1. -TAL - • • 0k..) '4Zjl ol t l cithd "".°4 • • . , _ • • 2„ •, .• •,. .1% L. , , ) ,„ 4 27'4' .3 • 1 4 • .. 111* !A "; • ..Tl' ;`.1.4 ' si: . • • • r - To , • ;, • r.v.5..1. /J BY W. BLAIR -YOHJILE-25. THE WAYNESBORO' VILLAGE RICHE PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING By W. BLAIR. TERRS—Two Dollars per Annum if paid within the year; Two Dollars and Fifty cents after the expiration • of the year. •ADVEF.TISEMENTS—One Square (10 lines) three insertions, $1,50; for each subsequent insertion, Thir live Cents per Square. A liberal discount made to yearly adver tisers. LOC-U.S.—Business Locals Ten Cents per • line for the first insertion, Seven Cents for subseouent insertions Vrofvzional (lards. D.,,, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, WAYNEsBord, PA. OlEceat the Waynesboro' "Corner Drug ore." [Jane 29—tf. _ 23.. FRANTZ, , 1-las.resumed the practice of OFFICE—In-the Walker Building—near the I.3oarden House. Night calls should be • . uric - -on -_Main Street, ad joining the Westera School House. July 20-tf C. IT. SNI - CTPI,3 - 1 7- , PiIYSICI,AN AND SYRG.E.ON. WAY>: EsßoaTit - Pa. Office at his residence, nearly Opposite —he-Bowden-House. Nov 2—tf. &ON N A. 22 VO44It , NG, ATTORNEY AT LAW, tTAVING been arltnitcd - to Practice -Law it at the several Courts in Franklin Colin- ityyall business entruste( .o Tis care w promptly attended. to. Office address -2q,:rcersburg.,_Pa_ le. 1 IV :LE -7 L 0 ATTOLNEY AT LAW, AYNES WO no P .1, Will give promkt and close attention to all busine: , s eatrosted to hi.; care. Otlice nest door to the Bowden. liunbe, in the Walker Builarr. Duly 6 cTOSTIP.I - 3: DQUO-I.4.A_S ATTORNEY AT LAW. • WAYNES.BOIIO', PA. Practices in the several Courts of Franklin rind adjacent Counties. Estate leased and sold, and Fire Insurance effected on reasonable term:. December 10, 1871. (FOI2)IERLY 0? 317;ncratsfsunc, PA.,) , j (IFFERS his Professional services to the 'kJ/citizens of Waynesboro' and vicinity.. Di:. tiTnn2Ktrat has relinquished an exten sive practice at, liercersburg, 4 • - • Ints Leen prominently engaged fur 6 ~,a „e. • A years in the practice of his profes.sion. lie has opened an &)llice in I „l"aynesborG', flt , the re,idence of George Besore, Esq., 'I. Is Father-in-law, where he can be found at 1 thnes when not professionally engaged. July 20, 1571.-tf. DR. J. M. RIPPLE. DR. A. S. RONERRAKE RIPPLE BONE RA Try, WAYNESBORO', Having. associated themselves in the prac tice of Medicine and Surgery, offer their profes:,ional services to thy public. Wave in the room on the ~orth East eon of the Diamond, formerly occupied by Dr. John J. Oellig, dec'd. July IS, 1872—1 y A-. K. BRA.N.Lh'HOLTS, SID•ENT DENT3ST • AYNE §l3 O 11.0, PA., fst AN he found inchis•otlice at all times, IlJwhere he is piePaied to perform all Dental operations ill the best and most fdtillful manner. We. be..inz, acquainted with Dr. Branis holisso,:ially and professionally recommend hint to all desiring the services of a Dentist. Dr:. E. A. HERING, " J. M. IIIPPLE, " A. 11. STRICKLER, " J. B. AMBEIZSON, " I. J 1 SNIVELY, " A. S. BONERAKE, " T. B. FRENCH, C_ P , B.4A_C_T<Pal..:l._f, • PHOTOGRAPHER, S. E. Corner of the Diamond, WAYSESDORO', PA., AS at all times a fine assortment of Pic _lL "tures Frames and 111mi:dings. Call and iaas speciMen pictures. June tf. TITIOTI TIDTEL. Carger of aralla fr' QINTIZ ISAFA: CHAMBERSEURG, Penn'a. LA - NTZ & UNGER, Proprietors The UNION has been entirely recited and re-furnished in every department, and under the supervision of the present pro, pricturs, no effort will be spared to deserve a liberal share of patronage: Their tables will be .spread with the best the Market affords, and their Bar will always contain the -choicest Liquors. The favor of the public solicited. Extensive Stabling and attentive llostlers. Dee. 14-1-y fcx& MEM subscribers would inform the pub lig that' they have now for sale a good article of brick and will continue to have a supply on hand during the slimmer sea son. B. F. & 11. C. FUNK. June 13—tf NOTICE ¶O BUILDERS. A fine lot Pine Building Lumber far sale .11Land Will be furnished iu rough, or hew ed in proper sizes to suit purehaser.s or Bills. Apply at l'sroy-rr.r.nY .rases. April 4, :872—tc A "'Amax NEWSPAPER-DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC. ' c * glut firietrit_. HEART HUNGRY Some hearts go hungering thro' the world, And never find the love they seek; Some lips with pride or scorn are curled To_hide_the_.ainthe _ma ._not_s eak. The eyes may flash, the mouth may smile: The voice in giddiest mirth may thrill, And yet beneath them all the while The hungry heart is pining still. They meet their doom and walk their way, With steady_lips and steadfast eyes, Welcome their fate, nor weep nor pray— While others not so sadly wise, Are e And fleeting seeinings of.delight, Fair to the view, but at the core Holding but bitter dust-and blight I see them gaze from wistful eyes, I mark their sign on Lading cheeks, I hear them breathe out smothered sighs, And note the grief that never speaks; -For-themino_might_redresses wrong No eye with pity is impearled; Oh, misconstrued and•'suffering long, Oh, hearts that hunger through the world! For you does life's dull desert hold No fountain shade, no date grove fair, Nor gush of waters clear and c..ild, But-sandy-reaehes-wide-and-bare, The foot may fail, the soul mg.y faint, ' - And-weigh-to-earth the_aveary frame, Yet still ye make no weal~ complaint, And speak no word of grief or blame. Oh, eager eyes which gaze afar ! Oh', arms which clasp the empty air ! Not all unmarked your sorrows, Not all unpittied your despair. Smile, patient lips so proudly dumb— When life's frail tent at last is furjed, Your glorious recompense shall come, Oh heartsthat hunger through the world Olis diattraus 3r Mitt . A Woman at th Bottom• `To tell the truth,'said John B aviland, as he threw aside his evening paper, and faced the little group in the parlor, 'I am fast growing out of patience with this text —`a woman at the bottom of it.' It would be strange in this world, made up, as we are, of nothing but the two sexes, if a wo man would not occasionally be fitund at the bottom of anything good ! It is the injustice of the thing that makes me angry. Now there are hundreds of us poor fellows who owe all we are, all we have, and all we expect to become, in this world or the next, to the unselfish love of women.' The gentleman's face was flushed and he spoke very warmly and feelingly, so much so that his wife, rocking her baby to sleep in the farther corner of the room inquired, `But why should you care, John ? It has always been so and always will be. I don't think about it now, because we have been taught to expect it.' Tut you should care ! and you should fight for each other more than you do.— There is one chapter, in my life history that I have always kept locked in my heart, but to-night I feel as if it were my duty to open it for your inspection; and I db it for the love of woman—for the love of one woman who made me what I am worthy to be, the husband of a good woman.' 'Why John,' said Mrs. Haviland, softly approa , hing—babe still held tight to her bosom—'You absolutely frighten me.' `Let's have the story,' said the rest of the group, certain that something good might be anticipated ; and John com menced, at first a little timidly, but gain ing confidence as he proceeded. When I first came to New York, at the age• of twelve years, to seek my fortune. I can call myself a precocious chap with out danger of being accused of an unusual degree of self-appreciation. I was quick to learn everything—the bad as well as the good. My employer used profane lan guage. I picked up the oaths he dropped with a naturalness that surprised even myself. The boys in the office all chewed tobacco. This was a little the hardest job I ever attempted, but after two weeks of nausea and indescribable stomach wrench inp, I came off victorious, and could get away with my paper a day with the best of 'em.' `True, every word of it, continued the speaker. 'One afternoon I was sent with a note from my employer to a house iu the up per part of the city. I hadn't anything to read, but I had plenty of tobacco, and with that I proposed to entertain myself during the two or three hours I must spend in the passage. Por.scrae minutes I did not notice who were beside me, but by and-by a lady said very softly and pleas antly, 'Would you please, little boy be more careful, I am going to a party this afternoon, and I should hate to have my dress spoiled.' 'I looked into her Pace. It was the sweetest face 1 ever saw. Pale, earnest and loving, to my boyish heart it was the countenance of an angel.' `What in the world did you say ?' in terrupted Mrs. Haviland, her bright eyes filled with tears, as she saw how the mem ory of this beautiful woman affected her husband. 'Say! There WaS very little I could say, • WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., TIEUESDAY, OCTOBER 3,1872. I think all I did-for-tome-time-was look._ I managed to dispose of the tobacco, how ever, and wipe my mouth very carefully, all of which I felt, certain she saw and mentally commented upon.' `Have you a mother, little boy ?' she next asked in the same low tone. `No ma'am,' I answered, and I felt my throat filling up, and I knew that I must swallow mighty fast to keep from sobbing. 'You have a father then, I suppose ? she kept - on. `No, ma'am, no father. 'Brothers and sisters.' 'Neither, ma'am:- -- "Then the little boy' is all alone in the 'All alone, Ma'am.' 'How long has his mother been dead ?' and the dear woman looked away from my face, and waited till I could speak; 'Two years,' I - answered. `And you loved her,' came next.. `Dearly,' was'all could say. She was silent for a moment and then said so sweet ! I • shall never forget. it—'and w fat uo you un your moth say—how do you think she would feel— to know that her little boy was guilty of .such a disgusting habit as this ?' -pointing -to my cheek where the tell-tale cud had vainly tried to stand its ground. must leave you now,' she continued, `but here is .my card, and if you come to me most any evening, I shall be very glad -to-meet-you, and . perhaps we can be of service to each other. She gave me her little gloved hand, and to my dying day, I shall never fbr get the sensations of that moment. I could not bear to part with he' ; without her I felt that I could do nothing—with her, I could grow to man's estate—a-man- in-the Htruest_sense of the word. From that mo ment tobacco never passe my ps. As soon as I could muster courage I I - Failed upon tlielicdy --- W - ell - do — l — remen:F ber how my heart beat as I waited in the elegant parlor for her to come down ; and how awkward Ifelras I followed—my guide to her private sitting room. Here she got at every point of my life, and be fore I bade her goodbye; it *as arrang ed that I should spend two evenings of each week at her house, and I was to read and study just what she thought best. No lover ever looked forward to meet ings with the mistress of his heart any more ardently than I did to these even ings with nay friend. I grew careful of my personal appea rance—careful of my conversation, and strove in every way to be worthy this no ble friendship. Two years- passed away in this delightful manner—two years that made me. My friend not only attended to my studies, striving also all the while to sow the right kind of spirtual seed, but she procured me a business situation with a particular friend of hers, where I re main to this day. Nobody but God knows what I owe this woman. During the last three months of those two years,l noticed that she grew constantly pale and thin ; but she never was betrayed into speaking of herself: Sometimes when I would ask if she felt worse than usual she would re ply, 'Oh I no; I am only a little tired —that is all.' One evening she kept me by her sofa much longer than was her eu.tom, while she arranged lessons, and laid out work enough it seemed to me for mouths. 'Why so much to night ?' I inquired, conscious that my heart ached, vaguely suspecting the cause. - `Because, dear,' she answered, 'I do not want you to come for the next week, and I am anxious that you should have suf ficient work to anticipate, as well as to keep you busy. I think I can trust you to be a good boy, John.' `I think you can, ma'am,' I answered, almost sobbing. 'lf I should see your mother, my dLar boy, before long, what shall I say to her?' Then I knew all, and my grief knew no boUnds. It is no use to go on. She died two days after ; and when I hear fblks saying, "There's a woman at the bottom of it,' I feel like telling the whole world what a woman did for me.' MENtonms.—How scenes long past, come back to me, as I look upon. the old arm chair ; I think upon the dear good old man that once filled it, long since gone to his reward. Patiently he bore life's weary crosses, and the aged pilgrim, who had journeyed many years, sometimes in light, but most in shadow, at last en tered into rest. His feet shall never more he weary, his eyes shall know no weeping, his patient hands no toil, safe, in the beau tiful city, is the dear one that once filled the old arm chair. Methinks he still pur sues his work of love, as in earth-life, and perchance knows, that words of wisdom and truth uttered by him in the long ago, comfort the weary travelers of to-day.— Dear old chairs, we brought you from our Northern home to the sunny South. Sa cred will ye ever be to us, for ye have the magical power, to bring before us your former occupants in all their gentleness and meekness, when we are laid in our lowly beds, let no rude bands mar this precious memento of the loved one gone before, may its outstretched arms, ever lovingly and effectually appeal for pro tection. Mus. L. M. GREENE. Receive at once the potent power which will lift you above the ills of life, in the thousands of books which can be had in this age. Read books, pamphlets, and newspapers, everything useful, instructive, amusing, and full of life's lessons. Get your mind on yourself at some rate, or you are doomed never to amount to any thing, or have a friend worth having. Truth is the bond of union and the basis of human happiness. Without this vir tue there is no reliance in language, no confidence in friendship, no security is oaths and promises, A_P_olitician_Badiy , Schld His name was Spooner, and,,while ac tively canvassing in a local election in Maine, he made an engageinent to speak at a mass meeting in Berwick upon a cer tain evening, at which time he expected to carry conviction to the souls of the au dience. By a blunder—perbtips a malic ious one—on the part of his 'carriage-dri ver, he was taken to Somersworth just over the border in New Hampshire in which State there was to be no election. Spooner got out of the carriage and walk ed quickly to the only ate building in I - 6.1 it" I I ll' of us speec to arose •as e went a ong. When he arrived the room was full and two or three men were upon the platform. Spooner walked up the aisle, and, intro ducing-himselfsaid-: 'My name is Spooner. I _have come to address this meeting.' He was very cordially welcomed and he took -his seat. The audience was an _un emmonlyrespectableune,and„poon thought it certainly was the cleanest and • -most_genteeL_politicaL_gatifering_h_e_ha_ ever seen. He began-to-have-misgivings_ These grew to doubts when one of the gentlemen expressed a desire to know if `Br,other Spooner would lead us in .ra er? Of course he wouldn't. a e never ear of such a pruceeding at a political:meet ing. But he held his peace and gave no expression to his astonishment while another person proceeded with the devo tional exercise. When he concluded-old- Spooner was called upon for a few re marks, and rising, he got rid of about one-third of one of- the-most-exciting speeches ever spoken north of Texas be fore he perceived tin - a - the audience were -strangely-agitated.----He was engaged in .an elaborate disquisition upon the miqui ties of his political opponents, when a man stepped up and said ; "Excuse me, sir ; but that is a little out of place here." "Ex-ciise me!" said Spooner. "I guess I know what lam about. Wait till I get through." "But you can't go on, sir. We cannot be disturbed in this outrageous manner." Disturbed !" said Spooner—"disturbed! Why, this is legitimate doctrine. Let me alone ! I haven't come to the exciting part yet." And Spooner began again. "Really, sir, you cannot proceed. • A prayer-meeting is no place for such dis cussions.', "Prayer-meeting? Good gracious ! And you don't mean to say this is a prayer meeting do you ? Ain't this Berwick, and isn't this a "No, sir ! This is Somersworth and I am the pastor of this flock." Mr. Spooner went back to the hotel sad ly with two-thirds of one of the best speech es you ever heard lying like lead upon his brain and that accounts for the news from Maine. Is POVERTY A OREM. E? If poverty is a crime, then there are many criminals, for many are too poor to live in any sort of comfort. The standard of honesty and excellence. in the minds of many men, is money.— Give an individual plenty of money, fill his barns full, and examine his title pa pers to broad acres of land on whieh no mortgage lies, and what a multitude of fitults are hidden beneath those things ! Wealth hides more sins than anything else. "He was a pocr, Ina an honest man." Ah there is "poor" yet "honest," they say, as if the two conditions were rarely allied. And that's the way the world feels toward poverty. Crime and pover ty go hand-in-hand in the minds of too man .) , of us. If men would learn to honor and trust each other for their intrinsic woith—their wealth of mind and soul—their talent, genius, industry, sobriety, etc., be he rich or poor, and a low estimate were placed upon each other for their wealth of purse we should all be happier, wiser and bet ter. Genius would oftener be rewarded, and better ap'preciated. "Poor yet hon est" men would be stimulated to higher exertions, for they would feel and know that honor, trust and profit might follow such exertions. A man should be hon ored and applauded for what he has. It was not your men of wealth who gave to the world the steam engine, the telegraph the sewing machine, and thousands of other useftil and scientific inventions which have revoletionized the whole civ ilized world : but men of poverty, who lived in obscurity, and under the ban of reproach on account of such poverty.— It has ever been thus ; and, we fear, will continue to be so, for man by nature is ungrateful, and money rules the world. THE STRAY MULE.—At a meeting in a frontier Western settlement several pre sent were stoutly opposed to the organi zation of a Sunday school. Not being a ble to agree, the meeting was breaking up, when the chairman said he had a very important notice to read to them. Qui et was soon restored to hear this rather novel "riligious notice," "Strayed—A large black mule. He had on a halter when he left, and is branded on the loft hip with the letter S. Any one returning said mule will be liberally rewarded."— The keen Sunday school Union missiona ry quickly announced that he also had a very important notice to give .ut. "Stray ed—A number of boys from their homes, near this place, this Sunday morning.— They had guns and fishing poles on their shoulders when they left. They are branded by a holy God as Sabbath break ers. Any one returning said boys, and placing them in a Sunday-school, will be liberally rewarded at the day - of judge ment." The tact of that missionary car ried the vote in favor of a Sunday School and those stray boys were duly "return ed" to it. CLING - TO - TllO2lllO CLING TO TOE There are many friends of summer, Who are kind while flowers bloom ; But when winter chills the blossoms, . They depart with the perfume. On the broad highway of action ' Friends of worth are far and few; So when one has proved his friendship, Cling tiThim:who clings to you. Do not harshly judge your neighbor, Do not deem his life untrue, If he make no great pretensions— Deedsorare great, but words are few. • -mnisot-awaer.• Firm as when the skies are blue, Will be friends while life endureth— Cling to those who cling to you. When — yo .ee a Ivor iy ro Buffeting the stormy main, Lend a helping hand fraternal Till he reach the shore again Don't desert the old and true When misfortunes come in view, When he most needs friendshi Is-t. Cling_to thcise who cling to you .Delivered before the M. V. Literary Society, Thursday evening, September 26, 1872, BY D. B. MENTZER Mr. President and Gentlemen : After _the_lapse_of,several months, and pursuant to appointment, we have assembled again to resume the various official duties, and Jitemry_exercises_of_ this Society. lam happy to congratulate you in the prospect -of-having - an - interesting and profitable time, in the improvement of our mental qualifications, - and in the enlargement of our general informati - oti7A - t - thts - sifige — df" our lives, we may find the most critical period of human existence. We are now forming habits, making plans, and receiv ing impressions, all of which, in a very great measure, will give quality and char acter to•our future ; and we trust that the stated deliberations of this body, will ex ert a genial, culturing and refining influ ence upon all who may be associated with us. Having been appointed on the pro gramme the orator of the occasion, I have chosen for my theme, True Life. lam accustomed to look, with feelings of no ordinary interest, upon my young fellowmen whose hearts beat with the high aspirations of future manliness and use fulness. I glory in the. aspiring young man whose motive is, first, to lay the pro per foundation, and then to build up the sublime and enduring superstructure of a true life. If 1 should not reverence a noble youth, one glowing with life, buoyancy and en thusiasm. with an erect form and digni fied bearing, one whose spirit shrinks from the commission of ignoble or unworthy deeds, I must indulge pride that my na tive 'country soon may claim service from such a source, or that humanity is to be blest 4ith his labors of love and self:sac rifice. In a group of such, I fancy sometimes, I can see a future Washington, or a New ton, or a Ben Franklin, or a Daniel Webster, Or a Lincoln, a Beecher or a Spurgeon—educational and moral reform ers. Such men are in very deed. the pul ses of society and the mainsprings of en ternrise and learning. .1 love to see the germ of greatness and of virtue expanding and bursting it s bands ; and to trace the young, in the imagination, onward, until I can see them occupying positions of trust and power, taking the places of the benefactors of our race, and the friends of humanity who have passed off the stage ofactive life , and like them devoting their lives to the welfare of the human race. I love to watch their throbbing bbsoms As they are actuated by noble and gendious senti ments, as they fearlessly resolve to pur sue a manly and ennobling coarse, anx ious to labor, and to labor arduously for the promotion of virtue, and for the hap piness of all with whom they are associa ted. Remember that "it is not all of life to lire," "for no man liveth unto himself;" and remember too, that a mere animal ex istence is unworthy of an immortal being. There are wants to be supplied besides those made known to us by the appetite, something more than the wants of the bo dy. If you seek only these, your aims are no higher than these of the horse, or the bird, or the fish, or even the swine, for all these eat, drink and sleep, live a brief life, and then die unlamented and forgotten. These - wants, however, must be supplied ; but their supply should en gross only a small portion of our time and attention. The body should be car ed for, should be fed. that it may be strong and, vigorous, that we may have strength to fulfil life's duties ; but when a man lives principally to satisfy the de mands of hunger and thirst, and to be "clad in fine raiment," or perhaps, to "fare sumptuously every day," his life is but little, if any, above that of the un thinking, unsympathizing bird, or the trained monkey, arrayed in costly trap pings, to amuse the frivolous bystander with his antics and freakish caner,. Young men, if you would beinen in the largest sense of that term, you have a life of activity before.. you ; you must toil, positively, emphatically, toll; not only while :it your studies, preparing for future usefulness; but you must gird on the ar mor, and go forth to the contest of life, for a contest it will prove to be, if you arc faithful to yourselves.; go with a bold courage, au undaunted spirit, ever ready, if need be, to meet the opposition with which error and corruption may assail and confront you. liaise the standard of attainment and excellence high, and then reach it, if within your power. Do not underrate the mental talents. with which you are endowed. The words of Daniel Webster are . applicable to every honorable profes sion or station in life: "If there is not room at the foot of the ladder, there is room at the top." Let life be measured, not by its length in - years,but - by - its - labors, by its self-sac rifices, by its deeds of charity, by its de votion to the cause of humanity, and by its sympathy for the oppressed and unfor tunate. Aim not to become valiant upon the bloody battlefield, but rather to be come courageous in otmosi • AA so much, for the decoration of body, and the gratification of selfish de rises; Out for the improvement of the mind and the culture of the heart. Seek enjoyment less -in boisterous mirth among tie gay and heartless, and more in the company of the wise and prudent, the temperate and intelligent, the honest and the true; and more, also, in deeds of gen erosity ancllom_among those—in—sorram and in destitution. --Each --n-igh-t—be— well s en ; mark ade4n. sympathy, in knowledge and in virtue.— " •:.' . . • ' • .;'• trt manliness. A day thus spent, will cause I s angs a is c ose, no mourning over squandered moments, and no wish to spread a vail over the past, to cover shame -awl-a-misspent - life' - itold the principles of true life, and live by them: Born Drunk. Among the names registered at the Toombs the other -night--was- that-of- a youth about fifteen years of age, who had been arrested for drunkenness. But he was not drunk, nor had he beetidrinking. He was moreover in !ood sound health hit ga - veill - Irie - eiteinal indications of being intoxicated when arrested by the police officer. Upon protesting to the keeper of the Toombs that he was not in toxiLat-d, it nas revealed tiff le un- fortunate youth had been borne a natur al drunkard, or rather that he acted like such a thing. He said that although in good health, he had never been able to walk 'without staggering. His speech was not unlike ;that of persons in a state of intoxication ' • and when excited he would mutter and reel. 'the unfortunate youth was detained until the next day; and was not sent to the Courts to be gaz ed at through judicial spectacles. A sub sequent investigation of the case proved that the lad had been telling the truth a bout himself,, but his condition revealed a demonstration of the natural law that the child is a fair copy of his parents.— It appears that prior to marriage the fa ther had been a secret but conrmed in ebriate, and when the facts became known to the woman thus suddenly and unex pectedly, she wept in, the most terrible manner.. Almost broken-hearted, she contemplated the future agony in store for her. Months passed away, • when it was discovered that the child at three years acted strangely, and at the:end of six months the unhappy woman realized all her fbrebodings. The effect produced upon the mother was not without influ ence upon the father, however. Realiz ing, in the midst of tears of bitter an guish, the sin that had been visited upon the child, the man reformed. He has noW several bright children, the most ex emplary ones they are, too. But the boy who was brought into the Toombs was not drunk, but had entailed upon him a life of misery, as it was a blasted destiny. —N. Y. Tribune. CLOUDS.—One of the saddest thoughts that come to us in life is the thought that in this bright, beautiful, joy giving world of ours, there are so many shadowed lives. If suffering came only with crime, e ven.then we might drop a tear over him whose errors had wrought their recoin pease. But it is not so ; alas ! then we should have it to record, the noblest and most gifted are often among those who may count their fate among shadowed "lives." With One;' it is the shadow of the grave, long, deep, and narrow, which fall over a life, shutting out 'the gladness of the sunshine, blighting the tender blos som's of hope. With another, it is the wreck of a great ambition: He has builded his ship and launched it.on the sea' of life, freighted with the richest jewels of his strength, his energies,lis manhood. Behold, it came back beaten, battered, torn in some terri ble tempest, "the wreck of a first rate." With some others, disease throws its terrible shadow over the portal, and shutS out the brightness and joy of the outside world from the sufferer within. But this is the lightest shadow of all ; fir it teach es the heart the priceless lessons of en durance and faith, and through its dark ness the:suflerer sees ever the star of prom ise shining with rays that tell of the glo ries beyond. Of all shadowed lives, we rind it in our hearts to feel most for those which are darkened by an unhappy mar riage. Unhappy marriage, is the quint cence of human bondage. It wounds daily our lbudest and sweetest impulses ; it trifles and buries our holliest and dearest affec tion, and writes over the tomb thereof, "No hope." It embitters its victim with the thought that, lost forever to his or her life, is the glory of a great love ; close forever to him or.her, the portals of a happy hora6L--that fountain of freshness and delight, at which the soul must needs drink to gather strength for the heat and burden of the outside-battle. Few things are necessary for the wants of this life,; , but it takes an infinite num ber to satisfy' the demands of society. A Merry comp :lion vu the mad' shor tens tile journey. t a tt it JJttutar. Ar Hs have they, yet toil not—Chairs. Hands have they, yet steal not—Clocks. The happy medium—A gentleman be, tween two ladies, , People who are always wishing for some thing new, should try neuralgia once. If books are as . poets call them, the most joyous things in nature, what are they always murmuring 1,1.)0ut ? The story that a man died from inju ries received from falling on the fork of a country road istarkitima, is tillirr denied. 'F What's the difference between a watch and a feather bed? The ticking of the watch is inside, that of the bed outside. Can a man who has been fined by the agistratesain and again be consider ed a refined man? r~vietzc.~d~, "You-sav ' • • • s Malvern Hill," said a beggar to a - cap tain: - "Saved your lice! How ? I serv ed under •ou and wh •. . , -, to owed." The ladies may declaim as much as they please against intemperance, bu t they are themselves exceedingly addicted to a social glass, when it is a looking A son of St. Patrick was in charge : Of a - ferry boat. A lady passenger, being frightened by the waves, asked him, "Are people ever lost by this boat?" He gave her the encouraging reply, "Not often, madam-we-generally find—them — by Tag ging the river." - "Let that pudding.aloae, there! That's the desert!" exclaimed a waiter to a, e s i ryinan who was devouring the tapi oca at an early stage of tlie — dinner. " don't care if it is a desert' testily said the countryman; "I'd eat it if was a wil derness." - A school-master in one of the neighbor ing towns, While on his morning walk, passed by the door of a neighbor, who was excavating a log for a pig trough. . "Why," said the schoolmaster, Mr.—, have you not furniture enough yet?" "Yes," said the man, "enough for my awn family, but I expect to board the school-master this winter, and am making preparations." A lost cow was lately advertised by the following written notice, which wat post ed on trees and fences near the Owner's building : Strayed or Stolen. A largo Red Kow, with Yaller Specks on her right ear. She is about. seven or eight years old, and belongs to a poor Nvithiv, with a short tail. Ten dollars will. be given to any-body who will return her to Newark. (lune 17,180069. Trn RoriG SMELL.—A high officer of the sons of Temperance presenting him self with the smell of grog he had been drinking, at the door of a "Division" for admission, was waited upon by an Irish sentinel, to whom he gave the pass-word, when the following *passed "Sir," said he, "and ye are Mister o'- Wright, the Grand Worthy Patriarh of of the State of Khaintucky, I do after he lavin." "Yes," said Jim, "you are perfectly, right, my friend, but why do you ask the question ?" "To tell ye the truth, *then, sir, and shame the devil, said Pat, "ye do be having the right pass-word for a son of Temperance, entirely; but by the Holy Virgin and the blessed Saint Patherick ye'ye got the wrong skull" , KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.- ou have trouble, your feelings are injured, your husband is unkind, your 'wife frets, your home is not pleasant, your brethern do not treat you just right, and things in general move unpleasantly. Well, what of it ?-Keep it-yourself. A smouldering fire can be found and extin guished; but when the coals are scattered who can pick them up. Fire brands when together can bg trodden under foot, but when tied to the . tails of Sampsou's foxes it is difficult to tell where they will burn. Bury your sorrow. The place for sad and disgusting things is under ground.— Charity covereth a multitude of sins. - Things thus covered, are often cured with out a scar.; but when they are once pub lished and confided to meddling friends, there is no end to the trouble they may cause. Keep it to yourself. Troubles aro transient, and when sorrow is healed and past, what a eatntbrt it is to say, "No ono ever knew it until albwas aver with." A CAtruos.A.ny.—Beware of sitting in a draught when warm. Beware of marrying a \via) you cannot snpport. Beware of drinking to much ice-water in the summer. Beware of promising more than you are able to perform. Beware of sudden conversion, for dis guises are easily put on. Beware _of men who have no line of principle, but work from policy. Beware of men and women who talk too much. Behar: of the prrson who never find anything good in his iaighbors. Beware of the pracher who says his route is the only one to Beware of in.nl who are idle and indir fermt as to work an ,1 Beware of the girl who is ashanLil tits kitchp, far to help ht:r $2,00 PER TEA lILMIDI 14 ti
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers