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BY W. BLAIR,.
TOLUIEE 24.
fottrig,
CIIILIIIOI9 LAID.
There is a beatitifbl, far-of land,.
= Lying in stmlit setts,
But never a- ship to that magic strand,
Was wafted by fitful breeze: -
.For where her radiant shores unfold,
Night stretches her purple bars, -,
And fastens it in with her gates of geld,
And gourds it with sentry stars.
Over the fathomless summer skies
snowy clouds come and go ;
Through ever valley that dreaniing
•
Musical rivers flow.
Mountain and forests and glen and glade,
By the soft south-wind fanned, .' •
Birds and blossoms that never.fade,
Brighten ttds..thiry : • , •
Even vanished, forgotten day, '
Scatters its sunshine there; , •
Ends unfolding that passed
Are living more fresh and fair.
loving deeds` that the handshave done
Sheaves of life's ripened grain ;
Work, unfinished that souls begun,
Made perfect, there live again.
en-have-sought4t4Or-weary yea
Yet lae'er to their yearning eyes
The glow, of the mystic light appears,
Where the land of the beautiful lies.
Yet all have wandered its bright vales,
In the quiet of peaceful hours ;
Each heart the calm of its joy once knew
And the sweet of its deathless flowers.
lint hour to hour from the hidden shore,
- Our feet bevcrOrrneying gone
And days that faded can knoW no more,
The light of its tenser. dawn:
:Yet wemayfindigtlae great Somewhere,
Its ttretehes of pearl-white strand;
The blown; beauty that dwelling there,
Makes Heaven the Childhood Land.
IF lOU Lou TELL CIE :SD
If you love nie;tell me so;
I have read it *your eyes,
I have henrd it in your sighs,
But my woman's. heart replies,
If you love me, tell me so
Should I give you yes or, know!
a, girl may not Confess ,
That her answer would. be "Yes,"
To finch questioning , unless
I3ewho loteS tor-teps her so. '
If you love Me, tell Me'so, • •
Love giVes Strength - te,iirateWaud wait,
Trust, gives heart fOr'iuiy fate ;
Poor or rich, tutittiolvti':or great,
If you love me, tell me so.
gliscdtaneors gleading.
UGLY BARBARA;
or, A WOMAN'S niurr.
"Upon, my word; Barbara, think 'you'
grow-uger every day I" said Ernest Eth-'
erington cooly, as ,he lighted his segar at
the softly 'shining light beneath the rose
colored glass shade, 'and surveyed his tall
cousin as he did so, . '
Barbara Moyle. `shrank ' back as if ho
bad dealt her an actual corporeal blow.
Poor Barbara! She had been watchligall
day for the tardy train to b • 1 . 1 ;4
some cousin from college. She' fM ,
ed her hair so carefully, and z":.:r! - •!. 4 ," ; :ilie
very prettiest white dretis, 'with
blue ribbons, from her whole scanty 'ward.;
robebecauseshi had ' once heard Ernest,
say t hat he liked white, and hung the eon.
..al.clrops that Uncle Montague had sett
her from India in her ears ; and this was
his verdict, after all! . ,
"I can't bell) it !!,' cried Barbara pas
sionately, while every drop of blood in her
:body seemed to concentrateltself at.:-once
in her burning cheeks. "I know I'm a
great, ugly, gawky thing; but you oughn't
to twit me with it, Cousin Ernest."'
Mrs. Etherington, kind, motherly soul
: that she was, was in the dining-room, busy
. with preserves andlarts innumerable, to
tempt her newly arrived' son's appetite,
when Barbara Moylo rushed in like a
whirlwird. .
/'Aunt Effie, tell me; am I so very ugiy?'
"Qoodness gracious 1" cried Mrs. Eth
erington, nearly upsetting a .glass dish of
-quince jelly in her amazement. "What
has come to the child ? What , on earth do
you. mean, Barbara?"
"Ernest says I'm uglier than ever," sob-%
bed the tall, ungainly girl, as she sank des
lpairingly on the cushions in front of the
ooking-glass. '
"He's only teasing you, dear."
"No he's not. He n speaking the truth.
But I don't think he owght tb tell mese
Barbara surveyed. herself With dolorous
earnestness. A swarthy, not to say muddy
complexion ; heavy brown hair arranged
very unbecomingly; and great wine-dark
eyes ; lips too thick for beatq, and fea
tures -whose heavy Mould, 'however much
it might promise for the future, was cer
tainly groteetpudy inappropriate for a girl
of fifteen-,-411 these returned - no answer
ing delight
in am ugly," 'sighed Barbara, "and
Ernest only spoke the truth. • 011, Aunt
Effie, I wish I were a man. An ugly wo
man is like a soundless instrument or a
colorlont flower,. Men can fight against
their own fate, arid mate themselves a
r ace s in the world; women are utterly help
,
And from •tat time Barbara : . 3foylis
character seemed to undergo a rehange,
imperceptible yet entire. She withdrew
more within herself; she cultivated
resources, and depended less on the
c.ompanionship and tip wet of others.
".Dear me!"siabet . cl Aupt Ether
ington ;"I only hope • our Barbara isn't
growing, strong-minded. If she Should
turn public lecturer or artist or authoress,
I rainy don't know how I could standit."
"Let her alone, mother," said Ernest."
"All girls have to undergo a transition
more than common in little Barbara. If
she wasn't so ugly; I really: should get in
terested in her.. I always did liketo study'
character.". . „
• "Well," said Mrs. Etherington dupi
ously, "she mao,landsome, but - for all that
I don't know how I eouldspare Barbara?!
"I don't love him," said Barbara Moyle
meditatively to herself; "but shall accept
him. I want to proVe to Ernest that there
is some one who. thinks me not absolutely
frightfully !"
A dangerous experiment, Bar barn, and
one "thatmany - a woman: ,wiser than you
has lived to repent. Marriages from pique
are the marriages which fill our divorce
courts with sorrowfUl tales, and make out
the records of broken and blighted hearts.
'But Barbara confided her secret senti
ments to no one,
,and Mils. Etherington
wrote a long account to Ernest, ilow loung
ing among. therAins Of Pompeii and Her
culaneum, of whh`t a brilliant match Bar
bara was about to make. Ernest wrete
back --a congratulatory letter, and sent a
lovely set of pink Neapolitan coral, which
Barbara never once put on. Colonel All
; n!made i n "old man's darling" of her
and she. had no lack of brilliant jewe
And yet Barbara was miserable:7 „..
"Child," sail Mrs. Ethering, one even
ing, as she sat' in the room which Mrs.
Allston had just entered, dressed for a
party in cream-colored silk 'and diamonds,
"do
.you know how youlave changed dur
ing the past year ? , I never in all my life
saw such an alteration in any one."
"Italie I?"' said Barbara mdifferantiv.
Yet, as she looked in , the glass, she could
not but see itherself
"I, wonder if Ernest would think me
`ugly' now ?" she said, striving to speak
lightly, but with a concealed tremor in
her voice: "
"Ugly!" echoed Mrs. Etherington.--
4 Why, Barbara, you are beautiful!"
She was. The large features were in
harmony now with the rest of her face;
the complexion had cleared to a creamy
softness, with roses blooming on her cheeks
and carnations on her lips: the nut-brown
hair drooped, in satin waves on either side
of her head, and the large wine-dark eyes
were full of shadowy, mysterious depths'
beneath their fringed lids., Yes; Barba
ra saw that she was liar to look upon, and
her woman :heart rejoiced within her.
As she turned, stately and jewel-decked
like•an oriental Sultana, she saw that a
stranger had entered the room unannounc
ed, and stood as if rooted to the floor, close
to the door-way.
"Ernest!" cried both aunt and niece ig
one breath.
"Yes, I am Ernest Etherington,' he an
swered, shading his eyes, as if dazzled by
some' over-bright vision. "But pardon
me ; was told that cousin Barbara lived
here.? .
• Mrs.-Etherin,gton started to her feet
" Ernest,. is it possible that - Am don
know your cousin ?"
The diMples came to Barbara's cheek,
the radiant • softness to her eyes; this was
a triumph worth having. She advanced
with gracious . gracefulness.
"I am Barbara."
And She saiv i,ti eyes the. marvelous
change - wrought 13,y, the inscrutable old
alchemist Time.
. That.uight, when Barbara came home
and sat betbre her mirror, unclasping dia
mond fillet - and bracelet, and loosening
the dusky waves of her hair, and saw the
'peaceful face4nd white hairs of old Colo
• nel Allston on the pillow beyond, she put
her hand suddenly to her heart. Was it
a sudden pang? was it remorse? was it
a.conicionsnms, all too late, of the mistake
shelled made? Di& she discover then,
for thafirst time, that she had loved Ern
est Etherington all these yeali, and 'that
at last he was. her captive?
rising softly,, - she crept across the vel
vet piled carpet, and knelt silently beside
the, pillow, pressing her ripe red lips a
gainst the scattered iron-gray locks.
never thought of this," sheriondered,
"No; I -never dreamed what might come,
to me when I • beheld him once more.—
But, ohl•irty husband, manly and tender,
from whose lips I never heard an unkind
word; my nOble, loving guardian and
°protector, I will be true to thee!"
And Barbam's.vow was registered in
the high heaven above.
When she walked the next morning,
the servants were tapping at her door
aiith confused utterance, and white, fright
ened faces. "Master had fallen in a .fit or
something? •He had not begun.to drink
his coffee at the solitary breakfast which
was his usual habit, when his features
grew rigid, and he fell from his chair;
dead. • -
And before the sunset of the short win
ter day 'reddened the west Barbara was
A- year Afterward, when She stood it
the 'altar second time, her hand in that
ofErnest Etheringten, it seemed as if her
past life had been but a dream—as if she
'were flow beginning to exist, for the first
time-in reality.
"Ernest," , she whispered to him, as he
led- her to- the carriage, "do you remember
how you used to tease me about being
ug g ly ?'
'What' makes you think of that just.
now, Barbara?" he asked, smiling.
"I don't knoir it all seems to come
back to me, like a vision. Ernest, it may
be very wicked, hut I think I loved you
all , the time, ungainly, awkward • child
though I vas." "
"My 4 queen," kimurmui:od softly.
• ucly &ilk ouag are better
Fast asleep .thari"fa_st awake."
A rrnPir
WAYNESBOR(rx ,
are indebted to the Portland Argus
for the followingsthrilline story :
• : If we are not mistaken we heard
or read somewhere "that truth is stranger
than fiction.", . An instance strictly, true,
has:come to our knowledge 'which vividly
illustrates that, and also exhibits with al
most.startling effect, the danger of mob
law.- • .
A young Maine man, who is engaged in
the commercial traveling business for a
Chicago house, was recently,traveling out
in the far West, when he - was taken poss
ession of enthe train b 3 two men who
simply informed him that they were officers
and wanted hinm. He expostulated, ex
plained, demanded explanations, etc., but
all in vain. No one on the train .knew
him, and there were those who did know
the officers. All he could get out of them
was that he was the man they wanted.—
In 'this way he was taken ninety miles in
to the intoner. Upon his arrival he had
no longer to remain in ignorance of his
supposed offence, the whole Village being
out to welcome him with such cries as
"Here's the d—d horse, thief caught at
•
keit, and let's string him up."
The officers made some show of resis
tance, but, the excited mob took possme
ion of their victim and married him into
town, near the centre of which a noose was
s i g over e imiof a tree. Our *len
thought it was all up with him 'sure., Ex
postulation was received with derision.—
Eversybody recognized him as a notorious
horse-thief whose depredations in the vi
cinity. had.been long continued anclexten
sive. A horse thief in that section is look
ed upon as something worse than an aver
age murderer. There was not a pitying
eye in the crowd and the universal howl
was to lynch him. He tried to pray, but
the commercial traveling business - had ruin
ed him for praying! While waiting under
the noose a happy thought struck him !
His Masonry ! He was a Royal Arch Ma
son.,
In all that crowd Iheir must be Masons.
He gave the Grand, Hailing Signal of
distress 1 'We are not at liberty to ex
plain how it was done for several reasons,
the chief one of.which is we don't know !
But he gave , it,. and in an instant one of
the foremost ,of the citizens of town sprang
to his side, tili
d he gave some more Mason
ic signals, and the, risoner was quickly
surrounded with twenty or thirty deter
mined men, who held the' crowd at bay
with drawn pistols. Our friend explain
ed to the l‘ading nagn who he was ; they
organized a committee, of investigation •
telegraphed to Chicago and verified all his
statements; and the brutal mob slunk a
'way heartily ashamed. Our friend Ira
made as comfortable as possible by his
Masonic friends, but he, says he never ex
perienced such intense anxiety as he did
when he stood under that noose.
The above is strictly true in all essen
tial points, We have the names •of par
ties an. dates.. • The young man has one
or two , irothers living in this 'city. The
m: j. • • o rescued him proved to be an old
d of his father's.
First Failure. -
Yes, indeed, if we have the right stuff iy
us, these failures at the outset are grand
materials for success. To the feeble then
are, of course, stumbling-blocks. The
wretched weakling goes no farther ; he lags
behind, and subsides into a life of failure.
And so by this winnowing, "process the
number of the athletes in the great Olym
'pies of life is restricted to n'few, and there.
is clear space in the arena. There is scarcely,
an old man among us—an old and suc
cessful man—who will not willingly admit
that he was made by his failures ' and that
what he once thought his hard fate was
in reality his good fortune. And thou;
my bright-faced, bright-witted child, thou
thinkest that thou' canst carry Parnassus
by storm, learn to possess thyself in pati
ence. Not easy the lesson, I know ; not
cheering the knowledge that success is not
attainable, per &ilium, by a hop, step and
a jump, but by arduous
pacsages of gal
' rseverance, toilsome etibrts I.
sustain, . , and, most of all, by rep , , ted
failures. Hard, I know, - is4hat 1a word
grating harshly upon the ear df youth.—
Say then, that we molify it "tilittle,—that
we strip it of its outer crustacemrsness and
asperity• nd trittliftillv t,nay We, do, so,
my - dear ' Fir' thege faiblies V.re,' - as 'I have
said, but teppitti,:stones to 9tice6e;"gradus
ad Purnassam,—rat .the.WorSt,, non-attain
ments of the. desired end before that time.
'lf success were to crown thine efforts now,
where won rest success .of the
hereafter It is ,the ve resolution to
"do better next time" ' 'that lays' the sub
trateof all; real .greatness. 14anreprom
ising-reputation has been prematurely des
troyed by .early 'Success,Thd good Sap
runs out from thetrunk into feeble Offshoots
or suckers. T 1 e hard discipline of the
knife is wan I repeat that it is not
pleasant ; but hen thou feelest the sharp
near of,the edge, think that all who have
gone before thee have been lacerated in
like manner.
, "How Bin Toy. no Loos'!"—Don't
say that. - .Whznot give the poor, sickly
one an encouragiag word, instead ? It will
be far better.. You may be startled to find
your friend,• or, your neighbor, 'or some
stranger whom you meet, looking so - ill.
But don't show. your surprise; keep yoer
self-possession and do not attempt to ex
press sympathy by telling him •he looks
"poorly," or. "terribly," or shockingly."—
Onasuch word is sometimes enough to
topple over all a . poor fellow's courage and
m
leave hinishinagatt depths of despoil
deney.- Speak cheerfully 'always to • the
sick. Look at. the better side. Keep up
their hope by leading them to see how well
thevare rather than ho sick they are.
_
.
When - oc.. atespi!. city most mem
.When i 41 being'shenctr. •
FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., TIEURSDA
A Thrilling Story.
. ,
~ ~ .:', . .,,...,, J ~..%
TO
.~..
Two Honest Men.
' David Davis, one of the earl • citizens
ofLewistown, Me., now gone his ,re
ward was a most. excellent 'euaker—s,
man of unspotted integrity. Sometime be
fore his death he went to his son-in-law,
A. Wakefield,. and said to him : "I hear
there is a pasture for sale (naming it) for
$lOO, and, I believe buy it. He
bought it, but, told the owner it was worth
$125. and paid the owner that sum for
it. Shortly after, the person of whom Da
vis bought the, pasture wanted a loan of
$4O, and Davis. gmntecl him the loan
taking his note for that sum. ,Before long
Davis was taken ill, and feeling that it
was his last illnes.s, he called Wakefield
to his side, and said to him :•''
"I have a note of $4O against A., and
I want thee, after. I am gone, to destroy it."
Wakefield wondering and 'asking an
explanation, he said : '• '
'Thee knows ~I bought that pasture
from A., and I didn't pay him; as: much
as it was worth, and I don't feel that. he
ought to pay me that note."'
"But" said Wakefield, "y-Ou paid him
all and more than he asked for the land."
"Yes," said Davis, 'that is true, but it
makes no differenclM‘worth $4O more
than I paid 'him, and I want that note
destroyed."
ShortlyLafter_Davis passed away; and
Wakefield in the performance of his duty
as administrator, looking up the deceased's
effects, came upon this note. It -was a
good note for forty dollars ; but in accor
dance, with the old' Quaker's dying re
quast, he threw it into the fire.
Not long after, A., of whom the pasture
was bought, called on Wakefield. , ,
. "You'v got something against one, hav
en't you ?"
"What iq it. for?" said Wakefield. •
• 'I gave a note to Davis for s4_o_,_pogiey
borrowed of him, and I want to pay. it."
"I've no such note,' said Wakefield.
But this estate certainly holds such • a
note against' e: -, • -
"I can't help it—we've none now."
Very soon Wakefield explained the.
mystery, and tears rolled down the aston- ..
ished man's face as he learned tint the
note had been burned—a witness to the
- wonderful conscientiousness and integri
ty of the sure-footed Quaker, one of the'
worthy first settlers of Lewistown. Such
iriert will do for any age—the more the,
better.
- THE Mor,AL Lusztres.Tox.--The ; great
lubricator which make, severythirig iu hu
man'life run :without friction,is' goal tem
per: As soon. as this-is exausted, the.
Journals ; of the human machine begin to.
heal, and wear, and screech, and the en
tire mechanism becomes noisy and ruin
ously wasteful of power. "The horse that
frets * is the horse that sweats," is an old
saying of horsemen, and is just as true of
m ,en.as of horses. The man that allows •
hinaaool to be irritated at every little thing
that goes amiss in his business, or in the
'ordinary affairs of life, is It man.that,. as
a rule, 'will accomplish little, -and wear
out early, • He is a man for whom. bile
Ind dyspepsia have a particular fondness, -
audio_ whom children have a particular
aversion. e rt-with a perpetual
thorn in his flesh, which pricks and wounds'
at the slightest movement ; a mart for whom,
life has little pleasure, and the future small
hopes. To "keep jolly" under all provo
cations, is perhaps a Wk which only
Dickens' Mark Tapley couldperfor u . rt
never have met Mark Tapley in our cape-,
rience of human nature, but we have seen
him closely approximated ; and it would
be well if people in general could approach
more nearly that inimitable character. In
all the phases, -emergencies and occupa
tions of human life, good temper is a com
modity for which: there is great demand ;
but in those which bring an individual
into daily contact with others, it is per
haps in greatest demand and most imtted
supp tbacretalt--.
Bachelors, Look Out !
A few weeks ag,o,:a poor, lonely bachelo . rl,
whb had never loved nor been loved, left
his dreary. home for the sake of a-little
exercise. The morning was bright and
sunny 'and as he promenaded in the Park
he gazed-along at the girls as they pas
sed him and thought of his own wretched
condition. As he saw their bright and
smiling countenances, and the hapPf - fa
ces of their male companions, hecouldtiot
but contrast his own lonelyness and 'sin
gle misery. — These thoughts weighed, up
on him, "and he became quite melancholy:
As he was standing on the sidewalk, gar,-
ing listlessly about,/ he - saw a' beautiful
young laoil iali minfiv toward him leading'
a venerable b h .
man. Thuninclfill of
the danger she Inc; from the pissing
vehicles, her yholthought was devoted
to her charge, *hi hshe finally landedin safety on the sde walk. He thanked
her for her kindn ss, and - she left him.—
The lonely bachelor saw the whole trans
action, and it struck him so forcibly, that
all his ideas concerning the, gentler sex
of the ,community were changed,. - He took
a 'rill look at the young lady, that he
might know her again, and bent on. his
way.. He subsequently described hei to
some of his friends, and after ascertaining
who she was, procured an introit 'on.—
He found she was an good as he t hught
her, an& now h 4. is a limarrio... , I--
Of course, he told herofthe incidentbi h
led to their . acquaintance. She, in 'turn
told it to her-lady friends, and the conse
quence is, that a newsocietyhas been start
ed, Called "The Young Ladle? Human- ,
itarian Associationforhelping BM:algal
across tha'strect." • Bacheltiti look outr
Ofie of the, most curious things wit]
:which we are acquainted is that a . w j
should keep perfectly dry when it -
dinning spring inside.
Jimy 8, is
' 'Too Good Company for Me."
It was one evening last summer, when
a lady who belongs on the editorial staff
of one of the leading dailies of New York
had been detained'by office duties until
rather a late hour. Living on the heights,
in 13rooklin, but a short distance from
Fulton Perry,' it Was not 'much of a ven
ture to, go home without eseort, and so she
started. On the boat, standinc! outside en-.
. .
joyhig the refreshiugbreezes after the days
"
toil, she perceived a gentleman (?) in
rather close proximity to where she was
leaning over the guards, t said nothing.
"Are you alone ?" said e, as the boat
neared the slip. "No,, r," said the lady
and without furtherinterruption when
the boat touched sh e ' stepped. Oil: "I
thought you were not alone," said the fel
low, sttppuig to her side again. '"I am
.not," replied the lady, "Why, I don't see
any one ; who is with you ?" "God Al
' mighty and the angels, sir; I'm never a
lone !".,.,"You keep too good company for
me, madam ; goOd night !" and he shot
for a Fulton avenue car, their nearly a
block away. The heroic woman was per
mitted to "keep the right as the law di
rects," and enjoy the full measure of qui
et satisfaction one always feels from keep
ing good company. ,
- According to a Noith CarMinit' writer,
the influence of the moon of vegetation
may be. etermined by trying the
experimedt
"Take any given quantity of common
peas,, nd divide the same into four parts,
keeping them separate. Then.: on any
ground at all fit for vegetation, when the
season approaches, sow the contents of the
first parcel on the first or second day of
the new moon ; the second parcel sow near
the same spot 'on the gist or second day
of the second quarter; the third parcel
sow on the second-or third day before the
full ; and lastly, sow the fourth parcel on
the second or-third day before the moon
is out.. Now; the first parcel, sown under
the new moon,, Will grow very fast blos
som most beautifully, but will not bear
much fruit; the second will blossom and
bear, very, little; the third parcel will not
only blossom beautifully, but will bear ,
fruit in abundance, and the fourth and
last parcel will scarcely rise from the'
ground. Likewise, . all fruit trees, set at
the new moon, blossom, but three days be
fore the' full 'moon, bear abundantly.. In
pruning trees; the same abet takes place,
thr a tree pruned at the new moon, will
shoot forth branches, but will prove un
productive, --but if pruned at the full, it
will bear abundantly. • .
Dui's . or Tun Oextn—The success.
which has attended the laying, of subma
rine cables has set aside the erroneous idea
of an ocean 'without bottom at rat forever
and given an impulse to the effort to irk.
vent new means of sounding and dredg
ing. The soundings made in the Atlan
tic shOws its bottom • to be an extensive
plateau, varying in depths at different
points. The , average depth is 12,000,
though the steamer Cyclops obtained
'depth of 15,000 feet. This ocean flooi- be
gins about one hundred and fifty miles
'fn — the Irish coast; there the - demi
from the shallmir to-deep water is very
rapid, reaching 10,500 feet inifty
giving tin' angle 'of 'descent greater 'than
that of the Italian Alps? The deepest
part of the Atlantic is on the American
side, near the banks of Newfoundland,
where 'a great basin exists, ranging cast
nd west for nearly a thousand miles, and
whose. depth is believed to exceed the high.
est of the Himalaya mountains.
WIZAt, is .touching
sadly.true is the following simple pieture
of human life, without the light of imaaor ,
tality upon. it: •
A little crib beside the bed, •
A little face tiboe the spread. .
' A little 'frock behind the door,
little shoe upon the floor.
- A little lqd 'dark brown hair,
It
little blue-,eyed face and fair,
' little fende'that leads to school,'
• A little Pelitil, - slate and rule. • •
. . • •
".A. little' blithiome, winsome maid;
" A little hand . within his laid;
A little cottage, acres four,
A little old-time-fashioned store.
A little family gathering round •
A httle turf-heaped, tear-dew'd mound
A little added to•liis soil,.
' A little rest from hardest' toil.
. A little silver in his hair;
`A little stool and easy chair,
A little night of earth-lit gloom;
- A-little cottage to‘the tomb.
Nrimr 18 NOTCHARITY."-It is note , -
ity forgive a pennyto the street m: i di
eaut,,ef whom nothing is known, while we
higgle with..a poor man, out of employ
ment, for a miserable dime. It is not char
ity to beat down a poor seamstress to star
vation price ; to let her sit in her wet clotb.es
sewing; a day ; to deduct from her pitiful
'renumerktion ifthestorm delays her prompt
arrival.'. charity to take a poor
rel Vive into ;Our family, and ,reake hera
slave to your whims, and 'taunt her
continually with her dependant situatio
It ispot.charity to turn a' man 'Who t
of work - into'the streets, with his ily,
because he cannot pay his rent.: is not
charity•trigivc with a supercilious air and
patronage, as if God had Made 'you, the
rich man, of different blood from the shis‘
Bring reeiiient, Islx.conly crime is that
be is , poor:' , It is not. charity'to be an ex ,
tortioner—: ,•• ttot though you -bestow
almsjoy thousands.
ho has Teen much
tiro frlaf it says:
ara .
dng to love,.ard
VA good man
'world and-is ~
grand essentials
thing to do, comet
thingtohope for."
EiilEMSliii
~ .~.,
.. ' ~.~
a.
13.4iLEK 0 . 8 orG exis.—The cat is called
4Mtlestie anitnile—but have never
able to tertwherefore.
Icant.trust one any more than you
kat . a ase of the gout. There is only one
iatiztEd ..ing tbat you -kan .trust a cat
with, one come.out even, and that is a
bar of hard soap.
They are as naefik as Mosis, but as full
of diveltry as Judas Iskariatt... •
Tha,will harvest's dozen ofyoung chik
ens fazleu, and then steal into the sitting
room - as softly as an undertaker, and lay,
thenlielveit down on the rug at your feet'.
Mall of: njured innocence and chickens, '
anciAlream uv their childhood days.
Alh there is about a cat that is domes
tic, that l.kpow of, is that you leant lose
one. :
You mad send a cat out uv the State
duiup in a meal bag, and marked C. O, D.
and the nest morning yu will find him, or
her`-(accordino—tew her sex) in the old
spot, alongsid e' the kitchen stove, ready
to be stepped on.
Cats have two good ears for melody and
often make the night atmosphere melo
dious with her opera music,:
Yu, may kill one as often as you luive
mind to, and tha begin life anew, in a
few ininuts with a more flattering pros
pect.
Dogs I luv, they carry their kreden
shul9 in their faces, and kart hide them,
burth - ebulk — of — a — cat's — reputatiotriays
buried in her stomak, as unknown t ew
themselves as to, ennybody else.
WHAT THE MICROSCOPE REVEALS.-:-
Lewenboeck tells us -of an insect seen
with ,the microscope of .which 27,000,000
would equal a mite.
Insects of various kinds may be sequin
the cavities of a grain of sand.
Mould is a forest of beautiful trees, with
the branches, leaves and fruit.
Butterflies are fuly feathered.
Hairs are hollow tubes.
The surface of oar bodies is covered
with scales like a fish ;
a single :pain of
sand would cover 150 of these Scales, and
yet a scale covers 200 pores. Through
these narrow openings thesweat forces it
self like water through a ceive.
The mites Make 500 steps a second.
- Each drop of stagnant water contains
a world of animated beings, swimming
with as much liberty as the whales in the
Each leaf has a colony of insects graz
ing on it, like cows on a meddow, ,
Moral: Have some care to 'the air you
breathe,_the food you eat, and the water
you drink,
' How IT WAS DISCOVERED. — An alleged
discovery of a cure for cancer from a spe
cific derived from a plant w hich grows in
Ecuador is exciting much interest in med
ical circles. A. curious story is told of
the manner in which the anti-cancer vir
tues of this plant were first discovered.—
For a long time previous to the discov
try the plaq, had been regarded as a poi
son. Acting upon this belief, an Ecuador
wife 'who desired to rid herself of her hus
band gave him a decoction of this plant in
his drink., The fellow was already dying
slowly °fa-cancer in his stomach, but her
eagerness, could not wait for the ordinary
sequel in such cases. She applied the
noxious distillation to his drink, and wait
ed to see -him fall ather feet. But instead
of that the happy husband survived. The
subtile essence benefited • his cancer, and
the fellow finally recovered from•his dis
ease to make. known the blessing to the
world.
A,nicely dressed zoung':gentlemsm en=
tered a barber shop in a somewhat retired
portion of the- city a few days ago, for pur
pose of getting Shaved. The tonsorial ar
tist spat oirthe brush and proceeded to
lather, when he was stopped . by, .the hor
ror-stricken customer, who inquired what
he meat byspitting . on the brush." "Why,"
said the barber, "ain't you a gentleman?"
"Yes." - replid the stranger: "Well,"
Said the barber, "that's the way we; treat
gentleman ; when a rough comes in, we
just -1 erely spit on his face.'
A Boston trader called at a house in
Maine some time ago to buy cheese, but
when he came to look at the lot, ho con
eluded he would, n 4. take it—it was so
ful of skippers. As'ho was going off the
farmer said to hiM. , ,Look here, mister
how can I get my cheese down to,Boston
the cheapest?" The trader took another
look at the cheese, and seeing more ,and
more evidence of its being alive, replied:.
"Well let it be,a fewda,ys or two longer
and I . ess yciU Cakdrive it down."
Prrne,kernal is felt in a hogshmtd—mil
. op, of water helps to swell the ocean—a :
spark of fire helps to give light to the
world. You arc a small man passing a
mid the crowd, you are hardly noticed;
but you have a drop, a spark within von
that may be - felt tiitong„b, eternity., 7Do
you believe it ? Set that di-op-in
give win g s to that spark, and beholil the
results ! may renovate the world:clione.
are too small—too feeble—too poor to be
be of service. Think of this, and act.—
Lif is no truffle.
r -
Let parents make every possible effort
to have their children g,oto sleep in a pleas
ant humor. Never, scold or give lectures,.
or in any way wound a child's. feelings as
it 'goes to bed. Let all-banish builiicss-and
every worldly care at bedtime, and let
sleep come to a mind at peace with God_
and 11 the world. .
IV6steni Taper announces.the illn
piously adding ; "All 'good
absoribem are requested . to men
in their iiityers, ThO others
„da - the 'prayers of thificitod.
iling; according to aiithor-
igiVilMilliii
and Oringt.
, GrOOO24E.7:—A handsome bath. clerk
in one' Oreur 'most popular ail' , goods
stores, is smitten with a fa*resident of a
neighboring city:. The fatlub. of the young
lady mine
..to.A.tlanta recently and regis
tered at the: hotel...where our 'bachelor
friend boards,: :As 'soon as this discovery
Was made, theeld gentleman was looked
up and made the recipient of 'earnest at
tention (such iis , kill of :sus have and are
disposed to pay the, Parents of the "hoped
for,") to ingratiate 'xiself into Lis
'pa
rental favor. ' •
' Just before going uri.to.dirtner, the old
gentleman wanted inforinatien , from' the
young one, where he-emit:l get a drink of
good "peac h and honey.'
"Well, I don't know imyself, , but I've
heard that at the bar, rooms, good' liquors
are kept," was the innocent'reply.'
"The old gentleman asked the young
one to show him the way.: ,
"Certainly. Though I don't drink my-,.
self," replied the teetotaller. '
Arrived at the bar the'svant4 of the 01d
gentleman wits made knOlvzi,heu. 7 , he
bar-tender, turning -to . the-young wait,
coolly remarked, "I suppoSe iahe
gin and sugar as usuallfr. r---2" •
He "had orter" winked sooner.
---
respected Knickerbocker, on, the , slisdY
side of fifty--a widower with five chil
dren —full of fun and frolic, everready
for a joke, to
. give or take,*as bantered '
the otherevemng by a miss °ive-and-twen
ty, for not taking another wife; she ursze'd
that he was hale and hearty. and deserved
a matrimonial mess-mate. The Judge ac
knowledged the fact; admitted that lie
was convinced by the eloquence of his fair .
friend-that he had been thus. far. very re
miss, and expressed contrition for the fault
confessed; ended in offering himself to the
lady, telling her she could-not certainly
reject him after pointing oiit.
• his heoions
offence. .
The lady replied she would - be' most,
happy to take the situation so uniquely
'advertised, and become bone of his.bowi
and flesh of his flesh, but there was one,
to her, serious obstacle.
"Well," says 'the Judge, '"name
My profession is to strmount . such impcd.
iments."
"Ay, Judge, this is beyondynur ppsven
I have vowed if 'I ever marry a widower,
he must have ten children,"
"Ten - children f. Oh, that's nothing,"
says the Judge, give you five, nolv,
and my rorr on demand in installrrients,
for the balance." Pact • •
A - darkey was boasting to a 'grocer of •
the cheapness of ten 'pounds , of an gar he
had bought at a rival Abp.'. "Let me
weigh the package,", said the grocer..' The
&rimy assented, and it' was two_.'pounds •
short. The "colored gentleman"'said
"Guess he didn't cheat dis.chile Much, for
while he was gettiu' de sugar,. I stole two
pair of shoes."
A lady promised togive her 'maid 825
as a manage portion. The girlgot mar
ried to a man of low stature, and hex
mistress, on seeing him:was surprised,srid
said: "Well'ltary, what a little man you
have got?" "La," , exclaimed the. girl„
"What could you expect for $25 ?"
"Tatoes !" cried a darkey peddler in
Richmond. 'flush dat r ack.et—you
di -
tracts de whoJ neighborhood," came f Top
a colored woman in a door-way. 4 You
kin hear me, kin you ?" ',"Hear you • I
kin hear you a mile." "Thank God for,
dat'—l is hollowin' 'to be heardL- 1- -tate I'
Palace sleeping.-cars for hogs area n&-
elty on Western Railroads. Each hog
has a berth, with hot and cold watct
on the European plan and'wheri They
to cincinati, a Rminn bath is furnielcd
which tikes thelair right off.
An old farmer sail to. hi3,sons :
don't you overspackerlate, or wait forsua:.-
i..t to turn up. You miliht ju:lt, es
• whit dpwu on a stone in the medder,‘
wi - poi .o. mast, your lags, an' Wail. fn-a
cm to back„ up to 'you to be milked."
Here's : a marriage•for you:2•3l:trrici.
At ,Flintstone, by theßev. Mr:lV hid ton?.
Mr. Nehemiah Whetstone,and Miss
Sandstone both of limestone. , --
Look out for imstono and little 1 4 . r h(11 •
stones next.
A miniefer at Corry, N. Z.
o couple i fately. When he made the
usu
al proclamation concerning 'impedimentt,
e blpshing brido replied.: "Go. , •
.s uger,,l'm all right.'
'flie other day, a tobacconist of eitcl-.
land long in front of his shop the foils-;
mg "notice," written on board : "Want
ed-7A Girl to Strip?! , . ,
,
- :_the newest variety of lager is rall&I
".Hecht Importirtes 'Brannehweiger
pel-Bier."
A omit 'who has tried it says that all
short cubit:it, wealth are over-ero"
When is a soldier riot a half soldier ?
When'he's in head quarters.. ' . .
wheirmar,the rata , A be looked rn
as a dead letter? Whea,it is in death. -
I th e
• Whiti is letter 'll most flurzi4xl?'—
'When it is in- confusion.
• • is theinttoi. most uncertain
etfe . ' :eouSe it in doubt. `
'Why is letter En , inost
travagant letter! •Beca.tte i 5
and never nut of dt..llt.
*2,00 PER, YEAR
NUMBER 2.