BY W. BLALR.
VOLUME 26.
A dui Vottrg.
ME HOE AMONG THE HILLS.
BY ITARRIET MCEWEN BIMBALL.
Midway between-these towering-hills
One lonely human &Welling;
the circling acres, culture-swept,
Its little history telling!
On either hand the meadow land
Makes fair the mountain spaces
'With golden reach,of buttercups
And silver drift of daisies.
Behind, the massive forest wall ;
Before, the river running;
And close about the little cot
The signs of human cunning:
The signs so homely and so sweet .
That draw us to each other,
And make the daily life of man
Familiar to his brother.
•We know the hand at early morn
That cottage hearth-lire kindling;
We watched the dropping of this corn;
We wait its purple spindling! •
A part have we in all the toils
Of these our mountain nei. hbors
portion in the precious gala
Heaven winnows from their labors.
We taste their-trials, share their-feasts.
.And, with a passing wonder,
Ve linger even while we go,
Their choice, their lot to ponder.
Amid the grandeur and the gloom
Ou every hand abiding,
A dwelt& human blos' E.oming
This little home is hiding.
What tend* wind of Providenee
The small seed hither drifted,
Where yet these shadows vast may fall
On village spires uplifted ?
less. awfnl seem those kills augxist
Leadone the valleys.glooming,
Sineein this wilderness the rose
Of human life is blooming
pistelinutoms
BREAD UPON THE WATERS.
A SKETCH FROM LIFE,.
• "Ah, Jacob, now yousee all your hopes
are gone.' Here we are, worn out with
.age---all our children removed from us
by the hand of death, and etc long we
must be the inmates of the poor-home.—
Where now is all the bread you have cast
npun the waters?"
The old white-hatred man looked up at
his with. He was indeed bent' down with
. 3 ears, and age sat trembling upon him.
Jacob Manfred had been a comparatively
wealthy man, and when fortune smiled
upon him, he had ever been among the
first to lend a listening ear and helping
hand to the call of distress; but misfor
tune was his. Of his four boys not. one
was left. Sickness and failin g strength
found him with but little, and they left
them, penniless. Various misfortunes came
in painful succession. Jacob and his with
Nv(re alone, and gaunt poverty looked
them .coldly in the face.
"Don't repine, Susie," said the old man.
"True we are poor, but then we are not
forsaken."
"Not forsaken, Jacob? 'Who is there,
to help us now?"
.7 acob Manfred raised his trembling fin
gers toward heaven.
"Ah, Jacob! I know Gad is our friend ;
but we should have - friends here. Look
back and see how many you have be
friended in days long past. You cast
jour bread upon the waters with a free
Laud, but it has not yet returned to you."
"Hush, Susan, you forget what - you
say. To be sure I may have hoped that
some kind hand of earth would lift me
from the cold depths of utter want ; but
I do not expect it as a reward fin. any
thing that 1 have done. If I have help
ed the unfortunate in days gone by I've
had my full reward in knowing that I
have done my duty to my fellows. Oh,
of etl4 the kind decils I have done for my
suffering fellows, I would not 'for gold
have one blor,ed from my memory. !Al!
my fend wife, it is the memory of the good
none in my life that makes old age hap
py. Evan now I can hear the warm
thanks of those whom I have befriended,
and again I see their smiles."
"Yes, Jacob," returned his wife in a
low tone, "I know you have been good,
and in your memory you can be happy ;
but, alas! there is a present upon which
to look—there is a reality upon which we
must dwell. We must beg for food or
starve !"
The old mart started, and a deep mark
of pain was drawn across his features.
"Beg," he replied with a quick shud
der. "No,.Susan—we are—
He hesitated, and a big tear rolled down
his furrowed cheek.
"We are what, Jacob?"
"We are going to the poor house."
"Oh, God ! I thought so," fell from the
poor wife's lips, as lie covered her face
with her hands. "I have thought so, and
I have tried to school myself to the
thought, but my poor heart will not bear
"Do not give up, Susan," softly urged
the old man. laying his hand upon her
arm. "It makes but little dittrence to us
now. We have not long to remain on
earth, and let us not wear out our last
days in useless repining. Come, Come."
But when—when stall we go?"
"Now—to-day."
"Then God have mercy upon us."
"He Will," murmured Jacob.
The old. couple sat for a while in si
lence. When they were aroused from
their painful thoughts, it was by-the stop
ping of a light cart in front of • the door.
A man entered the room where they sat.
He waa the porter of the poor hmil3e.
"Come, Mr. Manfred," he said, "the
guardians have mana„„cied to crowd you in
to the poor 'house. The cart is At the
door, and you can get ready as soon as
possible."
Jacob Manfred had not calculated the
strength he' should need for this ordeal.
There was a coldness in the verytone and
manner of the man who had come for
him, that went like an ice-berg to his
heart, and with a deep groan he sank back
into his chair.
"Come—be in a hurry," impatiently
urged the porter.
At that moment a carriage drove up
to the door.
"Is e t„his the house of Jacob Manfred?
This question was asked by a man
who entered from the carriage. He was
a kind looking man, about forty-five years
old.
"That is my name," said Jacob.
"Then they told me truly," uttered the
new tomer. "Are you from the 'w&leH
house?" he inquired, turning toward the
•
"Are siotiiifter these people 2'
ighEin you may return. Jacob Man
fred goes to no poor bowie as long as I
live."
The porter gazed inquisitively into the
features of the man who addressed him,
and then left the house.
"Don't you remember -me," exclaimed
he stranger, grasping the old man by the
land.
"I cannot call you to memory now."
?Do you not remember Lucius Wil
iams ?"
"Williams?' repeated Jacob starting
from his chair and gazing earnestly into
the face of the man before him.
"Yea, Jacob kanfred—Lucius Wil
liams—that little boy you thirty years
ago saved from the house of correction—
that poor boy whom you kindly took from
the bonds of the law and placed on board
one of your own vessels."
"And are you—"
"Yes—yes, I am the man you made.—
You found me a rough stone from the
hands of poverty and bad example. It
was you that brushed off the evil, and
who first led me to the sweet waters of
moral life and happiness; I have profited
by the lessons you gave me in early youth,
and the warm spark which your kindness
kindled up . in my bosom has grown bright
er ever since. With au affluence for
life, I'settled down to enjoy the remainder
of my days iii peace and quietness, with
such good work as my hands might find
to do, .1 heard of your losses and bereave
ments. I know that the children of your
flesh are all gone. But lam a child of
your bounty—a child of your kindness,
and now you shall be still my parent
Come, I have a home, and a heart, and
your presence will make them both warm
er, brighter and happier. Come, my more
than father, and you, my mother, come.
You made my youth all bright, and I
will not see your old age doomed to dark
ness."
Jacob Manfred tottered forward, and
sank upon the bosom of his preserver.—
He could not speak his tlutnks, for they
were too heavy for words: When he
looked up again he sought his wife.
"Susan," he said in a trembling, chok
ing tone, my bread has come back again
to ' me !"
"Forgive me, Jacob." • -
"No, no, Susan, it is not I must forgive ;
God holds us in his bands." •
"Oh," murmured his wife, as shP raise(
her streaming eyes to heaven, "I will nev
er doubt Him again."
MIRACULOUSLY SAVED.— A Mrs. King
had a surprise at Shawneetown, 111., the
other day. It was an accident that Mrs.
King happened to be at Shawneetown.—
She Ili(' not intend to go there, but the
steamboat Jennie Howell, on which she
was travelling, struck a snag and sank in
the Ohio river. Several of the passen
gers were drowned, and among them some
children. Mrs. King had a child on hoard
whom she mourned as lost, and was taken
to Shawneetown without her babe. The
Jennie Howell sunk deep, in the water
and the next morning HIM went to the
vessel to recover the bodies of the lost.—
Soon atter daylight a mattress was dis
covered floating iu the cahiu which was
filled with water nearly, to •the ceiling.
Upon examinatioa a child, a little buy,
was discovered on the mattress' sleeping
as peacefully as it' nothing unusual had
happened. His bed was not very dry,
for it had sunk a good deal from soaking,
hut still sustained its living freight. In
due time the child was sent to Shawnee
town where the other passengers bud been
landed the evening before. Its coming
made an excitement among the wrecked
travellers, for more than one mother had
lost children by the disaster. It was a
touching scene when Mrs. King recogniz
ed him as her boy whom she mourned as
lost for- nearly twenty-four hours. The
preservation of Moses in the bulrushes
was not so miraculous as the safety of
Mrs. King's boy. He had been tossing
about On the was% of waters in the cabin
all night, and was brought - to his mother
alive in the hour of her deepest afiltetion.
A FAMILY ; NEWSPAPE R---D EVOTED TO LITERAT*TRE.,LOCAL.AND GENERAL NEWS. ETC.
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, Pi., THURSDAY, AUGUST 28, 1873.
HpOse•gakd Spciety.
A CHAT CP0N.6E144-CONTHOL.
We'can all preach upon .self-control—
can lecture by the hour upon its being an
essential-virtue, without which none of us
can attain to grace of manner or expres
sion—but when we come down to the lev
el of facts : •
"Where is ours?"
Now this is a pregnant question to
which few mortals possess the requisite
knowledge to "make reply." For the
most of us are but slaves to circumstances
which in lime instances become too strong
fbr us to endure—and then our . boasted
self-control- takes to itself wings, and
leaves us to the mercy of our auger, scorn,
etc.
Socrates seemed to possess this attribute
in an astonishing degree—and yet we
doubt not that there were seasons .in his
daily life when Xantippe could have told
us that he was not invulnerable, and that
she knew his weaknesses even if he were
not aware of them.
There are times and seasons which come
to all of us, when our will is not complete
ly fashioned to our hands ; and the rest
less passions of the mind hold us in sway
—seasons when all of us do and say things
which are unbecoming, unseemly, and
which lower and debase us in the opinion
of others and also of ourselves.
We believe, however, that self-control
is a virtue which will become ours if we
cultivate it properly; if we strive right
aiifullY for it's possession ; fight a bitter
warfare against irritability. neivousness,
jealousy, hatred, and all unkindness of
heart and soul.
Our endeavors to possess this virtue
may be aided by the following old recipe :
Take of common sense, thirty grains; of
decent behavior, one scruples ; and of due
consideration, 'ten grains. Mix well, and
sprinkle the whole with one moment's
thought. ,
Can be taken when any -of the occa
sional symptoms appear.
It has been said that self control is a
physical impossibility to some persons,
especially when they have not been edu
cated to it.
The first clause of the statement we em
phatically deny—but the latter we fully
affirm ; and as we have stated above—it,
must be cultivated properly. One exer
cise of it will not win for the victory—but
we must pile them mountain high before
we can-reach the highest which will bring
repose—which will enable us to say to
the raging waves of passion—"thus far
cans't thou come, and no farther.',',
It is most vexatious to be tormented
without any relish by those who profess
to love us—to be neglected by those who
owe us attention, or to, be imposed upon
by those who have received many. benefits
at our bands.
And some one may ask—well why not
let theirritatitm hove its sway for a fete
moments—why not: fret and fume, and
scold and snap, and then let your mind
settle down to repose
• Ah ! iliend, give way to the irritability
of the moment—scold and snap—and
where will you stop?
You will say things that you do not
feel ; unkind words which will cut keener
than a knife ; perhaps you will trample
rough shod upon the hearts of your chil
dren; your husband or wife, or your ser
vants or friends, those whom you have
sworn to cherish 7 --to whom you owe the
most sacred duties—whose example you
should be.
They may forgive and forget it . all, or
thoughts of it may wrankle in their breasts
while their hearts continue to beat.
And have you obtained peace of mind ?
Are you contented with yourself?
No, indeed, you are bitterly ashamed
of it, and if you are a sensible, right-min
ded person you will beg the pardon of
those upon whom you have poured out
the vials of your wrath.
You have not obtained the composure
which you might expect from easing your
mind, but have exhibited au irritable, ex
citable ugly temper—have made a child
ish show of yogi-self,: and you are not ex
cusable for so doing by either physical
suffering or nervous irritability. Self
control is within the reach of you and me
—all of us can obtain it by a prayerful
watchfulness over ""the little foxes which
devour the grapes" .and ruin the fair pros
pects of fragrant and delicious fruit.
Little sins, little derelictious from duty,
little giving away to passion will surely
lead to great results.
We must be faithful to ourselves; faith
ful in our watch and ward over Ourtongue,
eyes and hands, thr
"When headstrong passion gets the reins
of reahon,
The force of nature, like too strong a gale,
For - want of ballast, oversets the e.,;(31."
Anti we arc. at the mercy of any who
chooses to put us in a rage, while even
the brain may give way, and reason tot
ter on its throne if we do not strive for
the mastery of the sins which so easily be
sets us.
Let us therefore strive with prayer to
One wio was tempted as we pre--who
knows our sorrows and has borne our
griefs, and is ever ready to guard,. guide
and aid us in every right endeavor to win
an immortal, never•failing crown. •
'Life
. is full of thorns, cries one and
another, but on they rush with the crowd,.
seeming to care but ltttle what seed each
word and action' sows—whether thistles
or lilies of the valley—in its broad paths.
Yes, life is full of thorns, but those which
are sherpmt and oftenest are the ones
which our own hands have planted along
the wayside of our pilgnum,ge—thorns
we plant in carelessness, iu selfishness, in
pride and passion; and if in after years
we come into shape and painful contact
with them, let us not blame the world so
much as ourselves.
BONG.
0,.1" ask not the love of a heart that is burn
ing .
With all the wild passions, of youthful
unrest—
That, like the gay butterflY, ever is turning
From flower to flower, and never is blest.
1 ask not the love of a heart from whose
bowers
No bird of pleasure has ,over yet flown.
The life that is joyful with songs and with
flowers
Would wither and die if 'twere linked
with my own.
No, give me the earnest, the faithful affec
tion .
Which dwells in the bosom that sorrow
has pained—
A soul that can see by its own retrospec
tion
How bitter the chalice that my lips have
' drained.
As the moon when surrounded by surging
cloud-billows,
Doth shed a more tender and soul-sooth
in?' beam,
The tide of efil3ction is sweeter when wil
lows ,
Of hallowing sorrow bend over the
stream.
A Woman's Choice.
Girls, do not think it a little matter !
Do not trust . all to the love, honor, or
good will, of any man, until you have sol
id reasons to satisfy you that he is worthy
the trust. The marriage ceremony is
short, simple, and beautiful. Yet , the
miseries of many young females may be
dated from the day when they entered the
church to the, organ peal of the wedding
march, and pronounced the momentous "1
do."
-
For example,—Sarah' loved James de
votedly, and James adores Sarah. Jas.
is in general, a frank and honorable man;
Sarah thinks he has nut his equal. 'The
has a fault it is that he takes a glass too
much, now and then, but then he is per
suaded by his young companions, and is
too kind to refuse joie them. Besides,
when he is married he will be free from
their influence ; and.who can estimate the
power of a good wife's influence over her
husband'?
So reasons Sarah, and, because of her
importunity the parental consent is giv
en. The vows are pronounced that make
them one for all time. Their venerable
pastor lays his trembling hands upon their
heads, and invokes the divide blessing up
on their future lives. Friends crowd a
round and hid them Godspeed with tear
ful eyes. The old shoe, which should car
ry good luck with it, is thrown after them
and they are gone. The sweet home of
Sarah will,know her no more.
Now her anxieties and cares begin.—
Her kiu&-hearted husband is led away in
to dissipation in spite of her efforts.—
Things go from bad to worse. She hides
her griefs deep down in her bleeding heart
nor, will she disclose anything to her par
ents, lest they think harshly of James,
whom she still loves. Her pale and sunk
en cheeks and her lustreless eye give to
ken of the sufferingshe endures. Pover
ty adds to the horrors she has to bear.—
She and her little Child are dragged about
fromt hovel to hovel, yet she still hopes on
thotigh with a bursting heart. James
might support her well, but his earnings
go in the till of the dram shop.
Finally love and hope die out in Sa
rah's heart.. She looks around for succor,
hut alas! Perhaps her parents are dead.—
How willingly would they shelter her ach
ing head, and pour the oil of consolation
into her broken heart. how gladly would
they give lbod and shelter to her starving
child. But they are not. 0 God ! Is
there no . deliverance? None, until she
escapes by the kind hand of death.
Daughter, would you have believed
that the short space of two years could
witness such a transformation as this ?
Yet I have seen it so, and in many cases,
it might be avoided by the exercise of
good judgment, and prudence, on the part
of the young ladies.
There are thousands of noble struggling
women in our fair land, who; could they
read these words, would recognize in them
a description of their own cases. But, so
long as matrimony is esteemed by women
as the chief end of their creation, just so
long will they rush blindly into the noose
only to rue their haste; in -many cases,
and sadden their whole lives. Better to
be single a little longer, girls, than to be
illy ,matched. Fitz James Augustus may
have a charming mustache, but do not ac
cept him on that; account alone, Tor mus
taches are made of perishable material.
William Henry' may be rich, but it is a
mazing how easy a young man can run
through a fortune if he is so disposed.
How would you like him if he • were
stripped of his wealth ? Weigh him in
this - .balance.if you would arrive at his
worth. When you purchase a dress,'you
examine .not only the beauty. of the mater
ial, but its durability and quality. Will
it wear! Will it Wash ? Are its colors
fast ? These are the questions you ask.
Use the same care in deciding among the
candidates ibr your hand. Choose one
who will wear well ; whose good princi
ples will not wash out; whose virtue, hon
or, and truth, will never 'fade while the
heavens retain their pearly blue, or the
golden stars twinkle in the firmament.
After all. it is the best wisdom to treat
with absolute indifference or contempt a
great deal that happens in this world of
misunderstandings. Let any good and
well-meaning man reflect upon the blun
ders and slanders that assailed and possi
bly annoyed him a week ago and consid
er how very dead they are nowt--Such
fruits of ignorance and malice dies of it
rottenness.
.
Took Refuge in a' Log
. The romancer of the Detroit Press talks
Si follows : "A Detroiter named Andrew
Steadman, who buys cattle, deals in hides,
and occasionally .makes a dollar by buy
ing and selling produce, went out to Nan-.
kin township a few days ago to buy a span
of heavy horses which were wanted by a
firm in the city. Upon reaching the far
flier's house he found that the man was
working with a neighbor a mile away.—
To save distance he cut across lots, •but
was warned before he started to look out
for a savage bovine which had the run of
a ten-acre field. Thinking how he was
going to get that span of horses for $5O
less than their value, Steadman kept plod
ding through the field, which had a strip
of bushes two or three rods wide running
half way across it. There were• a few
stumps and logs, one small tree, but noth
ing which prevented any one from cross
ing the strip. The Detroiter was about
ten rods from the bushes when he heard
`a distant thunder sound,' and looked a
round to see from which way the shower
was coming. About thirty rods away he
beheld the old bovine coming for him,
head down, back up, told eyes blazing.—
Steadman was satisfied that he was the
man was wanted, and he went for the
bushes. He thought the bull would stop
and run around the strip, and was star
tled when the old fellow dashed through
them on his trail, uttering a deep "boom !'
every instant. Steadman dodged this way
and that, but the bovine tore along after
him, smashing bushes and leaping logs,
and it was getting to be a red-hot WWI.
when the man spied the open end of a
large hollow log. The bull was not over
forty feet behind, and into the log went
Steadman, finding orifice about twelve
feet long, and large enough to be roomy.
The bovine had seen the movement, and
stopped at the log and ripped off a bushel
of bark at the first dash. Men putting
his horns under it he gave it a roll, and
Steadman spun around like a dried pea
in a policeman's whistle. • The log was
large, but old and tender, and every time
the bull hauled back and jumped for it
he covered himself with glory and clouds
of bark and wood. Sometimes he whirl
ed, oneend, and then he gave the centre
a heave, and then he knocked a foot off•
the other end. Steadman swore, shrieked
and pleaded, his eyes full of bark and his
mouth stopped up, and every act of his
life passed before him like a vision.—
'W-o-o-h w-h-o-o-p!' bellowed the bovine,
as he slammed away at the log, and eve
ry moment Steadman expected to see the
roof cave in on him. He was in despair,
when he heard the barking of dogs and
the shouts of men, and after a few minutes
the farmers succeeded in releasing him,
but it took a good hour to get the kinks
out of his back and the rotten wood from
his ears and eyes.
Soaking Mackerel.
When a woman puts three mackerel
to soak over night in a dish-pan, whose
sides are eight inches high, and leaves the
pan on a stairway, she has accomplished
her mission, and should go hence. This
is what a Davison street woman did last
Friday night. Filled the pan at the
pump, and left it standing on the steps Of
the stoop, while she went to the next
house to see how many buttons would be
required to go down the front of a rediu
gote. And a mighty important affair
that was, to be sure. ' And there was her
husband tearing through the house in
search of a handerchiel, and not finding
it, of course. And then he rushed out in
to the yard, wondering' where on earth
that woman could be. and started down
the steps not seeing the pan or even dream
ing that any one could be so idiotic as to
leave it there. Of course, •he stopped for
it—or, at least that is the suppositim—as
the neighbors , who were brought out by
the crash that followed saw a horrified
man and a high dish pan and three very
demoralized mackerel shooting across the
garden and smashing down the shrub
bery. And he was a nice sight, was that
unhappy man, when they got him on his
feet. There wasn't a dry thread on him,
and his hair was full of bits of mackerel,
and one of his shoulders 1134 out of joint,
and his coat was split the whole length of
the back, and he appeared to be cut of
his head. He was carried into the house
by some of the men, and laid clown on a
bed, while others went after a doctor, and
sixteen women assembled in the front
thorn, and talked in whispers about the
inscrutable ways of Providence, and what
warning this is to people who never look
where they are going.—Danbury News.
BRIGHAM YOUNG TO HIS WIVES.-
Brigham Young is doing the domestic
lecturing himself just now.' Here is an
extract from one of his little family talks :
"I wish my women . to understand that
what I am going to say is for them as
well as others, and I want those iiho are
here to tell their sisters ; yes, all the wo
men in the community. lam going to
give from this time to the 6th of October
next, for reflection, that you may deter
mine whether you wish to stay with your
husbands or not, and then I am going to
set every woman at liberty, and say to
them, now go your way. And my wives
have got tq do one of two things, either
round up their shoulders to endure , the
afflictions of this world, and live their re
ligion—that is polygyny---or they must
leave ; for I will not have th,m about
me. I will go into heaven alone rather
than to have scratching and fighting about
me. I will set all at liberty. What, first
wife too ? Yes, liberate you all. I want
to go somewhere or do something to get
rid of the whiners."
During a thunder storm, an insurance
agent was struck on the cheek by Minsk
ollightning—but it glanced off, leaving
him entirely uninjured.
A Patent Bustle.
It was Moyer's turn for invention which
caused the disaster. Moyer designed a
new kind trf a' "patent, inflated gossamer
bustle" for ladies. It was a thin bag of
india rubber, which was to be inflated
with gas to give it the proper distension
and sufficient lightness. %V hen, the mod
el was complete, Mrs. Moyer determined
to try it. She went into the yard, and ti
ed the machine under her. dress, while
Moyer turned on the kitchen gas to fill
the hag. It worked well enough for a few
moments, when all at once Mrs. Moyer
began to ascend with frightful rapidity.
She t had barely time to scream' down to
Moyer to put the children to bed early,
and tell Mary Jane to set bread, and the
next instant she was two miles above the
snow-line. It was embarrassing for Mrs.
Moyer—very embarrassing, especially as
she could not reach around the bustle to
turn off the gas in order to come down.—
So she floated about up there among, the
thunder clouds and crows and aurora bo
realises for several hours, enjoying the
scenery and Studying the air currents and
wishing she had brought her muff and a
book to read. Then she commenced to
descend gradually, until she came within
a couple hundred feet of,earth. She then
screaming some as she flo ed along, and
several enthusiastic studen of natural
ak tl
history tried to bring her own with a
shotgun, under the impression ' she was
some new variety of ostrich or flamingo.
But a Sudden gust of wind struck Mrs.
Moyer and blew her against the Presby
terian church steeple with such force that
the "inflated gossamer bustle" expkded
violently, impressed the sexton with the
conviction that the sacred edifice had been
struck by lightning. But when he came
out and saw ' Mrs. Moyer caught by her
panier on the weathercock, with her para
sol pointing east or west, as the wind hap
pened to shift, he comprehended the situ
ation. It cost six hundred dollars to build
a scaffolding to get Mrs. Moyer down, and
even then Moyer did not introduce his
bustle into the market. Be will'sell out
his patent right cheap. Mrs. Moyer wants
him to.—Max Adeler.
A Romantic Story.
The Cumberland New tells the follow.
ing: "About five years ago, as well as we
'can remember, Mrs. Rock Goodrich, of
Ocean, this county, was on the can of the
Cumberland and Pennsylvania road, east
ward and homeward bound. When the
train stopped at Lonaconing, amid the
jostling in 'boarding' the train, 'she was
asked by a veiled lady to hold a child,
quite a small infant, a moment until she
(the stranger) could go out upon the plat
form for something. Mrs. G. kindly ac
corn modated the lady-:--considerably more
than she calculated upon, as the latter did
not return, and the train moved off with
Mrs. G's new , charge in her arms. She,
however, humanely concluded to take the
child to her home in Ocean, expecting
that the mother (whom she though, pos
sibly, might have been left by the train)
would hunt it up and call for it. In this
she found herself mistaken •, yet, forming,
an affection for the pretty little stranger,
she resolved to adopt it as her own. She
has accordingly retained it ever since, un
til now it is a bright child of between five
and six years, the family being much at
tached to it. During the period the child
has been one of the Goodrich household,
presents of money and clothing have been
left for it at the residence of the family,
but no one claiming a relationship ever
called to see it, or wrote to them inquir
ing about it. Now comes forward an old
and well-known citizen of Lonaconing—
a Mr. Rittenour—and claims the "waif"
as his grand-child. The Goodrich's whose
affection fur the child has grown with its
growth, naturally refuse to give it up, and
very sensibly demand the proof of its
birth and parental relationship. 'Mr. Rit
tenour seems equally determined, and has
employed J. J. McHenry, Esq.,, of this ci
ty, as his attorney to institute a suit for
the recovery of the child.
John, a fifteenth .amendment, was
arrested the other day for stealing chicli
ens. ' He was very indignant when ar
rested, and loudly proclaimed • his inno
cence. When brought before "his august
majesty," he still reiterated the fact that
he was wrongly accused. "And you deny
having taken the chickens, John ?"asked
the magistrate. "Hi ! boss, sartin. I neber
tuk urn." But the officer says be found
them in your possession." "Salt 7" "You
had themsin your hands when arrested."
"Ess, sah, boss; but I. didn't stole• um."
"How did you come by them ?" "I borrow
ed em." "The owner says not;" "Well,
you see, boss, he was asleep when I went
to borrow dem chickees, an' I was gw•ine
back the next day to tell him."
WHAT DID THEY MEAN?—"Pa," said
a young hopeful, to his father, a promi
nent citizen, "what is meant by 'a chip of
the old block?' "
"Why, any son,sdo you ask such a, ques
ion
"Because, I was out hunting this morn
ing, and after returning home, I told
some gentlemen that while out hunting, I
saw fifty squirrels up one tree. They
kept trying to make me say that I, did
not see but so,
and because I
wouldn't say so, they said I was "a chip
of the old block."
"Hem! Well., my son, they meant that
you were smart and . honest like your pa.
You•can go and play now."
"Tom, -where's that counterfeit ten dol
lar bill you had awhile bacli ?" "Well,
I never was quite clear in my mind about
dat ar' bill. Some days I thought it was
a bad bill, and oder days I thought it was
a good bill, and one oh dem days when I
thought it was a good bill I s'es* Pissed it
away.
12,00 PER YEAR
NUMBER 11
'wit unit Xnutor.
What word is always pronounced wrong?
Wrong.
Wh is a talkative woman like the o
cean ? Because you can't make her dry
tO irL..-
P lf your uncle's sister is not your aunt,
what relation is she to you? She is your
mother.
One half of the world don't know bow
the other half live--and it is none their;
business.
_man, who had a "will of his •own" Ns
didn't get along very well at home . In--
lit t his wife d"a won't of her own."
A lady in a menagerie, being asked
why she so closely seanea the elephant
with her opera glass, replied that she was
"looking for the key-hole of his trunk."
A.Green Bay man called a young lady
Ilispreciousdarling little honey-dew-of—
a rosebud," and then stood a breach of
promise suit before he would marry. her.
Mr. Careful, having been told by his
p lysician that int must take gentle ex
ercise, replied that he had for some time
back practiced cutting his toe nails twice
a week. •
•
There was a reward offered, the other
day, for the return of a largo leather
lady's traveling-bag. blether or not the
large leather lady got it back has -not
been stated,
There is One single fact which one may
apply to all' the wit and argument of
infidelity—namely: that no man on his
death bed ever repented of being reli
gious. .
A Tennessee exchange impertinently
says that when one young woman asks
another "what are your politics?" she on
ly means to ask what newspaper she pre
fers for a bustle.
One day, a person pointed out a man
who had a a rofusion of rings on his fin
gers, to a cooper. " , master" said the
artisan, "it's a sure sign of weakness when
so many hoops, are used."
..Tcacher•z•—•`John, you young scapegiabe,
some here and I'll pay Sou back for •
impudence to me yesterday."
No, thank you. I have conscientious
pies against taking back pay of that sort. 7.:.
"Are you not alarmed' ni the approach
of the king of terrors r•said a minister to
a sick mau. "Oh no 1" I have been living
six and thirty years with the queen of
terrors—the king cannot be much worse'
la St. Louis, recently, the Rev." Dr.
Burlingame preached from the text "How
old art thou ?" The next day about one
thira of the women of his congregation
cslled around to tell him thatit was none
of his business.
A sea-captain, invited to meet the com
mittee of a society for the evangelization
of Africa, when asked:—"Do the subjects
of King Dahomey keep Sunday?" repli
ed:—"Yes, and everything else they can
lay their hands on."
The late Judge C., one day, had occa
sion to examine a witness wh'j stuttered •
very much in delivering his. testimony.
"I believe," said his lordship, "you are a.
very great rogue." "Not so great as . you.
my lord, t-t-t-take we to be!" .
"Dar are," said a sablo orator, (two
roads through this world, De one am a
broad and narrow road dat leads to per
dition, and de udder am a narrow and
broad road dat leads to sure destruction."
"If dat am de case," said a sable hearer,
"die collard individual takes to do woods r
A colored member of the Louisiana
Lefeslature recently made a speech reflec
ting severly on the character of another
cplored member. At the close of the
speech the one who had been lashed, arose
and said with some dignity: "Dal. 'uigga,
is a liar, and I'll frow my boot down his
froat if he opens his cella doah on me
agin."
How dangerous to defer those moment
ous reformations which the conscience is
solemnly preaching to the heart If they
are neglected, the difficulty and disposi
tion are increasing every month, 111 a
mind is receding, degree atter degree, from
the warm and hopeful zone ; till at last
it will enter the arctic circle, and become
fixed in relentless eternal ice—.l Foster.
An energetic sewing-machine canvasser
in Indianapolis, after driving a good citi
zen most to despair with his importunities
the other day, left the house with a mali
cious smile 'on his fitce which changed in
to a spasm of horror as the heels of a de
ceitful mule were in his abdomen. Ho
was carried home doubted up like a jack.
kni 4 e, and the mule was straightway
treated to a sumptuous bran mash.
Hero is the last snake story
There was a sober Christian,
Who, going our one night,
Beheld in his bask &ram
A very awful Light.
A big anaconda
Was squirming all around ;
That sober Christian saw an axe
4 lyint on the ground.
ehopped that snake to pieeeli
• With ,ofekimated blows,
And finally discovered .
lied spoiled the 8.3q011:11*.