemmere to hammer you well with this here umbrol ler, you wicked wlllln, you wlllln. you bwda'oious wiper, you I' Take that, and that, you wile, indecent, disgustin’ wag abonei When you know well enough that Aleck never bad no Uncle Jerry, and never no unoie in no sepulchre any how, you vile wretch you I” While she pounded the editor, the poet grouped bis way down stairs six steps at a time and emerged from the front door with remarkable suddenness. His Jour nalistic career ended upon that day. When Brimmer’s employees dragged away Alexander’s grandparent, and car ried her struggling and screaming down to tbs street, the editor sent for a car riage and was taken home to bed, from whence he arose a weak later with an earnest determination never to permit another line of Obituary Poetry to enter the columns of The Homing Glory. AH OLD BUT GOOD STOBY. A countryman walked into the office of. General Barnes one lay, and began his application: “General Barnes, I have come to get your advice in a case that is giving me some trouble.” *• Well, what is the matter?” “ Suppose now,” said the client, “that a man had a fine spring of water on his land, and his neighbor living below him was to build a dam across a creek running through both their farms, and it was to back the water up'into the other man’s spring, what ought to be done?” “Sue him,sir,suehim byallmeans,” said the General, who always became excited in proportion to the aggrava tion of his client’s wrongs. “You can recover heavy damages, sir. It is a most flagrant injury ho has done you, sir, and the law will make him pay well for it, sir. Just give mo the case, and I’ll bring the money from him ; and if he hasn’t a good deal of property it will break him up, air.” " But stop, General,” said the terri fied applicant for legal advice, “it’s me that built the dam, and it’s neighbor Jones that owns the spring, and- he’s threatening to sue me /” The keen lawyer hesitated but a mo ment before he tacked ship and kept on : "Ah I Well, sir, you say you built a dam across that creek. What sort of a dam was that, sir ?” “ It was a mill-dam “ A mill-dam for grinding grain,was it?”. “Yes it was just that.” “ And it is a good neighborhood mill, is it?” “Solt is, sir; you may well say so, sir.” “ And all tbo neighbors bring their grain there to be ground, do they 7” “ Yea, sir, ail but Jones.” “ Then it Is a great public conveni ence, is it not?’,’ '“To be sure it is. I would not have built It but for that. It’s so far to any other mill, sir.” “And now," said the old lawyer, “ you tell me that that man Jones is complaining Just because the water from your dam happens to back up into bis little spring, and he is tbreatning to sue you. Well, ail I have to say is, let him sue, and he'll rue the day be ever thought of it, os sure us my name is Barnes.” A Tennessee advertiser deposeth; 11 Having a dead sow and a litter of twelve defunct pigs under my kitchen, I am anxious to sell them low to the Coun oil to purify some other part of the city. It is bard Co part with such health pro* moling animals, but lam poor and will make the sacrifice for cash." A LECTURE was delivered Id Boston a few days since on " Old Bonnets.’’ The coal scuttle, the close cottage, the kiss me quick, the Quaker bonnet and the three decker wore handsomely detailed for woman’s delight and amusement. A GIRL at Osage, lowa, whose ears are grown up, has no method of hearing except through her mouth. When a young man is talking she beeps saying “ yes,’’ for fear lest he might propose to her and she not bear it. A certain city was about to be de stroyed. Tho women wore allowed to leave, and were told that they might carry away on their backs whatever they most prized. Each woman took a man. SHADES OF SHASTA. Joaquin Hiller’s Tawny Bride- The Child of a Shells Toi'e. Wrinkled and brown as a bog of leather, ' A squaw Bits moaning ibng and low. I Yesterday sbo was a wife and mother, , To-day she is rooking her to and fro, A dosolato widow In weeds and woe. ’ . [fibnp af the Sitrraa. Thus wrote the wild poot of the Sier ras, Joaquin Miller, but. little did the world know or the depth of meaning In these lines. Never did It . drearb that this squaw, who “ sat rocking to and fro, a desolate widow In weeds find, woe," was his own dusky 'spouse.., i yet such seems to, have been .the fact-, 1 and In the San Francisco Chronicle we have the whole of the wonderful story. The writer tells us that fifteen years ago, in the little green valley bn the Upper Sacramento, there dwelt a'rem nant of the once powerful tribe of Tas chastas. But little is known of the history of the tribe, except that they were far above the average of the Call., forma Indian all that Invests the abo riginal character with sentiment ahd Romance. They were wild, fierce apd exceedingly warlike, and for years had held undisputed possession the region; over-looked by the snow-capped dome of Mount Shasta'. The memoiry of this tribe , has been immortalised by , the wild, wierd, romantic poem from the pen of Oregon’s long-haired versifier— Joaquin, in his. youth., spent nearly a year in their company, residing. In (jhe wig warn of ( the.,chief,; and. fishing. i and,i hunting with. ■ the young warriors. ' 1 This romantic ; inci dent in the life of, the..Sierra' songster, is not generally known; but when'the, facts are fully. recorded, his admirers. willbe at no loss, to.account for, the in spiration Which guided his pen through the manes of 1 poetic' 1 thought "and mournful fancy which gave, birth to “ The Bast of the Taschastas’" - t . , Here it was that Miller flret felt the awakening of the tender passtop, and here it was that he first : aroused into being the love el one who clung tb him even unto death. She , was a dark-ey ed, rayan haired creature, with a wealth of love and affection which she lavisbr. ed upon the adventurer. ’ Joaquin Mil let’s treatment of this poor savage girl reflects but little credit upon the soul of so intense a being as ho. It finds a. par allpl in his subsequent demeanor to wards the fair-haired and mofo oultur ed being who bears bis name and shares (at a distance) the glory that Is his.— The two Incidents confirm the impres sion that, after all, poets can do very mean things in a yery practical way. . As the story goes, Miller was at one time a stock-herder, or something oi the kind, in Siskiyou county. One day in attending to some cattle in the south ern part of the county, he came across a party of three young Indians.- Be lieving that they were on a cattle steal ing expedition he'fired at them to frighten them away, hut unfortunately, they wouldn’t scare worth a cent, and in about two minutes the young disciple of cattle herding and poetry," found himself bound hand and. foot, and with '' an ugly bullet hole through the fleshy part of his leg. The next morning be fore day-break he was in the Indian camp a prisoner. Not knowing what was to be his late, blind with anger and mortification, and suffering Intensely from his wound, Miller lay upon his blanket the very picture of despair. It was while lie was in this condition that ho first met the woman who was l to exorcise such an Influence upon his future destiny. Bhe was the daughter of the old chief of the tribe, young— not over eighteen —and as beautiful as an angel’s dream. Miller in bis poem'draws the fallowing picture ol her: . j “ Hard by stood tho war chiefs daughter, Tatter than the tussled corn, Sweeter than the kiss of morning, Sod as some sweet star of morn. Half defiant half forlorn. Robed In skins of striped panther, Lifting loosely In the air, With, a fleeting shade ol sorrow, And black eyes that said, Beware I Nestled In a storm of hair. With her striped robes around her. Fasten’d by an eagle’s bdak, 1 . H r: Stood She by the stately chieftain,' Frond and pure as SbaSta’s peak. Her eyes were block, her face was brown, Her breasts were bare, and there fell down, Snoh wealth of hair, It almost hltj The two, in its rich, jetty fold— tyhloh I had sometime fain forbid ; , They were richer, fuller far . . Than any polished bronzes are. And richer baed than any gold. On, her brown arms and her brown hands; Were hoops of gold and golden bands, Rough—hammered from the virgin ore. So heavy they could hold no more. The maiden saw the captive and straightway her heart went out in sym pathy for his suffering., 1 She attended hlra. dressed hla wounds, and pleaded; with her father for his safety. Her ef forts were not in vain. For days apd days she was unremitting in. her atten tion and kindness, in a month Miller’s wound was entirely healed, and he her thought him of his future. The tribe, through the intercession of the girl, of fered him a safe conduct back to the cattle herds, but some strange Invisible power seemed to hold him, and weeks went .by, finding him at their close still a guest of the Taschastas, He kne# the girl loved him wildly, and he knew also that to leave her would cost him'a' bitter pang, so be lingered on, even against his better Judgement. The old chief watched the progress of events with a calm serenity and stoic indifference worthy of a statue. He gave no hint that a pale-faced son-in law would be acceptable or distasteful,a fact which Miller viewed with a great deal of inner satisfaction. The love of the two. ripeqed rapidly—bora faster than his—for in her wild imaginings she looked upon him as her Qod, and and worshiped him accordingly. She taught him a dialect by which they could exchange their thoughts and give expression to theheart yearnings which overwhelmed them. Ho taught her a few snatches of ilia first love songs, and instructed her iu the first rudiments of the English,longue. He filled her.mind with glowing pictures of civilization, fa? beyond the mighty ranges of snow - covered .mountains In tho East ; and she listened with absorbing, interest to all he told' her of the’great world,.of Which 'she knew so little, and hfl so i*■' . And so the green summer Wore ayvay, ! and* gave' place to .golden. autumn.! — 'Joaquin still lingered in the hospltaljle' Wigwam With ooothdi'thoughtlidt to bask' in tlie sunlight of the Indian mai den’s smile,... She had; be witched him with her artless grace, and bewildered* ids' reason with : tll<i passionate loyd she s»;' fl^tey 1 &Y$ I .' : h#; was all in.allto.nar—her life, her world. Jher .Odd. i She bad no word for nnybut 'the'pale-faced; ]| long-haired' stranger,- fend no'tHodglit.fdr aught save 1 his Wei-, fare andtappineas. And, so one day ’ they were! married. Not within the ’ massive stone walls of a.cathodral, 1 with a gorgeous surpliced priest to mumble over the few formal words which so ciety has set up as a moral safeguard, hut beneath the broad branches of a mighty oak, with no eye save thit of the Great Spirit upon; them, nor,any voice save those of the ■chirping beetle and the silver-toned birds to bless.their union. Miller in'latter years has. told us this about the bridal guests and,the wedding festivities hi. . . ,:. i : "The hills wore brown and the heaven?) were blue, - A woodpecker poumlcd.a plpotopehell,,, I ", While a partridge whistled, the whole day through 11 " 1 - i 1 ! ■ ! * -Fora rabbltio dahc&ln theCbappatalpu | , And a gray groove drummed, ‘‘Alls well! Ah'* ■ For. tbe). peit, month < thera. was .but 1 ,pne, heftyefti f ?Fi -Jpagulu, MlUpr,,.ipnd ! l , ! thtd wasiiusidb, thp pld jvlgyyaibL, ,Tl\e ypung wf>rrjms i wadp up huntlQK secure the, winter’asupplyflf prpvlalpria; | but MiUor Mfused 'on occasions, tq, accompany them.. He sat for,hoars at a time gazing into the liquid depths of his dusky, partner’s great,pyep pnd had no Jpy, no happiness, save when in hey, presenco. The old chief soon bfecame •awara of the turn in his domestic affairs but ho seepppd to viow ( tho. matter with a, very phllqspphlcal, aepae*.. ijq,treaty ed Miller well,.and regarded him. as afr ■ feqtlonateiy as a iuthey cqpid hiaown son, although howondored that a pale- 1 face could so long content himself, a>vay from his home and. kindred-., The wln tercame and, jyent, aph atlU Millprlin gered by, the side ,of his forest , (jride^ .though, an. interested. observe, y,; would have looked in vain for, tho same pasr, sionate devotion that held away at the beginning. ■, Their love bad crossed the meridian of happiness, and the young couple had begun to look each upon the other os a matter of course. A quiet indifference sprung up on hts part, which brooded no good to the confiding' child of nature who,had placed her trust in him—her fate in, ids keeping.' He no longer sat, at her feet or pillowed hiahoqd in her lap at eventide, biit sat apart, 1 gazing, into, vacancy, his thoughts far, far away, among the ranches,of Siskiyou,; be the pleasures of theiGity by the. Sea. Ho longed fora change, and began to look ] upon the of U separation, from, his bride w^th;ft feellhff sitin' to, satisfaction, ,Tho wife savy fall tbkfa |?at. in her innocence saw nothing to give, her alarm, : Besides she already felt something which 'when told her lord, she knew would fill his very soul with| joy, and draw him closer to her., One night there was a great commo tion In the wigwam. The old chief and tho long-haired poet were both hustled out into the midnight air and left to shiver, in the gloom of early morn.— Tropps, of Indiap women,, I Wrinkled am? brown aa bags of’leatborj hurriedly passed 'ld arid 'as'hurriedly looks and 1 hurried whispers passed between,them, and mysterious ceremonies; seemed to be going p.n "wlthih the sacred pprtaiB. As the sun llfterijli* gplrisn, the snow-breasted of - tne Sierra?, ’ a plaintive wail'grated curiously; perhaps a harshly, upon the eager ; 'ear,pf . In another, hour, im ; old ; appear-' ed in the,doorway: and: beckoned to Mlllor that 'hfeC might enter. " He wept In arid anxiously, approaches tlie ltiw beri ;wljero tay.'enwpapppd. I,'riiri‘lapcif - fully wrought blanket the,' little pink ‘ faced black-eyed tokbn Of bis early pas-' ,i ; j'l'lll ■■l'C-";*' '; 11' 111 1 (■ ! - And now Jbacplin riecame more desirousof putting anijgpd.to trip rot-, imance of the past year and, return once. more to the scene* of' the' fonder life.— His was a restless, roving, dissatisfied disposltlori, arid l! the 'sehflmerit o¥ his passion gone, it, could no linger brook a hum-drum existence in the wild home of the forest; 11 1X13 was an uncopim'on monia of mind; ' But made for action. 1U or good; 1 ■ ’'Ckalin another land andscenS; \ Hla reckless: restless Will nttd been . ' 11 A curse or blessing to bis kin," t One day ho quietly worti hp to hla dusky mate and ha y?M going on a ylsjt to hla Wanda In Siskiyou.— Tears stood in her great dark eyes, as the announcement fell upon her ears, for something within her 'seethed to say: i “Bofaorfemrlaatdatftiaslt’a’cloaei And here UendJ.” hi. She gazed longand earnestly Into the deep blue eyes bo fore hpr, but could gep no comfort from them,,for they were,so cold as, stohe, as .uqbnpASsloped as the rocky crags behind' her wlgwanK.i, Ho, with a mtite appeal'for V mercy,' she threvf her'afinp arojhqdlil|ii IppiJ sobbed as if her heart would But It made no difference. Miller was determined to go, and, kissing her brow,'he gently put her away froth him, and giving only one look athh* dusky daughter, strode out Into thq sunlight and wended his way towards the North. That, so far as Is known, was the last that Joaquin Miller ever saw of his tawny, forest bride. Years passed away. Ho mot, wedded, and deserted the lady whoso letter In recital pf her wrongs bos made her as famous In lit* oraturo m the poet himself} but he never again acknowledged the Indian Woman, who/Outof the depth of her great love, hod born hirii n child. Not a great while ago that little child, horn in the forest gloom, came into hlspoa tesslon, How, exactly, when, of where, doesnot appeaf.bnt It’ la Ilvlng aad alls Joaqnlh lllUfer' •* fathe*; I ’. Shejis 1 how fifteen yoara 0$ ’and llyiOg.ln Bkn- Francisco 1 ,’ supported IhJpi' thh pOet’s purse* Sheia' described as strlKlngiy r ,■ • , ■ .--u, • ■ 11J '■ • !■■:>!> ;,(|1 ; ■ beautiful. She had her mother’d deep dark eyps, and wealth of raven hair, and her fath-" er’e clear, Caucasian akin. Her neigh bors call Her the beautiful SpanlihgUl,' ‘ fiJt' 'they tripw 1 tyh't tidtf 1 ton^iin 1 tory; but tqihorpwn I raided late frlqnihi she is known aa thepoot’s giftediilhijd.' It is but jdstlco to Miiler'to Bay fhat he' ’ is exceedingly fond of her, 3 and' doies everyth Ingin hlspowor to make: Her comfortable’ and happy,.; He baa pro- I vlded for her education,and she already shbws traded of that genius which ( has made her father., famous, and herself proud, and happy to. be t .called his, though the child of love only. ; ' ' ,: Of Her 1 mbthOr' nothing ■|s l knowhi— Hop of jhery apd, says the only; pictureC sh'bcanrecaU,of’beilfatJy; yeaip.hj.the memory of a face, anda weary*, desolatehonHelni^utotlthe'hftnhdbf ;th^erdm%tbr ; '»;1 ••WrlnWod nod brown as,a bag o( Laatbcj-, : .': A 9qpaw s(ts moaning fPßgaud }ow. (~ ( - , t (ib,«wa»pwlfy,fwdlpofi>or, K I , . Xo-dapphVV) rocking Jim, to f,V<XXtf. . ! , Garden GroVe < Wiiflfy JSriUrjprti'e concluded' td 1 auapWdJ'lDhd (poQtoy.lterp pro I 'the llnes'S>i.-."Mii •. .v. . - r ' l b; 1 .. h'.v^ i ! .J ± . ! ; 1,I■'ll wmtWm .T!« W• I , | ipp gffapfyiflUtiiiptK «y, .. , " Toll yo bollSj Uio Had, aa<l (story, ‘ ' • '' 'vftlns liVrat onto tn« m&U, ; Tnat (though JtnoWn 1 to Tdfnfl ana glory) . ’ • v \ , Wl'it tshta-thongli lon* berofo.' ’ '''BtlU'll’mtntrownmt afloat; , ■■ Ho.whogrlevo»not,'l»l»«tolo, 1 I v '' 0)1, fot the tears of all fall fast, ' | i'ii.:■■■■• 'ill! I'• ■ ; " t i "■ 1 J'P' Wouldypn Know Uio causo, dear readers, , Whythopaporgtopp to-day r, ■,\ ■; • 'llsheoauso so ipauyof yon ;;; ... Owe the riusrom , ' i ginger, ope of lard, one tablespoonful of ealeratoß. half ■ pint of mplarasi, half a teaonpfnl of water, with sufficient flour to knead soft, poll thin and bake In a quick oven, CLkANiNo ; GtjrrA PERdHA.“ThIB can be done by using a mixture , of soap and powdered charcoal, polishing afterwards with a.'dry cloth with a little charcoal on: It;' . i Smoky IlAJtos.L-iro proved! thc'smok- Ing of a lamp, soak the Wick In strong” vinegar; dtul dry: It'"well before you use ■lt; It will then burn brlght and clear, and i amply i repay you for. , the trifling,. labor..' ' Brown Bread;—Two oupa "of'corn meal, abb cup of flour, ’two 'baps sour milk, 1 tWo teaspoonsful soda, One-half cup l of molasses; ohe tbaspobhftil Halt. 1 Bteaui two hours, then bake one-hal f hour. Serve hot. |; '■"■"j ' ‘ Ink Frqm Floors.—lnk' spotta on floors can be extracted by securing with ■and wetted In. oil of vitroll and. water. When tile Ink hi'rimoved,"rinse with strong pearlaeh wat?r. Lemon Cream PiES.—Juloaand gra ted rind of one Jetnou, yolks, pf three eggs, five tablespoonsful of sugar, a small lump o( butter and three tablespoonsful of « our - , ,1: mu-.i '-i i! ’ f . Omelptte.—SlX egga, bßat the wbltesj andyolks separately, until, very ,light, then stir together; add, pp,salt, ee,lt,wlll i make. It, Peary., Put,;on, a i ppt, grldd |e allgUUy. greased Witt? blitter; ,wpen,n(coiy browppd, pot. 6Bua OFjgonop..' ‘' ; • ■ Men find It morb ! easy 16 flatter than’ to pfalse. ’ ■' “•' " .„ 1 ' Whosoever is unchaste'cannot rever ence himself. : i , ' Modern poets i&t agreatdealofwat etld thelV Ink. oilt -v.i.- "o,l''“ id , | /THE klod mortal js greater thap the jn'heavey. v ' ' , , PRivATE oplnlon Is weak, public opin ion is <almost omnipotent- , " A CoAylls a' tetter 1 of credit Written with a needle upon broadcloth. men Ttyo'better t wifh past or future' ages' than With the' present. THEjRE )s no, false religion that dooe hot contain some elements of truth. : Wbat'lb the best government 7 That which teaches,us to govern ourselves. , Nest ito. theology, »ays iLuther, I give plapaanddjonot., i i PerveOt vatbr'is'to d 6 Without'Wit nesses what "one would do. before all the world. ;i In this theatrt of man's life, It is re served only for God and the angels to be lookers on, . A humble knowledge of thyself is a adrer way to' God tbah a deep search af ter learning- “ '■ ,1: Postmasters sboald< tear la l mind .thatwhon a > newspaper 4s not, lined,, they ora required to sehd the publisher, « written nottceof the fact; Be turning a paper -marked "Refused or Not; lifted,'’ i ler ■■ hot l mdfflcWntiv Often - the publisher cannot'toll.lroia'What office such paper /Is returned) and frequently ‘ there arotwo or taora men of the same name on the-subscription list, aqd it' is not known which “to slflKe off. SUb scflbptp’; that'lt is contrary to pubilshor’a, rule*, to dls. continue a paper till all arrearages arc; paid, A little attention to those mat ters would save nmob.Utno lo printing offices, , i •' Ms, James, how do you keep your books V' "Oh, by double entry," " Double entry, how’s that ? Easy enough ; I make ons entry, and father makee the other,’’ ~ j J, OM Vt)L SO-rNO. 25 , " Save Yodr ■ HusKh.—They dfe ex cellent in, Winter for'cattle, especially With a Ilttle'Balt water gpHokled over them. There is no bettor- lilatS than those made-from~bnßterßn(l one can be hours; ,bra|d ats, sew them, ,tbe> B xt, ani jrpu, %e a apb stpntialmiit to last tho winter. To mitttiewes^/el ‘the boys an, old fork tt),o ,fi|Bk.i ,when youhayp: eno^h.BdVltb'pm/toa'tjck, m-, or wool. 1( have a machine tressos as gop.d, as neyy by ripping t|ienu to. pij^, ; gfvJ(nfl tep ts of the jtickj .nwyfcff ,«u’ < 4^.,w5- fresh material to mato tip the,rjK|}||red ’■ ■■■■■'. ■■.. m ■ l ' Persons Who cobdamn" , cbm;fOddiar as “innatrltloua” htd ! Inivltod 'hy'Pds chall Morris, of the PracHaXl 'Farmer, 'to tonatderthe.'ways'‘of 1 a ‘prodiiDent dairynian' ‘‘ whose butter is excelled 1 by no other in the'Philadelphia market,” and who “ pretty; nltlcly sustained fifty eight cows otf' Sowed ddrn froth " the middle of last duly to thd imlddle of October, and that,'too,‘from the' prdv duct of three acres.” He 'estimates that he'took ninety tons of this “ Innu tritions” substance' from the 1 space 1 In dicated, dad'he knows'that'his 1 cows did not fall off in their milk daring these three ’month's of drought, baffhat some Increased the flow, and that the butter wav tolly dp to the standard. 1 ,;i .... I'.,' ii- -n i :ii jii - . i>i 'Pbesons wh'o ‘have'iStit bfe'hh In the habit of drinking buttermilk fco’nslder 16‘ ‘disagreeable, 'bbcadsri ‘it ll) ’ slightly acldjln couSeqhhnco 'of‘the 1 Jrriesencbof 'of lactic arild." thereis riot much nour lahtaent Ini battermllk)but thri presehcb Wf the labile actdaisilits tbe'digestibn of •any food taken' with lt.‘ '' peLants almdst live upbn batcftkJes and imltdHnilk, u Invalids, eiiffprl'n^.'Jrpm indigestion prl|l' do woU W drlnk but tormllk at meal time. ~ ’ i ' CaibKEN CtraESß.—Boll two chickens till tender, take, pul al| the bones,'and chop tba meatpno, season to ,your taste With salt* pepper;and butter,•,poor in enough , of liquor they were bolted In to (hake It moist, pot Into whatever in bold you wish, and when cold tarn oat and out Into siloes. 'ng,ia«q.|»«q.i»«i-IU * |>K» n col "'^SK Hi l ? ir *}S fBSW» •*.» •»« 3" .3 00 <OO 500 <OO IT 00 00 -00 00 <" 200 '<.7s' ffi'Tß •C 75 J 2 60 1)5 00 82 00 6“ 800 -SM 6:60 7 80. MOO .20 00 So 00 6*' 860 660 760 8601860, S 3 60 'B7 60 3m .< 00 7,60 860 iS. USO 25 00 <3 60 8- SCO 860 8-60 10 60 20 00 80 00 60 00 8“ 760 10 00 13 60 1600 28 00 60,00 76 00 ir hooo IS DO WOO 2600 •J OO- WM 100 00 \> Twoljo Unot cgnalUat*6«bf»n)ll ul For Executors’ and Atlm'rm'. Notices a , i For Auditors'Notions,; no vt Tiimia 00 For AMlgnMM'aaOilmlJjir NoUCM.. - ,8 00 For Yestly Csrd».‘n6t«kc*«slloa six Mom, 1 7 00 For Announcements nvo cents tier line loss contractod for by the year. ' Forßußlqew trmt epscial Hauers. loom’.: per lino. .... *. . .DoablooolainiiaaTOl.jßemeiiUritra, ’"o : Spreading Uoniira, in . Winter, lt '■ Wo'are asked What advbntagotilore Is-’ In’ spreading ■ •matiiire' on frozen ground'. It depends mdob iibofl ’th o ' condition'd! the ground.' 7 Iflclsdov eredwith' 1 grass’/- dlthfet‘ a 1 pftktnrd or meadow; them ‘iS'dirtfeit advantage in 'more than'bn6 redpebtt; Tbd-‘aiirfade Is 1 protected fWin' afrddoiJ (;HAr(yc3' dtit‘i ng 1 winter, 1 find’ 1 1 he ‘inanu'Te to thdrebtaj Who/e it catfebs 11 vigorous growth ' early intbe'ipffint:.— If the gretiriffia' 'pwwod 'ter a'airtgio cCOp.'it Is alSo iienefltted by’Hdvibg'tho rnUmiro ready' tbbe absorbed byHho 'soil wbebever th'e'grdand'thafrs; 1 tho seed; as soon as' It sprouts,' 1 finds what it needs close at ; hand.' On sod ground to be plowed fur corn in the spring', the same advantages are gained as in tiid case'of'grass lands, and'the manure 1 is on the spot in time, which ini n iate season it might ; n'6t'be/ for want of time dr Irripfopet' cbddlllon of the ground. " 1 But'afteC 'all/ It is far 1 bet ter td'gdf the rdddurd'diidn fheground before it Is' frozoni if pdsaitle; Ihi felrller Vtt v tK6 1 fall/' thd bSttleri'Wlnlet' 'lop drd&liigdf gratb'lsdbT/h 'pdhi'subatl tu£e' 'at 'best' for a'' ‘ptopdr preparation InWdfali/ idd'rltlble'fiays ! fdtth’d'trobblfe/tinles*' itniaifb& iri the advantage'' gained 1 'thd 1 wn Cld+etV " ,l '* '- f •'"''l'ania iisiff lu !' :: '( toifrr 1 ■ j'ml'iillu'lii- 1 i, HfEp ÜBfs.J?wBAWDpBrt-T7?'hc, iI/)n dou..*Ve&f, ppu ()f ♦fm, ‘)lBh«i('lihuti!ori ,;ties, Ifiaya,i9f oftliPtWr the horep ,on ltt« the depth, pf, njupjflfihes, raking off the damp r spiled,surface pvory spreading ,evenly ft or five, times a,; y,ear. ddypn^ees *pm .state a Ifvf Which, give .it, in raatlon, Its, greatest superiority over straw. .It U musi "cleaner, apifijnore .paaliy ’MjTanged i^.'an^^of ,'ppch first cost, malting in, the.end. excellent' manure./, It‘,lspeculiarly beupflcial to the feet, affording them a cool','porous Bluffing, the ,soil of earth of a horpe 'atj grass',. l ari«l prdefaUj, the nearest rjMemhippife,,, .pppes’ natural j 'mfnever had a diseased lion of sawdust ip now some, years since. Horses bedded'ou'sa wdust are' freer . from .dust 'and staiht than whbn on ordinary lltter.'sKfiply because sawdust Is a beltbr’-absOrtiont perhaps, and testify their approval of It by fro quentlylylngdotvd-for hours In the day. It has also the reputation of be ing uneatble—an advantage which all In charge Of horses With 'the habit of . Goop Stook.—A celebrated., Irish farmer gives "thlsAflvlce to- one young In btock-raiaing buSinteS 1 :" ’ ; -.ft 'careful not to, lose the!calf-flash; Ifybu do so by starvibg the; animal at any,time of ■his growth, you lose the? cream—the covering of the flesh samuchprlzSd by All out retail, butchers.' Where-do all the acrfcggy, Ibad.fiesbed, beasts come from that we seel dallyln. our fat mar ket;! and>. what la, the cause ofltheir scragginess? It da because .they have been stinted and starved at sotaue por tion pi their growth; If the calf-flesh is onqe lost, it can never be regained.—' A great deal of , tallow may begot in ternally by,high feeding; but, the ani mal can never, again be’ made one that will.,be, prized; by ;the great,,retail butchorsi— Coleman’s Sural Worlds.
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