Raftsman's journal. (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, January 17, 1855, Image 1
" "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 THE l f p.-S- ? f r- tT H v;t -itrr Slant. "E" Vv " -L-rt--7. T. :o: copi-uium s)'.ct n k p . CO: 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.