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, • '
BY J. G. IVEu x/EB,
'The harp at Nature's advent strung
Has itevefceased to play :
:The song the stair or mourning sung
Has never died away.
.And prayer is niade, and praise is given,
By all things near andigr,
The ocean looketh up to heaven '
And mirror's every star.
Its waves are kneeling'on the strand, .
s kneels the human knee,
,Their white locks bowing to the sand,
'The priesthood of the sea !
They pour their glittering treasures forth,
Their gifts of pearls they bring, '
E . And all the listening hills of earth
Take up the sang they sing. -
The green earth sends:herincens.e up
From many a nionntatu ahrilke;;,
From folded leaf and,dewy cup,'
She pours her sacred ,wine.
, The mist above-the morning rills•
Rise white ajs wings of prayer,!
The altnr curtains of the hills
Are 'sunset's ronriale air'
The wind viOi hymns of praise,are loud,
E?• Or low, with sounds of pain :
• The thtinder organ of the cloud,
The dropping tears • of rain.
-With drooping head and.branches erossetl
The ill:11101V forest grieves,
,Or speaks with, tongues Pf rentegost
Frog' all its sunlit leaves.
is the tem
' Its transept earth ancl
The mueie of the stary march
The chorus of a prayer.
So Nature keeps the reverent'frame -
With which her years began,
And all her signs and voices shame
The prayerless heart of man':
BY J. MONTGWIERY.
The broken ties of happier days,
HoW often do they seem .
To come before our mental gaze,
Like a remembered dream.
Around us each "dissevered chain
In sparkling ruin Jies;
And earthly hand ( . ..an•ne'er again
Unite those broken ties.
The friends. the loved ones of ogr . yputh
They too are goue'or changed, -
,Or worse than all, their love and truth,
Is darkened or estranged ;
They meet us ilithe . glittering • throng,
With cold averted eyes,
And wonder that we Weep their wrong,
And mourn our broken ties, •
Olkl.who in such a Norld as this,
Could bear their lot of pain, •
Did not one radiant ,hope of bliss
Unealtured yet remain
That hope the sovereigu Lord hasziyen
Who reigris•above ate skies;
hope that united our souls to heaven,
By faith's endurivg, ties.
Yneh care, each ill of mortal birth,
Is sent in pitying love,
To lift the lingering.heart from earth,
• And speed its flight above.
And every pang that wrings the breast,
And every joy that dies,
Tells us to' seek a purer rest,
And trustto holier ties.
,?1 , 24 , 010)4,-*A1,61•103:44111
BY LornE BitONN.'
Give me my supper, sis, I'm hnngry !".
• "And I'm so sleepy that I can't keep
my eyei 'open."
Marion, Dean looked at the two great
boys with a heavy sigh, and laid aside
the little quilted hood and faded shawl.
."Let me rest a moment, Harry, and
you shall have your supper. I have work
ed hard all day, and am wearied-to death.
Oboys, if you were only able to help me
bear my heavy burden !"
She pushed back the falling braids of
brown hair, and ,leaning her head upon
What,a dull, lutrd life it, was Work,
- work, work, from morning until night
with no one to cheer her, nor any hope
in the future.?
She looked at The sturdy youngsters le
foie her, and wondered if she would ever
be able to do her duty by them. They
must be fed, clothed and educated, and
only her own poor, little hands to perform
She held them out before her, and laugh
ed contemptously. Poor, feeble things !
Were they competent to do. all these
Harry called again for his supper, and
Artie crept close beside her-and - laid • his
head upon her lap, in a pleading.manner
and half chiding herself for her forget-,
,fulness, she arose, drew out the little ta
ble, placed upon it her White cloth and
old-fashioned china, and brought forth
her bread and .little cakes, and because
she felt lonely and poor, she, to be
indulgent to her darlings, and filled the
tiny glass 'sauce-dish, from her. one pre
serve can and placed it on the table.—
When this was done, and 'while she wait
ed for tea to draw, she took poor, tired
Artie in her arms, unlaced the little shoes
and rocked him in her low chair by the
fire, wishing all the while that there was
something better fOr her.
Itewas while she sat thus, 'with her fins
face worn and, shadowed, that that came
a little rap upon the door, and then with;
out waiting for 'the usual summons it op
ened, and upon the • threshold stood a
man, with 'a noble,' appreciative face, and
a pair of splendid dark eyes, which took
in the whole picture. There was no mis
taking the weary, drooping figure at the
fire ; and he walked' straight in; laid a-.
side , his overcoat, and took the tired
youngster in his own stout arms.
"There, Marion, you are sufficiently tir 7
ed without making a baby of this great.
fellow. Why, Arthur, you're a man!"
"He was mother's baby, Mr. Holbrook,
and I cannot bear to put him. away. .Poor
little Artie 1"
She looked at hith with tears in her eye.s,
and wished him under the - care of one like
the strong min before' hei.
Mr. Holbiook 'was the owner of the
great mill where Harry Forked.. Harry
had been there but a few weeks, and only
earned the trifle of eight dollars per month;
but even this was a blessing to the hard
working sister., and when . Mr., Holbrook
bad first maMthe proposition she. could
have fallen down and worshiped
He had never seen her until that night,
and it was the , merest, choice that they
met. Some one had spoken of Harry
Deane, and ;wanting an errand boy hecal-
, . .
Ile did noi understand her wants, but,
he admired her .strength and pure unsel
fishness, and he had been. there often, and
talked as freely as an old acquaintance.
It.seempd a great kindness,,and even con
descension for this man, the richest in all
the country, to cell upon her;but his vis
its brought her 'words of comort, and so
she could not discourage them.
He came that migbt to talk as usual of
books, and the great world and its wonders,
and to clieer her into:smiles. .He succeed-
e , an' ppy an' con en
"Girls, there is to be a grand fair at the
hall next week, did you grand
one of Marion's shopruates.
"No, tell us about it."
"It is for some benevolent object,. I be
lieve. I shall certainly go. Carrie Dol
man, my chum, works at Mrs. M—'s shop,
on Centre street, and says that Miss Dol
ivar has brought a splendid dress to be
made for it. It is a beautiful pink silk,
with flounces of real lace. Of course she
is going with perald Holbrook, for they
are engaged you know. What a grand
match that Will be. I mean to ask Mar
ion to get a ticket for me, Holbrook hires
her brother, and calls there once in a while.
You know he always was noted for his
kindness to those in his employ. I know
Marion cat' have plenty of tickets if she
will except them." .
Marion's face burned. Accept tickets
from Miss Dolivar's affianced husband!
No, no ! And the 'white. teeth left a scar
let mark upon ; her under lip, and her eyes
blazed' like fire. It was a long day and
Marion' worked hard, but she dreaded
night and her return to her quiet home.
What had she to do with Miss Dolivar's
Nothing ; but - the thought pained her
more than her poverty and weariness.—
Ah; why did he come ? •
'She went home, ate her supper, and sat
down more weary and discontented than
ever. She' id notl ook,up when Holbrook
came, and when he laid a little package
Of books In her lap, she put them gently
"No, thank you kindly. I cannot ac
"Don't let.your pride interfere. I will
loan them, if you do not wish to accept
them as a gift."
He laid them on the table and went on
with his conversation.
"There is to be a fair next week at the
hall. Would yon like to go ?" . •
"No. thank you."
•'lt will do you good, Marion."
"No, no, sir. ..Please do not urge me.
I would.not go for worlds."
"Marion, what has come over you ? Are
you getting weary of my frierabbip.".
"0, no sir," she half sobbed. "It is not
"But what? Are you weary of my'vis
"No, not weary—but 0, don't come n-
He looked steadily into her face.
"Do you mean this, Marion
Her reply came low and chocked, and
her face was white as death, as she spoke.
As for him, be arose, said good-night
and went out, leaving her nothing, save
the old dessoration made more dark and
dreadful by the sunshine she had known.
Meekly slurtook up her cross, and bore
it steadily, unflinchingly onward, hiding
deep down within the recesses of her lone
heart the love she had felt for Gerald Hol
brookeoind no one knew that she was a
martyr, a heorine
She dreaded the night of that happy
festival. For she 'daily heard the - pro
gr.,''s of Miis Dolivar's rich dress, and
the splendid appearance she was expect
ed to make, and night after night she lay
in her narrow: bed and pictured her, as
she would appear beside Gerald, and all
hearts admiring and envying them.
She had brushed up the boy's hest suits,
added a neat little necktie of her own
ufacture, and Squeezed out su ient from
her own hard earning to pure . Re the
the tickets, and enable them to go vith a
neighbor's family,, and when there joyous
faces disaPpeared, she sat down as usual
to think, think, think!
She was left to hergloomy thoughts but
a short time, for there came along the
hall a -quick,wel l -known step, and before
she could rise, Horbrooke was before her.
He came straight . to her.
"Don't look at me unkindly, . Marion !
I could not help it. I have been unhap
.py ever since that night, and I came for
au explanation.. Was it because some
WAYNESBORO!, FRANKLIN COUNTY, THURSDAY, AUGUST 17, 1871.
one told, you that I was engaged to Miss
She did not lift her eyes when she re
"And did yOU. believe it?"
"How could I help it?", '
"And so your pride and honor would
not permit ypu to allow me to continue
my visits?" •
"No. I feared it might bring us both
"Dear Marion, it is ` false l There is
but one image in my heart, and that is
your own.—May I always keep it there?"
She could not answer him, but she lift
ed a face so_ radient and beautiful with
her new-found joy, that he held her far
from him and gazed at her, bdfore he
could believe his omit eyes.
When at an unreasonable late hour
the happy boys returned, they stopped
short in the door, and hushed their noisy
demonstrations, and wondered what had
come over sis.
She held them close to her warm heart
told them the whole story; And Harry
threw up his• cap, and Artie gave a stout
hearty yell of approval, and declared that
he would make the 'jolliest sort of a,
,And Marion, with all her new-found
happiness, knelt down and thanked God
for Big great kindness, and slept in peace.
A Checkered Life.
A Philadelphia, paper gives some details
d the early life of Mrs. Wharton, now
under 'arrest in Baltimore for the murder
of her husband. It says Mrs. W., then
Ellen G. Nugent, was born in that city
45 years ago. Her father, George Nu
gent, was most proud tent and success
ful merchant of the day, doing a large im
porting business of fine goods, silks, etc.
In character he was strictly upright and
-honorable, liiing as it ere by-a_set_rure
of firmness and justice to all. Ot all
Mr. Nugent's children his' daughter Nel
lie _was the idol. He lavished every at
tention upon her that money
. could corn
aiaand. By the universal voice of those
whd knew her she was certainly a most
lovely girl. About twenty years of age,
of slender and graceful, yet queenly bear-.
ing, with magnificent jet black hair' of
unusual length, dark eyes, and, fair com
plexion. It was about this time that she
began to develop a passion that has ever
since been' inordinate with her, and that
was the desire to dress magnificently. Her
father spared no expense to . gratify her
lightest whim, and gave her money enough
to clothe a dutchess. Her father-allowed
her to carry the purse of a dutchess, and
consequently the reader can. judge of his
surprise when outside' bills that had been
contracted by his daughter to the amount
of thousands of dollars were sent in to
him for settlement, and all, this heavy
running into debt had taken place in' a
,eoniparativelY short time, and -without
the slightest premonitory intelligence.—
It was found that this money had been
expended for laces, silks, jewelry, etc. etc.,
which were lavished with an imperial ,
hand as presents upon her young. friends.
The debts 'were paid by' her father.
Mien Nellie was the brilliant center of
a large circle of people of the best class
in thakvicinity. So that when, shortly
after, all received an invitation to the
marriage of that young lady, it created
some little stir of excitement. At length
all the invited guests assembled at the
Nugent mansion to witness the marriage
of the beauty. Great preparations had
been made for the event. The ' hour at
which the nuptial knot was to have been
tied struck with a dismal clang, and yet
no bridegroom. Messengers'were sent in
haste,' and on their return they announc
ed that Mr. Williamson bad not contract
ed the marriage, and knew nothing' about
it. Subsequent investigation showed Con
clusiCely that the marriage had 'not the.
slightest foundation, so far as any atten
rion of Mr. Williamson was concerned,
people began to intimate that something
was wrong in her head. Mr. 3gugent, af
ter careful pondering of the matter, was
resolved to have Nellie removed to an as
ylum for the insane. It wanted 'but a
day or two of the execution of theaSylum
project, when one morning it was found
that the bird had flown in the night from
the nest. In a very little while the 'fa
ther received intelligence that his ' daugh
ter had eloped with young Lieut. Harry
W. Wharton, had .proeeeded with him to
Philadelphia, .and had been there. marri
ed. The runaway couple had not been
long from home until they received assiir
.ances of, forgiveness, and returned. Not,
withstanding the growing suspiction that
she poisoned her husband and son, it is
the universal testimony that never was
there a more loving wife. She was most'
passionately, devoted to him, and folloiv
ing him everywhere.
See how the torid zone birds build their
nest., away out on the eud of a limb,
so that the monkeys cannot seize' their
young. The monkey has to take a back
seat, look at the nest and grit his teeth
and wink, but he dare not—he dare ' not
try it. The humming bird builds its nest of
non-conducting materials, so that the
thunder-storm rsnmot spoil its eggs. It
knew the mysteries of thunder long before
Benjamin Franklin brought down a spark
from a thundercloud.
An indolent youth being asked why he
was so shamefully fond of his pillow, to
the manifest injury of his reputation, re
plied—l am engaged every morning in
hearin,g counsel. Industry and Health
advised me to rise, Sloth and Idleness te
lie still ; and they give .their reasons at
length, •pro and con. It is my part to be
strictly impartial, and to hear with 'pa
tience what is said on both sides, and by
the time the case is fairly argued, dinner
is generally on the table.
.BOYS USING MONEY.
Is not the right use of - money an im
portant part of education ? If so can it
begin too•early, or be neglected with safety?
And where else can it be taught po well
as in the house of childhood? In t ,the case
of boys, a writer in the Congregation 4 ur
ges, upon parents a course of careful
training, and says;
The temptation which besets young
men are never greater than when he first
begins to • spend money on his own ac
count. In the case of most young men
the power of these great temptations is
largely increased from the fact that they
had no training whatever in the use .of:
money. *Many a boy goes fatally wrong
upon. entering college,
because he finds
himself then, for the first time, with mon
ey in his pocket, whilst he is without edu
cation and without sense in the matter of
sbeadi ik it. . Many a clerk is ruined 'in
Why should it not be so? Everybody
is aware that the heads of grown people
are turned by the sudden accession of
wealth. The follies committed by those
who unexpectedly become rich, are mat
ters 01 , -uraversal recognition and ridicule.
Why should boys be wiser than men ?
Why, with greater temptations. should
they have more self-controll than grown
people ? The officers of our large schools
and colleges are urgent in the. entreaties
they make of parents not to furnish their
sons an abundance cfpocket-money. Phe
unhappy results of this are continually
before their eyes. But the remedy lies
further back. They should be trained
from early years-to the right use of mon
ey. It is an exciting time for most boys
when they begin to have the sense of man
hood coming on. it is a true intoxication
at just_ the moment when all the passions
are brakilic , into life and then the love
strongest to feel "I am now my own mas
ter." And it is simply ,tempting the dev
il, to add to the power of this. intoxica
tion by letting aboy awake precisely then
to the unused 'feeling, "I have money
in my hands, and I can do as I please
'with it." Aud yet this can hardly be
avoided. . A young man, in the matter
of spending as in other things, cannot be
kept forever in leading strings.
The true method is to teach , him to
spend wisely : to begin e.arly,-anddilligen
tly to trainlim to use money for himself
and to use it well. Parents must of course
judge for themselves what arrangements
it is wise 'to' make. But suppoSe that
when your boy is ten years old you fur
nish him an allowance sufficient to buy
his shoes and gloves. , Let it be large e
nough to cover also, such trifles as -a' boy
needs, and whatever it is right he should,
give away. He still be proud of the trust
you place in him. He' will 'gladly seek
your aid in fulfillingit. He will;moreovera
willingly consent.:(and this is althingof
dispensable importance) to keep and —a
act.account of his expenses. In this way
and by enlarging the allowance as circum
stances permit, parents may hope gradual
ly to accustom their children to the use
of money, and to paepare them for the time
when they shall controll entirely their own
Much might be said concerning the
many advantages that would result from
such a course. Poor children might be
taught, not only to spend prudently, but
to save carefully, if any object required,
and especially to give, from true princi
ple and out of a loving heart. Our chil
dren are two much restricted in their pow
er of Making others happy.
But we pass 'this by, to say a word a
bout the confidence that may come to be
established in this way between the boy
and his parents. The child's saceguard
is not the love of parents, but a hearty
confidence between him and them. -Hap
py will be your boy if you shall win such
a trust from him as shall lead him 'glad
ly to admit you to a share in all his life.
A sad thing it is when he no 'longer tells
you what be does' with his evenings—a
sad and ominous thing when he begins to
incur expenses of which he is unwilling
to have you know. Forestall, so ' far as
possible. the danger of this. Let him
have money at an age when he. will nat
urally seek your sympathy in the use of
it. Trust Begets trust. Your confidence
in him will awaken his 'in you. It wil
appeal to his honor. This which is so
.strong in boy,s, and goes so fearfully wrong
of ten, be at pains to set right. Nis fear's
other, and better side. It is love's strong
est side. Make it, in your son, a mighty
pledge.of his confidence in :i:rdu.
In a few years, if this boy lives, it will
be the most important practical question
that can be asked concering him: Does
he know how to use money ?" Teachers°
will watch concerning this. - His employ
ers will ask about it anxiously. His an
swers to it will be potent to determine his
life. For ours is a day when most men
have more to do with money than with
anythinr,, else. The mightiest passions
are involved init. And as a man spends,
so is he.
A nut Rran.Y.—We met a boy on the
'street and without the ceremony of -ask
ing our name he exclaimed :
"You just orter been down to the river,
a while ago'."
"Why V' we inquired.
• "Because a Dutchnian was, in there
swimming, and a big cat fish come up be
hind him and swallowed both of his feet,
and went swimming, along on top of the
water with him, there came behind another
big fish, and the dutchman and the two .
fish went swimming about."
"Well, what then
"Why, after a while, the dutchman
swallowed his fish, and the other fish swal
lowed the dutchman, and that's the last I
saw of either of them.
A fainting: fit—Tight lacing.
Do 'you know her, my reader? • I hard
ly need to ask that question, for quite
unlikely that you have ever seen her lit
tle house near the sea. It is just such a
box of a cottage as you may have read of
many times, till you concluded it was a
mere creation of fancy ; so if it ever
dawns upon your mortal vision, it will be
the more charming from its expectedness.
It seems hardly large enough for a fami-'
ly of faries, over-shadowed as it is by great
lithe-limbed willows, beautiful in the bar
ren winter, and glorious in the summer
surf ; and yet besides' little Ruth and Let
ty, Aunt Rachel has a faculty for making
comfortable the many who visit her each
The cottage is a miracle of neatness,
but then Letty was "brought up" under
her eye, and even Ruthies childish plays
are almoit as orderly . and quiet as the
dear grandmother's movements.
It is really delightful to sit at the
round table, whose appointMents speak so
strongly of the past. ' The linen is exquis
itely fine and white—she .wove it long
years ago—and the pattern is far more
beautiful than anything made in our poor
day. The china is almost a century old ;
so are the teaspoons ; the teapot, you will
notice, in not of modern make, but it
will interest you to know that it once
held the cups that cheered General Wash
ington after a hard day's work. If you
care to hear then, she can tell you many
a story of those dark days, and she will
tell them as thrillingly as if the events
occured but yesterday, so vivid is her re
membrance of them.
There are flowers all about the cottage
—old favorites of her father and mother
perchanee. The purple-eased morning
glory drapes the pantry 'windows and
- blush roses bloom - beside- them. —There=
are more of their sister-Rrod — in the gar
den that slopes to the edge oithe shimng
'Neversink. The rough fence glows with
fiery eyes of the nasturium, and sweetens
the air with the bieath of flowering peas.
Down the walk are bunches of grass pinks
tall'spikes of lavender, tufts of velvet ma
rigolds, and - old-fashioned peonies ; then .
there's always a carefully tended bed" of
mignonette "because Alice loved it so." "
,Rut there's no use iu trying to describe
these things to you ; much more shall I
fail if I attempt to picture Aunt Rachel,
her pale; sweet face, ,;whitened hair, and
quiet Quaker garb. Go for yourself and
hear her patient voice narrating the events
Of the past. She will tell you, doubtleis,
of her happy girldhood, the serene wedded
life, full of brightness and harmony, till
the blow came that left her at once with
out parents and husband, with ' nothing
but the baby Alice to live for—how the
darling grew to youth and beauty and
then went home to the others. Her beau
ty and brightness live again in littie Ruth;
whose childish ways and merry laugh keep
the memory of her mother green.
If you have grief in year heart because
some one you loved has been removed
fi•om out your life, you may wonder how
she can speak so calmly 'of her departed
and of her trials, which have not been few.
She will tell you that the discipline was need
ed—that we forget God in our happiness,
and sometimes He sends us the thick dark
fiesS, so that we are forced to Him in our
utter need. Her heart brimming over with
sympathy, leads her to many kind deeds
and words ; and as I "view her daily worth,
I question why the same quiet may not
brood over many a mourning one—why
each may not learn himself that—
" There is no sorrow to the earnest soul
That lookcth up to God with perfect faith."
An Amusing Duel in Louisiana.
On 'a certian occasion since the begin
ning of 1871, in the little town of Ouach
ita City, on the banks of the Ouachita, riv
er, about twenty-five miles above the city
of Iklenroe, two gentlemen (Johnson and
Jones) concluded to play. one game of
"seven up" at $5. They took their time
and interspersed the game with several
drinki. 'they finally finished the game.
Johnson, being winner, raked in the aion
Jones studied about it for a while.—
He made up his mind that it was notright
for Johnson,to take the money, as they
were neighbors —not gambletT, anyway—
and were only in fun. He said :
"You are not going to take thut money,
"Yes, indeed, I am," said Johnson.
"Well," said Jones, "you had as well
take, it out of 'ivpocket."
• "Nov, Jones, take that back."
"I shall - not take it back; and if you
are noesatisfied, help yourself in any way
"But Jones, I insist that yow,,take it
back, because I don't steal myself:"
"I shall not take it back; and I now
repeat that you bad as well have stolen
that money out of my packet. Ifyou wish
a difficulty, yon can have it anyway you
"Well, then, we will shoot it out," s i iid
"Very well, sir, "said Jones; mention
your time and place."
Without further ceremony, all the ar
rangements were made for the duel to take
place that evening. Many of the neigh
bors were there, and'at once•coneluded to
have the fight come off. They knew John
son, who proposed the shooting, would
back out unless he could bo encouraged.
They knew, on the other hand, that Jones
would stand up without flinching, The
seconds loaded the pistols with blank car
tridges, and informed Johnson of the fact,
but did not let Jones into the secrot.—
They did this to make Johnson stand,
which, of course, made him fearless, hold
and daring. He went to the appointed
place, and Jones was there, cool andcalm,
The moment for action arrived, and all
parties took their positioris 'the distance
being ten paces. The pistols were hand-
ed to Johnson and Jones in death-like si
lence, every one being as serious as death.
The count commenced—" One 1" "Stop ?"
said Johnson. "It is understood by all
parties that there ain't no bullets in these
Jones, hearing this, and knowing noth
ing of it before, rather staggered forward,
reeling, looked into the muzzle of his pis
tol, and cried out, "I'll be d—d if there
ain't bullets in mine 1" and at the same
timepulled down on Johnson.
This was too much for Johnson. He
broke for the nearest house, which was a
bout two hundred yards,, and they Say he
doubled up like a f'ourblided knife, and
has not been seen since, but sent word back
that all might "shoot it out" who choose,
but he wanted none in his. Jones won the
field against all odds.
Mr. R. H. Lamborn, of Philadelphia,
writes under the date of July 15th :—The
old "war of the gauges" has been opened
again. The contest in which the. 7 feet,
the 6 feet, the 5 feet G inches, the 5 feet,
the 4 feet 10 inches, and the 4feet Bi, inch
es were pitted against each other, has by
the same sureprocess of "natural selection"
resulted in the almost universal adoption
of the last named and narrowest gauge.
The advocates of the three-feet gauge
claim that in the majority of instances in
which railroads have been and are to be
built in the United States, the stockholders
would lae better remunerated and the com
munity at large accommodated more thor
oughly and at lower ratesfor freight and
passage were three feet used instead of the
new wide gauge of four feet eight and a
They claim that the whole United States
will ultimately be overspread by a net
work of local narrow gauge. roads, which
and which will pour their freight and pas
sengers into great trunk lines - leading - to
the prominent centers of trade.
They claim that there are mountain
communities where the people must fbr de
cades remain without railroads if the broad
gauge is retained, but into which narrow
gauge roads can be built for sums that can
readily be commanded; that the sparse
populations of our great. mining and graz
ing Territories must for many years de
pend upon a few main East and West
trunk lines and expensive wagon transpor
,tatious, unless a cheap gauge is adopted,
which will enable . them to build long lo
cal branches at small cost ; that villages
and country communities by thousands in
the districts,controlled by lines yet to be
built, must, in case the broad gauge is re
tained, exist without the advantages oflo
cal roads for a generation longer, unless
the "new and cheap machine"—the narrow
gaugeroad—is adopted in its stead. There
thre, would it not be well for stockholders
and bondholders, before spending their
money in laying another rail upon the
ponderous broad gauge plan, to pauseand
gravely consider the merits of the new
and cheaper system ? Would it not be wise
for legislators forthwith to encourage, by
proper laws, a contrivance which promises
so much benefit to the great masses of their
constituents ? and is it not due to the peo
ple who so generously assisted the corpo
rations that are to-day" determining the
gauge for scores of years and for hundreds
of thousands of miles of new roads in 'our
vast trans-Mississippi empire, that the plan
best adapted for the early and..ultimate
accommodatiOn of the entire community
shall be adopted and maintained ?
The Sea of Galilee.
What the traveler, will see when be
catches his first eager glimpse of the lim
pid sheet of water will be a small oval=
shaped lake, thirteen miles long and six
broad. It is evidently of volcanic origin;
and the earth-quakes which have rent the
walls of Tiberias, as well as the hotsprings
at several places in ,the vicinity of .the
lake, show that voleanio agencies are still
at work. All along the eastern side runs
a green plain, which, except at one spot
(the probable scene of the destruction of
the swine after the healing of the Gadar
cue demoniac) is every where about a
quarter toe. half a mile in width. Be
yond this rises, to the height of about 2;
000 feet, an escarpment of .desolate-look
ing hills. scored byvarious ravines, and
having - a plateau at the top. As there
are neither trees nor villages to be seen
on that side, and no signs of cultivation,
the view in that direction has a certain
monotony, but, this is atoned for by the ;
air of mystery derived from its very deso
lation, and from the fact that even in our
Lords time it was so unfrequented that
He had but to visit it when he required
the refreshment of golitucle. It was of
this lovely shore that we are reminded in
the lines of thebe'autiful hymn—
"Come to a desert place apart,
And rest a little while,'
So.spake the Lord when mind and heart
Were faint' and sick through toil."
It was somewhere among these feature
less hills—probably toward the north
eastern part of the lake—that he fed thd
5,000 who bad flocked after him en foot;
it was somewhere about those grey ravines
that He spent the night in prayer. And
how many times must His eye have rest
ed with pleasure on the dimpling surface
of the inland sea! a sight delightful in
any region of the world, but doubly re.
freshful and delicious• in this sultry-land.
Oaths are vulgar, sensleis offensive
impious; they leave a noisome trail upon
the lips, and a stamp of odium upon the
soul. They aro inexcusable. They grat
ify no sense, 'while they outrage taste and
A parisian philosopher sa)•s: ;`Why has
nature giyen us two ears and one tongue?"
In order that we should reDiat but one
half of what we hear."
Never slander au Acquaintance.
Wit and guntor.
There is but one good wife in the world,
and every happily weddedtman thinks
he has her.
Why are the Stars and Stripes like the
swells of the ocean ? Because they will
never cease to wave.
P' I old lady read about the Strike of
the ivtre drawers in Worcester, Massachu
setts, and said ofall the new-fangledthings,
- wire drawers must be the queerest.
Them soldiers must be'au awful dishon
est set," said an old lady; "For not a
night seems to pass that some sentinel is
not relieved of his watch!
What should a man carry with him
when. calling upon his affianced? Affec
tion in his heart, perfection is his man
ners, and confection in his pocket
When gazing upon great conflagra
tion what three authors would you name
in order to express your thoughts? Dick
ens, How:itt, Burns!
And old dutchman who was some years
ago elected a member of the Legislature,
said; in broken English style: "Yen I
vent to de lechislature I tought I would
find dem all Solomens dare; but I soon
found dere was some its pick fools dere as
"Paddy, my boy," said a gentleman to
an Irishman, whom he observed fishing a
way at a deep pool, "that must be a favor
ite strearit for trout:, "Faith, an' sure' . it
must be that same, for I have been stand
ing here this three hours, and not one of
them will come out of it."
"Good morn" _ • . Henpeck," said a
.rintor in search. fentate — compositor.
"Have you any daters who would make
good type setters ? but I have a wife
who would make a fine devil."
TAXING DOWN A HERo.Almost every
journal in the country has republished
the item about that man at Findley, Ohio,.
who bravely rushed into a burning gro
cery and brought out three kegs - of gun
powder, the explosion of which, would
have destroyed much property. It look
ed like a heroic deed and was so consid
ered; but alas ! there is another side of
the story. It is now asserted that he rush
ed into the flames through mistake. Some
one told him that three 'kegs of brandy
were being destroyed.
Suppose a man and a girl were - mar
ried ; and which is, of course impossible—
that, at the time:of the hymenial contract,
the man is thirty-five years old and the
girl five ; which makes the man seven
times as old as the girl. They live togeth
er until the girl is ten years—this makes
him forty years old, and four times as old
as the girl; they live until she is fifteen.
the man being forty-five—this makes the
man three times •as old ; they still live
until she is thirty years old— this makes
the man sixty, only twice as old. And
now, as, we haven't time to work it 'out,
_perhaps somebody will be so good to . tell
i ons how long they would have to live to
make the girl as old as the man..
• A father desired that his son - should 1 iire
and die in ignorance of the felhale sex,
removed to the backwooddin one of our
far -Western States, where he brought him
up unaware of the existence of the femi
But it happened that he brought him
Jett - own one day, and upon seeing a female
on the other side of the street, exclaimed :
"DadmVhatis that over there?"
"Only a grouse," said the fond father,
when to the amusement of the bystanders,
he exclaimed ; • •
"Then, dad, I want some grouse."•
Jefferson's, Ten Rules.
1. Never put Off till to-morrow what
you can do to day. - . , .
2 Never trouble another for what you
can do yourself,
3. Never spend your. money before you
4. Never buy what you do not want
because it is cheap.
5. Pride costs more than hunger, thirst
6. We seldom repent of haring eaten
7. Nothing is troublesome that ve do
8. ilow-much pain the evils have cog
us that have never happened.,
9. Take things always, by the smooth
10. When angry, count ten before you
speak; if very angry count a hundred.
YOU CAN'T CONCEAL P.--A poor far
mer cannot conceal the fact that. •he is a
poor farmer. All his surroundings pro
claim the verdict against him ; his horses,
cattle, wagon, harness; plows, fences, fields •
—even his wife and children bear silent,,
but unmistakable evidence against •bira.-
On the other hand all things will
fai,•orably on behalf of the good' farrier.
Every passer-by can readthe pro tint;•co:i:
This fact alone ought to stimulate every iltr
mer to do his best fur the sakapf his own
character, as well as . interest, for he may
rest assure(' that every ,passerhy will pro
nounce judgment according:. to. the evi
A cheerful word of sympathy
flay Scatter clouds away,
Ono little act performed in life
Turns darktiess into day.
The gauge of the Louisville and 'Cin
cinnati Short Line Railroad istobeplioug
cd' to the narrow - gauge on - At4ast