THE MONTROSE • DEMOCRAT. VOLUME XXX. E. B. HAWLEY & Co., Proprietors. Business Cards. J. IL Ad. 11. MeCOLLUM, - ATTOWITTII ♦'c Law Mee °Ter theilank. Montrose Pa. 'Montrose, Ilay 10, ISTI. D. TO: SEARLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. office over tbe Store Of M. Dessancr, In the Brick Block, Montrose. Pr. tart c W: W. a.ci.117771, c/..IMNET AND CHAIR MANDPACTIIIIEII9,...Iroo of Melo street. Montrose, Pa. 3ang. 1. 1869. M. C. SUTTOY, &ectioneer, and Insurance Agent ~l 6glf Friends - villa, Pa: C. S. C/LBERT, Q. IE3. ..fienaticmecoctr. saglptf Great Bend. Pa. 111 R L Y, BvoottorLoor. • Ant. 1, Ite9. Address, Broaktyn,Pd JOHN GRO►ES, aSIIIONABLE TAII.III, Montrose. Pi Shop over Chandler's Store. Al , orders Oiled In dteterateatpla. Cutting done on short noose. and warranted to in. J. F. SHOEMAKER, *Donley at Law, Montrose. Office nett door to J R. DeWitt's [tore, opposite the bank- Montrose, Jan. 11. 1512.—n0.1-17. L BALI) ITIN, Arrens.r AT Law. Montrose, Pa OffiCO with Jame! E. `srntl, Erq. Montrose, Anvott 20, 1871. tE A. 0. WARREN, ATTORNEY Ai' LAW. Boonty, Bank Pity. Pension and Exam , on Claims attended to. Office Sr. ..oar below Boyd's Store, Montrose.P.. (An. WO W A. CROS.S.IIOS, Attorney et 1-str. Office at the Court House. In the Cornutteeioner'e Office. W. A. CROSSIUM. Montrose. Scot. Gth. 3frICENZIE, d CO. D.alars la Dry Goods, Clothing, Ladles and Mitres Sae Shoes. \leo, :nrcote for the great American Tea and (Disc Company. [Montrose, July 17, `72,1 DR. W. T. SMITH, Rooms at Ms dwellinz, newt door onst of the Repuh3con priutiog ofike.. Wilco hour,. from 7A. at. t• I r. 1. Muutro•e_ May 3, 1071-11 LAW OFFIC& y rmn & WATsoN. Attorney. at Law, at the old Mbar of ftentley &Fitch. hlontnc, Pa. L. r. mca. [Jan. '71.1 w. w. warsow. J ■ ,S.t UTTER, PARDIONSBLE TAILOR. SLop over J. R. DeWitt's steß. llobtreee Feb. 19th 1913. 4RE7. TURRELL Dealer in Illsonlcel., Mint*, Oil.. Ilye Teak spices, Fancy Owed*, Jewelry. Per. kamel7, Jcc., Brick Bloc[, Montrose, Po. Fo.tahllohed Feb. 1, 1:111. DR. W. L. RICILIRIPSON, PaTSIVIAN S WItGEON, tender. his orofecolona •ntees to Um eitincns of Montrose and cirinlty. Oface - st Itt•rusidonce, on thy corner cunt of nut rr Pros. Foundry. f Actg. I. 1369. CHARLES N. STODDARD )Marla Boats and Sims., Hate and Cap.. Leather sna Math Street, tat door belt* Hojd's Stotr. Work made to order. and repairing done onstly. Montrose, Jan. 1. in:O. LEirrs KNOLL SHAVING AND HAIR DRESSI7O. Shop la Um view Pastor See halldine. where he at famed ready to attend all who may waot •nythlng I. Ma line. Mantra. Pa. Oct, IS. IaCS. DA S. W DA YTON, rBTSICIAN d. SURGEON. tender. his service. to the citizens of tirent Bend and vicinity. 003ce ■t his residence. opposite Barnum Rouse, O•I Bend vilisre. Ulm. Ist. tad.—ti DR. D. A. LATHROP, •datalatars Sugar. Tasaa•t. na.TER. at tto. Foot or Caestaat street. Call sod colonial la all Cbroote Diatiaaes. limatnos, Jaz, It; '7l—an3—tf. CHARLEY monnls, TER RATTI BARBER, has moved Ms shop to the handing occupied by J. It. DeWitt, where he Is pre patted to do all kiwis of work In hi. line. such as ma king switches, puffs. etc All work done on short bailee and prices low. Please call and see me. IL 17171:1ZITT Dealer .n Staple and Fancy Du Gooda,Cnockery, Wird. WV!. Iron, Stoves, Drags. Oile, and Paiute. Boots and Stine*, Hats and Caps, Fara, Baialo °ro taries. Provisions. kn. New-lbltord, I a., Non, 6, '72--t t. EXCHANGE HOTEL. D. L. McCILACKEN. arighc. to Inform tbspnblictbet basing meted the Exchange Hotel In Montrose. be 1• note prepared toaccommudate the traveling pubte rn Ina-class etyle Mumma. LL:- !E. BILLINGS STROUD. FIRE AND LIFE I: I I.9UtIANCR ACENT. All tombless attended to promptly. on fair terms. Oftlee Aral door east of the bank or Wm. B. Cooper At Co. Publle Avenue., Montrose, Pa. (Aag.1.1841. idly 17, 1871.1 Btr..roos ntraocrn. J. D. nenrcorrente Paramus env Smarms. Mao permanently located himself In Montrose, Pa., where he trill prompt ly attend to all call, In hie profeeidon with which he may be favored. °Mee and teeldenee wen of the Court Rouse, near Fitch S Sirateorie odic, Moutroee. February S. E CIIUBCILILL, Jeetice of the Peace: office over L. 8. I..enhehre• stem, Great Send baronet. Stogylebeetta Conoty, Permit, Iles the net - letneot or the dockets of the Late Isaac Ileekbow. demised. Office hours from Ito 19 o'clock a. a . and from I to 41 o'clock p. m. floret Bead. Oct. 2,1072. BURNS-cf; 37CIIOLS, :As ABB la Drugs, Medicines, Cbcsalai. Dye. malls, Pal ota.olls, Varnish. /Attars, Spicie.Fancy Patent Madlaines. Perfaineryand Toilet Ar ticle, or Proire,eption'• carefully compounded.— iklek Block, Monlrose, Pa. A. B. Banal', Pat, 21, • GET ALL KINDS OF JOB PRINTING, ETC ., 9 iZECTITED AT TEM DEMOCRAT OFFICE, Warr Szva Perm. Annum. hy fott`o anntr. TILE CARVER'S LESSON. —o— ADELAIDE PEOCSOIL —o— me no mere, skill of subtle No mere practice of a dexterous= Will auttko, without a hidden spirit. That we may, ur may not, understand. Anti those quaint old fragments that are left us have their power in this—the Carver brought Earnest care, and reverent patience, only Worthily to clothe some noble thought. Shut then in the petals of the flowers, Round the stems Of all the lilies twine, !Tide beneath each birds or angel's pinion, Some wise meaning or thought divine. Piece in stony hands that pray forever Tender winds of peace, and strive to wind Round the leafy scrolls and trews' niches Sonic, true, loving message to your kind. Some will praise, some blame and. soon forget ting, Come and go, nor even pause Pi gaze ; Only now and then a passing stranger Just may loiter with a word of praise. But I think, when years have floated onward, And the stone is gray. and dim, and old, And the harts forgotten that has carved it, And the heart that dreamt it still and cold. There may come some weary soul, d'erladen With perplexed struggle/a his brain, Or, It may be, fretted with life's turmoil, Or, made sore with some perpetual pain. Then, I think those A my hands will open Then the gentle lilies overflow, lkilh the blessing and the loving_.token Iltat you hid there many years ago. And the tendrils will unroll, and teach him flow to solve the problem of his pain: And Coe birds' and angels' wings shake down ward On his heart n sweet and tender rein. While he marvels at his fancy, reading Meaning•in that quaint and anrient scroll, Little mussing that the loving Carver Left a message for his weery;pnh. T n • I don't think a goose is a swan, I don't think a sheep is a rabbit, But I think, when I'm thinking thereon, That thinking's a dangerous habit. For some people think they are right, And some people think they are clever; And some think that black must be white, And some think of nothing whatever. And some people think of themseires, And some people think of their neighbors And some think the gold that one delves Is eery poor pay fur one's labors. For my part, I think that I timaght, That I (hunk while a thinking nod musing, That thinking in renily worth nought, Be 'ause thinking, 1 think, is contusing. The cftarg Zeller. NOT JEST YET --o Thirty yearn ago, London was a much jollier place in every way thau it is now. it had an Milli. idnality of its own then ; its big hotels were untmilt, its Houses of Parliament were unfinished; it was just, a big, brown, busy city,with a splen , did river running slap through it. Fur it It‘i a river then, with shores and no. Jile bridges; now it has but a stone trough with iron drain pipes across it. One rode on the top of houses then, or darted about in hansoms; now, I declare, when I visit London, I spend all my time in a coal-cellar, when. there is an escape of gas and where all the hot °lndere front the kitchen fire are cup i I—l mean the Metropolitan Railway. Thirty years ago I was in London, lir . mg on a splendid pittance, and much I troubled in the matter of dinners. One Sunday, I remember, my funds were getting low, very low. f lied de termined to remain in my lodgings and support nature on tobacco smoke; but my hunger was too strong. I had a few shillings left., and the evening wore on, and as the cravings of my appetite in creased. resolution broke down. I put on my hat and hurried out in quest of a dinner. When I made up my mind to go to the Recesses for dinner, it was because I knew that there was no other place open the prices of which would be within my means. How dismal it looked this Sun day evening, that long low room, its ta bles almost deserted, save for one or two men here and there nodding over a plate of buiscuits. There was pea-soup that night, I remember, and it was rather good too. The fish was fishy, the joint was reduced to a stump. "Waiter," I cried, "can I dispense with the other courses, and dine of the soup?" "If you wish, of course, sir," said the waiter. I had three helps of that excellent pea soup, and in each plate I put a spoonful of dried mint. Bubthe after result was not exhilarating; it rather clogged the pores, I think, that coop. Miserable and depressed as I went into the Recesses, I felt still more miserable more depressed after my dinner. I had spent my pre scribed allowance. I couldn't go any where or do anything. I could only go back to my gloomy lodging through the sloppy street and sit, and lonely chew tife cud of bit ter meditation. Ayes Iqtcnoug The idea seemed to me horrible; and yet now, as ever, there appeared to be no escape fur ma from the embraces of this dull melancholy Send. I couldn't help saying to myseif as sat with my chin resting on my — bands, "I wish I were dead I" I didn't mean to say it aloud but I sup pose I must have whispered it audibly; fora man who was sitting opposite to me at the-table—who had been sitting there, smoothing his heavy red mustache all the time I had been dining, his eyes fixed on his plate—looked op of a sudden, and gave me a quick and searching glance. I knew him then; it was Medlintst,an old school-fellow. As a boy he had been always a mystery to us; that quick sud den glance of his bad always had such a strange effect upon all on whom it fell.— We used to say.he bad the Evil Eye, and wonderful tales. used to be told at school about the effect of Idedhurst's look.— Still, I was glad to see him; any relief from tha loneliness and monotony of my life was pleasant. He recognized me also and came over and sat beside me. "TRUTH AND RIGHT : GOD AND OUR COUNTRY." MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 28, 1873. "Well," he said, after we had shaken bands—he had a strange, flabby, chilly hand, which somehow sent an icy chill to my very heart—"well, so you wish you were dead." "Did you hear me?" I said. "01., it was nonsense, of course. I often say so. A foolish habit' I have. I don't mean it." - "It wasn't nonsense!" he said. De talked in a low, monotonous voice, in telligible enough to the ear for which it was intended, but not to be overheard by others. "It wasn't nonsense, but a very rational, prudent wish. I wish so myself; and what is more," he said, "I have the mer ns to carry out both your wishes." I laughed uneasily. "You are jok ing." "I never joke. Until now," he went on, "the great deterring influence which has restrained those wise men who see the folly and emptiness of life, who meas. raring their fe,ble capacities for enjoy ment with their'illtimated capacities for suffering, Would gladly resign a posses -6ioll which has no advantage for them— the great deterring influence has been the doubt whether death be really a com plete severing of the body and the soul ; whether indeed, there is not a lingering capacity of feeling still hanging to the relaxed nerves, a lingering conscionsness in the decaying brain ; that, in addition to the bittern ess of death, one may taste also the gloom of the grave, and the horrors of a charnel-house." "Good-heavens?" I cried. "What a horrible ideal" Ile fascinated me, this man. I would gladly have risen and gone away; but he stoppal me with his eyes. "Listen," be said. "I have overeotne this impediment; I have opened the gates of Death to all mankind. To you, my young schoolfellow l will reveal the se cret; lest, tempted some day to cross the bonndry, I Should die, anti leave man kind as wretched as ever. You see this powdered herb; it is like mint, is it not the taste, the smell, everything is like mint—you would not know them apart and yet in.& small quantity of this pow der lies a release front all the miseries of life. pott% shrink back ; • it is innoec ous in small doses, produces merely pleasing languor ; but in such agmuiti ty as a teaspoonful, it produces leth argy; twice the quantity hrin^s on syn cope; thrice, inmitible death. I have often ventured death. I have ofb-it ven tured as lar as the second stage, but have always stopped short of the third. But I have brought back this much assurance froM the world of shadows; 'conscious ness cetticsaltoo ^ vi her at the second stage. There are no dreams in the sit,p of death. The prelituipat7 stage of lettargy is delightful—l often indulge in it ; but 1 hate had it doubt sometimes whether might not possess an CNwptional physical organization; whether the herb would prodnee exactly the same elects on oth ers. I determined to try the experiment on a large scale. I came here to-night to do it. I have noticed that eael, frequent er of these rooms, on peasonp nights, which are frequent. takes one plate of soup. to which he adds one spoonful of Mint. Well, I watched my opportunity. I came here as soon as the room was open ed; and, whilst the waiter's Lae': was turned. I emptied the contents of the plate into my pocket, and filled the_ plate with my UWU powder. The expOime.it was a bold one. I might have ceased the death of innocent persons. Hotwever, rrserved; the interests of scienice over power considerations of humanity. The experiment has completely succeeded.— Each habilue of these rooms has awollow ed his plate of soup, his spoonful of prec ious herb; each bas gone through ti.e stages of lethargy. There are sonic now, you observe, passing through that stage." I threw an agonized glance arotuid,Yes sore enough, there were two or three men lying back In their chairs, their heads sunk on their breasts, in a state of com plete lethargy. "And," he went on. "I can see the symtoms of the approaching lethargy up on you—the dilated pupil of the eye, the expression of anxiety in the face; yes, all is perfect: the symtoms are --" "But," I gasped. "I have taken three spoonfuls!" "Martyr of science r he cried springing np and grasping me by the hand, "horn . carefnlly,how painfully I will watch every symtom of your declining vitality! Dear friend, your case will be an era in the his tory of humanity. Like earth:is, you have leaped into the chasm for the public weal." "But isn't there an antidote ?" I grasp ed; "a remedy ?" "There is none; and were there, you would not go back from the noble path ? My dear friend, imitate the example of the ancient Roman ; a quietude and sere nity Ith his last hours is indispensible for the proper noting of your phenomon on." "But I won't die I shouted, getting op. My limbs trembled beneath me; I felt the very chills of death upon me. won't, I won't!" Here I screamed. "Send for a doctor—for policeman. Quick! Quick I'm poisoned !" All the lethargic men jumped to their feet, the waiters came running in, the proprietor appeared, pale and wonder in" "I'm poisoned 1" 1 shouted by the mint Send fur a doctor you fools! Do you hear ?" "Mad! said a .quiet voice, mad as a hatter. Poor fellow ! he's subject to those fits He'll fall down directly; look out for him!" "But I'm not piing to have the char acter of the house taken away for no mad freaks. What do you mean, sir, by at tacking the quality of my Vane's, sir ?" "It was he," I shouted, pointing to my friend, "who now seeks to screen himself by calling me mad. But good heavens; will you see a poor fellow creature perish, periA, PERIM ?" "There don't aggrivate him," said my - friend. "Put him into a cab; and send him to a police station; he's sure to have been advertised for." . I was dragged and hustled from the room, sad hurled into a cab. Two or three poliecemen had come up, and one took charge of me inside, while another mounted the box. I was quiet now.over• come by my struggles, and lay exhausted in the corner of the cab, waiting the insiduous advances of the deadly narcot ic. Presently the cab stoopped. "We've got that chap they advertised for," cried the man outside, to a policeman who was lunngen at the door of the police-station. "The deuce you haver -said the In specter, coming up. "Then you've done a good job to-night There's fifty pounds offered now. 'rake him right off to the asylum at once. Let's have alook at him, though. Why this ain't the man at all; this ain't Itledhurst !—Low, you ought to have known better. Red full mustache, drooping eye-lids, aquiline nose—why they re es different us light from dark ness." "What! is Medhurst mad?" I said, a light bursting in upon me. "Yes; 'as he been playing any of his pranks upon you, sir ?—making believe to give poison, or anything of that sort? Lord, he is the cunningest chap in crea tion, that Medhurst. lie's a small for tune to the police to bring him back after his escapes. He's quite 'armless, too, though he's always up to so many tricks. Quite a gentleman, too. I have swallowed a pint or more of his poison just to please him, and then he'd stand a bottle of cham pagne afterward. That's how you had ought to have served him, sir. There,you won't get hold of him to-night, chaps; he is miles away by this time.' I have never wished myself dead since then. /low I Escaped Being Killed in a 13-Y Mf.llt6 TWAIN -0- The only merit I claim for the follow tug narrative is that it is a true story.— It has a moral at the end of it, but I claim nothing on that, as it is merely thrown in to curry favor with the re ligious element. After I had reported a couple of years on the Virginia City (Nevada) Daily En terprixe, they promoted me to be editor in-chief—anal I lasted just a wtek by the watch. But I made an uncommonly lively newspaper. while I did last, and Len I retired I Mulls duel on my hands, and three horse-whippiugs promised me The latter I imole no attempt to collect; however, this history concerns only the former. It was the 01l -flush times" of the silvsr excitment, when the popula tion was wonderfully (wild and mixed ; evevtbudy went armedlo the teeth, and s.ll slights and insults had to be atoned for with the best article of blood your system (mild (*monist'. In the course of my editing I made trouble with a Mr. Lord, editor of the rival paper. lie flew up about some little trifle or other that I said about him—l do not remember now what it Leas. I suppose I called him a thief, or a body-snatcher. or an idiot., cr something like that. I was obliged to make the paper readable, and I could not Mil in my duty to a whole eciumunity of subscribers merely to save the exaggerat ed sensitiveness of an individual. Mr. Lird was offended, and replied rigorously in his paper. Vigorously means a great Aral when it refers to a personal editorial in a frontier n..wspaper. Duelling was all the fashion among the upper classes in that country, and very tew gentlemen would throw away an opportunity of lightiugone. To kill a person in a duel caused a man to be even more looked up to than to kill two men in the ordinary war. Well, out there,if you abuse a man, and that man did not like it, you had to call him out and kill him; otherwise von would be distmeed. So I challenged Mr. Lord, and I did hope he would not ac cept; but I knew perfectly well that he did not want to tight,and so I challenged him in the most yitdent and imphcable manner. And then I sat down and suf fered till the answer came. All out boys —the editors—were in our office. "help ing' me in the dismal business, and tel ling about duels, and discussing the code with a lot of aged ruffians who had had experience in such things, and altogether there was a loving interest taken in the matter, which made me unspeakably.— uncomfortable. The answer came—Mr. Lord declined. Onr boys were furious, and so was I--on the surface. I sent him another challenge, and an other and another; and the more he did not-want to tight, the bloodthirster I ba came. But at lust the man's tone chang ed. lle appeared to be waking up. It was becoming apparent that he was going to fight me, after all. 1 'ought to have known how it would be—lie wits a man who never could be depended upon. Our boys were exultant, I was not, though I tried to be. It was now time to go oni and practise. It was the custom there to fight duels with navy six shooters at fifteen paces— load and empty till the game for the fu neral was secured. We went to a little ravine just outside of town, and borrowed a barn door for a target—borrowed it of a gentleman who was absent—and we stood this barn door np. and stood a rail on end against the middle of it, to represent Lord, and put a squash on top of the rail to represonthis head. He was a very tall lean creature, the poorest sort of materiel for a duel—nothing but a line shot could fetch him, and even then be might split your bullet. ' Exaggeration aside, the rail was, of course. a little to thin to represent t his body accurately, but the squash as all right. If there was any intent , e al difference between the squash an his head, it was in favor of the squash. %Veil, I practised and practised at the barndoor, and could not hit it, and I practised at the rail, and could not hit that : and I tried hard for the squash, and could not bitthe squash. I would have been entirely disheartened, but that occas• ionally I crippled one of the boys, and encouraged me to hope. At last we began to bear pistokhots near by, in the next ravine. We knew what that meant! The other party . were out practising, too. Then I was iv the last degree distressed; for of ^nurse those people would hear our shots, and they would send spies over the ridge, and the spies would find my barn door without 3 wound or a scratch, and that would tim- ply be the end of me—for of course that other man would immediately become as bloodthirsty as I was. Just at that mo ment a little bird, no larger than a spar row, flew by, and lit on a sage-bush about thirty paces away; and my little second, Steve Gills, who was a matchless marks man with a pistol—much better than I was—snatched out his revolver and shot the birds head off! We all ran to pick up the game, and sure enough, just at this moment, some of the other duellists came reconnoitring over the little ridge. They ran to our group to see what the matter was; and when they saw the bird, Lord's second said : That was a splendid shoi. How fur off was it ?" Steve said, with sonic indiffer ence : "Oh,ao great distance. About thirty "Thirty paces! Heavens alive who did "My man—Twain." "The mischief he did !Can he do that often ?" "Well—yes. lie can do it about—well about four times out of five," I knew the little rascal was lying, bat I never said anything. I never told him so: He was not of a dispotion to invite confidence of that kind, so I rot the mat ter rest. But it was a comfort to see those people look sick, and see their under-jaws drop, when Steve made these statement. They went off and got Loru, and took him home ; and when we got home, half an hour later, there was a note saying that lir. Lord peremptorily declined to fight ! It was a narrow escape. We found out afterwards that Lord kit his mark thir teen times in eighteen shots. If he hail put those thirteen bullets through me, it would have narrowed my• sphere of usefulness a good deal—would have" well nigh closed it, in fact- True, they could have put pegs in the hole, and used me for a hat-rack ; but what is a hat-rack to a man who feels he has intellectual pow ers ? I would scorn na t e plition. I have written this true incident of my personal history for one purpose, and one purpose only—to warn the youth of the day against the pernicious practice of du elling, and to plead with them to war against it. If the remarks and sugges tions I am making can be of any service to Sunday School teachers, and newpa pers interested in the moral progress of society, they are at • liberty to use them widely disseminated, so that they may do as much good as possible. I was young and foolish when I challenged that gen tleman, and I thought it was very fine and very grand to be a dnellist,and stand upon the -field of honor." Bat I am older and more experienced now, and am inflexibly opposed to the dreadful custom. I am glad, indeed, to be enabled to lift up my voice against it. I thick it is a bad, immoral thing. I thick it is every man's duty to do everything he can to discour age duelling. I always do now; I dis courage it upon every occasion. ' If a man were to challenge me now— now that I can fully appreciate the in iquity of that practice—l would go to that man, and take him by the hand, and lead him to a qmet,retired room—and kill him. Josh Billings on Silence Silence iz a still noise. One of the hardest things for a man to do iz to keep still. Everybody wants tew be heard fast, and this iz jist what tills the world with nonsense. Everybody wants tew talk, few want to thiuk, and nobody wants to listen. The greatest talkers among the feather ed Wks are the magpie autlxinney hen, and neither of them are of much an eon it. If a man ain't sore he iz right, the best kard he kan play iz a blank note. I have known many a man tow beat in an argument by just knodding his head once in a while, and simply saying less so, jess so." It takes a great many blows to drive in a nail, but one will clinch it. Sum men talk just as a French pony trots, all day long, in a halt-bushel aim mire. Silence never maks env blunders, and alwuz gets as much credit as iz due it, and ofttimes more. Whe'n Caw , a man listening to clues, always say to myself, "look out, Josb,that fellow is taking your meaznre. I have heard men argy a pint two hours and a half and not get any further from where they started thataa mule in a tread mill; they did a good dcal ov going round and round. . . I have sat on jurys and had a lawyer talk law, fakts and evidence of tho lease all Gut ov me, besides starting the taps on mi boots. I have been tew church hungri for some gospel, and corn hum so phull ov it that couldn't draw a long breath without starting a button. Brevity and silence are the two .grata kards, and next tew saying nothing. say ing a little iz the strength ov the game. Ono thing iz certain, it iz only the grate thinkers who can afford tew ho brief, an thare has been but phew volumes yet published which could not be cut down two-thirds, and menny ov them could be cut clean back tew the title-page with out hurting them. It iz tew find a man ov good sense who ken look back upon enny occasion and wish he had sed sum more, but it is easy tew find menuey who wish they had sed less. A thing sed iz hard to recall, but, wi sed it kau be spoken at envy time. Brevity iz the child ov silence and iz a great credit tew the old man. • THE Jewish Messenger thinks that the arguments which have so ritheh strength in England against allowing a man to marry his deceased wife's sister, "which are mainly religions, are ludicrous in the extreme. The passages in Leritieus,which bad been so much relied on by the oppo nents of the'bill,do not prohibit,but rath er encourage; this kind of marriage,- as is exemplified by Jewish. tradition and, us ! uge." ICE cream will he dead rips in a few day& Terms 17717111411WAVAIR, 1 1 : ADVANC E: a& THE STOLEN SUS. With blue eyes closed, and head thrown bock, Within the easy-chair sat Kitty, Thought I. "If now a pair of gloves I may not win, 'twill be a pity!" But as I softly reached her side. The red Bps parted with a murmur; And, oh! what joy! my name the breathed ; Within my heart grew hopes still firmer. "fast love me Kitty!" whispered I; And soft in sleep CAM) back her answer; "I love thee not I" I stood aghast, Till love urged, "Kiss her while you can sire But, ah I the blue eyes swift. unclosed, 4Smd glanced at me with mirth o'ertlowing. Th'etflitt I, "I'll let her thiak awhile ThatTyp beard something worth the know log." Then, drawing near. F slyly said, - Fair maid, your dreams have well betrayed you." "For shame I" cried she, "to steal my thoughts, And get my sleeping tongue to aid you!' All penitent, f humbly said, "But, ah ! the secret in my tceping Has mado me sad !" She answered low, "One never tells the truth while sleeping!" The Laughing Philosopher. I know a funny little boy, The happiest ever bunt ; Ills Oice is her a beam of boy, Although his clothes are torn I saw him stumble on his nose, And waited for a groan; But how he laughed! Do you suppose He ever struck his funny bone? There's sunshine in each word he speaks, His laugh is sometimes grand; Its ripples overrun his cheeks, Liken wave on snowy sand. He laughs the moment he awakes, And till the day is done; The school-room for a joke he takes, His lessons are but fun. No matter how the day may go, You cannot make him cry He's worth a dozen boys I know, Who pout and mope and sigh. He's plump and round—he once was slim; I have not told you half; I soon expect to hear of him Exploding in a laugh.