BY W. BLAIR
VOLUME 25.
TBB WAYNESBORO' VILLAGE RECORD
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING
By W. BLAIR.. ~
TEF. kIS—Two Dollars per Annum if paid
within the year; Two Dollars and
Fifty cents after the es )iration
of the year.
ADVERTISEMENTS—One Square (10
lines) three insertions, $1,50; for
each subsequent insertion, Thir
tive'Cents per Square. A liberal
discount made to yearly adver
tisers.
LOC.LLS.—Business Locals Ten Cents per
line for the iirst insertion, Seven
Cents for subsea uent insertions
professional Ql/auls.
B. ABIBERSON, M. D.,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
WAYNIISBORO, PA. •
Office at the Waynesboro' "Corner Drug
ore." Gene 29—tf.
DR_33 8., A_ INTTZ,
lias resumed the practice of Medicine.
OFFICE—In the Walker Building—near
:the Bowden House. Night calls should be
made at his residence on Main Street, ad
joining the Western School House.
July 20—tf
PHYSICIAN AND SIJEGEON.
WAYNUSBORO' PA.
Office at his residence, nearly opposite
lie Bowden House. Nov 2—tf.
JOIN A. IIIYSSONG,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
'K AVING been admited to Practice Law
at the several Courts in Franklin Coun
ty, all business entrusted to his care will be
promptly attended to. Post Office address
3iercershurg, l'a.
biol.= t vitTO :: 0
— ATTOR - NEY — /ler - ix& -
WAYNESBORO', I'A.
• several 'ourts of Franklin
*nd adjacent Counties.
N. B.—Real Estate leased and sOld, and
Fire insurance elrected un reasonable terms.
December 10, 1871.
Ittt &., IL STRIJCS,LERi„
(FORMERLY OF MERCERSBURG, Pd.,)
g riFFERS his Professional services to the
N./citizens of Waynesboro' and vicinity.
Dn. STRICKLER has relinquished an exten
sive practice at Mereersburg, where he has
been prominently engaged for a number of
years in the practice of his profession.
He has opened an Office in Waynesboro',
at the residence of George Besore, Esq., 't is
Father-in-law, where he can be fuuiu' at al
times when not professionally engaged.
July 20, IS7l.—tf.
DR. J. M. RIPPLE% DR. A. S. BONEDRASE.
RIPPLE & BONBRAKE,
WAYNESBORO', PA.
Having associated themselves in the prac
tice of Medicine and Surgery, offer their
professional services to the public.
Office in the roogi on the -•orth East
Cor. of the Diamond, formerly occupied by
Dr. John J. Oellig, dec'd.
•
July 18, 1872—1 y •
A. K. BR'ANISHOLTS,
RESIDENT DENTIST
._
_tiIIIIJ
WA. Y. NESBO Ro', PA.,
vAN be found in his office at all times,
N.Jwhere he is prepared to perform all
Dental operations in the best and most
zkillful manner.
We being acquainted with Dr. Branis
holtssocillly and professionally recommend
him to all desiring the services of a Dentist.
Drs. E. A. HERING,
" J. M. RIPPLE,
" A. H. STRICKLER,
" J. B. AMBERSON,
" I. N SNIVELY,
" A. S. BONBRAKE,
" T. D. FRENCH,
23..A_R3E3MRING-1
E subscriber informs the public that he
continues the Barbering business in the
room nest door to Mr. Reid's Grocery Store,
And is at all times prepare to do hair cut
-ling, shaving,s hampooning ete. in the best
style. The patronage of the public is respect
fully solicited.
Aug 21 1871. W. A. PRICE.
I. C.. 23RA.CIC - E3II_,D,
PHOTOGRAPHER,
B. E. Corner of the Diamond,
WAYNESBORO', PA.,
TxAs at all times a fine assortment of Pic-
Iltures Frames and Mouldings. Call and
Jaas specimen pictures. June tf.
THE BOWDEN HOUSE
31AIN STREET,
WAYNESBORO', PENN'A
rir TIE subscriber having leased this well
' knoWn H AAA property, announces to
the public that he has refurnished, re-pain
ted and papered it, and is now amply pre
pared to accommodate the traveling public
.Ind others who may be pleased to favor
Lim with their patronage. An attentive
liostler will at all times he in attendance.
May 23-tf SAIPL P. STONER.
Wily II 14 1 3 TLE L .
Comer of Main Queen Sts.,
CHAMBERSBURG, Penn'a.
LANTZ & UNGER, Proprietors
The UNION has been entirely refited
.and re-furnished in every department, and
!Under the supervision of the present pro
prietors, no effort will he spared to deserve
a liberal share of patronage:
Their tables will be spread with the
best the Market affords, and their Dar
will always contain the choicest Liquors.
The favor of the public solicited.
Extensive Stabling and attentive Hostlers.
Dec. 14-1-y
CHOCOLATE—NorfoIk, and 13.tkers Gen
‘)llint No. 1. always on hand. Reid's Gro
eery.
tied Vottrg.
LITTLE FINGERS
Ah ! I should have wandered far
Down sin's wild and lonely track,
Ohly clinging firm and fast,
Little fingers held me back,
Little fingers, soft and fair,
-- LittTC - fingers, clinging
Led me from the evil way,
Held ne to the true and right.
When a, heavy midnight gloom..
Hung above my whole of life ;
And the battle and the storm
Made each hour ri fearful strife ;
When ,
1 had neither love nor part,
And the roses of the June
Brought no fragrance to my heart;
When the love I doted on
Fell like ashes in the dust,
And the leprosy of sin
Touched the anchor of my trust;
When so full of selfishness,
Every lip filled every word,
And all souls seemed icy founts
Where sweet waters never stired ;
All the world a s weary way,
Weary, weary, and so long I
With no justice but in might,
And no hope but for the strong—
Oh ! I should have faltered then,
Wandered down sin's blood-red track,
Only, clasping soft and close,
Little fin , *ers held me back.
IFUrTOKE
We do not know to whom the reader is
indebted for the fo lowing ines, •ut think
few will read them without pleasure, and
that same may profit by ti the lesson they
teach. •
How to be beautiful when old?
I can tell you. maiden fair—
Not by lotions, dyes and pigments ;
Not by washes for your hair.
While you're young be pure and gentle;
Keep your passions well controll'd,
Walk, work, and do your duty,
You'll be handsome when you're old.
Snow-white locks are fa 9 as golden,
Grey an lovely as the brown,
And the smile of age more pleasant,
Than a youthful beauty's frown.
'Tis the soul that shapes the features,
Fires the eye, attunes the voice ;
Sweet sixteen be these your maxims,
When you're sixty you'll rejoice.
Disttllautous
TEE TEMPEST.
DT GEE. D. PRENTICE
Bravery I lay no claim to, still I was
never a man 4yf feeble courage. There are
few scenes of either human or elementary
strife, upon which I have not looked with
a brow of daring. , I have stood in front
of battle when swords were gleaming and
encircling around me like fiery serpents
of the air; I have sat on• the mountain
pinnacle, when the whirlwind was rend
ing its oaks from rocky clifts and scatter
ing them piece meal to the clouds. I have
seen those things with a swelling soul that
reek not of danger, but there is something
in the thunder's voice that. makes me
tremble like a child. I have tried to o
vercome this unmanly weakness; I have
called pride to my aid, I have sought for
moral courage in the lessons of philoso
phy, but they avail me nothing-4 the
first low moaning of the distant cloud my
heart sinks and dies within me.
My involuntary dread of thunder has
its origin in an incident that oceu red when
I was ten. I had a cousin, a girl of the
same age as myself', who had been the
constant companion of my childhood.—
Strange, that after the lapse of a score of
years, that countenance is so familiar to
me. I can see the bright young creature
—her large eyes flashing like beautiful
gems, her free locks streaming as in joy
upon the rising gale, and her cheek glow
ing like a ruby through the wreath or
transparent snow. Her voice had the
melody and joyfulness of a bird's, and
when she bounded over wooded hiP or
the fresh green valley, shouting a glad
answer to every voice of nature, and clasp
ing her little baud in the very ecstaey of
young existence, she looked as if breaking
away like a treed nightingale from the
earth, and going where all things were
beautiful and happy, like her.
It was morning in the middle of Au
gust. She had been passing some days at
my father's.house, and was to return home.
Her path lay across the fields, and I glad
ly became the companion of her walk. I
never knew a summer morning more beau
tiful and still. Only one little cloud was
visible, and that seemed as pure, white
and peaceful as if it had been the incense
from a burning censor of the skies. The,
leaves hung silentin the woods, the wa
ters of the bay had forgotten their undu
lations, the flowers were bending their
heads, as if dreaming of the rainbow, and
the whole atmoiphere was of such a soft
and luxurious st•eetness, that it seemed
of roses scattered down by the hands of a
PeH, from the far-nff gardens of Paradise.
The green earth and blue sea were abroad
in boundlessness, and the peaceful sky
bent over them. The little creature at
my side was in a delirium of happiness,
and her clean, sweet voice came ringing
k.-/A t ';' • i VO I 1 V I ~11 1 ) 1 1h4P ; ;
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 28,1872.
upon the air as often as she heard the
tones of a favorite bird or found some
strange and lovely flower in her frolic wan
derings. The unbroken and almost su
pernatural transquility of the day contin
ued until nearly noon. Then the indica
tions of an approaching tempest were man
ifest. Over the summit o a mountain,
about a mile away, the folds of a dark
cloud became visible, and at the same mo
ment a hollow roar came down upon the
winds, as if it were the sound of waves -in
a rocky cavern. The cloud unrolled like
a banner-fold upon the air, but still the
atmosphere was calm and the leaves as
motionless as before; there was not even
a quiver upon t e s eepy wa ers - 0 e o
the coming hurricane. To escape the tem
pest was impossible.
As the only resort, we fled to an oak,
that stood at the foot of a tall, ragged
precipice. Itere we gazed almost breath
less upon the clouds marshalling them
selves like giants in the sky The_thur
---- — but - br st
.4.er - was not frequent, every burst was
So fearful that the young creature who
stood beside me, shut her eyes convulsive
ly, clung with.a desperate strength to my
arm, and shrieked as if her heart would
break. A few minutes and the storm was
upon us. During the height of its fury,
the little girl lifted her finger toward the
precipice that towered above us. I look
ed up, and amythystine-flame-was - quiver ,
ing upon its gray peaks, and the nest mo
ment the clouds opened, the rocks totter
ed to their fbundatiou, a roar like the
groan of a universe filled the air and I
felt myself blinded and thrown, I knew
not whither. How long I remained in
sensible I cannot tell; but when consci
ousness returned the violence of the tem
pest was abating; the roar of the winds
dying in the tree tops, and the deep tones
of the thunder coming in fainter murmurs
from the eastern bills. ,
_Larose and log
oked_txemblbg-and-ak ,
An st-de iriatiA:y_aroutihe wwCihere_
—the idol of nly infant love—stretched
i upon the wet green earth. After a mo-
ment o irreso talon, went up an, oo
ed upon her. The handkerchief upon her
neck was slightly- rent, and a single dark
spot upon her bosom told where the path
of death had been. At first I clasped her
to my breast with a cry of agony, and
then laid her down and gazed into her
face, almost with a feeling of calmness.—
Her bright dishevelled ringlets clustered
around her brow, the look of terror had
faded from her lips, and an infant smile
was pictured beautifully there—the red
rose tinge upon her cheeks was lovely as
in life!
I have but a dim recollection of what
followed—l only know that I remained
weeping motionless till the coming of twi
light, and that I was then taken tenderly
by the hand and lead away where I saw
the countenance of parents and sisters.
Many years have gone by on their
wings of light and shadow, but the scene
I have portrayed still comes over me, at
times, with a terrible distinctness. The
uak yet stands at the base of precipice;
it's limbs are black and dead, and its hol
low trunk, looking upward to the,sky as
calling to the clouds for a drink, is an
emblem of noiseless decay. A year ago I
visited that spot, and the thoughts of by
gone years came mournfully back to one
—thoughts of the little innocent being
who . fell by the whirlwind—in the memo
ry that she had gone where no lightnings
slumber in the folds of the rainbow clouds
and where sunlit waters are never broken
by the storm breath of Omnipotence.
My readers will understand whyl
shrink in terror from the thunder. Even
the consciousness of security is no relief
to me—my fear has assumed the nature
of instinct, and seems, indeed, a part of
my existence.
Munchausen in California.
The following is a fair representation
somewhat enlarged, of the "big talk" a
bout the agricultural productions of the
Pacific coast which one hears in those
parts.
Two weeks ago I started on a visit to
the Yo Semite Valley, I arrived at the
wharf a moment too late to get on board;
and, instead of waiting until next day, I
determined to go to Stockton on horse
back. I accordingly crossed the bay at
Oakland, or, as it is better known, "Lit
tle Pedlington," procured a horse and
rode over to the Livermore Valley, where
I staid all night with a rancher, who was
known in the valley as "Clamps." They
called him that because he got rich by
holding on to his money with a degree of
fintitnde not universal in the country.—
As supper time approached, Clamp asked
if I would like some egg, and how I pre
ferred it—hard or soft, boiled or fried.—
I told him I would like some .egg,s, and
that it would suit me best to have them
soft boiled.
In a few moments there came Clamps
and his wife, rolling au egg the size of a
flour barrel, which they boiled in a short
time in a large cauldron, and then set it
up on one end by the madam's chair at
at the table. A hole was made in the ton
of the shell, and the egg was dipped out
with a long handle ladle. I was aston
ished at the size of the egg, and observed
that his liens must be enormously large.
"By no means," he replied. "You will
not be so much surprised when I tell you
that one hen did not lay this egg alone ;
it took seven or eight hens almost a week
to lay it. It was a joint-stock production
of the chickens ; but still it is better than
the individual responsibility plan."
At breakfast the next morning we had
more egg, and then I went on the road to
Stockton. I reached San Joaquin river
at noon, and was ferried over in an uni
que-looking craft. While the ferryman
was tugging silently at his oars, I enquir
ed whether the ferry was profitable.
"Doesn't scarcely pay for raising the
boat," he replied.
"Raising the boat I" I repeated. "What
do you mean by raised the beat ?"
"Mister." said he, resting for a while
on his oars, you be a stranger in these
parts, bean't you ?"
I replied that I bad not been long in
the country.
T.Tbp,
°Then," said he pointing to the shore,
"this ere boat growed in . that pumpkin
patch over yonder?'
"Growed in that pumpkin patch l" I
exclaimed.
"Growed in that pumpkin patch on a
pumpkin vine. Mister, this boat is a pump
kin shell cut in two. That patch is where
it growed."
'There, over bythialfgrn-r—rerelaim=
"That ain't no barn," he answered, un
less you chose to call it so. That's a
pumpkin too,_ But I made a hole in one
end on't and let the,inside ; and
when the wet season sets in, I plug up
he-hole-and-let them winter - there. They
come out awful fat in the spring. That
big squash over yonder I'ni,hollerin' out '
to live in."
"Are these the growth of the season 7"
I asked.
We don't have no such difference here
or. the San Joaquin as growin' seasons
and them others. Things keep on grow
in' all the time till we pull them_u
they die.
There is but one thing more I will no
tice. Six years ago a gentleman residing
near Stockton, planted a grape vine by
his house. In two years the building was
completely enfolded in the branches of
the vine, and he was surprised at seeing
his dwelling starting from its foundation.
The vine grew with wonderful vigor, and
carried the house unharmed up the height
of sixty feet in the air, where it remained.
The gentleman now reaches his front door
by means of a winding staircase around
the-trunk—ottlie—grape vine, and-an
_d_ -. loi7o_wilEtake_the_troubte to - go and
see , will find it as I have said.
Nine in their Graves.
Half a score of years ago Mrs. Bigelow
kept a large and fashionable boarding
house at 23 Great Jones street. Among
her boarders were ten gentlemen who lived
together many years, and with whom the
bonds of friendship had become cemented.
They often dined together, and in little
parties of two, three, and four visited the
places of amusement, the whole party
meeting in the sitting room before bed
time, and comparing notes of their day's
business and evening's fun. The break
ing out of the war of the rebellion chang
ed the current of life of several of the so
cial party, and a number expressed their
desire to join the Union ranks. Many
'were the regrets at the dissolution of their
fraternal society, and it was decided that
they should have a farewell dinner on the
evening of September 10,1862. Arrange
ments were made accordingly by their a
miable hostess, Mrs. Bigelow, and at 8 o'-
clock, precisely, on the evening named,
the ten gentlemen entered the dining room
and took their accustomed seats at the ta
ble. Each and every one was then full of
life and hope, and the future prospects of
each were the subject of an animated con
versation during the early progress of the
the meal. Speeches were made, songs
sung, and toasts drank, and it was not
until 2 o'clock in the morning that the
party abandoned the festive board and
soughttheir rooms.
Before their departure, however, each
arose in his place and made a solemn vow
that if he was living ten years hence he
would meet the rest of his companions at
eight o'clock in the same place and dine
with them, as they had dined that night.
Eeach one was to occupy the same seat,
and as nearly as possible they were to
have the same kind of a dinner. Since
then the house has become the Maltby
House, under the proprietorship of Mr.
J. B. Smith. Some days ago Mr. Smith
was requested by Mr. Edward K. Win
ship, broker, of 24 Broad street, to pre
pare dinner for ten gentlemen on the eve
ning of September 10, 1872. Mr. Winship
briefly narrated the circumstances of the
compact, and that, being the eldest of the
party of ten, he had been appointed on
the eveuing of their dinner iu 1862 as
Chairman.
At precisely 8 o'clock last Tuesday
evening Mr. Winship, the sole. survivor
of the party, entered the dining room of
the Maltby House, and the doors .were
quickly closed behind him. No one was
there save George Bentley, head waiter,
and one or two other colored waiters.—
The rooms and tables were arranged pre
cisely as they were ten years ago, and
Mr. Winship, with head bowed and with
a saddened expression, took the same seat
which he had occupied years ago. All a
round were empty chairs and empty plates
and unfilled glasses.
The meal was begun, and the solitary
banqueter was served with the prescribed
courses, Mr. Winship occasionally passing
a word with the waiter. 'Poor boys !
They're all gone, said he. 'One went
down in the Monitor in Mobile Bay, a
nother was drowned in the same waters.—
Two were shot in Mobile. One lost both
legs by a ball, and the other was pierced
through the heart. Another died in Phil
adelphia, and a sixth died in New York.'
He said that while in Febuary last he was
walking up Broadway one evening, he felt
a tap on the shoulder, and a voice asked
him whether he knew Mr. —. do,'
replied Mr. Winship. •He died at four
o'clock to-day,' said the voice. Though
Mr. Winship turned quickly upon feeling
the and hearing the voice, he was unable
ascertain who it was that had addres him.
He afterward learned that one of the par
of ten had died that day and the hour in
dicated. Mr. Winship said that the old
est of the party, next to himself, was on
ly 29.--V. Y. 812 t. 12th. •
Thirty Years in Prison.
Some thirty 'years ago one Thos. Thorn
was convicted of murder, sentenced to
death, and to hard labor in the State Pri
son at Thomaston, Maine, until the time
of his execution. A few weeks ago he was
I =don •u u • . • . . •
:r. Rice, the warden of the Maine State
Prison, we were curious to find how he was
impressed with the outside world after hav
ing been shut up from it for nearly a whole
generation.
Mr. Rice says that although a man of
fifty, he was really in character and ma
turity of mind only a boy of fifteen. On
hi~release__the warden took him_from_l
Thomaston to Rockland, a distance of on-'
ly four miles, in a buggy. As Thorn rode
along his first impressions were that the
distance between the two places was imr
inense, and that the time occupied in the
journey was very long. What to an eve
-ry-day-traveler-would---se-em—bn-t-T1
rods, appeared to him miles.
,On reaching Rockland he stood p i
un
the buggy and looked around in amaze
ment. Before his imprisonment, thirty
years ago, he had known it as a little vil
lage. fie_ now saw it a city. "Is this
Rockland?" said he,.iu his-bewilderment;
"Why, it looksjust like New York."
, (When a boy he had been in. New York
r tin a coaster.)
The citizens of Rockland made him up
a purse of fifty dollars, and in his child
like glee he was telling everybody of his
good fortune. Seeing his imprudence and
that there were those round that might
relieve him of his treasure, Mr. Rice warn
ed him that he should say nothing about
his money as there were thieves and pick
pockets in the world now. "Oh, don't
you be afraid, Mr. Rice," exclaimed the
ex-prisoner; "I've traveled ; I know a
thing or two about the world. See here
I've got money hid in this back ocket
under my coat.- hobos y wou I ever thin .-
-of-looking-there-for-it Thus-he-unco—
nsciously informed the bystanders,-against
hint, just where his money was.
It was Thorn's purpose to go to White
hall, N. Y., where he had two nieces re
sidingwho were born after his imprison
ment. Of late years they have corres
ponded with him, and have kindly offered
him a home with them. On parting with
Mr. Rice, to whom he was greatly attach
ed, he promised that he would write him,
let him know how he was getting on out
in the world. Mr. Rice accordingly ex
pects to hear from him soon.—BangOr
Commercial.
The Man he Wanted.
A first-rate story is told of a very prom
inent man, who lived in Detroit forty
years ago, and who at that time owned
more steamboat stock than any other man
in the Western country, besides other
wealth to a large amount.
Like many of the pioneers who acquir
ed great riches, he was very ignorant in
all that books taught, but his learning
was more like wisdom, and in common
with many who have lived, and passed a
way, but left their mark behind them, he
knew what tree would make shingles by
looking at it.
He had, at the time 'of our story, just
completed a splendid new warehouse at
Buffalo and wanting a suitable clerk to
take charge of it, he advertised for one
in the papers. The next morning early a
candidate for the position presented him
self, rather too flashy a young man in ap
pearance; but the following conversation
occurred:
"Young man, when you make a mis
take in any of your books, how do you
correct it?"
The young man explained, in a very
profuse manner, how he should proceed
to make it all right.
"A good way, no doubt, to do it." re
plied the old man, "but I shan't want you."
Very soon another aspirant put in an
appearance. A similar question was ask
ed him, and in a long and eloquent man
ner he pointed out the femedy in all such
cases.
AU the reply was: "Young man, I
shan't want you."
Some three or four others dropped in
during the day, and to each one the same
question was put, and they all had some
smart way of covering up errors in their
books.
The old gentleman was entirely igno
rant himself of the art of book-keeping,
but he had wisdom in all things, which is
more than a match for learning.
Just at the close of the day a plainly
dressed man, with a bright eye and a
brisk step, called fhr the situation.
"Take a seat sir," said the old gentle
man "I want to ask you one question.—
When you make a false entry on your
books how do you go to work to correct
it ?"
Turning upon his questioner a cold
sharp look, the young man replied :—"I
don't make that hind of mistakes, sir."
"Ah ! my dear sir, you are just the man
I have been looking for all day,'•' and in
a few moments after, the man who cor
rected his mistakes by not making them,
was installed in the office.
There is nothing has a more direct in
fluence upon the human character than
the early associations of home. When
we go into some houses, can we wonder,
as our attention is drawn to the discords,
contentions, and inharmonious feeling that
abounds there, can we wonder, I repeat,
that the children grow to maturity with
characters and dispositions totally desti
tute of all refined and loving qualities?—
The habits they form by their associations
follow them to their grave; they grow in
to their lives like so many evil spirits that
cannot be cast out. 4
Men who talk degradingly of woman
dillplay their own degredation.
Modesty.
Modesty is a bright jewel in the char-
acter of woman. It imparts a loveliness
to every accomplishment which we vainly
look for in its absence, and brightens all
.the virtues which it accompanies, like the
shades in a-painting , it-raises-and-mtnd•
every figure, and makes the colors more
beautiful.
Modesty is not only an ornament to the
female character, but its surest safe-guard.
Banish modesty from the world, and she
carries with her one•half the virtue there
is iu it, and, I would add, banish modesty
from the characteristics of woman, and
you destroy one of the highest attractions
she possesses. It is a quality which en
gages and captivates the minds of the peo
ple, let her worldly possessions be great or
small, let• her occupations be what they
will ; whilst, on the other hand, the per
, son who is bold, coarse, vociferous Je t her
Hpossessionsbe - Oer so great, arTd - her style
of living and dress be ever so fashionable,
'will always be looked - upon . us a vulgar
woman. Modesty atones for the absence
of many other accomplishments.
The young lady who is unskilled in ma
ny of the technicalities of refinement is_
still attractive when modesty characteri;
zes her demeanor. Accomplishments of
the age, witho_ut_modesty,_are_repulsive-1
and disgusting. It is a mistaken idea for
a woman to imagine her influence to de
pend upon her personal attractions. Beau
ty commands, but it does not win ; beau
-ty-attractsFbut-it-does-nott-must'
be answered by some inward beauty, or
it soon disappoints. We often see a young
person whose countenance is lovely' and
pleasant to look upon, while beneath, is
working the most hideous passions, and
the most wicked purposes. It is just as
true, that the plain, homely face often ac
companies a heart pure us piety itself,
when clothed with a meek and beautiful
sprit.
-al-7.4auty-in-woman-tci-make-her—for-any
length of time—pleasant in our eyes and
grateful to the heart.
ere ruus
"The faireE;t• faces that we know,
Are not the brows of brauty ;
The blessed'st paths in which we go
Are the homely paths of duty."
Ever so Light a Blow.
Just before leaving for my home I was
standing at a window watching the play
of Edith and a large dog; I thought I
had never seen a child so beautiful. Her
motions had ahout them a nameless grace
that charmed one. Sad that parental
hands should crush the brightness of that
young life I
*•* 3 * *
Fifteen years had wheeled their swift
circle since we three met before, and now
how changed ! Lines of grief are deeply
graven' on the mother's face, and the pit
eous love looking from her eyes drew tears
to my own, whenever any one, forgetting
her )misfortune, addressed her child—the
Edith, whose litir childhood had been more
than realized in the beautiful girl, who
never more would hear the sound of a hu
man voice.
They had been to a celebrated physi
cian who gave them no hope, saying, "The
hearing was entirely gone, caused by a
blow or continued blows upon the head:"
"And when he asked me," said the moth
er, "if, during childhood, she had not her
ears boxed often, and that it was the cause
of her deafness, reason trembled, and I
could bin cry, "my punishment is greater
than I can bear."
"You who love your children knew how
much I have suffered when the knowledge
of this calamity befel my beautiful child.
But, oh, Mary ! may God pity you if you
ever feel the agony of learning that it was
placed there by your own hands. Why
were they not paralized or withered iu the
grave, and this dreadful thing would not
have been."
But I must shut my eyes upon this
painful picture. Were my poor pen ca
pable of showing the agony of the strick
en mother, never more would the mothers
who read these lines strike the tender head
of the little child ever so slight a blow.
A PEORIA SHEEP STORY.—There is a
covered bridge at Peoria two hundred feet
above high-water mark. 'A drover recent
ly attempted to drive a thousand sheep a
cross it. When about halfway over the
bell-weather noticed an open window, and
recognizing his destiny, made a strike for
glory and the grave. When he reached
the sunlight he at once apprehended his
critical situation, and with a leg stretched
towards each cardinal point of the com
pass, he uttered a plaintive "Ma-a."
The next sheep and the next followed,
imitating the gesture and the remark of
the leader. For hours it rained sheep.—
The erewhile placid stream was carmine
with the life blood of moribund mutton,
and not until the brief tail of the last
sheep as it disappeared through the win
dow waved anieu to this wicked world,
did this movement cease.
Says an exchange : "It is related of a
Detroit editor that, being lost overboard
of a steamer in the middle of Lake Supe
rior, on a dark and stormy night, and with
nothing to cling to, he was in alair way
to drown, when he just straightened up
his ears, upon which the wind acted as up
on sails, and he scudded before the gale,
making good 'time and a safe landing on
Canadian soil, after hiS perilous voyage."
Just now, while the horse disease prevails,
those ears would be valuable for horse
blankets. •
A barber of Titusville, while cutting
the hair of a rural customer, ran his shears
against some hard substance, which prov
ed to be a whetstone. The old farmer
said he. "had missed that whetstone ever
since haying time last July, and had look
ed all over a ten-acre lot for it, but 'now
romembered sticking it up over his ear.
"Or.e of those things a low can fit .' 7; . \l
out," A good husband er 11 Y. 11.....„„V"
t e whole, some will rez
wholesome.
o
An exchange s.ls s i 'mu Thumb likes
whisky. His )life h ne consolation—
he don't hold much.
Tweleve hundred and fifty dollars made
the ancient "talent." It takes some tal
ents to make $1250 nowadays. • •
A man out West is so bow-legged that
his tailor is obliged to use a circular saw
in cutting out his pantaloons.
INGI
tenance." "I es ; he was ironed just be
fore he was brought in. That accounts
for it."
A School committee in Kansas having
advertised for a "smart teacher," a maa
named Mustard applied for.the situation
And was accepted:
An editor says his ancestors_have-been—
linhe habit of living a hundred years.—
His opponent responds by saying "that
was before the iatroduction of capital
punishment. •
A mhn lately made a wager that he
had seen a horse going at his greatest
speed and a dog sitting on his tail, and,
strange as it may seem, he won, but the
Cog sat on his own tail.
"I want to know," said a creditor, "when
you are going to pay me what you oivo
me ?" "When I'm going to pay you ?
Why,_you're a mit_
. • s 0 I II r•
take me for a prophet ?"
an person-
0 more
• "Do you think it safe my dear," said a
husband to hisw•ife "for me to take I 'lll
flannel when it looks like spring ?" "Per
haps so," replied the wife, "but I never
saw any flannel that looked like spring."
' A Huge yellow dog, of rather somber
appearance, frequently seen trotting a
bout the streets of Danbury, is believed
to have stored away somewhere within
himself samples of nearly thirty sewing
machine agents and book canvassers.—
His owner has been offered $75 for him,
but he refuses it.
Pigarny shoult never pe bunished py de
law. A man mit doo wives, if he lives
mit dens both, is bunished better dan any
law can do it. Many peeple spend much
of deir rages in visky shops, and den fret
bekase deir nabors gets along more better
as dem. Der only mark dat some men
vill ever make will be de mark ev deir
boots in de mut.
As the early morning train down this
morning drew up at the first station, a
pleasant looking gentleman stepped out
on the platform, and inhaling the fresh
air, en t husiasically observed to the brakes
man, "Isn't this Invigorating ?" "No sir,
it is Bethel," said the conscientious em
ployee. The pleasant looking gentleman
retired.
"Look beah, Dixie, you know a thing
or two, Doesn't you think, from the
cloudification ob de atmosphere, dat we'll
hab rain today ?"
"Well, I declare, Sanford, I doesn't
zackly understand astronomy, but I does
think it looks very omnibus."
"Dat's jest dis ehile's opinion, but I
didn't intb the larnology to 'spress it.—
I's maker studied skyology."
A man sent a note to a rich neigh
bor whom he was on friendly terms with,
to borrow an ass for a few hours. The
worthy old man was no scholar, and hap
pened to have a guest sitting with him at
the time, ;that he did not wish to expose
his ignorance to. Opening the note and
pretending to read it, after reflecting a
moment, turning to the servant, "Very
good," says he, "tell your master that
come myself presently."
A student in one of the New York col
leges received a summons to appear before
the President, who said :
"Sir, I am intOrmed that you have a
barrel of ale iu your room."
"Yes sir."
"Well, sir, what explanation can you
make ?"
"Why, the fact is, sir, my physician ad
vised me try a little each day, and not
wishing to stop at the various places where
this beverage is retailed, I determined to
have a barrel sent to my room."
"Indeed! and have"you derived any
benefit from it ?"
"Yes, sir. When the•barrel te as first
taken to my room, a few weeks since, I
could scarcely lift it. :Now I can carry
it with the greatest ease." •
His Onsiccr.—A doctor was called in
to see a patient whose native land was
Ireland' and whose native drink was whis
ky. Water was prescribed as the only
cure. Pat said that was out of the ques
tion ; he never could drink it. Milk was
proposed, and Pat agreed to get well on
milk. The doctor was soon summoned a
gain. Near the bed on which the sick
num lay was a table, and ou the table a
large bowl, and in the bowl was milk, but
flavored strongly with whiskey. ,
"What have you here ?" said the doc
tor.
"Milk, doctor; just what you order
ed."
"Well, doctor," s i ghed the patient, `them
may be. whiskey ii it. but•miles my ob
ject:
$2,00 PER TEAR
NUMBER 25
'wit 'dud lnmor.
1 0 a r = ! m r,
risurrer-lias-A -I,
"But there is whiskey in it; I snatn.ll
MICE
alu ? The word
',aigP''
i_coun--