po THEY HISS HE AT HOISEI j)o they min me al-bothe—do they min met . ’XjwmUhs yt-ftioranop ttmatite**^; I'd know tpis moment, some Joyed one, . Weresayingl wish'lfßTvele.fadro; To fctl that thegrpap althp./ireaido ; Were ilahking of mp as t roam;, Oh, yes, ’Would ha joy hayo'nd tneysare To knowlhattheymiM me tlhome, ■ When twilight approach aeason That ever Ushered to, song— Doda some one; repeat my dame over, Ami.sigh (hall tarry ,ao long 7,;1. . , And is there no chord m Ihemusic. That’s missed .when my. voicp.U away, And a chord in each heart Regret at my wearisome-stty-7 : ’ J)o they set me a chair at the Wile, When evening’s home pleasures' are nigh; [When the candles arc lit in the -parlor, „ And the slats in. the palm azure sky ? And then when “ goodl nights ” are-repeated, And all lay down to their sleep, <■ Do they think of the absent;” and Waft me , A whispered “ good night,” white they weep 7 Do they miss me at home—do they miss tne At morning, at noon and-at night. And lingers one gloomy shade round them, That only my presence can light ? Are joys less invitingly welcome, And pleasures less bale than before, because one is missed from the circle— Becauaal am with them no more? To-Day and To-Morrow. High hopes that burned like stars sublime, Go down in the heavens of freedom; And true hearts perish in the lime We bitterliest need 'em! But never sit we down and say, There's nothing left but sorrow; VVe walk the wilderness to-day, The promised land to-morrow. Our birds of song ore ailcntjnow, There are no flowers blooming I Vet life bears in the frown bough, And freedom’s spring is coming! tide come up alway, Though wc may strand in sorrow; And our good bark aground to-day, Shall float again to-morrow. Through all Die long dark night of years, The people’s cry. ascendelh, And carih is wel with blood and tears, But our meek sufferance endclh- The few shall not forever sway. The many mourn in sorrow , The powers of hell are strong to But Christ shall rise to-morrow Though hearts brood o’er the past, our eyes With smiling future glisten ‘ For lo! our day bursts up the skies— Lean out jour souls and listen I The world rolls freedom's radiant way, And ripens with her sorrow. Keep heart I who bears the cross to-day, Shall wear the crown to-morrow ! 0 youth! flame earnest,still aspire, With energies immortal ‘ To many a- heaven of desire, Our yearning opes a portal! And though Age wearies by the way, And hearts break in the farrow, \V e'll sow the golden grain lo day— The harvest comes to-morrow Build up heroic lives, and ah Be like a sheathed sabre Ready lo flash out at God’s rail 0, chivalry of Übo' Triumph and Toil are twins—and aye Joy suns the cloud of sorrow, And *tis the martyrdom to-day. Brings victory to-morrow. Gerald Massey. 11l MHIUM S SKETCH. From Dodge't Literary Muteum. Sin. BROW’S IdisHAPi OK LOSING OMi’s ibENTITY, BY H. HAMPTON, A. B. Mr. Eliphnlet Brown was a bachelor of thirty five, or thereabout —one of those men who seem born.to pass through the world alone. Save this peculiarity, there was noth ing to distinguish Mr. Brown from-the multi tude of other Browns who are born, grow up, and die, in this world of ours. It chanced that Mr. Brown had' occasion to visit a town some fifty miles distant, on milters of business. It was his first visit to me place, and be purposed slopping for a nnv, m order to give bun an opportunity to look about Walking leisurely through ihe streets, he was alt at once accosted by h child of five, who ran up to him, exclaiming, “Father, I want you to buy me some cnnd 1- ” “Father 1 ” it possible that he, a bachelor, was .addressed by that litle f He could not belidve it “ Who were you speaking to, my dear?” heenquited of the little girl. “ 1 spoke to you father,” said the little one surprised Really, thought Mr. Eiiphalet Brown, this is embarrassing. 11 1 am not your father, my dear,” he es sayed “ What is your name ?” The child laughed heartily, evidently think tnc it a good joke. “ What a funny father sou arc,” said she. “But are you going to tret me some candy ?” “ Yes, yes, I’ll buy you a pound, if you won’t call me father any more,” said "Mr. Tirnwn, nervously. The child clapped her hands with delight. The promise was all site remembered. Mr. Brown proceeded to a confectionary store, and actually purchased a pound of candy, which he placed in the hands of the child In coming out of Ihe slore, they en countered the child’s molher. “0 mother said the little girl, “just see now much candyjfatAer has bought me." “ You shouldn’t have bought her so. much at a lime, Mr. Jones,” said the lady. “I am afraid she will make herself sick. But how did you happen to get home so quick ? I didn’t expect you till night.” “ Jones—l—madam"said the embarrassed Mr. Brown, “it’s all a mistake. I ain’t Jones at all. It isn’t my name. .1 am Eli phalet Brown, of W and this is the first lime 1 ever came to this city.’’ “ Good heavens ! Mr. Jones, what has put this silly tale into your head ? You’ve concluded to change your name, hove you? Perhaps it is also your intention to change your wife ?” Mrs. Jone’s tones were defiant,, and this tended to increase Mr. Brown’s embarrass mem. But he must not leave matters in this position. “ I havn’t any wife, madam j I never had any. On my word as a gentleman, J never was married," “ Arid do you intend to (talm this tale off upon met said Mrs. Jones, with excitement, “If yon’ro not married, I’dlike to know who / am?” ' 1 “ 1 have nodopbt youare a mostrespeota-' 1 ble lady,” said Mr.’Brown, •• and I conjec-> '-■ ,2&l*f-H y* r..^ :1 J * 1 —!:'!. " 1 ' T -'^ k '..1/; ' tv Hi; H' { : : Iw;*£ a 4 : 7<3 *99Luli ;» «Ai:.t iv* v. fa.- v V-J .'A*» •:•:! ". » - BtfootrO to “ Your wife should not go alone. She has hardly recovered.” ■Brown gave a despairing glance at the crowd around him, and, deeming it useless lo make opposition where so many seemed thor oughly convinced that he was Mr. Jones, fol lowed the lady in. . ’ “ Where shall 1 drive?” said the whip. “I —1 don’t know,” said Mr. B. “ Where would you wish to be carried, ma’am ?” “ Home, of course,” murmured Mrs.'Jones. “ Where’s that?" asked the driver. “ 1 don’t know,” said Mr. Brown. “No. 19 H street,” said the gentle man already introduced, glancing contemptu ously at Brown. The coach drove up before a two story brick house. “ Will you help me out, Mr. Jones,” asked the lady. “ I am not fully recovered from tiie fainting fit into which you cruelly drove me.” “ Arh you quite sure that I’m Mr. Jones?” asked Brown, with anxiety. “ Of course,” said the lady, “ Then,” said the latter, resignedly, “ I suppose 1 am. But if you’ll believe me, I was firmly convinced this morning that my name was’ Brown, and, to tell the truth, I haven’t any recollection of this house.” Brown helped Mrs. Jones into the parlor, but, good Heavens I conceive the astonish ment of all, when a gentlemen was-discov ered seated in an arm chair, who was the eery fac simile of Air. Brown, in form, fea tures and every other respect ! “ Gracious goodness !” ejaculated the lady, 11 which —which of you is ray husband?” An explanation was given, the mystery cleared up, and jllr. Brown’s pardon sought for the.embarrassing mistake. It waa freely accorded by Mr. Brown, who was quite de lighted to think (hat, alter all, he was-not Mr. Jones, with a wife and child to boot. - Mr. Brown has not since visited the place where this “ Comedy of Errors” happened. He is afraid of losing his identity again. Fob tbb Ladies.— We have often heard ladies express a desire to know by what pro cess the fine gloss observable on new linens, shirt bosoms, etc. is produced, and in order to gratify them, we subjoin the following re cipe for making Gum Arabic starch: - “Take two ounces of while-Gum Arabic powder—put it in a pitcher and pour on it a pint or more of 'boiling water, (according to the degree of strength you desire,)andthan having covered it let it stand afl night.,. .In the morning ...pour, it carefully Tromahe dregs into a clean bottle; cork it and keep foMise. A table spoonful of gum, Water stirred-into a pint of starch -that- baa been-made in the,usual manner,-will give to lawn-(either white-or. printdd) a-look-of-newoess when-nothing else can restore them after washing. 'lt is ,elgo good (much dilated) for white •muslin end bobioet.” ' ■ ' " SPAmsh" Is toyvj worhan Is fire | the devil pomes and blows, ‘ f ' 1 ' ‘‘XtfEAQJTATIOtf OF THOC(3HT i 8 THB‘ «» WI8DlOHi” ;v -r-.ir. j-'h.il.-'V' ir.; 7 ..< .., s _y, , . *i, .V SELECT MISTOIiM. ; ; T H£' 1 : C E V OYA «E. A BAILORBOY*S FORTUNE, < . BV OfcOROE 8. RAYMOND." ; ‘MoyLjoyl Hurrah, mother ! You shall have fine and good things to eat, besides a nice warm drfeea and stout.shoes now,?” shou ted a chubby blue-eyed boy of, it may be twelve yehrs, clad in the hUmhle:gnrl»of pov erty, flinging (Joor. and bounding into a .small comfortless apartment on the -third floor of a dingy-lookitig. old-wooden building near the canal in the village of Cleve land, .Ohio. 'i.-sV-Come, hurrah, mother, put away that slave work, and go sod gat a pice.warm din ner tight off,” continued the. little fellow ap proaching a pale, delicate woman, scantily clad .in a thin dress, her face pinched with hunger, and her hands then blue with cold. ” VVhat, what do you mean my child,” said the woman looking wonderingly up from her work. “Do you know I have no money to buy any thing to eat, and I must finish (his 'vest before I can get even a stick'of wood for our fire, which is almost out.” " Nonsense, mother—let the vest go to some poor woman that has no stout boy like me to earn money for her. Look here,” and the little fellow flung down on -the table his two handfuls of half dollars, while a roguish smile lit up that handsome face as he beheld his mother’s look of wonder. “All right mother,’ 1 interrupted the boy, and down went another handful of bright sil ver coins. “ I’ll tell you alt about it mother. see I went to get my pay of Mr. Deni sin to-day for my two months, cooking on board the Aurora. Well, ho paid me my 830 all in these pieces, and then he asked mo ■if I would go for n month in his new schoo ner, for fifteen dollars. I told him I would, and then when he heard me tell how hard you had to work, and how poor and sick you were, he gave me ten dollars mote, and said you must gel a belter room, stop working, be sides, he says if I’ll slay all the winter in tho schooner end take care of her, I shall have twenty dollars) a month to bo paid weekly to you. So hurrah mother, we’ll have a big fire and a nice dinner, and—well, Mr. Deni son is a good man after all, if he is a rich old bachelor, us that crab-apple, old maid aunt Hetty Johnson calls him.” “ Heaven bless you my noble boy I” sobbed out the widow, as she clasped her arms about her child's neck, her head upon bis shoulders,‘and wept like a child,' for-joy; not so much for the timely aid her son hud brought Iter—although her heart was full of thankfulness for that, as for the noble quali ties displayed by the brave little fellow in re membering her and bringing home every shil ling of bis hard-earned wages instead of spen ding it foolishly as 100 many boys of his nge would have done. A month passed away, and again the handsome sailor boy—Frank Merrill, stood beside his mother in a comfortable furnished room, in a more respectable part of the town, while the widow, ns she gazed proudly upon her boy, looking full ten years younger, and much happier than she had done only four short weeks previous. A cheerful blaze was in the grnle, every thing about the room was neat and eloquent of comfort, and the widow Merrill was really beautiful, in her brown merino dress, and black gaiters, with her dark brown hair, so like that of Carlo Dolee’s St, Cecillia, parted on her classic brow and falling in wavy mas ses upon her shoulders, Frank thought his mother very beautiful and so did another person present. That person was Mr. Joseph Denison, the boy’s employer, a bluff good nalured money ma king bachelor of forty-five, who at the boy’s request accompanied him home. “ Mrs. Merrill,” said Mr. Denison, your son has been in my employ for the past three months and I am so well pleased with his prudence and general qualities, that with your permission, I would be pleased to keep him all winter on board of one of my vessels which sails tp-morrow for Buffalo, s “It is so late in the season that she) may not be able to return this winter, rrrwhich case you can have Frank’s wages monthly or weekly in advance for such is his wish, and should you need anything further, your orders on me will always be honored.” The widow could only murmur her thanks., and invoke God’s blessing on the kind hearted stranger whom she had never seen before, and who bidding her good night, left her blone with her darling boy. On the following day the schooner," West ern Trader, left Cleaveland with a full cargo of oats and corn bound for Buffalo. Thai very night there came a cbld north east enow storm, which finally closed the navigation of Lake Erie for the wimer. A whole month passed without any news from the schooher, and then, when everybody had given her up for lost, her Captain and crew came back to Cleveland with the repot! that she'was frozen fast to the ice, some thir ty miles to the estward, and full half (hat distance from the land. Then he left her and escaped to the shore on the ice; but all they could do to induto the bdy,'Frank' Merrill, to abandon her was of no avail. “ No I will not leave her,”., he said, ,“!• promised Mr. Denison tostay.by herandtaka care of,-her during the winter," •- , r “ God bless the noble boy!” igaid Mr.Deni son. as the captain told ofthe little-fellovr’e 'fidelity and tbe 'oxclsmation was echoed : back byihalfia dozen business nsen who l happened to be in -the'offica at the time. . 'Within' two hoursa raoronffitießt, comman der ; wlth eighlTearless fellows, Jo stay by the vessel till theyjget her inlopon somehowjsbt outTrotp Cleveland toboard her > , m 'S®Sf(r -£. < B **' •' A ! iKi. 1 •&. -j? 1.4, Kioi v 1 y^ -:.T .'iii'.'v, fV' they .arrived abreasiot where she frozen in, tlie ice was broken up to wilKjn five miles of the land, andthe scboo .SO as BPPP. T" ■ v " ' .. weeks passedand all remained uncerjj tain ■tfith regard tp the itns of the Western Trader, or her .brave boy commander, when she .was heard of again on (he Canada side, somepfiymiles westward of herformer posi. lion. ;i But, before, relief could bp .sent |o her, there.cama a violent galewestward, which >broke>up the ice, and she. was borne down.ihe lake embedded in a.field of .ice of. more than a. hundred acres. Neat she was seen off Erie, a hundred rttilealo the westward of Buffalo. With spy glasses, they could even see the boy standing on'herbut it was almost night; to board her was impossible, and at daylight she had dis appeared. As thero was but a small stock of provis ions onboard when she left Cleveland, people wondered how the boy had subsisted all the time and predicted his death by starvation, provided the schooner would live out the fierce gates. )i Several times afler her appearance off Erie, the Western Trader was seen in vari ous pahs of the lake, but always toO far off to make out anything about her distinctly, only that there was always a smoke seen com ing out of the Cabin stove. At last one Sunday afternoon, in the month of April, about a week after the western part of the fake was clear of ice, a schooner un der just the head of her foresail was seen ten miles ciutside the harbor of, Cleveland and as she caiqe bravely in between the piers, thou sands of people on the shore and ranged along the wharves recognized her ns the Wes tern Trader, and the brave little fellow at her helm, as Frank Merrill, the Winter Rover of tho lake, returned in safety from his dreary ice voyage. Such a welcome as England would accord to Sir John Franklin, should he escape from -ice ribbed Artie prison, and return to bis na tive land, was given by the citizens of Clever land to the ice-voyager, Frank Merrill. People wondered'how he had subsisted, but when they saw his well conditioned face: his liberal supply of boiled and parched corn, and tho way ho had cut away the schooner’s rail, windlass and joiner work of her cabin for fuel, they wondered no longer. The young commander of the winter crui ser got his twenty dollars per month, besides many a’handsome present from those who ad mired, his courage and (fidelity, and when tho WestonfTrader was comple ely repaired, a bill of sale for (he one-half of her was placed in Mrs. Merrill’s hands for her son, by Mr. Joseph Denison. Long before summer was over, there was no Mrs. Merrill in Cleveland, and those who inquired at her former residence, were direc ted to a beautiful mansion on ilie bank of the lake some two miles from town, where tnpy were sure to find tho rich Mrs. Denison, just ascorteous and happy to meet them as ever tjlic poor widow Merrill had been. Frank Merrill is ut the present time one of the must gentlemanly as well os popular steamboat captains on Lake Erie. And one of theTnost noblest traits of bis character is, that he still loves, respects, aqd makes his home with his mother; while Mr, Denison he calls father and loves him quite as well as he could do if he really was his father. A few evenings ago as the cars.of Car rollton Railroad wore approaching the city, a little girl about three years old ran in front of the engine and stopped on the center of the track. The breakaicn attempted to slop the engine ns soon ns the child was perceived, but on and on hurried the iron monster, and just as it was about to crush into the earth the beauteous victim which thus so innocently braved its coming, the strong hand of an ath letic young man was stretched- forth, and at the hazard of another life, the child was saved. Loud was the shoutt of applause from the few who witnessed lire daring deed, and in triumph the young man bore the child away, and delivered it to its mother. Any attempt to describe a mother’s feelings on such on oc casion would be more than vain. She felt as a mother alone can feel, when the darling of her heart—her only child—is rescued from the very jaws of death;, and with an elo quence which no words can convoy, she looked and spoke her thanks. That mother was a widow, young and fair as the incarnation of a poet’s dream; and withal, she was blessed with nO little of this world’s goods. Of course she was grateful to the preserver of her child's life, nnd as he was poor, she offered to bestow upon him a goodly largess. He, however, refused to ac cept any reward for doing what ho consid ered to be his duly, and so the matter for the time rested. " Since then, an iniimacy has sprung up be tween the ybung man and the grateful-widow, and the result was, that yesterday they went together to Mobile, whore the widow’s name is at the Hymeneal. Shea,' to be changed, and the young man ia’tb become hot drily the pro lector, but the step father of the child he saved. , ' May the joys oT the" twain 'increase, and their days bemany,—. O. True Delta. . ■ ■ -ry V") -myr-T^rf—M; : . poo intended all women .to bebeautiful, just ns mdpb'.jus he.did raorpiiig glories, wid rdses; and.wl\at be jute tided theyshouldbe cpjne, wpuld, if they; obey, hjs laws. and cut jndujgence, and cofset, strings, and indulge ,|p, frfpdomliend idgirl jo expect to 1 with the. ac«, tiohiOf he'tjupgs depending ajpcj),the. iSjye,• nature ..qfa cent's lape,js ( ,*a, : absurd- look for Mips-in 5 a anew? .bw»kf •or a full grown oak in wt-.atwinv .■- , , fn .Vi£- IjSvi',- 'V'SVH .■ ■ x 'W *' f:' 1 -t :? > "I S'*'! " V TIJKI-'H Romantic marriage. ■/. ' 1 ;<7 7 > -*r> ■ w 1 , ; bailed-publisher. r ..hCiis is T o. 10. ; Be^maUpapf-^yUllawWlr*. f - A TRUE INCIDENT. ' Tt'he dlstihgmShed William VVih, within six or seven.'months after this first marriage, be came addicted to intemperance, the effect of which operated strongly on the mind and health of his wifejandio a.few. months more she was numbered with lhe dead. Her death led him to leave the. country where he resi ded, and’he moved to'Richmond, Va„ where he soon rose to distinction. But his evil habits hung about- him,'end occasionally he was found with jolly, frolicsome spirits of bacchanalian revelry. . His -true friends ex postulated with him, to convince him of the injury ho Was' doing to himsell; but ha s'ill persisted. His practice began to .fall off and many looked on him as On I the sure road to ruin. He was advised to get married, with a view of correcting his habits. This he con sented to do if the right person offered. He accordingly paid his addresses to Miss Gam ble, After some months’ attention he asked her hand in marriage. She replied— “ Mr. Wirt, I have been well aware of your intentions for some lime back, and should have given you to understand (bat your visits and attentions were not accepta ble, had I not reciprocated the affection which you evinced towards me. But 1 cannot yield my assent until yod make/me a pledge never to taste, touch, or handle any intoxicating drinks,”, This reply to Wirt was as unexpected ns it was novel. His answer was, that he re garded that proposilion as a bar to all further consideration of the subject, and ho left her. Her course towards him wos the same as ever; - his, resentment and neglect. Gne dayi while lying in the outskirts of the city, near a little grocery dr grog-shop, drunk,’a young lady, whom it is unnecessary to name was passing that way to her Itome, not far off, and beheld him with his face up turned to the rays of the scorching sun. — She took her handkerchief, with her own namo marked Upon it, and placed it over his face. After he had remained in that way for sortie hours he was awakened, and his thirst being very great, he went to the grog-shop to get a drink, when he discovered the hand kerchief, at which he looked, and at once he saw the name that was on it. After pausing, he exclaimed: “Great God! who left this with me? Who placed this on my face?” No one knew. Ho dropped the glass, ex claimed—“ Enough I Enough !” He Velircd instantly from the store, forget ting his thirst, but not his debauch, the hand kerchief, or tho lady—vowing, that if God gave him strength, ncvkr to touch, taste or handle intoxicuiing’drinks. To meet Miss Gamble was Ihe hardest ef fort of his life. If he met her in her carriage or on foot, he popped around the nearest cor ner. She at lasi addressed a note under her own hand, inviting him to )ier house, which ho fi nally gathered courage enough to accept. — He told her if she still boro affection to him be vyould agree to her own terms. Her reply was :■ “My conditions are now what they ever have been,” “Then,” said Wirt, “I accept them.” They were soon married, and from that day he kept his word, and his affairs briuht efted, while honors and glory gathered thick upon his brow. His name has been enrolled high in the temple of fame ; while patriotism and renown live after him with an imperishable lustre. Not long since an eminent commercial lawyer related the ensuing anecdote as an illustration of the “ composition” which sometimes entered into the selection of a ju ry : “ I bud a very important case,” said he, “involving some eighty or a hundred thou sand dollars : It "was a protracted case, ow ing to the complicated interests involved in it and altogether a very tedious trial. When it was given to the jury, the judge remarked to them, as they were about leaving the court room for private consultation, that if, during the progress of the case, any terms of law had been used or any rules stated, that they did not fully understand, the court was pre pared beforehand lo make all needful expla. nations. . “Upon this, one, a man with a high, bald head, apd a calm, blue eye, upon whose 'sense of justice I had greatly relied (for he had paid the strictest attention to the entire proceedings) arose and said ! “1 believe I understand all the rules that have beendaid down, but there are two terms of law lhalhave been a good deal used du ring the trial, that I should like to know the meaning of.” “ Very well, sir,’’ responded the judge, “ what terms of law do you allude-to 1 “ Well,’ said our model juror,, ‘the words I mean, ore the words .plaintiff and defend ant. The Negro. was made for slavery; as the ox,.and,lhe horse were .made'for servitude, and neither of them can be converted into a white man.-—-Wbsfi. Sent, » - , -It may be impossible to convert a horse into a white man, but we think it now clearly demonstrated that a while rmn can make ari an of himself*~-Dayton -Gats;' -1 ■-> - - ■ Thb wifb of- lh§ author of -lhe -'bßevcries dfia-Baohalor'Vhas.’gora baby-. -If he-don’t : gel wokeup’from his;“reverie«”,by the mid-, inight cryv” it . will ber-because .“there jnever wtasuob a baby- WfdMi”---' ■' • v; aV ‘ui .r-1 fffftpf-etjßci- «*V» * (tyj; ■■' I-isr-wO ‘ t yipa^^4}ng|eai)i^ iSjtg s«ys, “ U'ja.an.infftngpfpspl pn : Roman’s water.,priytlegesv’.”- Employment tor Women. (he manyavocalidnsSuitable for This tafch'Ahd of !t V® •&*•«! 'cnjy; ip'menaM', eomp,only to soaf&i$ oa f&i bofi'J jn&M£t nurse, MM P ro * Miejy to employtog. tftteptf ‘bn tntfdfe. work. ,To us Jt.looks as, mpch pui of plkce '' td‘ lee men gofpg (he apd. wMpW ip ciwkipg—two ocoppalions'which, doTnofappear to usauita blefor any one in panla|opns. "'’’ r ' ! A hopse painter itngk.es frofii dows, they would he raised above dependence or want for the time of their natural lives. One feature of this trade which marks it as peculiarly suited to women, is its period!* cal nature. There is ever a rush of work in spring, while in winter and miA|ummer so little is done that many hands our of* work. Now, “ Satan finds 4ome mischief still for idle hands to do',’,,’ and almost oer*. lain as men have an qnsteady employment}’ they themselves become unsteady) If the work is of an effeminate or,unhealthy char* acter, this is sure to be the case. Stone ma sons are not so opt to gut on “ sprees” as pur printers and painters, because their muscles are better developed and their brain firm ( from better air and* exercise. They do hot so much require .artificial stimulus and .ex citement. The mason can real —the painter or printer must run, when he has nothing else tp do; and. very few men can do any thing when unemployed,in their own particu lar work. VVhen a woman gels out of work she has always plenty t.o do, and her leisure is apt to be her busiest lime. A female pain ter, after the spring work was over, would have a thousand things to do to get ready for (lie next business season, or she couhj make a visit without getting drunk or. gambling, and be home to lake the .first job that would offer ; while the ' jours’ now scampering about hunting for work af this precariqus trade would' be much bettor and more useful citizens at some more athletic employment.— Mrs, Swiaahelm. De4Th-Bed Confession. — ln the western pnn of the city there has for years past, re sided a singular being, whose only occupa tion was that of drawing sand. His worldly > effects consisted, as far us was known, of two horses, greatly the worse for-wear and age, and his “ sand carl” as a false-bottomed" wagon is called. He made no accrthuntancea except those which his business retired, and with them his taciturnity gained for him the cognomen of “ Sleepy Jake” and the “ Her mit.” Day before yesterday he was prostra-- led on a sick bed, with a disease strongly re sembling cholera, superinduced, it is believed by his intemperate habits, for it is known that he never cooked his meat, but ale it iaw. friend, who lived near, did what he could the first day, during his meal hours; and in (he evening, noticing that ho was failing fast, se cretly sought and procured a doctor, who, upon his arrival, found tho pooriellow in a collapsed state. Medicincs'wero given him, "but he xontin-- ued to sink during (he night, and yesterday, near noon he paid the great debt of nature. Before he died, he calkd his friend to.him, and said, “ I havn’l got a friend in the world but you, and to you I give all that I have. There is-butane thing that troubles my mind, and. that is, that in the lost five years I have sold Mf. the grocer, thir ty load of sand!” “But,” said his friend, “ why should that trouble you 7” “Ah I” said the dying man; his face growing faint, “ to think how he has’shaved his customers,- retailing that sand at eight cents per pound, for sugar—that’s what bo .” The sen tence was not finished,— Alb. Transcript, Pbayer to tub Poist.—The conwlaint of drought made by many papers through out the State, bringdtoour mind an anecdote told of an old .fellow who used to httye B,“ lo cal habitation” in Andover, Ohio, The jenr previous to the incident hud been one of .un usual drought, accompanied with hot days and chilly nights, and there wasjespecially a failure in the corn crop. The old chap, one Sunday evening, dropped into the Presbyte rian church, while, a prayer meeting .was in progress. There were but few ip attendance, and that few molUy grave and reverend dea cons, who, wjlh a (hull too commop, went prayer gathering all over lt]i mmediately struck the old chap thatslich long prayers were intolerable, and that he would instruct.them, how to pray briefly and lo ths point. S 6 he.• popped on his pegs,und—. “ Brethren,", said he, .•“.you prayialtbgethei* too long. Fire minutes are-dong enough to make fine prayersj” and before anybody could recover from the surprise of abrupt intrusion, he was do'whonhisknOes, jabbering dul, at railroad speed—."'O LordT give-us-good-tOng.eaTS-or-corn-thisyeSrtahd norte.of.youf-;ntibbins. of the preyfer was -magical, l iSoicker relieved the ision. Therd is o Wying ‘She iebfne wtorn ; WttrJrlid. , ‘ tygirls neednot bl«il6 arbbtid aftefKb»Mdijir' ibut let lees faVored muslins have s- chwfcitft' the Dblranr neigborhood; ; 1 ' i f '"