The Waynesboro' village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1871-1900, July 23, 1874, Image 1
BY W. BLAIR. VOLUME 27. ,eittt tiottrg. A THOUGHT. BY 'FATHER RYAN. "There never was a Valley without a faded flower, • •Tliere never was a Heaven without some littlepelond. *The face ill day may flash with light in any morning. hour, But evening soon shall come with her shad ow-woven shroud. 'There never was a. river without its mist of _ gray, afiere-never-was-a-forest-mittout-its-falle leaf; And joy may walk beside us down the wind ings of our way, When la! there sounds a footstep and,we meet the face of. Grief. There never was a Bea-shore .without its drifting wreck, There never was -twi ,ocean_. without_. its moaning wave, And the golden beam.•of•glory•the•summer sky that fleck, Shine where. dead stars are sleeping in their azure-mantled grave. There never. was a streamlet, however crys tal clear, Without a shadow resting in the ripples of its tide; Hope's brightest robes are broidered with the sable fringe of fear— And she lures—but• abysses girt her path on either side. The shadow of the mountain falls athwart the!lowly plain, • And the shadow of the cloudlet hangs above-the mountain's head— And the highest hearts and lowest wear the shadow of some pain, And the sky has scarcely flitted ere the an guish tear is shed. For no eyes have there been ever without a weary tear, And those lips cannot, be human •which have never heaved a sigh, . For without the dreary winter there has never been a year, .And the tempests hide their terrors in the calmest summer sky. •The cradle means the coffin—and the coffin ,means the grave ; 'The mother's song scarce hides the'De Pro fundis of the priest -You may cull the fairest roses any May day ever gave, )3ut they'll wither while you wear them 'ere the ending of your feast.. .So this dreary life is passing—and we move amid its maze, And we grope alone together, half in dark ness, half in light; And our hearts are often burdened by the mysteries of our ways, Which are never all in shadow and never wholly bright. And our dim eyes ask a beacon, and our weary feet a guide, And our hearts of all life's mysteries seek the meaning and the key; And a Cross gleams o'er our pathway—on it hangs the Crucified, And he answers all our yearning by the whisper "Follow me." gtl istellautta BURTON'S FOURTH WIFE. BY EMMA MOORE. `l'll never marry a widower;' nor a man without money;' nor a poor minis ter;"nor a homely man;' nor a real old bachelor, if he is as rich as Crcesus;"nor a man with red hair.' Such was the confused 'ejaculations of a merry band of school-girls, whom their 'teacher was vainly endeavoring to sum mon to their studies. At length her bell was heard amid the din of voices,all talk ing at once, and she laughingly exclaim cd, 'You ug Lad ies,matrirnony need not en gross your thoughts for some time to come. You will please come and attend to your lessons. Doubtless,wben the time comes, you will, like many others, act entirely contrary to your present feelings.' 'As she has done, I remain single, I whispered to my companion; 'but I am sure,' I emphatically repeated, 'that never-110 i never, as long as I live,marry a widower 1' At the time I made this remark, I was a laughing girl of sixteen, with jet black hair and eyes, and said to be full of life and animation. Soon after, I left school, with a letter, signed by the mistress,to the effect that I was now fully qualified to fill any sphere .of usefulness to which I !night be dcatin .ed. Mamma had this duly framed and gilded, and I never doubted its truth.— Neither did papa's friend s old Mr. Ash burton. From my earliest recollection he had been our neighbor and visitor, generally accompanied by a Mrs. Ash burton. 'The village bells had.tolled some two months since for his third wife, and rumor asserted that lie was already look ing for some one to supply her place.— All the widows of marriageable age, and all the spinsters of every age, were on the alert; and surely the little Ashburtons were never as much carzs;:cd. ae whem they were mothuloss. No one could assert - that Mr. Ashbur ton was the picture of grief,as he wended his way up our avenue every week. His visits were universally conceded to my fa ther,and no one was more delighted when they were over than myself. Although I inherited too much of my fathers courtesy to treat any one rudely, a sight of his portly figure and sandy wig entering our parlor inspired me with "a desire to leave it. • What was my amazement, then at being summoned into my father's library, one day, and having the following note placed in my hand : Ashburton Villa, Tuesday, A. 31. DEAR MIeS Baum: "When Adam was made happy for life, He was the husband of just one wife; But my bliss has been of higher degree, As I have already been blessed with three. What-could-mortal - matrask more, • Than to have you for number four? We cannot tell how the die will be cast, Perhaps, dear Emma, you will be the last." Respectfully yours, AARON AtiMURTON. I burst into an irrepressible laugh,such :chool-girl: only in, uge in, , m the scroll nothing but a joke, and was much surprised on glancing at, my papa, to see him looking as grave as a judge.= He placed a note in my hand in which the billet-doux to myself had been enclos ed, saying that Mr. Ashburton was a man of good sense, and like an honorable_gen,i Aleman, had first requested his permission ,to address me. The note - was - as follows -- ; .DEAR SIR,-If agreeable to Miss Em ,ma and yourself, I should like, as soon as -your-daughter-rAn_make it_convenient,to enter once .more into the matrimonial -state. You know my ample means: and, if Miss Emma consents, I will; on our •marriage day, endow her with - one Ilan :tired thousand dollars. Hoping,' when, next I address you, to be able to sign my self your affectionate son-in-law, I am now, "Yours faithfully," "AARON-ASEBURTON." I could endure the scene no longer, and eluding my father's grasp, and donning my hat, ran to tell my bosom friend, Lu cy, of the bliss in store for me.' We were quite merry over the poetical proposal, Lucy exclaiming: "Who knows, Emma, if you don't survive,'but I myself will be number five." That night, mamma, after•tea,,came in to the council, and, dazzled•by •the bait held out, gave her influence in favor of Mr. • Ashburton ; and I, a thoughtless child, yielded to the entreaties of my pa rents. It was not my father's method , to neg lect business, so I was dispatched to my room to write my reply. I sat down to my writing-desk, chose my beat paper and pen, when the idea of being anybody's fourth wife, and I only seventeen, struck me as being .very absurd. 'I imagined how Mr. Ashburton must look divested of his wig; then pictured myselftwalking down the aisle of the village church, at the head of the -six Ashbortons, three of them being older than myself." "Not for twenty millions !" I cried, "will I sign away my happiness." And as I thought of Gerard, with his stalwart, young frame, raven locks, and fine teeth, his kind heart, mid fortune yet to make, I thought I would tell him of my dilemma. I had just commenced, "My dear Ge rard—Somethibg so strange and ludicrous has happened. Come up to-morrow and I will tell you all,"—when papa tapped at the door, saying,• pleasantly, "IVell, Emma, my reply has been •sent, and ere this Ashburton is a happy man." "What !" I cried. "0! papa, what have you done?" "Don't be excited, child," he answered; "here is the copy of my reply." "Mv DEAR SlR.—Yours of the Bth in stant is just received. I feel highly hon ored by your proposal, and my daughter will write her acceptance at once.' "Yours very sincerely," "EDWARD STAUNTON." "You see. Emma, I have left all senti ment to you." "Oh. papa," I repeated, "what have you done !" But tears and entreaties were of no a vail. Fapa's dignity could not be com promised, and I was obliged to write an acceptance, which I did in the following brief lines. "DEAR Sm.—ln obedience to my fath er's demands, I accede to your proposal. "Yours, &c., ."Entau S." Imagine me now presiding over Mr. Ashburton's establishment. A few short weeks since, a thoughtless school-girl, now addressed as "mother" by six children ! One day the new gardener said to me as I was helping myself to hot-house flowers; "Miss, your pa, said I must not let your children•pluck those flowers." My greatest perplexity was with my mother-in-law. They felt a natural anxi ety to know something of the character of the new mother of their grandchil dren, and made various efforts to judge personally. Shortly after my settlement in my new home, I had been indulging ing in a forlorn feeling of homesickness; as in arranging my husband's wardrobe, I had unexpectedly found among his treasures, three locks of hair carefully pre served. One labeled, "My sainted Ellen;" No. 2, "My sainted Maria e , and the third, "My departed Susan." "How came I," I cried; "ever to mar ry such a Bluebeard?" • Here Jane appeared to summon me down to see my husband's mother-in-law. An image of my own dear mother rose in my mind, and I bounded' down in hot haste to throw myself into her arms.— What was my disappointment to see a to tal stranger surveying me through her spectacles with a penetrating gaze ?" "Well I" she exclaimed, "has Aaron really made such a foal of himself as to bring a child to preside over his house ? 4N f f 44:4 ;7-1 *:155 e) >Olt IL.' AAI Y*A:4 >0 - K.I•111 'WV iZt)*P *7ll Di'4l-191/4 WAYYESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 23,1574. Why, he had children enough already for one roof." To which I mentally responded, "Too many by half." She went on, "Really, it's enough to make my daughter Ellen wish her self back in this world of trouble—" and me in tears, she checked herself and said, "Well,dear! What's done can not be undone, and we must make line best of it; but I have come on purpose to. advise you. I have reared ten children all except nine, who are dead ; and you cannot begin to train them - too young.— Have my boxes and trunks up to Ellen's room—she will be glad to. see her grand mamma." Human nature could endure no more, and I was about retreating from the room, on the plea of obeying orders, when I ran e exten er-in-law, who had just arrived. This one was a complacent looking old lady, fat and good-natured, and informed me at once that "She was the mother of t e sainted Maria, and had come purpose ly to see how she liked me for a stepmoth er to her little pets." I introduced the old ladies, and left them to have their rooms prepared, and their grand-children put in presentable order. On my return. I found them in about-as-amiable—position—as-a-eat-an dog would have been, if shut up . in the same room. Each one was asserting that all the good looks and intelligence belong ed to her side of the house. The question _had-not-thaslightest_interest_for_me, and all participation in the argument was pre vented by the entrance of my husband, with an open letter in his hand. After greeting our guests, he informed me that he had j ust . received a letter from his third mother-mlaw, saying that she would ar rive by the evening train, as she deemed it her duty to give his young wife the ben efit other experience o f bringing up chil dren. No pen can describe the confused state of our mansion during the invasion of these mothers-in-law. They only agreed on one subject, and, unfortunately that was myself. They thought I was too young ; that I did not preside with digni ty ; that I was not fond of children, and much too fond of dress, &c., dr.c. Advice was showered upon me from morning un til night. At the table, the six children, three grandmothers, and husband, engag ed in reminiscences of my predecessors. Each mother insisted that her daughter's ,portrait should be added.to the number. I thought that my patience would be entirely exhausted before the old ladies took their departure. The likes and dig likes.of their daughters had been rehears ep and 'rehearsed to me, their wishes in regard to their children frequently repeat ed ; until one day I retired to my own room, intending to lock the door for a season.of brief quiet. But the mothers in-law were not no easily evaded. One was at my side with her knitting work and snuff box, prepared Ibr a social chat. She said it was natural that I should like to hear my husband's former history, and commenced recounting the three weddings and three death-bed scenes, and the fun erals, ending with an intimation that my husband had had the three deceased In dies buried together in a semicircle, leav ing places for two more graves. So, dear,' he affectionately remarked, 'you may console yourself by thinking that you are the last wife he expects to have. The tablet will be placed in the ceutre when he dies, with this appropriate inscription, 'Our husband." The climax has now been reached. I had endured the trial of being the fourth wife, and the fourth mother to the chil- ' dren, and almost lost my indentity—but this partnership in death I could not tol erate. When the old lady, glancing at my wedding-ring, pronounced it to be the very one worn by her daughter, I angrily drew it from my finger and threw it from me, giving way to such an indig nant out break, that the old lady jerk ed her cap on .one side, dropped a stitch in ber stock ing, let her snuff-box roll on the floor,and by her screams brought all the grand mothers into my apartment. Such a hub bub ! Each one was trying to praise her own deceridants to the detriment of the rest. I endeavored to rise and reach my own room,and the effort effectually arous ed me. When I opened my eyes, a laugh ing eye was glancing into my face, and a loving arm thrown around me, and I was I greeted %ith the exclamation, 'Why,Em ma, darling, what have you been dream ing abort this bright 'sunny day? Why are you so excited?' Quite bewildered, I exclaimed, 'Why, Gerard, where are all the old ladies?— And the portraits? And the children?' 'What old ladies, and what portraits, and children?' he responded. found you in dreamland, in your favorite arbor, where your mother bade me seek you.' When I had laughingly rehearsed my dream, Gerard joined in my merriment, and said, 'lf I meet the happy Mr. Ash burton. I shall certainly challenge him.' But immediately his voice assumed a softer tone, and his eye a more gentle ex pression. What he said was intended solely for my ear, however. He could not have taken a more favorable opportunity to urge his suit; and so I became Gerard's first wife instead of Mr. Ashburton's fourth. Hot lemonade is one of the best reme dies in the world for a cold. It acts promptly and effectively, and has no un pleasant after effects. One lemon proper. ly &Timed, cut in slices, put with sugar, and covered with half a pint of boiling water. Drink just before going to bed, and do not expose yourself the following day. This remedy will ward off au at tack of chills and fever if used properly. Capital .letters—Thcsa contftin xe mittances. er mot arms -o YARN RAKING& Godspeed the plowshare! Tell me not Disgrace attends the toil Of those who plow the dark green sod, Or till the fruitful soil. Why should the honest plowman shrink From mingling in the van Of learning and of wisdom, since 'Tia mind that makes the man ? Godspeed the plowshare, and the hands That till the fruitful earth. For there is in this world, so wide, No gem like honest worth. And though the hands are dark with toil And flushed the manly brow, Itmatters not, for God will bless • The labors of the plow. I LITTLI SONG. i l When little bands are clean and white, And littlo faces sweet and bright, The little hearts are glad and light. What little minds should early heed, How fast will spring truth's precious seed ! When little lips speak words of praise; And little feet tread wisdom's ways, How good and happy are the days! Life is made u , of little thin The flower that blooms, the bird that sings every hour has ange Who Rules. _Fashion rules the world, and a most tyrannical mistress she is—compelling people to submit to the most inconvenient things imaginable for her sake. _ She pinches our feet with tight shoes or chokes us with tight handkerchiefs, or squeezes the breath out of our body by tight She makes people sit up by night,when they ought to be in bed ; and keeps them in bed in the morning when they ought to be up and doing. She makes it vulgar to wait on one's self, and genteel to lie idle and useless. She makes people visit when they had rather stay at home, eat when- they are not hungary. She invades our pleasure and inter rupts our business. She compels people to dress gayly whether upon their ownproperty or that of others, whether agreeable to the word of God or the dictates of pride. She ruins health and produces sicknesss, destroys life and occasions premature death. She makes fools of parents, invalids of children, and servants of all. She is a tormentor of conscience ; a despoiler of morality and an enemy of r& 'igloo, and no one can be her companion and enjoy either. She is a despot of the highest grade full of intrigue and eunning,and yet husbands and wives, fathers, mothers, daughters, sons and servants, black and white, have voluntary become obedient subjects and slaves, and vie with one another to ace who shall be the most obsequious. A PROFITABLE INVESTMENT.-A story of real life, of a. class of which the State is prolific, is related by the Califonia papers. In 1850 a young man named Osborne,who had recently arrived at the mines from the east, penniless and friendless, was taken sick. He told his condition 'to a fellow adventurer, named Hitchcock, who was a little better off, and the latter prom ised to "see him through." The promise was kept, and when, after two mouths of illness, Osborne arose from his bed, his friend handed him $250 to bear his ex penses and procure tools, saying to him, "If you ever get able you may pay me back, but do not worry yourself any in trying to make the money too qick." One year and a half from that time Os borne sent Hitchcock $1250 with the fol-, lowing note: "I'll pay interest on friend ship." His labors proved remunerative, and by 1872 he was worth $350,000. While in San Frncisco he by accident met and recognized his friend. When they parted after several days' companionship, Osborne gave Hitchcock a sealed pack age, with the injunction that it should not be opened until he was on the cars. There Hitchcocx found that it contained a deed for one-sixth of a rich silver mine with a small note containing the words: "Interest on friendship." Hitchcock has sold his interest for $BO,OOO. SAD CASE OF HYDROPIMBIA.—Mag gie Lowerhill, aged eight years who lived at Oldham, near Paterson, N. J., was bit ten about fivq weeks ago by a small dog. The slight wound soon healed, but a few days ago she suddenly went into convul sions ut tha sight of a glhss of.water. Dr. Neer of Paterson 'was sent for, and al though when he arrived the little girl was apparently all right again, he saw that it was a case of genuine hydrophobia that would undoubtedly prove fatal, and he quietly told the little girl's mother and took his leave. He had about half reach ed the gate when the little girl ran after him and called,— 'Doctor come back.' He waited until she caught up to him and she asked,— . 'Doctor did you tell mother I am going to die?' The kiwi hearted doctor replied,— 'Oh, my child, I hope you will not die.' 'But,' replied Maggie, doubtfully, and with just the shadow of a tremor in her voice, 'you must have told mother that I am going to die, for she is crying just as hard as she can The old doctor turned his moistening eves and hastened away. Maggie ran I;ack into the house. She was soon seized with another convulsion which resulted fatall .. No postage on county papers now with in the county. . The Best Medicine for 'Trouble. Don't try to quench your sorrow in rum or narcotics. If you begin this, you ' must keep right on with it, till it leads you to ruin; or if you try to pause, you must add physical pain and degradation to the sorrow you seek to escape. Of all wretched men, his condition is the most pitiful whoi- having sought to drown his grief in drink, awakes from his debauch with shattered nerves, aching head and depressed mind, to face the trouble again. That which was at first painful to con template, will, after drink, seem unbeara ble. Ten to one the fatal drink will again be sought, till its victim sinks a hopeless, pitiful wreck. Work is your true reme dy. If misfortune hits you hard, hit you something else hard; pitch into something with a will. There's nothing-like-good, solid i substantial, absorbing, exhausting work io cure trouble. If you have met with losses, y ou don't want to lie awake, thinking ab out them. Yon want sweet, lin,aound-alesp,-and-to-eat-y-our-dinue with appetite. But you can't unless you work. If you say you don't feel like work, and go loafing all day t 9 tell Dick and Harry the story of your woes, you'll lie awake and keep your wife awake by toss ing, spoil her temper and your own break fast the next morning, and begin -to-mor awlirfeeling ten - times - worse - th , • , to-day. There are some great troubles that only time can heal, and perhaps some that never will be healed at all; but all can be helped by the great panacea, work. Try it, you who are afflicted. It is not a pat ent medicine. It has proved its efficacy since first Adam and Eve left Paradise behind them Weeping for their beautiful Eden. It is'an official remedy. All good physicians in regular stan ding prescribe it in case of mental and moral disease. It operates kindly and will, living on disagreeable sequella, and we as sure you that we have taken a large quan tity of it with most beneficial effects.— It will cure more complaints than any nostrum in the rnateria medics and comes nearer to being a "cure all" than any drug or compound of drugs in the market. And it will sicken you, if you do not take it sugarcoated.—Scientific American. JONAII OVERBOARD.—Lag week the Brooklyn Tabernacle excommunicated a member for conduct disgraceful of the Christian profession. He had long been warned and admonished; but. failing to cease his evil practices, he was by unani mous vote cut off, and his excommunica tion as publicly announced as his recep tion five years before had been published. Brethren of the Churches, is it not time that our religious societies be cleaned of their unfaithful members? Will not the world have more respect for the Church when it is understood that there is such a thing as Christian discipline, and that a man cannot live an obnoxious life and yet sit at j.he communion table? Let this cleansing process go on kindly but firmly, and the Church will mean more than it (has now. The greatest dangers to Chris tianity to-day are not those who are wri ting against it, but the professors of reli gion who carry around contribution plates and communion cups, and stand promi nent( at prayer-meetings, while they are known as defrauders, slanderers, or ine briates. You wonder why the old Gospel ship has such rough weather. It is be cause you have a Jonah on board. Pick him up and let him drop over the sides very gently, and the sea will cease its ra ging. It is very hard to do so,but better Jonah go to the bottom than the entire vessel. One rotten apple will spoil the whole barrel.— Christian. at F ork. UNUSUAL LosoEvrry.—The Denton Union, Caroline county, Md., says: "Mrs. Hester Authors, Who resides a bout four miles from Templeville, just over the Delaware side of the line, is said to be 112 years old. She was present at the signing of the Declaration of Inde pendence, et Independence Hall, Phila delphia, in 1776, and was then 14 years of age. She has a daughter with whom she is now living, the third child after marriage, who is 76 years old. The old lady is quite active, and visits Philadel phia on the cars, unattended,onceor twice a year to see her grandchildren. "Philip Money, a resident of Glassbc rough, New Jersey, died at the residence of his son, in Haddington, Delaware, on Friday last, aged 106 years. He had re cently visited this son, saying he bad come to die, and while there was taken ill, his illness resulting in his death. His son, living at Harrington, is 72 years of age." ENERGY.—Energy is omnipotent. The clouds that surround the houseless boy of to-day are dispersed, and he is invited to a palace. It is the work of energy.— The child who is a beggar this moment, in a few years to come may stand forth the admiration of heroes! Who has not seen the life-giving power of energy? It makes the wilderness to bloom as the rose; whitens the ocean; navigates our rivers; levels mountains; paves with iron a high way from State to State;and sends through, with the speed of lightning,messages from one extremity of the land to the other.— Without energy, what is man? A fool, a clod. TlME.—Time is life's tree from which some gather precious fruit, while others lie down under its shadow,and perish with hunger. Time is life's ladder, whereby some raise themselves up to honor, and renown and glory, and some let themselves down into the depths of shame, degrade. tion and ignominy. Time will he to us what, by our use of the treasures . we make it; a good or an evil,s blessing or a curse. You may know an old bachelor by the fact that he always speaks of a baby as "It." Saving and Having. Either a man must be content with poverty all his life, or else be willing to deny himself some luxuries, and save, to lay the base of independence in the future. But if a man defies the future and spends all that he earns (whether his earnings be one dollar or ten dollars every week,) let him look for lean and hungry want at some future time, for it will surely come, no matter what he thinks. To' save is absolutely the only way to get a solid for tune; there is no other certain mode on earth. Those who shut their eyes and ears to these plain facts will be forever poor, and for their obstinate rejection of the truth, mayhap will die in rags and filth. Let them die so and thank. them selves. _But, no 1 They take a sort of recom pense in cursing ibrtune. Great waste of breath I- 'They- might_ as_ well curse the mountains and eternal hills, for we can tell them fortune does not give away her • . : I ; • I ; ; them to the highest bidder,to the hardest, wisest worker for the boon. Men never make so fatal a mistake as when they think they are mere creatures of fate; 'tie the sheerest folly in the world. Every mad► may make or mar his life,whichever way he ma) , choose. Fortune is for those by-diligencedionesty T sand-frugalit , place themselves in a position to grasp hold of her when she appears in view.— The best evidence of diligence is the sound of the hammer in your shop at seven o'- clock in the morning. The best evidence of frugality is the five hundred dollars or more standing in your name at the sav ings bank. The best evidences of are diligence and frugality. THE BOY AND THE BRICKS.-A. boy hearing his father say `Tomas a poor rule that would not work both ways,' said, 'lf father applies this about his work, I will test it in my play.' So setting up a row of bricks three or four inches apart, he tipped over the first, which, striking the second,caused it to fall on the third,which overturned the fourth, and so on through the whole course, until all the bricks lay prostrate. 'Well,' said the boy, each brick has knocked down his neighbor which stood nest to him; I only tipped one. Now I will raise one, and see if he will raise his neighbor. I will see •if raising one will raise all the rest.' Hs looked in vain to see them rise. `Here, father,' said the boy, 'is apnor rule; 'twill not work both ways. They knock each other down,but will not raise each other up.' 'My son,' said the father, 'bricks and men, I am sorry to say, are alike active in knocking each other down, but are not inclined to help each other up' COUNTING A BILLION.—What is a bil lion? The reply is very simple—a mil lion times a million. This is quickly written, and quicker still pronounced:— But no man is able to count it. You can count 160 or 170 a minute; but let us suppose that you go as far as 200, then an hour would produce 12,000; a day, 288,000;and a year or 365 days 105,120,- 000. Let us suppose now that Adam, at the beginning of his existence, had begun to count, had continued to do so, and was counting still, he would not even now, ac cording to the usually supposed age of our globe, have counted near enough. For to count a billion he would require 9,512 years, 342 days, 5 hours and. 20 minutes, according to the above rule. Suppose we were to allow a poor counter 12 hours daily for rest, eating' and sleeping, lie would need 19,025 years, 319 days, 10 hours and 45 minutes. THE INFLUENCE OF DAILY HABITS.- The daily habits of every boy and girl are materials with wh;ch they are build ing up their characters, and every repeti tion strengthens them for good or for evil. Justice, benevolence, honor, integrity and self-control are no ephmeral blossoms that a day's sunshine can call into being and a night's frost can wither and kill. They grow_slowly and develop gradually, but once rooted firmly in the heart and train ed by constant exercise they will prove sturdy,healthy,long-lived plants that will bear rich and abundant fruit. It is not enough to teach, we must learn to train. It is not enough to tell the child what is right, we accustom him to love its atmos phere. So with self-culture. If we would become nobler and more virtuous,we must habituate ourselves to the constant exer cise of pure thoughts, generous affections, noble and disinterested deeds. WILL YOU MIND TEIAT Now?--'Fath er. what does a printer live on?' 'Live on? the same as other folks, of course. Why do you ask, Johnny ?' 'Because you said you hadn't paid any thing for.your paper, and the printer still sends it to you. 'Wife, spank that boy.' 'I shan't do it. 'Why not?' 'Because there is no reason to do so.' 'No reason? Yes, there is. Spank him, I tell you, and put him to bed. 'I shan't do any such thing. What in the world do you want him spanked for?' 'He is too smart.' 'Well that comes of your marrying me.' 'What do you mean?' I mean just this, that the boy is smart er than his father, and you can't deny it. He knows enough to see thtit a man, prin ter or no printer, can't live on nothing, and I should think you would be asbain ed of yourself not to know as much. CUT TWS OUT. -Boil poke root and new milk, equal putt.; and give it to the patient until it produces sleep, and it still cure hydrophobia. Have your fruit cans ready., 82,00 PER YEARI, i aud :iattmor. The oldest 'esters sett( ni g sun.' , The article chiefl • so!• at mcst fancy fairs—The visitor. Why do white sheep at "' ones ? Because they 6 are Decoration Dar Every ilfpf a faebionab e belle. What trade is it wht works are tram pled under foot ? A s emaker's. Family physicians W. carefully noting the promising state of green apple crop. A Lebanon (Ky.) gent, in ardently greeting a_ longliarted wife, broke one of her ribs. Z 4 •nri ive i 1 `• broken off the match because he sai a rasin•box. A Maine husband wanted to bet hia wife that she coulyhip a panther, but she saw the joke a refused to try. ✓ Samuel Gettinzs, of S is t e at er o .1 drew.-- e hoped that with all his Gettings he got understanding. An Irishman was .lace asked if he had ever seen a red blackberry. 'To be site I have, replied Pat—"all blackberries are red when they are green !" N A Maud Muller I ghed heartily at a young haymaker N the yellow jackets got up his mankee °users, but when they got up her'n it wasn't so funny. ,----- Landlady, fiercely—" You must% occu py that bed with your boots on." Board er—" Never mind ; they're an old pair. I guess the bugs won't hurt 'em. Let 'em rip anyhow ! - "I, say, Samba, does ye know what makes de corn grow sofast when you put the manure on it ?" "No, I don't hardly.' "Now, jilt tell you : when de corn begins to smell de 'turnery, so it hurries out oh do ground, an' gets up as high as aossible so as not to breathe de bad air." • wag, with the word 'whoa,' brought a horse driven by a young man to a dead stop. 'That's a tine beast of yours,' says the wag. 'Yes, a pretty gdod•sort of an animal, but be has .cne jEfe wits once owned by a butcher,.aPdlt.iure %o stop whenever be heaii'it Mr. Parker, of tire. Woburn , (Mess.) Journal, wrote his deader-; - last week is rhyme, as follows , : "A daughter was wanting, At. last we have found her : She tame Sunday morning— A healthy nine-pounder." Bob Peters was too bashful to pop the question, but he sent a ring to Clara with these lines: "This ring that's enclosed will you please to retain ? May it grace your clear hand when we next meet again; • I'm aware 'tin a trifle, but still it will show What I tremble to ask, yet am ilYierg to know." , 48142.0 Ire COSS—Mr. Hammond. the revivaP ist, spoke to a man standing in a crowd at Quincy, 111., a short time ago, inquir ing how he felt. 'DO you see anything green?' Said the man, pointing to hie eye, as much as to say he was not a subject for conversion. No, my friend,' Mr. 11. replied, 'but I see something red—your nose—and it cost $5,000 to paint it,if you paid for the drinks.' SUNDAY Wonx.—An D 1 a Western ftrm er, who was anything but religious, had hired a devout negro, and to get some Sun day work out of him had to resort to speci ous devices. One morning Sambo prov ed refractory—"he would work nu more on Sundays. The master then argued that in case of necessity, even the Scrip tures allowai a man to get out of a pit on a Sabbath day, t beast that 'had fallen in. "Yes, massa," rejnined the black, "but not if he spent Saturday diggia' de pit for de berry purpose!" A young bachelor who had been ap pointed sheriff, was called upon to serve an attachment against a beautiful young widow. He accordingly called upon her and said: 'Madam, I have an attachment for you.' The widow blushed, and said his attachrittnt was reciprocated: •Yott. don't understand me; you must proceed' ' to court.' I know it is kap year, sir, buts I prefer you to do the courting." Mrs. P. this is no time tln trifling; the Justice, is waiting.' 'The Justice! why, I prefer' a parson.' NONPLUSSING A. BARBER. - Persons who visit barber shops would give a pre mium for a barber who would not insist upon their 'hair cut,' or submitting to a `shamboo' when they only wished to ho shaved. A man who called at a tonsorial establishment succeeded in nonplussing a most persiitent knight of the razor. The barber insisted upon giving transient customers a 'shampoo,' and T. C. peremp torily demanded why such a request was' made. Then a little . colloquy - ensued something like this: • Barber—'Your head'a'very dirty, sah.' T. 0.- 0 Weil, I know it is, and I want it dirty: , , Itaiber=iNcr_' ant it dirty r-.lV:ity,', what : fah?' 1 . L . , • •I • t1. ;• • T. '‘' I .A. • . -• • watt: • - A.% The - e - o NUMBER 5. ZEMES ore than black e of the in the had a foot like field, Ohio, 71 , • ?tti,ll. • , At.