" "f v
COME AND TAKE ME. Dcvivier
VOL. 1.
CLEARFIELD, WEDNESDAY, JAIUAEY 17, 1855.
KO. 27.
RAFTSMAN'S JOURXAL.
Bex. Jones, Publisher.
Per. annum, (payable in advance.) SI .r0
If paid within the year. 2 00
- No paper discontinued until all arrearages are
paid.
A failure to notify a diseouliniianee at ihc cxpi
ra.ion of the term -juWribod fur. will bo conaidcr-
IKLVT KNOW.
Tbo Ki:on N'oiliirijs npper to have sprung up in the
far-olf rt.-io;?s f Xebra ka. ns the following lines,
from the l). Amur. would seem to indicate :
Who i it tii'HM with silent pace. m
With brow scrc-ne pud smiling face.
Each word and action perfect grace?
I don't know do you ."'
Whose heart shines forih from kind'eJ eyes
And listens to oppression's cries.
And when in danger naver files?
"I doa't know do jou ?"
Who does not show, by tongue (- pen.
What he hn lesrrrd where he ha" been.
And keeps his thoughts from other men?
-I don't know do you ?:
Who. when he sees Jim country rsib'd
15y men in foreign clinutey sciiooic 1,
Thinks as a freeman lie is fiolud f
'I don't know do you ?"
Who. when he see that popish power
li gaining foothold every hoar.
Feels that n storm begins to lower ?
-I don't know do you ?"
Who feels that men born in this land.
And 'gainst oppression dared to srnnd,
Are just as sou 1 as '-pauper brand !''
'1 don't know do vou V
MONODY ON A DEFl .NCT BANK.
Not & 3ound was heard, save the cashiers wail,
As the Ikj doubloon ra counted :
Not a clerk discharged his f;;;ir"s I 1 I ,
When Le from his desk dismounted.
The receiving teller received no mure,
And the payer refused to pay:
The attorney he turned away to the door.
And the runner, lie run away.
And short were the oaths tf the IVcMdeut.
As he fumbled mid the dross.
And filling hi pouch, as he always meant,
lie charged it to profit ai.d Suss.
Net a tingle qualm disturbed its breast
n account of the slight default ;
swept the board of all what w as left.
And locked up the empty vault.
'Tis said rt night" a parting wail
iCe-echoe 1 ft nm wall to wall.
And a trouble:! ghost of aspect pale.
M'ght be s-eu iu the kai'.kiog halt;
A', times it will perch on' the m.irblo donio.
V hide in the discount elset..
And often exclaim, iu a stolen tone,
-Air's, for icy Uciiosits!"
RIDDLi:.
TUANSL VTi'jS rilll't SCPI1 IXR.
Ft cm pearU her lofty bri "ge shi wt".ves,
A gray feu arching proudly over;
A tm mi'i.t'i t ii the work j.chieve?.
A.tl ou Uiv height behold i.er h;ver!
J'.-!iea:h that rrch sccuii.lv g
The tal'e-sl barks that ride the -ca.-i.
N t.-erthen e'er the lr:dg: may know.
Atju ::s thou eek'at to near it Sees !
l"ir.t with the flood if came, to fade
As rolled the waters from the land :
;iy when- ti.'ii? Wondrous arch is made.
And whose the Artist's mighty hand ?
(Drioinol Jtioml (Tnif.
WV.ITTEV run Tllti J' I t:X Al.. J
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Slant. "E" Vv " -L-rt--7. T.
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copi-uium s)'.ct n k p .
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CHAPTER XII I.
The storm of persecution raged with in
creaoed violence. The wrath of the Kmperor
knew no bounds. Xoihiug short of the anni
hilation of the "cursed sect," throughout the
empire, seemed to be his aim.
Detachments of soldiers, of the most fero
cious and depraved characters, had been
sent iuto the neighboring tow i.s and villages,
to LriTig buund to Rome all whom they found
of the new faith, men, women, and children.
Letters, moreover, bad been despatched to
all his provinces, nigh and remote, authoriz
ing the governors thereof, to arrest and put to
death all of that name. Agents, also, of the
Emperor's own choosing, had been sent to
fetir tip the minds of the people against them,
by their slanderous reports and their inflama
tory harangues.
There was a hand of providence, however, at
work stretched out in the midst of this scene
of suffering and commotion. There was a
wonderful working in the" hearts of such as
the Lord would have to be saved such as he
purposed sending through the tires of martyr
dom to their robes and crowns. There was
indeed a rapid enlisting and niarslialling of
his blood-bought children, to make the might
iest displays of patient suiTering and unyield
ing valor the world had ever witnessed ; while,
on ihe other hand, the enemy, abandoned to a
blindness, cruel, infatuated, horrid, was con
centrating its forces in every place.
Hence, the multitudes already put to death
in Hume had not, in the least, diminished their
numbers, nor daunted the zeal of the survi
vers. On the contrary, their numbers were
multiplying with untold rapidity and iu the
catacombs iu the chamber of Prytbeus, eve
rywhere, night and day, thousands were flock
ing around the new-erected standard of the
crofcs.
This was exceedingly annoying to the Em
peror, aud ho had stamped and stormed in his
I' dice, and raged and foamed in the Forum.
His soldiers aad slaves trembled in his pres
ence, and never did poor creatures toil with
'"ore untiring zenl to satiate a tyrants thirst
A-r blood. -Sight aud day, often without food
or sleep, did they scour the streets, rudely en
ter houses, and watch with eagle-eye the least
suspected.
In the face, however, of all this they dis
coursed as follows.
"Well, father," I think I can give up all, I
think I can I'll try."
'-We can do ail things, through Christ
strengthening us. my daughter, pray to him."
'I did, father, as well as I know how ; aud,
O ! I do think he heard rae, for a strange joy
secmed all at once to fill my soul, and I've not
felt so sad since. Is this the way he hears us,
father ?"
'IIe mostly hears us in the thing we ask for,
and sometimes grants our request at the
time of our asking, if it be agreeable to his
will."
'Then he surely did hear me, aud grant my
request, too. I asked him to case my heart
of my sins, and I dont feel them any more,
like I did."
'God bo praised, my daughter, that ii is
&o."
'O '. what a kind, good Saviour he is! I
know I've been a wild, fo dish, frolicksome
creature, fond of dress and pleasure ; but 1
think I can give up all now for his sake. I
thiJc so I'il try."
'Our faith dont require us to make even the
smallest s.ieriiiee for nothing, my daughter.
Heaven will repay with pleasures itriinitely
more exquisite and satisfying, and even one
sight of its glories will more than compensate
for all our trials and sufferings."
'I know you've often told me so, I try to
believe it I !o believe it now, lather, I think."
.'The Lord help you, my daughter."
'What a strange world, father, that must
be! I've been trying all day to picture out its
beauties, and yet I can't see what makes it so
happy and delightful."
'It's because there's no sin there no curse."
"And is it sin that makes this world so un
happy to us, father ?"
Ves ; my daughter, this world was once a
Paradise every thing was lovely and man
was as the angels, till he silted. Then the fair
and beauteous face of nature became' changed,
and man became miserable, just as yu see."
'As the Angels! who are they 1"
"A sinless race. They dwell in Heaven,
and they are sometimes sent to miuister to us
in our wants and sufferings."'
Here there was that peculiar, steady gaze
into the father's face, that thinking, motion
less stare, such as often follows the hearing of
something new and wonderful.
'And do you really think, father, Fiducia's
in that strange world now. in Heaven?"
'Yes, my daughter. I think so I Luow so!
.'(, how happy ! How much better than if
site were still iu this wicked place."
"Yes, my daughter, nothing could induce
her to return again to earth, to remaiu upon it
nut even her agonizing love for little Yare."
"But it seems so strange that the body may
be all burnt to ashes, an 1 yet the soul escape
and live in another world live forever, too!
Dont it seem so to yourself, father ?-"'
'It did, my daughter, at one time, it does
so even now. But with Cod all things tire
possible." .
'Ody poor, dear sister, then, surely lives
lives in heaven you dont doubt it, iV.ther ?"
"No more than I do my own present exis
tence. I saw her last night in a vision, on my
bed. She stood at my Mde, and smiled, aud
looked so happy, and told me not to weep
more. She then leaned over and took little
Yare up-in her arms, and kissed him, and
pressed him fondly to her bosom, and then,
returning him again to your mother's arms,
kissed us all, and vanished away.''
Again, there was the same staring, inquir
ing gaze in the father's face.
"In a vision ! you mean you dreampt it,
father?"
"I suppose so, my daughter, so, at least,
people would say."
"We can't come back from the strange, hap
py world, even if we would can wc, father V
"There are many mysterious things in the
details of our faith not fully revealed to us
in our present state, because not necessary to
be known. 1 am not therefore, prepared to
speak positively."'
(), I'd like to think it, at any rate, father.
It would'nt make the dear Saviour love me
less, would it V
"Xo, my daughter, it's a harmless thought
not to saj- that there are many good reasons
for believing it."
"Then I'll believe it it's so delightful."
"You may, my daughter.. I can hardly
doubt it, since the sight I had last night, and
the comfort it has imparted to my soul. Why
may not a mother be appointed the guardian
spirit of her child, and may not heaven, in
mercy, grant them such angel visits V
"I know Fiducia was so good, so gentle and
kind to us all, and loved little Yare so dearly,
it would be no more than right in her case,
at least, father. But, how strange these things
are !"
"Yes,-my daughter, they are indeed new
and strange to us Romans but they are bless
ed, glorious things ; and, blessed bo God that
our oars have heard them."
This conversation took place between Ya
lens and Ycrtitia, in an arbor of vines, iu the
still quiet of his grounds, just as the sun was
sinking behind the far-distant hills, and fling
ing its profusion of golden rays up upon the
partly clouded skies.
It was, indeed, a delightful evening such
as Italy alone can boast. The few straggling
clouds, seemed as if rising out of an ocean of
gold, and as they ascended up along the deep
blue skies, shook off thousands of bright, yel
low flakes, which either followed after, or
melted away into the expanse beyond. Then,
afar to the East, the horrizon was bounded by
a dark, circling line of hill, which foretold
the advance of the night, while the soft, mel
low light of tho departing day still lingered
over the intervening vales and around the hill
tops, as if loath to depart. Then away in the
distance, too, were the yellow waters of the
Tiber, moving imperceptibly along in the old,
broad, easy channel, lined on cither side with
beautiful residences, and vineyards, and groves
of stately palm.
Directly around them was a charming fresh
ness, soothing, and invigorating. The day
had been excessively hot. The leaves and
flowers had been crisped and wilted. But on
the withdrawal of the warm, searching rays of
the sun, they had gradually unfolded and ex
panded into their wonted proportions; and
even now their was a gentle moisture upon
them, which, extracting their odcrifferous
qualities, perfumed the air. Then the soft
breezes came stealing along, and the leaves
of the vine, and the orange, and the lemmon,
as also the flowers, with their maiden blushes,
greeted them with their undulations and gen
tle courtesies. And then the more distant ob
jects were becoming less distinct iu their out
lines, soon to be lost altogether, in the shad
ing which the masterly hand of nature was
dashing off around them.
It was, in truth, one of those rare evenings,
about which there is an indiscribable charm,
and which lulls the soul into a strange, dreamy
sort of inspiration ; and when, either rising
into the loftier regions of thought, it pictures
out golden visions, or, pleased with itself, it
would gladly linger yet longer on earth, how
ever faulty and stern ia its realities.
On such an evening it was. that Yalens and
his daughter, cv.ted in the little arbour, dis
coursed as. we have related ; and that, their
joys and sympathies, mingling together, flow
ed out in untold gratitude ty the dear, blessed
Saiour.
Ya'.eus had hastily ns:-n t a his feet. It had
.suddenly oceu red to him that he had some
.wabgei.u-t.ts to make for that night's meeting
in th-- Catacombs.
VcrtULt. Ik
r, after a moment, during 1
which she had been looking thoughtfully at;
the ground, grasped him by the hand, ami j
seemed unwilling that he should go.
'One thing yet burdens my heart, fuller,"
said she, with a marked hesitancy, and a
choaking, trembling voice.
"If it's in my power, I shall most gladly re
lieve you. I wish my daughter to do right,
but knowiiisiy with a ciear conscience," said j
Yalens, quickly re-seating himself at her side.
"My daughter will not conceal her feelings
keep back no desire of her heart," lie con
tinued, os Vert it hi hung her head at his side,
and seemed struggling with her emotions.
"Well," at length, sai l she, "must I hate
what I formorly loced do love still, before I
can be a Christian ?"
"Every thing sinful or unholv must be hated
by nil who take upon them the vows of our !
faith," said Yalens. J
"Do you mean sinful or unholy personx, ,
father," inquired Ycrtitia, with anxiety.
"Xo, my child things, words, works, ac-
tiots, thoughts, in a word, every thing evil."
"How then is it with sinful persons? must
i iate inetn saui ertttia, looking up m i
her fathers' s face, quite pale.
"Xo, my daughter, our faith requires us to
love even our enemies, and to pray for them i
that dcspitcfulhy use and persecute us," said
Yalens, with some emphasis.
Ycrtitia sat thoughtful for a few moments,
when, with a vigorous effort to throw aside all
restraint arising from the natural delicacy of
her sex she said :
"Well, lather, I must tell you, that my lovo
for Marcus is deep, pure, and I fear lusting.
I thought, perhaps, I could not be a Christian
with such sentiments that's what I wished to
know," said Ycrtitia, sorrowfully, and, at the .
same time, hurrying her face iu her hands, she
burst into tears. '
"You love his virtues and many excellent
qualities of heart ; but how with his Gods,
my daughter ?"
"O, I know he's wrong, I did'nt think so
once, I do now ; aud I pray that the Spirit
would change his heart as I think it has chang
ed mine," said Yertitia, her face still hurried
in her hands.
"Yes, pray for him pray for all men, eve
rywhere," slid Yalens, encouragingly.
He was at no loss to perceive the drift of t
his daughter's inquiries; and while he could: j
not but deeplv lament the attachment she had
formed, he adored God for his goodness, and j
admir'd her conscientiousness. I
"
He arose, and walked sorrowfully away yet
rejoicing.
To be continued.
3tti5ttIIlllINHl0.
UNCLE BILL.
Uncle Bill Grifiin, or Uncle Bill, as he was
commonly called, with an irreverent disre
gard of his patronymic, did not retire from the
ship chandlery business till lie was worth
something more than a plum. Xot being bles
sed with a son to coutinue his name and in
herit his fortune, he lavished all his tender
ness and ail his care upon his daughter. Sweet
Molly Griffin, thou weit as unlike thy papa as
a canary bird is unlike a bull-dog. His face
was as hard as a Dutch nut-cracker thine as
soft as a rose-leaf. lie was the veriest miser
in all creation thou didst spend thy pocket
money as a prince of Wales. In his house
hold managements Uucle Bill was a consum
mate skin-flint; tradition says that he used to
eoak the back-logs in the cistern, and water
the lamp oil, and he was ailed and abetted iu
all his niggardly schemes by a vinigar-faced
housekeeper, who was the sworn enemy of all
good cheer, and stinted from a pure love of
meanness. Yet pretty Mary had no reason to
complain of her father's penuriousness, as far
as she was concerned. He sent her to the
best schools, and gave her a cute blanche on
the most expensive milliners, and when she
walked "Washington street on a sunny day,
there was : not a more gaily dressed damsel
from Cornhill to Essex street.
Of course, several nice young men in varn
ished leather and white kids, fell over head
and ears in love with her, and there was a lar
ger number collected outside of the meeting
she attended on .Sunday than darkened the
door of any other metropolitan church.
Yet cob! was the maid, and tho' legions advanced,
All drilled in Ovedian art,
Though they languished and ogled, protested and
danced,
Like shadows they came, and liko shadows they
glanced
From the pure polished ice of her heart.
Besides, Uncle Bill was a formidable guar
dian to his attractive daughter. Did he not
fire a charge of rock salt into the inexpressi
bles of Tom Billkins, when he camo serana
ding with a cracked guitar Didn't he threat
en to kick Towle for leaving a valentine at
his door? Wasn't he capable of unherd-of
atrocities? The suitors of pretty Mary were
all frightened offthe course by her ogre of a
father, except a steady young fellow who re
joiced in the name of Sampson Bittlcs, and
who wus addicted to book-keeping in a whole
.sale grocery store in Commercial street. The
old gentleman really liked Bittlcs; he was so
staid, so quiet, and so full of information. He
was a regular price current, and no man on'
change, was letter .acquainted with the price
of stocks. Why Mary liked him, it is more
difficult to conjecture, for he was very defi
cient in the small talk that ladies are so fond
of, was averse to moustaches, disliked the
opera, thought the ballet immoral, and con
sidered waltzing indelicate. Perhaps his good
looks compensated -for other defiencies, or
perhaps the horrors of dying in a state of sin
gle blessedness, induced her to countenance
the only young man Uncle Bill was ever
known to tolerate.
One evening Bittlcs screwed up his courage
to the task of addressing the old man on the
subject nearest to his heart.
'Mr. Criffm,' said he, I'ehad something
here for a long time,' and he made up a hor
rible face, and placed his baud somewhat near
his heart.
'Dyspepsia?' said the old man.
'Your daughter,' gasped the young one.
Well, what about her." asked Uucle Bill
sharpishly.
'I'm in love with her,' said the unhappy
clerk.
'Humbug!' said Uncle Bill.
'Fact V rejoined Bittlcs.
'What's your income?' inquired Griffin,
'Eight hundred,' answered the supplicant.
'It wont do my boy,' said Griftin, shaking
his grim locks 'Xo man on a salary shall mar
ry my daughter. Why, she's the finest girl
in Boston, and it takes capital to marry a fine
girl. When you have thirty thousand dollars
to begin with, you may come and talk with
me.'
Bittlcs disappeared. Six months after that
Miss Mary Griffin received a letter, w ith an
endorsement of Uncle Sam, acknowledging
the receipt of forty cents. It ran thus:
'San Fraxcisco, California, lboil.
Dearest Mary
Enclosed, you will find a specimen of Cal
ifornia gold, which please hand j our father,
and oblige. Have to advise you of my return
to Boston. Please tell your father that I have
made fifty thousand dollars at the mines, and
shall, wind and weather perniiting, soon call
upon him totalk over that matter, and arrange,
terms of partnership.
Yours to command,
Samtsox Bxttlks.'
Mary, as in duty bound, handed the epistle
to her father, who w as overjoyed.
Some weeks elapsed, and the return of the
steamer to Xew York was telegraphed. Grif
fiu was on the qui vive to see his future son-in-law.
On the day of his expected arrival, he met
a Californian who came home in the same
ship.
'Where's Bittles?' he inquired.
'Oh, holyou'll sec him before agrcat while,'
replied the Californian.
'Has he been lucky?'
'Yes fifty thousand at the lowest calcula
tion. But he's going to try a game over you.
He means to tell you that he's been rolnVd of
all his gold on his way home, to see if you
have any generosity and disinterestedness to
see whether you'd give your daughter to him,
gold or no gold.'
'Sly boy!' chuckled old Griffin.' 'I'm much
obliged to you for the hint. I'll act according.
Good morning.'
Xow it happened that the Californian was a
good friend of Bittlcs, aud that the story of
Biftle's misfortunes was absolutely true he
having been robbed of every ounce of his hard
earned gold dust on his way home. So it may
be supposed he called on Griffin with a very
lugubrous and goe-begone air.
'My dear boy,' said Uncle Bill, '1 am de
lighted to see you, and pleased to-hear of your
luck. I welcome j'ou as my son-in-law. But
what the duce is the matter with you ?'
'Alas, sir!' said Bittlcs, 'I made fifty thou
sand dollars at the mines '
'Yery hard luck!' interrupted the old gen
tleman, chuckliug.
'But on my way home, I was robbed of ev
ery ounce and now how can I chum your
daughter's hand ?'
'Sampson Bittlcs,' said Unci .; Bill, very cun
ningly, 'if you haven't got fifty thousand dol
lars you deserve to have it you've worked
hard enough to get it. "You shall have my
daughter, and the marriage shall be celebra
ted to-morrow night. In anticipation of your
return I have had you published. And while
your talking to Mary, I'll draw a check for
$."0,0U0, so that you may go into partnership
with a sufficient capital.'
'But, sir, I am p. beggcr.'
'So much the better you'll work the har
der to increase your fortune'
'My dear sir, how can I thank you ."
By making my girl a good husband. There
go go and tell Mary the new s.'
Bittlcs did tell her the news, and they were
married. He went into business on the fifty
thousand furnished him by his father-in-law,
and was so extreordinary prosperous, that
Uncle Bill was more convinced than ever that
the story was a regular Munchausen. Once or
twice he tried to repeal it, but the old gen
tleman always cut short with
'I know all about it. Had it put in the pa
pers, too-eh? Oh, it was a terrible affair.
Lost all! Poor fellow! 'Well, I made it up to
you, and new I wont hear another word about
it-'
When Uncle Bill departed litis life, his im
mense psoperty was found to be equally divi
ded between his daughter and son-in-law; the
testator bequeathed to the Litter his share to
compensate him for the loss he sustained on
his return from California. Tho old miser
had died in the full belief that Bittlcs never
lost the gold dust.
The Beami). Dr. Sanborn, of Andover, ably
defends the beard in a late number of the Bos
ton Medical and Surgical Journal. He takes
the ground that the custom of shaving the
beard is always attended or followed by a mar
ked deterioration in the physical organization,
not only of the existing race of people but of
the race to come, lie says that the aborigi
nal inhabitants of our soil and climate were
brave, powerful ami numerous; but they up
rooted the beard freim their faces, and conse
quently grew more and more effeminate with
every generation, and until they became an
easy prey to their enemies, are themselves
uprooted from the face of the earth. He cites
the Chinese as a people who h ive been shorn
of their locks and their strength, til! as a na
tion they have a mere nominal existence; and
he says of the Jews, whose creed it is to pre
serve unmarred "the corner of their beards,"
that he never saw a case of pauperism, pre
mature disease among them. The nobility of
Spain adopted the habit of shaving through
courtesy to their beardless prince. The mass
were of course subjected to the humiliating
process, but expressed their repugnance to
the outrage in the w ell known proverb 'Since
wc have lost our beards we have lost our
souls,' that is ourselves, our identity. We
are rather soulless slaves than the men our
Maker made and designed us to be.
Singular Will. An English miser lately
died in London, leaving the following w ill; "I
give and bequeath nnto my nephew, my black
coat; I give and bequeath to my niece the flan
nel waist-coat I now wear; I give and bequeath
to each of my sister's grandchildren, one of the
little earthen poots on tnc top of my warbrobe;
I give and bequeath to my sister, as a token of
the affection I have always felt for her, the old
brown stone jug at the head of my beL" The
disappointment of tho legatees, when this
strange will was read may easily be imagined.
The deceased was spoken of by all in a way by
no means flattering to him; and his sister, in a
fit of anger gave the brown jug a kick, w hich
broke it in pieces, when lo ! a stream of guineas
poured out of it, and the general disappointment
gave way to joy. Each hurried to examine his
or her legacy, nd the flannel waist -coat and
the little earthen pots were found caquaily
well filled, the testator, having only wished
to amuse them in an agreeable manner.
JANTJAEY, THE FIRST MONTH.
There have been a variety of methods of
reckouing the year iu different ages, and in
different portions of the world. It seems most
natural to commence it in the spring, when na
ture is commencing all her work anew; and
this was the cufc-brn of the ancients. There
fore, in enumerating the signs of the zodiac,
we always commence with Aries, which rep
resents March, instead of with January r for
in most things appertaining to astronomy, wa
follow the method of the ancients.
Aquarius, the sign which is used to typify
the first month of the year, is represented a a
man pouring water out of an urn. This is be
cause the winter is a scasc-n of rains, instead
of snows, iu those southern countries where
the years was first divided into months ;- con
sequently the pouring out of water, was, to
them a fit representation of January. The word
January, which is the Latin name for a gate,
and was doubtless so called, because January
was supposed to oii:x the year. Janus, who
was worshipped by the. ancients as the god of
gates,aud avenues, was represented with two fa
ces; one of an old man looking back upon the
past, and the other of a young man, looking
forward with hope, to tho future: a leaufiful
symbol, we think, for the commencement of
the year. It was in the reign of Xuma Pomp
ilius,that January was fixed upon as the month
to continence the year; and its name, and sym
bolic signification were then given to it. It
was chosen because it commences soon after
the winter solstice, or the shortest day, which
occurs on the "21st of December. From that
that time the days grow gradually longer un
til midsummer ; so that the year may be said
to have change-d. Youth' t Cabinet. ' '
"Copy." This word has somehow becomo
to be the peculiar property of the. Devil the
printer's Devil we mean and the special ter
ror of weary editors. But it has a significance
the world over, if one w ill only think of it.
"Copy," murmurs the happy mother, with
her first born on her knee, as she' finishes for
the thousandth time the perusal of the little
meaningless face with its unspeculative eyes,
but she reads more in it than the -neighbor
dream of. She sees in it a "Book of Beauty."
With its father's brow, its mother's lips, there
it is. the sweetest copy in all the world.
Tho child is a man tho young mother t
tottering old woman, and she locks up with
dim and fading eyes into the face of her long
absent son, again she murmurs "copy just
as his father looked years and years ago."
Thai mail is struck" down like sometower,
by "a touch from heaven," and they lay him
gently in the lsoia of the earth. The moth
er is there; "he was an only son, and alio a
widow ;"' and as the swelling turf hides him
from all eyes, she throws up her old hands
despairingly, and .sighs, "so passes away the
only 'copy' this world contains." '
When the great and good go ou before, and
stand gazing up to heaven and we turn sadly to
the places made vacant, and we think who re
mains to fill them, we cannot repress the tho't
and it is 'copy' still. And so it is all over tho
world. Smiling, they whisper it ; triumphant,
they utter it ; weeping they breathe it.
Mas. Paktixgtox ox Maiskivge. "If ever
I'm married," said Ike, looking from the book
he was reading and kicking the stove door to
energetically, 'II ever I'm married' -Don't
speak of marriage, Isaac, until you're old
enough to understand the bond that binds
congenial souls. People musn't speak of
marriage with impurity. It is the first thing
children thinks of now a days, and young boys
in pinafores, and young girls with their heads
fricasocd into spittoon curls, aud full of love
sick stories, are talking of marriage before
they are out of their teens. Think of such
ones getting marrie-d ? Yet, there's Mr.
Snaid, when heaven took his w ife away, went
right to a young lady's cemetery and got
another, no more fit to be the head of a fami
ly than I am to be the Board of Mayor and Al
dermen." She trapped the new box that her
friend, the Colonel, had given her. with her
eyes resting upon the gold heart inlaid iu tho
centre of the lid, as if hearts were trumps in
her mind at the time, while Ike, without fin
ishing his sentence, kept on with his reading,
accompanying himself with apodal perform
ance on tho stove door, and a clatter upon the
round of his chair, with tho handle of a fork
in his left hand.
Verdict of aXf-GroIsqukst. "We, de nn
described darkies, bein' a Kurner's Juray ob
disgust, to sit on de body ob de nigga Sambo ,
now dead and gone before us, have been sittin
on de same, and come tode conclusion as how
do said nigga a fores-iid did, on dc night of tho
f'ufteeus of .November, co'.ne to his deaf by tai
ling from dc bridge ober de river, into tho
said river, whar we find he was .subsecomclv
drownde-d, and affer'ards was washed on do
river side, whar he froz to deaf.". .. ..
Here the "juryof disgust" "nnderscribed"
themselves.
0'When Gen. Lafayette was in the United
States, two young men were introduced to him.
He said to on: 'Are yotj married ?' 'Yts, sir,'
was the reply. .'Happy man!' quoth the General.
, He then put the same question to the other,
ho replied: I am a bachylbr.' 'Lucky dog!'
said the General. This is the best essay on
matrimony we have ever read.