The Waynesboro' village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1871-1900, August 08, 1872, Image 1
01/rt,..o7zi - 1,t../_tt,i,' - s,bifft_fr'- :'.'..'' . ll'.'/.ittzige''. ':lttij't...,':'.i.-:,.. 2M W. BLAIR. VOLUME 25. Onetrg. : BIM OIL BY ROSE GERANIUM Drifting away.---drifting away ! Baby is leaving me every day, far °atom} tim treacherpus sea WheFe the bright glories of woman life be the, hour-Fipples, day after day, :Balli34my,darling„is, drifting away. ,Drifting aWay--drifting away! ';Every morn loses a golden ray, Every night twineth a shade, less fair, Over the tangles of clustering hair. LYes, on the hour-ripples, day after dal), Baby; my darling, is drifting away ! , 'Drifting away-. 7 -drifting away Salling,,and singing ! 0, bright little fay! An the true strokes of thy silyer-tp, el oar Float back to echo on memory's s lore Yes, on the hour l ripplcs, day after day Baby, my darling, is drifting away! Wonderful words ; the dainty lips. say, Wonderful tasks can the busy hands do Wonderful journeys go tiny feet true ; Yes. on the hour-ripples, day after : day, Baby, my darling, is drifting away ! Drifting away—drifting away : ! Baby is leaving me every day ; Steering far out on the treacherous sea Where bright glp,ries of woman life be, Y-es T on-the-hour-ripple%:-day-after-day, Baby, my darling, drifting away Fly, little song, to my lore, Over the Tqlling sea; Tell him hoIN bright are stars above, Tell him to,weep not for me. Kiss off the fulling tears 111.y.lqss of the days gone by.; Tell him hwfleetis the foof,of.vears, Whisper—my love cimnot.die. Fly away in his heart, Borne on the soft Summer's breath ; Sing to him, 'Love and lo*,r must part True low is stronger than death." Fly with the dying day, Over the star-lit sea; Lull him to sleep in tileland far day; Bring him in dreams to me. fflisullnurous grading. The Old Homestead. There are few places so dear to us as : scenes of our childhood. Around the as sociations of our early years our heart's best affection have twined themselve,and though we roam over the dark sea foam, ,or wonder in far distant lands, yet we will often ify back on memory's swift pinions to the golden moments of life's morning, and fondly linger around the sights .and scenes of our juvenile rambles. Emotions swell the heart and tears fill the eyes as we think .of the old house at home. That old house may not have been a palatial structure, with its magnificent dome and gorgeous surroundings ' • it may have beeli a humble cot iu which had left its footprints, and where grim want stared out from wall and floor and bed of straw. No matter how humble, still how dear to our heart is that old house at home. No rwas not for its splendor that dwelling was clear; '1 was not that the gay and noble were near; O'er the porch the wild rose and \i•oodhine entwined, And the sweet scented jessamine waved . in the wind, But dearer to me than proud turret or dome Were the.halls of my father—the old house at home," We love that old building, and our at tachment to it increases as years roll on. We may dwell in a palace of golden bright n ss, the steeples of which may penetrate I..te very clouds, and millions of earth's riche3t trea.mrers may lie in our cotfers still our heart never changes for the old house at home. Did you ever visit the home of your childhood after years of absence ? What a gush of recollections come throbbing through the heart ! Every place and al most every object that merits our gaze has some associations with our childhood days. The brook flows on just as it did in days of yore. The very gurgling of the current seems familiar. !-This brook wherein, when a trippling wild I bathed my burning brow, It rapidly ran wl.e 11 was a child. And it runs rapidly now." Here, in this brook, we had our deck yard, arid here we sailed our mimic fleet. There stands the "old oak tree" under ,w.dch we conned our boyish task. From hire wehad rolled stones down the steep hillside and had watched them disappear in the clear waters below : on that grassy ; knoll we had stood at sunset and had gaz ed upon the golden tinted clouds which so gracefully slumbered on the bosom of the 'western sky. The fields and lames and trees are fa miliar, recalling old memories and scenes. Over the heaths we'had wandered forth with brothers And sisters in merry mood t 3 gather wild flowers, Under this tree we, had gathered nuts; there have we plucked blackberries from the brambles ; through yonder meadow we have saunter ed _in childish glee, inosearch of the fresh sprung mush-room. Little did we know of the cares and perplexities of life. The old log school house is gone—a new one has taken its place. The cluster of trees is,still there. Here-is our old play ground, upon which we have sported in those halcyon days of old. We almost fancy that we can, hear the shrill voices of schoolmates, sublued by the distance bore upon the breeze, bet, no! these voices can never reach us „again. Where are our school fellows.? A.sk time and change ? Ask sickness and sword and boundless ocean ! Ask accident and, death ! For all these have been at work. What a dream is the past! But what emotions rise in the heart as we stand and gaze upon the old house where my father dwelt, and where a child at the feet of . my mother I knelt." What hallowed memories cluster around that sacred spot ! What endeared associations still linger there ! It was in that old time-honored dwell ing that I knew bymy .mother and lisped my evening prayer; 'receiving her affec tionate kiss ; felt the hot tear fall on my boyish head, and heard her in her broken accents say, "God bless my child." When - away - from that dear - home, ivade ra diant by her smiles, we feel that her pray ers still bless us as we roam: her words we never forgot. Those were sacred sea- How sweet their memory, when in & innocence we "Coinmuned—Withs heaven and felt the angels near ! The old house stands us a monument to departed days. There have been changes there. The footprints of time are seen.— The moss covered- roof ; the ivy-bound pil lars; the decayed columns and the crumbl ing walls seem in keeping with scenes and memories. The inmates of long ago are gone ; some sleep in the grave, over which the weeping willow ehoops and the winds low a mourn u - requiem ; ie res are acting their part in, the great drama of life, far away from that sacred old domi cile. But still there are hallowed associations and reminiscenses which crowd and clus er that old house, long silenced voices which still linger and echo there.— There are affections centred there that will make that place ever dear to us. And al though our heads may grow silver with age, our eyes grow dim, and our frames may totter beneath the -weight of years, yet still dear to our hearts will be the scenes of our childhood when fond recol lection presents them to view. "But, oh ! how sad the thought ! The old house has passed into' stranger hands. It is no longer our old house. "That old house is no dwaing for me ; The home" of the stranger henceforth it must be; And n e'er shall I view it nor roam as a guest O'er the evergreen field which my father Possessed But still in my:slumbers sweet ;visions will come Of days that I passed in the old house at home." A Factory Girl's Experiences. . Writing from Boston to the Chicago Journal, a correspondent relates the sto ry of such mutations in a life as may be considered characteristic of American ex periences. In 1865 there came to the metropolis of New England, from Penob scot, in Maine, a young orphan girl, who, after vainly striving to maintain herself comfortably at home by' school teaching, had decided to essay the fortunes of a factory girl in a larger city. Entering the hoop ,skirt manufactory of a private firm in Boston, she devoted all her ener gies to a mastery of the business, that her confinement to mere drudgery might not be long protracted, and this to such effect that in a year's time she was promoted to the position of saleswoman. In two years mere her superior mental capacity and practical tact made her the chief saleswoman of the establishment,and through this last position she was brought to the acquaintance of a certain rich Cal ifornia merchant buying goods for his store in San Francisco. The acquaintance matured into a mutual regard of a graver nature. The girl, well as she was doing, had a woman's natural yearning for wo man's domestic kingdom, and when the Californian closed his business account for the time by asking the saleswoman to go back to San Francisco with him as his wife she yielded a graceful assent. After a quiet wedding the two departed tcgeth er for the Pacific coast, where the ensuing four years were passed in all the harmo ny nii,d prosperity requisite for the smooth est progress of married life. The wife now of a rich man, and the possessor of abilities and personal come liness to grace a high social station, the former factory girl assumed a command ing position in the society of her new home and became a leader in matters of aristo cratic taste and fashion. After four years the Americanism of her destiny found tragic demonstrations. Some months ago. her husband was tempted into one of those extravagant mining speculations which are the bane of California, and entered too deep to be able to withdraw before the collapse mid crush. In a few .hours of sinking values he was dragged down from wealth to poverty, and revenged himself upon fortune by committing suicide. The sound of the fatal pistol shot awoke the. bereaved wife from her four years' dream of happiness and plenty to the old realil ty ofher girlish homeliness and want.— The expenses of the self destroyer's burial left her with barely enough remaining from recent wealth to secure her return to Boston, where she is once more work ing for a livelihood as though the Cali fornia episode had never "blighted ker ex istence. A deb'tor gave as an evuse for nonpay ment, that "money was very close, but not close enough yet for him to reach it." VII ;FA JJ 4'4 l ;P AY P) ›oi-e5 o Ale) _M >0 Oki , 4 1 Y ;:k OVA P >0 . 7.4 1 :1 Avi , ' . o l IA WAYNESBORO', 'FRANKW COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 8,1872. A Tale of Pantaloons. A Davenport legalgentlema,n went out one evening last week. to have a quiet game of billiards. He stuck to his cue for several faithful hours, conyjvialized with his friends still longer and then went home- On retiring to rest he was most singularly uneasy and tossed about for some time without dropping into that peaceful slumber we usually derive from a clear conscience. His lady was annoy ed and complained kindly. It was no use, however; something drove sleep from his eyelids. At this juncture his lady was taken suddenly ill (how fortunate he was awake 1) and he was appealed to to hast off to the nearest drug store in quest of a restorative. He 'hastily attired himself, double quickened down the street, rushed into a store, obtained the article so urgent ly required, and produced his pocket book. Great Caesar! what had transpired? He bad never seen that wallet before; and the pants they were not his own. Could it be possible he was in his right mind? Was it not rather all a distemp ere d dream? He resolved to see, and without stopping to take the remedy with him, he ,rushed back to the wife of his bosom. He r .did not flourish a revolver, he did -not -srnaslr-furnitureThe-did—not-strike—attiz tudes like a gladiator—he simply I took part in the following conversation : `Jane ?' •'Yes, dear.' 93etter. Mucklietter. I think a good .sleep is all I now need. How kind of.you to go:to so much trouble?' `Very kind, wasn't it ?' • `Very kind, honey.' `Jane, shall I turn on the gas? 'lf you like, dear.' The gas was turned on. -'Jane?' `Yes dear.' ---4- Do - they_looklike - mrp - antaloons_?' 'Why, what can you mean dear ?' mean; do these resemble the trousers I wore home this evening ?' .'Why how can I tell, dear?' and Jane raised up with some reluctance, gave a quick glance and screamed outright. `Husband,' said she, with some embar, rassment, 'you've made a ridiculous mis take somewhere, while out with your friends. What in the world have you been doing to-night?' `That's rather thin, Jane. We don't lisuallytake off our pants to play billiards. When I went to bed to-night I laid my proper pantaloons on that there chair. When I dressed to go out, the pair I have on first fell in my way. I put them on. I discovered at the store they were not mine. I returned at once, and now I find the pair I left on the chair are miss ing.' Jane began to sob, weep, and protest her innocense, while the husband paced the floor in deep reflection. lane; at last he said, guess you .can go home to your parents to•morrow. You and I have gotten along very well for a year or two, but the thing's played, And down Stairs he went with a deaf ear to the frenzied appeals and prayers she showered after him. An investiga tion on the morrow disclosed the fact that the mysteriously procured pantaloons con tained just $3OO more than the pair that had so mysteriously walked off. Jane left on the first train for her Illinois home. A bill of divorce has been filed, and no one has called to exchange pantaloons and pocket-books. Stopping the Paper. This is what an exchange says in speak ing on this subject : "In the past year we have lost but one subscriber, and that one appears displeased at something which he does not clearly state. We might very appropriately quote for such persons the story about Mr. Swain, years ago, when he was the proprietor of the Ledger. By his course in regard to some public mat ter, he had offended a number of readers, one of whom met him on Chestnut street, and thus accosted him : "Mr Swain, I've stopped the Ledger." "What is that, sir ?" "I've stopped the Ledger," was the stern reply. "Great Heavens ! said Mr. Swain ; "my dear sir, that won't do. Come with me to the Office. This must be looked into." And taking the man with him he en tered the office at Third and Chestnut streets. There they found the clerks busy at their desks ; then they ascended to the editorial rooms and the composing room where nil was as usual. Finally they de scended to the press rooms, where the en gineers were at work. "I thought you told me you had stop ped the Ledger," said Mr. Swain. "So I have," said the offended subscrib er. "I don't see the stoppage. The Ledg er seems to be going on." "Oh I mean to say—that is, that l— ah—had stopped T4KING IT." "Is that all?" exclaimed Mr. Swain.— "Why, my dear sir, you don't know how you alarmed me. As for your individu al subscription I care very little. Good day, sir, and never make such rash as sertions again. Fortunately no one is compelled to take a paper he does not vault, and that fact should set at rest the hearts of these great ly excited individuals." Beware of the boarding-houses where you• are to be "treated as one of the fam ily." Beware of a young lady who calls you by your Christian name the first time she meets you. Beware of a wife who talks about her "dear husband" and "that beautiful dress" in her sleep. Beware of the man who sells goods be low cost—upon his honor. Charge it. I role to town the other day , with Sam Stewer. He was in a "deuce of a hurry." He had sold a tub of butter to be deliv ered at the station that day, sad he had a field ready to sow with wheat. He didn't know how to spare the time, but he "need ed the money," and so harnessed his team to deliver the butter. This he did, got his cash, and, returning from the station, stopped at a store to get two pounds of tea, a pound of coffee, a pound of allspice, five pounds of sugar, and. a gallon of mo lasses. He hustled them into the wagon, and, as he was untying the tiestrap, he shouted to the merchant, "Chaige it." After we had started home, I said, "Why did you not pay that bill ? You had the money in your pocket." "Yes; but you see I had got to buy some clover seed of Peter Juniper, who only deals in cash—don't give credit.— Then I have got a bill to pay at the mil liner's. My wife wants a new bonnet, so does daughter Sally, and last years bill is not paid ; and the women folks said they would not ask for any more credit there until it was, so I've got the fifteen or twen ty dollars to pay up last year's bill, so they can get their head-gear. The fact while. These middle-men do take the life-blood out of us farmers." "Bah !" said I. "That is all nonsense." There are two words, Stewer,_that you should Heys " r speak to a man or woman of whom you make a purchase; nor should you allow any one to say them for you.— If yoit will agree to do so, I will warrant. that within two years you will be out t f debt, a free, happy and independent man ; and that what you buy will cost you from seven to fifteen per cent. less than it does now !" "What words ?" "Never say "charge it !" Never allow -any-one to say '-`charge it." The than who does it has to pay a good roun • per cent. for the use of the money he thus borrows—more than any farmer can af ford to pay. I've tried it Stewer, and I know.. You have often wondered how I always manage to have ready money. It is be cause I do not say "charge it." " It is bees nse I will not say "charge it." It is bemuse I will not buy what I cannotpay cash for. And it is because when I. do buy, I can get it cheaper than you can, because I do pay cash for it, and you say "charge it." That's what ails you, Stew er. And you'll always be a Stewer, and in a stew, as long as you say to anybody, "charge it."--Bural New Yorker, THE CHRISTIAN'S HOPE.—The bible is tile only guide mortal man has to rest leis ope of a future life on, take it away and 'I that remains for man to build his hope on, unless he invents some other system to ,gratify his natural longings for a Supreme Being that he can venerate. God created man perfect with all his faculties to ven erate a Supreme Being; to have a con science that prompts to justice. Man rea sons, and admires all that is good. The Bible and as teaching are perfectly adapt ed to man's nature and all his natural wants. Without such a guide all, good men would be at sea without a compass. Bad men, skeptics, infidels, are defective in their moral organization. Such men see differently, and are at least for a time willing to reject the teachings and pre cepts of the Bible. Such men see through glasses that are morally dark. Such men have no inspirations to lead them up to God and his teaching. They will scoff at things holy and sacred, only when death comes and when they find themselves lost to all hope, they not knowing where to find rest for their souls, only then will they realize the hopelessness of their un belief,eonly then will they feel themselves out at sea like the mariner without his compass. The Bible is the only hope of man when he is done with this world, and it makes men good and useful for this world. It makes society better,a3afer and happier. Young men and young woman, think of this when the skeptics tells you otherwise. Trust not their specious argu ments ; they are delusive and destructive to society and your immortality. Believe it not that you are like brutes when you die. Remember youlaave no other mor al guide like the Bible, It is your safest compass. How TO ENJOY LIFE.—It Is wonder fill to what an extent people believe hap piness depends on not being obliged to tabor. Honest, hearty, contented labor, is the only source of happiness, as well as the only guarantee of life. The gloom of, misanthropy is not only a great de stroyer of happiness we might have, but it tends to destroy life itself. Idleness and luxury produce premature decay much faster than many trades regarded• as the most exhausting and fatal to longevity.— Labor, in general, instead of shortening the term of life, actually increases it. It is the lack of occupation that annually destroys so many of the wealthy, who, having nothing to do, play the part drones and like them make a speedy exit, while the busy bee fills out its day in useful ness and. honor. If I were to choose among all gifts and quality that which on the whole makes life pleasant, I should select the love of children. No circumstances can render this world wholly a solitnde to one who has this possession. It is a free-masonary. Wherever one goes there are the little brethren of the mystic tie. No diversity of race or tongue makes much difference. A smile speaks the universal language. "If I value myself on anything,7 said the lonely Hawthorne, "it is on having a smile that children love." They are such prompt little beings,too ; they require no prelude, hearts are won in two minutes at that frank period ; and so long as you are trip to theta they will be true to you. For the Village Record. TIE WORLD IS FULL OF BEAUTY. BY °A. B. S The world is Full of Beauty, Around, beneath, on high, 'Tis written o'er the earth abroad, And painted on the sky. The world is full of beauty, The mountains as they stand Show forth its power and loveliness, O'er all the pleasant land. The world is full of beauty, The rippling streamlets say, As gently murmuring on they flow And leave a shining way. The world is full of beauty, The flowers softly sing, And unto their Creator's hand A worthy tribute bring. The world is full of beauty, The sun is daily singing, While light and gladness o'er the earth -He constantly is bringing. The world is full of beaut To lead man to rejoice, And praise his great Creator With all his heart and voice. Yes, - the world - is - fall - of - beauty - Around, beneath, on high, 'Tis written o'er the earth abroad, And painted on the sky. In the south of New Jersey, some years ago, there traveled over some of the har dest countries, a good, faithful ; hardwork ing brother, named James Moore, or 'Jim my Moore," as he was familiarly called. He was devotedlo the itinerancy. A true, lAyal Methodist, plain, pointed, and_sharg _ in all his preaching and exhortations. Bre had been laboring a year on one of his cir cuits, and before leaving for his new field, he gave his people, who dearly loved him, his farewell sermon. At its close he said : "My dear breth ren, that is my last addfess to you. I am going from..you, and you may never hear the voice of James Moore again." "Amen 1" came loudly from the seat before him. He looked at the man with a little sur prise, but thinking it was a mistake, he went on. "My days on earth will soon be num bered. lam an old man, and you may not only hear the voice of James Moore, but never see his face again." "Amen !" was shouted from the same seat, more vigorously than before. There was no mistaking the design now. The preacher looked at the man. He knew him to be a hard, grinding man—stingy and merciless to th poor. He continued his address—" May the Lord bless all those of you who have done your duty, who have honored him with your substance, who have been kind to the poor, and—." . Pausing and looking the intruder straight in the eyes, an d pointing to him with his finger,_ " Mayhis curse rest on those who cheated the Lord and ground the poor under his heels.-- Say amen, to that, brother!" The shot told. ,He was not interrupted again.—Christian Weekly. Judge Davis' Riches. Judge. Davis, of Illinois, the Labor Reform candidate for the Presidency, is a a rich man. The public may not know how he became wealthy. About thirty five years ago, when Judge Davis was a practicing lawyer in the West, he was employed by a Connecticut man to col lect $BOO. Davis went to the place where the• Debter lived, and found him to be rich in landed possessions, but without a spare dollar in money. He finally set tled the bill by giving a deed for a tract of land—a flat, moist and undesirable piece of land in appearance, lying close by a sheet of water, and consisting per haps of sixty acres. Davis consequently met his Connecticut client in St. Louis, when the latter (who seemed not to have the usual Connecticut shrewdness) fell to and gave him a regular"blowing up" for taking the land, rather than insisting up on taking the $BOO in cash. He didn't want any of your western land, and he told Davis that, having accepted it in payment for the debt, he had better keep it himself, and pay over the money out of his own pocket. To this Mr. Davis a greed. Stepping into a friend's office he borrowed $BOO, took the Connecticut man's receipt for the land, and held the land for a rise. That land now forms part of one of the suburbs of Chicago. Judge Da- , vii sold two or three hundred thousand dollars' worth of it, and has nearly a mil lion dollars' worth left. It is a striking example of what the possession of Wes tern property has done for its Western bolder; and as the story has never been printed we thought it would be interest ing enough to publish. "Can you tell me the road to Green.: vine?" asked a Yankee traveler of a boy whom Le met on the road. "Yes, sir," said the boy. "Do you see our barn down there?" "Yes," said he. "Go to that—about three hundred yards beyond the barn you will find a lane. Take that lane, and follow along about a mile and a half. Then you will come to a slippery elm log. You be mighty keerfiil, strang er, about going on that log—you may get into the branch—and then you go on up to the brow of the hill, and there the roan prevaricates ; and you take the left hand road, and keep that until you get into a big plum thicket; and when you get there, why then—then--then---" ;What then?" "Thai, stranger, be hanged if you ain't lost !" HOME LIFE.- One marked difference between the animate and inanimate ob ject consists in the need of the former for a home. Most of all 'is this necessity manifested in the human race; and the greater -.the civilization, the more tena acious the clinging to home, and the more profuse are the means brought to bear to perfect its arrangements. If this need of home be so inherent in our natures, and so important to our wel fare, it becomes the duty of all to see to it that contributes their share to its es tab i ihment and perpetuation. This ob ligation, in some of its many forms, rests upon every one. The father who main tains the household, the mother who di rects it, the children, who are its joy, aie all active and responsible agents in mak ing home the centre of their truest life. the birth place of noble aspirations arid generous affections, and the spot to which the memory of future, years will cling most fondly. The conception of the felicity possible to be realized by true home life falls usu ally far short of a,true standard. The means of happiness within the reach of every household are greater than they are aware of and lie more closely; within their reach. Riches ma• 'urchase luxuries )ut never can buy the sweet content and satisfaction that flow over the humblest household where affection and order reign supreme. Let us, then, cherish our homes as .our_mostsacreitreasures....------ "THAT'S A MAN."—A farmer in Illi nois had a neighbor across the Wabash in Indiana who was keeping a pauper on contract at his house. In the corn hoeing season the Illinois man sometimes borrow ed his neighbor's pauper to help in the corn field. Bill Turner had a pauper work ing for him, and as none of the people in the neighborhood had nver seen a pauper, they were very anxious to get a peep at Wnri, • Consequently-some-twenty-of-them joined together one day, armed with their shot guns and rifles, and went over to Turner's to see the strange•creature. They got cautiously over the fence, and came up to where the men were working. "Bill," said Silas Brown, their spokes. man, "we've heard that you've got a pau per working for you, and we'd like to see it." Bill thereupon pointed out the object of their curiosity. The visitor walked a round the astonished pauper and silently surveyed him from every point of view. At last Silas spoke : "Look here, Bill Turner," said he, 'you can't fool us ; that's a man !" We wish all those in charge of Qharita ble institutions had the same idea about paupers as Silas had. THY KINGDOM' COME. —A poor wound ed boy was dying in a hospital. He was a soldier,- but a mere boy for all' that.— The lady who watched by his bedside saw that death was coming fast, and placing her hand upon his head, she said to him : "My► dear boy, if this should be death that is coming upon you, are you ready to meet your God ?" The large dark eyes opened slowly, and a smile passed over the young soldier's face, as he answered, "I am ready, dear lady, for this has long been his kingdom ;" and as he spoke he placed his hand upon his heart. "Do you mean," questioned the lady, gently, "that God rules and reigns in your heart," "Yes," he answered ; but his voice sounded far off, sweet and low, as if it came from a soul well on its way through the "dark valley and shadow of death." And still he lay there with his hand a bove his heart, even after that heart had ceased to beat, and the soldier-boy's soul had gone up to its God: Too Monti.—A young lady with a number of othe.s, who were injured by a rail road accident near Boston, was car ried to a hospital, The surgeon came round and said to the fashionable miss : "Well madam, what can I do for you? "Doctor, one of my linibs is broken. "One of your limbs? said he; well which limb is it?" "Oh, I cant tell you doctor, but it is one of my limbs. "One of your limbs l" thundered the doctor, out of patience ; "which limb is it —the one you thread a needle with? "No, sir," she answered with a sigh, "it is the limb I wear a garter on." The doctor attended to her then said : "Young woman, never say limb again in a hospital ; for when a woman gets as fas tidious .as that the quicker she dies the better." A Western exchange is inclined to be facetious over the verb lay. It gets off the. following : "There are all sorts of lays in this world. Show me any partic ular lay, and I will show you any num ber of persons on it. Some men are con tinually bunting subjects ‘ to write lays a bout, 'while others lays about all their lives, and never hunt anything, except it is a drink. One man lays up a grudge, and another lays.lor‘ttamething for a rainy day. It is one niaria lay to lay a stone wall s another to lay still. A ship lays alongside, and a lazy One lays around and does nothing. One man lays down piping, and another lays down and dies, while few, alas !Jay up their treasures a bove. There are men who lay over their fellows in every particular, and there are t.thers who are sacrificed to be lay mem bers all their lives ; although paradoxi cal as it may appear, a lay member may often be a member in good standing. A "Patent Journal"states that the n• ventor of a watch that winds itself tip and. gives a pirkt of milk a day, is in I.Vas, ington for the purpose of sect4l,ns• a pat.: 182,(16 PER YEAR NUMBER 10 Mix ally alumor. Why is - a needle in a hay stack like glue? Because you can easily find it—in a horn, Why is a wife like 4 bad bill ? Because she is difficult to get changed. What land, of all lands, do lovers like the best ? Lap-land. I - Wity is D, the best letter? Because it makes men, mend. If an enemy smite thee on the cheek turn round and hit him a thundering clap for his unmanerly kindness. What did that young lady mean when she said to her lover : "You may be too late for the cars,but you can take a buss?" likl e Some people say ark haired wo'a d men marry soonest. - differ; it is the light headed ones. A rural editor has lost all faith in the hick of horse shoes. He nailed one over his door recently and that morning there came by mail three duns and seven `stops,' and a man called with a revolver to ask `who wrote that article." An exchange says fashio na We young la, dies are calling upon somebody to invent a new dance. Suppose `somebody',invents -one whereirrtife - younglidTdAikes - irond the house and looks after everything. A gentleman dining at a cheap restau rant the other day was heard to give the courageous order : "Waiter, let the cheese move this way." It was a cheese very like that on the table which was awarded the prize for gymnastics at a country fair. A sheriff who had a writ to serve ascer tained that the defendant was dead, and tossing - the - paper - over - the - wall - of t e cem etery, he made return upon the writ that he had left the. summons at the last and usual place of abode. • A young married man was perfectly astonished to find two large bustles in his chamber one morning. It was not until after the adjustment of his wife's correct that he had the least idea in the world where the second one belonged: A gentleman connected with a Boston bank as a clerk,recently robbed the bank. They called him a "fellow" and other dis reputable names at first, and some inti mated that he was a thief, for they thought he had stolen only a few dollars. But it turns out he :took $85,000, and is not a thief at all, but a defaulter. One of our exchanges says that a dapc ing master in New York, has introduced the "Kiss Cotillion," in which the gentle man always kisses the lady as they "swing the corners." We are not much on the dance, but would like to swing a few cor neas most awful "Shut your eyes and listen mit me," said Uncle Van Heyde. "Veil, de first night I opens store I counts do monies and finds him nix right. „I counts and dere be tree dollars gone ; and vat does yer Link I does den ?" "I can't say." Vy, I don't count him any more, and lie come out shoost right•ever since." The Springfield Republican says: "Ma ry Hogan eloped from a Connecticut Sha ker tommtinity and married Brother Jack son on the sly. She quietly remarked to a friend after the ceremony : "You can make your apple sass and warrant it to keep, lut gals ain't apples; and you can't bile 'em down so they won't sour on your old rules about marriage. THE WAY TO LIVE.—Ten minutes of weak repining will plunge a brave heart into the depths of unhappiness as sudden ly as a thunder storm will overcast Ist clear sumnimer sky. The only way to live is to cast away all troubles and contentions which cannot be cured by fretting. A thing that is done belongs to the past.— In justice to the requirements of the pres ent, and posssibilities of the future, you cannot look back and make yourself wretched over things which cannot, be m . none. Cultivate consideration for - the feelinr•s of other people if you would never I.tv) your own injured. Those who complain of the most ill-use are the ones who ahuso themselves and others the oftenest. If life to you is not all you would hare it seek to make it better and more enjoy able yourself. Everything in nature indulges in a musement of some kind. The lightnings play, the winds whistle, the thunder rolls, the snow flies, the rills and cascades sing and dance, the waves leap, the fields smile, the vine: - creep and run, the buds shoot, and the hills have tops—to play with. But some of them have their seasons of melancholy. The tempests moan, the zephyrs sigh, the brooks murmur and the mountains look blue. USEFUL TRUTLit3.—Deserve friends and. you will have them. The world is teem- nig with kind hearted people, and yoir have only to carry a kind, sympatlietio heart in your own bosom to ealkout friend lin.ess from alma. ,14.! It is a mistake to expect toil4ceive wel come, hospitality, words of chillier and help, over rugged and difficult pa k tics in life, in Maya fornothiug in the world but self. Live Elp, long as you may, the first twenty years form the greater part of your They appear so when they are passing they seem to have been so when we look. back to gem, and they take more kp•na lo our kiemory thun .01 the years that, i4teceedAt gem. '