The Waynesboro' village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1871-1900, February 08, 1872, Image 1
. . . ~ . + ' ...- ' . , ' . , , -.': I. t , ..., . , • '... % 41, .. , II oil , . . . . 4 • -I . 'i . ,t A c_..,. . .. A , . .• . • ' Imil 4, ' . c . ''; ,l, • ' , , , - ...t . . ~ k ' .y: .. „ ".' 1 ,q e Hl J ~ . I , • ' . ' .1 t • / • I gt „.„,..,..., ~:.. ~.,. ~.3, ...,.. ~ . milimmilmiNl 'Man - , • BY W. BLAIR. VOLUME 24. g , eltrt tigetrg. A. SPARROW'S !EST. And what a medley thing it is 1 I never saw a nest like this; Not neatly wove, with decent care, Of silvery moss and shining hair; But put together, odds and ends, Picked-up-from enemiesand - friends. ----- See ! bits of thread and bits of rag, Just like a little rubbish-bag! See! hair of dog and fur of cat, And ravelings of a worsted mat, And shreds of silks, and many a feather, Compacted cunningly together, Well, here has hoarding been, and hiving, And not a little good contriving, Was fashioned out of things like these Think! had these odds and ends been bro't To some wise man renowned for thought— Some man of men a very gem— rray, what could he have done with them? If we had said "Here, sir, we bring You many a worthless little thing— Just bits and scraps, so very small, EMMMM=E "And out of these you must contrive A dwelling large enough for five, Neat, warm and snug, with comfort stored, Where fire small ones may lodge and board ;" How would the man of learning vast 1 lave been astonished and aghast, And vower that such a thing had been _Ne'er-heard of, thought-of- - much - less seen-r Ah ! man of learhing, you are wrong; Instinct more than wisdom, strong; And lie who made the sparrow taught This skill, beyond the reach of thought And hare, in this uncostly nest, Nor have kings known, in palaces, ,If-Frufh-eenten-t-ao is im-t4 Poor simple dwelling as it is _____. gictlintrwi__: THE SHREWD QUEi.KEIg. Some years ago a Quaker knight of the shears and thimble, who exercised his avocation in Canterbury, was impos-d up un by an adroit scoundrel, who contrived to get a suit of clothes on credit, and af terwards decamped without paying fir them. The Quaker was to poor to lose the debt; but like too many others of his cloth, he had apparently no other alterna tive. The account was placed on his books and soon forgotten. Abcut five years afterwards he was examing his old records of debt and credit, profitaud loss, when his attention was attracted to this account, and all the circumstances attend ing it came flesh to his mind. Suddenly an odd thought suggested itself. "I'll try au experiment," said lie to himself; "perhaps I.maysueee2d in catch ing the rogue and getting my pay." lie immediately prepared an advertise ment in,substanee as ibllows, which he inserted in the Kent Herald:— "If Mr. Ileui'v Webber, who was in Canterbury about the month of August, in the year 185:1, will send his address to the editor of this paper, he will hear of soma:ling to advantage." Having instructed the editor not to disclosb his name to the rogue if he should call, but request the latter to leave his address, the Quaker patiently awaited the result of his experiment. In a short ti:ne lie was informed by a note from the editor that the individual alluded to in the advertiseinent, having arrived from London, might be found at the "Rose Ho tel." The tailor lost no time in prepar ing a transcript of his accounts, not for getting to charge interest from the time that the debt was incurred. Taking a bailiff with - him, who bore a legal pro cess suited to the occasion, he soon arri ved at the lodgings of the' swindler. The bailiff was instructed to stand otl'at a lit tle distance till a signal should indicate the time for him to approach. The Quaker 'now entered the coffee room and rang the bell, and when the servant appeared, requested him to in limn the gentlemn of whom he was in search, that a friend wished to speak to him. The waiter obeyed the summons, and soon both debtor and creditor were looking each other in the face. "How dost thou do?" kindly inquired the quaker in a bland tone.—" Perhaps thou dost not know me? "I don't believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance," politely answered our hero, with a forced smile. "Post thou remember purchasing a suit of clothes several years . ago of a poor tailor in this city, and forgetting to pay for them?" asked the quaker. "Oh, no!" said the gentleman, blushing slightly; "you must be mistaken in the per son. It cannot possibly be In c that you wished to see." But the quaker was not to be shaken ofiby this denial of his identity. ".1h John! I know thee well. ;Thou art the very man I wished to see. Thou host on at this moment the very coat that I made ihr thee. Thou must acknowl edge it was of good stuff and well made or it could not have last.d thee so long." "Oh, yes," said the gentleman, appear ing suddenly to recollect himself; "I do remember now the circumstances to which you allude. Yes, yes—l had intended to call and settle that little bill before leaving Cantqrbury, and you may depend on me doing so. I have come here to take possession of a large amount of property has fallen to me by will. See ! iiere 4s the advertisement which apprised reo of my nrnnri filvhinn" Here be handed to the Quaker a copy of the paper containing the advertisement whose history we have given above. The Quaker looked at it with imperturable gravity and continued, "Yes,l see thou art in luck ; but as my deman is a very small one, I think I must insist on pay ment before thou comest in possession of thy large estate. A tap at, the window here brought the bailiff into 'the presence of the parties. The swindler was partic eulittlytonished at:the appearance of this functionary, who immediately began to execute his part of the drama. "What ?" exclaimed the rogue in an an gry tone ; "you surely havn't sued me ?" "Yes I have," replied the Quaker; "and thou should be thankful that nothing worse has happened thee." "Come in, then," said the debtor, find ing himself fairly caught ; "come in, and - • "The three went into the house toget . er, and the slippery gentleman having aster tabled the amount of the bill, paid it in full. The tailor having signed the re ceipt, placed it in the hands of his late creditor, with feelings such .as may be readily. imagined. The swindler took it, and for the first time glanced at the va• rious items of which it cocas composed.— _ ,aid neta3ing t• - charge, which was for "advertising," when he broke fourth, "Hallo ! what's this? "For advertising?" That's an odd charge in a tailor's bill. You're cheating me! "Oh, no," . cooly replied the Quaker; "that is all right, I have charged thee the cost of publishing the advertisement which thou just showed me." _ _ Here the swuidler savagely demanded. "Do you mean to say that you caused the publication of that advertisement?" "Truly, I did," replied the quaker, with most provoking coolness. - -- qd a fall sehood in it !" quickly OU retorted the rogue, - saidhrmper= turbable Quaker; "and thou wilt find me "1 ou said in your advertisement that I should hear of something to my advan tage, if I would come here." ' "I'-hott-.2i-t-mi.ti 1- en," immediate •s -ponded the Quaker ; "I only promised that thou shouldst hear of something to advantage ," and is it not to the advan tage of a poor tailor to collect an old debt?" "If I catch you in the street," said the swindler, in the deepest rage, "I'll give you such a thrashing as will not leave the breath in your body !" "Nonseuce !" said the Quaker ; "if thou really intend to do anything of that sort, we had better step out in the back-yard, and finish the business at Once." The rogue was completely abashed by the coolness of the Quaker, and stood speechless, and almost petrified. "Now," said the tailor, good naturedly, "let me give thee a piece of advice. When next thou bast occasion to get a suit of clothes, thou had better not attempt to cheat the poor tailor, but pay him honest ly ; for then thy conscience will not dis turb thee, and thy sleep will be sweet and refreshing, Farewell !" There is no doubt of the literal truth of this story, as the writer received it some time since from the lips of the Quaker GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN delivered a lecture in New York, a few night's since, in which he told his audience «hat lie knew about Jim Fisk,who swasgone where "the woodbine twineth." Here it is : Jim Fisk's career, he said, was famil iar to all. He commenced it in a pedler's cart in Massachusetts. Soon he drove six horses, and had the handsomest wagon in the Eastern country. Then he went to Boston and entered the house of Jordan, Marsh (V, Co., and soon became a part and parcel of the great city of Gotham. He went into many shoddy contracts, howev er, and after a while was thrown overboard by his partners, with ten thousand dol lars. He went to New York and spent it at once. Then he came oil for anoth er ten thousand, and got it again. With it he got into Wall street,New• York. From being on Wall street he got to sleeping with old Daniel Drew, the long-faced old phpocrite who builds churches and steals railroads. During these times he (t li e speaker)used frequently to meet him down at No. 9 Wall street. While here he fell in with Jay Gould, and they hatched up the Erie plan. Fisk had but one idea.— He got a printing press and printed $O,- 000 shares of forged Erie stock. Next day it came out on the street and there was a panic, and he and Gould bought five mil lions of stock for next to nothing. They got the railroad and run it for a while, and them bought an opera-house ; the pet project of his life. here he congregated actresses, singers, danseuses, women of luxurious habits and tastes, more than ri valing Sardanapalus in his court and So lomon with his barbaric temples and his thousand concubines. He wanted a Judge and a Court, and so he bought old Judge Barnard. He wanted a lawyer, and so he brought Da vid Dudley Field, and so he went on un til' he had stolen banks and railroads un til he could controll New York. The last thing he did was to buy Rev. Mr. Beecher and raise his salary to $20,000. Then he had a sensational Judge, a sen sational lawyer, a sensational regiment, and finally a sensational preacher. He knew the people were all hypocrites, and so he, the greatest oneof them, bought the best pew in Plymouth Church, where Mr. Beecher holds fourth. The speaker went on to say that after he had bnilt the Pacific Railroad, Jim Fisk and Tweed and the rest of the New York ring, undertook to steal it, but found that it was bankrupt before they came in. They had gone clown to the office of the ••••••••• •••• vow , . rte. laro 11 Q.«.....« nrl 11.....1.,.. A FAMILY NEWSPAPER-.-DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, LOCAL AND GENERAL WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 7111 pen the safe, but upon getting in found nothing but a bill for his services for build iag it, amounting to a million dollars.— So they gave up the project. Fisk, he said, did not succeed in any thing. He was a sort of Barnum, with out Barnum's genius, but still with ' his immense Slowing power. He was a buf foon, a clown at the circus. He was a gi gantic nothing, and when his estate comes to be settled up it will be_found_that__he_ was a thousand times worse than nothing. he may settle a million or so upon his 'rife, but he still owes for his tooth-brush, his patent leather boots, now that he had "gone where the wood-bine twineth." We are growing too polite to call things_by_their—right—names,—We—have-' and those whom our blunt Saxon ances tors called liars, we now designate as "persons who are given to exaggeration." And the doom of those people, • which is thus stated in our good old honest bible. "All liars shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brim stone," we cmphifistically pharapbase into "A 11 those who are ci a I go to a place of very torrid temper ature." To charge a man with being a liar is to (Her him the last possible indignity,be cause it lays at his door the most despi cable of crimes which involves utter de moralization. There is no defense for it. It is not witty, nor wise, nor beautiful, nor profits: _hle._Any block-head can lie : A lie is a moral deformity. In the long run, and the truth will come to be known, and the lie _exposed. In the long run, therefore. the lie is unprofitable- And yet liars-abound, «ith atlhistory in demonstration of the folly of false hood. _ — There are business thhuy ing liars and the selling liars. The buy •r-anduly-depreelating-the-goodsTand-th• seller unduly extolling, are in this class. Solomon caught them at it in his day.— "It is naught! it is naught! said the buy. • • • I" is one awa he boast- Even this day many a man boasts when he has lied another out of his property.— The seller attempts to lie the buyer out of his money. Both regard it •as very witty. Some parents rejoice when their boys display this smartness. Some em ployers encourage their salesmen in this sharp practice. In such cases the 'employ ed will some time be too sharp for his em ployer. and vice versa. Business may come in slowly, but confidence once secur ed, fortune fellows ; but business built up on lies falls down in a day, when want of honesty in the tradesman is discover ed. There are the polite liars, whom we smoothly call "diplomats," men• whose paws are soft as velvet, and armed with claws like steel. They gain nothing by direct force of truth. As soon as a man who is smoother, and more patient, comes along, their time of ruin conies. There are liars of gossip, men and wo men, the only salt of whose , discourse is falsehood, who "scatter fire-brands, arrows and death," and say, "Are Are not in sport ?" There are begging liars, who live by their wits, such wits Its they have, who are framing narratives of misfortunes, who are attempting to deceive the chari table, who are "dead beats." The worst of the class is the long fac ed liar, the "pious" deceiver, who "asks a blessing" on the lie he is about to tell and. then 'return thanks' at its success.— Alas! for the success ! It always comes back on the hypocrite in a curse. Truth is clear. It is easy. It re quires no study. The falsehood has no real permanaut Poiver. Truth triumphs at last. The simplest soul can conquer life to himself by truth, but it is not in the wit of man to bring beauty and good up out of a reeking corruption of lies. Longevity of a Good Deed. Here is a neat little story from Ken tucky : About twenty-five years ago a young man from that State took a horse back ride to Virginia, where his father came from, and on his way he met a man and his family removing West, who were so poor as to be almost reduced to starva tion. He had compassion on the wretch-, ed group and.gave them a twenty dollar! bill with which to reach their journey's end. In about fifteen years the young man received a letter from the man he had befriended, saying he was a prosper-, ous merchant in Southern Kentucky, andi enclosing a twenty dollar bill to pay his loan. After another ten years, which eluded the Great Rebellion and its termi-; nation, lie was elected to the Lower House of the Kentucky Legislature, and, being' a man of talent and influence, was chos en Speaker, in the contest for which he had noticed that a stranger, and one of the other party, was his strongest support-i er. His curiosity was aroused by this' and he asked the man's motive, as he nev4 er had, to his knowledge, seen him before. "Sir," replied the member, "you will re call; when I mention it, a little scene that occurred when you were a boy on your way to Virginia. It was you who saved my wife from starvation. She told me, time and again, that never did a morsal of food taste so sweet, so unutterably de licious as that you gave her then. She was just six years old at that time ; but when she saw your name, during the late canvass, among the prominent probable candidates for the speaker-ship, she laid down the law as to how I was to vote.— This is all. Neither she, nor her. father and mother, brother and sisters, nor my- LIARS. "SOWING WILD OATS.—An exchange has the following words on the prevalent opinion among parents that their sons, when they start out in the world and•prove a little wild, are merely "sowing their wild oats," and will eventually come out, not only unharm6d, but in the end purified and impregnable to future temptations.— We make bold to pronounce this a mis taken idea. There is nothing more im- 1 -portant—there - is - no - duty - more impera tive upon parents—than that they should know where their children are at night. If you want to insure the ruin of your children, give them prefect liberty after dark. You can not do anything more suicidial to their future •happiness, nor surer to eventuate their total ruin, than to allow them to be out after night to fol low their own inclinations, on your sup -position-that-they-are-merely--"sowiny this " e•• •• : • that will bring forth evil fruit. Let your son be ever pure in spirit and in deed,and he will be certain to fall in with those who will-corrupt him and undermine all his good . qualities if thrown upon The works to "sow his wild oats." ' Parents should bear in mind that "as ye sow so shall ye reap," and if your children are to see the he-e.lephant r i-f-yeu like i )-ther is nothing that they should see that you should not see with them. We do not mean that you should be too strict nor that your son should he placed under re straints that will break down his spirit or give him an idea that he has not equal liberty with his associates. You cannot -expect young men to be sour-faced saints —they must have certain pleasures and recreations.int - what we do mean is that you should know that your son is not a frequenter of vile resorts. It is certain that a man will not be a drunkard unless he lays the foundation in youth, by evil - associations. Not one man u'Us - bundred will do an iniquitious act unless he has een-set the example virtually-taught-to doltNinoteerfunt-of-twenty-yorasg-m-en- who are allowed perfect freedom at nights mention by it.—An_oun of p vention is better than a pound of cure.--- Therefore we say that there is nothing more important than that your, children should be in at night, or, if they must be ahroa - dTyou - s_hould-be-with-thern,-or- at._ least know where they arc. We do not believe in a child seeing life, as it is cal led, with all its terrible lusts and wick edness, to have all his imaginations set on fire with the flames of vice. Nobody goes through this fire without being burned, and the scars will stick. No, do not let your children "sow their wild oats," if you can prevent it. Success in Life. - - . Man steps upon the stage of tenon as the proud lord of all created nature; en dowed by MS i\[aker with an intellect ca pable of divining all but his own pur poses, enabling him to bring forth from the treasury of the mind things, both new and old, which, scattered by the wayside, ripen with choice blessings.— With the golden wand of time, science and art appear, and, with each succeeding revolution, bear him onward toward the great goal in life which has ever been the height of his ambition. Go back with me to that time when first the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy. Then trace down through each succeeding age of the world's history, and in characters of livinv b light may be seen, visible on ev ery hand, his efforts crowned with suc cess ; and as the monuments•of brass and marble reared to exhibit his energies stand before. us, we become stimulated to greater activity. In our turn, we launch forth upon the billowy and tumultous ocean on life's changing scenes, seeking to reach som e de sired haven ; but we drift listlessly with the tide, unless all the energies of our manhood are called into play to buffet the adverse winds of fortune. All that is necessary to insure success, is to have that urgent motive power which brooks all opposition, and go-a head principle we may carve for ourselv es a monument of fame and glory. Then make up your mind that to-day, this very hour, is the brightest one of your whole existence; and as the little rippling stream gently glides along to mingle its waters with the great ocean's current; let your acts and energies, emanating from no matter how small a source, so mingle themselVes in the great currents of events that all, seeing your good works may pro fit by them. Then throw offthe yoke of inactivity ; let the master spirit have full scope, and rest assured peace shall crown all your efforts, and victory perch upon your ban ner. How To ENJOY LILE.-It is wonderful to what an extent people believe lappi ness" depends on not being obliged to. la bor. Honest, hearty, contented labor is the only guarantee of life. Idleness and luxury induce premature decay much fas ter than many trades regarded as the most exhaustive and fatal to longevity. La bor in general actually increases the term of life. It is the lack of occupation that annually destroys so many of the weal-, thy, who, having nothing to do, play the part of drones, and. like them make a spee dy exit, while the busy bee fills out its day. CURE FOR DTSPEPSTA.—AIIow me to offer a receipt for 'dyspepsia which has al ways (and in some very bad cases too,) proved effectual: Camomile flowers, one ounce ; hops one ounce ; one quart water, cold ; put in at night, and it is fit for use in the morning. Dose, one wine glass, a day. When the bottle is about half used, fill it up again. If lam not mistaken, the patient will be perfectly cured before he has used many bottles. So says an For the Village Record LINES. Brother, mellowed down in sadness,i Look around thee and Behold; There is joy, and peace and gladness, Vith their blessings manifold. Yonder mountain cold and frowning, Has above it starry skies; rid Ws snowy tempest howling, Melt in Summer's melodies. Yes, fruitful vales smile beneath, With refreshing monntain rills, Imparting plenty, joy and peace ; Every heart with rapture fills. Though each year has its sorrow, That, sadly o'er.hangs the heart, But of brigbter days to-morrow,-- Hope, the future does impart. Then. oh ! look . beyond the river, This side stormy—that side calm; There is bliss and rest forever, • When the golden shore is seen. Brother, mellowed down• in sadness, Look above thee and behold, There'll be joy and peace and gladness, Waynesboro', Feb. 1872. Good Words. While there is much misery and sin in the world, a man has no right to lull him self to sleep in a paradise of self-improve ment and self-enjoyment, in whicli there is but one supreme Adam one perfect specimen of humanity, namely himself.— Hetought to go out and work.--fight. if it must be—wherever duty calls him. A scorpion this .. when his sea tes st under a leaf that he cannot be seen; even so-tbe4rnpocrites wd false saints thin., -when-theyhave—hoisted—up—one----er—twcr good works, with all their sins therewith ar: covered_aucthii Good sense is that portion of judge ment which is sufficient for the discovery of simple truths and useful knowledge ; it teaches us to reject striking -absurdity and palpable contradictions. If you would relish your food, _labor for it : if you would enjoy your raiment; pay for it before you wear it; if you would sleep soundly, take a clear con science to bed with you. Politeness is the poetry of conduct— and like poetry, it has many (path ies.— Let not your polite Less be to florid, but of that gentle kind which indicates refin ed nature. God bath set our eyes in our foreheads to look forward; not to be proud of that which we have•done, but diligent in that which we arc to do. More hearts pine away in secret an guish, for unkindness from those w ho should be their comforters, than for any other calamnity in life. Errol. is, in its nature, flippant and com pendious; it hops with airy and fastidious levity over proofs and arguments and p rzhfs upon asserticn, which it calls con el usions.—CUßßAN. Richest Boy in America. The papers are telling about a boy in New England, now fourteen years of age who is supposed to be the richest boy in the United States, because he has a great deal of money. To our mind, the richest boy in America is the one who is good hearted, honest, intelligent, ambitious, willing to •do right. He is the one who loves his mother and always has a kind word for her, who loves his sister or sis ters, tries to help them, and.regards them with true affection. He is the boy who does not call his father "the old man," but loves him and tries to help him as the hairs of his old age gather fast upon his brow. The richest boy is the ono who has pluck to fight his destiny and future. He is the one who has the manhood to do right and be honest, :end striving to be somebody; who is above doing a mean action ; who would not tell a lie to screen himself or betray a friend. He iEv a boy whohas a heart for others, his young mind is full of noble thoughts for the future, and who is determined to win a name by good deeds. This is the richest boy in 'America. Which one of our readers is it? This boy we like; we should be glad to see ; would like to take by the hand and tell him go on earnestly, that success might crown his effbrts. And if he is a poor boy, we:should meet at the threshold bid him enter, and give him good advice, well and kindly meant. The other rich boy in New England we don't ca any thing about, for there, are fools awl snobs enough to worship, flatter and spoil him. How THEY RANK.-The various States of the Union rank in the following order with regard to population : 1, New York; 2, Pennsylvania ; 3, Ohio ;4, Illinois ;5, Missouri ; 6, Indiana ; 7, Massachusetts ; 8, Kentucky ; 9, Tennessee ; 10, Virgi nia ; 11, lowa ; 12, Georgia : 13, Michi gan ; 14, North Carolina; 15, Wisconsin; 16, Alabama ; 17, New Jersey ; 18, Mis sissippi ; 19, Texas ; 20, Maryland ; 21, Louisiana ; 22, South Caiblina ; 23, Maine: 24, California ; 25, Connecticut ; 26, Ar kansas ; 27, West. Virginia ; 28, Minne sota ; 29, Kansas ; 30, Vermont ; 31, New Hampshire•; 32, Rhode Island ; 33, Flor ida ; 34, Delaware ; 35,. Nebraska ; 36' Oregon ; 37, Nevada. The young man who will distance his competitors is he who masters his business, who preserves his integrity, who lives clearly and purely, who devotes his lei sure to the acquisition of knowledge, who never gets in debt, who gains friends by 1 It r ENVS. ETC. "Consider Me Smith." good story is told of old Dr. Cald well, fotinerly of the University • of South Carolina. • The doctor was a small man, and lean, but as hard and angular as the most ir regular of pine knots. He looks as though he might be tought, but he did not seem strong. Neverthe less-he-was-among the ones, re puted to be agile "as a cat ;" and in addi tion, was by no means deficient hi a kuowl edg of the "manly art." Well, in the Freshmen class of a certain year, was a burly beef mountaineer, of eighteen ,or nineteen: This genius conceived a great contempt for old Bolus' physical dimen sions, and his soul was horrified that one so deficient in muscle should be so poten tial in his rule. Poor Jones—that's what we'll call him . . . . . rate he was not inclined to knock • under and be controlled despotically by a man ,he imagined he could tie or whip. At length he determined to give the old gen tlemau a genteel, private thrashing, some night in the college campus, pretending to mistake him for some fellow student. • • . .• e :iny nizht " J Jones met the doctor crossing the campus. Walking up to him abruptly : "Hello, Smith 1 you rased— is this you?" And with,that he struck the old gen tleman a blow on the side of the face - that nearly fell him. Old Bolus said nothing, but squared himself, and at •it they went. J ones' youth, weight and muscle made him an "ugly customer," but - after a round - or two the doctor's science began to tell, and in a short time he had knocked his antago nist down, and was a straddle of his chest, with one hand on his throat, and the o ther-dealing vigorous cuff's on the io •. 31. K. G the h earl. "! • :top 1 I bo,t-pardenTdoetorTDo tor Coldwell—a mistake—for heaven's sake, doctor!" he groaned. "I rea thought it was Smith 1" blow alternately : "It makes no difference ; for all pre sent purposes consider me Smith." And it is said that old Bolus gave Jones such a pounding, then and there, that he never made another mistake as to person al identity. The Devil's Servant. Many years ago, when as yet there was hut one church in the town of Lyrae, Conn., the people were without a pastor. They had been for a long time destitute, and now were on the point of making a unanimous call fbr a very acceptable proacher, when a cross-grained man, nam ed Dorr began a violent opposition to the candidate, rallied a party, and threatened to defeat the settlement. At a parish meeting, while the matter was under dis cussion, a half-witted fellow rose up in the house and said lie wanted to tell a dream he had last night. He thought he died, and went away where the bad people go, and as soon as Satan saw me, "he asked me where I came from." - - _ "From Lyme, in Connecticut," I told him right out. "Ah I and what are they doing at Ly me ?" he asked. "They are trying to settle a minister," I said. • "Settle a minister 1" he cried out. "I must put a stop to that ! Bring me my boots ; 1 must go to Lynie this very night 1" I then told him as he was drawing on his boots, that Mr. Dorr, was opposing the settlement, and very likely would pre vent it altogether. "My servant Dorr !" exclaimed his maj esty; Here take my boots ; if my ser vant Darr is at work, there is no need of my going at all 1" This speech did the business. Mr. Dorr made no more opposition ; the minister was settled, but his opponent carried the title "my servant Dorr" with him to the grave. To Much for the Devil. This is Edward Hale's story: A man had sold himself to the devil who was to possess him at a certain time • unless he could propound a question to his Satanic Majesty which he could answer, he being allowed to pilt three queries to him. `no time came 14 the devil to claim his own, and he consequently 'appeared. The first question ,the man asked was concern ing theology, to which it caused the devil no trouble torreply. The second he also answered without hesitation. The man's fate depended upon the third. What should it be I He hesitated and 'turned pale, and the cold dew stood on his forehead, while he shivered with •anxiety, nervousness and terror, and the devil triumphantly sneer ed. At this juncture the pah's who ap peared in the room with a bonnet on her head. Alarmed at her husband's condi tion, she demanded to know the cause.— When informed, she laughed and said, "I. can propound a quotioa which the devil himself cannot answer. Ask ,him which is the front of this bonnet ?" The devil gave it up and retired in disgust and the man was free. A farmer near Nashua, N. H., recently bargained his farm to another for .$2,00d, but when the day and purchaser arrived, informed him that his wife was in hyster ics about the trade, and guessed he would back out, "But," said the purchaser.— "I have come a long' distance, want the farm and must have it. How much more would induce you to sell it ?" "Well," replied the agriculturist, "give me $250 more and let her cry." On agate poet out West ' a sign "Take, waining : No tracts nor life insura.p,7;tfir. $2,00-PER YEAR ii0i.43131 anii junior. White vests are a bad inveltment for the young men, now that the girls have got to using so much oil on their hair. The last subject discussed by a debat ing society-wasi- "if you had .;to have a -boilovhere would - you - prefer - to - have it?" The unanimous decision of the members vas. On some other fellow." "How wonderful," csclahned some un known philosopher, "are the laws gov ernirtg human existence ! Were it not for tight lacing all civilized countries would be overrun with women." The editor-of-the—Athol -- Transorz:pt is affected by the weather. He says : "The• devil of this office_has_a soul. On this ac count we dont care to compel him to steal wood. Will several of our subscribers take the hint ?" • e A Kansas paper's cow obituary says : "There is not a farm wagon in the coun try that she has not stolen something out of; not a ate in tow. •, penes; and the stones that have been thrown at her would make five miles of turnpike." An old lady in Orange county, N. C. who is pious clear though, has named all her. furniture after the Scripture and the Apostles. Whenever she wants to sit in her easy chair she tells her servant to "bring up the Apostle Paul _and—put-it— xiear the fire." How do you do, Mrs. Beggs. Have you heard tkstory about Mr.' Lubly ?" "Why, no, reNly, .Mrs. Gad -L-what is it_ do tell" 010 promised not to tell for all the world I No I must never tell I • 1-ant-e-frik Pin:lever open my - erl — Hope 1.11 die this minute 1" "Well, if you'll belive it, Mrs. Fuddy told me • oik;ht-that--MrsTrot—tokl—her--dwt-- her sister's husband was told by a person who dreamed it, that Mrs. Trouble's el dest daughter told Mrs.,Fichens, that her grand-mother heard it by a letter which she got from her sister's second husband's oldest brother% step daughter, that it was reported by the captain of a clam boat just arrived from the Fejee islands that the mermaids there ware crinoline made of shark skins." Mercy on us • . • :. - °AIL" 'r.lio, mouth about it—new- An Irish surgeon who had couobod a cataract and restored the sight of a poor woman, in Dublin, observed i i her ease what he deemed a phenomenon in optics, on which he called together his profession al brethren, declaring himself unequal to the solution. He stated to them, the sight of his patient was so perfectly restored, that she could see b thread the smallest needle, or perform any • other . operation which required particular accuracy of vis ion. But that ,when he presented her with with a book, "she was not capable of distinguishing one letter frurt another."— This very singular.ease.excited the inge nuity of all the gentlemen present, and various solutions were offered, but none could command the general assent.— Doubt crowded doubt, and the problem grew' darker at every examination, when at length, by a question to the servant who attended, it was discovered that the woman had never learned to read. A CMAPTER ON WEtnazto.—l hey al lurs observed, says Josh Billings, that a whining dog is sure to get lickt in a. fight. No cur of well roggerlated mor als Iran resist the temptation to bite a a cowardly purp "that tries to sneak ofi with his tale between his legs. The whinin bizness matt is just so. Av ridge mankind don't put any konfidence in him. Most neopie don't like to trade with him bekause they are afraid he'll bust up or mebbe he's already busted. The more down a biznes.s man is, the more his kustomers will let him stay there. A good, ringin bark is wuth more to put greenbax in a man's pocket than for ty years of whinin. I oust knowed a post-master to get turned out of office and tried to whine himself in again. Ef any body cud make that kind of kaggin pay lie cud. But he has been whinin ever since, and every time he duz menny other dogs take a nip at biro. A STUPID HUSBAND.—Aiding horse back just at night through the woods in Saginaw county, Michigan, I came into a clearing, in the middle of which stood a log houze, its owner sitting in the open door smoking a pipe. Stopping my horse before him, the following conversation en sued : `Good evening ail.," stlid I. "Can I get a glans of milk of you to drink ?" "Well ! I don't know. A± the old wo man." By this time his wife was standing by his side. While drinking it I asked : Think we are going to get a stcrra ? "Well, I really.clon't know. Ask the old woman—she can tell." "I . guess we shall g..4t one right away.!" said the wife. Again I asked : "How much land have you got cleared here ?" "Well I don't really know. Ask the old woman : —she knows.". "About nineteen acres," said she, again answering. Jvst then a troop of children came run-• fling around the corner of the shanty. "All these your children ?" said I. "Don:lit:now. Ask the old woman- 7 she knoVrtiAti',' "I didzilr;4t to heir her reply, 'hut ;., sea"