S3IC - 17. Bruint TOLIJME 25. tint pottrg. TUB BEAUTIFUL DATB TUT ABE DEAD. The wind; wander by with a melody sad, P; The skies:are all shouded and drear ; Oh ! how can my spirit be happy or glad With the frost of the autumn-time near The last withered blossoms are over my brow, And my heart-cords are all out of tune, No wonder I sit in the shadows alone, And sithh. for the lillies of Juke. Come back, come back, come back, 0 Time, with your hurrying tread, And_bear_on your wings the bright joys that were mine In the beautiful spring -time dead., Oh ! why did I dream through tne harvest of bloom, Oh! why did I heedlessly stray— Not caring to garner the treasure till gloom Stole over the light of day ? And now, when the leaves that are scentless and sere, Fall thick in the path where I tread, My heart wanders hack o'er the wide waste of track, To the beautiful days that are dead. Gone are the joys that of life was a part, Silent - the - lips - that-I-love, And all the-bright forms that were dear to my heart, The Father has gathered above. I stand at the end of the flower-strewn path Where happy I wandered of yore, With tears falling fast o'er the graves of the hope That Call ever be mine any more. ANNIE M. CURTIS. ark. Raucous Padinff. . . . • A - RE • L GHOST STORY. . It is not Tenth while to tell me that ,the spirits d the dead never walk 'this .earth, to ben by mortal eyes after they have, takenhave of their clayey tene ,, ments—l kniw better. Robert Dale O wen may wr in favor of dead men com ing back to it the scenes of their mor tal toils, and thousand others may write i against it; it' all oneto me. I shall have my own opiniin, until I try to come baCk myself, and c't, and it is proved to me by the beslaut ority of the spiritual world /1 that no one el can. You will say, I will make no doubts 'my friends have always done, that my tars alarmed me, and that my excited imaiination caused me to fan cy I.saw the poison of my'old friend. Dr. Fenton Atniek,Md heard his voice speak ing to me, wheal knew he was a crushed And mangled cobse, or you will conclude that 1 have beef asleep. You will be e kivally mistaken n either hypothesis. In the first plane, I ' , its not a timid man. I never had keen 'raid of anything in the earl b, air or sea. ;I had walked through - - lone burying.-grotlids, and by old church es, hundreds °Utiles, in the dead of the night, and no "Tin o' Shanter" visions had ever yet causd me to quicken my pace. I had beefiall my life, a sturdy, hard working pude ; so, no sick, puling _fancies had haun me through long, and weary days of idl ; working for ten hours on the stfetc until you are weari ed to death, and sle ing like a log for ten is not .conductive to mancing, nor did I wish it to be. Iha no thought of writ s ing novels, or even ' oat stories," in those .days. I was a plod 43.7 chancery lawyer, never venturing to iake a speech, but .drugging as I have d, for the cloth, I wore, and the food b which life was kept in my body. Dr. nton Atwick had moved to Darbytow en years before. It was well he had an unity to fall back upon, for there was need of his deplo 111 a, or of any science ere. He had a case or so of "ague and fer," aud.sometimes in the autumn a few c Is—nothing more. Strange that Dr. At ek's should have been the first death I las, poor physi .cian„ thou wast "unit too heal thyself 1" .Our salubrious climat nd bracing moan ,tain air might baffle ry effort of mias ma to find a victim ong us. But ac cident—the creature ; fate—how unfor tunate, how impossibl o guard against ,Its treacherous deat:ngi 'The veriest in valid on earth was safe from 'that than hale, hearty Fenton At:iek. I don't know how hot into a sort of reverie pue evening—thnking of. all our ' - dives, and. the popular ilea that we all have a "mission" to peform. I wasn't given to such things. I should as soon have thought of joining an opera troupe--hav • ing no more idea elm usie than a steam en gine—as turning metaphysician. But in there I sat, looking out at my window at the giant mountains, ablaze with the gol den aureola of the setting eon, with my pen behind my ear, and a ponderous vol - time of Coke, all unheeded before me, ask ing myself; over and over again, of - what avail my lif'e had been to myself or oth ers, and whither it was tending, until the light died, too, from the western sky, and the shadows of night, or of death, crept, darker and darker, into the room. "Pshaw, I exclaimed," I am as visionary as a child emerging from. or as old man going into realms of the unknown. Very soon we, too, will be dust, as our ancestors are— perhaps a part of" that which the young man, galloping madly by but a few mo ments ago, sent curling two my window here, over my books and in: o my nostrils. And then our children (not :aine. of course . . as I am a bachelor, but other people's) will look out of this very window, as I am doing now, and wonder what they where made for, and whitherward they are tend ing. And they will find the:twelves—in the dark, as •..; Aim." I struck myself a sharp blow on the forehead, as if by this means 1 should effectually floor the gob lin thoughts that were bewitching me; and drawing a parlor.inatch across the green serge that covered m .—.l-i••:. --%—::-.- lamp and reopened the i . ok. But, strange to say, I could not,collect my thoughts. "I am tempted,"' I muttered, "to go for Atwick and Fleet and Jones, and have a rubber at whist, for it seems I am deter. mined to be at cross purposes with time this evening." I sprang out of my chair as / concluded, for a heavy "thud," like the filling of a human body, struck dis tinctly on my ear. • I glanced hastily a round,the room, and, as nothing was dis-' turbed, listened for a repetition of the sound from without ; but the silence was profound, and I heard some one walking rapidl down the street. "It is some vib y:k itor to e, I hope." But no; the footsteps passed . Then there came the sound of the nning feet, and some one came up. I t reed quickly around as the door was pus ed open. • "Ali, Fleet, it is you ! lam glad to see you. 'Come in. He did come in ; and there was a ghastly look upon him, frightful to behold. . "Come, Jerry," he said, while his teeth chattered. "I have been sent to fetch you. ' A fearful accident has just happened. Dr. Atwick—" "What ?" I asked, what a shudder I thought to be mortal passed through and throuJi me. • _ "Is already'dead, and as I - have told you, by an accident as horrible as it was' ant rseen. Jones was 'with him'in his .of 'fice, and they had risen to come up here, when Atwick extinguished his lamp, and turning suddenly, stepped out of the win dow instead of the door, nd fell upon the rocks below. He was a cad man when got down to him." "My God, how horribl !" . "I was at the scene of he catastrophe in a few moments. An there, laid out already with the grim fbr lities of death I gazed,upon the dead bo of my friend Amick, whom I had beh d but a few hours before in the perfe.cti of health— a I , y\ mangled bloody corpse 1 g still upon the pavement, with a cro d of people gathered, like ghostly state ,in the twi light about it. • Some of th men had al ready constructed a litter, was request ed as I knew Mrs. Atwick, erhaps bet ter than any one in the villa -, to hasten on before, and break the hid us truth to her as gently as I could. I spank back appalled. Demurred and fearf , I should positively have declined this p fid duty of friendship but for the tem rary ab sence of our rector, and the n essity of speedy action in some one. The tatement of a great writer that there is something not altogether unpleasant to us in the wis fortunes of otir dearest friends, is a - milk libel upon even medium human nature.- I should not have been more distressed if Mary *Atwick, the woman to whom I was going on such au errand, had been my own sister. And yet my acquaintance with her was very slight. She was anything but a popular woman ; she had mingled but little with the . people of the village, and had thus remained without friends, while Atwick himself had been a univer sal favorite. • I had visited his house on more social terms than any one else; -1 be lieve, and though I had never found her varying from a cold and haughty raexve, w liv I had every reason to believe that ' ick was devotedly attached to her an his children. If, however, I had kno it to be otherwise—if they had been to each other objects .of mutual indifferen or sometimes even .of aversion, should mit still have hesitated to break the q tof s l , a household with tidings of such a th to one of it's members? Yet, I was s ick en with a dumb sort of amazement t . t I had realized nothing of my position; And had not a thought of what I was to even when I fopud nay hand upon the to of the yard inclosure. All at once, liww - : - ever, weense of what I had came to do struck to my soul, and the same shud , ler I had experienced in my office thrilled ne from head to foot. There was no lights about the house as I went up the gravel walk. But I thought some one had come on the same errand, as I saw the figure of a man going up before me. I paused an instant on the threshold of the portico, waiting for the - figure, with its back turn ed toward me, to lift the knocker to strike for admission, when the door flew open with a sound, and the person entering. re vealed to me, my God—the blood-stained features of Fenton Atwick himself! - "How, how 1" I cried, "have you recov ered so as to get here before me,and alone? It moved toward the door of au inne: room, beckoning tome with his mutilated, bloody hand. . And a voice that I should have known M'thout the words, belonging to nothing m • rtal, said slowly; "I ai here in the sp it, before you, Jerry ; m body follows n apace. But, that tho doeth do or poor Mary's hear will be broke' ' I was still eking when the - figure van=., ished as I k -w it would, and' I was it.; gain alone in e moonlight. Wonderin amazed, ever • . ing but fi iglitened,l paus; ed a moment .1 dumbfounded bewilder- meat. There ' 'is no stronger emotion in ham bitter,.bitter sorrow heart or min pstairs, as.•l stepped back . loud rap upon the door. to light the lamp in the ed me. Mrs. Atwick came I. er face was whiter than re,•at she looked at me: winklow up-stairs, when I at the gate with Dr. At . Tell me where he has for the woman and gave a 1 A servant ea P' hall, and adm', in a moment. the gown she ".I..was at t saw you come: wick beside y. gone!" A FAMILY NEWSPAPEW—DEITG sTO LITERATURE. LOCAL.AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC. WAYNESBORO' int _ I _ II 11, .1 - tried to speak•to her buol could not. My lips .were still sealed, when all at once she went down on her knees, crying that "he was dead." She asked no confitiod tion from me of the horrible truth that had come'npon -her. I never saw any creature go on as she did in my life, and I hope in God's mercy that I never may. •When I spoke - to her at last, she railed out at me "to be gone, and leave her alone, .• . . mind had entirely lost its balance. I knocked at the door of the next Amuse, and bade the woman go to her, for I could do nothing. They had taken her up stairs when the heavy . tramp of the men with the litter was heard without. "He has shown no symytoms of return ing soncionsness, I suppose?" I said, to Fleet. . "Consciousness I I should say not; vhen he was dead even before Jones had lifted him from the earth," I was answered.— When the body was laid out—in spite of the horror that came over me by its pres ence—l looked at it. I knew that he was dead, as dead as you or I will be when we have slept under the sod a thous ' and years. And yet I could not divest myself of the idea that there was 'a 'lat ent expression of•conciousness-about-the fact. I. saw it through the congealed - blood upon his temple—even after I had touch ed his brow with my finger, and found it colder than the marble slab upon, the ta ble close at hand. Noivonder they should tell me that •I 'was white and sick I Men have, been as pale with far less cause. They sent me home with a. young fel low named Compton.' He and I and some others were to sit up the next night. I 'had not slept one wink when the day dawned again; but.l wasglad - to - walk - a; 'bout beneath the light of the sun, and be able to talk about that fearful accident with my fellow townsmen, though in a strange and subdued voice. When the evening came I went back to the widow ed house again. The horror of the thing seemed as fresh upon them all as the even ing before ; and strong men sat in the shadow of this great calamity, with eyes on which the mist of tears had gathered, ever and anon, and talked—if at all—in hushed whispers to each other. • It was the old fashioned way, and we were sitting in the room with the corpse. It was considerably past midnight when I took • a hook from the little table, on which a pot of coffee had been placed, and began to read. Soon after this the men proposed a walk ; but, as Charley Fleet and Compton were to remain, I said noth- ' ing. I was still reading, as wide awake and as free from fear as I ever was in my life, when the same shudder I have spok en of twice before ran over me front head to foot, and froze the blood in . my veins. The book dropped from my hands. I looked up and saw Fleet and Compton both asleep in their chairs. I strove to utter a sound. - And again the IoW voice I had heard upon the portico came to me in a low but distinct tones: "Hurt) , to the dispensary, or it will be too late ;" Mary is there. My spirit can no longer strive with her ; it is departing- from earth." I turned my head with,a fear ful sort of attraction, toward the body., The sheet was . turned down and the face exposed to view. The ghastliness of death was still there • but the face looked at me. "My God, Compton, look, look at that !" He sprang to his feet in an instant. How did it happen ? His wife must have been here while we were dozing."— I knew that' I had never been further from sleep; but his voice reassured me, though he said he had heard nothing, and I rose hastily. "Quick, to the dispensary I" He fol lowed me in amazement to the little room in the rest of the house where Fenton• Atwick had kept a supply of medicines, 'which he often distributed, gratis, to the hands of the factory five miles down the river. I hastily pushed the door open, and 'beheld Mrs. Atwick standing at 'a desk. As I sprang forward she fell face down ward, on the floor. We lifted her to a sofa, but she was dead. A phial of prussic acid was opera on the n .1 lc. . E MourrrAiws op,CoLou.Do.—The fo. untain ranges of Colorado cover an a reof from 60,000 to 70,000 square miles. This excludes bodily the entire territory east of this point. ' .All Switzerland cov ers but 16,000 square miles, or, to be ac curate, 15,990. The fact is, Switzerland,, compared to Colorado, is as one of the lit tle wooden toy cows to a. living Buffalo.--1 You can take up the whole little State and setit down in either the North, Mid dle, or South Parks, without touching the rim of the mountains which wall in these grand and singular inclosures. These parks are each of them from 24,000 to 28,- 000 square' miles in extent, and the San Louis is nearly as large as all three. So far as to magnitude, which is cer tainly 'an element, of mountain scenery —as to pure scenic beauty, of course the evidence can not be reduced to figures; but it is reasonable to suppose that this vast expanse of gigantic range, endless canons, .bottomless gulches, with its lake swung 12,000 feet in air, and its cascades and icy waterfall still higher—with its eternal snows and preAdamite stone for est of tropical efflorescence—offers all of picturesque and wild effect that any other I land or region can claim.' Call Swizer land the "miniature Colorado of Europe," if you please, but let us have done forev er with the other phrase, which has little or no meaning in itself when the above fats are considered.—.FXrendogiea/ Aur ae/. . .. Asstorm following storm, and wave succeeding wave, give additional hardness to the shell that encloses the pearl, so do the storms and waves pf life add force to phara eter. :IBUTE TO A BRAVE GIRL. Some time since mention was• made of the death of a young lady telegraph opera tor who seceived fatal injuries on the Penn sylvania railroad 'while rushing before a train of passengers and saving them from a catastrophe, a tree having fallen across the track during a storm. A Pittsburg poet contributes the following lines to the mem ory of the sef-sacrificing girl : No braver act than Wine, sweet girl, an t a rill the poet's heart, , NOr touch with an ecstatic glowi , The painter's matchless art. • • In saving others thou didst give Thy own unspotted life, And left behind a name that shines Effulgent through the strife. What though the storm in fury raged, The lightning Sashed and played, The thunders pealed, roared and rolled, And all for succor prayed—, The swift feet bore the signal light That saved the rushing train, With all its freight of precious life And joys that yet remain. • But thou art gone, thy race is done, Dear ones have laid thee low,' And o'er thy tomb the flowers:of spring In tender beauty giow, Whilst thy freed spirit gladly soars Through realms of endless bliss, Above the tempests and the storms - Of such a world as this. From the Decorah (Iowa) Ventilator, May 8 Unrivalled Parental Cruelty. The good old universal' doctrine that all will be saved may be a good thing, to live by, and may do to die bv, but we sometimes think there ought to bea "lake of fire and brimstone," and a regular fire eating, forked-tailed devil, whose business it should be to snatch bald-headed such miscreants and brutes in hum& form as we are about to describe. • It seems that there lives in Washington township, this county, a man named Wert zer—a German—(not a Bohemian, as the papers have it)who has a wife, a good farm, and is surrounded by all the com forts of life, apparently—and it also ap pears that this man and woman had a coolish child, a girl ten • years old, who ten years ago, was knuwn in the neighborhood. All at once the child was missed by the neighbors, and finally she was forgotten by all of them, save one Mrs. Stabs.— Mrs. S. had kept her in mind for the last ten years, and upon inquiring abcut her a few days ago, and getting an evasive answer, suspicions were aroused, and she made an affidavit before the proper au thorities, sufficiently strong to compel le gal invisAgation of the case. ' Sheriff Thompson accordingly called upon the family, and made inquiry regarding the missing child. After sonic hesitancy, the father led the officer to an up-stair apart ment, and pointed to s rude box 31 feet long by 22 inches wide, which contained the human being—a girl now 20 years old —wallowing in her filth, and a sight which beggared description. Spffice to say, the officer returned, and the Insane Commissioners, consisting of Dr. Coleman, Hon. G. R. Willett, ,and S. E. Tubbs, Clerk of the District Court, repaired to the house of - Wertzer, "to et amine into the case. The report of . the Commissioners has been made, but we learn that the girl is not insane, or does not exhibit sufficient signs of insanity to place her in an asylum —thus the Insane Commissioners have no jurisdiction in.the case. The girl is described as a poor little, helpless crippled up thing—her lower Blabs being half bent and her arms like wise crooked. • She has laid in her little box on' her face, in a doubledmp condi tion, until she appears more like an ani mal than a human beings . The appear ance of the child indicates that she was first jammed into the little box, and cov ered up, or nailed up, until she had grown ill-shaped—in fact until she had become a frightful deformity, and then the inhu man parents were ashamed to let the pea pie see her, and so they kept her confined in a filthy little pen or box for ten years. These are the ,indications presented by the appearance of the child and her cage. The human mind cannot contemplate the suffering and misery this human be ing has endured—the long, cold winters she has passed in that miserable den—the starvation and privations she has suffered, and the wicked, cruel, demon-like, and outrageous treatment generally, which her appearance indicates she has received. These facts, and the inferences drawn are given us by a description of the child and her place of abode by the Sheriff of the county, and a prominent physician of , our city, who saw for themselves, and know whereof they affirm. • This report will cause the matter to be taken up by the grand jury, and human ity. demands of them a verdict that will be a lesson to moral depravity and human barbarity, and a warning to, human dev ils, that a great sin cannot go unpunished, even in Wenneshiek county. , The entire German populationof the county feel agrieved, and their sense of honor and humanity is shocked at the de velopment of this barbarous conduct on the part of a German family. When you see a man in business who will not advertise or take a newspaper, look out frr a mean, penurious skinflint,• too tight to enjoy good health, and who holds a penny so near his eyes that be can't see•a dollar. We inscribe our affections upon a rock and the characters remain ; we write our mercies on the sand, and the first wiwe of tlouble washin them out. In town—seveipi praty old maids, A Traveler's Story. .One stormy evening a party of travel ers were seated around a blazing fire in a himee having somewhat the appearance of a hotel upon the Allegheny mountains. The coach had broken down, and they were detained until the nest morning. We had just finished a substantial sup per and were sitting with our feet on a fender, and cigars in our mouths, ruruin iatingc upon the' storm without, and the warm cozy comfort within. Each one told a story or related an an ecdote ; and at last the turn came round to a hollow checked individual, who until then had remained silent. . "Gentlemen," said he, fixing a piercing gray eye upon one of the company—a Spaniard—who, uninvited, had drawn is chair up to the fire, "some ten years ago I was near being murdered in this house.' At this moment the Spaniard got up, and was going out of the room, when the narrator rose, and locking the door, put the key in his pocket. He then took the Spaniard's arm,'and leading him up to an old picture, sur mounted by the England coat of arms, ran his finger along the motto, and said, at the same time; displaying the butt end of a revolver,. "Evil to him that evil does." The Spaniard smiled, and said he did not feel well ; but the stranger swore that no man should leave the room until he fin ished his story. Requesting us not td be amazed at his conduct• he proceeded. "Some years ago I was traveling across the mountains on horseback, and I stopp ed at this very house. The landlord was extremely obsequ ions in attending to my comfort; aud, •after supper he requested me to joi!i,him in a bottle of wine. • Nothing loath; I consented; and before midnight four empty bottles stood upon the table;and be was acquainted with. an my, iminess. I had a very large amount of money in my valise, and he politely in 7 formed me that he would take care of it till morning. Although somewhat intox icated I did not approve of leaving it in his charge, and wishing him good night, I took my valise in my hand and retired to bed. After I had undressed, I put my revolt'.: er under the pillow, and carefully as I thought examined the room. I laid my self down, and soon fell into the arms of Morpheus. I suppose it must have been two hours after when I awoke, and collecting my scattered thoughts,' endevored think what / had been about. Suddenly I detected a noise under my bed. • What was my horror wheni observed a piece .of carpet stretched alongside'the bed moved as if some thing was under it. A cold perspiration started from every, pore; but, thank heaven, I had presence of mind enough to prepare for the worst. Graspingmy revolver in my hand and hiding it under the bed clothes, I feigned to. be asleep. In an instant afterwards I saw a trap door, which had been conceal ed by the carpet, cautiously raised up; and I beheld my landlord, with a knife in one hand and a dark lantern in the oth er, directing his glittering eye towards me, Still I moved not, but as he turned to put the lantern on the .flool., I fired and—" "Yon killed him, did you?" shrieked the Spaniard, almost jumping from his seat. "Silence, until I have finished," said the stranger, again tapping his weapon "The instant I fired the villain fell.— I got up and Merely putting on my coat snatched up the lantern he dropped, and and with my valise crept cautiously down to the stable fwas a bright moonlight night and I soon saddled my horse. I galloped 'about ten miles, when I met a party of wagoners, andin their company returned to the house ; but,, despite ofour rigid search, not even as much as the villain's body could be found. But if I if I can law my hands uti h :t him, if it cost me my life, he shall e death of a dog. As the stranger concluded, he rose and caught the Spaniard by the throat and . tearing open his shirt collar, showed the mark of a wound on his neck. Three weeks afterward, Joseph Gomex was hung on his own eorilk=sfon of having murdered no less' than five travelers in that same room. Sleep obtained two hours •before mid night, when the, negative forces are in op eration, is the rest which most recuperates the system, giving brightness to the eye and glow to the cheek. The difference in the appearance of a person who habitual ly retires at 10 o'clock and that of the one who sits up until 12, is suite remark able. The tone of' the system, so evident in complexion, the clearness and sparkle, of.the eye, and the softness of the lines of the features, is, in a person of health, kept at !'concert pitch" by taking regular rest two hours before 12 o'clock, and thereby obtaining the "beauty sleep" of the night. There is a heaviness of the eye, a sallow ness of the skin and an absence of that glow in the faec which renders it fresh in expression and round in appearance, that readily distinguishes the person who keeps late hours. , Floor matting sometime 3 will not go down smoothly—the inside being looser than the edge of the breadth; met the edge and it can be drawn out flat and straight. Governor Hendricks, of Indiana, lays down as his platform that he will "rec ommend no man' for office, nor appoint one, who drinks." A Danbary bride received, more her wedding gifts, a receipted bill of eight,dol lars, for ga hinges Iran her lather. Bill Arp on a Bust-le. See here Mark Ant I was you I wouldn't take on so about fashuns. They don't bother me.. ; It's none of your busi ness what the women put on or put offso that they behave themselves and look just as purty as they. can. They are a heap better than you or me anyhow, whethe; they behave of not. I wouldn't give one woman for several men no time, would you ? Now see him smile and pat that off foot. If women want to wear bassets, let em wear em. I thought-that-panniers was the best because they stuck out side ways and wasn't in the way of leaning back when they sat down, but they know which is the• side to stick out on, and its nobody's business but theirs. They may wear an ing they want to, bussels and hoops and_ gangovers and convexes and collapes and whimadidles And stickouts and topnots come down and anything else so there is a woman hid away somewhOre inside of it all. ,It's all a sham—that rub ber bussels—there ain't no substance or' backbone in it. I've seen em flat and seen em blown up. There aint a bit of harm in em,but never see one on a woman that I don't want to hit it just hard enough to make it pop. I golly, Wouldn't she jump high and holler? But ing to do it ; no sir ; I've got too much respect for woman. Their bussels don't hurt nobody, and I do despise to see a man always pickin at a woman's close.— If they didn't wear something to disguise themselves the men would quit business when they come about. Purty women al ways did wear something to skeer the men away. - It's been so forever. During the warl Seed ope woman who dressed just as natural as lite, without any padden or stuflin, and when she cum along the boys jest laid down and rolled over and holler ed. They warent fit for business for a week. Some of the birds are dressed migh ty fine, and I reckon their pride ain't much of sin after all. But understand me, Mark ; I don't hanker after bussels, the' they say it makes the .nicest little shelf for the arm to rest on in the world, when a feller is dancing around with his gal. That's all right, providing the kil ler ain't dancing with my gal. If he is he may take her and keep her, that's all. BILL ARP. The Rev. Dr. Macleod (father of the late Norman Macleod) was proceeding from the manse to church, to open a new place of worship. As he passed slowly and gravely through the crowd gathered about the doors, au elderly man, with the peculiar - kind-of wig known in that dis trict—bright, smooth,, and of a reddish brown—accosted him': "Doctor, if you please, I wish-to speak to you." "Well, Duncan," sus the venerable doctbr, "can ye not watt till after, wor ship ?" "No, doctor, I must speak to you now, for it is a matter upon my conscience." "Oh, since it is a matter of conscience, tell me what it is, but be brief, for time presses." "The matter is this, doctor. Ye see the clock yonder on the face of the new church. Well, there is no clock really there—noth ing but the face of the clock. There is no truth in it but only , once in the twelve hours. Now, it is in my mind very wrong and quite against my conscience, that there should be a lie on the face of the house of the Lord."' ' "Duncan, I will consider the point.— But I am glad to see you looking so well ; you are not young now ; I remember you for many years ; and what a fine head of hair you have still !" "Eh, doctor, you are joking now ; it is long since I have had my hair." .. , "Oh, Duncan, Duncan! are you going into the house of the Lord with a lie up on your head ?" 1, - - - doctor heard no more of the lie on the face of the clock. How NOAH READ THE RLBLEIN THE ARK.—Wm. Cullen Bryant, of the N. Y. Evening Post, is traveling +n Florida; and in one of his letters•he gives the following extract from the sermon of a colored min ister of that State. The preacher liad dwelt awhile on the fall of man and the act of disobedience by which" sin came in to the world, and• had got- at far as the time of Noah. He then said : "De world got to be wery wicked, de people all bad,, and de Lord made up his mind to drown dem. - gut Noali was a good man who read his Bible, and did jus as de Lord tole him. And he tole Nbah to build a big ark, big enough to hole part of.ebery ting alive on de earth. And Noah built it. And do Lord call upon every living ting to come into de ark and be save.— And de birds come flyin' to de ark, and de big lion and de cow and de possum come in, and do liorse.cometrotting to de ark ; and de leetle worms come creepin' in; but only de wicked sinner wouldn't come in, and dey laugh at Noah anti his big ark—And den de rain come 'down, but Noah he set comfortably and dry in de ark and read his Bible. And de rain come down in big spouts, and come up to de door step of de houses uud gin to' coher tie floor, and den de sinner .be scared and knock at the door tab de ark .berry hard. And de big lion hear de 'racket and roar, and de dog bark, and de ox but Noah keep on reading de Bible. And de sinner say, 'Noah, Noah, let us come in: And Noah say, 'I berry, sorry, hut I can't let you in. for de Lord hal) lock de door and trove away de key." An absent minded man in Tennessee used a roll of greenbacks as a stopper to his molasses jug, and the next day nearly tore the inside of his house to pieces look ing for the missing money. :His wife set things• right when she baked •gingerbread that afternoon. $2.00 Tait aft it ,The child that cried fur get it. Beecher says a man or best when dressed. Quite t The South Carolina Leg tains 101 colored members. A young man being told the old lyre," brought in his law. Naturalists claim that the cr of the bravest of birds; because shows the white feather. California. housewives describe "that 'ere stuff.which you put in b to make 'em get up and Grecian themselves." A'Connecticut `man is going to out of the State right nivay' because trustees of a.cemetry objects to his ing onions on his cemetry lot. "If ever I cease to love," is the expression indulged in by some of oni lant young men—and our devil is ni hind the times. I can't drink liquor," said Bob; "ii right to my head." "Well," said _ friend, "where could it go with less dan ger of being crowded ?" 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." '`Caesar, I understand you believe every woman has seven, devils. sow how can you prove it? "Well, sah, did vou never read in de Bible how deseben debbles was cast out'en Mary Magdelene ?" "Oh, yes, -I've read that." "Did ydu eber hear of em bein' cast out of any oiler woman, sah ?" "No, I never did." "Well, den; all de odders got 'em yit." It rained the other evening, and there was an 'entertainment: A. young gentle.. man said to a young lady :. "May I have the pleasure of protecting you with my umbrella ?'And; said she, withher round expressive eyes looking full into his, "Put up your rag." "Young man, do you ever drink ?" ask ed a mild -looking man, accosting Jones. `Well yes,- thank you, as it's a cold mor ning, I don't mind," replied Jones, remok ing his quid of tobacco. "Don't do it a ny more," replied the mild man, "or yoif will mutually be—Good morning,. God bless you. Mr. Bacon, the hero of the "Georgia Scenes," was courting a lady in Georgia or Carolina. She had refused him fre quently, and he as often repeated his suit. At one interview she became exceeding annoyed at his importunity, and told him that she could not marry him ; that their taste, opinions, likes, and dislikes were to tally different. "In fadt," she said, "Mr. Bacon, I don't think there is one subject on earth upon which we agree." "I asure you Madam, that you are mistaken, and I can prove it." "If you can mention one thing about which we agree, I will marry you." "Well," said Mr. Bacon, "I will do it. Suppose, now, you auci were traveling together. We arrive at a hotel and there are only two beds for us, in the one there is a man, and in the other a wo man ; which bed would you select to sleep in ?" She arose indignantly, ,and replied, "With the woman of course sir!" "So would I !" earnestly replied Mr. Ba con. COULDN'T SIGN AWAY ELIS LIBERTY.- A Missouri planter, havingalloFed swine to range the woods, at one time missed several of them. Suspicion ,at once rested upon a certain neighbor, and the planter resolved to watch the actions , of his pork-kiving neighbor. One day, while riding through the woods, the plan ter came upon the man iu the act of lift ing a. fine young porker to his saddle order to take it home. "Now," said the planter, "'have caught you at last." "Yes, massa, you's ketehed me sure dis tine.." "Well I shall havelo send you topris• "Oh, no, mass., yon ain't gwino to send me to prison. Just you think of my poor wife.and children," and the poor man put in such 'an earnest plea for his wife and children that the planter's heart relented. "Well," , said the plater, "I'll tell you what I'll do. You pay me for one-half the number of swine you have killed and sign a paper not to kill any more, and I will let you co." • ,` No," said the lover of his neighbors' pork, "no, maSsa, I'll pay for all I have stolen, but as for 'signing away Iny ties,' I can't do it." Many an unsv:se parent labors hard and lives sparingly all his life for the pup. pose of leaving enough to give his chil dren a start in the world, as it •is called, Setting a young man afloat with money left him by his relatives is t . ting bladders under the arms of those who cannot swim; ten phanct.s to one, he will lose his blad ders and go to th.t bottom. Teach him to swim, and he will never need the blad ders. Give your child a. sotind educatio.: and you have done enough for him. to it that his morals are pure, his maid cultivated, and his whole nature subservient to the lays which•govern man and you have given him that. which will he of more value thsgt the wealth of the ER YEAR ER 52 n MO r. hour didn't oman looks e• ture con- "bring ther•in.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers