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8 Z W. BLAIR
VOLUME 25.
TOE. WAYAESEOIIO' VILLAGE RICOED
PUBLISLIED EVERY TLICESDAY MORNING
By W. BLAIR.
TEE IhlS—Two Dollars per Annum if paid
within the year; Two Dollars and
Fifty cents after the expiration
of the year,
ADVERTISEMENTS— One Square (10
lines) three insertions, 1,5 . 0; for
each subsequent insertion, Thir
live Cents per Square. A liberal
discount made to yearly adver
tisers.
LOCALS.—Bnsiness Lozals Ten Cents per
line for the first ile.ertion, Seven
Cents fur subseunent imertiunb
roftsional 01,,arils.
j. E. ABIBERSON, M. D.,
su.RGEO.-vi.._
WA l',l.lESl3OllO', PA
Office at tie
ore."
DMMI
_a.,) A_ I\T `1 1 ,
Has resumed the practice of Medicine.
OFFICE —ln the Walker Building—near
the Bowden House. Night calls should be
made at his residence on Main Street, ,ad
joining the Western Selwol House.
July 20-tf
C.. _N".
PHYSICIAN AND SI;PAEON,
WAYNESBORO ' PA.
Office at his residence, nearly opposite
he Bowden House. Nov 2—tf.
gt, 11C4nhti 14,
-ViTORNEY AT LAW,
ErfA VI NU been admited to Practice Law
at the several Courts ill Franklin Coun
t,y, all business entrusted to his vale will be
promptly attended to. Post Uiliee address
Mercersin.rg, Pa.
JOS=P7i - I.
--A.r.VORNEY- AT L.W.
_ .
Practices in the :,everal Courts of Franklin
and atFacent Counties.
N. B.—Re‘d Estate lease( an so., , and
Fire Insurance effected on reasonable terms
December It), 1671.
C It,, C. gißt 11 IA, E Fli t
(FORMERLY OF lURRUEILiIIURU, PA.,)
OFFERS Profe , :,ional Eervices , to the
chi 'it us of WayneAJoro' and vicinity.
has relinquiAletl an exten
git•e practice at Mercur,buri r t, a hero he Las
been proniinently engt:gedl fora nuniber
year:, in the practice 01 hi, profes.-ion.
lie has opene.l an Wayne.,borc.',
at tile re,idence of Georg,. lie,i.re,
Either-in-law, where he can be fount' at al
times when not profe.:.•ionally
. July 20, 1871.—tf.
DR. J. M. RIPME. DIL .S. S. BONID3ItAIs: ,
RIPPLE & EIONBRAriaI,
\. A' PA.
'Having associated themselves in the prac
tice of Medicine and Surgery, otter their
prufe.4sional services to the public.
Office in the room on the . orth East
Cur. of the Diamond, formerly occupied by
1)r. John J. Ottllig,dec'd.
•
July 18, y
A. K. BRANISHOLTS,
RESIDENT DENTIST
WAYNESBORO', PA.,
•
Q lAN be (mind in his oillee at all times,
where he prepared to perlbrni all
Dental operations in the bent and most
skillful manner.
We twin:: acquainted with Pr. Branis
hult:,:ucially and profeAundlly rconnincad
Nina to all tie,irins , thc ,erviee. of a Dentist.
Drs. E. A. TIERING,
" J. 'M. RIPPLE
" A. 11. STRICKLER,
" 11. AMBERSON,
" 1. N SNINEIN.
" BRA I.E,
" D. FRENCH,
C.. 13 A_CICB 1111_1,
PHOXOGRAPIIF.',R,
S. F. Corner of the Diamond,
WA YN BO I 1. ) .k
tAS at all time, a fine as:•ortinent of Pic-
Fraine, and 2.l.oultiings. Cull and
,Iwcimon pictures. June tf.
33_A_12,33TZINC.TT.
firm E sub riper informs the public that he
IL continue, the Il.:rbering business in the
room next door to MT. Reit P., tin ItT ry Store,
and is at all blues prepare to do hair 'At:-
ting, s.h.tving,s hainpooi:ing etc. in the best
style. The patronage of the public is re:Te..t
fully solicited.
Aug 23 1871
VilWil ill II T t 'l'.
Corner_ of Hain ,gr queen. Sts.,
CHAIVIBERSBURG, Penn' a.
LA.NTZ UNGER, Proprietors
The UNION has been entirely rated
and re-furnished in every deiurlinent,and
tinder the sti;iervkion of the jire-cot pro
prietors, no etlllrt will he spared to deserve
a liberal share of rtrpnage:
Their tableA will he spread with the
best the Market affords, and their 114 r
will always contain the choierst Liquors.
The favor of the public solicited. _ _ _
Extensive Stabling and attentive Ilostlers.
Dec. 14-1-y
13 ion €cp>r atzt.l43.
grIHE subscribers would inform the pub
lie 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. & 11. C. FUNK
June 13—tf
NOTICE TO lII.TILLIEICS.
A fine Int Pine litiildintr Lumber for sale
/land. will be fortii,lied or hew
ed in proper sizes to suit purelrisers of
pills. Apply at MoNr.r.ar.v SrLINCa.
•April 4,
In the course of his- wanderings among
the Pyramids of Egypt, Lord LINSEY, the
celebrated English traveler, accidentally
came across a mummy, the inscription up
on which proved to be at least two thou
:and years old. In eiauii•nin! the mummy,
after it was carefully unwrapped, he found.
in one of its enclosed handr, a small round
root. -Wondering how long vegetable life
could last, he took the little bulb from that
_ : -.se! 7 le - U lanted-it-itrt e• -
allo-:ed the dew and rains of heaven to de-
seen upon course o tunoTa
few weeks, to his astoniqunent and joy,
11)& 6 . root burst forth and bloomed into a
beautiful flower.
orner
rj:lne 29-1.
This interesting incident suggested to
Mrs. S. H. BR \DFOIID, an American poet
ess, ti.e following thoughts upon the Itesur-
rection
Two thousand years ago a flower
'Bloomed lightly in a fir-off land ;
Two thousand years ago its reed
Was placed within a dead man's hand
Before the Saviour came to earth,
That man lived, and lived, and died,
And e'en in that far-off time
Tice flower had spread .ts perfume wide
Suns rose and set, yems came and went,
The dead hind kept its treasure well ;
Nations wereborn and tArned to dust,
While life was hidden in that shell.
The shriveled hand is_robbed atlast—
Tite - se - eds - is - bnri - ed earths ;
When, lo! the life long bidden there,
Just such a plant as that which grew
From such a seed when buried low;
Just such a flower in Egypt bloomed,
And died, two thousand years ago,
And will not He who watched the seed
And kept the life within the 14he1l,
When those He loves are laid to rest,
Watch over their buried dust as well?
And will not He, from 'neath the sod
rause something glorious to ri e?
Aye! though it sleep two thousg nil years,
Yet all that buried dust shall riEe.
Just such a face as greets you now—
Just such a form as here we bear—
Only more glorious far, will rise,
To meet the kiaviour in the air.
Then, will I lay me down in peace,
When callA to leave this vale of tears;
For, "in 'my tlesh F hail I see Gad,"
E'en though I : , leepte o thousand years.
aiiiscen4utoith °3ending.
ITARTHA PHILLIPS.
She was dead. Au old woman, with
silvery hair brushed smoothly away from
her wrinkled fbrehead, and snowy cap ti
ed under her chin ; a sad, quiet face ;
patient mouth, with lines about it that
told of sorrow borne with gentle lirrunes;
and two withered, tired hands crossed with
a restless loop. That was all.
Who, looking at the sleeping form,
would think of love and romance, of a
heart only just healed ()fa wound receiv
ed long, long years ago.
Fifty years she had lived under that
root; a limner's wife. If you look on that
little plate on her coffin lid you will see
"Aged 70" there ; and she was ( nly twen
ty when John Phillips brought her home
a bride.
A half century she had 'kept her care
ful watch over her dairy and larder, had
made her butter and the se, and lelked
alter the innumeralde dudes that tall to
the share of a fanuci's 'eih. And John
had never gone with bottonkss shirts and
and: rued seeks, had net come to an un
tidy house and scolding wire. His print,
tidy Martha had Inca his bride; and
though not a demonstrative hu,band, he
had boasted sometifilcS of the n o&L'i house
who kept his home in until..
But underneath her quiet•exteriorthere
«a 4 a story that John never dreamed of,
and would have bylieved it impossible had
he been told. She did not mart'v for love.
When she, 1V:14 nineteen, a ro,y, happy
girl, a stranger came On a Visit to their
village, and that summer was the bright
est and happiest site ever knew. Paul
Gardner was the stranger's name ; he was
an artist, and fell in love with the simple
villa ~c girl, anti won her neart ; nail when
he wont away in the autumn they were
betrothed.
W. A. PRICE
"nt come again in the spring," he
said, "Trust me and wait fur tne, Alattie,
dear."
She promised to love and wait for him
till the end of time, if need be ; and Asia'
a kiss ou her quivering lips, he went a
-1:6".9 y.
Matt ie Gray did not tell her father and
mother of her love, for they had no lik
ing for London folks, and had treated
Paul none ton hospitably when be had
ventured inside there home.
Spring time came, and true to his word
Paul returned ; he stayed only a day or
two this time.
"I am going away in rt few weeks to
Italy, to study," he said. "I shall he gone
two years and then I shall come and claim
you for my bride."
They renewod their vows, and partod
A FAMILY NEWSPAPER---DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC.
,*elect Vottru.
THE RESURRECTION,
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 21,1872.
with tears and tender, loving words ; he
put a tiny rim , b upon her finger, and cut
a little' curly tress from her brown hair ;
and telling her always to be true and
wait for him, he went away.
The months went by, and Mattie. was
trying to make the time seem short by
studying to improve herself so that she
might be worthy of her lover when he
should come back to make her his wife.
"It must be about the time he is to
start," she said to herself, one day.
And by and by, as she glanced over
the newspapers, her eyes were attracted
by his name, and with white lips and di
lated eyes, sho read of his marriage to an
other.
"Married ! Taken another bride in
stead of coming back to in,trry me! Oh,
Paul ! Paul ! I loved and trusted you for
this !"
I..._.She_cavered_her face-with - her hands
an wept otter y. An hour afterward,
_ as _ s i kl _ sa t there it ,_witii the
fatal newspaper lying in her lap, she
'heard a step on the gravel walk, and look
ing up, she saw John Phillips coming up
the steps. He had been to see her often
before, but had of course, received no en
couragment to do so.' He was a Alin
hard working farmer, with no romance lit
bout him, but matter-of-fitet to the core.
His wife would get but few caresses or
tender Nvords. He would be kind enough
—give he plenty to eat and wear.
Now he seemed to have conic for the .
express purpose of asking her to be bis
wife ; fbr he took a chair and seated him
self beside her, and, after the usual greet
ing, reserving sea rcely a_mom en t_tolak
breath in, in..his business like way to con
verse. There was no confe.-:sion of love,
no pleading, no hand-clasping, no tender
glazwes ; he simply wanted hand-clasping,
she be his with ? His manner was hearty
enough ; there was no doubt he rally
wanted her--would rather Timmy her
than, any other woman he knew, but that
was all.
Her lips moved to tell 'hint she did not
love him • but as she le' 't , • -,. ')i
the vine over the %% inflow, she caught sight
of those few lines again.
"Married !" she said to herself; "what
can I do? He doesn't aS!IS me to love him.
If I marry him I can be a true wife to
him, and nobody will know that Paul has
jilted me."
The decision was made. II er , cheeks
were ashy pale as she looked up straight
into hiS eyes and answered quietly:
"Yes. I will be your wife!"
Her parents were pleased that she was
chosen by so well-to-do young man ; so it
was settled, and they were married the
same summer. People thought that she
had sobered down wonderfully ; more than
that, nothing was said that would lead
any cue to suppose that any change had
taken place.
Yes, she had sobered down. She dared
not think of Paul. There was no hope a
head. Life was a time to be tilled with
something, so that she might not think of
herself. John was alwa 3 s kind, but she
gut wearied of his talk of stock and crops,
and said to herself; "I must work harder,
plan and fuss and bustle about as other
women do, su that I may forget and grow
like John?!
Two years went swiftly by. A baby
slept in the cradle, and Martha—nobody
called her Hattie but Paul—sat rocking
with her fhot as she knitted a blue woolen
stocking for the baby's father. There was
a knock at the half open duor.
"I have got into the wrong road ; will
you be kind enough to direct me the near
way to the village ?" said a vuice, and a
stranger stepped in.
She rose to give him the required direc
tion, but stopod short, while he came
quickly firward.
''Paul !"
"INiattie !"
His tkee lighted up, and he reached out
his arms to draw her near him. With a
surprised, painful look, she drew back.
"Mr. Gardner, this is a most unexpect
ed meeting?"
"Mr. Gardner ?" he repeated. "Mottle,
what 'do you mean ?"
"Don't call me Mattis?, if you please!"
she replied with dignity. "My name is
Phillips."
"Phillips! lie echoed. "Are you mar
ried?" •
"These are strange words from you,
Paul Gardner; did you think I was wait
ing all this time for another v oman's hus
band ?—that Lavas keeping MY faith With
une who played false so soon?" .
"Played you tidse ? I have not. lam
come as 'I promised you. The two years
are but just passed, and I am hero to
claim you. • Why do you greet me thus ?
Are you married, Mattie Gray ?'!
She was trembling like an aspen leaf.
For an answer she pointed to the cradle.
He came and stood before her with white
face and folded arms.
"Tell me why you did this? Didn't
you love me Deli enough to wait for
me?"
She went And unlocked a drawer and
took ou a newspaper. Unfidding it and
finding tie ace, she pointed to it with
her finger, an , he read her marriage no
tice.
"What of this?" he asked, as he met
her questioning, reproachful look. "Oh,
Manic! you thought it meant inc. It is
my cousin. lam not married nor in love
with any one but you."
"Are you telling the truth?" she asked,
in eager, huskey voice.
And then, as he replied, ''lt la true,"
she gave a low groan and sank into a
chair.
"Oh, Paul forgive me! I didn't know
you had a -cousin by the same name. I
might not•to have doubted, but 't ‘v a s
there in black and white—and this man
my husband came, and I married him."
With bitter tears, she told him how all
happened. With clenched hands, h e
walked to and fro, then stopped beside the
cradle and bent over the sleeping child.—
Lower he bent, till his lips touched its
wee forehead, while he murmured to him
self, "Mattie's baby."
Then he turned, and kneeling before
her, said in a low voice: "I forgive you,
Mattie ;be as happy as you can." lie
took both her hands in his and looked
steadily, lovingly in her face. His lips
twitched conclusively as he rose to his
feet. "I have no right here—you are
,a
nother man's wife. Good bye—God bless
you !"
He turned as he went out of the door,
awl saw her standing there in the middle:
-of-the-roomovith-arms-outstretched,—He
went back, and putting his arms around
her, pressed one kiss to her cheek, then
left the house, never looking back.
And she went down on her knees be
sid• h
strength to bear „ her great trial. They
never saw one another again.
Seventy years old ! Her stalwart sons
and bright eyed daughters remember her
as a loving, devoted mother, her gray
headed husband as a most faithful willl.
"Never was a woman more patient and
kind, and as ,good a housewife as ev.r
was," he said, as he brushed the back of
his old brown hand acrosl., - his eyes as he
looked down on the peaceful face.
And not one of them ever knew of the
weary heart and 'broken hope that had
died in her breast, nor ever dreamed of
the sad load she had borne through her
life.
ifc aid Dcath.
Few things are more confounded than
the instinct of self-preservation and the
fear of death.. Because a man struggles
fin - or clings to life, it does not lidlow dna
he has any fear of death. Irrational at
tachment is often the antipodes •of con
scious terror. Evart' one of us has cause
aitLmotive_to-eantinue—in-e,x,isten-ce-t,o
long as he has health and strength aim&
work do ; but Lot one of us has an in-
ulnae reason for apprehension is -going
out of existence. Life bristles with pur
poses, activities and responsibilities. We
cannot separate ourselves from them if
we would ; they will fasten upon awl ab
sorb us in our own despite. Apart from
instinct, life has its aims, its interests and
affections, that cannot be divorced with
out a desperate struggle and exceeding
pain. It is the reflex of this solicitude
that makes in a measure the shadows of
death. We are unwilling to surrender
what life contains, though we may not
have the slightest fear of \rhat death may
yield ; and yet many of us arc so little in
clined to trace our own mental operations,
that we do not draw the distinction clear
ly. The majoriq of men prefer their own
country, and would not willingly leave it.
Is it to be concluded, theref o re, that they
are afraid of another land ? Isstrong in
clination to one thing to be interpreted as
a dread of another? Because we want to
live, is it any proof that we fear to die ?
Life is a reality, a certainty, something ex
perienced and tested over and over again.
Death is an idea, an image, u mystery
from which we shrink because it is tbrev
er impenetrable. The shrinking is inhe
rent, but gives way to indifference or faith
as nearness and nature make their revela
tions., He who can deliver up the goods
and charms of this world's being can turn
to death and smile at its approach. The
eye that is bent upon this life cannot see
truly what lies beyond. The axis of vi
sion is deranged by the duplex effort ; but
the secular objects removed, the spiritual
sight becomes clear.— Galaxy.
A Horseless World.
A Western paper ammes itself in this
way : What a queer world it would be!
No dray-horse or cart-horse in the streets ;
no race-horse sweeping over the track ;
no calvary horse on the battle field ; no
palfrey proudly prancing ; no mustang
on the plains ; no Shetland p my ; no Ca
nadian sleigh-horse ; no canal boat horse,
or artillery horse, or ash cart horse, or
circus horse; no stellion in Kentu ;ky ;
no horse ihr Sheridan to ride or Grant to
drive, or Mazeppa to fly with. A horse
less world wouldn't be the world to which
we have been accustomed. We should
miss the kindly face of the animal which
has been called the "friend of man," which
has served him so faithfully ; which ha;
perthrmed Ilk hardest work Ibrb ; hich
has helped him to fight his battles ; which
has done so much to render life enjoya
ble, and which has been so cruelly abus
ed by the hard hearted.
Many species of animals have become
extinct, even within historical periods.—
It is melaneholly. to think of the horse
finking his place among the extinct spe
cie:4.
If we lost the horse, we should ofcourse
lon the mule. "Jenny" would he a thing
of tradition, and the occupation of the
Mexican muleteers would be gone. Our
language would be depriv d of the usethl
word mulish, and also of the derivative
mulatto.
A IlEr.ro OF THE GREAT FIRE:—The
following truthful story will show the in
tensity or the heat and the violence of
the wind, on the night of the fire in Chi
cago: After the fire, several members of
the St. James' congregation were anxious
to possess relics of the bell which had hung
in the tower. To their astonishment imne
could be found. Neither hell nor any
thing that had entered into its composi
tion could be discovered. What had be
come of it was a mystery which was solv
ed only when some venturesome person
ascended the tower. It was then discov
ered that the intense heat had melted the
bell, and that the violence of the wind
had driven the melted metal against the
tower wall, where it had cooled, ati d
where it remains to this da7,
DEAR LITTLE RANDS
BY MRS. W. C. BELL
Dear little bands! I loved them so!
And now they are lying under the snow ;
Under the snow. so cold and while,
And I cannot see them or touch them to-
night,
They are quiet and still at last. A h me
Hon• busy and restless they used to be ;
But now they can never reach up through
the snow—
Dear little hands ! I love them so !
Dear - little hands !_ . l . miss them so I _
All through the day, wherever I go,
All through the night, how lonely it seems,
For no little hands wake me out of my
dreams,
I miss them throuoh all the weary hours
I miss them as others miss sunshine and
flouer3 ;
Daytime or mg ime ,N• lereVer gn
Dear little hands. I miss them so!
Dear little hands! they have gone from me
now !
Never again will they rest on my brow;
Never again smooth Illy sorrowful face ;
Never clasp mine in their childish embrace;
And my forehead grows wrinkled and ag-
ed with care,
Thinking . of little hands once resting there;
But I know, in a happier, heavenlier
Dear little hands! I shall clasp you some
time.
Dear little hands ! when the master shall
call
I'll welcome the summons that comes to us
all!
When my feet touches the waters so dark
• and cold,
And I catch my first glimpse of the City of
Gold, _
— lf - I — k - e - ep eye-s—fixe-d—car-the—heaverdy
.r the ti-dewh-e-m-the—‘lLhi4-e*obe
wait,
Shall I know you, I wonder, among the
bright b.ibeb?
Will you beckon me over, oh dear little
hand.
John grown in Kansas.
AN INCIDENT ILIX:ITEATIVE OF BROWN'S.
CHARACTER
An article in the Kansas Magazine con
tains the ibllowing :
Some time in the summor 41859, John
Brown was cotiducting a band of negro fu
,2,itives from Missouri, throligh Kansas and
Nebraska, into iosa, or to some other
puiut toa aril the .N Ord! star. By some
means not now recollected,the informabon
was couveveti to the city of Atchison that
Brown ant] his escorts were encamped on
a small tributary of the Grasshopper Div-
Cr, in Jackson county, about twenty miles
from. Atchison. 6mile of the pro-slavers.
as Montgomery used to call them, thought
this a &voluble opportunity to strike a
blow for the cause. An impromptu meet
ing was held rather quietly, and. about a
dozen of the yOUIP.; braves, who were
known to be "sound on the goose," and
who were always "ready for a fight or a
foot race," were selected to make a raid up
on John Brown, capture him and his ne
groes, and convey them back to Missouri.
horses and Revolvers were furnished by
those who insti g ated the movement, and
timse redoubtable warriors marched forth
"in all the pomp am! eirrumstances of
glorious war." The noble bearing of these
gallant steeds, the tinkling . of the little
bells on their heels, WUrs all calculated to
inspire pride and hope in the bosoms of
the friends who had sent them firth on
this expedition.
The old proverb, that "you can't catch
a weasel asleep'," was verUied iu this in
stance. Brown was apprised of their ap
proach, and was wide awake, and ready
to receive this warlike demonstration.—
The assailants had made a reconnoissance
of Brown's camp, and there-upon had re
solved to attack with b ,th cavalry and
intitntrv, so a number had disTounted
and fastened their horses to Contiguous
saplings. just inside of Brown's pickets.—
The cavalry were to move forward and at
tack the tent and wagons, where it was
supposed, as no one was seen around the
camp, the game was asleep, capture all
they could, while the infantry stood ready
to shout down any fugitives who might
endeavor to escape. 'Forward," shouted
the leader of the horse, and a light move
ment forward was made. "halt !" said
Brown's men as they arose from the bush
where they had been concealed, and clos
ing in upon the assailants, shouted aloud,
"Dism:unt, and throw down your arms,
or you will be shot down in a moment."
This sudden and unexpected change in the
programme seemed for a moment to be
wilder the assailants, and to throw them
into a panic, tier the order to ground their
arms was instantly obeyed by the inthnt
ry, when the cavalry realizing the. condi
tion of things, began to think, like Fal
staff', that "discretion was the better part
of valor," and applying their spurs ener
getically to their steeds, turned and fled
imglorblusly, having their friends to get
out of the serape as best they could. These
latter were all but one taken prisoners by
Brown's party. This one, seeing the black
soldiers about to surround him, and find
ing that he was in peril of being deserted
by his friends, made a spring ,tt the cau
dal extremity ()lone of the living horses,
and actually seized the appynclage afore
said, and there he dung, like Tom O'iSl--an
ter's witch, and so escapetl.
Soon alter this disagrous and bloodless
defeat of the assaulting party. Brown, sc
curing his prisoner=, struck his tents and
moved into .Nebra , •ka, carrying his pris
oners with him. Hero a council of war
walk belfl, and some of the party were for
shooting or hanging the plisoners ; but
Brown, whose philanthropic feelings would
not permit him to shed human blood, pre
vailed on his comrades to spare their lives,
remarking that although they were scarce
ly- fit to live, that they were not fit to die,
and to spare their lives they would have
tithe to repent hereafter. One of the par
ty captured was a young physician from
Atchison, a wild, rattling, devil-may-care
•kind of a Fellow, alway, ready tin- an ad
venture that promised either excitement or
sport, but who had really nothing very
bad in his composition. Brown took him
uuder his special care. As has been hinted
heret4ore, Brown was of a religious turn,
and, whether at home - or encamped onthe
prairie, had an altar created in his house
or tent, at which it was required that all
present must engage in worship. One
evening m hen about to retire, he called
ipon t • • -• e .
Ci—," said the doctor, in language more
wofithe thou 'olite "I can't ,ray.' "Did
your mother never teach you to pray ?"
inquired Brown. "0, yes," said the doc
tor, "but 'twas a long time ago." "But you
still remember the prayer she taught you,"
said Brown. "Yes." "Well, in the ab
sence of any better one, say that," said
Brown ; and the doctor actually repeated
befbre black and white of the camp that
night, the very f4miliar nursery invoca
tion of "Now I lay me down to sleep," etc.,
to the great amusement of his fellow-pris
oners and all others present.. On his re
turn home he related all the circumstan
ces, and litany others of an interesting. na
ture now Ihrgotteir. He stated in his usu
al strong language that John Brown was
the best man that he had ever known, and
knew more about religion fun) any one he
had ever si en. When asked if Brown had
ever used them badly, or used any harsh
language. toward them while they were
with him, he said ".No ;" that they were
all treated like gentlemen ; had the same
fare as the others but it did oo little hard
and against the grain to eat with and be
s i -
al days, during which he taught them
some lessons in morals, he was about to
scud them home on foot and detain their
horses as articles contraband of war, but
on the fact being made known that the
animals upon which they had ridden were
not their own, but belonged to other par
ties in Atchison, Brown gave them their
horses and dismissed thorn with the sage
admonition that they should never under
take to do anything until they first learn
ed how to do it, and nevar try to perform
an action without (2411ml:041g the exact
amount of opposition to overcome.
DR. FRINIZI.IN'S OFFER.-Dr. Frank
lin made the following etkr to a young
than:
"Make," said he, "a full estimate of all
you owe, and of all that is owing you.—
Reduce the ,ame to a note. As 111. St as
you can collect, pay over to those you
owe; if you cannot collect, renew your
note every year and get the het security
you can. Go to business diligently; be
very economical in all things ; discard all
pride, be industrious, waste no idle mo
ments ; be faithful in your duties to God
by regular and 'hearty prayer, morning
and evening ; attend to church and meet
ing regularly every Sunday ; and do un
to all men as you would have them do
unto you. If you are too needy in cir
cumstanees to give to the poor, do what
ever cl.* may be in your power fur them
cheerfully, but if you can, always help
the worthy poor and unfortunate. Pur
sue this course diligently and sincerely
for seven years. and it you are not happy,
com±l,rtahle aml independent in your cir
cumstances, come to me and I Aviil pay
your debts." Young people, try it.
SUSPENDED MO UGHT.-M r. llendris,
when visiting the patients in a Canadian
hospital, a• number of years &Lee, discov
ered therein a man who appcared to be
perfectly demented, but otherwise in good
health. Inquiring into the cause of
malady, be was informed that it was oc
casioned by a depression of the skull up
on the brain, by a•blow frour the foiling
of a tree. Procuring surgical aid, Mr.
Hendrix caused the denrcssed skull to be
raised to its natural position, when the pa
tient uttered the coucluding words of a
sentence that lie had begun to address to
his son with whom, fourteen years before,
he was splitting rails under the tree when
lie received the injury that deprived him
of his senses: "Put in the wedge."
This is a remarkable example of sus
pended tkought. For fourteen years be
has lived perfectly unconscious of the loss
of time. But he ate, drank, slept, awoke
and moved about: but how Simply as a
machine.
Color. OP 'run lIAIE.--Dark-haired
races are said to he physically the strong
est, but less endo,ved intellectually than
the fair-hatired. The first are less inclin
ed to nvintal exertion. Black hair indi
cates streagth and a predominance of a
billions temperament, as in the Spaniards,
Mexica'is, the Indians and the negro.—
Red hair is a sign of ardor, passion, inten
sity of feeling and purity .01* character,
and goes w:th the sainzuine temperament,
as in the Scotch, Irish, the Swede and the
Dane. Auburn hair is found most. fre
quently in connection with the lymphatic
temperament, and indicates delicacy and
refinement of tastes; and if the mind be
cultivated, fine moral and intellectual
powers. It is common anionzA the Ger
mans and Anglo-Saxons. Dark brown
hair k, perhaps, all things considered, the
nioq desirable enlor, as it comhints the
strength of the black with the susceptibil
ities of the light hair.
If you Ar'ant success in make prrseva
ranee your lii4oni friend, experimce your
Ise cibansclor, caution your elder brother
and 13
. e . p9 . your guardian genius, •
i # au tt nlno r.
A very narrow aperture—The "crack'
of ft whip.
Who is the first boy a:le:la. - mai in the
Bible? Chap. 1.
Kerosene will clean black silk beauti
fully. Use a sponge.
Why are elect ioni like tents ?—.Deczu3e
the canvass ends at the polls.
The man who wrote "I'm saddest when
I siug,Qwas-n-fool to sing much.
Why is a bed
less falsehood ?
( . 222„. jt.
Fill your coal oil lamps in the morn
ing, always, and it may save the es
mom
n
a - St. Louis n dvertises for "girls
e
to work in bal married women will
....
suit lie can be sup Id. • .
We can't complain of woman's extrav
aaance now. She wears her dresses long
enough, goodness knows.
"Patrick, will you take your steak rail
or well dune ?" "Well done, if ye Blaze,
for it was rare enough I got it in the old.
country."
There was .6a o mean in Nev York,)
that lie wished ih, dlord to reduce thu
price of 13;)ard b'cause he has had two /
teeth extracted.
- •
It is said tha nine f Barnum's camels
and dromedaries died of envy since
they saw the humps n he backs of some
of our daughters of fashion.
"How do
fisted Wall street man to a friend. hold-
igger.,
inn up one o us rawny au s. tat,
said the friend, "looks like you'd gone
short ou soap."
4 _
A certain cit was about to be destroy
ed. The woma we s allowed to leave,
;
and were told rha ey might carry a. '
way on their backs whatever they most
prized. Each woman took a man.
A veteran was relating his exploits to
a crowd f boys, and mentioned having
been in five dugagements. "That's noth
ing," broke in a little fellow, "my sister
Agues has been engaged eleven times."
A link boy asked Dr. Burgess, the
preacher, if he would have a light.
am one of the lights of the world.''
wish, then," replied the boy, - you were
hung at the end of the alley, for it ia a
very dark one."
A Lectu:
few days
coal-scuttle,
quick, the, (
decker werf
men's delig,
"Who was the meekest man, ray son ?"
said the superintendent of a boy's Biblo
class in the State of Missouri. "Moses,
sit." "Very well, my boy ; and, who was
the meekest woman'?" "Please, sir, there
never wds aIIV meekest woman."
Fos THE LADlEP.—Ladies wbo are de
sirous of renovating, their black tlri•ssca•of
last season, wether of sflk, cashmere, or
alpaca ; can clean them beautitully with
borax diEsolve(l in tepi•l water. Ti, prep
tqation i 3 a teaspoonful of borax to on , )
quart of water. Apply with a black wool
en rag or nail brush.
An Irishman went, fir the first time tri
a play. Jm.,t as the drop curtain descend
ed, after the first act, an engine in cho
basement explodrd and the Celt was blown
through the roof, alighting in the next
square. his first remark after coming to
his senses, was, "and what the divil will
they play next ?"
A lady, upon being told a friend wish
ed too see her, desired her little daughter,
About eight years old, to my :,he was not
in ; -upon this, the friend being anxious to
have an interview, asked the child when
her mother would be likely to return.—
The little thing very innocently said, call
lug up stairs :
"Mamma, the lady wishes to know
when you will be in r
A little boot-black niched up a five cent
nickel on the sidewalk, the otiKr day, and
was crowing ever his prizo, when a inirl7
car-man dewauded it, saying that ho haft
just Fopped it.
"Your five-cent piece had no hole in it i . "
said the boy- defiantly.
"Yes, it lau:," said the rogue of a claim•
ant.
"W , ll, this one ain't!" said the bov, a 3
be walked of in triumph, leaving th 2
op
ponent to be jeered at by the crowd.
FOUND ONE.-A tall. rather prem.
looking fellow walked into a New York
saloon where they were talking politica
upon a high key, and Litretehinz himr.se•lt
up to his hcight, exclaimed in a loud
voice, "Where are the Democrats now
Show me a democrat, gentleman, and I
will show you a liar."
In an iustant a man stood before thn
inquirer in a warlike attitude, and ex,
claimed '•I am a Democrat sir."
" You aro?"
Yes, sir, I am I" •
"Well, jint you step around the corner
with me, and I'll show you a fellow who
said I couldn't find a Democrat in tiler
ward! Ain't he s liar, ['should like to.
know?"
$2,00 PER YEI
NUMBER V-
of end
.nd relie
" aid
red in Boston 10
BOIlllet!3 " T 11,3
age,
anil the three.
duzailed jibx {1.O•
tment.