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VOLUME 25.
.*eltzt Vottrg.
- 11Y-KAL.
LIFE.
'They shy life is an empty dream,
A vain and fleeting show ;
Its lights will soon forget to gleam,
Its streams of bliss to flow.
They write it as a guideless•bark
Upon life's boundless sea ;
A meteor ray—a single mark .
...Of what doth quickly flee:
They say life is a darksome way,
With scarce a star to guide ;
The•lizhts but flicker, fade Away,
Upon the shoreless tide.
'Tis likened to a bliale - of grassy -- -
1 shadow, and a flower;
That witherethwhen the whirlwinds pass,
Apd lingers but an hour. -
And this Alley flay is life—this dream !
But ali rifeannot tie ;
_Else why did reason _ on us beam,
If thus its bearas..lnust,flie : E'
While measurements as mastancl2deep, _
As earth and air,:sre given;
(LA ife is-not-a-dreamy—sleep,__
But half of earth and heaved.
I deem not aught that God hath made,
A vain or useless thing;
Even though its dowers quickly fade,
Each (loth a new hope bring..
___Tkon_let, us pray for strength to
Our-feeble-
And look w•l
EM=ISOMi
Beyond this earthly night
COOD•BY.
, W. EMERSON.
Cood-by, proud world! I'm going home;
Thou art not my mind, and I'm not shine.
Long through thy weary crowds I roam ;
A river-ark on the ocean brine.
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam;
But now, proud world! I'm going home.
Good-by to flattery's fawning face ;
To grandeur with his wise grimace;
To upstart wealth's averted eye;
To supple office, low and high ;
To crowded hails, to court and street;
To frozen hearts and basting feet;
To those who goand those who come—
Good-by, proud world, I'm going home.
lain going to my own hearth-stone,
Bosomed in yon green hills alone—
ecret nook in a pleasant lam',
Whose groves the frolic faries planed;
"Whose arches green, the livelong day,
Echo the blackbird's roundelay.
And vulgar feet have never trod—
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.
Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome!
And when I'm stretched beneath the pines,
Where the evening star se holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan:
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?
Bis . ttilatteous 'gtading.
I''l • 3(13 r s) ;A Szfl
BY ABIIY SAGE niculunsox
All families have their own private
and personal traditions. Ours—proba
bly because so many generations of us
have been born and died by the
. sca.—are
always of shipwreck. In all the stories
told in my childhood, in the twilight, or
by the winter lire, I scarcely remember
one that has not for its central porat of
interest the figure of a lost, dismantled
ship, with many freighting souls, within
her, going down in black, angry waters.
The first shipwreck I remember to
have heard about, for many years tinged
my childish dreams with some of the hues
of its own melancholy. It was that of
my own granfather, who sailed away from
Salem harbor, Massachusetts, one bright
summer morning, many, many years be
fore I was born. He was a vigorous,
handsome man, they said, and walked
his ship's deck like an emperor. From
the long wharf; running into the harbor
—then so full of life and bustle, now so
dead to all the stirrings of commerce—my
grandmother, holding her little son by
the hand, looked her last upon the re
treating sails, after the form of her hus
band had blended with his ship. And
from the moment that her eyes thus bade
him firrewell, it is not known that any
mortal eyes ever beheld the doomed ves
sel again. In the language of the story,
as I heard it—listening with a vague,
childish awe, "neither ship, nor captain,
nor any of the men were ever seen or
heard of afterward."
There were many conjectures about
, their fate. One I remember. was that
' some revengeful British man-of-war had
found the lonely merchantman on the
high seas, and had burned her to the wa
ier's edge. For it was just after the
peace of the war of 1812 that my grand
'father sailed on this ill fitted voyage, and
au my of his good friends thought then
;Mat pirates and Britisher were words of
Ilk same coin. There was a report also
which somewhat aided this conjecture ;
how a Boston captain coming from a
long cruise, had passed, one night, far out
at sea, the hull of a burning vessel, and
sailing cautiously around to find, if he
could see, any living man about her sides
a sudden burst of flame had lighted up
Ler _ fi,,uredhead_ and showed him the
name of the missing ship. No living
creature was seen or heard near her, and
the story, as it was told, sounded so dim
and unreal, that it seemed like little
more than a fancy of his who told it.—
• • l ested the ho le
that some of the ship's crew, had got a
way in boats, and that they might some
time be heard from. The hope" haddied
out many years before I heard the story,
but it revived in my childish brain, and
fir many years I had a secret fancy that
the old man, whose hair and beard had
turned silver gray in the long sad years,
was waiting on some solitary isle, like
Alexander Selkirk, for a friendly ship
.ke
to ta.. nim home. Many a time ail-Ilk-bli
the story over, my heart has beat raptur
ously at the thought of the welcome I
' would give the tired shipwreck wanderer,
- and - my-immagination has throbbed with_
visions of the strange stories his exile
I would be rich in.
— Thou - was another-shipwreck, which
fascinated nre strongly, although it had
none of the mystery in its tragic ending
_which gave- the last such a hold on my
imagination. The hero - Of this - ale - was
-the-husbaud_of_a_great Mint of mine, who
in _ spite,of her venerable title wears an
immortal halo of youth and beauty in my
fancy. She.was a bride—a bride of hard
six=months'— duration-when_lier hus-
and sailed out of one of the
,n-the—llfassachusetts coast
_ leavinc , her
in a village that nestles down there ify tT
black sea. Up to this day tradition has
.notlorgetten what a blythe, sweet voice
she had, and what bonny brown hair. A
month or two_after_the_ve4qPi went qwny
—she was only - a - c - oast - trading-schooner
—a sudden sea storm came up; and while
the anxiousdlvdlers - ort - shore-- were wait
ing to see the fleet of startled fish boats
outside the harbor come in for safe an
chorage, _they all at once descried this
schooner beating in upon some sharp rocks,
only a mile or two from shore. It was
so fhr but all eyes on land could see every
motion of the stricken vessel. j
For hours they watched her, till the
cruel rocks had gored her through and
through, and the last plank, with its help
less, struggling freight, had gone under
the boiling surge. With the other watch
ers on shore stood the happy bride of six
months, her beautiful hair streaming in
the salt wind, and her sweet voice hoarse
with anguish as she cried to earth and
heaven for help for that sinking boat.
"And although up to that time her hair
had never showed a single thread of gray,"
so ran the story in my girlish car, "and
though she was barely twenty-four years
old when she saw her husband's vessel go
down so cruelly under her poor eyes, iu
less than a week from the day she saw him
drown her hair had turned as whitens
drifted snow." She never married again,
although her voice grew blithe once more,
and made cheerful music in the homes of
her many kinsfolk, till her face grew old
to match the bleached hair.
Another of my shipwrecks has a flavor
of India's coral strand. It is of another
kinswoman who went on a long voyage
with her husband, He was an East In
dia merchant, bound to China.and the
ports of Calcutta and Bombay. .J-Ie had
a little boudoir fitted up on board his ship
for her, to whose furnishing all foreign .
lands had been made tributary, and there
she abode many months iu the voyage
through tropical waters, as choicely taken
care and waited upon as the queen of ma
ny at large realm.
Somewhere off the Malay peninsula a
typhoon struck the vessel, and whirled it
upon some sharp locks, where she lay im
paled and helpless. Fortunately they were
not far from land, and in the ship's boat
they reached a flat, low-lying shore, with
a thick, green jungle only a few rods back
from the sea. Here the captain landed
his wife, her pet dog, and a few animals
from the ship's live stock, which he had
not the heart to leave on board to perish.
Then, leaving her one of the ship's boys
for protection, he took his boats and crew,
and went back to the wreck, which still
held first to the rocks, to see if he could
save the most valuable part of his mer
chandise.
In the.full glare of the burning sun,
beating down on that white.strip of sea
beach, the captain's wife waited, not dar
ing to seek the delicious shads of the jun
gle,lest there might be wild beasts or dead
ly malaria lurking in its green fitstiness.
As dark drew near, and the boats did not
return, the• two or three goats and jigs
who had been saved from the ship, wan
dered from the beach, and were seized up
on by two huge tigers, who rushing upon
them from their covert in the jungle ;
clutched and bore their prey away with
them. Imagine the horor of the lady and
the ship's boy, who were near enough to
the .monsters to see the yellow glare of
their fierce eyes. The little dog, as if he
had a human sense of danger,-would not
approach the jungle, but ran up and down
the beach for hours, in a little circuit close
about his mistress, uttering all the time a
sharp, quick bark, which she always be
lieved helped to frighten the wild animals
away. Perhaps the feline part of them
was awed by the bark of even so small a
canine ; perhaps they did not care to at
tack human beings. At any rate,although,
the tigers appeared twice or thrice to take
away the pigs and goats, they made • no
motion to approach the lady and fright
ened boy. When the boats returned with
the best part of the ship's cargo safe, they
made huge fires on the hot sand to keep
away the beasts, and slept soundly in their
boats, drawn up on the shore. The next
- U • ;."'" Il V.M. I I 4 1 4 1 _1"7 4 k 1 / 4 0 ;.; k
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 13, 1872.
day they sought-oura—native-towni—and
shortly after found an American ship,
which took them back to Boston harbor
again.
I think it was of an uncle of hers that
my grandmother used to tell a story of
shipwreck,which always made us cry. All
the preliminary circumstances have fad
ed from our memory up to the fact that a
crowded boat load of men were afloat up
on the ocean without water, and without
food. They had'gnawed to rags the lea
ther of their shoes' soles, and the leather
of their belts. A friendly rain, whose
Td - _
AessCmoss -
their handkerchiefs and clothing, had
kept them from going mad with thirst
while they lay thus for days on a becalm
ed and dreadful ocean. Now hunger had
begun to get the better of the braves of
them, and at first with hints, and finally
with spoken words it had been made known
that one.must die to furnish food for the
others.* ' They cast lots for him, and it
ihil--onAhe-elder-of two-h others, who was
a married man and had a wife and five'
small children at home. The then youn
ger brother, who had no tie to hold him
to life, except the brave love of it, be
sought his eider brother to let him die in
his stead, and reminded him so movingly
°tithe wife and babies who were his cause
to live, .eliti•eating' all - his - other - comrades .
to accept him as the substitute for a life
better worth preserving than his own,that
even - the-hunger-maddened-men e r e_
moved to tears, and the dew of a blessed
iiityMT)istafed - the - fever - of - theirparched
brains. And while they paused, a sail ap
peared on the horizon, neared them with
the help of a fresh upspringing breeze,
rtial - before - tWiNWWV.sGtTd;:they=were_ -
safe and succored on board a vessel which
Yo - re them swiftly - home.—This-sounds like
an incident from an old black letter book
of voyages, yet my grandmother had it
from the lips of him who was one of the
moes_ofAhe_stor_
There_are_so.man
ing the past with visions of shipwreck,
that they make the crawling hungry ocean
seem like a great charnel house with aisles
of graves hidden ender its arching billows.
No beauty in it at best, but the :cruelest
thing in all nature, even - when it lies most
peaceful and serene under the smiling sky.
A thousand ghosts from the old winter's
tales rise up, hardly to be laid, whenever
I think of it, but I conjecture them down,
and end with a little incident of shipwreck,
which happened only a few years ago,
while the civil war was raging among us.
The story was told me by a friend whose
sister sailed on a steamer bound for the
Pacific coast. They were wrecked just off
Florida, on Roncanda.r Reef. On a part
of this reef, only a little above,,sea-level,
and so nearly submerged that a violent
storm might lash the waves over the
wretched foothold they found there, three
hundred people clung to a bare hope of
safety. They had somethtno• to eat, a
meager allowance, and they had constant
hope of being seen by vessels, which were
sure to pass that way. Thus they drag
ged through the dreadful week till succor
reached them in the form of a United States
steamer of Farragoes fleet, which came
to take them off. During this time a ba
by had been born,there on this bald reek,
and named from it, Roncadora, in com
pliment to the poor succor whichlthe reef
had given the mother in her bitter travail.
When the steamer found them out, and
the officers and men from the fleet came
to bear the ship-wrecked sufferers on board,
they were so weakened by missery and
want of food that the strongest men were
like babies, and had to be carried away,
in the strong arms of the sailors.
The shipwreck interested me greatly,
and I cherished it too as one in which no
one I had known had suffered any part.
A year later I was telling it to a little
company, among whom wavily stalwart
cousin, who sailed in Admiral Farragues
fleet, the youngest officer among them all;
As I spoke he started up crying—" That
wad .111 Y steamer. We helped those poor
creatures off the reef: I carried in my
arms to the ship's boat, men who were too
weak to walk even in the excitement of
being saved." And with many graphic
words he told anew the story of the res—
cue ; how shipwrecked men and women
shed tears of joy on the breast of their pre
servers; and bow tenderly the sailors nur
sed them, till they could bring them safe
to land.
Com Dow, FATIIER.--Some one has
paraphrased the song "Dear Father Come
Home," as follows : Oh, Father dear fa
ther, come down with the stamps, my
dressmaker's bill is unpaid—she said she
would send it right home from the shop,
as soon as the flounces were made. My
new dress from---is down in thif ball,
the boy will not leave without pay—l've
nothing to sport with-can't go to the ball,
so please send the shop boy away ! Come
down ! come down ! Please father, dear fa
ther, come down ! Oh, hear the sweet voice
of thy child, who cries in her room alone;
oh, who could resist her most beautiful
tears ? So, father, with stamps you'll come
down: Oh,. father, dear father come down
with the stamps, my curls are not fit to
be seen—the hair-dresser said be could not
do them up unleSs I could pay him fifteen
—he only asks twenty to give a new set,
and take the old hair in exchange— besid
es, Pa. my waterfall's awfully rough, and
so my back hair will look strange. Come
down ! come down? Please father, for Bri
tain come down !
If God should put suddenly into mon
ey, or its representative, the power to re
turn to its rightful owner ; there is not a
bank or a safety deposite that would not
have its sides blown out; and parchments
would rip, and gold would shoot, and
mortgages would rend, and beggars
would get horses, and stock gamblers
would go to the almshouse.—Rev. T. D.
Talmage.
y of these stories crowd-
= = 43es-to-let-Married .
A Yankee old bachelor was once banter
ed on the subject of matrimony by a young
girl, who told him she didn't believe he
ever found.a woman who'd have him.
"Yes, I did," replied he, " I had three
chances to get married, and they all "bus
ted," so I never tried a fourth."
"Pray how was that ?" inquired the
young lady.
"Why, you see, I courted Deacon Haw
kin's darter , Deborah—Deb, they used to
call her—and so one night we made it up
between us to get married. Well, while
e-were-going-to-the-parson's, I accident
ly slouched my foot into a mud 'puddle
And spattered mud• all over Deb's new
gown; it was made out'n one of her grand
mother's chintz petticoats, and she was so
proud at' the rig that she got mad as hops.
Wa'al, when we got to the parson's the
ceremony began, and he asked Deb if she
would take me for her lawful wedded hus
band. "No !" • says she ; "I've• taken a
mislikin' to him since I left home 1"
"The parson laughed, and so did his wife
and darter, who had come in to see the
ceremony, and I felt streaked as thun—
der, while Deb went off in a miff:
"Wa'al, it was all up, of course, for the
time being: but I was determined to have
somesatisfaction for such mean treatment,
to - shine - up - toher -- again-;--I
r - again -; -
gin her a new string of beads, a few kis
ses and some other notions until finally
_we _made it all up,and_welffent to_the
son's a second time. We was stood out
-in the middle of the room and he ax'd me
if I would take the Deborah for my law
ful wedded wife? "No!" said I, "I've ta
ken a mislikin' to her since I was here
imt_r
"This was a stunner for poor Deb, who
turned white as-a-sheet,and-the-parson's
wife ran for her smellin' salts.
I began to relent a; little when I saw
how she took it ; but it proved only to be
nanutes
more she was skittiu away for home, live-
ly as a cricket.
"It was some weeks before I could bring
round the gal agin to let me spark her,
and it proved rather an expensive job,too,
for I had to buy her a span new caliker
gown which cost hard on four dollars:—
That fbehed her and made a sure thing
of it. So we went a third time to the par
son's expecting to be tied so fast that all
natur' couldn't separate us. We ax'd him
to begin the ceremony, , as everything was
all right now.
'I shunt do any such. thing!' said he,"for
I've taken a mislikin' to both of you since
you were here last. •
"Thereupon Deb burst out a crying,
and the parson's wife she burst out a laugh
ing, and - the parson burst out a scolding;
and I burst out the front door and put for
home. Next day, hearing that Deb had
licked the parson and pulled out nearly
all his wife's hair, I concluded that my
chances with such a filly - buster would be
rather squally, so I let hsr slide."
Romantic Marriage.
At noon yesterday an event of unusual
interest took place at the Home for the
Friendless—the marriage of Judson P. Es
may, a conductor on the Northwestern
Road, to Martha Arlingdale, one of the
pupils in the Industrial School.
- As nearly as can be ascertained, the
history of Miss Arlingdale is as follows :
Her father was an officer in the rebel ar
my, and was killed in 1864, and her mo
ther died - shortly afterward, at Helena,—
She was brought to Plainfield 111., by
Capt. James Baker, of the Union army,
and for six months had a home in his fam
ily, when she was sent to the Home for
the Friendless in this city. Having been
taught to read and to sew, she was adop
ted into a family at Clinton, lowa, but
the death of her benefactor caused her to
be returned to the Home. On her way
thither she attracted the attention of her
future husband, who :placed her in the
hands of Mrs. Grunt and Miss Bowman,
and requested permission to visit her.—
For two and a half years he has watched
over his protege, only to claim her yester
day as his bride.
Mrs. Esmay is sixteen years of age, pe
tite in figure, and a brunette with flashing
black eyes. She has been fairly educated,
is amiable in temperament, and was a
general favorite with the lady managers
of the Home.
Mr. Esmay is twenty-nine years old,
bears a high character, and has two broth
ers in this city who are greatly esteemed.
A wedding based .upon such romantic
circumstances necessarily created a great
sensation. For some time the lady Direc
tors of the Home have been preparing for
the event, and . the fair bride was forced
to accept an outfit at the hands of those
whose hearts she had reached. The ar
rangements for the dress were made by
Mrs. Perry H. Smith, Mrs. Edward Ely,
and Mrs. H. M. Buell,and material there
of was contributed by several parties.—
Mrs. William C. Dow decorated the re
ception-rooms with flowers, and Mrs. Mar
tin Andrews sent the bridal bouquet.
The ceremony took place at noon in
the reading-room, Elder Boring officiat
ing, in the presence of a large number of
ladies. The bridesmaids were eighteen
girls from the Industrial School. The
bride wore a drab traveling dress, gloves,
and veil, and a white hat trimmed with
drab, and relieved by rose-colored ribbons.
In her left hand was an elegant bouquet.
The groom was attended by his two broth
ers. On the conclusion of the ceremony,
Elder Boring presented a Bible, When the
party repaired to the residence of the el
der brother, and last evening repaired to
Oak Park, to spend the' honeymoon vithlk
a relative.—Chicago Tribune, May 3.
It is said that one green tarleton dress
contains arsenic enough to kill a man; and
vet men don't seem to be afraid to go nearl
green tarleton dresses. .
The world strethces, widely before you,
A field for your music and brain ;
And though clouds may often float o'er you,
And often come tempests and rain;
Be fearless of storms that overtake you—
Push forward through all like a man—
Good fortune will never forsake you
If you do as near right as you can.
ReMember, the will to do rightly,
Huse& will the evil confound ;
Live daily by conscience, that nightly
Your sleep may be peaceful and-sound.
In contests of right never waver—
Let honesty shape every plan,
And life will of Paradise savor,
If you will do as near right as you can.
Though foes darkest scandal may speed
And strive with their shrewdest of tact
To injure your fame, never heed,
But justly and honestly act:
And ask of the Ruler of Hem en
To save your fair name as a man,
And all that you ask will be given,
If you do as near right as you can.
Stupid People.
A number of the The Saturday Jour
iiattsiys : — "I - think-stupid-persons
take of Nature." This is a very savage
indictment of Nature, which generally
knows-what it is doing, as well as agy
body. When there are so many stupid
people, most of whom enjoy themselves
to the utmost, it is not kind to speak illy
of them. Let us consider a few of them.
Take the, profane map. He imagines
that profanity is an evidence of smart
bass and superiority ; that using the name
of - his-Maker-vainly-elevates—him_in_the_
estimation of others. How grossly stu
pid ! •
Remark him who makes lone tiresome
prayers in public places, wears sanctimo
nious airs and sniffles daily. He suppos-
es that such con' uct cowmen s im o
his neighbors as an extra good man. He
cannot realize that common sense reads
his character as clearly as one reads • a
street sign.
The gambler, who usually dressing in
purple and fine linen, supposes that the
advice once given by a dying man to his
sons, is good morality. "Finally, my
sons, get money. Get it honestly if you
can, but get money." He lives by ly
ing, trickery and cheating, never think
ing he will die "as the fool dieth." Stu
pid ! Stupid !
But is he any more stupid than the
money-grasping man who puts on .the
"livery of the court of heaven," if not to
serve the devil in, at least to cover his
bad deeds from the sight of man, and to
hoodwink his Maker—very likely at last
leaving his dishonest gains to religious
and charitable institutions ! His stupid
ity is so great that he does not know that
his character is an open book to be read
of men as well as by God !
Then there is the man who vociferates
his views on all possible occasions, and
lifts up his voice like a braying ass, es
pecially when he ought not to be so, un
der the impression that he has a large in
fluence. Well, perhaps he has ; but it is
directly opposite to what he supposes.
The hard-drinker, the idler, the spend
thrift, the common slanderer, the two
penny rascals must all think they are
promoting their own happiness. Th,ir
stupidity is' unfathomable !
But we need not extend the list. We
will only add that if stupid persons are
a mistake of Nature,_ it would not be safe
to rectify the mistake all at once. The
shock to the human family would destroy
half the institutions and objects of the
world, and brim , moral chaos in every
community.—Geneva Courier.
Amusing Scene on a Street Car.
The Washington Star says: The passen
gers on one of the Riker's street cars
laughed some yesterday morning at a scene
between the conductor and a well dressed
young man from Georgetown. As the car
was passing down the avenue, the young
man at the time standingron the platform
taking it easy, with one foot on a trunk,
he was approached by the conductor and
his fare demanded. He quietly passed o
ver his five cents.
Conductor: I demand twenty-five cents
for that trunk. Young man (hesitatingly):
twenty-five cents ? Well, I think I will
not pay it. Conductor: Then I shall put
the trunk off. Young man : You had bet
ter not, or you may be sorry for it.
Conductor pulls strap, stops ear, dumps
trunk on the avenue, starts car, and after
going some twc squares, approaches the
young man, who was as still and calm as
a Summer morning, and in an angry mood
says: "Now I have put your trunk oil;
Wliat are you going to do about it ?"
Young man (coolly,)—Well I don't p ro
pose to do anything about it; it's no con
cern of mine; it wasn't my trunk. Con
ductor (fiercely,)—Then why didn't you
tell me so? Y. M.—Because you did not
ask me, and I told you you'd be sory for
it. C. (furious.)—Then o inside the car.
Y. M.—Oh no ! you're good enough com
pany for me out here.
At this juncture a portly German e
merges from the car, and angrily says,
"Mine Cott ! you feller, where is mine
drunk ?"
Y. M.—My friend, I think that is your
trunk down on the avenue there.
German.—Who puts'him off? I have
the monish to pay for him.. I see about
dot.
The ear was stopped, and shortly after
wurds the conductor was seen to come
sweating up with the trunk on his back—
a part of the performance he did not ea.
joy half as well as did the passengers.
Hourace Greeley's father was a poor'
fanner. So is Horace,
'OII CAN.
A rich, old gentleman bad only one
daughter, possessed of the highest attrac
tions. moral, personal and pecuniary. She
was engaged and devotedly attached to a
young man in every respect worthy of her
choice. All the marriage preliminaries
were arranged, and the wedding was fixed
to take place on a certain Thursday. On
the Monday preceding the wedding-day
the bride and groom elect (who was to
have received $50,000 down on his wed
ding-day, and a further sum of 400,000
on his father-in-law's death, an event
-which-would-proon_occur) had a_
little jealous squabble with his intended
at the evening party. The "tiff" arose in
consequence of his paying more attention
than she thought justifiable to a lady with
sparkling eyes and inimitable ringlets.
The gentleman retorted, and spoke
tauntingly of a certain cousin whose waist
coat was the admiration of the company,
that it had been embroidered by the fair
heiress herself. He added that it would
be soon enough for him to be schooled af
ter they were married; and that she adopt
ed the "breeches". a little too soon. After
the supper they became reconciled appar
ently, and the bridegroom elect, in taking
leave, was kind ,au affectionate. On the
next morning the swain regretted the an
gry feeling he-had-exhibited; andrthe cut-,
ring sarcasm with which he he had given
it vent ; and, of a part of the amendo hon
orable, packed up a magnificent satin dress
which he had previously bespoke for his
beloved' (which had been sent home in the
interval), and - sent it to the lady with the
following note:
"Dearest Jane: I have been unable to
close my eyes all night, in thinking of
our misunderstanding last evening. Pray
-pardon-me_;_and,in_token.of your forgive
ness, deign to. accept the accompanying
dress, and wear it for the sake of your
_mostaffeetionatedient "
Having written the note, he gave it to
his servant to deliver with the parcel. But,
as a pair o pan a oons — h - api • e • •
repairing, he availed himself of the oppor
tunity (the servant having to pass the
tailor's shop) to send them in another
package to"the tailor. The man made
the fatal blunder ! left the satin dress with
Snip, and took the note and the damaged
trowsers to the lady. So exasperated was
she that she determined it a deliber
ate affront, and when her admirer called
she ordered the door to be closed in his
face, refused to listen to any explanation,
and resolutely broke off the match.
WoNnEats.—Lewinbecic tells us of an
inFect seen with a microscope, of which
twenty-seven millions would only equal
a mite.
Insectn•of various kinds may be seen
in the cavities of a grain of sand.
Mold is a, forest of beautiful trees, with
branches, leaves and fruit
Butterflies are fully feathered.
Hairs are hollow tubes.
The surface of our bodies is covered
with scales, like a fish ; a single grain of
sand would cover one hundred and•flfty
of these scales, and yet a scale covers
five hundred pores. Through these nar
row openings the perspiration forces it
self, like water through a sieve.
The mites take five hundred steps a
second.
Each drop of stagnant water contains
a world of animated beings, swimming
with as much liberty as whales in the
sea.
Each leaf has a colony of insects graz
ing on it like cows in a meadow.
?Moral.—Have some care as to the air
you breathe, the food you eat, and the
water you drink.—Home am/ Health.
FAIR PLAY.—Hearth and Home talks
thus to boys :
"Fair play in play is the foundation
for fair play in life. To play unfairly is
to steal. By the rules of the game, you
have cek tain rights and your opponent has
rights. These rights like all rights, are
Of the nature of property. If you take the
slightest advantage to which you are not
entitled, you are to that extent—well,
thief is a hard word to use. But I will
let you or any other conscientious boy say
what one is who takes that which does not
belong to him, and thus infringes on the
rights of another.
"The boy who plays fairly is sure to
make an honorable man. I . should not
like to say that the boy who plays unfair
ly will grow to be a rogue. But I will
say that the boy who takes unfair advan
tages in a game shows a weak moral na
ture and cannot be depended on in a
pinch."
PUNISHMENT OF ENVY.—An eastern
potter, it is said, became envious of the
property of a washerman, and to ruin
him, induced the king to order him to
wash one of his black elephants white,
that he might be "lord of the white ele
phant," which in the East is quite a dis
tinction. The washerman replied that,
by the rule of bis art, he must have a
vessel large enough to wash him in. The
king ordered the potter to make him such
a vessel. When made it was crushed by
the first step of the elephant.in it. Many
times was this repeated; and the potter
was ruined by the very sceme he, had
iutendea should crush his enemy.
When a woman falls from virtue to
dirt, or even "suspicions," the tongue of
every woman will run with lightninc ,
speed to assist in rushing her down the
hill. When these same women meet a
man who is a.,"dobauelice" in every sense
of the word, whose - reputation as a dis
honorable scoundrel is well established,
they will smile and do "the pretty" to
the best of their ability. Who can tell
why such is the ease? It is indeed a ra
rity to find charity in woman tin wo
man.
A Laughable Love Stoiy
$2,00 PER YEAR
Mfil
Why is a man never knocked down a
gainst his will ? Because it is impossible
to fall unless inclined'.
Massa, Christopher Columbus was a
queer man," said a negio orator. "A
notion crossed him one day, and den he
crossed an ocean.
The youth who stole, a watch and re
turned it to the owner , who promised "no
questions asked," is in jail. The owner
was as good as his woht - he arrested—the—
youth without asking any questions.
"How far shall this excruciating un
certainty go, Adelaid, my beloved?' said
a gallant youug Romeo to his pretty sin
liet, the other evening. "Go to—father,"
was the prompt and satisfactory reply.
An Indiana land owner lately leased
one of his farms, stipulating that tobacco
should not be raised on it, saying he wa
"dead set against tobacker, and nun o
the pizen stuff should be raised on hi
sile."
"Can you change a two dollar bill ?"
said an impecunious drinker to a bar•ten
der. • —"Yes."-----"lVellrwhen-l-get=a-twa
dollar bill I'll bring it in."
A man named Wells, having stepped
upon a quicksand in the river near Browns
ville, instantly sank out of sight, where
upon one of the companions remarked,
"That's a new way of sinking wells."
Two young men, hunting on the St. Se
bastian river, near St. Augustine, Fla.,
the_other_dav,_ pro • osed to set down upon
-
a certainlog to rest, but changed their=
minds when they fonnd it to be a lively
viligator.
Engagement bracelets are the last no
velty. Thy • . •• I ~ i .• -
arms as soon as papa has given his con
sent, and then locked on by a small gold
key.
Thompson is not going to have any
thing more to do with conundrums. He
he recently asked his wife the difference
between his head and a hogshead, and
she said there was none. He says that
is not the right answer.
Josh Billings says : Skunks are called
pole kats bekause it iz not convenient
tew kill them with a klub, but with a
pole, and the longer the pole the more
convenient.
Writers on natural history, disagree
about the length ov the pole tew be us
ed, but i would suggest that the pole be
365 feet, especially if the wind iz in fa
vor *ow the pole kat.
"La me !" sighed Mrs. I.Parting,ton,
"here I have been suffering the bigamies
of death for three mortal weeks. First I
was seized with a bleeding phrenology in
the left hampshire of the brain, which
was exceeded by a stoppage of the left
ventilator of the heart. This gave mo
an inflamation in the borax, and now I'm
sick with chloroform morbus. There is
no blessiu' like that of.health, particular
ly when you're ill."
WASN'T FOND OF SWEET THINGS.-
During the late rebellion, a nutn out
West, in a small gathering of friends, was
urging upon their minds the importance
of enlisting :
"Go, my brave friends," said he ; "fight
for your country—die for it, if it is ne
cessary ; 'for it is sweet to die for our na
tive land."
"But," said one, "if it is sweet to die
for one's country, why don't you go:"
This was a poser, and for a moment
disconcerted him, but rallying, he repli
ed that he, as an individual, "was not
fond of sweet things."
A Newport correspondent tells of a
loving couple in a railroad car : "The
presumption is, they had "tunneled" be
fore but it had been in the daytime, when
the darkness of the tunnel was advanta
geous. On this occasion :it was after
nightfall, and the candles were burning.
The male lover for miles had been talk
ing tunnel, us if deeply interested in that
underground passage, and his love evi
dently understood the allusions. At last
the train thundered into the tunnel, and
the lovers indulged in one of those hear
ty salutations that are made to be felt,
but nut to be seen by indifferent • specta
tors. Of course dui car-loud exploded,
while the impulsive swain tipologitied 'to
his Dulcinca with the unsatisfactory ex
clamation, uconfouud the lumps, I didn't
think of them."
Sonic fellow mortal with a just appre
ciation of the great sin of cheating the
printer s and a 'audible desire to reform.
the world, get off the lidlowiug :
The Ulan who elleatS the printer -
Out of a :single cent,
Will never redch that heavenly land.
•
11here old Eli.l;.lk went..
lie will not gain adinTance Mete;
By devils he'll lie driven, ,f -
And made to loaf his thee away
Outside the walls of lwaven.
Wit Wait a man to greet him,
Without a pleasant grin,
The luipp.n.vss that he will reap
Will be almighty ttii.u.
He'll have to eat the thistle•
Of sorry anAl regret,
have to buck around right smart
With cussedness, "Yon het!"
NUMBER 2
M a r.