T` r~ ~ ~~ ; l 1~~ ~ NFL e~ ~ ~~1 ~,
SAMUEL WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor
VOLUME XXVII, NUMBER 44.]
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
Office in Northern Central Railroad Corn
alany's Building, north-west corner Front and
c . 4 l 7alnut streets.
"Terms of Subscription.
Copy per annum, if
f notl ta paid
withinidinadvnee l , hree
.mottos from commencement of the year, 200
-9. 47.74333-tss► ra, C"cyrry..
'No subscription received for a less time than six
months; and no paper will be discontinued until all
•arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the pub
lisher.
117-ilioncy maybe remitted by mail at the publish
era risk.
Bates of Advertising.
1 square (6 lines] one week,
three weeks,
It each subsequent insertion, 10
1 " Ll 2 lines] one week, 50
three weeks, / OD
41/ each subsequent insertion, 25
Larger wise rtigements in proportion.
.1t liberal discount will be made to quarterly, half
yearly or yeaayadverusers,who are strictly confined
to their business.
DR. S. ARMOR,
HOMIEOPATIIIC PHYSICIAN. Office and
Rc•idence in Locust Street, opposite the Post
Office; OFFICE PRIVATE.
Columbia, April 25, 1857. em
Drs. John Br. Rohrer,
HE associated in the Practice of Medi-
Coll uml.ia, April let, 185G-tf
DR. G. W. MIFFLIN,
TIENTIST, Locust street, near the Post OP
.11 fice. Columina, Pa.
Columbia. May 3, 1856.
11. M. NORTH,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.
Columbia, Pa.
carnally made, in Lancaster and York
.Counties.
Columbia, !tray 4,1950.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
iaclurri.bilta., Pct.
Columbia, September 6, lebt.i-tf
GEORGE J. SMITH,
WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake
Baker.—Constantly on and a variety of Cakes,
too numerous to mention; Crackers; Soda, 'A Scroll,
and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every description,
LOCUST STRKET,
Feb. 2,'30. Between the Bank and Franklin House.
B. P. APPOLD dz. CO.,
":1747.:7;
GENERAL FORWARDING AND COMMIS
SION MERCHANTS, z ia
RECEIVERS OF
COA LAND PRODUCE,
And Deliverers on any point on the Columbia and
Philadelphia Railroad. to York and
Baltimore and to Pittsburg;
DEALERS IN COAL, 'FLOUR AND GRAIN,
WHISKY AND BACON, have received a
large lot of Monongahela Rectified Whiskey, from
Pittsburg, of which they will keep a supply constantly
on hand. nt low prices. Nos.l, 2 and 0 Canal Basin.
Columbia, January 27,18.59.
0 ATS FOR SALE
'PT THE BUSHEL, or ill larger qnantilics,
_LP at Nos. 1,2 & 6 Canal Basin.
B. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, January 26, 1856
Just Received,
: ,r(1 BUS. PRIME GROUND
Retail NUTS, atctionery J. F.
TJV SMITH'S Wholesale ond Confe
establishment. Front street, two door. below the
Washington Rouse, Columbia. [October 25. 1856.
Just Received,
20 MIDS. SHOULDERS, 15 TIERCEA HAMS.—
For sale by B F. API'OLD & CO..
Nos. 1, 2 and 0, Canal Basin.
Columbia, October 18,1850.
Rapp's Gold Pens.
CONSTANTLY on hand, an assortment or
these celebrated PENS. Persons in wont of a
good article are invited to call and examine t hem
Columbia, June 30, 1855. .1011 N FELIX.
Just Received,
ALARGE LOT of Children's Carriages,
Gigs, Rocking Horses, Wheelbarrows, Prepel
tern, Nursery Swings, kc. GEORGE, .1. SMITH.
April 19,1656. Locust street.
CIHNIA and other Fancy Articles. to numerous to
mention, for sale by G. J. SIN.Fril, Locust street,
between the Bank and Franklin House.
Columbia, April 19, 1856.
-HE undersigned have been appointed
agent. for the sale of Cook h Co'. C.: UTTA PER
CIA PENS, warranted not to corrode; lit a lastmity
They almost equal the quill,
SAILOR & MeDONA I,D.
Columbia Jan. 17,1857
Just Received,
A BEAUTIFUL lot of Lamp Shades, 112:
Vic
tonne, Volcano. Drum. Butter Fly. Red Ro•ee,
and the new French Fruit Shade, which can be seen
an the window of the Golden Mortar llrug store.
November 29,1856.
A LARGE lot of Shaker Corn, from the
A
Shaker settlement in New Yolk. Jost received,
at H. S V YDA N .14 SON'S
Columbia, Dec. 20, 18.74,
HAIR DYE'S. Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and
Egyptian hair dyes, svarrunted to color the hair
any desired shade, without injury to the skin. For sale
by It. WILLIAMS,
May 10, Front st., Columbia, Pa.
"PARR St THOMPSON'S justly celebrated Com.
x mere's' and other Gold Peite--t he beet in the
*market—ln/a received. P. SHREINER.
Columbia, April 2.9,
EXTRA FAMILY FLOUR, by the barrel, for
sale by 11. F. A I'POLD & CO,
Columbia, June 7. Nos. 1,2 and CI Canal Baisin.
WHY should any person do without a Clock,
when they can be had for 51,64) and upward.
at S II REIN EH'S?
Columbia, April 28,1855
• iPONEFIER, or Concentrated lye, for uta
k, king Soap. 1 lb. it sufficient for one barrel of
Son Soap, or 11b.for 9 Ilts. Hard Soap. Full direc
tiona will be given at the Counter for leaking Soft,
jnerd and Fancy Soaps. For sale by
It. WILLIAMS.
Columbia, March 1I , 18u'.5.
URGE lot of Baskets, Brooms, Buckets
Brushes. &c., for sale by H. SUYDA k SON.
WBllißit'S Instantaneous Yeast or Baking
Powder. for sale by H. SUYDAM & SON.
O DOZEN BROOAIS, 10 BOXES . cur. Est. For
sale cheap, by 13. F. APPOLD S. CO.
Columbia, October tali, 18.5 a.
A SUPERIOR article of PAINT OIL. for •nla by
R. WILLIASIS.
Front Si reet, Columbia, Pa.
May 10, 11FA
TUST RECEIVED, a large and veell relented vn rim y
eof Brothee, eoneisting In part of Shoe. flair, Cloth,
Crarab,liail, Rat and Teeth Brushes, and for tot le by
R. WILUA MS.
Prom street Colombia. Pa.
March 22,'56
ASUPERIOR articles of TONIC SPICE HITTER.S.
suitable for Hotel Beepers. for sale by
- K. WILLIAMS,
Front street. Cotomtust.
May 10,1856
WREN! ETHEREAL OIL, always on band. and (o
,22 1.21 e by R. WILLIAMS.
May 10,1806. Front Street, Colombia, Pa.
JEST received, FRESH Cs ItIPHENE, and for rale
by It. Wlll.l.lAltlit.
Nay 10,184. Z. Freui Street, Culusobia, re.
i 000 pitS. New City Cared Name and Shoulders,
just reerved and for sale by
Ireb 24,1657. 11. SUYDAM A: SON.
teittry.
By the Passaic.
Where the river seeks the cover
Of the trees whose boughs hang over,
And the slopes ere greets with clover,
In the quiet month of May;
Where the eddies meet and mingle,
Babbling o'er the stony shingle,
There I angle,
There I dangle
All the day.
lain
'tis sweet to feel the plastic
Rod, with top and butt elastic.
Shoot the lice In coils fantastic,
EMI
Till, like thistle-down the fly
Lightly drops upon the water,
Thirsting for ifie finny slaughter,
As I angle,
And I dangle
Mute and sly,
Then I gently shake the tackle
Till the litirbecl and fatal hackle
In its tempered jaws shall shackle
That old trout, so wary grown.
Now I strike him! joy ecstatic!
Scouring runs! leaps acrobatic!
So I angle,
So I dangle
All alone.
Then when grows the sun too fervent,
And the lurking trout observant,
Say to me, "Your humble servant!
Now we see your treacherous hook'.
Aloud, as it by hazard wholly,
'Saunters down the pathway slowly;
While angle,
There to dangle
With her book.
Then somehow the rod reposer,
And no page the book uncloses•
But I read the leaves of roses
That unfold upon her cheek;
And her small hand, white and tender,
Rests in mine. Ali! who can send her
Thus to dangle
IVhde I angle?
Cupid speak!
gthrtiinto,
MARY MOORE
CHAPTER I
All my life long I had known Mary Moore.
All my life I loved her.
Our mothers were old playmates and first
cousins. My first recollection is of a boy,
in a red frock and morocco shoes, rocking a
cradle in which reposed a sunny-haired,
blue-eyed baby, not quite a year old. That
boy was myself—Harry Church; that blue
eyed baby was Mary Moore. , -
Later still, I see myself at the little school
house, drawing my little chaise up to the
door, that Mary might ride home. Many a
beating have I gained on such occasions,
for other boys besides me liked her, and she,
I fear, wns something of a flirt, even in her
pinafores. How elegantly she came trip
ping down the steps when I called her
name! how sweetly her blue eyes looked up
at me! how gayly rang out her merry laugh!
That fairy laugh! No one but Mary could
ever bring her heart so soon to her lips! I
followed that laugh from my days of child
hood till I grew an awkward, blushing
youth—l followed it through the heated
noon of manhood—and now, when the frosts
of age aro silvering my hair, and many
children climb my knee and call me "father,"
I find that the memories of youth are strong,
and that, even in gray hairs, I am follow
ing its music still.
When I was fifteen the first great sorrow
of my life came upon my heart. I was sent
to school, and was obliged to part with
Mary. We were not to see each other for
three long years! This, to me, was like a
sentence of death, for Mary was like life
itself to me.
But hearts are tough things after all.
I left college in all the flush and vigor of
my nineteenth year. I was no longer awk
ward and embarrassed. I had grown into
a tall, slender stripling, with a very good
opinion of myself, both in general and par
ticular. If I thought of Mary Moore, it
was to intagine how I would dazzle and be
wilder her with my good looks and wonder
ful attainments—never thinking that she
might dazzle and bewilder me still more.—
I was a coxcomb, I know; but as youth and
goOd looks have fled, I trust I may be be
lieved when "say. that self-conceit has left
me also.
An advantageous proposal was made to
me at this time, and, accepting it, I gave up
all idea of a profession, and I prepared to
go to the Indies. Is my hurried visit home
of two days I saw nothing of Mary Moore.
She had gone to a boarding school at some
distance, and was not expected home till
the following May. I uttered one sigh to
the memory of my little blue-eyed playmate,
and then called myself "a man again."
"In a year," I thought, as the vehicle
whirled away from our door—"in a year,
or thiee years at the very most, I will
return, and if Mary is as pretty as she used
to be, why then, perhaps, I may marry her."
And thus I nettled the future of a young
lady whom I had not seen for four years.—
I never thought of the possibility of her re
fusing me—never dreamed that she would
not condescend to accept my offer.
But now r know that, had Mary met me
then, she would have despised Inc. Per
haps, in the scented and affected student she
might have found plenty of sport; but as
for loving me, or feeling the slightest inter
est in me, I should bare perhaps found I
was mistaken.
India was my salvation, not Merely be
cause of my success, but because my lab*.
rious industry bad counteracted the evil in
my nature, and made be a better man.—
When at the end of three years I prepared
to return, I said nothing of the reformation
in myself which I knew had taken place.
"They loved me as I was," I murmured
to myself, and they shall find out for them
selves whether I am better worth loving
than formerly."
I packed up many a token, from that
land of romance and gold, for the friends I
hoped to meet. The gift for Mary Moore
I selected with a beating heart; it was a
ring of rough, virgin gold, with my name
and hers engraved inside—that was all, and
yet the sight of the little toy strangely
thrilled me as I balanced it upon the tip of
my finger.
To the eyes of others it was but a small
plain* circlet, suggesting thoughts, perhaps,
by its elegance, of the beautiful white hand
that was to wear it. But to me—how much
was embodied there! A loving smile on a
beautiful face—low words of welcome—a
future home, and a sweet smiling face—a
group of merry children to climb my knee—
all these delights were hidden within that
little ring of gold!
Tall, bearded and sun-bronzed, I knocked
at the door of my father's house. The lights
in the parlor windows and the hum of con
versation and cheerful laughter showed me
that company were assembled there. I
hoped my sister Lizzie would come to the
door, and that I might greet my family
when no strange eye was looking curious
ly on.
But no—a servant answered my summons.
They were too merry in the parlor to heed
the long absent one when he asked for ad
mittance. A bitter thought like this was
passing through my mind, as I heard the
sounds from the parlor, and saw the half
suppressed smile upon the servant's face.
[lturpers' Monthly
I hesitated for a moment before I made
myself known or asked after the family.—
And while I stood silent, a strange appari
tion grew up before me. From behind the
servant peered out a small golden head—a
tiny, delicate form followed, and a sweet,
childish face, with blue eyes, wag lifted up
to mine—so like to those of one who had
brightened my boyhood, that I started back
with a sudden feeling of pain.
"What is your name, my little one?" I
asked, while the wondering servant held the
door.
She lifted up her hand as if to shade her
eyes (I had seen that very attitude in ano
ther, in my boyhood, many and many a
time,) and answered in a sweet, bird-like
`•oice:
"Mnry Moore."
"And what else?" I asked quickly
"Mary Moore Chester," lisped the child
My heart sank down like lead. Here was
an end to all the bright dreams and hopes
of my youth and manhood. Frank Chester,
my boyish rival, who had often tried and
tried in vain, to usurp my place beside the
girl, had succeeded at last, and had won her
away from me! This was his child—his
child and Mary's!
I sank, body and soul, beneath this blow.
And, hiding my face in my hands, I leaned
against the door, while my heart wept tears
of blood. The little one gazed at me, grieved
and amazed, and put up her pretty lip as if
about to cry, while the perplexed servant
stepped to the parlor door and called my
sister out, to see who it could be that con
ducted himself so strangely.
I heard a light step, and a pleasant voice
saying:
"Did you wish to see my father, sir?"
I looked up. There stood a pretty, sweet
faced maiden of twenty, not much changed
from the dear little sister I had loved so
well. I looked at her for a moment, and
then, stilling the tumult of my heart by a
mighty effort, I opened my arms and said:
"Lizzie, don't you know me?"
"Harry! Oh, my brother Harry!" she
cried, and threw herself upon my breast.—
She wept as if her heart would break.
I could not weep. I drew her gently into
the lighted parlor, and stood with her before
them all.
There was a rush and cry of joy, and then
my father and mother sprang towards me,
and welcomed me' home with heartfelt tears!
Oh, strange and passing sweet is such a
greeting to the way-worn wanderer! And
as I held my dear old mother to my heart,
and grasped my father's hand, while Lizzie
still clung beside me, I felt that all was not
yet lost, and though another had secured
life's choicest blessing, many a joy remain
ed for me in this dear sanctuary of a home.
There were four other inmates of the room
who had risen on my sudden entrance.—
One was the blue-eyed child whom I had
already seen, and who now stood beside
Frank Chester, clinging to his band. Near
by stood Lizzie Moore, Mary's eldest sister,
and in a distant corner, to which she had
hurriedly retreated when my name was
spoken, stood a tall and slender figure, half
hidden by the heavy window curtains that
fell to the floor.
When the first rapturous greeting was
over, Lizzie led me forward with a timid
grace, and Frank Chester grasped my hand.
"Welcome home, my boy!" he said with
the loud cheerful tones I remembered so
well. "You have changed do that I should
never have known you; but no matter for
that—your heart is in the right place, I
know."
"How can you say he is changed?" said
my mother, gently. "To be sure, ho looks
older, and grater, and more like a man,
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 9, 1857.
CIIMMING
than when he went away—but his eyes
and smile are the same as ever. It is that
heavy beard that changes him. He is my
boy still."
"Ay, mother," I answered, sadly; "I am
your boy still."
Heaven help me! At that moment I felt
like a boy, and it would have been a bless
ed relief to have wept upon her bosom, as I
had done in my infancy. But I kept down
the beating of my heart and the tremor of
my lip, and answered quietly, as I looked
in his full, handsome face:
"You have changed, too, Frank, but
think for the better."
"Oh, yes—thank you for that compli
ment," he answered, with a hearty laugh.
"My wife tells me I grow handsomer every
day."
"llis wife—could I hear that name and
keep silence still?
"And have you seen my little girl?" he
added, lifting the infant in his arms, and
kissing her crimson cheek. "I tell yim,
Barry, there is not such another in the
world. Don't you think she looks very
much as her mother used?"
"Very mudt!" I faltered.
"Hallo!" cried Frank, with a suddenness
that made me start violently, "I have for
gotten to introduce you to my wife; I be
lieve you and she used to be playmates in
your young days—eh, Harry?" and he slap
ped me on the back. "For the sake of old
times, and because you were not here at
the wedding, I'll give you leave to kiss her
once—but mind, old fellow, you are never
to repeat the ceremony. Come—here she
is, and I for once want to see how you will
manage those ferocious moustaches of yours
in the operation."
He pushed Lizzie, laughing and blushing,
towards me! A gleam of light and hope,
almost too dazzling to bear, came over me,
and I cried out before I thought:
"Not Mary!"
It must have betrayed my secret to every
one in the room. But nothing was said—
even Frank, in general so obtuse, was this
time silent. I kissed the fair cheek of the
young wife, and hurried to the silent figure
looking out from the window.
"Mary—Mary Moore," I said, in a low,
eager voice, "have you no welcome to give
to the wanderer?"
She turned and laid her hand in mine,
and murmured hurriedly:
"I am glad to see you here, Harry."
Simple words—and yet bow blest they
made me! I would not hare yielded up
that moment for an emperor's crown! For
there was the happy home group, and the
dear home fireside, and there sweet Mary
Moore! The eyes I had dreamed of by day
and night were falling before the ardent
gaze of mine; and the sweet face I had so
longed and prayed to see was there before
me! I never knew the meaning of happi
ness till that moment came!
Many years have passed since that happy
night, and the hair that was dark and glossy
then is fast turning gray! lam growing to
be an old man, and can look back to a long
and happy, and I hope, a well-spent
And yet, sweet as it has been, I would not
recall a single day, for the love that made
my manhood so bright shines also. upon my
white hairs.
An old man! Can this be so? At heart
lam as young as ever. And Mary, with
tier bright hair parted smoothly from a brow
that has a slight furrow upon it, is still the
Mary of my early days. To me she can
never grow old, nor change. The heart
that held her in infancy, and sheltered her
in the flush and beauty of womanhood, can
never east her out till life shall cease to
warm it. Nor even then—for love still
lives above.
AUNT HANNAH TRIPE IN COURT.
Did you ever go a courtin', niece, or to
court? One's about the same as Vother.—
There :tint but presh us little to choose atween
the two, any-how you can fix it. In one
you have to be asked a powerful sight of
impudent questions, and in Venter you have
to nsk the questionlyourself. So that. nint
much difference in 'eat, and if you try both
you'll say just as I do.
About the matter of two years ago, John
, Smith's cow broke into Sam Jones' field and
marched just as straight as her four legs
could carry her right into his turnip patch,
and eat two turnips, tops and all. Jones
he seed her, and sot his yellow dog on her,
and the dog (lie's a savage critter,) bit a
hole through the skin of her hind leg, and
got his brains kicked out to pay for it. So
fur Jones and Smith were square, but there
was them turnips—Jones vowed he would
n't plant turnips for a well able-bodied
man's cow to cat, and sed if Smith didn't
walk rite over to his house and settle the
damage, he'd prosecute him with a writ.—
Smith is a dare devil sort of a fellow. and
he told him to cum on, he warn't afeard on
him.
As it happened I was out a-goin to the
Confprens meetin' when the cow jumped in
to the field, so I seed the hull performe.ns.
Jones he seed me, and knowed that I seed
the scrape, so he jilt gin me a little kind of
strip of blue paper, with sunithin writ orful
scrawlin' on it. Cicero read it, and 'aired
enough to kill himself.
"What upon airth is it, Cicero?" says I.
"It aint a luv letter, is it?" sez I, for old
Deacon Dame (who had lost his wife a year
afore,) looked (trial sharp at me the day
afore, to afternoon meetin'.
"No it aint a love letter," sez he, "but a
courtin' letter from Sam Jones."
"A eourtin' letter from Sam Jones?" sez
"why Sam Jones is a married man with
ten children and a baby! What does he
want of more family, I wonder?"
"He don't want any more family as I
knows of," sez Cicero, "but he wants you to
go to the Falls next Thursday to court, and
tell what you seed John Smith's cow do in
his turnip field."
"0, my grashus massy!" sea I, half skeer
ed at the idea of going to court. "I can't
go, it's my ironing day, and I ought to make
my apple sass that day too. I can't go—
you just go over and tell 'labor Jones that
I'd be glad to oblege him, but I can't with
out a deal of onconvenicnce."
"But, marm," says Cicero, fuldin' up the
paper "this is a sheriff's or lawyer's sum
mons, writ out of a big law book, and you'll
either have to go or be kerried to jail.—
That's the way they sarve folks who du not
mind the law."
"To jail, Hannah Tripe, to jail?" sez I,
as indignant as I could be, "I'll lam 'em
better works than to kerry an innosent wo
man to jail. I'll lay the broomstick over
them if they come near me."
"It's no use talkie', rearm," says Cicero.
"You'll have to go, and you might as well
be consigned to the levees of unalterable
fate! The laws of your country must be
minded! The gellurious country that the
Pilgrim fathers fit and bled for! You must
respect her commands!" And Cicero riz
hissclf, and sot up his eyes and hands, jest
as I've seen Parson Scrapewell do when he
is giving out the malediction.
Well, I thought the matter over, and con
cluded I'd better go to court; so I ironed on
Tuesday, and made my apple sass Wednes
day. Thursday, nabor Jones come over
airly, and took me in his smart new buggy
to kerry me to the Falls. We had a sight
of talk about the cow and the dog and the
turnips while we was again, and by the time
we'd drove up to the court room, Jones had
made up his mind that he'd beat Smith for
earth'.
I went into the great square room a lee
tle frustrated, I'll own; fur there was the
lightest of folks there, blue eyes, gray eyes,
green eyes, black eyes, all fixt on Jones and
I as we marched up in front of the judge.
"Good morning, Squire," sez I, bowing to
a little old dried up nosed feller with a yal
ler wig on. "I hope your honorable health
is good!"
"Keep quiet, Mrs. Tripe," sez nabor Junes
nudging my elbow, "it aint proper to speak
to his honor, without he asks you ques-
EMS
They took me to a little platform built up
on one side of the room, and sed I might
set down if I was a mind to—so down I sot,
My goodness! what funny actions they did
have! Talkin' all sorts of langwidges that
nobody on airth could onderstand, all mixed
up with `constitutions,' revised statutes,'
'civil laws,' and nobody knows what; I de.
Clare I actilly thought one spell, that I'd
been kerried clean back ages and ages, to
the time when folks tAlked in Hebrew and
whispered in Paddy.
Byme-by, arter I'd begun to feel hungry
and want my dinner, a tall, scraggy man,
with green specs on his nose, rose up and
sez he:
"Mrs. Hannah Tripe, stand tip in your
seat." -
"Lord!" sez I, "you don't want me to
climb up in a cheer afore all these folks, do
ye?"
"We want none of your low jests here,"
sez lie, coloring up until he looked like
a red flannel night gown; "rise up and
stand!"
"0, yes," scz I, "I'd as lief „it up as not
—for my back begins to ache, I've set so
long." So I listed up, and looked round
on the ordinence.
"Raise your right hand," sez the tall man
solemnly.
"If you've no objection," sez I, "I'd rath
er histe up my left one; my right glove has
gat a starin big hole right on the palm of
it!•,
Everybody sot up s great IMF at this, and
the tail man turned into a red night-gown
Mil
"Order, order, gentlemen!" sez a pert
little felloer with a buckle on his hat and a
big bile on the end of his nose. "You will
be committed for contempt," sez he, speak
ing low to me.
"Thank you sir, for tellin' me," sez I"but
you're a little mistook, I !mint got the
contempt, nor never had it, that I know of,
but I have had the influenzy bad ennif, so
bad—"
Mr. Attorney, examine that woman with
despatch—the court waits:" sez the judge,
tryin' hard to keep on his long face.
"Raise your right hand and swear—"
•' I never swear--it's - wicked!" SC7.
giving him a look of disgust. "I, a member
of the church, swear? The good Lord for
bid!"
"Never mind, my good woman," sez the
judge, "say yes to what the gentleman will
read to you from the book—it will he suffi
cient, amply so."
The tall man then took up the big book
and read out loud ever so long a lot of gib
berish that I didn't understand then, and
can't remember now, but it was to the fact
that I should tell everything I knowed and
swear it was all true.
'Dear taker scz 1, 'if I've got to tell every
thing T know, it'll take me a month or two,
050 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE
and I should like to have some dinner afore
I begin.'
'You're not to tell anything except the
circumstances connected with the turnip
field of my client,' sez the tall man, pulling
away at his whiskers.
'I don't know anything about yer client,'
sez I. 'I never seed it, to the best of my
knowledge; it was Smith's cow that got in
the turnip patch.'
'Did you see the defendant's cow make
forcible entrance into the plaintiff's enclosed
field?' sez he, lookin' as grand as the king
of Independent Tartary.
'I seed John Smith's cow jump into Sam
.Tones' turnip yard, if that's what you want
to git at,' sez I.
"Ile same thing, marm, the tame thing
only in different langwidge. Where were
you standing at the time of the occurrence?'
'ln the yard, on my feet.'
`What color Wag the animal that you SIM
vault over the fence? Could you identify
her from all others of the species?'
'She was a brindle—a thread of red hair
and one of black,' sez i.
'Describe her more fully,' sez
'She had a head, two horns, two eyes,
one mouth, four legs and a tail,' sez I.
'Did you see her with your own eyes-de
vour two turnips in plaintiff's field?'
'With my own eyes? Tu he sure! Whose
eyes did you think I'd borrowed?'
'Could you swear it was turnips that you
saw her masticating?'
'I ain't gwine to swear anything about it.
She was eating sumthin white, but it might
have been white rocks, for anything that I
know.'
Mfrs. Tripe, how old are you?'
'None of your business!' sez I, gettiu' out
and out mad. 'I am old enough fur you,
any way, and you look as if you were man
ufactured iu the year one, and edicated in
the ark!'
The lawyer scratched his nose, and Lek
ed like red flannel again, fin• all the folks
in the room laughed euuff to split them
selves.
'llo on with the examination,' scz the
judge.
'Du you know my client personally?' sec
the lawyer, pinting at Mr. Junes with his
long rakish finger.
should think I ought to,' sez I, laflin.
'He courted ray cuzin Tidy Brown, nor'n
two years, and got the mitten in the end.'
There was a great lag' again, and callin'
out for 'order, order,' and that only made
'em lag' the louder. Just at this minute up
jumped a little humbly, red•ftced man, that
had been talking with John Smith ever so
long in a whisper, and stickin' his thumbs
into the arm-holes of his vest, sez
me to ask the witness a few questions, your
honor.'
The judge bowed, and the red-faced mnn
went on—
'Mrs. Tripe, you say you know Mr. Jones
—do you know my client, Mr. John Smith?'
'Yes, sez I.'
'What do you know of him?' SCz he.—
'State the goad you know of (dm, if you
please.'
'I don't know any good of him,' scz I.—
'lle robbed my hen-roost last spring, of the
best pullet and the hansumest erower I had
in the flock. That's most I know of him
any way.'
'The witness may sit down, sez the, udge,
takin' out his handkerchief and pretendin'
to blow his nose, though it's my opinion he
mt= trying to keep from
A. madder feller than John Smith you
never seed; but they wouldn't let him say n
word, and I was artily afeerd he'd bust, he
wa: so full of hilin' hot rage agin me.
There 'VMS a great deal of talkin' and dis
putin' in the room—and ;trier a while the
jury scd they'd decided the case.
One of the jurymen stood up. and sea he
thought Smith's cow hadn't no business to
jump into Jones' yard and devour two of
his turnips.
Another of em got up and Fed he knowed
the cow hadn't ort to jump in, but the tur
nips had no business to look so temptin',
and for his part he thought the turnips was
full as much to blame as she was.
Another of em sed that Jones ought to
pay Smith for his cow's killing his dog, for
the dog he sed was the ugliest critter upon
the face of the airth.
The judge sent 'ern all off out inter ano
ther room to make up their minds what
they'd do—and we set as still as mice,
main' for 'cm to emu back. Ilyme-hy the
door opened and in they cum—twebe of
'em, two and two, and sot down.
'Gentlemen of the jury,' sez the judge,
'have you arrived at a conclusion?'
All of 'em bowed their heads solumly.—
'Who shall speak for you,' see he, lookin'
indignitied as an owl on a holler tree.
'Our foreman, Mr. Antipedes,' see they,
with one voice.
Mr. Antipodes riz up, slow and steady,
just ns you've seen 'cm List up rocks with
a derrick, as if he was afeerd if he'd sidle
over a mite he should sprawl hisself On
the floor. Antipodes is an orful grate man,
and his head is the biggest part of him—
rather top heavy, ye see.
'May it please yer honor, and the court
at large,' sex he, rolling his eyes round and
round, till they looked like two great dirty
snow balls slidin' down a bill, `we have de
cided that John Smith give to Mr. Samuel
Jones the sum of two turnips, as the amount
of damage done the latter by the excursion
of the former's cow into tbe plaintif's prim
isesr
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,378.
There was a considerable lafrin' in court
arter this, and one feller hollered 'order!' so
much and so loud that they sed it was a
fact he couldn't speak out loud for a week
aterwards
Mr. Jones give me fifty cents for my ser
vices and brought me home safe.
Smith paid him the two turnips, and they
(not the turnips) are as good a friends as
elev. Since that are scrape, if ever I see a
cow that 10, - ,ks as if she wa:3 agwine to jump
in any where, I jict tutu my buck t) her
and say—'Go ahead!'
"rtf29..A t a missionary meeting among the
negroes in the West Indies, it is related, these
resolutions were adopted:
L We will all give something,.
2. We will each glee according to our
3. We will give willingly.
At the close of the meeting, a leading
negro touk his seat at the table, with pen
and ink, to put down what each came to
contribute. Many advanced to the table,
and handed in their contributions. Kane
more and some less. Among the contribu
tors was au old negro, who was Tery rich,
almost as rich as the rest united. lie threw
down a small silver toin,
"Take flat back again," said the chairman
~f the meeting. "hat may be 'corditf to
de fust resolution, but not 'cordin' to de
second."
The rich old man accordingly took it up,
and hobbled back to his seat much enraged.
One after another came forward, and all
giving more than himself, he was ashamed,
and again threw a piece of money on the
table, saying
"Dar—take ilat!"
It was a valuable piece of gold, but it
was given so ill-temperedly that the chair
man answered:
"No, sub, dat won't do! Dat may be
'cordin' to de rust and second resolution.,
but not 'cordin' to de third."
Ile was obliged to take it up again. Still
angry with himself he at a long time, until
nearly all were gone, and then advanced to
the table, and with a smile on his counte
nance, laid a large sum of money on the
table.
"Dar, now, berry well," said the presiding
negro, "dat will do; dat am 'cordin' to ull
de resolutions."
Sold
We yesterday heard of a practical joke
perpetrated, which in the dullness of the
times, if not for its intrinsic excellence, is
worthy of being recorded. The parties to
this transaction we shall designate as Ben
and Tom.
It is proper, for a better understanding of
the joke to intimate that the former specu
lates to a modest degree in bivalves—and
right good bivalves they are too—and it is
not necessary to say what the latter does,
farther than that he is fast as the locomoti‘e
and pet train which lie swears by, and is,
withal, a great wag.
The story runs that Ben had taken a three
dollar counterfeit bill, and not relishing such
dead capital, he conceived the idea of giving,
it to Tom, who was a rollicking fellow, and
could make it go if any body could. Ac
cordingly he approached the contemplated
dispensing medium one day, when the fol
lowing conversation ensued:
"I say Tom, here's a pretty good counter
feit three, if you will pass it I'll divide."
"Let's see the plaster," said Tom; and
after examining it carefully, put it in
his vest pocket remarking, " It's on
equal division—a dollar and a half
a piece?' '
"Yes," said Ben.
“.111 right," said Tam, and he sauntered
A few minutes afterwards he quietly
stepped into the office of hi•; friend Ben, pur
chased a can of o 3 store for one .dollar and
a half, and laid down the three dollar bill
in payment for them. The clerk looked at
the bill rather doubtingly, when his suspi
cions were immediately calmed by Tom,
who told him there "was no use looking. for
he had received that bill from Ben, himself.
nut ten minutes since." Of course. tho
clerk, with this assurance, immediately
forked over the dollar and a half change,
and with this deposit and the can of oysters
Tom left.
Shortly afterwards be mot Ron, %dm ask
ed him if he had passed the bill.
"Oh. `es," said Torn. "here's your
share," at the same time pas.ing over the
dollar and a half to Ben.
i That night when Ben made up his cash
' account he was surprised to fiud the some
old counterfeit three in the answer. Turn
ing to his krubl tencng he asked:
"Where did you get this erased
Didn't you know it wai a counterfeit?"
"Why. Toni gave it to use, and I smspeot
ed it was fishy, but he said he had just re
ceived it Irons you, and i therefi.re took
it ?"
The whole thing had penetrated the wool
of Ben, and with a peculiar grin he mutter
ed "Sold," and charged the can of oysters
to profit and loss account.
lauS.."ls Molasses good for a cough?" in
quired Jones, who had taken a slight cold.
and WS9 barking with considerable energy.
"It ought to be," said Brown, "it is much
sold for consumption.'"
tom,." So you would not take me to be
twenty?" said a young lady to her partner,
while dancing a polka, a few evenings since.
"What trauld you Mho me fort" 'For bet-
ter or worse."