BY W. BLAIR.
VOLUME 24.
*tied 4oetra.
PASSING AWAY.
BY DR, E. A. CURRIE S OF VA,
They are passing away with the fleeting
- - hours;
They are passing - away - with - the - fading
flowers :
They are passing away on the sighing
breeze; -
They are passing away like the falling
leaves;
In life and in death, by night and by ay,
All things of this world are passing away.
The dreams—of our youth_have long pass
ed away ;
The hopes of our noontide hatie gone to
decay--
- Our evening dreamings are still coming
on,
But as soon as they come they pass and
are gone:
In life and in death, by night and by day
One by one they are passing away.
The seasons Are-hurrying each other a
long,
They flit and are gone like the mists of
_theinorn
The Summer was here with the wi . s
Now by Ant= winds its bright robe is
shorn ;
Soon winter will eome with its stern de-
cay—
And
the bright things of nature will all
pass away.
:Qur friends.and our lovers are passing a
way,
sa.ndour
Fade—
Stern time in his flying will brook no de
lay,
_And nothing escapes his remorseless
blade—
" Time and death in this world bear soda
And beneath their tread all things pass
.away. •
'Yet 'beyond the valley and shadow of
Time,
'There are glorious things that can nev.er
decty,
They call to our spirits in accents sub
lime:
"O come, for with as is no passing away,
'We dwell forever in•cloudless day,
Our joys may be thine, never passing' a
way." •
Then mount our spirits and thitherward
fly;
Remember this world is all passing away,
Let faith bear ye upward,beyond the blue
sky,
To dwell in the bright land of shadowless
day.
By his aid who death broken the bonds of
the tomb,
Ye may rise on the wings of his mercy
and love,
Where the garden of God in parennial
.bloom,
Surroundeth the glorious mansions a
bove—
Be patient and faithful, and never delay,
To accomplish your work before passing
away. '
Pistellanrous
TESTIMONY IN TIME.
The case pending before our court in
teresting the people deeply. A few months
previously Jacob Ames had died, leaving
prx perty to the amount of fifty or sixty
thousand dollar's, all of which was readily
available. At first it was supposed that
the old man—he was eighty-seven—had
died without having made a will, as he
had often been heard to remark that mak
ing a will seemed like a preparation for
death, and as there could be no question
about the inheritance of his property, he
did not choose to make any such, to him,
ghostly testament. His direct and only
legitimate heirs were two orphans, both
girls, children of his only daughter. One
of them was a cripple, requiring almost
the undivided care and attention of the
other, and both were beloved by all who
knew them. While people were feeling
glad that the orphan sisters were to be
thus grandly provided for, a man named
James Arnold presented a will for pro
bate, said to be the List Will and Testa
ment of Jacob Ames, made several years
before. This Arnold was a nephew-in-law
of old Jacob,the child of a wife's sister,and
had for several years been employed as
business agent and general accountant of
the deceased ; and when he caused; the
will to be presented, he produced a num
ber of witnesses who declared that they
had often heard old Ames say that he had
made the only will he should make, and
that James Arnold was his heir; and,
what seemed to make the matter sure,
two witnesses to the will, former servants
or employees of the testator, swore point
blank to having seen Ames place his sig
nature to the document after which they
signed their own names. Honest people
shdok their heads at this, for these two
witnesses—a man and his wife—were• not
above suspicion. In fact, it was general
ly believed that a small sum of ready
money would buy them, body and soul.
I entered the court-room late in the af
ternoon of the third day, just as the last
witness was about to leave the witness
boa; and this witness was Thomas Cloud
man, the servant just alluded to. He had
been questioned by a juryman, and had
made a plain statement. Everything MIS
against the poor deserving orphans, and
all in favor of the despised nephew. In
fact, no honest man, under the evidence,
could have brought in a verdict against
Arnold's claim.
The juryman who had questioned this
witness sat at the end of the box ; and
close to him, among the spectators, stood
old Harvy Goodrich,who was at that time
e - ngajed-in-the i papermill of:Day & Lyon,
at Portland. I. had known him years be
fore, when he worked for Rice, of New
port. The juror held the will in his hand,
open, and - Goodrich castliiA eye upon it.
I saw the paper-maker start and tremble.
- "Let-me look at that !" I heard him
whisper, for I stood close by.
The juror, without considering, handed
him the document ; and before - the -coun
sel cotild - interpose and regain it, Good
rich had seen all he desired and his first
movement, after relinquishing the will,
- wo - to - h - asten - to - th - e - sideof - the - orphan's
attorney, and whisper, hurriedly and ex
citedly, in his ear. I saw the attorney,
whose name was Shipman, bend, his head
attentively, and then start to his feet.—
What was it ? In those few brief moments
the whole audience had caught the fever
-of-cxeitem: r— _ t.t ;••••!et
that something of importance was on the
tapir.
"May it please your honor," said Ship
manorery quietly_o_calmlyand so qtAete
ly that we feared it could be nothing. of
importance, after-all—" I-must ask the in
dulgence of the court , : I wish to present
new and important testimony."
There, was a slight war of words be
tween the opposing counsel, after which,
by permission of the court, the old pa
per-maker took the witness-box. He
gave his name, residence, occupation, 'etc,
and then Mr. bilipman • placed — the will
in his hands.
"Mr. Gikidrich, will Sou please _exam
& • I "
8 only blossom to
"What is the written date of that will?"
"September fifth, eighteen hundred and
forty-one," answered the witness, reading
from the instrument.
"Now,M•thxvdricli, will—you--please
inform the jury, and the court, if you ob
serve any thing else, in or upon that pa
per which hold in your hand, that would
positively affect the reliability of that
written date. Make your own statement
in your own way, only make it concise
and clear."
"Your honor, and gentlemen, of the ju
ry," commenced, the witness, "this piece
of paper which I now hold in my hand
was manufactured by myself and was cal
enderea upon a machine of my own in
vention.
The water lines, in the place of the , or
dinary blue rulling, was included in my
improvement. You will also observe, up
on close inspection—though the ink up
on the-surface has somewhat obscured it
—.my own stamp in water-markS. Your
honor can examine it for yourself."
The Judge took the document, and
held it up against the strong light ; and
involuntary he read aloud, so as to be
heard by all in the room—for every
breath was hushed—"H. Goodrich's Pat
ent. Eighteen hundred forty-three !"
"Yes, your Honor," broke in Good
rich, whose professional integrtry was
now in the . balanca, "I can solemnly
swear that sheet of paper was not made
until at least two years after the date of
the instrument which has been written
upon its face."
The paper was given to the jury, who
were all upon there feet. Arnold's coun
sel demanded to see it. Mr. Cloudman
and his wife got up, and tried to leave
the room, but were prevented. Judge
and bar were in a state of ferment , while
the dense audience swayed to and fro in
eager, painful suspense. Would this old
man's testimony have its legitimate weight?
Ah ? how could it be otherwise ? There
was a witness more potent to an intelli
gent court and jury than speech of ton
gue. The contested will bore in its inner
most 'heart—in its "heart of hearts"—the
emphatic evidence of the base lie upon its
written face. Other witnesses were call
ed—one paper maker and two paper deal
ers—but the thing was settled. The wa
ter-lined date of the paper was evidence
enough. A little while the Judge gave
his charge--about as brief a charge as I
ever heard. A little longer, and we
knew, that the orphan's were the true and
legally established heirs to Jacob Ames's
fortune. I will not attempt to 'describe
the scence that followed. Suffice it for me
to say, that the perjured parties were se
verely punished, while the sun of joy and
gladness cast its gracious beams upon the
beloved and deserving sisters.
Without friends what is man ? A so
literary oak upon a sterile rock, symme
trical indeed in its form, beautifully and
exquisitely finished, outrivaling the laud
ed perfection of art in gracefullness and
granduer, but over which decay has sha
ken her black wing, and left its leaves
blighted, its roots rottennss, and its bloom
death—a scathed, lifeless monument of.
its pristine beauty. When the rebuffs of
adversity are rushing out eastward, when
the clouds are dark above, and the mut
tering thunder growls along the sky, when
our frame, palsied by the skeleton hand
of disease, or senses whirled in the mael
strom chaos of insanity, when our hearts
are torn by the separation of some belov
ed object, while our tears are yet flour
ishing upon the fresh turf of departed in
nocence—in that time it is the office of
friendship to shield us from portentous
storms, to quicken the fainting pulses of
our sickly frame. to bring back the wan
dering star of mind, within the attraction
of sympathetic kindness, pour the "oil
and balm" of peace into the yet festering
wound, and deliver the aching heart from
the object of its bleeding affection.
•
. -
A FAMILY NE'W'SPAPER---DEVOTED TO LITERATURE,-.T.OOAL AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC.
have-clone s
Social Intercourse.
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 25, 1872.
THE DIFFERENCE.
When I'Ttasloung I lived on a farm
with my parents, and a very good farm
it was too; containing over one hundred
acres of rich,mellow land of -which we
yearly raised • e crops of hay and grain.
Living at our - right was a man by the
name of Richardson, who was about fifty
years of age, bearing the name of an ex-.
cellent farmer, which name he richly de
served, as a person might see on passing
his premises, for his buildings possessed
that snug, warm look of which only a
good farmer can boast, and all of his
cattle were in such a condition as to a
rouse the wonder and admiration of his
neighborsovho - tried - invairrto - excell - himT
anti often have I heard remarks like this:
"I cannot understand how neighbor Rich
ardson has produced so good a farm of
that which, when he moved on it, was no
better than ours," On our left lived a
man by the name of William Stephens,
who was very slack in his habits, whose
buildings. although newer than Mr. Rich
ardson's, were not to be compared with
- • em - ' I - • • •- e4loors-of
stable and barns were adorned with many
a useless airhole, through which one of his
best horses broke a leg, and thereby lost
his life. His cattle were in ye: • oor con-
dition, and were always getting into his
neighbors'-grain-,--for-his-fences-being-out
of repair, no one could expect otherwise.
He usually managed to get to the neigh
boring village at least once a week to get
the liquor he needed to brighten him up,
as I think there was nothing about home
to cheer him. He was the only son of a
wealthy farmer, and while young allowed
- todirato - urarli - c - pleased never wig"- ,
ed for a thing without it was granted, so
that wheit_h - e 6 became a man, his idle ha&
virielrlreattainetH‘keu y uug, follu -
edihim_to_the_grave Ac T have given_a_
brief-outline—of- Stephen''s—life r
p_erhaps you would like to hear something
more of James Richardson.. He was the
son of a poor cobbler, who provided a
scauty finnily - by - toi - I= -
ing day and night on the bench.
James attended school until He was 12
years of age, when he went to live with a
man near by, who was in search of a boy
to work for him. His master proved to
be a very good farmer, and taught James
many useful lessons, which he never for
got. 'At the age of twenty-one he began
working for a farmer several miles distant,
collecting his wages and using them at his
own discretion. At first they were small,
but finding him to be steady and honest,
in a short time his wages were increased,
so that he was able to lay by a small a
mount each year, and in twenty years
from the time he began working on his
own account, he had accumulated enough
to purchase the farm on which lie now re
sided, and still have a small amount let
with which he procured the necessary
utensils for carrying on the farm. He
soon found that his buildings needed more
repairs than he felt able to pay for ; but
still he wished to have as good buildings
as any of his neighbors. Here was a fix;
he was ambitious to excel, but had no
money to proceed with. His first thought
was to go to his old employer and ask his
advice. "My friend," said he, "I will say
what I have refrained from saying before,
but now that you have asked my advice
I will tell you frankly what I think, and
if you follow it it will be of great service
to you. You have indulged in a habit
ever since I knew you, which is injurious
to your body as well as your purse, which
if you continue, will shorten your days,
and if you quit it may save you a great
deal of trouble. Take that tobacco from
your mouth young man, and save the mon
ey you expend each week for it to purchase
tools for repairing your buildings, and de
pend upon it you will prosper." He fol
lowed that old man's advice, and the tools
he. purchased the next year seemed like a
gift to him, and he soon had his buildings
in the best of order, and his farm pros
pered, and he became the wealthiest farm
er of the plate as we found him at the be
ginning of the story. Thus, we find the
adage true that, "Many a little makes a
muckle." A. J. A.
THE GENEROUS Boy.—One day a•gentle
man, saw two boys going along the streets
in New York They were barefooted.—
Their clothes were ragged and dirty and
tied together by pieces pf strings. One of
the boys was perfectly happy over a half
withered bunch of flowers which he had
just picked up in the street.
"I say Billy," said he to his comparion,
"wasn't somebody real good to drop these
'ere posies just where I could find them?
And they're so pooty and nice ! Look
sharp, Billy ; mebbe you'll find something
bimeby."
Presently the gentleman heard his mer
ry voice again, saying,—"Oh ! jolly, Bil
ly ! if there ain't most half a peach ! and
'ta'n't much dirty neither. "Cause you
ain't found nothing, you may bite first."
Billy was just going to take a very lit
tle taste of it when his companion said,—
"Bite Bigger, Billy; mebbe we'll find
another 'fore long."
-Yes, that shows how a hungry boy was
glad to get hold of half of a. castaway
peach ; but, better still, there is a lesson
of generosity on it. The poor boy wished
his playfellow to share in what little he
had. See, too, low it is possible for some
people to, make a good use of what others
throw away.
"There is a good deal of valuable mat
ter to be found sometimes in heaps of rub
bish," sayokprofessor Tryall.
A lady had her dress trimmed with
"bugles" before going to a ball. Her
little daughter wanted to know if the bu
glss would blow when she danced. "Oh,
no," said mother, "papa will du that when
he sees the bill ?"
•.STORY FOR BOYS
VANISHED YEARS.
Who can, look back on the vanished
years without a sigh of regret for the ma
ny remembered joys that the years now
vanished brought to us, but can never re
turn to us again.? To one, it iirthe re
membrance of the child's caressing fing
ers straying over the face and hands; of
clinging - arms - about the neck, and the pat. ,-
tering of tiny, slippered 'feet over the
stairs or down the hall. It is the music
of a sweet, innocent voice, floating in rip
pling laughter. or precious baby words
from the past along the vanished years
into the tide of the present. To another,
sweet, loved faces, that float suddenly
from the 'mist of vanished. years—as' if
the daisies grew not between the closed
- eyes - and - our - 0 %I, a. They—meet-us-again
with the same never-forgotten glance of
tenderness; and we ask of the vanished
years if they have given back to us our
own, or whether the spirits of the air take
form, sometimes, only to vanish again,
leaving us only our memories. Half-for
gotten songs float dreamily back to us,
and the memory of a woman's smile, or
a manly voice, has thrilled many a heart
•. • - .-nsity-of-emetien. -
presence froin the vanished years could
bring.
Youth, beauty, love and happiness, all'
belonc , to the beautiful vanished • ears •
and looking forward brings not the satis
faction-that-we find in silent, sweet com
munion with the past.
The joys, the happiness that has been
ours is ours still, for faithful memory is
ever going backward to the vanished
years, and bringing to us our treasures
that have been. But in looking forward
we see only what may be, and past ex
perience e sus tharhwfail. P -
haps there is nothing in the past of a
person, who has reached the quiet - middle
, i t-brings-mingled-sadness
and-smiles-as the rPeollection_oLyMithi
first-love.--Hovreal -it all-seemed-then,-
and yet how the vision changed 1 The gird
that seemed an angel then is only an or
dinary mortal now, faded and world-wea
ry, hireTtlYe - boy — who - thought blurs
man, and claimed the manly right of
worshiping every angel in maidenly guise.
And from the relics of the departed years
is drawn the curl of shining hair that was
such a talisman then. It is just as bright,
just as golden now, and it coils itself a
bout your fingers just as prettily, remind
ing us in its almost animated curling of
the coquettish grace of its warer. But,
alas ! the years in vanishing have stolen
from it its talsmanic powers, and to-day
it is only a lock of woman's hair, shorn
before the silver threads 'began to linger
in sad, silent tokens of the cares and
weariness of the earth-life.
A thought of silver hair brings us back to
the present. Glancing in the mirror we
find them plentifully bestowed upon our
sehp s, and smile as we wonder if the girl
to whom that curl belonged has kept that
shining lock of bright chestnut hair we
gave her in exchange. Only the vanish
ed years can tell. Do they tell us of a
_broken vow that made two lives a failure?
Why, then, did not that golden hair rest
forever in happy security against the
breast, whereon it leaned when a lover's
hand severed the shining curl? Ah! we
gather only the beautiful memories from
the vanished years. Our treacheries and
deceitfulness we consign to the past, and
say, "let the dead past bury its dead,"
and clasp more closely the sweet, cherish
ed memories that were so exquisite in re
ality. How sacredly we cherish them!—
How we linger with them! But lingering
with the vanished years brings us to the
silent,grass-grown graves and mossy tomb
stones, and thence to tears. So we fold
away the treasured memories; and we
know that, though the straying baby fin
gers may never more stray over our fad's
and hands and hair, nor the tiny feet
make music over the stairs and down the
hall, nor white-haired age grow young
again, nor broken vows be renewed, nor
anything belonging to to the vanish
ed years return to nq, we are hastening
on to eternity. Earth-life is only a shad
ow of the substance that the second life
affords. Eternity is before us, and who
shall say that in the eternal years all
shsll not be restored to us.
IN A. 11.&13 Pix.—A very good widow
- who was looked to by the congregation to
which she belonged, as an example of pi
ety, contrived to bring her conscience to
terms for one little indulgence. She lov
ed porter, and one day, just as she had
received half a dozen bottles from the
man who usually brought her the com
fortable beverage, she saw two of grave
elders of the church approaching her door.
She ran the man out of ,the back door,
and put the bottles under the bed. The
-weather was hot, and while conversing
with her sage friends pop went a cork.—
"Dear me !" exclaimed the good lady,
"there goes thelbedcord ; it snapped yes
terday the same way. I must have an
-other rope provided." In a few minutes
pop went another, followed by the peculi
ar hiss of escaping liquor. The rope ,
would not do again ; but the good lady
was not at a loss. "Dear me !" said she
"that black cat of mine must be at some
mischief under :there. Scat !" Another
bottle poped off, and the porter came steal
ing out from under the bed curtain. "0,
dear me !" said she ; "I had forgotten ;
it is my yeast! Here, Prudence, come
and take these bottles of yeast away 1"
Struggle on to victory. Never give up,
when you are right A frown is only a
muscular contraction, and can't last long.
A laugh of derision is but the modified
barking of a cur. If you can be laughed
out of the good or the good out of you,
you are weaka in intellert than the fool,
whose arguments is a guffaw, and whose
logic is a sneer.
CONE TO R IN DREAMS.
BY GEORGE D. PRENTICE
Come in beautiful dreams, love,
Oh ! come to me oft,
When the light wings of sleep,
On my bosom lie soft.
Oh! come when the sea,
--In-the-moon's gentle-light,-
Beats low on the ear,
' Like the pulse of the night—
When the sky and the wave,
Wear the loveliest blue,
When the dew's 'on the flower
And the star on the dew.
Come in beautiful dreams, love,
Oh ! come and we'll stray,
Where - the - whole - year-is-crowned,—
With the blossoms of May—
Where each sound is as sweet, • .
As the echo of a dove,
And the gales are as soft
As the breathing of love;
Where the beams kiss the waves,
And the waves kiss the beach,
And our warm lips may catch.
The sweet lesson they teach.
Come in beautiful dreams, iove,
Oh I come and we'll fly,
Like two winged spi7:ll
If -love through-tl;e- , l_ •
With hand clasped in hand,
On our dream wings we'll go,
Where starlight and moonlight
Are blending their:glow;
And on bright clouds we'll linger
Through long dreamy hours,
Till love's angels envy
The heaven of ours.
THE LOST FOUND.
• • is Oilt • TJ 8. boy in Liverpool;
• • o_went_into_the_3yater_to_bathe,and
-he-was-carried-out-by the tide. Though
he struggled long and hard, he was not
able to swim against the ebbing tide, and
he was taken far out to sea. He was
!Led up by a boat — hebnigiug to a ves
sel bound for Dublin. The poor boy was
almost lost. The sailors were all very
kind to him when he was taken into the
vessel. One gave him a cap, another a
jacket, another a pair of shoes, and so on.
But that evening a gentleman who
was walking near the place where the lit
tle boy had gone into the water, found
his clothes lying, 'on the shore. He search
od and made inquiries; but no tidings
were to be heard of the poor little boy.—
He found a piece of paper' in the pocket
of the boy's coat, by which he discovered
who it was to whom the clothes belonged.
The'kind man went with a sad and hea
vy heart to break the news to the parents.
He said to the father, "I am very sorry
to tell you that I fourid these clothes on
the shore ; and could not find the lad to
whom they belonged ; I almost fear he
has been drowned." • The father could
hardly speak for grief; the mother was
wild with sorrow. They caused every in
quiry to be made, but no account was
to be had of their dear boy. The house
was sad ; the little children missed their
playfellow ; mourning was ordered ; the
mother spent her time crying ; and the
father's heart was heavy.. It said lit
tle but felt much.
The lad was taken back in a vessel
bound for Liverßool, and arrived on the
day the mourning was to be brought
home. '-As soon as he reached Liverpool,
he set off for home. He did not like to
be seen in the strange cap, and jacket
and shoes which he had on ; so he went
by the lanes, where he would not meet
those who knew him. At last he came to
to -the ball-door. He knocked. -When
the servant opened it, and knew who it
was she screamed with joy, and said,—
"Here is Master Tom !" His father
rushed out, and bursting into tears, em
braced him. His mother fainted ; "there
was no spirit in her." What a happy
evening they all children and parents
spent! They did not want the mourn
ing. The father could say with Ja
cob, "It is enough ; my son is yet alive."
But what do you think will be the re
joicing in heaven when those who were
in danger of being lost forever arrive
safely on that happy shore ? • How will
the angels rejoice and the family of heav
en be glad ! Perhaps when some of you
will hereafter go to heav: • our fathers
and mothers, or brothers a _ -, will
welcome you, and say, "I am . • :,•,4t,pd to
see you safe, "Welcome! Welee !
You will not go there like the boy wi
cap and clothes of which he was ashamed'
but in garmenss of salvation, white as
snow with crowns of glory that fade not a
way. And what must you do to' be rea
dy to enter heaven when you die ? Think
what it is and thendo it.
But remember the great multitude of
heathen children, who have never heard
a word,ahout heaven, and who do not
know that there is any Saviour for lost
men. Suppose that you had seen that
Liverpool boy carried out to sea by the
tit.e. How would you have pitied him !
Then suppose you had seen the water full
of boys, all drifting out beyond the reach.
of human help. How would your spirit
have died within ! When you 'would
have turned away and gone hothe, how
sad you would feel ! No "pleasant bread" ,
could you have eaten that night.. But
all the children in heathen lands are drift
ing hopelessly onward—can you tell
whiter ?—Loving Words.
At a social party, where humerous
definitions was one of the games of the
evening, the question was put; "What
is religion?" "Religion," replied one Oi
the party, more famous as a man of busi
ness than of wit, is an insurance against
tire in another world, for whiel • honesty
is the best pOilcy," Correct.
Jackson and the Bravo.
• It was while he was Judge that he arres
ted the notorious desperado Bean, whom
nobody else could arrest. Many of Bean's
decendants are still living, and the place
where old Hickory's eves brought him
down is still pointed out.
• As the story runs, Bean went away and
left his family for two years. When he
returnedEs wife -celebrated -the- advent.
by presenting him with a new-bonabe.
This was a new departure in domestic e
conomy, and Bean did not accept the sit
uation with very good grace. He deman
ded an explanation, and in ' the absence
of a satistiactory one, he, sharpened his
knife and deliberately cut off both ears of
the poor little baby, playfully remarking
as he did so, that he wanted to distinguish
it — from—his own. Some—thought_this
was au innocent proceeding, a practical
joke on the baby, in fact, while others
- considered-it an-outrage-should be punish
ed. The grand jury took that v iew
of the case and indicted Bean. Bean, as
usual, brushed up his horse pistols and:
said that they might indict, but they
couldn't arrest him. The sheriff tried it
and was vanquished. Court came on, the
- riminaldocket-and-the_ clerk
reported Bean "not taken."
"What's the matter?" asked Judge
Jackson of the sherifF.
"Nothing's the matter, only I can't ar-
rest him," replicia
"Then, by the—Eternal-!- summon _the
county to help you, and bring him in
here," thundered the Judge. -
The sheriff' gathered up some citizens,
and advanced on Bean. Thelatter-back
ed himself up against a house to prevent
a rear attack, drew his pistols, and told
them to come on. He vas a center shot,
an to ave advanced M'auhi-Aurve—bee
certain death to some. o one cared o
sacrifice — his life in giving - the others — a
;
ortecl-to_Jackson_that
talceu without a sacrifice of lives.
"By the Eternal ! summon the court !"
thundered the irate Judge; aalethe court
was summoned."
ackson reused --- arms, and advance
empty-handed and bareheaded upon Bean:
His friends tried to restrain him, as he
valued his life, but he heeded them not.
He.kept his cold eyes fixedly upon the
desperado, walked right up to him, jerk
ed his pistols away, took him by the col-,
lar, and marched him off to jail.
Jefferson's Poverty.
It is related of Jefferson that-he might
have been a rich man and not a poor man
as he was, but for the multitude of admir
ing visitors that thronged Monticello from
year's end, to year's end, and literally
ate him out of house and home. As ma
ny as fifty strangers sometimes swarmed
in-upon him 'in a single afternoon. They
came on horseback, - and in Carr iage s,
and dozens of them stayed al'. night, and
many of them stayed for days and even
weeks. .Na other man of whom we have
on record was ever so over-run With visi
tors for so long a period. They came
from all lands, and belonged to almost ev
e 7 rank in life. It was not
_possible to
turn them away.' Jefferson had to stand
the punishment, and he stood it bravely,
and with at least outward serenity of spir
it, although his inward struggles were ter:
rible. He finally sold his library, per
haps then the best in America, and the
choicest possessions he bad on earth. He
also sold some of his land.
A few friends, and even the Legisla
tures of a few States tried'to help him.—
But these efforts were of no avail. His
affairs grew worse and worse. He finally
petitioned the Legislature of Virginia for
permission to dispose of his estate by lot
tery, but before the act was passed he died.
His.estate was sold at auction by creditors.
and his heirs were turned from their an
cestral door forever. ,Happily Jefferson
died unconscious that six months would
not elapse before his furniture would be
sold at auction, and Monticelo and ;Poplar
Forest be advertised for sale at street cor
ners; that the sale of his property would
Phil to pay his debts; and that his beauti
ful home would pass into the hands of
strangers.
THOUGHTLESSNESS.—YoIing man, in
the flush of early strength, stop and think
ere you take a downward step. Many a
precious life is wrecked through thought
lessness alone. If you find yourself' in low.
company, do not sit carelessly by . till you
are gradually but surely drawn into thei
whirlpool and chasm, but think, of the
consequences of such a course.. A ration-.
al thought will lead you to seek the so=
ciety of your superiors; -and you must
improve by a association. A benevolout
use of your example and influence for the'
elevation of your inferiors,is a noble thing;'
even the-most depraved are tot- beYtind
such help. But the young man of irtipres 7
sible characteranust,.at least,, think, and%
beware lest he fall himself a Victim. Think
before yon touch the Wine ; 'seethe"effeetS
upon thousands,-end know that Yon 'are'
not Stronger than they? wire in their yOuth:.
ThinL,befi e, in.,4 dark hour of ,tempta.....
tion, you borrow without leave, lest you
become a thief: :I„„hink Weir ere a fie . or
an oath passes, your lips ; for, a man' of
pure speech only can merit respect. Ah !
think on things true and lovely, and of
good report, that there may be better men
and happier women in the-world. •
A Missouri musician sat_ on a keg of
powder to smoke. His wife could, not
positively identify a shirt button that was
found in that vicinity: - • - - -
A policeman asked atirunlien 2Ethiopian
whom he cOliterlanOy seeln the dim
light of a cell; okra va - Colored ?" Oa :
led, no; dis yer cnile
,his born so."
Advertise in the RECORD—your snl*
Mit and gumor.
A wit being requested "to say a good
thing," laconically responded "Oysters."
What grows bigger the more you con
tract it ?—Debt.
He who in the world would rise,
Must take the-REconaraud-advertise.
Old maids 'are said to be rare in China;
but rare old china is frequently' found a
mong old maids.
Utah may have its plural wives, observ
ed Mr. Quilp,but other parts of the coun
try have very singular ones.
ex-perienced-boy-says-he-reoards
hunger and the chastening rod as about
the same thing. They both make him hol
ler.
A dandy in love iz in just about az
bad a fix as a etik of molasses kandy
that haz begun to melt.
The young ladies of Waterville, Me.,
•'n_ recentl • or•anized an anti-tobac-
co society, the young men of that town
have organized an anti-corset society.
goose has many quills, but an au
theirea-n—mako-a-goose f himself,-with-on
-1 one . uill.
Why is a caterpillar like a loaf of hot
bread ? Because it's a "grub", that makes
the _butter fl .
• ...
Arhy is an old pocket handkerchief
like and old ship ? Because it has expe•
rienced man , a hard blow. -
A Kentuck
she desires to
n could not be
I 2 + • • , 1:1 I I •
dust may be chewed by her bereaved• lov
ers. •
A gentleman says that he was recently
at a railroad station where a sergeant was
a • ling a company of - raw - rertriterwhile
giving the word of command the: train
started, and just afterwards s;dandy-look
ing chap arrived in titre _to see The cars
oft in which he wished-to go. At this mo
ment the sergeant was shouting to his men,
"Left ! left ! left !" The fellow looked a
round in high dudgeon, and cried ont,"lf
I am left I can whip the best man among
you !" The drill was a merry ono for some
time after this challenge.
A YANKEE !rtuqx.—A story is.told of
four Western .!`bloods,"with more witthan
ready cash, who went into a saloon a`few
day's ago, and "wined' thomselvei to, the
extent of several dollar's worth :of liquor.
The liquor being drank the next question
was the pay for it, and after a few mo 7•
ments consultation one of the quartette
called the waiter and asked fbi the bill.,
One thrust his hand into his packet, as if
to draw out his purse ; the aecondepreven
ted him, declaring he would-pay, and the
third did the same.. ' The fourth forbade'
the waiter taking any money frum either'
of them, but, all three persisted. As none
would yield, one said, "the best way to de
cide tlid matter is 'to blindfold the waiter
and whoever her first catches shall settle
the bill." This proposition was accepted'
and while the waiter was•groping his way
around the room, they all slipped out of
the house, and left the waiter in the lurch.
DIDN'T WANT ANY 31 - 011 E ..-A • char- -
acteristie anecdote, one which has often
been related by the Mormons themseWes
will clearly illustrate this prix ciplein the'
authoritative distribution of wives. -
A
mong the applicang to Brigham for this
especial privilege. modem - saintshig t
there came, one day a brother of an unit
suallydoubtful character, when something.
like the . following ,dialogue ensued
"So you want another wife do your •
"Yes if you please, Brother Brigham."
"Well the long and the 'short• of the
matter is, that you can't have pne." .
"Why can't I have one as well as the
other saints ?"
"So you want to know the whole atom,
.
do you ?"
ayes I should like to know why lean%
have more than one wife, as well: as: the ,
rest of 'era." . .
. .
•`lVell'you shall know, the iv.. stpr . -or
der; I want your race to die out ?" •
They tell about a blooming young wid
ow in Darby who used to live, next door,
to Mr: Smith,. who was ,n,...ividniver, who
'was n timid man, whose mild cyea beam
ed blandly threugh his spectacles.. The.
Widow had'a kindness for Smith, - and - he
reciprocated' it'f but he had barely enough'
.courage to carry on th&eampaig,n.••:So at:
last the widow pretendecLtobelerribly a
fraid of thunder and, lightening, and wii,e,tr,
ever she saw a gust coming up, she used
saiVoth bet - hair and rush into Smith's,
house. •
.Then; when she heard a peal of thunder;
she would scream and rush up and throw
herarms aroundtheneek of the miid-eyed
Smith, and implore, him to protect her
anti Smith always looked embarrassed_
and anxious, and said he- would. - Then
she. would faint, and Smith would feel half
glad and half sows , . About six thunder:
storms settled the Lusiuess, and now she is .
Mrs. Smith—he is only sorry that her ap
prehensions Of the lightening were not re
alized. He says that if ever there weed .
woman who ought to have b con torn to,
poises by electrleity,it is that widow. She
has thunder storms- overt' day in Smith's
house, and it in ' lively • and vigaroui for •
Smith *round there. „-
"Name theiongest day in the 'year ?"'
said a teacher to•,a young hoppful pf. five
summers..''Sunday responded '.the lit,
tle maxi,.
$2,00 PER YEAR
I a
s when she* dies
ave tobacco p
anted over