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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"