_ 1), 07,41 1 t 0c 41.) i t °Aril' '. I i ittag - i ( I ) tetiArb . , By W. BLAIR VOLUME 25. ( *cleft poetry. ~,.,. 4.4. s , "'aireT-i4''':-4 --- e-- - ' • ,"' ),,' .." I±7:::Fz- rte . f • ",* 354. ) -..11 :0:443 - Xo. ' r 0.- IS THERE OIN THE ANGLE LID 053 - [A short time ago the author listen ed to an interesting discourse by a Metho dist minister, in which he 'elated the fol lowing touching incident : A. mother who was preparing some flour to bake into bread, left it for a few moments, when little Mary with childish curiosity to see whet it was, took hold of the dish, when it fell to the floor, spilling its contents. The mother struck .the child a severe blow, saying with anger that she was always in the way. Two weeks after little Mary Sickened and died. On her death-bed, while delirious, she ask ed her moth iLthgre would ha xis I for her among the angels. "I was always in your way, mother•; you had no room for ,little Mary. And . will I be in the Angles' way? Will they have no room for me."— The broken hearted •mother then felt no • saeriS2e too groat could she have saved her child.] Is there no room among the angles, For the spirit of_ your child? Will they take your little Mary In their loving arms so mild? Will - they - ever ore riff y, As my story books have said? 'Will they find a home for Mary— Mary numbered withthe dead? Tell me truly, darling mother? Is there room Tor such as me? Will I gain the home of spirits, And the shirring Angles see? I have sorely tried you, mother— Been to you a constant care; And you will not miss me, mother, When I dwell among the fair. For you have no room for Mary— She was ever in your way, And she fears the good will shun her ! Will they, darling mother. say? Tell me—tell-me truly, mother, Ere life's Closing hour cloth come ! • Do you think that they will keep me In the shining Angel's home. I was not so wayward. mother, Not so very—very bad, But that tender love would nourish And make Mary's he.irt so glad•! Oh ! I yearned for more affection, In this world of bitter woe; And Ilong for bliss immortal In that land where I must go ! Tell me once again, e dear mother, Ere you take the parting kiss! Will the Angels bid me welcome To that world of perfect bliss? avirailaiteo. , OLD BACHELOR'S STORY. . lam an old bachelor. At sixty-five I can say I shall never be anything else Nvhile•l live; but, like all other men—all I have ever met, at least—l have loVed, and hoped to be happy with my chosen bride. That passion, those hopes, faded forty years ago. Since then I have done pen ance lbr the hasty act of one night; I have shunned the society of women, and forbade myself the shadow of a hope that I might patch my tattered joys with new ones. To none who knew me have I ever told the tale. I should have been esteemed a liar, or a madman, and no one would wil lingly accept such a reputation. To you, unknown reader, I dare recite the events of those four and twenty hours—events which turned my life into its now well worn channel, and made me the lonely, hopeless man I am. At the age of twenty-four I was clerk in the establishment of Messrs. Carp 4k Cavil, lawyers. I, had energy and ambi tion, health and opportunity—everything in fact, that eould be,wished for by a man who hoped to fight hisway up in the world, and win wealth and reputation. I was engaged to a young lady by the name of Grace Hunter, a pretty, delicate c mature, so quiet that her pet name, Snow flake, seemed the only one suitable for her. Her step was noiseless, her movements soft her voice sweet and low. She Dever her self entertained a large company by her conversation, nor did any of ,those things that give a woman the reputation for bril ,liancy ; but her mental powers were very fine, and•in a tete-adde she was enchant ing. lady to the heart's core, in my eyes at least, a perfect beauty, she might have been forgotten by most men in a room full of giggling, chatting girls. I adored her. I had felt that her love was a jewel worthy of an emperor's wear ing, and I had scarcely dared to utter the words that told her all I felt. Even now her high-bred reserve kept me at a little distance. ,I was proud of her. I felt un worthy of her. She was at once the saint wham ,I revered, and the being whom it was to be My delight to che, ish and'protect till death should part us. • Six months had passed since she had promised to be mine. At the end of six rraire'she was to give me her hand. I had a small salary, but my grand-mother had left ine a, small legacy which would ena ble initO go to housekeeping in plain but comfortable style, and Grace was willing to fight life's battles by my side. Life seemed bright and joyous to me on that 'night of mid-winter - forty years ago, when f walked thzeugh , the city streets with Grace upew my, arm, and looking down at her in, ha white wrappings. with gleams of frosty starlight touching her black hair, wondered if the angels were fairer than _she was. We were going to spend the evening at s unitua.l friend's midenee. There was to be music and dancing and cards, and a sociable supper. I.'went because Grace desired to go. lier sole society, at her own home was more delightful to me than any other company ; bat I was young and light of heart, and when I had once entered the lighted parlor „I did not sit quiet in the corner. _ ,• I sing ; I turned the music for musical ladies; I walked through the riancers. At last I found myself flirting with one of the female guests. There are women a man is obliged to flirt with. He does not admire them, re spect them, or love them one whit; he does not even desire their society ; but he must be more than man ere he can refuse to respond to their advances. One of these women I know now, having played the looker-on for so many years, can make any man appear to other women desper : dy-in-love-with-her-while-htrainicrst-d-e -tests her. A woman of that kind was a mong the company. She had hands that delighted in soft touches of hands. mascu line ; eyes that could cast glances bright and enchanting. She possessed attraction rather than beauty. What she said was nothing ; her conversation had no interest, but I_knew_that_Lseemed-absorbed-by her—that I really was absorbed ; in two words, that I flirted abominably with her. Gra - ceneanwhile, sat apart — from me. She talked to others in her low sweet tones. Once she sang a pretty love song. Quite calm and self-possessed, with no appear ance of noticing my conduct, the thought that it troubled her never occurred to me. So tnat when the evening was over, and we had left the house together, I was as tonished beyond measure to see au offbud ed look on her face, and to hear an offend ed tone in her voice. I offered her my arm. She rejected it, replying-that the. ground was damp, and that her hands were occupied with her dress, bUt I knew that this was merely an excuse ; and feel ing myself, in the wrong, and having swal lbwed more wine than I should at the sup per table, I grew very angry. "May I ask what I, have done?" . 1 said. "You know," said Grace. ' "I know 1" I repeated. "Nav, I know nothing of a woman's fancies. You must 'explain." "I scarcely think it worth while," said .4th e. "If you do not know that you have done wrong to-night, I really should not care. You have neglected me, and devo ted yourself -to that vulgar woman. I heard a lady near me say that you seem ed to be tired of your bargain. She thought that you were in love with that creature. Sc did other people. Under the circum stances,*,.l.have a right to feel offended, insulted." • Perhaps she thought I would deny her charge. Perhaps she expected me to plead. for pardon. God knows what possessed me. I answered only : "play I not talk to a pretty woman be cause 1 hope,to marry you some day ?" "You werOirting—almost making love to her," slie replied. "She is dfossort of woman with whom Men fall in hive," I said. ; r;' 4 lriesistible in her manner, I've beard s'he' , iitakes con quests everywhere; I don't doubt it." Grace looked at me with a stern face— white, in the starlight, as a marlbe stat ue. "Other woman are always jealous of such women," I added. Her lip curled. "I am not jealous of her," she' said. "I would not be like her for a kingdom. She is a terrible woman. But since you ad mire her so, you are free to tell her so af ter you have seen me to my door." "Grace !" I said. "Miss HuntA if you please, Mr. Ru therford," said she. " We have both made a little mistake, easily rectified ; that' s all." I felt, as I stood looking at her, that the effect of the wine I had drank upon me was stronger than I had thought, but I gave no heed to the warning of my gid dy head and rapid pulse. "Just as you please," I said. "I should think that a jealous woman would curse any man's life. I'll go now. I won't trouble you longer. Good-bye." We were not at the door of her home —we were about half a block from it but I turned‘ on my heel then and there, and left her:, , I staggered a little as I walked and I was het and angry. I bade my way home, and without undressing, fell upon my bed and dropped asleep. In two hours I awakened sober. I sat up and looked about me. The scenes of the evening recurred to me vividly. I saw how blameworthy I had been, and a terribly grief possessed me. I put my head down upon my hands and burst into bitter tears. I lad lost her, and with her all that made life precious. Then hope dawned- upon my soul. I would write to her; tell her how, unused to liquor as I was, the wine had effected me. I would tell ner that to my sober self there was no charm in the woman who had seamed to enchant me the evening before. I would draw the comparison that I felt so keenly between her pure self and that boy-eyed flirt I would pray for forgiveness, and she would forgive me. Springing to my feet, I rushed to my desk. I drew from it a pen and paper.— I wrote a letter overflowing with remorse and tenderness. I read it re-read it. Then leaving it ly:ug upon the spot where it war written, I stood at the window wait ing for the tardy dawn, jealous of the slow hours that kept my missive from my dar ling. The night was at its stillest. TIM stars were bright as ever, but the moon had set. I bad put out my candle when I left my desk, and the room should have been dark; but as I turned my head, after a long and anxious reverie, I saw that it was fan -of a pale radiance like that of A PABI/LY NEWSPAPER-DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC. WAINESBOROI, FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 24, 1873. moonlight. It startled me: Whence did the light come ? Had a miracle occured —had the moon risen again ? Suddenly, amid this silvery light ap peared a still whiter radiance. It slowly took form. A female figure, in white gar ments so bright that• they dazzled the eyes stood bending over my letter. I remained motionless—to speak or stir was not in my power—and gazed on the the strange object with terrified intensity. The figure seemed to turn the pages of my letter with its transparent hand. I heard a •gentle sigh •• then the bead turned to ward me, and I saw a face I knew—the face 'that seemed the loveliest on earth to me, endowed with a mysterious and di vine beauty for which no man could find' words—the glorified face of sweet Grace Hunter. At the sight I burst the bonds that held me—bonds as tangible as though -- cmfd - have seen - them—and rushed -for ward. I strove to clasp my love or her shadow in my arms, A shock such as one might experience from an' electrical ma chine flashed thaough me, and I fell pow erless to the floor. When I recovered the day had dawned and under the blue morning sky the city awakened-; but my day never dawned a gain. My heart never woke to life's sweet ness. 'to end this story in a few words, Grace Hunter never reached her home that night, and never was heard .of again. The family imagined that she had remained with her friends, and were not anxious a bout her. I had left her within sight of her own door; and why she did not , reach it I shall never , know.. But I do know that in some woeful manner she died that night, and that her parting spirit paused ed in its flight to bid me ,a long farewell. I have outlived my youtb,.and the sus picion that fell upon me embittered ma ny years of my existence,. but rshall ver outlive my love for Grace Hunter, or my remorse for that night's woeful work. I have never outlived the knowledge that, in the'maduess caused by wine and an e vil woman's enchantment, I was the cause of my- darling's--death. The Elmira Advertiser recently publish. ed the following, and vouches for its truth fulness : Some people don't like Sheriffs. There is an air of writs and executions and summonses• about them that is un pleasant. They come in contact with the miserable, the mean and the low so much that it is popularly believed that they be come hardened in their hearts and wells. They are the ode appointed by law to take the lives of criminal who have for feited them to society. Doing first from duty they finally come to do them with out thought or without manifesting any dislike or displeasure. This is what is thought of Sheriffs by some. We know one that is very far the opposite of this, a large-hearted, noble-minded man, and de serving to be perpetual Sheriff of the coun ty of which,• at present, he has charge.— His name is E. A. Fish, and his county is Tioga, Pa. We base our statement on facts. He is a good speaker, able to con trol the feelings of his hearers, either by the humorous or the pathetic. It is rela ted of him that during the late campaign in stumping about the county he did al most as much good to his religion as he did to his party. He would get such con trol of his audience that the political meet ing would be adjourned and a stirring prayer meeting substituted therefore. We were going to tell of a recent incident, however, to prove our above statement.— He had to sell on execution, in the south ern part of the county, the effects of a wi dow lady for some debt of the dead hus band. He must do his duty, and went down for that purpose. He levied on ev erything that the law allowed him to touch and sold it off remorselessly and ruthlessly. It just about stripped the poor lady and did not yet satisfy the de mands of the creditors. After the last piece had gone, and while the Wotban big eyed with tears and sorrow, was looking at her little possessions about leaving her, Sheriff Fish broke out in a new spot. He commenced to speak to the crowd around him, and in just ten minutes' time had a bout all of them in, tears. He closed by telling them that his fees would amount on the sale to More than any one of the demands, and that he was going to give them up to the lady. He did so, and his example and influence were such that all the property was 'returned, and a sufft• dent amount made up besides to settle up the claims against her. Such a Sheriff as that in a county is better than twenty poor masters, and deeds like the one we have 'elated deserve to shine through the world. He who is too much of the gentleman will never be over successful. Tdo much polish decidedly inimical to great suc cess.. A. man has need of civility, good address and courtesy, but he needs very much more than these qualifications if he desi res to attain very extraordinary results. He requires indomitable energy, bound less enthusiasm, and unconquerable zeal to carry him over every difficulty, and never allow him to rest until he accom plishes the object he resolved upon. It has generally been, that most successful are the men who have but one business and one idea, who allow, no other occupa tion to engross their thoughts, but who determine in this one field to do or die.— When men take up - any calling in this spirit, it is almost next to impossible that they will not :he successful. The ruin of some men dates from some evil hour. Occupation is an armor to the soul. The in;7onton of matolloa—Adam and About a Sheriff. HARBINGERS OF SPRING, ST EVA ALICE There are signs to, be seen— Those we all understand, So, she cometh! The Queen I To make. happy the land Rejoice all ye weary—let the wide welkin ' ring, 'Gladly welcome The Princess—the Beauti • ful Spring I _ _ The new buds are now seen On the vine, bush and tree, • The swamp-willows•look green, Arid the brook runneth free ; Old Winter's departed—let the wide welkin • • ring, Gladly welcome The Princess—The Beauti ful Spring I Cheerful sounds greet the ear, • • And onr senses are stirred, The blue-bird brings its cheer, And the turtle is heard. All Nature's awaliingyour heart-tributes bring— Join and welcome The Princess—The Beau tiful Spring I From all hearts that are sad, ' Let sweet praises ascend. To the God Who makes glad, • To the Heavenly Friend, Who loves and sustains thee—every want doth supply ! The Creator, Redeemer, Blest father on high ! All's designed for our good, Both the heat and cold ; That the least understood, ' Dotl. a blessing unfold. To the God of the Summer, Autumn, Win ter and Spring— Give the heart's adoration, in gratitude sing I What We Breathe. The Scientific American, says : We have all - hear of the Black Hole at Calcutta. It was a room eighteen feet square. In this room one hundred • and forty-six per sons were confined. It had but one win dow, and that a small one. Dr. Dungli- Son, in his "Elements of Hygiene," says: "En less than an hour many of the priso neig were attacked with extreme difficul, ty of breathing; several were delirious, and the place was' filled with incoherent ravings, in which the cry for water . was predominant. This was handed to them by the sentinels, but without the effect of allaying their thirst. In less than four hours many were suffocated or died in de lirium. In five hours the survivals, ex cept those, al the gate, were frantic and outrageous. f:At length, most of them be came ius9nsible. Eleven hours after they were imprisoned, twenty-three•only of the one hundred‘ and forty-six came out alive, and these were in-a highly putrid fev,er. There are many black holes like this used for sleeping-rooms, says the London Co-operator; the difference between them and the one at Calcutta is that they are not crammed quite so full of human be ings. In a word, then, we may say a sleeping apartment should be large, lofty and airy. • It is a poor economy for health to have large and spacious parlors, and small, ill-ventilated bed-rooms. Fashion, however, is a reigning deity in this respect, and will, no doubt, continue to bear sway, notwithstanding our protest against her dominion. You will scarcely drink 'after another person from the same glass, yet you will breathe over and over the same air, charg ed with the filth and the poison of a hun dred human bodies around you. You cannot bear to touch a decd body because it is so poisonous and polluting; but you can take right into your lungs, and conse quently into your body, your system, those poisoned particles and noxious exhalations which the bodies around have refused, and which have been case ihto the atmosphere by their lungs, because the health of their. bodies required them to be thrown off. . ,If the "timorously nice creatures who can scarcely set a foot on the ground," who are so delicate that they run distract ed at the crawling Of a worm, flying of a bat, or squeaking of a mouse,.could see what they breathe rit the midnight carous al, the very polite ball, and bright theatre, they would never be caught in 'such com pany again. Nay, if they could see what they breathe in their own dwellings, after the doors and windows had been closed a little while, they would soon keep open houses. More sickness is caused by vitia ted air than can be named. It is one of the most prominent causes of scrofula, which is but another name for half the diseases that attack the human body. It vitiates and destroys the•whole fountain of life, the blood. In the sick room it often augments the disease, or renders it incurable. If the physician comes in and opens a window, or a door stands ajar for a moment, the good nurse, or the tender mother, or the .kind wife, or the loving sister, will fly up and close it as though the life of the sick were at stake. All this is well-meant kindness, but really cruel. If you would have health, breathe fresh air; open your windows every morning, and often during the dav ; leave off your mufflers from the chin. • For twenty years I was accustomed to never going out with out a handkerchief tied closely around the mouth, and for nearly that period have left it off: I have had fewer colds and suffer far km from changes of climate than previously, Let the air into your bed rooms • you cannot have too much of it, provided it does not blow directly upon you. . : "Good blood will show itself," said the to-per with the rod nose. Common Sense. Too many have imbibed the idea that to obtain a sufficient education to enable - a man to appear advantageously upon the theatre, especially of public life, his boyhood and youth must be spent, in the walls of some classical seminary of learning, that he may commence his ca reeer under the high floating banner of a collegiate diploma—with them, the first round in the ladder of fame. That a refined classical education is de sirable, and one of the accomplishments of man, I admit—that it is indispensably necessary, and ahvays makes a man more useful, I deny. He who has been incar cerated from his childhood up to . his ma jority within the limited circumference of his school and boarding room, although he may have mastered all the classics, is destitute of that knowledge of men and hings r indispensahly-neeessary-te-preparf him for action, either in private or pub lic life. Classic lore and polite literature are very different from that vast amount of common intelligence, fit for every day use, that he must have to render his inter course with society pleasing to himself or agreeable to others. Ele a rria,y have a large fund of fine sense, but if he lacks common sense, he is like a ship without a rudder. Let boys and girls be taught, first and last all that is necessary to prepare them fbr the common duties of life. I wish not to under-vali.e high seminaries of learning, but rather to stimulate those to persevere in the 'acquirement of science, who are deprived of the advantage of their dazzling lights. In this enlightened age, and in our trencountry„_all who will may drink deeply at the love fountain of science. Ignorance is a voluntary misfor tune. By a proper improvement of tine any boy of ordinary ability may lay . in a stock of useful knowledge that will en able him, when he arrives at manhood, to take respectable stand by the side of those who have grown up in the full blaze of a collegiate eucation—and with much bet ter prospect of success at the start; because be is much better stocked with common informatlon,__without _which man is piti fully helpless. Died Yesterday. "Died yesterday." Who died ? Per haps it was a gentle babe—one whose laugh 'was as the runs of summer rills loi tering in the bower of roses—whose little life was a perpetual litany in Maytime, crowned with the passion of flowers that never fade. Or maybap it was a youth, hopeful and generous, , whose path was hemmed with flowers, with not a serpent lurking underneath ; one whose soul pan ted for communion with the great and good, and reached forth with an earnest struple for the guerdon in the distance. hut the heart is still now ! he "died yes terday." "Died yesterday." A young girl, pure as the orange flowers that clasped her for head, was stricken down as she stood at the altar ! and from the dim aisle of the temple she was borne to the "garden of slumber." A tall, crowned man, girt with the halo of victory, and at the day's close, under his own vine and fig tree, fell tq dust even as the anthem trembled up on his lips ; and he, too, was laid "where the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." An ancient patriarch, bowed with age and cares, even as he looked out upon the distant hills for the coming of the angel host, sank into a dreamless slumber, and on his door post is written : "Died yester day." "Died yesterday." Daily, men, women and children are passing away, and hour ly, in some graveyard, the soil is flung upon the dead. As often in the morn we find some flower that blushed sweetly, in the sunset, has withered up forever; so, daily, when we rise from our bivouac to stand against our posts, we miss some brother soldier, whose cheery cry in the sieges and struggles of the past has been as fire from heaven upon our hearts. Each day some pearl drops from the jewel thread of friendship—some lyre to which we have been wont to listen has been hushed forever. But wise is he who mourns not the pearl and music lost for life with him shall pass away gently, as an eastern shadow from the hills, and death be a triumph and a gain. Good Advice to a Young Man. Some years ago a young man presented himself to the United States Secretary Corwin for a clerkship. Thrice was he refused, and still he made the fourth ef fort. His perseverance and spirit of de termination awakened a friendly interest in his welfare, and the secretary advised him, in the strongest possible terms, to a bandon his purpose and go to the West, if he could do no better outside of the de partment. "My young friend," said be, "go to the Northwest; buy 160 acres of Government land, or if you have not got the money to purchase, squat on it; get you an axe and a mattock ; put up a log cabin or a hab itation, and raise a little corn and pota toes : keep your conscience clear, and live like a free' man, your own master, with no one to give you orders, and without dependence upon anybody. Do that, and you will become honored, respected, in fluential and rich. But accept a clerkship here, and you sink at once all independence—your en ergies become relaxed, and you are unfit ted, in a fow years. for any other and more independent position. I may give you a place to-day,.and I can kick you out to morrow, and there's another man over at the White House who can kick me out ; and so we go. But if you own an acre of land, it is your kingdom, and your cabin is your castle; you area sovereign, and you will feel it in every throbbing of your pegs% and every day of your fife would assure me of your thanks for havin g thus advised- yea. . . A Dinner Excuse. Apologies for poor dinners are general. ly mit of place. But when a lady has a forgetful husband; who, without warning . brings home a dozen guests to sit down to a plain family dinner for three or four, it is not in human nature to keep absolute silence. What to say, and how to say it, form the problem. Mrs. Tucker, the wife of Judge Tucker, of Williamsburg, solved' this problem many years ago. he was the daughter or niece (I am uncertain which) of Sir Peyton Skipwith, and cel ebrated for her beauty, wit, ease and grace of manner. Her temper and tact were put to the proof one court day, when the Judge brought with him the accustomed' half score or more of lawyers, for whom not the slightest preparation had been made, the Judge having quite forgotten • to remind his wife that it was court-day, ' 6 " - T — in she herself, strP- ;11, having o- she herself, strange to tei, verlooked the fact. The dinner was served with elegance and Mrs. Tucker made herself very char ming. Upon rising, she said: "Gentle min], you have dined to-day with Judge Tucker ; prom 4 se me) now that you will all dine to-morrow with me. This was all her apology, whereupon the gentlemen declared that such a wife was beyond price. The judge then ex plained the situation, and the next day there was a noble banquet.—Lippincott's Magazine. GOLDEN Woßus:—The habit of look ing on the bright side is invaluable. Men and women who are evermore-reckoning up what they want rather than what they have—counting the difficulties in the way instead of contriving means to overcome them—are almost certain to live on corn bread, fat pork, and salt fish, and sink to unmarked graves. The world is sure to smile upon a man who seems to be suc cessful ; - but let him go about with a crest fallen air, and the very dogs in the street will set upon him. We must all have losses. Late, frosts will nip the fruit in the bud, banks will break, investments will prove worthless, valuable horses die, china vases break ; but all these calami ties do not come together. The wise course to pursue, when one plan fails, is to form another; when one prop is knocked from under us, to fill its place with a substi tute, and evermore count what is left rath er than what is taken. When the final reckoning is made, if it appears that we have, not lost the consciousness of inten tional rectitude; if we have kept charity towards all men ; if, by the various dis cipline of life, we have been freed from follies and confirmed in virtue, whatever we have lost, the great balance sheet will be in our favor. FAT AND LEAN.—Meat eaters and veg etarians show in their persons the 'effects of the diet. The first man has the most brain force and nervous energy. A mix ed food of animal and vegetable rations develops the highest intellectual powers. A strictly vegetable living ordinarily gives a fair complexion and amiability, and ex treme pugnacity when the vegetarian's views in regard to that one engrossing thought of his life are discussed. They are annual-meeling reformers without ever setting a river on fire. Arabs are a sober frugal race, rather slender, not tall, con scient;ous, and contentious on religious subjects. They subsist largely on rice, pulse, milk and keimac, something simi lar to whipped cream, through a vast re gion of an arid country where they are indigenous. They are not destitute of mutton, goats, camels and game ; but they manifest no disposition to feed upon meats, as is necessary in the temperate zones or in high northern latitudes. An intellect ual man, one of their kindred, who rises to distinction by the grandeur of his men ial status, is extremely rare. The beer and ale drinkers expand and grow fat, but they are not much given to profound iresearche,s in science.—Scientific Ameri can. BE BRIEP.—Long speeches, long letters, long communications, are out of place in these stirring times. We have a whole world's news to look after, and put in or der for our readers over night. Remem ber that, kind correspondents and contri butors. Avoid parenthesis. Drop the semicolens altogether. Make the spaces between the periods, as brief as possible.— Shake out the adjectives without. reserve. Sacrifice the pen metaphors. Be not led away by the love of antithesis, or allitera tion. Be clear, and crisp, and pertinent, alike in your invectives, eulogies, and recommendations. Think of the ord's Prayer, and then of the awful substitute served up by sensation mongers in too many pulpits. • What flights of tawdry rhetoric, and volleys of expletives; what endless repetitions of tedious details, weary and disgust the hearer. It is frightfol to think of the time wasted by there selfpard ing petitioners and longwinded inditers of many-headed sernious. Life is too short, too full of cares and duties, to be thrown away thus. - The best advice, the bright est wit, the deepest wisdom come ever in small packages.—Boston Glabe. A 100 year old apple, still plump and solid, was recently on exebition at Ports mouth, N. H. It was picked up in 17- 72, carefully stuck with whole cloves, guarded as an heir-loom by three genera tions, and now it forms the subject of spi cy items in the local papers. Record also comes from the same State that a Mr. Haswell is proud proprietor of a dough nut, kept as a memento of a doughuation party held in 1861. The trophy is believ-. ed to be altogether unique, but, after all, it is probably just as well that people gen erally doughnut care for this kind of rel ic. Subscribe for your home paper. 82.00 PER YEAR 'NUMBER 46 Vii# and 3.nnior. —Corks will keep a horse on his fe;i7 but - they - treacherously - come Vat 0n,a,,, man. Why is the letter S injurious to orchards ? Because it makes our apples sour ap ples. • Melancholy suicide—A littlehoy_on-h — e ing threatened with a whipping, hung his head. When Brigham'Young's children sing "Father, dear:father, come home," the ef fect is said to:be wonderful. The old man comes home without delay. "Massa Christopher Columbus was a queer man," said a negro orator. A notion _crossed him one-day,-and-then-he-erossed— the oeean." New Jersey servant girls hire by the month. Those who "have beaux" get $B, and those who haven't get twelve. Only one in five hundred gets twelve. An exchange tantalizes its readers with\ this atrocity: "Have you heard of the -- man who got shot ?" "Got shot! No, how did he get shot." "He bought them:'l Five mosquitoes were seen sitting a round a candle last evening, warming their feet, before startin out on a iora- hey are arrested: ging expe Indiana whiskey has improved eighty per cent. since the drought set in, and will now cut a hair without being strap ped or otherwise having its edge touched up. A young preacher baying tried to preach a sermor from the text, "Remember Lot's wife," and made a failure, a venerable doc tor remarked that he "had better there after let other's wives alone." 'John Smith has been heard from again. He appears this time in the character of an Ohio legislatOr, and has introduced a bill, in which he proposes that every cit izen of his state shall henceforth be pro hibited from naming his offspring "John Smith." A link boy asked Dr. Burgess, the preach er, if be would have a light. "No, child," says the doctor, "I am one of the lights of the world "I wish then," replied the boy, "you were hung up at the end of our al ley, for it is a very dark one." A. clairvoyant trio, two women and a man, have been traveling in the South, pretcmding to cure epizo9tic by the lay ing on of hands." They practicqd on a mule in , Kentucky the other day, and the firm has since dissolved. A Sacramento lawyer remarked 'to the Court: "It is my candid opinion, Judge, you are an old fool." The Judge allowed his mildly-beaming eye to fhb upon tho lawyer a brief moment; then, in a voice husky with suppressed tobbaco juice and emotion, said ; "It is my candid opinion that you are fined $lOO. A Vermont man recently laid a wager thathe would woo, win and marry a young lady, who with his companions, he had just seen arrive at the, hotel 'where he was living, He introduced himself to the dam sel, she smiled upon his suit, a minister was called in and they were married with in an hour. The wager, of no inconsider able amount, was handed over to the bridegroom, who left' with his bride the following day. It was afterwards discover ed that the couple had long been travel ing around playing the same trick at various hotels. A boy seven years old recently arrived in Harrisburg, from Northern Texas, hav ing traveled the entire distance by himself. His mother had died, and his father want ed to place him with some friends, but; could nut come with him, so lie purchased ,a through ticket, pinned it on the lappet of his coat, and started him on his long journey. The various conductors took great interest in him, and when at the end of their route handed him over to the next one. He arrived safe and sound, and greatly delighted with his trip. Open questions in a house about trivial matters are like open wounds. Of what bits we build our, heavy cross ! Do not spend the day discussing whether you will drive or walk, invite a guest or accept an invitation, wear white or black, write a letter, ruh out a spot, be on speaking terms with a neighbor, or have honest acquaint ance with any man or woman. Time is valuable, nerves are precious. It is bet ter to decide a case wrongly than to get into a wrong state of mind. An eminent,divine, remarkable for his devoted pity and spotless purity of his character, was heard to say that he never read or heard of a crime that, under cer tain conditions of education, he mighthave committed the same crime himself. The same feeling must have been experienced more or less, by reflecting, enlightened men ; and yet, and yst how little charity there is in the world. A transcendant faith, a cheerful trust turns the darkness of night into a pillar of fire, and the cloud by day into perpet ual glory. They who thus march on are refreshed ever in the wilderness, and hear the streams of gladness trickling among the rdcks. A very fat man for the puipose of quiz ing his doctor, asked hint to prescribe for a complaint, which he declared was sleep ing with his mouth open. "Sir," said the doctor, "your disease is incurable. Your skin is too short, so that when you :mut yaw eyes your mouth opens."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers