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 <il|jt JSfcttnfltoitof JFmadm an& tfte Sflseaft of
•’ nt: :I'J t v 1-ii: b.:A. i , ■• V- =*«..' „, .
'' I
vol. LHittsMi i&Mg,: sejiisp;
Jure from what ; :ydiS have said r that ypgr
name, is Jones is Brown,'tnadain,
and alwlays wW-te--;.. e • --I *
“ tier mother, soddenly la
king the bliild by tlie leading her Up
t 6 Mr. Brown*~«Meli'ndfr, #ho lb 'that gen
tleman?” " Vi r ■.
■ “ Why, that?* father /" wbb the child’s
Immediate reply,''•as she confidingly placed,
her hand in his/-.;;. •. ,
“ You hear th{it,Mr. Jones, doyou 1 You
hear what that- innocent child says,'and yet
you have (he unblhfching impudsbce to-deny
(hat you are my husband! The voice of na
ture, apeoking through that child,should over*
whelm you. I’d like to know,iif you are
not her father, whs you are boying.oabdy'
for her? I would lute io^liave-you answer
(hat. But I presume you never saw her be*
fore in your life.” . t
“1 never did! .On my honor, I never did.
[ told her I would give her (he candy, if she
wouldn’t call me father any more.”
“You did, did youl Bribed your own
child not to coil you father 1 O, Mr. Jones,
this is infamous. ■ Da you intend to desert
me, sir, and leave me to the cold charities of
the world, and is this your first step)”
Mrs. Jones was so overcome I hat without
any warning she fell back upon the sidewalk
in a fainting fit.
Instantly a number of persons ran lo her
assistance.
“Is your wife subject to fainting in this
way ?” asked the first comer of Brown.
“I don’t know. -She isn’t my wife. 1
don’t know anything aboul her.”
“ Why, it’s Mrs. Jones, isnTit ?”
“ Yes, but I’m not Mr. Jones.” -.
“Sir,’’ Said the first speaker, sternly, “ this
is no lime lo jest. 1 trust you are not the
cause of the excitement which must have oc
casioned your wife’s fainting fit. You had
better call a coach and carry her home, di
rectly.”
Poor Brown was dumbfounded.
“ I wonder,” thought he, “ whether ills
possible that I'm without knowing
it. Perhaps I’m really Jones, and have gone
crazy, in consequence of which 1 fancy that
my name is Brown. And yet I don’t think
I’m Jones. In spite of all, 1 insist that my
name is Brown.”
“ Well, sir, what ore you waiting for ? It’s
necessary that your wife should be removed
at once. Will you order a carriage 1”
Brown saw that it was of no use to protract
the discussion by a denial. He, therefore,
without contesting the point, ordered a hack
ney coach to the spot.- —
“ Help your wile in, Mr. Jones.”' •
Mr. Brown accordingly lent an arm to Mrs.
Jones, who had somewhat recovered; and
was about lo close the door upon her.
“ What, are you not going yourself?”
“ Why, no—why should I ?’.’ >
“ 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
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■ 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 <jine tb tiro
per, 'day., The jfraije Is aifficulYto
learn, apd' spjpip btpnplTdajreqpiring''tttqrt
delicacy of, tCiichr T on'd f ' tttsfe f |Ban
appear peculiarly adajjied io % a ! n ‘
ing p d9 or i^ ! ence,' is' ajob requiring
.taste and patience; ppd. women migbt'doaU
or nearly all. of that hind of work. Wby
should. they not paint doors'aa wellaspic.
lures?. ", ’ c .'
] v : . i :-tT
. Almost .every. educQtedyornm has been
taught to draw, pr the attempt baa beep madßi
and a good deal of money spent upon il. Iu
ninety-nine. , cases pul of a hundred this ac
complishment heypr' ispf any importance lit
the great art.oLgelting al living.,,, If.a lithe
of the time and , money spent bn this were
spent on the art of house painting, $ consid
erable number of women■could realize an in
dependence at it, and relieve other avenues of
(ho labor market.
We do wish this experiment would be
mode .in. small towns. They \ats belter fields
than our large cities, for such enterprises. If
house painters haying daughters whom jhpy
woo Id like to provide for would, just teach
one or two of them to paint doors and mn>
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 '"