ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA :
Gatnrban fUoruinn, Hlnrd) 8, 1858.
Jrlcttcli |bctrn.
t'tr The following exquisite lines from BUY ANT, copied
in tin- Xovcmlter number of Harper, will have a mournful
beauty and pathos for those who have been called to la
incut ttie early " loved and lost
Ob, we shall mount him long, and miss
His ready smile, his ready kiss ;
The patter of his little feet,
Sweet frowns, aud stammered phrases sweet.
And graver looks, serene and high,
A light of heaven in that young eye ;
All these will hannt us, till the heart
Shall ache aud aclie—and tears shall start.
The little how shall fall to dust,
The shining arrows waste with rust:
lint lie who now, from sight of men,
We hide in earth, shall live again.
Shall break these elouds, a form of light,
With nobler mein and clearer sight;
And in the eternal glory stand
With those who wait at Hod's right hand.
SDlttltfc C;tb.
Tm Crosliy's Deed of Magic.
nv sYi.v-vxis conn, JR.
Turn Crosby was a Cobbler—or, at least,
so liis neighbors called him—though he was
in fact, one ot the best shoemakers in the
country. He often had to turn applicants;
away empty-handed ; for he had more work
always on his hands than he could attend to.
Tom's cottage was near the centre of the
village, and his little shop was close by it, and
from morning till night the merry music of his
lapstotie rang out upon the air. Tom was a
industrious man, and everv-body liked
liim. He was always kind, always good-na
tured. full of fun and anecdote, and above all
rise, lie was one of those rare persons who
sji'iul their leisure moments looking after their ,
own hu.-iness. Tom was now forty years of'
age. and though he had always worked hard j
and steady, yet he had not accumulated much
property. He owned the small house and the '
-iiop. together with some four acres of land, !
which lay back of the buildings, upon which !
lie rai-ed a goodly store of fruit and vcgcta-1
hies. Ih-sides this, he had sonic one or two j
hundred dollars laid safely away in a savings I
hank to serve him on a rainy day.
Mrs. Crosby was an excellent wife, and one I
of tin- best mothers, and 110 one could have l
kept the humble cottage looking more neat
and tidy than she did. The little front room
alway- presented the same spotless purity of
floor and wainscot, and while curtains never
had -pot or wrinkle. The kitchen was more
fostered, but never dirty, while even the
-'round floor of the woodshed was kept swept
and clean. This excellent couple had four
children. Young Tom was thirteen, and help
ed his lather some in the shop when school
*iid at keep. \\ illic was ten ; Lizzie live, and
Ktlie only two. Tom named his first child
hiinwlf. Mrs. Crosby had selected a very
pretty name, but her husband was dctcriuiucd
iat lie should lie a " voun'* '/' mi, 1 ' and the
wife gave in ; but the rest of tlie children she
named herself, and we can sec that her tastes
ddfi-ri'd somewhat from Tom's. He had want*
-d to end tin-second hoy Peter, in honor of |
- grandfather ; and then he suggested the
' aim-of Hannah for the lirst girl ; lint his
■>Kw," such was the term Mrs. C. used,)
' 1 -a'-* were not quite up to the mark, llut
sr children were good. They were, in fact,
■i"-< 1 liildren in the neighborhood, for
■ r lather took great pains in the formation
' their rharacfiTs, and their mother felt uo
greater pride than to have tliein appear well.
lVonle pointed to Tom Crosby as a pattern
happiness and peace ; and yet he was not
hv:iys happy. An evil genius had crept into
house—into his house—and he was grow
more and more unhappy everyday; for
I 1 had never been happy only when he could
I -t" those arouml him happy. The pain or
I I 'i'lmt of a-ingle individual in his family
* sure to upset his own cup of joy.
N'-ev the truth is, the sweet angel of con
wliirh had fo r so Jong a time kept guard
r l-mis household, hail flown away, and
! "f -pirit had come in. Mrs. Crosby had
® ' "'le-'-mtented and unhappy. >She had
' the -pirit of envy to gain possession
" r yul. ami from the moment she let the
in, her pence of mind was gone.
m 'rodiy," she said, after the children
• - >ne to Letl, one evening, "what is the
- "' living >,?"
kiting how ?" uttered Tom, shaking the
* [rum his pijK-, and putting it away.
'l'}'—living as we do now. Plodding
,- year after year in this same old train.
,: ' ro - I m almost Tit to go erazv when I
| <Hof it."
I''""' I thought vou used to be
? happy lu-re.'' "
■h"! -0 I did ; but what does that signify?
I u '"s happy when I was a child, docs
u ' that 1 should always want to be a
I used to be happy here when I
-'-wo were on the road to something
, r , ' didn't think when you married me,
to live stuck down here in this
aUi i that I was to grow old and die with
•Ming thurnpety thump of your old
'..p- r dinging in my ears."
' u hut would you have Hannah V the
,'" !b ked, with a tone and expression of
t. r "Hcred the woman, energetically. !
, Id liave some higher place in the
1 j a mere rnbb/rr's wife !"
b-unah, we were once the happiest
' l "Wu, and you were then only what
n ou only want what you have
Mr ('roshy."
I "ftiinnh. Ynu only want back that
I '' ' •-icutmcnt
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
" There it is again, Tom Crosby. Because
I would hold my head up a little higher in the
world, and be somebody then I am not con
touted ! Mercy on me would you have a soul
contented to see everybody else getting up,
and me be obliged to dig and burrow here ?" '
" But who is getting up, Hannah ?"
"\\ho ? \\ hv—there's Sarah Brown, thut
was—now Sarah Wilkiifs ; just look at her.
She was where I was once, but now she has
her coach and servants, and dresses in silks
and satin. And then look at Thompson, and
Cowley, and Nathans. All of 'em building
new houses, and keeping their horses and ser
vants. Look at them, I gay—and then look
at us."
" But, my love, w here shall I find money to
do such things ?"
" Find it where other folks find it. Shut
up your little, nasty shop, and go into some
business more promising. How do other folk's
find money I'd like to know ?"
" But other folks have a faculty which I
have not," said Tom, in an earnest", argumen
tative tone. " I have found perfect happiness
in my little shop, and in my neat and comfort
able home. Health has been secured to us ;
our children are blessings ; plenty was always
ours, and no man can dun you or me for debt.
Other folks may be happy with their great
houses, and their servants, and their parties,
but such things are not suited to us. All,
Ah, Hannah, you could never be so happy as
you have been were you to have Surah Wil
kin's place. She may like it, but you would not."
" Don't tell me, Tom Crosby. Don't you
suppose I know what I should like ? 1 sav it
galls me to think that I'm never going to get
above this kind of life. Others, who, are no
better than we are, have money enough—"
" And don't we have enough, Hannah ?
Don't we have everything we want ?"
" No, we dou't. Look at Wilkins. See how
his wife dresses, and how proudly she holds
her head when she goes into meeting. Only
just think how she nods at me, but never
speaks. I declare, Tom, it's too bad."
" And yet, my love, Mr. Wilkius came to
me yesterday, and wanted to borrow a hun
dred dollars."
Mrs. Crosby opened her eyes, but before
she could make any reply, somebody rapped at
the door. Tom answered the summons, and
the caller was a boy, who had come after a
pair of new boots.
" Boots !" uttered 3lrs. Crosby to herself,
after her husband bad gone to the shop.—
Hoots ! Mercy ! shall I ever escape that de
grading sound ?"
This simple scene will show somewhat of
the state of mind into which Mrs. C. had fall
en. She had not always la-en thus, though
she had always held little ideas of pride which
her husband had never felt. Jsut about two
years previous to the opening of our story, Mr.
Albert Wilkins had moved into the town, and
he had brought with him for a wife one who
had been Hannah's schoolmate in times gone
by. Mrs. W. not only made much show of
her wealth, but she also slighted her old
friend, and this worked upon the fcelin/s of
the more humble female. Mrs. C. began to
envy the wealthy woman, and from this sprung
numberless con sequences. It was sometime
before she really thought of aiming at such
herself, but the idea gradually came over her,
and then she began to reflect upou her hus
band's position, and she was not long in mak
ing tip her mind that he might have heen
wealthy had he tried. It was in vain that
Tom urged the expense of his ehildrcn, in Vain
that he pleaded his own inability, and in vain
that lie urged the joys of contentment. The
evil spirit had gained possession of his wife's
soul, and he could not exorcise it by any argu
ment or persuasion. Hannah became unhappy
and miserable, and even her own children fail
ed to give lu-r joy.
One day Tom was in his shop nil alone, and
he was weeping. He had just been to the
House, and another "scene" had transpired.
He had come back to his little shop, and with
his hands clasped, and his eyes turned heaven
ward, he prayed that God would move his
wife's heart with sweet content once more.—
Hardly had lie uttered this prayer, when the
door of his shop was opened, and a man en
tered. This was no less a personage than John
Newton, an old schoolmaster of Tom's upon
whom fortune had smiled most bounteously.—
He had lived in a neighboring town —in a large
and thriving manufacturing village—and had
amassed great wealth without marring his
heart. He seldom saw Tom now, when he did
meet him, his greeting was as warm and genial
as ever.
"What, Tom !" uttered Newton, as he saw
the poor cobbler's gloomy, tearful face ; "what
is to pay now V t
" Nothing," was Tom's answer.
Hut Newton was not to be put off thus,
and after considerable questioning Tom reveal
ed the secret, lie knew if he had a noble
friend on earth, John Newton was that friend,
and he told all. For some time after he had
done, Newton remained thoughtful and silent;
but at length a bright gleam rested upon his
face.
" Tom," lie said, " Hannah doesn't dream
of the thousand and one cares of which she is
now free, and to which wealth would subject
bcr."
" Av, that's it Jack," the cobbler cried.—
" That's it. She don't know much she has
to enjoy. She's got her head turned."
" Hut I thiuk we can turn it back again."
" Kb ?"
"We can turn it again. I say. Pv my
soul, Tom, I have never offered money, because
I knew you had enough—but I can give you
something better now. I will take my wife
and children out of the way for awhile, and
you shall have the use of my house, plate, ser
vants, dresses and all. Eh 1 How's that V
Tom Crosby opened his eyes, aud as soon as
he could comprehend matters fully, he sat down
by the side of his friend, and they talked to
gether over an hour.
*****
" I say it's no use, Tom, I'd just as lief die
as live so. What's the use of poking along
this war /"
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" TV ell, Hannah, you shan't live so any more.
Von needn't look surprised, for I mean just
what I say. I've got the power and I can
use it. I've found the I'hilosopktr's Stone !"'
" The what, Tom ?" cried Hannah.
" The Philosopher's Stoue."
" But what's that ?"
" Why, t's something that gives the owner
power to be rich right off. If I've a mind to
I can wake up to-morrow morning with you
and I both in a palace, surrounded by riches."
Mrs. Crosby was slow to believe this, but at
length Tom convinced her. Vet she wanted
to see the stone. The cobbler took a small
leather bag from his pooket, and from it he
drew a round white stone nearly covered with
strange characters. The hieroglyphics upset
the point of skepticism in Hannah's mind, and
she believed. Shortly afterwards they sat
down to supper. Mrs. Crosby did not Observe
her husband when he put a suspicious-looking
powder into the tea-pot, uor did she notice
particularly that her husband drank only milk
and water. She drank her tea—more than
usual—and then arose. But somehow she for
got to clear away the table. She sat down in
her chair, and ere long she fell asleep.
* * * * *
Hannah Crosby awoke and looked around.
She was not sure that she was awake. She
leaped out upon a soft carpet and rubbed her
eyes.
" Tom ! Tom ! For mercy's sake, Tom do
wake up !"
Mr. Crosby arose to a sitting posture and
looked at his wife. They were in a large
room ; the iloor was covered with a carpet of
downy softness ; the walls glittering with gold
and flowers ; the ceiling painted sumptuously ;
the furniture of the most costly kind, and the
bed itself a very marvel of wondrous extrava
gance.
" For mercy's sake, Tom where are we ?"
" Why in our palace to be sure. Don't you
remember what 1 told you last night ? But
come to bed now."
" Arc ye crazy, Tom Crosby ? Aren't the
sun up?"
" What have we got to do with the sun ?
By and-by I shall arise and then your servants
will come in and help you dress."
"Servants? Help me dress ? Why, Tom
Crosby, what d'ye mean ?"
" Why, you wouldu't expose yourself to
your own servants, would ye ? Hereafter you
must never get up till your servants come. —
They'll laugh at you if you do."
Shortly afterwards Tom arose, and dressed
himself, and spoke to his wife. She looked at
him and started upright.
" Tom Crosby, is that you ?"
" Who else should it be?"
" Mercy's sake ! () Jerusalem !"
A tul no wonder she was astonished, for
never before had she seen Tom Crosby look
like that. His pants were of black broad
cloth, his vest of white satin, his shirt bosom
of the finest linen sparkling with diamonds,
and his dressing-gown of Genoa velvet.
Mr. Crosby went out, and his wife was left
alone. She had just got out of bed to look
around, when she heard footsteps, and in a
moment she was in bed again. Three stout
gals entered the chamber, and approached the
bed.
"\\ ill your mistress be pleased to arise ?"
asked the foremost one.
The poor woman remembered what her hus
band had said about the servants helping her
dress, and at once arose
At breakfast half a dozen servants waited
on the table. Mrs. Crosby longed to speak to
her husband, but she dared not before so many.
Her cup was filled with coffee, and she drank
it. It was much stronger than the was used
to drinking, but so finely was it fixed that she
loved it. and she allowed the girl who waited
upon the table to fix her four cups.
After breakfast, Mrs. Crosby was conducted
over part of the house, and to her it seemed as
though all the wealth of all the world must
have been collected and spent in furnishing the
place. The heavy gilt-framed pictures, and
mirrors, the statues, the carpets, the gold and
silver ornaments, the servants—all, appeared
to her in bewildering profusion.
" We are to have company to supper," said
Mr. Crosby.
" Supper '{ Have we got to eat agaiu before
we go to bed ?"
" Eat again. Why—you wouldn't go with
out your supper '! Our friends, who have heard
of our arrival, are coining in."
About f) o'clock Mr. New ton and wife ar
rived, and with them came three couples more,
all in the secret.
" Isn't that Effiecrying?" uttered Mrs. Cros
by, as the distinct wailing of a child sounded
upon the air.
"John,"spoke Mr. Crosby, to one of the
servants, "go and tell the nurse to stop that
noise."
" No, no," cried the startled woman—the
mother starting up now—" I'll go myself.—
Poor, dear tiling. She shall sec mama, so she
shall.
Hut Tom sprang forward and caught his
wife bv the arm :
" For heaven's sake !" he whispered in her
ear, " you'll ruin us. Don't let such things
move you."
" Hut how can I, Tom ?" My soul, how can
I ? Only think—our own little Effie—only a
baby. Tom, I—"
" Mrs. Crosby," spoke Mrs Newton, who saw
the turn affairs had taken, " will you allow me,"
taking her by thearmand leading her to a seat,
" you have a child, have you ? Ah, an iufunt ?
How I pity poor people who have to attend to
their own children. Such plagues. Dou't you
think so ?"
Mrs. Crosby said yes ; but she knew she
spoke falsely.
" What a miserable idea that is," continued
Mrs. Newton, " which sup|>osefi that mothers
must be fastened down to their children.—
However, poor people can't help it, I sup
pose ?"
And yet Mrs. Crosby heard her little dar
ling sob and cry, and her heart seemed racking
with pain ; but she dared not interfere now.
At length supper was announced. It was
" RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
eleven o'clock. Mrs. Crosby ate considerable
cake and confectionery, and at the end she had
to drink wine with five different persons. Her
position was painful because it was so unnatural
Not one moment of peace and comfort could
she find, but instead, thereof, it was one con
tinual scene of trial and trouble. But bedtime
came —at two o'clock—and for awhile the mar
tyr felt relieved. But it was only for a moment,
for u| Kin finding herself alrtne with her husband,
she remembered that her lieml ached, and that
her limbs were weary.
" By the powers, Hannah," uttered Tom,
" isn't this nice ? 'Taint much like cobbling
boots and shoes, is it ? O, how fine ! I)ocsn ; t
it seem as though we were born for it V
The wife was silent for some moments, but
she spoke at length, and iu a low, subdued
tone :
"Tom, where is little Effie ?"
" With the nurse, to be sure."
" O, do go and bring her here to ine. Do—
that's a good——"
" —sh ! Someliody may hear you Hannah.
You know what Mrs. Newton said to to-night.
She's the next richest to us of anybody iu the
country."
The poor woman laid her head upon the pil
low with a groan.
" Isn t it nice ?" uttered Tom, inn chuckling
tone. "By the big hokey, Hannah, only think
how we'll live."
" But 'twont bo always like this, Tom ?"
" No, 110—rather guess 'twont. Why we
haven't begun yet. Just wait till folks* get
acquainted with us and begin to come from the
cities to see us. And then when we begin to
give our great parties. Won't it be nice ?"
But Hannah made no reply, and ere long,
she fell asleep ; but she did nut rest.
On the next morning, Tom was up and off
before his wife awoke. The first of conscious
ness she felt was a rough shaking by the shoul
der, and on looking up, she saw her servants.
She arose at their bidding, but she had not
been long ou her feet when she sank back, for
her head ached, her limbs were weary. But
she finally allowed herself to be dressed, and
soon afterwards, she met her husband at the
breakfast table. She looked at the face of the
marble-cased clock on the mantle, and saw that
it was eleven o clock. She was upon the | M tint
of speaking to her husband about it, but the
presence of the servants prevented.
After breakfast, when .Mrs. Crosby thought
of going to bed again, she received an invita
tion to visit Mrs. Newton.
" I can't," she said.
But, urged the husband, "we must go.
Sir John is one of the most important men in
the country. We are in for it, Hannah, and
we must stick it out. Remember, you have
urged it."
" But—hut, Tom, I didn't expect—"
" Didn't exjiect what ? Did you suppose that
those who had wealth and high station enjoved
the same ease and quiet that the peaceful cob
bler owned By the powers, Hannah, you
inusn't fail now. You filled your own station
well —but you have got a new one to fill now,
and you must come up to the mark. Sir John
will expect us."
" Sir John ?"
" Yes."
" Sir" John had a very noble sound, and
that was a little calming to the poor woman's
feelings. However, at four o'cloek the car
riage was at the door, and when Mrs. Crosby
saw it, she forgot her pains for awhile. The
horses were coal black, and harnessed almost
wholly in silver. Away the aristocratic cou
ple were whirled to a noble mansion, which
Mrs. Newton had engaged for the occasion, the
real owner of which was introduced to Mrs. C.
as a ' friend.'
The rest of the day, and the night, were
passed just, about the same as on the previous
day, and Mrs. Crosby had an opportunity to
see that all rich people must live alike. She
had to take wine again at supper, and the
clock was njon the stroke of four in the morn
ing when she reached her own mansion. She
went to lied wretched and unhappy. She had
been laughed at by the servants for her awk- i
ward ties*—she had been sneered at by a young,
consumptive miss, because she could not plav
euchre, and the whole company had giggled at
her funny remarks touching some butter which
chanced to be on the table.
On the next morning—or towards noon—
when she awoke, she found her servants about
her as before. She asked them to send her
husband to her ; but they could not think of
such a thing. She simply sprang out of bed
and caught a chair, and told them to disoliey
her if they dared. They left the chamber,and
shortly afterwards, Tom Crosby made his ap
pearance.
" Tom," the wife groaned, " I can't stand
this—indeed I can't."
" Why, Hannah, arc ye crazy ?—Would ye
give up all your wealth 1'"
" No, no, I'd like to keep the money, but—
but—O, my head !"
'• Keep the money : And what would you
keep it for ? We had money enough before
for the station we then held ; and all you used
to want was to make a show like Mrs. Wilkius.
Surely you wouldn't go back into your old
home, and have to take care of your own chil
dren, and do your own cooking, and find your
own eggs in the hay, and have the fuss of your
own husband, and have to go to bed every
night at nine or ten o'clock. Why, you're cra
zy, Hannah."
" Aud is It that stone that keeps us here,
Tom ?"
" Yes. Tint you you sec I've guarded against
any such danger, for I've put the Philosopher's
Stone in a place where nobody'li ever think of
looking for it."
" Where is it, Torn ?"
" I've hung the bag right up our chimney,
here."
" That is a good place," said Mrs. C. ; and
after this, she proceeded to dress herself, mak
ing her husband wait till she had finished, so
that " them pesky sarvauts wouldn't come nigh
her any more."
Breakfast was eaten, as usual, and after
awhile, three ladies called, and sent up their
cards. Mrs. Crosby would have refused, but
her husband overcame her objections. So the
ladies culled in, aud Mrs. C. was once more
" on nettles."
At five o'clock, they left, and shortly after
wards, Mrs. Crosby stole away to her cham
ber. Torn had been watching her, and he stole
after her, and watched her movements through
the key-hole. She first threw herself upon the
bed, and there she lay some time. Next, she
arose and went to the fire place. She removed
the gaudy screen, and then reached up and
took down the little leathern bag. She took
out the stone and placer] it upon the hearth.—
Within the fire place stood a pair of small sil
ver andirons, and with one of these Mrs. C.
deliberately smashed the stone to atoms. With
a peculiar chuckle Tom hastened below, and
attended himself to preparing his wife's tea. —
The meal to be eaten was denominated dinner,
but when Mrs. Crosby came down, she distinct
ly said ' supjier !'
She could oat but little, but she drank free
ly of the tea, and within half an hour after
wards, she felt so sleepy that she could not
keep her eyes opened, and she went to bed, de
spite her husband's urgent arguments to the
contrary. Of course she was not loug in fall
ing asleep, and she slept soundly too.
* * * * ♦ *
" Torn ! Tom !" cried Mrs. Crosby, when
she awoke. " Tom ! Tom ! For mercy's sake
look. The sun was shining brightly in at the
little vine clad window, and the old cat was
purring cosily upon the foot of the bed. The
enraptured woman turned her eyes to the little
crib that stood by the bedside, and there laid
her darling Effie "fast asleep.
" (loudness gracious !" said Tom, starting
up, " somebody's stolen our stone ! Our magic
stone is gone !"
" Ho, ho ! 'Twas I that did it!" the wife
shouted, leaping from her bed, and dancing
about on the painted floor.
With that, she opened the door of the little
bedroom, where, in the cot bed lay young Tom
and Willie, and in the truckle bed" Lizzie was
sleeping. •
Tom was up by this time, and he professed
to be greatly alarmed.
" Alas ! Our wealth is gone !*'
" Then let it go !" retorted Hannah. " Em
my part, I've had enough of it. O, Tom, doesn't
this place look grand ?"
Hut how long will it be before you will
be moaning after carriages and silks once
more V'
" Never ! never !''
At this moment Eflie waked up, and gave a
cry of joy as she saw " mamma."
Mrs. Crosby, as soon us she could collect her
senses, began to think she had only l>een dream
ing, but when she heard Tom and Willie talking
about the new school, und saw how the dust
had collected about the windows, she feared it
was, after all, a reality. But by and by, she
heard a liell ring, and when she found it was
really Sunday she knew that her past expe
rience hud been a substantial tiling of real life,
for it was on Wednesday that she had first
seen the magic stone. And then her headache !
and other bodily pain yet remained to admon
ish her of the misery she had suffered.
It was over two years before Mrs. Crosby
discovered the secret of that three days' e\|ie
rience she had in " high life," and even then j
discovered it by accidentally overhearing a :
cooversatiou been her husband and Mr. Newton.
L'ntil thou she had firmly believed that she
owed the experience to a deed of magic. She j
now realized the many blessings she enjoyed,
and no more gave way to discontent.
DISCONCERTING AN ORATOR.—It is an aston
ing thing how little a matter will sometimes
disconcert a man who is accustomed to sjteak
in public, and to have his thoughts al>out him,
and ready at command on almost all occa
sions.
" I was once opening a speech from the
stump," said a distinguished western political
orator to us recently, "and was just beginning
to warm with my subject, when a remarkably
clear and deliberate voice spoke out behind uie,
saying :
" (Juess he wouldn't talk quite so hifalutina
tin' if lie knew that histrowsers wast bu'st clean
out behind."
" From that moment I couldn't 'get on.'—
The people in frout began to laugh, and there
was a loud roar in my rear, and I dared not
reverse my position from fear of having a new
audience of my condition. I made, or rather
invented an excuse for delay, and sat down.—
The malicious scoundrel !" continued the ora
tor, "it was only a mean trick, after all. There
was nothing under heaven the matter with my
unmentionables !"
JrvKxn.E EXCITATION.—The other day a
small boy came tearing round a corner, with
his rags fluttering in the wind, his face smear
ed with molasses aud a shingle flourishing in
his hand, while he was shouting to another
boy about the size of a peper-box, who stood
nearly a quarter of a mile down the street:
" (), Bill ! Bill! get as many lioys as ever you
can, and as many shingles as ever you can, and
come up the street, round the corner, as soon
as you can, for there's a great big large hogsit
of 'lasses busted on the pavement—busted all
to smash !"
No CHANGE.—Of a person who was a sor
did miser, it was told Mr. Curran that he had
set out from Cork to Dublin with one shirt
and a guinea. " Yes," said Mr. Curran, " and
1 will answer for it, lie will change neither of
them till he returns."
A CHICAGO BROKER famous for his shrewd
ness, took a trip by railroad the other day,
and sat down at. the end of the last car, be
cause he considered the use of money worth
something while the conductor was comiug
through the cars.
A parishoner inquired of his pastor the
meaning of this line of Scripture. "He was
clothed with curses as with a garment." "It
signifies," said the divine, "that the indi
vidual had got a habit of earing."
VOI,. XVI.—KO. 39.
Appearance of the Hospital at Sebastopol.
Of all the pictures of the horrors of war
which have ever been presented to the world,
the hospital at Sebastopol presents the most
horrible, heartrending, and revolting. It can
not be described, and the imagination of a
Fuseh could not conceive anything at all like
unto it. How the poor human body can be
nmtilated and yet hold its soul within, when
every limb is shattered, and every vein and ar
tery is |K>uriug out the life stream, one might
study here at every step, and at the same time
wonder how little will kill. The building used
as a hospital is one of the noble piles inside
the dockyard wall, and is situate in the centre
of the row at right angles to the line of the
Redan. The whole row was peculiarly ex
posed to the action of shot and shell bounding
over the Redan, and to the missiles directed
at the Barrack Battery, and it bears in sides
roof, windows and doors, frequent and dis
j tinetive proofs of the severity of the cannon
ade. Entering one of these doors, I beheld
such a sight as few men, thank Hod, have
ever witnessed. In a long low room, support
ed by sqnarc pillars, arched at the top, and
| dimly lighted through shattered and unglazed
j window frames, lay the wounded Russians,
who had been abandoned to our mercies by
their general. The wounded, did I say ?
No, but the dead, the rotten and festering
corpses of the soldiers, who were left to die in
their extreme agony, untended, uneared for,
packed as close as they could be stowed, some
on the floor, others on wretched tressels and
bedsteads, or pallets of straw, sopped and satu
rated with blood, which oozed and trickled
through upon the floor, mingled with thedrop
piugs of corruption. With the roar of explod
ing fortresses in their ears, with shells and
shot pouring through the roof and sides of the
rooms in which they lay, with the crackling
and hissing of tire around them, these poor
fellows, who had served their loving friend and
master, the Czar but too well, were consigned
to their terrible fate. Many might have been
saved by ordinary care. Many lay, yet alive,
with maggots crawling ahout in their wounds.
Many, nearly mad by the scene around them,
or seeking to escape from it in their extremest
agony, had rolled away under the beds, and
glared out ou the heartstricken spectator, oh !
with such looks ! Many with legs and arms
broken and twisted, the jagged spliuters stick
ing through the raw flesh, implored aid, water,
food or pitv ; or deprived of speech by the ap
proach of death, or by dreadful injuries in the
head or trunk, pointed to the lethal spot. —
Many seemed bent alone on making their peace
with Heaven. The attitudes of some were so
hideously fantastic as to appal and root one to
the ground by a sort of dreadful fascination.
Could that bloody mass of clothing and white
bones ever have been a human being, or that
burnt black mass of flesh have ever had a hu
man soul? It was fearful to think what the
answer must be. The bodies of numbers of
men were swollen and bloated to an incredible
degree, and the features distended to a gigan
tic size, with eyes protruding from the sockets,
and the blackened tongue lolling out of the
mouth, compressed tightly by the teeth, which
had set upon it in the death rattle, made one
shudder and reel round. In the midst of one
of these "chambers of horror"—for there were
many of them—were found some dead and
some living English soldiers, and among them
the poor Captain Vaugh, of the 90th, who has
since Mic urabed to his wounds. I confess it
was impossible for me to stand the sight, which
horrified onr most experienced surgeons ; the
deadly, clammy stench, the smell of gangrened
wounds, corrupted blood, rotting flesh, were
intolerable and odious beyond endurance.—
But what must have the wounded felt who
were obliged to endure all this, and who pass
ed away without a hand to give them a cup
of water, or a voice to say kindly word to them ?
Most of these men were wounded on Satur
day—many perhaps on the Friday before—in
deed it is impossible to say how long they might
have been there. In the hurry oftheir retreat
the Muscovites seem to have carried in dead
men to get them out out of the way, and to
have put them uj>on pallet&in horrid mockery.
So that their retreat was secured the enemy
cared but little for their wounded. Ou Mon
day only did they receive those whom we sent
to them during a brief armistice for the pur
jose, which was, I believe, sought by ourselves,
as our overcrowded hospitals could not contain
and our overworked surgeon could not attend
to any more.
FEMAI.E " WKAKVK S." —Tliis complaint is
very very prevalent just now. It shows itself
in desires for hundred dollar shawls, and thuso
nice looking young men who |>edd!e tape and
wear their hair curled. This sort of weakness
comes on about the age of eighteen, and is very
apt to terminate fatally—to a husband's peaco
ami pocket-book. Cure —<spend less money for
bonnets, and more for books. In other words,
put something iu the head as well as on it.
&gr A country parson had a singular pecu
liarity of expression, always using the phrase
" flatter myself' instead of " I believe.'' Hav
ing occasion to exhort his congregation during
a revival, he " flattered himself' that more
than half of them would be eternally d d !
6ay~ Marriage resembles a pair of shears, so
joined that they cannot be separated ; often
moving in opjwsite directions, yet always pun
ishing any one who comes between them.
It is a bad sign when a preacher tries
to drive home his logic by thumping the desk
violently with his clenched hand. His argu
ments arc so-J?.<'-icaL
t&r A little girl, visiting Xiagara with her
father and seeing the foam at the foot of the
of the falls, exclaimed, " Pa, how much soap
it must take to make so many suds
r Always laugh while you can—it is a
cheap medicine. Mirthfulue&s is a philosophy nor
well understood Ifi-tl,e unnv-ide of existence