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By W. BLAIR
VOLUME 25.
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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.
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—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."