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A.
BY W. BLAIR.
tit i I DiViii
TIIEWAYNESB,OEO' VILLAGE RU0;1)
PUBLISHED EVERY TRU/MAY MORNING
By W. BLAIR.
'TERMS—Two Dollars per Annum if paid
within i te year; Two Dollars and
Fifty Mitts after the expiration
.of the year.
ADVERTISEMENTS—One Square (14)
• lines) three insertions, 51,50 ; for
each subsequent insertion, Thir
five Cents per Square. A liberal
discount made to yearly adver
tisers.
'LOC.s.LS.—Business Locals Ten Cents per
line for the first insertion, Seven
Cents for subsea uent insertions
proftssbanal
J. B. AMBERSON, M. D.,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
NNAYNESBORO ' ,
*Office at tbe Waynesboro' "corner Drug
re," pane 2a--tf.
RANTZi
thneactice of Medicine.
OF In the Walker Building—near
, the . House. VOA calls should be
, pada : •s residence on Main Street, ad
, loinink the Western School house. •
July 1h)--tf ..
C. N. s - ffrirmTiY,
; tLYBI I. N AND SURGEOIY.
w A yNEsßorto , pA.
Office at his residence, nearly, opposite
lie Bowden House. Nov
.2—tf.
JONI% A. 111120 SONG,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
"WAVING been admited to Practice Lava:
,s II at the several Courts in Franklin COun
,ty, all business entrusted to his care will be
promptly attended to. Post clitre address
ercersburg, Pa. ~*
Z., WW. Dp?,tmiomb
ATTORNE4I
- NESBOR .I
Will-give prompt and attention o a
Mildness entrusted to Office nest
.door to the Bowden Ilo,uB6;in the Walker
Budding. - [july ti
,JOSECE'Ir_ DQV LAS,
e, ATTORNEY AT -ZANG%
WAYNESBORO', PA.
;Practices in the several Courts of Franklin
and adjacent Counties.
N. B.—Real Estate leased and sold, and
Eire Insurance effected on reasonable terms.
December 10, 1871.
R A. N.. StiltatLEßi b
(FORIIERLY OF MERCERSBUR%
FFERS his Professional services to the
NYcitizens of Waynesboro' and vicinity.
Dc. STRICKLER has relinquishdd an exten
sive practice at Mercersburg, has
ibeen yroininently engaged for
,years in the practice of his profession.
• He has opened an Office in Waynesboro',
at the residence of George Besore, Esq., his
*Father-in-law; where he can be found at ' 1
mimes when not professionally engaged.
July 21), 1811.—tf.
R. J. IS. RIPPLE. DR. A. Eh RONEBRA„KE.
RIPPLE & BONBRAICE,
• WAYNESI3O.IIO', PA.
Having associated themselves in the prac
:flee of Medic* and Surgtiry, offer their
professional services to the public.
Office in the room on the north East
,Cor. of the Diamond, formerly occupied by
Dr. John J. Oellig, dec'd. '
July 18, 1872:--ly
A. K. BRA ISHOI/TS,
RESIDENT DENTIST
;1; --
AY NESBO Ro', PA.,
VAN be found in his office at all times,
4Jwhere he •is prepared to perform all
Dental operations in the best and mobt
Fkillful manner. •
We being acquainted with Dr. Branis
bolts socially and professional! riecommend
hint to all desiring the services of a,Dentist.
Dm. E. A. HEI{ING,
J. M. RIPPLE,
" A. H. STRICKLER, •
" J. 13. AMBERSON,
" I. N. SNIVELY.
A. S. BONBRAKE,
" T. D. FRENCH,
O. 331R/A.Cl=37_7-11-1,
•
PHOTOGRAPHER,
Corner of the Diamond,
WAYNESBORO',
•
IDFAS at all times a fine assortment of Pic
turesli Frames and Mouldings. Call and
,Oos, specimen pictures. June tf.
atlinl3 E
,Coroor of Min (E- Quoon Stst f ,
CHAMBERSBURG. Penn'a.
LANTZ & TINGER, Proprietors
The UNION has been entirely recited
and re-furnished in every department, and
under the supervision of t)ie present pro
prietors, no effort will be spared to deserve
a liberal share ef patronage:
Their tables wily be spread with the
best the Market affords, and their Bar
will always contain the choicest Liquors.
The favor of the public solicited.
Extensive Stahl ing and attentive nostlers.
Dec. 14-1-y
X3riolm. Xoi .el,4%3Lie).
rriFIE subscribers would inform the pub
lic that they have now for sale a good
article of brick. and will continue to have
a supply on hand during the summer sea-
B. F. & H. C. FUNK
June 13—tf
NOTICE TO BUILDERS.
Afine lot Pine Building , Lumber for sale
and will be furnished in rough, or how
,ed in proper sizes to suit purchasers of
Bills. Apply at Morrratzy Srmsus.
April 4, 1872—tf
a g3. elnt pottr,.
WHEN NY HAIR IS GRAY.
0, let me smooth this silken shred,
And listen what my heart must say
'Tis only one, this silvery thread,
Of brown curls hurrying to grow gray.
Alas with eyes of wistful truth,
1 must recall some coming day,
The grace and glory of my youth ;
Who'll love me when my hair is gray ?
Who'll love me when my hafr is gray?
Who'll call me - "Sweet? when 1 am old?,
Will sunny children round me play,
With cherub theeks and curls of gold?
Oh. may I then renew my spring,
In maiden grace, in manly form,
While to my cold lips come and cling
Sweet childish: kisses wild and warm?
May know the while my pulse grows less,
In bounteous life 'tis bounding on
In younger veins to love and bless,
And make life fair when I am gone?
• ft-the-remnant of my rn
Shall I behold my sinking.sun,
And, gazing toward the unknown lands,
Thank God my day is almost done ?
Then while I pray with lifted hands,
And, count between my failing breath
The many now no longer mine
The friends that I have lost in death ;
And, counting, sigh in soul to sail
Awhile, to sgek the sunny coast,
Where I may, find the love I've missed,
*pie joy 1 would haye, treasured most.
71 ,
Who'll love we when my hair . is gray ?
. we • now at
Whose eyes will see me fair and gay
When faint and slow my life-sands run
He'll see around my faded brows,
From whence the morning Bowers are thing
• The nimbus of eternal youth,
.And love as if I still were young.
ffliutllaufous patting..
•OUR PASSENGER.
' I was stopping at the Hotel 'Windsor,
on the Rue Rivoli, Paris. One morning
I sat smoking ou the front veranda, when
a tall, elegantly-dressed- gentleman asked
permission to light his cigar by mine.
I saw at a glance that he was a French
man, although' his "English" was nearly
} eefect.
"Have you heard the news ?" he inquir
ed.
"No."
"Is it possible ? Why, all Paris is alive
with it at this moment."
"What has happened ?"
"The Countess deMarville—the fairest
of the fair—was found murdered in her
bed last night, her bureau broken open,
and ten thousand francs missing from it.
Ah ! it was terrible ! There were marks
of fingers on her throat ; the brute who
did the deed effected his entrance through
the window of her ohamber, near which,
unfortunately was a tall tree,planted years
ago by. the distinguished grandfather of
the countess. Little did he imagine, the
terrible use that would be made of it." .
"This is bad news. How any man could
harm a woman thus, in cold blood is more
than I can imagine."
"All, monsieur, if you bad ever seen
the countess you would marvel still more.
She was beautiful—beautiful as an angel,"
he added, stroking his whiskers with an
unmistakable air of vanity. "I knew her
well."
"Indeed."
"Oh, yes. There are in Paris few pop
ular women unknown to me."
His manner, now, was decidedly con
ceited, and I felt disgusted with him, for
he SQOII left me.
Afterwards I heard from other accounts
of the late tragedy. Among the details
of the affair was one which peculiarly im
pressed me, and which my first informant
had : not spoken of—an oversight that sur
prised me, as the occurance he had not
mentioned was of that kind which would
be most apt to strike the fancy. -
Upon the throat of the countess the
murderer, in throttling her, had left a
mark from a ring he wore—the irapres,
sion.of a chariot wheel, with a star in the
centre !
"This," said my latest informant, "may
lead to the discovery of the murderer.—
Jean Mosqueau is already visiting the
jewelers' shops, to find out from which,
and by whom; a ring with the chariot
wheel device was pnrchased."
"Who is Jean Mosqueau ?"
"Parbleu t monsieur, have you not heard
of Mosqueau, our famous detective? Al
though his courage is well known, you
would not, to look..at his fair, girlish face
and delicate form, believe that he could
fight a gnat!"
A week later I was aboard the steamer,
bound from Calais to Dover. Among the
passengers I beheld one whose face had a
familiar look. I was not bag in recog
nizing this person as the same I had seen
at the Hotel Windsor, and who had first
informed me of the murder of the count
ess.
He moved languidly hither and thith
er, now and then turning .his brown eyes
admiringly upon the pretty lady passen
gers, while stroking his whiskers with one
white hand, upon the middle finger of
which was a superb diamond ring.
Isquof a rather suspicious nature, which
111161:11L) i 0 VA 4>) :e55 0 ATI) 4 0 >0 Ilik4 A 4 Y D - 0 ;X:AI DO Ailq:A 11 1, 4 % 0 1_0 P " 1 >if OA
WAYNESBORO', FRASKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, • SEPTEMBER 5,1872.
combined with a lively imngination, has
often led me into singularerrors.
Now; a strange impulselmoved me to
advance and hold out my, hand to a man
whom I had involuntarily disliked from
the first in order that I might have a
chance to glance at his ring I Somehow,
the idea had possessed me that I would
discover a chariot device upon the glitter
ing bauble! 7
The stranger did riot at first recognize
me. He soon did, however, and frankly
extended his left hand, which was not the
one containing the ring!
My brain fairly reeled ; the man's be
havior was conviction of my. suspicions.
"The other hand, if you please !" I said,
in a low, stern voice.
"Monsieur will excuse, if he pleases.
My other akin is lame with the rheum:
tibia I"
He beheld me glance toward the half
hidden ring, and I was sure I saw him
start and turn pale, while, at the same
time, looking much surprised.
He,—however, opened his right hand,
as if perf&tly willing for me to shake it,
if I chose. Then I had a good look at
the ring, and felt ashamed of my suspic•
ions. The device was a common heart,
which certainly bore no resemblance to a
chariot wheel !
After a little commonplace conversa
tior, to,reenver my self possession, I turn
ed away, r resolving in future to have a
etter o • inien, m • fellow-creatures.
The strangers. s eanty. seeme, o a --
the attention of mamy,of the ladies. One,
especially, a molest-looking little thing,
attired in black, kept directing furtive
glances at the handsome passenger. Fi
nally she glided so close to .him that, in
turning, he brushed against her.
An apology, smilingly received.by,the
little lady—a remark about the weather
on the part Of the man—and the two were
soon convening with animation. Mean
while the blushing cheek and bright eyes
of the fair one-seemed-to- betoken that
she was well pleased with her companion,
w - • I ' * I v-eonceited_than_
"I am afraid we will have a storm," she
remarked, pointing toward a dark cloud,
upon which the captain of the boat was
anxiously gazing :
"We may, but do not be alarmed, ma
dame I"
With an air of nonchalance, he pulled
a red cigar-case from his pocket, asked
his . companion if she objected to smoke,
and. being answered negatively opened the
case. Then he started, and quickly re
turned this to his pocket, pulled forth a
not)er, of a blue color.
lbw many cigars do you smoke a day?'
inquired the lady, evidently amused at
the. sight of two cases.
The other colored, and• it struck me
that his voice faltered slightly and. his
hand trembled. as he mtule. some laughing
retort.
Soon the storm camepouncing down
upon us. We were midway in the chan
nel, so that we caught the full force of the
sea and gase. Both were terrific. The sea
swept the boat, which lay so fitr t over,that
her machinery soon was damaged, so that
it conk' not work.
The wind, screaming like a demon,
threw her over still further.
Suddenly we observed the sailors en
deavoring to loosen a long boat on davits
astern. Meanwhile there was an omin
ous grinding, smashing noise under the
counter. ,
The truth could not long be concealed;
we were sinking!
The ladies screamed—the handsome
passenger lost his self-posession, and ran
wildly hither and thither.
Meanwhile, the cool behavior of the lit
tle lady in black contrasted strangely with
the agitated demeanor of those around
her. There she stood, calm and immova
ble, her bright, steel-blue eyes fixed upon
the handsome stranger, of whom she did
not lose sight for a moment.
"Keep quiet, ladies and gentleman !"
sang out ! the captain. "Keep quiet and
don't crowd around the boat so! There
will be room in it for you all, and, besides,
there is a schooner coming to our assis
tance," pointing toward a large vessel,
bowling along toward us as ,before the
wind.
There was however, a panic among
those addressed. The moment the boat
was lowered, into it they all bundled, a
mong them the handsome passenger.' A
huge sea, coming along, roaring thunder,
parted the tackles, tearing the boat from
the steamer, before either the lady in
black or I could enter it. The handsome
passenger, losing his balance, fell over the
gunwale, and, unable to swim, wildly
threw up his arms!
I must acknowledge that I was so en
grossed with the perilous situation of my
fair companion and myself—now the on.
ly two left aboard the steamerthat I
paid little attention to the drowning man.
The steamer was in fact going down fast
—was already nearly engulfed in 'the
stormy waves, her heated and half sub
rmerged boiler hissing, as the steam came
gushing out. like the spout from a whale,
I was advancing to throw an'arm round
the little lady, fearing to see her washed
away, when, quietly and coolly motion
iug•me back with one hand she seized a
coil •of rope, and threw tile end to the
handsome passenger.
He caught it, when, turning to me,
the lady requested me to help haul the
man aboard!
I complied, marveling at the rove and
devotion thus shown by a woman toward
An acquaintance of an hourl
His power over the female sex must be
great, I thought. B ss conceited, hut
pot without reason.
This idea flashed clearly then across
my mind, in spite of my danger. The
schooner, however, vas now coke near,
and I had ,every reason to believe we
would be picked up.
I was rigbt. We were all taken on
board the schooner, the handsome pas
senger among the rest.
Then the lady in black, 'quietly pull
ing forth a revolver, pointed it at the head
of him whom she.rescued.
. "Out with that red cigar-ca se ?" • she
said, sternly. "I would like to see what
monsieur carries in it."
"Why,—wh e y," stammered the stranger,
"what is—'
Before he could KO another word, the
little Amaion, thrusting her disengaged
hand in hisxocket; pulled forth the .red
cigar-case, and opening it, a ring drop
ped to the deck. This ring - she . picked
up, and holding it before us exclaimed :
"I have found it at last. The jeweler
assured me it was the only kind of device
in all Paris—a Chariot Wad! This per
son is the murderer of the Countess de
Marville I" •
The handsome passenger stood as if
frozen to the deck, making no, resistance
as the lady in black slipped a pair of
handcuffs over his wrists.
"By what right," he then stammered,
"do you.—"
He paused as the other threw off her
dress and false hair, revealing the person
of a slender man with delicate, girlish,
feature&
"I am Jean kosqueau, the detective I"
he quietly remarked; "and I robbed the
waves of this rascal, that the gallows
here is little to add.
The main proof having been obtained,
other proofs on the prisoner's trial were
brought forth, showing him guilty be
yond doubt;
Long before his execution, his name
was ascertained to be Louis Rosseneau—
a noted adventurer and gambler, who,
however, by cool effrontery and a winning
address, backed by his great beauty, had
been enabled to moveamong the first
circles of Parisian societj'.
of the Sea.
The birds.of the sea are equal in num
ber to those of,the land. Every rock and
cliff, every solitary island, swarms with
them. A. vessel Auaking its way to dis
tant shores is often ,beset by a flock of
birds. The Petrel, the ,Gull, the Alba
tross, and numbers more, have their homes
on the waers. The ocean is the store
house where the seabirds find their fbod.
They devour fishes and mollusks and sea
worms, and whatever else comes in their
way.
The habits of the sea-bird are quite dif
ferent from the habits of the land-bird.—
Its voice is often a harsh cry. It does not
take the same pains with its nest. The
sea-lark merely scoops a hole in the sand,
where she lays her eggs. But she has
the same love for her young ones as her
sister of the field and the woods. If she
sees a dog coming near, she will fly out
of her nest and droop her wing as if six
were lame. The dog begins to run after
her, and she flies along, still drooping her,
wing, until she has led him a long way
from her nest ; then, all at once, she leaves
him and darts away as fast as she can.
The sea-lark lives on the shore ; and
so do a. tribe of birds that are ealled
strand-birds. Some of them stride about
among the shallow pools of sea-water,—
They have long legs, and long bills
that can seize the prey before it has time
to bury itself in the sand. One of these
strand-birds has a bill turned up at the
point. He is called a turn-stone, and I
will tell you why. When a poor little
worm hides itself under a stone', up he
comes, and nothing is so easy as for him
to turn the stone over with his bill. Then
he gets a feast upon what he finds beneath
it.
There is another of these birds, with a
bill shaped like i wedge. The under part
comes beyond the upper. He is very
fond of shell-fish ; and is always looking
about for some on the beach.
He waits patiently, until an unlucky
mollusk opens his shell. Then he pops
in the wedge-like bill, and all is over with
the mollusk. It is as niee a morsel for
him as the oyster is to us.
There is a bird called the sea-pipe. He
can skim the surface of the water, and
catch shrimp and little fishes, and what
ever comes m his way.
But where are the real sea-birds ?
You may find . them far away on the
ocean. They love the wind, dashing
spray and the foam of the billiows. Their
cry is heard in the storm. Their feet
scarcely ever tread the solid earth. Their
clothing is suited to their habits. They
live in the spray and foam;• so God has
given them a coat of extra warmth and
thickness, and a large supply of,oil. The
bodies of some of the sea-birds are as
full of oil as cau be. So that, however
the spray may dash over the feathers,
they are always dry and firm and com
pact.
There are some great troubles that on
ly time heals, and perhaps some that can
never be healed at all; but all can be
helped by the great panacea. work. Try
it, you who are afflicted. It is not a pat
,entrlbedicine. It has proved its efficacy
since first Adam and Eve left behind them
with weeping, their beautiful Eden. It is
an official remedy. All good physicians
in regular standing prescribe it in mental
or moral disease. It operates kindly and
well, having no disagreeable sequel, and
weiassure you we have taken large quan
tities of it with the most beneficial effects.
It will cure more complaints than any
nostrum in the materia medica, and comes
nearer being a "cure-all' than any drug
or compound of drugs in the market. And
it - Will not sicken you if you do not take
it sugar-coated.—.E.Tchange,
The hourlie thorn may be ;as much God's
instranwai as the daily cross.
BE TRUE.
Thou must be true thyself,
If thou the truth would'st teach;
Thy soul must overflow, if thou
Another's soul would'st reach;
It needs the overflow of hearts •
To give thy lips full speeeh.
Think truly and thy thoughts
Shull the world's famine feed ;
Speak truly, and each word of thine
Shall be a fruitful seed ;
Live truly, and thy life shall be,
great and noble creed.
Can You Afford It.
Can you afford to work hard all day,
and read, study, or court the vagaries of
society all night, thus wasting your vital
ity, exhausting your nervous system, and
bringing on premature disease, decay,
aud.old age?
Con you afford-to-eat-huskily, and then
rush to study, or business, with-drawing
the nervous energy from the digestive
system to the brain and muscles, and thus
inducing dysyepsia, and in a few years
at most, to scourge, and hunt, and make
you miserable for years or for life ?
Can you afford to live on rich or high
ly seasoned food, eat champagne suppers
because an artificial appetite is thus
gratified, rendering gout, dyspepsia, appo
plexy, in the middle of life, almost a cer
tainty?
C.
,an you a ; or• : • •
through the indulgence cf appetite and
passion, adopting the fool's motto, "A
short life and a merry one ?"
Can you afford to indulge in fast living,
dressing beyond your means, driving liv
ery horses, or keeping a horse yourself,
when your income is not adequate to such
Can you afford to smoke and chew to
bacco; thus spending from five to twen
ty or thirty dollars a month, injuring
youz nervous system, and thereby trans
mitting to children a weakened consti
tution,' making them puny invalids for
Can you afford to burn out your ner
vous system and demoralize your whole
character by the use of alcoholic liquors.
Can you afford to make money at the
expense of your manhood, your morals,
your health, your just respectability and
your integrity ?
Can you afford to gain the whole world
and thereby make of yourself a moral
wreck.
Can you afford to rob your mind to
clothe your back with silks and satins
and gratify a mere love of display?
.Can you afford to be tricky, and there
fore defraud your employer of the just
service you owe him, even though you
get your pay, thus making yourself a mo
ral bankrupt ?
Can you afford to be otherwise than,
upright, truthful and temperate, courte
ous and in all respects correct.
What I Know About Farming.
- A farm now-a-days of .one himdred a
cres will produce more buckwheat and
pancakes run on theory than it would
sixty years ago run with manure .and
hard knocks. There's nothing like took
larnin', and the time will eventually come
when a man won't have to have only one
of Josh Billings' Farmers' Almanax to
run a farm oPa campmeeting with. Of
ten now it ain't uncommon to see three or
four hired..nien on a farm, with three or
four Idows and oxen, standing all still
while the 'boss goes into the library and
reads himself up for the day's plowing. 7
If'l was running a farm now-a-days, I
would rather have thirty-six bushels of
potatoes raised on theory than to have
eighty-four bushels raised in the mean,
underhand way of our late benighted
grand-parents. I once took a farm my
self. I took it On shares and ran it on
theory, and the thing figured up in this
way: I did all the work and furnished all
the theory, and had ague nine months
out of twelve for my share of the profits,
By mutual consent we both quit that
farm at the end of the year.
What I know about farming ain't
worth bragging about anyhow. If a man
is realy anxious to make money on a
ihrm, the less theory he has on hand the
better, and he must do nearly all the
work himself, and feed his family on what
he can't sell, and hunt bees.
I know of many farmers who are so
afflicted with theory that they won't set
a gate post until they have had the ground
analyzed by some very great professor
of anatomy, to see if the earth has
got the right kind of ingredients in it—
for post holes.• That's what I call run
ning theory in the-ground.
I never knew a farm that was worked
pretty much by theory but what was
"for sale or let" every few years; and I
never knew' a farm that was worked in
the good old ignorant way of our ances
tors but what was handed down from fa
ther to son, and was always noted for
raising brawny-armed boys, buxom lass
es, and first-rate potatoes.—Josh
WHAT MAKES MAN.---It is not the best
things—that is, the things/which we call
best—that makes men ; it is not thepleas
ant things ; it is not the calm experience
of life ; it is life's rugged experiences, its
tempests, its trials. The discipline of life
is here good and there evil, here trouble
and there joy, here rudeness and there
smoothness, one working with the other
whleh necessitate adapia'ions constitute the
part of education which makes a man a
man, in distinction from an animal, which
has noeducation. The successful man in
vartably bears the mark of the struggles
which he has had to undergo, on his brow.
will kiss you, Eve," said the paren
nal ancestors of us all, to his wife. "I
doWt care A-dam if you do," she lovingly
replied. •
How JOE LOST His BET.—An old fel
low named Joe Poole, very eccentric and
an ' incorrigible stutterer, was a constant
lounger at a tavern - id aterford, Me.
One day a traveler' from a distant part
of the State, arrived at' the tavern and vas
met by an old acquaintance, a resident of
the town. After some conversation nn
different topics, the traveler was address.
ed as follows :
"By the way, Brown, look out for old
Joe Poole to-night. You will know him
quick enough by his stuttering. He will
be sure to come around, and offer to bet
:that you've not got a whole shirt to your
back. If you take him up, you will surely
Vise by a trick he's got. He invariably
lays his wager and always wins."
"Very well," said the traveler, "I will
not let him get ahead of me. Much oblig- -
ed for the caution."
The evening, and a large crowd was col
lected in the bar room. Our friends were
there, and old Joe Poole was present and
in his element. .
"I tell you wh-what. You are nicely
dressed, but I'll bet you ten dollars, you
havn't got a wh-whole shirt to your back.
"I'll take the bet," said the stranger
"Put the money in the landlord's hands."
This beinc , b done, the traveler pulled off
his coat and was about following suit with
his vest, when old JOIs cried out—
"Ho ho-hold on. You've lost. Ha-half
your shirt is fr-front, and the other half
iskeyour ba-back 1"
I eriavas_a_roa . of lau . hter, but' the
newcomer did not mind it, but Imlled off
his vest too, and quietly turning his back
to Joe displayed tolls astonished gaze a
shirt neatly folded and placed underneath
his suspenders.
Of course the laugh was turned upon
Poole, who acknowledged that he had lost
the wager. He never offered to bet again.
Sentence of Marriage 1
A case recently tried before the Clon
mel (Irish) Assizes was brought to a sin
gular and novel termination by the pre
siding Judge. The parties in the case
were a young man an I
both of whom claimed .posession of a ru
ral property, one by the virtue of an an
cient lease, and the other under a will.—
They were in court for the purpose of
giving their testimony, when a bright idea
occured to the Judge, who interrupted the.
case to say :
"It just strikes me that there is a pleas
ant and easy way to terminate this law
suit. The plaintiff appears to be a re
spectable young man, and this is a very
nice young woman. [Laughter.] They
can both get married and live happy on
this farm. If they go on With law pro
ceedings it will be all frittered away be
tween the lawyers, who I am sure, are not
ungallant enough to wish the marriage
may , not come oft"
The young lady on being interrogated,
blushed, and said she was quite willing to
marry the
,plaintiff: The latter, on being
asked if he would wed the young woman,
gallantly responded, "Most undoubtedly."
The Judge remarked that the suggestion
oceured 'to him by instinct on seeing the
young couple. A verdict was subsequent
ly entered l'or plaintiff on condition of his
promise to marry defendant within two
month, a stay of execution being put on
the verdict till the marriage ceremony is
completed. The counsel gave the young
lady such an unmerciful "chaffing" on
her consentwhich many in court thought
should have been first obtained fro m
plaintiff, that she left the court in tears.
KEEP otrr , oF DEBT.—Half the perplex
ity, annoyance and trouble that men have
in the world is in consequence of getting
in debt. It seems to be natural for some
people to buy, and incur obligations with
out measure, so long as they can avoid
paying ready cash. Give one of the sort
a chance to buy on credit, and the ques
tions of payment are mattersthathe cares
but little about. But what a crop of trou
ble springs up from the seed of debt !—,
How many gray hairs it brings, and how
often it shortens life, sometimes leading
men to commit suicide or murder. And
yet how easy it is to keep clear of this
terriblemonster. Every young man should
form a fixed and unalterable determina-.
tion, before commencing his active busi
ness career, not to incur one penny of
indebtedness, under any circumstances.
Never buy anything without you have
the money to pay for it at once. Pay no
attention to 'splendid opportunities,' bar
gains.' and the like. Such are only traps
set to catch victims. If you see anything
that you would like to possess, look first
at your money pile End make the answer
depend upon that. Always pay as you
go. If you are short of money, gauge your
demands accordingly.
A CAUTIONARY'.—Beware of sitting in
a draught when warm.
Beware of marrying a wife you cannot
support.
Beware of drinking too much ice-water
in the summer.
Beware of promising more than you are
able to perform.
Beware of sudden conversation, for dis
guises are easily put on.
Beware of men who have no lino of prin
ciple, but work from policy.
Beware of men and women who talk
too much.
Beware of the personwho never finds
anything good in his neighbors.
Beware of thu preacher who says his
route is the only one to heaven.
Beware of men who are idle and indif
ferent as to work and its results.
Beware of the girl who is ashamed of
the kitchen, or to help her mother.
The word "its" is only once in the Bi
ble,.
Great receipts render us liatin, to great,
OD:Milt&
$2,00 PER YEAR,
kiu gii3l
Wit aud pminor,.,
A man in London lost his life at a game"
of pc. er. His wxi"e held the poker.
What is a ship like an apprentice ? ,
When she is bound out.,,
A CHARll.—Whi*per ice-cream in a
girl's ear and she is with you.
How to get a-long IlfltlHave it dug
What fairs should young men shun
mos Fair deceivers. . .
'Alt tent would it be well if we could
all dwell in ?—Con-tent.
The most fatal form of _consumption
The consumption of strong drink. A
The happy Medium—A gentleman be
tween two ladies.
A down-east shop-keeper advertises
aujirt boWls of all sizes for sale cheap."
When have married people passed titre
the alphabet of love ? When they haVe
got to ha be.
NOT Muctr.—Girls kiss one another,buc
one another, but never marry one anoth
er,° if they know themselves.
There is a man in Illinois so big, that
hO:lishes with a railroad `linb,'•aricll smokes
a'sto,vepipe.
Debtor gave as an excuse for notpay
tnent, that "money was very close, - but
not close enough yet for him to rtach it."
"They fired two shots at him," said an
Irish reporter; "the first shot killed him,
ut the second was not fatal."
A farmer had a calf, so contrary, he
said, that he "had to pull his ear Of to
make him let go."
"The verb to love," says a wicked French
writer, "is an active verb, which runs un
til it sinks exhausted inte the easy chair
of marriage." .
An illiterate farmer, wishing to enter
some annals at an agricultural exhibi
tion, wrote to the secretary as follows:
"Also enter me lor the best jackass, I am
sure of taking the premium."
"I will forfeit my head if you are not
wrong," exclaimed a United States Sena
tor to President Lincoln in an argument.
"I accept" it replied the President; "any
trifle among friends has a value."
A. negro held a cow while a cross-ETA
man was to knock her on the head with
an axe. The negro, observing the man's
eyes, in some fear inquired, "You gwine
to hit whar you look ?" "Yes." "Den,"
said Cuffee r "hold de cow yourself, I ain't
gwine to let you hit me."
Lit.NCET'S PRFSCRIPTION.-Dr. Lancet
was blunt old fello*, and an excellent
physician, and he never drove-around an
obstacle when there was need 'of going
throughjt. Matilda Jane had just come
home from boarding school, and was not
feeling well. She was troubled with a
ruling of blood to the head, with dizzi
ness, and with loss of appetite. In this
condition she called on Dr, Lancet and
asked him if he could help.her.
"I have been trying to doctor myself,"
she said languidly, and with a faint, flut
tering smile, as the phi physician felt her
pulse.
"What have you been doing?"
"Well—l have taken Lirosidn's Sarsa
parilla, and Knave's Anodyne, and Rum
mer's Pills, and Numhead's Balsam, and
Fooler's Tonic,and the Nonesuch Expect
orating Cordial, and Dr. Flathead's Uni
versal Vivifying Recuperator—and—"
"Goodness mercy !" gasped the doctor ;
"and bavn't apy of these things given you,.
relief ?"
"No," replied the pining fair one; "they
have not helped me at all. Oh dear do , -
tor, what can I take that will be sure to
do me good ?"
"•What can you take !" repeated the old
man, moving back and eyeing her from
head to foot. "Take !" he exclaimed,with
a flash from beneath his shaggy brsws ;
"my dear girl, take off your corsets!"
I WILL NEVER LEAVE TREE.- -In
these words. the English language fails
to give the full meaning of the Greek. It
implies*, "Never, no, never, nor *ever!"
This world is a world of leaving, part-
ing, separation, failure and disappoint
ment. Think of finding something that
will never leave nor fitil. Grasping this
promise, "I will never leave thee," awl
store in your heart ; you will Vara it one
fitly. The hour will come when you will
find nothing so comforting or cheering as
a sense of God's cheering, as a sense of
God's companionship. Stick to that_
word never. It is worth its weight in gold.
Cling to it as a drowning man clino' to
a rope. Grasp it firmly, as a soldier, at,
tacked on all sides, grasp his sword,
"Never !" Though your heart fair ts.
and you are sick of self, failures tun: in,
firmities•a---even then the promise will not
fail.
"Never?" Though the devil whispers,
"I shall have you at last ;• your fnithwill
fail, and you'll be mine," ever God will.
keep hia word.
"Never I" lilaen the cold chill of death
creeps on, and friends can do no more,you
you are starting on that journey front
which • there. is no return—even then
Christ Fin not lot go his bA'd on you;
oul.