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/fl V 1 A |~| A I 'HHf'HHf T A I “ ifS sS
-«■— ■ till iiiiicroii iipiiitwr,. i4~m|i™
, - ~ , . . lyolr. - 10 $ IB‘W|« IQO 00
in'ea or lUiatd a
onto* \dmW« SpV
— .a- ■„,■
Thuj«.‘-1?wo dollars per year If paid strictly
la advance,, Dollars and Fifty Cents If
paid , within three months, altar which. Thro*
Dollars will be charged. These terms will be
rigidly adhered'to'ln;■every Instance. Kosab>
sorlptlon discontinued until all arrearages ore
paid, unless at the option o( the Editor. .
Radical
BEWABB OF HASTY MATCHES. !
■■ ■ -■ ! • 1 i
nr hymen.
Ponder, sweet lassie, ere you choose,
1 Weigh well the matter o'er,
A hasty match is. dangerous—
. Not of a Ufa In clover. 1
Know well the one to whom you pledge
Your heart so warm and tender.
Bo sure the man Is staunch and true
You take foryour defender,
Look well to habits 1 , e’on iJ one •*.,
That's bad you should discover,
Discard at once, tho mitten give.
. And seek some other lover.
Shun those who smoke, chew, swear and drink.
Members of oiubs eschewing—
Of such young mou, dear girls, beware,
List not unt o. the ir wooing.
Be noi'in haste to be engaged,
1 pray thee, this remember.
Reflect—take time before you choose
One of tbe other gender.
Wedlock is a serious tiling,
A Ufo of Joy or sorrow,
Not something that Is done to-day
To be undone to-morrow.
O’er,hall the matches that are made,
{’Tie' truth* kow often stated I) ,
Prove, alas I but when too late,
**They’re married but not mated.”,*
Beware, beware, of hasty oholce I
Of no light thing I'm speaking I
Know well the man to whom you give
Your heart into his keeping.
Two paths there are to married life.
Look well to what you’re doin’,
Choose that which loads to happiness,
' Shun that which leads to rain I
/The knot once tied for aye;
If you would wear the halter,
Consider well before you wed—
'TU a tie you cannot alter.
The advice to the sexes both,
To all the beings human
Who wish to shun a wretched life—
- Toinan as well as woman ,
To man. i say, of girls beware—
Creatures pf pride and folly,
Who are not worth a row of pins.
Fit for some ninny’s dolly !
Look well to temper, here’s the rub,'
The cause of careless evil,
A feminine too much tongue
Will drive you to the d—l,
Select a maid discreet and wise,
Ahelp-meet Inyourtroable;
If such a one you cannot And,
Ne’er think of living double.
Ohr homes should be the place on earth—
The antitype of Heaven— *
Where love.alone doth brightly barn,
And Js the only leaven, . ,
PSsfdteaKS.
A STOEY POE BOYS.
BY MISS E. W. BARNES.
‘Here, boys| are twenty shillings for
each of you,” said Mr. Mitchell to his
twin sons, Clarence and Edward, on a
bright winter morning, as they sat at
breakfast—he'banded them each a gold
piece—‘l bear that you are each, at the
head of your classes in .French and La
tin, and this is to express my satisfaction
at your progress. You are at liberty, of
course, to expend it as you please ; but
there is an art in expending money* It
may be done selfishly, or disinterestedly.
It may bo productive of' happiness, or of
bitter memories, and, though the sum
be small; how to spend It is worth learn
ing.*
‘Tell us something about it, father/ said
Clarence, after they had both thanked
him cordially. ‘Whibh way do you think
best?’
: ‘I would rather, my son, that you should
reflect upon the subject, and draw your
own conclusions. Watch for an oppor
tunity to do with it something which
your heart approves. The love of money,
you know; la called ‘the root of evil;’ but
money may bo made the source of good.
Use it as you think best.’
The boys looked very thoughtful. They
wished that he would only say what be
thought best. Then they appealed to
their mother, but she approved of their
father’s decision, to throw the responsi
bility on themselves, and call their own
Judgment into exercise.
■ Some days afterward, as the two boys
were in their father's library, ha said to
them ‘you havs not told me bow you
spent your gold pieces.”
Edward drew his from his pocket.—
‘ There it Is, father. I have not spent it
yet.' -r.<
‘And yours, Clarence.’
•It has all gone, father.’
‘lndeed! and what.have you to show
for it?’ . ;
‘Nothing, sir.' Clarence bent his head
modestly;.but.without 1 shame, and there
was a manliness .in his tone, which con
vinced bis father that all was right.
Well that may be,, but I
will venture to say haa not made
ah unprofitable Investment,’
*1 hops not, sir.’ ■ '
‘lf he had done wrong with It, he would
not be my Clarence,’ said the mother
tenderly. , '• ..... •. ' '
Clarence'looked ather with an expres
olon of deep feeling, then went to her si
lently, put his arms' affectionately about
her neck, and laid hie.head upon her
shoulder. .When ha raised It again, a
tear lay upon her robe.
‘My darling boy,’ she embraced him
tenderly. ‘The Secret Is yours. You have
a right to It, and 1 am sure It is an hon
orable one,’
'Thank ypu, mother,’ be whispered In
her ear. ‘Does father think so? Is he
satisfied?' His mother repeated bis ques
tion.
‘To be sure, my son. lam satisfied.—
Comeherei’and he threw bis armsaround
him, and laid his bead upon bis bosom
—'father will trust, where he has never,
bad cause to distrust.’
Clarence could only once more whis
per Ifls thanks. It was tenderness, not
grief, that caused his tears. He was a
type of all that is noble and generous In
boyhood. Had he been otherwise—had
be expended his gift In folly, or In vlce ]
no reproaches that could have been ut
tered, would affected him, or called him
to bitter repentance, like the confidence
which was reposed In him; and the ten
derness which had just then been mani
fested.
To prove himself worthy of that love
and confidence, would henceforth be his
hlghesteartbly ambition. Ohl that all pa
rents would but understand this, and »p-
BY JOHN B. BRATTON.
pealing to the higher nature, the noble
attributes of tbslr children, call them in
to exercise.
Bdwdril wished from his hourt. that his
brolher would reveal to him wl'mt bo h id
done, but, there was a code of honor in
that household, as there should be in ev
ery home, and it was understood by all
Its members. Clarence bad shown by
his silence that he. did not wish to
questioned. Yet,'no one for a moment
doubted that be had made a right use of
his money.
And now, although Clarence supposes
his secret to be safe from all but the eye
of bis Father in Heaven, we, who have
fallowed him unseen, and watched him
through ail, will relate it in confidence
to our readers.
The day on which he received the gift,
was bright, clear and treaty. It waa De
cember, and though the aun shone cloud
lessly in the blue heavens. It had no
power upon the Icicles which fringed the
Iron , railings, or fell from the trees in
showers of brilliant, splintered and shiv
ered by the wind. Tho air was health
ful and exhiliarnting to the well-clad ;
but to the poor, unprotected child of
want, it came too keenly. Clarence hur
ried on with his skates flung over his
shoulder, to join a skating party. It was
the vacation now. Eddie was to join the
latter. His bauds were thrust into his
coat-pockets, and ho pressed on against
the wind, when he felt his arm seized
from behind.
‘Quick! quick ! Come quick,’ said a
little barefooted and bareheaded boy,
seemingly half frantic with grief and
terror. ‘X believe mother Is dying ! Do
come quick!’
Clarance obeyed Impulsl vely, while the
child clinging to Tils coat dragged him
on.
The home—if such It oould be called—
was not far distant, and the scene which
presented Itself on.bis entrance, was aw
ful indeed, A woman, surrounded by
three or four children screaming in ter
ror, was lying bn her miserable bed, In
frightful convulsions. The foam was on
her white lips, her clenched hands seem
ed .fixed in an immovable clasp, and her
aspect was altogether horrible.
.’I will go for a doctor;’ said Clarence,
and remembering that he had seen a phy
sician's house on the way, he ran with
all speed to summon him.
The Doctor followed him immediately,
and while he was administering to the
poor sufferer, Clarence bad time to ob
serve the scene around him. What mis
ery was there I Never had he seen or
conceived anything of the klrid before.
The poor mother bad toiled until over
exertion and starvation had brought her'
to her present state. The children were
thin and meagre, only half clad, and no
fire upon the hearth. When they saw
his friendly, earnest face—for children,
understand well a look or tone of- sym
pathy—they gathered around him.
•Are you hungry?’ he asked in alow
voice.
‘Yes, dreadful hungry.'
•And cold, too,’ he said; and with a
heart bleeding at the sight ot such des
titution and misery, ne hurried to a res
taurant near by. His gold piece was now
In requisition.' Thank God for its pos
session I r
Hot rolls and hot coffee in abundance
soon drew the little famished creatures
to a corner of the hovel, where they sat
isfied their hunger and bushed their
cries. •
For full an hour the agony of the poor
mother lasted; then she lay motionless
from utter exbadstation, and finally fell
into a profound slumber. A portion of
the gold piece yet remained, and Cla
rence tendered to the doctor the nsual
fee. A smile stole over the face of the
wealthy Dr. 8 , for it so happened
that one of the first physicians of the
city had, by chance, been summoned,
but there was a tear In his eye, as he
looked at him earnestly.
‘God bless you, my noble little fellow,’
and he laid his hand upon his head. 'No,
keep your money for other good deeds.—
But tell me who are you 7’
Clarence looked up at him and'smlled,.
after a moment’s pause. ‘Only my fath
er’s eon, sir.'
‘Well, well ; you chose to do your
good deeds under a veil, I sea; any fath
er should be proud of such a son. I ne
ver saw you before ; but X think that we
shall meet again. You have a heart, my
boy, too large for that manly little frame,
He laid his band kindly upon his head,
shook him warmly.by the hand and dis
appeared.
Clarence went also, but returned in an
hour, bringing with him a pair of new
shoes for each of the two eldest children.
These exhausted the money he then bad
with him; but his ‘charity box’ was at
home, and on that fund he determined
to draw, in behalf of the sufferers.—
While deliberating on what they needed
most, his good intentions were forestall
ed by the appearance of the doctor’s car
riage at the door, and the doctor himself
springing but hastily, took from Its nu
merous packages of clothing, provisions,
<fee., an ample supply for their present
wants.
‘Here,’ said be to the eldest girl, a
child of,six years, dress your brothers
and sisters in these clothes; and see if
your little bands cannot make the roam
comfortable.’
The child’s eyes brightened, for food
bad strengthened, and nls cheerful tone
encouraged her. She was at once busily
employed. . He smiled cordially as he
discovered Clarence, and said 'I told you
we should meet again,’
He hastened away .to other engage
ments, but a supply of fuel came by bis
order immediately after, and Clarence
remained to aid the helpless children ;
nor did he leave them until he saw them
warmed and comfortable.
The doctor visited tbe family daily,
until the qioor and grateful widow was
perfectly restored, and able again to take
ears of her little ones; then his wife pro
vided employment for her, and she re
quired no further assistance. One more
visit revealed all this to Clarence ; but
bo and the doctor never met
,*»»* » * ■ * *
Four weeks had passed. Glareno’s good
deed was still his own, when his father
encountered Dr. 8
'Mr. Mitchell, what a noble specimen
of humanity you have In that young son
of yours ? I congratulate you on being
bis father.’.
'Which one, doctor?’
'Why tbe dark hair and the dark eyes.
He does not tell bis name,’
‘What do you mean, doctor ?’ I hope
that he le not ashamed to own It.’
■Then he has not told you of his reoeu
encounter with ipe?’
•Not a word.’'
. Ta it possible? Lot’me tell you, you
have reason to be proud of that boy; he is
a noble little fellow, and God will place
him where be ought to be In the ranks of
true greatness.’
Then be related to Mr. Mitchell every
circumstance of that day, connected with
Clarence, deiioaiely withholding bis own
part In the proceedings, which did, how
ever, remain long a secret.
With a full heart, overflowing with
thankfulness to God for such a son, Mr.
Mltch-II returned to his home that night
and related ail to bis wife. As soon as
Clarence came in, he took him by the
hand. 'My son, I know the history of
the twenty-shilling piece.’ Clarence look
ed up in wonder, ‘Dr. S is an old
friend, though we did not meet often.—
He would not rest till he had traced you
out; and now, my boy, receive your
father’s blessing.’ He bent down, and
kissed bis forehead; then he led him to
hie mother. ’There,’ said he, ‘take to
your heart the noblest son that ever God
gave to a mother; take him, and may
God bless you!'
Bhe did fold him to her heart In silence;
the mother's feelings were too deep for
words. Edward came in. ‘My son, you
have done well in the purchase of your
Bible; your brother has done well in the
practice of its precepts. Emulate hie no
ble example. lam proud of both." ,
Mrs. siltohelt withdrew with Edward
Into the library, and there related to bitri
the story. Scarcely had she concluded
it, when be rushed back and threw him
self In tears upon his brother’s neck.—
’Oh, Clarence I I must be good like you.’
Clarence wept; ‘Why it is but little I
have done,’ he said; ‘I had everything
that I required ; it was no sacrifice.’
‘But you lost the skating party, Clar
ence, and I know that you wanted a new
riding-whip, you said so when father
was giving us lessons on Poney, in .the
vacation.’
‘No matter for that;’ said Clarence.
‘My boy,’ said his father, ‘why did you
keep it a secret? Did you not suppose
that we would all approve and commend
it?’ ' ,
‘Yes, father, but T remembered whit
you read to us that morning in the lesson
for the.day: Take heed that ye dp nor
your alms before men, to be seen of them,
otherwise, ye have no reward of your
Father which is in Heaven.’
Smith’s Proposal.
A atory is told of a preacher who lived
about forty years ago. He was a bachelor
and we could write hie real name, but
prefer to call him Smith, He resisted
many persuasions to marry, which his
friends were constantly making, until
be had reached a tolerably advanced age,
and he himself began to feel the need of,
or at least to have new ideas of the com
fort of being nursed wj,th woman’s gen
tle care. Shortly after entering one of his
circuits, a maiden lady; also of ripe years,
was strongly recommended to him, and
his friends again urged that he had bet
ter get married, representing that the la
dy named would probably not refuse to
accept him, notwithstanding his reputed
eccentricities; < '
‘Do you think- tho?i responded the
domine, for ho very perceptibly lisped ;
■then I’ll go and thee her.’
He was a man of his word. His ring
at the door bell was answered by the ser
ving-maid.
‘lth Mith P within 7’ briskdy
but calmly asked the lover.
•‘-Yes, sir, will you walk in?'
‘No, I thank you. Be kind enough to
thay to Mith P that I with to
thpeak to her a moment.'
Miss P appeared, and returned
the invitation to walk In.
‘No. thank you; I'll thoon explain my
business. I’m the new preacher. I’m
unmarried. My frlendth think I’d bet
ter marry. They recommend you for
my wife. Have you any objections 7’
‘Why, really, Mr. Bm—.’
‘There—don’t anthwer now. Will call
thith day a week for your reply. Good
day.’
On that day a week he reappeared at
the door of Mies P *s residence. It
was promptly opened by the lady her«
self.
‘Walk in. Mr. Smith.’
‘Can not, ma'am. Have not time.—
Start on my olroult round In half an
hour. Ith your anthwer ready, ma’am?’
‘Ob, do walk-in, Mr. Smith/
‘Can't Ploath anthwer
me—Yeth or No 7’
‘Well, Mr. Smith, it is a very serious
matter. 1 should not like to get out of the
way of Providence—’
‘I perfectly understood you, Mith P
. We will be married ihlth day week.
I will call nt thith. hour. Pleoth bo
ready.'
He called on that day a week, at that
hour. She was ready ; they were mar
ried, and lived happily, several years.
Wages in the Fifteenth Centuby.
—Before the discovery of America, it is
said that money was so scarce that the
price of a day’s work was fixed by act of
the British Parliament, in 1351, at one
penny per day; and In 1114 the allowance
of the chaplain to the Scotch bishops—
then In prison in England—was three
half pence per day. At this time,
twenty-four eggs were sold for a penny,
a pair of shoes for four pence, a fat goose
for two and a half pence, a hen for a pen
ny, wheat three ponfie per bushel, and a
fat ox for six shillings and eight pence.
So that in those days, a day’s work would
buy a hen or two dozen eggs; four day’s
work would buy a pair of shoes. On tbe
Whole, human labor brought, on the av
erage, about half as much food and per
haps one-fourth os much cloth or cloth
ing as it now does. These are encourag
ing facts for labor reformers,
Lawyeb— 'How do you Identify this
landkerohlef.’
Witness—By Its general appearance,
and the fact that I have others like It.’
Lawyer—‘That’s no proof, for I have
one j ust like It In my pocket,'
Witness—l don’t doubt that. 1 had
more than one of the same sort stolen.’
The 4hd of all argument—You’re an
other.
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1872,
NAMES OFaTHE.'STATES,
Maine—So called from the province of
Maine, In France, In compliment to
Queen Henrietta, of England, who, it has
been said, owned that province. This is
the commonly received opinion.
New Hampshire— Named by John
Mason In 1039, (who with another ob
tained the grant from the crown,) from
Hampshire county, In England. Tbo
former name of the dominion was La.
conia. '
Vermont— Prom the French verd
mont, or green mountains, indicative of
the mountainous nature of the State.
The name waa first 'officially recognized
January 10,1777. ‘ i
Massachusetts— lndian name, signi
fying ‘the country above the hills.’
Rhode Island— This name was adopt
ed in 1601, from the Island of Bhodes, in
the Mediterranean, because of its fancied
resemblance to that island.
Connecticut— This la the English or
thography of the Indian word Quon-ec
to-out, which signifies ’the long river.’
. New York— Named by the Duke qf
York, under color of title given him by
the English Crown, in 1604.
New Jersey— So called in honor of
Sir Geo. Carteret who was Governor of
the Island of Jersey, in the British
Channel.
Pennsylvania— From Wm. Penn, the
rounder of the colony, meaning ‘Penn’s
woods.’
Delaware—ln honor of Thoa. West.
Lord do la Ware, who visited the bay
and died there in 1610.
Mabyeand—After Henrietta .Marla,
Queen of Charles 1., of England.
Virginia—B6 called In honor of Queen
Elizabeth, the ‘virgin queen,' in whose
reign Sir Walter Bnlelgh made the first
attempt to colonize that region.
North and South Carolina were origi
nally in one tract, called ‘Carolina,’
Charles IX., of Prance, in 15Q4; Subse
quently, in 1566, the name was altered; to
Carolina. l
Georgia—So called in honor of Geo,
TI., of England, wba established a colo
ny in that region in 1782.
Florida—Ponce do Leon, who discov
ered this portion of North America In
1512, named it Florida in commemora
tion of the day be had landed there,
which was the Pasquas de Flores of t|ie
Spaniards, or ‘Feast of Flowers,’ other
wise known as Easter Sunday.'
Allbajia—Formerly a portion of Mis
sissippi Territory, admitted into the
Union as a State in 1810. The name is,
of Indian origin, {signifying wo
rest.’
Mississippi—Formerly a portion of the
province of Louisiana, So named in 1800
from the great river on the western line.
The term is of Indian origin, meaning
‘long river.’ .
Louisiana From Louis XIV., of
France, who for some tlmejprlor to 1703
owned the territory.
Arkansas—Prom ‘Kansas,’the Indi
an word for ‘smoky water,’ with the
French.prwili 'are,* low, • ■_
Tennessee—lndian for the river of the
big bead, i" e„ the, Mississippi, which Is
the western boundary.
Kentucky—lndian for ‘at the head of
the river.*
OHIO —From the Indian, manning
'beautiful.’ Previously applied to the
river which traverses a great part of Its
borders,
Michigan—Previously applied to the
lake, the Indian name for a fish weir. So
called from the fancied resemblance of
tho lake to a fish trap.
Indiana—So called in 1802 from the
American Indians.
Illinois—From the Indian ‘illina,’
men, and the French suffix 'ols,’ togeth
er, signifying‘tribe of men.’
Wisconsin—lndian name for ‘wild
rushing channel.’
Missouri—Named In 1821 from the
great branch of the Mississippi which
through it. Indian term,meaning
‘muddy.’
lowa—From the Indian, signifying
‘the drowsy ones.’ .
Minnesota^—The Indian for ‘cloudy
water.’
California—The names given by
Cortes, the discoverer of that region. He
probably obtained it from ah old Spanish
romance, in which an imaginary Island
of that name is described as abounding
In gold.
Oregon—According to some from the
Indian, Oregon, ‘river of the west.’ Oth
ers consider it derived from the Spanish
‘oregano,’ wild majoram, which grows'
abundantly on the pacific coast.
Goats and Rats.—A correspondent of
the Germantown Telegraph says: ‘Being
sadly plagued with rats about my house
and farm buildings, I tried in vain to
catch them. They are too cunning to be
trapped, and to lay poison I dare not for
fear of killing my dogs; oats and hogs,
and to wait for them with a gun was a
loss of too much time, though I have
dropped three at a shot. At last I pur
chased two goats which I have kept about
my fold, barn and stables, the pig-styes
being in the fold. In a short time they
emigrated—they evacuated the place,
cleared right out, every jack of them, and
I have not seen a single rat about the
place for upwards of three years; but my
neighbors who are within eighty rods,
have plenty of all sizes and ages. Per
haps it is not generally known, that
where there are many horses stabled to
gether, very little sickness prevails if
there Is a goat kept about the yard and
stables.’
Jones and Brown were talking lately
of a young clergyman whose preaching
they bad heard that day.
'What do you think of him !' asked
Brown.
'I think,' aald Jones,‘ho did much bet
ter two years ago.’
'Why he didn’t preach then,’ said
Brown.
'True,' eald Jones, ‘that Is What I
mean.’
‘Look heah, Dixie, you know a thing
or two. Doesn’t you think, from de
oloudlflcatlon oh de atmosphere, dal we
will bah rain to-day?'
‘Well, I declare, Sanford, I doesn’t
zaotly understand astronometry, but X
does think It look very omnibus,'
‘Dat’s Jest dls ohll's opinion, but I did
not bah the larnology to'sprees it. I’s
nobber studied skyologyi’
A,COUNTRY FUNERAL
If there could be any choice In the
place of one’a dying, it would surely be
In the country. Inthe city one drops
out of the life-boat, the great sea of hu
manity closes over him, and that is the
end. A few hearts appreciate the loss
and find time to feel sad; but in others
the excitement and hurry of everyday
life fill up the void death made, and sor
row Is necessity.
But in the country everything is so dif
ferent. For miles around the good,
steadygolng people lay aside their work,
don their Sunday suits, and whose saber
faces and steady movement gather at the
house of mournlxig. The one grief lays
Its finger on the heads of ail, and makes
them kin. The lawyer hows to the
blacksmith, and the lawyer's wife hods
respectfully to the working girl. The
women gather In the house, exchanging
salutations In whispers, and details all
the Incidents of the last days of the de
ceased. The minister is present, and
when the time comes to go to the church
where the funeral seryice Is to be held
the men cluster about the doors, take oft
their hats, and with bowed heads listen
to the minister while he rends the fif
teenth chapter of First Corinthians and
offers n prayer. Then, such as feel in
clined, take a look at the dead face, the
colfin is born out to the block-robed
hearse, the family succeed that, and
and then the people in their various car
riages form the long and tedious proces
sion. The travelers and wayfarers who
chance to meet it lift their hats until the
cortege have passed, and then go their
way musing on the death of life and the
life of death. Two or three friends have
remained behindat the desolate house,.to
put In order and relieve it as much us
possible from the odor and reminders of
death. At the church the the front seat
In the body of the church have been re
served for the “mourners,” whose
entrance, following that of the coffin
forms the chief ooject and spectacle ;of
interest to the assembled congregation.
When all is quiet, the minister refers
to the solemn occasion which has
brought them .together, the dispensa
tion of Providence, and then prays;—
The choir sang something dolorous ito
a melodeon’s accompaniment, a sermon
on death, life and immortality,follows,
closing with an address to the mourn
ers, which is usually an address of tor*
ture and, grievance. When God is'
speaking to a human heart, alas, that
man should presume to speak and ex
pect to be heard 1 : The benediction is
pronounced, and then the people In a
single file pass to take a last look at the
dead. Many shed tears.
Now and fhen.a woman lingers over
the coffin to picture the face on her
heart or observe the make of the burial
robe. One presses her hand on the cold
brow, while another smoothes with her
fingers the damp hair, Sobs of grief
break forth from the mourners, which
become a torrent of grief as. leaving
1110 pwvro It ittbt IUUIV. V)f 'UIO
household face, The ..business-like
sexton screws down tho coffin lid, the
coffin in borne ,to the village grave
yard, where, amid a fresh burst of sobs
and tears, the hoarse thuds of the fall
ing sods strike the sore hearts like
spears. Some of the sympathizers take
a turn among the grass grown graves,
but soon all have turned away to their
homes recounting on their way the
virtues .of the dead. The occasion
forms the theme of talk for weeks to
come, and in the quiet neighborhood
there is something missed, and in a
neighborly exchange one hoars lot fall,
“ How wo miss him.” The birds sing,
the flowers bloom, the fruits ripen) and
each and all are reminders of the lost
one. . .
“ She sang sweeter than the birds,”
sighs the mother. “ How she loved
flowers; oven the daisies crowned her
like a queen,” the lover says to his
soul, And so in hearts and in a thou
sand ways the sacred memory fs kept
alive. The snow preserves it, -the.
breezes permeate it with manifold fra
grances oftnaturo, and air blossoming'
and ripening things crown it with
completeness.—JVeic York World, ■
~ A. Novel Duel. —Amongst the rem
nisccnces told of the Pranco-Prusslatt
war, is the account of a curious dnei
between two subordinate officers of the
.French army.
1 “ You Intend to tight a dual, eh 7”
asked the commandant.
" “ Yes, Colonel. Words have passed
which can. only be wiped out 1 with
blood. We don’t want to pass for
cowards.” ‘
“ Very well, you shall fight, but it
must bo in this way: Take your carj
binos, place yourselves on a line facing
the mansion where the enemy is.-r
You will roarph upon the garrison with
equal step. When sufficiently near
their post you will Are upon them.—
The Prussians will reply. You con
tinue to advance and fire. When one
fails the other may turn upon his heels,
and hia retreat shall be covered by one
of my companies, in this way,” con
cluded the commandant, ‘‘the blood
you both demand will be spilled with
profit and-glory,, and he who comes
back will do so without regret, without
the remorse of having killed or wound
ed, with his own hands, a Frenchman,
at a time when France needs all her
defenders and all her children. If you
both fall, who shall aay that you are
cowards? I may also add that I thus
give you an excellent opportunity for
putting a couple of Germans out of the
way—a service that will procure for
you a good recommendation for reward,
and promotion.
The matter was arranged as the com
mandant had dictated. At twenty
paces from the wails of Malmaison, one
of the adversaries was wounded, stag
gered and fell. The other ran to him
raised him up, and carried him away
on MS shoulders amid a regular hail
sjorm of halls—both, were thenceforth
entitled to the greatest honor and re
spect from the whole reginiout.
| I‘Fan him with you boot,' is said by
those familiar with the subject to be the
latest thing in slang.
HISTORY OP OUE FLAO.
Tho column of ‘Notes and Queries,’
recently had a hlstofy of the French Trl
coloreil Flag. The following account of
the origin and history of the Duitpd
States Flag is given in the Journal of
Commerce:
The Stars anil Stripes became the na
tional flag of theUnlted States of Ameri
ca by virtue of a resolution of Congress,
passed June 14th, 1777 : ‘Resolved, That
the thirteen United States, bo thirteen
stripes, alternate red and white; that the
Union be thirteen stars, white in a bltie
field, representing a new constellation.’
The flag seems to have been the result of
the work commenced by Washington,
Dr. Franklin, and Col. Joseph Reed.
On the 2d of January, 1770, Washington
was la the American camp at Cam*
bridge, organizing the new army which
was that day created. The committee of
conference sent by Congress to arrange
with Washington the details of the army
wore .with him. CoU Reed one of the
aides-de-camp, was also secretary of the
committee of conference. The flag In use
by the army was a plain red field, with
the British union of the crosses of St.
Andrew, St. George and St. Patrick on
the upper left corner. Several gentle
men from Boston sent to the American
camp copies of the king’s speech. It was’
received on the date mentioned and. the
ffdot la desorlbad Inthe Bntish Register
1770, page 247, thus:
‘The arrival of the copy of the king’s
speech, with an account of the fate of the
petition from the Continental Congress,
Is said to have excited the greatest degree
of rage and indignation among them j ns
a proof of which, the former was publicly
burnt in tbe camp; and they are said, 1 on
this occasion, to have changed their col
ors from a plain red ground, which they
had hitherto used, to a flag of thirteen
stripes, as a cymbol of the number and
union of the colonies.*
The use of stripes to mark cbe number
of States on the flag cannot be clearly
traced/ but. may be accounted for by a
custom of. the camp at Cambridge. The
army of citizen volunteers comprised all
grades of men- Very few were uniformed.
It was almost Impossible for the sentinels
to distinguish general officers from pri
vates. Frequently officers, were stopped
at the outposts and held for identifica
tion until the arrival of the officer of tbe
day. Washington wore a ribbon of light
blhe. The thirteen stars of tbe now con
stellation were placed as tbe ciroumfer
ence of a circle, and on a blue field, in
accordance with the resolution already
given. That was tbe flag used at Bur
goyne’s surrender, October 17, 1777. By
a resolution, passed January 13, 1794, to
take effect May 1,1795, the flag was
changed to fifteen stars and fifteen
stripes. That was the flag of 1812. By
a resolution, passed April 4,1818, to take
effect on the following July 4th, the flag
was again changed to one of, thirteen
stripes and twenty stars; and a new star,
to represent a new State, ordered to be
pmutju' on cue uiue nem uu tlic 4tu .•<»
July following the admission of such
State. Tho flag now carries thirty
seven.
A SELL.
A Yankee arriving in Boston without
money dr friends was revolving In his
mind some plan whereby he could raise
the ‘chink,’ as he expressed It. Jonathan
■had never visited a city before in his life
He strolled into a shoemaker’s where an
advertisement, ‘Wanted, a First Class
Boot Maker,’ appeared on tho window,
and accosted the proprietor
‘Do you want a first class bool maker
here?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you pay 7’
‘That dependson yourcnpacity. Havo
you worked at custom work ?’
‘I reckon. You Jest try me, captain, I
haln’t skeefed a bit at tryln’.’
Tho proprietor gave his new hand a
bench,and materials and bade him make
a pair of ladies’ gaiters. Soon after he
left the store on business.
Jonathan made a shoe, but such a hor
rible affair, that, ashamed to show, it, he
hid it in the leather shavings ; just as he
completed tho second shoe tho proprietor
returned. He flew into a passion at be
holding the batched shoe.
‘You confounded rascal, so bad a shoo
as that has never been made in this es
tablishment I’ he exclaimed, .
‘Would you like to bet on that, stran
ger?’
‘Bet! Yes! I will bet ten dollars no
such work as that was ever done In this
store 1’
Jonathan walked ,to the shavings,
dragged forth his first shoo, and coaly
pocketed his ten dollars, and walked oil'.
A Remarkable Mineral.—The San
Francisco Republican Bays : Wo have
been presented with a specimen of a
mineral found in one of tho silver mines
in Nevada, which has puzzled all the
mlnerologists who have examined it. It
is precisely the color of amber, clear,
transparent, and as bright as glass. It is
formed in plates deposited in all sorts of
angles, between some of the spaces be
tween the plates are handsome white
crystals of Hour spar, and at ouch end are
black crystals of sellnlte, a very rich ore
of silver. Analysis of tho mineral shows
It to be composed of phosphate and chro
mate of load with a liberal per cent, o
silver. We have bad considerable ex
perienoe with minerals found on this
oonat and elsewhere, but have never met
with so beautiful orsingularcombination
of lead, ellver, chromium and phosphor
ous. The specimens may be seen ut our
editorial ropme.
AN Omo Teuton, found guilty of sel
ling liquor contrary to law, and sen
tenced to be imprisoned In the oosg-ty
jail for thirty days, protested as follows:
‘Challl Go to chall! Me go to oball! But
I can’t go! Dere’a my plzzlness—my
pakery. Who pakes mine pread when I
ben gone?’ The cesting his eyes about
the court room, appealingly, they Tell
upon the good-natured face of Jolly Chris
Ellwauer, a fellow-countryman, who has
no ‘plznesa,’ and forthwith a brilliant
idea occurred to him. Turning, to the
Court, he said, In sober earnest: ‘Oere’a
Chris Ellwanerl He's got nothing to do.
send him I’
YOL 59—NO. 2L
A Shilling's Worth.
A fellow wl»o had just come to town
by railroad, being a stranger, strolled
about for some time on the outskirts of
the town In search of a barber. He fi
nally discovered one, and requested the
tonsorial operation to takeoff a shil
ling’s worth of hair. The barber trim
med his locks very neatly, soaped tip
the remainder very handsomely, and
then combed and brushed him up till
his lioad looked’ as If It belonged jto
some other person than himself. ;
‘Are you done ?’ asked tho stranger,
as the barber took tho napkin from hi
neck. . -
‘Yes, sir,’ said tho barber) with a low
bow.
‘Are you certain you have taken off a
shilling’s worth ?’
Yea, sir; there’s a glass; you can look
for yourself.’
‘Well, said the stranger, 11 you think
you have taken a shilling's worth off, I
don’t know as I have change, so you
can take the hair for your trouble.’
On hearing this the barber made a
jump for the man ; whereupon the man
made a jump for tho door, which, not
being bolted, ho bolted himself.
Why Don’t You Respond,—Old
Judge W , of , in the Old
Dominion, is a character. He was fre
quently lawyer, legislator, judge and
politician among the old-time Whjgs,
of blessed memory; -but, alas, like them
his glory has departed, and, like many
others of his confrerers has "gone whore
the woodbine twinoth.” Notwith
standing the loss of property, and the
too free use of “applejack,” he main
tained the dignity of ex-Judge, dressed
neatly', carried a gold-headed cane, and
when he had taken mote than his usu
al allowance of the favorite beverage
he was very pious, at such times always
attending church, and silting near {the
staiid ns erectly as circumstances would
admit, and responding fervently.
On one occasion a Baptist brother
was holding forth with energy and
unction on, the evils of the times, and
in one of his flights exclaimed “show
mo drunkard.”
The Judge rising to his feet and;un
stoadlly balancing himself on his cane,
said very solemnly, “Here I am, sir,
here! am.”
The elder, though a good deal non
plussed by the unexpected response,
managed to go on with his discourse,
and soon warming to his work again,
called out—“ Show me a hypocrite!
Show me a hypocrite! Show mo a
hypocrite!”
Judge W again arose, and
reaching forward across a seat which
intervened, he touched Deacon D
on his shoulder with his cane, and said,
“Deacon p—■ why don’t you re
spond ? I did when they called on
me. 1 '
,* TeLEP 11 * Cmcvnv- I Jl, ft
mpst curious fact, taken altogether,
was told me by a cashier of the Bank of
England. You may have heard of it.
It may have boon in print. I am euro
it deserves to be. “Once upon a time,”
then, on a certain Saturday night the
folks at the bank could not make the
balance come right by just £lOO. This
is a serious matter in, that little estab
lishment—l do not mean the cash, but
the little mistake in arithmetic—for it
occasions a world ol scrutiny. An er
ror in balancing 1 has been known, 1 am
told, to keep a delegation of clerks
from each office at work sometimes
through the whole night. A hue and
cry was of course made after this £lOO
as if the old lady in Thread-needle
street would be in the Gazette for want
of it. Luckily on Sunday morning, a
clerk (in tho middle of the sermon, I
dare say, if tho truth were known,) felt
a suspicion of the. truth dart through
his mind quicker than any flash of 'the
telegraph itself. He told the chief
cashier on Monday morning that per
haps tho mistake might have occurred
in packing some boxes of specie for the
West Indies, which had been sent to
Southampton for shipment. The sug
gestion was immediately acted upon.—
Here was a race—lightening against
steam, with eight and forty hours’
start given. Instantly the wires asked
“Whether such a vessel had left tne
harbor?” “Just weighing anchor,”
was the answer. “Stop her!”, frantic
ally shouted tho electric telegraph.—
It was done, “Have you on deck cer
tain boxes marked so and so; weigh
them carefully.” They were weighed,
and one—tho delinquent—was found
by just one packet of a hundred sover
eigns heavier than it ought to be.—
“Lot her go,” said the mysterious tele
graph. Tho West Indian folks were
debited with just a £lOO more, and the
o rror was corrected without ever loot
in to the boxes, or delaying the voyage
by an hour. •
Short.—A lady who had received a
severe bite on her arm from a dog went
to Dr. Abernothy, but hearing of his
aversions to hear the statement ol par
ticulars, she merely uncovered the in
jured part and held it before him in si
lence. After examining it ho said in
an inquiring tone, “Scratch?” “Bite.”
said the lady, “Cat?” inquired the
the doctor. “ Dog,” replied the lady.
So delighted was the doctor with the
brevity and promptness of the lady’s
answers, that he exclaimed, “Zounds,
madam, you aro the most sensible
woman I hive met with in all my
life 1”
‘Please your lordship’s boiler and
glory,’ said Tom, 'I shot the hare by ac
cident.'
‘By accident?’ remarked lord Kllakld
derey,
'I was firing at a bush, and the baste
ran across my aim all of bis own accord.’
'The gamekeeper tells me a different
story,’ said his lordship,
'Ooh I don’t put your faith In what
that man says,’taid Tam, 'when he never
cares about spaklng the truth, anyhow.
He told ms t’other day yer lordship was
not as fit to fill the seat of Justice as a
jackass.’
‘Ay, ay,' exclaimed lord Kilsklderey.
‘lndeed I and what did you say ?’
'Please, your worship, 1 said your lord
ship was.’
lines oofibUtu
•cutoTB*-nntf Av,
liters’. Uollces,.,.
Ignees* and Slmi/or
rly Cards, not exoeedl
luuucetncnta'flvd ijenl
aotedfor by UieryoftO
ilness umlfe^ocJß^Nc>t
column fwlvet
Twolvol
For Exc<
For And
For Ansi
For Yew
For A.nn
loan contr/
For Boat
per line.
Double c
Ijmiiltnral. ..
Antiquity of the DaTOtt BreeiFof Cattle in
' 'the United 1 Stated
The Devons are supposed; foie one of
the oldest.breeds of,the pat
tlo known, and bttvobeou .fampustover
the whole -country as fine .-working
oxen.
BEEP CATTLE AND, :DAIRV--;
The old colonists of
people always famous 1 fortheir fine cat-,
tie. They worked oxer); .largely, on
their rough and atony land, %ntl- Jf loso
colonies and States, for nearly-t^y,9,cen
turies, were the chief cheese producing
localities of the country. .jho,! l ‘red
cattle” of Now England were-.always
claimed by their advocates as a dis
tinct breed, with sufficient evidence
that they were entitled to such merit;
their' superior qualities showing-that
good husbandry had developed.them
to a higher degree than that .attained
by others of the same original stock,
which had been neglectedii or -in the
breading and rearing of; which: .less dis
criminating care had been used.. :
These cattle owe all.’supposed,, to be
descended from So'mo.originalnPevons
brought over byltli# jflrsf.eeltlers to
America.-. -, 1 1
Some of the colonists . were inoro
pains-taking than others,.hayjng a fan
cy for shape, color; . size- and -, dairy
qualities, and hence brcd in their.stoclc
with care, to perpetuate,their desirable
qualities through’ their descendants.
Bred through every possible.degree
of intermixture from;MalnpitO|'ucorgia,
and far into the the
extending settlements progressed.—
The Devon. cattl? havd ,ruhglti. ( better
in some
according to the cure and keeping re
ceived, and
left their impress ori'tlid.st'ock’brhlini.st
every county in,lp,o,iynipn I>n (j, K ,
As the colonists increased im prosper
ity, history gives some vague: informa
tion, and local tWiditloii
accounts, qf individual lmppf,tpt.ious In
the last ce’nTury, of'lifevqd 1 cattle, for
the purpose of 'lmproving difrddmoslio
stock. " L
■But these ivero udtprdsarVod’ld'thelr
purity, and after some trial
they, wore lost imtho’gtad^ 1 bliipd of
their descendants, and dirty reedgrtized
as an 1 occasional ricseiijbldHfce m tho
original blood which;wOfdd ‘''crop'out”
in a subsequent generation! ”
More recently .numerous rthViinpor
tatlons have been mado and the herds
kept pure, and at present alraost’overy
State can boast of the pbssfeststoh of
several herds of pUroDeyond. Wd have.
made several Importations for dlifaelves
and friends, which have invariably
given satisfaction both as to beef and
dairy stocirana niou ni woiKtus oxen.
Fin- working cattle, we consider that
the Devons have no superiors and few
equals among all the breeds jwp‘ have
ever owned.—American Slock Journal.
Fattening Hogs.—A. writer ip. the
J’rairie Farmer gives his experience as
follows; . .
“I was just beginning to farm, and
I was desirous of knowing the best
way of fattening hogs, I determined to
try tho different plans, also how much
pork'a barrel of corn would make. I
m nde a floored pen and covered it in.
Weighed three hogs and nut them in
tiro pen. I also weighed three of the
same size and put them in a dry lot
average weight, one hundred and sev
ty-flvo pounds. I fed six barrels of
corn to tho six hogs. They .were' forty
days eating the corn, wltn -'{llenlir of
salt and water. Their averSgeifcain
Was seventy-five pounds.' The hogs In
the lot gained the most: - OnaThsit was
fattened in tho lot gained eighty-eight
pounds. One in tho pen
pounds; the other -four wore I 'not so
thrifty.'. These hogs! ■ four
teen months old when siaugiilpre^.—,
I put them up , the 25th ; of, October.
There was a good deal, of !slqqt and
snow during the month of November,
which gave the hogs in theipsomn ad
vantage they would riot; have.(had if.
the weather was favorable;.! they (ate
tho same quantlty of Brain iri l thri-’'|iino
time. It also showed !that ptie: ; t)lljhel
of corn will make flfteeu pounds o*
pork. - ’ n >ll
To Clean*
ings Take a; piece yiii wood :'p( nthe
shape of a Hcrtibbingbf UHh, 7 nail a-han
dle on the a
piece of dried sheepskin .with
upon it, or flax or , cot
ton-flannel of several
answer very well. ,Pip : tWb -i brush on
the upper parlsof the TOora
teetlng the carpet ,wifH ; tiii*ltlUga or
newspaper, tho .whitln^-^u^t,lnhaled to
sweep off a carpet. The whifipg,.tliat
remains on tho wall is eitsljy.bfpshed
off witii a soft cloth attached to a stick.
It is very effectual if tho rOem U nol
damp and the whiting Is dry. : '
*. itj m<■ .1
To Wash Straw Matting.—Take
1 a pail half-full of hot water, aiperfeotly
clean long handled moji, ami ad lab of
dry unsifted Indian meal.,, Sweqp,')iU
dust off the matting, then scatter,the
dry meal evenlyover the room.' Wring
the mop so dry that it wili'not'drlp’at
all,and rub hard, one bread tlino,
always lengthwise of. the straw(and use
clean water for each breadth. When
the matting Is dry, the meal ean‘ ! ba
swept off easily; K should alwaya ; bo
dona on a day. .
Boots.— lf these are stored ,fu a cel
lar under the dwelling l rooms,. hdva
them covered with dry earth, 'which
will prevent disagreeable and un
heaUy odors from coming into the
apartments.
An Alabama editor has found a new
picminm to offer subscribers. He will
name his now boy for the patron who
pays for his subscription’ the longaat
tlmo iu advance,
*«>UO4Mt.. 0» oW
3 c 0
iflWin aoo
ingalx ltne«,-7 «
ttpernn»tm
ticcii^c*D* '
.. .1
iU extra.