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BY W. want.
T WAYNESBORO' VILLAGE REGORE
PU El'll 4 l URaDAY MORNING
By W. 'BLAIR.
I' Eli. ',IIS—Two Dollars per Annum if paid
within the year; Two Dollars and
Fifty cents after the expiration
of the year.
ADVERTISEMENTS—One Square (10
lines) three insertions, $1,50; for
each subsequent insertion, Thi r
five Cents per Square: A liberal
discount made to yearly adver
LOCALS.—Business Locals Ten Cents pet
• line for the - first insertion, Seven
• Cents for• subseauent insertions
3. B. AMBERSON, M. D.,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
Office at the Waynesboro' "Corner Drug
ore." Dane 29—tf.
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
Offers his professional services to the pub
lic. Office in his residence, on West Main
streer, ‘Vaynesboro'. • april 24-tf
DR. B.FNer. FRANTZ,.
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
the Bowden House. Night "ealls should be
made at his residence on Main Street ad
'cluing the Western School House.
ISAAC N. SNIVELY,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
Office at his residence, nearly opposite
h . Bowden House. Nov 2—tf.
ATTOP,NLY AT LAW . ,
Practices in the several Courts of Franklin
and adjacent Counties.
N. B.—lteal Estate leased and sold, anti
Fire Insurame e eem uii reason:l
December 10, 1871.
Oil., A\., H. STEttGiiSLER,
(FORMERLY OF MERCERSBURG, PA.,)
OFFERS his Professional services to the
citizens of Waynesboro', and vicinity.
Da. STRICKLER has relinquished an exten
sive practice at Mercersburg, where he ham
been prominently.engagedfor a number of
years in the practice of his profession.
He has opened an 0111 cc in Waynesboro',
at the residence of George Besore, Esq., 'l.s
Father-in-law, where he can be Rata at a]
times when not professionally engaged.
July 20, 1871.-if.
A. K. BRANISHOLYS,
For the Best and most Popular Organs in Use
Organs always on exhibition and for sale
at his °thee.
We being acquainted with Dr. Branis
holts socially anti professionally recommend
him to all desiring the services of a Dentist.
Drs. E. A. HERING, J. M. RIPPLE,
" A. H. STRICKLER, 1. N. Ssivrax,
" A. S. BONEBRAKL, T. 14. FnuNcn.
3. H. FORNEY & CO.
Prgaugg Commigaion Morchants
No. 77 NORTH STREET,
Pay particular attention to the bale of
Flour, Grain, Seeds, &c.
Liberal advances maue on consignments.
may 29-t I
r) A. -17.
rrHE subscriber notifies the public that
he has commenced the Dairy bu-iness
and will - supply citizens regularly every
morning with Milk or Cream at low rates.
lie will also leave a supply at INL Geiser's
Store where persons can obtain either at a
ny hour during the' day.
no 27-tf BE J. FRICK.
PERSONS wanting Spring-tooth Hors 3
Rakes can be supplied with a first-class
article by calling on the subscriber. He
continues to repair all kinds of machinery
at short noticeand upon reasonable terms.
The Metcalf excelsior Post Boring and
Wood Sawing licMhines always on hand.
JOHN L. 'METCALF,
Feb 27-i Quincy, Pa.
Jr. H. WELSH
W. V. LIPPINCOTT &
WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
Hats, Caps, Furs and Straw Goods,
No. 331 Market Street. Philadelphia, Pa
BARBERING I BAISERING !
r HE subscriber having rec , ntiv re-paint
ed and papered and added new furni
ture to his shop, announces to his custom
ers and the public that he will leave noth
ing undone to give satisfaction and make
comfortable all who may be pleased to fa
vor- him with their patronage. Shaving.
Schampooning, Hair-cutting, etc. promptly
attended to. A long experience in the bar
bering business enables him to' promise sat
isfaction in all cases. W. A. PRICE.
THE BOW DEN HOUSE
THE subscriber having, leased this well
known H 4tel property, announces to
public that he has refurnished, re-pain
ted and papered it, and is now amply pre
pared to accommodate the traveling public
and others who may be pleased to favor
him with their patronage. An attentive
_ all t imrn h•• ntt:•n:inn:•;•.
May 23-tf SAWL P. STONER.
- f tA k f%
We call them weeds ! The while with slen
Earth's wounds and scars they seek to cov
On sterile sands, where scarce the rain-drop
They grow and blossom by the briny shore.
We call them weeds ! Did we their forms
We many a secret might infolded find;
Each tiny plant - fulfils its heaven-taught
And nears the impress of Immortal Mind!
We call them weeds The while their us
es hidden --
Might work a nation's weal; a nation's woe,
Send through each wasted frame the balm
And cause the blood with Youth's quick
pulse to flow.
Weeds !—yet they ho In .on • s e nog •
ty ocean !
Navies hay sink amid its wild commotion—
These humble toilers ue'er their vs ork give
And who shall say the feeblest thought a-
To bind the shifting sands upon life's
Some heart may treasure what we've long
The faintest word some soul with power
THE REMORSE OF A NIGHT.
The last night of the year was about to
expire ; the winds, after a day of stormi
ness, had .suhsided into slumber; the
white earth lay out-spread like a shroud
ed map, under the moon ; and innumera
ble stars, arose out from the remotest a.
busses of heaven, twinkling as britiftlY as
though they !ISA• but'then begun their ex
istence, and were never to suffer impair
ment. Eleven o'cloi.k had tolled from
the tower of air ancient Gothic church ;
and as the vibrations died away on the
transparent air, an Old Mau drew nigh
to the windOw of a dark room in the des
olate dwelling of which he had been long
the solitary tenant, and cast his dull de
spairful eyegupwards towards the immov
able firmament, and from thence down on
the blank waste of the earth, and then
breathed a groaning prayer, that those
eyes might never survey that firmament
or earth again. He was wretched, in
truth, that Old Man, beyond all parallel
sand beyond all consolation—for his grave
lay open for him, as it seemed, by his side;
it was thinly covered over; not by the
flowers of Youth, but by the snows of
Age and when, heartsick of the sight,
he looked away from it into himself, he
saw that the sole f'ruits that he had gath
from a long and eventful lite were sins,
regrets and maladies—a decayed body, a
plague-smitten soul, a bosom full of bit
terness and an old age full of remorse.—
The beautiful days of his youth now
came again befifre him like ghosts, and
resu awned to his remembrance the cheer
fid morning upon which his venPrable fit
ther had first placed him upon the great
Cross road of Life—a road which, trod
den on the right hand, conducts the pil
grim along the noon-day path of Virtue
into a spacious, joyous land, abounding
iu sunbeams, harvests, and angelic spirits,
but which, followed on the left, betrays
him through lampless and miry ways, in
to the rueful wilderness of. v ice, . where ser
pents foreverswarm, and pestilence chokes
the atmosphere, and to quench its burn
ing thirst, the sluggish black rivers yield
him but slime and poison.
Alas! the serpents were now coiled a
bout him—the poison was rilliug through
his heart! Alas for him he knew too
well which rode he had chosen—where he
was and what he must undergo—for eter
nity—for eternity !
With an anguish, with an agony, with
a despair, that language cannot even
faintly portray, he uptifted his withered
arms towards heaven, clasped his hands,
and cried aloud, 0 ! give me• back my
youth ! 0 ! my fitther, lead me once more
to the Cross road, that. I may . ohne more
choose, and this time 'choose with fore
But his cries wasted themselves idlor
upon the frovn air, for his father was no
more, and his youth was no more—both
had alike long,
long ago vanished, never
to reappear. 'le knew this, and he wept
—yes, that miserable old man wept; but
his tears relieved him not ; they were like
drops of hot lava, for they trickled from
a burning brain.
He looked forth, and he saw flitting
lights—wilts-o'-the-wisp-dancing over the
morasses and becoming extinguished in
the burial-grounds ; and he- said, such
were my riotous days of folly I He again
looked forth, arid he beheld a star fall
from heaven to earth, and there melt a
way in blackness that left no trace be
hind, and he said, I am that star I—and
with that woeful thought were torn open
anew the leprous wounds in his bosom
which the serpents that clung around him
would never suffer to be healed.
A PA*ILY NEWSPAPER--DEVOtED TO;TATERATICTRE; ;LOOM :AND' GENERAL NEWS. :ETC.
His morbid imagination,'wandering a
broad till it touChed on te confines of
frenzy, showed him figures of .sleep-walk
ers traversing' like shadows' the roofs: of
houses ;—the chimneys widdened into fur-;
napes vomiting forth flames and monsters
—the windmills' lifted up their giant
artni, and threatened to crush him--and
a forgotten spectre, left behind in a des
erted charnel house, glared on him with
a, horxible..expression of malignity, and
then mocked his terror by assuming his
On a sudden there flowed out upon the
air a deep, rich and solemn stream of mu
sic. It came from the steeple of the old
Gothic Church, as the bells announced
the birth of the New • Year, for it was now
the twelfth hour. Its cadences fell with
a thrilling distinctness upon the
heart of the Old Man ; and every tone in
the melody, through the agency of that
mysterious power which sound pbssesses
of reassembling within the forsaken halls
of the soul images long departed, brought
before his mind some past scene of his life,
vivid as a panorr Again
he looked around' • honzon
and over the fn and he'
thought on the opportunities he had for
feited—the warnings he bad slighted—the
examples he had scoffed at. He thought
upon the friends of his youth, and how
they better and more fortunate than . he,
wcre good men, at peace with themselves
—teachers of wisdom to others,-fathers of
ess I families torchlights for the world.
—and he exclaimed, Oh ! and I also, had
Lbut wilkd it I also mi *lit like them,
,ind firm th
have seen with tearless eyes, with tran
quil heart, this night depart into eternity
Oh, my dear father—my dear, dear mo
ther 1 I, even I, might have been now
happy,, had I but harkened to your affec
tionate admonitions, had I but chosen to
II I i 4lessinv which on ever
New Years morn like this your teu I er
ness led you to invoke on my head !
Amid these feverish reminiscences of
his youth, it appeared to him as though
the specter which had assumed his fea
tures in the charnal-house gradually ap
proaching nearer ana nearer to
.1 r i• :-.• i ::• • :••
, E 0
alter another of its spectral character—
till at length, as if under the dominion of
that supernatural influence which on the
last night of the old year is popularly said
to compel even the Dead •to undergo a
change of form, it took the appearance of
a living young man—the same :young
man that he had himself been fifty' years
He was unable:to gaze any longer: he
covered his face with his hands; and,, as
the, blistering tears gushed from, his, eyes,
he sank down powerless and trembling,
on his.kneesand again be cried out, as
if his•hcai t would break, 0 come back
to me; lost days of my youth ! , --come back,:
come back to me once more!
And the supplication of the penitent
was not made in vain. for they came back
to him, those days of his youth—not yet .
lost 1 He started from his bed—the blue
moonbeams were shining through the win
dows—the midnight chimes were announ
cing the beginint , of a New Year. Yes !
—all had been but an appalling dream—
all, except his sins and transgressions;
these, alas! were but too real, for consci
ence, even in sleep, is a faithful monitor.
But he was still young hehad not
grown old in iniquity—and with tears of
repentance he thanked God for having,
even by the means of so terrible a vision
awakened in his heart a feeling of horror
for the criminal.career he had beenyar
suing, and for having revealed to him in
that glimpse of a lan full of sunbeams,
harvests, and angelic spirits, the blissful
goal in which, it' he pleased, the path of
his existence might yet terminate.
Youthful reader ! on which of these two'
paths in thou ? On the righthand path ?
Go forward, then, with the blessing of thy
Maker, and fear nothing ! On the left
baud path ? if so, pause : be forewarned
—turn while yet thou mayest—retrace
thy steps—make a happy choice ! I will
pray that the terrors of his ghastly Dream
may not hereafter be arrayed in judg
ment against thee! Alas for thee, if the
time ever come when thou shalt call
aloud in thy despair, Come back, ye pre
cious days of my youth !—unlike the
dreamer, thou wilt, but be mocked by the
barren echo of thine own lamentation—
the precious days of ybuth will never,
never come back' to thee!
FRETTING.—"The horse that frets is
one that sweats," is an old saying of
horsemen.". It is just as true of menus of
horses. The man that allows himself to
be irritated at everything that goes amiss
in his business or in the ordinary affairs
of life is the man that, as a rule, will ac•
complish little and wear out early. He
is a man fcr whom bile and dispepsia
have a partiCular fondness, and for whom
children have a particular aversion. He
is a man -with a perpetual thorn in his
flesh,, which pricks and wounds at the
slightest movement; a man for whom
life has little pleasure and the future small
LABOR OF LAVE.—There is a perennial
nobleness and even sacredness in work.—
Were he never so benighted, forgetful of
his high calling, there is always hope in
a man that actually and earnestly works;
in idleness alone: is . their perpetual des
pair. Blessed he who has found his .
work ; let him ask no other blessedness.
He has a work ; a life purpose : be has
found it and will ibllow it ! Labor is life;
God given force, t l he sacred celestial life
essence breathed into him by Almighty
God; from his inmost heart awakens him
to all nobleness, to'all knowledge, "self
knowledge," and much else so soon as
work fitly begins.--:Car/p/e.
Say little, think much, do more.
SBORW, FRANKLIN COTTNTY . ,,PA; t ,TTIOSDAY,'SANUARY 15, 1874.
' A gentle voice,;a heartfeltsigh,
A mo(iest, blush; a ,Speakingleye.
A manner muttfect,e,d,
These things are heauif t ful to me.
A iiiarY heatt;-
A sympathy that's:free froaq art,
A real Mend among the few;
These things are beautiful: and•true.
A joyfol sons, a chorus . areet,,,
An, earnest soul and W 43 feet,
A day . of peace, a Orglit of rest ; '."
TheSe:thinie are lii,intifur and blest.
A sister's lOve, a brother's care.
, .A,,spoless name, a jewel rare,.
A cleanly tonguo, that will not.lie,
Thcse things are beautiful 7 .,-snd why?
Because.they all aro born of love,
*tad emanate. from; God above
An earnest of heavenly
These tlitpgs are, beantifukon earth
Brigham Young on Life Insurance.
This great Prophet of the . Latter-Day-
Saints is opposed to' ifeinsurance - on pol
ygomical principles. In one of his late
discourses in' -"the . Tabernacle; he gave'
vent to his saintly feelings in• the follow
ing •strain : Brethren,. I am down on life
insurance.' It is the invention of the same
evil'one who tempted Eve in the Garden'
of Eden. lie promised to give woman
the ,upper hand of her husband, And lite
. agent hits more brass than a dozen Yan
kee clock peddlers. One had the impu
dence to ask me to take out a policy for
the benefit of my.wives and children, and
before I could recover my breath he
commenced to draw up an application
and 1 believe ---
i verily believe would have - filled—it
out if he could have crowded the names
in. Now I ask you, brethren what would
most likaly become of your prophet if in
surance on his life were effected to the a
mount'of $5,000 for each wife?, I have
only thirty, and that would ' make the
the realms of glory before the end of the
year. As a father of Israel„ I have the
Gospel 'priviledge of sealing the daugli
ter.s.thered,' bat I have no wish that they
should seal .my fate. I am ready to as
cend to my seat on high, but I do not want
to' be sent in an insurance _balloon. The
wives of the faithful are too much tempt
ed already, and.how•coati they resin the
ingenious device of the' Gentiles:' Toueh
not, taste ndt,' handle not; my.breihren.
Let the Gentile iniurellis life in the big
gest•sum for his,wife,• and when she,is a
widow, let one of our apostles. make love
to her and bring her ;on this aide of Aor:
den. I want no life ' terripanies
of which I am' not the• presiding spirit.—
Life insurance makes-the , wife,indepead:-
ent of the ,husbaud. Bhe . feelsthat, if she
should by accident drop some strychnine
in his gruel, she has something to - fall
back upon to 'keep 'her' children from
want. Women should •be 'kept under.—
They should trust in the. Lord, and not
in life insurance. If , they have .a bad
husband and an insurance. policy on his
life, they are always praying secretly for
his death, and if their, prayers are not an
swered readily, they hurry up, his predes
tination.. Beware of life; insurance. •It is
Satan in disguise., Tarn your back up
on it, flee from it, as if-from a pestilence;
for verily • it, would bring; rebellion into,
the land of Mormon." ;
WOMAIILTIopEsxv.--11an loveS tie
mysterious. A, cloudless 'sky,- the full
blown rose, leaves him unmoved ; but
the violet which hides its blushing beau
ties behind the bush, and the moon, when,
she emerges from behincta
,cloud, are to
him sources of' inspiration :and :pleaSure.
Modesty is to merit,' what shade is to fig
ure in painting ; it gives it boldness and
prominence. Nothing adds ; more to fe
male beauty than .modesty ; it sheds ,a
round the countenance a halo of light
which is borroied froth' virthe: Botan
ists have given the rosy hue whichiinges
the cup of the mite the name of the "mai
den blush." This pure and delicate hue
is the only paint that !Christian-, virtue
should use ; it is the richest ornament. A,
woman without modesty 7.s like a faded .
flower, which diffusei an unwholeSome o
dor, and which the prudent gardener will
throw' away froth' him. Her. destiny. is
melancholy, for it ends in• shame .and, re
pentance. Beauty: passes like the flower
of the aloe, which bloOins and 'dies in a
few hours, but triadesty'giVes the Tel:tittle .
character charms which supplies-the place
of the transitory freshness of youth. •
In the morning of life we paint, with
the brush 'of fancy, our beautiful ideal
of cloudless skies and • brilliant sunshine,
of flower streiva paths and tropic blooms
—a .picture where joy and love and friend
ship and fame stand holding out their
beautiful 'offerings, and we the central
figures of the whole. •But how different.
the pictures painted each day of life by
the brush of pittiless reality ! Not one
picture, but' many; for the scenes are ever
shifting. The shies are clouded, and thii
sunshine faded. The flowers are withered,
and hide the thorns no longer. Sorrow
steps in where joy had stood; hatred takes
the place of love; friendsliip that we had
painted with a beautiful fiee; takes on the
hideous look of treachery.' At the even--
tide of life we gaze at • the pictures in, the
gallery of memory,, and comparing the
ones that fancy painted with those stamp-.
ed upon our hearts by the stern realities
of life, we wonder where fancy got ~its
beautiful false eoloring.
The completer official returns make the
maioritv for the new constitution abou
London Crystal Palace.
Que can hardly make anybody who
has' never scen"it 'understand the charm
of the long nave with its high arched roof,
its graceful galleries, its huge marble
sinsof water-lilies,.edged with beds of the
brightest iloiverS great hanging' bask-:
ets of delicate plants, its • tropical , trees,
its statues,.its bright banners, its delicious
music and its glimpses down the crossing
tranSepts'Of one of the loveliest'landscapes
in.:4ll,England : for these transepts, or
crssways you must knoW, are walled and
roofed with glass like all the rest of the
„And • this• is just what you have before
your eyes as you go in, but to see all the
curious and interesting things would take
Weeks. At each side of this wonderful
nave, or body of the building, there are
beautiful courts, in which one may see
exact COpies of famous places all over the
• For instance, the Pompeian court, where
there is an exact copy of a house in Pom
peii. the city that was destroyed by burn
ing„laya, from Mt Vesuvius hundred of
years ago, before Christ Was born. You
can'scarcely believe it, I dare say; but it
is-true. ' And_ mind I .donl mean the
ruins of a house like those to be seen to
day in, Pompeii, butjUii as it used to be
when that city was a busy', active place.
' And in another court there is a mod
el of ancient Rome, with coaches instead
of chairs in the dining-room, for you know,
among other strange habits, the old Ro
mans had a way of lying down at their
re -say thnt youhav_e_heard or_the_
Alhambra, the famous and beautiful pa
lace built by, the Moors in Grenada. Well
in this Crystal Palace you may see for
yourselves just how it looked, and how
gorgeous the Hall of the Abeucerrages
must have been with its wonderful rain
led with a soft lilac light.
And there are the Egyptian court and
the Assyrian court and many more be
sides, and also copies of the most celebra
ted statues in the world.
Can you afford to work hard all day,
and read, study, or court the vagaries of
society . ail night, thus wasting your vital
ity, exhausting your nervous system, and
bringing on a premature disease, decay
'Can you 'afford to eat hastily, and then
rush 'to 'study or business, withdrawing
the nervous energy_ from the digestiye
system to, the brain and muscles, and thus
inducing dyspepsia, and in'a few years at
mom to scourge and haunt and'make you
Miserable for years or for life ? •
Can you afford to live on rich or high
seasoner foot, eat champagne suppers,,be
cause an artificial appetite is thus gratifi
ed, rendering, gout, dyspepsia, apoplexy,
in the middle of life,f almost a certainty?
Can you afford to commit 'suicide thro'
the indulgence of appetite and passion, a
dopting the 'fools motto; "A short life and
Can you afford to indulge in fast living,
dressing beyond your means, driving liv
ery. horses, or keeping a horse yourself,
when your income is not adequate to such
Can you-lA . l)rd to smoke and chew to
bacco, thus spending from five to twenty.
pi thirty dollars a month, injuring your
nervous system, and•thereby transmitting
to children a weakenedieonstitution, mak
ing them puny invalids fir life?
Can you afford to burn out your ner
vous systein and demoralize your whole
character by the use of alcoholic liquor ?
Can you afford to make money at the
expense of, your manhood, your health,
your.just,respectability and integrity?
Can you afford even to gain the whole
world, and make of -yourself a moral
wreck ? .
Can you afford to rob your mind, to
clothe your back with silks and satins;
and: gratify a mere love of display ?
, Can you afford to be tricky, and there
fore defraud your employer of the just
service you owe him, even though you get
your pay, thus making yonrself a moral
Mrs. Livermore, the noted woman's
rights woman, in a'recent lecture, said
the following, which we heartily approves
"In this country our late financial dis
tress arose from the desire fur sadden ac
cumulatiMr of Wealth. Since the war we
have not been content to live moderately
like our fathers, but indulge in idle ex
travagances; men are itolonger content
to make money slowly and are, driven to
dishonesty. Her reniedy for the present
financial panic •was prudence and coati
deircd, The general distrust,'caused large
ly by the mania for speculation and fraud.
In fact frauds:were so common that they
were countenanced thoughtlessly by dood
people. She instanced the case of ti relig-,
tons newspaper which for $3 would give
you a year's subscription. and a chrome
represented to be worth $lO. But if you
took pains to investigate the matter you
would find that the actual price of your
chromo was only 25 cents."
The Lancaster Examiner says : There
resides near Miller's mill, close to the
Junction, on the Reading rai I roa d,a couple,
man and wife, who are said to be the old.
est in the United States. The names of
the couple, are Joel and Mary Miller, the
former being one hundred and tie latter
ninety-six years of age. The old folks
are very affectionate toward each other,
and are, ready to answer the summons of
the Great Father whenever He sees Et to
call their' home. Tkere are many deseen4-
ents of Mr. and Ws. Miller 'residing in
this county. ,
Our greatest men are generally the
A Western Parson.
A short time since a Missouri 'river
steamboat left Fort Benton with a party
of rough aud,well-to-do ruiners on board.
There were also among the passengers
three or four "brace men," and before ar
• riving at Sioux. City they had very gener
ally cleared out the pockets of the miners
The boat stopped at Sioux City to "wood
up," and fbund among other persons wait
ing to get on board, a ministerial-looking
personage with the longest and most sol
emn countenance on him you 'can well
imagine... He was dressed in a suit of
black, wore a whip stovepipe hat and a
"choker" collar, ornamented with . a black
Well, he got aboard and the boat start
ed down Stream; For two days he was
unnoticed by the other passengers, but
one of the sports at last thought he saw a
chance to make something out of the sad
and melancholy• individual. The latter
would once or twice a day step up to the
_and_with-a-voice-that - was as mild
and as gentle as a maiden's, ask for "a
glass of soda, if you please," and then he
would pull a roll of bills from his pocket
and take a' quarter from their interior
layers. Then he would say to the bar
keeper, as if under a thousand obligations;
"Thank you sir," and walk off again as if
about to commit suicide.
This thing had gone far enough, and
the gaMbler I have spoken of at last ap
"Would you like a little game of sev
"seven-up ? What is seven-nu ? Please
"Why, a game of cards, you know, just
to pass the time ; let us play a game."
"My good friend, I do not know any
thing concerning cards; I cannot play
"Well, come along, we'll show you how
to do it." And - the mild• gentleman in
black after some further protests, at lenglit
They showed him bow 'twas done, and
they played several games, The gentle
man in black was delighted. • Gamblers
want to know if he will play poker, five
cent ante, just for the fun of the thing.—
Gentleman it - lita - ek - says7he-can't-Play'
the game, but they explain again, and
poker commences. The gentleman in
black loses every time. There are slit'
men in the game; each one 'deals before
gentleman in black; 'and ante .has been
.to a dollar. Gent in black deals
awkwardly, and looks at his hand.,
Next man to dealer bets five—goes
around • find the Bets are raised, to one
hundred dollars. Gent in black sees it
and makes it rybundred better. Gain
blers look surprised, but will not bp bluff.
ed. The bet has reached five hundred
dollars—a thousand. Gent in black
makes it two thousand. All draw out
except a plucky Pike's Peak miner, who
sees and calls him; "What have you?"
"Weal," answers the gent in black, "I
heave—let me see, let me see weal, I heave
The gamblers who have suspicioned
something , before, now look wild, and the
light begins, to dawn in the miner's Mind.
He leaned across the table and said in the
most sarcastic tone he could command:
"Oh you heave, heave you. You gol
durned sanctimonious son ofa gun."
The gent got up from the table and
handed one of thezamblers Lis card.—
It read "Bill Walker, New Orleans"—
one of the most successful sharpers in the
Selecting A Wife.
We have heard . of this test being . appli
ed to several girls, but John Starkley was
the man. who applied it to the selection
of a wife." The Starkley and Belkuaps
had been friends through several genera
tions. In the present generation there
was, in the Starkley family,' one son and
in the family of Belknaps there were five
daughters; and it had been arranged be
tween the parents that the heir of the
Starkleys should take him a wife from
among the daughters of Belkuaps. John,
the heir aforesaid, at the age of five and
twenty; had returned from his travels,
when his father bade him select Dom the
daughters of the friendly house the one
he would have t'or a wife. John was a
dutiful son, and his heart was whole; and
as the maidens were all fair to look upon,
he accepted the situation, and determined
to master it if possible.
John spent several evenings in the com
pany of the • young ladies, and it" . Was
difficult to decide which wits the most
charming though his fancy rested most
lingeringly Upon.the youngest—not that
she was the handsomest, but she appeared
the most sensible.
One day John was invited' to dinner,
and in advance of the family he made his
way • into the hall and threw a broom
upon the ; ..r, directly across the passage
to the d' ng-room. By and by summons
soun' • . for the meal, and John watched
for e result. The eldest daughter step
pe over the broom loftily. The second
wen. around it. The fourth gave it an
•extra kick. The fifth, the "yollngest—
stooped and picked the broom•up and
took it to the far corner of the-hall and
set it carefully out the way. And John
selected the meek-eyed, fair-haired maid
en who had just stood the test, and he
never had occasion to regret the choice.
She proved to be a wife who looked
well to the. ways of -her household, and
her heart had no lack of faith and love.
. Lives there, a man with nose so red,
who never to himself bath said, "I'll pay
before I go to bed the debt I owe the prin-
ter ?"-Brandon Republican.
"Yes, there'are seam I know full well,
but:they; I fear, will go. to—. Well
the Ellice wherethere - s no winter.”-7P,an
oia Aiai. - .
"Among all my boys,"said, an old ffnir..,
"I never had but one boy that took af,ter
me, and that was my son Aaron he t,
after me with a club." • • '
"Good-by, you old 'seokling, red-beaded
heathen," wrote a Dubuque man, to his
wife the last thing before suickling., the
says she'd like to have got hOld of him fir
about one good minute.
• What is the greatest feat in the eating
way ever , known? That xcorded of a
man who commenced by bolting a door,
after which he threw up a window, and
then sat • down and swallowed a • whole
The St. Louis Christain. Advocate has
no ear for music, and complains that a
church choir is sacrilegious when the line,
re-r-idered, "We're going home to Dinah
More, to Dinah More, to Dinah More."
"Who dares to spit tobacco juice, on,
this car floor ?" savagely asked a burly—
passenger on the Mobile train. "I dire,"
quietly replied a slender 'youth, "and I
did it." "you're the chap I'm looking
for," said the ruffian, "give me a thaw."
• A Dutch woman kept a toll-'gate. One
foggy day a traveller asked :
"Madam, haw far is it, to B—?"
"Shocst a little ways," was the reply.
"Yes, but how far ?" again asked the
"Shoost a little vays, more emphati•
"Madam, is it one, two, three, four, or
five miles ?"
The good woman ingeniously replied:
"I dinks it is."
At a Detroit hotel recently was a fam
ily; going west*. The mife was "continual
.ly. badgering her husband for.his method
of doing this and that, evideLtly suppos
ing that everybcdy else was noticing his
unristocratic ways. At the table she
passed him the potatoes and he took off a
small mountain, and in three .rniqutes
held his 'late for more. She" winked at
him, but he was determined and sliiiaid,f7
`Elizabeth Jones, you may wink and
blink all day,• but I'm going lave.some,
•more 'tatera or bust the bank !", He sot
• There is an old darks down in • Ma
•ryland who lately voted for• local option, •
as he uaderstood it, but not as the pnblik'
generally understand it. The story, a true'
one, runs thus: At a recent 'election:a -
'friend asked the old 'man how he waut,i
going to vote. .
"Oh." he replied, "the Republican tic it
et, I always vote that ticket??
"But how are you going to
local option?" . •
The darkey, looking up asked, "wripOtt,
"Why, local option is putting dayin
iquor," was_ the reply.
"Lora a Massa," said the darkey, , :,of
course I vote for local option; • I.votes to,
put down liquor to the old"price, fip-penpy,
bit a pint!" ,
A Short Romance.
Into the arid atmosphere of politics and'
bread and butter sometimes comes a:bit
of romance of melting sweetness. Olsueh
is the story of two lovers and a remorse
less father, which as it has just been told
by a Bostonian, must of course be true.—
Ten years ago abeantiful young Boston
girl was sent to the Vermont hills to ar
rest, if possible, the' indications . of.ap
proaching consumption. She recovered
her health, and meantime inflicted a' care
wound upon the heart of an intelligent
and well edos:ated young farmer's son.—
Unlike Lady Vero de Vere, she,did not
scorn his timid affection, but:returned jt
heartily, refering him to her hiller. That
traditionally unromantic personage would
not hear .of it. Never-r, never-r shall
a base mechanic wed my child !
The young man retired, went west and
made a large fortune, and the young we- '
man married the man presented by her
father. She went to live in France; . her
husband died in two years, and her pa.-
rents dying, she remained abroad. 'rho
memory of her first romance faded with
her as with its object, who, though un
married, was too busy making money for:
tender. thoughts. . Last yeir his business
took him to Europe, and one night found _
him on a little steamer plying between
Marseilles and Leghorn. A storm came
up soon, and a lady, who had riser► from
her seat on deck to go below, was thrown
overboard by a sudden lurch of the vessel.
The "base mechanic jumped aftei., and
though in the dark the steamer drifted a
way from them, they clutched a provi
dential plank and floated until they were
picked up by another vessel. During the
night, in the cold and the darkness, they
discovered in each other the loved and
lost of earlier days. The old feeling came
back in that fearful hour, and on their
arrival at Malta they were married. End
of the poetry.
DULL AND DREARY.—Despise Dat the•
day of small things. Many men and wo•
men complain that their , lives are dull
and dreary. It is to be feared that their
aspirations are too high in regard to,frork:
and pleasure: They scorn the small work
that is put in their bands. At least,
it is free from the anxi,Aies and respon•
bilities which attend great duties. They
have no time for self-government. To be
well fitted for the latter puts them on a.
place with Caesar and Alexander. , 441
regard to plenSure, , why slumltt the ) , nu .t
cultivatelhesweet though humble ilLiwers•
that , growin the gardens around thou,.
instead of longing for the,kuxurn!ni,plautti
:If the treniez• 9 4r.