. , . —... ... . ' •P' 'liV ' ,:.:4!. , :.,..., 6 .., • . .... . . . , . . . ~ „t . ..: ... ...... • , .... . . .,... 1 . • i s f :, , - r . ,1 • - . 1: ~. ' .... '•': 0 .1 43, - 11111-t : : ~,,, ....;.,00.,..:•, , ~i... . ~ ~... ~•.: .......:,.....;•.:,.' ...,...• ... .11 f. . . . .., ...... .„. ~ , ... i . : . i.,.: • . . . . . . . . . . . , . • •• • • . . . . . . . .. .. ... . . BY W. BLAIR, VOLUME 26. c stittt pottrg, THIS WORLD, This 31'0:1d is a sad, sad Place, I know— And what soul living can doubt it?— But ft will not lessen the want or woe To be always singing,about it. Then away with songs that are full of tears, Away with dirges that sadden; Let us make the most of our fleeting years, By singing the lays that gladden. A few sweat portions of bliss I've quaffed, And luau a, cup of sorrow ; But in thinking over tile flavored draught, • The oldAhne joy I borrow. And in brooding over the bitter drink, Pain fills again the pleasure; And so I have learn'd that it', better to think • Of the things that give of pleasura. The world at its saddest is not all sad ; There are days of sunny weather ; And the people within it are not all bad, But saints and sinners together, I think those wonderful hours of June Are better by far to remember Than those when the earth guts out of tape In the uold bleak winds e' Novemb.r. Beeauseke meet in the walls of life • Many a soithsll creature, It does'nt prove that this worbl of strife Has no redeeming feature. There is bloom and beauty upon this earth There are bud:, :Al blossoming flowers; There are souls of truth and hearts of worth! There Aire golden, glowing hours. In tbj,nking.oyer a joy we've known We easily. cake it double, O'er sorrow, grief and trouble. Fur though this world is sad, we know— And who that is living Can dogibt it?— It will not lessen the want and woe To be always singing about it, r", allinellattnlls A SHORT COURTSHIP. I was a young man possessed of suffi cient means to enable me to live at my case, and refrain from labor of any kind, when suddenly there came a blow that cattered. my prosperity ,to the winds, and tbreed me to employ my labor and wits ;in tbe general struggle of gaining a liv ing. Ihe blow came in the shape of the failure of a large lirai in )vhielt my capi tal was invested. Alter securing a clerkship in the house of a creditor of our late firm, my first care was to look up a less expensive boarding house than the fitshionahle one in which I was living. I inserted an advertisement in several 'widely circulated city papers, asking for board in :tried/ private f imily, and in course received a multitude of an swers by next post. Out of this motley instillment of epistles, there was but one that pleased me, and thu one I decided to answer in person immetilately. (trace Kingsley was the name of the landlady writing to me, and the letter stated that her house was entirely private, and having no boarders whatever. I was much pleased with the f'air, delicate hand writing, and an ide,i took. possession of 3110 that ;Grace was a young. and fitseina tMg widow. I was not disappointed when Preached the house, and my ringing at the dour bell was answered by the lady herself. She invited me into the parlor in a manner so courteous, and yet so mod <..st, that I had falloi desperately in love with her before I could cross the thres hold. I enjoyed a very pleasant. chat with :Airs. Kingsley. During the conversation rue informed me that her 'late husband had been in a fitir way of business, and at his death, which occurred a year previous bad left h►er in pretty comfortable circum tgances. They hp but one child ; and this item oj a mottality Iswas graciously per►itted to look upon slumbering in its cradle. I alto learned that the lady }vas living in the house quite alone, and ,desired n muse boarder more as a means .of protection than a source of revenue.— I n conclusion, thelandlady looked so pret ty (she was quite young, not more than two or three and twenty) and the board , so moderate, her companionship so invit ing, and she seemed.to trust in me, and look . . upon me so favorably that I would have been a heathen, dead to all charms And inducements of the sex, if I had not ,eugaged board on the spot. The next day I had my trunk removed to my new boardinghouse, and permanent ly established my,elflhere. Before leav ing my fortner boardinghouse, a letter •w;ts banded me by the postman, but I did not find time to examine it •until I was ,comfortably ensconced in the parlor of Airs. Kingsley's cozy house. Opening the letter I discovered it to be from a wealthy uncle, residing in Ver mont, who regularly sent me a letter once a year ; but whom I had never seen. His epistles were al ways short and to the point, generally coAsisting of an account of the weather iu Juis locality, and some good Advice to me to take care of my money, as I might be burdened with some of it before'l was mucli Older. I was always very glad to get this advice 'from him as I regarded it us an intimation that I was to inherit his Wealthjtisodecease. One day, however, about a year previ ous I received a letter from him which .contained another topic besides those I ;have mentjoned. • ;..1) , uncle made some pressing inquiries respecting my matri monial prospects, and stated that if I was not already married I should immediate ly enter into the wedded state, and let him know of it, or he would.never more be an uncle of mine. Now as my uncle lived in Vermont and I in Philadelphia, and I never anticipat ed the old gentleman would pay me a vis it and discover the falsehood, I wrote and informed him that I was not only marri ed, but the father of a bouncing baby.— This intelligence so pleased my uncle that he sent a gold goblet and a silver pap spoon, to be presented to my child. lat first sat down and wrote a very romantic letter to my uncle, thanking him for the presents, and then visited the nearest jew elry store and turned both the goblet and spoon into cash, which I pocketed. had received no further letters from my uncle until the one which I read in Mrs. JQngsley's parlor. The postscript to this not only astonished,' but absolutely frightened me. It read as follows : P. S,—.l have never visited Philadel phia, so I decided to do so at once, and get a look at you and your wife and child. You may expect me• about the 10th of the month. "Good gracious!" My uncle is coming to visit me," I exclaimed, and its past the 10th of the month now ! don't know at what moment he may pop in. What am I to do for a wife and child ? At that moment there cane a terrible pull at the door-bell as if the man who pulled imagined that he owned the house and could make as much noise as he pleas ed. A sickening sensation took possession of me, for I had - a misgiving that it was my uncle. Now as good fortune would have it, Mrs. Kingsley had gone out to a neighboring store ter a few moments, and had requested me to have au eye on her child while she was gone, so it wouldn't fall out of the cradle, and hurt itself. As I glanced at the cradle, and thought of my uncle at the door, a bright idea enter ed my mind. I determined, in ease the ly occupant as my own. The visitor proved to be my uncle. I knew him by the pictures of him I had seen, and he likewise knew me by ph graph. After mutual recognitioi hand shaking, I ushered hitn . intoi for and introduced him to my new. • • cd ofi;ipring. —There, uncle," saki I, "is the first pledge of our married life. I assure you I take pleasure in presenting to you my , "It is a fat little youngster," said my uncle, gazing at it admiringly. "By the wav what is it, boy or girl ?" That was a knotty story for me to an swer, for he was just as much acquainted with its gender as I was. But it would not. do to show ignorance on the subject, so I answered at haphazard that it was a boy. +l-am sotry . it is a boy," said my un cle; "there arc too many boys in the fam ily, Now, if you had only produced a little blue eyed 'girl, it would have been more sensible." assured him I was sorry the gender did not suit, but hoped in the future 'his wishes would be gratified. So far I had succeeded in deceiving my uncle, but the worst I feared was , that when Mrs. Kingsley returned, she might obieet to my claiming ownership in her child, Besides, to carry out my deception I must find a wife as well as an infant, and Mrs. Kingsley was the only one I mild conveniently claim. The only dif ficulty was to get her to consent to the de ception, and this might be done if I could only secure a private conversation with her Imfore introduced her to my uncle, then it would be all right. I watched my opportunity, and gained an interview with her betbre she returned to the roLni. I told her in brief and hur ried words the extent of My difficulty, and how I had taken the liberty of acting as papa to her little one. I then told her I must find n wife somewhere, and begged her to allow me to introduce her in that capacity. She laughed very heartily at the suggestion, said she could comprehend my difficulty, and consented to my propo sal, and very roguishly warned me not to presume upon the occurrence, We then entered the parlor and l in troduced her as my better half. My un cle was very much pleased with bei• and complimented me upon . my good choice in the selection of a wife. Mrs. Kingsley of course colored most charmingly at this compliment, and I could plainly see that she could hardly refrain from laughing. "You have a fine boy here," said my uncle to Mrs. Kingsley, pointing to the cradle. • "Excuse me, sir," she said, coloring up again, "it's a girl." I was dumb founded. I was exposed after all. Would my uncle bel i eve me after this ? He looked from me to my landlady With a puzzled countenance. "Your husband told me it was a boy," he sa=d, and rather suspiciously too, 4 thought. "Well; I always took it for a boy," was my reply, putting on a bold face, "but I suppose my wife knows best." Here Mrs. Kingsley lhirly screamed with laughter, and my uncle's stern face assumed an ironical smile. "You are a nice father, ain't you ?" he said touching me with the point of his um brella, "not to know the sex of your own child. Why I knew it was a, girl the mo ment I looked at it." "But, Charley," he said, Again address ing me, "what did you do with the goldAt and pap spoon I sent to the little one ?" "Oh, they are perfectly safe, I assure you," I replied. "I have taken good care of them. "Yes, but where in the deuce are they? I would like very much to take anoth,er loos nt them. 41. FAMILY NEWSPAPER--DEVOTED TO LITERATURE. LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC. WA.YNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 10, 1873. "Well, I hare .deposited them in a bank for safekeeping,' but I can readily produce them—that is—ju the course of a week's time." Hp told me to do so, as he wanted to see them, and then I got out of the room for fear that he might ask some more per plexing questions. 4 short time afterward, Mrs. Kingsley carne to me, when I was alone, in the ad joining room And I saw immediately that something very humourous must have happened, - for the corners of her lips were breaking into smiles. "Do you know, sir, in what an Alt ward predicament you have got me?" she inquired, as she took a seat ou the lounge by , my side. • "Explain yourself," I said. "Why, your uncle came to me a short titre ago, and asked to see my marriage certificate, and-he mid he had some mon ey to settle upon us immediately, but want ed to be sure everything was first right. "Did you expose me ?" I inquired anx "No sir, I did not, for I never enterin to a deception or anything else by halves." I was so elated that I could not with stand the temptation of embracing her.— This did not make her angry for she nes tled her head cosily on my shoulder and smiled serenely. "Wha,t answer did you make him?" asked. She hesitated for a moment and then said: "I promised to produce the marriage. certificate." "But we havn't any," I remarked, She indulged in a quiet little laugh to herself, but said nothing. "Mrs. Kingsley—nay, my dear madam —no, I will call you tiarlit,g—we are both in R. scrape, and there is but one way for us to get out of it. s'e must go and get married immediately. ‘Vill you be my wife ? ".1. shall be delighted," she answered, frankly, and se_zing both my hands, said We lost no time I assure you. I don't think %Irs. Kingsley ever got into her 'Sunday clothes in such a hurry in her life. before, while I spoiled two pairs of ,4uspenders in my frantic endeavors to be on time. We quite astonished .the par eon by our haste, and at the conclusion of the ceremony, I would have forgotten to give him the usual "fee," if he had not re minded me of it. ' We had secured the coveted marriage certificate, signed and sealed, and were LW safely out of our difficulties, as Ave thought. • We had omitted one precaution, as we presented the certificate to uncle: It was all right with the exception of the mod ern (late. "Why, how is this?"' said my uncle gazing at the document through his specs: "I thought you were married over a year ago." "So we were, uncle," I answered very solemnly. "How comes it, then, Oat the certifi cate is dated to-day ?" he asked in a voice of thunder. We were struck. speechless, both my wile and I. "Come,'," said my uncle, "I see there has been some trickery here. Own up to it,'or I will never forgive you." I did own up to it, and told him the whole story. 1 expected it would make him angry, but didn't; for he laughed heartily, and said I was a clever rascal, and he said he was proud of me. "But how about the gold goblet and pap spoon ? You havn't beep drawing the wool over my eyes about them, too, have you—eh ?" I told the truth about the goblet and pap spoon. "Why, you are a regular trickster," said my uncle. "I believe you would de ceive Satan himself. But I won't get an gry with you, for I used to play the same ga mes when I was young." In a word, we became thoroughly rec onciled, and my uncle settled upon me a sufficient income to enable me to quit my irksome duties as a clerk. He has nine back to Vermont, and I can but say, go conclusion, that, when he pays us anoth ervisit, I can show several 'little people' that I call my own, and without telling a falsehood. MAKE-UP OF TFjE BODY.—Supposing your age be fifteen or thereabouts, I can iigre vou to a dot. You have 160 bones and 500 muscles; your blood weighs , 25 pounds; your heart is five inches in length and three inches in diameter; it beats 70 times a minute, 4,200 times per hour, 100,- 800 per day, and 36,792,000 per year.— At each beat a little over two ounces of blood is thrown out of it, and each day it receives and discharges about seven tons of that wonderful fluid. Your , lungs will contain a gallon of air, and you inhale 24,000 gallons per day. The aggregate surface of the air cello of your lungs sup posing them to be spread out, cueeed-120,. 000 square inches. The weight• of your brain is three pounds; when you are a man it will weigh eight ounces more.— Your nerves exceed 10,000,000 in number. Your skin is composed of three layers, and varies in thickness. The area of your skin is about 1,700 square inches, and you are subjected to an atmospheric pressure of 15 pounds to the square inch. Each square inch of your skin contains 3,500 sweating tubes or perspiratory pores, each of which may be likened to a little drain tile, one-fourth of an inch long, making an aggregate length of the entire surface of your body of 201,166 feet, a. tile ditch for draining the body almost 40 miles long. A careful lowa farmer, whose cow was bitten by a mad dog, sold her to a butch er in less than fifteen minutes thereafter. 110 W TO HEY. ' Wen you get married, don't marry ,a set, A. jilt or a vixen, or yet a coquette, But marry a maid, that is, if you eau. More fit for the wife of a sensible mu.. Look out fora girl that's healthy and young, With more in her eye than you hear, from her tongue, And tho' she's freckled or burnt to a tan, Yet she is the wife of a sensible man, With riches will wretchedness often in life Go linked when your riches are got with a wife ; But marry and make nil the riches you can, Like a bold, independent and sensible man. Look out for a girl that is gentle and kind, And modest and silent, and tell her. your • mind;' If she's wise as -bewitching she'll . welcome the plan, And soon be the wife of a sensible man. Then cherish her excellence and wisely and kind, And be to small foibles indulgently kind, For so you make happy, if anything can, The wife of a sober and sensible man. Ain't This Stewart's Crossing. BY A BAY STREET BETADIER. . Formerly we could never tell why so many good things were related by steam boat captains and clerks. We understand in our elder days, and can readily see how contact with all sorts of people naturally bring awkward positions to those fre quently-brought in contact with all man ner of characters. Gradually the good things are now tolling to conductor: ; rail way travel having almost brought steam ers to the banks And of the conductors of the Georgia milrowis, it seems that those on the S. W. IL It., while they have possibly, the most pleasant general run, suffer more from ourlandilh lolks, travel ' • ; I uthward to see ki»-folks than an chiss which I have noticed. Some ays since, just before the train ran from the car-shed in Macon, I was disturbed while reading the morning paper by the entrance of an old lady, who was slightly deaf, wondrously, fussy, and fearfully made; in fact, very fearfully made for an old lady. Chignon, pannier flounces, and all those indescribable things which the younger of Fashion's devotees so patiently bear, were hung around her in profusion rare. Af ter the train moved out the conductor ap pealed at the door, and "Tickets" came reverberating down the aisle. I took ad vantage of the occasion to find out for what point Mrs. • Joiner was bound, and saw the ticket she handed the conductor was -from Macon to Americus," but she requested the conductor to let her know when the train arrived at Stewart's cross ing which is about four miles above A mericus. This he of course readily agreed to do. engaged . the old lady in conversation and found that she had • been married to Mr. Joiner about two mouths, that she was his third wife and be her second hns band. Furthermore, I found she ha d some relations in one of the lower counties, and that a visit to them was the object of her journey. She seemed anxious to make as good impression on them as possible, as she told me in the inocence of her heart, because 'they were not as well pleased as they should hair:, been at his third mar riage, especially as he married rather au old lady. We chatted pleasantly until we reached Jackson—about the third sta tion from Macon, I think, when I left the old lady to her meditations. The next station was Pewersville, and when the train reached that point she called the conductor to her and asked if -that was Stewart's Crossing. I He replied that it was not, and 'told her to give herself' no trouble as he would tell her when they reached Stewart's Crossing. In tact, that us it was not a regular station, he would come to her before they got there and let her get ready in time. • I could see, how ever, that she was nervous, restless and excited. The train stopped at Fort Val ley when she .grabbed her reticule, and calling the conductor, wanted to know if that was Stewart's Crossing. His reply was very brief, but to the point: •'lt is not, madame." OW went the train again, and as the whistle sounded for Marshalville the old lady again grabbed the precious reticule and called the conductor. "Mr. Conductor, is this Stewart's Cross ing ?" "No ma'am, I will tell you when we get there," was the amused conductor's reply. Away we sped, and Marshalville van ished only to bring us, somewhat•bohin•l tame, however, to Montezuma. The reti cule was grabbed again, and again th 3 conductor called. In he came. "Is this Stewart's Crssing, Mr. Conduc tor ?" "It is not, if you please, madame, T will certaini , let you know when we get there; so yon need not ask me," said the irritat ed conductor, • Oglethorpe was passed without the an noyance, but when Andersonville was sounded the old lady was in the highest pitch of excitement, and as the conductor was assisting a lady with three babies through the car, she grasped his sleeve with one nervous hand and her reticule with the other, and asked with all the earn estness of her. excitable nature; "Mr. Conductor, ain't this Stewart's crossing?" The usually good-natured public &tic tionary was vexed ; you could see it all o ver his smoothly shaved face. "No, ma'am, this is not Stewart's Cross ing. I have told you I would let you blow when we get there, so be quiet and give yourself no uneasiness." The old lady was twiething all over with excitement as we steamed away and left Andersonville vanishing behind. The conductor .came and took a seat by me and while discoursing au the comparative merits of broad guage and narrow-guage railroads, forgot everything else. At length he looked out of the window, and immediately grabbled the bell-line, ex claimed ; "Bless my life, we've passed Stewart's at least a mile." Stopping the train, however, he had motion reversed, and we ran over a -mile back to Stwarts Crossing, when ' he went to the old lady. •`Stewart's Crossing ma'am." "Are we there ?" she asked. Yes, ma'am hurry up and get off as soon as possible; we are behind time, and had to run back near two miles for von. The old lady see - ned wonderfully calm ed and said with the greatest simplicity : "I don't want to get off here, I want to go to Americus." "Don't want to get off here ?" thunder ed the conductor; "what in the thunder did you want us to stop shere for ?" "I didn't want you to stop here," she replied meekly. "What did you want to know when we got here for then ?" "Because," simply said the old girl, "my hod man told me when I got to Stewart's Crossing that it would be time to put in my teeth." . If you never heard a roar you ought to have been on that train. Amid -the-fuss the,;bell-cord had the most viclent pulls that it experienced in some time. The old lady reached Americus, was met by some kin, who took her • off the conductor's hands. He, however, pondered over it well,' and 1 heard him tell the conductor of the up train when they met 'that he never would treat a toothless woman with that veneration which they deserved a gain, especially if she had a reticule and wanted to know when he passed a way station. Could we but live our life over again, starting from boyhood, how many an er ror—how many mistakes would we try to avoid. We wonder they do not com mit more.. Many a spot in' the road of life would be avoided. We should try to be more brave—more earnest in defencb of the right, and to protect.the weak.— 'There is 'iota boy but can do better than we have done. There is not a man but who can, by beginning at ont;e; build him-, self up to a glorious position. Furst, clear out from the heart all the dirty rubbish. Leave off the slang, the vulgarity, words which blacken and soil the mind till it throws out malaria, and fever, and poison, us do pools of stagnant water. Keep the heart pure and the brain active. Study for the best, and when you have found it, work and study for some tEing still better. Never be satisfied with one '''(rood act—nor a hundred—nor a thou &lnd. But add them together, one.after another, till at last you will have a string of pearls to lift you higher instead of peb bles to sink you lower. Hearts, like houses, can 'be built out. Minds, like homes, - can be beautified. It is as easy to plant a no ble ambition as to plant sordid desires, and all those trees which bear but bitter fruit. Remember that it is little by little, inch by inch, but steadily upward. This is the way the work of the man becomes the mansion. This is the way the poor boy becomes the great man. This is the way the apprentice becomes the master— the pupil becomes the master, and the in telligence of mortals the power and un known greatness of those who are immor tal. Build your walls of good material, and they will last. Keep out the rotten sticks and that rubbish which has been thrown away by those who have passed a long 'before you. Be kind to the poor, for every good act is a plant that will bear blossoms' for our credit in the beautiful beyond. • By the hearth and fenders of many homes in the country to-night are resting boys, who in a few years will be the smart est men in the land. They will be the workers—the builders—the ones who will be great and powerful iu proportion as they take care of themselves. Then let all the boys who read this clear away the rubbish and begin building ror the glori ous manhood of the future. That better future when it will not be a sin fur man to have ideas or to express them. That future, which will be better when men make it so. ThatTuture which is better open' o the poor than the rich, as work is better than play when men are to be made. If all the boys ia the country would build themselves into men in the most glorious acceptation of the term, what a country ours would be. Then there would be no more prisons, or need for them. No more poorhouses, for bad habits would not make men paupers. No poverty, for all would he thrifty. No armies of or phans; no multitudes of drunkards who make wives miserable, children wretched, and mankind a disgrace to liumanity.— We want every boy in the land to become a rich, a good, a useful Man, and will do our best to help them along on the road that leads to peace, to prosperity, and to the mansion there will be for every brave, truthful, deserving, honest man in that. more beautiful land, where are the Gar dens of the, Rearin the new life, and the better home for all of us who would be remembered for the good we have done before there comes to us on earth the fi nal Saturday Night.—Pomeroy. "Professor," said a student in fursuit pf knowledge concerning the habits of an imals, "why does a cat, while eating, turn her head one way and then another?"— "Per the reason," replied the Professor "that she cannot turn it both ways at Once." T.he -.Old Fireside. Not until separated can we appreciate the sweet society of loved ones. When far away from home, what pleasure to think of. the old fireside—the family cir cle, and if we are missed there. Who oc cupies our seat? Perhaps a sister dear, or a kind, warm-hearted brother, or per haps it is vacant. And then we wonder if we shall ever become a member of that happy little group again. Around the old fireside we have sat and . listened to the counsels of a father, and beheld the sweet smiles of a loving moth er. But, alas! what changes time has wrought! A chair is vacant which never can be filled. That mother, is gone.— Long, long ago, she left us to join the so ciety of angels. And when night spreads its dark curtain over the earth, and we assemble around the old fireside, we wai in vain for her approach. She comes not. But, When life's duties we have done, We'll see her face again ; In that eternal world above, Where all is.love and praise. Oh, how many family circles, knit to gether in the bonds of friendship, have th us been disturbed ; robbed of its charms =but such is life. Like a buble upon the ocean, or a meteor in.the sky, which are seen but f'or a moment, so are the joys o life. How ninny wandereis, who are with out a home, think with what pleasure up on the scenes which surrounded the home of their youth_Liome,sweet-home-1 2 . No name so endearing—no place around which cluster so many enjoymouts-" there's no place like home." Let the bitter adversities of life toss us to and fro, let friends forsake us, yet there is a little earthly heaven, where we may hid., ourselves—'tis'at home—around_the old fireside. Oh ! how sacred the' ties that bind lov ed ones at home. In that fiimily circle, where perfect love controls each heart, no discord or bitter feelings are manifested. Love is of divine origin; it emanates od who is all love. Without this principle formed in the soul, it is impossi ble to enjoy the blessings of life. 'Tis this that fills the mind of the wanderer as he journeys in a far distant land, with con soling thoughts, that there is a little group clustered around the old fireside, when the sun sinks behind the western hills, leaving all nature in darkness, who would think of him—and love him. And he often wonders if he shall ever again sit with them, and join their happy music. .Years may come and go; but the charms of home, and the endearments of loved ones still linger, while memory lasts. WHY SiECIE is SCARCE.—Here is a nut for political economists to crack, be their proclivities free trade or protection, from the American Manufacturer : From the middle of 1862 to the last of June, 1872, the generous United States paid Paris the enormous sum of two hun dred and sixty millions. This somewhat staggering amount was forwarded in gold, on account of jewelry, laces, silks,gloves, crapes, merinos, hats, human hair, and miscellaneous toilet articles. This very respectable bill does not include the gold forwarded from our shores to the French metropolis for wines, works of art, gentle. man's garment and fabrics from which to make the same. There is not a single i tem in the aggregate of the two hundred and sixty millions which could not have been produced at home; or been readily dispensed with--and that, too, with great benefit, not only to the purse, but to the health of the consumers. So long as our people prefer to enrich foreign rivals at the expense of domestic industry, so ion , * must gold be transmitted abroad to settle the. balance of trade against us. With the exercise of prudence and common sense Europe could, in tweivementh be made a debtor w us for cereals and meats, which she ocanno do without, and the stream of gold traversing the Atlantic from January to December would be fore• ed to'reverse its current and flow hittiei ward. TILE GRAVE of "HIGHLAND MARY."— Rev. J. W. Todd, writing of hiitravels in Scotland, says : "The hotly of Highland Mary, the early lingering light of Burns' heart, moulders in the corner of Greenock church-yard ; and whatever shadows gath er around Ps memory and stain his titir name, hers is without spot, and the deli cious joys which she enkindled in his soul seem to have been of the purest and lofti est order—,lingerhig there like the reflec tion of a glorious sunset when the dark ness closed in and shut hini round about. For it was far off iu the days of his life that he tuned his lyre and sang: "Wi' many a vow and locked embrace, Our parting. was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore ourselves asunder. But, 0, fell death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower so early ! And green's the sod and cold's the clay That wraps my Highland Mary." The path to her grave is trodden into hardness by the feet of pilgrims from all lands ; and on the slab which covers ;her narrow bed is inscribed the unadorned name of MARY, with these lines from the • poet's pen : "0, Mary, dear, departed shag, Where is thy place of blissful rest?" QUEER. HOTEL—There is is hotel in California composed of ten hollow trees, standing a few feet apart. The largest of these is sixty-five feet around, aid is used as a bar and kitchen. For b9d-chambers there are nine great hollow trees., white washes or papered, and having doors cut to fit the shape of theliole.s. Literature finds a place in a leading stump duldied "the library.' • Be punctual to your payintsits. 82,00 PER YEAR NUMBER 4 Vogit a.ltd Snmor. In Schenectady they mildly call a drunk en man "the victim of misplaced benzine.' If your uncle's sister is not your aunt, what relation is4he.tolon.l She is . your mother. r Singularly none of the papers have yet said that in these days of bustles.every lady is a paper carrier. An inaana man has invented ti-"spark arrester." It is presumed he ,has a fami ly of daughters. rT 'Wouldn't you call flii9 the calf of the leg?' Aced John, pointing to one of liis nether limbs. 'No,' replied Pat, should call t i at the leg of a calf.' .* One person havin asked another if he • believed in the a e ance of spirits,"No," was the reply, "B believe in their Vis appearance, for I'v m ed a bottle of gin since last night." It is conveni nt sometimes to speak the English langila b with a sweet German accent. A Teuto saloon keeper has lost half his eustolne by boasting that he keeps "de pest hause." A teacher. ih struggling to make a tough-braihed boy understand what con science is finally asked, "What makes nu._ - feirtiaira - ft - ii - - hay icettia - fra - ft - if you have done wrong?'— 'My papa's bic , leatherlstrap," feelingly replied the lad.° A a y having accidentally broken her •melliug bottle, her hu§band, who was very petulant, sail to her, "I declare, my dear, everything that belongs to you is more or less broken." "True," replied the lady, "for even, you• are a little crack, !" • An old German while on his way from Indiannapolis to Lafayette froze his nose. While thawing the frost out of that very I not understands dis ting. I half carry dat nose fortrseven years and he never freezed hisself before." - A German expressman called at a door to deliver a box. He said to the servant who opened for him, "I have gota schmall pox, and if you likes I will carry it up stairs fbr you." . The girl, horfot-stricken slammed the door in his face, as she fail- • ed to appreciate the gift of small-pox. "Sambo, whar you git dal watch you wear to meetiu' lust Sunday?" "How you know I hab a watch ?" "Bekase I seed de chaiti hang . out de pocket in from." "Go'way, nigger I S'pose yciu see a halter round my neck, you tink dar is a horse inside ob me?" A man once took a piece of white clothq to a dyer to have it dyed black. He was so pleased with the result, that after a time he went to him with a piece of black cloth and asked to have it made white.=- But the dyer answered : A piece of white , cloth is like a man's reputation: it can be dyed black, but you cannot make it white again.' .A HINT Fon LAnnis.—A well-known. German florist related his troublesin this way : "I have so bunch drouble mit de la.; dim van 'dey come to buy mine rose; day vants him moondly, dey vants him har dy, dey vents him doubles, dey vantq him fyagmnd, dey vanta him nice gouler, dey vents everding in one rose.' I hop&I am not vat you calls you tufeitllant Ann; but I have - somedimes to say to dat ladies, "Madame, I never often' sees dat ladies vat vas beautiful, dat vas rich, dat vas good temper, dat vas youngs, dat vas clev er, dat vas perfection, in von ladies. I see her much more not !" A negro minister who married rather sooner after the death of his wife than some of his sisters thought proper and becoming, excused himself as follows: "lly dear brethern and sisters, my grief vas greater than I could bear. I turned every way for peace and comfort, but multi: came. I searched the Scriptures frtna. Ginisee to Riverlations, and found plenti,-F;,: of promises to the widder, but nary to the widderer. And so I took it that''' . the good Lord tip% waste sympathy on ) a man when it was in his power to com- fort himself, and having a first rate chance to marry in the Lord, , I did so again.— Besides, brethren, I considered that poor Betsy wus just us dead as she Would ever be." IF You PLEASE.—Boys and girls we will print tin. you the last wards of the Duke of Wellington, "if you please." When the Duke of Wellington was sick, the insulting he took was a little. tea. On his servant handing it to him in a saucer, and asking if he would have it, the Duke replied,`•Yes, if you please." These were his last wards. How much kindness and courtesy are expressed by them ! He who 44 commanded. great armies, and was long eitcustomed to the tone of authority, did not overlook the small courtesies of life. Ah, how many boys do ! What a rude toneof command they often use to their little brothers and sisters, and sometimes to their mothers. They order so. This is ill•bred, and shows, to Say the least, a want of thought. In all 'vOur borne, talk - remember "If you please." To all who wait upon or serve. you,_ believe that "rf you please"' will, make yell better served, - thau all the ems or ordering words in the' hole dictionary, • Do not forget thriiqittle words, ".I,f you. please." , • "Speak mently ;it is better far- To rule y love than fear." _ quarrenk with' yotir *i 3 l b . frr .
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers