.a. - 4:ib'-.ti:f'...Ott_ta - 4 - ,e......c':.'46 . _0-
BY W. BLAIR.
VOLUME 24.
am pottrg.
LIVE AND LET LIVE.
BY JOHN H. YATES
Well ! Farmer Smith has lost his wheat, is
sheds and mammoth barn;
His little boy, with one 'small match, burnt
up the whole concern ;
I'll tell you, wife, he'll feel it sore ; a man
on money bent
Can't stand up under such a load, when
not insured a cent.
ilon f ilnow as I pity him ; I call it a great
To hoard the harvest of three years in spa. :
cious barn and bin ;
I can't feel pity for a man who locks doub-
And sto s his ears to all the cries that come
WEB
I like to see economy ; I like to see men
save,
And lay up something for their kin when
they are in the grave ;
But you and I know very well, from what
we both have seen, '
There is a line which, when 'tis crossed, a
man gets to be mean.
When wheat - was sixteen shillings—a price
that paid us well—
. Smith saidp"l'll wait for twenty, I vow, be
fore I'll sell!" _
'Then when it reached that figure, he said
to me one noon,
"I guess I'll hold it longer; 'twilt be three
,dollars soon."
Ile 'held it, and he ran in debt for things to
,wear and eat ;
When merchants dunned him he would say
"Wait "till I sell my wheat ;"
Soon that old tune got fiddled out and men
began to sue,
And he began to borrow to pay :accounts
long due.
When Smith goes off to buy a thing he spins
around the town,
And tries with all his might and man the
price to banter down ;
'When he has anything to sell 'tis priceleSs
in his eyes, •
And he must have the highest mark—the
lowest when he buys.
"Live and let live",Lre golden words; this
other motto too,
"ro Unto others as you'd wish that they
would do unto you ;"
If Smith had done as they command, he
would not have to- ay,
The ashes of three Warvests to load and
draw away.
Wife ! if you take a berry and dry it in the
sun,
T'will shrivel up till it takes two to make
the size of one ;
So may a man in grasping gain so shrivel
up his soul
That 'twill ne'er expand again while life's
years o'er him roll. ,
God bless the farmers of our land I They
are not all like him,
Who walks around that • smouldering pile,
now, in the twilight dim;
Living on God's broad acres, there souls ex
pand and grow ;
Their ears are ever open to tales of want
and woo.
God ble , s the men, where'er they are, in
country or in town,
Who do not think it life's great work to
crowd their neighbors down ;
This world would be the better; this life
would pleasure give, •
If every man who toils to live would let
his brother live.
Dintellauem grading.
CHOOSING FOR LIFE. i
Mary Randall was in a difficulty. The
time must come when her choice must be
made between two persons for a partner
in life, one of whom love recommended,
with all the fervency of youthful affection,
mindful only of the present; while cold
reason, looking forward to the future, and
not troubled by the present, was as strong.
ly pressing the claims of the other. In the
society which she moved, Mary Randall
was regarded as a girl who not only had
been favored by nature with many physi
cal adornments, but who had received
from her, also, those beauties of mind
which make a woman truly lovable. On
the good foundation which nature had laid,
careful instruction had reared a glorious
character, which governed her actions Well
--so Well that it was said by some one,
and confirmed by every one, that Mary
Randall never even parleyed with evil
when she knew it to be such.
Of course, a• • rule, such a person must
be a mark in society, and Mary Randall
was no exception; for, in her sphere, she
received the admiration and attention of
many young men. But two, however,
Isere looked upon as in any degree likely
to be successful. They were Charlie May
nard and Frank Morton. The difference
between these two young men was mark
ed. Charlie Maynard was handsome, plea
sant, and consequently a pet in society.—
Frank Morton was rather plain in appea
x.mc?, and, though pleasant in manner,
yet was reticent, and, on the whole was
not a man to show well in a drawing room ;
but those who knew him best, knew that
there were great depth in the man ; all
acknowledged that he possessed many
sterling qualities.
Charlie Maynard was the most sociable,
and in looking in his frank, open face,
there was so much on the exterior ad
mire, that very few eaw further ; thoef
wh odid,kriow that there was no strength
character to support him, and their 'flews
were strengthened by the fact that he nev
er refused the glass of wine offered him,
because, as he said, "anything to be socia
ble." Frank Morton, on the other hand,
often fell in the good opinion of some, by
his steady refusal to take even the most
"sociable" of glasses.
Mary ,Randall was one of the few who
noticed these differences, and they were
strongly marked to her,for she loved Char
lie Maynard, and often had been grieved
when he had shoWn the weakness of his
character, and had been led to compare
this weakness with the stability of Frank
Morton.—She-bad often i on-thesever
wished that Charlie was like Frit:
ton. But to return.
Mary Randall was in a difficulty,because
these two young men had proposodl - ane
as of could-not-be-accepteo,--
must be made. It was a serious thing 1,
her to make a choice for life, and she felt
the responsibility, and had asked time in
w.iich to consider; but now the period was
en a defin
were engage,
Having nothi.
to an early weds
six months form
rierl, and neither
choice. Being di
prospects, Frank .
idence to a neighbor
industriously mpg
and see what has bec
val, Charlie Maynard.
Showing the ficklent
of his character, he had
mer love for Mary Ram
stowed all his attentions ,
light-minded, damsel,nami
ton : and, as his attentions
and more marked every da •
surprised to hear, finally, tl
engaged to each other.
Kate Rem ton, having nt.
strength of character, and nt
training which would have mad
er, felt no fears, on the score of
of Charlie's sociable qualities, ah
not hesitated in the least to choose
With her it had rot been a choice
for she scat cely thought further ti.
present. They too, having no cant
delay, were married early, and abm
month after the marriage of Frank ..
ton and Mary Randall. Hearing g
reports from Frank, and knowing that
had been successful in his undertakit
Charlie followed his example, and remol
ed to the same manufacturing town.
* * * *
Ten years have passed, and if you should
go now to the same town s and inquire for
Frank Morton, there would be pointed
out to you a man neatly dressed and
fine appearance. If you should inquire
of his character and standing, any one
would - nu that ' true
A FAMILY NEWSPAPER-DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS, ETC.
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 14,1872.
in offices of trust he may be found "most
faithful of the faithful. If you should ask
him the explanation of his rise to such a
position from one comparatively, lowly,
he would point to his wee as the cause of
it all. Ask her if she ever regretted the
choice she made ten years ago, and she
would tell you that then she made a choice
the full value of which she will never be'
able to know. But how did all this hap
pen? Simply in this:—Being industrious,
when he had removed to the town, Mor
`,on soon found work, and what he found
do he did with all his might; and so,
ming of a saving nature, he laid up mon
' against the bad times to come. They
come, but he was prepared, and, wes
tering them safely, had gone on his course
independence. Soon his worth became
'own ; and he had risen from one posi
on to another, until finally he had gain
the position of "master" in his trade.
Mary Randall, when she gave herself
' l 'rank Morton, had given only respect;
loon she did give him that love which
.ildeed, love, and to-day Mrs. Morton
les-not-regret-the-choice-she-msde-wh-en
.fts in difficulty ss Ms ry_Randall.___
1r different from this is the history of
ifs- Maynard : I th rough the_last_terL
~—No_one_whom_you should
able' to tell_y_ou
anything
good of him. In appearance he is bloa
ted, his carriage is sneaking, and nothing
about him indicates nobility or even res
pectability. His haunt is the gin-place,
his home is in a low den ; and his once
`,ty wife is now careworn, dragged down
sorrow. How did all this happen ?
:lie Maynard, when he went to that
was an industrious man; his indust
iined his reward; he obtained work;
he did not know how to save. "Suffi
for the present" was his motto ; and
iuently, when adversity came, he
:ed its worst effects. Having no work,
;mune discouraged; and that- social
which lie had formed, held out pros
of relief from care for the present in
was called a sociable glass. ' That
the beginning of his destruction; •and
d — own, 'ffoWn - he went, until novi—lie
;o no further in this world. The once
minded Kate Kempton is now weigh
,wn with sorrow, and as once she car
ily for the present, all her thoughts
(ow for the future, when she shall be
forever. Bitterly does she repent her
; for she knows too well "what he
do in adversity."
‘wer must 131
A Frontier Horror.
terrible result of the passion for
is given by the La Crosse ( Wiscon-
Republican, which must fill the read
th horror and pity—at the dreadful
of the poor unfortunate victims. and
for the Ftings of remorse which must
the father and husband:
. few years ago a man was living
his young man with in Manketo,
iesota. He was intelligent and Bue
ll in business, until passion for drink
.vecl him, and his business and repu
in were both wrecked by its influence
was force] to seek a new home for his
family, and his wife, bred to luxury,
Ipanied him to the frontier in the
that the removal from temptation
td free him the grip of the habit which
K 1 him. Here they lived for several
his abstinence from drink being bro
only by an infrequent and occasional
ich when he visited some of the near
:owns. Early in December he told his
that business compelled him to go to
—, and that he would be absent
days. She about to become a moth
in, with three helpless children, and
tnty supply of wood, fearing that the
date clamor of appetite was the mo
which drew him away, entreated him
,y, but in vain. He left. Soon af
me of those severe storms of Decem
lubly severe' on the unsheltered
to—came on. Before its close she
entirely destitute of wood, and the
ibie alternative was presented to her of
ibly freezing to death with her little
or seeking assistance from the near
ieighbor, over three miles distant. She
.ageouly chose the latter, and caving
her three slivering little ones with noth
ing but a mother's yearning love and
prayerful blessing, she started out to seek
relief. The next day she was found, half
buried in the snow, dead, a new born in
fant at her side. The three children were
found dead in the house. This, while the
once fond husband and protecting father
was away reveling in the delerium or doz
ing in the stupor of drink. No words
can add to the horror of this tale, but be
side the unspeakable agony of that dying
wife and mother, how trivial ou-r common
losses, grieffs and sorrows seem I"
A HAPPY Woxsx.—What spectacle
more pleasing does the earth afford than
a happy woman contented in her sphere,
ready at all times to benefit her little world
by her exertions, and transforming the
briers and thorns of life into roses of Par•
adise by the magic of her touch? There
are those who are thus happy and cannot
help it—no misfortunes dampen . their
smiles, but diffuse a cheerful glow arbuad
them as they pursue the even . tenor of
their way. They have the secret of con
tentment, whose value is far above the
philosopher's stone; for without seeking
the baser exchange of gold, which may
buy some sort of pleasure, they convert
everything they touch intojoy. What
their condition is makes no 'difference.—
They may be rich or poor, high or low, ad
mired or forsaken by the fickle world;
but the sparkling fountain of happiness
bubbles up in their heists, and makes
them radiently beautiftit Though they
live in a log cabin, they make it shine
with a lustre that kings and queens may
covet, and they make wealth a fountain
of blessings to the children of poverty.
With the humble there is perpetual
PORDUNK VILLAGE.
BY JOBH BILLENGS
Stranger! hav yn ever been to Pordunk
Village, my natiff place?
it iz a dear little lullaby ov a place,
sleeping between two small mountains in
the state ov Pennsylvania.
It kontains about 1,000 souls now, and
iz watered by goose crik whitch meanders
thru the village az crooked and az lazy az
a skool boy, on his way tow the diskrict
ckool hens.
I waz born there, and the ground on
whicth the old hous is there yit. Mi ances
tors a 1 there too, but they hav retired
from bizziness, and are taking their eaze,
in the old grave yard, back ov the little
one story church.
The red painted tavern, where years a
go, the town folks gathered in, on satur
day nights, to wet their whistles, and brag
on their bush beans and other garden
sass, iz gone, and departed.
And Roger Williams, where iz he
Roger was the Village blacksmith, and
• uld-out-argy—the—parson—en—a—bit — of
skripture, his anvil is still, and he now
_livs_in his new house, with the rest ov the
old people, just back ov the ittli one-sto
ry c
Whar iz quare — Watkinthe—jususs
of the peace? He kam law, and the stet
tews, just az easy az he did the 10 com
mandments, hiz little ()friss, for 50 years
unpainted, iz no more.
No one ov hiz name iz left, he and
Roger the blacksmith, lay side by side,
just back ov the little one-story church az
still az deth kau make them.
Sue Dunham, the crazy woman, I don't
see her ! Poor Sue she was not always
welkum, but no one turned her away, a
nights lodging no one refused, sho waz e
ven butiful still, when I waz a boy, but I
shrunk from the flash ov her
_misterious
eye.
. The old folks knu her story, it waz that
sad one so often told, and so soon forgot
ton; a man's perfidy. - -
- Sue - Dunham - raves-no more,—but-in-the
farthest korner, just bak of the little one
story church, whar the ded lay the thick
est, lays Sue.
A weep in willow, sown by acksident,
hangs over her grave, and on her hed
stone, these words, almost knawed away
by time, ken be made out, "Sue Dunham
aged 59."
Parson Powell, who led his flok bi the
side ov still waters, who wet with hallow
ed drops at christnings, who jined in wed
lock, and who asked God to take the de
parting ones, I miss hint too; peacefully
he sleeps, just bak ov the little one-story
chErch.
Deakon Tucker, who sold sugar bi the
pound, and molas is bi the pint, who dolt
in whale ile, and bar sops, who kept rai
zens, and razor straps, who could mezzure
a yard ov kotton kaliko to a thread, and
who, 4th of Julys, sold 3 fire-krackers
tew us boys, what has bekum ov the den
kon ?
Years ago he fled, not far away, but
duss up tew the back wall ov the little
one-story church, near to parson Powell.
An odd fellow waz Ez. Farnham, and
withall,az keen at a trade az a hornet.
Them that swopped bosses with. Ez. once,
didn't hanker tew do it again; he was
honest, but oh ! how fatal to dicker. No
one now in the whole village, remember
him; he has gone whare thay don't
giv nor git boot; they put him in the
half aker, just bak ov the little one-story
church.
Job Piersons iz dead too, and so iz Job's
wife, and all ov Job's sons and dauters.
Igo up and I go down the good old
village of Pordunk; the neople all stare
at me az I stop here and . stop there, tew
say tew miself, "here it waz that Lige
Turner threw Dave Larkins, 40 years a
go, on a wrassel on the village green, and
thar stood the old town pump."
Here old Beverly, the barber, shaved
for three cents a shave, and thare Bur
bank half-soled boots for a quarter."
"Here—let me see! waz it here?—Yes,
old mother Benueway sold taffy here
each stick at least 8 inches long, and made
out of Deakon Tucker's beat Porto Riko
molassis."
Thare stood the little red shool hous,
right thare; it waz the forks ov the road
then, it iz the korner of a block now."
"Who kan tell me whare Daniel Pur
dy, the skool master, live now, no one !
I have asked a dozen, but uo one remem
bers Daniel PurdT.".
"It jz a sad thing to be a skoolmaster,
no one ever seems tew kno wham they
go when yu miss them. Thay just seem
to depart that's all. I never knu one to
di, and be buried."
"Ah, it iz pleasant I—it iz sad, to go
bak tew the village of Pordunk, there iz
more people there now than there waz
when I was a boy, but how different am 1.
The old trees are the same, man kant
alter them, goon krik runs just whar it
did, with willows in all of its elbows, the
mountains each side haVe not grown any
smaller, the birds sing the same songs but
I don't kno enny one that I meet, and
wh: t i sail more lonesome, no one Mat I
meet knows me.
When I go to Pordunk, and want tew
see ennybody that I remember, I go down
the main street to the lust korner, just
where Joel Parker mice lived, then I turn
tew the left, and keep ou fur a ways till
I cum to the little one story-church.
Just bak ov that they are all living
now. They dont remember me wh..,n I
go there, but I remember them. It won't
be very long now before I shall jive with
them.
Preserve your concience always soft
and sensitive. If but one sin force its
way into that tender part of the soul
and dwell there, the road is paved for a
thousand iniquities.
TIE GUESTS Of TIN UAW T.
Soft falls through the gathering twilight
• The rain from the dripping eaves,
.A nd stirs with a tremulous rustle
The dead and dying leaves ;
While afar, in the midst of the shadows,
I hear the sweet voices of bells,
Come borne on the winds of the autumn?
That fitfully rises and swells.
They call and they answer each other—
They answer and mingle again—
As the deep and the shrill in an anthem
Make harmony still in their strain—
As the voices of the sentinels mingle
In the mountain regions of snow,
Till from hill top to hiil top a chorus
Floats dewn to the valleys below.
The shtalows, the fire light - of even,
The sound of the rains distant chime,
Come bringing, with rain softly dropping,
Sweet thoughts of a shadowy time ;
The slumberous sense of seclusion,
From-storm-and-intruders - aloof,
We feel when we Imar_iii_the_midnight
The patter of rain on the roof.
When the s • frit
oes forth in its yearnings
To take all its wanderers home,
r afar in the re: ions of fancy,
.tits on swift
I quietly sit by the fire light—
The fire light so bright and so warm—
For I know that those only who love me
Will seek mo through shadow and storm.
But should they be absent this evening,
Should even the household depart—
Deserted, I should not be lonely,
There still would be guests in my heart ;
The faces of friends that I cherish,
The smile, and the glance, and the tone
Will haunt me wherever I wander,
And thus I am never alone.
- With those who have left far behind them
The joys and the sorrows of time
-Who sing the sweet songs of the angels
In a purer and holier clime-!--
--Then-tlarkly r o-evening-orattuinn,_ _
Your rain and your shadows may fall,
My loved and my lost ones you bring me
, My heart holds a feast with them all.
In Emergencies
If a person falls in a fit, and begins to
snore loudly, with very red face, it is ap-.
poplexy. Let him be seated so as to fa
vor the blood going downward, away from
the head ; apply cold cloths to the head;
or cushions of equal qualities of snow or
pounded ice and common salt. If the
person is perfectly still, face pale, and
there is perceptible breathing, it is a fit of
fainting. Do not touch him, except to
loosen the clothing ; then keep off five or
ten feet distant, so as to allow the air to
come in ; make no noise,. and there will
soon be a calm, quiet return to conscious
ness and life, for it is unly a momentary
cessation of the circulation of the blood
to the head. But suppose there is a ve
ry violent motion of the hands and feet,
and all sorts of contortions, it is epilep
sy. Let the man contort until he is tir
ed ; you can't hold him still ; all your
efforts only tend to aggravate the trou.
ble and to exhaust the strength ; all that
aught to be done is to keep the unfortun
ate from hurting himself. There is no
felt suffering, for as soon as he '
comes to
he will tell you that he rememlltbrs noth
whatever of what has passed, appears to
be the only calm self-possessed person in
the whole crowd, and is apparently as
perfectly well as before the occurence.—
Dizziness often comes instantaneously, and
we begin to reel before we know it. Shut
the eyes, whetheryou are walking along
the street, looking over a precipice, as
cending a ladder, or climbing to a ship's
mast-head, the fear of dizziness disappears
instantly if yon look upward.—Hales
Journal of Health.
The Value of a Scrap Book.
Every one who takes a newspaper,
which he in the least degree appreciates,
will often regret to see any one number
thrown aside for waste paper which con
tains some very interesting and important
articles. A good way to preserve these
is by the use of a scrap-book. One who
has never been accustomed thus to pre
serve short articles, can hardly estimate
the pleasure it affords to sit dawn and
turn over the familiar pages. Here a
choice piece of poetry meets the eye.
which you remember ; you were once so
glad tare in the paper, but which you
would long since have lost had it not
been for your scrap-book. There is a
- witty anecdote—it does you good to lan].
over it yet, though for the twentieth time.
Next is a valuable receipt you had al•
most forgotten, and which you have found
just in time to save much perplexity.—
There is a sweet little story, the memory
of which has cheered and encouraged you
many a time when almost ready to des
pair under the pressure of life's care and.
trials. Indeed, you hardly take up a
single paper without perusing it. Just
glance over the sheet before you, and see
how many valuable item§ it contains that
would be of service to you a• hundred
times in life. A choice thought is -far
more precious than a bit of glittering
gold. Hoard with care the precious gems;
and see at the end of a year what a rich
treasure you have accumulated.
WHAT THEY THOUGHT.—Wasitinort
served two terms as President of the Uni
ted States, and when he finally retire&
from office to the quiet of Mount. Vernon,
the Philadelphia Aurora thus spoke of
him :—"lf ever a nation has been debauch
e 1 by a man the American nation has
haen debauched by Washington. Letthe
history of the federal government instruct
m tniund that the mask of patrotism may
be worn to conceal the foulest designs a
gainst the liberties' of the people."
&SIN n'SS LAW.—It is not legally ne
cessary to say on any note "for value re
ceived."
A note on Sunda:
A note obtained by fraud, or from a
person in a state of intoxication, cannot
be collected.
If a note be lost or stolen, it does not
release the maker; he must pay it.
Au endorser of a note is exempt from
liabilities if not served with notice of its
dishonor within twenty-four hours of its
non-payment.
A -, ote by id__
, not by a minor is voin.
Notes bear interests only when so sta
ted.
Principal are responsible for the acts
of their agents.
Each individual in a partnership is re
sponsible for the whole amount of the
debts of_thelrm.
Ignorance of the law excuses no one.
It is a fraud to conceal a fraud.
The law compells no one to do• impos
sibilities.
urea ma . e wit. a ea ,
good in law.
A receipt for money paid is not legal
ly-conclusive.
_The acts of one partner bind all the
there..
inions to roam
.."ontracts-made-on-Sundsy co •• • -
enforced. '
A contract made with a miLor is void.
A contract made with a lunatic is
void.
• THE GRAVE.-"Why," says Ossian,
"should'st thou build thy hall, son of the
winged days 2-Thou lookest from the tow
er to day; yet a few years, and the blast
of the desert comes—it howls in the emp
ty court, and whistles around the h ale worn
shield !" Then why should man look forth,
as he fondly hopes, upon the sunny future
with the eye of fancy, and lay upon the
golden visions which have passed like sun
beams in his pilgrimage, in the hope of
brighter ones yet to come, when the mor
row the clod may be heaped on his coffin;
aiutabove - his - dust - -the-sepulehral , --yews
tremble in the wind ! Alas ! if there is
aught on earth which should subdue pride
—which should make man feel, that the
rich and poor meet together, and that the
Lord is maker of them all-it is the Grave!
It is there resentment dies—revenge and
ambition are satisfied—lt is there, above
the urn of sorrow, man must learn that,
Do NOT BE AN IDLER.—The idle man
is an annoyance—a nuisance. He is of
no benefit .to anybody. He is an intruder
in the busy thoroughfares of every day
life. He stands in our path, and we push
him contemptuously aside. He is of no
advantage anywhere.• He annoys busy
men. He makes them unhappy. He is
a unit in society. He may have an in
come to support him in idleness, or may
"sponge" on his good-natured friends.—
But in either case he is despised. Young
man, do something in this busy, bustling
wide-awake world ! Move about for the
benefit of mankind, if not for yourself.—
Do not be idle. God's law is, that by
the sweat of thy brow we shall earn our
bread. That law is a good one, and the
bread we earn is sweet. Do not be idle. -
Minutes are too precious to be squander
ed thoughtlessly. Every man and every
woman, however exalted, or however hum- -
ble, can do good in this short life, if so
; therefore, do not be idle.
HARVESTING CORN.-031011e1 Harris
says. in the last number of the Agricultur
ist. I believe corn will, be harvested as
ye harvest wbeat--cut with a reaper,
bound into bundles of a convenient size
for pitching, and then thrashed or husked
by a big machine driven by ten horses or
a steam engine. It must be powerful e•
nough to take in a bundle at a time, strip
off the ears and husk them, and the stalks
as they pass through can be cut up and
elevated by a straw carried. I believe in
less than ten years we shall see hundreds
of such machines traveling from farm to
farm as threshing machines now do, and
we shall wonder how we ever got along
without them."
HASTE IS NOT ALWAYS SPEED.—No
two things differ more than hury and des
patch. Hurry is the mark of a weak
mind ; despatch of a strong one. A weak
man in office, like a squirrel in a cage, is
laboring perpetually, but to no purpose,
and is in constant moiton without getting
out of the spot; like a turnstile, he is in
everybody's way, but stops nobody; be
talks a great deal, but says very little;
looks into everything, but sees into noth
ing ; has a hundred irons in the fire, but
very few of them . are hot; and with those
few that are he only burns his fingers.
' Leave nothing that, is necessary in
any matter undone—we rate ability in men
by what they finish,-not-by what they ate
tempt.
Kindness - is the music of good will to
meu ; and on the harp the smallest fingers
may play heaven's sweetest tunes on earth.
' That antiquated ne,gro Wonian who has
a distinct recollection of the' incidents of
the revollutionary -war, has died again.—
This time out in lowa, at the age of 115.
She did not claim to have been a servant
in Washington's family this time.
An lowa farmer inculcated early ris
ing in a little orphan bound-boy by set
ting him on a hot stove for getting up
late.
What is the difference between a blind
man and a sailor in prison? One can't
see to go, and the other can't go to sea.—
is void,
mreement_withont_consideration—is-
"Life is a torrid day,
Parch'd by the wind and sun,
And death, the calm, cold night,
When the weary day is gone
Wit and 43nnior.
An old man when dangeroualy_aick,_was—
urged to thke — the advice of a physician,
but objected, saying, "I wish to die a nat
ural death."
A. young lady in Indiana, named b,;.an
cy Pratt, was accidently vaccinated in the
nose. It took, and her bugle is a joy for
ever.
A7y_oung ladyin at Fond du La; was
married without shoes or stockings. on,
the other day, in accordance with an old
whim that such an act would bring good
luck.
The first woman voter of Wyoming
was an old lady 70 years of age, who vot
ed on her way from the baker's, and went
to the polls with a yeast pitcher in her
one hand, and the ballot in the other.
"Sambo, my massa always trabble ;yours
ebber-stay-at- home." "Dat bery true,
Jim • but you know_what_the-proverhsay
"rollin' stone gadder no moss." "No, Sam
bo, but it gadder polish, and dat 'ere's a
qualification your massa stan' bery much
in need-ob."
pencil are
An exchange, in describing a fa.shiona
auimpeak; : _ H an . ,
perec_ o a acy anc too- 'er apart;"
and -very ungallantly indeed adds that
"it is not a very difficult feat to take a la
dy apart these times ; but then there is
very little left of her afterwards."
The Seneca (Kansas) Courier offers to
the advocates of Texas cattle the follow
ing overwhelming argument: ' "It has
been ascertained that the beef of the av
erage-Texican, if the bones are-taken- out
can be salted away in the horns."
A farmer in San Joaquin county, Cal
ifornia, recently scattered some wheat,
soaked with whisky, over a field frequent
ed by wild geese. The silly fowls gorg
ed themselves with the seductive banquet,,
audsot_so tight that they could not " fly,
and the farmer stepped in and - ii - p - itali- -
ed six hundred of them with a club.
The lively young ladies of Southville,
Py., have celebrated leap year by a pub
lic sale of the bachelors and widowers of
the town. Lawyer bachelors, evidently
of an inferior grade, brought five dollars
a head ; farmers were knocked otfat 84,25
and $5,50 ; doctors were something of
drug in the market, but went at $5 each
bachelors with no particular profession es'
trade met with very little competition ;
the bidding was dull and the prices rang
ed from 75 cents to $1,05 ; widowers wero,
run up to $l,OOO and eager bidders.
DIDN'T DRIVE A WAGON.-A witness
in court who had been cautioned to give
a precise answer to each question, and not
talk about what ho might think the ques
tion meant, was interrogated as follows:
"You drive a wagon:"
"No sir, I do not."
"Why, man, did you not tell my learn
ed friend so this moment ?"
"No sir, I did not.".
"Now sir I put it to you on your oath;
do you drive a wagon'?"
"No, sir."
"What is your ocupation then."
"I drive a horse, sir."
Mr. Sleeper sold a 'yoke of oxeh 'to Mr.
Jones. "Are they all right ?" asked Mr.
Jones.
"They never gave me any trouble," was
the answer.
In about a week, the purchaser came
back very highly excited.
"Didn't you say them oxen never gave
you any trouble ? they've torn down all
the fences for fifty miles around."
"Oh ! well," drawled the impurturba
ble Sleeper, "I never let such small things
trouble me."
An exchange gives the following 'cheer
ful receipt for bed-buga. Those troubled
with unwelcome bed-fellows these cold
nights can try it. It says the best way is
to shake them down into the middle of the
shoot and put a piece of ice among them.
Pretty soon you will see the little fellows
getting up on their hind legs and begining
to thrash themselves to keep wiliga. Af
ter that you need not be afraid of their
biting, hut may go to bed and sleep, se
cure-from their attacks the rest of the
night.
GOOD Puts.—.l" never hav used any ov
Doctor .Emanuel's liver consoling and
kidney-encouraging pills, and therefore
can't tell you how influential am,but
if you are looking after a pill as mild as
&pet lamb;tuid as searchin as a fine tooth,
comb; buy Dr. Ringbone's` silent peram
'bulators, 25 in a box, sold by all respec
table draggers. •
These pills don't phool round, but at
tend to business, and are as good in the
dad of night as an alarm clock.
KEEPING THE Le.w.—Thcre was an
old Quaker, who had an unfortunate re
putation of non-resistance. It was said
that any one could jostle him, tread on
his toes or tweak his nose with impunity;
until one day a blustering loafer, being
told that ho was a man who, if smitten
on the one cheek, would turn the other
also, thought it would be sport to try
him. Stepping up to the sturdy good
natured Friend, he slapped his face. Tho
old man looked at him sorrowfully for a
inornerit, then, slowly turned his other
check and received another buffet. Up
on that lie 'Coolly pulled °This coat.
"I hate cleared the law," said he "and"
now thee Inust-take it."
And hcg'ase‘the fello'v a treniendous
hrashing.
A%-cobattr - ..papor ieceiltly - advertised
black sti:rkings of all colors."
$2,00 PER YEAR
NUMBER 41