I:=
34. 1 mo. 3 mos. a mon. Ivi
One Square. . I. LEO' .L 75 350 0.134 10.
Two Elquares . 3.0) 3(0 5.50 10.03 10.
Throe I:lguana . . 5,00. 8.03 15.00 20.
Six Bquarea. . . • 8.0) '12.03 213.03 31.
Quarter Column . . • 1 10.00 310) 35.31 50.
Half Column ... . . 5300 M.
One Column . ;;111/C/3-1.•: . ,,AM nil.oo 150.
• .
ProtraaloslON3ll4cll.ll.l Ono per year. •
Admlnletrator'e ill4.lol4ltor'ii•NOUroa, 310 0 .
City Noll com, 20 cenhiieBlliplsE (boort lon, 15 contr.
I luo each aubncqueut lncerllo3.. , '
Ton linos agate coustltnto neonate. ,
• • WILLS & fRIn ELL,Pt7niminEits,
ALLENTOWEI, PA.• '
ftl rgi c(OpO•
eg--.AfiX6il-t41041
V -...... ,
WILL LOW PRICES INAirENtE YOU
AGrA iN.!
IMMENSE REDUCTION IN PRICES I
THE OLD CORNER
Just opened anenortnous
•
STOCK OF SPRING GOODS,
I=l
I'ARLETY, AND LOWXEII OF PRIOR
nyall aud cauuot be tturrasnetl
rir Competition (idled 'Nth any other Establishment
outside of the larger dike._(
•
SPACE WILL NOT PERMIT OF NAMING such nu Ir
monsotetock of goods, but let It suffice to sa y that we have
rho must COMPLETE assortment of Ladles Dross floods
Dress Silks, Poplins, Shawls, Italmerals House Furnish!.
ing Goods Ladlds' Cleaking Cloth, ' Mo tt o Wear In Cloth,
Camilmerels, &e., and everything that kept In aFL lIST-
C LASS DRY UOO DS STORE In endless variety. Ido not
" IUOTE PRICES" 110 some 11011 NON do, but wilt guarantee
ASTONISHING FIGURES.
„ The difference In prices of goods today and a mouth tig.
Is really painful for those who have been caught with
rarge e w Plito h d. e o n I h
sahnadl l a t u high
e p t r o ic fo e r s e
b in u a t
k u e
tthhu t O IL D CO h ß e
NER
I'HE GREAT PLACE OF INTEREST
AND HEADQUARTERS
=I
LOW EST M A RI: ET PR WES
I fully realise that no peruntuent success rim be achieved
unless the promises held out by advertisements are found
to be fully sustained on in visit to the store. Nor can It be
it large stirrers wltitont ecruptliously reliable and lair
dealing at all titans and uniform courtesy to every custo
mer, and tine endeavor to make every buyer a constant
dealer. All I ask Is simply to decide by actota trial
whether or, not it In to your advantage to become a custo
mer.
I=
M..T. KRAMER,
. OLD CORNER,"
OPPOSITE THE EAGLE HOTEL
MEE
GREAT REDECTION OF PRICES
WOOLEN GOODS.
=1
FANCY SPRING CASSIMERES,
FLANNELS, JEANS, CARPETS, &C
In cone...teen, of the abutidance uud over stork of the
above floods in the City Marketa, they cannot ut proseut
Lo dispomed of except at it lona to the tnanufacturerand
many Woolen are either closed or working on half
flute. 'Under there clreuniidancen, wishiug to keep hie
mill ritunhig,„
HENRY GA BRIM
A LLENT WN WOOLEN MILL,
1M13113
END DE,EIDETII gEVII<rn DTIMET
Iluvlug a large nod flue stork of the best styles of Faury
CMllotheerex for men's nod boy's wear, no also a variety of
other Woolen floods and Curpeta suitable for the Xelivell
and desired lu every hensehold,.has rourlnthul to
RETAIL
=1
WHOLESALE PRICES
Ills entire stork of Woolen Mid other Good., auto
which lyre several hundred pieces of .
ALL WOOL
. DOUBLE AND TWIST
CASSMEREs,
PLANNELB,
JEANS, h •f
Of all grades, and at Vricn• gnarly r e d,, r nd. Al,
.ninotild II .rtment of
INGRAIN,
LIST,
RAG,
MEIMEEEM
CARPETS,
=
BA.EstoRAL SKIRTS,
MEM!
WOOLEN CARPET YARN,
all color.. Beat quality reduced to DO centa
BED COVERLETS
All kinds, White or Fancy, at greatly reduced prices.
048/f 11 jr 17;,Vjor those having Wool to egchagge, will
certainly a.l it to their Intermit. in examining the Uooda
rooms for Law
factory, whore he has fitted up reYeral
for Almelo a the name, and respecti till y Invites the
Public In call and judge for themselves.
HENRY GABRIEL,
ALLENTOWN WOOLEN MILL,
South End of Seventh Street, Allentown, .I.n
1=11!I
•
FOUR HUNDRED FARMS FOR
SALE, ran hi In price from litS to Piper acre, accord.
to Improvements, location Ac. Good roll, genial climate,
and near markets. These forms aro situated lu Virginia
and Maryland, some In the immediato vicinity of Wash.
Ington and others from At to 30 miles distant from the Cap
ital. Address or call on J. P. 0A NO WEIIE.MS Massaeltu
aeite Avenue, near Sixth street, Wnallington, 0, C.
MACeNGIE SAVINGS BANK.
The Macungie Barium. Bank (nearly opposite the Allen
town National Bank] receive. money on Deposit in any
RUM, on Interest Orli per rent. per mum,.
Deposita may be withdrawn partly or wholly at nay
time during the year for which interest will Ink allowed
according to the time the same may have relnnined. -
ooverument Bonds aro taken, (or which the Itighe.l pre
minute mad accrued interest will be allowed.
Money, Loaned out at dealrable rate. al all times. • •
•
TRII.I7BIIeI :
el. • !: Geo. B. Shall, John 11. Dog
I l ler i kit ; M. I). ithn It. Echo
WM. C. LICICIEDIWILNEIi th Coattr
BENJAMIN FOGEL. Progadont.
'VINE CUSTOM MADE HOOTS AND
8110E8 FOR GENTLEMEN.
All the lending styles on hand or made to mean
Prices fixed LOW FIGITItES on Illustrated Price Lid with
Itudructious for nelf•mrnpuremeut pout ou reeolut of I
I=
=
nag IS-iy
-r WATERMAN 4
IfitiMit,l4.ll,tMJlMAii,"ToWirriN . .
et
Philadelphia.
Tho tool° properties of theso Bitters have been certified
to by some of our most eminent practleing phyeician% as
the boat tonic now lu use, and tho Cocktail Bitters Is the
universal favorite among,Judges of a good gin or whisky
cocktail.
. L. ,,
It
.00
.00
I , .1 • •;• ii ~ ' ' . • 1 •
.00 i
r , ,: •.
,00
..„ ,!,.I I', • . ..... ,I• , ! , : ' I -
+
• CIIIIV
per 1 I 0 ...: 0 I
.
_,/
• .
, t
, .
VOL. XXIII.
NU.,TAIt
WILL EVER . 111.'I4AR lIERE
A great many advertising Iles are told now-a-Jaya. Bo
wide.spread has this evil become, that the public are be
ginning to luso confidence in the sultrertisententa of; even•
upright, honorable merchnnts. We pledge °unwires that
no Ile shollareep Inhere. 'Whatever wo propose to xell,
that wilt toe sea. Whatever we propOmo th do, Mid will
credo. We wnut, ma intend to deserve, and we Intend to
hare the entire confidence of this cull., community.
Unlit. briefly, we make our bow to the good people of
Lehigh nod Northampton countle, Now for businem
BUY CHEAP! SELL CHEAP.!
AND DON'T DE AFRAID TO LET TIIE PEOPLE
KNOW IT, 1;4ottoof our mattocks. , We Aral offek bi If:
lure•utant war mum tub
ROTTEN CREDIT SYSTEM,
that make.. lionotit Toupin nay for the Dry °nods that
rogues wear, Is another principle upon which wo do bust
nom We iphatpsfick Mal, tot, Itentethher, 'then, Wer
buy tar rash and MO 11111 de sell for rash.
DOWN WITH 111311 PRICES !
TUE NEW :YORK FOSTERS ARE COMING.
YEW YORK DRY GOODS ARE COMING. '
•
NEW YORK PRICES ARE COMING.
MAKE NAY FOR TERIII
Our prices here aro tube as low as at our three New York
City stores—as low as at our store In Troy. N. I%—as low
no at our store In Newark, N. low an at our store in
Fort Wayne, Indiana. We retail nearly a million dollars
worth of Dry Goode yearly. We can boy on this account
immense lots, and no are often enabled to sell .r goods
less than other merchants buy theirs. We promsso to re
volutionise tho Allentown Dry Goods trade—to crush out
high prices—to do away with the rotten credit system,and
to volt you many goods for about half the prices now be
ing charged by " slow shilling" merchants.
Unless stormy, we shall open MONDAY, L 12th.
Look out foi a'amial.ritsh. Look out Dir the cheapest
goods ever seen in your city. Special bargains will be
offered 4,1; that day. Many goods will 1M Sold at cost.
Among other bargains; these: Splendid yard wide muslin.
12.5 cents; Net Merrimack Prints, 12Ii cents; handsome
Fringed Towels, 12 , .i cents; Largo Linen Napkins,µ 50
Per dozen; Wide Table Lin., MI cents, sold In town at SO
cents; Cowles' Beat Spool Cotton 7 cent., sold In town at
10 cents; Double Width Alpacas fait cents, sold In town
at 83 cents.: e• 11, .. • . I ••' . 1 , i
NO. 19 EAST HAMILTON STREET,
. Opposite the Reformed Lutheran Church.
ONE PRICE NEW YORK CITY STORE
pr
FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!
0! HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS!
0, NO ! 0, NO ! NOT SO !
=I
SCHREIBER BROS
NO. 10 EAST HAMILTON S7'.
GOOD GOODS & CHEAP PRICES
Let us Imre Pence, Li other reds go to Schreiber Brie's
foe •
DRY GOODS.
tear yo ! Take notice old and young, mule and female,
and poor, blab and low, bond and free, all pre ma
ned to appear to render a good and ralld reason why
mhould not ',archon° their
FOREIGN &. DOMESTIC DRESS GOODS
SCHREIBER BROS
A failure to appear and ;mower la a forfeit of •in to your .
pocket. But we cell your attention to our •asorlmoat of
BLACK DRESS SILKS, all qualities. •
PLAN SILKS, All color.;
I RISAI POPLINS,
' FRENCH POPLINS,
ALPACCAS,
PLAIN AND
STRIPED MOIIAIRS.
Tile very largest assortment of show la that we Inty
opened—all the new styles.
Lodi.' Simkins of all kinds, both plain and figured, at
all prices.
Dahnoral Skirts the cheapest ever brought to Allentown.
DOMESTIC (100DS, such as bleached mil unbleached
sheeting mull., bleached and unbleached sheeting tick
ing cotton and linen table diaper, gingham,, checks and
calicoes, as low as the lowest.
Marseille]. quilts and cotton coven of all descriptions.
Our stock of Mounting Ooods In such endless variety that
it would be Impossible to enumerate.
We Wind respkiffill undersold tent to the cheaper
aro determined nut to he, and will moll
Chun any establishment In Allentown.' Ladles of Allen
town and adjoining counties you are pitying too much for
your goods. Study your lutcrest.aud make up your mind,
and go to Schreiber Brit's for bargains In dry goods. We
have marked our goods down and propose to do a rash
business. line motto in "A nimble penny Is belt.' than a
slow shilling." A call is all wo ask—you will Mays
satisfied.. lours respectfully.
mar 17;'W SCHREIBER BROTHERS.
IMPORTANT TO BUYERS OF
THE `-` BEE HIVE,"
TAE POPULAR DRY GOODS STORE,
920 CHESTNUT STREET,
I=l
PARIS CLOAK AND MANTILLA EMPORIUM'.
Will ogee tho COrnit,j oNtaon at POPULAR PRIMLY FOR
CASIL au entirely Now Stook of
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC DRY - GOODS
Including Spring and Summer Droo• flood., In the largent
variety.
Black and Colored Silica,
Laces and Embrolderiea,
Linen., While Goods, and Domestics,
lloa Moury. le
nin r Glove.g
Dro o f
n a ll o laud*.
;LOANS. BACQUE9, thla department ■o unrivalled
aneortineul, at price.. from Id upward*.
IAWLS OF ALL KINDS,
Including Lamn Lace Cloaks daeyuee and Polota, and
rill6ecoldat
ECONOMicAL .. PRICES: •
We respectfully aolielt nu examinatiou.
Our priced aru marked In plain figured—nu der Wins
J. w. PROCTOR & CO.,
THE " BEE HIVE,"
EMEEI2I
A LLENTOWN RAVINGS INSTITU
TION, • "-
Money recelved . ott Deposit, and 6 per . cent. latoirstst
lowed fur one year. For shorter periods mycelia rates will!
be paid.
MUMKT LOANAD OUT UN PAVO Tsgais.' "
I=
Banking lloure—llailliLTON BTU ET, mid-way be
tween Oa Court holies Owl American Hotel, OPPOsile ride.
Allonawn. Pa.
Philadelphia
lJru 60011.5
FOSTER'S
=
DRY GOODS
PHILADELPHIA,
J. W. PROCTOR & CO.,
NO. 020 CHESTNUT STREET,
PHILADELPHIA
(organized under Mato Winder In IWO.)
WILLIAM 4, AI MEY,PesldeaL
JACOU S. LLINOER, Cwhleir.
John D qtlles
M=l
===2!
ti=ttl=lll
(leorgo l'robst.
H{muel S.D.
Ben} J Ilasenbaol4 - Nathan refer
William U Alney. mar 11
ALLENTOWN, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 21, 1869
THE OLD PENNSYLVANIA
FARMER
Well—well I thin Ica comfort, now—the air In mild. May,
And yet 'tin March the twentieth, or twenty-Orel, to.dny,
And Reuben plows the 1,111 for carat I tholight It-would he
OM
But now I 141,0 the furrow,. turned. I Inner It'• dry enough
I don't half live, penned up ill clout.; n •tave'x not Ilku
tho nom. •
When I cant see how thing,. go on, I (one they'ro badly
dune;
I might have fanned 1111 now, I illlnk—amex family ill 1,0
12=ZI
An Ira man retell cirersee who's is his eightieth year !
Father, I mind, wan lgighty-Ilve Wore he gave up Ida;
But he dim o' night, and crippled wlth . the rhoumotir
I followed In tho old, steady way, no ho won autlaned,
But Bonbon liken now-tangled things awl ways I can't
abide.
19n glad I Wit thin southern porch; my chair aerma easier
hero;
I hsvu•t sees an fine a spring thin Ave sud twonty year!
And how the time goes round so quick !—R week, I would
kayo sworn,
Since (hay were hooking on the fist, and now they plough
for rout! •
Whets I was young, than had fur non lazy ox's pace,
But nowlts like a blooded horse, that means to win tho
Aud yet I can't till uut my days 1 lieu wy,Mf wills naught
I'd rather une my leg. and hands num plague my head
with thought.
Thercda Mundial% too, I on. (ruin here: he and Ids WI . .
• begin.
Why don't they take the low er quid flint one to poor and
thin.
A coat or lime it ought to have, but they're it dbleau set:
They think awaiiir•aaull'm no good, but We shalt see what
corn they get!
Ael . ume the level • Ilrown'N new Place beglna to make a
nho4
I thought he'd, hure - to - wult for tre's, hut, totem, sue, how
they grow!
They ogy It'o (1111—two acre., filled Ivlth evettgreeux and
thlttg% t
But at 1111.11 !NMI It wordee sue, fur got a rut It bring.
VIII.
110 ban the right, I duu't douy, to pleanehintaelf that way.
Ilut 'no a bad example sot, and leads young folks loamy;
Honk•learuing gebithe upper-band and work grin xlow
and slack,
Aud they that come long after un will find thing+ gone to
wrack.
Nuw ItenbetCn an the hither stile, his team comes back
again;
I know how deep ho solo the alum., I sea the horses strain:
I had that field so clean of ateueo, hot Ito nnwt plough so
deer.
He'll have It like a turnpike. soot, and scarcely At for
sheep.
It father lived, I'd Ilk, to kuuw what he would say to
ti
Now"noTl ' o e us atilt. younger men, who farm by chemistries:
There's dltrereut stock and other grass; there's, putout
plough and cart—
Five hundred dollars for n bull ! It would have broke his
hoarl.
Tim maples must be putting out: 1 con something red
Down yonder where the clearing hips acress the ttenduvr s
Swomp•enbbage grown beelde therun; the groin Io good
CCM
E=lll=l
They think I have an envy thee, no need to worry now—
SR In the porch all day and watch them mow, end mow
and plough:
Sleep In the muleteer In the shade, In winter In the Hua—
rd rather do the thing myself, and knew just how Wm done
ettPtnme I'm old, and yet 'tin not no long ago
When Reuben nprend the math to dry. and Jogne learned
to mow.
Awl William raked. and ',mod hued, told Joneph pitched
with mo:
But such 0 man as 1 wax then my hops will 11,11.114,!
I atoll mind William's hankering fur lectured and fo
Works;
Ile never had a farming hunch—you'd see it lu his looks
Ilut handsome Is that handsome does, and he Is well to do
"(would ease my mind if I could any the same of Jesse, too
There'n one black cheep In every dna, no there sting( be I
mine,
But I was wrong that second time his bond to undersign:
It's less than what Ids share will he—but there's th
Interest'
teu ye'arr. 11101 T I might 11101 e bait tWO tLuu.uld to invest
XVI.
There' x uu um, thinking of It now, and yet It makes mu sure
The way I've slaved and saved, I ought to Count a Ilttl
more.
I never loot a foot of land, and !hare a comfort, sam,
And if they do nut cull me rich, they rennet all me poor
11393
Oh, blessed transition front grief to joy
The setting sun goes down in ti great sea of
blood ; the room is filled with a glorious radi
ance ; the great log rolls over on the brass
new—
and irons, and the flames laugh and leap for
Dot this Is all I've noon and k now ; so what's a loan to do? I joy.
Well, well! ton thoueund Um. I've thought the thing
I'm thinking now;
too thought them In the liorvek-Ileld and in the clover
mow:
And nomellmon I get tired of them, and wish PA something
XVIII.
'Tie like toy time I. nearly out, of that not afraid;
I never cheated any man, and all toy debts are paid.
They call it root that wo shall bare. but work would do n
harm;
There can't be aeon. there, nail field+, without nome cur
o' farm!
NOTHING BUT A BABY.
I=
" She's nothing but a baby, Widow Smith,
and will never be anything else. Now, Just
look at her, dancing along, swinging her hat in
her hand, as though that was what it was
madO for, and as though the world was formed
for her to...dance through, and for nothing
else."
And the speaker closed her thin lips deter
minedly, and shook her head with an energy
that seemed to impart itself to a cluster of
cork-screw curls, causing them to tremble
with a silent eloquence.
Every village has its maiden ladies: some,
with their hard, dry faces that have never been
kept soft and tender by a baby's kisses ; and
others, grown old with care, but bearing in
every wrinkle the smile of their younger days,
and greeting the village chrildren alway lov
ingly, that come to hear Annt .Debble's"
stories.
But tifese who seem cold and hard We must
not judge harshly, forgetting how the frosts of
many a winter have fallen upon their lives:
we know not how these scenes of sorrow have
changed the merry girl into a saddened wo
man ; so let us think gently of every loveless
life, and pray-for those who are thus alone.
" Well, Miss Flint, I suppose you're right ;
them gals ought to be hum, every one on em,
this afternoon, Instead of tramping out to the
woods, tearin' their frocks and splittin' their
throats a holierin'. Now, when I was a gal,
we didn't cut up any such fandangoes ; well,
well, this is a world of change I Surely I sure
ly I"
" Widow Smith," as she was generally
called, had "dropped in to tea" with Miss
Sophronia Flint ; and as they sat with their
sewing by the front windows, three merry
girls went laughing by, toward the grove just
beyond. It was a lovely day, and the song
of birds and gentle breezes would woo almost
any one from their dwellings to revel In the
beauties of nature,
The petite figure of Nellie Alders seemed to
• float as she moved. No care dwelled upon her
brow, and her song was as sweet as the birds
around. Swinging her hat in her band, the
breezes tossed her curly hair In wild confusion;
and tinged the round cheeks with the hue of
roses. ,
" I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower," sang
her sweet voice, as they entered the lovely
grove, and wandering down a narrow path,
came to a great tree whose branches shaded a
massive rock, half covered with moss. Here
they seated themselves, and Maud, the eldest
of the three, gathered the little form of Nellie
in her arms and said, laughingly :
" Here, little one, you've got to keep still a
moment and talk ; what a little bit of a thing
you are, any way I Did you hear old Miss
Flint's speech when we came by there ?
Well, I don't wonder the old lady thinks
you're nothing but, a baby."
" Old Miss Flint Do you hear the girl
talk I old I old I I should like to see those
curls shake if she heard you. But, oh, girls, I
couldn't help laughing the other Sunday when
she tripped Into church m that pink silk bon-
net with white feathers. Why can't people
learn how to grow old gracefully I"
"Yes, Misa Nellie, L saw you laughing—
and Parson Grey saw you, too. That man
laughs as easy as you, Nellie Aldeni; I do be
lieve; for he actually could hardly get through
the hymn he was reading.
" Well, it puzzles me to know how a body
can keep from laughing when anything conies
up comical.— I thought I should die the other
day in church, when old Tommie Warner fell
asleep and lost off his wig ; and when lie start
ed out of his nap and found it oir, did you see
him clap it on ? but what made it worse, he
had got it on ' hind side before,' as the' boys
say. Well, now, who wouldn't have laughed
at that ?"
" Yes—l acknowledge that was as much as
I could endure ; but Carrie didn't laugh,—did
you, Carrie ?"
" No,—l didn't see it; poor old man I how
lie must have felt !"
" Oh, you dear, good soul I I wish I was just
like you ; but every one says I'm nothing but
a baby, and they expect such things from me.
But, may be, one (lay, I'll be good for some
thing. Oh, I'll tell you, girls, let's say what
we'd like to be in the future. You commence
Maud ; but I know what you would be,. for I
heard Mr. Pierce say that Brae you took the
character in that play at school so perfectly, ,
What an actress that girl would make I'
"Yes, Nellie, if I could lade my choice, I
would study for the stage Immediately ; but
father never will consent to it, and you know
I am all be has now, and so i shall devote my
life to him."
" Oh, Maud," said Carrie, " I wish that I
might have some work of love like that I In
a few days I must go back to my city home
with my cousins. I shall educate myself for a
teacher, for you know I am poor ; but if I only
had some one to work for, then the task would
not seem so bard. I don't think I would care
for riches, but I do long for Some one to love
me."
" And what says our doll, what
would you be in.the future, baby Nell ?"
"I ? let me see. I guess I shall have to
marry some rich man, who would let me do as
I'd a mind to, and give me everything I want,
because, you see, as Fin nothing but a baby, 1
should have to have some one to take care of
me."
The supreme hours mooted come,
Unfelt the turning tides of doom,
And so the maids laughed on,
Nor dreamed what Fate had done.
Even then, Destiny was marking out paths in
life, tar different from their anticipations.
The Hummer leaves have faded, and in the
grove where the young girls sat that warm,
bright day, the snow now lies thick and un
trodden. The three friends are at school in
Now York, but Nellie le_ expected home to
night, and there all is in readiness. The warns
tire blazes in the wide fire-place, and as her
father puts on his great-coat and prepares
to go to the boat to meet her, he says, " How
nice it will be, wife, to have our baby home
again !"
But the night wears away and brings no
Nellie. For many hours the anxious father
has been waiting at the pier for the steamer
which was to bear his darling to his heart.
The waves plashed coldly against the wharf,
but tell no tales of the missing boat ; the lights
twinkle and ilaAh from the surrounding hills,
but no approaching light comes over the
waters. A crowd gathers round and excitedly
they talk of " shipwrecks," "burning steam
ers," etc., till every heart is fluttering with
nervous agitation.
" Hurrah hurrah I here she comes !" and
proudly a stately vessel sails up to the pier,—
a stranger vessel,—what does it mean ?
"The • Ocean Breetio' has gone down with
all on board !" shouted a voice from the deck.
Silence in that dreary home : the fire has
died out in the yawning fire-place, and alone
In the tomb-like room sit the unhappy Parents,
dead to all outward objects save the one terri
ble thought—" Nellie is drowned."
Now and then a twig or leaf taps against the
window, and they start nervously.
The morning dawns—the neighbors conic in
with acts of love and pity.
"Poor little baby!" sighed old Widow
Smith. '‘ To think o' that curly head a lyin'
at the bottom of the river. Well, well ! this is
a world of change. Surely I surely I"
The long day approaches to Its close ; the
departing sunbeams look cold and pale.
" Father, mother, here's your baby, spared
a little longer to tease and bother you. Why,.
if they aint both crying I Sorry I've been
saved, I'll warrant. Here, mother, father,
look up and thank this gentleman for saving
nie ; for if it had not been for hint, your little
Nell would indeed be lying nt the botton of
the river "
Again the summer has copie and gone, and
another winter weaves its wealth of frost-work.
There is to be a wedding in the village. lie
who, one year ago, saved a precious life from
death, now takes that life into his keeping, and
in the village church this morning Nellie Al:
tiers unites her fate with that of Harry Wells
ford, "for better or worse, in sickness and in
health, till death shall part."
Miss Flint, in her gay bonnet, Is there, and
as she comes down the aisle after the ceremony,
Widow Smith accosts her with, " Well, the
baby is married I"
" Married ? yes, and I consider it a perfect
Child's play. 'Why, site's nothing but a baby ;
just as gay as she ever was ; a pretty wife
she'll make for that young fellow I"
" Yes,—l s'pose you're right, Miss Flint,—
but they love each other ; and how pretty they
did look, standin' there, side by side," whis
pered the widow, while a tear shone in the
faded eye, it may be, brought thereby a vision
of her own bridal day, and the loved one who
now sleeps in yonder church-yard.
0, the strange, unfathomable future 1 How
often do we fall in our judgment of another !
how often do we pass carelessly by some tree
in the vineyard of life, saying, "It is worth
less, it will never bloom !" and lo 1 we come
again, and the tree is laden with its fruit.
The sweet face of Nellie was long missed in
the little village. Site had been petted and
loved by all; growing . up like some tender
flower that would die if touched by chilly
wind. No striking trait of character had ever
manifested itself in her ; and, child as she
scented, it is no wonder that a few should trem
ble for her future and her inexperienced hus
band.
=
go, through a tender Joy, Nellie was led into
the thronging crowd which ever swells and
throbs in the streets of our great city, and no
where in its vast recesses was there a happier
heart than that of Nellie, the little child-wife.
While she became a dweller hero through
joy, an overwhelming sorrow brought her
friend Maud into the same busy streets.
How different must have seemed the city to
these two girls !
One,. clothed In gay, wedding robes, leaning
on a beloved arm, the echo of her marriage
bells yet ringing in her ear.
The other, robed in mourning .garments,
with no earthly arm to lean upon ,• the funeral
bell still echoing in her soul, while evermore
her father's grave seemed opening before her,
as if it fain would receive her therein.
O Maud, Maud, come not into these busy
haunts 0 come not with your beautiful face
and talents The stage is Otani place for you.
Do you still persist ? Then may Heaven guide
you, oh, poor orphan girl! May the angels
screen you and keep your heart pure, though
all around Its boldness anti corruption I
And Carrie, where are you ? Teaching, that
you may earn your daily Dread? or has some
ono gathered you in his arms and shielded you
from the rough intercourse with the world ?
Yes, such has been your happy fate ; and never
was there a better minister's wife than you
have made—so unselfish, thoughtful, and ten
der, a blessing to your husband and the com
munity. I knoW not which accomplishes the
most good—your husband's sermons, or his
Wife's sweet face, Christian life, and winning
ways.
Four years have come and gone since Nettle
left her village home, a bride. Iler good, hon
est parents have passed away, happy in the
thought that their darling Is safe from care and
trouble. '
In Nellie's home beautiful child is seen
and the patter of little feet la beard in thehall
" Tick, tick," goes the little French clock on
the mantle-piece, and darker and darker grow
the shadows in the room. Little :Willie leaves
his play, and says, "Sing, mamma," then
looks up wistfully, and says, ". Why don't my
papa come I" Then Nellie sings :
" Oh, our life Is as happy and free
As the duueing waves on the bright blue sea."
Sing on, poor Nellie. The waves of your
life have Indeed been happy and free, but
does not forshadon•ing of the future creep over
you to-night? Do you see not the clouds in
the far-oft sky ? Soon, too soon, shall the sea
roar and be troubled 1 •
"Tick, tick, tick," beats the monotonous
thne ; it seems to make her nervous she goes
to the window, pulls the curtain aside, then
turns, lights the gas, and again takes up her
sewing, while Willie goes back to his toys.
" I:wonder what can keep him," she says,
half aloud ;" he never was so late before. Ah,
hero he comes now ; I know his step." Run to
the door, Willie—papa is coining. And .her
thee lights up ; the clock ticks merrily ; the
lights seem to burn more brightly ; the old
Carlo wags his tall and gives a quint of satis
faction.
" 0, my wife, my. poor little baby-wife, how
can I tell you ?" ho moans, as he staggers into
the pleasant room.
"0, child, child I" he groans, great sobs
shaking his whble.frame.
It is terrible.to see'estrong man weep. We
look for team from the weak and helpless, but
when a man thus sinks down crushed and
heart broken, it Is terrible.
" Nellie, oh, •why did I save you from the
waters that night Lift to bring you into the
waves of trouble and poverty I"
"Ile is insane 1" she thinks, and a pallor
overspreads • her face. "0, Harry, don't,
don't ; we are not in trouble ; we are not poor.
See our little boy ; and see how well and hap
py I am—don't frighten me 80.'•
"Darling, do I frighten you Y coins here—
hide your lace on my shoulder, and I will try
to tell you all. But oh, do not turn away from
me when You know the worst; for I were to
lose you, Nellie, then earth would indeed be a
dreary place. Suppose I were to tell you,
Nellie, that I had lost all my properly ; could
you comprehend it ? I have. I am a poor
man to-night, and heavily in debt."
The poor child passed her hand slowly over
her face. "0, but we have this house, you
know, and—and—"
' "No, Nellie, not even this house ;we must
leave this pleasant place for •a smaller one.
Can you bear it, darling ? I care not for my
self, but for you and my boy. I can not bear
that you should suffer,
And now the true woman's soul speaks.
" Never fear for us, Harry ; I have health and
strength, and while you are near I shall not be
unhappy. We will work together, toy hus
band. Come, our teals waiting ; you are faint
and weak, and must eat something. Don't
look so sad ; you know I married you • Air bet
ter or worse.' Ido not fear. God will lead
Is he dreaming Y Is this the child he mar
ried four years ago ? are these noble, womanly
words front those lips that seemed formed only
to sing and laugh?
All, Harry Wellsford, you have yet to learn
what a grand soul and noble nature dwells
within your little girl wife. Four years ago
you thought you took a baby to your heart.
Only God knew what an angel lie had given
you, and the trials which now lie in your path
way will but tend to develops in her those
traits of character which no one ever dreamed
she possessed.
Days creep away, and in a humble home
Nellie again awaits her husband. There is a
look of meagreness about the apartment,
though she has tried, poor child, to make it
look pleasant. The little French clock ticks as
steadily as before, and old Carlo sleeps as
sweetly on the coarse carpet as he did on the
velvet.
Out of work! Day after day Harry had
been seeking some employment—seeking with
thousands of others for labor to buy bread for
his fandls_; = still no success. This morning he
had gone forth with a heavier look of care on
his broad brow, his whole face the picture of
despair.
Nellie sits to-night waiting for his coming,
and trying to plan some way by which she
could help hint.
"'Perhaps I can write," she thought ; for she
knew there were many who thus supported
themselves ; but visions of hours of toil came
before her—hours which, to bring success,
must be spent alone, and she knew her house
hold duties and little baby would claim her
presence. Slowly she thought of the long cat
alogue of women's employments. What
could she do I
Oh. how many women in this great city are
even now asking that same question ; looking
Down at their small hands and black dresses
f woe, gazing away out over their humble
surroundings to some far off grave where lies
sonic darling loved one ! And what is there
that ninny of them can do ?—shrinking, with
their sensitive natures, from applying to
strangers for work. God pity them all, end
open to each one a way of deliverance!
And does He not ? Have there not been
records of noble lives that inspire us as we
live ? lives that never would have thus shone
forth if there had not been the fire and the
sword. to develop them 1 And when Ills
children reach forth their hands to help them•
selves, does not the Infinite Father behold,
and pity, and aid them.
Nellie has decided ; she remembers the fine
embroidery she used to love to do, and deter
mines to make her needle add to their scanty
RITBC.
How care-worn that little face looks •when
alone Ah,- there is his step on the stair ; she
smiles—her eyes light up, and hurrying to the
door, " Welcome, harry," she begins: but
the smile dies away ; the light fades out of the
blue eye, and, retreating slowly, she allows
her husband to pass in, staggering not now
with a mind harassed by fears, but under the
weight of as • fearful a woe as ever cursed a
broad humanity !
"G God, must my husband be a drunkard ?
Heaven help me to do my duty and not to
hate him i"
Let us pass over that night of shame and
morning of repentance and new resolutions.
'Would that never again might come such a
night to Nellie WellstbrO ; but when a man
once yields to the tempter that looks out from
the wine-cup, it needs a powerful will never to
approach it again ; and so that once noble man
fell lower and lower, day after day, bringing
wretchedness to his wife's soul.
"0 God !" she cries, "turn this great sor
row away, if it be Thy will: Father, help me
to reclaim him."
It seemed as If this was meant to be the one
object of her life, for one night God took to
himself the little boy that had been to her so
great a care, and yet so precious a treasure.
Arid now all her thoughts and attention must
be given to that erring man wh msi had
married for "better or worse."
Oh, woman's love.! How it man s through
scorn, and peril, and misery, and degradation I
Heaven pity that man who has no gentle face
to smile upon him, no tender voice to encour
age him, no sister's affection or mother's coup
ssl, 'no wife's devotion and unselfish prayers.
For such, the world extends a cold aspect, and
life must be aimless and selfish, and oft-times
sad.
Oh, Harry Wellsford, throw not so carelessly
by this wealth of woman's love which hi yours !
Can you not see you are killing her you prom
ised to' love and cherish? When you revel
with base companions in low grog-shops, does
no vision of a pale-faced wife come before
you ? Can you not see the sweet face of your
little dead boy, and hear his dying words:
"Papa, you'll come too, by-and-by, and
bring mamma, won't you, into that beautiful
world ?"
Reader, you may. have seen a pale-browed
woman In the streets, hurrying to dispose of
her labored work. You may have seen her nil
you passed her window, bending to catch the
fading light of day over her embroidery. Oh,
dreary hours! No little baby voice to comfort
her, no little soft hands to twine around her
neck with the lisping words, "Willie loves
mamma." "My God," she cries, over and
over again,. "help me to reclaim him."
This became her prayer night'and day*. For
this she put on that patient, happy smile When
with Min, trying, with many a loving device,
to keep him at home evenings. Oh, man,- is
the tempter stronger than that angel-wife?
Are you indeed past redemption
Night after night that devoted Wife went
forth and led her husband away from Scenes
of debauchery and ruin, seeking him among
the vile and degraded ; seeing none, caring
for none but him ; loving him through it all,
making excuses, ever, in her heart, for him ;
never upbraiding him, when, in his sober
moods, he wept like a child before her.
One night, on returning from some low
drinking saloon, he passed by a threatre which
had just closed; the crowd had passed away ;
but aa.ho went by the doorl woman came out,
and seizing hint by the arm, hissed In his car:
" Murderer,'villain I go home to your pale
wife and be a man. Was it for this you saved
her from the floods, only to be plunged in a
more terrible sea of griefs? Go home, and
look how that childish thee has become worn
and ivrinklied with the care you have brought
upon her. See how those little hands are
pricked and blackened by the Work that you
have forced her to do. Go home, I say, and
behold the work of your hand."
The figure vanished in the darkness, and
only the night-winds caught the moan. " 0
Nellie, my poor little baby friend—friend !
friend I Who would call me, the desolate out
cast, a friend ! Wretch that lam ! still, night
alter night I lona deck myself in gaudy robes,
and, With paint and forced smiles, go lora' be-
fore the multitude a living lie. Alas I who
would recognize in this faded, haggard woman
the once bright and beautiful Maud ?"
Away in the darkness Of night the poor wo
man rushes.
Heaven be, merciful to the sinning—pitiful
with the poor..
And does this warning check him in his
mad career ? No, no ; and still goes up that
wailing prayerweaker and more feeble than
at first—" Oh God helpme to reclaim my hug.
band I"
Itarry Wellston], can you not behold the
nisery you are causing Y Can you not foresee
he shadow approaching " Know you not
hat the angel you took •into your home is go
ng to a Letter country l'—even now the wings
we forming; soon they will bear her from all
rouble and care.
‘• Let me live to see my husband reform."
One night he comes home earlier than usual •
but as he approaches the door the unusua
silence chills him—he enters—all is darkness
the clock has ceased its voice, for there were
no little hands to, seta on its daily way—no
figure sits by the window stitching the fine
embroidery ; the faithful dog has crept in, and
now whines upon the fluor.
"Harry, is It you ?" whispered a faint voice.
"I have had to lie down to-day;
somehow I
feel strangely weak and tired. Harry, get a
light, please."
"There, now ; come and sit by me. I think
lam dying. Nay, do not sob so. I shall
never rise again from this bed, but gradually
grow weaker and weaker, till my breath ceases
forever. Hush, be calm. It may be weeks
before I leave you, Harry, and during that
time I want to see you the man you was when
we were married. Will you promise, dear, to
be a true man again ? Promise, for I know a
vow made to your dying 'wife will never be
broken. Do you ? will you, Harry?
"Heaven helping me, I never will touch
another drop of liquor as long as I live I" He
spoke solemnly, on beaded knees, his eyes up
turned to that hewn from which he invoked
aid.
sweet smile stole over her face. "I be
lieve you, dear ; and now, while I can talk,
there are some things I want to say'to you.
.1)0 you remember the two friends I used to
kink Bo mock of? I want to see them before
I die. Does the word pain you so ?—then I
will try and not say it again ; but I have thought
of it so Ion• that it has grown familiar to me.
" You will find Maud In the city somewhere ;
perhaps you had better advertise. Say, ' Maud,
little Nell is dying. Come to see her, and
hold her in your arms, just as you uses! to do
when she was nothing but a baby.'
" Carrie is in the little village where I used
to live. Tell her to ask her husband to conic
too ; I should like to sue a minister.
" You will take me there when it is all over,
Harry ; and I should like, If you are willing,
to wear the bridal dress you thought I looked
so pretty in.
"I am tired now, Sit just as you are, all
the evening, with your hand In mine. Take
the Bible first, and read awhile. Harry, I'm
sorry I haven't been a better wife to you. You
will find the embroidery I have been making
half finished, in the stand-drawer, between
the windows. I have a fancy that I would
like you to keep it. The thimble is there, too
—the little gold one that mother gave me ; and
the needle is in the work, just as 1 left it. You
didn't know what a little seamstress you had
for a wife, did you ? Yes, I have done a good
deal of that kind of work. I knew it was
hard for you to find work now that there are
so many looking. But I would like you to
keep this little piece, and thlnk, when you look
at it, how with every stitch is woven thoughts
of you. Oh, don't sob so. Don't condemn
yourself so bitterly. Ido not ; I never have.
I know you did not mean to make me unhappy
and I don't know as you have. I have loved
you all the time, and if I could only have made
you happier, I should have been more content
.ed. But I was young and inexperienced, you
know, and I suppose not very strong. No,
no ; do not say you have killed me. It must
be I never was strong and able to endure
much, end I missed little Willie so, you know.
I suppose that wore on me. But now, read,
and I will sleep."
Day after day Nellie lingered. Maud came
end watched constantly by her. They had
written to Carrie, but received no answer.
Paler and more wan grew the little, sweet
thee ; and the patient hands seemed smaller
each day.
Her husband was ever near, ever attentive
to her wants. God had answered Nellie's
prayer. She had indeed reclaimed him. .
Slowly the hour approaches when 'lli° last
good-bye must be spoken. Maud sits near,
while in his arms Harry Wellsford holds his
little girl-wife for the last time.
The old clock ticks on as before ; the old
house-dog keeps his faithful watch.
There is a rustle in the hall. A beautiful
lady enters, followed by a gentleman, and Car
rie kneels by her . dying friend, while the min
ister prays for the preplous soul about to cross
the river.
"I am glad you have come, Carrie. Dear
girls, do you remember how we used to sit to
gether in the grove at home ? We shall never
wander thus again ; but I hope, one day, we
shall roam over the meadows of the Better
Land. harry, good-bye. When lam gone,
try to live so that you may meet Willie end
your little child-wife above.,
"Are you near me, harry 4—l don't seem
te feel your arms attund. me. I think lam
going now. Why, how light it is getting !
the morning dawns—mother, father, Willie—
yes—coming—home "
Silence, how dead ! "Tick, tick, tick,"
goes the clock on the wall. Carlo looks wist
fully up ; a stray sunbeam falls across the bed
and nestles in the golden curls ; a little bird
peeps mournfully outside ; some one is sing
ing in .the street; a child goes by, crying; an
1 organ-grinder plays some simple tune.
But the sweet face is gone from the window
forever! The little hands are folded, never to
be unclasped.
0, Harry Welisford, In vain that beseeching
voice ! She will never speak to you again ; no
patient child-wife will over nestle in yourarms
again. Weep on ; well may you weep, for
you have lost a priceless blessing.
Away to her childhood's home they bear
her—home to her father and mother.
Once again Harry Welisford comes down
from the eourch altar with his wife ; but. oh,
how different the two scenes!
A poor old woman sobs by the door, speak
ing in whispers to her who sits near her of the
life now gone ; and as the bells toll solemnly.
they seem to hear the bridal bells that had
chimed foi her ; while mingling with the
words, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," there
seemed to echo, " For better or worse, in sick
ness and in health, till death shall part,"
"So little Nelly's,, gone, Sophronia ; oh,
what.a world of change! Surely ! surely I"
"She never ought to- have been married,.
Widow Smith, and gone to that great city.
What was she good for, poor little darling
She was nothing but a baby."
Nothing but a baby? Little did the old
maid know of Nellie's life, that womanly, de
viued, self-sacrificing life. Was her work the
work of a baby—seeking to reclaim the tempi
ed ono through scoffs and jeers of brutal men
—laboring day by day for the bread which he
provided not?
Nothing but a baby? 0, let us not judge a
character hastily., for in the web of many a
life a golden thread twineth, unseen by mortal
eye, but which In the upper world, shall be
woven into a crown of glory. •
The stage has lost one of Itsapplauded stars,
• WILLS .435 IREDELL,
1131ttin antt ffancp Slob likinteuf,
No. 47 EAST HAMILTON STREET,
ELEGANT PRINTING
NEW LESIONS
LATEST STY LDS
Stamped Cheeks, Cards, Circulars. Paper Books, Condi
lotions and Ily-LewP School Catalogues, Bill Heads
Envlopes, Letter Reads Dills of Lading Way
Dills, Tags and Shipping Cards, Posters at any
edge, etc., eto., Printed at Short Notice.
NO. 16
and with rouge and falsehood washed away,
and her heart made pure by the blood which
cleanseth from all sin, Maud sits in the midst
of the village children, an earnest teacher.
Each night, as the sun sinks behind the west
ern hills, with gentle step she wends her way
to the church-yard, and, kneeling by a little
grave, scatters flowers on the still mound.
Thus there conies a silent influence from
that departed life that elevates a fallen woman,
and, 1.144, , on wings of heavenly wettings,
breathes around the pathway of Ithn who treads
"life's dim labyrinth" alone.
From the midst of his sins Harry Wellsford
has come forth a reclaimed man, honored by
his fellow-creatures, loved and blessed by many
a needy one, and, may we not believe, smiled
upon by her who dwelleth in "n house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens ?"
Faithful to his wife's memory he remains ;
no other will ever take her place in his home
or heart •; and sometimes, as he sits alone, the
words of Gerald Massey fall from his lips— ,
"In this dim world of clouding cares,
We rarely know till 'wildered eyes
See white wings lessening up the skies,
The angels with us unawares."
FOOD FOR PORK MAKING
The economy of feeding animals for meat
is better understood in England than with us.
One kind of food will cost much more, than
another to produce the same results. But
while the selection of food in' regard to its
market value is a consideration which should .
not be overlooked, another important question
should be studied—that is the kind of food
which will make the best finality of meat.
That some-meats are better than others to the
taste, although no apparent difference may be,
detected by the eye, is a well known fact. It
may be an exceedingly cheap way of fatten
ing hogs upon snakes and shack, but we doubt
whether the quality of the pork is excellent,
br it would be so cheap after all, if the consu
mer knew what he was purchasing. We do not
suppose that snakes are employed to any
great extent for feeding hogs, and yet a cor
respondent of one of the papers, recently
claimed that western hogs, often are allowed
to feed upon this and other unwholesonie diet,
and in consequence were subject to disease
and the meat liable to be infected with trichi
na. This doubtless was nothing but a good
Joke on our western friends, but it is a fact
that hog cholera and other diseases exist to a
greater extent West than at the East.
The idea generally prevails in the United
States that Indian corn, or corn meal is the
best food for swine, and from which the best
pork is made.. It fattens the animal rapidly
and has the merit of making what the house
keepers call solid pork, that ,is pork that in
cooking is not liable to waste away, or have
its fatty particles separated from the meat. In
this respect, the different kinds of food upon
which swine are fattened, have a remarkable
influence. Distillers slops make very fat pork,
but when it comes to be cooked, a large part
of the original bulk passes off into oil or lard
and hence, such pork is not considered eco
nomical to purchase.
Corn, as is well known, contains a consid
erable percentage of oil, which in feeding, is
largely appropriated by the animal, and hence
as might be expected, takes from it a rand and
disagreeable flavor. Doubtless this'may nev
er have been observed by , many who have al
ivays been ascustomed to the use of" corn tech
pork," but that its flavor is disliked and re
jected on flint account, is of too frequent oc
currence to admit of doubt. In the large
dairy district, a cheap pork making material
is at hand—a material almost valueless for ally
other purpose, except as food for domestic an
imals. We refer to whey resulting from the
manufacture of cheese. There is great differ
ence of opinion among dairymen as to wheth
er whey is most profitable when employed for
pigs, or fed to COWS giving milk. Tlie ques
tion has not been settled to the satisfaction of
dairymen ,but however this may be, careful
ly considered experiments have shown that
whey possesses considerable value as a feed
ing material. We might refer to analyses that
have been made from time to time, to substan
tiate this statement, but so patent is the tact
that it might seem almost unnecessary to make
mention of it here. We do so, however, he
cause the ground is being taken at minty facto
ries, that whey from carefully manufactured
cheese is of no account as feeding material,
and therefore is allowed to go to waste. Such
practice cannot be otherwise than condemned
as bad economy, and should be at once .aban
doned, since we are persuaded that the pat
rons at no factory would allow it to he so
wasted, with a knowledge of its real value.
Whey when mingled with barley meal, and
fed to swine, will make a better and more del
icately flavored meat than can be obtained
from any other food.
By feeding barley meal with whey, the
dairy farmers of England make fie it whey,
pay them in pork from $7 to $lO per cow—an
important item, it will lie seen, in any dairy.
The practice with many of our factories is to
feed nothing but whey. This, as we have
often remarked heretofore, is very objectiona
ble, since the solid constituents in whey are
not in the right proportion to be used as a sole
feed for swine. Good whey conta i ns only
about seven parts of solid matter. in an hun
dred parts ; all the rest is water. About five
of the seven parts above mentioned are milk,
angel : and lactic acid, a substance very desira
ble, it is true, as food, when properly mingled
with other flesh-forming material. ,
That great experimenter, Mr. Limes, states
that 500 pounds of barley meal, where it is
made a sole feed for swine, will increase the
weight of a pig from 100 to 200 pounds. We
have no statistics at hand showing the quanti
ty of local front other grains, or from wheat
bran, that would produce the same result.
What we need, and it could be determined
easily at our factories, is a series of experi
ments with the meal of different grains to be
fed with the whey, to determine which would
I increase the weight of. pigs most. That
' having been determined, the relative cost of
the different kinds of feed would deed. \V which
was most profitable to be used.
The market value of barley may at times be
I too high to make it profitable to be used with
whey as feed for swine; but the fact that such
feed makes a superior quality of pork, is the
question which we should undersbuid. Many
people are willing to pay an extra price Mr an
.extra article, and especially is this the case
with pork to be used in the home markets.
Among private dairymen, who fatten pigs
for their own family use or for that of their
neighbors, who desire an extra article, this
question is one of considerable huportauce,
and we have alluded to it that experiments
might be made, with the hope that it may
prove of some practical value.—Andri•icon
Stork Journal. I
—The criminal I'oineet, who was lately ex
cuted for murder, in France, sent for the doc
tor, on the evening preceeding, his exeoution
"Doctor I feel very unwell." How is that,
let me see your tongue ? Alt, yea ; a little agi
tated, pulse quick and irregular, but that is
nothing. A little repose and 1401110 cooling
medicine will put that all right." The cool
ing drink was taken regularly, anti the next
morning ho walked coolly to the scaffold.
—We bad related to us the other day an an
ecdote of an old lady who formerly entertained
travelers in a neighboring county, before her
guests commenced a meal it was her custom to
ask a blessing. Site always delivered herself
in this wise :• " 0 Lord I make us truly thank
ful for the ihod before us. Nancy,. hand
around the corn bread first, and then the his -
cult afterward. Amen."
—A miser who had been sent to purgatory
for his avarice heaved a deep sigh as he crossed
the threshold. , " What, repenting already ?"
cried one of the imps In attendance. "Oh, .1
was only thinking of what a prodigious waste
of fuel you have here," answered Saveall ; " I
would engage to heat the place thoroughly
..with two-thirds of the fuel."
—The claim of a New England loan to be
the " champion" sufferer by accidents is dis-.
puted. Putnam, Ohio, puts forth a man who has
broken both collar bones, his jaw- bone, both
armsefour ribs on one side and two on the
other, and one leg ; he had also both ankles
dislocated; and has lost his sight all by acci
dents, "and is still able to be about.
—" You've destroyed my peace. of mind,
Betsey,' said a desponding lover, to a truant
lass. It can't do you much harm, John, for'
'twas an amazing small piece you had any
way" was the quick reply.
OPATAIRP.
ALLENTOWN. PA