BY W. BLAIR.
VOLUME 26.
Vintrg.
OLD MUSIC.
Back from the misty realm. of time,
Back from the years axone,
Faintly we catch_ the ringing rhyme,
And hear the melody and chime.
Of Olden songs, of strains sublime,
Like carols of birds at dawn.
And ever we hear them soft and low,
Harping their music sweet,
Songs that we joved in the long ago,
Rippling their liquid ebb and Clow,
Drafting their cadence to and fro,
Like the fall of fairy feet.
,Moore faces .our heart•will ever hold,
Some smiles we remember yet,
There were 'lowing locks like the sunset's
•
gold, .
•There were parted lips of Cupid's mould ;
.And the songs they sang can ne'er grow
FOr our bearts can ne'er forget.
The tunes that the voice of girlhood sung,
The cord's that we loved full well •
When hopes—were - buoyant, hearts were
' young,
When fairy bells in the dowry cups xung.
And ever fell from maiden's tongue
The words of witching spell.
Ah, well-a-day ! 'tis a story past,
-Which I may not tell Again,
'Twas a happiness too sweet to last;
The heavy clods on her grave are cast
,And her voice is stilled, and, above her, fast
Falls the cold Winter rain.
•aUNcellitu cow; Pading .
THE FAITHFUL GUEST.
A NIGHT OF DANGER
Th ere. was something--I forget what—
to take grandtitther and grandmother a
way from home,one day in October of the
year I lived with them in Burns' Hollow.
It may have been a mineral, or some re
ligious meeting, for they both drove off,
dressed in their best, in the gig, with old
Ajax harnessed to it. and after had tuck
ed in grandma's. iron gray silk skirt, and
ran back to the house for grandpa's spec
tacks and had seen the gig vanish in the
distance, I felt loitely. Rums' Hollow
was a lonesome place at all times ; and the
handsome rambling mansion, which might
have sheltered .a regiment, had a ghostly
air about it when one walked though the
upper rooms alone..
• There were but two servants in the kitch
,en, Hannah Oaks and the Irish lad, An
thony. I heard them laughing merrily
together, for, though Hannah was-an old
NV0111813„she was full of fun; and in five
minutes the doeropened and Hannah came
in with the tray.
"Please miss," said she as she set it
down, `itia.v I run' over to Mapleton to
night? My sister's daughter had a boy
'last nieht they say, and I want to see it
nat'rally—it's the first I've ever had of
grandniece or nephew. •
"Who brought the news ?" I asked.
"Anthony, miss," said Hannah. "He
met George—that's my mice's . husband—
when he was out after the cow, straying
as he always ig, and told him to tell Han
nah she's a grand aunt."
"You may go," I said, "but don't stay
late. Grandpa and grandma may be a
way late and I feel nervous. To be sure
there is Anthony, but I never rely on him.
Ile certain not to stay late."l repeated
_ _ -
tr-
of all ages Will.
• I sat thus a long time and was startled
from my reverie by a rap at the deor—a
timid sort of a rap--so that I knew at
once that it was neither a member of the
Louse nor an intimate friend. I waited,
expecting Anthony to answer the door,
but finding he did not, went to it myself.
It had grown quite dark. and the moon
• rose late that night. At first I could on
ly make out a crouching figure at the bbt
tom of the porch. But when I spoke it
advanced, and by the light of the hall
lamp, I saw a black man. I had always
had a sort of fear of a negro and instinct
ly shrunk away, but as I did so he spoke
in a husky tone.:
"This is Massa Morton's isn't it ?"
"Yes," I replied, "grandfather is out."
• I retreated ;he advanced.
"Please, miss,' he said, "Judge B
sent me here. He said massa 'ud help me
on. Let me stay here a night, miss. I's
trabbled five days since I left him. Hi
din' like. I's awful hungry, 'pears like
• I'd drop, and ,ole massa's arter me. For
the 10 of heaben, miss, let me hide some
where's and gib me jes' a crust. Massa
Judge promise. Massa Morton 'ud help
me and it's kept me up. Misses will, I
know."
I knew that grandfather had given suc
cor to some of these poor wretches-before;
but I felt that I might be doing wrong by
admitting a strAnger in his absence.
Caution and pity struggled with me.—
At last I said,: "You have a note from
the Judge, I suppose sir ?"
"I had some writin' on a paper," said
the man, "but I lost it de night it rained
-so. -Ah„tniss, I's tellin' thetruff—Judge
sent me sure as l's a sinner. I's been
helped along so far, and it 'pears like I
mus' get to Canady Can't go back no.
ways. Wife's dare and de young uns.—
Got clear a year ago. Miss, I'll pray for
you, ebery day ov my life ef you'll jes' be
so good to. Zink you, miss."
For somehow, when he spoke of wife
and children, I had stepped back and let
him in.
It was the back hall door to which the
rap had come and the kitchen was close
at hand. I led him thither. When I saw;
bow worn he was, how wretched, how his
eyes glistened, and how under his rongh
blue shirt his heart beat so that you could
count the pulses. I forgot my caution. I
brought out cold meat and bread, drew a
mug of cider, and spread them on the ta
ble. The negro ate voraciously, as only a
starving,man could eat, and I left him to
find Anthony, to whom linterided to give
directions for his lodging throughout, the
night;
To my surprise Anthony was nowhere
about the house or garden.
Hannah must have taken him with her
across the lonely road to Mapleton.
It was natural, but I felt angry.
Yet I longed for Hannah's return, and
listened anxiously until the clock struck
nine. 'Then, instead of her footsteps, I
heard the patter of rain drops and the
rumbling of thunder, and looking out•saw
that a heavy storm was coming en.
Now, certainly, grandpa and grandma
would not come home, and Hannah, wait
ing for the storm to pass. would not be
here for hours. However, my fear of the
negro was quite gone, and I felt certain
pride in conducting myself bravely under
these trying circumstances.
Accordingly I went up stairs, found in
the attic sundry pillows and bolsters, and
carried them kitchenward
tHere," said r, "make yourselr a' bed
night. No one will follow you In such a
terxible storm as this. and no dot& grand
pa will assist you when he returns home.
Good night." -
"Good night, and God bless you, miss,"
still speaking in a very husky whisper.—
And so I left him.
But I did not go up stairs to my bed
room. I intended for that night to re
main dressed, and to sit up in grandpa's
arm chair, with candles and a book for
company. Therefore I locked the door,
took the most comfortable position,. and
opening a volume composed 'myself to
read.
Reading, I fell asleep. How long I
slept I cannot tell. I was awakened by
a low sound like the prying of a chisel.
At first it mixed with my last dream
so completely that I took no heed of it,
but at last I understood that some one
was at work upon the lock of the door.
I sat perfectly motionless, the blood
curdling in my veins, and still chip, chip,
chip went the horrible instrument, until
at last I knew whence the sounds came.
Back of dm sitting room was grandpa's
study. There, in a great old-fashioned
safe, ware stored the family silver, grand
pa's jewelry, and sundry sums of money
and valuable papers. The safe itself stqod
in a closet in a recess, and at the closet
the thief was now at work.
The thief—ah, without doubt the negro
I bad fed and sheltered.
Perhaps the next act would be to mur
der me if I listened. The storm was still
raging ; 'but though the road was lonely,
better than this house with such, horrible
company. I could not save my grand
father's property, but I could save my
own life.
I crept across the room and into the
hall and to the door. There, softly as I
could, I unfastened the bars and the bolts,
but alas one was above my reach. I wait
ed and listened. Then I moved a hall
chair to the spot and climbed upon it. In
doing so I struck my shoulder against the
door frarfie.
It was but a slight noise, but at.that
moment the chip of the chisel stopped, I
heard a gliding foot and, horror of hor
rors, a man came from the study, sprang
toward me and clutched me with both
hands, holding my arms as in a vice, while
he hissed in my ear:
"You'd tell, would you ? You'd call
help ? You might better have slept, you
had ; for you see you have got to pay for
waking. I'd rather let a child like you
off; but yon know me now and I can't let
you live.
I stared in his face with horror ming
led with an 'awful surprise ; for now that
he was close to me I saw, not the negro,
but our hired man, Anthony—Anthony
whom I supposed to be miles away with
Hannah. He was little more than a
youth, and I had given him many a pres
ent and always treated him well.
- - -
I plead with him kindly.
"Anthony, I never did you any harm ;
lam young ;I am a girl don't kill me
fnr my poor grandma's sake!"
"You'd tell on me," said Anthony dog
gedly. "Likely I'd be caught. No, I've
.got to kill you."
As he spoke he took his hands from my
shoulders and clutched my throat fierce
ly.
I had time to utter one suffocating
shriek ; then I was strangled, dying ; with
sparks in my eyes and the sound of roar
ing waters in my ears, and then—what
had sprung on my assassin with the silence
of a' leopard ? What had • clutched him
from me, and stood over him with some
thing glittering ovep his heart ? The mist
cleared away—the blurred mists that had
gathered 'aver my eyes ; as sight returned
I saw the negro with his foot on Antho
ny's breast,
S • • 7.1 V V4' 4 - 10/: OC 011 v
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY", PA., THURSDAY, JULY 17, 1873.
The fugitive whom' I bad housed and
fed bad saved .my life.
Then ten minutes after—ten minutes
in which, but for that poor slave's pres
ence. I would have been hurried out of
life—the rattle of wheels and the tardy
feet of old Ajax were heard without, and
my grandparents were with me.
It is needless to say that we were not
ungrateful to my preserver; needless also
to tell of Anthony's punishment.
It came out during the trial that he
had long contemplated the robbery; that
the absence of my grandparent, appear
ing to afford an opportunity, he had de
coyed Hannah with a lie, and hid in the
study. He knew nothing of the negro's
presence in• the house, .and beinc , b natural
ly superstitious, had actually fancied my
protector a creature from the other world,
and submitted without a struggle.
Long ago—so we heard—the slave,
slave no longer, met his wife and children
beyond danger ; and now that the bonds
are broken tbr'all in this free land, donbt
less his fears are over and he sits beside
his humble Canadian hearth when even
tide comes on.
IS Free Banking Dangerous.
We hare lately noticed in quarters
which usually furnish sound views of fi
nance what we consider a curiously per
verted conception of the free-banking
movement. This has been described as a
movement on the part of the national
banks to secure license to extend their
loans at will, and, therefore, unduly.—
Nothing, we believe, could be more erron
eous than this estimate of the movement,
both as to thoss who are most influential
in it and as to the probable effect of free
banking on the loans of the banks. Are
are not, of course, prepared to say that
the banks are not generally in favor of
free banking, and it would be folly to de
ny that if they get it sonde of them may
abuse it, But it is the business men of
the country who are most interested in the
reform. They will get the greatest bene
fit from it, and they furnish the public o-
11 7 1 1":""F'' orce,
and which will in the end force Congress
to make the change demanded. This is
likely to be plain to any one who consid
ers fairly what free banking is. It is sim
ply removing the present restriction on
the reserve, and leaving the banks to reg
ulate their loans as the necessities of the
hour may require. Now, the necessities
of the hour are the necessities in the main
of business men. It is only when they need
money, and need a good deal of it, that
the banks will have any inducement to
loan outnny part of their ordinary reserve
This need on the part of businessmen will
rise generalky from legitimate causes, and
they wit, loathe inost.part, be able to fur
nish adequate security for such loans as
they may require. If they cannot furnish
such security they. ought not to get the
Money of file banks. if they can furnish
such security they ought to get the mon
ey, and they ought to get most when they
need most. For the law to interfere and
say they shall only get a certain sum, and
that all beyond that sum the banks shall
keep under all circumstances whether they
wish to keep it or not, and whether the
fact of their keeping it secures strength or
invites disaster, is not only an arbitrary
thing for the law to do, but it is also an
extremely hazardous thing. In any case
it is plain that the law is a limitation of
more consequence to the business commu
nity than to the banks. Business men so
understand. it. If they did not under
stand it before, they were pretty effectu
ally taught it during the recent prolong
ed and distressing season of "tightness" in
the money market, when a large share of
the money• of the country was shut . np in
the vaults of the banks, and another large
share was "locked up" by speculators, who
were able to lock up their portion solely
for the reason that the Banking law huff
already locked up so much. From this
state of things the speculators made a pro
fit; some banks are suspected of shar
ing in that profit, and it is not possible
that ,a very few of them did ; but those
who suffered a loss, and suffered it uni
formly and universally, were the unfortu
nate .business Alen of the country. And
their loss was invited and made possible
by the well-intended but oppressive re- .
strictions which the law imposed for their
security.
We believe free banking will, in the
main, be safq, because its safety will de
pend on those who use the hanks. We
know of no better way of protecting the
public than leaving them to themselves
in such matters as these. What reason
have we to suppose that Congress can do
better than those who are directly inter
ested ? What means is open to Congress
that may not be left open to each deposi
tor to ascertain just what proportion of
reserve to liabilities is the safest ? Such
a problem is at best a delicate and diffi
cult one. It is not easy to see the safety
of trusting it to Congress instead of to
those whose property and credit are in
volved. And we are confident that what
riskthere may be in free banking would
be compensated for many times over by
the desttuction of that false and mechan
ical reliance on the law 'to do what men
must do for themselves, which is one of
the most obvious consequences of the ex
cessive interference of the present statute.
—.Yew York Tines.
SANDS or GOLD,—Men do less than
they ought, unless they do all they can.
Censure is the tax men pay to the pub
lic for being 'eminent. ~
He that is not open to conviction is not
qualified for discussion.
The secret pleasure of a generous act is
the great minds great bribe.
Men blush less for their crimes than for
their weakness and vanity.
There is a long and wearisome step bc.,
twcen admiration and imitation.
For the Village Record
SUNSET.
BY J. H. BARNES.
Fair. golden sunset ! ruby bride of night!
Making the sky with crimson grandeur
bright,
Flushing the western hills with rosy light.
Bright sunset ! heralding a night of peace,
Granting us from our cares, a sweet release,
Being the bound'ry, where our troubles
cease.
Welcome glad sunset ! messenger of rest
To every aching heart, in weary breast,
Thou art to me of all life's hours—the best
Our sunset is a sunrise far away,
Bringing to western lands another day,
Turning their leaden skies to silv'ry gray
Would that life's sunset might sweetly be
The sunrise of a bright eternity,
When it shall come at last to waiting me.
Pittsburgh, July 2, 1873.
Maternal Affections.
Men talk of the silver cord of friend
ship—of the silken ties which bind young
lovers together- of the pure affection of
husband and wife, as if they were dura
ble as adamant, and as pure as the love
of angels. But a hasty word, a thought
less action, or a misconstrued expression
may break the first; a slight neglect,
some inconsistency, or a trifling favor de
nied, may sunder the second, and even
the last may be destroyed, for the green
eyed monster may find some enterance,
and blight the fairest flowers, of this sweet
earthly paradise.
But there ;s a love which neglect can
not weaken—which injury cannot destroy
—and which even jealousy cannot extin- '
guish. It is the pure, the holy, the en
during love of a mother. It is as gentle
as the breeze of evening, firm as the oak,
and ceases only when life's last gleam
goes out in death. During all the vicissi
tudes of this changing world, in sickness
or in sorrow—in life Or in death—in child
hood's halcyon days—in youth's untrou
i ii -- • I Mill one
s vigorous prime
—the mother clings with the same un
wearied affection to her child. It is the
same amid the snows and frosts of. Siberia,
the temperate regions of our own fair and
lovely Southland, and among the arid
sands of Africa.
The anions cares and tender atten
tions, and oft-repeated words of a mot.eh
er's love, are not without their happy in
fluences upon the lives and characters of
their sons. The stern rebuke of a justly
offended father, may check, for a season,
the rising and struggling passions of youth
but the sacred lessons learned from a•mo
ther's lips are engraved on the heart, and
retain their power through life; in vir
tue's paths, and even in the career of
vice, they are continually recurring to our
mind, and bring with them, as' further el
ements to good, all the hallowed scenes of
childhood and innocence. Hard is the
heart that will not melt at the recollec
tion .of 4 a mother's prayer ; and more ob
durate still the heart of him who, by a
course of vice, can willingly wring her
soul with anguish, and bring down her
gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.
A World liidden by a Thread.
David Rittenhouse, of Pennsylvania,
was a great astronomer. He was skillful
in measuring the sizes of the planets and
determining the position of the stars. But
he found that, such was the distance of
the stars, a silk thread stretched across
the glass of his telescope, would entirely
cover a star ; and moreover, that a silk fi
bre, however small, placed upon the glass
would cover so muckof the heavens that
the star, if a small one and near the pole,
would remain obscured behind that silk
fibre several seconds. Thus a sillrfibre
appeared to be larger in• diameter than a
star. You know that every tar is a hea
venly world, a world of light, a sun shin
ing upon other worlds as our sun shines
upon this world.
Our sun is 886,000 miles in diameter,
and.yet, seen from a distant star, our sun
could be covered, obscured, hidden be
hind a thread, when that thread was near
the eye, although in a telescope.
Just so we have seen some who never
could behold the heavenly world. They
always complained of dimness of vision;
dullness of comprehension when they look
ed in the heavenly direction. You might
strive to comfort them in affliction, or pov
erty, or distress ' • but no,. they could not
see Jesus as the Sun of Righteousness.—
You may direct their eyes to the Star of
Bethlehem through the telescopeibf faith
and holy .confidence ; but alas! there is a
secret thread, a filament, a silken fibre,
which, holding them in subserviency to
the world, in some way obscures the light,
and Jesus, the Star of Hope, is eclipsed,
and their hope darkened. There are times
when a very small selfizratification, a ve
ry little love of pleasure, a very little
thread, may hide the light. To some sin
ners Jesus, appears very far off; but fAr
off as he may appear, he certainly can
and shall be seen where the heart lets
nothing, nothing intervene.—Good Chee7.
MOTIVES FOR MUTUAL HELP.-It is
true that nature at certain moments seems
charged with a presentiment of one indi
vidual lot, must it not also be true that
she seems unmindful, unconscious of an
other ? For there is no hour that has not
its birth of gladness and dispair, no mor
ning brightness that does not bring new
sickness to desolation, as well as new for
ces to genius and love. There are so ma
ny of us, and our lots are so different
-what wonder that nature's mood is of
ten in hard contrast with the great crisis
of our lilies ? We are children of a large
family, and must learn, as such do, not to
expect that our hearts will be made much
of—to be content with, little nurture and
caressing, and help egth other the more,
The Sky.
Why is the blue sky so grandly arch
ed above our heads ? The ancient Greeks
supposed it to be 4solid substance, spread
above the earth at an immense height, in
which the sun, moon and stars were set
like diamonds in a ring. The upper sur
face was laid nith .gold—the- pavement
of the gods. In pagan countries some
what similar notions still prevail. A con-
vertex heathen said he thought the sun,
moon and stars were holes in the solid
sky, through which came streaming down
to earth the brightness and glory of the
heavenly world. But, in reality, the sky
is nothing more than the air we breathe.
Instead of the solid arch, towering so
many thousand miles above us, where our
childish fancy put it, the blue sky is noth
ing but the color of the ocean of air in
which we live and move. Arid, as to the
distance from us, it, is all within three or
four miles. For travelers, who go upon
high mountain tops,
tell us that they no
longer see any blue sky above them there,
where the air is so thin that they pant for
breath, but only the blackness of empty
space. But, it maybe asked, why do we
not see the blue color of air when we look
up to the ceiling of our rooms? Why do
we not haven, blue sky in the house as
well as out of doors ? The answer is that
some substances, of which air is' one, do
not show their color except in the mass.
Take a piece of glass, pour upon it a sin
gle drop of ink, now press upon it anoth
er piece of glass, and hold them both
pressed together up to the light. Scarce
ly any color of
- the ink can be seen. The
poet says :
"Tis distance lends enchantment to the
view,
-And robes the mountains with its azure
hue."
But philosophy, that great enemy to
poetry, steps up, and tells us that it is
not the mountain's blue we see, but only
the air, which, like a inisty curtain, hangs
between us and the mountains.
A preacher once endeavored to teach
some children that their souls would live
after they were dead. They heard his
words, but did not understand them.
Snatching his watch from his pocket,
he said, "James what is this I hold in my
band ?"
"A watch sir."
"A little clock," said another.
"Do you see it?" '
"Yes, sir."
"How do you know it is a watch ?"
"It ticks, sir."
"Very well ; can any of you hear it tick ?"
All listen. After a little pause.
"Yes, sir, we hear it ?"
Then he took off the case, and held that
in one hand and the watch in the other.
"Now, children which is the watch?"
"The little one in'your hand, sir."
"Very well, again. . Now, I will put
the case aside—put it away down there in
my hat. Now, iet us see if you can hear
the ticking."
"Yes, sir, we hear it," cried several voic
es.
"Well, the watch can tick, and go, and
keep time, you can eee, when the case is
off, and put in my hat. So it is with you,
children. Your body is nothing but the
ease. The soul is inside. The case may
be.taken off, and buried in the ground ;
may be cast into the fire, or thrown into
the sea, but the soul will live on just as
well wi hout the body, as this watch will
keep on ticking when the case is laid a
side."
Now, that illustration and that thought
will live in the minds of those children
who heard it forever.
• BEER.—The Germans in the United
States,.and those Americans who affect a
tbndness for lager-beer, don't drink it as
it is drank in Germany. They rush into
a restaurant and gulp down two or three
glasses and move on. • Here a German
never thinks of finishing his glass of beer
in less than ten minutes, and to drink it
without eating something at the same time
even if it is only a crust of bread. In fact,
a German in the Fatherland is constitu•
tionally opposed to doing anything in a
hurry, and especially to drinking beer with
"rapid speed." The consequence is that
we do not see men here with great, huge
paunches, as at home, capable of swallow
ing a keg of beer after supper. They sel
dom treat one another, but sit down to
tables, and although they_drink together,
each man phys for what be consumes,
whether it be beer or food. This of itself
is a great preventive. of excess, as if a half
dozen were to sit down to drink, as with
us, each must treat in turn, and thus six
or a dozen glasses be guzzled, whether
they want it or not. If our temperance
friends could institute what is called the
"Dutch treat" into our saloons, each man
paying his own reckoning, it would be a
long step toward reform in drinking. to
excess. In short, beer in Germany is a
part of each man's food. He takes it as
a sustenance, and not as a stimulant.
At last we near something definite of
the plan and purposes of the mysterious
'Order of Husbandry' that has so sudden
ly become a power in the west. It is a se
cret, cooperative, inn ustrial, beneficial, and
literary institution', with various rites bor
rowed from the secret societies. Appa
rently it has nothing to do with politics.
Men and women are alike admitted, but
the latter are limited to the fourth degree.
The members of the first degree are des
ignated respectively as Laborer and Maid;
in the second degree as Cultivator and
Shepherdess; in the third degree as Har
vester and Gleaner, and in the fourth de
gree as Husbandman and Matron. The
membership at this time is estimated at
$450,000, and if it does go into polities, it
will certainly be a powerful influence.
A Cornered Legislator.
A gentleman who occupied a seat in
the upper branch of the New York Leg
islature, but at the lime was a member of,
the Assembly, relates the following:
Perkins was, as honest a man us ever
set a foot in Albany. Money wouldn't
buy him, and I knew it, but I thought I
would have a little fun with him, so I went
do ,vn to his room one evening and said,
"Perkins what do you think of that un
derground railroad bill? Are you going
to vote for it ?"
"Well," said Perkins, "I haven't made
up my mind yet exactly." lam inclined
to think it is a good bill ; but why do you
ask ?" •
"I thought you were in favor of it,"
said I, "and as long as you have conclu
ded to vote for it, I just wantedito say to
you that the men interested in it are pay
ing five hundred dollars for votes, and as
it is coming up on its final passage tomor
row, you can just as well have the money
as not; you'll vote for the bill anyway."
"Vote for the bill! I'll be hanged' first,"
cried the irate Perkins. "No, sir. If
improper means , are being taken to pass
this thing as you say, I for one, will vote
against it every time. You can put me
down 'no.'"
"Oh, I don't care anything about
bill," said I. "I was only trying to do
you a favor, and I think I can yet, for to
tell the truth, the rival companies are
here in full force and are moving heaven
and earth to defeat it. •
They are paying the same amount for
`noses,' and as long as you are bound to
vote that way, get you the five hun
dred dollars ail the same." -
"Can such things be," exclaimed Par
kins, rising from his seat and tearing up
and down the room in a whirlwind of
righteous wrath and virtuous indignation.
"What a state of things this is ! A plague
on both of your houses, I won't vote .at
all !"
"All right," said I, "I'll get you the
five hundred dollars for bein abseil."
n as te jo y Senator brought to
mind the horror of perplexity in which
this last proposition involved old Perkins
he, roared with laughter.
THE. PRECISE MAN.—Tbe "Precise
Man" sumtimes parts his bare in the mid
dle, and when he duz, he knots his hare
on each'side ov hiz hed, and splits sum, if
it is necessary, to make the thing ded ev
en. •
If he is a married man, everything
must be jist so—if he- is a bachelor, it
must be more so.
He alwuz sets a hen on 12 eggs, and
haz a grate horror for all odd numbers.
He gits up jist such a time in the mor
ning, and goes tew bed at jist sich a time
at night, and would az soon think ov tak
ing a doze of - stricknine for the hikkups
az tew kut oph a dog's tale when the
moon waz in the last quarter.
'The precise'man has but phew bianes,
and they are az a setter dogs, for he sai
d= makes a false point.
He is a bundle of fakts and figgers, and
is az handy in the naberhood as a pair of
platform skales or a reddy reckoner.
He is invariably an honest man, but
often as much from pride as principle.
He luvs his children, if he has auy, and
would rather hay them perfekt in the
multiplikashun table than in the "Iliad
of Homer.
His wife is soon broke tew akt and
think as be duz, and she is known fur
and near for the'excellence* of her soft
cope.—Josh. Billings.
WOMAN'S THIRTY POINTS.—An old
Spanish writer says that a woman is quite
perfect and absolute in beauty if she have
thirty good points. Here they are :
Three things white—the skin, the teeth,
the hands.
• Three black—the eyes, eyebrows and
eyelashes.
Time red—the lips, the cheeks,• the
nails.
Three long—the body, the hair, the
hands.
Three short—the teeth, the ears, the
feet..
Three broad—the' chest, the brow, the
space between the eyebrows.
Three narrow—the mouth, the waist,
the instep.
- .
Three large--.the arm, the calf, the
hip.
Three free—the fingers, the hair, tho
lips.
Threw small—the breast, the nose, the
Lead.
Miss Mary Carpenter, an English re
form lecturer, who has recently come to
this country,wished an audience to remem
ber that a bad woman can do an amount
of harm that no man can possibly do.-. -
She had known many children grow ip
well with a bad father, but she had never
known any to grow up well with a bad
mother, The argument in behaif.of the
transcendent importance of woman's work
in home circle could not be stated more
powerfully or in fewer words. Solomon's
virtuous woman will do more for the ref- .
ormatiou of the world than Solomon him
self ever did in all his glory.—Exchange.
A BOOK.—Except a living man, there
is nothing more wonderful than a book;
a message to us from the dead—from hu
man souls 'we never saw, who lived, per
haps, thousands of miles away. And yet
these, in those little sheets of paper, speak
to us, comfort us, open their hearts to us
as brothers.
Those who reprove us are more via
ble friends than these who flatter us.'
..
Always save something a.gamst a day
of trouble.
Why is beer like a (lea.? Because hops
are the principal things in 'both of them. •
82,00 PER YEAR
NUMBER r
iI aud "Rumor.
An lowa eler: man who bad a dona
tion party TA • , has beaus enough to
last thirtyaseve a: ,ears.
"It's well enough," said Simon, "to call
a spade a spade, but I can't see the sense
in calling stockings hoes."
The labor of the body relieves us from
the fatigue of the mind ; and this it is
which forms the happiness of.the poor.
,
If you are cu - with an . insatiable
Appetite buy apl vest, so that you can
always keep aeh c on your stomach
A young man twenty years old, a citi
zen of Augusta, hong himself the other
day because his coat wrinkled is the
back.
A Lake City lady has a pair of shoz7
200 years old. Of course they were mado
when she was very young,- and don't fit
her at present.
A Troy woman says if death loves a
shining mark, it is. singular that he has
not aimed at her :ht:Csbaad'sinose before
this.
A. missing man was labalSi, advertised
for and described as having a runian.nose..
He won't ba found. Such a nose as that
will never turn up.
We notice a good many persons are en
gaged in the business of holding &via
store-boxes. It may be a legitimate occu
patibn, but the income is not large.
A liirtsburg coroner makes no charge
when he sits on a young man who parted
his hair in the middle. He says that his
personal satisfaction is enough without
the fee.'
_ -
Ve - imonters live to a great age, as is
=_ll TL___- .
so old that they have forgotten who they
are, and there are no neighbors who can
remem i er them
• Old Mrs. Pilkins was reading, the for-
eign news by a late arrival. "Cotton is
declining !" exclaimed the old• lady.—
"Well, I thought as much. The last
thread I used was remarkably feeble."
The expensive nasure of seandal•in told
by the poet thus : "The flying rumors
gathered as they rolled; scarce any 'tale
was sooner heard than told, and all who
heard it made enlargement too ;,,OtreVery
tongue it grew."
In looking over the exchanges to find
the biggest liar in the country it is found
that he is on the Des Moines Register.—
He says : "The rats in,Webster City grow
larger than cats, Ad it is said one blow
from a rat's tail will split a cellar door."
An old maid ' was heard to exclaim,
while sitting at her toilet, the other day,
"I can endure hardship and withstand the
changes of fickle fortune ; but 0, to live
and droop like a single pink, I can't en
dure it, and, what's more, I won't 1"
They have some very smart business
men in New Jersey. Last week a. man
was struck by lightning in a field near
Trenton ; and when the people began to
flock to the spot to look at the victim,
they found a man standing by the corpse
trying to sell lightning-rods to the crowd.
A gentleman took the following extract
to a telegraph office : "I announce with
grief the death of Uncle James. Come
quickly to read will. I believe we are
his heirs, Jon Black." The clerk having
counted the words said: "There are two
words to many, sir." All right, cut out
"with grief."
A young man who was attending a
night writing school, at Danville, Incl.,
was smitten by the'charms of a lady pros
ent, and at the close of the school pressed
forward and asked if he might esoourt her
home. "Yes," said she, "if you will car
ry my little boy." He wilted, and the
young matron walked home alone.
When a matt thinks that nobody cares
for him, and that he is alone in a cold
and selfish world, he would do well to ask
himself what he has done to make a,nsbo
dy care for him or love him, and toliarni
the world with faith and generosity. Gen
erally those who complain the most have
done the least.
"What are you bellowing about?" cri
ed an irate mother at the foot of the stairs
one evening, after her two boys had been
put. to bed. "Please,' mother," said bel
lowing Bill, "Jim wants half the bed."
"Well, let him have it, and you take the
other half." "Yes, mother," said bid,
"but he wants to have his half out cf the
middle, and me sleep on both siaes of
him." •
Some den at Louisville 'were betting
on the weight of n large mule, when ode
man, who was a good judge of the weight
of live stock, got behind the mule .and
was measuring his hind quartere d when
something appeared to loosen up the mule.
Just before the expert died he gave it as
his opinion that if the mule was as heavy
all over as he was behind, he must weigh
not far from 47,000 lbs.
Twenty years ago, there" was not in the
whole kingdom of Sweden:a . single Bap
tist, and now they num*. about 9,000,
in about 220 Churches.
No person ever got stung by, hornets
who 3cept,sway from where they were, it
is so with habits.