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BY W. BLAIR.
VOLUME 25.
elntVettrg.
"31i LIFE IS LIKE 711 E SOME ENE."
My life is like the summer rose,
That opens to the morning sky,
Ilut ere the shades of evening close,
Is scattered yn the ground to die,
Yet on that rose's humble bed,
''he sweetest dews of night are shed,
As if she wept such waste to see ;
But none shag WEEP A TEAic for me.
The dews of night may fall from heaven
Upon the withered rose's bed,
And tears of fond regret be given,
To mourn the virtues of the dead.
Yet morning'sAtm the dew will dry,
And tears will fade from sorrow's eye,
..kfli;etion's pangs be lulled to sleep;
And even love forget to WEEP.
My life is . 1i1:e an antu,mn leaf
That trembles in the moon's pale ray
Its hold is frail, its date is brief,
i‘cstless and soon to pass away. •
"Yet ere that leaf shall Lill and fade,
The parent tree will mourn its shade,
The wind bewail the leafless tree,
But none Lhall bre:.th a sigh for me:
The tree may mourn its fallen leaf
And autumn winds bewail its bloom,
And friends may heave a sigh of grief
O'er those w ho sleep within the tomb;
Yet soon will spring renew the flowers;
And time will bring more smiling hours ;
And even love forget to stun.
My life is like the prints whieh feet
Have left on tampa's desert sand—
Soon as the rising tide shall beat,
All trace shall vani's h fromthe strand.
Yet, as if grieving to efface
All vestige of the human race
On that lone shore loud moans the sea!
But none, alas! shall mourn for me.
At first she thought it was baseless de
lusion of the brain—some fancied resem
blance from secret, unsatisfied longing of
her heart. But when he was holding both
her hands, and looking straight into her
eyes, she knew that it was none other than
Ernest's self. Ernest, came all this wea
ry length of miles to see her once.again.
"Get the little ones ready as soon as
_you can, Alice," he said cheerily, when
sho sat clown opposite him, with her cher
ry lips apart, and eyes all hunted with un
spoken happiness. "We are all going
ALICE MALL'S DUTY. I Eastward
" together, you knoW."
w
The sea may on the desert shore
Lameot each trace it hears away ;
The lonely heart its grief may pour
O'er eherist:ed friendship's fast decay;
Yet when all track is lost and gone,
The waves • dance bright and gaily on ;
Thus soon affections bonds are torn,
And even love forgets to mourn.
atlisttilatteolls I,ltacting.
Alice Hall, a poor orphan, and Ernest
Morton, a rich yowl.- b gentleman, were to
be married in a week, when news came
that Peter Drew, Alice's step-father, was
lying on his death-bed in Wisconsin, and
would soon leave her three little half-sis
ters, orphans like herself. Alice felt it
her duty to go and help the afflicted ones,
and Ernest 'enraged at her action bade her
good-bye fbrever.
And so Alice Hall left all the fairest
visions of girlhood and the sunniest hopes
.of life behind her, and went out to the
log fitrm-house in Wisconsin, where Peter
Drew lay on his death-bed.
"so you've come, Alice," said the dying
man, groping .for her hand in the shad
ows that were closing more darkly over
him than any twilight could have done.
"Somehorv, I felt it borne in me you would
come. • And you won't let the little ones
_starve—will you, Mille., my ? You'll
take care of them for the sake of dead mo
ther ?"
"While I live they shall never want for
a protector," she answered, in a voice
lvhose gentle firmness fell most soothing
ly on the ear that was so fast dulling to
all mortal sounds,
" bleaven bless you, Alice, and heaven
help you. sow, I shall die with my mind
at rest."
Alice did not watch long. At midnight,
when the tempestuous winds were wrestl
ing with the tree-tops overhead, and the
great river ruslied past with a moaning
sound, like the cry•of- a human sufferer,
Peter Drew drifted peacefully out of life
that had never been aught but struggles
and trials to him. And Alice knew that
she was left alone, to take care of three
little ones, the eldest scarcely seven years
old.
lie knew that skillful seamstresses were
rare and difficult to be had in this Wes
tern wilderness ; and she knew also that
she could easily obtain the position of
teacher in the red colored wooden school
house at the Cross Roads, two miles be
yond ; and insensibly she found herself
planning. out the future lives and desti—
nies of herself anSI the three helpless lit
tle girls who were sleeping in their cribs
up stairs.
"We must live very humbly and plain
ly," said Alice to herself "but we need
not starve while I am able to work."
Alas ! how difThrent wits the dull lead
color of this future to the roseate cloud
than had floated round her brain scarcely
more than a week ago; She f never would
be anyhody'l wife now ; she would settle
quietly dowiTinto the old maid elder sis
ter of the three little Drews. Had not this
perturbing crosscurrent flashed into the
serene tide of her by-gone happiness, to
day—the day now dawning with sullen
stecaks of read in the eastern sky—would
film* been her marriage day.
Who could blame the girl for letting
her head droop on her hands, and shed—
(ling a few quiet tears 'I Then _lie rose up,
rt. , ,Uive...,1 and Jinn, to slice her duty.
"Yes," said old Squire Bean, "we'll be
glad to pay you ten dollars a month for
teething deestrict school ; we ha'nt had
no efficient school-ma'am not since Abiah
smith married old Rodger's youngest boy.
And as for the sewhi', why 'twas only yes
terday. Miss Bean was a frettin"cause
Melinda Steers couldn't come to make up
her new green delaine. Melindy's moth
er is sick, and Miss Bean wouldn't grudge
a dollar to have it made neat and ship
shape."
A dollar ! Alice felt that it would be
sometime before, at that rate, she could
accumulate enough money to carry out
her cherisled scheme of taking the three
small sisters eastward with her, but .she
assented to the Squire's terms as being bet
ter than nothing at all.
It was nearly a week afterward, and
Alice Hall was coming home, tired and
weary, from her first day's experience in
the red school-house, where the seventeen
Western unchers had started at the "new
school ma'am from down East," as if she
had been a gorilla or a two-headed sheep.
The November leaves rustled softly under
her feet, and the sweet, decaying scent of
the old woods breathed over her senses
like some (:entle opiate—She_haiLnearly
reached the turn of the road, when her
own home would be in sight, when the el
dest of her half-sisters, little Lucy Drew,
came running to meet her.
"Sister, sister, there's a strange man sit
tin,* by the fire. He's been waithp! ever
so long to see you."
- Alice hastened her foot steps at this ra
ther startling piece of news, while Lucy
frisked about by her side.
"And he took Bessie on his lap and
told her stories, and said w•e were nice lit
tle girls, sister ; and I brought him a bowl
of milk, and some of the biscuits you made
last night."
Alice smiled as she opened the door of
the humble habitation that had been built
by — liYfd-woriting 'e er rely ; •ut ler
check suddenly blaunchcd as she beheld
the countenance of this "strange man,"
who had been the subject of little Lucy's
exuberant hospitality.
It was Ernest Morton who sat by the
Western fireside, with Bessie and Jape
clinging to his knees.
"Ernest !"
"Yes, I and my wife, and my little sis
ters; for I stopped and spoke to the min
ister at Orkeyville, two miles back, -and
he is coming to marry us this very even
ing."
"But Ernest—"
"My dear, I know very well what-you
are going to say ; but I behaved like a
brute. Not until you was gone did I see
n•hat a pearl of price I had thrown away.
You were right, as you always are, and I
was wrong. I tried to live without you,
nod I found it was an impossible thing.—
So here I am, and here I remain until you
return with me. I've taken the pretty
house in Parker Street—you remember it
—with the bay-windows looking toward
the South, and the delectable china clos
et in the dining-room. And it's all furnish
ed as neat and complete as a pin—a room
up stairs just the thing for these little wo
men, and—"
"Stop Ernest. I have no right to ask
you to burden yourself with the care of
my half-sisters," said Alice resolutely.
"Who has asked me, I'd like to know.
You haven't. I've adopted 'cm of my own
free will and pleasure, and you have noth
ing whatever to say on the subject."
The tears rushed to Alice's eyes. What
a change iu the hOrizon of her life since
she had locked the school-house door with
such a weary heart two hours since.
"Oh, Ernest, I think I am too happy !"
"You can't be too happy, my brave
hearted little heroine—that's quiteimpos
sible," he said, tenderly clasping her hand.
"How pale you have grown ! But I
shall bring the bloom back to your cheek,
when I get you safely established in Par
ker Street. There's a little carriage and
a pair of ponies in the stable there. What
will the girls say to that ?"
The children crowded around to hear
of the wonderful new acquisition, and,:kl
ice stole awity to lay aside her bounet,a.nd
brush out her curls.
And kneeling at her bedside, she mur
mured a prayer—a prayer of thanks that
the stern road of duty,onee set with thorns
and brambles, had blossomed out into life
long roses. _
Mention has been !nude of the action
of the Methodist General Conference a
few days since in regard to the prohibi
tion of sinful amusements. There was
quite a lively discussion of the subject,
some of the ministers thinking the church
ought to specify what am usergents are sin
ful, while Rev. Dr. Slicer add ot lier s
thought something must be left to the con
sciences of individual members in the mat.
ter. Croquet was savagely attacked, and
one delegate remarked that billiards should
be included in the forbidden list. They
did as much harm to young men as danc
ing to young women. Another brother
said that (lancing wouldn't hurt the young
women if they only danced alone—with
out men ; whereupon a worldly wise del
egate remarked, "But they don't care a
bout dancing that way." And he was.
right, too.
Pt" -411104.0 4+00rve2m.;i:31. 1 011_1215 iikDODuCe.ikittiol:;AElf otAls/AIIIAO4)IE4*-10100411L4i*Diviall
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 20, 1872.
Elephant "Romeo" Dead.
Chicago, on Friday last, was the scene
of an event the occurrence of which will
excite interest in almost every city, town,
or village in America, being no less than
the death of the celebrated perfbrming
elephant "Romeo," the largest and most
valuable of his species ever brought to
this country, and more famous than any
who have gone before him. Without an
elephant the most extensive of menager
ies would be regardrd as a total faifure
and in the posession of "Romeo" Adam
Forepaugh Las for years been envied a
mong showmen.
The animal bad been ailing for several
weeks, the disease 'being located in' his
fore feet, -which front some unknown
cause, had become affected with inflarna
tion, resulting in acute pain and a gener
al debilitation of the system, the effect of
which had been noticed by a rapid wast
ing of flesh. On Tuesday last it was de
termined to have an operation performed
on "Romeo's" feet, and Dr. Boyde, of the
Chicago Medical College, was entrusted
with the undertaking. An examination
developed the fact that •umerous small
bones_of_the feet_hathbeen-braken.detach -
ed, and dead, and accordingly these bones
were cut all out, the process being ac
companied by the loss of several gallons
of blood. No • danger on this account
was anticipated, and it is believed that
the death of the patient was not hastened
from-this-eausei—as—to—an—elephant—the
loss of a couple buckets of blood would
bi thoT• - -;vale tc
Je about eqUivaleuTto an ordinary al,
tack of nose bleed on the part of one of
the human kind.
It was observed that "Romeo" was suf
fering the most acute pain, and it also
became apparent that the inflammation
was rapidly extending upward toward the
breast. For the first time in two weeks
he laid down on Thursday night, his sym
toms of distress being so marlod as_to_
convince Mr: Forepaugh that he was a
bout to lose the most valuable feature of
his show. Early on Friday morning the
,proprietor visited the menagerie tent, and
found "Romeo" lying in the same posi
tion, his colossal flanks heaving with
quick short gasps, his eye fixed and fil
my, and the further extremity of the
trunk cold and pulseless. The sound of
Mr. Forepaugh's voice calling him by
name was recognized by the dying masto•
don, and he attempted to raise his head
in response to the touch of his owner's
hand, but his strength was departed, his
life was ebbing last, his head dropped
back upon the ground, and after a few
weak, convulsive struggles, he had ceased
to breathe, and all that remained of "Ro
meo" was a monstrous heap of inanimate
flesh.
The circumstance occasioned a pro
found sensation among the attachees of
the show, who gathered about the spot
and sorrowfully surveyed the huge car
cass. Aside from the great financial loss
—estimated at 650,000—be had sustain
ed,lllr. Forepaugh was deeply moved by
the catastrophe, as he regarded "Romeo"
as the most valuable elephant in exis
tence, attributing to him a degree of in
telligence almost human. He had made
a study of the animal's peculiarities of
disposition, and had succeeded in estab
lishing the most affectionate relation with
him. "Why, dash it," said the great
showman, with a curious quiver of the
voice, and a suspicious avertion of the
head, "he know more than any trained
horse I ever owned. He knew he wasn't
right these last few weeks, and when I'd
go up to him and say, "How do you get
along, old,; fellow he'd reach out his
truniCand take my hand and put it on
his forelegs, as much us to say, "There
it hurts me; can't you do something to
help it ?" •
.And then the disconsolate proprietor
went on to enumerate "Romeo's" shin
ing qualities ; how lie would do any con
ceivable trick in the ring—stand on his
forelegs or hindlegsturn on a pivot,
waltz, go lame, kneel down, walk over
his keeper's body, taking the nicest care
not to touch a shred of his clothing with
his ponderous foot—in short, do any
thing which you could possibly think of
asking an elephant to do ; how, when
the wagons would get stuck in the mud,
old "Romeo," with the power of a hun:
dred horses, would get behind and push
them along with the greatest of ease;
how, when he was sulky and savage, and
they had thrown him down upon his
side, lie would lay there a day or two be
fore he would give up, but finally would
weaken, an with his pleading eyes fiiir
ly beg to be released—and so on with a
volume of interesting reminiscences.
A "Romeo" has an eventful history, hav
ing killed five keepers since his advent
in America, besides destroying any num
ber of fences, barns, garden patches, corn
fields, orchards, etc. He was purchased
by an agent of J. Mabie, in Calcutta, a
bout twenty-five years ago, having been
taken from a• brick-yard where he was
beinc , used in grinding clay. The price
paid for him was $lO,OOO in gold, and lie
was brought America along with nine
others. In 1852, while south of New
Orleans, he killed his keeper, known as
"Long John," whose successor, "Frenchy
Williams," shared the same fate near
Houston, Texas, in 1855 ; a third, Stew-
art Craven, was killed in 1860 near Ce
dar Rapids, lowa ; the fourth, Bill Wil
liams, was .sent to his lust account in
Philadelphia, in 1867, and the fifth, nam
ed .11I'Devit, in Ohio, in 1869, completed
the list of "Romeo's" victims. '
The body has been donated by Mr.
Forcpaugh to the,Chicago Medical Col
lege, where the mounted skeleton and
stuffed skin will be placed in the anatom
ical museum.
The great secret of suce&is in life is for
a maillto be ready when his_ opportuui •
ty comes.
Woman's Influence.
The most powerful and beneficial of the
influences ordinarily at work in the forma
tion of human character, is that of a wo
man. Man in life is what he is, to a great
extent, by the power of woman. His in
fancy being committed to her charge, and
his childhood spent in her society,her say
ings and doings first impress themselves
upon him. The prayer that she taught
him. first to lisp is never forgotten. Her
exhortation and examples fOr good, and
her, praise of generosity and noble-mind
edness remain fresh in memory, and prove
instrumental in preserving him from ma
ny temptations and dangers, and qualify
ing him for the arduous and responsible
duties of manhood.
The noble qualities displayed by illus
trious men are generally the fruit of seed
sown in infancy. "Train up a child in
the way he should go, and when he is old
he will not depart from it," said one of
old, and - experience continues to this day
to illustrate its truth. Napoleon attribu
ted all his success to the sound principles
taught him by his mother. Hogg's po
etcal talent was inspired and fostered by
his mother. So with_mos _ • t—men
ticir - first steps have been guided by hss
mother's hand, and their greatness has
been the result of the early tuition of a
woman.
But it is within the social circle that
woman's influence is mostly exercised.—
Soothing with her smiles and cheerfulness
r - the so
s of toi
pressing-tendeneies-of—the-World T she- re
stores strength to the weakened frame,
smoothes the ruffled brow, cal ns the care
-worn mind, and - iiUuses into the weary
heart fresh spirits and exhilarating hopes,
with which to go forth to fight the great
battle of life.
It is an hour of sickness and distress
that woman's virtues most brightly shine.
Her tender and. patient care guards us
tifrouglFthe triiißlTt at all times she
is the great ornament, the beneficent gen
ius of home. She transforms the hovel
of poverty into the palace of peace,where,
reigning as an enthroned monarch, she
dispenses pleasuie and joy to all within
her circle, thus hewn:ling a being neces
sary to man and to man's happiness:
U there's a power to make each hour
As sweet as Heaven designed it;
1 or need we roam to bring it home,
Though few there be that find it.
We seek too high for things close by,
And lose what nature found us;
Nor life bath here no charms so dear,
As home and friends around us.
AN ABSURD CUSTOM-If I could per
suade all the young people of Elmira nev
er to treat each other, nor be treated, I
think one half of the danger from our
strong drink would be gone. If I can
not get you to sign the total abstinence'
pledge, binding until you are twenty-five,
I would be glad to have you promise three
things : First, never to drink oil 'the sly,
alone; second, never to drink socially,
treating or being treated; third, when you
drink, do it openly, and in the presence of
ome man or woman whom you respect.
Now, buys, if you wish to be generous and
treat each other, why not select some oth
er shop beside the liquor shop? Suppose,
as you go by the post office, you say,
"Come, boys, come in and take some
stamps." These stamps will do your friends
a real good, and will cost you no more
than drinks all round. Or go by the tai
lor's store and say; "Boys, come in and
have box of collars." Walk up to the
counter free and generous, and say, "'What
style will you have ?" Why not treat to
collars as well as treat to drinks ? or go by
a confectioner's and propose to treat - to
chocolate drops all round ?or say, "I'll
stand ' a jack-knife all around ?" How
does it happen that we have fallen into a
habit, almost compulsory, of social drink
ing ? You drink many a time when ask
ed to, when really you do not want to.—
When a man ;has treated you, you feel
mean and indebted, and keep a sort of
account current in your mind, and treat
him.. And so in the use of just that a
gent which at the very best is a danger
ous one, you join band in hand to help
each other to ruin instead of hand in hand
to help each other to temperance.—T. K
Beecher.
How TO SLEEP.—We are often asked
for a prescription for preternaturally wake
ful persons. The "high pressure" princi
ple on which many of our business men
work their brains and abuse their bodies,
begets an irritable condition of the nerves,
and a morbid state of mind, very antag-
Onistic to quiet and refreshing sleep. Such
persons will often go to bed weary and
exhausted, but cannot sleep; or sleep
dreamily and fitfully ; or lie awake for
hours, unable to sleep at all. We have
tried many expedients to induce sleep with
more or less success, and have read many
receipts which proved better in theory
than in practice. The very best method
we have yet discovered is that of count—
ing. Breathe deeply and slowly (without
any straining effort,) and, with every ex 7
piration, count one, two, three, etc:, up to
a hundred. Some persons will be asleep
before they can count fifty in this manner.
Others will count ten, twenty, or thirty,
and then forget themselves and cease
counting. In such eases always commence
again at once. Very few persons can count
a hundred and find themselves awake ;
but should this happen repeat the dose
until cured.—From ',Science of Health.
The surest road to poverty is to hoard
up treasures. The surest road to wealth
is to bestow liberally where it is need
ed. The miser is the poorest man oa earth;
the most liberal man is the most wealthy.
It; therefore, you would be rich, do not
aim at riches,but simply use what you al
ready poss=ess for the greatest possible good
of the greatest po:isible number..
''MY CIIIOIIOOD DAIS."
How blithe and gladsome we were when
Our life was in its spring,
We felt no care, we knew not then
That time would sorrow bring.
And merry songs were sung
They're pleasant times to think of yet,
Those days when we - were young.
Where now are those I. loved so well 7.
Oh, some are on the sea;
And some in homes of splendor dwell,
And have forgotten me.
And by the graves of some I sit,
Where fading wreaths are hung,
And mourn, as o'er my memory flit
The days when we were young.
And I've seen many changes; still,
A happy lot is mine ;
home is 1 - te*ath yon sheltering hill,
Amrroses round it twine.
The merry lays we sang of yore,
A - re - by my n sung,
And in their youth I see once more,
The days when I were young.
Story of a Chequered Life.
The Kansas City Journal relates this
story : Ye.sterda , about noon, a respec-
-ald T about-fifty-years-of-age,
cation to Mayor Hunt - for a pass to - St;
Louis. The stary_of_herlifis—indeed
a sad one. Twenty-four years ago,. in
the city of New York, she met and mar
ried a gentleman who was connected
with one of the Methodist Episcopal
Churches there as pastor, and shortly af
ter their marriage he accepted a position
as missionary to India L whithcr te_a -
compamed him. After several years of
labor at the missionary station, her hus
band died, she in the meantime became
the mother four children, all boys. Be
ing left almost desolate in a strange land,
and having some relations living in Chi
cago, she and her family moved there,
where her father died. She subsequently
re-married, and her new husband came to
reside with herself and mother. Mean
time the children, by her 'first marriage,
had almost brown to man's estate, 'and
had gone to the far West to seek their
fbrtunes. By her second marriage she
had three children, '‘vlio were residing
with her at the time of the great fire. In
that conflagration she barely escaped
with her life and her young family, los
ing her aged in Dther and husband in the
flames. Helphss and alone once more
in the world, she started to discover the
whereabouts of her four boys, who were
at Lone Pine, California, •employed as
public teachers_ With them she found.
a temporary 'aome, together - with the
young membe] sof her flidly. She was
at Lone Pine at the time of the reeZitt,
terrific earthquake. Here she lost her
four boys, and fbr the third time was
friendlesf and alone. She made her way
to Council Bluf% lowa, with her three
youngest children, and there she left them
in care of parties who, seeing her deso
late state, kindly cared fbr them. She
has some friends at St. Louis, and is mak
ing her way thither.
For Who
!e. are ne as many -1 NS ,
ds. 11 any men• who work
tndo well in life me negi
Id by improvident women
7e condemned to eat the
hen they provide the '
"ds. •
,reild, soggy vegtab.
tgh pie crust, ho'
^ husband to..
nytrki
On'
coffee
man expe
and loving
Such•m4
their food ,
who had a
habits of ins
this way bet
wife.
, n drink
- them
It costs more
Hake food good
If a woman 'rt
o • • tiIICE
r, bake i , d
:ble hot she cc
) • •t the healt
If a man has
o get his dinr
t should be
•lse he will ea,
est haste, an
:11 of which
:how its eft% I
When' h:
.pirited, a
of love an , k
ect in d
•uch a • :I
wilight •,
Dys o
houg.
Ha ,
eal,
wos
-it • 1
F
i 3
411
,g€
:u1 of
he tau
song b3 ', •ft-va
ke*.pfp need ni
nd wond er at such
?sin, is not conducive
or.l l aPPin*
Ptie, ,, ted....her part with
id indnstfy of her husban
have:been well; and she cool(
the sunshine of earlier days.
is very. hard for a nanivto caress
which for years his been. ,fe
with slow.poison.
When w,e think of the labor required
to rear the few•that are in,our household,
—the weariness, tile anxiety, the burden
of ]ife,—how seems God's work !
for he carries heaven,-and earth, and all
realms in his bosom. •
Here is a Quaker' toast that has- a
thought, in. it : "This is me and mine to
thee and thine. I wish when thee and thine
come to see me and mine that. me and
mine will treat thee and thine as kindly
as thee and thine have treated me and
mice."
. There is a touch of pathos about doing
even the simplest thing "for the last time."
It is not alone kissing the lips of the dead
that gives you this strange pain. You
feel when you look your u _ last itp.mtsom
scene wliiclf yon - Tiitve loved—when you
stand in some quiet street, where you
know that ycu will never stand again, un
less, indeed, you conic back; sonic thy, to
the "old haunts," and wander among
them an unwelcome ghost. The • actor
playing his part for the first time, the
singer whose voice is cracked hopelmily,
and who after this once will never stand
again before the sea of upturned fiices
disputing the plaudits with fresher voices
and fairer forms, the minister who has
preached his last sermon—these all know
the hidden bitterness of the two words
"never again." How they come to us on
birth-days, as we grow older. Never a
gain young always nearer and nearer to
the very last—the end 'which is universal,
~the "last thing" which follow all the oth
er last things, and turn them, let us hope,
from pains to joys. We put away our
boyish to -s with an °ld heg.daehe 1-
were too old_to walk any longer on our
stilts—too tall to play marbles on the
sidewalk. Yet there was a.pang when
-we thought we had played witlT our mer
ry mates for the last time, and life's seri
ous grown-up work was waiting for us.
Now we do not want the lost toys back.
Life has other and lar er ilaSbiags_for
ets7-itlay trinT)the too,that these shall seem
in the light of some far off day as the boy!
ish games seen . to our Manhood, and we
rail - learn that death is but the opening
of a gate into the new land of promise?
The President..m Saturday sent a mes
sage to the Senate vetoing the bill entitled
an act for the relief' of J. M Best.' The
President_says-that-the-bill—arrpreria - es
$25,000 to compensate Dr. J. Milton
Best for the destruction of his dwelling
house and its contents by order of com
mand'ufg officer of the United States mili
tary forces at Paducah, Ky., on the 20th
of March, 1804. It appears that this
house was one of a considerable number
destroyed for the purpose of giving open
range to the gUns of a United States fort.
On the day preceding_ the destruction
the house had been used as a cover for
rebel troops attacking the fbrt, and appre
hending a renewal of the attack, the com
manding officer caused the destruction of
the house. This, then, is a claim for com
pensation on account of ravages of war.
It cannot be denied that the payment of
this claim would invite the presentation
of demands fOr very large sums of money,
and such is the supposed magnitude of the
claims that may be made against the gov
ernment for necessary and unavoidable
destruction of property by the army, that
the President •deems it proper to return
this billjor reconsideration. The Presi
dent states as a general principle of both
international and muncipal law, that all
property is held subject .tv, be destroyed
when the-public:Way demands it, and
in this hitter case Compensation is a mat
ter of bounty rather than a legal right.
The President suggftts that if it be
deemed proper to mato for
such losses, it would to better, by general
legislation,to provide sememeans for the
ascertainment of the damage in all simi
lar cases.
There are folks in this world who say
bey don't luv babys, but yu kan depend
uppn it when they waz babys sumboddy
luved there.
Babys luv me, too. I kan take them
out ov their mother's arms just az easy az
i kau an unfledged bird out ov his nest.
They luv me bekause I luv them.
i'V. to
'And here let me say, for the comfort
rid"consolhun ov all mothers, that
enever they see me on the_ cars or on
ktian sec..9.ml;ote,s, out ()V a job, they needn't
esitatp. a minnit tew drop • a clean, fat
, `by into nii lap; i will hold it, and
it; and be thankfal besides. •
, N perhaps there is people who don't envy
mean; this, but it iz one ov the sharp -eat,
Well-defined joyi ov mi life, ml love for
;baby's and their love fiir me.
' Perhaps there is people who will call
it a Weakness ; i don't card what they
call it, bring on the babys.—Unkle Josh
haz.always a kind word and a kisSfortlie
, bablo r ' ~.
ppvo babys for the truth there iz in
tliein i ain't afraid their kiss well betray
me;;--there is no frauds, dcdbeats nor coun
,t4:iiottmong them.
-t' 1,,w ish i was a baby (not only once more),
Aiut.forevermore.—Josh Billings.
,; ,
Addy - 1
.a, woo l
pleasant►''
iiky:9l6
sometinies'id
re fault of a
than toi
a~ueigh-
pie 'thgeih
the dinner
at offense w
ily.
ur to,go bs)!Tie
rn to businef ? s,,
• on timei„o
in the gis,Ai4
rapid wallt#
will sooli
,,est,num.
• A BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT.-011C foun
. ,tftin there is, whose deep vein has only
Mist bogus to throw np its silver drops
among mankind—a fountain which will
allay-the thirst of millions; and will give
to those who drink frdin it peace and joy.
It is krioulcdge ; the fbuntain of intellec
tual cultivation, which gives health to
mankincl,:inakes clear the vision, brings
joy to his life,. and breathes over his soul's
destiny a deep repose. Go r and drink
therefrom, thou whom fortune has' not fa
vored,and thuo wilt soon End thyself rich !
Thou mayest go forth into'the world,and
Find thypelf everywhere at home; thou
canst cultivate hi thine own little cham
ber; they friends are 'ever around thee,
nature, antiquity, heaven are accessible
to thee ! The industrious kingdoms of the
ant, the works of 111/113, and rainbow, and
music records, offer to thy soul hospitali
ty.—Yrcdcrika Brown ' •
cvish, low
little acts
het tom.;
whio is
in the
,
A modest young lady at the table, de
siring the leg of a chicken, said:. "ill take
the part which out to wear drawers-I''. A
young gentleman opposite, • replied;
take tin; part which ought to wear the bUs
tle."
He who can suppress It morrrent'a Lin
ger may prevent days of sorrow.
For the Last time
A Presidential Veto
82,00 PER YEAR
anti
Why is a broken chair like one who
hr.tas you? Bceanse it er.n't beauog,
Lawyers are the vultures that hover
over perishing. fortunes.
A pitch - battle—two negros throwing
ing tarpots at each other.
When is a flower like a rock? When
it is- blasted.
Aitemus Ward says when be hears the ,
song, 'Come where my love lies dreaming,'
he don't go. Me don't think it would be
right,
Every plain girl has one consolation.—
If she is not a pretty young girl, she will,
if she lives, be a pretty old one.
"An Irish editor got out of a railroad
car-to take some refreshment, and the
train started without him. "Stop, there,"
ye've got a• passenger aboard thAt!s_Jeft
. •
What carrot beaded, ugly little melibi7
is that, madam? Do yeu know his name?
Why, yes, he is my youngest son. You.
don't say so, itaked ! What a dear little
dove-eyed cherub he is!
lit cm_ ay_z_agopickod_
wri a bound volume of documents, on the
- back of which was stamped "Pub. Does."
tTeTy_fuMsaid-he,--vat kind of pocks
will dey brint next? Ash I liv here ish
von on pup togs."
"Professor," said a student, in pursuit
of knowleAlze concerning the habits of an
imals, "Why does a cat, while eating,.
wad-first • am ten a
nother ?" "For the reason," replied the
Professor, "that she cannot turn it both
ways at once."
man who was exceedingly corpulent,
coming late one evening to a fortified town,.
asked a countryman whom lie met, "If he
could get in at the gate?"
"I should think you might," replied
the peasant, surveying his proportions ; "I
saw a load of hay go in this morning."
"Pat can you tell me what is Virgin?"
"To be sure, I can, Jimmy."
"Well, thin, will ye be.after doing it?"
"Yes, jist—it's a woman that has nev
er been married at all be Jabers."
"Be ye in earnest, Pat ?"
•
"Yis, Jimmy."
"The saints of Hivin, be praised then !
my mother is a virgin—my falter never
married at all stire."
FOOLED HIM.--A touching incident is
reported from Chattanooga. An utter
stranger called on a respectable farmer,
last week, and asked him if his house had
not been robbed during the war. The far
mer replied that it had. "I," said the
stranger,"was one of the marauding party
that did it. I took a little silver locket."
"That locket," said the flamer, bursting
into tears, "had been worn by nay dear,
dear child." "Here it is," replied the ,
stranger, visibly affected : "I am rich; lot
me make restitution; here are $2O for your
little son." He gave the farmer a $5O
bill and received $3O in change. He then
wrung the farmer's hand warmly,and left.
The farmer has since dried his tears and.
loaded his shot-gun. The $5O billixas bad:
About six years ago a colored man in
Indiana, named Dixon, was sentenced to
the State prison for four years, fordarceny
—After being an inmate for six months
he escaped, and was not heard of since,.
until a few days ago, when he appeared
before the warden and gave himself up,
telling him who he was and that ho had
come back for the purpose• of serving out
the time he owed the State, nearly three
years and a half. He states as a reason
for his escape that he had a wife and ten
children in destitute circumstances, and
his object was to place them in a coadi
tion above want, and: as lie had accom—
plished that purpose, he was now ready
and willing to pay the penalty for his
crime. He was taken in and locked up. •
He ought to be pardoned.
A Dutch gentleman, who enjoyed the,
sobriquet of King of Smokers, has lately
died near Rotterdam, in the neighborhood
of which city he had erected a mansion lit
which he had a collection of pipes arrang
ed according to their nationality and
chronological order. Mr. Klass, who had
acqnired a large fortune in the linen trade,
has made a whimsical will. Tea pounds
of tobacco and two duch pipes, of the
newest fashion, are to be presented to all,
smokers who attend his funeral. He forth=
er desired that his coffin should be lined
with the cedar of old Havana cigar boxes,.
and that his favorite pipe be placed by
his side, with matches end tinder, as there
was no knowing wlutnight happen. It
has been calculated that during his life
of eighty years he had 'thaink about five
hundred thousand quarts of beer and
smoked more than four tons of tobacco.
WITAT Lovr, is TO A WomAN.—What
a wonderful thing love i. to a woman !
How it helps her to know that some one
is always thnd of her ; that he rejoices
when she rejoices, and sorrows when she
grieves;. to be sure that her limits axe
loved, and that her face is fairer, to one
at • least, than faces that mue liar more
beautiful—that one great heart bolds her
sacred in its innermost recesses - above ; all
women t She can do any thing, lie 'ay
thing,•stiffer anything, thus upheld.' She
grows prettier under the sweet,
kindekstrouger iitid life s • • I
.but a foretaz,t of heaven ;
iskbeautiful, andzalt her'4re4lus are
NUMBER 3