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WHAT I WOULD WISH FOR.
BY ABBES.
I ask not for fair Torhme’e smile,
For pleasure, or for power;
They ne’er can soothe our care and pain,
Or gild life’s darksome hour.
tfor would I ask for fame to place
Its laurels on my brow,*
Their leaves would lade, for even fame
Beneath time’s hand must bow.
The gift of beauty, though a boon
For which so many yearn,
For blasted hopes which once were bright
Would be a poor return.
Bui give to me the friendship, pure.
Of one true, noble heart,
Whose faith in me would still be strong;
■When life’s last hour’s depart.
Upon whose breast I e’er could lean.
And all my cares confide,
And asking there for sympathy,
I ne’er would be denied.
Yes, grant this boon, and I will crave
Xo brighter, happier lot;
For I would then be happy, though
By all the world forgot.
A RACE FOR A SWEETHEART.
BT SEDA SMITH,
Hardly any event creates a stronger sensation
in a thinly settled New England town, espe
cially among the yonng folks, than the arrival
of a fresh and blooming Miss, who comes to
make her abode in the neighborhood. When,
therefore, Squire Johnson, the only lawyer in
the place, and a very respectable man, of course,
told Farmer Jones one afternoon that his wife’s
sister, a smart girl of eighteen, was coming in
a few days to reside in the family, the news flew
like wildfire through Pond village, and was the
principal topic of conversation for a week.—
Pond village is situated upon the margin of one
of those numerous and beautiful sheets of water
that gem the whole surface of New England
like the bright stars in the evening sky, and re
ceived its appellation to distinguish it from two
or three other villages in the same town, which
could not boast of a similar location. 'When
Farmer Jones came in to his supper about sun
set that afternoon, and took his seat at the ta
ble, the eyes of the whole family were upon
him, far there was a peculiar working about
his mouth and a knowing glance of his eyes
that always told them when he had anything
interesting to communicate. But Farmer Jones’
secretiveness was large and his temperament
rot the most actice, and he would probably
have rolled the important secret as a sweet
morsel under his tongue for a long time, had
rot Mrs. Jones, who was rather of an impatient
and prying, turn of mind, contrived to draw it
from him.
“Now, Mr. Jones,” said she as she handed
him his cup of tea, “what is it you nrii.corne
to say? Bo out with it; for you’ve been chaw
ing something or other over la your mind ever
since you came into the house.”
“It’s my tobacoer, I spose,” said Mr. Jones,
with another knowing glance of his eye.
“Now, father, what's the use ?” said Susan ;
“we all know you’ve got something or other
von want to say, and why can’t you tell us
What ’tis.” j
"La, who cares what ’tis ?’’ said Mrs. Jones;
“if it was anything worth telling, we shouldn’t
have to wait for it, I dare say.”
Hereupon Mrs. Jones assumed an air of the
most perfect indifference, as the surest way of
conquering what she was pleased to call Mr.
Jones’ obstinacy, which by the way was a very
improper term to apply in the case; for it was
purely the working of secretiveness without
the least particle of obstinacy attached to it.
There was a pause of two or three minutes
in the conversation, till Mr. Jones passed his
cap to he filled a second time, when with a
couple of preparatory hems he began to let out
the secret.
“We are to have a new neighbor here in a
few days,” said Mr. Jones, stopping short when
he had uttered this much and sipping his tea
tod filling hi? mouth with-food.
Mrs. Jones, who was perfect an her tactics,
said not a word, but attended to the affairs of
her table, as though she had not noticed what
Was said. The farmer's secretiveness had at
last worked itself out, and ha began again.
“Squire Johnson's wife’s sister is coming here
in a few days, and is going to live with ’em.”
The news being thus fairly divulged, it left
free scope for conversation.
“Well, I wonder if she is a proud, stack up
piece,” said Mrs. Jones.
“I shouldn’t think she would be,” said Su
san, “for there ain’t a more sociable woman
the neighborhood than Mrs. Johnson. So
•f she is at all like her sister I think we shall
like her.”
“I wonder how old she is T” said Stephen,
who was just verging toward the close of his
twenty-first year.
“The squire called her eighteen,” said Mr.
Jones, giving a wink to his wife, as much as to
tS J, that’s about the right age for Stephen.
“I wonder if she is handsome,” said Susan,
Who was somewhat vain of her own looks, and
haring been a sort of reigning belle in Pond
for some time, she felt a little alarm at
“ e idea of a rival.
“I dare be bound she’s handsome,” said Mrs.
ones, “if sho’s sister to Mrs. Johnson, for
where’ll you find a handsomer woman than
” rs - Johnson, go the town through f”
Jfier supper, Stephen went down to Mr.
jwbinson’s store, and told the news to young
“arles Robinson, and all the young fellows
who were gathered there for a game at (quoits
wti a ring at wrestling. And Susan went di
over to Mr. Bean’s and told Patty, and
”hy went round: to the'Widow Davis’ and told
& nd before nine o’clock tho matter was
pretty well understood in and about every
to, f ! in the village.
•it the close of the fburth day, a little before
wet, a chaise was seen to drive up to Squire
,1 1 on .' B door. Of course the eyes of the
gap s were turned in that direction. —
J Hsvis, who was just coming in from milk
* l* w pail down- on tbe grass by the side
road as soon as the chaise came in sight,
>od It reached the Squire’s door,
tone ’ 6 * gentleman and lady had got out and
into the house. Patty Bean was doing up
THE AGITATOR
aebofetr to tfre grtcngion of rbt &xm of jFmtrom anh tijt Spveah of healths *Ufotin.
traiLE THERE SHELL BE A WRONG CNNIGHTBD, AND UNTIL '‘MAN'S INHCMANITI TO MAN" SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MEET CONTINUE;
VOL. V.
the ironing that afternoon, and she had just
taien a hot iron from the fire as the chaise
passed the door, and she ran with it in her
hand and stood on the door steps till the whole
ceremony of alighting, greeting, and entering
tho house was over. °
Old Mrs. Bean stood with her head out of the
window, her iron-bowed spectacles resting upon
the top of her forehead, her shriveled hand
placed across her eyebrows to defend her red
eyes from the rays of the setting sun, and her
skinny chin protruding about three inches in
advance of a couple of stubs of teeth, which
her open mouth exposed fairly to view.
“Seems to me they are dreadful loving,” said
old Mrs. Bean, as she saw Mrs. Johnson de
scend the steps and welcome her sister with a
kiss.
La me, if there isn't the Squire kissing her
tu, said Patty; “well, I declare, I wo'd waited
till I got into the house, Pll die if I wouldn't.
It looks so vulgar to be kissing afore folks, and
out of doors tu; I should think Squire Johnson
would be ashamed of himself.”
“Well, I shouldn’t,” said young John Bean,
who came up at that moment, and who had
passed the chaise just as the young lady alight
ed from it, “I shouldn’t he ashamed to kiss
sich a pretty gal as that, any how; I’d kiss her
wherever X could catch her, if it was in the
meetin’-honse.”
“Why, is she handsome, Jack?” said Patty.
“Yes, she’s got the prettiest little puckery
mouth I’ve seen these six months. Her cheeks
are red, and her eyes shine like new bnttons.”
“Well,” replied Patty, “If she’ll only take
the shine off Susan Jones when she goes to
meetin’, I shan’t care.”
While these observations were going on at old
Mr. Bean’s, Charles Robinson and a group of
young fellows with him were standing in front
of Robinson’s store, a little farther down tho
road, and watching the scene that was passing
at Squire Johnson’s. They witnessed the whole
with becoming decorum, now and then making
a remark upon the fine horse and the handsome
chaise, till they saw the tall Squire bend his
head down and give the younglady a kiss, when
they all burst out into a loud laugh. In a mo
ment, being conscious that their laugh must he
heard and noticed at the Squire’s, they, in order
to do away the impression it must necessarily
make, at once turned their heads another way,
and Charles Robinson, who was quick at an
expedient, knocked off the hat of the lad who
was standing next to him and then they all
laughed louder than before.
. “Here comes Jack Bean,” said Charles, “now
we- shall hear something about her- for Jack
was coming by the Squire’s when she got out
of the chaise. How does she look, Jack?”
“Handsome as a pictur,” said Jack. “I
haint seen as pretty a gal since last Thanks
giving Day, when Jane Ford was here to visit
Susan Jones."
“Black eyes or blue ?” said Charles.
“Blue,” said Jack, “but alj-fired bright."
“Tall or short?” said Stephen Jones, who
was rather short himself, and therefore felt a
particular interest on that point.
“Rather short," said Jack, “but straight and
round as a young colt."
“Do you know what her name is ?" said
Charles.
“They called her Lucy when she got out of
the chaise,” said Jack, “and as Mrs. Johnson’s
name was Brown before she was married, I
s’pose her name must be Lucy Brown.”
“Just such a name as I like,” said Charles
Robinson; “Lucy Brown sounds well. Now
suppose, in order to get acquainted with her,
we all hands take a sail to-morrow night, about
this time, on the pond, and invite her to go
with us.”
“Agreed,” said Stephen Jones.
“Agreed," said Jack Bean.
“Agreed," said all hands.
The question then arose who should carry
the invitation to her; and the young men
being rather bashful on that score, it was finally
settled that Susan Jones should bear the invita
tion, and accompany her to the boat where they
should all be in waiting to receive her.
The next day was a very long day, at least
to most of the young men of Pond village;
and promptly an hour before sunset, most of
them were assembled, and half a score of their
sisters and female cousins, by a little stone
wharf on the margin of the pond, for the pro
posed sail. All the girls in the village of a
suitable age, were there, except Patty Bean.
She bad undergone a good deal of fidgeting
and fussing-during tbe day, to prepare for the
sail, but bad been disappointed. Her new bon
net was not' done; and as to wearing her old
flap-sided bonnet, she declared she would not,
if she never went. Presently Susan Jones and
Miss Lucy Brown were seen coming down the
road.
In a moment all was quiet, the laugh and
joke were hushed, and each one put on his best
looks. When they arrived, Susan, went through
the ceremony of introducing Miss Brown to
each of the ladles and gentlemen present.
“But how in the world are you going to sail 1”
said Miss Brown, “for there isn't a breath of
wind ; and I don’t see any sail-boat, neither.”
“Oh, the less wind we have the better, when
we sail here,” said Charles Robinson, “and
there is our sail-boat,” pointing to a flat-bot
tomed scow-boat some twenty feet long by ten
wide.
“We don’t use no sails,” said Jack Bean;
“sometimes, when the wind is fair, we put up
a bush to help pull along a little, and when
’tisn’t we row.”
The party were soon embarked on board the
scow, and a couple of oars were set in motion,
and they glided slowly and pleasantly over as
lovely a sheet of water as ever glowed in the
sunsetting ray. In one hour’s time, the whole
party felt perfectly acquainted with Miss Lucy
Brown. She had talked in the most lively and
fascinating manner, she had told stories and
sung songs. Among others, she had given
Moore’s boat song with the sweetest possible
effect; and by the time they returned to the
landing, it would hardly be too much to say
that half the young men in the party were de
cidedly in love with her. \
A stern regard to truth requires acremark to
be made here, not altogether favorable to Susan
Jones, which is the more to be regretted, as she
WEIISBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 7, B6B:
was in the main an excellent hearted girl, and
highly esteemed by the whole village. It was
observed that as the company grew more and
more pleased with Miss Lucy Brown, Susan
Jones was less animated, till at last she be
came quite reserved and apparently sad.—
She* however, on landing, accompanied her
home to Squire Johnson’s door, and cordially
bid her good night. I
The casual glimpses whicfy the young men of
Pond village had of Mias Brown, during the
remainder of the week, as she occasionally
stood at the door or looked cut at the window,
or once or twice when she walked out with Su
san Jones, and the fair view they had of her
at meeting on the Sabbath, served but to in
crease their admiration, and to render her more
and more an object of attraction. She was re
garded by all as a prize, and several of them
were already planning whai steps it was best to
take in order to win her. The two most prom
inent candidates, however, for Miss Brown’s
favor, were Charles Robinson and Stephen
Jones. Their position and standing among the
young men of the village seemed to put all
others in the back ground. Charles, whose
father was wealthy, had every advantage which
money could procure. But Stephen, though
poor, had decidedly the advantage of Charles
in personal recommendation;!. He had more
talent, was more sprightly and intelligent, and
more pleasing in his addresk. From the eve
ning of the sail on tho pond, they had both
watched every movement of Miss Brown with
the most intense interest; an|d, as nothing can
deceive a lover, each had, with an interest no
less intense, watched every movement of the
other. They had ceased to speak to each other
about her, and if her name was mentioned in
their presence, both were ah rays observed to
color.
The second week after the arrival, through
the influence of Squire Johnson, the district
school was offered to Miss Brown, on the other
side of the pond, which offer accepted, and
she went immediately to table charge of it.—
This announcement at first threw something of
a damper upon the spirits of the young people
of Pond village. But when it was understood,
that the school would continue but a few weeks
and being but a mile and a ialf distant, Miss
Brown would come home every Saturday after
noon and spend the Sabbath, jit was not very
difficult to be reconciled to the temporary ar
rangement.
The week wore away heavily, especially to
Charles Bobinson and Stephen Jones. They
counted the days impatiently till Saturday, and
on Saturday they counted thejlongand lagging
hours to noon. They had both resolved not to
let another Sabbath pass without making direct
proposal to Miss Brown.
Stephen Jones was too early a riser for Charles
58& n gBHL£ u A.i n .. S?y r . e where both
lead, except where money could carry the palm,
and then of course, it was always borne away
by Charles. As Miss Lucy had been absent
most of the week, and was to| be at home that
afternoon, Charles Bobinson Ijad made an ar
rangement with his mother and sister to have
a little tea party in tho evening, for the purpose
of inviting Miss Brown; and|then, of coarse,
would be a good opportunity] to break the ice
and make known to her his feelings and wishes.
Stephen Jones, however, was inore prompt in
his movements. He had got ptind of the pro
posed tea party, although himself and sisters
for obvious reasons had not been invited, and
he resolved not to risk the arrival of Mias Brown
and her visit to Mr. Robinson’sjbefore he should
see her. She would dismiss her school at noon
and come the distance of a mile and a half
round the pond home. His mind was at once
made up. He would go round and meet her at
the school house, and accompany her on her
walk. There, in that winding road around
those delightful waters, with the tall and shady
trees overhead, and the wild grape-vines twin
ing round their trunks and i dimoing to tho
branches, while the wild biris were singing
through the woods, and the wild ducks playing
in the coves along the shore, surely there, if
any where in the world, could |a man bring his
mind up to the point of speaking of love.
Accordingly a little before! noon, Stephen
washed and brushed himself up, and put on his
Sundoy clothes, and started on his expedition.
In order to avoid observation, ho took a back
route across the field, intending to come into
the road by the pond, a little out of the village.
As ill luck would have it, Charles Robinson had
been out in the same direction] and was return
ing with an armful of green doughs and wild
flowers, to ornament tho parloi for the evening.
He saw Stephen, and noticed his dress, and the
direction he was going, and he at once smoked
the whole business. His first impulse was to
rush upon him and collar him, md demand that
he should return back. But he recollect
ed that in the last scratch he had with Stephen,
two or three years before, he had a little tbe
worst of it, and ho instinotiyely stood still,
while Stephen passed on without seeing him.
It flashed upon his mind at once that the ques
tion must now be reduced to a game of speed.
If he could by any means gain the school
house first, he should feel a good deal of unea
siness for the consequences. Stephen was walk
ing very leisurely, and unconscious that he was
in any danger of a competitor on the course,
and it was important that bis suspicions should
not be awakened. Charles therefore remained
perfectly quiet till Stephen had got a little out
of hearing, and then threw down his bushes
and flowers and ran to the wharf below tbe
store with his utmost speed. He had one ad
vantage over Stephen. He was ready at a mo
ment’s warning to start on an expedition of this
kind, for Sunday clothes werelan every day af
fair with him. |
There was a light canoe belonging to his
father, lying at the wharf, andla couple of stout
boys were there fishing. Charles hailed them,
and told them if they would row him across the
pond as quick as they possibly could, he would
give them a quarter of a dollar-a-piece. This,
in their view, was a splendid offer for their ser
vices, and they jumped on board with alacrity
and manned the oars. Charles took a paddle
and stood in the stem to steer the boat, and
help propel her ahead. The distance by water
was a little less than by land, and although
Stephen had considerable tbe start of him, he
believed he should be able to reach the school
house first, especially if Stephen should not see
him and quicken his pace. In one minute after
he arrived at the wharf, the boat was .under
full way. The boys laid down to the oars with
right good will, and Charles put all his strength
upon the paddle. They were shooting over the
water twice as fast as a man could walk, and
Charles already felt.pnflj ! of the victory. But
when they haj-gob's about half a mile, they
Came in range 'tif a little .opening in the trees
on the shore, where the road was exposed to
view, and there, at that critical moment, was
Stephen pursuing his easy walk. Charles
heart was in his month. Still it was possible
Stephen might not see them, for he had not yet
looked around. Lest the sound of the oars
might attract his attention, Charles had instant
ly, on coming in sight, ordered the boys to stop
rowing, and he grasped his paddle with breath
less anxiety, and waited for Stephen again to
disappear. But just as he was on the point of
passing behind some trees, where the boat would
be out of his sight, Stephen turned his head
and looked round. He stopped short, turned
square round, and for the space of a minute
looked steadily at the boat. Then lifting his
hand, and shaking his fist resolutely at Charles,
as much as to say I understand you, he started
into a quick run.
“Now, boys,” said Charles, “buckle to your
oars for your lives, and if you get to the shore;
so I can reach the school house before Stephen
does, I’ll give you half a dollar apiece.”
This of course added new life to the boys
and increased speed to the boat. Their little
canoe flew over the water almost like a bird,
carrying a white bone in her mouth, and leav
ing a long ripple on tho glassy waves behind
her. Charles’ hand trembled, bat Still he did
good execution with his paddle. Although Ste
phen upon the ran was a very (Afferent thing
from Stephen at a slow walk, Charles still bad
strong hopes of winning the race and gaining
his point. He several times caught glimpses of
Stephen through the trees, and, as well as he
could judge the boat had a little the best of it.
But when they came out into the last opening,
where for a little way they had a fair view of
each other—Charles thought Stephen ran faster
than ever; and although he'was now consider
ably nearer the School-house than Stephen was,
he still trembled for the result. They were
now within fifty rods of the shore, and Charles
appealed again to the boys’ lovo of money.
“Now,” said he, “we have not a minute to
spare. If we gain the point, I’ll give yon a
dollar apiece.”
The boys strained every nerve, and Charles’
paddle made the water fly like the tail of a
wounded shark. When within half a dozen
rods of the shore, Charles urged them again to
springy all their might, and one of
snapped, it in two. Ti.„ fi.ofc pull,of the other
oar headed the boat from land. Charles saw
at once that the delay must be fatal, if be de
pended on tbe boat to carry him ashore. The
water was but three feet deep, and the bottom
was sandy. He sprang from the boat, and
rushed toward the shore as fast as be was able
to press through the water. He flew up the
bank, and along the road, till he reached the
school-house. The door was open, but he could
see no one within. Several children were at
play round the door, who, haring seen Charles
approach with mouth and eyes wide open,
stared at him.
“Where’s the sohoolma’am 1” said Charles,
hastily, to one of tbe largest boys.
“Why,” said the boy, opening his eyes still
wider, "is any of the folks dead ?”
“You little rascal, I say, where’s the school-'
ma’am
“She jest went down that road,” said the
boy, “twio or three minutes ago.”
“Was she alone ?” said Charles.
“She' started alone,” said the boy, “and a
man met her out there a little ways, and turned
about and went with her.’’
Charles felt that bis cake was all dough again,
and that he might as well give it up for a bad
job, and go home. Stephen Jones and Lucy
Brown walked very leisurely home through the
woods, and Charles and the boys went very
leisurely in the boat across the pond. They
even stopped by the way and caught a mess of
fish, since the boys had thrown their lines into
the boat when they started. And when they
had reached the wbai;f, Charles in order to show
that he hod been a fishing, took a large string
of fish in bis hand and carried them up to the
house. Miss Lucy Brown, on her way |home
through the woods, had undoubtedly been in
formed of the proposed tea party for the even
ing, to which she was to bo invited, and to
which Stephen Jones and Susan Jones were not
invited; and when Miss Lacy’s invitation come,
she sent back word that she was engaged.
Haro Pecking. —A Memphis correspondent
gives the following passage in a debate between
a candidate for gubernatorial honors, and Gus
tavus Henry, generally known as Gus, the Ea
gle Orator. The debate was severe, and excited
much interest. The candidate closed his speech
with this annihilating declamation:—
We meet this Eagle, and I can say, with an
honest heart, that he has none of my flesh on
his talons —none of my blood on his beak.”
This was good, and would have been a stump
er, hut the undismayed Gus immediately rose to
his feet and replied ;
“ ’Tis true the honorable gentleman has met
the Eagle, and hears no traces of having left
flesh on his talons or blood upon his beak. And
'tis'not strange my friends; for those of you
who know the habits of our national bird, know
full well that he never ifeeds upon carrion 1”
Such a shout, and snob a discomfiture made
Mr. {Candidate quake, bat didn’t defeat him
for (governor. [
Wit-Lings. —The process of making a joke,,
and the final filtering of a good deal of wit
through a small verbal orifiee, justifies calling
a punster a/un-neU. The article can, however,
have la fine a point.
Noah is thought to have had, on hoard, a
supply of “Exterminators,” from the fact that
for nearly six weeks be was without seeing
Ary-rat.
from the Telegraph and Preacher.
; THREE FRIENDS.
We ft ere three friends in onr early days.
When time went merrily by.
And closely we ehmg together then.
Yon, and Annie and I.
Oh ! little we knew of the path that lay
Marked out for our future years,
The joys in store, or the trials sore,
That would dim oar eyes with tears.
We parted as many and many part.
With a sigh and a loving tear,
And felt, as we gave the long, last kiss,
That each was doubly dear.
We two may meet on earth again.
But her we shall see no more,
Till wn have crossed the river of death.
And stand on the farther shore.
Bor the light wont ought of her sweet blue eyes.
And cold is the heart once warm.
And a weeping willow marks the spot
Where they sadly laid her form.
But think not they who earliest reach
The home where all shall go,
Forget the love that they cherished here.
Or the friends they have left below.
Piccolomini Eats a Corn Dodger.
While Piccolomini was at the Biddle House,
in this city, a characteristic incident occurred,
which was quite the delight of the numerous
admirers of the little princess, and! which
showed'to a charming degree, the peculiar love
of admiration and popularity whjph she unmis
takably passesses. There bad been lodging at
the same hotel, for a few days, a genuine speci
men of the untamed Wolverine—one of the
rough, hearty, backwoods style of old fellows,
bluff and out-spoken, and a great contemner of
city airs and frivolities. Having a pocket-full
of money, the result of the winter’s trade in
skunk-skins, which the papers say has been
profitable, he was enjoying himself on the fat
of the land.
Having satiated on the first-class fare of the
house before his money was half run out, he
began to long for some of the old-fashioned diet,
and the first article that suggested itself to his
roving fancy was the familiar corn-dodger which
had been the solace of bis cabin from his youth
up. Being impulsive as well as bluff, he lost
no time in applying to his obliging host, Char
ley Dibble, who much to his dissatisfaction was
obliged to inform him that be had not a cook in
the house that could make a corn dodger; ad
ding, also, that there probably was not one in
the city who ever heard of such a thing. Not
to be daunted, however, our hero made a straight
wake for an eating house, and by dint of ener
getic management, succeeded in getting one
made, having stood over the cook and superin
tended the whole operation.
He was in his glory that night as he was
seated at the table with the big corn-dodger be
fore him, and all the company wondering what
it was. Directly opposite it happened that Pic
spread than the "brown or6s~wmcir illuminated
the childish face of the petite Siennese. The
little mini looked at the corn-dodger, which
was as big ns a half-bushel, and then gazing at
her male companion in the prettiest of all puz
zlements. 1 Thenshelanghed alittle, andleaned
forward so as to look in the face of the old fel
low, giving him a glance full of the most radi
ant diablerie that ever mortal saw in woman’s
eye. He was quite fascinated, but mistook the
cause. He honestly thought that Piccolomini
wanted some of his corn-dodger, and seizing
the knife with a glowing countenance and
pleased expression, he ejaculated:
“Have a piece, Miss ?”
A puzzled expression overspread the pretty
face opposite for a moment, but .& sudden light
dawned upon it, followed by a merry laugh and
such a clapping of bands. Then a succession
of nods ensued, which signified assent to the
delighted trader. He lost no time in carving
out a huge piece, which he passed over on the
point of hia knife. It wasn’t much of a bite
for him, but the little prima donna conld bare
ly clasp it in both hands, as she recelved'Jt in
high glee. She looked at it with a delighted
bewilderment, for a moment, and then, with a
rueful face at the predicament In which she had
got herself, put her teeth to it. She nibbled at
it like a mouse, smiled an angelic smile, took a
second nibble, and laughed as heartily as a
school girl. Then she deposited it on one side
of her plate—it covered up two-thirds of it—
and with a relieved air returned her thanks;
“Zat ees ver ee coot, my fren’. I sink he
ees mos’, vat you call him ?—mos’, mos’, —ex-
• cel-lont/*
“No, you don’t say so?” exclaimed the de
lighted trader. “Who’d a tho’t it, by jimminy ?
Give us yonr hand sissy !” and he fairly jumped
out of his chair as he stretched out a brawny
palm clear across the table, which was grasped
by the jeweled hand of the little princess. The
scene created an uproar, and there was no end
of hilarity and good humor, in which none more
heartily participated than Piccolomini, Who
wonders that she wins her way wherever she
goes ? —Detroit Free Press.
Some Wag has made np the following sum
mary of of what he calls the “Inalienable Rights
of Americans,” and which are not enumerated
in the Declaration of Independence:
To know any trade or business without ap
prenticeship or experience.
To marry without regard to fortune, state of
health, position, or opinion of parents and
friends.
To have wife and children dependant on con
tingencies of business, and, in case of sudden
death, leave them wholly unprovided for.
To put off upon hireling strangers the liter
ary, moral and religious education of children.
To teach children no good trade, hoping they
will have, when grown up, wit enough to live
on the industry of other people.
To enjoy the general sympathy, when made
bankrupt by reckless speculations.
To cheat the government if possible.
To hold office without being competent to dis
charge its duties.
To build honses with nine and sis inch walls,
and go to the funerals of tenants, firemen and
others; killed by their fall, weeping over the
mysterious dispensation of Providence.
Tff build np cities and towns without parks,
public squares, broad streets, or, ventilated
blocks, and cal! pestilence a visitation of God.
Advertisements will lie charged $1 per square of 14
lines, one or three insertions, and 25 cents for every
subsequent insertion. Advertisements of less than 14
lines considered as a square. Thesubjoined rates will
he charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad
vertisements :
3 MONTHS. 6 MONTHS. 32 SfONTHF.
Square, - . $4,50 $6,00
2 do. - 4,00 6,00 8,00
i column, - - £,OO ** 8,00 30,00
v do. - 30,00 35,00 20.00 p
Column, - - ia,oo - 30,00 40,00 it
Advertisements not having tbenumbor of insertion
desired marked upon them, will be published until or
dered ont and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbill*, Bid-Heads, Letter-Heads and all
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex
ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constables’,
and township BLANKS: Notes, Bonds. Deeds, Mort
gages, Declarations and- other Blanks, constantly on
band, or printed to order.
NO. 49,
From Tj. D. Backer, Superintendent of the
Cleveland and Toledo Railroad, the Cleveland
Leader obtains the following particulars of an
exciting race in jwhioh the steeds were Iron
horses and the 'stakes greater than have ever
been known on any track. Mr. Rucker had
the facts from John D. Campbell, Esq., Super
intendent of the Michigan Southern and North
ern Indiana Railroad. One day last week as
the eastward hound express train reached Im
ports, Indiana, a passenger stepped off while
the engine was being replenished with wood
and water, and walked hack and forth on. the
platform, and continued to walk until the whis
tle sounded.) The other passengers got on
board and the train passed off, hut the gentle
man still walked 1 on. A few minutes after the
train had gone, a station roan saw the pedes
trian, and going up to him, asked in a surprised
tone—
“What the are you doing here ?”
The man started, opened his eyes, and looked
around bewildered. The fact was, he had been
fatigued and dropped to sleep while walkiflg.—
Rousing himself, he asked—
* “Why ! Where am I?”
“Where are yon? At Laporte.”
“Where’s the train I came on ?”
- “That left ten minutes ago.”
Vibgixia.'
“Ten minutes ago and left me ! I must go
on that train. It is a question of life and
death with me. Can you get me to it? Have
you got an engine here ? Where is the Super
intendent?”
The section-master had an office near by, and
the two went to find that official and to procure
an engine. The traveler stated his case—ho
must go on—could not delay—and offered the
officer 5250 if he would put him on board the
train. This strange demand and strange offer
caused the station-master to hasten to do what
he could. The fire was not out in the engine
that bad drawn the train to that point; the bar
gain was settled; a draft given on New York
for the $250, and in ten minutes the traveler
started with an engine to overtake the flying
Express. After rushing on for thirty or forty
miles some connection gave way about the en
gine. The engine was stopped—the engineer
found the difficulty, and in a very few minutes
had a wooden pin whittled out and fitted to sup
ply the deficiency. With this, on they flew.—
The train had of course many miles the start
of them, and despite the wooden pin the engi
neer crowded 'on steam and tore through the
country at a fearful rate. Thirty miles of the
distance passed was run in twenty-seven min
utes ; hut the engagement was that they should
overtake the train, and do it they must.'ind do
it they did, but not until more than one hun
dred miles had been run, and they were ap
proaching Toledo. Having at length overtaken
the traveler went eagerly to a berth in the
sleeping car, and took therefrom a carpet-bag
containing §275,000. His treasure was safe—
none had molested it, and, dismissing bis faith
ful courier, he went on his way rejoicing at the
success of bis perilous and exciting adventure.
Saltation by “Dipping.” —An ‘Old Soaker,’
who lives in W eston, Missouri, took it into his
bead one day that it was necessary for his fu
ture welfare to be “born ag'in," and forthwith
repaired to the Hev. Mr. B , the respected
pastor of the Baptist denomination of the town
aforesaid, to obtain light. He was received
with urbanity, and forthwith the following dia
logue ensued:
Old S.—lt’s your doctrine, boss, that a feller
to bo saved must suffer immursfaun, isn't it?
Mr. B.—Yes, Mr. S., it is a fundamental doc
trine of our church, that a man, to be regen
erated, must repent of his sins and be immersed.
Old S.—Well, boss, after repentin’ of his sins,
and bein’ slid under, if he flashes in the pan,
then what ?
Air. B.—Although backsliding is much to ha
deploredi still, if he sincerely repents of his
SIDS } iiual Is agulu Imiucroco, .rill
receive him again.
Old S.—Well, s'pose he ag'in kicks out of the
traces after the second time, (for you know
what critters there are in the world, boss,) theu
what’s to pay ? -
Mr. B.—Notwithstanding all this, if he will
repent, and solemnly promise to amend his fu
ture life, the church will again receive him into
its bosom, after being immersed.
Old S., (after a few moments of deep thought)
proposing the closing interrogatory—Well, boss,
wouldn’t it be a blasted good idea to keep such
fellers in soak all the time?
Our informant did not say whether old S.
joined the church or not, but we are inclined to
the opinion that he did not.
A Sisteh ix a Tight Place. —At If , one
Saturday evening, fatigued by his long journey,
a wagoner, with his son John, drove his team
into good range, and determined to pass the
Sabbath, enjoying a season of worship with
the good folks of the village.
When the time for worship arrived, John was
set to watch the team while the wagoner went
in' with the crowd. The preacher had hardly
announced his subject before the old man fell
sound asleep. He sat against the partion in
the centre of the body slip; just over against
him, separated only by a very low partition, sat
a fleshy lady who seemed all absorbed in the,
sermon. She struggled hard with her feelings,
but unable to control them any longer, she
burst out with a loud scream, and shouted at
the top of her voice, arousing the old man, n ho,"
but half awake, thrust his arms around her,
and cried very soothingly:
“Wo, Nance! wo I here John”—calling bis
son “cut the belly band and loose the breech
ing, quick, or she’U tear everything to pieces.”
Bald headed men taken joke the more easily,
because they are not at the trouble of “getting
it through their hair.”
We always did like the “church going belle.”
If you wish to he certain of what you got,
never marry a girl named Ann; “ an” is an in
definite article.
Rates of Advertising.
Exciting- Race.