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BY W. BLAIR.
VOLUME 24.
c sexert ottrg.
CREEDS OF THE BELLS.
BY GEO. W. BUNGAY.
How sweet the chimes of the Sabbath bells;
Each one its creed ',a music tells,
In tones that float upon the air,
As soft as song, as pure as prayer;
And I will put in Simple rhyme
The language of the gentle chime.
My happy heart with rapture swells
Responsive to the bells—sweetest bells.
"Ia deeds oQove excel, excel;''
Clamed out Trom ivied tower a bell. .
"This is the church not built on sands,
— .Emblem of
its forms and sacred rites revere—
Come worship here, come worship-here;
In ritual and faith excel, excel,"
,Chimed out the Episcopalian bell. .
"Oh, heed the ancient landmarks well !"
In wilemn tones ex.chtilled-a-bel .
"No-progress - nitrde by' ortal-man - -
Can change the just, eternal plan—
With God there can be nothing new—
Ignore the false, embrace the true.
While all is well, is well, is well,"
Pealed out the good old utc 1 c urc i e ,
"To all the truth we tell, we tell,"
Shouted in ecstasies a bell;
"Come_alLye_wear-y-wanderingsisee,
Our Lord has made salvation free;
Repent; believe, have faith, and then
Be saved and praise the Lord, Amen!
Salvation's free, we tell, we tell,"
Shouted the Methodist Bell.
"Ye purifying waters swell,"
In mellow tones rang out a bell ;
"Though faith alone in Christ can sati•e
11Ian must be plunged beneath the wave,
To show the world unfaltering faith
In what the sacred Scriptures saith.
Oh swell! ye rising waters, swell !"
Pealed out the clear toned Baptist Bell
"Farewell, farewell, base world, farewell,"
In warning notes, exclaimed a bell ;
"Life is a boon to mortals given,
To fit the soul fbr bliss in heayen.
Do not invoke the avenging rod ;
Come here and learn the will of God.
Say to the world farewell, farewell,"
Pealed out the Presbyterian bell.
In after life there is no hell !"
In raptures rang a cheerful bell.
"Look up to heaven this holy day.
Where angels wait to cheer the way ;
There are no fires, no fiends to blight
The future life; be just and right.
No hell! no hell! no hell! no hell !"
"Rang out the Universalist bell.
"No Pope, no Pope to down to Well
The Prote:tant !" rang out a bell ;
"Great Luther left his fiery zeal,
Within,, he hearts that truly feel
That loyalty to God will be
The fealty that makes men free.
:No images where incense fell !"
Rung, out old Martin Luther's bell
"All hail, ye saints in heaven that dwell
Close by the cross!" exclaimed a bell,
"Lean o'er the battlements of bliss,
And deign to bless a world like this:
Let mortals kneel before this shrine—
Adore the water and the w*.ne.
All hail, ye saints, the chores swell!"
Chhned in the Roman Catholic bell.
"Ye workers who have toiled so well
Wo save the race," said a sweet boll,
"417ith pleJge and badge and banner come,
uravc•heart,Leating like a drum.
14.1toyal men of noble deeds ;
Ifo'r luve is holier than creeds;
Prink from the well, the well, the well,"
In rapture rang the Temperance bell.
atlifictlineaus Iltading.
A CASE OF CONSCIENCE.
It was the hardest of hard times. Old,
.well established houses were fidling all a
round, no wonder the smaller concerns
were fairly swallowed -up in the crashes
goin g on in the business world. .No won
-der 'that Harry Tyndall, a young city
nierelfant, sat in his office gazing with a
pale face and despairing eyes at the spec
tre, ruin, which staired at him from no
great distance. He had weathered ,the
'storms of three brief years—he had hop
ed to soon weather this, but the loan of a
thousand ?ounds, held by a friend, de
prived him of the means of making a pay-
Meat due in three days, and he felt that
all indeed was lost, for his efthrts to ne
gotiate a loan in the present state of the
Money market had been worse than use
less.
. .
- The prospect. before him was not a
cheering one. It is rather hard to begin
life over again at thirty, especially when
one has reached that age after years of
poverty, toil and self-exertion. In his
younger days, Harry Tyndall had known
want in its cruelest, most savage form—
he had battled its grim legions, and risen
to independence ; and now, at the thresh
old of a higher lith, he was hurled back
with just a glimpse of the enchanted
grounds within.
As he sat confronting the heap of pa
pers upon his desk, the office door open
ed, and a. lady entered. Mechanically
Harry rose and placed a chair; but as the
lady threw back her yell, he =claimed
in surprise, "Miss Berwick !"
"Pardon my• intrusion, Mr. Tindall,"
said the most musical of voices. "I have
been on the upper floor looking for the
office of Graves & Waldron, and was told
they were on -this floor. I wish to give
Mr. Waldron this package. May I ask
you to deliver it ? I will rernain
Of all the things, I do dislike to lose my
self in these dark passages hunting offi
ces."
Harry took the package with alacrity,
and was gone but a moment, and on his
return found Miss Berwick standing by
the window idly looking down the street.
She turned at his entrance, thanked him
with a smile and a bow, and then took
her bright presence out of the room, and -
Harry was left to his meditations.
"I may just as well give it up. I have
not a fri(nd who could help me in this
strait," he muttered, after half an hour's
deep thought. "I will make an assign
ment or go into bankruptcy, and then de
part for America, where toil is better re
quited.
--And-as-he-spoke r he-rose-to-his-feet, his
eyes falling on the floor. lie was vague
ly conscious of some dark object at his
feet, stooped carelesly tolift it, and saw
it was a pocket book—leather, and rath
er the worse for the wear, but•was very
plethoric. 'He sat down again - ano I
-ed-it—There-were-various-compartraerits;-
hat all of them were empty save one.—
That one contained ten" one hundred lb.
notes.
Just the sum that would save him from
ruin. If it were his he could pay that
note falling due, sell off his stock, and
soak a situation until the panic was past.
Ile looked the pocket book over again.
There was no clue to the owner; yet he
t-con vinced-tha tit-must r of_course„ber,
long to Clara Berwick. 6he was the on
ly person who had been iu his office that
morning. It was a terrible temptation to
Harry, Had his visitor been any other
than Clara Berwick, it is hard to say
whether consciousness or inclination would
have prevailed; as it was, conscience won
the day, and he started out after Miss
Berwick. •
She was not to be found, however ; and
he concluded she had gone home. So
thither he bent his steps. Clara was an
heiress, and something of a belle, too.—
She was not classically beautiful ; but she
was young, and a good figure, clear com
plexion, frank grey eyes, and very abun
dant hair; all of which good points she
made the most of, as every, Aaughter of
Eve is bound to do. She came down in
response to Harry's double knock, and
looked quite surprised, though she endeav
ored to conceal it.
Wheu harry showed her the 'pocket
book, she looked at it attentively, and
laughed a merry peal of laughter.
"AV hy, Mr. Tyndall," she cried, "You
must think I have poor taste to own such
a purse as that. See, this is my pocket
book," and she drew out a dainty purple
velvet purse, to which Was appended a
gold chain.
"But no one has been to my office to
day save you,"
"‘lndeed ! the pocket book. certainly is
not mine," she responded earnestly.
"What shall I do with it ?' asked Har
ry in perplexity.
"Why, keep it, of course," responded
Miss Berwick; with a charming smile ;
and she seated herself on the sofa, and be
gan to discourse of something else.
She and Harry had often met in socie
ty, but he had never called on her before,
and when lie •rose from his chair to go,
she said, "Really, Mr. Tyndall, I ought
to be greateful to the owner of that pock
c;.-book, since it gained me the pleasure of
a call. May I hope that you will repeat
it sometime when you have not stray ar
ticles to dispose of." Harry blushed, mur
mured something about the pleasure be
ing on his side, and hurried away.
"0, dear," he said to himself. "she ac
tually believes I trumped up that story of
the pocket-book for an excuse to call on
her. Wealth privileges her to be imper
tinent. But, oh, if I only dared to use it!
andijust the amount, too ! But I must ad
tise
Harry Tyndall did—not advertise the
lost pocket-book, and• when, three days
later, his bill fell due, he paidit and was
a free man.
It is not necessary to recount the suc
cessive steps in temptation which finally
led to the first act of a hitherto spotless
life. How the pocket-book came there he
could not even guess. But it was there;
it just supplied his needs, he appropriated
it, and was henceforth branded as a thief
in his own eyes.
. -
Those months of financial embarras
ment that followed were safely tidcd over,
and then he devoted himself to his busi
ness with a Melancholy desperation born
of conscious guilt, He went little into so
ciety, and especially did he avoid Clara
Berwick, who, with a perversity of mock
ing mischief, tortured him with allusions
to the lost pocket-book whenever she chan
ced to meet him. She was thoroughly
good-natured, about it, so utterly careless
and trifling that he could lit accuse her
.of malice ; yet his own con fence was his
sharpest accuser, he imagined knowledge
of his guilt, when in reality, there was
none.
He did not comical, from himself that
the desire to remain in Miss Berwick's
sphere was the principal cause of his rash
act, yet, now that he was still where he
could meet her, he shrunk from • making
an avowal of his feelings, he dared not ap
proach her with his love. So he argued
to himseif, thinking he was, strong e
nough to withstand the temptation, al
though ho knew he had yielded to a less
er one.
But, disguise the fact as we may, we are
all creatures of circumstances. We say,
"I will not do so," and lo! in a month or
year we have done those very things ; and.
F6liclicw , 4•0 p•il ,- ).;IN;0.3 , 0 ;IMI ALAI *A 'Jo o_2_ A.O ti' ;Is'! I t!lei: ll 4k l o ,l ic)*P .;Na` I. l ',l l3 i'''S ANC
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, MAR
it has become a matter of course that we
should have done so. Even as, in. spite of
himself, Harry Tyndall had appropriated
what was not his, so also in spite of his
will he was thrown into just such circum
stances as forced from his lips a declara
tion of love to Clara, though he doubted
as he made it.
Clara arched her brows a moment in
pretended surprise,as if she had not known
his struggle all along, then her old mer
ry, mocking smile flashed over her face,
and some bantering words rose to her lips;
but they were unspoken ; for there was an
earnestneFs enough, and enough of passion
and pain in his face to subdue .even her.
He scarcely knew what she said, but he
wenFliWay, feeling as if hig - head would
strike the ,stars, because Clara loved and
would marry him ; but as he walked a
long, he thought of the pocket-book, and
his ecstacy died away. Why should he,
a common thief,rejoice because under false
colors, he had won a good woman's heart?
But he must play the accepted lover, and
he did so, forgetting, when with her, his
-own_un worthiness_
Sometimes he thought to tell her all a
gain, but he shrank from her scorn and
the oss of her respect. But one day, when
they were together, after a short silence
between them, - Clara said suddenly, "Har
7did you.e-vei find out whose purbe - t
-was-that—youlound in your office?"
He turned pale as death. Was his sin
about to find him out at last?
"No," he said, hastily.
"Was there no clue--nothing to indi
cate who was the Auer ?"
"None at all."
"Have you it yet, Harry ? "Well, I should
like to see it. Will you go and get it ?"
"I have it here," he said.
Like man criminals, he had never .ar-
ted with the witness of his crime
Clara. took it in her hands.
"Now, Harry," said she, "I have a con
fession to make. I don't mind telling yeu
that I fell in love with you at first sight ;
and that when I learned from my lawyer
that you were on the verge of ruin, and
that so small a sum would save you, I was
grieved at your suffering., but was rejoic
ed to think I might help you."
Here she opened the purse, slipped the
penknife between the two compartments,
and drew out a folded paper, which she
handed to Harry, who read it :
"Use this money to take up that out
standing debt." A FRIEND.
He looked on her smiling face, and a
light broke in upon him.
"So it was your purse, aftei
"No; it was not ruy purse. I found the
old thing in the garret ; but it was • my
money. Tell me, did it save you ?"
"Yes, or, yes. And all these years I
have borne about a. needless burden, and
morning,*noon and night called myself a
thief and dared not tell you of my love be
cause of it : Ah ! what have I not suffer
ed ?"
"And I am the cause of it all," cried
Clara, throwing her arms around his neck
with a burst of tears. "Can you forgive
me ?"
"Forgive you," said Harry, fondly, "I
would go through twice as much to save
you a single pang. "And at last I can hold
up my head among men with a clear con
science."
"Of course you can. Can't you remem
ber that I told you at that time to use it?
You might have kncwn it was all right."
"Yes, I might, but I did not. It would
have saved me much sorrow if I had.—
However, I do not regret it now."
Abraham Lincoln was once a post-mas
ter in the village of New Salem, "out
West." He then went to Springfield to
study law, and for four years had hard
work to earn his bread and butter. Fight
ing • with poverty is a hard fight. One
day a post office agent Came around, to
collect a balance due to the Washington
office from the New Salem office. The
bill was $17,60. Dr. Henry, a friend of
"poor Abe, happened to fall in with the
agent, and was as sure as could be that
he had nothing to pay it with. He went,
therefore, to the office, in order to lend
him the money, or offer to lend it.
When the agent presented the draft,
Lincoln asked the man to sit down, and
sat down himself with a puzzeled look up.
on• his face. He then stepped out, went
over to his boarding-house, and came back
with an old stocking under his arm. This
he untied, and poured out on the table a
quantity of small silver coins and "red
cents. These they counted, exactly $17,-
60 just the amount called for; and more
over it was just the very 'no -lay called for;
for on leaving the office the young post
master tied up the money and had kept
it by him, awaiting the legal call to give
it up.
On paying it over, "I never use, he said
"even for a time, any money that is not
mine. This money I know belonged to
the Government, and I had no right to
exchange. or use it tor any purpose of my
own." .
That is right and true ground to take.
If money is intrusted td your care, never
touch it never use it. lam not now talk
ing about cheating and stealing, but 'tak
ing and using money with the intention
of returning it. Money in trust should
always be kept a- part from all your bus
iness, and held sacred. By neglecting
this, and not making good the deficency
when pay-day came, many a man has
lost the confidence of his fellow-men, and
damaged his integrity beyond repair.
A school ma'am has adopted a new and
novel mode of punishment. If the boys
disobey her rules, she stands them on their
heads, and pours water in their trowser
legs.
Complaints that old maids would like
to be troubled kith,—chaps on their lips.
iionesty.
Lot and his Wife.
rFrom Lippincot for March.)
A correspondent in Virginia sends the
following :
As I approached a pond a few days ago
where some negyoes were cutting some ice,
I. chanced to hear the conclusion of a con
versation between two of the hands on the
subject of religion,
"What you know 'bout 'ligion? You
don't know nothin"tali 'bout ligion."
"I know heap 'bout 'ligion; ain't I bin
done read de Bible ?"
"What you read in de Bible? You
can't tell me nuthin' what you read in de
"But I kin, dough,. for I read 'bout
'Morrow."
"What sort o"Morrow—to-morrow?"
"No, Go. Morrow."
"Well, whar he go, and what he go fur?"
"Shoh, man! he didn' go nowhar, 'coz
he was a town."
"Dar! didn' I tell you didn' know nuth
in"bout nutlhin'? You read do Bible !
Hoccura (how come) de town name 'Mor
row, and how de town gwine go anywhar?
Town ain't got no legs."
"Man, you's a born fool, chor. De
town named Go-Morrow, but dey call it
'Morrow• coz dey didn' hey no time to stay
dar talkin' long talk.
Deli ey s y gar o
day, why can't dey stay dar to-morrow ?
'Splain_me_dat."
"But dey all gone, an' de town too.—
All done bu'n . up."
"Ef dere ain't no peopul, an' dere ain't
no town, how de town name 'Morrow ?
Glong, nigger ! Didn't I know you didn'
know nuthin"tall 'bout 'ligion? But (sar
castically) tole me some mo' what you
read in de Bible."
"Well, 'Morrow was a big town—'bout
mightynigh's—big-as—Washington-eity_,
and de pepul wat live dar was de means'
pepul in de whole wolf. Dey was dat
mean dat de Lord he couldn't abear 'em,
and he make up his min' dat he gwine
bu'n de town clean up. But dar was one
good man dar—member uv de church, i
p'sidin elder—name Lot."
"Yaas, I know'd him."
"Whar you know,d him ?"
"Oil de cannel. He owned a batto,
an' dror' it hisself."
Heist, man! I talkin' sense, now. Den
do Lord he come to Lot, an' he say, 'Lot,
I gw•ine to bu'n dis town. You and you
wife git up and gether you little all, and
put out 'fore de crack o' day, coz I cer'n
ly.gwine to burn dis town and de pepul,
to-marrow. Den Lot he and his wife riz,
and snatched op der little ails and travel
soon in. de mornin'. And the Lord he
tuck two light'ud knots and some shavins,
and he sot fire to dat ar town uv 'Mor
row, and lie bu'n it sprang up,clear down
to de groun', like he did Chicago."
"What come o' Lot?"
"lie and his wife, dey went, and dey
went, and dey went, twell pres'n'ly he
wife say, Tor! of I ain't gone and lee de
meal-sifter and de rollin' pin, I wish I
may die!' and she turn roun' to go fetch
'em, and she turn r‘mn'. and—and—she
dar 'HOW!"
"What she doin' dar?"
"Nuthin'."
"Must be mons'us lazy 'ooman."
"No, she ain't. De Lord he tu'n her
into pillow uv salt, 'kase she too much af
ter sellin' pins and sich tings."
"Dar! ev'rybody know 'bout sack o'
salt; who ever hear 'bout pillow o' salt?—
But what 'come o' Lot?"
"Lot; he weren't keerin' tall 'bout no
rollin',pin and no meal sifter, so he kep'
straight 'long, nn turnin' uv he head nei
der to de right, neider to de lef."
"And lef de ole 'ooman dar?"
wyth as. ,,
"In de middle of do road?"
"Yaps "
"Must skeer'd mighty little fur her—
want to git married to seck'n wife, I spec'.
But de fus' man come 'long and want to
git some salt to bake asheake, he gwine
bust a piece out'n Lot's wife, and 'stroy
her; and what you tink o' dat? Call dat
'ligion? And de ole man lef' her? and
you read dat—"
Hero a peremptory order from the fore
man to "go to work" broke short the con
versation.
. No Ti.istE.—A man of business was so
engrossed with his cares, that he would
not rest even on the Sabbath. Half of
that day he spent with his clerk over his
accounts. The other half in a ride into
the country. Monday morning found him
unrefreshed, but still driving on after the
world as fast as ever.
"Have yOu heard of the death of Mr.
D--?" asked - one of him at breakfast.
"Ab, no; is he dead? Well it is very dif
ferent with me; I am so eiigaged in busi
ness that I could not find thuelo die."—
Soon after, having passed into another
room, he fell dead on the floor. He must
take time at last. There wai no return
ing to his farm or his merchandise. His
business he left behind him in the twink
ling of an eye. But the great work of life
was undone.
"I have not time," is the common ex
cuse of men in busy lit', when urged to
think of eternity. But they must . take
time when sickness comes, when death
knocks, then when it is too late.
. A Cleveland man knows how to enjoy
all the comforts of a home. When he
sees a book peddler or a sewing machine
man in front of his house he touches up
his face with a box of water-colors, in im
itation ofsmall-pox pustules, goes to the
front door, and then laughs to Ewe the call
ers.try to break their necks in getting o
ver the gate and fence.
If you like practical joking, just intro
duce tWo strangers, previously inform
ing each that the other is deaf; but. I
wouldn't stand around,
WE ALL MIGHT DO GOOD.
We might all do good
Where we often do ill;
There is alWays a way,
If there be but a will.
Though it be but a word,
Kindly breathed or suppres.cd,
It may ward off some pain—
Give peace to some breast.
We all might do good •
In a thousand Small ways,
In rorbearing to fatter,
Yet giving due praise.
In spurning ill rumor,
Reproving wrong done ;
And treating but kindly
The heart we have won.
We all might do good, .
Whether lowly or great ;
For the deed is not baught
By purse or estate.
Life's Changes.
Life is not all sunshine, as we find the
farther we advance upon its path. At its
commencement we start out with sails un
furled to the breeze; no fears to mar our
demure; Soon the change comes! Soon
are we called to battle with life's stormy
tides. Then it is we find the world a bit
ter-riality;= Its scenes are - diversified.-On
one side the gay and brilliant bridal par
ty; on the other, the gloomy hears. and
its fearful followers. On the other side of
the Atlantic may be the smoke and din
of a battle field, the flash of musketry,the
moans of the dying and all the accompa
niments of an awful battle, while here,
perchance, is a peaceful, united country
Changing, changing, bright hopes and
happy realizations, altare-gone:-Oh-,-how
much. meaning is conveyed in that little
word, gone! Do we not realize it as we
follow some near relative to the silent city
of the. dead ? Did we not realize too deep
ly when our fathers, husbands, and bro
thels were buried in soldiers' graveS in the
Sunny South ?
Childhood, with its simple laugh, youth
with its ambition, all that is good, pure
and beautiful, all that makes this life oth
er than the dullest existence, are chang
ing, going. Life is made up of changes,
and as the wheel of ever-present time is
going round, it brings them about. To
some it has brought the last of their school
days. School-day-s, happy by-genes I will
ye ever be forgot ? On memory's fairest
tablet ye are recorded with no blot. Is
there one, who reads this, who would, if
he could, blot out from remembrance the
early school-days? Little incidents are
cherished fondly in our hearts, because
connected with those welove best on earth,
some of whom have met with the kit
change, and gone.
And so we go, as the years roll round.
Soon our life tasks will be completed; soon
will we go hence.
Go back with me in fancy, to the old
farm-house near the large cotton-wood
trees. How we long for the years that
have passed, years in which we traveled
up from the paths of childhood. How we
long even for one brief hour of the good
old times to come again ; then let us im
prove the minutes as they fly, so that when
that life change comes, we shall be ready.
A River With no Mouth.
The Leavenworth, Ind., Democrat re
cords the following: Daring this age of
discoveries and superstition, it becomes
our duty to report a fact, which to those
unacquainted with the singular develop
ments of the day, may be somewhat dis
posed to doubt. But we give it as a posi•
tive truth, as related to us by one of the
best, citizens in this county, who went
and examined it. , It is as follows : Two
men, named John E. Stanley and Freder
ick h 4 'ennio•er, were employed in, digging
a well on the farm of Mr. Benj. Ellis,
who resides in Washington county, near
the line of Harrison and Washington
counties.
They] commenced digging in a place
where, as they thought, it would be pro
bable not to encounter any obstruction in
-their search for water. They had pro
ceeded hitt a short distance, however,
when they encountered a bed of loose
"nigger-head" rocks which, upon being
broken open, where found to contain water
and other substances, supposed to be ore
of some kind. When they reached the
depth of sixty feet from the surface, they
came to a large cave, which they follow
ed a distance ten or twelve ft, when there
before their gaze, was a beautiful rivet' of
clear water, which, upon examination was
found to contain an innumerable number
of small white fish.
Upon a - closer examination it was found
to be sixteen feet wide and five in depth,
and•as clear and,cold as spring water.—
As an experiment a lighted candle was
placed upon a piece of plank and set a
float. It started of into the darkness
with the current and was soon lost to
sight. Several persons have visited this
great curriosity, and many where the con
jectures as to where the water came from
and whither it went, but nothing satisfac
tory could be arrived at.
When Eve brought woe to all mankind,
Old Adam called her wo-man,
And when she woo'ed with love so kind
He then pronounced her woo'rnan.
But now with folly, dress and pride,
Their husbands' pocket trimming,
The ladies are so full of whims
The People call them whim-men l
"The penalty for walking on a railroad
track in England is ten pounds," said one
while discussing the numerous fatal acci
dents on a railroad. "Pooh !" replied
Uncle Jerry, "is that all ? The penalty
iu this country is death."
WHEN Do MEN DlE ?—Medical expe
rience proves that, in chronic disease, the
greater number of deaths occur just be
fore dawn. This is eminently true of brain
disease and of all those related eases where
death results from an exhaustion of the
vital power through overwork, excessive
excitement or mervous prostration. It is
at the hour of five o'clock in the morning
that the life force is at its lowest ebb, and
succumbs most readily to the assult of ep
ilepsy, or paralysis, or of the fatal lethar
gy that comes in those beautiful picture
dreams, for which medical science has as
yet found no name, and of which.it has
taken no sufficieni, cognizance. Nine-tenths
of those who die iu this way, expire in
their sleep. In many such cases,if a friend
were at hand to waken'the sleeper when
the attack comes on, or if he were to awa
ken by some accidental noise,he might,by
the use of a feW simple precautions, pro
long his life for many years ; for the shock
which proveS - fatartlithe - nran - wrapped-in
deep sleep,. when the system is passive and
relaxed, would be victoriously repelled
were it armed with all its waking energies.
Men who do brain work, and who are on
the shady side of forty, should be on their
guard against this insidious enemy. They
should be ware of five o'clock A. M. for it
is a. perilous hour. Do you find yourself
unable to sleep, when you retire for the
night, exhausted with iyeur days work ?
Do.you, in vain turn from one side.to the
other? - Does your brain persist in work
ing when you would fain have it rest? Do
old saws, and scraps of rhyme,repeat them
selves in your memory with wearisome it
eration, defying your utmost efforts to si
lence them ? Then, I say to you, beware !
You will be sure to sleep at last. It is
only a question of time; for soon or late,
nature will assert her rights.
A - GOOD - ENDOBSEE.—When General
Jackson was President, a heartless clerk
in the treasury department ran up an end
less indebtedness with a poor landlady to
$6O, and then turned her off, as he did
every other creditor. She finally went to
the President with her complaint,and ask
ed if he could not compel the clerk to pay
the bill. "lie offers his note," she said,
"but his notes are good for nothing." Said
the President : "Get his note and bring
it to me." The clerk gave her the note
with the jeering request "she would let
him know when she got the money on it
Taking it to the President, he wrote "An
drew Jackson" on the back of it, and told
her that she would get the money at the
bank. When it became due, the.clerk re
fused to pay the note, but when he learn
ed who was the endorser, he made haste
to raise the "wind." The next morning he
found a note on his desk saying that his
services were not longer required by the
government; and it served him right.
Pitts is a sharp business man, and when
Pitts goes into a store, to trade he always
gets the lowest cash price, and then says:
"Well I'll look about, and if I don't find
anything that suits me better I'll call and
take this." Now quite lately, Pitts said
to himself', "I'm getting , rather 'long in
years, and guess I'll get married." His
business qualities wouldn't let him wait,
so off he travels, and calling upon a lady
friend, opened the .conversation by re
marking that he would like to know what
she thought about his getting married.—
"Oh, Mr. Pitts," she replied, "that is an
affair in which I am not so grately.inter
esting, and I prefer to leave it with your
self." "But," says Pitts, "you are inter
ested, and, my dear girl, will you marry
nie ?" - The young lady blushed Very red,
hesitated, and finally, as Pitta was very
well to do in the world, and morally and
financially of good standing in society,she
accepted him ; whereupon the matter-of
filet Pitts responded, "Well, well, I'll look
about, and it' I don't find anybody that
suits me better than you,'l'll come hack."
THE CARPENTER'S DREAM. - A poor
man was a carpenter, and he often said to
himself and to others "If I was only rich
I would show people how to give." In his
dream, he saw a pyramid of silver dollars
new, bright and beautiful. Just
then voices reached him saying : "Now
is your time ! You are rich at last ; let us
see your generosity !" So he rose from his
seat and went to the 1 He to take. some
money for charitable purposes. But the
pyramid was so perfect that he could not
bear to break it. He walked all around
it, but found no place where he could take
a dollar without spoiling the heaj. So he
decided that the pyramid should' not be
broken ! * * * * and then
awoke. He awoke to know himself, to see
that he tvoule be generous only while com
paratively poor. "Sich is nib. I"
A Scotchman and Irishman, 'previous
to their first battle, agreed that if one was
wounded the other was to help, his fellow.
It so happened that a bullet wounded the
poor Scotchman in
.the thigh, so he call
ed out to his Irish friend for help. Pad
dy lifted him on to his shoßlders and was
carrying him to an ambulance, when a
cannon ball came and carried awa:itAe
poor Scotchmares head, unknown to poOt
Paddy, who feeling the "whiz" of theprn;
jectile, remarked!' That etas a clostrdnii
too."
A surgeon, noticed the Irishman carry-.
ing his headless burden, asked bon where
he was going with it.
"Why, share, where should I be going
but to the doctor, to have him doctored?
replied Paddy.
"But my friend do you not see' that he
has had his head knocked off by a shot ?"
"Oh be gad, so he has !" cried Paddy,
when ho had lowered the corpse of-his
friend ; "why what a liar thefellow tuft
be I He told me it was only a bullet -Ut
his leg !"
Fools and obstinate people make law
yers rich.
$2,00 PER YEAR
till li3Di ME
Wit and atumor,
What State is high in the middle and
round at both.encis. 0-hi-o.
ac
Pr e the only ae in the world where a
young lady is of "missed" is at home.
There it is alw *s plain Susan or Bet.
A. lady was lately hugged to death in
Minnesota—another illustration .of the.
"power of the press." '
The wife is the sun of the social system.
Unless she attracts there is nothing to ke,..p
heavy bodies, like husbands from .flying
into space.
1 1 r
unt . Susan says: Suppose all Ethe men
were in one coup and all the women in
another, with a riv etween them, Good
gracious! what 1 of girls would be
drowned;"
A man swapped his horse fur a wife.—
An old bachelor acquaintance said he'd
bet there was something wrong with the
horse, or its owner never would have fool
ed it away in that manner.
"How wonderful," exclaims some un
known philosopher, "are the laws govern
ing human existence ! Were it not for
tight lacing-all civilized-countries_ would
be overrun with women."
Two gentlemen, one named Woodcock,
the other Fuller, walking together hap
pened to see an owl. Said Faller, "That
bird is very much like a Woodcock."—
"You are very far wrong,"said Woodcock,
"for - it's - Fuller - in the head, Fuller in the
eyes, and Fuller all over.
A little girl remarked to her mamma
on going to bed, "I am not afraid of the
dark."
"No, of course you are not," replied
her mamma, "for it can't hurt you."
"But mamma, I was a little afraid once
when I went to the pantry in the dark to
get a start."
"What, were you afraid of?" asked her
mamma.
`I was afraid I could not find the tarts.'
An Irish priest, standing upon a scaf
fold, bestowed the following consolation
upon a murderer about to be hanged :
"May ye niver forget the milencholy
tachings of the lisson before ye, an' may
the miniery of this interesting occasion
last ye long as ye inhabit this world."
A physician was going his rounds a
mong some small pox patients in a hos
pital, and stopping by the bedside of an
Irishman, he inquired :
"Well, Pat, how are you to-day ?"
"Faith sir, I'm better ; but I'm so wake
that I should not be surprised at all if
some one was to come along and tell,me
I was dead."
The old man calmly surveyed the scene
and with a severely reproachful look he
said—
"Johannes, your fadder, your. grand ,
fadder, and great grandfadder all went to
de mill with the stone in one end of do
pag, and de grist in de (Aden` Lind now
you a mere poy, sets 'yourself up to know
more as dey do. You put de stone in do
pag, and never more let me see such
smartness like dat."
Extract from a Colored Folks' Hymn
Book, used in South Carolina : ;
"We's be nearer to de Lord
Dan de white folks, and dey know it,
See the glory-gate unbarred—
Walk in darkeys, past de guard !
Bet yer dollar He wqril close it !
"Walk in darkeys, troo, de gate,
Hark, de eullered angles holler:
Go away, white folks, you're too late
We's de winnin kuller ! Wait
Till de trumpet blow to folleor.
"Halleleojah ! tanks to praise !
Long 'nuff we've borne our crosses;
:Now we'se do superior me,
And, with Gorramighty's grace,
We's gwine to hebben afore de bosses."
A Nrw . one of the New
London Northern Railroad Ticket Offices,
the other day, a citizen, who had evident
ly been fanning the flame of conviviality
with the wing of friendship, rapped on the
slide of the ticket office, and laying down
ten cents, said :
"A dhrap of beer, sir, if ye plaze !"
"We keep no beer here," sternly repli
ed -the agent.
"Well, thin, a. dhrap of whisky."
"We ke:p no whisky here; we sell on
ly bits of pasteboard," was the repl: - .
" . .Div if. a bit do I care what it is," said
the internationalist. "Give us .a rink of
pasteboard, thin.!"
They concluded he was drunk.
.A..NersTRAL Wrsnom.--In Pennsylva
nia, not many years ago, there dwelt the
decendants of Peter' Van Schrenbendyke
who had cleared his own farin, guarded.
.carefully from the attacks of the, Indians,
and willed it to his son Jacob. The farm
Abfas transmitted in regular order fronl
'l4.lier to son, and at last became the prof ,
ook of Heindrich Van Schrenbentlyke
a;gt* natured, stolid Teuton whose son,
•jritif ' , es, a bright, lively youth of six
teek os told to saddle the horse and ride
to MI, kgrisc and hurry back. The
grist:O. .ich occasions placed in one end
1.,:ef.0,•,';'. 4 :nd a large stoma in the other
end 40.1rttance it. Johann, having
thrown .thilack across. the horse's back
and gOi.thegrist evenly divided, had no
need'otttle,VAe to balance it,. - Re there
fore ran and cried,
"Oh fatlieW . : and see; . we. don't
need: the stosterviiy_erate,'-1'