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BY W. BLAIR.
VOLUME 24.
tint pottrg.
THE BETH. 0? LIFE.
Go forth to the Battle of Life, my boy s
Go while it is called to-day
For the years go out, and the years come
in,
Regardless of those who may lose or
Of those who may work or play.
And the troops march steadily:on my boy,
To the army gone before ;
You may hear the sound of their falling
feet,
Going down to the fiver where the two
world's meet;
They go to return no more.
There is room for you in the ranks, boy,
And duty, too, assigned ;
Step into the front with a cheerful grace
se outckTor - another - rmay - take your place
4 lid you may be left behind.
There is work to do by the way, my boy,
That you never can tread again ;
Work for the plow, adze, spindle and pen;
Work for the hands and the brain.
The serpent will follow your steps, my boy
To lay for your feet a snare ;
And pleasures sit in her fairy bowers, 1r
With garlands of poppies and lotus flowers,
Enwreathing her golden hair.
--TemPlations-will-wait-by-the-wayboy
Temptations without and within;
• And spirits of evil, in robes as fair
• As the holiest angels in heaven wear ;
Will lure you to deadly sin.
Then, ptit on the armor of God, my boy,
IA the beautiful days of youth ;
j Put on the helmet, breast-plate, shield,
And the sworil that the feeblest azxi may
wield
the cause of Aight and Tcxith,
Piscellatteous 3e44inff.
WHAT Ems. GILES DID.
A GOOD STORY FOR EVERY DAY LIFE
Mrs. Giles stood in the front yard, hang
ing up her Monday's washing—the last
piece had found itS place upon the line.
;'Done at last,"said Mrs. Giles, speaking
to herself, a habit which she frequently
indulged: "Now, if dinner was oui of the
way, 1 might find time to finish IRonard's
suit, this after noon ; I've had it around
so long. If I only had a sewing machine,
how much Twonld accomplish," and pick
ing up her basket,she went into the house.
The prospect within, was not very cheer
ing ; the wash tub to clear away, and din
ner to plaCe upon the table. Just as she
had begun to lay the table, Mr. Giles ap.
peared at the door, and said : "Put au ex
tra plate ; that man will take dinner with
us." Dinner was soon ready, and as soon
dispatched, for ceremony was one of the
unknown things in the Giles finally. Mr.
Giles and the stranger retired to the sit
ting room to discups the merits of a new
reaper and mower, while Mrs, Giles re
mained and cleared away the dinner ta
ble. When she had finished, and made
herself ready for die, afternoon, she went
into the siitinc , ° room. The stranger was
about taking his leave. Mr. Giles was .
saying to him :
"If you have any new thing, any thing
better, any thing . that will make work ea
sier, and do more of it, I am your man !
1 am in favor of all machinery that will
lighten work for man,;' emphasizing the
work MEN. "Why, b'ess you, just look
around my farm.'4l.Vs run mostly by ma
chinery." "Profitable? certainly," re
plied he to an interrogation, from the
stranger. "More than pays eN,penses.—
Money in the bank," he added„ never o
mitting an occasion of mentioninga small
deposite he had in the city bat*. The
stranger was gone at last, and Mrs. Giles
sat down with weary limbs and aching
shoulders, to finish a suit of clothes she
was making for her oldest son, a lad of
fifteen. Slowly and wearily the needle
went in and out; stich after stich was ta
ken, but to verylittle purpose ; it did
seem as if she never would come to the
last. But, if stiches progressed slowly,
her thoughts flew fast enough. The last
voi.ds of her husband lingered in her mind,
and again they recurred to her. "Yes,"
said she, at last, breaking forth into soli
loquy, her usual habit when much dis—
turbed in mind. "Yes, men can have
their bard . * lightened,, but poor women
May drudge. Every year, Giles has ad
ded something new to his farm implements,
when I have to plod along with hardly
sufficient utensils"to cook a decent dinner;
an old stove, without a boiler or whole
griddle, and cracked door. No wonder
I cannot bake a loaf of bread decently."
Then here I have to sit e and stitch for a
w. •
eek at this suit, when two hours on a
machine would complete the whole suit.':
It is needless to record all of Mrs. Gil
es' thoughts and words, as she sat stitch
ing the hours away. A dim eckrFicious
ness of her wrongs, and a faint determi
nation to assert her rights, was *ging
her mind. She .had, so long given up her
opinions, set aside her needs, and fo - tered
the selfishness of her husband, that, t was
bard to break through the meshes cif halo
it which his stern will had woven around
Ler. Ine afternoon wore away, anSI Mrs.
Giles laid aside the unfinished garment to
prepare the evening meal. The next
morning at breakfast, she remarked to her
husband that an agent for a sewing ma
chine had called the day previous, and
wished her to try one of his machines.—
"I told him," she said, "he might leave
one when he came next week." Mr. Giles
laid down his knife and 'fork, and sat with
utter amazement depicted on his counter
nance. "A sewing machine !" he gasped,
when he had recovered himself. "He,
needn't leave any of his new-fangled 'hum
bugs here. I've no use for them." "But
I have," interrupted his wife. "You !"
interrupted he, "I don't see what use you
have fOr a machine. Yuu could never
learn to use it, or if you did, what have
you to SOW ? Only my clothes and the boys.
Women, now-a-days, are getting mighty
independent, wantin g machines to do their
work; too lazy to do it themselves. Sup
pose they want time to gad about and gos
sip about their neighbors," •
'Why, rplip—"
q`Womaa's work is nothing," continu:
ed Mr. Giles, not .Heeding the interrup
.tion. "My mother had not as many cen
veniences for doing her work s you have,
yet she always had her meals regular,and
Well cooked, and that is mare than I can
say for you. No, I don't want any sew
ing. machines about,my house. God made
as good a sewing machine as I want when
he made woman." With this ultimatum,
-he left the table, and taking his hat he
mou rated=his-horse-aud-rode-away-tolook
at the new reaper he contemplated buy
ing. One by one the members of the fam
ily finished their breakfast, and passed
out, leaving Mrs. Giles alone. She sat
with her head resting upon her hand; her
thoughts wondered back to the days when
in the freshness of her youth, she gave her
heart's deepest and best affections to Phil- 1 '
lip Giles. Blinded by her great love for
him, she saw not the extreme selfishness
coarseness of 114 nature. Sli — e
believed all his promises, and heeded not
the warning of het friends. It seemed a
long time sincß then, so many shadows
had darkened her pathway; darker yet
seemed to grow life's rugged journey. She
saw her six sons growing tip around her,
amidst rough and evil influences, without
the ability wholly to counteract them.—
Mrs. Giles remained a long time bowed
over that breakfast table, praying with a
sense of helplessness and a feeling ofneed,
such as she had never befbre experienced.
A loud rap at the door startled her s On
opening it, she found Mr. Harris had cal
led to pay off a note which bad long been
due ; a note Mr. Giles had often declared
he should never be enabled to collect.—
"The poor wretch," he insisted, "will nev
er be able to save enough to pay his hon
est debts, while his wife spends all his
earnings on such foolish things as patent
washing machines." ,
Mrs. Giles informed Mr. Harris of her
husband's absence, but said she would at
tend to, the business. When all was sat
isfactorily settled, and Mr. Harris had
gone, Mrs. Giles sat for sonic time looking
at the roll of money in her hand. At
length a new thought came into her mind.
Carefully placing the bills in her pocket,
she went into the kitchen, and hurriedly
finishing the morning's work, and then
dressing herself she walked down to the
railroad station, which was but a quarter
of a mile distant. She was in tiii a fbr
the morning train for the city, some ten
miles away. It was nearly 4 o'clock in
the afternoon when she returned home.—
M. Giles was still absent .; Leonard, the
eldest son, stood . in the yard with the
team. "Heigho, mother," said he, "I was
just going to look for you. I thought it
was too bad for you always to walk."—
"Well, my son," she replied, "you would
not have found me; I've been to the city."
"The city! gee -whitaker," and Leonard
gaVe a prolonged whistle, "Yes,"
.said
.NErs. Giles, getting into the wagon, "and
now I wish you to go to the station with
me, and bring hc me my purchases."
Leonard mounted beside her saying:
"And so the old man did shell out for
once in his life, and give you a little mo
ney, did he?" Mrs. Giles reproved Leon
ard for speaking thus of his father, but
he continued: "Well, I can't lull) it; I
think it a mean shame; he never gives
you a cent to spend, but sends you to the
store at the station, with the same old or
der : "Please let the bearer have what
she needs." I'd make it convenient to
NRED a great many thino.s, if I were you."
W3S late when Mr Giles returned. He
hastily dismounted and gave his horse to
one of the boys. Entering the house, he
called for his. supper in no gentle tones.
Rigtunately supper was just ready, Hay
ing. satisfied his ravenous appetite, he a
rwe from the table saying; "Come, boys,
it's time you. were in bed; I'll want you
up by daybreak in the mprniug," and set
ting the example, he went to lied and was
soon sound asleep. About 11 o'clock Mrs
Giles having finished herwork, and made
preparation, for an early breakfast, retir
ed to rest. .Tjeing very such fatig . uel by
the day's excitement, she soon slept heavi
ly: •
After the first nap Mr, Giles was rest
less and uneasy:- he tossed and turned
from side to side,, but no more sleep for
him. He concluded to get up. Having
dressed himself he took the candle and
proceeded to the kitchen. The slender
tallow dip threw a lurid, light around the
kitchen. There stood,a ; new stoxe,_ with,
its black and polished face, smiling upon
him, a row of bright and, shining tinware
was neatly arranged on,the shelf behind
it. Turning, his eyes fell upon 4 wash
ing machine with a wringer attac4d; tak
ing hold of the crank, and giv,ingg a turn
or two, he said : "A sewing machine, by
thunder; but Low in the name of com
m,er sense they sew on it, is mozetn I can
01," Placing the candle on tl gt. table,
hih'eame in enntart. with t i t p li to_ n t : 4 2 l l. l 3r y..
ly•tip.t, another blasted concern I Roily!,
Polli' ; '• he exclaimed, seizing the cache
A FAMILY'NEWSPAImit,,,,,DEvarEn ziErg f RATURE, LOCAL .AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC.
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN BOUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL•II, J 872.
and hurrying back into the Sleeping room,
In his haste, his foot caught in the frame
Work of the sewing machine, and he fell
full length in, the middle of the floor,
while the candle found a resting place on
the opposite side of the room.
Mrs. Giles, suddenly roused from a sound
sleep, started up in a bewildered manner,
Saying: "What is it, Philip ?" What's
the matter?" "Matter enough," growled
he, picking himself up and rescuing the
candle from its close proximity to the bed
clothes—" Who has been filling up the
house with all that trumpery, and who
do you think is going to pay for it? If
you think I am you are much mistaken."
Mrs Giles sprang from the bed and as-.
sumed an air of dignity. "Philip Giles,"
said she, "I have always faithfully en
deavored to do my part as wife and mo
ther. I have ,patiently borne my priva
tions, thinking them necessary to husband
our means, while you have used money
without stint, to purchase machinery to
ligten your work. Now I have• resolved
upon a change. What modern improve
nientsthe.e are to facilitate woman's work
I intend to have. Nay, do not interrupt
me," she continued, as Mr, Giles made
Itn effort to speak. "Those things are
paid for, with the money dear old grand
father left me by his will, You loaned
it to Mr„Harris,doiag me neither the honor
nor the justice to have the notes drawn in
my name. Yesterday he paid it, I went
to the _city and made those _ purchases ;_
th. 7 cost less than the mower you have
just bought. The rest of the money I pla
ced in the Savings Bank."
"In your name, I suppose?" said Mr.
Giles. "Yes, in my name," continued
Mrs. Giles, "that I might have the use of
it when I wished. This farm was pur
chased with a part of that legacy, and
hereafter I intend to see that my rights
are respected, and my legal claims rightly
adjusted." And-she-did.
A MODERN WIFE.
"You're a pretty-girl to be married !"
said an aged aunt to her niece. "Why,
what do you know about housekeeping—
just from a hording school? I am sure
your husband has need of a mint of mon
ey ?"
"La, aunt, I expect to board you need
not think I shall bother my head abeut
domestic. affairs. Everybody hoards miil"
who gets married genteelly, the first yeae."
"What shall you pay a week for such
kind of living ?" inquired the aunt.
"Mr. Hyde says, that ho can get first
class board and accommodations for fif
teen dollars. two rooms beautifully situa
ted, and I'm awe that's cheap enough."
"What is Hyde's salary ?"
"Why, six hundred dollars now, and
the promise of promotion—perhaps eight
hundred before the year is oat."
"So you are going to live on perhaps,
are you ?" Nosy let me tell you, Susie,
you talk foolishly. If your husband is
at present receiving six hundred, do you
lay by one of them ? It's all nonsense to
go beyond your means."
"Why, aunt, nobody would respect us
if we did not live as stylish as other peo
ple, There is a great deal in beginning."
"True, child ;'that is what I am trying
to impress upon you."
The year passed away. Susie lived in
style, paid fifteen dollars for board, receiv
'ed her genteel acquaintances, worked some
very fancy netting, drew a few sketches
from old paintings, grow tired of board
ing, and was just entering upon fashiona
ble housekeeping, when, 10 !- a defalcation
came out. I-lyde had taken money un
lawfully, was arrested, held to bail, and
a prison stared him in the face.
Susie did not believe him guilty ; they
had always lived so economical, and it
could nut be.
But the trial proved otherwise and he
convicted and sentenced to imprisonment
for years.
"How came you to do, so 'Hyde?" ask
ed the good old aunt.
"To please my wife'S fancy," was the
reply. "She wanted to live like other
people, and wishing to gratify her, in
this way I committed my first breach of
trust." •
The broken-hearted wife lamented the
beginning she had made, when, alas! it
was too late to rectify it. She found re
spectability preferable to gentility.
She now lives at her Other's, with, a
worse than widow's sorrow to harrow her
feelings, and takes in sewing for a
livli
hood.
The plain road to ruin is here clearly
marked out. Are see what must have been
the result of such a course, but aro not
thousands of others sacrificing their hus
band's reputations by less obvious but
still as certain courses of extravagance.
.4way with the nonsensical thought that
gentility demands such a sacrifice beyond
one's ability. If you value the opinions
of the truly worthy and estimable, you
will find them always on the side of pru
dent expenditure and economical living.
"Cut your garment to suit your cloth,"
is an old maxim—but the sentiment is as
true now as in olden time. A life or
gaudy show may•do for a butterfly, nev
er for a man or woman who expects to
survive one season. •
The wife should strive to aid the hus
band in the toils of life, and honest indus
try hardly ever fails of bringing health
and contentment. Then, young man,
look well 'ere you: make choice of a life
partner,
Nobody. is sati,sfied in this world. If
a kegacy If, left a man, he regrets it is
not larger, If he finds a sum of money
he searches the spot for more. If he is
rich and wants for nothing he strives for
more wealth.
If ha is ra F l r tnin man h e is e ‘.«
for a wife and it a married,jtum. for
children..
How to get on in the World.
A working man some time ago publish
ed his own biography, one of the most in
teresting little volumes that has appear.
ed during the .present century, It is as
follows :
"It'may to some appear like vanity in
me to write what I now do, .but I should
not give' my life truly if I -omitted it.—
When filling a cart with earth on a farm
I never stopped work because my side . of
the cart might be heaped up before the
other side, at which was another work
man. I pushed' over what I had up to
help him ; so doubtless he did to me when
he was first and I was last. When I have
filled my columns of a newspaper with
matter for which I was to be paid, I nev
er stopped if I thought the subject requir
ed more explanation, because there was
no contract for more payment, or no pos
ibility of obtaining more. When I have
lived in a barrack room, I have stopped
work and taken a baby from a soldier's
wife, when she had to work, and ,nursed it
for her, or gone for water for her, or clear
ed another man's accoutrements, t.mough
it was no part of my duty to do so.
When .I. had been engaged in political
literature and travelin. ,- fbr a newspaper,
I have gone many miles out of my road
to ascertain a local fact, or to pursue a
subject to its minutest details, if it ap
peared that the public were unacquainted
with the facts of the case, and this, when
I - had - the work,was the most pleasant and
profitable. When I. have wanted work I
have accepted it at any wages I could get,
at a plow, iu farm draining, stone quar
rying, breaking stone, cutting wood, - in - a
sawpit, as a civilian or soldier. Iu Lon-
don I have groomed a cabman's horse and
cleaned out a stable for six-pence. I have
since tried literature, and have done as
much writing for ten shillings as I have
_readily obtained—both sought fbr and of
fered—ten guineas for.
But if I had not been contented to be
gin at the beginning and accept ten shil
lings, I should not have arisen to guineas.
I have lost nothing by working, ,whatev
er I have been doing, with spade or pen.
I have been my own helper. 'fire you pre
pared to imitate? Humility is always the
attendant of seuce, folly alone is proud.—
A wise divine, when preaching to the
youths of his congregation, was wont to
bay ; "Beware of being golden apprenti
ces, silver journeymen and copper mas
ters." "They only cure for pride is sense;
and the only path to promotion is conde
scension. What multitudes have been
ruined by the pride of their hearts Here
is testimony worth treasuring in mind by
everybody.
Keep the Gitte Shut.
An Eaglish farmer was one day at work
in his field, when hesaw a party of hunts
men riding about his farm. He had one
field which he was specially' anxious they
should not ride over, as the crop was in a
condition to be badly injured by th e
tramps of horses. So he dispatched one
of his workmen to this field, telling him
to shut the gate, and then 'keep watch over
it, and on no account suffer it to be open
ed. The boy went as he•was bidden; but
was scarcely at his post before the hun
ters came up, peremptorily ordering the
gate to be opened, This the boy declined
to do, stating the orders he had received,
and•his determination not to disobey them.
Threats and bribes were offered,. alike in
vain, one after .another came forward as
spokesman, but all" With the same result ;
the boy remained immoveable in the de
termination not to open the gate, After
a while one of noble presence advanced,
and said in commanding tones : "My bow,
do you know me ? I are the Duke of Wel
lington, one not accustomed to be diso
beyed ; and I command you to open that
gate, that I and my . friends may pass thro'.'
The boy lifted his cap, and stood uncov
ered before the man whom all England
delighted to honor, then answered : "I
am sure the Duke . of Wellington would
not wish me to disobey order:. I must
keep this gate shut, nor suffer any one to
pass but with my master's express permis
sion." Greatly pleased, the sturdy old
warrior lifted his own hat, and said : "I
honor the man or boy who can be neither
bribed nor frightened into doing wrong.—
With an army of such soldiers I could
conquer not only the French but the world.'
And handing the boy a glittering, sover
eign,
the old duke put spurs to his horse
and galloped away, while the boy ran off
to ,his work, shouting at the top of his
voice: "Hurrah, hurrah ! I've done what
Napoleon couldn't eo—l've kept out the
'Duke of Wellington."—Christian Week
ly.
SAVE, Lrrrtu.—Every man who is
obliged to work for his living, should
make it a point to save up a little money
for that "rainy day" which we are all lia
ble to encounter when least expected. The
hest way is to keep an account with the
savings bank: Accumulated money is al
ways safe; it; is always' ; , :-ady for use
when needed. Scrape to ! ".er five dol
lars, make your deposite; receive your
bank-book, and then resolve to deposite a
given - sum, small though it be, once a
month, or once a week, according to the
circumstances. Nobody knows without
trying it how easy it is to save money
when an account with a bank has been
opened. With such .an account a man
feels a desire to enlarge his deposite. It
gives him lessons in frugality and econo
my, weans him from habits of extrava
gance, and is the very best guard in the
world against intemperance, dissipation,
and vice.
Preserve. your conscience always soft
and sensitive. If but oue sin forces its
.1 • •
;i" V. • tat; Z.4V , L1.1
r ,
suffersd•ts.dwirthere, ilsbroad is pay
edfor s thciurapil iniquities..
ROPE ON.
BY ERB. ANNIE E. LOWERY. '
When thy life, like cloudy weather,
Is with darkness overcast,
,And fate whirls thee like a feather,
Borne upon the wintry blast;
.F l 'en when darkest skies are lowering,
Let not hope forsake thy heart ;
Perchance it may, like summer's flowers,
In glorious radiance start.
Hope thou on, when fate betide thee ;
Hope alone can comfort give ;
While thou hast a friend beside thee,
Thou must have an aim to live.
Hope. but not too much in earthly—
Fleeting things that pass away ;
Ere the anxious hand has grasped them,
They have mouldered to decay. •
Hope, but not for fame or glory,
Transient meteors, luring on
To a gilded name in glory;
All too dearly are they won.
Hope thou on, but not to follow
After titles, rank, or wealth;
This world's titles oft are hollow—
'Riches cannot give you health.
Hope thou on, yes, hope forever,
In the trust that faileth not;
Hope when we've crossed deaths river,
With the just to cast our lot.
Hope still looking toward the fountain,
Whence all healing waters flow ;
Hope that in the holy mountain
We the joys of heaven may know.
How to Speak to Children.
It is usual to attempt the management
pf children either by corporeal punish
ment, or by rewards addressed to the seas
es,, and by 'words alone. There is one
other means of govermnent, the power
and importance of which are seldom re
garded‘—l refer to the human voice. A
blow may be inflicted upon a child, ac
companied with words' so uttered as to
counteract entirely its intended effect; or
the parent may use language quite ob
jectionable in itself, yet spoken in a tone
which more than defeats its influence.—
What is it that lulls the infant to repose?
It is an array of' mere words. There is
no charm to the untaught one, in letters
syllables and sentences. It is the sound
which strikes its little ear that sooths and
composes it to sleep. A few notes, how
ever unskillfully arranged, if but read in
a soft tone, are found to possess a magic
influence. Think we that this influence,
is confined to the cradle? No; it is diffus
ed over age, and ceases not while the
'child remains under the parental, roof—
Is the Is the boy growing rude in manner,
and boisterous in speech? I know no in
strument so sure to control these tenden
cies as the gentle tones of a mother. She
who speaks to her son harshly does but
give to his conduct the sanction of her
own example. She pours oil on the al
ready raging flame. In the presence of
duty we are liable to utter ourselves
harshly to children. Perhaps a threat is
expressed in a loud and irritating tone ;
instead of allaying the passions of the
child, it serves directly to increase them.
Every fretful expression awakens in him
the same spirit which produced it. So
does a pleasant voice call up agreeable'
feelings.
Whatever ' disposition, therefore, we
would encourage in a•Child, the same we
should manifest in the tone in which we
address it-
P.vritorto Prc-runri.George Will
iam Curtis paints the following pathetic
picture, which every one could
. wish less
true to nature : "I think of many and
many a sad eyed woman I have known
in solitary country homes, who seemed
never to have smiled, who struggled with
bard hands through melting heat and
pinching cold to hold bdck poverty and
want that hovered like wolves about an
ever-increasing flock of children,
How it was scour in the, morning, and
scrub at night, and scold all day long !
How care blurred the window a
cloud hiding the lovely landscape low
anxiety snarled at her heels, dogging her
like a cur! How little she knew or par
ed that bobolinks, drunk with blithe idle
ness, tumbled and sang in the meadows
below, that the earth was telling the time
of year with flowers in the woods above.
As I think of these things, of this solita
ry, incessant drudgery, of the taciturn
husband coming in heavy with sleep, too
weary to read, to talk, to think, I do not
wonder that the mad houses are so richly
recruited from, the farm houses as the sta
tistics show."
A man ought to, carry himself in this
world as an orange tree would if it could
walk up and down in the garden, swing
ing perfume front every little censer it
holds 1:p to the air.
A celebrated writer says that if one
could read it,. every human beinkr carries
his life in his face,, and is good looking or
the reverse, as that life has been good or
evil.
A just and reasonableMod(NtY does not
only recommend eloquence. but *lets off
every talcut which a man can be possess
ed ef. -
Afflicton fall upon some as the genial
showera upon earth's bosom, to cull forth
air timers from seeds long sterile.
There may be a hundred geese with all
their quillii In one pen.
Science ihoiva clearly that man has liv
ed upon this. earth for more than 6,000
years.
IC you always live with those who are
law., you wiii yourself learn to. Limp. .
4frays.ctx4 hand—Your thumb,.
Camp Meeting Incident
Some of our readers may remember
the story of soaping the Signal horn. .
The story rius that when a certain re
vivalist celebrity took up the horn, to
summon the worshipers ti, services after
dinner one day, he blew a strong blast of
soap all over the astonished brethren. It
is also said by the chronicler of this "item"
that he mied out aloud:
"Brethren, I have passed through ma
ny tribulations and trials, but nothing
like this. I have served the ministry, for
thirty years, and in that time never ut
tered a profane word, but I'll be--if
I can't whip the man that soaped that
horn !"
Well this is a strong story ; but we
have from• a reliable authority, something
a little stronger in the sequel to the same
incident. This is given as follows :
Some two days after the horn soaping a
tall, swarthy, villainous-looking deperda
do strolled on the ground and leaned a
gainst a tree, listened to the eloquent ex
hortation to repent which was made by
the preacher. After a while he becam
interested, finally affected, and commenc
ed groaning in the "very bitterness" of
his sorrow. The clergyman walked down
and endeavored to console him. No
cousolatiou—he was too great a sinner he
said. Oh, no—there was pardon for the
vilest. No, he was too wicked—there
was no hope for him.
"Why, What crime have you commit
ted? said the preacher, `haveyou stolen?"
"Oh, worse than that !"
"What ! have you by violOnp,e robbed
femaleinnocense-ofits-virtuer-
"Worse than that—oh, worse than that!"
"Murder is it? gasped-the now horri
fied preacher.
"Worse than that !" groaned the smit
ten sinner.
• The excited preacher commenced " eel
ing off" his outer garments.
Here, brother Cole !" he shouted, 'hold
my coat. I've found the fellow that soap
ed that horn."
Josh Billings on Jersey Lightning.
Jersey lightning is eider brandy, three
hours old, still born, and quicker than a
flash. The juice iz drunk raw by all old
sports, and makes a premonitory and his
sing noise az it winds down the throat like
au old she goose setting, on eggs, or a hot
iron stuck into ice water.' Three horns a
day of this licker will tan a man's interi
or in six months so that he kan swallo
live six footed crab, feet fast, and not waste
a wink.
It-don't fat a man (cider don't) like
whiskee doz but puckers him up like fried
potatoes. If a man kan survive the fust
three years drinking &racy lightning,ho iz
safe for the next 75 years to come, and
keeps looking every day more and more
like a three year old pepperpod, hotter and
hotter. An old cider brandy drinker will
steam, in a sudden shower of rain, like a
pile ov stable manure, and his breth smell
like a bunghole of a rum cask lately emp
tied. When Jersey lightning iz fust born
it tastes like biling turpentine and cayen
ne, half and half, and will raise a blister
on a Bair of old cowhide brogans in 15
minutes, i and applied.externalry will cure
rumatism or -kill the patient, I forget
which. The first horn a man - takes of this
licker will make hint think he has swal
lowed a gas light, and he 011 go out be
hind the bar awl trie to die, but kant.—
The eyes of an old - cinderbrandiSt looks
like deep gashes cut into a ripe tomatto,
hiz note is the komplexshun of a half boil
ed lobster,' and • the grizzle in his- gullet
sticks out like an 'elbow in a tin lieader.
The more villainous the drink; the more
inveterate are those who drink. I kant
tell yer whether cider- brandee will shor
ten an old sucker's days or not, for they
generally outlive' all the -rest of -tho ria
burs, and die just as sow' as the old:tavern
stand changes .hands, and iz -opened on
temperance principles. puelwttle-ov- sas
ir saparilla or ginger popp isas fatal to these
!old fellers as a rifle ball iz tew a bed-bug.
Z.7—An item .is go-
ing the rounds of the exchanges, stating.
that• a woman school teacher in Utica,.
Wisconsin, allows the pupils five minutes
to go out and see the railway. train when
it passes. This is a sensible teacher. In
old times the windows of school houses
were built so high as to prevent the lit
tle prisoners from look ing. out, and. an
elephant might pass by and the little ur
chins be compelled to keep there eyeson.
their books, lest they might through the.
open door, catch a glimpse of the anima.
No wonder boys and girls came to. hat
school hours, and to look upon: then its
the darkest hours of ' the twenty-lbw...—
That woman teacher in Wisconsrn. is
sound in her head ; she favors "object
teaching," she would give- a. recess were a
menagerie to pass or a 'circus band to go
, and the children would study 'all the
harder for the indulgence..
FELON ON THE FINGED.—Many per
sons suffer'extremely tiom felons on the
finger. Thaw afflictions are not only Pain-.
ful, but • frequently occasion permanent
crippling of the members affected. The
following simple prescription is recom
mended as a cure for this distressing
fUr
mont. common. rock salt, and). as
is used for salting down pork or beef; and
mix with spirits of turpentine in equal
parts ; put on a rag and rap around the
affected part, and as it gets dry put on
more, and in twenty-four - houri you are
cured. The felon will_biolea4.
London. 19 the largest- city in. the world,
far surpassing all those of antiqUity:
cording to,Gibben, the popfulatien 'offal;
dent ltame, in ,the height:of' its
cence, was 1,00,000; the .popultitlintif.
Pekin.. supposed to be about, 000,000
that t;v7-- ,00,0X42=1 i ;
twelfth of the Fipillatkortliof the , whOW
I.7n4ted;States.,
•2,00 PEE YEAR
NUMBER 45
and:flinnor
frii}r is an old maid like an unsqueezed
lemon? Sha'n't tell!
\......--
Why are the poor like carpets? They
are held down by tax.
Many young men are so improvident
they cannot keep anything .but late hours.
he minister who boasted that he could
preach without notes didn't mean bank
notes.
A Toledo young man was quite smit
ten by his neighbor's wife. She smote
him with the rolling pin.
When a man has "no mind of his own"
his wife generally gives him a piece t:if
__hers.
Who was the straightest-man-meation
ed in the Bible? Joseph, because Plt
roah made a ruler of him. 1
The man who steadily went through
the whole bill of fare, and tonk each dish
in succession, may be said to have "din
ed out."
"Peter," said a mother to her son, "are
you into them sweetmeats again?" "No,
ma'am; them sweetmeats arc into.me;"
A Danbury, Connecticut, dog has learn
ed to bring in eggs from the barn,and his
delighted owner names him Leig Hunt.
' A clergyman asked a sea captain his
views about a future state, and was an
swered that, he did not meddle himself
with state affairs.
sent-minded resident of Danbu
shut down a, window, / on( ay, and for
got to draw in his head. He was calling
for Helen Blazes when discos Bred.
The latest fashion in trimming , bonnets
is with four or five small humming-birds
on the front, with lace rosettes and4ib.
bons.. The next thing. will 'be .to-have a
bird's nest on the top.
ect,a California . Fair, recently, several
bottles of strained honey wereput on ex
hibition, when a chap put a bottle of castor
oil with the rest. The opinion of all who'
tried it was, that the bee that-made it was
a fraud. „: •
"What countryman are you? inquired
an English gentleman of a. vagrant. "An
Irishman, please your honor." His lord
ship b ask:d, "Were. you ever at sea r—
"Ccime, your honor,' answered Paddy,
"d'ye think I crossed from Dublin in a
wheelbarrow ?"
And Irishman who was reprieved tho
night before the time set for his execu
tion, and who wished to get rid of hiS
wife, wrote to her as follows :
"I was yesterday hanged and died like.
a hero ; do as I did, sud bear it like
man."
A couple in Oregon got tired of. Hying
together, and mutually signed a paper
which they drew for themselvei—toewith
giving her husband a full *.ditdrce, and
wishing him all the happiness. he:could
get," and the husband giving liis - wife - a
little rat Colored, .
A 'HIED bad . tak
en into'hi's service, for general utility, a
Door lad, for whose spiritual' welfare' ho
was of course, bound to;look out. De
siring one morning to put in practice his
benevolent intent, he called the boy to
his study, and with a; visage of the gray : -
est sort said :
"Sam, do you know you are a sinner?"
"Yes," falteringly' replied Sam.
"Do you know what • will become of
you, if you do not repent?"
Receiving no coherent reply, •he
launched into repentance and redemption
encouraged by the - evident impression
made by his' words, and feeling no. small
,compunction the While that he had so
long neglected a 'subject of grace' prOmpt
ly responded:.
"Sum, what is a sinner?"
Imagine the situation •when the 'sub
ject of grace' promptly responded:
"Sinner,. sir ? Yes,sir ; sinners is strings
in turkey's legs, sir."
The sinews of the parsons face relax
ed..
In. Boston, many years ago, there lived
(as there:do now,. we -Venture to say,) two
young fellows, rather waggish , in their
ways, and. who were in the habit of patxo
nizino• a tailor by the name of Smith.--
Well, one day into his shop. these two
young bloods strolled. Says one of them :
"Smith we've been: making a bet... Now
we' want yon to• make each, of us a suitof
clothes, wait till the be is decided, and
the one that lesses'will pay the whole."
" . ‘Certainly,, gentlemen, shall. be ruu,t
happy to serve you," says Smith..
And forthwith their measures were- ta
ken, and in due course of time the clothe:3
were sent home. A month.or twb passed
by, and yet our friend, the tailor,. saw
nothing of his customers. Oneslay,. how
ever, he met them., and thinking it was
almost time the bet was decided,. he mad
up to them,and askelhow, their clothes fit-
ted..
"0, eiMellently," - sajls one., ".E.vrthe-bye,
Smith, our bet i,nt decided yet."
• "Ah !". says Smitin."what mit 9 .7
"Why, I bet that. when. Bunker Hill
Monument falls, itteill.fall towards the
ioilth- Bill, hcre,,took roe up,.and when
:tkii , liet.is - decidetleguiLeu,ll-Iud4RRY Yon
*ii. little bill " ' . •
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