THE. MOINFROSE --. - - DEMOCRAT,
E. B. HAWLEY, Proprietor.
ittointoo itardo. woes Cann.
LrrircEs & BL.tKESLEE,
Attorneys and Counoelince La. Ofnee the one
heretofore occupied 137 R. D. & G. P. lloittle. on Mate
erect. Titonticree, P.
IL E LITTLE 050. T. LITTLE L. L. EILLEZILLLZE.
E. lEcKsarms. C. C. FACUOT, ° W. H. McCain.
FAITHOT & CO.
Dealers In Dry Goode, Clothing, Lad*. .n 41416.441
tine Shoee. Alan, agents for the great American
Tea and CoQee Company [Monttoee, , ap. 1, 71
CHARLES N. STODDARD,
Dealer In Boot' , and Shoe.. Hatt , and Cap•. Leather mud
Ftndine•. Blain Street. ad door below Searle'' , Hotel.
Wort made to order. and repairing done neatly.
lot.trose, Jan. 1, 1011.
LEWIS KNOLL,
SHAVING AND BAIR DRESSING.
bhop In the (VOW Postodice building, where he will
be found ready to attend all who may want anything
In his line. Montrose, Pa. Oct. 13, Ira,. I
P. REYNOLDS,
AUCTIONEER —Sells Dry Goods. and Merchant a--oleo
attends at Vendurs. All orders left at my hone, yt ill ,
receive prompt attention. Ipct. 1. ltab—tf
0. M. HAWLEY,
DEALER in DRY GOODS, GROCERIES, CROCKERY
Hardware, Hata, Caps, Boot..Shnes, Wady Made 'I., h.
111 g. Pmintx, Oils. etc.. Milford, Pa. [Sept. s.
DR. S. W. DAYTON,
HITSieIAN S. SURGEON. d•nden his services to
the citizens of Great Bend and vil 'nay Office at his
residence, opposite Barnum House, G 'L. Rend village.
Sept. lel, IRO.— If
LAW OFFICE
CHANITIF.RLIN b McCOLLT4A4, Attorney. and Coon
reliant at Law. Office In the Brick Itt,tek over the
Bank L Montrose Ang.
A. el. anrauN. . - J. 13. 31cOoLittat.
& D. R. LATTIROP,
HEALERS in Dry Goods. Uroceri e s,
crockery and glassware, table and pocket cutlery
Paint., oils, dye stuffs. Bats. boot) and shoes. title
leather. Perromery &e. Brick Block. adjoining the •
Bank, Montrose. LAu l ,vm ism —lf
A. laTilltOr, - - D. IL LALIIROP.
A. 0. WARREN,
ATTOIVEY A. LAW Bounty. Back Pay. Penrion
and Erem '.n Claim! attended tn. Offrr II
oor torlowlinyd's store, 1I t 1 oer.Po. [An. 1.
WM. A. CR0W431071,
hr
Attorney at ism. Nontroow. So-y'll Co. Pa., can
found at all rennounlde bur un •aa hours at the County
CumEnoonouere Whce. [Montrone, Aug. I, Irchi.
IV. W. WATSON,
ATTORNEY LiT LAW Non' ro-v. P. Of!ire with L
F. Ft tett. Nuntrove, Aug. I$C9
NI. C. surToN,
Auctioneer, and Insurance Agent,
Frlend•vllle, Pia
.C. S. GILBERT,
812.4atlozoriez.c , r.
Great. Bend, Pa
'l7. M.
nugl 491. f
EL Y,
V. Ei,
Aug. 1, 1:0. Ilrooulyn. Pa
JOHN GROVES,
F k.IIIUNABLE TAF. Nloiluoro. Pa Shop ovo:
Chandler's Mom. A" ordert filled in first-rats st)h
t siting dune ou short notice, and warranted to AL
W. W. SMITII,
C vIDNET AND CRAM[
of Math stroot, Mootroec, P. )oug. I.
H. BURRITT,
DEALER la Staple and Fancy Dry Goods. Crocker}
Hardware. Iron, Stoves. Itru gs. Oils. and Paint.
Boots sod Shoes. Hats & COps. Furs, Rodalo Robes
Groceries. Provisions. New Milford, Pa.
DR. C. P. HIES,
Has permanently located at Friendsvllle for the por
pose of pmeticing medicine and surgery in all It.
branches. Ile may hr Lund nt the Jackson Clouse.
Ottlee hours from h a. m.. ton. p. m.
Friendsville, Pa., Aug. 1. 1569.
STBOUD & BROWN,
FIRE AND 11113 1:1'4 3ANC6 AGENTS.
business attended to prompt ly, on fair terms. Office I
first door north of ' Montrore Rotel," west side co
Public ASTI..., Montrose, Pn. [Aug. 1. latig.
Ra.uises tornonn, - CLIAILLE! L. L'uown.
JOHN SAUTTER,
RESPECTFULLY announces that be la n.iv: .p'
pared to era all kinds of Garments in the mos.
fashionable Style, warranted to ISt with elepauce
nd arose. Shop over the Post Glare. Montros,., Pa
Win. D. LUSK,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Moutrofe. 111. ()fire opt..
•Ire the Tarbell Rouse., near the Court 11uur,
Aug. 1. 18C.41.—t1
DR. W. W. SMITH,
DENTIST. Rooms over Boyd 6 Corwin's Bard
ware Store. Office hours from 9a. m. to 4p. m
ldontruse, Aug. 1, 1.:69.—cf
ABEL TERRELL,
DEALER in Drutm Patent Medicine,. Chrtniral.
Liquors, Paints, Oiln.t.tyr stuffs. Varnishes,
Glass. Groceries, Gins- Ware, Wall and Wltalos Pa.
per. Stone ware, Lumps. Kerosene, Machinery Oil.
is:noses, Gans, ALl2llllllllllOn,. Knives, Opeclaries
Brushes. Fancy Goods. Jew ary, Perfu rs,
being sone of the most numerous, Xteltgl'e. and
valuable collections of Goods in Susquehanna Cu.—
Established in 1848. [Montrose, Pa.
D. W. SEARLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW. office over the Store n 1 A.
Lathrop, in the Brick Block, Montrose., Pa. [ROTA,
DR. W. L. RICHARDSON,
PHYSICIAN SPRGEON, lenders his profersional
service, to the citizen. of Montrose
0111ce at his residence, on the corner mot of Sayre It
Bros. Foundry. [Aug:. 1. Istl9.
DR. E. L. GARDNER,
PIT YSICI AN and SURGEON. Montrose. Pu. Give.
e•qua; attoutitoo to u t the 11.1,1 nht.
Lu p nc• and itltSarttical dk..en. , es. When over W B.
Dear,. Boards at Searle's Hotel. iAog. 1. lr.rai
BURNS & NicnoLs,
DEA. .R 6 in Drop, Medicines, (Menden Dye
r... 12., Palate, Olia, Varnish. Llquorv, Spices. Fab,
tiea. Patent Medicines. Perfumery and Toilet Ar
ticle*. 017Preaceptlona carefully compounded
Peelle Avenue, above Searle'. Hotel. rilontro.e. Pr
A. B. Dense, Anne Nicuora.
Aug 1 ISO
DR. E. L. HANDRICK,
PHYSICIAN & SURGEON. respectfull) tenders hi•
profeasional service, to the citizen of Frientigvillt
and vicinity. tar Office intboofnce of Dr. Loop
Board. at .1. lioaford'a. Ang.l.lBl).
PROF. MORRIS,
The Hayti Barber. returns hb thanks for the kind pat
ronage that hag enabled him to get the beet met—ha !
ha ! T latent time to tell the whole story. but come
and see for roomy. , rernt the Old Stand. No loud
laughing allowed In the shop. [April 13. !W M.
DENTISTRY
All those In want of false Teeth or other dental work
should call at the office of the subscribers. who are pre.
lered to do all kind. of work in their !Wenn short notice.
i'artivular attention laid to making full and partial
1.4.1 t. of teeth on gold. silver, or shiminum plate • also on
Wvotou'r east composition the two latter preferable to
an v of the:cheaper eandances now coed for dental plater.
Tooth of youngpereons regulated, and made to grow in
natural shape.
The advantage of having work done by permanently to.
rated and otoponothle partice, must be apicirer.t -7..
Ail work warranted. Phaose call and examine
epeel
men. Ofplate work at our office, over Boyd& Co's hard
ware 'tore.
W. W. SMITH & BROTHEIL
Montrose. Aug, 18, 1889.—tf
SUPPOSE
Suppose my little lady
Your doll should break her bead,
Could you make it whole byerying
Till your eyes and nose are red
And wouldn't it be pleasanter
To treat it as a joke;
And say you're glad 'twos Dolly's,
And not your bead that broker
Suppose you're drmsed for walking,
And the rttyi comes pouring down,
Will it clear off any sooner
Because you scold and frown ? •
And wouldn't it be nicer
For you to smile than pout,
And so make sunshine in tile house
When there is none without!
Suppose your task, my ittle man,
Is very hard to get,
Will it make it any easier
Foryou to sit and fret ?
And wouldn't it be wiser,
Than waiting like a dunce,
To go to work in earnest
And learn the thing at once
Suppose that some boys luwe a horse,
And some a coach and pair,
Will It tire you less while wanting
To say " it isn't fair r
And wouldn't it be nobler
To keep your temper sweet,
I.nd in your heart be thankful
You can walk upon your feet ?
Suppose the world don't please you
Nor the way some people do,
Do you think the whole amtiou
Will be altered just for you ?
And isn't it, my boy or girl,
The wisest, bravest plan,
Whatever comes, or doesn't come,
To do the best you can?
A PASTORAL
SUF..
" Gentle shepherds, tell me, pray,
flan my ('olin come this way ?
Ile chants a rustic ritornello,
And bears a crook on his umbrella,
Say then, 7 'ntle shepherds, say,
has my Odin passed this way
White his shirt-front ns new milk,
Sell his wiskers are as silk,
Ile drives no flock, the darling wan,
Bat wears a vest of Astrnean,
Say then, gentle shepherds, say,
Iles my Colin passed this way
Every morning forth he hies
While the milkmaid rubs her eves,
With home steps he E.:Loyard got:4,
Upon a Bank to seek repose.
Then, gentle shepherds, tell me, pray
Has my Colin passAvl this way ?,
POLICEMAN.
- If the party au you mean—
Which, his name L. Peter Green—
l. clerk with Cash & Co.,
Then 1 .aee him thither go.-
(BM don't henceforth address me thus
I ain't no shepherd) on a 'bug.
" his pipe—l do not mean a foot—
Appeared to be of brier-root ;
Where yonder boy's a-blacking shoes,'
Ile Mopped and bought a Daily News,
Then mounted (I'm no shepherd, mats!)
'Cron the knifetioard of the 'bus."
piscellautous.
MY HUSBAND'S SECOND WIFE.
v husband came tenderly by my side.
"A re you going out this ellen lug, love ?"
"Of comae I am!"
I looked down complacently at my dress
of pink crape, dew dropped over with
rystal, and the trails of pink azaleas that
caught up its folds here and there. A
diamond bracelet encircled the one white
acm, and a little cross blazed fitfully on
my throat. I had never looked better.
and I felt a sort of girlish pride us nn•
eves met the fairy reflection an the mirror.
-Come Gerald, make haste? Why, you
haven't b-gnn to drebs yeti
Where were mit wifely instincts, that I
did not see the haggard, drawn look in
his features—the fevered light in his eyes??
"I can't go to-night, Madeline—l am
not well enough."
"You are never 'well enough' to oblige
me, Gerald. • I am tired of being put off
with such exensu."
lie made no answer, but dropped his
head in his hapds.on the (able before him.
-Oh. come, Gerald," I urged, petuluut
lh•: "It is so awkwara [Lome to go alone
atwar."
Ile shook his head listlessly.
-He thongh,,,perhaps„ you would be
willing, to remain at borne with me, Mad
eline."
"Men are so selfish," I said plaintively ;
"and lam all dressed. Claudia took a
half hoer for my hair. I dare say you ,
are determined not to go."
No answer again.
"Well, if von choose to be sullen I can't
help it," 6 as I turned and went out of the
room, adjusting my bouquet holder, the
tube-rose and heliotropes seeming to dis
til incense at every motion.
Was 1 heartless and cruel ? Had
ceased to love my husband? From the
bottom of my heart I believed that I loved
him truly and tenderly as ever a wife did ;
but I had been so spoiled and petted all
my brief selfish life, that the better in
stincts were so to speak, entombed alive.
I went to the party, and bad my fill of
adulation and homage, as usual. The
house seemed to glide away, shod with
roses, and winged with music and per
fume; and it was not until, wearied with
dancing, I sought a momentary refuge in
the half-lighted tea-room, that I heard
words awakening, as it were, from a dream
"Gerald Glen!"
I could not well be mistaken in the
name—it was scarcely common-place
enough for that. They ; , were talking—
two or three business looking gen tlemen
in the hall without; and I could catch,
now and then a fugitive word or phrase.
"Fine, eneerrising young fellow!"
'Great pity !" " kitally ruined, ao Bess
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESIiAY, APRIL 27, 1870.
and Mellorken says !" "Recklessness and
extravagance of his wirer
All these vague fragments I heard ; and
then some one said :
"And what is hp Foing to do now ?"
`•What can he do f Poor fellow! fam
sorry but he should have calculated his
income and expenses better."
"Or his wife should. Oh, these women!
they lie at the bottom of all man's
trouble !"
And they laughed. Oh, how could
they I had vet to learn how easy it is.
in this world, to bear other people's
troubles.
I rose hurriedly up, with my heart beat
ing tumultously beneath the pink azaleas,
and went back to the lighted saloon. Mr.
Albany Moore was waiting to claim my
hand for the next dance. "Are you ill,
Mrs. Glyn? How pale ?"
"I—l am not very welL I wish you
would have my carriage called, Mr.
Moore."
For now I thought that borne was the
proper place for me.
Hurried by some unaccountable im
pulse I sprang out the moment the car
riag..Vbeels touched the curbstone, and
rushed np to my husband's room. The
door was locked, but I could see a light
shining faintly under the threshold. I
knocked wildly and persistently.
"Gerald, dear Gerald! for heavens sake,
let me in."
Something fell to the marble hearth
stone within, making a metulic click, and
my husband opened the door a little way.
I bud never seen him look so pale before
or so rigid, yet so determined.
"Who am you ?" he demanded wildly.
"Why can you not leave me in peace ?"
"It's I, Gerald—your Madeline—your
own little wife."
And I caught from his hand the pistol
he was trying toc-oneeal in his breast—its
mate lay on the marble hearth, under the
mantle and I flung it out of the window.
"Gerald, would von.have left me?"
-I would have e:gereped ."' he cried, still
half delirious, to all appearances. "Debt
disgrace—misery—her reproaches! I
would have escaped them all!"
His head fell.like a weary child, on my
shoulder. I drew him gently to a sofa.
and smothered him with a thousand mur
mured words—a thousand mute caresses
For, had it not been all my fault ?
And through the long ii - yeks of fever
that followed. I nursed him with unwav
ering care and devotion. I had but one
thought, one desire—to redeem myself in
his estimation, to prove to him that I was
something more and higher than the mere
butterfly of fashion I had hitherto shown
myself.
Well. the March winds had howled
themsdres away in their mountain fast
nesses: the brilliant Atiril rain drops
wen• dried on bough and spray and the
apple blossoms were tossing their fragrant
billows of pinky bloom in the deep blue
air of latter May.
Where are We 110 W
It is like• a picturesgne little village• not
far from New York. furnished x.•ry like a
magnificent baby-house. Gerald sat in a
cushioned ease• chair in the garden, ju , t
where he could glare through the open
window at me, working busily with my
needle.
- What au industrious fairy it is!" he
said, smiling sadly.
••Well, you see I like it. It's a great
deal het ter than thosesoil _ t
as on the piano. -
-Who would have thought you would
make so notable a housekeeper ?"
I laughed gleefully—l bud a child's de
light in K ing praised.
-Are you not going to Miss Delancy's
croquet party ?" he pursued.
"No. what do I care for croquet parties?
I'm going to finish your shirts, and you'll
read aloud to me."
"Madeline, I want you to answer me
one question."
"% hat is it ?"
"What have you done with your dia
monds?"
-I bold them lung ago: they paid sev
eral heavy hills. be ides adding half a
year's rent here."
"But, Madeline, you were so proud of
your diamonds."
-I was once; now they would be the
bitterest reproach my eyes could meet.
Oh. Gerald, had I been less vain and
thoughtless and extravag ant—"
I checked myself, and a robin, singing
in the I)erfritneil depths of the apple-blos
soms, look up the dropped current of,
sound.
^That's right, little red-breast," said my
huslsoid,half-joking‘ "talk her down ? Slje
has forgotten that our past is dead and
gone. and that we have turned o%er anew
page in the Book of Existence."
"Madeline, do von know how I feel
sometimes, when I sit and look at you ?"
"No"
"Well. I feel like a widower who was
married again."
My heart gave a little superstitious
jump.
-lAke a widower who has married
again, Gerald !"
-Yes; I Call remember my first wife—a
brilliant, thoughtless child, without any
idea beyond the gratification of present
whims—a spoiled plaything! Well that
little Madeline has vanished away into the
past somewhere; she has gone away to
return no more, and in her stead I behold
my second wife—a thoughtful, tender
vrmatt, whose watchful lore surrouuds
me like an atmosphere, whose character
grows more noble and develops itself into
new depths and beauty every day."
I was kneeling at his side now, with
my cheek upon his arm, and my eyes look
ing into his.
"And which do yon love best, Gerald—
the first or second wife ?"
"I think the trials and vicissitudes
through which wtf have passed are wel
come, indeed. They have brought me as
their harvest of fruits, the priceless treas
ure of my second wife."
That was what Gerald answered me—
the sweetest words that ever fell upon my
ear.
QV — A Hog was killed in Springfield
111., the other day, and in its stomach
was thirty nails, half a saw, one tile, and
a suspender buckle. It is surmised that
at some period the animal swallowed a car
penter.
Why Awn finny Neva Got Married.
"Now, Aunt Sally, do please tell us
why you never married. You know you
said once that when you were a girl you I
were engaged to a minister, and prom-
I ised von would toll us all about it softie-'
time. Now, Aunt, please."
"Well, if I ever see such girls in my
born days. It's tease, tease, from morn
mg till night, but what you most know
all about e verything that, you haven't any
business to know anything about. Such
inquisitive, pesteriferous critters as you
are When I was )Doug, girls was dif
ferent; they minded their . business, and
didn't go sailing with a whole string of
beaux, getting their heads tilled with all
kinds of nonsense. I never dared to ask
my aunts, married or single, about a ny o f
their affairs. Pretty mess I'd have gut in
if I had. When they offered to tell me
anything of their own accord, I kept my
mouth shut and listened. Everything is
different now-a-days; young folks have
no respect for their elders. But as I see
I am nut going to have any peace till I do
tell you, why just listen, and don't let
me hear a word out of your mouths till I
get through."
-That's right, Aunt Sally ;go
right
ahead. do, and we'll keep perfectl y still."
-Well. you see, when I was about seven
teen rears old. I was living iu Utica, in
the State of New York. rhouoh I say it
myself, I was quite a good lookityr
then, and had se oral beaux. The one
that took my fancy most was a young
minister, a very promising young man,
and remarkably pious and s teady. He
thought a good deal of me, and I kind of
took a fancy to him, and things ran on
till we were engaged.
"One evening he came to me—l remem
ber it as well as if it were only yesterday.
When he came into the parlor, where I
was sitting alone, he came up to me and—
but now, pshawl girls, I don't like to tell
the rest."
"Oh, Aunt Sally, fur mercy's sake don't
stop; tell us what he did."
"Well, as I said, lie came up to me, and
put his arms around me, and rather
hugged me. while I got excited and some
flustered ; it was a long time ago, and I
don't know lint what I might have
hugged him hack a little. Then I felt—
Ia now just clear nut, every one of you,
I shan't tell you any more."
"Goodness, gracious, no. Aunt Sally.
Tell us how you felt. Didn't you feel
good ? And what did he do next ?"
-Oh, such torments as you are:' I was
like any other girl, and pretty soon I pre
tended to be mad about it. and pushed
him away, though I wasn't mad a hit.
You must know that the house where I
lived was on one of the hack 'streets of
the town. • There were glass doors in the
parlor, which opened right out over the
street, and no balcony or anything of the
kind in front of the house. As it was in
the summer season these doors were
diaMit - 1
stopped tmek a little front hint, and when
he edged up elo,e I pushed him away
again. 1 pushed harder than I intended
to. and don't you think, girls, the poor
fellow lost his balance and fell through
one of the doors into the street ! Yes,
it's so. As he 1.11 I lace a scream and
caught him—but I declare I won't tell
anvtli:ng more. I'm going to leave the
room. "
"No, no, Aunt Sally! How did von
catch ? Did it hurt him much
Well, if I must, I must. He fell head .
first and as he was going I caught him by
the legs of his trowsers. I held on for a
minute and tried to pull him back, lint
his suspenders gave way, and the poor
young man fell clear out of his pantaloons
into a parcel of ladies and gentlemen pass
ing along Ow street."
"Oh, Aunty, Aunty, Lordy, Lords!"
"There, that's right: sequel and giggle
us much as you want to. Girls that can't
hear about a little thing like that without
tearing around the room, and he-he-ing
in such a was, don't know enough to
come home when it mina A nice time
the man that ever marries one of son will
have, won't he ? Catch me telling you
anything again."
"But, Aunt Sally, what became of him ?
Did you ever see him again ?"
.!o: the moment he torched the
ground he got up, and left the place in a
terrible hurry. I tell you it was a sight
to be remembered to see how that man
did run. Father happened to be coming
up the street at the time, and he said he
never tsaw anything to equal it in his
whole life. I heard others say that he
did the fastest running ever known in
! that part of the countrY, and that he
ne%er stopped or looked hehitid until he
was two miles out of town. He sent me
I a note a f.w days afterward, saying that
the engagement must be broken MI, as he
; could never look me in the face after what
had happened. He went out West, and I
believe he is preaching out in Illinois.
But he never married. He was very mod
est. and I suppose he was so badly fright
' tined that time that he never dared to trust
himself near a woman again. That, girls,
is the reason I never married. •I felt very
bad about it for a long time, for he was a
real good mab, and I've often thonght to
myself that we should always have been
I happy if /4 ix suspenders hadn't yiren tray 1"
---o-ao-i.-----
To Train a Child.
A little tract issued fur distribution by
the Ladies' Sanitary Association of
don, gives these wise suggestion for the
nurture of children in health of body and
spirit :-
1. Never refuse a thing if it is harrnkss,
but give it, if you are able, without deln t v.
2. Never give any thing because it is
cried fur, that you refused when asked
for.
3, Be careful to observe real illness, and.
avoid causing bodily uneasiness from over.
clothing, or cold, or unwholesome food,
such as candy, sugarplums, sour fruit, or
giving buns or cakes to quiet the child,
4. Avoid false promises. They arc
sure to be found out false.
5. Avoid threats of all kinds. If be
lieved, they makes children timid, and in
jure both mind and body; if not believed
they are useless. Such threats as bogie,
policeman, and black-man, are sure - to be
found out to be false, if the child lives.
6. Never say any thing untrue to a child.
7. Do not wreak your own bad tempter,
or visit your own feelings of fatigue and
tronble on children, by being severe with
them by saying " You shan't have it" or,
"I won't give it to you," when there is no
reason fur refusal, except that you are
yourself tired, or in trouble, or out of sorts. I
8. Avoid giving orders, such as "Stand
still," "Go on," " Hold your tongue,"
" Put it. down," ect., unless you really
mean that they should be obeyed; and the
fewer orders you give, the better.
9. Neither give too much pity, nor yet
he severe and unkind, when a child tutn
blas down or hurts itself.
10. Do not worry a child. Let it alone,
and let it live in peace.
11. Teach it early to play alone, and
:utilise itself without help. Let it alone,
is a golden rule in nine cases out of ten.
To sum up all in a few words, try to
feel like a child; to cuter into its griefs
and joys, its trials and triumphs. Then
look forward to the time when it shall
have numbered as many years as you have
seen, and pray fur help and strength to do
your duty by it. You may fail, as we all
may ; but if you sow the seed with humil
ity and faith, you will bare done all that
is permitted to us imix.rfect creatures;
and if you have reared upa cheerful,
, lov
ing, truthful, and brave spirit, in a healthy
body. you have been working with hint
who told us it was - nut the will of our
Father in heaven that une of these little
ones should perish."
IRsinaging Children
Children not only imitate our faults,
suffer by our earefeSSlleS, hut govern us
through weakness. A friend came to visit
me, and brought a generous, frank, and
manly boy of four years old. But lie dis
turbed our whole circle be his constant
crying. This habit was not in keeping
with the brave, proud, independent char
acter of the children. I therefore felt a
curiosity to find the cause. My first dis
co \ ery was lie ic i er she'd a tear.
His muther wished to take a trip, but
could not take her boy.
•• Lease him with me. -
"Hell torment the life out of you."
" I don't think
" I will indeed, be most gratefull. You
may whip him as often us VOU please."
'• I should not strike a child, except in
a most extreme case.•'
Then you can do nuthiug with him."
She was g-nr. The next morning after
breakfast, Willie asked :
May I go and play in the yard t
It r:dned last night, and it's too damp
now. You may go at. ten."
It isn't damp, scarcely any a bit."
I think it is. You may go at ten:
not before." '• 800, wu , WOU, " — re,t. 1
kept quitely sewing.
- 800, woo, woo"—bass. "800, woo.
woo"—double bass. '• ]loo, who°, Nt hou"
_thket to—rest.
Now may I lro
" You mu . g al tell 0 . 1210ek."
Concert revoated. 1 zilently sewing tilt
whik,
-Ain't your load most math - to split
" No"
3layn't I zo out n,,w?"
“N,.t until tin
COnevrt 1-,sumed. nest.
- you most eraz ?"
-No. not at
Concert resumed with the addition of
throwing himself on the floor. and knock
ing his feet up and down. After a while.
"A i n't you most crazy yet? Why don't
von shake me, and call me the baddest
boy ever was, and send me out duos ?"
Because you are not going out until
ten o'clock."
Concert resumed with the addition of
bumping his head as well as his toes. !lest.
A pause. Then picking himself up, he
stood erect before me, with his nand in his
pockets.
Why don't you whip me, and scud trw
off, to get rid of the noise ?"
- Because von are not going out until
te•u u'elook: r
lie stood a moment.
"If I bump inc head. ain't you afraid it
will kill me:'"
Not in the least."
But it does hurt me, awfully."
"I ant happy to hear it."
11' drew a lung breath.
What can Idu neat rse done all I
knows how."
See if you cannot think of something,
else."
-May I take my blocks?"
Certainly, -
At nine he started tip.
Now may I gu r
"nue.
II went. Inu•k to his blocks, without a
murmer.
At ten he we tit out, tolerably well cured.
The Aie In life Bundle of Rods.
The axe carried before the Romans con-
SUIS always bound up in a bundle of.
rods. An oki ant her tells us that "the,
nals were tied up with knotted cords, and
that when au otPuder was condemned to
be punished, the executioner would untie
the knots, ono,. by one, and, meanwhile,.
the magistrab• would look the culprit in
the face. to olNeme any signs of ripen- I
tance, and watch his words, to see it he
could find a motive for merry; and thus
justice went to work deliberately and
without passion." The axe was, inclosed
in rude to show that the extreme penalty
was never inflicted till milder means had
faded; first the rod, and the axe only as
a terrible necessity.
Readers if you are unconverted, I beg
you to look at the symbol and learn a les
son. The Lord is gracious and full of
compassion toward you. He has waited
lo three years, untying the knots very
slowly. and seeing whether you will by
His lung sufferin,g, be led to repentance.
Hitherto, few and feeble have been any to
kens for good in von. Beware! for mercy
tarries not forever, and justice will not
long delay. The rods you have already
felt.. Those burials of dear ones were all
rods to you. That fever, that broken
arm, that 'loss in business—all these put
together have been warnings toyou, which
you cannot despise without committing
great sin. Many have been brought to
God by afflictions; but you, perhaps, have
been rather hardened than otherwise. See
to it, sinner!-For, when the rods have had
their turn, the axe must come in for its
work. Its edge is sharp, and its blows is
VOLUME XXVII, NUMBER 17.
terrible. He who weilds it will cut through
send and body, and none can escape from
His wrath. You have found the rod to be
very dreadful, but what will the axe be ?
Heil is not to be thought of without trem
bling; but it will soon be your eternal
dwelling place, unless you repent. Can
you endure its endless torments? Trem
bler, there is hope! .Jens died. Jesus
lives. Trust in him who stood in the
sinner's place, and you are saved. Oh.
may the Holy Ghost now, while you read,
lead you to Jesus and to safety, for time
tlics like the weaver's shuttle, and the
thread of life is soon snapped. "To-day,
if ye will hear His voice, harden not your
hearts."—Npurgeon.
- --
Marriage Maxim.
1. good wife is tiro greatest earthly bles-
mng.
A man is what his wife makes him. It
is the mother who moulds the character
and destiny of the child.
Make marriage a matter of moral judg-
men t.
Marry in your own religion.
Marry into different blood and temper
ament from your own.
Marry into a family which you have
long known.
Never talk of one another either alone
or in company.
Never both manifest anger at once.
Kever speak loud to one another unless
the house is on lire.
Never reflect oil a past action, which
was done with a good motise and with
the best judgment at the time.
Let each one strive to yield ofteuest to
the wishes of the other.
Let self-abnegation be the daily aim
and effort of each.
The very nearest approach to domestic
felicity on earth is in the mutual cultiva
tion of an absolute unsellihness.
Never find fault, unless it is perfectly
certain that the fault has been committed;
and even then prelude it with a kiss, and
lovingly word.
NCVel* 11l till I. with a past mistake.
Neglect the whole world beside rather
than one another.
Never allow a request to be repeated
" I forget" is never an acceptable excuse.
Never make a nmark at the expense of
' the other: it i, a II h. all
Se \er part I,r a day without l o ving
words to th:o k .1 tiring abs,•ll,, ; hesides,
it mav b, th.it v ,11 will not meet again in
life. •
Color of the Hair
Nationalities appear in the color of the
hair, as in many other characteristics.
Different nations show a distinct differ
ence in their prevailing shades. though
some may have, and of course do hate,
much in common. English, Irish and
fiermans hay:. the same national hue—
fair, or yellow—yet there is a manifest
difference in shade between them, also in
the gi•neral habit of the hair; and the
:scot. so like. is vet all three. Each
nation has its tint and texture.
Among the Irish women, a chestnut
seems to predominate. Bat among the
Irish and English. in certain dibtriers. we
meet ait h tine specimens of blue-black
hair, but 1 lulu. , different from the Spanish
or Italian type. French hair is not so de
cided ni its coloring as the English. It
is black. very often, but not the sombre
black of the Italian, and very often it is a
dark-brown. Blonde hair is not so un
common among the French as those
who have not seen them at Inime •
may imagine. But the Italian blond•... hair
is the most beautiful of all. It has not
the cold, look of the light hair of the
northern nations, fur the sun has bronzed
its fairness, and there is a warm tinge in
its sunny ripples.
The hair of the eaprian IK-its:tut woman
is among the finest in the world. It is
dark, lustrous and heavy, ma -sivelv rip
pled in thick furrows over low, classic
brows, the exact reality of what we see in
antique Grecian and Roman statues. They
wear it plaited in two tong plaits, which
hang half-way to their heels when let
down. They generally wear the plaits
coiled up and shot through with a long,
carved silver bodkin. The bodkin, about
as large as a small dagger, terminates at
the hilt in an open hand, if the wearer
be unmarried ; and if a married woman,
you may know it by the hand being
eloQ-41.
Greek women of old times can not have
had cry profuse hair; for in genuine
Greek heads of lung antiqnity the knot
behind is very moderate, but so charm
ingly adjusted that more tnodern Venuses,
with heads bowed down us if by immense
hav-mows, rather shock us after looking
at the classic contour and classically ar
ranged and well proportioned hair of a
Greek model.
Spanish hair, especially that of the wo
men, has a great deal of character. It
i; somber, heavy with actual weight,
straight and long ; of a burnished rather
than a lustrous blackness, and not very
fine. American hair is not inclined to be
of any prevailing hue. so Gtr. and we are
the only nation in a hich there is not
some prevailing national hue of the hair.
This is to be ascribed to the amalgama
tion of all the different nationalities which
is constantly going on in this country.
But the predominating tint of American
hair, acted on by climate, and the nualifi
cationi which take place in a few gener
ations' time, is brown—chestnut brown,
and all the shades that arc nearest to
chestnut; a little lighter or a little darker,
as the case may be. which proves that in
national characteristics we are quite dis
tinct from any other nation ; for we shall
be the only brown-haired nation on the
earth. The nations of Southern Europe
has c darker hair, and those of Northern
Europe lighter hair than we. The Rus
sians, and all Tartars and the Asiatic
' races have hair like that of the aborigines
of this country.
A Long Walk
In 17:172, Thomas Penn contracted with
Teedynscung and some others for a title
to all the land in Perinsylvapia, to be
taken off by a parallel of latitude from
any point as far as the best of three men
could walk in a day, between sunrise and
sunset, from a certain chestnut tree at or
near Bristol, in a northwest direction. Care
was taken to select the most capable for
such a walk. The choice fell on James
Yates, a native of Bucks county, a tall,
slim man, of much agility and speed of
foot; Soloman Jennings, a Yankee, re
markably stout and strong; and Edward
Marshall, a native of Bucks county, a no
ted hunter, chain carrier, &c., a large,
heavy set, and strong boned man.
The day was appointed and the cham
pions notified. The people collected at
what they thought the first twenty miles
of the Durham road, to see them pass.
First came Yates, stepping, as light as a
feather, accompanied by Penn and attend
ants on horseback. After him, but oat of
sight, came Jennings, with a strong,
steady step ; and net far behind, Mar
shall, apparently careless, swinging a
hatchet in his hand, and eating a dry
biscuit. Marshall took biscuits to sup
port his stomach, and carried the hatchet
to swing in his hands alternately, that the
action in his arms should balance that in
his legs, as lie was fully determined to
heat the others, or die in the attempt.
He said he first saw Yates in descending
Durham creek, and gained on him. There
he sate Yates sitting on a log, very tired;
presently he fell off, and gave np the walk.
i Marshall kept on, and before he reached
the Lehigh, overtook and passed Jennings,
\
waded the river at Bethlehem—hurried
on faster and faster by . where Nazareth
stands, to the Wind Gap.
That was as far as the path had been
marked for them to walk on, and there
was a collection of people waiting to see
if any of the three would reach it by sun
set. He only halted for the surveyor to
give him a pocket compass, and started
again. Three Indian runners were sent
after him, to see if he walked it fair, and
how far he went. He then passed to the
right of Pocono mountain, the Indians
finding it difficult to keep him in eight,
till he reached Still Water;
and he would
have gone a few miles farther, but for the
water. There he marked a tree, witnessed
by the three Indians. The distance he
walked, between sun and sail, not being
on a straight line, and about thirty miles
of it through woods, was estimated to be
from one hundred and ten to one hun
dred and twenty miles. He thus won the
great prize. a hiph was one hundred
p•umils in 111.:110y. :end five hundred acres
of land :my ii hcre in die purchase.
James Vat, ii ho led the way for the
firA thirty tails or more, was quite blind
when taken out of Durham creek, and
lived bat three days afterwards. Solomon
Jennings survived but a few years. Ed
ward Marshall lived and died on Mar
shall's island, in the Delaware river. He
arrived at about ninety years of age. He
was a great hunter, and it is said he die
' cover,4l a r:ell silv‘ r mine, which rendered
hint and his family moneetious affluent;
hut lie net er di el .sed where it eves, and
, it, sauna 1,.. 11.11, ~.itu to this day.
Elder Knapp on Swearing.
Elder Knapp is not averse to having it
understood that he . may be regarded as a
sort of ecolso lt lug physician for sick souls
when the original handy doctor finds that
his pharmacy has lost its efficacy. In ono
of his recent raids on the arch enemy of
souls, he selected, as fit subjects for ani
madversion, the profane swearer:
"I will give you, my dear friends, a pin
tu re front a scen:: in hell. The devil is
sitting in his private corner. In comes an
infernal - jailor, conducting a soul to ever
asting Humes.
" ho are you r asks the devil, as the
culprit was brought in. The name being
given, the devil said, " take him away and
give him a stream of cool air" V
Other culprits were brought in, charged
with murder, arson, &c., and. were simi
lark disposed of.
Pretty soon unother victim arrives:—
" What has brought you here?" asks the
devil. " Nothing but swearing," was the
reply. " Noll/ ingbut swearing ! Why
,you
mean, despicable, contemptible, low-lived
vagabond," said the devil, as he brought
his fist down on the table, " there isn't a
corner here that is hot enough for yon.—
Of all the sixty tnonsand preachers that
spend their Sundays in blackguardingme
not one eNer yet accused me of swearing.
Blasphemed your Maker, did you ? Pro
faned the holy name of your Saviour,who
forgave his enemies upon the cross, and
died to have you saved from here ? You
did this, did you ? Why there's no ex
cuse for yon. A man by an unlucky blow
may kill anuther. In pressing tempta
tions he may steal ; he may lie to save his
neck or cheat his neighbor. There's some
excuse for him. The profane swearer has
nu excuse' Attendant take this accursed
scoundrel oat of my sight. Put him up
to his neck where the coals are the hot
test. and put something on his accursed
head to keep hint down.
A ppleton's Journal thinks that
the wearing of fine dresses by church go
ing ladies Is not so reprehensible a prac
tice after all. It says: - Man and woman
is pure linen, in unstained apparel, in
choice lsrsona" hdornm ut, Lave a sense
of dignity and elevation which those in
slovenly garb do not experience. And it'
is no particularly siti if this sort of eleva
tion is carried a little to far. Pride, of
course, often enters into tine dressing, and
many women particularly are fond of
flaunting their fine feathers in people's
eyes; but a great mojority love handsome
dressing, in obedience to an instinct of
refinement, in consequence of that sense
of personal purify which accompanies the
wearing of choice apparel—and hence we
see perti.ct congruity in the well dressed
crowds that pour through our streets on
Sundays, wending their way to the place
of prayer. And our mostfashionable con
gregations, if exhibiting a little too much
of ultra elegance, even if showing uumis
takeably the presence of pride and vain
glory in too large a proportion for the
spiritual welfare of the worshippers, have
yet au air of sobriety, are reverential in
manner, at least—conditions that seems
to have been somewhat different in former
times.
—John Randolph once on a race course,
was solicited to bet by a stranger who
said :
," Smith here will hold the stakea" .
"Just so," replied the descendant of
Pocahontas ; " but who'll hold Smith ?"