The Waynesboro' village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1871-1900, March 07, 1872, Image 1

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    BY W. BLAIR.
*tint pottrg.
His foot prints have failed us
Where berries are red,
And madronos are rankest,
The hunter is dead ! -
The grizzly may pass
By his half open door;
May•pass and repass
On his path, as of yore ;
The panther may crouch
In the leaves on his limb ;
May scream and may scream—
It'is nothing to him.
rone ear• e Tam
Like columns of stone ,
And tall as a pine—
As a pine overthrown!
His camp fire gone,
What else can be done,
Than let him sleep on
Till the light of till
Aye, tombless! What of it!
Marble is dust;
Cold and repellant ;
And iron is dust.
Poor Lonely One.
'Tis the same old, old story, so oft re
peated but always new ; for time, with
wings so fleeting, fans into existence
bright flames that fiercely burn, flames
fed anew by the warming breath of love.
She loved! oh how deeply loved she
- wh - or ;11c.
~lie one in whom she relied, as upon some
higher power. Was that love idolatrous,
or why was the idol broken ? Was it to
teach : a lesson of diviner love, of which
the heart knew not, that we heard that
aad voice sighing in strains pathetic as
those of the Undying One?
Place not thy trust below
Where changes come,
But build thy faith on high,
Poor lonely one, , •
There is a Rock of Strength,
When chill winds blow;
• Cast there thy anchor deep
Nor terror know.
When waters wildly dash,
And waves run high—
When darksorne are the clouds
O'ercast the sky,
Put not thy trust below,
There is a Guide,
Who when the billows roar,
Bids them subside.
The stars are shining still,
Poor lonely one;
Bidding their Father's will,
Which will be done.
Put not thy trust below
Where changes come,
But build thy faith on high,
Poor lonely one.
Pisttliattrous Ijtatting.
It was my first visit to the city. I was
rather green, and pi rhaps showed it in my
looks. Alter a long walk which I had
keu to see the sights, I had wandered into
a quiet sort of a street where I stood wan
dering which way to go to reach iny,ho
tel. just at that moment a forlorn look
ing woman carrying a large bundle ap
proached me and said :
"blister, I'm it poor woman, and my
husband's so sick he ain't able to do any
work, and me and my pour little childreu
is almost starviii' ior bred: Won't you
be good ei.ud' to give me two shillins?'
I looked at her a bit, and see I :
"Hain? t you got no relations nor neigh
bors that can help you ?" ,
"Oh, nd, sir•; I'm too poor to have rela
tions or neighbors. i was better oil once,
and then I had plenty of friend."
"That's the way of the world, thinks I;
we always - have friends till we need'em."
"Oh, sir; if you only know'd how hard
I have to work, you'd pity me—l know
you would."
"What do you do for a livin' ?" ses I,
'for she looked too delicate to do much."
"I do fine washin' and ironin'," ses she;
"but sick so much that I can't make
enuil to support us." And then she coi
fed, a real graveyard Coil:
"Why don't you git some of Schenek's
Pulmonic Syrup ?" ses I.
"Oh, sir 1" ses she, !`l'm too poor to buy
medicin', when my poor little children is
dyin' for bred."
That touched me—to think that sich a
delicate young cretur as her should have
to struggle so hard, and I tuck out niy
purse and give her a dollar.
"Thar," ses I, "that will help you along
a little."
"Oh ! bless you, sir, you're so kind.—
Now I'll buy some medicin' for my poor
husband. Will you he 'good enuff to hold
this bundle for me till I step back to that
drug store on tho comer? It's so heavy
-111 be back in a minnit," ses she.
I felt so sorry for the poor woman that
I co Atha refuse her sich a little favor, so
1 tuck her bundle to hold it for her. bhe
said she was 'fraid the fine dresses might
git rumpled, and then her customers would
not pay her'; so I tuck 'em in my arms
very careful, and she went to the store af
ter the medicin'.
There was a good many people passin'
by and I walked up from the corner a lit
.tle ways, so they shouldn't see me stand
than with the bundle in my arms. I
began to think it was time for the woman
to cum back, and the bundle was beginin'
to get pretty heavy, when I thought I
felt sumthin' movin' in it. I stopped rite
still; and held•my breth to hear if it was
anything, when it begun to squirm about
More and more, and I heard a noise just
like a tomcat in the bundle. I never was
so surprised in my life, and I corn in an
ace of lettin' it drop rite on the pavement.
Thinks I, in the name of creation what is
it? I walked down to the lamp post to
see what it was, and, Mr. Thompson, would
you believe me, it was a live baby f I was
so completely tuck aback that I stagger
ed up agiu a lamp post, and held on to it,
while it kicked and squalled like a young
panter, and the sweat jest poured, out of
me in a stream. What on earth to do I
didn't know. Thar I was in a strange
city, whar nobody didn't know me, out in
the street with a little young baby in my
arms. I never was so mad at a female wo
man before in all m *.f• any _
so nn - 1 - 6W - rike a drattd fool as I. did that
I started for the drug store, with the ba
by squallin* like rath, and the more I tri
ed to hush it the louder it squalled.. The
man what kept the store sed lie hadn't seen
no such woman, and I musn't bring no
babies in Char.
By-this-time-a-everlastiu crowd - of p-co
ple—men and wirumin—was gathered a
round; so I couldn't go - no - whar, -- all gab
blin' and talkm' so I couldn't hardly hear
the baby squall.
I told 'em how it was, and told 'em I was
a stranger in New York,and ax'd'em what
I should do with the baby. But thar was
no gettin' any sense out of 'em, and none
of 'em wouldn't touch it no more'n if it
had been so much pisen.
"That won't do" says one feller. "You
can't come that game over this crowd."
"No b -indeed," ses another little rusty
lookin' feller—"we've got enulf to do to
take care of our own babies in these dig-
"Take your baby home to its ma;" said
another,`and support it like an 'onest man.'
business to'em, but drat the word could I
git in edgways.
"Tnke'cm both to the Tooms," ses one,
"and make'em give an account of them
With that two or three of 'em cum to
ward me, and I grabbed my cane in one
hand, while 1. held on to the bundle with
the other.
"Gentlemen,"—ses I—the baby squeel
in' all the time like forty cats in a bag—
" Gentlemen, I'm not gwine to be used in
no sick way. I'll let you know that I'm
not gwine to be tuck to n i'rooms. I'm a
stranger in your city, and I'm not gwine
to support none of your babies. My name
is Joseph Jones, of Pineville, Georgia,and
anybody what wants to know who I am,
can find me at the American—"
"Major Jones," ses a clever-lookin' man,
what pushed his way into the crowd when
he heard my name, "Major, don't be dis
turbed in the least," ses he ; "I'll soon
have the matter fixed."
With that he spoke cto a man with a
leather ribbon on his hat, who tuck the
baby, bundle and all, and carried it tato
the place what they've got made in New
York a purpose to ke3p sal pour little or
liais in.
Some years age—we do not remember
how many, but suppose it to be a dozen—
there was a newspaper announcement a
bout a man who had left a package of
money at Earle's Hotel, then on Park
Row, New York, to be put in the safe for
safe keeping, receiving for it the usual
check from the clerk. Upon presetning his
check, a day or two later, he could not
get his package—the clerk was horrified
to discover that it was missing. It hap
pened that a check had been presented,
which was an exact imitation of the check
given by the clerk, and on this bog us
check the package had been innocently
enough delivered to*the person claiming
it. The depositor brought a suit to recov
er $15,000, the alleged amount of the de
posit left at Mr. Earle's. For years the
matter was in litigation an the courts, go
ing from one tribunal to another, and keep
tag Mr. Earle "on the keen jump" (as
Emerson has it.) The result of it all has
been that Earl had to pay the $15,000,
and a good deal more and expenses, a
mounting in all to no less a sum thans42,-
000. This amount Mr. E. has paid in
cash, to settle this troublesome job; and
now, having a few months since paid the
last instalmint and ended the ugly matter,
he received, a week ago,(he was in town
a day or two ago and told his old friends
of it,) a package from Boston enclosing a
letter. The package was the identical o
riginal missing package from' the-safe—
was identjfied as such—and with it were
papers which have proved beyond a ques
tion that the actual amount deposited in
the hotel safe was not $15,000, but only
8560 ; and it was also revealed that the
depositor had a confederate. and that the
whole operation was a swindle and a rob
bery. A duplicate check was made so like
the other that there seemed to be no dif
ference ; and the two rogues have doubt
less divided the "swag" which the court°
have decreeded to the plaintiff: The note,
which revealed these facts, was signed
"How-aid," with thii interesting addition:
"A Consientious Scoundrel.—Hartford
(Conn.) Times.
Preaching and hearing, and reading
and discluraing, they may be a kind of
ploughing or harrowing, or some such
piece of husbandry ; • but it is a hand out
..)f the clouds that sets the seed of ever
lasting life in our hearts.
An exchange s - tys: A white man in
one of the bar-roams in Alabama,the oth
er day, offered to pay for a quart of li
quor if a negro present would drink it at
one pull. The offer was taken up and the
darkey is now a colored angel.
A Remorseless Swindle.
At 11 o'clock on Saturday week a close
carriage drove up to the Coates street en
trance of the Eastern. Penitentiary. The
door of the vehicle opened, and a man
with a big diamond on his bosom alighted.
He helped from the carriage another man
in citizens' dress. The latter wore a
slouch hat, a brawn overcoat, and black
necktie. He had a moustache and small
chin whiskers, and his face was very pale.
Then another man, also wits a• big dia
mond in his shirt emerged from the car
riage. He was fi)llowed by a younger
man in citizens' dress. The men with
big diamonds were deputy sheriffs.
The four advanced to the huge stone
entrance and stopped before a massive i
ron door. On:. - of the deputy sheriffs
'•-; - _ - :
grating noise noise was heard, and a small wick
et in the huge iron door opened. The
deputy sheriffs accompanied by the two
persons iu citizens' dress, walked in.
"Straight ahead to the warden's office,"
said Mr. Ogden, the gate-keeper. The
deputies nodded, but said netting. As
- the — littleWibla!Velosed again with a clang
the man in the brown over-coat gave `,,a
start and his face turned a little pale. He
glasced at -the solid masonry and then
looked furvitiy at the great iron door
through which he bad just entered.—
Then a sigh escapod him, and dropping
his eyes on the stone pavement, he totter
ed on with the officer.
To the Warden's office was but a step.
The deputy sheriff's opened the door
,and walked in. They were evidently. ex
pected. The prison clerk, Mr. A. L. Ourt
sat on a high stool behind a desk. He
got down a great book, and opening it
picked up a pen. 'He looked at the war=
den, who was standing. by. The deputy
sheriff's approached the - latter and handed
him some papers. Meauvhile the gentle-
ly, dropped into a seat. The warden read
the papers and handed them to the clerk.
he then looked at the two prisoners in cit
izen's dress and bowed coldly to the man
in the brown overcoat.
The clerk glanced over the papers, and
then gave a little cough. lie nervously
picked up the pen and beckoned to the
tainting figure in the chair. The man
in ti e drown overcoat tottered over to
ward the desk. •
"What is your name, ;sir ?" asked the
clerk. •
"Joseph F. Marcer," was the answer in
a faltering voice.
"What is your age ?"
The clerk then nodded to a deputy
keeper. The latter approached with a
pine stick, marked off in feet aid inches.
He stood it up behind the prisoner's back
and took a good look over the top of his
"Five feet eight," he called in a cold
~ usiness-like voice. The clerk nodded
and put it down. The deputy took a
tape line and drew it around the prisoner's
"Thirty-six inches, chest." The clerk
nodded and. put it down.
Then followed a 6ritical examination
of the prisoners eyes, hair, complexion,
marks *Jr scars, and other physical pecu
liarities, all of which were duly de3 Jihad
in the huge ledger. The clerk'then nod
ded to the man in the brown overcoat, and
With• a shudder he reeled away from the
"Next man I" said the clerk. The oth
er young man advanced to the desk.
"What is your name?" said the clerk.
"Charles T. Yerkes."
Age ?"
“ korty. ,,
Precisely the same examination was
then gone through with as -in the case of
other prisoner. After all the entries were
made the clerk handed a paper to the dep
uty sheriffs and they de arted. He then
gave two tickets to the under-keeper.--
"This way," said the latter and he mov
ed towards the door. The two prisoners
followed him. In fifteen minutes they re
appeared from another door dressed in
new gray trowsers and gray jackets. They
also wore gray caps.
"Marcer in 71 and the other one in 89,”
said the clerk. The keeper noddel.
"Come along," said he, and the three
slowly disappeared across the carriage-way
and up the stone stair=case. The keeper'
inserted a massive key, the great iron door
opened heavily, •and the two passed. It
closed•again with a clank. •
"I suppose," said the reporter, "that is
the end."
"Yes, sir," said the clerk ; "that is the
end. They are buried from the world for
a long time, and perhaps forever."
: WHO is YOUR FRIEND.—Who your
friend ? Not the b.ry or girl, man or wo
man, who tries to lead you astray, tempts
you to do wrong, mocks at the sacred
things, or give you bad advice or had ex
ample. Such a person is your enemy,—
not to him.
Who is your friend? The person who
tells you to do right, to walk in truth, to
be faithful in good works; the person who
urges you to pray, to study .God's word,to
be always at church, to look forward to
full membership with his people, to grow
in grace and in the knowledge of the Lord.
Such a person is your friend. Listen to
• Ido say that to pass through the cus
toms of society, its complaisance, its Apt
teries, its wide lies, and its thousand little
permissions, and come out unscathed, is
not easy. Ido say that to pass through
business in the way which it is conducted
and keep your garments white, and main
tain a pure character, requires the ut
most endeaccr.—Beechcr.
1 trtxs
The Government of Children.
The government of children says Hen
ry Word Beecher ' has been a source of
dissension in the household since the world
began, and will be, presumably, till the
"new heaven and the new earth" are pro
duced. Children ought to be an element
of harmony in the family, and to bring to
tive love. In many cases this is the hap
py result. Where it does not produce this
effect, it may be from any of a variety or
The mother, sometimes, has an intense
and excitable affection for her children,
which, when roused up by anything that
to her seems like injury, takes on the form
of a fierce instinct, such as we see in t h e
lower animal kingdom.
At other times, the mother feels in an
egree - .er - s.pecia an. pee tar
ownership in the.child. And truly the
mother has a right that the fatha has not.
She travailed ; she buro it; she suffered.—
Chiefly upon her fell the weariness, the
watching, the anxiety, the task of early
training and instruction. Her life is like
a fountain poured out for the child, and
_whenever_she_sees-or—fears-that her—long
labor of pain and patience is 1 able to be
i_r_tvented_by_the -intrusion of one who,
though farther, and in law made even su
perior to her in the control of children,it
rausEs resistance which, springs, fom the
tae very roots of moral sensibility.. A
woman may often press this right unduly.
But no t and thoughtful man will fail
to reeogze a reason of justice in a wo
man's claim to have much of the man
agement of the children,provided she is
really seeking their advaniage.
R Since men do not as yet produce angels,
but only littls unripe men over a gain,
c'iildren must always ue a source of more
or less tr mble, inconvenience and annoy
ance in the house. Both parents Must take
their shale of the patience inevitably re
. uired. Amon, other thin . s children's
Lotse must 'e borne Int . They must not
Le too sharply curbed ; and yet, for their
wn good and the welfare of the fami y,
they must not be lawless nor boisterous
within doors. Out of doors, and in pla) -
rooms remote from hearing, let them shout.
It is good practice for the lungs. But in,
or near, the common sitting room, they
should be trained to quietness. It is best
they should early feel .the responsibility of
contributing to the common good.
The household' is a little commonwealth.
The child is a• new citizen. He must early
be taugb the duties of citizenship. It is
an evil influence which permits the child
to sacrifice every person's comfort in the
house fbr the selfish sake of its own enjoy
ment. I tlmay be plea: ant to the child for
the moment,but it sacrifices a higher good.
A child cannot learn too early order, sub
ordination, obedience, and a willing con
tribution of its own pleasure for the good
of others. If restraint, or even discipline
be needed to secure these results, it is best
that the child be subject to them. Health
and freedom may be secured without al
lowing children to make nuisances of them
selves. For another reason it is crdel for
parents to leave their children untrained
and boisterous ; such children invariably
are objects of dislike to all about them.—
They are the neighborhood talk. No pa
rent by neglect of discipline has a right
to take sides with the parent who desires
an orderly family ; where the children are
not vexatious despots ; -where a man may
feel reasonably safe from an irruption of
bears and bufildoes in human form ; and
where the sharp irritable selfishness of
over-indulged children shall not be his
daily portion.
They will not Learn.
The world learns its lessons slowly.—
Much of the world does not learn its les
sons at all. The young are everywhere
growing up amid tie ruins of other lives
apparently Ivithout inquiring or caring
for the reasons of the disasters to life, -
fortune, and reputation that are happen
ing, or ha* happened, everywhere around
them. One man with great trustsof mon
ey in his hands, betrays the confidence of
the public, becomes a defaulter, and blows
his brains out. Another, led on by pow
er and place, is degraded at last to a poor
demagogue without character and influ
ence. Another,aby surrender of himself to
sensuality, becomes a disgusting beast, with
heart and brain more foul than the nests .
of unclean birds. Another, by tasting
and tasting the , wine cup, becomes a
drunkard at last, and dies in horrible de
lirium, or lives to be a curse to a wife,
children and friends. There is an army
of those poor wretches in every large city
in the land dying daily, and daily reinfor
ced. A young girl, loving not wisely, but
too well, yields,herself to a seducer, who
ruins and forsakes her to a life of shame
and a death of despair. Not one girl, but
thousands of girls yearly, so that, a great
company of those whose robes are soiled
beyond cleansing, hide themselves in the
grave during a twelve-month; another
great company of the pure drop to their
places and 'keep filled to repletion the ranks
of prostitution. Again and again, in in
stances 'beyond counting, are these trage
dies repeated in the full presence of the
rising generation, and yet it seems to grow
no wiser.
A clever writer has to say concerning
dress : "To come to the conclusion of
the whole matter : to be well drsed re•
quires first, to be neatly dressed ; next, to
be appropriately dressed; last, but not
least, to be dressed within one's means.—
The costume that is unpaid for is not a
becoming one to anybody ; and robbing
Peter to pay Paul is poor policy at best."
There is nothing like beginning life
with settled economical principles. Ex
travagsno is a habit easily contracted
and goes on increasing in volume as a
snowball does when rolling down a high
Oft in the stilly night
'Ere slumber's chain has bound me
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
Of boyhood's years, •
The words of love then spoken ;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hedits now broken!
Thus in the stilly night
• 'Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
• Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
When I remember all
The friends so linked together,
I've seen around the fall
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one
Whdtreads alone
Some-banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are
Whose tarlands dead
And all but he departed !
Thus in the stilly night
'Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
A Masonic Story.
Two men had been fast friends. In an
evil hour they quarrelled. They did not
speak, and had not applrT
... for years.—
Mutual friends tried the\trt of reconcilia
tion in vain. They were Wowed enemies
for life. One of them became a Mason
after the estrangement, and it_hapPened
that the other remained. ignorant of the
fact. One evening he too. was admitted
to a lodge. Almost the rst.• voice he
heard, and certainly 'the 'first face he
.I.w, was that of • _
ed over the ceremonies of initiation, and
was obliged, according to usage to,,ad
dress him by the :title of "brother.". This
was a peculiar situation, and' a severe or
deal for both. Atter the lodge was clos
ed the Apprentice sought the Master, and
without any preliminaries, the following
colloquy ensued commenced by the new
ly made Mason.
"Are you a • member of this lodge?" •
The answer was "I am."
"Were you present when I was elect
ed ?" .
"I was." - -,
"May I ask if•you voted?"
"I did."
Now will you tell me how many votes
it requires to reject a candidate on ballot
for admission ?" The worshipful Mas
ter answered, "One."
There was nothing more to say. The
initiated extended his hand, which was
warmly grasped by the other, and utter
ed with thrilling accents, deep emotion
mellowed his voice, "Friend 1 Brother!
you have taught me a lesson I shall nev
er forget." This is a little ray of Mason
light. No language is so eloquent as the
silent throbbing of a heart full of tears...-.
While this kind of cement is used in our
moral edifice, should it not be enduring?
—The fireside is a seminary of infinite
importance. It is important because it
is universal, and because the education it
bestows, being woven in with the woof of
the childhood, gives form and color to
the whole texture of life. There are few
who can receive the honors of a college,
but all are graduates of the hearth. The
learning of the university may fade from
the recollection, its classic lore may moul
der in the halls of memory ; but the sim
ple lessons of home, enamelled upon the
heart of childhood, defy the rust of years,
and outlive the more mature but less vi
vid picture of after years. So deep, so
lasting, indeed, are the oppressions of ear
ly life, that you often see a man in the
imbecility of age holding fresh in his re
collection the events of childhood, while
all the wide space between that and the
presenthour is blasted and forgotten
waste. You have perchance seen au old
half obliterated portrait, and in the at
attempt to have it cleaned and restored
you may have seen it fade away, while a
brighter and more perfect picture, paint
ed beneath, is revealed to view. This
portrait, first drawn upon canvass, is no
inapt illustration of youth.; and though
it may be concealed by some after-design
still the original traits will shine through
the outward picture, giving a tone while
fresh, and surviving it in decay. Such is
the fireside—the great institution of Prov
idence for the education of man.
IlifsELT.—Look most to your
spending. No matter what comes in, if
more goes out you will always be poor.—
The art is not in making money, but iu
keeping it; little expenses, like mice in a
barn, when they are many, make a great
waste. Hair by hair, heads grow bald ;
straw by straw, the thatch goes off the
cottage; and drop by drop the rain comes
into the chamber. A barrel is soon emp
ty if the tap leaks but a drop a minute.
When you mean to save, begin with your
mouth; there are many thieves down the
red lane. The ale jug is a great waste.
In all other things keep within compass.—
Never'stretch your legs farther than the
blankets, oryou will soon be cold. In
clothes, choose suitable and lasting stuff,
and not tawdry fineries. To be warm, is
the main thing ; never mind the looks.—
A fool may make money, but it needs a
wise man to spend it. Remember it is
easier to build two chimneys than to keep
one going. If you give all to back and
board, there is nothing left for the saving
bank. Fare hard and work hard while
you are young, and have a chance to rest
when you are old.
A Knock Down Argument.
There is much infidelity of a kind
which cannot be easily argued, out of
men's minds. It . has its seat in the heart;
and nothing in the shape of argument can
affect it, iso long as the skeptic remains in
health, strength or courage. But times
of storm r ' . cr' •
this bravery and courage fails, and then
this infidelity flies like a dream.
An English paper reports that a Air.
Bradlaugh, a noted infidel, having con
cluded a lecture, presented his doctrines
to the people and called upon • any per
son present to reply to his argument, if
they could. • A collier arose in the as
sembly, and spoke somewhatas follows :
"Maister Bradlaugh, me and my mate
Jem were both Methodys till one of these
r • • ' 1 -11 • •
infidel and used to badger me 'bout'tend
ing prayer meetings; but one day in the
pit, a large cob of coal come down on
Jem's head. Join thought he was killed
and, all, mon ! but he holler and cry to
God !'"fhen turning to Mr. Bradlaugh,
with a,kuowing look, he said :
"You man, there is now't like cobs of
_ _ _ _ _
infidelity out man.
The collier carried the audience will
hint, for they well knew that a -knock in
_the_head_by_a_big—chunk of coal would
Upset the coarage_ond with it the Bkep-
ticism of stronger infidels than "my mate
Jon." Many an infidel has discarded
his infidelity and cried to God for mercy
in sickness cr in danger, both on land
and sea; but who ever-heard of,a Chris
tian turning from his faith in the hour of
peril; and forsaking God when (Lath
was at the door.
A NAan GRAvE.— Among, the
countless throngs who daily -pass and re
pass Trinity, New York, how many know
that within a few feet of the great crowd
ed thoroughfare i of Broadway, is a grave
vhieh covers all that remains of a once
beautiful and fascinating young lady, the
records of whose sorrows has dimmed the
eyes of thousands. No date of birth, no
indication of family. and no date of death
appears on the stone that covers the grave
of-Charlotte Temple.. The most beauti
fuigirl of New York,—as it•was exclaim
ed,—she attracted the attention of a
young officer, a member of .England's old
est families, who with his regiment enter
ed N: Y., when the British occupied it,
after the battle of Long' Island. Char
lotto, then only seventeen; was wooed
and won by the dashing officer. Soon af
ter he deserted her and then—the old sto
ry—she soon after died of a broken heart.
A little 'daughter which she left was ten
derly dared for, at a proper age she was
taken to England, and a fbrtune of one
hundred , thousand dollars settled upon
her by the head of her father's family,
the late earl of Derby, grandfather of the
present Lord Stanely: She, like a true
daughter and a true woman, returned to
New York, and erected the monument
that now marks:the mother's grave.
Couldn't Understand.
Two negroes, bargaining for some land
the price of which was $9OO, said they
had only half so .much. money. "Very
well," said the land agent, "I'll take $450
down and a mortgage for the balance in a
'Sarah° scratched his head a moment
and replied, "But I say, boss, s'poss a fel
ler hain t got no morgitch ?"
The agent explained that he would
t Ike a mortgage on the land to secure the
"But boss, I haint got no morgitch."
The agent again explained, but the
darkey. couldn't see it, and disclaimed the
ownership of a single "morgitch." The
other darkey here came to the rescue, and
lucidated the pint." Says he, "Sambo,
don't you know what a morgitch is ?
Den 1 tell you. S'pose you pays de boss
$450 down; den you gives your word on de
honor of a nigger dat you'll pay hint de
udder $450 in a year. Den S'pose on de
last day eh de year you - pays de bosss449
—and don't pay him de udder dollar, why
den de .morgitch says de boss can jes take
all the money and the land, and you don't
have nuffin—nut a cent."
"Golly, boss, a morgitch makes a nig
ger mitey honest."
A. young man was enlarging to a lady
friend on the character and qualifications
of a young lady, who was a mutual ac
quaintance. The youth wishing to com
mend her goodness with her heart, laid
his hand upon the region of his own.
heart, and said, "She is all right here."
A female herb doctor at Detroit recently
solicited the privilege of curing a paralytic.
She ordered the patient's undershirt taken
off and burned to ashes, and the ashes giv
en him it small doses, and also rubbed on
his chest. It is a fact that the man soon
recovered, and is free to think that her
queer remedies cured him.
shoemaker, who made a princely fortnne
by the sale of an extensively advertised
shoe string of his own invention, wrote this
stanza, which now adorns his crest :
If you are wise and wish to rise,
Then pitch right in and advertise ;.
/ If you are not, then sit down sot,
And let your business go to pot,
Gluttony is the source of all our dis
eases. As a lamp is choked by a super
abundance of oil, a fire extingnshid by
excess of fuel, so is the natural health of
the body destroyed, by intemperate diet.
A man in Meriden, Conn., did without
tobacco last year, and gave his wife silty
dollars at Christmas, as the result of his
economy. Go thou and do likewise. '
A family paper it? a. family ire:l:lnc('
82,00 PER YEAR
a n d uinor.
- by does a rooster cross the street?—
to get on the other side.
What makes more noise than_a-pig_un-+—
a a gat
What looks most like a half a cheese ?--t
the other half.
Which side of the horse invaria_bl • : :
a most hair on it? The outside
The cat is a wonderful builder; we
have seen a cat run up a house in five
Garrison says that the viomtn' question
r,g one.
it wasn't.
At a church fair in Philadelphia one
woman took seven premiuinsHiut—was—
put in jail for "taking" them.
A boy in lowa has a silver quarter
stuck fast in his throat. It can't beatj
quarter or it wou
Boston paper is "in favor of women
voting if they want to." A Western pa
per "would like to see the men who could
make them vote if they d]d'nt want to."
How does a pitcher of water differ
from a man throwing his wife over a
bridge? One is water in the pitcher, and
the other, is pitch her in the water.
A woman, on being separated from her
husband, changed her religion, being de
termined to avoid his company in this
world and the next. - - -
"Come here, my 'dear, I want to see
you all about your sister. "Now tell me
truely, has she got a beau ?" "No, it's the
janders she's got, the doctor says so."
A fellow out west gets off the following
definition of a Isidow : "One who knows
what's what, Band is desirous of furthei
information on the subject."
Always catch a, lady when she faints
but do not rumple her hair, it makes. her
come to before she is fairly ready. • •
"Papa," said a boy, what is punctuation?'
'lt is the art of putting stops, my child:
Then I wish you'd go down into the cel
lar and punctuate the cider barrel, as the
cider- is running.a.ll over the floor.
rAlwyer one asked a Dutchman con
cerning a pig "iwcourt." •
"What ear-marks had he?"
Vell, yen I first bacame acquainted mit
de hock, he hab no ear-marks except a
tri short tail."
_ •
An Irishman being asked what he
came to America, for,
"Is't what I came here for you ma ne?—
Arrah by the powers! you may be sure
that it wasn's for Want, for I had plenty
of that at home.
thing that makes a mule so highly respect
able is the accuracy of his kickings.
I have known people to have so little
character, that they had no failings.
' If you have got a horse you ask two hun
dren dollars lin., and are offered seventy
five for him, always sell him, don't spoil
a good horse trade for one hundred and
twenty-five dollars.
To make a goose good eating, bring
her up tenderly.
A little boy defines snoring as "letting
off steep.
You can't convert sinners by preaching
the gospel to them at half price. Any sin (
ner who is anxious to get his religion in
that way is satisfied with a poor article.
Revenge sometimes sleeps, but vanity
always keeps one eye open.
The only human being on the face of
the earth that I really envy is a laughing
Men of little authority are like men of
little strength—always anxious to lift
There are two kinds of men that I don't
care to meet when I am in a great hurry
—men that I owe, and men that want to
OWG me.
THE NATURE OF AN amt.—Early in
the rebellion; when the Federal forces were
stationed at. Beaufort S. C there was an'
old dakxcy by the name of Lige Jackson,
who deserted by his master, was left to take
care of himself as best he might. Lige was
considered a chattel of weak intellect, and
moreover he was exceedingly awkward in
bis.attempts to play the role of a house
servent. He smashed and destroyed pretty
nearly everything he laid his hands upon,
and having waited upon nearly every
officer at the poet, each in turn, after
living him the benefit of a good cursing
for his stupidity turned him adrift.
It happened that Lige was a witness in
a case that came before a court-martial,
and beir , called up to give his testitro iv, •
was objected to on the part of the detenil
ant, ,who stated that he didn't believe the
nigger was of sound mind.
Stand up, Lige,' said the court. "Do
you understand the nature of an oath 7'
Lige scratched his head for a moment, •
and then turning up the white- of his eyes
he replied: "Look a yam, masse; dis nig
ger hes waited on 'bout half de ocsif4rq
since day fus corned to dis place, and ifho
don't 'stand de nature of an oaf by dis
time, den dare's no wirtn in cussing.'
The court considered Lige a competent
Glashier, an reconaut, says that the voice
of woman can be hcaid in a balloon wtlo - .'.°
at the height of twia miles, while that of • •
a< man ininpot he heard when higher than
'a.' Mile.