The Waynesboro' village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1871-1900, October 22, 1874, Image 1

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    BY W. BLAIR.
.Pirmasura EVERY TnEnsaAvs3loirstra
'TERMS—Two Dollars per Annum if paid
within the year; Two Dollars and
Fifty cents after the expiration
of the year.
lines) three insertions, $1,50; for
each subsequent insertion, Thi r
five Cents per Square. A liberal
discount made to yearly adver
LOCALS.—ThisinessLocals Ten Centsper
line for the first inse ion, Seven
Cents for subseouent sertions
prifessional (&.rds.
Offers his professional services' to the
citizens of Quincy and vicinity. Office near
Alie Burger Hotel. apr9-tf
.ofsce at .his residence, nearly opposite
he Bowden .House. Nov 2—tf.
JOSEPH po - cra-ma.A4s,
Practices in the severaKourts of Franklin
and adjacent Counties.
N. B.—Real Estate leased and sold, and
Fireinsurance effected on reasonable terms.
December, 10 1871.
IFIR. HENRY BOWLS (formerly of Vir
.llsginia) announces to the citizens of
Waynesboro' and the public generally that
he is prepared to treat the different-diseas
es to winch horses are subject, including
lock-jaw. Thorough study and many years
practice aro the best recommendations he
can _offer. Persons requiring his services
will find him at Mintin's Hotel. may2l tf
4' •
Office at his residence, N. E. Cor. of the
Public Square, Waynesboro', Pa.
apr 9-tf
11R. BENJ. FRANTZ has removed to the
111 new Office building, adjoining his dwell
ing on .West end of Main street, where he
can always be found, when not engaged on
professional visits.
OFFICE Horns :—Between 8 and 10 o'clock,
A. M., and 12 and land 6 and 9 P. M. Spec
ial attention given to all forms of chronio
disease. All experience of nearly thirty
years enables him to give satisfaction. The
m,,,t pproved trusses applied and adiusted
t the wants of those afflicted with her ,
leis or riipture. ' apr 23-tf-'
Assia• • t
For the Beet - and most Popular Organs in Use
Organs always on exhibition and for sale
at his office.
We being acquainted with Dr. Branis.
bolts socially and professionally recommend
him to all desiring the services of a Dentist.
" A. S. BOKEBRAKE, D. EttExcu.
3. H. FORNEY .Sr. CO.
Produce Commismilm Moro Aunts
Pay particular attention to the sale of
Flour, Grain; Seeds, &c. ,
Liberal advances made on consignments.
may 22-tf
1 1 'IIE subscriber having leased this well
known liJtel property, announces to
the public that he has refurnished, re-pain
ted and papered it, and is now amply pre
pared to accommodate the traveling public
and ethers who may be pleased to favor
him with their patronage. An attentive
'Jostler will at all times he in attendance.
23-tf SAM'L P. STONER.
,`HE subscriber announces to the public
1 that be has again commenced the bar
bering. Shop in the Walker building for
merly occupied by Pr. Benj. Frantz. New
Razors; Brushes and outfit in.general. A
share of the public's•patronnge is solicited.
He also is prepared to shave 'corpses.
nuty2l. Sm JOHN' H. HERR. .
THE subscriber informs the public that
he has opened a new Livery Stable, on
West Main Street; at the Sanders' stable.—
Speedy horses and first class convey
ances furnished at all times. An attentive
hostler will always, be found at the stable.
A share of the public's patronage is respect
fully solicited. "JOEIN S. FUNK.
july3o tf
THE subscriber announces to hiq old ens.
toners and The - public that he has again
taken up his residence - in - Waynesboro' and
will be pleased to receive a share of public
patronage. His place of business is on Lei
tersburg street, nearly opposite Bel.'s Pot
tery. JOS. ANDEItsON.
may 1-tf
CIINNAAION, alspice, inustard,clores and
giother apices TAO? sir groupd.
For this earthly world of ours
Is not very far away
From the world invisible,
And its never-endiug day.
And the'dlitanee is not great,
And thb journey is but brief;
No halting place between, to wait,
One moment strife, the next relief.
For we are so very near
To that land beyond the tide;
There is but a step between,
Ere we reach the "other side."
What is on that "other side?"
Shall we ever, never know?
When will the waters round us close,
And at last behind us flow ?..
Glimpses reach us on our way,
And our restless spirits yearn
Of that twilight mystery
More completely yet to learn.
And we walk with weary feet,
And shadows deeper grow,
As our life-load le.ideth on
Where the silent write r s - floc .
And the thou ht mes quick and sweet,
As:the hou a d days depart,
Thrilling into n wer life .
Each faint t. WAIT of the heart.
We are drawing very 'near
To that land beyond the tide;
And not long this waiting here,
Ere we reach the "other side."
We we nearer than we seem
To that land beyond the tide 1
And are closer than we dream
To the Liver's "other side."
atlistellaueen geading.
It was at the close of a sultry day a
bout the first of May, 1864, that a single
horseman might have been seen riding a
long the turnpike a few miles west of
He was apparently about forty or fifty
years of age, large powerful frame, bold
open countenance, and possessed of a da
ring, restless eye. His attire being semi
'‘i i
itary and_ semi•citizen, it would be
bar tp„iletermine to which of the oppos-
Lig*ties he belonged.
.N. , -He wore the blue cap of the Yankees,
the Trey blouse of the Confederates, and
the remainder of his apparel was that of
an ordinary. citizen.
His horse, a large powerful bay, swept
along with an easy rapid pace.
• By making an abrupt turn he left the
main road, and entering a biidle path was
soon hi a dense forest. ,
The sun had already gone down when
he emerged from the forest, and riding up
to a large farm-house, asked lodging for
the night
The farmer who was a perfect "South
ern Fire-eater," eyed him a moment sus
piciously, and then in multifarious tones
said :
"Well, yes, I reckin stranger, as yoti
might stay ; though the country is so torn
up that one can't tell who to take in.—
Who are ye anyway ?"
"Simply a weary and benighted travel
er, who will leave with the morning's
The traitorous looking farmer called to
a negro who was near, and bade him put
the traveler's horse in the barn. The
strangqr accompanied him and had the
horse put in the stall nearest the door with
the saddle on.
"Debblish strange," muttered the negro.
"Must be afeared some one's comin' to
gobble 'urn up."
'As soon as the negro had a chance to
speak privately with bitemaster,he inform
ed him of the manner he had left the
L r3e at the stable:
"I'll watch him, Jake, and you remain
handy for I su4leet that he's Mead's Scout.
GLoncus. 'lf he should be, I want you
to go to the forest after Hawkers." . '
The ne g ro's eyes sparkled greedily, as
he replied:
"Golly, Massa, only find dat out and
I'm off to de woods in no time."
During this short conversation the sub
ject of it was in the sitting room quietly
smoking a short black pipe, while he
seemed buried in thought. lie had un
buckled his sabre and leaned it against
the wall, but his pistols were still in his
belt, around his waist.
His blue cap was placed on his knee,
and his iron grey hair fell upon his shoul
ders in profusion while his keen, restless
eys kept constantly in motion. As he sat
there he looked what he really was, a des
perate character.
His reverie was at length broken by the
entrance of a pretty, black-eyed girl, who
announced supper.
"Very glad, said the "stranger, "in fact
lam very hungry, Miss. What may I
call you ?"
"Della 1" •
"Della ? -A very , pretty-na me- you
aro the gentleman's aughter 2' .
"No sir."
- I •His niece, then?"
"No sir."
Y-A relative then, anyway 2"
"I think no relation at all. I pan
I • • Ai - : I vsyi 0 y • •- - k:11)1',1=
ply an orphan girl — Della Doran—whom
Mr. Biswick has taken to raise; but,sup
per waits." •
The stranger started up at the sound of
the name, bent' a keen glance on the love
ly girl ; but said not a word.
The landlord, his foster daughter, and
the stranger . were the only occupants of
the supper table.
_ Mr. Biswick beina b somewhat talkative,
intimated that the fair girl was not his
child, but the daughter of a scamp who.
had deserted her at her mother's death,
gone to California, and he bad kept her
merely out of gratitude.
The•stranger seemed almost to strug
gle as the farmer . dill continued to de
grade the girl.
He raised his hand to brush a sold
sweat from his broiv, and as he did so a
small slip of paper fell from his blouse
pocket to the floor.
It was unnoticed by any save Mr. Bis
When supper was over they all arose
from the table, and the planter passing
Around, adroitly slipped the note in his
pocket. •
Conducting the stranger to the sitting :
room he left him, and going into a pri
vate room lit a candle, and glanced at the
note. It was brief as follows :
"Forward to the front, GLORCUS. r ,
"Ho, ho ! I know him now," chuckled
the farmer. "He is Glorcus, the famous
scout. There's a reward for him, and I
am a fool if I don't get it."
At a signal the negro entered.
"It's as I expected, Jake ; he is Mead's
cant. Go at once for Hawkers: The re
ward is ours."
"I'll go, Massa, I'll go," said the negro
and pulling on his cap ran out into the
night air- Once out he muttered to him
"GAly, if it am Glorcus, debble be to
ray when they cotch urn. Dis chile bs
bkeene den."
Having dispatched the negro for the
Confe lerates, the wicked, traitorous far
mer returned to the room in which the ot•
je t ofhis betrayed sat, and entered into
nversation with him. s
r The eves of.Glorcus rolled suspiciously
around;but he otherwise evinced no ap
prehension of danger.
Complaining of ennui from the effect of
his day's travel, he proposed to retire.
This was what Biswick desired; and he
cheerfully led the way to the 'bed cham
As soon as the Confederate left the
room, the scout buckled on his saber, In
stead of retiring to bed, and remained at
the window in a listening attitude.
He had not been long in this position
when a tap at gin door aroused him.
With revolver in hand be opened the door
Pale and trembling, the girl, Della Do
ran, entered, making frantic 'gestures for
him to keep silence. Seizin e ,c , the frighten
ed maiden by the hand, the brave old
scout said : . •
"What is it, my dear, that frightens
you ?"
Seeming to gain strength from his kind
words, she replied
"Oh ! sir, fly from here; you are in dead
ly peril 1 Each moment you . remain in
creases your danger 1
• The scout received this startling an
nouncement as cooly as if it had been an
oiderirem his General; and merely said:
"Yoil - wiligive me some information us
to the nature Of my,ilanger if you wish
me to avert it
"Mr Biswick thinks You are the great
scout Glorcus, and has sent for guerillas
to arrest you."
"For Mosby ?"
"No, worse. Mosby has some humanity
and power; but he has sent for the wretch
Steve Hawkers."
"Never fear, said the scout."
"But you will go nevertheless?"
"I will not be taken; but you must an
swer some questions Ent."
"Ask them quick."
"Is your name really Della Doran?"
"It. is."
"Do you remember anything of your pa
rents ?"
"Not a great deal. My mother died
when I was young, and I can just remem
ber my father leaving me with Mr. Bis
wick and going to California."
"Do you love your foster father ?"
"No sir, I cannot. He is very cruel,
and swears I shall marry Captain Haw
kers." • •
"That is sufficient, I shall go now, but
I will return soon and tell you some
Arising,he glided out of the room, nod
Della having accomplished her errand of
mercy, retired.
The famous scout managed to reach the
stable unperceived,and securing his horse,
led him to the rear of the house and
hitched him to a tree. Then holding a re
volver in each hand, he crept over the
wall and walked up the garden path.
Flashing lights and confused voices
told him that the Confederates had come.
A heavy tread of feet wits heard coming
down the garden- walk ; and ho distin
guished the voice of- the negro saying :
"Let 'urn kill 'im; but golly, don't cotell,
me near; might get a stray bullet!"
In an instant the scout leveled a pistol
at the head of the treacherous black and
fired.• Without a groan the negro fell
dead in the garden walk.
With yells of vengeance the guerillas
rushed towards the scout,„who nimbly
leaped the garden fence, vaulted into the
saddle, and amid flashing swords and
whizzing shots, dashed off into the forest.
'go horse, after him," shouted Captain
flawkers. "Five thousand to the man
who brings him down."
Then therawas mounting in hot lade,
and the COnfederates thundered at him.
The scout having reached an open spot
about three- miles from the farm-house,
paused on the opposite side in a thick
growth of underbush, with a cocked pistol
in each hand, the rein in his teeth, and
thui waited for his pursuers to come up.
In the course of half an hour the guer
illas, seven in number, rode into the open
spot, and paused for consultation.
Various conjectures were made as to the
whereabouts of the scout, and the rebel
captain vowed he would give a good round
sum to know just where he was.
His speech was cut short by the crack
of a pistol, and Captain Hawkers fell
from his horse.
Twd guerillas drew holsters and return
ed the fire, hut now pistol shot after pistol
shot came from an unseen quarter, and
three Confederates fell. - The remainder
terror stricken, fled..
The scout rode out to examine his fal
len foe. Three were quite dead, and the
fourth was dying. Leaving the field of
carnage, he made his way back to the
farm-house. Fastening his horse near the
gate be entered it. As he was passing a
cross the hall he heard a voice, in a room
on the right, begging for mercy.
"Don't plead to me for mercy,' said the
harsh voice of Biswick. "You know you
told the Union scout that Hawkers was
coming. Now take that I"
A blow and a scream followed.
"Hold !" thunered the scout, bursting
into the room.
"What right have you to command me
to hold?" cried the astonished rebel.
"The right of a father I"
"A. fattier ?"
"Yes, James Biswick. lam Albert Do
ran., who years ago trusted my infant
daughter with you while I went to . Cali
fornia to amass a fortune. I made it in an
obscure mine, and concealed it in a cache,
but was at that time captured by . the sav
ages and kept a prisoner for years. I made
my escape, secured the hidden treasure,
and returned to the States just as the war
broke out. I joined Mead's corps under
the assumed name of Glorcus. Dfy expe
rience in Indian warfare has made me the
great scout I am. I am now here to claim
my child."
With the beautiful Della behind him on
his powerful horse, he rode into Mead's
camp the next morning at sunrise. It was
in the midst of the terrible battle of the
Wilderness, that Glorcus met and struck
Biswiek dead with his vengeful sword.
"This," said he, " is for your cruelty to
my child."
Drinking Water.
Dr. Hall is opposed to the immoderate
use of water as- a drink. He says :
The longer one puts off drinking water
in the morning, especially in summer, the
less he will require during the day; if
much is drank during the forenoon. the
thrist often increases and a very unpleas
ant fullness is observed, in addition to a
metalic taste in the mouth.
The less water a man drinks the better
for him, beyond a moderate amount. The
more a man drinks the more strength be
has to expend in getting rid of it, for all
the fluids taken into the system must be
carried'out—and as there is but little nour
ishment in water, tea, coffee, beer and the
like, more strength is e x pended in con
veying them out of the system than they
impart to'it. The more a man drinks the
more he must perspire, either by lungs or
through the skin, the more he perspires
the more carbon is taken from the system;
but this carbon is necessary for nutrition,
hence the less strength he has.
The more liquids used the greater must'
be the amount of urination, but this de
tracts a proportional amount of albumen
from the system, and it is time albumen in
the food that . strengthens us. Drinking
water largely diminishes the strength in
'two ways, and yet many are under the
impression that the more water swallow
ed the more thoroughly is the system
"washed out." Thus, the less we drink at
meals, the better for us. If the amount
were limited to a single cup cf hot tea or
hot milk and water at each meal, on im
measurable good would result to all.—
Many persons have fallen into the prac
tice of drinking several glasses of cold
water or several cups of hot tea at meals,
out of a mere habit; all such will begreat
ly benefited by breaking it up at once; it
may be well to drink a little a ft er each
meal, and, perhaps, it will be found that
in all cases It is better to take a single cup
of hot tea at each meal than a glass of
cold water, however pure.
iterit ii'easier to be wise for another
than for one's self.
A three months old oyster, is about the
Size of a split pea.
Suspicion and etlistrust are the greatest
enemies to friendship.. '
There is no 'fault in poverty, but the
minds that think so are faulty,
Nurture your mind with thoughts.
To believe in the heroic makes heroes.
Only what we have wrought into our
character during life can weiake away
with us.
Since we are exposed to inevitable sor
rows, wisdom--is the art of finding compen
Do with trials as men do with new
hats—put them on and wear them until
they become easy.
He_that does a base thing in' zeal for
a friend, burns the golden thread that
ties their hearts together.
A negro in Louisiana stolea large quan
tity of meat lately.. He was tried by a
jury of negroes, and because he confessed
the theft, lie was acquitted on the ground
of insanity.'
_ _
We cannot conquer fate and necessity;
yet we can yiehi to them in such a man
ner as to be greater than if we could,
Good nature, like a bee, collects honey
from every herb. 111-nature,like a spider
sucks poison from tiie sweetest Rower.
Through pleasant paths and flowery ways,
Through leafy woodlands colonnades,
Where e'en at noon the sun's keen gaze
Could scarcely reach, we two had stray'd.
All left behind the glare and strife—
The din and bable of existence;
Save us no trace of sociallife
In that enchanting silvan distance.
And then besides a giant tree.
The remnant of some ancient race,
Whose gnarled roots your throne might be,
We made awhile our resting-place. -
Here lichen moss and fern, and flower,
Their carpet soft as velvet spread;
Forget you, love, that happy hour?
Would you recall the words you said?
The throstle pour'd his liquid lay;
The vagrant bee pasted tuneful by ;
And there along its pebbly way
The gleaming brooklet murmur'd nigh.
I heeded not the throstle's tone,
Nor saw the brooklet's silver shine ;
I held your hand, your heart, my own ;
I only knew that you were mine.
Feared not else to know; for while
We rested in that.woodland place,
My sun, my love, was in your smile,
And heaven itself within your face
So what for me was bloom or flower,
Or arching branches over head?
Can I forget that happy hour?
Do you regret the words you said?
Bascomb's Baby.
She brought it over to our house Mrs.
Bascomb did. It was their first—a wee,
little red-faced, red headed, pug nosed,
howling infant. It was the hottest day in
July, but she had it wrapped up in
three shawls and a bed quilt, and was in
agony ever moment for fear it would
'DO see his darling, darling little face!'
she said to me as she unwound him about
forty times, and looked to see which end
his feet were on. ' •
I looked. I have been the father of
elevenjust such howling little wopsies,
and didn't see anything remarkable a
bout Bascomb's baby.
'See those eyes—that firmness of mouth,
that temper in his look I' she vent on.
I saw them.
The little sun of agun began to get red
in the face and beat the air, and his moth
er shouted
'He's being murdered by a pin
She turned him wrong end up, laid
him on his face, then on his back, loosen
ed his bands, rubbed the soles of his feet,
and the tears stood in her eyes as she
solemnly remarked :
'I know he won't live, he's—too smart!'
The child rcovered, and as he lay
on his buck across her knees and survey
ed the ceiling, sho went on :
'Such a head ! Why every one who
sees him says . that be is going to be a Bee
cher,a Greeley or a Bismark;do you notice,
that high forehead ?'
I did. I thoughtle was all forehead,
as his hair didn,t commence to grow un
til the back of his neck was reached, but
she assured me that I was mistaken.
'Wouldn't I just belt him once?'
I hefted him
I tad her I never saw a child of his
weight weigh so much and she smiled like
an ;angel ; she said that she was afiaid
didn't appreciate children,:but now she
knew I did.
'Wouldn't I just look at his darling lit
tle feet—his litle red feet and cunning
toes ?'
Yes, I would.
She rolled him over on his face and un
wound his feet. And triumphantly held
them up to my gaze- I contemplated the
hundreds of little wrinkleSrunning len&
wise and crosswise, the big toes and the
little toes, and I agreed with• her that so
far as I could judge from the feet and the
toes and the wrinkles, a future of unex
ampled brilliancy lay before the pug nos
ed imp..
He began to kick and howl, and she
stood him on end, set him up, laid him
down and - trotted him until she bounced
the wind coils into the middle of October.
'Who did he look like ?' •
I bent over the scar-faced rascal, pnsh
ed his nose one ; side, chucked him under
the chin;and didn't answer without due
liberation. I told her that there was a
faint resemblance of George Washington
around the mouth, but the eyes reminded
me of Daniel Webster, while the general
features had made me think of the poet
Milton ever since she'entered the house.
That was her view exactly, only she
hadn't said anything about it before.
•Didn't I think he wns too smart 'to
I felt of his ears, rubbed his 6ad, put
my finger down the back of his neck, and
told her that in my humble opinion, he
wasn't,"though he had a narrow escape.
If his nose had been set a little to one
side, or his ears had appeared in tip place
of his eyes, Rascomb could have purchas,
ed a weed for his hat without delay. No;
the child would live; there wasn't the least
'doubt about it, and any man or woman
who said he wouldn't, grow up to make
the world thunder with his fame would
steal the wool off a lost lamb in January.
She felt so happy that she rolled the
imp up in his forty-nine bandages shook
him'to straighten his legs and take the
kinks out of his neck, and then carried
him home under her arm, while my ltife
ma& me go along with au umbrella, for
fear tbe'sult would peel his little nose..
A house keeper seat bridget out one
morning totuy some heads of lettuce. She
returned with postage stamps. When ask
rd how she made the mistake, she nertly
answered, "Au' sure, wasn't told to get
beads of letterer
Courtesy Compensated..
A young editor of a theatrical journal
called lately on an actress living in a
third-story in the Ri — su Richelieu. Leav
ing her rooms, he descended the stairway.
At the first floor landing, a door sudden-
ly opened, and a black coated gentleman
stepping suddenly . out, -ran against the
young man ; begging pardon, he abruptly
asked :
"Mousier, have you half an hour to
"For what, sir ?"
"To tender me a service which Will
tiring you in a trifle,say a huudred francs?'
"Do you call that losing half an hour?
What is it you wish ?"
"To serve as a witness to a will.- One
witness has failed to come ; the sick man
is dying. Will you serve?"
The journalist consented, and following
the notary, found himself in a sumptuous
chamber, near the bed of the moribund,
and seated himself with the other wit
nesses. The old man had no relatives,
and made short work with his will. It
was ready for him to sign.
They opened the curtains to give him,
light. A. ray fell across the journalist's
face. The sick man saw him, and mo
tioned him to approach.
"Sir," be said, in a feeble voice, "do you
know Me?"
"I have not that honor, sir." -
''Do you not recall seeing rue at the
Theatre Fraucais ?"
"I can refresh your memory. Did you
not attend the first representation of 'Fire
in a Convent e
"I was there, certainly."
"And I too. You had a good orchestra
stall ; I a miserable stool - right in the
door-way. The draft made me ill. You
gave me your comfortable seat, and took
my poor one." -
"I but did my duty, sir s toward au old
man and an invalid.'
"Ah S They are rare—these people who
do their duty. Allow me to give an evi
dence of my . acknowledgentent."
And turning the ear of the notary, the
old man added a codicil to his will. The
witness signed, the notary countersigned.
and the former, each noted for a hundred
francs of legacy, retired. The next day
the journalist, revisited the actress. Com
ing away he rang at the old man's door,
and asked after him. He died du ring n the
night. In due time the young man at
tended his funeral. After it the notary
said to him :
"To-morrow we open the will. Be there
You are interested?
"Our editor did not neglect the invita
tion. He attended the reading of the
The old man had bequeathed him a
hundred thousand francs.
Au orchestra seat well paid for.
Have always the best confidence in
God and fear nothing.
Simplicty is one of the striking ehame
teristics of real genius.
What a man does is the real test- of
what a man is.
Be praised not for your ancestors, but
for your virtues.
A hypocrite is one that neither is what
he seems nor what he is.
,Good qualities are incomprehensible to
those ivb.o have them not.
The Ohio river is going into a decline.—
It keeps its bed and is quite low.
Modesty seldom resides in a breast that
is not enriched by noble virtues,
How cant thou be a judge of another's
heart that does not know thine own.
Minds of moderate calibre ordinarily
condemn everything which is beyond' heir
Priceless as the gift of utterance may
be. practice or silence in some respects far
excels it.
See the sack open before, you buy what
is in it ; for he who trades in the dark
asks to be cheated.
No person ever got stung by hornets
who kept away from where they were.—
It is just so with bad habits.' .
It is always in our power tornake a
friend by smiles ; what a folly, then, to
make an enemy by frowns.
Benefit your friends that they may love
you still more dearly; benefit your ene
mies that they may become your 1. iends.
—I do not like to see a man sleeping in
the bar-room of a taverdin daylight.
I do not like to see idlers lolling on
counters of stores, or in mechanics' shops,
when the hands are at work.
I do not like to see a man spend half of
his time on the street, talking about poli
tics, when he should be at work.
I do not like to see a man ask four dol
lars for au article, and then sell it fur
three. ,
I do not like to see a man flatter people
to buy on credit, and than distreas them
to make payment. ,
BARNUM'S WIVES.-Mr. Barnum was
first' married forty-five years ago, Novem
ber 8, 1829, to Charity Hallos; a Bethel
i tailoress. He was nineteen' years old at
' the time of this marriage, of Which be
cldse to say: 'I don't think:l could have
ono better if I had waited. twenty years.' he took his erst bride-to was in
B thel, and cost him $1,050. - The house
beltook his second bride to is on Murry
Hill, Fifth avenue, New York, and is a
brown stone palace of ma..r.rifieent prOpor
ti-ms and worth over $100,900:: Mr.itarn
*urn has daughters nearly. twice as old, ns
his present wife, and granAltildven. With
in two or Iliteeyearvof berrite:-44afn;
Express. _ .
Good dAughtors nuke good
82400 PER YEAR.
I:3 3;40
stud --2 an or.
Girls can al
from a single.mi
spring, melts ti
Trey girls w an&
are not afraid
The young
_Ng . "
York are called dIV
When a pret noun
man's toes, he i yea
Does not a yi
4th withjoy %OK
ling babe's Ist 2th ?
Women have more heart than men but
few men have the heart to pay thirty
forty dollars for a summer list.
N 44,
A young la It West who received
$l,OOO damages a kiss, is said to be
spoiling to be da a d 4
suffered some,' said an- Illi
nois deacon, 'but he never knew what it
was to have his team run away mid kill
his wife right in the busy season whoa
hiied girls want three dollars a week.'
Mir The y say that if you want a free
fight - while traveling in the far west, you
must find a granger whose field has been
devastated by grasshoppers and congriit
ulate him on having disposed of his crop
without the intervention of middle men,
tg)...A Chicago merchant was found
dead in his office the other day, but there
were no marks up') his person to indicate
violence. Subsequent inquiry developed
the fact that the unhappy man-had • A.
gone a two hour's interview with au un
known life insurance agent, who had
quietly left, after literally talking him to
,ttfirA. few days since a ragged looking
organ grinder carrying a monkey made
the town of Staunton lively.stayiug three
or four days. His appearance excited pity
for his poverty. The day he left he call
ed at the National Valley Bank got large
notes for 6500, so he could more safely
conceal it on his person. In reply to the
surprised inquiry of the bank man he said,
`de mannky make it all.'
GOOD . YARN,-"Speaking, of shooting
ducks," says Dr. F., "puts me in mind of
the great storm that occurred when I lived
on. the island. As you are well aware,-our
island was near Casco Bay ; an a wf u 1
storm arose,and was so fierce that it drove
all the ducks in the bay into a pond, cciv.
ering about an acre, near my house. In
fact, so many ducks crowded into that
pond that I could not see a droP. of wa
ter I"
"Sho," says Smith, "did ye shut° any of
'am ?"
"That's what I was coming at. I wept., .
into the house and got my double-barrel z ,
ed shot gun, and. dischar,gedtioth bairelw
right into the midst or theni, but gifirs-''
tonishment, they all arose into We , .
leaving Oft, a solitary duck in tlO Tikandr ;'
"Good grabious ! ye don't' . say
Smith; "didn't ye her any shot. in -yer
or what in the thunder was the trouble?
Well,l was coming to that," said Dr.
"it astonished me at fast; but as soon. as
the ducks rose a few hundred yards in ilia
air, and commenced to separate a little,
ducks began to drop, and whether you be
lieve it or not, I picked up , twenty-nine
barrels of ducks, and it was , a.poor season
for ducks, too. You see, the ducks were
wedged in. so solid in the pond, that when
they rose they carried the dead into the
air with them, and when they separated,
down came the twenty-mine barrels of dead
ducks." . -
The Poetry of Summer: •
There is poetiy in the hum of bees,
when the orchards are in bloom; and the
sun is shining in unclouded splendor. upon
the waving meadows, and- the-garden is
richly spangled with spring flowers.—
There is poetry in the hum of the bee, be
cause it brings back-to us, as in a dream,
the me:wiry of bygone days, when our
hearts were alive to the happiness of child
hood—the time when we could lie, down
upon the green bank and . enjoy the
,ness of summer's neon ; when our hopes
were in the blossoms of the orchard; our
del ig'it in the sunshine, our untiring ram
bles in the meadows, and :our perpetual
,musement in the scented flowers. Since
these days, time has rolled over us with
such a diversity of incidents, bringing so
many changes in our anodes. of living and "
thinking that we have learned, perhaps
at some cost, to analyze our feelings,aud to
say, rather than feel. that there is poetry
inthe hum ,of bees, •
But let one of. these honcy-ladeu wan
derers find his way into our apartment,
and 'while he struggles with frtinti , :. eflints
to escape through the closed Window, we
cease_ to find pleastire , in his busy hum.
There is poetry in the flowers that grow •
in sweet profusion upon wild and unculti
vated spots of .eartli,• exposing their deli
cate lea.vesto the tread of the rude inhabi
tants of the, wilderness, and spreading
forth their scented eharnis to the careless
mountain wind—in the thousand, thous-
and little stars of beauty looking fbrth
like eyes, with no eye to look_ again; or
cups, that seemed formed to catch the.
dew-drops ;or spiral pyramids of varied •
hue. sibixtting up from leafy beds, and
pointing faithfully to the shining sky ; or
crowns of golden slender mounted upon •
fragile stems ; or purple wreathes that nev
er touched a human brow—all- bursting
forth,tlooming and then fading,..wichend- s
less succession in the midst of, iintldery .
wilds ; inrain and sunshine, inaileut. night"
and glowing day...with an and ati4fanik.
pose in their - 414 earstenee.jtoetutoblol
to the mind - of izMn. -
r •
d man