A. J. GERRITSON, Publisher.'
THE wmurirctcgg mown
PEET.
esse et.* ]toms®.
I bad vowed I-would go to naceremo
sies in Rome. -Mock them I would not;
respect there I could not. Why should I
see anything, sacred others, that could
but rouse ridicule-to my mind ? But the
account given me of the washing of the
pilgrim's feet, not at, St. Peter's, but at
Santa Marie del Pelegrini—tbe descrip
tion of the peasant toil-worn pilgrims
made me absolve myself from that part
of my vow and take steps to procure ad
mission to the spectacle.
Very difficult, every one said, to get a
ticket., every one was so anxious to go ;
and I bad quite given up the idea, when
late on Saturday evening—Easter Satur
day—a note came from a friend to offer
me the vacant place in their carriage and
a spare ticket.
A little before nine o'clock we left via
Condotti and drove through the dark
narrow streets,"Nt hither I knew not.
Stopping at the darkest corner of a
great church and a tall gloomy building,
the hospital adjoining, up a slippery, dim,
Acleamly stair, we stumbled, tearing to
be too late, and, passing through two
small ante-rooms, joitled a procession of
other ladies through a narrow passage
made by wooden rails in the middle of
the long, - large, bare-walled chamber,
where the supper was to be. On one side
of us were long narrow tables, as yet un
covered, with attendant narrow benches.
On the other a smaller space, occupied by
a board, on which the materials for the
sapper were laid as they were brought in
from another room by half a dozen or so
of little women, with black silk dresses
and red pinafores—ministering angels
with very much the air of housekeepers
and ladies' maids, but who were coronet
ed peeresses, countesses, and marchesas,
every one of them.
A gradual pushing .and shoving bro't
ns to the door, and down a perilous dark
stair, to the room where the ceremony
was about to begin.
A. large oblong stone chamber—not un
like a laundry—a raised stone seat with
all around cocks of steaming water pour- 1
ing into small tubs three sides of it, and
a wooden beam to keep separate the be
holders and the performers in the impen
ding sight.
By a side door the peasant women came
slowly in one by one, seating themselves
shyly on the stone seat, and pulling off
their thick woolen socks and their strong
shoes.
An old crone, wrinkled like a withered
apple, laid her hands on her knees and
stared indifferently before her. A shy,
brown faced girl, shame-faced, with the
most beautiful wild blue eyes I ever saw,
coarse white cloth over her head, and ma
ny beads round her throat, sat next her.
A stout, stupid matron by her planged
her feet at once into the hot water to
soak. Theyowere mostly old women,
none of them ragged, and few that did
not look strong and hearty ; but their fa
ces wore, for the most part, that melan
choly, weird look that is so southern and
poetic, and that, means so little.
The red-aproned ladies had dropped on
their knees before the tubs, and all was
quiet, when a Plump priest, in pink and
calico garments and a scarlet skull-cap,
entered and p'aced himself in the middle
of a long frow of pilgri ms. Af: era cheery
word or two to'the old dame on either
side of him, the priest began a nasal
monotone, a Latin prayer, instantly fol
lowed by the pilgrims. The ladies began
to splash the water in the tubs and look
around them and smile at their acquain
tances.
A curious scene enough. Deep gray
shadows, a fitful yellow light here and
there resting on a dark, wild face; harsh
voices ri,ing, and falling in an unfamiliar
tongue, and at once all the strange sense
that these were unknown fellow-occupants
of this dream-like world, fellow-travelers
to the eternal world to come—faces that
I should never see again, and that had
each its own fate and history, for good
or evil, in this life and the neat.
- - - • -
Small zeal, I thought, the ladies be
stowed on their office. I should like to
see English girls doing right heartily. the
scrubbing and sponging that they did not
do at all. The, prayers ended, each pil
grim drew on her socks and Alines; each
lady placed the hand of -her.whose feet
She had washed within her arm and led
her from the' room. The women slouched
bashfully past us, and the ministering-an
gels nodded 'rind smiled to the frieT4
they saw amongit our number, but seem
ed to take no beed-of -nr interest in,their
companions: - -
_ , •
We made our way, as speedily as might
be to the supper room, while a new set of
Pilgrims, ladies and spectators, took oar
Places. — - • - -
, ,
Up stairs; thelong t a bles .:were-already
covered and rows of s unhand guests-spat
ed, waiting for grace to be said, more red
Pinafores flitted around with round bowie
of salad and thick brown loaves, and witli
them were here sod= ihere'stout,-beingfas
Pink calico gamnentsfroliroat-ta
the feet; Ifhclae- gray
us_from an other wiselainfai Auseettoint
EIS 40 their aq
With' glee I recognized my friend,
Prince as benign and better shav
en than mina!, amongst the pink dressing
gowns ; and he told me that with sundry
others be had finished washing the men's
feet in a separate part of the hospital, and
had come to help keep order here.
A oheery sound now filled the long
room, the salad, bread, fish and wine
made an ample supper in the eyes of such
frugal, hungry folk as the Italian peas
ants, and talking, laughing and whisper
ing, in groups they ate and drank. Some
did not .eat, bot stuffed theirportion into
a leathern wallet or yellow kerchief for
the morrow's use. Some helped their
neighbors, pulling the shining lettuce
leaves out of brown wooden bowls with
yet browner fingers. Here and there a
sad gloomy face looked out from the
white head-gear, but there was many a
flashing eye and happy countenance a
men('b them. Only one girl—so beautiful
that her face haunts me still—looked so
lonely and so sad that I tried to coax her
to take her untouched food ; she shook
her head and a tell-tale tear tell from her
eyes; she would not even carry off her
bread and wine, as did those who, dog
like, were too shy to eat in public, ut sat
with locks of tawny hair on her shoulders
and long slender hands clasped in her lap,
a poem in herself. I wondered why she
was sad, and composed a rapid romance
for her, ending happily in the third vol
ume.
Grace was said and a move made to
ward the sleeping room,, and now began
a strange scene.
Wooden bars were again put up to
keep a-passage wide enough to admit two
abreast to the doorway.
Countess E— stood at the exit to see
that too many did not crowd into the dor
mitory at one time, and' Marchese
took up a position a few yards inside the
room, to keep order in the procession as
it passed from the tables. Within the
sleeping-room a hymn, chanted by the la
dy attendants, was joined by the voices of
the peasants, in: turn, as they left the sup
per room, not an' unmelodious ring of
rough and uncultivated tones in a-slow ,
yet glad cadence, but we only beard the
sound at first, for they would not go qui
etly, and a trampling of heavy feet
drowned all save their own noise.
Much to my amaze thetriktitetied,grave
women became bold, half fierce, and:Tery
boisterous, Aiming, exclaiming, push
ing, with flushed faces and muttered
words—all strove to be first. So wildly
did they push that at - Last - tbe matron, lit
tle active Marchese threw herself
self between two stout women, and
with bead, bands, atiVelbowx.fotteit till
she bad driien back the foremost in the
melee, and had restored order iu the pro
cession.
" Curious folk," Prince M— said to
me ; " they are so fierce at times in their
dormitory th a t it is ,hard to manage them.
Certain beds are special favorites, certain
parts of the room are much esteemed,and
they fight for these ; also, those of one
country or of one family are - wild if they
be not together at bed time."
The Prince told me that in another'sec
tion of the building the • male pilgrims
were tended, as were here the women,but
that all through the year the institution
was open for the relief of all the poor
wayfaring people '
• only, to merit the spe
cial privileges of Easter,—the six days'
food and lodging , the clean linen, and
warm - water,—thy musk have journeyed
sixty miles on-foot tmwasired; then for
sit days they may receive food and lodg
ing, and on one of those days their feet
are washed by the delicate °bands of the
high-born Lenten penitents of Rome.
The pilgrims•spendileir dayin visiting
shrines and churches, and on Easter day
they_ throng the great place .of St_. Peter .
t o'receive the Papal blessing.
I was mistaken in my supposition that
the pilgrims regarded themselves as fa
vored beings in being so treated; it ap
pears they consider that the privilege is
theirs to bestoiv when they lend them
selves to aid the good works of the fair
penitents; the favor is all the other day;
they think themselves very gracious in al
lowing the Roman countesses and prin
cesses to urge a claim on Heaven by
washing their feet; and there is great
"concurrence" among the Roman ladies
for permission to do it, so• much so that
the Holy Father bad declared that hence
forth no orte,should be eligible to the of
fice who did not six times wash the feet
in private before, the public washing.
The whole thing is so utterly apart
from any English charity or good work,
Q. -thoroughly -"foreign" ..nts• we call it,
that I"scold iostittite no comparison be
tween it and any institution in our coun
try ; but I left the gray walls of Santa
Marie del Pelegrini with' realregret that
I could only have this one glimpse at the
iilt•eWl4n..g,PAßtrYWQMtirt,ti.: - .11318.1n0it
poetic land, and that there was so small a
likelihood of my ever: revisiting,a sce ne"
so novel and so farsoperior, from its ab
sence of theatrical effect, to anything I
had yet aiett la the. Holy; Ci4i."
fragrA curious initiin Taunton, Mulls.,
insecild ea Sundays red-hot. poker into
the fuse-hole of an old shell, to see wheth
er it a*lgad s a,ll. thit it
;was, bat rost the biro elifbis head, also
a leg and an arm.
MONTROSE, PA., TUESDAY, NOV. 13, 1866.
Macaulay's Description of the Puri•
They mistook their own indignant feel
ings for emotions of piety; encouraged in
themselves, by reading and meditation, a
disposition to brood over their wrongs,
and, when they had worked themselves
into hating their enemies, imagined they
were only bating the enemies of Heaven.
In the New Testament, there was little
indeed which, even when perverted by
the most disingenuous exposition, could
seem to countenance the ind ulgence oftna
levolent passions.
But the Old Testament contained the
history of a race selected by God to be
witnesses of His unity and ministers of
His vengeance, and specially commanded
by Him to do many things which, if done
without His special command, would have
been atrocious. In such a history it was
not difficult for fierce and gloomy spirits
to find much that might be restored to
suit their wishes. The extreme Puritans,
therefore, began to feel for the Old Testa
went a preference which, perhaps, they
did not distinctly avow even to themselv
es, but which showed itself in all their
sentiments and habits. They paid to the
Hebrew language a respect which they
refused to that tongue in which the dis
courses ofJesus and the epistles of Paul
have come down to us. They baptized
their children by the names, not of Chris
tian saints, but of Hebrew patriarchs and
warriors.
In defiance of the express and reitera
ted declarations of Luther and Calvin,
they turned the weekly festival by which
the church had from the primitive times,
commemorated the resurrection of her
Lord, into a Jewish Sabbath. They
sought for principles of jurisprudence in
the Mosaic law, and for precedents to
guide their ordinary conduct in the books
of Judges and Kings. Their thoughts
and discourses ran much on acts which
were assuredly not recorded as examples
for our imitation. Theprophet who hew
ed in pieces a captive King, the rebel gen
eral who gave the bloon of a queen to the
dogs, the matron who in defiance of
plighted faith and of laws of eastern hos
pitality drove the nail into the brain of
the fugitive ally who bad just fed -at her
board, and who was sleeping nudes the
shadow of her tent—were proposed as
models to Christians suffering under the
tyranny of princes and prelates..
Morals and manners were subjected to
a code resembling that of a synagogue
when the synagogue was in its worst
state. The dress, the language, the de
portment, the studies, the amusements of
the rigid sect were regulated on princi
ples resembling those of the Pharisees,
who, , prond of their washed hands and
broad phylacteries, taunted the Redeemer
as a Sabbath breaker and a wine bibblhr.
It was a sin to hang garlands on a May
pole, to drink a friend's health, to fly a
hawk, to hunt a stag, to play at chess, to
wear love locks, to put starch into a ruff,
to touch the virgins, to read the Fairy
Queen. Rules such as these—rules which
would have appeared insupportable to the
free and joyous spirit of Luther, and con
temptible to the serene and philosophical
intellect of Zuingle, threw over all life a
more than-monastic gloom.
The learning and eloquence by which
the great Reformers had -been eminently
distinguished, and to which they had been
in no small measure, indebted for their
success, were regarded by the new school
of Protestants with suspicion, if not with
aversion. Some precisians scrupled about
°teaching the Latin graminar, because the
names of Kits, Bacchus and Apollo oc
curred in it. The fine arts were all pro
scribed. The solemn peal of the organ
was superstitious. The music of Ben
Johnson's Takes was dissolute. Half the
fine paintings in England were idolatrous
and the other half indecent.
The Puritan was at once known from
other men by his gait, his garb, his lank
hair, and the sour solemnity of his face,
the upturned whites of his eyes, the nasal
twang with which he spoke, and, above
all, his peculiar dialect. He employed, on
every occasion, the imagery and style of
scripture. Hebraisms violently introduc
ed into the English language, and meta
-1 phors borrowed from the baldest lyric pa
! et ry of a remote age and country, and up
plied to the common concerns of English
life, were the most striking peculiarities
of this cant, which moved, not without
cause, the derision both of prelates and
libertines.
Q' If your sister while engaged with
a sweet heart, asks you to bring a glass of
water from ,an adjoining room start on
your errand but you need not return.
You not be missed. Don't forget
this, little boys.
—" What makes you looks° gram,
Tom ?" " Oh, I bad to endure a sad tri
al to my 'feelings." " What do earth was
it ?" a Why, I bad to .tie on a" Pretty
girls 'bonnet while her ma was looking
—Prentice says Butler makes, war as
boys isleep • n cold. wpather----spnott fasb
ion.
-4.liNtijdO. not believeVi
magic, but the other ,day a yeraciool
seas actually saw a goring min" UWE! into
a public house.
A Sensation-Novel of Real Life.
It is'not often that a man who begins
his career by embezzlement turns out
right in the long run, and refunds with
interest the amount abstracted; but an in
stance of the kind, very remarkable in its
character, has come to light in Liverpool.
About six or eight years ago, a young
man, who bad been educated at Trinity
College, Dublin, arrived in Liverpool to
push his fortune. His conduct while at
the college had been so loose and wild
that his parents declined to have anything
further to do with him. But he was clev
er, dgood linguist And apt to make him
self useful, and soon he was engaged as a
correspondence olerk by an influential firm,
in whose service he worked himself up to
such a point of efficiency that they increas
ed both his pay and his responsibilities.
At length, however, the " Old Adam" as
serted itself, and, in order to cover his per
sonal extravagance, the young man help
ed himself to his employers' cash to the
extent of £3,000. He of course himself
eloped, and all the ingenuity of the detec
tive officials could not•disclose his where
abouts. In the meantime the fugitive
went to America, and (as afterward
transpired) engaged himself to a well
known dry goods merchant in New York,
with whom he remained until the out
break of the American war. His master
being an ardent patriot, offered to ad
vance handsome sums of money to any of
his clerks whii would volunteer for the
war, and the hero of this brief narrative
was one 'vho accepted the offer. He went
through some of the severest brushes of
the campaign without receiving a wound,
fought at Fredericksburg, Seven Oaks,
and other places, and held a subordinate
command during Sherman's great march.
At the close of the struggle, he fell in love
with, and married, the wealthy young
widow of one of the Federal Generals
who was killed at Gettysburg. After
their marriage, the lady wished to visit
England, but there was one little difficul
ty in the way—the £3,000. Ultimately,
however, it was decided that the wisest
course would be to refund the amount ;
and, to the delight of the Liverpool firm,
they received by the last steamer an or
der for the amount, with 5 per cent. in
terest from the date of the cashier's elope
ment.—Belfest (Ireland) Whig.
Wonders of the Telegraph.
The annihilation of time and space by
the telegraph, now that it reaches nearly
half around the globe, is so astounding
that men have to reflect to take in its full
meaning. The New York Independent
gives the following as an illustration :
" On. Monday, July 30, Mr. Field receiv
ed a message of congratulation from Mr.
Ferdinand de Lesseps, the projector of
the Suez Canal. It was dated at Alexan
dria, in Egypt,-the same day, at half past
one p. m. , and received in Newfoundland
at half past ten a. to. Let us look at the
globe, and see over what a space that
message flew. It came from the land of
the Pharoahs and the Ptolemies—it pass
ed along the shores of Africa, • and under
the Mediterranean Ocean, more than a
thousand miles to Malta, it then leaped to
the continent of Europe and shot across
Italy, over the Alps and through France,
under the English Channel, to London—
it then flashed across England and Ire
land, till from the cliffs of Valentia it
struck straight into the Atlantic, darting
down the submarine mountain which lies
off the eoast, and over all the hills and
valleys which lie beneath the watery
plain, resting not till it touched the shore
of the 'New World' In that morning's
flight it had passed over one fourth of the
earth's surface, and so far outstripped the
sun in his course that it reanhed its desti
nation three hours before it was sent !
To understand this it must be remember
ed chat the earth revolves from west to
east, and when it is sunrise here it is be
tween 8 and 0 o'clock in Alexandria, in
Eopt,;and when it is sunset here, it is
nearly nine o'clock in the evening there."
—American Artizan.
Politeness in Business.
Politeness kti business is a large addi•
tior to your capital already invested. It
kee?s your customers in a good humor,
andgains new ones for yon every day.—
It, it the charm that smoothes and softens
therough paths of business. It is the
piilosopher's stone" which turns every
thing yen touch into gold. It invests
cotrtnercial life with most of the poetry
that ever adorns it. It, makes men respect
you and love to deal with you. It gains
you the good offices and kind words of
le
tho with whom you daily come in con
tact
Ithas been humorously and truly said
of oie that he preferred making his deal
ingewith a polite merchant, who would
diet him. a Mlle, than with a rnde,rough,
andbabitually impolite one, who would
honat him a great deal. Honesty and
how! are commendable and shining goal.
ides: it is time ; but they never look bet
ter "than ,when they are found in a setting
of guinine politeness and good breeding.
nit,
; e n n icii ian
t 's h is in te g lio th o s d n e; b e r a o y i n hl a r w ho rlt il e e r , ,; d o
far ttetarmed foinomitOet.• . •'• - :':.,
i
anted by it confectioner, a naidid
.
yotni woman.
Youth and maturity.
There is a certain even handed justice;
and for what be takes away, , he gives us
something in return. He robs us of elas
ticity of limb and spirit, and in its place
he brings tranquility 'and repose—the
mild autumnal weather of the soul. He
takes away hope,
,but he gives us mem
ory. And the settled unfinctuating at
mosphere of middle age is no bad change
for the stormful emotions, the passionate
cries ad suspenses of the earlier day. The
constitutional melancholy of the middle
aged man is a dim back ground on which
the pale flowers of life are brought out in
the tenderest relief.
Youth is the time for action, middle
see for thought. In youth we hurriedly
crop the herbage; in middle age, in a shel
tered place, we chew the ruminative cud.
In youth, red handed, red ankled, with
songs and shouting, we gather in the
grapes, in middle age, under our own fig_
tree, or in quiet gossip with a friend, we
drink the wine free of all turbid fears.
Youth is a lyrical poet ; middle age is a
quiet essayist, found of recounting expe
riences and ofappending a moral to every
incident. In youth the world is strange.
and unfamiliar, novel and exciting, every
thing wears the face and garb of a stran
ger; in middle age the world is covered
with reminiscences as with a garment—it
is made homely with usage, and it is made
sacred with graves.
The middle aged man can go no where
without treading the mark of his own
footsteps. And in middle age, too—pro
vided the man has been a good and ordi
narily happy one, along with his mental
tranquility there comes a corresponding
sweetness of the moral atmosphere. He
has seen the good'and evil there is in the
world, the ups and downs : the almost
general desire of the men and women
therein to do the right thing if they could
but see bow, and be has learned to be tin
censorious, humane; to attribute the best
motives to every action, and to be chary
of imputing a sweeping and cruel blame.
He has a quiet smile for vain glorious
boasts; a feeling of respect for the shabby
gentel virtues ; a pity for thread bare
garments proudly worn, and for the nap
less hat glazed into more than pristine
brilliancy from frequent brushing after
rain. He would not - be satirical for the
world. He has no finger of adorn to point '
at anything under the sun. He.has a
hearty " Amen" for every good wish, and
in the worst cases he leans to a verdict of
not proven.
And along with this pleasant blandness
and charity, a certain grave, serious hu
mor, " a smile on the lip, and
. atearin the
eye," is noticable frequently in middle
aged persons—a phase of humor peculiar
to that period of life, as the crysanthe
mum to December. Pity lies at the bot
tom of it, just as pity lies, unsuspected,
at the bottom of love. Perhaps this is a
special quality of humor, with its sadness
and tenderness, its mirth with the heart
ache, its gayety grown out of deepest se
riousness, like a croons on a child'sgrave
—never approaching closer to a perfec- -
tion than in some passages of Mr. Haw
thorne's writings, who was a middle aged
man from earliest boyhood. And altho'
middle aged persons have lost the actual
possession of youth, yet in virtue of this
youth they comprehend it, see all around,
it, enter imaginatively into every sweet
and bitter of it. They wear the key of
memory at their girdles and they can
open every door in the chamber of youth.
A match Factory.
A match factory in Western. New-
York is noted for the carious machinery
used in the manufacture. Seven .hundred
and twenty thousand feet of pine of '-the
best quality are used annually for the
matches, and 400,000 feet of basswood for
cases. The sulphur used annually for the
matches is 400 barrels, and the phtispho
rous is 9,600 pounds. The machines run
night and day, and 300 hands are employ
ed in the works. Five hundred pounds
of 'paper per day are used to make the
light, small boxes for holding the match , -
es, and four tons of pasteboard per week
for the larger boxes. Sixty six pounds of
flour per day are used for paste; and the
penny stamps required by' government on
the boxes amount to the snug little sum
of $1,140 per day.
There are four machines in use for cut
ting, dipping, and delivering the matches.
The two inch pine plank is sawed up the
length of the match, which is 2+ inches.
These go into the machine for cutting,
where at every stroke 12 matches are out,
and by the succeeding stroke pushed in
to slats arranged on a doable chain 250
feet long, which carries them to the-sul
phur vat, and thence to the phosphorous
vat, and thus across the room pod back,
returning them 'at point just in front of
the cutting machine; and where they are
delivered in their natural order, and are ,
gathered-up byhey in tr i axa, end sent tp ,
the Paehiug Then 1,000 gross pr .
144,000 small boxes of matehes,nr9 mad e
per day. , TO, maehineu for Mlllong
small, thin aP4 Ateq, eOVOS,
arc qtkite,ae w,ondertully and
. itigenienils
cnntrived asithose tl!apille,thompfettpu t
inng 0 . 1 of papery Nv,toe4is,*
to . -- tong, sayplyevin,A, ylipeloif to..
ink In the machtuh;!AUTf r iilasi4o
rollers, where din printing is' one, and
VOLUME xxm,
thence to the pastehOies,:whereaTii 41111 ts
and - en4s are only pasted;:kite thew, t
th e folding apparatus, .w:here - thlt We !
nicely folded-and-the 'AM.!, box ig . pastml
t o gether and' drops intO a basitet. A 'aim:
ilar machine is ut *cork 'it'the * ba
thus 144,000 boxes per' day are- minufacw
Lured.. •
Watsit6,s AND Mt7;i;--The
Of the Laneaster Literary Gizette- Gaye
she " avo,uld as. ;loon nesthrher ilostria
rat's neat of Swingletown,a4 a man with'
whiskers to kiss her," We don't believe
a word of it. The objectioue Whiclisome
ladies pretend' to; have to whisk* ell
arise from envy. They don't liavis-Asity.
They would if they could; but the fact is,
the continual motion of the lower. jaw ia,
fatal, to their growth., The ladies—God :
blest theta_ r- . --adopt our faihions tudires
they can. Look at the depiedatiorietinif
hay e committed on' our wardrobes the last
few years. They have appropriated our
shirt bosoms, gold studs. and all. They ,
have encircled their soft bewitching
cheeks in oar standing collare and cit.
vats ' driving us to &Wes - avid 'turn
downs. Their innocent little hearts have
been palpitating in the inside otour waist—
coats, instead of thumping, - against the.
outside, asnaturallYindeed.. They thrust
their pretty little fe'et and ankles through
our unmentionables, nuthinkabouts,- and
they are skipping along' thy streets in our
high heeled boots. Da you bear
,P--we.
say boots.
A wag, the other , day-, bad a fifty cent
note of the fractional currency, soitmd in
substance, but rather defaded. As it pur
ported to be a legal tender For postage
stamps; hi presented himselfat the stamp
windoWiae the Poet Office, and dematide(l l '
stamps therefor. • The clerk replied-that -
it was good,. but too much,worn—iie,
would'nt take it. Finally, be relaxed his
official dignity' under 'the good nature of
his petitioner, by tel!inghim to go to
the wholesale department. Thither went
the holder of the stamp. The official there
examined the little legal tender, scrutin..
ized it with his paguifier, thin s ight it was
good—but there was a curve'about tlttr
signature with Which be watnet quite fa.;
miliar. He recommended an application ,
at-the Treasury Department in..Plueut.
Off trotted our holder to that plays : The,
official there examined - it, vOttuiteeredifie
opinion that it was goOdoinir reconirereii:'
ded application to the Frictional- Curren
cy department. -To that- department,went
the noteholder. A close scrutiny by the
official in charge resulted in a judgment
in favor of the soundness of the noeh;
that office did not redeem in teas _sumo_
than-4i. - Then," - -(period - the tieteoviti= l
er, "I must go and buy fivemore, poi
you'll redeem the whole." "Oh;' said
the clerk, "you'd better dell it to ac Tiro•
-
ker." Conjured up by the - sound,' up
stepped a buyer of national currency. Hie
examined the Oleg, shook his-beadinisr ,
amined it.again, and then offered 19 matt%
for it.
Wool,-Ssen.—The wool sack
for many ages be.in termed the emit
of the Lord Cbancellor;in the 'English'
House otiorde: It is a 18%44y:tare-bag"
of wool, without back or arms, covered'
with red cloth. It is representedlits bit=
log originated in very early titnel-4W6iii
the great business of lifirwan fix keeping •
herds and flOCks—in prodlicing tbesit n ple '
necessities of life;and manufketating, • hri
the primitive way, the fleeces' Of 'thiii!
flocks; Which were their principenniterie'
at Oat:tithe for tbat'purpose, tnitt‘'olotk"
ing. Wheti'aePdielintinfose; thejudgia
or Justice in the case rachmted 'it' Wont'
sack. Hence the introductionref bar
the dignity of the
,legislative or parliamiri
tarp proceedings 'of Great Britienx:
looks liken large feather bed:' TheLorl.
Chandeflor is said to' have takii(his
upon the wool sack, butihe
beside it. •• '
Thereist one thing' sure, said.Mrbi rao l
tington, the rfernaletr of the
• - present reges;"
eration arm`a heap- more independent 'that
they used to be. Why ‘ l saw agalpihr
to day that; r itito* belongs to the . historp -
cal class of 'sobiety, with her 'drtisel
tucked up to .her knee, her bairn!l bin:l4ff,
up like as ifelie hadn't' had' One
it for a week,' and one of her . granamOtb-' ,
er's caps; bleu awful ortnplediVinittion,r l
on her head.: Why, laws; hani•itt'sebtiiti' I`,
was a gal, if any of the fellowitanietilobe )
when ' had my 'clothed' itkelaid'ap Oat'
way, and my head :liivOreit with att..:-Old
w hite rag; I would rutr.fot 'dear BROOM'
hide ont'of well; the. tali
then- were introcetit, tuidcrofbibata
tares; now they. are what thei•Frotieli call c
blazes.' '' • •
bas been asked,. when the rain fsllBs
does it ever 'get at,' egain ti 1 ' Of cool: ft'
doet-40' dew' time. ,
The ( late r.se ;..
rpglir.weis stt
• ,z
44;:prisideiiii tight, lacing 'bad *Or *it"
sigvtichl: ' t pt at alkit.. ll . l ooll`rwiir
„ 4 wise 9a , MittY,
is'apiebe 14(1We:snood hit.:(
certa i n article) Z.;.Bactineet
bare aoil,(bearlsOil.)— tr. , b -•,•)1)
•
t‘tfie iteittia
leave it a loan. .1Q 4 2)141
Circumlocution Office.
MEE