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CASTC:IOB333EL:
BY Tfl 4.A.T80Yit1415 GAY4O4II C.LAJIK.
- -•
Sterna yet beautiful to view,
Month OTOffearlifiiin Awn* iere,
With s4F*ifAe.4. 1 pw .840 stPow,
Itatis4.oo4e**l46oolY: - -bicit
bt itty; Vtlal he*
An the ied•sunserdies
And bursa phrple douds'aPpeat,
Obs'euriug eVery western star.
Thou soletnn month!, I hear thy voice ;
It Win' my soul of otbei days,
When bat to' liVerwai to rejoice,
When earth was lovely to my gaze !
Oh, visions bright—oh, blessed hours,
Where are theirliving-raptures now ?
I ask my spirit's wearied . powers—
I ask my pale and fevered brow !
I look to Nature, and behold
My life's dim e mblems, rusting round
In hues of crimson-and ofgold—
The year's dead r honorsqu the ground ;
And sighing with the winds, I feel,
While their low pinions murmur by,
Bow much their sweeping tongues reveal
Of life and 'human destiny.
When Spring's delightful momentsshone,
They came in zephyrs from the west ;
They bore the woodlarks melting tone,
They eared the blue lake's glassy breast:
Through summer, !hinting in the heat,
They lingered in the fil,rest shade;
But changed and strengthened, now they
beat
In storm, o'er mountain i glen and glade.
How like these transports „of the breast
When life is !resit aud joy is new ;
Soft as the halcyon's downy nest.,
And transient all as they are true !
They stir .the leaves in that bright wreath
Which hope about her forehead twines,
Till grief's hot sighs around it breathe,
Then pleasure's lip its smite resigns.
Alas ! for Time and Death and Care,
What gloom about, our..way.they
Like clouds in gusty air,
The brilliant pageant of the spring,
The dreams That each successive year
Seemed .buthed in hues of brighter pride,
At last like 3fitherecrleates :Wear,
And k , sep in darkness side by side.
G313.11G AWAY AT EIGHTEEN.
BY VIRGINIA IP: - TOWNSEND.
It seems to me-that the old house nev
er looked quite so pleasant as it does to
night, in this still harvest moonlight.
I know ir i s a dreadful old house, brown
and low, and weather beaten—oot mach
to boast of in its best days, and now it
shrinks and . „quiversand:!gitet held its own
against aigale and its roof leaks with ev l .
cry cup full of a shower, brit it's my dear
old home for all that ; and" now that this.
is the last night, and I'm going away to
the great, vast, noisy city to morrow, a
strange sadness comes over me, standing
here by the little brown gate, and look
ing at:the old-place,-and wondering what
will haPpeii belora Timid -here again.
There are the two great cherry trees
rve clambered every summer that. I can
remember, and tossed down the fruit un
til it lay like a thick red hail on the grass;
and there is the -line of currant bushes,
that hie the old worn eaten, shaky fences,
and there is the'quince tree in the corner
that sweetens _the air all about it; and
just beyonnd the well curb stands the old
gnarled apple tree, with the birds' nests
rocking up in the boughs—little robins,
will you sing on just as sweetly up there
when I'm gone ?
I never expected to feel like this. It's I
hard to realize now ttat mylife here has
ended—that I shall never drive the cows
up in the hill pastures again when the
grass is sanded all over with shining dews !
—that I shall never mow , down the sweet
clover nor go shouting among the blac k !
berry patches, nor heap up the • ripocars
in the great coinfield. over Yonder, and.
some how it makes me sad to feel that
everything will go on just as it al waytifia;
done, and nothing will mind when' rm
•
gone away. _ •
Come now, :as, -though .I'was going to
make a fool- of myself:because Attest'l'm
going -to the ,cityr- 2 the city' after which
my thoughts , and &sails have panted for I
years—the-goal of all ,milorses and 10ng..;
lags, whiCh'has eeetied*:',far Olt "which
I've reached at length:
Your'e going ' 100 makcycniifcnituie,
Tom Reynolds.qustlttink of - dial.!..
No Noreekopinat'AviOd4n4 : ioiiiairsit
the plow, no 'more =king days ;totting
grass the. - kileadc4o.o. And' A3OrnioOdek.
tired ens with tbe'l,t4;wot,lvo,:nti244o
drive the"Cnivii . home; you're .
wake a -Wein jafirself, to, tajw : your
chances inthe thiev xdithe.figiiiant_yon.
der in-thugruat eivniunkitiabaiLreakm.d
w ith Yott ifYl4l-4114-04444i1i-014144
pluck your prize with •the best of them.
mean to' make money—to be a -rich
man. • be &ithful; industrious; shrewd,
and make my way up. to the top of the
ladder. .r.,.
And some day I shall come ,back here
to the old home, and people willstareand
say, "That is Tom Reynolds, who used
to go barefoot to the cow pastures and
drive. the old ox cam down to the mill."
The old house shall come down then, and
in ire place shall stand abaodsorue man
sion,for mother; and little.,Amy—Amy,
will have grown a woman by that time,
and I sball,make a lady of her, bless the
dear little, chubby 8181 how pleasant it
will be to see those Nay cheeks of hers
Shining bellied the blinds of the stately
new home, and how proud the little
laughing puss will be of brother Tom
when he fiends her into his fine carriage
and dashes deivn the village street with
her by his side ! • •
And the poor old mothir—ah, that's
the best of all, she who had toiled so hard
to keep Amy and me under the old roof
since father died—she shall have the rest
she's needed so long then ! She shall sit
by the window of the new house in the
pleasant summer afternoons in her black
silk dress, and her pretty 'white caps, and
the hands that have worked so hard lying
idle in her lap then, and her Pyes, full of
pride stel tenderness, shall follow her boy
around the house—her boy that is a rich
man now, and that has never forgotten
what she taught hint, to be hottest, and
just and true, in the thick of all tempta
tion.
And Abell ; ton, somebody Will be grown
a lady—little Lucy Ames—the Doctor's
daughter, with her hair that has the gold
of the spring dandelions, and her eyes the
blue of the cool spring away up among
the rocks off there—little Lucy with your
sweet, shy face, and your kindly words,
and smile always ready forme, tho' I was
your father's choke boy ! I shan't for
get it then ! • And what will say when I
come back a rich man, with houses, and
lands, and an- honorable name ?
You wilt be a lady then, little Lucy,
but. will , your blue eyes smile on me, just
ab sweetly—will you come dancing out
of the door with the light in your golden
hair and the old bright welcome in your
face ?
What if—what if Ah , Lucy, the ques
tion will do to wait, for I have only seen
my rigitteenth birthday yet, and you are:
inside your fifteenth. .But I shall carry
the thought hidden away down in my
heart to Inc great city to morrow.
4th, the old, swift hopes arid longings
—the strong, fiery ambitions come back,
and stir the blood of my youth again. I
long for the morrow to come so that I
can be away, and at work. Good bye,
old home, and yet f shall carry you too in
my heart as you looked that last night
when I stood by the little gate, and you
lay before me asleep in the moonlight.
CO3tINU BACK AT FORTY FIVE
' It is just a score and a quarter of years
ago since I stood here by the old gate,
and my bleed ,was hot tin n and my very
heart throbbed high with the fierydreams
and hopes of youth.
Am I grown so old then Y I have not
passed beyond •my prinie yet, though my
years lean - toward fifty' and my hair is
overshot with silver hero and there.
And yet-to night the years lie heavy on
my soul, and they seem like the burden
of age as I come up to the scenes am) ,
youth.
Nothing looks changed here. The har
vest moon gathers the-old house-into its
silver folds just as it did then—the tall
cherry trees rustle over my head—the
currant bushes make their dark greed
line where'the - fence has gone to decay,
and the quince shrubs flutter in the soft
wind.
, And another wind blows up from the
coasts of my youth. Oh forlthe'old boy
heart that stood here and dreamed its
dreams and made its plans' twenty five
years ago!
" I was to be a rich man I" I said,
standing here, in the strong confidence of
youth. The world says I am that now.
I would tell you, too, that I have an hon
-1 orable name—thanks to theprayers of the
old mother who sleeps under a little pil
low of green grasses by the Willows out
yonder.
I wonder if she can look 'down and see
her boy standingnhere, leaning on the old
gate to night ?
She has gone to another house; a fairer
one than I was- to make her, and which
still comes back to me in visioul3 of the
night: tuunetiuies, - with' Amy's sweet face
shinihg - the windovrand illy mother
sitting there 'with her black dress and
snowy cap.
I am nova man much given to senti
ment or romance of any ion.
Years of hard grappling with' forttioe
haveovergrown all that, tind'they pall me
stern,end keen;:and practical in thialworld'
where I have to deal with Facts hid !ten;
and:thedim .of my ymith bat: **shed
long ago; still the old memories seem:to
melt zny heart:into the heart of little
chat as: I stand here and 10010 dOWn the
king.':highway", of the 'Tears nr4hich I
haretravelled'again . tei.thiselghtV- •
ipLittleotnlYilvith therebObbriliftlee
themerry flirraantifit nivherezVi
night; stalwart boys and fair haired girls:
NEONTRoSE, FA., TIIESDAT, OCT. , 39, 1866.
call, the faded matron., motlpo, as dt6ers
call me "Father !"
And )ittie r e ttex Amei Searahing
titnang the
, graves out Yonder, I game up-
On a, small granite thooiment, and in the
gray stone was gritven.
61 LUOr t AGEp TWX.NTY."
Is that all! Luey,' with the golden
hair, and the'eyea likifresli Violets '
Standiagliere to night ? 4m14 the lost
visinne l and' happit of il l y y9titb; I could
almost smile. derisively on what'men say
cifine—Ahtial have been a , 1 suttees in
life." It is . true I have grappled bravely
with circumstances ; I hair() hewn out
with my own right arm a path tofortune.
But it looks small to nigh; coming back
here and standing by the old gate with
the rusty hinges, and looking at the bld
house, beneath whose low roof other lit
tle children sleep to night, and on whose
door step other children play—oh, the
fortune looks small to me now, and it
seems as though I would almost give it
all to feel is I used to when I went bare
foot through the cool meadow grass and
up into the hill pastures to drive the cows
home.
You have not changed, old house that
I left thirty years ago standing in the
moonlight, but you cannot give back to
me the strong Heart, the bounding pul
ses' of my youth.
The birds sing, the grasses shiver, the
trees move in jny about you, but in place
of the strong, restless, eager youth that
went out from yon, a man, worn, burden
ed, wearied with the struggle, comes
back as pilgrims go to worship at old
shrines, and theee comes now an echo up
and doWn the deep places of his soul the
wordh that, long ago, his mother taught
him, "Vanity of vanities, saith the preach
er, all is vanity !"
Revenge on a Bank by Rothschild.
An amusing adventure is related as
having happened at the Bank of England,
which had committed the greet disrespect
of refusing to discount-a bill of a large
amount drawn by Aoielleen Rothschild,
of Frankfort; on "Nathan Rothschild, of
London. The bank haughtily replied;
" that they discounted -only' their 'oWn
bills and not those of private persona:"
Bnt they had to do with one strdnger;
than the bank: "Private persons," ex-,
claimed Nathan Rothealtild; 'when They
reported him the fact. "Private persons !
I will make these gentlemen see' what
kind of private persons we are !" Three
weeks after, Nathan Rothschild, who bad
employed the interval in gathering all the
five pound notes be could procure in Eng
land and on the continent, presented him
self at the bank at the opening of the of
fice. He drew from his pocket book a
five pound note, and they naturally coun
ted out five sovereigns, at the same time
looking quite astonished that the Baron
Rothschild should have personally troub
led himself for such a trifle. The Baron'
examined one by one the coins, and put
them into a little canvas' bag, then draw
ing out another note—a'thini—a tenth—
a hnndreth, he never put the• pieces of'
gold into the bag without scrupulously
examining them, and in some instances
trying them in the balances, as, he said,
"the Taw gave him the 'right to do so."
The first pocket book being emptied and
the first bag full he passed them to his
clerk, and •received a second, 'and thus'
continued till the close of the bank. The
Baron had employed 7 hours te '
'change
221,006. But as he had nine of his em
ployees of his house engaged in the Same
manner, it resulted;lhat the arouse of
Rothschild - had drawn .£189,000 - in gold
from the bank, and that he had so occu
pied the 'tellers that no other person
could change a single note. Everything
which bears the stamp of eccentricity has
always pleased the English. They were,
therefore, the. first. day very much amused
at the pique of Baron , Rothsehild.• They,-
however, laughed leas when 'they sat', him
return next day at the opening of the
bank, flanked by nine (clerks,• and follow
ed this day by many drays, destined to
carry away the specie. • They laughed no
longer when the king of bankers said with
ironical simplicity, "-These gentlemen re
fuse to pay my bill. , I have sworn not to
keep theirs. At their leisure, only, I no
tify them that I have enough to employ
them for two months." " For 2 months?'
" Eleven millions in gold drawn from the
Bank of England, which they have never
possessed." The bank took alarm; there
was something to be done. The' next
morning a notice appeared in the journals
that henceforth• the bank • would pay
Rotschild's bills the same as their own.
41101.7---
• ---General Sherman hitsoffthe "bravo"
men who new wish to , etterininate the
South, in: ibe folinwing home" thrust, eon-
Wined in a recent, letter :•. ~ • , . .
is amusing to . observe how, brave ,
and firm men become when all.:danger
past. I have noticed Icon-the field or . , bat
tie braverFnenrcever insult 'Abe captured,
or mutilate the dad; butthdpOtiarda and'
braignms' Ownys- Aci'.• 'NOVO, whQn the ,
rebellion' in 'our-tend is' dead, tonsil pa:
onotPtrap:pear,'WhrandiStPlifeilideciee' Of
their valor; andrntertiAofiii.ittipliiiiiihitta
iirsomaiiitit•lilin4r 'TO tie Vet;
.s' , ; Wr'l.!Pi7C'
were done."
Arbamas filbakopeare , * Tomb.
[Front the Lcitehin 'Punch.]
I've been: lingeiin by the tomb of the
lantented Sbakspeare. ' .
It is a success: •
I do not hes'tate te pronounce it such.
Yon may make'neruse of this opinion
that you tteetfit. , ' yot think its
tied' will , subserVe the intitkof 'fiteratoori.
you may publicate it.
I told' my, wife Betsy when I left home
thatl should- 'got° the birth-010e of CO.
Thella And othet Plays. She said that as
longinelkept but of Neurte she didn't
care where I went. " But, ' I said, "don't
you know that he was the greatest poit
thatevei lived I" Not one of those com
mon' polo, ^like that young idyit who
writes versus to our daughter about the
rowseei that 'growses and the breezes that
blowies, but a boss poit—also a' philoso
pher—also a man who knew a great deal
about everything."
She, was packing up my things at the
time and the only answer she made was
to as k me if I was a goin' to carry both of
my red flannel night caps.
Yes. I've been to Stratford.onto-Avon
the birthplace of Shakspeare. Mr. S. is
now ne more. He's been dead over Beo
years. The people of his native town are
justly proud of him. They cherish his
foolery, and them as sell picture of his
birthplace, 4te., make it prof table cher
ishin' it. Almost everybody buys a pic
tur to put into their Albion.
As.l stood geeing on the spot. where
Shakspeare is 'sposed to have fell down
on the Vice and hurt hisself when a boy
(this spot is for sale but can't be bought,
the town authorities say it. shall never be
taken from Stratford.) I wondered if 800
years hence picturs of my birthplace will.
be in demand ? Will the people of my
native town be proud of me in three hun
dred years ? I guess they won't short of
that time, because I say the fat man
weigbin' 1000 pounds Which I exhibited
there was stuffed out with pillars and
cushions, which he said one very hot day
in July, "Oh bother, I can't stand this,"
and It ommenced pullin' the pillars out
from under his Weskit, and heavin' them
at the audience. , I never saw a man lose
flesh so fast idmy life.
The audience said I was a pretty man
to come .chiselen my own townsman in
that Way. I said, "Do not be angry, fel
let citizeng. - 4 exhibited him simply as a
work of art. I simply wished to show you
that a man could grow fat without the
use of cod-liver
But they wouldn't listen to me. They
are a low and grovelin set of people, who
excite a feelin' of loathing in every brest
where lorfiy emotions and original idees
have a bidin' place.
I stopped at Leamington a few minits
on my way to Stratford-on-Avon, and a
very beautithl town it is. I went into a
shoe shop to make a purchis, and as I en
tem: I saw over the door those dear fa
miliar words, "By Appointment : IL R.
H. ;" and I said to the man, "Squire, ex
cuse me, but this is too much: I have
seen in London four hundred boot and
shoe shops by Appointment H.R.H.
and now you're at it. It is sittiply unpes
sible that the Prince can wear 400 pairs
of boots. Don't tell trte,".l said in a voice
choked with emotion—" Oh, do not tell
me that you also Wake boots for him.—
Say slippers—say - that you mend a boot
DOW and then for them ; but do not tell
me that you. make them reg'lar for him—
don't do it."
The man smiled, and said I didn't an.
derstand such things. He said, perhaps
I had not kroticetf in London that dealers
in all sorts•of articles was By Appoint
ment. I said, "Oh, hadn't I 1" Then a
a sudden • rtbongb t flash? over Me. " I
have it," I said, " When the Prince walks
through a street, be no doubt looks in at
the. shop windows. "
The " No doubt."
"And :the entermisin tradesman,r I
continued, OM moment the Prince gets
out of sight, rushes frantically, and has a
tin 'sign painted,'l3y . Appointment, H. It
11. It is a great, a beautiful idee I"
I then bought a pair of aboi3 strings,
and wtingin
,the shopman's honest hand,
I started. for, the,Torato of Shakspeare in .a
hired fly. It lookt, however, wore like a
spider..
And this," I - said, as I stood in the
old churchyard at Stratford, beside a
tombstone, "this marks the spot where
lies William W. shakspeare. and
this marks the spot where— -
" You've got the wrong grave," said a
man—a worthy villager— Shakspeare is
buried inside the church."
" Oh," I said, "a boy told me this was
the 5p0t.",, , : Tire - toy laughed and put the
sbillin I'd given him into his left eye in •1,k . .,
inglorious manner, and Commenced mov
in baokWard toward the street.
Iri !Send :and captured, him, And after
talking to piin,a in,sericastie !'
let bun went, •
The oldclittreli Was damp inaom.
"fl .main.,.jl:4o,°nAY ecr4OPBAIMrP wh en
I 'entered irni old; gentlemapp,
who was taltkin manner to a
fashuibly Yoang Maii t
"No Brae tilentreasor " the old gen
deman saY/i, 4 1 4,04 1 .1?P?r"!fm 0 1 , 8 , 0 0:1
.1;0: faro . o;ilir ( 14:ciii•APYor
-1( 0 1 41 5 :M:, W n lff!r'Aulll is eV
in Piccadilly Without a umbiedar. I said
their, as I eay now, any young man aa
venture out in. auneertain. clunit, without
a umbrellar; leek's foresight, Peution,:pres
epee of mind and stability, and, he is'pot
a proper person to entrust.: a,danghiter'e
happiness to." , • ,
• I slept the old,gentleman•on the shioni l
Air, and I:said, "'You're right Yon're,
one of thoie.kind,or men—you. are--r", .
He )yheeleil, snddenly around, amiria a
indignant voice eald-- - - - . 4 00 way-go way.
This is a private interror ,
didn't stop to enrichtbe •i4d gentle,
Tail's, mind with my. cony' &antilop:l sort
of inferred that be wasn't much inclined
to listekto me, and .I wept, on. Bnt
be w,aa' right about the nmbrellar : ,
ain really delighted with this grand ;
old country, but it does rain rayther
merously here. Whether this is owing to
a monarkel form pf government or not, I
leave to all candid and ouprejudiced per-,
sone to say.
William Shakspeare was born in Strat
ford in 1564. All,. the cOnimontaters,
Sbaksperyan scholars, etsetery,are.agr,eed
on this; which is about the only thing
they are agreed on in. regard to him, ex
cept that his mantel hasn't, fallen upon any
poet or dramatist hard enough to hurt
said poet or dramatist very much. Aud
there is no doubt if these commontaters
and persons continue in vestigatiug Shaks
peare career ; we shall not-in doo time
know anything about it at all.
. When a mere lad little` William attend
ed the Grammar. School, because, as he
said, the Grammar School'wouln't at
tend him. This remarkable remark, com
in from one so••young and inexperienced,
set people to thinkin there might- be sum-.
thing in this lad.' He subsequently wrote
"Hamlet" and "George Barnwell."
When his kind teacher went toiondon
to accept a position in the offices of the
Metropolitan Railway, little William was
chosen by his fellow pupils to deliver a .
farewell address. •' Oo on, sir," he said,
"in your glorious career. Be like an ea
gle, and soar, and the soarer you get, the
more we will all be gratified l"
My young readers, who wish to know
about Sbakspear, better get these vaLlya
ble remarks framed.
I returned to the hotel. Meetin a young
married couple, they asked me if I could
direct them to the hotel which Washing.,
ton Irving used ; to keep?" •
" I've onderstood that be was °nano.
cesfAllas said the lady
" We're understood," Bald then young
man, " that be busted up."
I told !em I weal) stranger, and hur
ried away. They were from my country,
and ondoubtedly represented a thrifty lid
well somewhere in Pennsylvany. It's a
common thing, by the way, for a old far
mer in Penusylvany to wake up some
morning and find ile squirtin all around
his back yard. sells out for an enor
mous price, and his children put on gor
geous harness and start on a tower, to as
tonish people. They succeed in doin it.
Meantime the ile it squirts, and time rolls
on. Let it roll.
A very, nice , old town is' Stratford, and a
capital inn is the Red Horse. Every, ad
mirer of the great Shakspeare must. go
there once certainly, and .to say one isn't
a admirer of him is equiv'lent to aayin one
has just about brains eneough to become
a efficient tinker.
• Some kind person bas sent me Chawk
er's , Poems. • Mr. C.. had talent, but be
couldn't epel. No man has a right to be
a lit'rary man unless be knows bow to
spel. Ws a pity , that Chawker, who had
geneyus, was so medicated. He's the
wust. speler I know of.. r ,
1 guess Pm through; and so I lay down
the pen, which is more mightier than• the
sword, but which I'm afraid would stand
a rayther slim chance beside the needle
gun. •'
Adool Adool
—ln a'sleeping car recently, a man in
one of the berths became greatly annoy
ed:by a crying child whom its father was
endeavoring in brain to uiet. 'The irate
individual at-last shoute d out :
" Where is the mother of that child,
that she is not here to pacify it •PO
At this the poor gentleman in charge
of the child stepped up to the berthiand
said :
" Sir, the mother of that child is in her
coffin in the 'baggage ear!"
The grumbler immediately -arose' 'arose and
compelled the' afflicted' father to retire to
his berth, and from that 'time utitil mor
ning took the little orphan under his own
=The Washington Star says the gift
of invisibility 'was , formerly belieVed to be
procurable by means of int% seed; but no
peculiar power of-rendering people invis
ible resides speeially in the seed' of fein.
Put *m any very :seedy suit of clothes,
and Walk about -in'' the , streets. You will
vi3rysoon 'find that 'yottcr acquaintances
will pass you without seeing you.
• Mn:Wbite, iltyetilitiveth'e'kindui
nese toledd.ine teeraellats •-• 1,4
"tertaiely—uod Ode
44 Il dtrie it3 9 / t .1 V • •' ' !'!)
41 Thit you tell me-tviiyWitetequifit is
likeihe WO:11E 1 06 W eetitrq. 1 , •
•. , 114 I MEl4lol4.4tßatij i . k: I •-;il'. ;
" Well, it is beititti IttitOtitAivri
iVOIiUME XXIII, NUM3E.B,
Treasure Trove - 7 : 4 404 )113 - 1611 **.
An anelent gold, cross , iwasfciunt ;
winter.in an excavation in the iiii'nebt
Cline _England; or *birth 'lea
Queen desired to know the histOry*. - 4/11
treasure' trove, it became the-proper:F9f
themrown,, by , the 44 Deen's:';Dnultill19
antiquarians ,barefourld' put elf a .
There is strong reason, they 441,T0f
lieving that it, formed at one %awe it , 1101
of the royal collection ofjewelatelizgum
wiring .Edward.lll, far it; isjoserde4_
that he had, upon); his jewebl, kePt,44
safe preservaiion in the Toier'Oflon.
don, "uncroys," or donfifti'
fare (pie est-de °la title Jhesh 'CM; et
n&pnit eStie'Lpreisk"-,0 6 44 ef_g
which 'represents orDIAS
Christ, set, w4hy!arls.p4 cannot De iriu•
ued." This description - exitetlyltni4erst
to the crthie found "at Cleits,lbr' Wei had
four large pearls,,•one' each transverse
aeation of the cross, while theorem) itself,
with the figure orour, Saviour ; upon it,
wan most beautifully foliated,' and 'the,
chain, about two feet was of he
richest description. • lioviihis ' . Preeions
royal jewel came to be found-: •;rn the to
ins of Clare Castle is , thus accounted-for::
"It was the , common pnrptlce, -0 , 1 , our
sovereigns in . former ages,td &tam on
their children add grandchidren; as wed=`
ding gifts, rare jewels-arid reliceValtd ad
Edward Hl:a grand daughter. Phillipps
was married to Etheund Mortimer,
Lprd of Clare, , and, upon;, her marriage
came to reside at the Castle, she in
,all
probability had this jewel given to' hewn
the occasion, and it, 'War by her taken to
ther-Csatle, Luker_ it got lost. e_Whal, eon:-
firms this •.ibiatory; Onion beyond all
doubt, is . the fact that this particular jew
el,, before described in old French, disap
peared-front that very time from nu
merous inventories which are eitanyof
the Royal jewels. Thus this once royal'
jewel, which has been buriedat 'Clare,
lost for five hundred years, has (Inceptor*
come fine iciyalposseqiiin." ' •-•
• .
Nilo/to liumou. 77 -A- ,Yirgi . ttia, rtbal,
who hakistm,O, a •boolt • giving hismpati
ence. naia-prisoner in .4,e- ~han,dt2 AP
FederAla 4 •POitit.,-.4 0 40,ni #44 TAP*.
tells the following, atom :', ,: t , ",.,•,,,,,,.„
The boys are hiughingat,tdie' stir:mop,
which S., one of my fellow„. Pact:Shur-,
gars; got ,to daY fro•ln A . 12 .tgil Ohn.timpi-
S, - bati On whencapture d ;, enAtitlPPosei,
still poseesses, a : tall beaver of tile 21:41pe
patter:4-PM Olqi.d 1 4lieParabl e from, ex-,
treme respectability in the istit„ decade ) ,
and for a . Many, a, ,year before.,, Mill
wandering around the
_enclosure, seekitig,
I,suspeet,,, i what,be, Might :develtr,",'Pe
accidentally? stepped , beyond the!'a4!.
Rae," and,. !Was 04ddelitY, arreste d 44:
summons from the nearest negr o cl i t,llo,,
parapet, who seemed ~to be ; :AR dui lit
whether so well.. dressed. a _ 'man, oga i tae,
a " rob ) ." and therefore yfbetheOegtiOutdi
be abot at once. • evi•ir - , ;.- '. t
‘• White man, you VioßgiaLditi'.l,
:; 1 ! Yes.r 1 i • ~..•:,--._
" Well; WO , Y?!' , i t•' 3 ° ' 4eM , ei: PAPAW
Jan to cross dat line. .'. ~,,, ;,- .;-(1.,• ,i ;3
1/0
" I did :FlatA ,4Pi!ne..".": ,. .. 'i - ,
..Well, you ;ha • bitte m
7 ottPe•ittl l
5
dat itticif,ar•lll ow•bajf•dati_,M4 ;
ar
- AitriCatrS WARD.
. . .
) r l- ' - ' 7 . 1 .!'"1": - .77.7.7 7 •
~—"Pat down that pickle!" thelftrdiv
are ittifeit htirtit3dly add: harshly tilite
sbrgitint;t Wen ltnigritointigpthliteilwinv
e ittrinditit* -hungttpitOoliailisie
iiiittridien'tiink t kilVont• W 04.! I m Add )
44' r put dio will thni • T had o irk
Qiithies t he tnivattOnildir: pat, do t al
fhat gale :yotym
tetutnedlll4' #o6iniiWiletertnlandli,
Atieullt
diem
„,.1 ii ,i.114,42c•1
,
'Arlie. 116 Ongnsiins.—ln • • certain
villagoof theirfar Welt - Was an atheiit.
He was a great adinirer of Dale Owen and
Fancy Wright; but he could 'see no hi:an
ti in' the' Christian religion: Qf amine
lie never entehireily ' 'place 'of '%forship:
In fruit steam; be
the 'Sabbath in defending his orc!mrd from—
hisat,..ederti,ieti; the wadi - pecker' yid'
theidtaliraßgate4creoneuf'theinhks . l
who eli•thar,itay - usurilly i inicTe aka - ft - 00o'
aitiongOe ap ples ' and
"ee if, while at WorieWith
law'—aii atheist like himself,' althotigh
more kind and courteous gentleman—al
a pastor' of a tongteglitien-wii& visaing,
he, ' very rudely, thus aceeited the
ter :
"'Sir,what is theobse of yotir
ing f bat good de you by it ? • 'Why'
don't you teach thelie fellows 'better suer- -
els ? 'Why : don't you tell them sonieihing'
about' Stealing 'in your sermons, 'and kt•ii
them fro& robbing my orchard ?" -
To this the minister pleliaritly - repliod:•
k 4 My dear 'Sir"
I ant seorry.that you:firer'
so annoyed; andl would most vrillifigly
read the fellows who rob yeller' orchard a
lecture on thieving, but the truth is, -
they are so like you and the - Major here,'
that I never get a chance.'
" Good, good," replied the' Maj o r;
laughing; on which the 'elder -atheist
blushed a little, and, hi au apologetic&
to le, sa" id : ,
"Well; well, 'believe it is true . enough . ;
—it is pot the church going peopleftV:
steal my *plea."' •
itiNiA
r'
. r
a , 146
. 1 1.1- 1 7Anai..4 e 4.