The Waynesboro' village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1871-1900, April 04, 1872, Image 1

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atrytts Ina 'wage tt t
glut Vottii,
To die ! 'tis but to cease from pain,
To sink and never rise again,
A dream beneath whose drooping, fold,
A silence steals alratg the. soul ;
A mystery o'er existence spread,
A world of woes and sorrows fled..
Death ! dea."ll ! Oh, what is death to me
Like this soul absorbing gloom,
That hangs ever as"a. mystery.
That wider spreads, deeper seems to be?
The dark, cold, silent tomb,
• Ithas no.dread, it has no fear,
'Twere joyful to be slumbering there;
The gnawing worm companion of the dead
— With - all-its-borrorsibears-ne-dread-;
' Oh better clasp them and their kind,
Than these earth-miseries of the mind,
'Twere better they companions dear
Than dwell with worms as mortals here;
Each lisp a. lie, with none believing ;
Each smile is wrought to be deceiving;
Each-word 'tis-but-the-counterpa
Of a false, decel•%W.hei — i
The glances once I thought my own—
The breathings of the silvery tone—
That smile, for whose sweet play I'd given
My hopes for entrance into heaven
- That form, whose lightness once to press,
Naught else the thinking soul could bless;
Ah ! these within me wrought a birth,
And claimed my lingering form to earth ;
For her rliYe7.d for lfer was thrown
All love, all hope, to clasp hei as mine own;
heaven in her form! Heaven in her eye!
Heaven in her word! Heaven in her sigh!
No lov'lier heaveU could arise,
Nor gleam in grandure thro' the skies.
My soul sought tins, for this it strove,
And farmed a god, a god in love ;
Alas, each hour has its waking,
The brightest day storms overtaking,
The brightest dreams soon fade ae ay,
And madness ushers in the day.
So bursting mine, and with them sped,
Along for the ilent dead—
Oh ! she had nursed my hearts sweet tone,
Until it breathed for her alone,
All other touches ;eamed in vain
To wake to love its gentle strain ;
But when she tcitichesi, loud, burst the song
And seemed for aye the notes prolong;
But when she fobnd its wildest strain,
And knew all else might touch in vain,
Then sought she other hearts to try,
And left mine there, itlone to die.
'Twere better be within the tomb,
Than linger with this robe of gloom ; •
Fond love has fled, and with it flew,
All joy, all hope, adieu! adieu!
I feel that death is gathering fast,
And. with its shades the gloomy past;
Oh! may my soul be forgiven
And find beyond this earth a heaven!
'Tis on Thy promise I rely ;
Oh ! God ! my God ! I die ! I die!
i)lisctllaucous grading.
"What's that you say, Hayden? The
Bolton Bank broke?' It can't be posSible."
• And Frederick Wells, who had been
reclining in one chair, with his feet rest
ing ou the back of another, the very pic
ture of indolent enjoyment, sprang to his
feet, tipping over his chair, and sending
the cigar he was smoking to the further
end of the room.
"Yes, it is; it is here in the paper, as
you can see fur pursuit: But; shat is it
to you? Did yuu have anything invested
"No, but Miss Neal had—which a
mounts to about the same thing."
An air of intense chug-in overspread
his handsome, though rather effeminate
features, as he read the paragraph to
' which his companion pointed.
"Confound it," he muttered, "It's al
ways my luck to have my dish tipped just
when it's full! Though I must say, if it's
got to come, that I'm glad it happened
a month before our marriage."
Charles Hayden, a young Man whose
features, though less regularly formed,
were expressive of far more manliness and
goodness of heart, gazed at the speaker
with an air of disguised astonishment.
"Why so, Wells?" you surely did not
seek the hand of Miss Neal simply for her
"Well, no; I can't say that. She is a
most lovely and charming woman; and it
realy cuts me to the heart to give her up.
' But then lam too poor to afford such a
luxury. And Miss Neal can no more af
ford to marry a poor man. So we're a
bout even."
"And have you no thought for the pain
your desertion , will inflict upon the heart
you have won," said Hayden in a tone of
suppressed indignation.
softly, my dear fellow," said Wells,
who had resumed his former comfortable
position, and was solacing himself with a
fresh cigar. "I hardly think it will be
any such desperate affair to Miss Neal as
you suppose. Indeed, I've thought sev
eral times of late, that had it not been for
her foolish high idea of the binding na
ture of such a promise, she would have
broken the engagement herself."
"And knowing this, you would have
held her to its fulfillment."
"Not being sufficiently disinterested to
refuse the gift of fifty thousand dollars, I
rather mini: 1 suouiu."
"You are not worthy of a true•hearted
woman like Ellen Neal," was the indig
nant response.
"Then so much the better for her, that
I should leave her to be appropriated by
some-one_tbatAs,you,_for_instance._ It
strikes me that you used to be somewhat
interested in that quarter ; now is the time,
old fellow, for you to go in and win."
Charles Ila • den - scarcel • felt or heard
the covert sneer in these words, so much
was he engrossed bf the new-born hope
that had sprung up in his heart,and which
made its pulse beat so quickly and strong
ly. •
"So you are to be married next month
my dear ?" said Mr. Thornly to his ward,
Ellen N eal.
";Yes, I believe so," was the rather in
different reply.
Mr. I horuton studied his ward's face for
a moment with his keen eyes. ,
"I don't believe you care two straws for
Frederick Wells." •
"Oh, not so bad as that, guardian,"
said Ellen, with a faint smile ; "though I
have sometimes feared that I don't give
him the affection he deserves. He seems
. bt;rvery-strongly-attaehed-to-me.
"Humph ! my opinion of Frederick
Wells is; that he is too much in love with
his own handsome faceto - be - very much
attached to any woman."
"You are too severe. Amyy - wayi I have
promised, and cannot break my word."
• • not • far better break
Tour - heal t."—
"I don't believe I've got any," was the
laughing rejoinder. "111 have I've nev
er been able to discover it. Never fear for
me, guardie ; I dare say I shall be as hap
py with Frederick as with any one."
Yet in spite of these lightly spoken words,
there rose up before her mental vision one
with whom she knew she could be far hap
pier. But even ifs le had been free to
choose, Inrd. - Sh - e - know that he would
choose her ? True she had sometimes fan
cied—but what right had she to indulge
such fancies?
When Mr. Thornly reached his office
he found F.ederick Wells waiting to see
; woo said with an air of constraint,
not to say embarrassment, not at all re
markable, when we consider the awkward
errand on which he came.
"I heard of Miss Neal's misfortune last
evening, sir, and 1 assure you with' deep
"Miss Neal's misfortune ? What the
duce d'ye mean ?" said the old gentleman
gruffly, with whom the young man was by
no means a favcrite.
"Wily, the iitilure of Bolton Bank, to
he sure," Mr. Wells responded quickly,
the suspicion entering his mind that the
shrewd old lawyer was trying to dodge the
"Oh, ah, yes, I think I do understand
you: Well, what of 'it ?"
"Only this sir, that deeply as I regret
the necessity, the high regard I cherish
for your ward, and the knowledge that I
shall be unable, at least for some years, to
offer her such a home as she is accustam
ed to and merits, demands the sundering
of our engagement."
"That is to say, in plain English, my
ward, having lost her fortune, Mr. Wells
so longer desires to marry her."
In spite of all hii efforts, Mr. Wells
felt his cheeks tingle beneath the quiet
scorn in the eyes that rested upon his
"You put it rather harshly," he said,
freeing a smile; "but we won't quarrel
ab,)ut terms."
"Very good. All I have to say ill,
that what you are pleased to term .Miss
Neal's misfortune, promises to be the best
thing that could ha pen her. Good morn
When Mr. Thornly saw his ward again
in the evening, his con utenance wore a cu
rious expression.
"I have important news for you Ellen ;
one portion of it rather bad, but the oth
er so good as to more than make up for
it. Indeed, as I told a certain man this
morning, I consider it the best thing that
could possibly happen to .you. First, for
the bad; the bank in which your money
was invested, bas gone up, and wont pro
bably pay two cents on a dollar. Now
for the good ; in consequence of this, Mr.
Frederick Wells called to express his re
grets, that he must relinquish the honor
and happiness of making you his wife."
"Is it possible ?" exclaimed Ellen.—
"How I have been deceived in him. I
thought he loved me for myself alone. 0
Mr. Thornly, how thankful I ought to be
that I have discovered how false his heart
is, before it was too late."
' "Mr. Hayden is in the parlor and wants
to see Miss Ellen," said a servant open
ing the door.
Ellen entered the parlor in a rather
perturbed state of mind; much as she re
joiced at her escape, she could not but
fed deeply grieved at this discovery of
the unworthiness of him, whom she had
hitherto esteemed so highly as to often
reproach herself that she could not love
him as he deserved.
Mr. Ha) den's mind was, also, much
disturbed, though from a very different
It was in vain that young gentleman
tried to recall the neat little speech, that
he had conned over on his way to the
house; as is usual in such cases, it com
pletely vanished from his mind as soon as
he found himself in the presence of the
lady, for whose benefit it was intended.
At last, making a desperate effort he
broke the rather embarrassed silence by
"My dear Miss Neal, I have heard of
your km of fortune, and cannot express
what a great burden it lifted - from my
heart. I was so truly rejoiced, as to quite
Here startled by the indignant aston
ishment depicted upon Ellen's counte
nance, the poor fellow stammered, and
then stopped. ' '
"Sir—Mr. Hayden," faltered Ellen,
deeply wounded at language so different
from what she had anticipated. , "I am at
a loss to understand why you should re 7
joice over my misfortune."
"Dear one, I - know iti - s - ileffSelfish - irr
me and yet I was never half so happy in
my life as when I learned that I might,
without being accused of unworthy mo
tives, tell you what a privilege-l-should
deem it to cherish and care for you, as
man cherishes and cares for the dearest
object of his love."
The sudden' revolution of feeling, caus
ed by these words, sent warm, happy
tears to Ellen's eyes." ,
thank heaven for the reverse of for
tune that has given me the rich treasure
of your love," she murmered, as she laid
her hand softly in his. •
Half an hour later, the lovers were re
ceiving the congratulations, and the warm
approval of Ellen's guardian.
The old gentleman listened silently,
and with evident enjoyment to w the plans
they laid for the future.
"I am sorry to spoil your pretty romance
-of.Love-in_a_Cattege," and all that , sort
of thin "hr id at le'
things, te said at least, "but the - arel
is, Ellen—thought, as I told you, your
fortunei - watinv - ested in the Bolton-Bank
—I happened to withdraw the money the
- week - betbreit - failed. - But don't be down
hearted about it, my young friends, you'll
find lent of ieople who will glad y re-
lieve-you-o urt ens I ysi ca 1 I`i
pose of it in any other way, you might do
nate it to found a "mission school" for the
"Feejee Mermaids," or .some other equal
ly as practicable missionary enterprise."
We can't say as to whether our young cou
ple followed this suggestion, but this we
know, that throughout her long arid hap.
py married life, Ellen often had occasion
to bless-the fortunate blunder.
My Ugly Cousin.
I hate ugly girls. They are the slyest,
most artful creatures. You never know,
what to expect of them, or how to circum=
vent them. And then to see sensible men
caught in their traps, when there are plen
ty 01 pretty girls all around, is just as as
tonishing as it is provoking : 1 look in
my mirror and ask despairingly, "What
is the use of brilliant white and red . com
plexion, good features and real blonde
hair, when such a plain girl as Lucy Hun
ter carries off the prize you have selected
lin. your own ?"
Lucy is my cousin, and has no preten
sion to beauty. Her features are of no
particular style, her hair and eyes not
worth describing, - and her figure can only
claim to be neat and trim. She has very
pleasant manners, and is entertaining in
conversation. She always knew that she
had neither beauty nor money to depend
upon, and was compiled to make herself
agreeable. So Lucy had many friends,
none of the girls looking on her as a pos
sible rival. She was invited about a great
deal, for she was useful in entertaining
other guests, while there seemed no dan
ger of her entering into competition with
any one.
always liked to have my cousin Lucy
for a companion, fbr I felt that I showed
to great advantage beside her. Many a
time have I called for her to go shopping
with me, and shopping always carried me
to Walter Dabney's store. To become a
partner in that commercial house, by mar
rying Walter, was the secret ambition of
my life. How Lucy Hunter could have
the presumption to set her cap at such a
great catch, passed my comprehension.
While I stood pulling the goods about,
putting on all my prettiest looks, and
showing off my soft white hand, she would
be chAtting in her pleasant, cordial man
lier. She saw so much of every one, that
she had more to talk about than anybody
else. The young glen liked her for a
friend and confidant, although they might
admire others more. At all of our social
g,atberings'she had plenty of attention, for
though not a belle, she was a favorite.
This never gay,: me any uneasiness, for
I knew none of the beaux were in love
with her. When I saw her making her
self agreeable to Walter Dabney, i only
smiled and thought, "I wonder if you think
Walter Dabney would look at an ugly
girl like you ?"
Not that there is anything unpleasant
in her appearance. She is certainly . very
stylish-looking, and always dresses in ex
quisite taste,although she does every stitch
of her own sewing. She can not afford to
put out her work, but takes the best fash
ion magazine,
and it is marvelous to see
how well she dresses with her limited
means. She never has anything fine, but
looks nice in everything she puts on. I
always wished to keep on intimate terms
with her, because I could pick up so many
useful ideas about dress from her. Per
haps some others were actuated by the
same motive. Her mother died when she
was about fourteen years old, and she has
had charge of the household ever since.—
She dresses the younger children with the
same taste and economy shown in her own
dress. Her oldest brother,
Ben. was an
intimate friend of Walter Dabney.
When Walter first began escorting Lu
cy to church Sunday nights, and driving
her out on pleasant afternoons, I thought
that as he was so intimate with the bro
ther, it was very natural for him to pay
the sister some attention. And then, as
I said before, Lucy was a general favor
ite. Being so constantly and actively em
ployed, only seemed to keep her always
bright and cheerful, and ready to be in
terested in anything.
When I opened my eyes to the danger,
I exerted every faculty to defeat my moss
unlooked-for rival. I went to the store
with Lucy, dressed in my handsome blue
poplin, to let Walter see' how much pret
tier I was than my cousin. I went to the
store without her, so she could not distract •
his attention, and wore my cheap nlpacca,
to show him that I, too, could look ele
gant in plain clothes. But all was in vain.
My hopes waned steadily, and the morti
fying certainty was announced to me by
Lucy herself, when she asked me to be her
- bridesmaid;---Imagine-my-feelings_They
cannot be described. I bore it like a Spar
tan, and last night waited on my ugly
cousin when• she became the bride of Wal-
Hter-Dabney—Her_dress was the most be
coming in the world. Mrs. Highup who
gets all her dresses ready made from N,
Y., condescended to say, "Really, Lucy's
dress looks as if it might have come from
Madam D.'s"
Now, can anybody explain the reason
of my failure ? How is it that pretty girls
are not always successful in their just ef
forts to catch the nicest beaux ? and have
not all pretty girls cause!to hate these art
ful ugly ones ?
The Credit System.
One of the most unfortunate hindran•
ces to the development of our commercial
resources, is the universal habit of run
ries_of the credit
mystem are more noticeable among the ag
ricultural producers, who generally keep
a running account with one or more of
the village merchants. In the eOmmer
cid-World, where the credit system-is-gov
erned by the law merchant, it is a great
convenience to meet the pressing necessi
ties-of -business by an occasional loan, but
the security demanded, and the prompt
payment required by the bankers and
monied brokers, compell the borrowers to
carefully enquire as to his ability to meet
the payment of his note at maturity. So
these kinds of loans are negotiated intel
ligently, and the borrower and lender are
mutually benefitted by the operation.—
But an open, running, unsettled account
with some
calamity that, can poSsibly happen to a
farmer, laboring man, or mechanic, in
moderate circumstances. You feel quite
flattered when the merchant tells you
smilingly : "No matter about the mon
ey, take the goods along; we'll make that
all right sometime." You feel like hug
ging tho generous man for his kindness
as you carry away the bundle of goods
which you have purchased on credit, and
which be would have sold 2$ per cent.
cheaper fbr cash. The credit system works
beautifally for awhile. You have opened
an account with the trader, and you add
new item to his blotter,you feel under ob
ligations to him for his accommodation,
and when making an additional purchase,
you havn't the heart to beat him down as
if you would ii you were dealing . on the
cash system, as you take his goods at his
price. But after while a day of reckon
ing comes. The bland merchant button
holes you somewhat seriously, and en
quires if you can settle your account.—
The dun is usually made at the most un
fortunate season of the year. You have
your taxes to pay, your harvest help to
hire, and cannot possibly settle your ac
count then. The merchant offers to take
a note with 10 per cent. interest, payable
with attorney's fees, and other costs of
collection, &c. This offers a temporary
relief, and without stopping to look over
your old account, which has been run
ning a year or two, or footing up the col
umns figures un the ledger, you blandly
sign the note which the accommodating
merchant has filled out, and which is gen
erally made payable one day after date.
Your nate is liable to pass into the hands
of some heartless note shaver and money
broker, who leaves it in the hands of as
attorney for collection. You beg for a
little time, your family has been sick,
your crops were short, you are willing to
pay the highest rate of interest for a few
months of grace. The attorney says it
must be sued in the next court, in order
to'hold the endorser. You do not under
stand this law of commercial liabilities,
but you feel quite certain that you have
suffered yourself to become a slave to
debt. The sheriff serves vou with a sum
mons, you are commanded to appear on
the second day of the term. Your finan
cial affairs are in an embarrassing condi
tion. If you had a few months time you
think you could meet the claim. , A shy
ster of a lawyer says he can . get you a
continuance for $lO, and you employ rim.
The suit goes over to another term. The
note sued on draws 10-per cent. interest
all the while, and the attorney's fees and
costs add as much more. The claim fin
ally goes into a judgment, an execution
issues, your little farm is levied on, glar
ing sheriffsales describing your little home
are posted on trees along the roadside, as
if the officer took a malicious pleasure in •
telling your neighbors of your misfortune.
You grow demoralized, and go deeper in
debt, your farm is sold, the time of re
demption expires, and you go out into the
world a bankrupt.
This is no fancy picture, but one of fre
quent occurrence. Don't go in debt, un
less you are possitively certain that you
can meet all demands as they fall due,
without sacrificing property at half its val
Go.on the cash spstem. It makes you
independent, you can dictate your own
terms, and almost make your own bar
gains. If a merchant wants to ask you
more than a piece of cloth is worth, All
him you don't, want it Money to pay
your purchases gives you confidence, turd
instead of cringing to the seller under the
credit system, you, make him come to you.
He wants your money, and he will final
ly sell you goods at a fair price. Mr.
Cash never has his name on the mer 7
chant's ledger. He can look every man
in the face and say, "I don't owe you a
nything." Freedom from debt is one of
-the most pleasing reflections of life.- 7
Try it.
Hank is to merit what dress is to u pret
ty woman.
When you find a faithful friend
.Keep him, /rust him to the end,
For the world contains but few,
Steixy, honest, firm and true,
Some are only friends
With affections cold and tame, I
Such onei I would gladly flee- -
They are not the friends for me. -
Ddward Everett became overheated in
lestifying_itLa_courtroom,went to Faneuil
Hall, which was cold, sat in a draught of
air until his turn came to speak. "But
my hands and feet were ice, my lungs on
fire. In this condition I had to'spend three
hours in the• court room." He died in
less than a week from thus checking the
perspiration. It was enough to kill any
Professor Mitchell, while in the state of
perspiration in yellow fever, the certain
sign of recovery, left his bed, went into a
nother room, became chilled in a moment,
and died the same night. .
If, while perspiring or warmer than us
ual from exercise, or in a heated room,
there is a sudden exposure to chill air or
raw, damp atmosphere, or a draught,whe
ther at window or door, or street corner,
the inevitable result is a violent and instan
taneous closing of the pores of the skin, by
which the waste and impure matter,which
was making its way out of the system, is
compelled-to seek an exit.through some
weaker part. To illustrate : A lady was
about getting into a small boat to cross
the Delaware, but wist ing first to get her
an orange, she ran to the bank of the riv
er, and on return to the • boat found her
self much heated, for it was summer ; but
there was a little wind on the water and
her clothes soon felt cold, which produced
a cold which settled on her lungs, and
within the year she died from" consump
Muititudcs of women lose health every
year, in one or more ways by busying
themselves in a warm kitchen until wea
ry, and then throwing themselves on a bed
or sofa without covering, and perhaps
changing the dress for a common one, as
soon as they enter the house after shop
ping. The rule should be invariably to
go at once into a warm room, and keep
on all the clothing for at least tea minu
tes, until the forehead is perfectly dry.—
In all weather, if you have to walk or ride
on an occasion, do the riding first.—. Dr.
SELF REsrEcr.—Teach a man to think
meanly and contemptible of himself, to
cast off all sense of character, and moral
persuasion can no more act upon him than
if he were dead. A man my be addicted
to many views, and yet there may be hope
of reclaiming him. But the moment he
loses all sense of character•, and all con
scientiousness of superior nature, that is,
the moment he begins to look upon him
self and his vices as worthy of one anoth
er, that moment all hope for him perishes;
for the lastgronnd is surrendered on, which
it is possible for his remaining good prin
ciples to rally and make a stand. We
have often known men who have retained,
their self respect long after they had lost
their regard for principle; but not one
who retained his regnte for principle after
he had lost his self respect. Destroy this
and youdestroy everything, for a manwho
doenot respect himself, respects nothing. '
ry object of education• is as the word im
plies, to develop and unfold the powers of
the mind, to culture and discipline those
powers to call forth in the spring time.—
Education, however, riot only improves
and strengthens our mental vision, it al
so enlarges the domain of thought ; and
in that domain we shall certainly discov
er many entirely new fountains of delight
from whVph flow streams to water the waste
places in our hearts and increase our hap
piness a hundred fold. As he who•stands
on some vast mountain height can , behold
a greater expanse of tlielovely landscape,
and 'can bask in - the pleasant Sunshine ear
lier, later; and longer than he who-dwells
on .the plain below ; ad be who. stands
highest on the hill of scienceAgin see far
thest, can, pper delights from the widest
field of thought, and Can enjoy most of
that inward pace of mind,-that intellect
ual sunshine which is so essential to a tru
ly happy life. .
Every fourth year is set apart as being
peculiarly the nuillalis year, bemuse sae
has one more day to talk than any other.
Some return your love, and seem
Joyous as a sunlit stream,
Clinging to, you while in health,
Blest with happiness and wealth.
But when sorrows come and pains,
And your wealth no more remains,
Then their love and friendship flee,
Such are not the friends for me.
Give to me a trusty friend,
Standing by me to the end,
One whose hand may never tire,
One to guide and lead:me higher,
One with loving, tender mind.
Leaving selfishness behind,
One to stand the closer by me
When the world-temptations try me;
Luc, a one ong wee,
That's the trusty friend for me.
Give me one who knows no guile,
One with steady, cheering smile,
One whom I can trust for ever,
One who will betray me never,
One whose heart can keep them well,
One whose love is strong and steady,
One whose heart for me is ready,
Waiting but my friend to be= •
Oh! but that's the friend for me !
Things to be Remembered.
Terrible Case of Hydrophobia.
The Pittston (Pa.) Gazette gives the
following particulars of a most distress
ing case of hydrophobia :
About eleven weeks ago a young lady
named Cos, daughter of Miles Cox, of
went iiiFatlieyaid — tor — iiil -
some chickens. The dog • followed her,
and picking up one of the chickens ran of
with it. She chased him-with a —stick -to
recover it, and comingup with
turned upon her and bit her in the arm,
lacerating, it fearfully.' Her mother and
brother coining to the rescue. were also
badly bitten by the infuriated beast.—
The, wounds healed, however, and noth
ing more was thought of the matter. The
young woman was engaged to be married
to a young man living at Goldsboro',
named Alfred Kerrick, and the wedding
was appointed to come off at thae place
about two weeks ago. On the wedding
morning as she was about to porform her
ablutions the sight of water sent a shiv
er through her whole system and fright
ened her, and at the breakfast table the
coffee had such• an effect upon her that
she spilled it over the table. She then
omplained—of—fecling_unviell,and her
friends advised her to' remain at home;
but she said she did not want to disap
point Al. and, accompanied by a - sister,
proceeded - to Goldsboro', where - the wed
ding ceremony was performed. Immedi
ately after this she was seized pith spasnis
bearing all the indications of h dropho-
In one of her lucid intervals she warn
ed the company that she would bite them
if they did not keep away from her. But
said she to her husbanrl, "Al. you need
not be afraid, I won't bite you." In one
of her paroxysms she bit a lady who was
endeavoring to soothe her. It was the
wife of Doc. Hoffman, who drives the
stage froth Goldsboro' to Sand Cut, on
the Dilaware, Ltiokawana, and — West•
Railroad. Soon after assuring her hus
band that she would not bite him she was.
seized with convulsions, and, laying back
in his arms, died. We have seldom been
called upon to record so sad a case as
this. For one momenta happy bride and
then the victim of horrid death. The
other 'timbers •of the family who were
bitten by the dog have not, as yet, dis
played any sympto : Of the disease, but
they live in hourl ead.
Force of Imagination.
An esteemed friend of ours heard much
of the medical properties of the watersof
a certain spring some distance from where
she resided. She had read a pamphlet
that enumerated many diseases, f rom
which she recognized atleast half a dozen
with which "she was afiliCted. To her great
joy she was told that her son had to call
at the very town where the spring was lo-
catea, and a five-gallon keg and a strict
injunctiohwere laid upon him to bring
back some of the water. •
The keg was put in the wagon, and sip
ping under the seat was quite overlooked.
Th., business was urgent, and took some
time to perform it, and the water was quite
forgotten. He had got near home in the
evening, when feeling down under the seat
for something, his hand struck the keg.—
To go back was not to be thought of, - and
to 'admit his stupidity was impossible.—
He therefore drew up his horse by the side
of a wall, near which was the old sweep
well from which the family had drank
for a century, and tilling the keg went
home, The first question was :
"Did you get that water ?"
"Yes," said he ; "but darned if I see
any difference in it from any other water."
And he brought in the keg.
.A cup was handed the invalid, who
drank with infinite relish, and said she
was surprised at her son's not seeing a dif
ference. There was undoubtedly a med
ical taste about it, and it dried up as oth
er -water did, which she had always heard
of mineral water. Her soil hoped it would
do her good, and by the time the keg was
exhausted she was ready to give a certifi
cate of the'value of the - water, it having
relieved her of all her ails.
. PRAYING TO THE Potri..—A certain
lawyer, who, whilum, dwelt in one of our
New England towns, noted for its over
reachings and. shortcomings during a re
vival came under conviction. His appeals
was respanded to by one of the saints, an
coedit= but Very - pious old - man, honest,
plain, blunt, square-toed and flat-11.-:=N
who thus wentat it :
"We do most earnestly entreat thee,-0
Lord, to sanctify our -penitent brotlter,
here ; fill- his heart with goodness anti
grace, so that-he shall hereafter forsake
his .evil ways, and follow in the right path.
We do not know, however, -that it is re
quired of him who has appropriated world
ly goods to himself unlawfully and dis
honestly, that he shall make restitution
fourfold; but we do beseech thee to have-,
mercy on this. our erring brother, as it
would be impossible for- him to do this,
and let him off for the best he can do
without-beggaring himself entirely, by pay
ing twenty-five cents on the dollar.
The next applicant at the same meet
ing, was an elderly maiden who got her
.by going into different families
and spinning for them. She, also, had
been famous for her short comings—neV
er giving full accounts on her yarn; the
forty threads to a knot, was a point to
which she very. seldom reached. The
blpnt old man briefly disposed of her
"Reform, 0 Lord, the' heart of thy
handmaid here before thee, we beieech
thee ; and wilt thou enable her to count
forty !"
The "meanest man" inVeuteal Illinois
is a farmer living near Decatur. • He disc.
SU:Ai/A . l'44:T 1,;6 - 144
chbrges them for board over Suaday.•
$2,00 PER YEAR
Uit and 4:tumor .
I' How to get a good wife—take a good
irl • • go to the parson.
— An--2.52=mn.y-brapa.good.wlAhai- efore,he
shakes the stars down.
'When is a woman like a sparrow? whoa
she's in earnest (in her nest)
I A single woman has geneially a single
purpose, and we all know what that is.
Why is a negro's limb like a gambler?
Because it is a black-leg.
r Why is a man that has been knocked
down like a newly finished house? Be
e has been floored.
r Why is a greenhorn in a large city like
good butter? Because he is liable to be
A Crusty old bachelor in Congress,
proposes to levy a tax of 2,5 per cent. on
corsets, whereupon a, down east paper , re
marks—" Sine there is no tax on men
getting-tight, why-should -not-ladies-have
t he.same privilege?"'
A fabetious_gentleman_ol_Wliamsburg;
Mass., dining upon a tough fowl in a Bos
ton hotel, asked the landlady .vhere the
fowl came from. She replied that it came
••• 'a 'lli . msbur.. "Im . ossible I" ex
-Ilaimed-the-gentleman,-fort • e-town-hasn't
been incorporated over fourteen years."
A. Green County farmer recklessly
publishes the following challenge: I will
bet $42 25 that my hired man can take
longer to go to the harvest field, get back
to dinner quicker, eat more, do lea, and
bear down harder on a pannel of the fenCe,
than any other hired man within fifteen
miresirthe — fla - ptaffirr - Jeffersoir'. '
"MY son," said a good mother to her
young hopeful, "did you wish your teach
er a happy New Year?" "No, ma'am,"
responded the boy: "Well, why not?"---
"Because," said the youth, "he isn't hap
py unless he's whipping some of us boys,
and I was afraid if I wished him happi
ness, he'd go fUr me."
Two colorod preachers were in the same
pulpit together. While one was_pre4ch
ing he happened to say, "When Abraham
built the ark." The one behind him
strove to correct his blunder by saying out
loud. "Abraham warn% thar." But the
speaker pushed on heedless of the inter
ruption, and only took occasion to repeat,
still more decidedly, "I say,. when Abra
ham built the ark." "And I say," cried
out the other, "Abraham warn't thar."—
The preacher was too hard to be beaten
down in this way, and addressing the peo
ple, exclaimed with great indignation, "I
say Abraham was thar or thar Aporra."
"Look here; squire, whar was yeou
born?" saida persistant Yankee to a five
minutes' acquaintance. "I was born,"
said the victim, : "in Tremont street, No.
44, left band side, on the lst - of August,
'lBlO, at 5 o 'clock
, in the afternoon ; phy-.
sician; Dr. Warren, nurse, Sally Benja
min." Yankee was answered complete
ly. For a moment he was struck. Soon
however,- his face brightened ; and he
quickly said : "Yeas ; wa'al, I calcu
late yeti don't recollect whether it *as a
frame or a brick house, dew ye ?"
A newly fledged Philadelphia doctor
recently settled in Havana, 111., and the
first case he had was a boy, who, while he
was shelling pop 7 corn, got a kernel in his
wind pipe. The doctor examined the
case carefully looked at the patients tongue
and then told the father of the boy - to
build up a hot fire. When. that was done
the doctor told them to take, the boy and
hold him over the fire until the- kernel
got hot enough to "pop out." The old
man went up stairs and got his. shot gun,
but while he was loadifiLit, -the :doctor
escaped. • •
A DECIDED Noweordiiririr..—Old
Lady--=-"Can you tell ue i 'my - good man,
where I.cau. find Mr. Jones
Pat—"Su,re,,rna'api, I expect it would
be at his house you would find, him."
Lady—"Does_ he live anywhere in this
street .• "
Pat---" Sure, no indade ; it's not for the
likes of his to be livin' in the street at all."
Lady—Arfou stupid. fellow, I mean
what number doVs his family stop at•?'
Pat—"\ow;ma'am, you have me rho
has six boys and four girls already, but
whether he means to stop at the number"
Lady—"Oh, you blockhead !"
Exit old lady in a tremor of indigna-
•• We venture to give the following re
ceipt for tht selection of a wife :
"A place for everything and everything
in its place," said an old man to his
daughter. "Select not a wife,. my son,
who will ever step over a broomstick."
The sou was obedient to' the lesson.
"Now," said he, pleasantly, ou a May
day, to one of his companions, "I appoint
this broomstick to choose me a wife. Tim
young lady who will not step over it.shall
have the offer of my hand."
They passed from the splendid saloon
to. the grove. • Some tumbled over the
broomstick, others ,jumped over it. t
length a young lady Stooped and put it ie
its place. The promise was taltilled.—
She became tho_wifewpflut _educated and
wealthy yO:ung man, and be•the husband
of a prudent, and industrious loving life-
He brought it fo,itanti to' lief, and she,
knew how to savii
decide which was uideitlieigrmtest